Day 9

The signs are all here. Leaves are beginning to change colour, some outliers already scarlet and gold. Crickets are louder. The breeze is cooler. Fields are harvested. Daisies are long gone, the Queen Anne’s lace is curling back over its centre and turning brown, the virginia creeper covering the telephone pole and around Mike’s barn is turning a red the colour of an apple in sunshine. The air smells different. The hummingbirds are gone.

I had thought that putting in a garden might help to slow the passage of days a bit, mark them in such a way that they would be like the long slow summers on Highland Road, telling time by what is ripe when.

It didn’t work very well. We missed strawberries, cherries, raspberries completely. It felt like we looked away for a weekend, and the tomatoes fell and sprawled over the ground, competing for space with the cucumbers. Time marched on as fast as always.

But I can still get in some hammock time. I’ve rolled it out from under the magnolia and the sun is hot on my legs and feet. There’s a cicadas in the ash and pine trees, drowning out the crickets, and an enormous honey bee just buzzed past.

It’s all a very perfect reminder to be in the present.

Day 8

Delight. I was delighted by so much that we saw today. Small children in a Power Wheels/Barbie Car demolition Derby. Two camels in a pasture. A zebra wedged in between donkeys, all jostling to get closer to the hay mow. The smoothness of a lemon ginger shortbread cookie.

Day 6 & 7

I didn’t last a week. (insert image of me shrugging) Whatever. I make the challenge, and I can bend it or break it however I want. I am long past the point where I can be bothered to feel guilt for failing a self-imposed deadline.

Call it self- care. Call it laziness. Call it coming to grips with how my mind works. It truly doesn’t matter.

Friday was a long and almost difficult day. I bailed on the Wellington Cask Fest because once all was said and done, it seemed too far to go to hang around by myself. Better to come home and be with Keith and the cats.

Today was the pleasant normality of shopping, cooking, canning and baking. It has not escaped me how much I enjoy and am deeply satisfied by the activities that I mocked so thoroughly for so long.

Middle age is finding out just how wrong you were about everything.

Day 4

Good lord, ready to bail on this already. A whole new record for me. Usually I can keep the enthusiasm going for at least a week.

I am not going to bail. Not sure what I’m going to write about.

Today I could write about how I am trying to feel a slight sore throat and not think, strep throat. I could write about how spazzy I felt all day and how I hit my goram head three bloody times. I could write about how some people turn lovely with age, and how others show their bitterness and snark in every line on their face. I could write about how often lately I’ve been thinking about calling a doctor. I could write about how Keith greets me with tea, and will make dinner while I have a bath, and how much more grateful I am to have him in my life than I have ever been before. I could write about learning a new cast-off stitch for the shrug that might actually look good enough the first try that I won’t have to frog it. Or I could write about the lovely the light looks at this time of night, almost golden hour but now yet.

But I think I’ll go to bed instead. I’m going in an hour earlier tomorrow so I can head to Stratford with Keith in the afternoon and have good Thai food (hey, I’ll do what it takes for a date night).

Things I did not do

The other day, I wrote a long, loooong list of things I can do when I get home instead of reaching for the iPad or phone and plopping my aching body on the couch. Things like

  • write in my journal
  • write a letter
  • knit
  • work on some sewing
  • read a book
  • plan the garden

You get the drift.

And if you know me at all, you’ll know that I’ve done exactly zero of those things in favour of reaching for technology and plopping my sore self on the couch.

I really need to keep working on getting my shit together.


I have hit peak beer t-shirt.

Actually, I think I hit it a few years ago; I’ve been buying patches and stickers as they are cheaper and take up less space.

I’ve gone through my beer shirts and have donated a bunch but it still left me with 30-odd shirts that had been given to me by friends, had been acquired in my travels, or were from places I really liked. I’m not wearing most of them for one reason or another and they are taking up space.

So I’ve decided to make a quilt out of them.

And no, I’ve never made a quilt before.

Going through the collection with Max’s help.

I’ve got a bunch of shirts selected, a bunch of youtube videos queued, a sewing machine and a spreadsheet.

Easy peasy.

30 days

It’s September 1st. I’ve got it in my head to do a blog post a day for the next 30 days; the over/under on me bailing on this idea is about 12 days.
We’ll see.