Nor is having a mother-in-law who at first calls your husband because she’s afraid to live alone after three recent visits to the hospital. I totally get that and yes, she’s not getting any younger. It’s not how I saw our lives in our new location. We’ll get two apartments so we can check on her and she still has her independence. Fine, but then she doesn’t want to live in a rental so she wants us to house shop. because she wants us to share a home. Okay after spending hours looking at suitable one story houses she decides that she’s not ready to move yet but we need to be ready. Fine and Dandy, but I don’t want to buy a house and wait for her to change her mind again. I didn’t want the upkeep or the stress of maintenance. And the more I think about it, I don’t want or need the stress involved with living with her. I could go into all the horror stories but I’ll leave it as is with simply she’s difficult. So we’re going with our original plan. Apartment for 2 and a fur baby. We need to do what’s best for us and our health.
The good news is we have a tentative offer on our house pending architectural approval for the sale. The house should pass easily enough so we can finally get to the next step in our lives. Now, I’m looking at apartments, and packing up an eight room house. Goodwill and the V.A. are loving me right now. 1000 books have left our home, three bags of clothing, bookcases, dishes and I’m not done yet.
I’m sorting the boxes as I pack what goes to the apartment and what goes to storage so once we’re there it won’t be chaos.
Anyway, keep your fingers crossed everything goes as anticipated and we get to move in 6 weeks.
At a glance, it could be easily missed sitting among Grandma’s things. It didn’t sparkle like her prisms or sun catchers did. Nor did it have any unique markings that might tempt a child’s fantasy but it did. Her wild imagination created a different story for the treasure every time she gazed upon it. Why did it have to be on the do not touch shelf? It didn’t look breakable. It didn’t look like it was worth millions but what did her young mind know about grown up things. She longed to tuck it into her backpack. What virtue hides inside. It was a mystery she needed to solve.
The admired paragon sat silently beside a angel cherub holding a feather. There was a miniature glass terrarium with a metal frame that cast colors of the rainbow across the wall every afternoon with the setting sun on the other side of the shelf. It shined pretty but it wasn’t what the little girl wanted to wrap her chubby fingers around. She wanted to know what secrets it held. And besides she could see what was inside unlike the object of her attraction without a latch to open it.
Would her Gram miss it? How much trouble would she be in if she took off the shelf? She studied it from every angle but decided that she couldn’t disappoint her Grandmother by breaking the rule.
“Logic will get you from A to Z; imagination will get you everywhere.”-Albert Einstein
Years later, the paragon of her childhood imagination no longer captivated her because it didn’t hold hidden treasures from a pirate ship. Nor did it have a unique gem from a secret lover. It was simply a box made of dark cherry wood with rounded corners. Why did she foolishly imagine it must be valuable. Not having a latch made a young mind curious, but she was older now and didn’t care.
Time passed and it was forgotten like many other unexplained childhood fascinations.
“You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” -Mark Twain
She picked up her beloved cat’s ashes from the veterinarian’s office. She opened the box and inside was a dark cherry wooden box. Her childhood fixation was an urn, just like the one she was holding in her hand. Now, she understood why it sat next to the cherub on the do not touch shelf.
She wished more than anything she wasn’t grasping this cherry box in her hand. She would rather be holding her beloved cat.
I tried to imagine it’s story. How did it end up in the Kennebec River up in The Forks, Maine. Why was it lying in just the right place for me to discover it?
Looking at my piece of driftwood, it most likely was a tree branch that dropped into the river in an area where it was tossed around a lot. My reasoning on this is because of the smooth rounded edges. There’s not a burr anywhere. T
I can’t help but wonder if it was happy to be discovered and removed from the chilly water or was it sad. It bet it wasn’t excited to be wood burned with the message fine and dandy on its slender side. Life changed a lot for this piece of wood for sure. Have I given it a better life or a worse one?
is navy blue with a beveled seat that feels just right. The arms are flat with curved ends that draw my eyes to the decorative notches in the structure. When I study it closely, I notice how the light plays off the painted finish. It holds my afghan perfectly on the tall back rest.
