Monday (Krissie)

I was born in Philadelphia. And I don’t like like Trump-loving, football-deflating quarterbacks no matter how pretty they are. So hurray for the Super Bowl!

Richie and I watch it every year, mostly for the ads. We aren’t sports people (except for the Winter Olympics) though I have a fondness for basketball when the players have long hair (ah, Pistol Pete!), but we get sucked into the super bowl game every year, despite our determination to only watch the ads. I was expecting the Patriots to clobber the Eagles in the last minute. Ha ha ha.

But seventeen years ago my son ran headlong into a truck while riding too fast on a snowmobile. He was thirteen, and he flew twenty feet in the air, it knocked his helmet off, dislocated one hip and gave him a compound fracture of the other leg. He could have died so easily, and I’ll never forget sitting in the waiting area at the emergency room and numbly watching the Patriots win.

But after all that, and what felt worse in the intervening years, he’s good. He’s strong, he’s handling things. He made it. I don’t understand why some do and some don’t, and I expect I’m not supposed to understand it. But hurray for Tim and hurray for the Eagles and hurray to me who survived it all.

Anyone else hate football but watch the game anyway? I even looked up how to make potato skins (last year was the first time I did chicken wings).
Do you notice something missing from all this? Friends. We’re not that interested in drinking (though we have nothing against it) and sports don’t particularly matter, and we live in a very small town where we’ve always been out of the mainstream. So we have our little super bowl party alone and enjoy ourselves tremendously.

Friends are a difficult issue once you’re past fifty. Everyone’s already got their own circle, and changing isn’t easy. I have very mixed feelings about the whole thing – on the one hand, I enjoy people, I find them interesting. I love to talk with them, hear what’s going on, share things with them. But on the other, I need vast quantities of time alone. I was going to say I always did, even before I became a writer, but I kind of always was a writer. I need time to live in my head, with my stories.

I don’t worry about it any longer. I’m a little off-beat – a little colorful, a little different, a little over the top, and some people aren’t comfortable around me. (I do figure it’s a grave moral defect on their part but I forgive them – not enough people embrace their own fabulousness in this world and they’re uneasy around people who do).

So fuck ’em. I want you all to go out and embrace your fabulousness. The world needs it. We’ve had two impossibly shitty years – it’s time to make this year amazing, despite the evils in Washington. Do something fabulous! Wear something outrageous, put on bright red lipstick, a dashing scarf, and a smile and go out and greet the world. If the world won’t be fabulous we need to go out and make it so.

Live, my children!

Working Wednesday

Lee Thomson has an Instagram Make-It idea: Make a Thing a Day for February, 2018.  The idea is that the thing is small and doable, not that you’re building furniture or chrocheting afghans every day.  Here’s her comment:

“February is when I buckle down to the dedicated making of things. I wrote a guest post for a friend inviting people to join me making a thing-a-day for Feb –\http://clevermanka.net/2018/01/22/february-daily-project/
Join us! all you need is Instagram and the hashtag #dailyFeb2018″

Lee goes into more detail in this post, but basically, you set the bar very low (very, very, very low), assemble as much of what you’ll need beforehand so it’ll only take minutes to finish your project, and then when Feb. 1 rolls around, you post whatever SMALL thing  you’ve made every day to your Instagram account with the hashtag #dailyFeb2018 . I’m playing, and you’re invited.

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Another Monday (Krissie)

. Ok, I’ve got some dread disease, but I’m not going to whine about it. It’s been coming on since the fall, and I don’t seem able to do a damned thing without falling into bed. First it was Christmas and the lead-up. This weekend I made two simple cakes on Saturday (and couldn’t sew or do anything else) and Sunday I went to church and helped set up coffee hour, which mean bringing the cakes, setting up the fruit juice, and a few other little things. Others did most of the carrying and cleaning. And I came home and went to bed. And this morning I’m still in a fog.
Argh! This drives me crazy! There are all these things I want to do, and yet I seem unable to do them. I’m also in tremendous pain, and I think going back to swimming would help, and yet I don’t know if I physically can. .
I’ll figure it out (I had blood tests and there’s nothing really off. I’ve added Vitamin D, etc. but it hasn’t helped.

Whine for the day, over. I assume you all saw Jenny’s post on Argh this weekend? I love the idea of an art project a day for February, and yes I do think cooking counts. I think we should all do it. I’m in (assuming I don’t make a doll dress and collapse face first into dinner). Sewing makes me happy. Of course, this might not work for me, since I’m not much of a visual artist, but everything in life can be art, done with creativity and joy. I’ll just have to figure out a way to take a photo of singing a new song or something.

Who’s up for it?