Outside, snowdrifts.
March 17th
I feel a bit guilty about not acknowledging St P. today. But
not very guilty. I did consider wearing of the green, but on further thought
realized that I do not have a single green garment. JG has green shirts in
plenty, but his chosen shirt for the day was sort of moss coloured and could
not really be said to count. Nor did I launch into making green iced cookies as
I have, in the past, done to celebrate. I did make a pie on Pi Day, but it had
a plain crust. In fact, I have been negligent in many ways of marking the days.
If I were to be really honest, I would say I am marking time, waiting for the
snow to go and the birds to come.
March 20
I am, however, continuing to downsize and, with the help of
a wonderful neighbour who is coming in one day a week to do the things I can’t
manage, I got rid of a lot of stuff yesterday. A lot. All the extras spare bedding
went, and a good deal of similar goods, like cushions. When we first got the
final furniture for the living room and tv room (both with couches that make
into double beds) I bought small couch cushions and fabric to cover them
co-ordinated with the armchair. I never made the covers and so unused cushions
plopped into the recycle pile. In a chest I found a little blanket that JG’s
mother and grandmother had made for one of our girls. I kept it and will mend
and wash and, possibly offer it for the new step-grandchild if the ‘girls’ (um,
both close to sixty and sleeping in beds) do not want it. The wonderful helper
stuffed many, many bags of this pelf into her truck and trucked it all off to
our recycle store. I keep one spare bed made and still have enough bedding make
up three guest beds - using the couches - if I have to, and that will do me,
thanks.
I can now see the counter in my laundry room. Ms Wonderful
cleaned it, besides. There are two terrible jobs left in that room though. One
is sorting the drawers and the cupboards. All my sewing stuff and painting
stuff and wrapping stuff and cleaning stuff is stuffed into those containers.
The other Herculean task is is making an inventory of what is in the freezer
that lives in there with the laundry machines. I just made up a check sheet,
doubled, which I will date and keep one page at the freezer and the other
upstairs. If it works. If I do the work. And so, goodbye for now as I stump off
with my lists. Report later if this actually works.
March 21st.
Happy Solstice to you. Well, we tossed a lot of containers,
some with labels. Some not, but I spotted the lasagna and we are keeping that.
I have not done the inventory yet. I did exhume one drawer, and in it found all
the pieces for a baby sweater, not made up. I intend to make it up and give it
to the step-grandson and his wife for their baby girl. Not sure if there is
such a thing as a step-grand, but I watched this boy and his brother grow up, They
spent half time with their mother and half with my ED and her man, whose sons
they are, half brothers of my granddaughter therefore, and I am fond of them.
The YD keeps referring to her father as the ‘grandpa’ of her dog, much to his
annoyance. Relationships are sometimes fraught, eh?
I read an article the other day about loneliness in old age
that has me thinking quite a bit. When we first moved from the city to this very
rural home a long hour’s drive outside of it, I knew I would have to make
connections and get involved if I were to be happy here. JG got an early
retirement and we were both in our fifties. I had lots of energy and it was
easy to find things to join and do. Line dancing, board memberships,
socializing with the neighbours, giving dinner parties – and going to them – all
worked well for me. I went on trips with the YD. JG and I also did a lot of
travelling, both in the states and overseas. I was in my early sixties when the
grandkid came along, and I drove into the city to babysit as needed. I was busy
and content.
And then, crunch, what I was convinced was a bad back turned
out to be a bad heart and I ended up in hospital getting bypass surgery, plus
surgery on my aorta, plus, subsequently, two knee replacements. Driving
vacations and a lot of my activities were no longer possible, for various
reasons. The bad back was also real and it was a long fight to get mobility and
the basic homemaking chores back to being doable. Now, in my 83rd
year, I am losing dexterity, even though I have had both carpal tunnels fixed,
losing hearing acuity, losing concentration ability and, some days, losing my
temper all too easily with JG’s loss of ability to either hear what I tell him
or remember it.
I note in passing that this situation occurred in my
parents’ household and my mother said that on occasion she wrote something down
and insisted that her husband sign it and date it.
Yes, I can identify that I am lonely from time to time.
