Happy Birthday

 I did manage to get to the dentist for my fillings and preliminary crown work today - yay!

But this morning, even driving in, I felt this uncontrollable yearning.  Tears just behind my eyes.

I found myself thinking about the movie "I'm Your Man."  A woman agrees to an experiment of living with a humanoid robot designed to be the perfect life partner for her.  And he is ideal - except that he's designed to be always giving, never wanting.  At a key point, she is in the kitchen, crying, because she was trying to make the perfect soft boiled egg for him - knowing that he didn't need it, or want it.  He didn't need or want anything - the relationship was always just one sided.

And that's what my yearning is today.  It's Bob's birthday.  I wish I could do something for him - not in his honor, not in his memory, but for him.  I wish I could take to to go buy a new power tool, or a book, or whatever he wanted.  I wish I could cook him a steak.  Bake a birthday cake.  Take over his chores for a day.  Anything. Just to be able to give something to him, do something for him.  I wish I could make him smile, laugh.  I wish I could make him happy.

Happy Birthday, my love.

More Demons; Checking Myself

 My eighth post for January.  Meaning that I have a lot to unload.
It helps to look at the posts for previous Januaries.  I realize I go through this every year - and I survive every year.

It's just the juxtapositions of dates.  We met in January (the 24th).  His birthday is on the 27th.

But also in January he went to the hospital.  The 13th was when he got his stem cell transplant.  At the time, we were told it would take about a week - maybe 10 days - before we saw the uptick in numbers that showed it had taken hold.  So by now - the 26th - we were starting to get the first intimations that things were not going as planned.

So I know this is a rough time.  This year I had A Plan - to just keep busy, try to stay out of my own head.  Last Tuesday I had the lunch with old friends at the museum.  The plan was to go to work Wednesday and Thursday.  The library book club meeting was Thursday evening.  Friday was my dentist appointment.  Saturday Adrianne wanted to go to the yarn store in Thomasville.  Sunday was the Silent Book Club meeting.

Well - I went to the Tuesday lunch.  But Tuesday evening this freak storm came in, and I've been trapped ever since.

I've had to keep an eye on myself.  Depression can sneak up on you.  I have to look at myself with an outsider's eye to watch out for signs (same as you would watch for signs in someone else).

Three day's worth of dishes piled in the sink.

When was the last time I ran a vacuum cleaner around?
When was the last time I washed my hair?

I tend to wear a light tank top under my clothes, and when I sleep.  When was the last time I put on a fresh one?
How much wine am I drinking (this one is odd - my drinking actually tends to go down when I'm depressed, which is probably a good thing)
Am I keeping regular hours?  (uh - I've been staying in bed an hour or two after waking up, and last night I sat up until 2 a.m., eating cookies and flipping through YouTube videos without watching any of them)

Yep.  The black dog (a symbol a friend uses for his depression) has come to visit.

On the other hand, I also noticed that the cats, chickens, squirrel, and fish are being cared for (the chickens are even getting morning oatmeal).  Litterboxes are cleaned every day.  I'm eating decent food, even if I'm eating at odd times (breakfast at 11, lunch at 3).  Still meeting my walking goals for the challenge (minimum of 2.5 miles a day).

So it's not too bad; I just need to pull up my big girl panties and deal.  I know from past experience that I can handle the depression by treating the symptoms.  Hair is washed and fresh tank top on.  Dishes and vacuuming will be done. Hours can be kept . I'll be OK.

I'm still wrapping my head around a dream I had a couple of days ago, about Bob [side note - I love it when I dream of him.  It's like getting to see him].  Most of the time, even in my dreams, I know he's dead, and often I'm apologizing for the changes that I've made since then.  But this time, it was just a fragment.  He was there, and a little confused, and I heard myself say "This is how things are done around here now.  I didn't know you would ever come back."   I woke up, and found myself wondering how long it would take me to adjust if he did come back, after almost 5 years of being on my own.  Those weird 3 a.m.  thoughts.  [another side note - not bloody long.  I just got a letter from the insurance company that they inspected my roof, and I need to get it replaced.  In Ye Olde Days - that would be the end of my part.  Somehow roofers would appear and  it would get done.  Now, calling the insurance company and the roofing company and arranging everything has been added to my "things to do list."]

