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Dec. 25th, 2014
On the one hand there is no Christmas here which isn't really a bad thing. But (or maybe And), on the other hand, I'm enjoying a very quiet morning here with a cat stretched out an fast asleep snuggled up attached to me. After this entry, I plan on making a very excellent breakfast.
I woke up with a sore throat and immediately decided today was one of my last days. With my lungs a cold or the flu could easily turn into a Major Thing. I know that's how it will end. It's just a matter of time. In Mom's last year, she kept falling. She'd fall, they'd take her to the hospital and fix whatever she broke. Each time it took her longer and longer to recover. Finally one day, she fell, and while most everything was the same, she didn't even break a bone this time but she knew it was the last fall and she was ok with it. She didn't last a week. I hope I know. I'm pretty sure I'll be ok with it.
And, I'm happy to report, the sore throat was, apparently, a result of my sleeping with my mouth open. And... not the least bit fatal.
---
For the past decade, I have pretty much knit only bears and other stuffed toys. Because they must be machine washable, I've only used acrylic yarn. Cheap but soft acrylic yarn. I have a couple of projects I want to do that really want nice, pretty, soft, wool. And so yesterday, I finally broke down and ordered the good stuff. My credit card was charged (a pretty penny, I might add) and I got an email saying 'here's your pattern' but no receipt or list of the yarns ordered. Yesterday I checked their website and it said order not found. Today the order is there with a note 'there is a problem with your order, please call us'. That's not a very merrychristmas note. Happily, I'm not in a huge hurry for the yarn. I've still got my hat to make but still. buggers. I hate calling. and why didn't they send me an email about the problem or an invoice? They clearly have my email address. Bah humbug. I should have gone to one of the local yarn shops but I really don't like any of them. I'm such a knitting princess.
And knit is what I'm going to do today. Of course.
After breakfast. But, there's this soft, warm, snoring cat who's not moving...
I woke up with a sore throat and immediately decided today was one of my last days. With my lungs a cold or the flu could easily turn into a Major Thing. I know that's how it will end. It's just a matter of time. In Mom's last year, she kept falling. She'd fall, they'd take her to the hospital and fix whatever she broke. Each time it took her longer and longer to recover. Finally one day, she fell, and while most everything was the same, she didn't even break a bone this time but she knew it was the last fall and she was ok with it. She didn't last a week. I hope I know. I'm pretty sure I'll be ok with it.
And, I'm happy to report, the sore throat was, apparently, a result of my sleeping with my mouth open. And... not the least bit fatal.
---
For the past decade, I have pretty much knit only bears and other stuffed toys. Because they must be machine washable, I've only used acrylic yarn. Cheap but soft acrylic yarn. I have a couple of projects I want to do that really want nice, pretty, soft, wool. And so yesterday, I finally broke down and ordered the good stuff. My credit card was charged (a pretty penny, I might add) and I got an email saying 'here's your pattern' but no receipt or list of the yarns ordered. Yesterday I checked their website and it said order not found. Today the order is there with a note 'there is a problem with your order, please call us'. That's not a very merrychristmas note. Happily, I'm not in a huge hurry for the yarn. I've still got my hat to make but still. buggers. I hate calling. and why didn't they send me an email about the problem or an invoice? They clearly have my email address. Bah humbug. I should have gone to one of the local yarn shops but I really don't like any of them. I'm such a knitting princess.
And knit is what I'm going to do today. Of course.
After breakfast. But, there's this soft, warm, snoring cat who's not moving...
Retrospect
Dec. 25th, 2014 10:26 amI read while I eat. My Kindle has a stand that props it up and I have a stash of things that can be easily and interestingly consumed in meal sized chunks.
The current reading is Meghan Daum's book of essays entitled Unspeakable. During my breakfast this morning, I read her piece on baby boomers, Gen Xers and millennials, growing up and looking back and expectations met and unmet.
She had some very thoughtful insights about when you are young being like in a room with a million doors and endless possibilities. And realizing one day that you are too old to be a young anything.
I remember those young years of possibilities so well. She remembers them with way more hopefulness than I do. I remember seeing endless possibilities to fuck up. I remember being so clueless and feeling like everyone around me had the answers except me.
I remember making what felt like then and actually turned out to be crucial decisions on a whim because I was too lazy to do it right. I remember good times but I remember the bad ones probably more clearly. One of my strongest memories is in my 30's, coming home one night from work - a job I hated - and getting lost. It was dark. I was tired. My marriage which had never been good was turning out to be the worst decision of my life. So heading home was no grand prize. I remember pulling over to the side of the road in a tree lined residential area and just sobbing for what seemed like hours.
Meghan Daum seems to be looking back now (she's in her 40's when she's writing this piece) with a lot of regret. She's looking at the things she wanted to do and didn't.
One of the great joys in my life now at age 65, is the freedom it brings. So many many things do not matter any more. I no longer carry the burden of making decisions that will affect my next 40-50 years. I no longer feel the need to please people I don't want to please.
It turns out that even my worst decisions all carried a giant up side. Once I got free from that marriage, I instantly dropped 'finding Mr. Right' from my list of todo's. That freed up my life for things that were far more important and fun. And some of my decisions - even those made poorly or on a whim without appropriate consideration - turned out to be pretty darned good ones after all.
There's this thing about what would you tell your younger self. And, you know what? I think the best, smartest, kindest thing I could tell my younger self would be absolutely nothing. The good, the bad and the ugly made me today and while there are tons of things I wish I had done better, I'm perfectly cucumber cool with the reality. And for that I am exceedingly grateful.
The current reading is Meghan Daum's book of essays entitled Unspeakable. During my breakfast this morning, I read her piece on baby boomers, Gen Xers and millennials, growing up and looking back and expectations met and unmet.
She had some very thoughtful insights about when you are young being like in a room with a million doors and endless possibilities. And realizing one day that you are too old to be a young anything.
I remember those young years of possibilities so well. She remembers them with way more hopefulness than I do. I remember seeing endless possibilities to fuck up. I remember being so clueless and feeling like everyone around me had the answers except me.
I remember making what felt like then and actually turned out to be crucial decisions on a whim because I was too lazy to do it right. I remember good times but I remember the bad ones probably more clearly. One of my strongest memories is in my 30's, coming home one night from work - a job I hated - and getting lost. It was dark. I was tired. My marriage which had never been good was turning out to be the worst decision of my life. So heading home was no grand prize. I remember pulling over to the side of the road in a tree lined residential area and just sobbing for what seemed like hours.
Meghan Daum seems to be looking back now (she's in her 40's when she's writing this piece) with a lot of regret. She's looking at the things she wanted to do and didn't.
One of the great joys in my life now at age 65, is the freedom it brings. So many many things do not matter any more. I no longer carry the burden of making decisions that will affect my next 40-50 years. I no longer feel the need to please people I don't want to please.
It turns out that even my worst decisions all carried a giant up side. Once I got free from that marriage, I instantly dropped 'finding Mr. Right' from my list of todo's. That freed up my life for things that were far more important and fun. And some of my decisions - even those made poorly or on a whim without appropriate consideration - turned out to be pretty darned good ones after all.
There's this thing about what would you tell your younger self. And, you know what? I think the best, smartest, kindest thing I could tell my younger self would be absolutely nothing. The good, the bad and the ugly made me today and while there are tons of things I wish I had done better, I'm perfectly cucumber cool with the reality. And for that I am exceedingly grateful.
