Rest

If you think you've seen this meme before, you have probably been over at She Who Seeks blog. Debra graciously gave me permission to use it. And I am ecstatic about that as it so succinctly expresses a theme that has been roaming around in my head. 

When I was in college, it was not enough to take a full course load. We were expected to be actively involved in, if not running a full-time ministry as well supporting ourselves with a job. And just to make sure we were well rounded individuals, we needed to have extracurricular hobbies and pursuits.

This preference for over-extendedness carried on into our lives well after we left and seemed to permeate every environment I was in. In my early twenties, I lived in a Mennonite community where women were expected to be seen fully dressed and made up by 7:00 am every morning. We would all meet at the bus stop where we accompanied our children on their way to school, our coffee and tea mugs in hand. Housework was done on a schedule, that did not vary from household to household. To which I thought, "You people are nuts, and seriously need to get a life." I don't think that I ever said that out loud to them. But I had two hyper-active boys to raise, and I cleaned as needed. I never felt the need to be able to eat off my floors. If all this wasn't enough for these women, they were also expected to be active and involved in the community. They must not only be involved in the women's groups from their church but have some sort of community outreach as well. Their children had to be well behaved as they were dragged from activity to activity.

It took me four years to escape from Stepfordville. But my escape landed me in the lap of corporate America, where the real fun began. I have been blessed to work with some amazing people. They were good people. People who wanted to do their best job, no matter if it was at work or parenting their child, but the culture tended toward over extension. Everyone had to be in back-to-back meetings and constantly working on overlapping deadlines. And if you ever had room to breathe, someone would put another project on your desk. If that wasn't enough, there was a committee or two and a community action program to be involved in. And of course, all of this was to be managed with a work-life balance that included raising your otherwise latch-key kids and running them from soccer to ballet to piano practice, and chaperoning school fieldtrips on the side.

And then my kids all graduated from high school, the moved out and went on with their lives. And I looked around and thought, "What good did all of that do any of us?" Who actually benefited from all the pressure to overperform? And one day in a meeting with an overbearing supervisor, a door in my head slammed shut, and I just quit. I had had enough of it. 

In my mind, my retirement years were my chance to re-introduce myself to that happy creative child that I was forced to abandon when I picked up my pencil box and headed off to school so many years ago. I thought that she would finally be allowed to thrive in the world of needles and yarn and color that I wished to knit. I have my small pension, my social security. I can pay rent and my bills. So I wanted to get out my yarn, and my paints and create a world of color. I wanted to get on a train and travel to see the things I was always too busy to see. I wanted to take up an easy instrument and learn to play it, even though I knew I would never be any good at it. 

What I have learned is that my lack of ambition to "be a productive member of society" has put me at crosshairs with people who can't yet, or maybe, never will be able to do that. I have been told outright that I am lazy. I have been made to feel guilty for taking an afternoon nap, even when there is nothing else pressing that I need to do. I have had many awkward moments when people ask, "So what do you do with your time?" and the answer is, "Whatever I want to do." And the assumption is always; you must be as productive in your retirement as you were in your work life. After all, didn't Ada Lovelace create computer programs in her 80's and Joe Biden lead the country out of a pandemic in his 70's? Shouldn't you be at work?

I have to ask, when is enough, enough? Why is clean enough not good enough. or busy not busy enough? Why, when there really is no benefit, must everyone over-extend themselves into exhaustion? 

So, my inner child is here to play with color, and music, and travel and the written word. And nothing will come of it. But I will live out the few years that I have remaining happily and radically resting in the activities that I choose. And I will die having lived a life that someone else will consider a waste. But the truth is that it is the exceptional person that makes a difference, and most of them chose to do what they made a difference at. 

Find yourself and be at peace with that.

Rainy Day

Another rainy day here. I chuckle to myself, Seattle had nothing on this. It rains all the time here, at least two or three days a week. The picture doesn't show it much, but it is the steady downpour kind of rain. And it has been going on for the better part of two hours. 

I am sitting on the veranda enjoying the day. I like it out here. I was afraid the summer heat would exclude me from my favorite perch. But the temperatures so far haven't been all that bad. It is usually in the low to mid 80's and there is always a nice breeze. The worst is that I sometimes have to move back near the building because the rain blows in from the sides. If I didn't have my electronics out here, I wouldn't mind. 

