In the Gloaming

After the flare.

For the first time in my life I’m happy Christmas is over.

It was tough, to say the least. I didn’t cook. Family left early. A card was sent apologizing.

You know that time at sunset when the color flares bright then gradually begins to fade? It’s my least favorite time.

In fact, I like sunrises better.

Surviving

Dad, early birthday.
Dad and Taffy

Dad (seated) aboard ship.

I’m having a difficult time this Christmas. It’s like going through menopause again: sadness, hysteria, anger, bursting into tears for no reason… I was sad when my adoptive parents passed, but losing my father is something completely different. And I only had him for three years! (Here comes the anger again.)

Thought it was getting better but it’s worse. Maybe after Christmas?

Many years ago after a breakup I was gifted the book “How to Survive the Loss of a Love”. It helped immensely and found it was good for other losses as well. Just ordered a new copy.

Now

I’m trying to live in the Now. Not past, not future, just now. You know, like a dog. It’s difficult.

It’s also pretty tough to come up with blog fodder when all the living in Now is mostly in my head. But… here’s what’s happening in my life.

Started: Jana DeLeon’s Miss Fortune series. Currently on book 13: Swamp Spook.

Saying: Christ the King Novena, thanks to Pray More Novenas dot com.

Accomplished: Finally finished painting and cleaning the living/dining room! Now on to the hall.

Recommend: Sr. Mary Martha’s Pause for Prayer on Facebook live every morning. One of the Daughters of St. Paul, she is also singing with their choir.

Looking forward to: Advent and my new Memento Mori Advent companion.

Now: Listening to my sister in law bitch.

Next: Yard cleanup.

Earlier this week: My view from the sofa…

Escape

Martin Grelle

The man and I hadn’t been to a proper sit down restaurant since before covid started… and six months before that. I don’t like eating out anymore. The tables seem closer together these days and people are loud, especially children. One of my favorite sounds is kids playing out in the yard or street… but transfer those cries and screams to a booth behind me and food is the last thing I want. Escape becomes a priority.

Continue reading “Escape”

Emerging

I’m coming out of a hole. Digging up. While in one I never comprehend the walls and floor are dirt. That the light is low. That communication is muffled at best. There’s no love, no laughter. Numb to everything else, I bury myself in ancient reruns and audio books and the rest of the world, myself included, is shut out.

It’s not until I stick my nose above the dirt that I recognize there is a world and it’s alight with living. Because whatever I was doing was not living.

Don’t think I’m bi-polar, since this didn’t start until sometime around or after age 55. Some holes are very bad and I can’t find my way out for a month or more. Others are short, as I believe this to be. How would I know, really, since there are no timepieces in holes. I almost wrote hell. Don’t know when I dig in or how long I languish therein.

Luckily, this wasn’t a sinkhole.

I bought paint. And new drapes. Clawing my way out, one purchase at a time. I buy, therefore I am.

Night

The Brindleton Bay docks at night.

Sims 4.

I dunno; my brain is stuck therefore I cannot think of anything else. Oh, not sims. Another sister popped up, a lovely person who will probably visit this summer. Well, you know the Cracker Box. I’m mentally rebuilding the thing; painting, new rugs, some plants…. a new master bath redo would be grand, since I took a sledgehammer to the original and it sits… like a demented shell of the room it was… with a toilet. I would never take out a toilet willy-nilly.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Sims.

Wilma

Ran across this account of Hurricane Wilma’s aftermath while cleaning out my desk. Though I wrote about Hurricane Andrew’s passing, it’s certainly not for consumption. Our experiences after Wilma, though, are simply boring. Putting it here to save it.

Hubris and the Hurricane or How We Found our Miracle

::Cue the Gilligan’s Island theme::

Continue reading “Wilma”

Pink Sky at Morn

As usual I went out with the dogs early this morning. The day was breaking. Soft tendrils of pink floated across the western sky.. then billowed, like cream in coffee. Then upon entering the back yard, I saw much the same, but on a grander scale: the eastern sky was alight with corals and pinks! Alive with color, pinks alone wove their way north then settled west, as if the angels were knitting.

No, I can’t take a decent photograph of the sky.

That’s not pink, silly.

Not this morning. Dug this out of my drafts folder.

Continue reading “Pink Sky at Morn”

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