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Another lazy Sunday, with perfect summer weather again, it is quite the antidote. Being quiet on the lounge chair, with a mildly adult lemonade in my hands, nothing hurts, and it is easy to imagine that thereís nothing wrong. I am much better than I was yesterday, when I could barely make it through the grocery store, much to Geoffreyís dismay. I have forgotten that these things go in fits and starts, that bad days making an appearance for no particular reason, but it doesnít necessarily mean something has gone wrong, it is a natural part of the healing process.
As I appear to be more mobile today, Iím off in search of distractions that will keep me occupied without straining myself. What can I do while standing? Baking is right out, no bending to use the oven, but the stovetop is calling, ďHash, glorious hash!Ē Everyone knows corned beef hash, but today I made smoked lamb hash and was it ever good! I managed it in stages, and by starting very early, but it was ready, and almost crispy, by the time Geoffrey came home. I guess I have learned to work within my limitations, just like 100 words.
Selecting a pattern after you have the yarn is difficult Ė especially when you have a limited quantity of the yarn. I adore Sundaraís ďTulipĒ silk/merino yarn that I bought this spring, the hand-painted pale yellow merging to a delicate cinnamon, but I only have 500 yards, which is a bit short to make a shawl. The yarn was dyed at the time of order so Iím sure there are no extra skeins, and with this time on disability (read: no pay) I definitely donít have the funds for such outrageous yarn Ė it is more expensive than the cashmere I get.
The rain overnight makes the garden looks so lush and green that Iím inclined to overlook those green bits I know are invasive weeds. I wish I had a room with views on to my garden spaces, one where I could sit on days like this, or on hot and sunny days, and drink in the beauty from a sheltered and comfy chair. With the garden alongside the house, it is currently impossible. A bank of windows looking out over flowering gardens would be perfect, but even a single chair next to a window with a view would be sufficient.
A day of progress. A call this morning from the office to see how I was doing is better late than never and somehow indicative of so much. Finally deciding what pattern to use for the Sundara tulip yarn, and casting on my first triangular shawl felt good. Getting the go-ahead to return to work next week also feels good although I admit to a few concerns about surviving day one. Packing up the broken snow globes and getting them ready to mail. And finally, having dinner out on the porch with Geoffrey like a real person, not an invalid.
I donít shop, I buy. I know what I want, generally in quite specific detail. The problem is then finding exactly that, which entails a process quite similar to shopping, except in the intent. Trying to find a new floor lamp has turned into quite a production. I have found a lamp online that I love but it is rather expensive and right now I canít justify the expenditure Ė even knowing I should return to work on Monday, I canít be certain about the cash flow and thereís not much margin of error this summer while I rebuild my savings.
I feel really good today, almost as if thereís nothing wrong. I made it to the pool and it was great, even though I did only the very easy movements, no reaching, no stressing, and no laps. Once again I found myself wishing I could start every day with half an hour in the water. I would really like a pool at the ďnewĒ house, an indoor lap pool so that I could use it year round, but that isnít likely to happen. There must be a pool nearby with decent hours, that is no an absolute requirement, no negotiation.
What is with my neighbors and their home improvement projects that start at 7:30 AM on the weekends? This used to be such a quiet place, but now with yippy dogs that go on for hours, the sounds of construction, day laborers (and at night!) and such, it is almost impossible to just sit outside and enjoy the day. I find myself wishing for a house in the middle of nowhere, with no neighbors in sight, although that poses its own problem unless we go somewhere like Traverse City or the mountains in New Hampshire. Peace and quiet is priceless.
I survived. I made it through until about 3 pm at the office, only by taking meds and standing as much as possible (Iím now caught up on my filing!), then managed to drive myself home and collapse upstairs on the bed. Sitting at the office, with that desk and chair while working on the computer, is much harder than sitting in my ďpractice chairĒ at home. Iím having problems coping with the idea, much less the reality, of getting up tomorrow and trying this all over again. Hopefully, this first day was difficult just because Iím out of practice.
I find myself appalled at the job that was done in my absence. I only looked at two specific things, and they both have problems. What would happen if I really proofed everything? This lack of quality speaks volumes as to the perceived importance of what I do. And it is also very clear to me now who actually cares about me at all as a person, as they inquired about my unexpected absence. I cannot really focus on a job search right now, however much I may want to, but I will not stop looking in my ďspareĒ time.
