Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Let's Talk About The Weather...


















For once, I am happy to talk about the weather, in September. Small talk, in general, is the safest bet, these days. Maria and I were remarking that we feel sorry for the month of September, in California, because it's only noteworthy for how un-special it can be. It's a month that sits between the fun and freedom of summer, and the real pleasures and anticipation of fall, and holidays. And as much as I wish for signs of fall, September is invariably hot, dry, and full of furnace-like winds. But never mind all of that... because September, so far, has been really quite blissful this year. We have sleeping weather, with open windows bringing in cool night air, even breezes, and morning fog, overcast days. The ocean is still warm, and the days do get sunny. It's been practically idyllic, our weather. We even woke up to a light drizzle, and I went around the yard taking pictures of dew drops, and then we got so excited we made a scaled-down Thanksgiving dinner, complete with cranberry sauce and roasted sweet potatoes.

Nancy, Grandma Nancy, passed away. I can't talk about it. I've barely begun to process Eunice's passing, and that was in November. I might scream if someone says anything about a long life, because I am still emotional, not rational. There is a lot I can see to be thankful for, and admiring of, but I need time. I've begun to read about grieving, and loss, and I conclude: I'm missing resources, and this is going to take a long time.

This is not the small talk I am equipped to carry on with.

Manageable small talk subjects...

Tacos
Beach Season
Cats
Signs of Fall
Embroidery

Art class meets every Friday, and after the first, introductory class, I feel about as inclined to drop, as continue. Yesterday, mentally, I quit at least a dozen times. This is hardly admirable, or an easily manageable small talk subject. In anticipation of being in an art class, I've been going back to my sketchbook, but I've hit a wall. I haven't been able to produce anything creative, pleasing, or worthwhile. I am used to being an amateur, to struggling, and working diligently to finish my little paintings and drawings, but I am in a total seized with fear and intimidation phase. It does not bode well. At least I know with age comes experience, and in my experience the start of anything new can be rife with insecurity and self-doubt. So, my most deepest hopes are, that in time, I will find a groove, and in more time, I will benefit, develop skills, and lose that gnawing voice of doom that echoes in my brain box.

But if you would rather... let's talk about fall, or cats, or tacos.

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