writing

Slow Start

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My 2022 is starting slow.  I am trying to get over a sinus allergy flare up.  Haven’t gotten anything done I had hoped the first week. 

However, it may be a good thing.  It has made me pause before I get off in to some projects that are only half way planned.  With the holidays past and the new year launched, I feel the countdown to my July birthday going.  I always try to get things done January till July and be able to have an assessment of progress at my birthday.

I spent a lot of time in December and all last week reflecting on things past.  Trying to not become morose over the passage of time and the passing of loved ones.  I want to be sure I utilize every day to create a life I love living.

I scribble in a journal constantly.  Ideas, happenings, goals, lists, memories of yesterday and of many years ago.  A life is supposed to be examined.  Mine is often over examined.  Second guessing everything.  I have so many ideas that I generate and talk myself out of pursuing.  I always feel I will be wasting resources if something doesn’t work out or I don’t follow through.  Rather than take a risk, I reason with myself that it isn’t needful. 

That is why I am always so amazed and so proud of our children when they take risks, large and small, to pursue their dreams.  I always told them to not let fear get in the way.  Maybe this year I will take my own advice.

I don’t have any bungee jumping type ideas, just a desire to take care of some long-shelved ideas.  Stories to write.  Artwork to craft.  People to see.  Come on 2022, let’s get a move on.

This photo was sent to me from my Rock several years ago. Sunrise at Rayburn. And the morning star.

Still the Same

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I’ve been reading some of my first posts in 2014.  All these years and they are still true.  Some issues remain unresolved.  Some issues have simply been deleted rather than resolved. I am still busy, but have more space between activities.

One thing I can say about myself.  I am persistent.  I perceive myself as being a quitter.  But, after reviewing my earliest posts, I seem to be steadily seeking a similar scenario.  I do have the same ambitions as I have always had.  To paint, to write, to dance.

I still love time with my family.  My family has certainly expanded! The duchesses have helped me filter through things I have been holding on to.  Just this past week, our daughter and her husband bought their first house.  That is helping me filter through things, too, somehow. Of course, several items here in this house have been saved for when she had a home to call her own. 

I continue to work on building deeper friendships.  I have been trying to be more open and vulnerable with three ladies I adore.  One is getting ready for her son’s wedding; one is mourning the loss of her mother this very day; and one is missed terribly.  She and I worked together for years and only have occasional visits. 

I have some pieces of writing done.  I have one in progress.  It has begun with the death of a young woman.  I don’t even know if she fell or was pushed.  The story is still so new.  I started it in the middle of my daily journal scribbles and it needs to be transcribed on to the computer so I can continue to work on it. 

There is a table and chairs I rescued a few years ago.  They needed refinishing, but not badly enough for me to do it for myself.  That new house of our daughter’s needs a dining table. I am refinishing the table and chairs!

The holidays are nearly upon us.  Thanksgiving feasts, Christmas decorating and baking, a few gifts to do up with paper, ribbon and bows.  Some family and friends I want to see. And one fella I am very fond of is turning 60.  I look forward to celebrating his birthday.  Nearly lost him two years ago.  How precious are family ties. 

Yes, many things are still the same after all these years of writing Raining Orchids.  And the second one I wrote spoke of how much I love Rock and how much I depend on him for strength and courage and protection. 

From January 2014:

He is just over there on the tractor, clearing some brush. He is close enough to see and if I suddenly need to touch him, I can walk over to him. He was gone fishing with his tournament partner Saturday and Sunday. Sure was a long couple of days.
I am grateful I feel this way about him. We met and fell in love thirty-one years ago this month. We’ve been through some fires and some storms. We’ve been through some miracles and some magical places. Our connection, our marriage, our love has taken on a lovely patina. I cherish him and I cherish us. I am thankful.

Some things have only grown richer and more lovely.