I’m reminded of my grandparents dining room. There was a card table by the window with a huge word find sheet and several pencils. There were a pair of rocking chairs on the other side of the room with a small table and a lamp. They used to sit together at night reading together. My grandmother’s rocking always had a cushion tied to the seat that hid the slat design of the seat. I never liked the cushion, I preferred the simplistic beauty of the chair as it was designed like my grandfather did with his rocking chair. He balked so much when my grandmother tried to make them match. She stashed it in the closet. Eventually, it migrated to her chair when her cushion cover gave out.
I remember sitting in his rocking chair. I loved the distinct noise on the hardwood floor with every rock. I found comfort in the sound while my grandmother puttered. Sometimes, I used to rock fast hoping it would carry me off to some magical place. The arms were just right I could easily navigate through space. I was invincible.
Other times, the rocking chair would whisper sharing it’s memories before it became a rocker. It was a sturdy oak tree on the edge of a meadow. The sun tickled it’s branches each sunrise and sunset. Children climbed its sturdy branches. The rocking chair confided those moments gave him the most joy.
I asked him if it hurt becoming a rocking chair. He didn’t answer at first but I stubbornly persisted as children tend to do. He said, the most important thing was now. He had a new purpose and it gave him joy. He said my enjoyment in his safe arms was worth it all. He was happy going on adventures with me.
I think he enjoyed rocking me away from everything that made me sad. His gentle sway always filled me with pleasure like a secret lover’s touch. I think he loved me as much as I loved him. I wonder if he ever thinks of me.
Its been forty five years since I’ve sat in my grandfather’s rocking chair. A few years ago, Vic got me a rocking chair for my birthday. I sit in my rocking chair letting the swaying of each rock carry me back to those special times at my grandparents. Maybe someday my rocking chair will whisper to my granddaughter.
Only Leslea Newman would choose a pomegranate for prompt to use in stream of consciousness writing. Yes, the fruit is a power color or as some would say a royal color. Although, I’m not fond of eating fruit that stain my fingers, but I do enjoy a glass of pomegranate juice. And it’s a nice change of pace from all the green hype. Just so you know, fresh juice doesn’t have to be green or full of spinach to be healthy.
Speaking of healthy, I decided to toss a soup together in the crockpot. It’s dreary and rainy again and a good hot bowl of soup is the perfect comfort food. I’m all about comfort these days. It’s not easy in this stressful existence to balance good meals and keeping the house looking unlived in.
Checked the balances in our account, no stimulus payment again. That’s three times we’ve not received anything. Our address hasn’t changed nor have our bank accounts. I’m not even sure why I bother checking, I only get more depressed. At least, our cupboards aren’t bare… I’m thankful I always kept them well stocked for emergencies. I just didn’t expect them to be happening for such a long period of time. No deposits from the insurance companies yet for Vic’s commissions. Absolutely deplorable! I totally understand why there is such a high turnover among insurance agents, the f-ing companies don’t pay consistently. It’s all about the shareholder’s and ceo’s accounts. There’s also the first quarter reports involved, got to keep that looking good for new investors. Yeah, lots of gray area to go around but that doesn’t pay bills.
Macavity was snuggled with me when I woke up this morning. He came down with me, watched me make coffee and then his breakfast before snuggling on my lap while I free wrote in my journal. He wasn’t happy when I picked him up so I could grab another coffee. He should know by now that nothing comes between my coffee consumption. Anyway, he’s lying in front of the window on his pillow. So there’s peace in both our worlds thus far, because there aren’t any showing requests yet.
I just finished reading Nina George’s The Little Paris Bookshop. What an interesting perspective! The story unfolded in first person with us joining Monsieur Perdu on his floating bookstore on a barge on the Seine River. He interacts with customers from time to time but mainly we’re reliving his pain from a lost love. He refuses for the longest time to read the letter she sent him. When he finally does, he sets off on a mission to where she lives. Our gift from this book is a reminder how the literary world can take the human soul on a journey of self-discovery and healing. Sometimes, we just need to be reminded of the power of stories and how they shape our lives. Amusingly, the back cover of the book is the same color as a pomegranate.
Thinking ….remembering my childhood. I wore my mask well, hiding behind laughter. I longed for someone back then to save me from my self-hate but no one cared enough. Now, I’m older and a lot wiser but there are times when my dark mind… fears, insecurities and the urge to cut again rises. Depression is a continuous battle that even a good cup of coffee can’t cure.