I've also been dealing with the feelings of disassociation.   It's been coming on with the stream project.  For the past 5 years, if anyone has asked where I live, I mention that I live on 5 acres of land.  The other four acres has seemed somehow abandoned.  But now I've reclaimed it.  It's lovely and wonderful and primitive and I keep walking down there, but I haven't quite wrapped my head around the idea that it's mine.  I feel like I'm wandering into someone else's world. Something primitive and magical.   And then we get this freak ice storm which increased the feeling of unreality (the music from Narnia keeps running in my head)

My feeling of being disconnected increased over the next few days.  The highway, of course, isn't shaded, and the asphalt absorbs heat.  So by Friday I would walk down my ice covered driveway and across my ice-covered bridge to go check my mail, and as soon as I'm off my own land everything is looking normal, with the cars going back and forth, and even the roadside has thawed (because it's not under the shade of trees).  And then I turn around - and it's still snow-covered Narnia.

By yesterday things were getting above freezing, and the driveway was becoming passable - except for the bridge, which still had two inches of ice on it.  Pretty as it was, I knew it was reflecting the sunlight and not melting, so I went and shoveled off what I could, exposing the gray solid ice and dirt underneath to melt.  Today after lunch I went down to check it - and it was still covered in frozen mud.  My (many times rescheduled) dentist appointment is tomorrow.  I started feeling a hopeless frustration.  I'm tired of being trapped, afraid that if I try to get the car across it I could skitter sideways into the ditch (a 10-foot drop).

Screw that.  I went to the barn and dragged down the flame thrower.  I could melt chunks of the mud and then shovel them off the bridge.  It took awhile, and I'm a little sore, but tomorrow I can get back to normal.

Whatever the hell that is.

Winter Wonderland

 A strange thing has happened this week:  Winter.
It's not anything that anyone above the Mason-Dixon line would call winter.  What we're calling the Arctic Storm (the name is Enzo) is what my brother in Boston would call an average Tuesday.

But Florida?  This is weird.

There had been predictions of the storm, but I thought it was the usual have-to-predict-the-worst thing.  It has snowed here before  - like in 1989.  Generally we get a bit of frost, or a scaling of ice in the bird bath.

To be precise - some people got snow, but I didn't.  I got sleet.  It started Tuesday evening.  I was entranced by the sound of it.  Snow is silent - the little flakes just drift down.  Sleet is rain - but it didn't sound quite like rain, because it's frozen.  It sounded exactly like what it was - tiny crystals hitting the leaves and ground.  And later that night, when I looked out, there was a dusting of crystals on the car.

I thought that would be about it, and that it would all melt by mid morning Wednesday.  But early Wednesday morning I looked out, and saw this.

I knew it would all go away as soon as the sun came up, so even before I had breakfast I suited up and went exploring.  It was obvious that I wouldn't be going in to work (actually Suzie texted the volunteers and told us to stay home) because this is my driveway and bridge.  Schools and state offices were closed, and people told to stay home if possible, because we don't have the means to deal with snow and ice on the roads.  I watched videos of bridges being sanded by people sitting on the tailgate of the trucks, throwing out the sand by hand.

Walking around was weird.  Because this was 2-3" of sleet, not snow, it was fairly solid and I was just walking on the surface of it (my attempts at making a snow angel failed for that reason).  Of course I had to go down to the stream.

The theme song from Narnia kept running through my head.

So much weirdness.  Palmettos in the snow.

My dragon in the snow.

I had to take it all in.  Such wonder would be short-lived.

Guess what?  Not so much.  Thursday it was all still there (so couldn't go in to work Thursday).  It was getting into the low 40s, which meant a bit of melt and refreeze, as the nighttime temps were hitting the low 20s.  All this would just become more solid and slippery - so I shoveled a path across my deck.  I also realized that I should take that thick layer of ice off of the car.  For some reason, I do not keep ice scrapers around (reference that the last snowfall here was 1989).  I thought it was enormously clever of me to think of using my pizza peel.  Worked like a champ.

And, as what happens with snow (or frozen sleet) it was starting to get a little mushy, so I was sinking into it instead of magically walking across the top.   Annoyances have started to creep in already.  The book club at the library that I was wanting to check out was meeting Thursday evening.  The main road was clear - but I couldn't get out to it.  My bridge is narrow, with no guardrails, and a pretty good drop to the ditch below.  And it was still covered in a couple of inches of ice.

