Chicken Blog: Love Looks Like...

Saturday, February 07, 2015

Love Looks Like...

Love looks like time and space... a quiet place with books to read, a pillow, sunlight, peace of mind.

2 comments:

JaneceFebruary 7, 2015 at 10:17 AM
Happy and content... that's the feelings this creates. :)
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AnonymousFebruary 11, 2015 at 2:49 AM
No better feeling of love and security than to be able to steal away for a few quiet moments reading a favorite book.
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Chirp-Chirp-Chirp BirdHouse Notes

Ten minutes ago I sat down with the intention of blogging. I frequently "intend" to blog. I fancy that I am taking a break, not broken-up. But, once again, I am derailed by something technical and my Google search is not yielding a solution. I sit here, increasingly aggravated, and my shoulder and neck begin to wince and whine, and I ask, "Why? Why pursue this? Is it out of habit? Certainly, by now, I must realize that this blog will not be my career, a literary accomplishment, noteworthy for..." never mind. My point becomes muddled, my thoughts self-deprecating. I miss keeping stories and details, adding to the memory book, and as I get older, I can truly appreciate the practical benefits of the reminders and place holders this blog has created... I will really want to kick myself if I don't continue writing down even small facts, that in years to come will make us smile, or help us keep records straight.

But. As I said... something in iPhoto won't talk to my phone and I can't import pictures. I am so behind. At least, that is how I feel, because I want to be caught up, I want to share all the happy things we have seen, or accomplished, our triumphs, and things we have conquered, tamed, or turned over. I don't feel like it's anything I am obliged to do, it's just what I wish, for my own sense of satisfaction... our pictures, and memories, jotted down and saved, for happiness sake. Sometimes, I feel a bit of relief thinking that as I have been away awhile, most people will have forgotten about Chikebbllog by now (however I spell it) and that I can slip back in and just go on and on about my favorite socks, and how the sweet peas are taking over, and not concern myself a bit that I never did write a book, or talk to Terry Gross.

Maybe I am relieved to not be blogging, because I hate the moment that, inevitably, arises when I feel compelled to share something of the accident, the one back in December. How can I help it? It clouds my head, still, and gives me nightmares, pain, anxiety, and a stutter. Not a very bad one, because I find that if I speak slowly, or not at all, it's not so noticeable. On Saturday, I cried half a day, because I was served another subpoena. It's "only" 2 different hearings/trials, but they keep changing the dates, and then comes a new subpoena. And do you know what troubles me? What will I wear? Because... "first impressions" and all that, and really, I cannot go dressed comfortably, as myself, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Take a bus, you drunk fool." No. I will have to go and face her and her attorney, dressed as me, myself, and I am sorry to say that I will appear as a gray, fat, old woman, that flinches when doors slam, or cars honk. I would rather stay home.

March 18, 2019

2:44 pm