I came over here this evening with absolutely nothing to say, and then I opened some messages and found an invitation from a friend to join her at a Tibetan Singing Bowl Meditation session next weekend. We both admitted that this sort of thing is totally out of our comfort zones, which means I’m doing exactly what I need to be doing. I just wadded up my security blanket (it’s yellow with cross-stitched flowers) and threw it into the street. (Figuratively. The blanket is an important part of my hygge. (Come on over. We’ll hygge the hell out of November and beyond.))
I left the house by myself to go to church this morning. While drinking coffee after the service, I unknowingly dropped my knife onto the floor and one of my favorite church members bent over, picked it up, and presented it to me. SO, now I’m the lady who carries a knife to church. (It’s a tiny pocket knife that has been attached to my keys for years, and I really have no idea how it fell off. Really. I really have no idea.) ((I carry it because of the tiny scissors! They come in handy if I put my phone down long enough to knit while I’m driving.))
NOTICE: If you see me at church, don’t screw with me. I’m carrying.
Every blog entry should contain a photo, so here I am posing for Robert Frost.
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
-R.F. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
Two of the local radio stations started playing Christmas songs yesterday afternoon. Normally, this would put a big goofy grin on my face, but not this year.
Warning: God, man. You really might not want to read the rest of this because it’s full of yammers and whimpers. Normally I don’t say this stuff out loud to you, but it’s all I can think of today, and because it’s NaBloPoMo I need to put something out there, and maybe all you really need is a video of the song that has been in my head for the past week. How about this: I’ll stick that video down below and you can feel free to skip my words and go straight to the music. No harm done. I can’t see you. (I can see some of you.) ((No I can’t.))
Every time we hit the end of a year, I look to the new year with a bit of hesitation because I’ve been riding easy for so long. Because I am who I am, I tend to find myself in the shower on January 1st thinking, “Well, this is probably the year that something terrible happens.” (I know that’s ridiculous. I KNOW.)
2016 was a goat rodeo for so many people in my life. Lots of deaths. A few divorces. One friend’s house burned to the ground. Jeff’s position was eliminated.
More on the Jeff’s Job thing: Instead of crying on the couch and eating like a jerk (which is what I would have done in his situation and is actually what I HAVE been doing (more crap eating than crying, really) and that’s a topic for a different day), Jeff has put in at least eight hours each day (for the past four months) networking and diligently searching out new employment opportunities. Not much is available for people at his level, and not many companies are eager to hire at the end of the year.
We will be fine. We will be FINE. BUT, this experience has opened my eyes to all of the people out there who wouldn’t be fine. Who won’t be fine. Who aren’t fine.
A lot of things are tugging at my heart as we greet the end of the year. I’m already a little uneasy about 2017—not because I’m afraid something terrible will happen, but because so many terrible things are CURRENTLY happening to people I know, and so many potentially big things are on the horizon for our family. Meredith will start high school toward the end of 2017. Jeff will find a job and although we’re hoping whatever it is allows us to stay right where we are, we can’t rule anything out. (Let’s not talk about the presidential inauguration right now. Or maybe ever.)
Our family volunteers at a food pantry on the final Thursday of every month, and we come face to face with people who are not fine. People who don’t make eye contact as they thank us for filling their cars with bags of food. People who almost sound apologetic as they tell us WHY they need food this month. People who shake our hands and say “God bless you.” with tears in their eyes. I always dread going to the food pantry, but once I’m there I’m so GLAD that I’m there because it puts my ridiculous complaints into perspective.
(My tea maker broke earlier this week, leaving me without access to hot tea for nearly three days. I was a big whiny baby until Amazon shipped a new one to me. I’m an asshole.)
534 words have passed, and I’m really not making the world a better place with my sniffles, so I’ll leave you with a song. It’s lovely and it won’t bounce out of my brainpan, which is such a good thing. (Another good thing: This morning Tempe suggested that I pour a tiny bit of pomegranate balsamic vinegar into a cup with a tiny bit of blood orange olive oil and then swish it around in my oral opening for a few seconds before swallowing. Dear God, life is short. It was so amazing.) ((I’m not a fan of the word Mouth.))
