…just a wee bit so I can write a little.
I haven’t had an evening or weekend free in forever it seems. Next Tuesday before I see daylight, and I’m running out of steam…and patience
And I have so much to say, and I need to catch up with my neighbors! I hope you all are well. I’m just on the go like crazy right now, most of my spare time planned by others. I hate that.
What I wouldn’t give to retire.
Hell, I would just start another little business of some kind.
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I’ve found myself lately walking around in a funk, with a little dark cloud over my head. I guess I have reasons to be happy, so why aren’t I? I mean, I have happy moments and positive experiences, (see chicken salad post below) and I don’t seem to have more than my fair share of problems or negative experiences these days. I just can’t seem to get a grasp on any enduring sense of happiness…or enthusiasm for life. I’m so uninspired.
Some say life is made up of a bunch of little moments. I suppose that’s true in a literal sense, but it’s pretty much hogwash as it applies to the general state of one’s spirit. People say you have to make your own happiness. How is this done? I can dye my hair a beautiful shade of auburn, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s actually dark blonde. The color will fade. Likewise, I can manufacture all sorts of cheerful, purposeful, and uplifting moments, but the effects are as short-lived as the moments themselves. Going through the motions of a happy person doesn’t make happy a soul that’s hollow.
Besides, why should I have to work at being happy? I’m already working to survive. Shouldn’t a good bit of happiness occur spontaneously? It would seem more genuine to me.
I believe one source of my apparent discontent is that I haven’t properly adjusted to being alone. I’ve been alone now for five years. I have a home, decent employment, settled into a comfortable routine, and I’m all good with the living-alone thing. In fact, I cherish my privacy and the personal freedom that comes with living alone. I’m self-sufficient, and I am empowered. Hear me roar.
So why am I still unhappy?
Could it be the “romantic alone” that’s starving my soul? I don’t know. I’ve been on some dates, but haven’t made a connection to speak of. Either they have some hang-up or I do, and either they quit calling or I do. I’d love nothing more than to meet someone with whom to have dinner once a week, or a phone conversation every couple of days, but men my age who have adapted nicely to being single have planned all their hours out into a semi-rigid routine. They aren’t lonely because they’ve put all these activities and measures in place to prevent any time for loneliness. And it seems to work for them because I see them quietly panic, as if their very bachelorhood is in jeopardy with any disruption in the routine, like say, getting together twice in one month. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll expect them to give up golf, or that I’ve secretly got my eye on their IRA. LOL. Why do I bother?
Asses.
Or maybe not. Maybe they are truely operating under fear when it comes to matters of the heart, and I, of all people, need to forgive them that frailty. We’re all damaged to a degree.
Maybe I need romance for romance’s sake, or maybe my sense of self is defined by the relationships I have with those around me. I have co-workers I enjoy, so I feel like a good team player. I have my children and grandchild, and although they are out on their own, I feel all mothery-grandmothery. I feel like a sister, an aunt, and a cousin, because I am all of those things. And I’m not first in any of their thoughts, nor should I be, because the time of being immediate in their lives has come and gone. Just the same, it leaves me with a sense of insignificance.
I miss being first in someone’s thoughts, and I miss feeling like somebody’s significant other. Sounds petty, I know, and hardly a justifiable reason for all this emptiness. What would I do if I suddenly had a significant other? Surely there would be joyful times, calm and comfortable times, and maybe even downright rapturous times. And I would feel like I was occupying the one role that is most significant at this stage in my life, which is not a mother/sister/cousin – but a woman…who is wanted by someone.
More importantly, the things I do each day, the accomplishments and failures, the comedies and tragedies, don’t mean much to me if I can’t share them with somebody who gives a damn. And in turn, he would share his with me. That’s the best part of life. How meaningless to constantly sing to an empty auditorium? Akin to the question, “if a tree falls in the forest and there’s nobody there to hear it…”
I don’t think I will ever adapt to romantic aloneness. Many claim to have done just that. I don’t know if they are deluding themselves or they really have, but I don’t believe it’s in me to do so. My heart will always have an infallible optimistic streak, even when my head has told it to give up. One thing I refuse to do is work at getting a romantic partner. That’s one thing that will have to occur spontaneously, or it just won’t happen. The last thing I want is another counterfeit relationship.
