Sorry I haven’t been posting lately. There’s not any one particular reason for my silence; instead, I think there’s a whole mixed bag of reasons my muse has deserted me.
- Summertime. It’s hot. I feel slow and sluggish when it’s hot; I don’t enjoy being outside much unless it’s very early morning, before the sun has a chance to get high enough to sear. I also don’t sleep very well in the summer – I toss and turn all night, too warm with even a sheet to cover me, but I get chilled without one. Grrr. Even writing becomes a chore in the summer, as my mind is so busy being hot and cranky it hasn’t much space for creativity. I’m pretty odd, I know. And I’m looking forward to autumn, as usual. It’s really my best time of year. The sun is still out most of the time, but the oppressive heat heads South. I like that.
- Financial worries. I’m absolutely not alone in this one, so I won’t go into detail. Suffice it to say that the eagle is screaming at the Wren’s Nest.
- Two semi-housebroken dogs. Jeez, I love dogs, but this is getting rough. Finny is improving, but Shadow has gone backwards and is now leaving me a giant, smelly gift every morning in the living room, deposited there sometime in the night. The swamp-cooler, which cools the whole house, is in Mr Wren’s room, where Shadow also sleeps, so the door to that room cannot be closed. I’m going to have to insist that he be tied in the room somehow. Sigh. The fences in the back yard are still not dog-secure, and the money to have them fixed doesn’t exist anymore. Mr Wren is unconcerned and unwilling to deal with it. (Mr Wren suffers from depression along with his physical disabilities.) I might be able to figure out how to do it myself, but I have my own physical issues where that’s concerned. Anyway, I’m quickly losing patience with the situation and am contemplating new homes for both dogs. This will entail a fight with Mr Wren, but something’s got to give, here. I’m starting to lose my mind.
- Rheuma. It’s fairly mild, mostly in my hands and wrists, but constant. Same with the bursitis in my hips. As for that, the pain isn’t severe enough to warrant cortisone injections; if I have to have them, I’d rather wait until I really need one, since there’s a limit as to how many you can safely take over a year’s time. So, while the pain I’m in is mild (and occasionally hits “moderate”), its constancy is wearing me down and making me glum. I don’t like that.
- Joblessness. My own and future SIL Matt’s. We’re both looking. Hoping. It’s the pits.
- I’ve been re-reading my various attempts at short stories and novels, and working out which are worth another try, which need to be incubated further, and which need to be deleted for their own good and the good of the world. This has filled up a fair amount of my free time as I edit and make notes. It’s not writing, but it’s similar. Right?
And that, my friends, is why I’m not posting much lately. It’s all too-too. And it will change and things will look up, they always do. Time works. I’m still enjoying the daily gifts: while Finny and Shadow are making me nuts in the housebreaking department, they frequently have me rolling with laughter, too, as they play together. Finny is so little, quick and smart; Shadow so big and galumphing. And, we’ve decided that he’s pretty much a blockhead. Lovable, but dumb as a bag of rocks. The consensus: frequently hilarious.
My gardens are going wild. The wisteria is in its second bloom of the season, the trumpet vines on the arbor to the side garden have giant orange trumpet-shaped blooms, and the hollyhocks are taller than I am and full of blossoms. We have planters full of summertime lettuces and, while those tomatoes never got planted, the local country fruit and vegetable stand has some great Romas at decent prices, so I’m not missing them too much. Same for the zucchini, which I love.
Things will look up. I’ll check in again next week – maybe sooner. Sometimes, forcing myself to break through the writer’s block (even if just to bitch) throws open the floodgates. Maybe it will happen this time.
Until then, I hope this post finds you all enjoying the summertime and feeling well with a minimum of pain – or better, none at all. I’ll continue to comment here and there so you’ll know I’m thinking of you and sending my care your way.
Update: Writing in spite of myself did bring up a small flurry of brain-and-body activity. I remembered to mention Shadow’s new nickname: Cal, which is short for “calamity.” So far, we’re down two ceramic pots in which potted plants resided, victims to Shadow’s sliding turns as he chases Finny from family room to living room at approximately 40 mph. He frequently wipes out.
Also, I took photos.