Wednesday’s Witch | Playing for Time

The ache of being awake…

25 Jun 2025 Leave a comment

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Once again a month has passed since I last gave serious thought to writing something here. That seems to be the new default schedule for now, maybe because it takes that long to process the things that happen from one day to the next. In the end, I finally come back here because I can’t do otherwise.

The world is a cockamamie place, always was, always will be, and getting more out of hand by the hour. But unless somebody’s gonna stop the planet and let us hop off, there’s nothing to do but survive the best way we can without hurting anybody. Look for the good, look for the love.

It requires a certain determination every day to take the next step and do the next right thing, often against a soundtrack filled with unlistenable chaos, but the alternative isn’t really an option, so we buck up and do the thing. And then we do it all over again the next day.

And then you realize you might have greater need of them later.

Humans don’t generally do well under constant chaos and uncertainty. That kind of stress brings out the rat in us and we find ourselves hosting thought patterns that shake us awake and make us think straight again, thank goodness for that part.

But is that what enough people even want?

We can be positive thinkers and still admit that the world isn’t an easy place, that relationships are hard, that stress of every kind takes a toll on every human every day. That being alive is a very real dilemma to be faced.

I’ll leave us with this bit of hopefulness from a recent B’day “perade”.

Image by Judy Smith

Time out…

06 Nov 2024 2 Comments

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We’ve either been steamrolled… or we’ve been had. Either way, it seems to be over for democracy-loving citizens, although we gave it a mighty effort, at least in terms of righteous indignation over the possibilities.

Those unthinkable possibilities have arrived on a silver platter, and we can expect events to unfold very quickly, no time wasted in bringing this former proud nation to its knees. So unless you’re solely motivated by hate and revenge, prepare to have your life stripped of everything that makes it meaningful and livable.

This isn’t a drill, it’s all really happening. We woke up this morning to see that we’ve been quietly taken over by patient fascists who were fronted by clowns in order to keep us distracted. Step by determined step they’ve actually done it… brought the mighty United States of America down to their level, and now we’re a captive audience while events play out.

It’s going to be a steep learning curve for his “chosen ones.” At least the rest of us already know how this works.

I’ll meet you right here as soon as they turn some of the lights back on. Stay safe.

Image by Judy Smith

Thinking out loud…

22 May 2024 Leave a comment

***

It’s been an ISH kind of spring so far. Rain-ish. Bluster-ish. Wind-ish. Gray-ish. Not a problem, just a challenge, especially in light of the general bluster coming at us from all quarters. No question, these are strange times, putting a layer of uncertainty under everything, to which the solution seems to be “Keep your head up and keep moving.”

That’s likely the essence of what our college and high school grads heard the past two weekends from speakers who had everyone’s best interests in mind, with one notable exception, a man who kicks balls for a living. This girl is just thankful she can see the TV from the kitchen, because FOOTBALL, man (see how equal-opportunity I am?). And the kitchen isn’t even my territory, it’s the domain of the guy who can REALLY COOK. OMG, we are SO out of compliance with current regs! If the Household Quality Control Department totes us away, please send banana bread containing keys, thx.

So… we’re in hiatus again, with some 28,000 university students mostly gone with the wind. Mass Street, jammed for two solid weekends, is now kinda quiet, kinda slow. This state of being lasts only a couple of months, though, before new life returns and it’s on again: students looking for housing, furniture at the curb all over town, baby freshmen getting their college legs, and a happy Mass Street. Football. Basketball. Bread and circuses, bring it on.

In the interim we’ve consciously broken a habit of several years running, that of NOT watching news on TV. The various shenanigans and happenings have heightened our need to know, so we tune in to trial coverage enough that it reminds me of watching the Watergate hearings on a little black & white TV with rabbit ears while my toddler played and napped.

That whole thing, Watergate, seems so innocent in retrospect. I wasn’t here for slavery (the official version) and I missed the Civil War and both World Wars. By the end of the Korean War I was six years old and just beginning to be cognizant of events outside my small sphere of existence. By the time Viet Nam became an acknowledged war I was becoming very aware of world events and how politics, in the end, shape everything. (See definition of “woke.”) Despite the ugliness and division of that era and my own personal fears, I never really expected to see the globe in tatters and headed for a bad end in my lifetime. Why, I don’t know, because here we are.