Hell, I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I think of how life was at times with my exes and I never want to see another man. All I know is that right now I am going through the motions of a happy person because that’s what all the advice givers tell you to do…but I’m not getting much out of it. I too, have put measures and activities in place to combat some of the empty hours, but any anticipation I might have of the approaching weekend is quickly extinguished by the silence that is predictably present by 7pm on Friday evening. I have to face the fact that my phone isn’t ringing, there’s nobody at my door; my name is on nobody’s dance card. It’s not for lack of trying.
The September of my life is quickly approaching, and if this is how it’s going go down, that I go to work Monday thru Friday, mow my grass on Sunday, and have the oil changed in my car every 3,000…if this is what I have in store for me, how it’s supposed to be, then I’m definitely unimpressed. I’d like to think that I’m holding out for the real thing, but there’s a good chance it’ll never happen. And if I can’t have love again, I want at a minimum some fantastic experiences to take with me to the end of my days, and that will require a major shift in my method of operation. Perhaps it’s time to be true to my sign and reinvent myself.
It’s a peaceful Sunday evening, perfect for making homemade chicken salad. Ingredients: boiled chicken breast, coarsely-chopped celery and onion, walnut pieces and red seedless grapes, light on the salt, liberal with the black pepper, and Hellman’s of course. The bourbon and diet is garnishment for the cook.
This old, old, house has a lot of rich wood surfaces, and even though it’s balanced with the right amount of scatter-ruggy textile and overstuffed furniture, the music from the stereo resonates into all of the rooms. A lot of people in this country are either fuming or celebrating right now because of the President’s healthcare reform bill, but all any of us have is this day, and for me it’s the mellow saxophone tones of Alan Parsons Project’s Year of the Cat, and I am enjoying a dinner for one. Life is good.
I replaced my bathroom floor. By myself. Moving about was sheer torture for a couple of days afterwards, but I eventually rallied. I’m really out of shape for this kind of thing, which is what prompted me yesterday to rejoin the ladies’ fitness place near me so I can start lap swimming again. My knee that needs replacing dictates a lot of the exercises that I can do, and lap swimming seems to be agreeable for all my body parts. I once lost 63 pounds with the aid of lap swimming.
Oh yeah, the bathroom. Here’s before…it was 19 kinds of fug, with wrinkles in it, sloppily-cut corners, curled up in places, and adhesive that would never come off:
And here’s the after. I have approximately $35.00 and 6 hours in this project.
The kitchen floor needs replacing in the worst way, but I don’t know if I can do that one or not. It’s a bigger floor with appliances to move, and at least one of the three subfloors laid down by previous owners needs to come up along with the tile.
Bathrooms can be such cold places. I think this new darker floor warmed it up in there, don’t you?
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Been caught up in Facebook lately because it doesn't require much of a time investment, but I plan to get back to this blog soon, and catch up with everyone. So, hello to all my fellow Voxers. Life is crazy. I need to be 2 thin people instead of 1 fat one.
What’s your New Year’s resolution for 2010?
I have several, and admittedly, most of the goals are low — hopefully easily attained. I am of the mind that making New Year’s resolutions is a good thing — whether we stick to them or not. It shows we are giving consideration to the improvement of our daily existence, and if we stick to them for only a month, that’s better than never having tried at all.
The New Year gives us a milestone, a stopping and starting place, and a point of measurement and reevaluation. What did or didn’t we get accomplished by December 31, 2009? What would be realistic to roll over into 2010, and what goals should probably be deemed as unrealistic, or at a minimum, in need of alteration?
Is it realistic to say, “I’m going to lose xx pounds this year?”
I dunno, but one of my NYRs is to eat only real food, eat what satisfies me, and not feel guilty about it. This pretty much cuts out all fast food and packaged processed microwave crap that I’m famous for bringing home because “it’s stupid to cook for one.” When I say “real food” I mean food as close to its natural state as possible. I happen to like raw potatoes, boiled carrots, canned salmon, baked chicken, fresh fruit, lentils and milk. I’ll cook for one if I must. I may limit the indulgence of my beloved bourbon, too, and opt for a glass of Merlot or Sirah now and then instead. I’m sure I’ll slip up from time to time, but that’s okay; I’m not dreading this goal. I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to notice immediately that I feel better. To compliment this simple effort, I’m going to try and add a few extra minutes of some physical activity to my routine, but it will have to be something I enjoy, or something from which I will see some rewards (like a clean garage, or a well-tended garden). I believe if I do these simple things, I will shed a few of the pounds I gained after I quit smoking, and a few is better than none. To reduce anxiety, I’m going to stop standing on the scales every day. I’ll let my clothing indicate my progress.