This is a good place to be out in nature. I have been enjoying the companionship of a host of birds. There are whippoorwills, cardinals, sparrows, robins, and finches that I see regularly. I know there is a mockingbird somewhere, because I hear him all the time. We are near a state park and a wildlife sanctuary. I see the great raptors circling in the evening. I am told that there are eagles there, but I don't think I'd be able to identify them in flight. I think the ones I see are hawks. This guy, who I think is one of the whippoorwills, regularly hangs out with me. When I am sitting on my veranda perch, he is perched in the tree across the parking lot. I wonder if he thinks I am as strange as I think he is awesome. I wonder if he is watching me. Maybe he is just looking for an afternoon snack.

But alas, the rain has stopped, and the breeze is gone. It is now too hot and muggy to continue enjoying my sanctuary. I will end this for now and go inside. I have chores that need to be done, dishes to wash and floors to sweep. Maybe I will reward myself with a bowl of ice cream and a cookie or two when I am done.

Not a bad day for a Thursday.

 

A "Regular" Day

Tim and Jack were supposed to go see "The Ritual" at the movies late last night. But Jack had spent the day swimming at a friend's pool and was too tired to go. It wasn't a movie that I really wanted to watch, but Tim had already bought the tickets, and who wants to go to the movies alone. I went with him. We were the only two people in the theater. And the movie was intense. I could have screamed if I had been so inclined.

The movie is about the most well documented exorcism in America, and was the basis for many horror stories, including the 70's movie, "The Exorcist". Without spinning heads and projectile vomiting, I didn't find it as disturbing as The Exorcist, but it had its moments. I spent a lot of time looking into the tub of popcorn. The things we do for our children...

It was nearing one in the morning when we got home. Jack had gotten up while we were gone and finished the pan of lasagna and the loaf of bread that I had made the day before. Just as well on the bread, because it was going stale. But it meant that if I didn't set a new batch to rising. Bread is a lot of time letting it rise and bake, but very little actual work. I spent about 20 minutes mixing the dough. I blame forgetting to put salt in the mix on it being past 1:00 am when I mixed it. It rose while I slept, and I woke the house up with the aroma of fresh baked bread this morning. Unfortunately, it smelled better than it tastes. Tim and Jack have dutifully eaten a few slices just to make me feel better about my mistake. This loaf may just become bread pudding.

Tim and I spent the afternoon taking the things I brought from Tuscumbia to storage. Then we visited a clearance store. It is the kind of store that if I hadn't just dropped off clutter in a storage unit, I would be inclined to purchase a lot more clutter at very good prices. As it was, I only purchased a birthday present for my soon to be new grandson. He will be turning 15 in a few weeks. After that we went to the farmers market where I bought some pickled cucumbers, okra and asparagus and some pecans. I will go back soon to get some fruit to make jams and jellies to give away for Christmas gifts. Then we went to a comic book store where Tim bought gifts for the same kid, his soon to be stepson. The store is owned by a woman that he used to work with. 

I was tired when we got home, so I used my retired person prerogative and took a long nap. When I woke up, the bread failure from the night before was disturbing my hygge. I made up for it by baking a batch of cookies. Neither Tim or Jack have touched the cookies, I guess they are wary of it after the bread fiasco. You know, "Nana's not quite as sharp as she used to be..."

Family Update

We made the trek back up to Tuscumbia yesterday. When I was digging through my boxes to find some of the things I need, I found that I had inadvertently taken the box that had my sister's stereo and some of her albums in it. It was kind of an "Oh isht" moment for me as she has been throwing such a fit over artwork that she cares little about. I immediately contacted my brother and made arrangements to return it. The upside was that she had a few things to return to me, my tool kit being among them. I was surprised that she also gave me things that I considered hers. We purchased a strawberry cookie jar that was a replica of one that we grew up with in my grandmother's house. She included that in the boxes, and also, a very nice hand thrown bowl that we had used for baking. But the most surprising thing to me was she gave me her sewing machine. She doesn't sew, and I used to quite a lot. I had even been thinking about purchasing a machine for myself. But here, we don't really have room for it. That will be changing in a year, so the machine feels like a real boon for me. I hope it is an olive branch.

The trip was good, though we started out in some heavy rain. Tim talked with me about some changes he wants to make in his job situation, and they seem good to me. He wants to work a 7 days on/7 days off schedule at the job he holds in Atlanta and quit the job he has been doing locally. He hates the local job but was keeping it because it had him closer to home most of the time. He says now that I am here if something goes wrong at home, he feels the freedom to move forward with it. The change will have him working about 15 less hours a week and gaining a respectable amount in income. Jack is self-sufficient. He is old enough and can handle most things by himself. But there is a taboo about leaving your kid home alone. Being a divorced single father, Tim doesn't want to give any rocks for anyone to throw at his glass house. I suppose that makes me the token adult. But really, I don't mind if it helps. This new schedule will also be more amenable to the continuing ed courses he wants to take in the fall. Those classes will allow him to advance into the career path he hopes to follow. I asked him what the cons were to quit the local job. He said there were none. I say it is time to go for it.