While I wasn’t old enough for WWII, I fully understand what it was about, and I know its sinister vibe is very much with us right now, this week, underscored by words from a disgraced ex-“president.” Words like “unified Reich” and “immigrants are poisoning the blood of America” and political opponents referred to as “vermin.” Germany doesn’t allow Nazi rhetoric, why are we tolerating it? The language and intent are such that every time I’ve tried to write about it (or anything else) my brain fogs over and tears clog my throat. As a country we’ve never quite been who we thought we were, but we were for sure better than this and the world is aghast to see our crumbling feet of clay because if the U.S. is a sham, how do they maintain hope for their own nations?

I’ll always be a Pollyanna, the girl who looks for the pony in the manure pile, always hopeful, forever optimistic, but I must say it takes a mighty amount more effort to maintain that mental state now.

Can’t we just all get along?

Image by Judy Smith

Pick a lane…

24 Jan 2024 Leave a comment

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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.

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

The word for 2024:

And hold onto this thought, too…

Image by Judy Smith

The pause…

22 Nov 2023 4 Comments

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It’s another HumpDay, boys and girls, and we all know what that means: GET OVER IT ASAP! In truth, it feels like a very laid-back pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday, no big deal, which is the way I like my holidays. We’re creatures of habit in this house, rather than tradition, and a nice habit to cultivate is good food with great people, so tomorrow will follow… um… tradition. Rita will be here and each of the three of us chose a favorite dish to make, plus a few other goodies. It’ll be fire and we’ll congratulate ourselves on pulling off yet another cozy half-assed national holiday on our own template. Meanwhile, our middle sister should be on her way home today after major surgery, which is another tradition we dislike but adhere to in this family on a far too regular basis. And John will be working the holiday, as is his usual tradition.

This morning has sounded industrious and preparatory outside my doors. The yard crew arrived early to finish putting all the landscaping to bed for the season, at decibel level. There were fire trucks running north and south while city police cars screamed east and west, in response to what, I won’t even contemplate. The #lfk street sweepers have been out in force. Cars and people are roaming to and fro on errands unique to them. Kim’s home from PickleBall and is in the kitchen chopping a new load of fresh pepper and onion mix, his not-so-secret ingredient in most everything but desserts. The sun’s shining. The wind isn’t blowing. The day stands ready, holding out possibility. Might have to check it out… after one more cup of coffee.

A happy and grateful observance to all who celebrate. It’s never a bad time to stop and give thanks.

Image by Judy Smith

Life is real…

04 Oct 2023 2 Comments

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There’s been a strange phenomenon at work for the past week… I get up and all’s well. Then Kim leaves for PickleBall, the house gets totally quiet, and a monster creeps up behind me and crushes the life out of me for about fifteen minutes. Wha… ?? It shocks me that after a lifetime I still have this many tears in reserve. Where are they coming from? And why? I mean, the world is awful, that’s a given now. And we can’t see the future. And there seem to be few viable answers. I have none at all… thus the dilemma. Powerlessness creates frustration, denial, a tug-of-war on the inside, and finally self-criticism. “Why haven’t you fixed this?”

Feeling powerless in any situation makes me angry. I’m not very good at expressing anger in ways that are non-threatening to me or others. Suppressed anger becomes depression. Bingo. Getting somewhere.

National events pertaining directly to the world we live in continue on a perilous track that portends throwing out the baby with the bath water. It’s a massive challenge to stay positive, keep a good thought, hope for the best, in fact that approach feels disingenuous and like quiet quitting. So I stay educated and current, like a good citizen, the major challenge being to keep my psyche out of the fray. This, as far as we know, is the life we get… it makes sense to care what it looks like. Just not too much, apparently.

I’m thinking I can’t be the only one to feel all of the above and more, so if you’re part of my tribe and have found healthy ways of coping with the world as it now stands, please come talk to me in COMMENTS, I’ll wait right here.

Didn’t have to wait long. Visited my friends over on Twitter aka X, and saw this from Barlow Adams, who kicks my butt every day in a good way:

Come tell me more, friends.

Image by Judy Smith

Hot enough for ya’?

26 Jul 2023 Leave a comment

Photo Credit: Kim Smith 07/25/2023

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Took a little summer hiatus. Didn’t go anywhere except in my mind, but that’s always a bargain because the choices are unlimited. The weather continues to be ridiculous, and today we’ll put our heads down and brace for about ten days of 100+ temps. With that in mind, along with the general global madness…

It’s hot, damn hot, and life is tricky. Therefore…

Confession: The current flavor of human existence, the atmosphere in which we live and breathe, is a butt-whipping for the Pollyannas of the world. “Can’t we all just get along?” was never more expressive of an era, but as “caring ants” we’re powerless to change the universal bent of humanity. Powerlessness leads to depression, so we have to fight that every day simply out of spite if for no other reason. Why should selfishness, a superiority complex, and a total lack of empathy be allowed to run unchecked in the world if we can stick a foot out every once in a while and upend the process? I’m on it, you can thank me later.