Is it realistic to say, “I’m going to make myself wealthy this year?”
I’m not expecting this to happen, but one of my NYRs is to not do anything to sabotage myself. Since I seem to have so much time to myself these days, (and am finally beginning to appreciate it) I’m going to scour all of my 2009 bank statements for spending trends that were unnecessary or downright wasteful. I will try to be mindful and eliminate those habits this year. I know what I had in the savings account at the end of 2009. Even if it’s only $25 here and there that I save, I want my account balance to be larger come the end of 2010. I’ll be happy with any forward progress.
Is it realistic to say, “I’m going to get my home completely fixed up the way I want it?”
That’s never going to be a valid expectation for two reasons; home maintenance is an ongoing affair, and this little old house poses too many physical limitations to have everything I want. I can’t afford to buy more house on my income, but…there are a lot of little projects and things I can do that would make living here even more enjoyable, and conducive to my lifestyle. Today or tomorrow, I will define a few of the needed improvements and repairs on paper, and schedule them in by order of importance and practicality. My roof needs replaced a little fixin’, the garage needs knocked down painted, the fireplace needs to be made functional, I need new floors for the kitchen and bath…and I would like to replace the chain link fence in the back yard with wooden privacy fence. I have it on one side of the yard; I’d like to completely enclose with it. I’d like to built a stone patio in the back with a fire pit, and put in a raised vegetable garden (to kinda go with the “real food” and “physical activity” resolutions.)
See, I do have a plan of sorts…
I have four categories in my life that I want to improve in 2010. I’ve listed three: Health, Wealth, and Home.
My fourth area of concern is Spirit. Not that it’s so bad right now, but I want to make extra efforts to do things that I know will enrich my spirit, raise my self-esteem, and keep me optimistically focused. I want some growth as an individual in 2010, and to be more than just the sum of my job description and the ability to meet my obligations to others…doggonnit! Perhaps this will be the year I edit my novel and submit it for publication, or travel to some different places — spend time with new people in their surroundings, or take a vacation all by myself. I don’t want to neglect my old friends and loved ones, though. I want to spend more quality time with my only grandchild, and perhaps enrich his spirit a little. He won’t have me forever. I wish to be more forgiving and less judgemental, and I include myself in that wish.
I find it quite exciting that I don’t have to wake up each morning and let the world have it’s way with me. I do have a good amount of power to shape the quality of my life in 2010 — for better or worse, based on the amount of thought and effort I’m willing to apply. I’m not a product of my environment; I’m an influence upon it.
Now, I’m off to formulate the big master plan that will incorporate all or most of the above by implementing a few simple, realistic changes. Happy New and Improved Year to my fellow Voxers, and all who may stop here to read!
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I’ve had a lot of Christmas trees in my 54 years. I remember the one in this photograph, taken when I was six, but I remember the piano more. That had to be the best Christmas present ever. It certainly fostered my growing love affair with music. I never had the patience to learn to read music; I picked things out by ear instead, and that’s probably the reason I was never very successful at playing music. I remember some of the first songs I taught myself on this little piano: My Favorite Things, Summer in the City, and an extended version (I guess it would be considered a remix now) of the staple, Chopsticks.
As I became an adult with children, we had everything from the Christmas tree inside a playpen, so the toddlers and family dog wouldn’t knock it over, to 8-foot real traditional firs, adorned with silk bows, satin ornaments…..and flocking.
“Your mother, she’s going through some flocking stage.”
At least I think that’s what the kids’ dad called it. I was drinking a lot of nog. Pinecones, wreathes, nothing was safe. For several years in a row, I flocked everything in sight.
*Ahem* Moving on.
