Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Nearly Fall

































We are still having pleasant weather, and I look forward to seeing overcast skies, foggy mornings, dew on the tips of leaves. Some days are warmer than I'd like, but between wild fires and hurricanes, I am relieved and thankful for what nature is serving up in our little corner of the world.

I imagine, everywhere there is someone looking for relief from something. When did I ever get the idea that obstacles and sorrows come at intervals, with some time to recover, and perhaps even longer spells of relief and ease? My naiveté never ceases to catch me off-guard, and feeling incompetent. What was that quote someone framed for me? Ah! John Lennon, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." So, while I was planning to tidy the house and turn an office into a guest room... life melted our pool pump, killed the defrost mechanism on the refrigerator, and put our credit card number in criminal hands. And that's not all, nor the worst, but @#$%! I really want a break.

The other day Maria hit her hip on the corner of the kitchen counter, and it was such a hard blow, we heard it. She winced, and gasped, clenching her fist. I was getting her ice, when we all declared, Maria, you could scream, or say something colorful. It would be justified. And we braced ourselves for some foul language, a verbal release of the throbbing pain and frustration, and with bold expression and release, she hurled, "Ding-dang, dag-nabbit! It was heartfelt, and genuine, and we laughed, amused by her characteristically sweet nature. Fortunately, in expression, and manners, she takes after her brothers.

It really is nearly fall. I had to Google the date... September 22, it is, and the same day Max moves into his dorm room. My head is reeling a bit, now, thinking of all the deadlines and to-do items on lists, on our shoulders. There's a Maker Faire coming soon, and guests on the calendar. Good things, actually, but I slip further and further behind on the maintenance, chores, errands, repairs, recovery, breathing, releasing, coping, repeating.

Good things include... successful completion of my first painting in art class, but then I tried to apply what I learned to my ratty-rats, and I feel like I made a mess.

Oh. That's no way to count blessings, now is it? I think of something good and then I notice something contrary, and trying.

Let me start again.

Good things include... Geoff rebuilt the pool pump with parts he made himself, and he got the refrigerator working. I cleaned the spice shelves, and finished one metric ton of laundry. Alex is progressing on the art studio he has been dreaming up; the foundation is built, and he's ready to lay down flooring. He continues to enjoy his job manufacturing and installing sheet metal parts for homes and commercial buildings. William created a new reproduction flint-lock pistol, and it is beautiful. Max has three restful weeks between summer school and the fall quarter, and he was able to enroll in the classes he needs to fulfill his major. Maria loves her Japanese class, and homeroom, and English, and she's begun attending robotics' club meetings. She is finding her way, with grace and determination, and when I observe her, I am encouraged, heartened.

More good things... waking up to cool floors, and hot tea, finding tasty food to pack for lunches, and watching our cats do the funny things cats do. Long talks about good books, making plans for holidays, and every day, and Saturday, are favorites, and good. Popping corn straight off the cob is a very good and amusing thing, and it reminds me to revisit one of the resolutions I made at the start of the year: Use things up and enjoy what is on hand... the good plates, the favorite jams, the yarn and paints, and ideas. I forget. And then I find a corncob I carried home from Massachusetts, from Plymouth Plantation, and I finally do something with it, enjoy it. It's a good thing to remember that we can start again, keep trying, reset our course. I forget, and I am glad to be reminded, and to have the courage to begin again.

I am late and behind, I feel inadequate, fumbling, and scant, but it's nearly fall, and that is good enough to hearten me, and I will begin, again.

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