house_wren

There are a number of songs that make me cry every time I hear them. One is 'Bring Me Sunshine.' I like it, but I imagine it performed as a slow, sad song, with a sparse arrangement, as if the singer was painfully remembering past happiness. I try to hear it as present happiness, but it always seems full of sorrow.


For many, many years I went once a week to a knitting group, hoping to find some friends. I recently decided to stop going. This is mostly to do with protecting myself, since my immune system is wonky and I take meds that make it lazy, but it also has to do with recognizing that even after all this time, they've remained acquaintances, not friends. It took me a long time to realize my expectations of them were unrealistic. I have felt sad and disappointed and sometimes resentful and sometimes foolish. Today I'm feeling relief, which makes me think this is a good decision.

I'm going to find something special to do once a week, on the day that group meets. I might stay home or leave the house; either way I want to do something out of the ordinary, as a distraction, so I don't dwell on things I have no control over.


Today's nature sightings: 3 hawks, an eagle's nest, a tufted titmouse, a nuthatch. And sunshine. Lots of sunshine.

Reading journals on Dreamwidth is comforting. I like the glimpses into someone's day; it helps me see the importance of the ordinary and helps me value my life as it is (rather than wanting it to be different.) So, thank you, everyone.

In a similar way, the book I'm reading (DAILY RITUALS: HOW ARTISTS WORK, edited and with text by Mason Curry) is comforting. The author has collected information on how 161 writers, painters, composers, scientists (etc) got their work done. Some kept strict schedules, some procrastinated, some drank, some worked 18 hours a day. It doesn't matter how you work is what I take from it. All the advice about the 'right' way to approach creating something, the advice that is sold to people who want to write or paint - it doesn't matter. There's no right way. Do it whatever way you can. Or not. Don't do anything. That's okay too.

All this made me think of the advice, "Just be yourself" which I never heard without quickly being told "Not like that." Ha.

Today I went to the endodontist for a problem with my tooth that the dentist could not fix. The endodontist has referred me to the oral surgeon. Oh. Great. Something...blah blah...the root...the bone...cutting...blah blah...inflammation.... Yikes.

On the bright side, even though I was told today's visit would cost me $200, they did not charge me anything. That is excellent. Now I'm working on accepting that I will have something to endure at the oral surgeon's which may or may not save my tooth. I can't avoid this.

On the way home the sun was low in the sky and was hitting the ice on the trees, making them look like beads. Also saw four bald eagles feasting on dead deer.

Last week there was a dead dear on our property. It took about 4 days for it to be cleaned up. The crows would sit in the trees watching the eagles feast, and as soon as the eagles left, the crows got to eat.

I've been reading McMansionHell.com written by Kate Wagner and it clears my mind. It's so good. I scrolled all the way to the bottom to find her first entry so I could read it in chronological order. Sometimes it makes me laugh out loud. Today I was early for my appointment, so I spent 30 minutes driving around the development by the golf course checking out the McMansions. I could see so many of the features Kate Wagner describes: lawyer foyers, nubs, multiple types of siding, fake columns, huge garages, etc. The best thing, though, was on the drive home, which is about 50 miles through the countryside, I had a new perspective on all the small, 'regular' houses. I could notice the features which seem so familiar as to be unimportant, but that are actually demonstrating good design and architectural principles.

Also today: I saw the crescent moon, which even after seeing it for all these years, still feels like a lucky token.

It's wicked witch weather - the snow is disappearing. Every day has been foggy. I look forward to having sunshine again.

This past year I kept track of expenses with pencil and paper instead of the computer spreadsheet. It was surprisingly easy and quick.

I only need one more piece of information and I will have everything ready for preparing the taxes.

My art room is in chaos as I sort through my belongings. Today I looked at some calligraphy reference material; I boxed some and I discarded some.

It's hard to focus when things are so messy. I have to pick one task to do and ignore everything else.

Today I was in pain and spent a lot of the day in bed.

Perfume today was Room 1015's Cherry Punk. No one is around so I can wear as much as I like.

I've been sick for almost three years. It still feels new, as if it has been three weeks.

I feel a great sadness. I feel homesick. Not for an actual place, but for a feeling of belonging.

Ha! Snowed in again! This might be the most snow we've had in 15 years of living here. Or maybe it only seems that way because we are not yet plowed out. The drift in front of the door is about 18" high.

The sun shone for a short time; everything sparkled.

It's 1, as in one degree Fahrenheit, and that is the high for tomorrow. Severe cold, which we will have for 3 days, means that it will feel warm on Wednesday when it is predicted to go up to 15.

I am not complaining. I like wintertime. I've lived in a warm, snowless climate and I prefer having all four seasons.

I'm sorting through my possessions in preparation for moving to a small duplex. I found my treasure box of nature items: a milkweed flower that still has it's sweet scent, a eucalyptus leaf, sand from the beach that has sparkles, tiny rocks from the beach that were tumbled smooth by the ocean, star shaped flowers from the hoya plant I used to have. Each one triggers a memory of a particular place and time--a full sensory memory.