I decided to take all meds, all day, and I made it through the work day. I was tired, yes, but still not in pain when I went to bed. I was even able to snuggle next to Geoffrey for a few minutes. I am so ready for all of this to be over, all this crap this week: the back, the pain, the flipping Mercury Retrograde, the ďcomfort control moduleĒ failure that has Lina at the dealership, the stupidity at work, and as long as Iím listing things I want over - the waiting for the Gatehouse to sell.
Iím still living in fear of the pain and damage, afraid to move in certain ways and that really concerns me. Himself may disagree with this, but I donít think of myself as a fearful person. Alright, I play by the rules more often than not; I generally take precautions like setting the alarm and buying flood insurance, but I donít *not* do things out of fear. But here I am, having to force myself to do certain movements in therapy. This is day 3 and the third therapist, perhaps my issues are from lack of trust rather than fear?
A long hard day, but considering it is Friday the 13th in the middle of Mercury Retrograde, it is just good to survive the day and I am so glad I made it through the first week back at work. Coming home to an empty house on Fridays when Geoffrey is in Rye strikes me as strange, but today I am grateful for the absolute solitude as I can just pour myself into the tub with Epsom salts and soak, and soak, and soak some more, hoping my broken body (and it really feels that way tonight) will feel better.
I wouldnít have thought him an impulse buyer, but clearly, when it comes to toys, he is. The toys were cell phones, however: we both have new phones, although no longer matching models. Mine is a purple, updated version of my old phone, and heís got one of the hottest, most expensive phones out there with email and browsing, so he wonít have to haul his behemoth laptop on weekends anymore. I quietly asked if he really thought he needed the bells and whistles, and did another check when we were told the price, but he was on a roll.
Iím so very bored today, I want to do something that will interest, entertain, engage me somehow. But right now thereís very little I can do with a restriction of sitting no more than 30 minutes at a time: no going to a movie or heading out to the East End to explore. I canít garden, although there is much that could be done. What can I do? I can walk, I can shop. Yipee! Thatís one of my least favorite activities, but we do it anyway, needing something to do. I can only imagine how bored Geoffrey is today.
It is disheartening to hear that disability coverage will only provide $170 for a week, although it isnít exactly a surprise. It will make for an interesting transition from June into July, though, after the expense of the roof and ongoing copays for physical therapy, but I do have some funds in savings, enough to make up the difference in anticipated income, although then the savings will be uncomfortably low. So Iím going on an austerity budget Ėexcept for the solstice party- for the next two months. No more yarn, no more clothes, no more books, only the bare necessities.
I havenít worked out any of the details for this weekendís Solstice party yet. I donít think Iíve ever been this unprepared for the party, but then again, Iíve never been in quite this position, with appointments every night this week. I am going to take Friday as a vacation day to accommodate the washer repairman visit and it will be my salvation, and Iíll do whatever baking/cleaning/party prep I can manage. After reviewing the invitation list it appears that about 16 people may come and stay for any real time.
The mentor/guru is again exhorting me to have fun, to understand what is fun and amuses me, and to fully partake of fun that is good for me. Iíve already reviewed in an earlier entry those activities I already know are fun, although Iím currently restricted from doing many of them. I need to find other ways for me to relax, have fun, other things that I enjoy, and other ways for me to be social, especially with Heleneís immanent departure from the area. The current schedule may be restrictive, but I certainly have time to consider my future options.
Mercury retrograde finally ended this morning and my radar went right back up and started working again: I knew exactly when to check her blog to find out how the transfer went. This has been the worst retrograde I can remember, and I am hoping that its end will bring some relief all around, although it canít resolve all the issues currently plaguing me. The next few days will be filled with intense activity of party preparations and enjoyment, but as I made it through work today without feeling broken, perhaps next week I can return to looking for solutions.
I finally succumbed to one of the modern continuations of Pride and Prejudice. While I dislike some of the authorís basic choices (sheís no Jane Austen), I find myself fascinated by how Elizabeth handles being separated from her sister Jane after they each marry. In a time when the distance between Netherfield and Pemberly meant their visits were infrequent, and letters the only means of getting news, I wonder about how Helene and I will continue once sheís in Nashville. Iíve been lax about our friendship this past year but I want to do better moving forward no matter what.
