We have a date for Eileen's surgery. She got it yesterday. She will be going into Halifax on the 5th of October to have her surgery. No mention of the aforementioned MRI. She is to be there for 9 am with the operation being scheduled for 12. She will be kept overnight, and then if all is well, released the following day.
Of course I want to be there when she goes in, and I want to be there when she wakes up. The logistics of it all are a little bit daunting. With my mobility problems, etc. I can't walk that far. And I can't drive into the city. But we will work something out. Where there is a will, there is a way.
"September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours,
but in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn."
~Rowland E Robinson
The days are really shortening now. Imperceptible at first it is really noticeable now, and the nights are wonderfully cool for sleeping. Although in all truth I have to say that we did not really have that many nights this summer that were uncomfortable. I didn't think so at any rate.
I have not taken my hummingbird feeder down yet, although I did note that my neighbour did, but I was glad that I didn't because I did happen to chance seeing one at it one night. A straggler perhaps. In any case I was grateful that my feeder was still up. I will probably take it down soon, clean it up and then stack it away for the winter.
I have never seen one in real life. Not once.
My love affair with Amanita muscaria (fly agaric) goes back a long way. I think perhaps it was my love for the Enid Blyton stories as a child which helped to contribute to it. They were always really prevalent in all of the illustrations, or perhaps it could have been Disney's movies, but I really think it was these special Christmas ornaments that my mother put onto our Christmas tree every year. She had gotten them in Germany. They were like little silver tinfoil pans that had a couple of these little read and white toadstools (probably paper spins) secured in the centers along with a portion of greenery. Oh how I loved those ornaments. They fascinated me and I took every opportunity that I could to touch them, forbidden fruit as they were. (We were not allowed to touch anything on the tree.)
When my own children were small I bought aluminum pie tins and made my own, cutting out circles from the tin and punching holes in the middle with an awl so I could thread the wire stems of the toadstools through in clusters, along with leaves of green felt. I loved those too. I often wonder what happened to them.
"I have a peculiar capacity for doing nothing
and yet enjoying myself."
~Elizabeth von Arnim
The art of doing nothing . . . brilliantly. I think I have perfected the art for it seems that when I look back on most of my days, I have accomplished not a heck of a lot. Plans are made and started, but it is very rare that I carry a plan through to totality. My home is full of half-finished projects. Well intentioned am I . . . but my creative mind wanders somewhat too much and whilst the things I start do get finished, eventually . . . they seem to sit in limbo at times, for quite a while.
I don't think that that is a particularly bad thing. Important things do get finished. It's the other minutia I am thinking about here. The half finished cupboard clear out. The dishes of my mother that still sit in a cardboard box beneath the sewing table in the spare bedroom, waiting to be taken out and washed and put into use. The many notebooks and journals I started and only seem to get to every now and then. One, I have finished one . . . well sort of. There are still two pages at the back that need filling. I will get to them now that I have reminded myself that they are there.
Hmmm . . . what if we tell ourselves that it's okay to do nothing and allow ourselves the gentle journey towards discovering what "doing nothing" can help us become? But is "doing nothing" really "doing nothing." Maybe it is more "being something" than "doing nothing."
Maybe binge watching your favorite show is escaping into someone else's reality so that we can recharge our batteries for our own reality.
Maybe when we are "sleeping in" we can remind ourselves that it is not so much sleeping in as it is allowing yourself some space to soften our focus and dream.
Maybe when we spend time putting our feet up, we can tell ourselves that we are paying attention to how our circulation affects how we feel.
Maybe those half finished journals are an opportunity for me to put more thought into what I choose to fill them with rather than filling them with things that are really of no consequence . . .
The possibilities are endless.
It would appear, thankfully, that dad has not broken or fractured his hips. The radiologist said that nothing jumped out at him from the film. It is possible that he has only bruised it and is babying it because it hurts to move it in a certain way. The dragging of his left foot does worry me a bit. I am wondering if he may not have had a tiny stroke or something that's gone unnoticed? He is usually not one to complain much about things, but I have noted lately that sometimes his thoughts seem a bit incoherent and jumbled. Or is that just because he isn't hearing properly. Even with his new hearing aids. We do think we got the eye thing sorted. He had about five or six different pairs of eyeglasses in his room. One pair missing a screw and so the lens kept falling out. But which were the right ones. We figured the one with the screw missing so that has been replaced and he says he is seeing better. The rest, except for the reading glasses have hopefully been tucked away.
Why do really old people do that?? Hang onto everything. Things that are no longer useful to them and that they will never use again. It is a bit baffling . . .
Ummm . . . yes, I am still wearing my old glasses. I do wear my new ones to watch television in the evenings. I need to now stretch the wearing of them into the day until I am wearing them all the time.
"i would rather be the one who loves too
hard than not enough who laughs too loud
than hide behind a closed mouth grin. who
rambles on about the universe. the ache in
my heart. or how the sound of rain still
reminds me of the time we ran through it;
skin drenched but happy. i would rather
learn the hard way. take the narrow road.
reminisce awhile longer. stop to smell a
flower in bloom. i would rather grow wise
with endurance than give up and grow bitter.
i would rather aim high and know i tried
than shoot low and be praised for settling.
i would rather live a simple life than a
fabricated one. and may i always remember
this. my soul will only ever be as beautiful
as the lowliest soul i've carried."
~ullie kaye
"I saw that worrying had some to nothing. And gave it up.
And took my old body and went out into the morning and sang.
~Mary Oliver
Our mother worried. Always. If there was nothing to worry about, then she invented something to worry about. As a consequence of that, she raised three children who carry a bit of anxiety and worry with them wherever they go. My sister is probably the one who worries least . . . but I could be wrong about that. Perhaps she knows better than the rest of us and has perfected the art of carrying it hidden upon her person. Me, I let it all hang out. I worry openly. I am half an hour early for every appointment. In fact, if I have an afternoon appointment, I spend the morning waiting for that appointment. That's why I like to get my appointments over and done with earlier in the day. If we get notice that a bad storm is coming, I get out all my emergency candles, fill buckets, sinks and tubs with water, make sure my flashlight is charged, etc. I don't want to be caught short. When I don't hear from one of my children for a while, I worry that something is wrong. That perhaps I have offended, or whatever . . . I am super sensitive on that subject. When I get a cluster headache more than once in a day I just know that I have a brain tumor and I can't begin to tell you all the thoughts that go through my mind when thinking about the state of my bowels. I think I have had bowel cancer more than I have had colds. lol I worry about worrying. I can lose a whole night's sleep when I have something important to do in the morning as anxiety takes over my sleep time and it doesn't matter. I can take a sleeping pill and sleep will still evade me. I learnt my lessons well I guess.
I wish that I worried less and that I could fall asleep on the head of a dime like some can. But perhaps those things are just the beauty of being me.
And with that, I will leave you with a thought for the day . . .
☾ ° ★° * 。
• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*Nobody can be in good health
if he does not have fresh air,
sunshine, and good water.
~Flying Hawk, Oglala Lakota
In The English Kitchen today . . .
Crazy Crust Pizza. Surprisingly good actually. Crisp around the edges but soft and chew in the middle. Incredibly easy to make as well. I would make this again.
I hope you have a lovely day today. Big Scoop night tonight with the family. Eileen is really looking forward to that. So am I. I like being with my family. Whatever you get up to today, I hope it brings you joy and peace. Don't forget!
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And I do too!