A challenge in this era is that of rejecting cynicism. It would be so much simpler to let our hearts harden and to stop caring about much of anything, but it wouldn’t be any easier. You live with hurt and pain or you don’t live at all.

Experience is teaching me to Keep It Simple. (“Stupid” is implied, but redundant by now.)

Stay cool.

Image by Judy Smith

Mid-week checkup…

12 Jul 2023 Leave a comment

***

How’s your Wednesday going, boys and girls? I’m guessing it’s more productive than mine as I’ve been in neutral since last Friday. It happens. Our minds and bodies let us know when it’s time for a break from the world, and we do well to listen to them.

“The world.” The place where everything that goes on is outside our control; therefore, regular intermissions from the drama and shenanigans are advised. It’s hard for an “I want to know things” citizen to stick her head in the sand, but it finally becomes the only course of action in defending against despair. Look away for a bit, let the experts continue to screw it up without your help, and latch onto something, anything, that’s yours. It’s inside you, not out there with whatever credentials you’ve earned going through life. Maybe you don’t even know it’s there, but you have a core no one else can reach, which means they can’t rob you of it without your permission, so never, ever yield that sacred territory.

Even if we genuinely sleep well, it’s hard to rest in an unsettled environment, with fools on the world stage running the show… it does not lend itself to trust and confidence, and the exhausting process takes a toll as it filters down to where we really live.

Among life’s most wearing exercises is this…

Don’t we all long for those compadres who will take us as we are? Tolerate our ridiculous humanity, laugh with us instead of at us, protect us from our own naiveté rather than exploit it, and gently save us from ourselves? Don’t we all want someone to love us that much, and have our backs whether we deserve it or not? We do or we wouldn’t be human. But we also know this: It’s a bigger assignment to BE that person. First things first.

For now, on this steamy summer morning when I could step out and fry breakfast eggs on the balcony railing, I’m choosing peace. It’s always proven to be a good starting place… first do no harm.

I wish you true simplicity. The world is a hostile environment in key ways, but it’s the only home we’ll ever remember, so living with it in simplicity of heart is all I know to do. If you’ve discovered another way, please, for the love of whatsoever gods there may be, sit down and talk with me right here, right now. 💙

Image by Judy Smith

Tales of rain, sunshine and life…

31 May 2023 Leave a comment

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Thunderstorms have been moving through on the regular, whether they’re in the forecast or not, and we’re metaphorically soaking up every drop because soon enough our days will follow THIS pattern:

After that, rain’s supposed to move in again, so I’m thinking the Dove family will be getting their affairs fully in order in the coming week. The rains have no doubt delayed flight training to some extent, but we see little chicky-heads bobbing around in the nest, and small wings stretching to the limit, so preparations are underway. I turned around and snapped this shot of David and Darleen yesterday while they were talking about the babies, the day’s agenda, and no doubt their undying love for one another. Pretty sure I heard him murmur, “Time to kick these kids out and reclaim our bed, schweetheart.”

And that’s life, the cycle goes on. Speaking of which, sorting boxes and bins held over from previous eras can be hazardous to your mental health. In emptying six households belonging to loved ones, I’ve come across a few items that have creeped me out, one of which is old driver’s licenses. There’s something about that stark moment set in the amber of time. I always want to let go of it NOW and not look at it again. That is NOT the person I knew and loved, but there they are, captured forever at their near-worst for all to see. During my recent closet purge I found one of MY old licenses, thus the evidence of trauma you may be sensing as you read. I sliced it right through the numbers, cut the strangely-hued awful portrait into Xs, and buried it. There. Not that girl anymore, moving on.

Please enjoy a luscious day.

Image by Judy Smith

Still thinking…

07 Dec 2022 2 Comments

It’s cold and gray again this morning, which calls for another mug of coffee while I stare out the windows some more. I may be slow getting underway but no worries, all the quiet mornings are belong to ME.

Life hack: give yourself 8 to 12 hours of alone time in the morning to mentally prepare for the day. -Roshan Patel

Three’s perfect but I’ll settle for one.

I feel this in my soul.

