Truly, those lyrics from the previous entry speak of any kind of emotional wound. But the song, naturally, speaks to me for certain obvious reasons and a friend reminded me of it last week and I felt pulled to get them recorded. I can’t hear that line of the song without tearing up. But I think this is largely because I am
a big ol’ crybaby wholly passionate and tear up any time any emotion happens within 60 yards of me.
I miss blogging. I miss it deeply. I can’t find the time to get here and so many things I’d like to record here are getting lost to the universe. I don’t mean this in that excuse-making, “I’ll try to post more, I swear!” sort of way that so many bloggers have when they feel responsible to their readers. Rather, it’s that I am just horribly frustrated with my life right now – it seems nothing gets done for all the busy I am having happen right now. And, while I do feel responsible to you, my readers (OMG, what if they all get bored and leave and I never get any more comments???), I remind myself that this blog has always been for me and I simply won’t let guilt rule me any more in my life.
Well, that was disjointed.
And we also made these bottles of vanilla. Actually, my daughter made them. But you can read more about that here (and, apparently, Bethany is my muse this holiday season?).
While I was painting Shellee’s mug, I also made myself a sun ornament.
Oh and one more thing – the kids and I worked on Yule candles together with beeswax procured from the Waldorf School store. Five for us, to burn at sundown the night before, and five to share with our friends as the sun rose and Winter began.
I spent today scrubbing. As it turns out, you should clean under the fridge every so often. Also, when you worry that brown widows are going to come into your bedroom and infest your house, you should probably be more concerned about the dining room. I tweeted a lot of f-words over that one.
I am on a mission to declutter this place. I’ve spent the last twoish years trying to make peace with clutter and trying to let my issues with it go, and I have come to understand that they aren’t issues, there isn’t peace to be made – this is who I am. Clutter and I do not get along. This is unfortunate for the Husband, but he seems to be taking it all well so far, and I think we are both making an effort to come to some middle ground on this. Or maybe he’s just thinking I will forget in a few days. Time will tell, I guess.
We moved in there four and a half years ago, and I was so in love with it at the time. It had a sweet little patio, a teeny back yard. I had visions for this little apartment. But then I fell into depression and health issues, and then we decided we’d buy a home instead of renting so I sort of gave up on it all and let my visions go, and let the clutter and crud pile up and it’s made me sicker and sicker (emotionally). I need clean. Clean surfaces. Clean under the fridge. Clean in my mind.
Years ago, I learned that This Is My Life – it doesn’t begin at some point in the future. I remember as a teenager waiting for that Last Thing to fall into place which would make my life “perfect” and I kept waiting to enjoy it. And I became conscious of that early on – maybe still in my teens – and so I have tried to live life for each day, despite what may or may not be perfect at this moment.
Yet, I’ve forgotten that for my home. I’ve let it go, while waiting and hoping to move. It hasn’t served me well. And so here I begin afresh, scrubbing, decluttering, making myself sane again. Hopefully.
Switch topic. Sorta.
And so, if I had to pick one word to work on this coming year, I think I would choose “respect.” For myself, for my children, for my husband, for my art, for myself.
And that, I think, just about sums up what’s been going on in my brain recently.