Even more annoying was that after  2 1/2 months of various delays and postponements, I was finally going to get my crown work done on Friday morning.  But I still couldn't get the car safely out - so that's been rescheduled.

For all the working outside (I also had to make the rounds every evening and morning to put various pipes on to drip and then turn them off, in addition to the digging and scraping) I was wearing my waterproof work boots and wool socks.  But my right foot has some circulation issues (courtesy of the rattlesnake bite from years back).  Thursday night I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that my toes were really hurting - badly enough that I couldn't get back to sleep.  I kept feeling them - no cuts, and I didn't remember kicking anything.   I finally got up to take some Tylenol and look to see what the problem was.

Frostbite.  In Florida.

It's not bad - sort of the cold equivalent of a first-degree burn.  But very unexpected.

For some reason all of this has made me feel very lazy.  I'm like a Florida bear, having gone into torpor.  There are, of course, many things that I could do inside, but I just sort of sat around.  With company.

(Noko Marie was also with us, just in another chair).

I also fed badly for my chickens.  Logically, I know they can handle it.  Birds can fluff up, snuggle together, and if they get cold they tuck their heads under a wing so they're breathing warm air.  I put them in the coop at night, and I've blocked off the windows.  But in the mornings when I open the coop to feed them, instead of staying inside where it's marginally warmer they come dashing out and it doesn't seem to bother them a bit.  But softhearted me has been cooking them pans of hot oatmeal for breakfast so at least they can start the day with a little fire in their tummies (it seems to be working - they're laying eggs like crazy)

So that's our winter.  Tonight it will be in the 20s, but hopefully warm up enough tomorrow (it's supposed to get in the 50s) that I can shovel the ice off of the bridge.  Fingers crossed that I can get to my rescheduled dentist appointment on Monday.  Things will slide back to normal.

It's been strange and surrealistic and I've kind of loved it.

Hair

Well, the January demons really kicked me in the teeth yesterday.

It started off innocently enough.  It was a gray drizzly day, and I decided to clean out the bathroom undersink cabinet.  I'm not sure why I thought to do this - my housekeeping skills are limited, and I'm not usually one to deep clean.  Like most undersink cabinets, this one was a repository for cleaning supplies, extra toilet paper, hair product, backup toothpaste and baby powder, the hair dryer - just the normal stuff that accrues.  And one central basket of miscellaneous stuff that tended to overflow.

I decided to start with removing a sliding wire organizer that we had put in years ago in one of our attempts to organize.  It never really worked right; things in it would tip over when we tried to slide it out, which never went smoothly.  So it was basically just taking up space.  I thought I would go ahead and get rid of it.

Easier said than done.  I hadn't realized it was screwed into place, and that the screws had fused themselves in.  The sliding part of the rack had also fused over the years.  So it took about an hour with a large screwdriver, a hammer, and a lot of swearing tor remove it.

I started pulling stuff out of the cabinet, and then it happened.  I  found a plastic baggie that had fallen to the back of the cabinet.  I opened it up - and pulled out a braid of shining silver hair.

 Bob's hair.  The day before we went to Gainesville we were madly trying to get everything packed and organized for being gone for three months.  And we were both frightened.  We knew that he would be in bed most of the time, so would get a bad case of bed head.  We also knew that in a couple of weeks, after chemotherapy, that it would fall out.  So that afternoon, I brushed it out, and photographed it.

Then I braided it - and cut it off.

And my mind goes blank there.  We had to finish preparations.  Other things to think about.  I guess I just tossed it under the cabinet when I put the scissors away,  to be dealt with later.  Maybe I had plans to do some art project with it when we came home.  I remember brushing his hair and taking that photograph.  I remember cutting it, hating that I was doing that.  And then I blank out.

Finding it broke me.  I loved his hair.  I would brush it, run my fingers through it.  I liked watching him read, wearing his glasses and with his hair down, looking like a druid.  I remember it brushing against my face and shoulder.   On time a woman asked me if my husband with the tall guy with the long gray hair.  I corrected her - "ahem - that is a magnificent silver mane."

He had really hoped that his hair wouldn't fall out, that he would be that rare person that it didn't.  But, about a week after chemo, it did, leaving clumps on his pillow until he finally asked the nurse to shave it (side note - I did offer to shave mine along with him, but he declined).  He kept hoping that it would start growing back, even though they told him it would likely take a couple of months.  He would check for incipient peach fuzz.  He was upset that his second round of chemo would take even the fuzz away.  But soon he lost it all - his beard, eyebrows, even his body hair.

