Sunshine!

We've had typical January weather these past few weeks. The bitter cold and snow of two weeks ago gave way to the more typical damp cold we tend to live with this time of year. The sky was an unrelenting gray, the lows were in the 30's, the highs were in the 30's. Just blah.

I'd been doing so well combating the winter blues this year, but as day after day of cold gray blanketed the world outside my windows, it managed to make its way through the cracks and begin creeping into my bones.

I was actually pretty proud of myself. I kept doing all the things anyways. I showed up to exercise. I met friends for meals. I didn't try to smother my blahs with junk food. I lit candles. All these things helped, but none of them worked to chase the grays away.

When I glimpsed my first robin a week ago (yes, there's a robin in that picture, on the driveway), I just sighed and told him he and his friends were a bit early for the show; that perhaps they should find somewhere warmer to hang out for another month or so. They might have listened - I haven't had another sighting since then.

Then I walked outside about an hour ago. It's not MUCH warmer out there (it was all of 40 degrees), but there is not a cloud in the sky and the sun is shining brightly. Nothing else has changed a whit, but the warm rays of the sun pierced the grays inside me and, *poof*, they evaporated.

Suddenly, today's scheduled exercise will be a gift and not a chore. The assorted mundane household todos no longer loom large overhead; the laundry pile is suddenly quite manageable. I'm ready to go hunt down those robins and tell them that, just perhaps, winter will not last forever after all.

Despite all I know, it's hard for me to believe the grays will ever leave again once they have managed to seep in. (It's not all bad, I suppose, because it's alway such a beautiful surprise when they are banished.) 

I am grateful for the life lessons which have taught me to keep taking baby steps anyways. To look for the beauty (robins!) anyways. To know that this, too, shall pass.

*whew*

Out of the Cold, But...

Given that I don't have to be out in it when I don't want to be, (and have decent insulation in my house, so can afford the heating bill), I've not minded this cold spell; even ?enjoyed it? a little. 

As I take in a deep breath as I step out into the frigid air with Sylvester each morning, the cold air cleans my lungs, and for a few minutes I feel young again. 

The crisp air brings back memories of the days when, as a college student, I would walk the 3-4 blocks from the pool to the dorm after diving practice, wet hair freezing along the way. I would comb it out when I got to the foyer of the dorm, which would leave it essentially dry, enabling me to skip the hair dryer part of my routine. Yup. It's been a while.

It's just this morning that I've really begun to get antsy here in my cozy nest. The cold spell broke overnight, but the change in the weather brought with it a thin sheet of ice, turning the city into a skating rink.

Sylvester, predictably, didn't think much of it, though he did manage to keep his feet as he ventured carefully down the front walk. I also managed to stay upright, but that's only because I was walking in the snow next to him. 

The ice on the sidewalk was a little thin for skates, but my hiking boots were perfect for the venture. I didn't even try to walk across the drives where there was no snow handy - I just dug into the recesses of my brain and pulled up my long-dormant skating skills. I bent my knees just that little bit and slid, flat-footed, gliding my way across the expanses. 

I'm glad I found my moment of fun, because I needed it. The ice is messing with my exercise routine. Again. It feels like I've had more days off than on this month. (Though, looking at my calendar, that's totally not true - once again, my feelings are not always reality-based.) I am missing my antidepressant of choice. 

Yes, I have a perfectly good treadmill in the basement for just such weather emergencies, but while plodding along on the track fulfills the letter of my keep-moving mandate, it's not fun. My instructors aren't there to make the time go quickly; there are no fellow students with whom to share news of the day.

This is where I stop and tell me to get a grip. It IS winter after all. And I don't recall the line in life's handbook that guarantees I'll never have to change my plans to accommodate reality. According to the weather forecast, the ice will melt later today. Tonight's new batch of a similar snow/ice mixture should be gone by midday tomorrow, and then, if the forecast holds true, I'll be able to get back to my routine.

In the meantime, it's not like I've run out of candles to light against the cloudy sky. I have not run out of books to read. I have food in the fridge, and plenty of tea in the cabinet.

Thank you for listening to me, and I'm done whining for today. If you need me, I'll be on the sofa with my fuzzy blanket and a book and a cup of hot tea, counting my many blessings.

Stay safe!

Brrrrr!