While we were traveling Mollie texted the family chat. She was offered an opportunity to interview for the job she has been filling in her clinical practices. She wanted our support; of course she had it. The interview was this morning, and she got the job. There really was no doubt that she would. In that situation, they already know her and her work. If they weren't going to offer her the job, they wouldn't have asked her to interview. She will be working an extra eight hours a week until she finishes her program and passes the boards. But rather than it being an unpaid internship, she will draw a salary that she is very pleased with. This will allow her to stop her waitressing job that she took after the economy opened back up post-covid. But she says that she will continue with it through their busy summer season. I am proud of her for that. The owners of the restaurant have been nothing but good to her. They even supplied the rehearsal meal for her wedding. I'm glad she has people like that in her life.

To round up the comforting conversations with my children, Matt joined in and told us of his plans to spend some time in Arizona this summer going to festivals with his new companion. He speaks in code a lot, but I'm hoping this was his way of telling the family that he isn't involved in any of the garbage the 🟠💩 has going on in Los Angeles, or anywhere else for that matter. He spent last summer in the middle east, and he seemed fed up with it all when he got home. Maybe it was just a segway to introducing us to his new companion. He hasn't told us much about her. I can only hope that she will be good for him. I don't want to be THAT mother, but I would really like to see him in a committed relationship. I remind myself often that it does no good to meddle or nag. But I really do want him to be happy. So, God, if you are listening...

The Hygge of Doing

When I think of Hygge, I often picture winter-cuddling up in a warm blanket by the fireplace sipping a cup of hot chocolate. But as the seasons shift, so does the way we seek comfort. Hygge doesn't disappear with the warmth: it simply takes a different form.

I started my day as usual, baking a fresh loaf of bread. I had hoped to bake muffins the night before to have ready for breakfast. But alas, the half gallon of milk we had in the refrigerator had been there far too long. It had spoiled far beyond usage. Jack, in his typical teenaged mentality dealt with it by placing it beside the rather full trash bin. It was the early morning hours, so I didn't fret much over it. But night turned into morning, and then afternoon and then evening, With the milk long past its usefulness and the trash bin refusing to empty itself, my sense of cozy order began to itch. A short trip outside was exactly what I needed to reset the space, clear the air and bring back my sense of comfort.  And besides all that, I needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and walk around a bit. 

The day was a warm one, we were still out of milk and popcorn. Tomorrow is Father's Day, I hadn't gotten anything for my son, and wouldn't it be nice to have some ice cream? I told Tim that I was going to make a trip to the Dollar General to get the milk. He must have been reading my mind, because his response was "can you pick up some ice cream?" 

Summer's version of hygge isn't about candles and blankets; it's found in the crisp relief of cold treats, the quiet satisfaction of a stocked pantry, and small moments of synchronicity-like Tim and I, perfectly aligned in our craving for ice cream. 

And the fresh bread barely got touched today. Summers in the south are just too warm to desire heavy foods. Maybe it's time for the sourdough starter to find its hygge in the refrigerator.

Hygge

I've been thinking about the idea of hygge a lot lately. A few years ago, there was a YouTube influencer who lived in Sweden who dedicated her entire channel to the idea. Mostly she talked of lighting candles and cutting fresh flowers or having homemade treats on hand to make her home more inviting to others. But I have been thinking of it in terms of the people who live here.

My hygge likes clean cotton sheets to sleep on. That is why getting the courage to buy new sheets to replace the polyester ones my son had on my bed made me so happy. It likes fresh homemade bread and cookies. And of course, a nice cup of tea sweetened with honey and some fresh cut flowers do not hurt. But fresh cut flowers don't really go with the Lord of the Rings bachelor's pad feel of this place. My hygge will just have to make do with the tea and fresh bread.

My grandson's hygge likes to have the freedom to choose what he wants to eat, and when he wants to sleep. It's summer, and he doesn't have a job until the camp he will be counseling at opens in a few weeks. He might as well enjoy it while he can. School starts back in early August. The freedom will be gone before he can blink an eye.

My son's hygge likes a clean enough house and inhabitants who get along with each other. He says that a spotless home makes him feel like he's in a museum and he can't relax. But nobody likes dishes in the sink and an icky bathroom. Clean enough is good enough.

