Wednesday Witterings . . .

 

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So here we are, once again, sitting at the end of another month. How can that be possible. It doesn't seem like it should be, yet here we are. Every day when I look at the end of my street, what was lovely and green and flush just a few days ago, is not a brilliant scarlet mixed with ochre and gold. Every time I hop into the car to go to my sister's place I am amazed at how quickly the landscape is changing. It is as if once it got started, like a ball rolling down the hill, momentum has been picked up and, well, here we are. Things are moving along very rapidly.

 

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So I told you I had joined that plenty of fish site. Well, I am glad I didn't invest any money in it. To date I've only been contacted by one fella and he was in his early 60's. Just a few one line messages and it turns out he is already in a relationship, but is looking for an older woman with fringe benefits. Give me a break. See?  I told you. That's my fate. Always. 

I wasted no time in telling him he was barking up the wrong tree. 

I won't be investing in that site. I think I will just go back to the idea that I am on my own and am going to stay that way. I've dipped my toes into the water and I am not liking the temperature. Men are such jerks.  C'est la vie.

 

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Cindy and I are planning a trip up the valley to the farm markets on Friday. I am looking forward to that. Collecting squashes and apple cider. Just spending the time together.  We wanted Eileen to go with us, but she has to pick up her hearing aids that day, so won't be able to join us. It's really our last chance to go before Eileen has her operation on Monday. I'm not sure how long the recovery/resting time will be from that and I won't be traveling very far from home once that happens. Not until she is all better.

I find myself crying over that every night. How could this beautiful baby girl of mine be in this situation? Would that it was me in her place. That I would expect. I'm old. I've lived my life. I'm just waiting for something to take me out if I am really being honest.  Not my baby. She's only 48.  Born into this world with disabilities already in place, hasn't she suffered enough in life? It somehow doesn't seem fair.  But then, life is not fair. Not for lots and lots of people. Does anyone really deserve this? I think not.

Somehow we just get handed these cards in life and it is up to us how we deal with them. I am impressed with her courage. I am so proud of her.  I wish that I could be with her on Monday.  To hold her hand, to be there when she wakes up. But alas . . . not to be.

And I would be lying if a part of me doesn't feel like my ex is being his typical jerk self. Taking over the situation and not including me  . . . again . . . locking me out of the room. He's been locking me out of the room since we separated, truth be told. This is nothing new. Over all these years, his attitude has been that anything to do with the children was none of my business. And, to be honest, I've let him treat me that way. I have never been a wave maker. Never. I just let people get on with it and bite my tongue. I had thought that we might be able to do this together.

If the step mom is there, I will be really seething. Sorry, but that's the truth. I'm only human. I can't help it.

In any case, Eileen will be coming here afterwards and I will be the soft space for her to land. Maybe that is more important. That she heals in an environment where she knows she is accepted and loved and comfortable.

 

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I have come to realize late in life that I have always been a dreamer with  my head in the clouds. With a hearty lust for life and boundless daydreams, but at the same time full of insecurities.  I believed that life was one of happenstance and spontaneity.  Like a television sitcom.  Endlessly never-ending with the only constant being the wacky situations I would encounter on a daily basis and solve or get out of.  Problems solved in half an hour, an hour at most and then I'd live happily ever after. 

I've learned that, while serendipity has its place and can make life sweeter, life is really more about the minutia and routine and maintenance that gives it it's heft and value.  The battery pack to a life well lived. There is a great comfort to be found in the routine and sameness of one day following the next in single file.

Its easy to let the mind wander when your hands are in dishwater, or taking the laundry out of the washer and popping it into the dryer, but following a routine is also an invitation to genuinely savour the moment given. Slowing down and losing ourselves in these slow soft minutes gives us the chance to reflect on the blessing that is ours in having a home to come back to at the end of the day, or having some cats to take care of, or that good book that is waiting for us to crawl into bed with it. A bag full of yarn and hooks waiting for us to create something new. 

There is something quietly powerful about routine. The simple rhythms we return to day after day . . . morning light through the window, the first hot drink of the day, making the bed, tidying the kitchen . . .  they become the threads that hold our days together. Routine isn't about perfection or productivity. It's about creating a life that feels steady, comforting, and beautifully our own.

Choosing small rituals with intention, we build a home and a space that supports us. We create pockets of peace in a world that often feels rushed. We remind ourselves that a beautiful life isn't composed of grand gestures, but from the gentle repetition of what matters most  . . .  care, gratitude, presence.

A beautiful life grows quietly in the everyday. In the things we do again and again, with love.

 

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"Nice library. Is one of these a trick book?"

"How so???" I ask

"Like you pull it off a shelf and a hidden door opens?"

"Oh, yeah" I respond . . .  "All of them."

Books have been my constant companions for as long as I can remember and for as long as I have had the ability to pick one up. From childhood afternoons curled up with a story to quiet evenings now with a book in my hands . . .   this has always felt like home.  Reading, it seems, has carried me all through the seasons of my life.  Nancy Drew and Anne Shirley. Enid Blyton. Meg from Little Women. Those inspiring historical romances that I enjoyed in my younger years that got me through many lonely nights as a young bride whose husband was often away from home.  The thrillers I used to love, written by Steven King, another stage I went through.  Books that made me feel smart like those written by Taylor Caldwell. Stages  . . .  each one offering me comfort, adventure, wisdom, and a thousand worlds to wander through whenever my heart needed them.

That's the magic of books, isn't it? With the single turn of a page, we can step into another time, another place, another life.  We can travel without moving, learn without trying, and feel deeply without ever leaving our favourite chair. Stories have a way of expanding us . . . reminding us that there is always something more to see, more to feel, more to imagine.

My love of reading has helped to shape me, gently, quietly, beautifully. It has given me courage, curiosity, and a sense of wonder that I carry into every day. And I'm grateful . . .  endlessly grateful . . . for the way a simple book can open a door and invite us into a world we didn't even know we needed. Hidden doors that open.  Stories that stay with us, adventures waiting on our shelves . . . 

I cannot imagine a life where I did not have the joy of cracking open a book and opening my heart and mind to a new adventure.

 

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Although it is a holiday here today, I still have a busy day head of me. (Don't ask me what holiday it is, I have no idea.)  I want to pop to the Avery's behind me and pick up some carrots. I don't have a vegetable in the house.  And I have work to get done. Laundry to do. Minutia to carry me through another day of wandering through life.  And then there is supper with the family at the Big Scoop later on. Memory making.

A thought to carry with you . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*An ordinary life can be extraordinary,

there is beauty in imperfection,

and magic can be found in every day.

We just need to have eyes 

willing to notice and see it all.

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Baked Sweet & Sour Chicken . . .  simple, delicious and built for two.

I hope you have a beautiful day.  Stay safe. Know you are valued.  Be happy and at peace. Don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!