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 Another year come and gone. Where does the time go? No, seriously, where did it go? I feel like I just got here. Here being California. I feel like it's 1993 and I am leaving these Bay Area streets for Oklahoma. Now it's the end of 2023, and I am back on the very same streets. It's true you know; you can't go home again. The streets are dirtier, more crowded, and infinitely more dangerous. The roads are literally disintegrating beneath our feet. The beaches I walked down on Thanksgiving are under water. Where I lived twice with my father and sister, Pacifica, well, it hasn't fared any better. 40-foot swells. The ocean is no longer staying put. 

Lost more family this year. Aunt Barb, my mom's sister, died at the end of May.  I lost touch or grew apart from friends I thought I'd have for life. Tammi, Shawn, Angela Majors, (not my bestie Angie), I'm talking to you. As I go about my global adventures, I take each of you with me. I always think about what we would be saying as I walk through. I think about adventures we've been on as Facebook reminds me every day. What great fun we had. I miss you more than words can say. I wish we could talk, hang out, catch up. 

I had a health scare. Post rape I was under extreme stress. My cardiologist said that I was in perfect health except that I had stress related (and completely reversible), sinus tachycardia, and that if I didn't make some changes, I wouldn't be long for this world. The Urgent Care Doc didn't read the test results right initially, and told me I didn't have 3 hours, and that I needed to get to a Trauma Center. Trauma Cardiologist was so mad at her. I was released the same day, no surgery, no death sentence. Just a prescription for peace.

Dealing with my attack alone in Helena, without my best friends Tammi and Shawn, and leaning solely on Angie all the way in South Carolina, and my sister in California, wasn't easy. I had to get to loved ones fast, so here I am. Mr. Darcy and Sookie St. James don't care for the inner city but seem to be content being with me. We've really taken to the full-time rv life. I sit here blogging, listening to my Alexa that Shawn got me all those years ago, and Sookie is sitting next to me in her cat bed. Window is open and my Xterra is a foot away from that, so I can keep an eye on it. It was 70 degrees on Christmas day. It's always pleasant here. I miss Montana, and just want to come home. 

I'm running 406 Back the Blue from here, with the help of my beloved support team. I wish my Xterra could pull my travel trailer, but alas, I accidentally bought one that is too heavy. Otherwise, I would be out at the RV park by Overland Express living my best life.

Hoping the gunfire at midnight is minimal. It would be incredibly dumb to be out in these streets tonight. It's awful on the best days, tonight is going to be something akin to downtown Falluja. My little rv park should be pretty chill, but who knows what it will be like nearby.

The eucalyptus smell that I associate with home, that still lingers in the air. Reminds me of people long gone, and my heart hurts. Have to protect my heart from heartache more now than ever. I eat right, get plenty of exercise, but I can no longer get upset, frustrated, or even aggravated, and I certainly can't cry. Don't want my death certificate to read, "she died of a broken heart", literally.

I'm hopeful. I have faith. I have so many blessings in life. So many friends and some family that I love more than life itself, and my two cats that I hope live forever.

So, here's to another year. May the best of your past, be the worst of your future. I love you, and I miss you, more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.