Challenge

 As I've often said, I like having my life to look back on in this blog.  For one thing - I notice that I tend to be in the doldrums in June - probably because I need to adjust to the weather change.   So it's just part of the pattern.

Still missing Stumbles very much.  It's too quiet here.  Because of her condition, she had a funny walk.  Her front legs would be stiff like she was goose-stepping, and they would tend to cross over each other like a runway model.  But until she was gone, I never really noticed that it made her give a little characteristic thump thump thump thump sound as she walked.  I miss that.  I miss having "help" with folding my laundry, or making the bed.

I look back at previous years, and then I was pretty good about doing some yard work before breakfast.  I haven't been doing that - but then I have to remind myself that it's been raining pretty steadily for the last week.  But the frogs like it very much.

This doesn't capture how amazingly loud these calls are.  Likely thousands of little frogs.

In the "oops!  I did it again" category, I succumbed to the lure of a naturally colored wool fleece on a good sale.  Most fleeces weigh 2-3 pounds, but this one was from a Columbia cross sheep, and those guys are big enough that you can practically put a saddle on them and ride them.  9 pounds of wool.  No, I don't know what I'm going to do with it - but before I can store it, it needs to be washed.  This is best done by hand, in small amounts at a time, so that will occupy the next week.  I could do it efficiently by setting up a gas burner for hot water outside, with a lineup of buckets for soaking, washing, first rinse, and second rinse.  But it's raining - so it would all have to be dragged to the carport.  And it's still hot, and muggy, and the mosquitoes and biting flies are out.  So small amounts at a time in buckets in the bathtub  it is.

That sounds like a challenge, but it isn't.  I know how to wash a fleece, and even how to do it more-or-less efficiently.

It's like my walking challenges aren't really challenges.  I know how to walk - I've been doing it most of my life, and all I have to do to meet my current challenge (virtually walking the 1084 miles from Land's End to John o'Groats in England) and hit an average of 2.5 miles a day (most days I'm closer to three).  BTW - I'm 312 miles into the walk.

I've realized that part of my doldrums is that at the moment I don't have any challenges.  I'm not trying to learn anything new, or figure anything out - and that's when I feel happiest.  But when one is in the doldrums, and just doing everyday things seems like too much effort, it's hard to goad yourself into thinking up something new and different.

I've often written about sort of missing the wild chaotic days right after I lost Bob.  Back then, *everything* was a challenge.  Could I live by myself?  I had gone from my parents to the dorm to living with Bob - living alone was something I had never done.  Could I learn to cook for one?  Could I take care of the cats and other animals?  Could I sleep in our bed (the answer to that for a long time was no - I had problems even sitting on the side of the bed.  After a couple of months I could do it if I piled laundry baskets and clothes on the bed to hide that awful emptiness).

Could I deal with getting a new AC unit put it?  Keep up with the yard?  Replace a light fixture?  Cut up and burn a fallen tree?  Deal with cat problems?  Get a new porch built, a new roof put on the house?  Go to a movie, or a circus, or out to eat by myself?  Clear the 1500 foot path down to and along the stream?

All that nervous energy was, well, energy, and some of it spilled over to creative projects.

Those challenges aren't challenges anymore.  They're just things that need doing, and I'm the one to do them.  I don't get the nervous energy off of them.

So I need to challenge myself.  From time to time I check to see if there are any art classes that look interesting - not much seems to be offered (that's one thing that still lingers from Covid apparently - places that offered classes haven't recovered financially).   And the curse of Ann still seems to be going on - the one where I decide that I will go attend something because I will meet and chat with people - only to have no one else show up.  At the local community center a couple of days ago there was going to be a disaster preparedness talk, but using interactive VR - and that seemed like fun.  And it was - for the instructor and myself.

So June 2026 self - I hope I'll give you something to look back on.