The deep quiet of winter is a boon to anxious humans, soothing like a weighted blanket. [DISCLAIMER: They give me claustrophobia.] If you aren’t personally acquainted with anxiety, it feels like everything-all-the-time-stacked-layered-and-shredded. Your brain runs from one end of the track to the other without letup unless it’s veering off on a side rail or briefly waylaid by sportsing or digital games. And even then…

I have a cousin who’s more of a sister, and we’ve planned since the last time we saw each other… maybe five years ago? … to spend some time on the phone together catching up again. As mom to many kids and grandkids, phone conversations are her life-blood, whereas in my little world they look a lot like this:

Today holds a doctor’s appointment and a Christmas party, one after lunch, one this evening, so of course I woke up at 6am planning for both because they’re mere hours away with nothing between now and then. It makes no sense… but if reason is what we’re after, we can let that go… anxiety doesn’t provide that commodity. Being a neurodivergent bundle of contradictions isn’t a glamorous assignment but I’ve lived to tell you about it so far, which counts as a win every day, and I hope it gives somebody else a spark of optimism. It’s imperative, considering reality, that we pull together any time we can. Life is hard. The more we know, the better.

It’s likely that between now and New Year’s Day most of us will survive the daily requirements plus all the extras. We’ll drift into a fresh calendar with what passes for optimism, and sail on. And we’ll be happy… because we find the stuff of happiness everywhere, we can’t help ourselves. Anxiety as this girl lives it isn’t worry and it isn’t ABOUT anything. It’s about EVERYTHING. The details, timing, deadlines, other people’s expectations, navigating the ins and outs. If you relate, come talk to me in COMMENTS, please.

Sometimes it would be so Zen to be a bug, not seeing every sight, thinking every thought, feeling every feel… until an errant boot heel ended that pleasant reverie, and I’d be quickly reassessing my possibilities for continued existence. Better to stay in my assigned form and deal with what I know, convoluted and incomprehensible as it might seem sometimes. Where are the people who led us to believe we’d have life figured out by age 40 at the latest? Not here are they? I wonder if some of them had an all-encompassing epiphany toward the end and failed to tell us about it. Wouldn’t it save the generations a lot of work if we simply adopted a generous system of file-sharing?

Being an overthinker isn’t entirely bad:

See, not ENTIRELY bad, amirite?

We’ll eventually figure the whole thing out. Or not.

Image by Judy Smith

Ta-da!

16 Nov 2022 4 Comments

Drumroll and some horns, please, it’s a breakthrough morning.

Someone asked me years ago what I saw myself doing at age 65. If I recall correctly, my answer was “Whatever I want to,” and then we were off and running again, trying to keep up, losing contact with dreams…

Now, ten years past 65, I sit here at my desk thinking about goals… options… open doors… roadblocks… the stuff of everyday living, and it’s beyond exhausting. Not DOING it, THINKing about it. All this year, on reasonably nice days, I walked and walked and walked. But for a farm girl I’m a big sissy and when the weather turns cold, so do I. And then I sit inside feeling guilty and under a cloud of self-reproach that’s entirely unnecessary and unproductive BECAUSE…

… we determined a few posts back that I DON’T DO MORNINGS, so why do I continue to torment my psyche about it? Here’s what I know, suddenly, having just typed those words… IT’S A COP-OUT my brain employs. By which I mean, “Well, I didn’t make it out to SPL for YET ANOTHER MORNING, so the day’s pretty much shot for that. I mean, it gets dark around 2pm now, so… ” Another approach occurs to me… I could utilize experience and intuition to figure this out and make something work. Not a problem, just a challenge.

GOAL: To walk five days a week. Or, you know… three.

REALITY: When it’s cold and miserable outside, any excuse is legit. Nope, sorry, not today, no can do, blah, blah, blah…

FACT #1: Sports Pavilion Lawrence is, under most circumstances, open to Douglas County residents every weekday from early to late, and they have a snazzy walking track that’s safe, if inevitably boring. But did I mention that if you live in the county, the facility is FREE to use?

FACT #2: It’s been established that mornings are not my personal jam; however, afternoons exist and will have to be taken into the equation if I hope to come out a winner on this.