I just opened the drawer of my desk to look for cuticle
scissors and found myself picking up my grandmother’s pretty china thimble from
the tray. It is a silly thing to keep since it does not fit any finger of mine
except the smallest one, but I can see her sewing me doll clothes and that
thimble flashing away and I want it, for the link I guess. This was my mother’s
mother and the grandmother that babysat me as necessary. I, philistine that I
was, took her entirely for granted but I did, one day as an adult, turn on a
tape recorder and get her talking about being a wife and mother and housewife
and I love to play a bit of that tape now and again. It has my mother’s voice
on it as well.
I wonder what my grandkid will take away from her time with
me. Not a flashing thimble, that is for certain. I appear to have made the body
of the sweater mentioned above from one pattern and the sleeves from another,
and I am struggling to remember how to finish the neck. Beyond annoying, how my
skills and positive personality traits are leaving me.
And, drat it, it is now almost March 24th and
this nonsense is getting posted. Feel free to have skipped a lot of it. And I don't with all the wool stuffed into those drawers, have one that is a good match to mend the little blanket. Grumble. Grumble.
You are such a fine writer that I would skip any of it. Your description of seniordom is spot on, but whatever challenges you face, your brain and wiriting remain sharp. You evoked an image of my mother’s slightly dented copper thimble, and she had a cheaper pink plastic one too if memory serves. When did I last see or think of those? Lanark Leisure would be a fine place to spend one’s final years if keeping a place in the country becomes too much. We couldn’t afford it, but I think that you could.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the compliment. I do try, but when I edit, I sometimes cringe. My mother had a sort of white plastic thimble. I did not save it. Amusing and interesting how these tiny items can be so evocative.
DeleteYes, we are looking at Lanark Leisure. I want to talk to your daughter soonish. Maybe, on the affordability thing.
Life just flows along....
ReplyDeleteAnd encounters rapids, duck weed matts and dams. Damn?
DeleteGrowing old(er) is challenging, but we faced and overcame challenges when we were young(er) and will manage new ones, too, one way or another.
ReplyDeleteYou should meet my daughter, the managing one. She can come up with a fix for practically anything. I hear you, but sometimes the courage needed to get out of bed in the morning uses up the day's supply.
DeleteI enjoy this sort of writing from you. Thank you for sharing such intimate thoughts with those of us who are looking towards the so-called Golden Years.
ReplyDeleteKeep that thimble. It is such a tiny thing and has such lovely memories attached. I worshipped my grandmother--my mother's mother, the only grandmother I knew--and I have little un-useful keepsakes of hers that I will never part with. Having them makes no difference in my love for her or my memories, but not having them seems a pointless sacrifice to make.
Fool's Gold, eh? Thanks for the compliment, though. Yes, I am keeping the thimble. Also a file of photos and letters, and other delights.
ReplyDeleteI know you have some lovely memories with your grandmother, and I have read about them with delight. I have written up some stories of my times with small grandchild, and hope they will mean something to her one day. I wish I had more of my father's mother than her cherished 'things' and one beautiful piece of handwork. You are going to be the best grandma going. Airplanes, was it?
My daughter lives with me and she's always wanting to reorganize things. Everytime she comes across older things in boxes and I tell her who they belonged to, she's glad to know I kept some things of my family. Little keepsakes that she gets to have at some point.
ReplyDeleteI have a visiting daughter who would be delighted to organize me. The kitchen, for starters, as she is a great cook and makes us meals. I have a few things I hope the granddaughter will want, but that is a future concern. My aunt had labels, a note in fact, in her cherished bits. Makes sense.
DeleteI feel so much of this post! Luckily I have not yet met berth serious health issues, but the sorting out, what to keep, and a man who does not hear or remember what I say....that last is the most frustrating of all. Still, you are keeping on, still doing projects, so there's that.
ReplyDeleteWell, the work needed to carry on will not do itself, so, hello. Have to keep on. My father's problem, mostly, was inattention. My mother had a low, soft voice and unless he concentrated, he would lose some of a word or part of a sentence. It seems to be the same around here and I am contemplating making him sign, truly.
ReplyDeleteMary, as seniors ourselves, but a few years younger, it is hard at times to recognize limitations. When we moved from home ownership to apartment living over 10 years ago, we thought it might be temporary. Now, the thought of owning a place we would be responsible for is a distant memory.
ReplyDelete