Lately I’ve been dancing on the edge of the
danger zone.
The west coast lockdown is putting a serious
crimp in my life’s plans to move forward and heal effectively. I have been
rebelling the past several months and getting out of the house for drives … but
I am itching to jump the river and revisit some of the places Bob and I enjoyed
in Oregon. I can be in Oregon in 5 minutes time, but I am not keen to be
arrested after I clear the bridge.
I’ve noticed the last 3 mornings, when I wake
up, I have to force myself to get out of bed – that’s not good! Normally, I leap
out of bed, eager to start my day’s activities; but lately, since inslee started
flexing his dictatorship and shut everything down … there doesn’t seem to be
much reason to get out of bed.
I’m tired of being house-bound: trying to
stay busy with crafts, cleaning house to stay active and keep my mind engaged,
watering my seedlings, watching movies, reading books, ect. I LIKE doing these things, but I don’t like
being forced to do them because I can’t leave my house. Kinda takes the fun
out of my day.
I’m torqued (and so are my friends)
that we are forced to visit each other only via the airwaves on the phone: we
want to get together, face-to-face over coffee.
I am bored visiting the same places over and
over and over again – I want to mix things up a bit and throw some new
places into the picture.
I’m a spontaneous type of person – and I’m no
good at following orders: I don’t like other people making decisions for my
life. A stranger barking orders at me concerning MY life brings out the
fighting rebel in me.
I’m just sick of this political
game playing that has Americans held hostage by demoncrat governors fixated on their
hatred for President Trump; to the point they would
put Americans under house-arrest until Election Day, hoping to sit their obamanite
puppet in the Oval Office. Americans are becoming seriously pissed – enough so,
that an undercurrent of open revolution is taking place; the American economy
is seriously tanking; and depression is shrouding every house in America.
I can’t allow that to happen to me!
I’ve come too far to be hamstrung now by self-absorbed
politicking governors set on a hate vendetta.
So, I
forced myself out of bed and determined to do something.
Anything.
Even if that anything was a
repeat of something already done 1000 times already since out-of-control-governing-insanity spread across the
Nation.
I plugged the coffee pot in and kicked my
thoughts into gear.
I decided I’d repaint the hand-pump planter I
bought a few weeks ago when I drove to the Adna floral sale:
I settled on a black and red paint job …
which brought to mind the old hometown school colors – which led to a decision
to take a drive to the old hometown: so, I did ;-)
I jumped in the car and drove to Cathlamet; I
parked outside the grocery store – bought a Vanilla Coke & an Ice Cream cone
… and walked along main street, down towards the marina where I crossed over the
slough on the suspension bridge, walked the backstreet and climbed the stairs
flanking the post office; back on main street, walking to my car: a 7 minute
walk …
Main Street, Cathlamet
I drove home over Beaver Creek … and a nice
chit-chat roadside visit with an old friend who was out weed-whacking the edges of
her property. She asked about Bob, and I told her that Bob’s spirit had left
earth 16 months & 22 days ago (just about 2 years! I still can’t wrap my
mind around that); she said, “Oh, Val – I’m so sorry for you”; and we
caught up on each other’s kid’s: of course, I didn’t have much to share with
her about mine, because our kids have cut me out of their lives after Bob left
this Earth. But, I was able to share that I have 2 grandchildren of my own, and
4 collectively. That’s it – I couldn’t tell her anything else, because
I don’t know anything else about their lives.
It was good to remember old times; that
really were good times.
The drive gave me a reprieve from the blue
mood crowding my life.
And I saw an old Ford truck:
When I got back home, I put the garbage can
out for tomorrow’s dumping; checked the rain barrels (they are filled to
capacity with the rainfall we’ve had - YAY!); did a quick garden check to make sure
everything so far is coming along fine (it is); and came inside to start repainting
the hand-pump planter …
While the 1st of several coats of
paint dried, I made the twisted cord need to thread through the finished Pink Sweater Jacket hood hem, for a
tie:
PINK BABY SWEATER JACKET. 6 MO. St. st with ribbing trim.
It’s been a good day.
It’s been a day of accomplishments.
But it could be better: the west coast governors
could stop playing political-4-stage-games with our lives and open-handedly OPEN
the States to allow travel between States.
That would go long way towards avoiding the Danger Zone of creeping Blue
Mood.
