Right now
I have indulged myself by looking back at the beginning of this blogging thing. It was a bit over a year ago when all I had to fuss about was the upcoming adventure of almost three months alone in Italy and France. Oh darn, eh?? I can still feel the rising panic when I read the writing and recognize the increasing confidence over the journey. I am glad to have had that solo experience prior to this new one which is the rest of my life.
So, you wonder, Constant Reader, how am I doing? The short answer is "as well as can be expected under the circumstances". The circumstances of becoming not only a widow and single parent at a time when I was counting on several years of partnered adventuring but also half an orphan as my mum died a month after The Senior Boy and we held her funeral on my parent's 61st wedding anniversary. Once again, our amazing children rose to the occasion and planned and executed another "kick-ass" funeral and follow-up party at Poppa's.
We are exhausted.
The Junior Girl is coping by knitting fiendishly and writing articles for her new job. The Junior Boy is coping with two jobs. I am coping with the piles of papers required to probate a will, to deal with a recalcitrant tenant, to pay the bills.
Two moments: standing in Nana's kitchen listening to two guys make nice about the lasagne which Herself and I had spent the previous day manufacturing and watching their disbelief that it hadn't "come from Barfco" and hearing my daughter point out that this was NAN's kitchen and did they want her to come back and smite them??? (My mother wasn't so good on (in)convenience food and made damnear everything from scratch.)
And getting Berte-the-MG repaired (because I don't have the courage to drive him wondering if he is going to decide that it is too hot for British cars and stop in the middle of the summer traffic) only to have the FordEscort's (309,524 km) "check engine" light go on. Guess I shouldn't have been talking about getting something newer and asking about a mechanic to check the FE over where it could hear me. Note to self: sigh.
We are all lonely in our own ways and we each keep waiting for The Senior Boy to come home.
In the meantime, we carry on, one breath at a time.
This is bedrock:
eagles will dance forever in the unwinding wind.
So, you wonder, Constant Reader, how am I doing? The short answer is "as well as can be expected under the circumstances". The circumstances of becoming not only a widow and single parent at a time when I was counting on several years of partnered adventuring but also half an orphan as my mum died a month after The Senior Boy and we held her funeral on my parent's 61st wedding anniversary. Once again, our amazing children rose to the occasion and planned and executed another "kick-ass" funeral and follow-up party at Poppa's.
We are exhausted.
The Junior Girl is coping by knitting fiendishly and writing articles for her new job. The Junior Boy is coping with two jobs. I am coping with the piles of papers required to probate a will, to deal with a recalcitrant tenant, to pay the bills.
Two moments: standing in Nana's kitchen listening to two guys make nice about the lasagne which Herself and I had spent the previous day manufacturing and watching their disbelief that it hadn't "come from Barfco" and hearing my daughter point out that this was NAN's kitchen and did they want her to come back and smite them??? (My mother wasn't so good on (in)convenience food and made damnear everything from scratch.)
And getting Berte-the-MG repaired (because I don't have the courage to drive him wondering if he is going to decide that it is too hot for British cars and stop in the middle of the summer traffic) only to have the FordEscort's (309,524 km) "check engine" light go on. Guess I shouldn't have been talking about getting something newer and asking about a mechanic to check the FE over where it could hear me. Note to self: sigh.
We are all lonely in our own ways and we each keep waiting for The Senior Boy to come home.
In the meantime, we carry on, one breath at a time.
This is bedrock:
eagles will dance forever in the unwinding wind.
posted by Another Joan at 10:42 a.m.
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