A friend of mine sometimes gets philosophical on Facebook. We all have that friend, right? This morning she posted song lyrics about getting older, and later commented that the word “important” becomes more fluid.
I admit I’ve never been very interested in trends. If a particular fad appeals to me, I’ll play along, but mostly I roll my eyes. I sometimes silently judge people, but I’m working on not doing that.
I’ve never tried to keep up with the Joneses. In fact, sometimes I don’t even notice the Joneses. That makes me wonder if the Joneses notice that I’m not noticing, and if it’s making them want to keep up with me. I doubt it, though. My standards aren’t super high for most things.
This tendency to ignore trends has become stronger as I’ve gotten older. I used to worry about what other people thought. Now I mostly can’t care less. What people think of me personally is none of my concern. Of course, I still want everyone in the world to be fans of my writing. How else am I going to get rich? My writer side is the gushy middle in the hard exoskeleton, I’ll admit it.
Importance really does become more fluid. The things we care less about are swept away in the tide of the years. We can let go of old things, old hurts, old habits, old ideas, and we can realize that what we think is new and shiny was really there all along.
Remember when you were 9? That last single digit, man. You spend the whole the year waiting for the Big 1-0! You count the day of your birth each month, and the half year is a stepping stone. You’re not just 9. You’re 9 1/2! Almost 10!
I still do half birthdays. (If you don’t know what number this is, I’m not saying. If you do know, you’ll hush your mouth and know I love you.) Sometimes, if I’m not too busy to notice the date, I’ll do quarterly birthdays, too. If nothing else, it gets my hubby to shake his head. It seems to be how I mark the passage of time. I get distracted with every day life and need to stop a few times a year to acknowledge the days that belong to me.
Of course, every day I wake up is a day that belongs to me. Every day should be celebrated, but that’s not how real life works. We have deadlines and car pools. Sometimes grief makes us ambivalent or hostile to joy. Worry steals our sleep. Lack of sleep undermines our creativity. The world passes in a blur of gray.
That’s why we need half birthdays, so we can stop for a minute, put on the blinking tiara that came with the Mother’s Day card from the favorite daughter. Mark the day. Add a punch of color. Count our blessings.
I’m home. I had a day to rest before jumping into day job work. It’s been pretty much non-stop all week, and today I finally have a whole day off. I’m worn slam out. I love to travel and visit, but it’s exhausting so I’d be tired even if it weren’t for the day job.
Luckily, I’ve been around this block a few times. Rather than trying to get caught up on everything today, I took the morning to read, made a concerted effort to eat well and drink water, and played in the mud. The garden soil has been turned and weeded, and the pot of potatoes that didn’t have any drainage holes does now. Hopefully the sunshine will hang around for a few days and my potatoes won’t disintegrate in the mud. Besides writing, dirt and sunshine are my therapy of choice, followed closely by chocolate. I’d say coffee, too, but that’s medicinal at this point.
Now here’s a question for y’all: What do you do to decompress when life gets stressful?
This was my view last week. We were with the in-laws in San Diego, catching up and doing touristy stuff. It looks like it was hot, doesn’t it? Not so much. If it was 70 when I took this, I’d be surprised. It was like this the whole time we were there.
Then we came home, and it was in the high 40’s and raining. Yeah. You don’t really want to see that. In fact, there’s a good chance if you know me personally, you were in a place where it was also raining and cold.
I’m home for a few days, and then I’m off again to Mom’s and this view. We should have great deck-sitting weather. If we don’t, we’ll probably sit out there anyway.
It wasn’t pretty, y’all. In fact, after March, it’s almost depressing. Granted, I’ve been juggling two day jobs, had kids in town over Easter, and was gone for a week. Not making excuses. Just trying to give myself a little grace so maybe I’ll stop beating myself up.
For disclosure and accountability purposes, I wrote 7,840 words and logged 16.25 hours in the office. I did manage to keep up on the blog schedule. Also, it’s the best April I’ve had since 2014. Last year I didn’t write at all in April.
Silver linings. April is over, so it’s time to look ahead.