Sylvester has pretty much made his peace with the weather here in the midwest since he arrived a year or so ago. I don't think he will ever be fond of moisture falling from the sky, but he puts up with it, at least long enough to trot around the block and take care of business.

Miniature Schnauzer-like dogs (he's supposed to be purebred, but he's a bit of a throwback to his terrier roots; he's taller and longer than the 'proper' mini schnauzer who lives around the corner. Also, less barky, so I'm thinking it's a good tradeoff.) have a double coat, and thus tolerate cold-ish temperatures quite well. So, when this winter's first real cold spell hit, we continued getting out on our daily walks.

He did well until the temps dipped below 10, then below zero. As we walked, he started shivering long before we'd completed our circuit, despite his insulating layer. At the same time, his paws started freezing up; he started walking unevenly, favoring first one foot, then another. Poor puppy - I scooped him up, and he rode snugly in my arms the rest of the way home.

Not wanting to torture the poor thing, we've gone out just long enough for him to do the necessaries since then. Once he's finished going, I let him off the leash simply for the joy of watching him run as fast as he can back to the front door, warmth, and safety.

I thought I'd enjoy the reprieve from having to be out in the cold, but it turns out my legs have gotten quite used to walking. They don't care if it's cold out there; they'd like to return to their daily routine please and thank you. Soon, I tell them. Soon enough.

I've actually kind of enjoyed the change in the weather. Snug in my warm house, the white blanket of snow is prettier to look at than the winter grays and browns which are the usual view. I've dug into my cache of lined pants and warm sweaters, and have happily spent a couple of afternoons tucked in under a blanket with a cup of hot tea and a book.

I've been SO grateful for my furnace and the energy that keeps it running. I was without power for five hours as the snow and cold swept in. It was shortly before the temps plummeted, so I was ok for the first couple of hours. But then, as winter's early darkness crept in the windows, and the house continued to cool, I wasn't so OK. I have vivid memories of the three days I spent without power a few years back - watching the house temperature inch down through the 50s into the lower 40s.  The plants and I survived only because the outside temps stayed above freezing during the storm and its aftermath. 

This time, I was obsessively checking the power outage map every thirty minutes, making sure they hadn't cleared the big block of trouble that included my street - because if it was gone, and my lights still weren't on, I knew I'd be in for a long, cold night as they worked their way down to the problems affecting only a few houses. 

As I passed the estimated time to fix by a good hour, my anxiety levels started to rise. I stopped myself, took a deep breath, and scouted out some pet-friendly neighbors who seemed to have power; places where I could retreat just-in-case. I dug my head lamp out of the cabinet, and went into the kitchen to make myself a can of hot soup. (Times like these, I am SO grateful for my gas cooktop...)

As I was finishing the soup, I heard the reassuring sound of the furnace kicking on. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, then checked the outage map one more time, sending up a prayer for the 8,000-odd customers still without power, hoping they had options for places to keep warm.

I know most of the country is in my boat, coping with this cold spell. Stay warm out there, hear???

Dragon Age

 

When I retired - the first time - and climbed into my camper van, I thought perhaps I'd get bored in the evenings. Some people like computer games; I thought it was high time I gave one a try, and so asked my son, who has been playing them since he was 12, for a recommendation.

The one he picked, Dragon Age, sounded like, yes, it might be fun, and so I picked up a copy and loaded it onto my laptop.

I underestimated both my level of exhaustion and my willingness to look at a computer screen when not getting paid. The program languished on my desktop, unused, unopened, until my trip got aborted and I returned to work.

Given I was living in an apartment, I thought surely I'd want something to do in the evenings. I figured I'd open it then, but nope. The aftermath of cancer wiped out my energy levels for the next three years.

But then, once I was recovered and unemployed and staying with Kate in Minnesota? Nope, not then. Once the big remodeling project on my current house was essentially finished? Nope. Certainly not after I found steady employment with Jack Cooper. During my alone Covid days, when I had little to do and all day to do it? Nope, not then, either. 

Finally, I decided a decade of procrastination was enough. Either play the stupid game, or quit worrying about it! I turned on my now-aging laptop to play the game - and got a dreaded hard drive sector 0 error. Unrecoverable. Fatal. *sigh*

But now. Now my desire had been thwarted, and now I WANTED to play the game. I started casting about for ways to obtain an older computer so I could play the game. One of my young friends had upgraded her gaming computer, and volunteered to donate the old one to my cause. (Thank you, Ione.) 