If you could throw any kind of party, what would it be for? (Covid considerations are suspended for this question)
Halloween is my favorite holiday. I love throwing costume parties. The anticipation of seeing everyone’s costumes is the best part.
Is a picture worth a thousand words? Elaborate.
I’ve taken a lot of pictures in my life, I’m not sure if they speak 1000 words but they do speak volumes about me.
Where IS Waldo? (Waldo, for those unfamiliar with him, is a cartoon character featured in many “find Waldo” images and puzzles) <—— WALDO
Waldo is taking a nap on my back deck. Waldo has been traveling a lot avoiding all the restrictions of Covid, When he landed in Jersey, I offered him our guest room but he really wanted to be outside. He’s hoping to see the new moon before anyone else.on… March 13, 2021
What’s the best part of waking up?
The smell of coffee beans being ground and then the aroma of coffee brewing. I love the quiet in the early morning as I patiently wake for my coffee.
Would you rather be covered in fur or covered in scales? (Wee disclaimer. I’m certainly not advocating the slaughter of creatures and the use of their skins for clothing or accessories. No! This question is a ‘grow your own’ type question…if you had an option of your own skin being made of fur OR scales, which would you choose?)
Fur, it’s not exactly beach weather yet.
“There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn’t.” —John Green
Painted the upper trim in front entry way. The last time it was painted my friend talked me into painting it the same color as the wall because it doesn’t really say anything. It doesn’t frame a window or define the end of a space. But I never liked it blending in. Today, I painted it the same color as the lower trim and the window. It’s now monroe bisque and if I do say so… what a difference. It adds some visual and makes my photographs pop right out.
I wore my boot for part of the painting and my sneaker for the other so I didn’t abuse the foot. I wish I could say one was better than the other. I’m writing this blog entry with a tens unit do it’s thing on my foot. It’s so frustrating that 5 months later the foot still hurts this much.
“Self-care is never a selfish act—it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others.” —Parker Palmer
Many people understand the importance of eating right but it takes more than eating the right food if your body doesn’t process the way it supposed to do. I know every time I go for my physical I have bloodwork done and it comes back flagged with 2 deficiencies. I eat fruits, veggies and drink almond milk everyday. Doesn’t matter. my bloodwork says vitamin d and vitamin b12 are deficient. So I take supplements..
I felt sad and anxious … assumed that being depressed was a norm. I discussed my feelings with my doctor which led to my bloodwork. What a difference in just a couple of weeks. I suggest if you’re feeling out of sorts or sad that you ask your doctor to check your vitamin D and vitamin B12 levels to be sure. Vitamins don’t make me feel funny or make me feel tired. Some medical practioner’s are saying vitamin D is helpful against covid as well.
What day is it? Oh yeah, Sunday. Time for Song Lyric Sunday or #SLS. Jim prompts us with begin/end/finish/start. I could have chosen a song with begin but I felt I covered begin so I moved to end. My choices of end I really like so I started by writing my entry with three different approaches to the End of the World.
The End of the World was originally by Rob Dickinson.
Breathe the air again, it’s a beautiful day I wish this moment would stay with the Earth Some primal paradise But there you go again, saying everything ends Saying you can’t depend on anything, or anyone
If the end of the world was near Where would you choose to be? If there was five more minutes of air Would you panic and hide Or run for your life Or stand here and spend it with me If we had five more minutes Would I, could I, make you happy?
And we would live again In the simplest of ways Living day after day Like some primal animals We would love again Under glorious suns With the freedom that comes with the truth
If the end of the world was near Where would you choose to be? If there was five more minutes of air Would you panic and hide? Or run for your life? Or stand here and spend it with me? If we had five more minutes Would I, could I, make you happy?
So it finally came to pass I saw the end of the world Saw the madness unfold like Some primal burial And I looked back upon Armageddon And the moment of truth Between you and me
If we had five more minutes of air to breathe And we cried all through it But you spent them with me On our last few drags of air we agree I was and you were happy
I noticed her first in the James Bond movie trailer, No Time to Die promotions. She sang the theme song No Time to Die. Eilish’s debut studio album, Where We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go in 2019 debuted atop the Billboard 200. It became the best performing album in 2019 in the states.
