Apparently, it’s been almost a year since I started graduate school. I have very little brain left at this point and, in a moment of freedom at 5 AM, which is as late as I can sleep lately, I looked back and realized everything that’s transpired since I started.
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.
Mockery is one of my superpowers. I am also fluent in sarcasm and learned about zingers at the kitchen table with my family as soon as I could understand what words were. My targets are many and varied. It seams oddly fitting that I start the year targeting one of the most hallowed traditions of a new year itself: making resolutions designed to make you a better person or stop doing something negative, like, you know, mocking things.
It’s another turn of the wheel, as they say. 2015 was better than I thought it would be. The rear view is handy like that. I’ve never actually written my goals/resolutions/whatever down. It’s too permanent for me and I apparently have issues committing to myself. That’s something I’d like to change. So let’s see what all the fuss is about and start working on goal #1 straight out of the gate:
Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy and safe holiday season from our family to yours. May you feel love, share love and be love.
As I mentioned last week, after years of suffering from an invisible illness, possible misdiagnosis and generally turning into an 80-year-old in a 30ish okay, almost 40ish body, I have finally found an answer to my achy woes. I am now officially in the gluten-free club. I’m actually far more excited than I should be, mostly because I saw and felt significant improvement in just one week. I know it sounds like as seen on TV line, but it’s true.