Lockhart

We went to the longhorn sale in Lockhart this weekend. Got to see lots of folks we have known for these many years in the business. Sold a cow and calf; bought a cow and calf and a heifer.

I have a young friend who lives in the Northwest.   Oregon cowgirl. She came with her father again this year. We are running buddies for the sale. She and I like to go to town and do a little shopping around the old town square. This old lady loves hanging out with that lovely teenager.

This year I went with her to a new spot for me. The San Marcos outlet mall. We had a good time and it was an adventure. I picked up a few things and so did she. She had been there before and had even gone the day before to scope out things.

During the sale, we went downtown as usual. They didn’t have the soap she likes at our favorite store this time. But, we always like prowling through all the shops of both new and used things. Lots of vintage and antiques to dig through. Some of the other ladies from the sale barn had made their way to town as well.

When I go to Lockhart or to other similar environments, I always get antsy to be creative. I see things others have put together and want to do something myself.

Today, I have salved the itch with my crochet thread and Pinterest. I crochet plain old dish rags from pretty cotton thread. I don’t really know what I want to do. Plus, I have given most of my crafting things to my daughter or the charity thrift store.

But, I have made some progress. I have talked with him about an idea for a work space. We are going to try to get something set up for me. I asked him about some ideas I have and he is going to help me with them. Simple as that. Just ask. Ask for help.

Often my argument against myself is the end product. What will I do with the end product? At this point, I am not thinking too much about that. Trying to focus on ideas and go through what I have at hand. Also, I am trying to pick one idea to pursue to completion. If I find success, I will probably share it here.

Fall and Hallowe’en are nearing. I would like to do some seasonal decorating. We don’t have much company, so it will have to be for me to enjoy. Can I stretch enough to do something just for me? If he and I are the only ones to see, will I be okay with that? Must I have a large audience or can it be an audience of two? I must consider myself to matter enough for special effort. Again, this lines up with the end product issue. Doing the creative process is one thing. Having an end product is something else. The southern girl in me thinks it is all about the show. Hospitality. Setting the stage for an event. I want to do things for my own satisfaction and pleasure. If someone else sees and enjoys, fine. If not, that will have to be fine, too.

“Don’t worry. Everything is going to be amazing.” That is the saying on the shirt I bought in San Marcos. It is under the motif of a full moon. Last week’s post. Aunt’s Facebook share. Shirt. Somehow it means something special. I am trying to listen to the message. Be still and know. He is trying to reassure me. I want to open my heart to new risks, challenge my mind with new ideas, let myself feel amazing.

I am not trying to save the world or even change it. I am simply trying to be who I should be. If it helps someone else, good. I have paid my dues in life. Children raised and wonderfully successful. Parents, grandparents nurtured until they left this world. Supporting friends and family the best I could at the given moment. Even now doing more of the same. I am working on giving myself permission to be just a little selfish. To be a little self-directed. To become more me. My shirt says it will be amazing!

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In the way of living

How often I have let life get in the way of living….too often I don’t make the plans I should make to create the life and legacy I want to have.

This weekly confessional has done more to get me going in the right direction than I ever could have imagined.  Especially, since it isn’t the type of blog I intended.  But, it is what is has become.  A telling of the days passing.

For this evening, I had forgotten it was Monday, I suppose.  He reminded me I needed to write.  Suddenly I was flooded with things to consider.

I wanted to write about my friend losing her mother the other day.  The funeral is upcoming.

I wanted to write about how wonderful the sound of my brother’s voice is on the other end of the phone line.

I wanted to write about the thrill of getting a text from my son asking a simple question.  Just seeing his name on my phone…..

I wanted to write about coordinating Christmas gift buying over the phone with my daughter and her beloved.

I wanted to write about missing the deer stand.  Haven’t made it to the woods in weeks.

I wanted to write about the unexpected places and circumstances that create treasured relationships.

I wanted to explain why I want to live to be an old woman who is vibrant and healthy and self-reliant.

So, here goes the “reader’s digest” version of what should be many different posts.

I hated hearing my friend express regret.  Feeling she didn’t do enough to take care of her mother.  Been in that exact place myself.  I just had to forgive myself and give myself compassion.

I loved discussing with my brother how to manage a salt-free turkey breast for a dear aunt’s dietary needs.  Sharing a suggestion for seasoning it.  Hearing his plans. Looking forward to seeing him in a few days.  Trying to not consider how long it has been since we were together.

I believe my son is way more awesome than a rock star.  He is awesome coolness to the max!  The life he is leading is proof that I have done something right in my life.  Of course, I did not do it alone.  But, nevertheless, I take credit for what part I did play in his upbringing.

I know my daughter is the most perfect woman on the planet. Ever. And, I believe her honey knows it, too.  She is another proof of my personal success in my most important job ever:  being a mother.  My parenting partners and I did a great job with both of them.  He and I give praise and gratitude to Him.

I have needed to do some things instead of sitting in the deer stand.  At least, it seemed they were important at the time.  And, of course, some were.  At least one time, it was just too cold for me to deal with that morning.

I have a friend at work.  She challenges me to reach out of my safety zone and ask for the things I need that I can’t do for myself and also to give myself the care I should for my own sake.  She listens deeply to what I am saying and helps me hear myself.

I want to live to be an old woman, fully capable of taking care of myself and my family. I am living a long life without my mother. I want to be strong and well, though.  Not disabled and in need of care, but giving care and love and support and pots of chicken and dumplin’s.  Holding hands and catching tears as my loved ones go through the trials and the joys of this life.  I have learned how to grieve.  I will grieve again.  There are some I hope and pray never to grieve.  But, I want their grief for me to be brief and full of gladness.

Another fifty years or so should suffice.  As long as there are elders to uplift and children to tend, I will have a purpose for which to get up each morning.  And there is always him.  Needful of my care and attention.  And pots of chicken and dumplin’s.

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