I am happiest when I am writing. It was no stretch to come up with that answer, so I wonder why I don’t do it more. I’m at our island camp for the next two weeks, with my lap top and kindle and I-phone, even though these things need charging and our only power source is a generator which we sometimes run sporadicaly during the day if there’s something that requires its use, and at night for the lights.
I was hoping I’d be able to steal an unencrypted signal from someone across the river but my brilliant son (who pays attention to these things way more than his mother does) suggested I pair my computer with my phone and use its network to connect and VOILA! Works like a charm. So there’s really no excuse for neglecting my blog while I’m here, except that I could be doing other island things like swimming (too cold) drinking (no worries, I can multi-task) and cleaning things up in the cabin because W and his buddies have had free reign here for quite some time and it could stand (as my sister pointed out) a woman’s touch.
We’re going to get a thunderstorm momentarily, so I can’t stay on here long. But I do want to point out that I’ve started to write ‘a power sentence for every year of my life’ although when I first saw that prompt I thought it would be too daunting a task to write over sixty sentences about my life. Mostly because I can’t remember what happened yesterday, never mind twenty and thirty years ago.
But it’s making me happy! Much too long for this plinky site, so I’ll do it only on my blog and it will make the time fly until my sister gets here, and then she can proof read it and let me know how screwed up I’ve gotten everything. On second thought, why ruin her holiday.
It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’m always writing, even if it’s only in my head and purely for my own enjoyment. I know W is happiest here, out in the rain splitting firewood and cutting grass and whatever other crazy things he gets himself up to out there, thinking he’s imune to lightning strikes for all I know. He’s more than willing to let me do whatever I please here too. Well, everywhere actually, so what could possibly make me happier than that?
What activity are you still working up the courage to try? What do you want to do but you’re scared to do it?
Well this answer should bore the socks right off your feet. I’m working up the courage to try retirement.
The psychic told me I’d better think up something interesting to occupy my time when it happens or I will be one bummed out cranky whiner. I wonder how she knew that? Did I drop a few clues?
It feels like I’ve been working forever and I don’t know how to stop. I’m rather fond of my paycheque. I might become a recluse and start collecting cats. I don’t really like to travel. I will have nothing to talk about and nobody to talk to.
Except W. of course, although after all this time I’m afraid we’ve pretty much said everything there is to say to eachother. I suppose that’s why old people lose their hearing and their memories, so that every day there’s bound to be something new to discuss and misinterpret and get all cranky and whiny about.
We’re leaving for a holiday at the end of the week, so this might be a good time for a trial run – a dress rehearsal for the real thing. The other night we went out for dinner and started talking about our September trip to the Atlantic Provinces two years ago. We were trying to remember the name of the place in New Brunswick where we walked along the shore when the tide was out and there were great tall weird shaped rocks everywhere. I’m not kidding, it took us almost the entire meal to decide that it was “Ho” something Rocks. W. kept tacking on endings to the “ho” part and I kept telling him he wasn’t right. Finally I got out my i-phone and looked it up to put both of us out of our misery. Hopewell Rocks. I HOPE we will now remember it WELL. And that I don’t have to start carrying a notebook around with me in case I forget my own name and where I live.
This holiday is a chance for me to finally try water color painting too. I’ve printed off pages and pages of free tutorials from a very helpful website and I have paints and paper and brushes all ready to go. I’ve always said I’d like to be able to stay home and paint pictures all day. Maybe this new medium will give me the jump start I need and the courage to just go ahead and do it.
It’s no big secret that we are our own worst enemy. Greed is the greatest destructive force on earth. The wants and the desires that are never satisfied, the overwhelming need to have the biggest and the best and the most, regardless of the damage, the misuse, the abuse, and the mess we leave behind us. We will never know how much is enough, because we think we’ve never had it all. So we keep on fighting battles that don’t end where no one wins.
Chronic discontent will kill us all.
I would take a rocket science course. Then when I got overwhelmed by it all and somebody said to me ‘hey, it’s not rocket science’ I could answer ‘well yeah, actually it is.’
Just when I’m getting myself all gung-ho finally (in month number 9 of the year) to start writing a blog-a-day, I miss the first of September. This is just like dieting. Miss one day and you think you might as well give the whole thing up forever. At least that’s been my personal experience.
Okay, one day gone, but I can recover from that, can’t I? Well, apparently not when the uninspiring plinky prompt wants to know the longest I’d want to live without internet access. They really need to start shaking that damned hat a little harder!! Because I’m sure I’ve answered this already. And even though I can’t remember what the hell I said exactly, it was no doubt as brilliant as anything else I’ve ever said and therefore doesn’t need to be repeated.
So I’m going to talk about September instead. It ties with October for being one of the last bearable remaining months after the summer ends and before the winter begins. It starts off with a long weekend, and even though I’m working the Saturday of it, I will then have a three day work week and leave for a holiday next Saturday. No matter that it includes driving with W. from one province, across two more and into a fourth, I’m determined to be pleasant. I don’t care if it’s cold or if it rains because that’s just a couple of great excuses for not getting out of bed. I’m taking my lap top and my i-phone and my kindle. I hope the generator can handle all the recharging I’ve got planned.
“Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh so mellow
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain so yellow…
…no one wept except the willow..
…dreams were kept beside your pillow…
Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.”
There – that’s the sort of September I’m having. Life is too short to contemplate any other kind.