The track encompasses the interior of the building, on two levels. It’s cozy inside and there are people there. A TODDLER would have shed their inherent laziness long before now, faced facts (see above) and been ON it. Accountability is tedious, but so is DISability, so…

Somebody do what you can to keep me responsible… thx. It’s 15 or 20 minutes’ driving time each way, so it’s not like walking a block down to The Summit to work out. Which I never did even one time when they were open, so there’s that…

But let’s not make this all about me, she said, turning for a profile shot… if you’re a Boomer, you’re sort of an Old, and moving is your ticket to the future. Not as in “Let’s pack the truck and get outta here,” but as in legs, arms, booty, everything well-oiled and grooving to the beat in your head. We can give ourselves a genuine advantage for the crazy golden years, and it’s worth getting totally serious about. Totally. Positive resolutions to us all.

Image by Judy Smith

Taming the beast…

26 Oct 2022 2 Comments

Felt cute so I deleted no fewer than 3,000 pieces of mail from my folders before 9am, won’t regret it later. They sneak in by the hour, disregarding every vow I’ve made to limit them severely, but incentive finally arrived this morning in the form of “need to know,” and I proceeded to wreak havoc in all directions while searching for that one elusive document. Found it!! And the only survivors are billing notices and book recommendations, mostly the latter because the picture is gradually coming into focus… the years ahead might include more reading than the rest of my life put together. Part of the “plan” I mentioned the other day.

One thing that has become clear is that the future, which is the present, has to be looked straight in the eye and dealt with. It’s here, it’s now, it isn’t going anywhere, it’s up to us to live it well. Since I can’t imagine a present/future without books, it’s a grace to know there’s an unlimited selection… so far.

My love affair with books started with my mother reading to me… one of my earliest memories. And then my five-year-old legs stepped into the Carnegie Library Children’s Room and I was forever captive to reading. Beyond Kim… and music… nothing shuts down my ever-present anxiety like walking into a book and closing the door behind me. What an incredible thing! Markings on surfaces that possess the power to deliver us to unknown worlds. And what a relief to know that someone else’s thoughts can keep me away from my own for long stretches of time.

For reasons, a lot of which I’m just now understanding, the story of my life has been undergirded by an unshakeable sense of anxiety, go me. I’m surprised, from this perspective, to find that I’ve merely been wounded by the unexpected instead of entirely disabled, and it’s empowering to come at it from this end of the telescope because all my perspectives have changed. If you know, you know. It’s crippling if we fall slave to it. Pretty sure you’ll identify…

**In truth, I’ve mostly stuck with it no matter how awkward things got.**

It takes nothing to kick high OR low anxiety into gear, it’s always there waiting for a chance to screw everything up, so it helps to keep this handy:

Workin’ on it every day and would love to reach a point where I could say the following in complete honesty:

It would be lovely if you’d share with me your best escape routes when anxiety attacks, the quickest ways to disarm it, the quietest remedies. It’s a constant presence but a terrible friend, so spending less time together would be super. Come talk me down…

Image by Judy Smith

Laziness… the habit of resting before you’re tired

20 Jul 2022 Leave a comment

How to tell if something has become a habit… when you feel utterly miserable if you miss a day. Kim woke me up when he left for PickleBall, which I assume was around 6:30, and the next thing I knew it was nearly 8:00. When I stepped out onto the balcony the sun and thick hot air made me duck right back inside to think it over, whereupon I decided some buttery grits with toast and jam sounded more rejuvenating… and here we are.

If every day went according to plan, we’d be robots, but missing my morning walk will stick like glue and I’ll be looking for shade toward evening to make up for it. Seven months ago I couldn’t envision ditching the lifetime nerve pain and doing whatever I wanted to do… so now when I pass up opportunities to DO… I feel it. I’m calling that a beautiful thing while I line up the day… there’s usually enough to do.

I remember scorching summers, some total drought-makers, but the current heat wave feels ponderous even when the humidity is below 50%. In an era when all our chickens seem headed home to roost, I’m not holding out false hope for consistently milder weather any time soon, by which I mean I may never see that day again. Good to be old… I got to see most of it at least once. Live with this we will, kids, ’til we die. The human race is nearly inscrutable on every level, but one thing we know about us… even the gods can’t tell us a damn thing because we arrived here knowing it all.

Not a lot to write home about right now, just felt like checking in with everybody. And I saved another little stack of stuff to share with you…

Right off the top, a commentary on the past couple of weeks:

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In that vein, and don’t let on that I told you, but Kim always wanted to invent a Braille halter-top.

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I like to reiterate the following on a semi-regular basis to keep misinterpretations to a minimum if possible:

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This is critically important, so don’t skim past it…

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And this… shared by a wonderful friend… because I love it.

