It’s Saturday, one without Keith. I kind of like those days. Not that I don’t love days with him, we both also love our separate days.
I did laundry. Thats about the only thing I’ve crossed off my to-do list so far. Unfortunately, knitting in front of Netflix and picnicking by the Beaver River was not on the to-do list. I did them anyway. When you are given a sunny and warm-ish day off, you take advantage of it. The rest can wait until later.
I was really hoping for a warmer spell as I would love to go for one final swim in the river. That does not look like it’s going to happen. The first swim next summer is going to feel really good.
But for now I’m sitting in the sunshine, holding down the hammock in the wind and writing. The air is filed with the sound of the wind in the trees, and a cricket chirping to me from the fire pit. It’s punctuated by tractors filled with rolls of hay and the odd motorcycle out for a ride.
I feel bad that I don’t feel worse about not riding much this summer. I spent a lot of money on insurance for the BMW to just sit in the garage most of the time. Finally talked to Keith about selling it and getting something that is more me, more fun. Something lower to the ground that won’t make me so anxious about falling over. I was surprised by how much I wanted that bike that our neighbour sold for Don’s wife. Or maybe I should’t be.
It’s Friday the 13th. And a full moon. Once upon a long time ago those facts would have meant something to me. Now it’s just a Friday.
It was a CIP day, and I felt on top of things for the first time all week. Thing got cleaned, things got put away, malt got milled. SS DD.
Highlight of the night was the poser going out during a long thunderstorm. It gets really fucking dark out where when that happens. Got the flashlight, lit the candles, and had just realized that it was too dark to read or knit when it came back on.
Jesus, my Friday nights are super thrilling.
I feel really good today. Like, slept well, and my hip or hands don’t ache like a bugger.
Note to self: do more damn yoga.
Hey, thanks Google Photos for reminding that I had the worst (IMHO) interview in my life two years ago today. (Yes, I know bigger things happened on September 11, but not to me and not in my country. Forgive me if I’ve moved on.)
I’d had other offers, but this was the one I wanted, the job that would be best for both Keith and I. I was so sure I had blown it, that I drove to the Collingwood Terminals, stared at the bay and cried for a half hour.
I got home and sent the thank-you-for-your-time email, and proceeded to wait. I’m not sure exactly what happened between then and getting an offer other than getting an update from Robin, but I remember it being long and rollercoaster-ish…just looked back at Google and it was a month+.
It feels odd that it’s been only two years; it feels like it should be longer. The changes in our lives have been huge: urban to rural; renter to homeowner; getting by to happy. there were crappy moments like Keith feeling that this was never going to be home, my anxiety ramping up, the lack of friends, the speed at which I feel off the radar. But the joys are frequent, from small ones like watching birds at the feeder and eating a tomato out of our garden to having the pleasure of watching our relationship grow stronger.
It’s a good life.
Question: What do I want?
Better question: What do I need?
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.
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.
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.
Date night with Keith in Stratford; chocolate, beer and Good Thai food.
Every part of me is happy right now!
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).