Where did this month go? I seriously think I slept through it. All of it. I remember a few bits and pieces of things outside my pile of pets and blankets, but not very much. Extreme fatigue is an ugly thing. Marathon sleeps are all that I could do to manage the pain and exhaustion levels of the last few weeks. Not to mention the holidays! And, there is so much work, both creative and otherwise, to be done. NOW.
I remember a swinging bash with my ladies celebrating Tilly's 15th birthday and Barbara's 60th, with laughs and love for pups and peeps all around. I remember thinking about what I will do for my upcoming course work for the SofST, but not actually getting to much of it. Like snowflakes piling up outside, the clutter and chaos inside my den of hibernation has accumulated as I gave into my need for soul-drenching sleep. And now, it is time to shovel, whether I like it or not, or feel up to it, or not, or can walk well, or not.
I am looking at the trainwreck of my kitchen, listening to my birds chatter away, thinking "What the hell happened?" I now have a guinea pig named Basil living on my kitchen table with a wire pen on the floor. Hay has made a negligible difference in the mess. Seems like the piggy just kinda showed up one day and became family. The bird cages need scrubbing, the perches need sanitizing, and my GOD the floors need washing. I try to enjoy coffee while the meds kick in so I can get to some of this stuff.
Ah, but Christmas is over. Buh-bye expectations, and planning, and being torn in a dozen directions at once. It was a very nice few days, almost perfect, really. Nice time with my sisters with no fighting, a Christmas Miracle in itself. Got to spend time with my nephews, now young men, and appreciate how grown up they are. Watching them, thinking back to the past 22 years of Christmases, seeing them all grown up (almost, Alex!) was like being surrounded by ghosts and shadows. Where are the piles of toys? The Christmas mass re-enactments by Mamu when he was four? The Santa trail? The years from baby hood to toddler hood to young kid hood to ugly, grumpy teen hood seem to fly by like pages in a flip book, with a shining photo like this at the end. I love my boys. Beards and all.
Had to laugh that Alex picked out socks for me that have a quilter with a bun on them and the saying "You crafty bitch," and Matt found socks with famous artworks all over them for me, too. I am all set because of their thoughtfulness. Happy that Matt was so happy with his Lord Hobo themed gift. Finally we have a common language again, and it isn't pizza like when he was three. Hoping to take him to the Taproom while he is home from school.
Now on to the New Year, filled with new challenges and hopefully less body degradation, though I doubt that very much. Waiting for the back shots to kick in. Trying to make the most of every day. And sleeping. Ah, delicious sleep. Peace out.
I remember a swinging bash with my ladies celebrating Tilly's 15th birthday and Barbara's 60th, with laughs and love for pups and peeps all around. I remember thinking about what I will do for my upcoming course work for the SofST, but not actually getting to much of it. Like snowflakes piling up outside, the clutter and chaos inside my den of hibernation has accumulated as I gave into my need for soul-drenching sleep. And now, it is time to shovel, whether I like it or not, or feel up to it, or not, or can walk well, or not.
I am looking at the trainwreck of my kitchen, listening to my birds chatter away, thinking "What the hell happened?" I now have a guinea pig named Basil living on my kitchen table with a wire pen on the floor. Hay has made a negligible difference in the mess. Seems like the piggy just kinda showed up one day and became family. The bird cages need scrubbing, the perches need sanitizing, and my GOD the floors need washing. I try to enjoy coffee while the meds kick in so I can get to some of this stuff.
Ah, but Christmas is over. Buh-bye expectations, and planning, and being torn in a dozen directions at once. It was a very nice few days, almost perfect, really. Nice time with my sisters with no fighting, a Christmas Miracle in itself. Got to spend time with my nephews, now young men, and appreciate how grown up they are. Watching them, thinking back to the past 22 years of Christmases, seeing them all grown up (almost, Alex!) was like being surrounded by ghosts and shadows. Where are the piles of toys? The Christmas mass re-enactments by Mamu when he was four? The Santa trail? The years from baby hood to toddler hood to young kid hood to ugly, grumpy teen hood seem to fly by like pages in a flip book, with a shining photo like this at the end. I love my boys. Beards and all.
Had to laugh that Alex picked out socks for me that have a quilter with a bun on them and the saying "You crafty bitch," and Matt found socks with famous artworks all over them for me, too. I am all set because of their thoughtfulness. Happy that Matt was so happy with his Lord Hobo themed gift. Finally we have a common language again, and it isn't pizza like when he was three. Hoping to take him to the Taproom while he is home from school.
Now on to the New Year, filled with new challenges and hopefully less body degradation, though I doubt that very much. Waiting for the back shots to kick in. Trying to make the most of every day. And sleeping. Ah, delicious sleep. Peace out.
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