Mid-Winter Thaw

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Thaw sounds a lot like thoughts and here we are. It’s been gray for days, nudging even Mrs. Pollyanna toward the ledge, but after all the snow, rain, sleet, fog, and plain ol’ gray skies, look what the weather gods are telling us this morning. Well, um, still quite a bit of gray, I see that now, but look at the temps! Spring Break, people! Keep a good thought.

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Some of this morning’s thoughts have been about love/hate relationships, of which there have been many along the way, the concept of hate being a relative thing and used almost benignly here.

  • I love the quiet of winter. I don’t love the bone-chilling cold nor the relentless gray overhead. Even a dedicated recluse feels it after about so many days.
  • I’m loving the insights I’ve picked up over seven-plus decades of daily living. However, I abhor some of the fallout those years rained down upon myself and others. Learning the hard way is hard.
  • I love the freedom inherent in having made it past 75, with license to tell most anyone “You’re not the boss of me.” Or as a little girl in the restaurant booth behind me shouted “I don’t have to! You’re not my REAL daddy!” On the flip side, I’m genuinely not thrilled about how suddenly everything stops and there you are. Whatcha’ gonna do with yourself ’til you die, anyway?
  • I love having survived this long against all odds (yes, there are stories) and having had time to absorb and use a lot of what my grandparents imparted to me. But it’s fairly crushing to realize how little the basics of human community have altered for the better since the 1950s and 60s. Three-quarters of a century on, we’re still fighting all the same battles.
  • I love that at this age I care very little about the accoutrements. Give me some comfy leggings and a sweatshirt and life is golden. On the other hand, my lack of caring stems primarily from the fact that basically nobody (except long-suffering Kimmers) sees me, which is either not good or the healthiest thing possible, I haven’t figured it out yet. My spidey senses tell me the world is grateful.
  • I love life, all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly. I don’t love how brief it all is. On the other hand, maybe I love that it isn’t even LONGER. And now I’m out of hand(s), but what I truly love this morning is that I AM NOT IN CHARGE, not of my world or anyone else’s. What a relief. What a grace.

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Great advice I stole from a friend today:

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Speaking of whack. I didn’t do this, but I would have.

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Have a day you’ll feel good about as you’re falling asleep tonight…

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Pick a lane…

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Kudos this morning to all the people who wake up ready for the day. And hugs to all who immediately feel seen because we don’t do that. I wasn’t a sleepyhead as a child, rarely even slept late during high school or college, was up before daylight most mornings as a farmer’s wife, packing lunches and/or getting ready to run some piece of heavy equipment for the next ten or twelve hours. I was awake and tracking from the second my feet hit the floor. But ya’ know, life changes things, becomes a pain (literally), and our bodies compensate by letting us off the hook here and there… let somebody else worry about (whatever) for a while. Sleep patterns change, leaving us less on point when wake time arrives, thus creating a sort of purgatory, a sometimes hellish way station where we try to simultaneously ignore the world around us and get ourselves ready to meet it in whatever ways fate has in store. I’m very spoiled… quiet is what allows me to be a functioning adult and I have a lot of it. I don’t book morning appointments unless there’s no option, and I usually have the luxury of a few hours’ grace before noon, alone, before I absolutely have to get it together. Mornings are some of my favorite writing times because writing it down is how I think things out and how I keep myself company. Thank you, my mama, for showing me the necessity for solitude and how to use it.

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Wow, check out all the coffee mugs! Must be something to it.

The word for 2024:

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And hold onto this thought, too…

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Checking in…

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Hello, and how’s your year going so far? Does it still feel “new” to you, or have the same-ol’ same-ol’s set in? I hope your intentions for 2024 are holding and that you’re encouraged. I boldly set five Intentions this year, not to be confused with Resolutions. Broke one before the holiday weekend was over, but I swear it wasn’t entirely my fault and the other four are maintaining… so far. The little oops still teeters precipitously, but don’t we all need that one thing that kicks us in the butt and keeps us on our toes? Motivated? Moving forward? Okay… so on we go.