Solstice. The longest day of the year. It has become tradition to have a party on the Saturday closest to Solstice, and to sit outside with drinks until the daylight is completely gone. This year, we celebrated on the actual Solstice, the actual longest day. I somehow got massively sunburned on my shoulders and back, to the amazement of everyone, even myself. It was a small gathering, really small, and once again, there are massive leftovers. I think next year, I will plan a summer solstice dinner, its easier to manage, and its clear who I want to share this with.
Hanging out in the backyard, listening to Lizz Wright on the little speakers from Dad, enjoying a day that is not the rainy disappointment predicted, I am content to just be, I donít feel the need to do anything but read, knit and relax. It is rare for me to be able to just kick back like this. I am a bit limp, still tired from yesterdayís activities, and more than a little sunburned, and perhaps that is why I am so content that I am at peace with the moment, not itching to have everything resolved Ė my normal state.
The countdown has started. Eight days left, and trying to figure out the arrangements for one last get together. It doesnít seem possible that at the end of the month sheíll be gone, even if I havenít seen a lot of her in the last two years Ė we always knew we could get together. New York has been a part of her, a part of me, for so long. I remember entrusting Linnie to her and her Brooklyn apartment when I went on my Egyptian ArtTour in 1990, going out to the Cafť Brussel followed by dancing at the Bank.
Working from home for the day, or most of it, was great. I got a lot done for work, stuff I have problems doing in the office, and I also was productive around the house Ė laundry at least. And not having to sit at my desk all day was great, my back was very happy indeed. At another job, I worked from home two days a week and it was terrific, even if it didnít save on the train commute. I doubt this company will ever allow telecommuting, even with increasing gas prices, never mind what other companies are doing.
I canít sit long enough or comfortably enough for an interview, but I havenít stopped looking for a new job. It looks pretty bleak right now, I canít find anything in the area listed that sounds interesting or challenging. There is the occasional job somewhere else, but not consistently in the same somewhere else to suggest that the area would be a good one for relocation. All of this suggests to me that it is time to find a new profession, probably one of the ďdo it ourselvesĒ options Geoffrey and I have discussed. As soon as Iíve recovered fully.
I like being creative. I like finding workable new solutions to thorny problems. I like writing and generally consider myself to be fairly good at it. Having said all of that, I do not like having to be creative in what I write when it comes to my professional space. Trying to write a creative, positive response to questions when the actual answer is ďno, we donít do thatĒ is my idea of purgatory. Iím not lying, but Iím not answering the question actually being asked. It is unprofessional and in accurate. It is a sales job, not my job.
I donít have an alcoholic ex-husband whoís driverís license has just been reinstated. Iím not a single mother whose teenagers are careening through life. I donít have a husband whoís been disabled for twenty years. I havenít lost my house and possessions to a 500 year flood. I am not unemployed, donít have breast cancer. I have a loving almost-fiance, two demented cats, an unhappy back that may curtail certain future activities, and a job that pays the bills but is ultimately frustrating, and a house thatís too small and needs some infrastructure upgrades. My life isnít all that bad.
By the time I got home I was a mess. My body hurt from sitting wrong, and Iíd spent half the ride home crying. My back problems distracted me from the impact of her early June announcement until I realized weíd actually said goodbye today. I donít anticipate living in the same metropolitan area anytime soon, if ever. Having watched three of my best female friends move away over the last twenty years, I know how time and physical distance creates a wedge, you each start living your own current life, needing some sort of social circle that is local.
The thunderstorms finally rolled in during the wee small hours, never mind that the forecast had not predicted them, we had. The wind was fierce, driving the rain right through the small area we had left open in the windows. The lightening was very bright, and seemed to light up the sky for minutes on end. The thunder rolled across, a single clap seemingly a continuous rumble moving across the island. It would have been a fabulous show to enjoy cozied up on the bed, but I was too tired to enjoy it, desperate to sleep before going to work.
Another showing of the house and the report from the agents again is that the buyers think it is too small. Weíre both frustrated by the situation which has us stuck in limbo, unable to move ahead in any direction: renovate, buy, or relocate. Selling the house is not something we can control but weíve both started thinking about radical alternatives to the current approach, like moving into the Gatehouse and selling Crimson Tower first, but selling the Gatehouse when we are living in it will be even harder. There must be a viable option we havenít thought of yet.
The Tip Jar