All of our hygges are technology hounds, Tim and Jack more than me. But I want electronics that do what I want to do without frustrating me. Tim has enlightened me to the uses of ChatGPT, but I couldn't load it onto my tablet. It is too old for the technology. And forget putting it on the old laptop. That thing couldn't handle Paint. But I got my new laptop today and it comes loaded with Copilot. And I have spent the whole evening playing around with it. I think it's going to be an interesting tool to learn.

Finally

My good computer succumbed to the blue screen of death about three years ago. Since then, I have been trying to limp by with this pathetic Acer Chromebook that barely has enough memory to load the start menu and an aging iPad. The Acer won't load Windows 11, and the iPad won't load IOS 16. I am at the point of no return with both of them. And both devices are geriatric, being around nine or ten years old.

Not that I really need much from a tablet or a computer. But I would like something that I could continue to blog on and will load YouTube, or Netflix. More and more I try to load a program or download an app, and I'm hit with a message that the platform isn't supported. 

Today I finally jumped. I bought myself an inexpensive HP with 16gb of ram and 256gb of memory, and comes loaded with Windows 11. I also get a free year of Office 365 and Aa 64gb SD card with it. I won't be doing any gaming on this thing, but I wouldn't be on a better computer either. I've given up on the lofty aspiration of becoming a YouTube influencer, so I won't be needing a high-powered editing suite. My goals are much simpler than all that. I just want something where I don't spend hours waiting for a program to open. I want the time I spend writing a blog post, or a grocery list to be measured in minutes and hours, not days. 

And yet even as I write this is the fear that I am expecting way too much of this humble machine and am setting myself up for disappointment. Time will tell, It arrives on Saturday. I have the week to dream of frustration free computing. Hopefully for a few years, until the computing gods decide I must once again upgrade my devices.

 

A Whole Lot of Baking Going On

I spent the week baking. It gives me a happy place to work out my raw emotions. Kneading bread can be very therapeutic, and it makes my son and grandson happy too.

I was able to get most of my things out of the pod. It seems that the only things my brother and sister were able to unload before I got there were a couple things my sister thinks will bother me.

I think I was right about my suspicion that Karen wanted us to unpack the pod for her. But even if I, or my son were inclined to be so generous, we really didn't have the time. 

I rented a van for a full day but needed to have it back at the facility by 7:00 pm.  Jack wanted to go with us and tried to force it by ignoring the time and missing the school bus. We had to take him to school before we picked up the van. Still, we were there before 8:00 am and were on the road before 8:30. The trip to Tuscumbia takes ~4 hours. We spent a little more than two hours unloading my things into the van and then had another 4+ hour trip home in building rush hour traffic through Birmingham and Montgomery. We arrived with just enough time to unpack everything into my storage unit and turn the van back in. We finished at 7:02 pm. 

I texted my brother when were about an hour out away from Tuscumbia and he was there waiting for us when we arrived. The house is on a large property and the driveway is very long. U-Haul in their lack of customer service had placed the pod a long way from the house. It was at least a full city block away, if not more. I do feel for my brother and sister, but you know...Karma is a cruel bitch. They had chided me for my efforts to try to convince the U-Haul driver to place the pod in a more convenient manner in Washington. They claimed that it was my fault the driver wasn't more accommodating. Now they were living with their inability to get them to behave in a more customer centric way. Still, it was April 28, and the pod had to be unpacked by May 1st, and none of it was done. I had to move their things before we could get to mine. We in the least, placed their things in a way to make it easier for them to move, if they did that. I am not sure, and I don't want to ask. I gave my brother the keys and a few other things I felt were best suited to staying with them. But I did not look for the artwork. I would probably have had to open every box to find it. I told Ken that I would send it when I unpacked it, and he seemed grateful for that. It made me wonder if Karen has been turning her abuse toward him. He asked us to come into the house, but I refused. I told him it was because of the time crunch we were under, but in reality it had more to do with wanting to avoid contact with Karen. He looked frail and depressed, and I was sad to leave him. But...there are too many reasons. I can only shake my head and fight off the guilt that I feel.

So now I am baking away my sadness, and my misplaced guilt. My grandson is happy to have the fruits of my labor. And my son's happiest childhood memories are around me baking. Neither of them is complaining about how I choose to cope, so I will continue as long as it makes me feel better.

I have also begun to knit again. I came up with an idea tonight to create a Blue Dot hat for all the blue dots around the country. I will write up the pattern and offer it for free on Ravelry. It won't catch on like the 🟠💩's red cap of shame, or the pussy hats of 2016, but wouldn't it be something if people really started wearing it. I'm thinking a blue stocking hat with the words "Liberty or Death" on it. or maybe "No Kings!" or "Hands Off". It will give me something to think about. I have already ordered the yarn to work on it. What do you think?