How’s your weather? I ask because we’re part of Operation Deep Freeze 2024 here, and it’s exactly what we requested … a true winter. The reality is, of course, that after a certain number of single-digit days and subzero nights the cold permeates our concrete, steel, brick, and glass building, giving it an ill-tempered vibe that isn’t present any other time of year. This month’s electric bill will leave a mark because even with the fireplace switched on during all waking hours, the furnace can’t keep up and my little under-desk heater has no effect unless it’s close enough to set my socks on fire. Not complaining. Let me say that again, I’M NOT COMPLAINING. I have the sweet option of NOT GOING OUT THERE, but whatsoever gods there may be, those entities need to protect all living creatures whose home is open-air right now, s’all I’m sayin’. Wind chills in the -30 range are the real deal, and #lfk’s homeless population is in no way prepared for this. AND, sometimes I see a bundled-up citizen walking a dog that has no protection on its feet from the frozen sidewalks. I worry, I fret…

… and it’s snowing again. I love it. Try not to use those words against me, thx. It’s very cold out there. I went with Kim on a dead-battery mercy mission after lunch, and then to the grocery store, and was instantly reminded how we dress around here in the winter, and why. Layers, you need layers, insulated layers, because the shocking cold penetrates very quickly, all the way to the bone. There are too many human beings right around us without adequate clothing or shelter for this kind of weather. I worry, I fret.

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And speaking of worries… the things we fret over…

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Too soon for ratings?

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Good morning, friends. Less than a week in, how is 2024 spooling out for you? Lots of gray days here, a little snow in the air, and next Friday starts a run of cold (to us) days and nights. Daytime highs in the low 20s, with single-digit nights. It’s winter, so…

After reading a Facebook post ABOUT Facebook by a friend this morning, I’ve been sitting here thinking about what the platform means in my own life. My son made me aware of its existence shortly after his dad, my first husband, died, and against all odds (in my mind) it turned out to be my kinda place. Took me a while to navigate it to my benefit, but I was ready because until that point in my life I’d been laser-focused on pleasing the people around me, a tricky habit since it’s different strokes for different folks and somebody always gets shortchanged.

After the first couple of years on The Fakest of Books, the novelty of connecting with everyone I’d ever known was wearing thin, disagreements were becoming a regular thing, and I lacked the interest and energy for dealing with it. I thought about dropping out (which has happened a couple of times since) but decided to take a shot at making it what I thought it would be in the first place. I filtered my friends list big-time (you’re welcome, those who got a pink slip, I saved you the trouble), unfollowed, unfriended, blocked, cut sites I didn’t want to follow, locked things down like a ship in a storm and plowed ahead. The atmosphere changed immediately. It’s time for another big cull because now Facebook puts “things of interest” in our feeds and if we “like” them we’ve thereby adopted them. Cagey.

So, to do what I’m known for, I’ll make a long story longer…

We have to remember at the outset that nothing’s perfect. No environment will 100% nurture and support us, we’re imperfect, the friends we make are imperfect, life is not only imperfect but entirely unpredictable.

It therefore follows that if we were to discover a magically-perfect environment, we would automatically render it imperfect by our presence, so forget that. The only way to fly: try before you “buy,” check the temperature of a few places, set boundaries, and do what works for you. With Twitter now a “maybe” day-to-day I’ve checked into a handful of similar platforms, but the incentive to start over just isn’t there. That’s fine, the whole phenomenon, as we know it, may be reaching its expiration date anyway. Meanwhile…

“What Facebook Means to Me”

  • It gave me a voice in my 50s when I most needed one
  • It helped me build a network of support and friendship at a critical time
  • It opened doors and windows for me, insight into a rapidly-shifting political landscape and avenues for open discussion about all of it
  • It renews my appreciation every day for the people I meet there, the ones I read about, the creativity of humans, and often the kindness, which means the most
  • It lets me share this blog, which is far less expensive than a lifetime of therapy
  • Speaking of therapy, sometimes oversharing is underrated if someone is helped thereby

I’m suddenly uber-conscious that I’m closer to 80 than 70 at this point, and despite all my naive vows before the age of 50, I’m not loving the process. I like the age part and I hope to add a bunch more years to that, but the price of getting there is highly disrespectful and insulting. Facebook, because it’s what’s there, helps mitigate a few aspects of the aging process, including isolation, the blue lonesomes, the need to keep sharpening your wits by engaging with interesting people, the desire to see the world and its wonders because you know you ain’t gettin’ there in this lifetime. The Book of Fakes does nothing for wrinkles except advertise incessantly to us (how on earth do they KNOW??), but the people who remain on my friends list make the cut for being REAL, and they make life a better place to be than it would be without them.

THE END

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Moving right along…

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How was New Year’s Day? Pretty sure we did ours right. Bagels for breakfast, tuna sliders for lunch, and crockpot chicken n’ gravy with mashed potatoes for dinner because every lazy day is about the food. And in between, nothing but wall to wall football, which I love because I watch the parts I’m interested in while locked into iPad cruise mode in the background. We saw actual blue sky yesterday, and I do believe we’re being graced with it this morning as well. Let’s do this.