I knew in the back of my mind that I had kept the braid somewhere - possibly in the cottage.  I just wasn't expecting to come upon it unawares.  I've been crying a lot; I miss him so much, and suddenly can see him so clearly.  I find myself wishing I could call my mother, to cry on her shoulder.

It's out of the baggie now, wrapped in a piece of velvet, and placed in a ceramic box that his sister made for him, a sort of reliquary.   And I will move on.

January Demons and Warmth

 I'm impressed that I was able to cut my stream path (I paced it off - some 1500 feet) and I love being able to go lean against a tree and read a book.

But I'm a little sad that I finished it so quickly - I thought it might take 2-3 months instead of just one.  I looked forward to going down there, hand clippers in pocket, lopping shears in one hand, branch saw in the other.  The Zen of just seeing what needed to be cut, and how to take one more step forward.

Because the January demons are here.  I was hoping I was past them by now.  The problem is the coincidence of the dates.  Like the coincidence that my mother died on my birthday; things just match up like that sometime.

Bob and I met in January  (1972)- he had just transferred from another school.  We were both in ROTC, and we met when we both pledged the Pershing Rifles (an ROTC organization).  From day one, we found that we just worked really well together.  Hard to believe that we were still teenagers.   His birthday is in January.

But 48 years later, in January, he checked into the hospital, started chemo, had his stem cell transplant, and realized that it failed.

I try not to dwell on it, and I don't talk about it (except here), but those demons are with me.  I just hate that he had to go through that.

Last year I wore myself out dragging stuff out of the barn.  This year it was the path - except that it's done.  I need to some up with something else - something to focus on, preferable physical.  I am scheduling some stuff, just for distractions (a book club meeting, a lunch with current and former museum employees, and - such fun - finally getting the preliminary work for my crowns).

I've been thinking about warmth.  I written about warmth before - it's a concept that I keep returning to (especially in the winter).  Warmth is more than a temperature - like hot or cold.  I think what finally hit me is that warmth is a transition.  You can be hot, or you can be cold, but to feel warmth you have to be cold first.  To use a modern buzzword - warmth is interactive.   Warmth is when you feel the sun on your face.  When your feet are cold and you put on a pair of woolly socks.  In A Christmas Carol, Dickens talks about people standing in the snowy streets but holding their hands out to a fire in a barrel.  Going from the cold outdoors into a heated room.  Wrapping chilled fingers around a cup of hot cocoa.

Sometimes it can be a slower transition.  You go to bed, sliding between cool sheets, then relax as your own body warmth surrounds you.  Now, when I read at night, I have a pillow on my lap under the blankets to prop up my book.  When I'm ready to sleep I pull it up under my arm (it's my "cuddle pillow") and it's nice and warm.

I just had a sudden memory from years (maybe 50 ) ago.  Bob was talking to someone from another country, and she was saying that it was a little sad that American homes didn't have a "warm" place.  We have central heating, so the house is at a comfortable temperature - and everyone can be in their own rooms.  Back home, they heated with a wood burning stove, and everyone would gather around it.

And, of course, there's the warmth of a smile, or a hug, or just a feeling of warmth if you go somewhere and feel welcomed.

Warmth is when something tensed inside of you can relax.

So now I enter a time period where I will be entertaining demons (I refuse to fight them) and seeking warmth.

Two Teeth and the Great Stream Project

 Had my two root canals yesterday.  I sat in that chair for an hour, mouth propped open with a wedge and filled with the suction hose and rubber dam, and watching Dr. Pereda work on me while looking through a microscope like I was some kind of science experiment, listening to the grinding and drilling.  Finally, he stood up, took all that stuff out of my mouth, and asked the tech to take an X-ray to check it.  He looked at the result with satisfaction and said that it looked good.  I gave a great sigh of relief and started to relax.  Then came the fateful words:

"Now let's do the other one."

But it was finally over - at 5:00 p.m.  Facing afternoon traffic in the dusk and rain for the long (well, 45 minute) drive home.

