There’s a vast sea of pins out there featuring Mickey waffles, Mickey ice cream bars and even Mickey Pretzels as the highlight of anyone’s trip to Disney! There are t-shirts devoted to pledging love for churros, Dole Whips and all sorts of treats from Pandora, too. Yet there I was drowning in a great swell of despair. I’ve gotten used to disappointment from being unable to eat gluten, so this wouldn’t be any different for me, I guess. Then I started digging deeper…
In case anyone missed it here in New England, spring has finally arrived. The birds are chirping, tiny blooms are peeking their leaves out of the almost green grass and noses are blowing everywhere, especially in this house. That’s part of what held up my usual posting schedule. No one can breathe in this house, let alone stop reaching for tissue long enough to type two words.
I was warned about this transition, but I was not prepared for this simple request to be so weighted. My mom is still capable of taking care of herself and she lives on her own, so it seems even more odd to think that it’s happening now. Tomorrow I take my mother to the doctor for the first time.
Yesterday I made good on a threat I’ve been making for years and signed up for a gym membership. I’m sure, like me, you are now wondering why I feel I must be punished in this fashion, but fear not, I have not entirely lost my mind. Well, not with this.
Many moons ago, pre-baby, Hubs and I joined the gym across the street from our apartment complex. We had progressed past the point our treadmill could take us and we still had many body parts that were not looking how we hoped they would look. We naturally decided that self-inflicted torture in an air conditioned environment was the way to go and even went so far as to enlist the abuse of a tiny blond girl to “motivate” us. She was 5-foot-nothing and made of caffeine and muscles. Her name was Heather. It was all I had in me not to say “corn nuts” every time I did something wrong.
Turning 39 went better than I thought it would. Turning 40 may very well bring about the end of days, drowning out all light and hope, but we’ve got a while before that happens so we’re ok. I even got some Hawaiian pizza and carrot cake, so really, what’s to complain about?
Now that I’m in a certain age group, but not yet “of a certain age,” finding the silver lining in things is much easier than it used to be. I envied people who could so easily spot it. Those friends who are always quick with the offer of why this horrible situation is not exactly as it may seem. I think I needed to see more personal hardship and log a few more years under my belt before I could see the bounty I truly had each day.