Dear Diary – So…okay. We’re not technically in Year 3 of the pandemic, but I really didn’t think anyone was going to bust my chops if I jumped ahead a little. After all, it feels more like we’re starting Year 23. The inside joke in my family is that old age starts at age 23, and this whole covid thing is certainly feeling old!
Dear Diary – I totally missed my blog’s anniversary this month. January 9 marked my 10th year writing ridiculous amusing, random insightful, and stupid thought-provoking posts. Today marks post 1803! That’s a lot of crap good stuff! 😜
Yesterday was also a special day worth celebrating. It was Eldest Son’s 32nd birthday. He is now the age I was when Youngest Son was born, and Youngest Son is now the same age I was when Eldest Son was born.
I feel old.
Chocolate cake might make me feel better.
Dear Diary – It snowed again. I realize it’s winter, but my motivation to dress up in bulky clothes that smell a bit like a wet dog, and boots that feel perpetually damp, is sadly lacking. I’ve even considered not getting dressed in the morning like Youngest Son, who can the number of days he wore pants last year, on 2 hands. He wore them because I made him.
Winter also meant it was very dark when I got up Sunday morning and headed to my car before 7:30. I was leading worship. I watched the sunrise, although it was just a gradual lightening of the sky from black to gray, to a lighter shade of gray. At least it wasn’t snowing.
Leading on Sunday was probably highly entertaining. Between my glasses, the straps on my face masks, the wires for my in-ear monitors, and the wireless mic pack with a headset, I was wired for disaster. I did actually have a wire wrapped around my ankle by the last song. At least it was only my ankle and not my throat. Perhaps if I’d had more time…I told my team that if there’s a fire, they should leave me because I wasn’t going to make it out.
Other than that…things went well!
Dear Diary – Eldest Son put a new text-based game on my cell phone. I needed Youngest Son to figure out how to play it. I’ve started a game. Let’s just say that the colonists I’m responsible for settling aren’t going to make it!
Dear Diary – The fabric I ordered online arrived. I washed and ironed it, and started cutting out my patterns, but something was wrong!
Like a carpenter, it’s “measure twice , cut once”, and like a good carpenter I meticulously measured even before I ordered my materials. I should have had enough to make 4 “sheep print” bags. Instead, I can make only 2. The printed fabric shrunk 3”! I may be able with construct a 3rd bag by doing a patchwork pattern, which takes more time. I experimented with a patches last week so it might not be too bad.
I’d still really like to set up an Etsy store and be able to contribute financially at home (or at least save up some money for a rainy day), as well as be at home. While I sometimes miss the sense of accomplishment and the affirmation of colleagues, I feel healthier and more at peace at home. I can pace myself on the days I’m feeling crummy, and I’m not as stressed out trying to fit all the little things that crop up and have to be done, in between everything else that has to be done.
I looked at a job posting this week. I know I would be really good at it! But then I went through waves of reluctance to excitement to anxiety. At one point I felt like sitting on the floor and crying like an overwhelmed 2 year old. I don’t think that’s normal.
I can remember feeling the same way when I had to decide what I wanted to do after high school, except there was a whole big empty future waiting for me. Now I have a much-smaller, less exciting future ahead of me, filled with motorized wheelchairs and absorbent underpants. That’s assuming I can afford a motorized wheelchair. I may have to settle for a dining room chair superglued to skateboards because I didn’t work during my “best years”! Maybe I should be designing washable underpants for seniors instead of japanese knot bags? At least I’d be prepared for the future.
Dear Diary – Youngest Son has now reached the age where he requires a photo on his health card. Which means I can’t do the renewal online. Which means standing in a long line in the cold, and guess what?!?! It’s snowing.
I had to yell at Youngest Son twice to get him out of bed. The second time I used all 4 of his names. I meant business!
Youngest Son hates having his photo taken so when I was asked to provide a family photo to the church, I sighed audibly, with a great deal of annoyance. I think the last family photo I have was taken like 4 years ago…
I wonder if they’d accept a sketch with stick figures?
As it turned out, when we got there, no line up! In fact, we were interrogated questioned at the door and taken straight to a wicket…where we were promptly and pleasantly served. She didn’t care that his passport was expired and accepted his report card as his second piece of identification. She never asked for the form that he “forgot to print” (even though I reminded him 4 times). We were in and out in less than 5 minutes. Truly a once in a lifetime experience!!
It took longer to get coffee at the Tim Horton’s drive-thru but mostly because it was busy…and there were a lot of drivers playing on their phones and not moving up when it was time.
I realized the sassy green boots that inspired my blog haven’t been out of the closet in years. Of course, in the last few, there was simply nowhere to go! I thought about wearing them today, but…snow. Maybe I’ll wear them to the passport office because, apparently, our passports expired last year. The last two trips were just such a positive experience.
I almost said that with a straight face.
Almost.
jennsmidlifecrisis 