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Monthly Archives: March 2013

Happy Easter, and I was a jerk

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Happy Easter! It’s also opening day for major league baseball, and while I don’t follow the game anymore, it’s still a rite of spring, and one I’m happy to see carried on.

So, I was a jerk yesterday when I wrote that the love was one-sided. It was arrogance and pettiness and meanness to say so. I know Mr. F cared for me, and maybe even loved me a little, once, and there is no way it was one-sided. It is now, I feel, but then? No. I’m sorry I wrote that. The rest of it was pretty accurate.

That’s it for today. I have Easter dinner to go to at my oldest brother’s house later, and it’s a beautiful day, so some time outside would be good. Whatever your plans, whether you observe the day as a holiday or not, I wish you a peaceful day.


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It’s one of those days when I miss Mr. F so much I don’t know how I’ll get by, but I will somehow. Yesterday was one of ’em, too.  All my life I’ve longed for love, to give and receive it, but I never thought it would be like this, so one-sided, so lonely. So strong. It’s a little scary sometimes. If he knew–if he knows–maybe it’d scare him some, too. There’s nothing puny about it.

Well. That’s out and now maybe I can get on with my day. Sometimes you just have to spit it out before it chokes you.

I’ve been needing a haircut (there’s a change in topic for you) for some time now. I don’t like it too long for several reasons, but mostly I hate it brushing up against my neck all the time. I’m sensitive to that kind of thing. Anyway, it needed to come off, so into the bathroom I went last night, armed with some information from Wikihow, and half an hour later, I had a haircut. It’s not perfect, and I’m never able to get the back just right, and it’s not as short as I would like, but it’s done, and it looks pretty decent. This morning, I did my roots, and that looks pretty decent, too. Done and done.

My point is that the mundane tasks of life still need doing even while the opera rages in the background. Feel what you feel, but get on with the business of living while you’re feeling it, and take whatever honest, and honorable, happiness you can in what you do and who you spend your time with. That’s what I’m trying my best to do, and some days I get it right.

I’m outta here for now–there’s some living that needs to be done.

A wondrous necessity

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Another sunny, warm (comparatively speaking) day–I do love these kinds of days.

The laundry’s going and I’ll have clean, cootie-free sheets to sleep on tonight. I’m feeling much better today after a good night’s rest, and clean sheets are always part of the “I feel better” package for me. I’m still a little congested and still coughing, but much more optimistic about my prognosis than I was earlier in the week. It’s nice to feel better, and feeling good will be–great!

I stayed up way late last night reading, something I haven’t done in a long time, but I was so caught up in my story that I just had to know what happened next. I was deep in the Ozarks, a part of the country I fell in love with when I fell in love with Mr. F, following the early adventures of Billy Coleman and his dogs, Old Dan and Little Ann, in Where the Red Fern Grows. It’s gritty and hard and sometimes spare but such a beautiful story of hope and sacrifice and love. I’m glad I picked it up, and I’m looking forward to getting back to it later today.

It’s funny how the book of the moment can dovetail so neatly in with the details of one’s own life. Take, for example, my own longing for spring, and warmth, sunlight, birdsong, and flowers in bloom. I found it in the book I read earlier this week, echoed in the words of Mary Call Luther, in Where the Lilies Bloom:

Spring is a wondrous necessity. I thought it would never come. I thought the hoary winter would never leave us. At night, after the others had gone to bed, I would go outside and stand in the snow and look out across the hard, white fields and think, This year it won’t come. Only a miracle could bring it. It’s such an old story, spring. Surely the earth must be tired of having to produce it year after year . . . . Spring won’t come again. How can it? Everything is so frozen . . . . Such childish thoughts those were and wasted ones. For the spring came as it always did, silently unfolding, pushing, pulling, budding, splitting.

It gives a person hope, to see things come back to life after a long, cold, fallow season. Such a wondrous necessity.


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I’m still full of cooties and hackin’ and snottin’ and I’ve coughed so hard the last couple of days that I think I’ve bruised my ribs. WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

But it could still be worse. That’s the Midwesterner in me. As it is, things are looking pretty sweet, with temps around 50 today and sunny skies. There was a robin perched in the tree outside my patio door a while back, singing a cheery little song, and I have fresh, sweet air pouring in to clear out the stale air left by the long winter. A cold is piffling compared to all the nice things going on around me today.