She’s a young woman with a lot of years ahead of her.
Rob Dickinson is a British musician and singer-songwriter previously of the band Catherin Wheel. On 10 June 2008, Fresh Wine for the Horses was re-released by Universal/Fontana adding the new song “The End of the World.”
Songwriters: Rick Wentworth / David Dundas / Rob Dickinson
I discovered him by accident because I typed in the End of the World looking for Skeeter Davis. This End of the World was written by Arthur Kent and Sylvia Dee.
The End of the World
Why does the sun go on shining? Why does the sea rush to shore? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? ‘Cause you don’t love me anymore
Why do the birds go on singing? Why do the stars glow above? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? It ended when I lost your love
I wake up in the morning and I wonder Why everything’s the same as it was I can’t understand, no, I can’t understand How life goes on the way it does
Why does my heart go on beating? Why do these eyes of mine cry? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? It ended when you said goodbye
Why does my heart go on beating? Why do these eyes of mine cry? Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? It ended when you said goodbye
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you every week by Linda Hill. Check out her blog for the rules and the contribution of other bloggers.
This week’s prompt: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “ring.” Use it as a noun, a verb, an adverb, or an adjective…use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
Initially, my brain went to first wedding ring. I can’t help but smile. Man it took a lot to get my woodstove hot enough in my old house to melt my first wedding ring. It was the second step in my reclaiming me. The first step was when I dragged the couch he left behind in our home after our divorce. It wasn’t the one we had agreed upon in the splitting of our personal belongings. Just another example how little he valued me. I burned that dang couch in the middle of our driveway along with 30 years of his Guns and Ammo magazines that he dumped in the middle of the living room taking the trunk they were inside. The flames rose high that night as my freedom rang in snaps and cracks into the fall air. I don’t know why I didn’t toss the ring in that night but I didn’t.
I melted the ring after he took the hinges off the door while I was at work. I had to do a mad dash to the lumber yard to get new hinge pins for the door. It was chilly as all get out so I stoked the fire in the stove. I was furious with the man, and that was all it took. I grabbed the ring from the bowl on the window sill and set it on the stove. Then I set about trying to put the pins back in the door alone. I had to put scraps of lumber under the door to hold it up so I could slip the pins in. I tossed some of the scraps in the lumber and that was the push the stove needed to melt that damn ring and the life sentence flat. It was immensely satisfying.
But I thought of another ring of truth. None of us likes to hear the numbers are escalating again with Covid. Nor do we want to hear anymore of the Trump circus. Face it instead of being a poor sport. So I turned to music.
American Scandal came up on YouTube. It’s Ashley McBryde and this song struck another ring of truth. American Scandal lyrics were written by Randal Clay, Terri Jo Box, and Ashley McBryde.
Hold me, baby, hold me like you ain’t mine to hold Oh, kiss me, baby, kiss me, like you don’t care who knows Oh, love me baby love me like Kennedy and Monroe
Typically, we remember the awkwardness of our first kiss. If yours was anything like mine, it was horrible and so embarrassing. Then there’s the beginning tentative kiss that happens when you’re just exploring the waters, and you’re not sure whether to simply caress their lips or to dive in with all the pent-up passion that you have because your heart is involved. We’re filled with so many emotions. Unfortunately, the kisses evolve to only greetings over time, maybe a random peck on the lips during the day or goodnights. Kisses with barely a thought become just another one of the motions of many in the day.
Then there’s the time when you realize that you don’t want to be kissed by this person. Not everyone goes through this but the ones who’ve divorced you know what I mean. The revulsion is intense. And you wonder if you’ll ever kiss anyone with passion again.
Life happens, and suddenly we’re faced with the last kiss before you let them go forever. Those kisses hurt so much. We’re never ready. I miss you, Johnny so much. I wish I had kissed you more often.
We’ve all experienced kisses over the years, but do you remember when the last time someone kissed you like they didn’t care if anyone knows?
I’ve been fortunate because I did find someone I wanted to kiss passionately. My life came around full circle like a ring.
I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve said to my husband, that I love how he kisses me. Life’s too short. That’s the unfortunate ring of truth. We shouldn’t let it slip through our fingers…. we need to love and kiss like we don’t care who knows.