When I was young, being old sounded awful. I couldn't imagine there would be anything worthwhile about it. I suppose I thought all old people sat home, drank too much and watched tv because that's what my parents did. Ha!
Eventually I met people who were old and who had interesting things to do and say. They were a joy.
Now I'm on the waiting list for a senior housing duplex. I don't know when it will happen, but I'll be leaving my beloved home in the country where I've lived for 15 years. I could stay here if I was not chronically ill or if I had family or if I didn't have unmedicated ADHD, but in my situation, living here any longer is too much for me.
Plus, the house has reached the Age of Breaking. So many repairs this year: cooktop, kitchen fan, microwave, washing machine, water heater, shower hardware and the biggie: heat pump. Heat pumps are really expensive! Yikes.
I hope to focus on positive things and not grieve too much. I try to imagine how good it will feel to be in town, where I can walk to the post office and the coffee shop and the library. I hope my new home will feel cozy and comforting (not tiny and claustrophobic.)
Downsizing is good. I had to clean out my parent's House of Hoarding, and it was such a crushing responsibility, that I am determined not to put the executor of my estate through anything similar.
Today 7 boxes of books left my care and went to the local library. That felt good.
I can hear coyotes right now. Sometimes they sound like sirens, but in 15 years I've heard only 3 sirens out here. In town, it will be sirens not coyotes.
I saw a shooting star tonight, falling beneath Orion.

Every week I seem to develop another odd symptom. I looked up the latest one and realized what connects all of these annoyances is another auto-immune illness. This is not unusual; if you have one auto-immune condition, you are likely to get another.

I can see Orion falling down across the sky when I'm in bed. It's something I've seen all my life and I find it comforting. I remember the Pentangle song 'Jack Orion' every time I see it. The song is a based on a Child ballad. It starts out magically and descends into a terrible tale.

Jack Orion was as good a fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string
He could make young women mad
To his tune his fiddle would sing

He could fiddle the fish out of salt water
Or water from a marble stone
Or the milk out of a maiden's breast
Though baby she got none....

When I was young I rode my bike everywhere. I danced as much as possible. I was both terribly unhappy and terribly happy. My adhd brain was a barrier that kept me from accomplishing the kinds of things society calls successful. My goals were fantasies, evidently. My successes were personal, almost impossible to explain to anyone but a close friend.

Now I am old and ill. I gave my bike away. I only dance alone in my room late at night for a few minutes at a time. Sometimes it makes me cry even when I enjoy it.

I have a new, uncomfortable symptom to add to my collection. I went to the lab so we can see if it's due to an infection. Then I was supposed to have a tele-health visit with a nurse but after 45 minutes without success, we gave up and she called me on the phone. Everyone I dealt with was patient and kind and that also made me feel like crying.

Life is easier if I can envision a future, even if that vision is a fantasy. I'm struggling to see anything ahead of me. It makes me appreciate how I got through life, because the impulsive, impractical decisions I made still propelled me forward. I always had an idea, a hope. Often, people let me know how stupid I was or how 'brave' (code word for stupid) or how misguided. That was true; I was misguided in that I had no guidance. I was isolated, had almost no support and somehow I survived.

Yesterday I learned that there is a genetic illness called Fatal Familial Insomnia. Very rare. (Someone I know lost a friend to this condition.)

Today an owl was in the woods making noises all afternoon.

Tonight it's pouring rain, which is excellent.

Tomorrow I have to call the accountant because I received a cryptic letter from a tax authority concerning my mother's estate, which was settled 4 years ago. They seem to think that I owe them money. Nope. Nope nope nope.

I love autumn. This is the view from the back door of the house.

I've been to the clinic. I was diagnosed with hearing loss, which is not a surprise because I've been saying, "What? What did you say?" way too often.

I also found out that I probably have been having vestibular migraines. I'm so happy to learn this! It explains a collection of symptoms that worried me: the feeling of my foot sinking through the floor, vertigo, lightheadedness, migraine aura, tinnitus, dissociation, ataxia.

It's been too hot to sleep on the screened porch but now that the temperature has dropped more than 25 degrees I am going back to dreaming in the hammock tonight. It's one of the few places where I am not filled with grief.

A pair of orioles enjoyed our improvised bird bath, drinking water from the sprinkler (on as low as it will go) & having a wash in the bowl where the water lands. The female flew out of sight, but the male sat on the stem of a prairie plant and dried off in the wind. The orange reminded me of California poppies and of apricots.

My mum had a hatred of orange. Also of yellow flowers; if she received them she would send them back to the florist in a rage, as if hating yellow flowers was so normal that the florist should have known never to use them.

Outside my house is a field of prairie flowers & by chance, most of them are yellow.

It seems to be human nature to expect others to hate what you hate and love what you love.

When someone pressures me to do something I am not interested in doing, I begin to dislike them. For example:

Pushy Person: Come to the bluegrass festival! It's so great!
Me: Oh, no thanks. I don't really enjoy bluegrass. Or crowds. So, no, but thanks.
PP: You should come! This has REALLY GOOD bluegrass. You will like it!
Me: Huh. Yeah. Well, no. Don't like bluegrass. Have fun, though.
PP: It's not far away. It's a beautiful park. Why don't you come?
Me: Ok, byeeeeeeeee [forever.]

I've had a version of this conversation again and again with different people. I just have no interest in going fishing or boating, in going to a bookclub, a baby shower, a pickle-ball game. I don't want to eat food that I dislike or food that makes me ill. Leave me alone!!!

Also weird: when I was young I had people push me to leave work in the middle of a shift because the weather was nice. IT'S SUNNY! YOU SHOULD COME OUTSIDE! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? DON'T YOU WANT TO BE IN NATURE?

Somehow there was always an element of judgment in their plea, implying that I was morally in the wrong for not joining them. Wow.

Obviously, these people did not have regular jobs. They were unemployed or self employed or independently wealthy. & perhaps lacked imagination? Or listening skills? Or were just selfish gits?

I'm guessing that they mellowed with age, got jobs and kept them, and stopped letting the weather set their agendas.