I’m not back to my regular exercise routines just yet, but I did sweep out my half of the garage, which was by far the dirtiest. My addiction to muddy back roads means mud and dirt and leaves and stuff on my side and it doesn’t seem fair to ask someone else to clean up my dirt. It was a pretty good workout and I’m counting it as such for today. It dang near wore me out, though, and I had to go sit down for a while afterward. It’ll be another day or two before I’m back up to snuff.

Until then, I’m glad to be able to get out of the house and enjoy the sunshine and clean air. One of the things I like least about winter, and often about summer, is being stuck inside breathing fake air. Nothing beats fresh air, and the day I can finally open up the windows and let it in is a day of rejoicing for me.

Here’s wishing you fresh air and sunshine, and no cooties.


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It’s sunny and 38 as of this writing, and I’d like to get outside, or at least out of the house, today. I did for a couple of hours yesterday, just sitting in my car at the park, but I swear that warm sunshine pouring in sped up the healing. I’m better today, though not exactly well. Better is good, though, and I’ll take it.

Word is the first goldfinch of the season has been spotted around here, and I saw a red wing blackbird yesterday. I’ve heard them over the last few days, but seeing one is a happy thing. The ice continues its retreat from the lake north of here, as well as on the pond at my favorite park some five miles from the house. It won’t be long before it’s nothing but open water, and I am so looking forward to seeing the sunlight dancing on it. The buds on the trees are swelling, too, and the leaves on the flowers outside my window are growing daily, as well as greening up nicely. This is the best part of the year for me, when things come back to life, and all is new again.

Life may not be what I’d hoped for, or what I long for, but it’s still pretty good.


Sick day

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It started coming on last night. The first telltale sign was a sore roof of the mouth–never a good thing in my world. It made its way down and I spent a pretty miserable night with a very sore throat, and although it’s not as sore now, I feel–well, crappy. I feel crappy. But I suspect I’ll get over it, and in a few days, this episode will be a dim memory.

Here’s the good in this: I’m not flat-on-my-back-praying-for-death sick. I’m dressed and my hair’s clean, I can sit up, I ate my breakfast and lunch like a big girl, and I’ve been able to work today. I may not do much else, but it could be so much worse. Just this morning I read a status update on Facebook from a man who was an adjunct instructor for the university I once worked for. He’s a decent sort of guy, kindhearted and good-humored and sincere, and he has cancer and is fighting for his life. He feels like crap every single day now. Kind of puts things in perspective for me.

That said, I do plan to take a day off from my normal exercising. Trying to breathe deeply when your nose is stuffed up doesn’t work so well.

Nothing to say?

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The day hasn’t gone as planned and I’m running late, but that’s okay. It’ll all work out. Hakuna matata, right?

And here’s a funny thing–I really don’t have much to say today. I’m laughing about it, because I’ve been thinking “I’ve got to do a blog post. I’ve got to do a blog post” all day, until now, when I’m thinking “nothing to say. Nothing to say.”

The truth is, I don’t gotta do a damn thing. No, scratch that. I don’t gotta do a lot of damn things–but blog posts are not on my short list of things that I really absolutely without fail have to do. I do them because they help me, they’re a concrete record of what I’ve been up to, and I can see, if I look back at the beginnings, just how far I’ve come. That business of looking back is helpful. I don’t care what anyone else says–you can’t see how far you’ve come if you never look back. It may be a long, long road stretching out before you, but it’s a longer one stretching out behind you, and I find that heartening. All you really have to do is keep moving forward.

Sure, you’re going to have those days and weeks and sometimes months and years when you get sucked back into the past, but you don’t have to stay there. Your choice. You can move forward. Dare to see what’s around the next bend. Even if it’s not really what you want, you’ve moved forward, and you can keep moving on from there.

I’m going to keep telling myself that.

And sometimes, when you think you have nothing to say, you might be wrong.

Happy Monday, all!