Wednesday, November 09, 2011
Starting Over- At The Beginning
Monday I managed to cut down the five Spirea, the lilac (which I am trying to kill) and the leggy perennials in the "back of the house" bed. I also cut and bagged the dead peony stems and leaves. Then I traveled to the grocery where I ran into a member of the mini quilt group we used to have (we met every two weeks and were very close, the six of us, for many years, not so much after I lost weight). I had to introduce myself. She had no idea who I was. That has bothered me ever since. Who am I now?
Yesterday I was at work. Riley was at doggie day care where he had a bath etc. A Fall Grooming Experience. His first stop when I brought him home (after voting) was to roll in something at the edge of the woods. I walked him later than usual and it was getting dark on our return to the house. And Riley was anxious for his supper.
This morning I have started in on the huge pile of laundry. First, the strawberry stains on G's shirt. I also changed all the dog bed covers so Riley can stay "fresh" as long as possible. I have shirts to iron later and if the sun comes out, I will attack the front of the house perennials. I got a bargain pork roast so will be making pulled pork again. Even if I freeze most, I couldn't pass up $1.69 a pound. I do want to visit Target today, check out the Goodwill and the new resale shop in town. I want a skirt. Brown. After I finish here, I have checks to write for the bills on the table, a visit to the bank to deposit my paychecks.
I should be home by 1, in time to get the pork into the oven. In time to iron shirts. In time to walk the dog.
I would like time to read. While I can still hold my eyes open.
This morning I pulled on my size 14 green corduroy pants. I was wearing them the weekend we drove to Ohio when my dad died. October, 2008. Sort of a mile marker in my life. So many reminders, this year, of that time in my life. So many dreams lately, disturbing my sleep. A blogging friend is going through something even more recent and more devastating. I know. I feel it. It's right there at the back of everything. Sudden tears. Depression. Anger. We think we have moved through the stages of grief, but it doesn't take much to bring it back. A life has so much baggage.
I am wearing the pants and they fit. No pulling at the waistband button. No gapping at the pockets. No riding up in the crotch. I should feel exhilarated. I wonder why I don't.
Yesterday I was realizing that, just as my father had to go one day at a time for the rest of his life as a recovering alcoholic, I have to go one day at a time for the rest of my life with my weight. Perhaps his addiction is in some way related to mine? Perhaps that is why he comes to mind, so often, these past few weeks. No messages from beyond or anything. I never got messages from him when he was alive. My dad wasn't a communicator. But he did stop drinking for over 30 years. And, as I am now realizing, that was a huge effort. Starting over every single day. No wonder he complained of never having a "vacation". It might have had nothing to do with not working, or going someplace. It might have just been about the daily struggle to not have that first drink.