Another start

It's only another start if you consider that your birthday ends one year, and starts another.

I have now reached the ripe old age of 78.   Believe me, it makes one pensive, thinking about  the long life you have lived.

It doesn't seem that long now, but looking back it's been quite a trip.

I wish now that I had journaled from the day I could write.  Wouldn't that be an awesome thing to go back and read what you wrote about your life and your feelings, from your earliest days on this planet.

I love that I have blogged all these years, since 2007. 

 If my daughters ask about a particular event, or question when something occurred, I say, "Let me look back in my blog, and I'll tell you."

I think I have mentioned before that my mother had a diary from the 1980's, til her death in 2013.  Unfortunately, her entries were shallow at best;  what she ate, where she went, who she talked to, what time she went to bed.

Only once did I read that she was "mad as hell".....otherwise, from all her journaling efforts, you would never know how she really felt about anything, nor would you know what her opinion was.

That has always made me sad.  I think that she really had so much more to say.

On the other hand, I have been very vocal and sometimes bluntly open and honest here, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I do try not to rage, but you probably all know where I stand on most things.

I have also dug deep, 

Sometimes, revelations have come to me, because I have blogged and dug deep and ripped apart some of my preconceived notions.

It's all been good.

In the studio.........

In between weaving towels, I always go back to making clothing.

One size pieces, that most anyone can wear.

These next three pieces are jaggerspun lace weight wool warp, with hand dyed banana pearl

weft.

I have made a few "fitted" pieces over the years, and found that they are so 

much more difficult to market, because you have to consider sizing.  

So most of my stuff will pretty much fit anyone.

I do occasionally make some plus sized möbius shawls, and there is always a

market for them.  I am not interested in making several different sizes of the same

thing.

This is a Naya cloak.  I haven't made any of these in a while.

The rest of the photos today are all of "this old house".

I have fashioned a life alone here in the last few years....will be three years in June.

It's not the life I planned, and it's a lot different from the life I left behind.

But it is MY life, and I feel so responsible for making it as good as I can make it.

From my Al-Anon days, I know that I can only do TODAY......and to be clear, if I try to extend my brain and my heart beyond today, I usually get in trouble.

So every morning, I tentatively plan this day.  The one I have.

Some mornings, like the ones in these photos, the sun pours into my house, and I can't imagine a morning without it.

When I find myself  "whinging" about this or that PAIN, or this or that inconvenience,

I try to remember all the people in the world, who do NOT get up to this paradise on earth.

They wake up to horrors that I can not even wrap my head around.

So .....who the hell am I to complain about my lot??????

I  have said it many times, and it bears repeating.........Gratitude is the attitude.  It always is.

Stocking up for next November's guild show is my long term goal.....so every day, I add 

to it.  Towels on both these looms, but warps all ready to go on for clothing.

I heard somewhere that the best way to live your life is to do what you do every day, and 

do the best that you can do.

So that's what I'm doing.

I do need to do some serious cleaning.  I would love to hire someone, but I am trying 

to pay my car off this year, so I am pretty much putting a stop on my spening.

I am also trying to manage my thinking about the climate in this country.   It's not that I 

don't think about it.  I do.  

But I give it so much time in my day, and like spending, I say when it's time to stop the 

wheels from turning.

After all, this is MY life.......and my sanity, my serenity, and I am bound to  protect it.

Here are the crows that come every day.  25 is my last count.

And speaking of this old house, and of blogging, and how they come together in the 

sweetest of ways.

Years ago, another blogger and I connected. 

We have never met in person.

But we have talked none the less.

She also lives in an old house, and she is a talented artist.

Totally out of the blue, she sent me this.

A true gift from her heart to mine.

Old houses:   incredible.

                                                               Blogging:  rewarding

                                                        Making dear friends:  Priceless.

Brain cramp

Can you believe it?  I'm back.

I am pretty settled in my house.......happy to watch the weather from inside.

It's been bitter cold, and we just got a foot of snow.

I had to break down and have the drive way plowed.

Seems like I'm drinking more tea, if that's possible.  I'm up at 6am, and it's dark outside.

My routine is tea and the NY Times crossword, and all the other games I'm addicted to.

Spelling Bee, Strands, Connections, Mini crossword, Wordle, Letter Boxed, and the actual daily crossword.   

By the time it's light, I have finished all those, the tea long gone.

Then it's the shower, and something to eat.

Then it's straight into the studio, for whatever awaits me there.

I just finished this lace weight wool warp, and should have three pieces of clothing

from it.

The fabric has been washed, and is presently hanging to dry.

Hard to believe, but I limit my weaving time.  My shoulders are old, and lately have been talking to me, saying not very nice things.

So I am trying to ease up on them.

It's incredibly difficult to restrain myself.

I usually, actually always, share my methods, my patterns, and anything

else that people ask me for.