I triumphantly brought my new hardware home, hooked it up, loaded the game. And promptly let it sit for another year. 

By this past fall, I was getting a little impatient with myself. (You'd think I was up for the Procrastinator of the Year award or something!) 

What was my problem??? Surely, I could at least give it a try!! So I added it as a task to my to-do list. I forwarded the task, untouched, on to the next week. the next week. the next week. then gave myself an ultimatum. Now, or never.

Fine.

I told me I was going to spend an hour each evening on the game for the next ten days. (Which was enough time for me to know if this is one of the ways I want to spend my time, or not.)  I sat down, let the computer sort through its unwieldy pile of uninstalled fixes, and loaded up the program. 

I set up my character, 'woke up' in the mage's tower, and within three days, was properly hooked. This wasn't some mindless, clear-the-grid-of-matching-tiles game. This was a story! With people and a plot line and an IMPORTANT QUEST to complete.

Within two weeks, my problem switched from making myself sit down with the game to limiting the amount of time I was spending on it. Turns out it's a perfect way to pass the dark fall evenings. Who knew? (OK. Every adolescent in the country, but hey...)

It took almost three months, but (spoiler alert!) I managed to kill the demon and save the land from the evil blight. I was a hero!

As I played, I found myself wishing life could have a do-over button. You know the one - you've made a string of bad choices, or chosen a bad strategy to approach the battle, or missed an important clue along the way, and suddenly you're wandering lost without a clear vision of how to move forward. (Or, gotten killed by the bad guys. Happens.)

You sigh, go back to your last save, and give it another shot. And another, repeating as necessary, until you've learned the skills you need to make it past the current obstacle. 

Wouldn't that be handy? Think of all the relationships I could have mended along the way. I could explore the roads not taken, then back off if it turns out my first choice was better after all. I could be all-knowing, all-wise, invincible!

But then I wouldn't be having a human experience, would I? That's one of the things that makes this life so vital - no resets; no do-overs.

And I rather like my precious, precarious, life. 

Happy New Year, 2024!

 

2024, already? How did this happen???

I mean, Happy New Year, everyone!!!

I've adjusted to many changes in my life. Why, then, is it proving so difficult for me to align my inner time-sense with outer reality? I'm grounded in each day. The hours pass normally; even the weeks trot along at a fairly reasonable pace. The problem comes in with any timespan longer than that. I turn around twice, and months are gone and I don't know where I put them! 

I know, I know, it's a factor of aging, *she types with a heavy sigh*. Get used to it, deal with it, suck it up, buttercup. Perhaps I should make this a resolution for the new year: Quit whining about how quickly time has passed; rather, embrace the quickly changing seasons. After all, it's preferable to time slogging along in the mud! 

I'll work on it.

My New Year's Eve was lovely; we celebrated toddler-style. (For the evening's festivities, I had four guests aged six and under, along with their responsible adults.) Given that I turn into a pumpkin about the time the clock hits double-digits each evening, the celebration suited me to a T.

We gathered around four, so my young guests could get reacquainted with one another. While their responsible adults sat everyone down for a pre-dinner session of color-the-ornaments, I gathered orders and went and picked up Chinese for dinner.

We sat down at the table, enjoyed a lovely meal, then got out the bubbly beverages. I started to look for plastic cups for the little ones, then decided plastic did NOT suit the occasion, so everyone got a fancy glass to do the "midnight" toast. (I am pleased to say no pretty glassware was sacrificed in this effort. *whew*) 

We put on sparkly tiaras and fun glasses, and counted down (at a random moment in time) to zero. Everyone raised their glasses, cheered, and toasted the new year. Then, we all shared pieces of a wonderful clock-decorated giant cookie.

Properly sugared up, the young ones drifted off to play a rousing game of "Meow" (I'm not sure what the rules were, but it involved much crawling on the floor to a chorus of kitty sounds), while the adults lingered at the table, catching up on current life happenings.

BEFORE any of the kitties hit meltdown mode, the children and their ornaments were packed up and loaded into their respective cars along with their associated adults. I waved them off with a full heart, savoring the remnants of my goodbye hugs. I finished dinner cleanup and sat down with a happy sigh - all by 8PM.

I couldn't have chosen a better way to spend the evening.

Happy New Year!