The party’s over…
The party’s over….”When summer gathers up her robes of glory, and like a dream, glides away”. A lot of people reflect upon the months that have passed at the end of the year. For me, I find I become more introspective as the summer light becomes softer and the days get shorter. I don’t want to rush the seasons, but my thoughts are already turning to finally being able to sit outside on crisp, cool mornings enjoying my cup of tea. No mosquitoes! No more heat that makes me feel like a limp dishrag.
I think back to the lazy, hazy days of my summer and I reflect. Did I enjoy it? Or did I join the chorus of complaints about it being “too hot.” every blessed day? Speaking of Blessed, did I stop to give thanks for feeling the warmth on my skin, or for a new rose that bloomed, or for sighting hummingbirds at the feeder, and fireflies during the quiet, still evening as dusk gathered? These are all moments that make up the hours in my day, weeks, and months that pass, and I truly want younjoy each and every one.
How about you? Did you take the time to pause and take care of yourself? Or were you too busy planning another cookout, packing a suitcase for vacation, worrying about the kids, taking care of the house for summer visitors? Did you make time to relax with a book you’ve been waiting to read? Maybe you curled up in a favorite chair during a summer thunderstorm, or you went to the beach, spreading the blanket out on the sand, not a care in the world…just your book, sun, surf and the pleasure of your own company. I hope you did. I hope you got to see the grankids, meet a friend for lunch, wear a straw hat, go barefoot, sip on something delicious in your chilled glass!
As for me, I’ll try not to look back at all the things I missed or didn’t do. What’s the point in that now? Instead, I’ll fill my lungs with the sweet, fresh, cool air and look forward to fall. Until next time, friends…I always like to leave you with a quote:
“She promised herself better…& never looked back.”
The secret ingredient is always love…
Dedicated to Sass , who is one heck of a cook, and who always makes me wet my pants whenever we talk and laugh on the phone.
I don’t have time now to practice perfecting my pie crust recipe. I’ve spent all morning and nearly half the afternoon at the kitchen table trying to troubleshoot WP issues. I am getting more and more involved with the “tech stuff” so I’m spending less and less time time writing. This does not make for a happy girl, entirely. Getting bogged down with the technical “how-to’s” interferes with my blogging for this neophyte blogger. As a result, nothing gets done. Breakfast dishes are still soaking in the sink at 2pm. (Yes, I wash dishes by hand). Heck, I’m still in my robe. Hair is not brushed. It’s not a pretty sight. I have to shut down my mind and shove all the things I want to write about to the back of my mind and: getupfromhereanddosomething.
Then Frieda-(cat), the little darling, needs attention. Why are cats sometimes like 2 year Olds? She jumps onto the kitchen table where I’m writing and bats at my pen. (It’s getting more attention than her). She rubs her head on my hand. She bites a flea. She licks herself. She looks at me with goo-goo eyes. The table is piled high with books, coffee mug, notepads, pens, phone and tablet. All the necessary paraphernalia I need to get my creative juices flowing and to get down to the business of writing. Oh, and Frieda.
What I really need, (and is on my wish list), is a writing sanctuary. Not long ago, I read about a woman who blogged about her lovely little writing cabin in the woods. THAT HER HUSBAND BUILT, just for her. How twee. I tried not to be envious, honestly, I did. The closest my husband has come to supporting my writing/blogging is his daily query of “what’s for dinner?” when he sees me at the kitchen table. The two are not remotely related, see what I mean? Just yesterday, he walked into the kitchen while a pot of chicken was simmering on the stove. I was, as usual, busy writing away. “Is that dinner?” he asked, peering into the pot. I raised my head and looked at him. I paused and thought perhaps now wasn’t a good time to tell him that no, actually, I was making gourmet homemade food for the CATS. You know, something really tasty, with mashed carrots and chicken broth, too. “Um, no…I said. I thought about the Hungry Man Tv dinner I had grabbed at the store and thrown into the shopping cart. How was thso at going to sound appealing now that he had salivated over the simmering chicken? So, I did what all good little wives do, (sometimes). I lied. I said “no, honey, that’s for homemade chicken pot pie for your dinner….tomorrow!” Now I’m not really proud of this, but I did it for him. I couldn’t let him think I was putting the cats before him. That would not sit well with the male ego. He has already accused me of loving them more than him….and well, you get the picture. Why is it that sometimes grown men are like 2 year Olds?
Which brings me back to the pie crust. I had opened my big, fat mouth and told a wee, little lie. So there it was, the lie I had to make good on. And here it is, already well into the afternoon with no chicken pot pie in sight.
Until next time friends, I’ll leave you with this: “Happiness is homemade.”
We are all greatly saddened with the current state of affairs going on in Houston and surrounding areas. What we see on the national news is so disturbing, and I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel badly about it. So sad to see how everyone has been affected by a Cat 4 hurricane. We wonder how and why did this have to happen as we stare at the TV screen, and shake our head in disbelief. As the world watches and feels helpless, I have to say God bless those who are donating and helping. God Bless them all.
I’d like to add this quote:
“When you are going through hell, keep on going. Never never never give up.”
— Winston Churchill
Until next time friends….
Dedication: Susan Branch, (author), Kate (BFF) who always said I could, Ann (sis-in-law who encouraged my love of writing by her gifts of blank journals), and for the two E’s who will know their Zannah one day.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom.”…Anais Nin…
Don’t you just love discovering a book you can’t put down? Reading Susan Branch’s 2nd book of her memoirs: “Martha’s Vineyard, Isle of Dreams,” I ran to the library to get my hands on her other books. I came home with both her 1st book, “Fairy Tale Girl,” and the last book of her trilogy, “A Fine Romance, Falling in Love with the English countryside.” She’s a true Anglophile and I’m British, so I knew what she was talking about when she described her travels to England. While she was falling in love with all things English, and the countryside, I was falling in love with her writings and enigmatic illustrations, and, I guess, a little in love with her.
Turning the pages of her books, getting more and more involved in her life’s experiences, I thought, “why can’t I write like this?” We all have stories to tell. My life has been crazy, too. It has oftentimes been exhilarating and confusing with all the twists and turns I never expected. Somewhere along the way of what I have experienced, I think you will see and feel some of the same things, too. I never really set out to write a blog, but I was in the habit of keeping journals, (like Susan’s “diaries”), and I found myself wanting to share my own thoughts and feelings, most of them good, some bad, and some downright ugly.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I ask myself. I’ll at least have a memoir that might, just might, interest my baby grandaughter one day. Wouldn’t that be lovely? So, thank you, Susan Branch for your inspiration and to quote you from “Isle of Dreams, page 193, “Lesson #1: To Begin, Begin.” (please don’t sue me, Sue).
“It’s impossible” said Pride
“It’s Risky” said Experience
“It’s Pointless” said Reason
“Let’s do it Anyway” said the heart.