Except for this one in the photo below.

Circles.

It is something that I played with and came up with.

Anybody could actually do it, but they don't.

Then they ask me for my "draft".........

And I hate that I feel selfish about it, but I do.

Silly, since I know that if anyone just sat down for a while, if they 

have been weaving any length of time, they could

probably figure it out.

But they don't.

And I did.

And it feels like my baby.

One person on FB even commented that as soon as she saw it, she thought 

"Hilary Cooper".

That made me smile.

So on one hand a voice in my head says I should knock it off,

and share it.

While another says, no, no, it's mine.

 (at least until someone else plots it out)

Who is right????   Me?  Or my conscience?

I promise I won't rant about politics, but I can't promise that I won't bring it up on occasion.

Back when T-rump was first elected, we had a nice Mexican restaurant right down 

the road, the only one in my little town.

He deported most of them, and it closed.

Everyone was upset, they were doing well, and they were hard working, good people.

Fast forward, and another one just opened last fall, even better than the first.

When my daughter and I were in there the other day, the waitress started talking about 

ICE, and how everyone was frightened.

It just infuriates me.

ICE is also yanking the workers out of the farms in my very rural county.  To what end, I ask you.

These people are working they are contributing, they are decent people who want to 

pursue life, liberty and happiness.And this is how we treat them.

I just don't get it.

And one more thing.......you have heard T-rump's plan to change birthright citizenship?

It has always been true, that if a baby was born in this country, they were automatically a 

citizen.

He wants to take that away.

Want to hear something funny?  or not so funny?  depending.

My mother came here from England in 1946 on the first shipload of war brides from England.

My father was in the Navy and they were married in England.

I was born in 1947...yes, I am old.

My mother became a naturalized US citizen.

I was curious, so I went through her box of papers that I still have.

Lo and behold.  

She was not a citizen when I was born.

She didn't become one until I was 2 and a half years old.

So if T-rump is successful, I am not a citizen of this USA, even though I was 

born here, and even though I have lived here all my life.

Now if that doesn't give you pause, please pinch yourself.

And I'll be back soon.

I think I'm on a roll.

Starting over

It really is a fact, that we can start over just about any time that we want to.

Of course, we are stuck with who we are, to an extent anyway.

This is who I was born, and this is who I will be until the end.

I don't have time or inclination to "discover" who I am.

I am who I have always been.

But along the way, we modify, we adapt, and we change, do we not???

I have just recently realized that a change has occurred.

It snuck up on me, and I have to say, I'm glad.

For almost three years now, I have missed my husband and the life we had together.

It wasn't perfect, but it was our life, and I was good with it.

Then he suddenly died, and my world tipped on its axis.

I have thought on occasion that I was ok, and then immediately realized that I 

clearly was not.

I have oft times since his passing, been obsessed with the thought of dying,  still seeing my best friend

in his chair, having left this world while I was gone.

In the blink of an eye, his life was done, and my life was totally different.

I have plugged along.  I have done everything that was in front of me, I have managed.

Some might even say that I have persevered.

But in so many ways, I felt that joy was an elusive feeling, that I was not privy to anymore.

All this time, I have been sleepwalking, doing what I had to do.

Then most recently, my children have been encouraging me to leave my house, sell it, move closer to them, in a house that was smaller, and not so much work.

They espoused their reasons.  They could be of more help to me being closer.  I would see more of them.  My life would be easier.  I wouldn't be alone.  It was time.

I went along for a while.  I even showed my house to a realtor.  I even looked at a house closer to them.   I receive daily listings of houses that might "suit" me.

Then I woke up.  Came to.  Turned a corner.  Pulled through.  Was on the mend. Rallied.  Snapped out of it. Came out of the woods.  Got back on my feet.  Looked up.  Got better.

Whatever you call it, I realized that though the sadness will always be there,  that life is over.

He is gone.  I am here.

I AM OK.

But more than that.   I'm really ok.

I'm grateful.

I'm happy.

I'm content with my life, just as it is.

I am settling into something that I find I have needed my whole life.

To be on my own, in my own skin, without the reflection of another human being on a 

daily basis.

This may sound awful.  Heartless, even.

But damn, if it isn't the truth.

I look back on 77 years and thought on how often  a MAN was daily computed into the fabric of my life, starting with my father.

I realize that now, for the first time ever, that it is not true for me.  Not at all.

I cook when I want, eat when I want, nap and sleep on my schedule, I clean or I don't.

I am totally answerable to only myself.

(and sometimes 2 dogs)

It is an amazing feeling, and I feel incredibly glad for it.  I didn't ask for it, I didn't look for it, but here it is.

And I love it.

No, I do not want to sell my house.  I do not want or need a smaller or an easier house.  Not now, not yet.

I am complete, if older, just as I am.

I feel like I've just returned from a very long trip.

And I am so glad to be back.