On the way home, I found myself thinking about a woman that I used to know.  This woman would have come back out to the waiting room, and a tall man with a concerned look in his eyes would have asked how she was.  She would have gotten into the passenger side of the car, probably closed her eyes, and said "glad that's over with" and rested until she got home.  Then she would have gone inside, put on her pajamas, and curled up on the couch while he took care of a few things and then brought her a bowl of soup.

But that woman was lost the day that the gentle man closed his eyes for the last time.  So I drove home, then fed the squirrel and the cats and walked back out in the rain to the chicken coop to put the hens up for the night, and then I could go put on the jammies.

No soup, but I had treated myself to some pudding.  Recently a pudding shop opened on my side of town, and I was curious.  They have tubs of pudding, like ice cream places have tubs of ice cream.  And dammit, I decided that I deserved pudding, so I stopped and got a pint.   It turned out to be nothing like pudding.  It was light and fluffy, and rather like eating a carton of expensive Cool Whip.  I won't be going there again.

The Great Stream Project - is done!  I can walk from one end of my property to the other along the stream.  I've been alternating starting points just to keep things interesting.  Today it was from behind the house (where I have to go past my little "toll booth" tree - today I left an orange.)  I was hacking my way through yet another stand of palmettos and suddenly came across the cleared path from the other side.  I just had to stand and admire it for awhile.

I have such a deep feeling of peace down there.  I went back to the house to make a thermos of tea, then got my book, grabbed an orange off the tree, and just sat to read and listen to the water for awhile.

But I expected this project to take at least 3 months.  Must find something else to obsess over.

Meanderings: Allspice, Kitten Blanket, Neighbor, Frost

 Usually I call these posts "Ramblings" or "Random" but I've got meandering on the mind because of the Great Stream Project.  When I first estimated that I might have 1500 feet or so to clear for a path, I had forgotten just how meandering this stream is.  There's even one hairpin loop.

Side thought.  Officially, this is Harvey Creek (the bridge on Highway 20 is even called Harvey Creek bridge.  What's the difference between a stream and a creek?  But the project keeps calling my name.  I think maybe it's too cold, or too damp, or that I really should tidy up the house - then I head back down there.  It's just so satisfying.  I'll get to a point where it's such a mess that I think there's no way in hell I can get through it - and then I start cutting.  In bad spots I might only get 15 feet in an hour, and it's really tiring - but that's another 15 feet gained.

I know that people are often uncomfortable wandering in the woods, but for me I just feel like I belong there, and that I'm somehow whole again.

OK - Rambling, or at least meandering, on odd items.

Allspice Dram.  One of the things I saw on my random YouTube flipping was a post on Allspice Dram - a spiced rum liqueur, often used in tiki drinks (I have no idea what a tiki drink is).  It's similar as to how people make their own Kahlua by soaking coffee in vodka and then adding sugar syrup.  So I followed the recipe, toasting and crushing allspice berries, soaking in rum for 10 days, then straining and adding the syrup.
Yeow!!!  That was a *lot* of allspice!  The poster (Alton Brown, no less) said he like to sip it as a liqueur.   I'm not strong enough for that - it makes my eyes water (thank goodness I made a small recipe).  But a teaspoon in a cup of tea, milk, or hot apple juice is delicious, so it's not a total flop.  But on the list of Things I Will Not Do Again.

And in the list of Things I Still Can Not Do - I got out the kitten blanket, looked at it, hugged it, and then put it back on the shelf.  It's cold these days, and it's soft and warm and would be good on the couch, but I just can't.

My cohorts at the museum sent this blanket to Bob when he was in the hospital at Shands.  And he adored it.  He missed his cats, and people, and was touched that they had thought of him.  And it was soft and warm and friendly and not like a hospital blanket.

I've talked about him wanting keep *everything* (the hoarder thing).  He, in turn, was disturbed by my tendency to toss or give away anything that I no longer used or wanted.  Towards the end, he was stroking the blanket one evening, turned to me, and said "Please promise me that you'll keep this blanket."  And I did.

He died under it.  I remember after his face had gone cold, I reached under the blanket to find that his hand was still warm - I held it against my face for a moment, for the last time I would feel that warm hand on my cheek, then tucked it back under.

I've kept my promise, and I've kept that blanket, and every winter I wonder if I'll be able to snuggle under it on the couch, and every time it's a Big Nope.  I'll try again next year.