After the kids grew up I didn’t give much thought to a Christmas tree. I believe there was even a year or two that I didn’t even put one up. When I made the solitary move into this house 4 years ago this month, I was so broke — I barely had furniture. It was bad, y’all; I was eating bread that I had to tear away the part a mouse had gotten into. I’d put every available resource into getting the house. But, I had candles, I had some booze, I had a little plug-in CD player/clock thingy, and my computer, so I had music…and I was out of the weather. No food, but had the booze and tunes covered, lol. Good times. The only thing missing was a Christmas tree.
I had even less reason than before to fool with one, but I really wanted one…my first Christmas in the first house I had ever bought on my own warranted a Christmas tree. I went to Big Lots and splurged…$19.99 for a 4-foot, pre-decorated tree. I grabbed a few little extra ornaments and I was set. It wasn’t an 8-foot traditional live fir, but it was sparkly enough, and it was mine. And the boys came to my place for a simple holiday gathering.
Sometimes biggest-most expensive isn’t the best. Sometimes timing is everything.
And the year after, the same tree sitting in a different spot (I still didn’t have dining room furniture or curtains yet!)
And then again in the corner of the dining room for the last two years. (Gotta have my snowman and my doll.)
Since that first year in this old city house, my life has gone forward in that I can probably afford to replace that little “do-for-now” tree, but my spirit isn’t quite willing to do so. Of all the trees I’ve had through the years, there’s something glorious about this little one, and it means the most to me. It was the first invited guest in this home, it cheered me up during a bad time, and I consider this little tree a friend. It has a home here for life. Each year I add a little something to it — a bird, or a special ornament, and although it’s artificial, it grows one foot per year in my affection for it. So here’s my little Christmas tree in 2009:
It jumped to this side of the dining room corner and this year it gets a star. Pay no attention that the star looks too big. The tree will grow into it. 🙂
Merry Christmas to all my fellow Voxers; may you have near to you, everything that’s dear to you!
This may be utterly boring to those who care nothing about house decoration on a shoestring budget, or don't celebrate Thanksgiving, or don't like good food, so be warned up front.
I haven't done much to my place since I bought it 4 years ago, and I woke up one day not too long ago thinking I didn't have any purpose besides work, so I married those two thoughts and decided to finish decorating my house. Granted, it's a goal that is potentially endless, but that's what makes it attractive to me. Here we go.
I decided to start with the dining room. I had dining room furniture, but the way it was positioned, it gobbled up (*snort*) all the floor space (it's a little house) and it was hard to get to the window side chairs:
If you can see in the upper left corner, there's a little round lamp table. I also have some cane back occasional chairs that I'd picked up for $25 each, and I have them here and there, and straddled on either side of my little compact dry bar. Remember this old pic of my bar top that I used to post as my answer to most QoTD?:
I decided to start with the bar. I replaced the "Brand" bottles with some funky and quirky decanters I won (one at a time) on eBay. I think the most expensive decanter was about $20. It was like Christmas each day I would find the package on my porch, LOL! And so, here it is now; I still have to find a decanter I feel is fitting for the Jack, but otherwise it's complete. It's hard in this pic to see how beautiful the cobalt crystal decanter (full of Absolut) is, so I may add another pic later. I don't think it broke the thoroughbred race horse theme too much. I have a leather riding crop coming ($3.99) that I will hang below the pic and above the decanters.:
I turned my dining room table 90 degrees to allow better access to the chairs, and in doing so, it opened up enough floor space to arrange a second little dining bundle at the end of the room — well within conversational reach of the main table. I used the little round lamp table and two of the cane back chairs:
And here's the main table in its new position; I had the tables set for dinner:
And since I borrowed the two cane back chairs from the bar, I purchased two 24" stools (2 for $99) that take up much less room in the traffic area, look better with the bar, and can be used at the end of the dining room table if you need to seat another guest.:
So now on to the food. It's become tradition in my tiny family unit to cook a turkey and a duckling, so that's what I did.:
They were delicious if I say so myself, and so was the gravy for the turkey and orange sauce for the duckling…not to mention the dressing, corn, roasted carrots, celery and onions, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, cranberry salad, and yeast rolls. (My oldest son's girlfriend made a variety of genuine Mexican salsas and chips, too.) What a feast! We had to wait a couple of hours to even think about breaking into the pumpkin and pecan pies:
Here's a close-up of most of the food:
And the best part of the evening is retiring to some comfortable furniture and listening to some good tunes (oldest son and gf pictured):
No Urban-dweller's home is complete without her bicycle in the living room, safe from thieves, and parked in front of the music media center. Heee!