The Pod Arrived

 My brother messaged me on Thursday that the pod has arrived. I'm sure they are very pleased to see it. I know that I am. I will be able to get my things and put this chapter behind me. I thanked him and spoke to my son about when we can pick them up. He said Monday, so I asked Ken if the day would work for him and Karen and he agreed and even said that it will be good to see me. Hoping for a good outcome, I reserved a UHaul van.

I had been hoping for a good outcome to a bad beginning, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Yesterday, out of the blue I got a text from my sister... Now I feel disheartened. Once again, my stomach is in a acidy knot. Every time I texted or talked with Ken, I mentioned the key that I needed to return to Karen. The text is nothing more than a cheap shot. And the artwork, it was in my room after she dumped it all on my desk while I was travelling. I honestly only have a sorta, kinda idea about which box it is in and now I'm not sticking around to unpack my boxes to look for it while I'm there. I will be grabbing my things as quickly as I can from the pod and leaving as fast as I can. 

To make things worse, she texted the date the pod will be picked up, knowing that we plan to be there on Monday. I was left with the impression that she expects us to empty the pod for her. I really don't want to spend that much time there. If that is the case, my peace-maker son will probably want to oblige, and I'm not feeling that charitable. I want to have a talk with him about it before hand, but I don't want to be the problem here.

I'm glad my son will be there. 

Insomnia

It is 3:19 AM and I am awake. My insomnia is full force lately. I went to bed tired, but my Fitbit tells me that I have only gotten three hours and ten minutes of sleep: none of it deep, none of it REM. It is too warm in my bedroom and my arthritis pain is fairly moderate. I can take ibuprofen, but do I dare take more melatonin? Will that have me sleeping until noon?

I have been here for a full month. While I am no longer in the fight or flight mode, (I think I did both) I still feel adrift. This does not feel like my home. I have the urge to ask permission before I make the slightest change. But I don't dare ask permission because it is making my son crazy. He wants me to feel at home, for this to be my home too. So, I make the changes that I must have and hope that I am not stepping on toes. But this does not feel like my home.

Yesterday morning I woke up at nine. I showered and decided that I really needed to have a place for my puff to hang. So, I found a hook in my knitting supplies and hung it from the rack that hangs from the shower head. There were only two hooks built into it: one for Tim, one for Jack. My puff is teal and the colors in the bathroom are navy and grey. I will find a new puff in the proper colors the next time I go to a store. 

After the changes I made in the bathroom, I stripped the beds and washed the bed covers. They have not been washed since I got here. This is a bachelor's pad: men do not seem to care about those things. But, you know, bacteria and smells...When I remade the beds, I used my travel blanket on my bed. The coverlet that was there is a winter blanket and is too warm. Maybe it was one of the things that have been disturbing my sleep. The room is decorated in black and grey, as is the rest of the house. My travel blanket is a cotton summer quilt and is white with grey roses, not too much of a disruption...I hope. Tim calls it my room. I hope it won't upset him. He doesn't seem to get upset over much. While making the bed, I noticed that the sheets are polyester. I'm kind of a sheet snob. Polyester does not wick moisture, and the bed is too warm. I wake up in a pool of sweat every morning. I ordered new cotton percale sheets. I got them in grey, but it's another change I worry will step on toes. Guests do not wash the bedding or buy new sheets, and I still feel like a guest here. This is not how Tim wants me to feel, so I do what I need and hope it will be fine.

I cleaned the kitchen and living room and noticed that the AC blows hard from the vents in both rooms. That led me to check out the vent in my room. It was closed; I assume it is the same in the other bedrooms. I took the broom and opened mine with the handle, only a little. Somehow, I doubt that Tim ever even looks at them. But I can't sleep when I am too warm, and my bedroom has been too warm, even with the fan running. Those toes again...

Tim found an advanced emergency medicine course for paramedics that he'd like to take. It will have him spending three days a week in Florida through Christmas. He asked me if I would mind being left here with Jack while he does it. Jack is fairly self-sufficient, and of the age that leaving him alone would not be a problem legally. But he is a teen, and it is a better idea for an adult to be present. The opportunity is the sort of thing that his ex-wife would freak out over. He has walked away from a lot of career development to appease her. I have nowhere else to be so, I will be here at least through Christmas. I guess he's worried about stepping on toes too. 

I'm getting tired again now. Maybe I can get back to sleep. Hopefully I won't sleep until noon. I should get the broom and open that vent a little more.