I’ve reached the point where I no longer have any plans for my hair. All I know is that it’s looking very Mom-like, and I suppose that’s fine because I identify as a mom.
My shoes are about 75% of the way broken in. I have no complaints. The anguish makes me hard-nosed.
My wooden Mala bracelet reminds me to release what doesn’t serve me.
I was asleep less than two minutes after taking this photo. Something about the warm sun on my face and the warm dog by my side.
Lunch? Salad with a friend! Chick peas and green peppers and cloves of garlic and a tiny bit of feta and pineapple and tomatoes and mushrooms and balsamic dressing.
Scout got a haircut and provided the perfect headrest while I watched Brooke Baldwin on CNN.
My Leftovers Cowl is coming along nicely and I’m using jewels AND pastels because that’s what was intended. (I could tell you a long story about emotions and math, but you don’t have time for my nonsense.)
I’m still working through my sense and sensibility regarding the election. (Sometimes I just need to sit in my room and think and be wretched.) I’ve seen quite a few people who are grieving and I’ve seen even more people who are laughing at the grief. Dehumanization abounds and there is so much ugliness.
Do you remember when Tempe, my mom, and I went to Chicago and I fell in love with this cowl?
This evening I received a package from Sun Valley Fibers and it held the following two beautiful (Holy smokes, so beautiful. And so soft.) sets of yarn to make the cowl.
My question for you: Which set should I use for the cowl that will be cast on tomorrow as I watch election coverage? Lights? Darks?
Please vote. For president (if you’re able) and for my yarn (if you’re willing). God bless you, and God bless the United States of America (and Sun Valley Fibers).
The following words appear in the pattern description:
“This shawl is a quiet reminder that hate doesn’t have to win, and that tolerance is grace. When you wear it I hope you remember to be gentle on yourself as well as your fellow humans or gift it to someone who could use a little extra love.”
A bird slammed into our front window this morning. He then landed wrong side up on the sidewalk, twitched for about ten minutes, and died. My heart broke, yet I soldiered on to a crowded mall for white chocolate peppermint tea and an embroidered jacket for Meredith and a visit with my mom and some bad guacamole. Most importantly, my flipping of the bird in the photo above is not me being all nasty (although I AM nasty). My flipping of the bird is my subtle tribute to this morning’s flipped bird. (This song is not about you. Clouds in your coffee. CLOUDS IN YOUR COFFEE!)
Emotion Check: Currently, I’m probably 68% happy and maybe 3% angry. (An ocean of emotion, me. Threadbare! Sentimental! Self-conscious! Curious! Hesitant! Contemplative! Also, slightly hungry, but smells nice! (I sprayed meditation oil in my hair. On purpose.))
I’m currently entertaining a warped notion that if I finish the shawl/scarf in the above photo before Tuesday, my preferred candidate will win the presidential election. If I don’t finish it? I don’t even want to know, Sporty. (Don’t worry about me. Not only do I have the proper medication for all of my quirks, I ALSO have eight ounces of white chocolate peppermint tea! And yoga! And Jesus. (Also, jeans that sculpt. Supposedly.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
When I drove Harper to school this morning, I wore my regular school day uniform, which consists of black yoga pants, a stretched-out old white V-neck t-shirt, and some sort of cascading cardigan. (Today it was the red one.)
When I returned home, I learned that Hope Sandoval released a new album, so I decided to change into something that I would have worn when I heard Mazzy Star for the first time. (The necklace is one my mom wore to parties in the 70s.)
I then packed up my left ear and met one of my very favorite people for a three hour coffee session.
Question: What comes after coffee?
Answer: Avocado sushi.
After lunch, I visited a sweet cat named Figaro at the pet store and then drove home to put together a caramel pie for this evening’s happy hour.
