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...
Signs of Fall
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.