NEW CHANCES

I’m restless.

I was born with itchy feet; they gotta be moving …

… standing still makes me twitchy.

I start feeling hemmed in; picketed. 

I get restless.

I’ve been pretty much tethered to the house since August, and that isolation has given me quite a lot of time to think.

Reassess my situation. 

Consider readjustments.

Realign my life’s then, now, and what’s next concepts.

I’ve been at a stand-still for months – it started with the demonrat sanctioned blm anarchist fires that rampaged across the entire PNW … and set-in with the recent sciatic/arthritis setback: the pain has backed off significantly, and I am able to get through the day now with 2 Ibuprofen in the mornings 😊

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LW_s6ooJ6jg)

I am also able to sit at the table for a couple hours … I am doing this in preparation for the planned Spring road trips, which will be a couple hours in length ‘round trip. So far, I am managing to sit at the table for 3 hours, listening to the radio, and playing solitaire: about the length of a short Sunday~Funday Daytrip 😉

While I was listening to the radio DJ, and dreaming of the upcoming 2021 Sunuday~Funday’s, I devised a new solitaire layout – in the form of the Star of David shape.

MOD Solitaire foundation: Top down: 1 face up; Row 2: 2 ct. = 1 face down, 1 up x 2; Row 3: 3 ct. = 2 face down, 1 up x 2; Row 4: 2 ct. = 1 face down, 1 up x 2; Row 5: 1 face up. The rank and play of the cards is the same as a regular game of solitaire.

And rejoicing in Elohim’s blessing to grace me with a traveling companion, when Spring rolls around!

So, I am really looking forward to March 2021 – the roads should be free of ice, and landslide debris by then; that is the {scheduled timeline goal}, anyway … and the weather should be more friendly to travel-minded folks, like me.

HOME TURF SHUFFLE ~ Thanksgiving 2020

Well.

This Thanksgiving, will certainly be different than last year’s holiday.

Last year – my 1^st Thanksgiving without Bob (or kids underfoot), went well; all things considered:

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/thanksgiving-2019.html)

This year, with the ridiculous covid insanity; and unwelcome physical limitations … Thanksgiving 2020 is not going to go so well ☹

BUT!

There is still always something to be thankful for 😉

And that is what I am focusing on.

I woke up to the sounds of the rumbling garbage can making its noisy rounds throughout the Park. I drank a cup of ginger-tea, and determined to collect the mail, and pay Space Rent; before hauling the garbage bins back to their places, under the carport.

The walking wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and I need to be walking: more than just through the house – I need to keep my left leg flexible, the veins in that leg healthy, and retain the muscle I had built with all the hiking I did in 2020.

I needed to get outside. 

Slo-mo-walk to the Park Mail Box, in my section of the neighborhood.

I am not happy about being a member of the old-folks-shufflers that slowly foot-cruise the Park layout. But, for now, ‘it is what it is’.

I made it to the Mail Box Unit without incident: I was thankful.

After I dropped the mail off at the house … I decided to press my limitations, and crip (as in slowly move forward, inch by inch) to the Park Office.

I have to depend on Yeshua to heal my body, so I can utilize it to it’s fullest 64-yo-potential. I refuse to be housebound!

Almost home ... 1-1.2 mins to do everything that needed ‘doing’ outside. I’m not going to fib: this final stretch of the legs was hurtful. Necessary; but definitely pushing things, for the time being.

I have to get back to walking - fluidly. I have plans that require fluid body movement; ALL my body members.

In the carport, I noticed the tire on the wheelbarrow (holding a half bag of garden soil) was low – I had to squat to remove the tip lid, so I could pump air into the tubeless tire; my leg pain was manageable. I thanked Yeshua!

Time for another cup of that inflammation-relieving ginger-tea 😉

Then, back to the bedroom to lie down and relax my hip/leg.

I watched a movie … and worked some more on the car cushion cover I am crocheting.

The leg exercise was good. 

I was thankful the pain was manageable.

I need to have my hip and leg in full play come Spring 2021 – that is my goal.

Are you noticing, Babe, that I am learning to be patient?

Tomorrow with be Thanksgiving 2020.

For some it will be a day of fearful hunkering in their cloistered abodes; open harassing family, neighbors, and strangers who are not fueled (or bound) by fearmongering; some will be spying on their neighbors, family, and strangers in their neighborhoods, who do not goose-step to the demonrat regime’s insane politically/expedient mandates. Authorities will be notified, and they will be arrested.

These hatefilled people are not my tribe.

For some it will be a day of open rebellion as they buck the obama-clinton-pelosi-biden-harris cartel’s oppressive mandates … and do all they can to live freely in The Land of The Free; as long as America and Americans are still free.

THESE people are my Tribe.

And while, I personally will be staying home tomorrow, due to a bum leg this year: my thoughts will be with my Tribe – and I will be cheering them on 😊

Thanksgiving is a time of gathering together, to share food, warmth, fellowship, and thanks … for the blessing of love/friendship – nourishment (physical, emotional, spiritual) – the warmth of practical heat, as well as the soul-warming embrace of friendly hospitality; companionship of the family nucleus (intimate, or more broadly implied), as well as community cohesiveness; and, of course, heartfelt gratitude for all the experienced blessings (as well as the blessing we are not yet aware of).

Thanksgiving is a holiday celebration of unity.

Now, more than ever … with all the upheaval that tore at the seams of our Great Nation … The People NEED the comfort that Thanksgiving has always held forth.