That got serious.  Let's lighten up with a Hello! from Henna

Odd thing yesterday - I met a neighbor.  Which would sound that odd, except that I've lived here over 30 years and have managed not to meet the neighbors.  They're not really "neighbors" as such, but if I go to the far left end of my property there's a dirt road that leads up to a small neighborhood.  The closest house on the right has property that borders on mine.

I've been a little curious.  New people moved in a year or so ago.  And I've watched a major strong fence go up along the the road side, and down between that and the next house - and signs that the fence is continuing.  

Yesterday I was heading down to the stream when I heard something off to my left - and looked over to see a guy cutting his way through the underbrush.  I was surprised to see anyone - not quite as surprised as he was when I said "Hi."  It turns out that he's pretty nice - just doesn't want anyone trespassing/hunting on his property.  So he's fencing the whole thing off, but he assured me that he is staying on his side of the surveyed property line.  It's actually pretty coincidental - I know about, but not exactly, where my land ends there, and I was thinking digging out the plat to see if I could figure it out.  So we talked, and looked at each others' paths, and even exchanged phone numbers.  It feels a little weird, but on the other hand if I ever do get in trouble it might be nice to have someone to call who lives closer than 10 miles away.

Going to close this meandering with a frosty morning.  It was so beautiful when I went out to feed the chickens - 28 degrees, so the leaves were crunchy, and sparkling with frost.  An amazing effect happened with the trees: the sun was out, so the leaves at the top of the tree were thawing, but the mist was freezing and dropping, so it was like walking through fine glitter drifting through the air.  Lovely.

January 6, Again

 The vultures of time have completed another loop around - one year higher up, looking down.

It's January 6.  January 6, 2020, 5 years ago, we finished putting our suitcases and stuff in the car - enough for three months.  Bob took one last look at the land, said goodbye to the chickens, hugged all the cats - said he would miss them, and see them in three months.  Took a deep breath and we drove off to Gainesville.

He never came home again.  5 years later, that still hurts.

Last year, I got through this period by emptying out the barn.  This year - it's cutting a path through the woods.  And I have to say that I'm loving it.  Many times now I have taken my afternoon coffee and reading down to the stream.  Some days I get a stretch where there's just a little to clip and clean out of the way.  Other days I work for an hour to gain 10 feet.  (I limit myself to an hour at a time because the arm is still healing)

There have been some areas that I can't even tell the best way to cut the path.  It's a matter of clearing a couple of feet, and then deciding where the next few steps could be.  There have been some bends where obviously the stream had come out of the bank and I had a lot of debris to drag aside.

It's been good exercise, to say the least, and I love roaming around in my woods again.

This week I decided to tackle it from the other end, behind the house, where there is a lot of storm damage.  It was slow going - I knew about where the creek was (there is a bend that eventually takes it under the bridge on the highway) and I knew I had to go to the left.  But the fallen trees and huge root balls (and treacherous holes that they made) kept herding me to the right.  Eventually I was able to shift to the left, and glory be! caught a sight of the stream.  I made my way to it - and for a short distance there was only some light cutting to clear the way.  That's when I spotted this crazy tree.

I promptly decided that it was a toll booth.  The tree was just standing there, holding out its hand.

I had an irresistible urge to pay a toll.  A quick inventory didn't yield much - I had hand clippers, loppers, my wedding ring, and my phone.  Hmmmm.  I used the hand clippers to cut off a bit of my hair.

It must have worked.  I stood up, looked around, and there - through a huge clump of palmettos - I saw it.

 

I had to cut my way over to it but yes, it's still there.  Happy dance.

Just for fun, I posted my adventures on a FaceBook page called "This is Fae Propaganda If I Ever Saw It" - a site mostly for pictures of things that could be considered magical.  I was not expecting the response - I did one post about the "toll bridge" tree, and another about the lamp post (without mentioning that Bob and I put it there some 30 years ago).  I got some 700 reactions and 100 comments on each one.

The funny part was all the shock in that I would actually give my hair to the Fae!  Some people were serious - comments about what a frightening thing to do.  Some of the commentators (oddly, mostly men, which begs some sociological research) gave dire warning like "I do not think that you understand what you are getting yourself into."  But it's been a lot of fun.  Especially after I posted the one with the lamp post - Narnia comments abound.

And maybe because it's a gray and rainy day (which will preclude my heading down to the woods) I might just put on the Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and snuggle down with the cats for the day.