In yesterday’s post I talked a little bit about my grandmothers. We shared a farmstead with my dad’s parents, my mom’s parents were thirty miles away, and there was a great-grandmother living ten miles from us who was a pretty amazing person in her own right. I’m privileged to have grown up with them, been loved by them, been influenced by each of them in unique ways, and I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude. My dad’s mom, born in 1889, told me stories of her mother-in-law, my great-grandmother Salome, who, among other exploits, faced down Confederate soldiers who commandeered her Indiana farm. The only Civil War battle in Indiana was the Battle of Corydon, in which Morgan’s Raiders fought, and Corydon was the nearest settled town to the family farm. Great-grandma Sally stood on her porch armed with a rifle and tried to limit the damage being done to her property and belongings, until she saw the futility and gave in to cooking her precious livestock for the invading soldiers. They camped there until they’d gone through all the provisions before moving on, and Grandma Sally lived to fight another day.

I watched and heard about these women throughout my younger years, marked how they handled the things life gave them, kept detailed mental notes, and it’s all served me well, insofar as I’ve stayed present for it.

Facts established after decades of observation:

  • Life doesn’t get easier as we age. It gets different, it finds new challenges to throw at us, it keeps us on our toes to the end if we’re paying attention.
  • On the other hand, there’s a certain measure of peace to be found in laying down the things that are not ours to carry anymore. That doesn’t make us unnecessary in the world, it just puts the reins in the right hands.
  • As we gradually age out, there will always be things we don’t “get,” according to everyone younger. I’m losing the desire to ‘splain, but we do get it. We simply need that self-justifying energy elsewhere.
  • This morning I’d love to sit with all the women who directly preceded me and compare notes. “Is this how you felt when… ” “What did you do when… ” “What were your greatest frustrations and joys?” I’d ask if they’re disappointed to see women’s rights in basically the same place they each left them. I’ve outlived my mom by almost ten years so far, and she was writing about that subject twenty years prior to that, so gird yourselves for the never-ending haul, women of all ages.
  • The older I get, the less I talk. There’s always something I could say, but if I’m going to keep up my habit of learning one new thing a day it requires listening, which I find infinitely relaxing. DISCLAIMER: Depends on who’s talking and in what tone of voice.
  • As a lifetime sentimentalist who invariably had trouble letting go, turning loose of what isn’t meant for me is one of my new favorite things. This includes a past full of people I will never see again. Knowing I can be a psychic handful, I make it a point to let people off the hook in their dealings with me, face-to-face or online, thus I say a lot of silent goodbyes. Nothing personal, I just like REAL, so if someone finally exceeds the limits of my meds, or I feel like I’m being a nuisance, I slip out the back…

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

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I already broke a 2024 intention this morning, so you know what THAT means! Get back on the horse and ride, girlie, life goes on so go WITH it.

I wish you personal success with any and all resolutions, intentions, plans, and dreams for the coming year. Most of all, I wish you joy.

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Ready, boys & girls?

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New year, who dis? Waking up to the seventy-sixth New Year’s Day I’ve witnessed so far, and feeling good about it. 2024 is my Now or Never Year, not that I think I’m running out of chances, but it’s simply time. Time to stop saying “I need to” and just do it. To stop with the “I shoulds” and do it. Stop waiting for… whatever… and do it NOW. I have a list.

I hope you’ll pat yourself on the back for the prep you did in 2023 to get ready for today and what follows. Indeed everything that happened last year was groundwork for this one, good or bad. I’m congratulating myself for finally sticking to the script and transferring small truckloads of idle goods into needier hands. I’ll never have to deal with any of it again, and hopefully somebody’s benefitting. As I knew it would, the process has freed up my mind for other, more satisfying things, making me actually feel younger rather than older with this changing of the guard.

This morning I’m taking time to acknowledge, appreciate, and finish processing the things in 2023 that tested me to my limits. There were pitfalls and lessons and plenty of reminders of fallibility in every direction, which have only emboldened me to pay better attention going forward, establish my boundaries with the greater world, and keep moving. I’m feeling grateful to my grandmothers, all of them, for the grit and bravery they transmitted to an entire family line. In great part they’re why I’m still here today after a tough set of years now behind us, so I’ll be continuing to implement their strengths wherever possible. You be strong, too, in the year ahead, and spellbound by peace.

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