EXPOSED & ADRIFT

Over this Labor Day weekend, I drained the rain barrels and pulled them off their stands; there wasn’t much in them because it’s been unseasonably dry this Spring/Summer – and I didn’t want to chance a sudden rainfall that would refill them … making them impossible to drain before October’s frost arrived.

Some people leave their rain barrels in place; but I like to pull mine down and store them, with their accompanying stands in the sheltering carport breezeway, hoping to extend their usefulness until I can no longer shift them and gardening falls by the wayside.

Today's harvest. 10 corn, 1 eggplant, a handful of purple Romano beans, tomatoes, 2 onions & parsley.

Heavy cloud overcast; hot and muggy.

Rain barrels/stands stored until Spring 2021.

In 2014, Bob made me a bird feeder, and several bird house for the yard at our previous house in Lexington, Kelso: I brought this bird house with a flip side for easy cleaning with me when we moved here the Summer of 2017. I usually save bird nests (I’m THAT country 😉), but the birds here build nests that are so lightweight they literally fall apart; so into the trash they go.

Last year I was going through the motions without feeling much of anything; I was doing what needed to be done – basically to keep my body busy and my mind occupied with what I was doing in the moment: I didn’t give a rip what the neighbors thought – I was, thank God, wrapped in a layer of protectivity that pretty much numbed me to anything happening in the world around me.

But this year, I am more aware.

I KNOW the neighbors are watching every move I make ... what I am doing in my garden area, how I walk to the birdfeeder to refill it, how I tipped the rain barrels to drain them - I prayed to God I could do it gracefully with all eyes on me. Covid-19 has been used by governors to keep people tethered to their homes … people have been afraid to go outside their homes for 6 months; there is very little to do for people trapped in their homes, so watching neighbors is the neighborhood fun right now.

I KNOW the neighbors are curious about “the widow next door” and how I am handling things (I hope I am passing the exams): this has been passed to me through the grapevine hotline. Most thought I was a divorcee when Bob was suddenly absent and I was parking the car in the carport without Bob accompanying me. They were surprised when they heard through the grapevine that I am a widow; they are watching because they are curious.

I have become a curiosity.

But here’s the kicker … I’m curious about me too.

I’m curious about how I will accomplish things that need doing.

And I don’t want bored, nosey neighbors watching me try to figure it out. It’s hard enough to adjust without having eyes on all sides watching your every move.

I don’t like feeling exposed and adrift.

These are new feelings.

I never felt them when Bob was here.

But Bob is no longer here … and I feel exposed and adrift.

I feel exposed because people are watching me – and not just strangers

Everyone is curious; strangers are curious with a morbid curiosity. People who have known me all my life with Bob, are curious to know when I will snap back and continue on as before.

I am curious too.

I know I am different now.

I’m never sure how to deal with the uncertainty.

Since the forced in-home-trapments, some mornings I literally have to force myself out of bed and out of the house to get things done. As soon as I step outside, I can feel the stares as I go about my business; trying to ignore the eyed intrusions on my private life. A 4 foot fence (which is the limit for fence heighth here) is not enough to make me feel comfortable in my "private space".

My confidence has been shaken by the political bullshit added to the already fragile shakeup following Bob's graduation.

Nothing will ever be the same again – there will be no “snap back”. Nothing is the same.

Nothing.

I am not the same: I will never be the same.

I am learning new ways of doing old things … and ways of doing new things I’ve never done before.

The most complex thing I have learned since walking across the threshold of our home as a 4-hour-old-widow, December 14^th, 2018, was that my home did not feel like my home anymore. My home was always where Bob was.

And Bob isn’t anymore.

I am a strenger in my own life; trying to find stable footing.

I would never again walk through any door in this house and know Bob was somewhere in it. I walked into a house … but it was no longer a home.

And though I have, since December 14^th, 2018 lived in this house and put my own stamp of ownership on it in March of 2018 when legal ownership was mine solely – it doesn’t feel the same. It does not truly feel like home; it is just a house, with my Name on the Deed of ownership papers.

My activities concerning the house, don’t feel the same – things concerning living in this house … don’t feel the same. Easy chores that I once took pleasure in, feel like a chore I can’t wait to get through and be done with. When Bob was here, and I was his actual physical wife, I enjoyed making a home environment for my husband. Now, those things seem pointless. It is hard to work up excitement for solo meals. It is hard to feel accomplished when there is no one else to notice, and give affirmation to the effort that went into the task. Laundry for one short woman … when you are used to long legged jeans and oversized shirts for a man 6’2”, and the occasional “so cute!” children’s clothing for a grandchild now and then … is painfully boring.

A lot has changed in 20 months: people watching do not know the scope of changes that have occurred.

My life – on all levels – has been drastically altered.

It will never snap back to the way it was before my life took a serious detour from my life I shared with Bob.

My activities do not feel the same.

My routine is not the same.

My thoughts, and my feelings are not the same.

There is not one thing in my life today that remained/feels the same.

Not one.

And most days I do okay with that acknowledgement.

Then there are the days when the absolute difference makes itself known and felt … and I don’t feel like a flamingo; I feel like a pigeon who has lost it’s homing radar. Those are the days I want the old sameness to cover me with shelter from curious eyes; and to give me the anchoring comfort against the tide of life that sets me adrift on the sea of uncertain life situations and circumstances.

Neighbors gawk; that is human nature – but if Bob were still here, I wouldn’t feel exposed.

Bob was my shelter in more ways than 1.

Bob was my anchor in more ways than 1.

Now that Bob is no longer here … and I feel exposed and adrift.

In more ways than 1.