 

Good Intentions

 I was going to post yesterday on the first, but I worked at the museum in the morning, then came home and baked bread to take to Rik and Christy's for dinner.  By the time I got home, I was tired.

The new year got off to a bit of a sad start.  In the Dec. 31 post I talked about Bella the deer.  She was put down early yesterday morning.  I got there before the vet arrived so I could have one last hug and thank her for gracing my life.

I don't do resolutions, but intentions for a new year.  Looking back at last year, my main one was not to push myself too hard socially.  I succeeded pretty well in that, and I've been a lot calmer this year.  Oddly, one intention this year is to be a bit more social, but with different expectations.  In 2023 - my year of "putting myself out there" - the idea in my head is that I would be presenting myself and therefore Make New Friends.  Click with someone, or a couple of someones.  Find someone to have coffee with, or lunch sometimes, or to go hiking with or build something together or whatever.  It didn't happen.

This year, if I do something, it's for the sake of doing it.  I mentioned discovering the book club at the library just a mile or so away - I'll attend some of those meetings and see what I think.  The community center (even closer) has a once-a-month "lunch and learn" lecture for seniors (nothing in January, but I think in February it will be on the Greek Olympics).  I think the center also has a Thursday exercise class that I might check out.  But the idea is that I will just attend the thing, without expectations (and therefore disappointments) that something will come of it.

Lean even more into reading, and where it will lead me.  Ebaida and I started our friendship over reading.  Jeff and I have been in touch with each other more after we started co-reading.  I'm going to check out the local book club.  Tallahassee also has a silent reading group that I want to attend (they all meet at a local coffee shop, chat for a half-hour, then shut up and read for an hour).  For the last couple of years I've mostly read e-books, but I think I might start checking out more actual books from the library, just to be able to go in and say hi to a librarian.

Socially, I've found that I like the short random chats.  I try to get the same checkout person at Publix - she recognizes me now.  A waitress noticed me reading at lunch, and wanted to talk about the book she was reading (there's books again).  The chat I had over butter at Publix,  the salesperson at Spirit Halloween who loved puppets, or the beekeeper set up in a parking lot to sell honey.  Unlike Trying To Make A Friend, those moments are easy to find; you just have to be open to them.

Self care wise, I'm doing pretty good.  I eat well - mostly at home, but cooked.  I've done two frozen pizzas this year, but no microwave foods.  If I do takeout, it's Mrs. Afreen's home cooking from the gas station (she makes great butter chicken).  I do get exercise: my walking challenges (I officially logged almost 1,000 miles last year), plus maintaining this place, and my work at the museum.  Two area do need work:  strength and cardio.  I need to be able to lift the 50 pound bags of chicken food that I get (also sometimes I need to offload a 50 pound bag of feed at the museum) and it's getting to be a struggle.  And I don't do much cardio - one of the reasons for my bad fall a couple of weeks ago is that I was walking a bit faster than normal.  There are too many tripping hazards both here and at work.  But I could use my rowing machine more.

Another intention is to live in more of my house.  That sounds weird - but this is too much house for one person.  I actually live in the kitchen, the den, the bedroom, and the bathroom.  I rarely go into the living room.  The back (guest room) and Bob's room just have stuff in them.  The problem is - not living in those rooms means that somehow they get really dirty (cat hair and dust).  And it just seems weird not to live in a whole house (even in the den, I have one place on  the couch where I sit - that's where I use the laptop and have my meals).

Finally, I want to adjust my sleep schedule.  I realize that I have developed a habit of staying up too late.  I get tired, and then I sit on my spot on the couch and either scroll aimlessly through random FaceBook posts, play online Sudoku, or flip through YouTube videos (not watching them, just seeing what's available).  And often end up doing that until after midnight, when I'm actually tired but like a little kid, too tired to get up and go to bed.  It's also the time that I start feeling depressed, or snacking.  But it means that I'm still tired in the morning, and it's not uncommon for me to get up, take care of the chickens and the cats, fix my breakfast, and then find myself playing on the laptop until around 11 a.m. when I fully wake up.  I just need to close up for the night a little earlier.  I'm experimenting, starting tonight.  I have a reminder on my phone to chime at 9:45 and tell me to turn off the TV and laptop.

Which is in 5 minutes.  Time to start working on the intentions.