I Wish

I wish I had some (all) of the money I spent (wasted) when G was earning the "Big Bucks". Sure, we saved a bunch for retirement, but I've never spent this MUCH for one bag of groceries ($78), one tank of gas ($48), one electric bill ($80 without air or heat), or one month of heating oil ($400). I'm getting used to buying clothes at Goodwill instead of nice clothing stores. I'm getting used to not eating out more than once a week. I'm getting used to buying cold cereal only when it costs less than $3 a box. (There's a fresh, new box of Total Raisin Bran in the cupboard because it was $2.97.)

I wish the huge pile of "real" Depression Era quilts I collected over the years was a pile of $20 bills. What was I thinking? None of them fit on my king size beds. I had a plan last year to cut two matching quilts up and sew them back together into a king size quilt. My plan was greeted with horror by my quilt friends. Cut up a perfectly good 1930's, hand quilted, quilt???? My friends feel I would be better off changing the guest room king into two twin beds (using the maple bunk bed set from my childhood which is in the attic) and loading the unused beds with layers of quilts. (We never have guests because Maine is located in the Arctic zone) I still wish they would change into $20 bills over night.

I wish I hadn't bought so much fabric. I could, on a good day, spend $300 to $400 on yards of fabric in a shop. Usually when I was on vacation. Usually for bright colored, dotted fabric that would NEVER be sold in Maine. I have bolts of fabric. I have so much fabric that even if I sewed 12 hours a day, every day, for 10 years -- there would still be too much fabric in the closet. AND I have given away so very much of the non-dotted stuff to new quilters and to the members of my chapter. And NOW I have bolts of plain white fabric because, NOW, I prefer to paint or discharge (with bleach) fabric. And, my own true love, using trashed fabric on small 12 inch, 14 inch or 18 inch square pieces. They take almost no fabric to make. All I ever needed was a few fat quarters and whatever I could scavenge in the donations pile at meetings.

I wish there were less trees and more sunshine in the backyard so I could have a peach tree and an apple tree back there. Maybe even a plum tree. Why not spend the rest of my life spraying trees? My grandmother had apple, pear, peach and plum trees in her little city yard. She had Concord grapes, red currents and a huge vegetable garden plus the most gorgeous poppies, iris, roses and peonies. My Gramma had survived the Great Depression (barely) and was never going to go hungry again! There are many, many days when I wish I had my Gramma here to help organize my garden. Or, at the least, help me get some beets to germinate. And some carrots!

I wish, now that it's warm and I want to wear short pants and short sleeves, that the skin on my arms and legs didn't look like a deflated balloon. Yesterday I shopped for shorts. I was feeling pretty good about my body and the weight loss and all that. Then I stood in the dressing room and looked in the mirror dressed in shorts and tee. It was completely awful. Folds of crepe (crinkly and puckered) skin hanging from my bones. I was even thinking I needed to lose another 20 or 30 pounds but quickly realized that would only produce MORE puckered skin. In the end, I did buy some cargo shorts in the men's department (longer leg) but I may never wear them and then at Goodwill two pair of petite pants cause they have a nice cropped look on my height. Will I feel "summery" with just my ankles bare? I am wearing short sleeves on my dog walks and keeping my arms down at my sides. No arm waving (more like flap waving). In case you are wondering, last year at this time, I had only lost 34 pounds and my skin was still full and smooth. This is my very first, warm weather, look, at the shriveled 80 pound loss.

I wish I was a better playmate for my dog. I am good with children. And if he was a small boy, and not a big dog; we could color with crayons, or better yet, markers; build with wooden blocks; scoop frogs out of the vernal ponds and then read stories or just talk while he takes a nice bath. Riley would eat the crayons, chew on the blocks, eat the frogs, and eat the books instead of taking the bath and even though I DO spend a great deal of time "talking" to him, Riley doesn't seem to care for any of it. Are we seeing a pattern of behavior here? I don't have the knack for making a tennis ball "fun". G and Riley can play with all the dog toys and Riley has a wonderful time; squeaking, fetching, running, hiding, chewing, tugging, rolling on the floor. Riley spends most of "our" time together looking me in the eyes, in a sort of sad way. Then he sighs and goes into his crate to sigh some more. Like right now. And then I take him for a long walk-- which is the one thing I CAN do.

Most of all, I wish I could stop worrying. I worry that I will come down with some mental disorder or disease and be a burden on my family (the women in my family have all had some type of dementia). I worry that the investment money won't last for our lifetime, especially if we ever get really sick. I worry about having enough money in the account to pay the bills. I worry about my son and daughter even though they are close to being middle aged (how did that happen?). I worry about the amount of gas in my car (will the gas light go on and throw me into an panic?). I worry about my 86 year old father living alone in the midwest and refusing to live closer to one or the other of his adult children. I worry about the dog pulling me over and me falling and breaking my nose or something. I worry. About everything. And about nothing. Which Peanuts character worried all the time? I used to be Lucy. Always critical and negative.