I hope all of my celebrating Voxer friends had a great Thanksgiving, too! The shoestring decorating/rearranging in this little house in the city continues today. Thanks for looking. =)
…Scorpy’s my handle, here’s where I spout.
Heee! I’m short and stout for sure, but this is really about my new old teapot. This is a special teapot because it’s somewhat collectible and it respresents one of the little things I’m doing to become me again.
When I was 18 years old, I loved going to the thrift stores (still do) in search of McCoy pottery. I’m a collector by nature, which makes for a very messy house at times, but it’s what I do, left to my own devices. Over my life, I’ve been that way about everything. Dogs — when I was heavy into beagles I’d had as many as 27 (counting puppies). I had a fairly extensive doll collection at one time, over 300. Then my second son was born and I needed the bedroom, so the dolls had to be severely thinned out. I was afraid if I set the new baby down in that room I’d never find him again.
Through 4 marriages and countless moves, most everything I’d collected had become lost, broken, or inadvertently left behind. Now that I’m older, single, and my kids are all grown up, I’ve begun to rekindle my love of collecting things. I decided back in August to visit the thrift stores and maybe surf around on Ebay to see if I could put my old library of books back together (plus some, of course). I’ve bid on and found almost all that I had before, plus I’m finding new old books and authors whose works are classics, and that I want in my collection. I’ve had myself a ball nickle mining for these treasures.
Back to the pottery.
When, at age 19, I decided I’d effed up real good by marrying a Jackass while still in high school, and snuck out like a thief in the night with just the things I could stuff in the car, I had to leave my beloved McCoy pottery behind. I went home to my parents’ house and planned to go back for the pottery when he was at work the next day. Didn’t work out that way. I woke to find on my parents’ front porch, my old humpback steamer chest with all of my McCoy pieces in it, and my cane back rocker. Every precious piece of pottery had been smashed (save one he missed) and he’d put his fist through the cane in the rocker. I gave the rocker to my Mom because I knew Daddy would eventually fix it for her, I kept the chest for my clothes and one little rust-colored McCoy planter that somehow escaped his nasty hand. I didn’t have the heart to try and recollect my pottery.
Somehow, the orange planter made it with me through 3 more marriages and at least 9 moves, even though I didn’t do anything special to preserve it — it just kinda…went along with me. I still have it. My oldest son made off with the humpback chest when he moved out; it’s in the corner of his dining room holding his mementos. Daddy, who passed away in 1995, did indeed fix the rocker for Mom, who kept it until she died in December of 2006. Then the rocker came back to me. During one of my recent hunts on Ebay for a book, I typed into the search field “McCoy pottery” instead. I don’t know why; curiosity I suppose. The prices haven’t changed much since 1974, but I’ve officially made my first purchase toward rebuilding my McCoy collection, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled when the package arrived today. It was like Christmas! Especially because this piece is tailor-made for my little kitchen/breakfast nook decor:
Perfect, don’t you think? Here’s a better look at the teapot:
And, here’s the old-timer who welcomed her into the fold:
I’m really enjoying this “back to me” stuff.
…this is the park across the street from my house. My oldest son’s house is also across the street from the park; we live around an inside corner from each other. Our houses are 100 paces apart, and we can see each other’s house from our front porches. I took these pictures last Saturday (on Grandson’s 12th birthday) from both perspectives — from in front of his house and mine:
(Taken from my son’s, you can see my house in the one above. It’s the yellow/brown one with the chimney.)
The tree above was huge when I was a little girl 50+ years ago. (I grew up 2 blocks from my current home and played in this very park.)
From the baseball diamond (above).
…and my favorite:
This is the bike/jogging path they have put in the park within the last 5 years…so I can ride my bike and play in the park at the age of almost 54. Here is my bike; I just bought it. It’s the first new bicycle I have owned since I was about 8 years old. I’m so proud of it; when I’m not riding, I keep it in my living room against one wall, lol!
So THAT’S why it doesn’t always suck to live in the city. That, and I got my property tax statement in the mail last week. $312.00 for the entire year. Woot!
Sue Sparrow
Cheeps 