Image by Judy Smith

Unraveling the threads…

13 Jul 2022 3 Comments

The other day I shared this little story on Facebook and it generated a brief but interesting conversation…

My impression was that I surprised at least a few people in the convo, catching them off-guard with a confessional comment or two… and I’ve thought about it since. We give it all sorts of names and labels… apprehension, disquiet, restlessness, watchfulness… but by any description, anxiety can be crippling. The first two years of isolation after COVID began showed me just how intricately-wrapped I was in the arms of silent worry. That sense of disquiet has been with me since before memory, and the reveal came because the isolation left me with nothing but time inside my own head.

If anxiety lives under your skin you’re likely to identify with some of this…

I’m saving the pertinent details for my bestseller, so on the “how did I get this way” front I’ll simply say for now that LIFE HAPPENS. It’s been extremely sweet to me in certain ways, though, so I’ve had my good moments, stumbling through life, even at times feeling marvelously (and temporarily) in control of my existence. I cherish those times, which are ongoing. But the flipside that we’re not talking about right now never goes away, just hangs out in doorways and dark alleys waiting to trip me up and put me on the wrong side of myself. It takes only a word or a look, an image from the past, a riff of a song, a perceived disappointment… and that other me takes over. I don’t like her at all because all the things I want to be… she isn’t. I keep thinking year by year that we’ll reach a peaceful settlement, she and I… but she’s tricky and has been running the show far longer than the me I really am… the one who’s strong through everything and knows what she’s doing. (For some reason the witchy half of me just laughs when I say that.)

If you’re me, with Anxiety in the driver’s seat, you drag your feet about making plans, even though you want to see the people involved. It’s complicated. You make all your doctors’ appointments for afternoon because you need the whole morning to get mentally ready for it, which includes showering and dressing. Situations encompassing more than four people are anxiety-inducing because despite spending ridiculous dollars on high-tech hearing assists you can’t hear shit… all the voices and background sounds blend together, obliterating consonants from the beginnings and endings of words, which renders them unintelligible. My glued-on but sincere smile and the occasional nod of my head are intended to convey a general sense of understanding on my part, along with the acknowledgment that it doesn’t really matter, I know there won’t be a test, we’re all just being sociable here… as anxiety percolates.

Phone calls are a test of will, mine against the witch under my skin. The anxiousness attached to this one harkens back to the days before I realized I was losing my hearing, I just knew people were talking softer and faster and why was this happening all at once? I’m realizing that it’s really not such a big deal to have a phone conversation, and it’s where these expensive earbuds shine, so I’m on the verge of winning this one. In fact, since breaking out of the prison of nerve pain, I’ve been taking on lots of tiny challenges and winning, which bodes better for the future.

I’ve learned how to be a duck, calm on the surface, paddling for my life underneath, which as it turns out is the definition of adulting. And I’m learning that the world of my thoughts is the true one… as long as I keep them real. When I was little I wondered what people did after 40 or so, when they knew everything. Just read books ’til they died, I figured.

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I don’t know the answer to the question posed in the graphic, but I know I’m a champion at letting things steal my joy. I can break my own heart in record time with conversations that never happened, slights that never came my way at all. It’s crazy.

But never mind, it’ll all be in the book…

***

Image by Judy Smith

Let’s talk about home and comfort…

06 Jul 2022 Leave a comment

Friends will be surprised to hear that I walked to New Jersey yesterday morning. Strolled from 8th to 9th to Connecticut to New York to New Jersey, which kept me on good sidewalks and brought me out at the train station, ready for the return loop home. Went out just after 7am but it was already getting steamy, so 45 minutes’ trekking was about right. This morning I woke up later and it was already breathless outside, so I’ve declared this to be Paperwork Day (why do we still have PAPER work??), while soothing any trace of guilt with iced coffee. Oh, there’s all that laundry, too, of course, good thing I conserved energy right off the bat, so wise…

The days grow ever weirder while that other shoe takes on weight, so here’s some nonsense I saved for just such days…

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**I love you, fellow weirdos, we must hang together. Or we will hang separately…**

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Thomas Wolfe wrote a whole novel centered around the fact that You Can’t Go Home Again, and someone’s explanation says “If you try to return to a place you remember from the past it won’t be the same as you remember it.” I think it’s the other way around – we can’t go back because the people who never left won’t let us be anything other than the labels we wore then. That strikes me as an important fail-safe… if nothing changes over a lifetime, a society is dying, so home has to be wherever we find ourselves.

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I hope your heart feels at home today.

Image by Judy Smith

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ALL the stuff …

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These people know better but they read my blog anyway.

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Winnowing the Chaff

Search My Site