Where did that come from, anyway?
Guess it doesn't matter. It fits.
I've been puttering. Gorgeous day. My son is trying to help me finish the cleaning out of his dad's room. I had done quite a bit, but had to wait until school was out for this last bit. Just sorting out the last few boxes of paper. Photos I do want, photos I don't want. Memorabilia of happier - and not so happy - times. Actually pretty close to being done.
Father's Day is tomorrow - on the solstice - and my birthday the day after.
Makes for an odd combination of emotions.
I celebrate as I sort when I run across something that makes me smile. The relationship was so awful for so long that I've wondered if I had anything positive left. I want to. He was the father of my children, and I'm glad they have positive memories, positive feelings for their father.
The youngest headed out early this morning for Solstice in Santa Barbara.
His brother just posted that his second child - due in early September - will be a boy.
I've been listening to Michael Giacchino's score for Tomorrowland. It is the music of optimism, and hope. And love.
And today it makes me lonesome.
For the relationship I did not have. For the children I dare not smother. For the big boy not here to tell me stories, and for the infant brother I will not get to smoosh.
Not lonely, but lonesome for sure.
I won't marry again. Funny story. One of my young woman friends, who has had a lot of fun with online dating, was urging me to sign up. In fact, a couple of people suggested one of the sites for older daters. I declined, so my young friend made up a fake account so she could check it out for me. Later she checked back in, and said that she didn't think I was ready for online dating. I laughed and said, "They just want to get laid, right?" And she grimaced and nodded. Not looking to get laid, thank you, and no interest in taking care of someone else. The last man who asked me out (sort of) said, "How 'bout you come to my house and make me dinner?"
Be still my heart.
No, thank you.
But it would be lovely to have someone in my life to share a conversation with that didn't revolve around family issues or work issues. Maybe a common interest, like writing? Or gardening? Or getting the hell out of this county for a while?
Someone asked me what I was planning for my summer break and I said all I wanted was to round up a refrigerator box, plop it on a beach, crawl in and stare at sister sea for a few days.
Oh, well. It's just a mood. Probably a confluence of the news of the baby, the sorting of the past, the new moon with Jupiter and Venus last night, this fabulous emotional music and my birthday coming.
Cue the Beatles.
It sounded so old when I was fourteen. Fifty years gone by, and I don't feel so old at all.
Out of shape, yes. A torn meniscus makes it rough to walk, and I've been eating myself through this stress-filled year.
I was inspired to engage in my most recent weight-loss project by someone who lost ONLY 32 pounds. 32 pounds that had such an impact on his appearance that I didn't recognize him after not seeing him for that year. The thought of losing over a hundred pounds was overwhelming, but I knew I could lose 30 pounds in a year. And that first year lost 42. And the year after another 30. And the third year another 10. 82 total. And I held on as my world crumbled. And then this last year, with its financial betrayals and physical challenges, has been so difficult that I turned to my drug of choice. 28 pounds back on. I comfort myself that I am still WAY ahead of the game, but man, this stuff came on fast and I can hardly move.
Get through my birthday, then start my healthy eating (again) and back to the gym (AGAIN).
I felt SO GOOD at that lower weight. Physical energy, for sure, but the emotional energy was breathtaking.
Trying to focus on that.
But this mood. This lonesome, hopeless and helpless mood better hit the road pretty quick.
My soul is an optimist and doesn't let me wallow for long. She makes me check out the sunset (pink now) and the bright blue sky and the clouds and my yard full of flowers. I think I need to fill the hummingbird feeders tomorrow. That will help, too.
For now, help me out, Michael. Your music is going to get me through this. ("Pins of a Feather" is my favorite.)