It has been a little over 70 days since I’ve written much of anything (except for the rant about car taxes), and yet it doesn’t feel that long. As I age, time accelerates at a quickening pace. Fridays appear every couple of days or so, and while I’m no physicist, I’m pretty sure that’s not right.
What have I been doing in lieu of writing? Well,
I haven’t written that summer short story, nor have I kept any kind of journal. And I haven’t taken as many photos as I had planned, but I’ve completed several, maybe 20, watercolors, though I can attribute much of my painting to being in a class. I’ve been diligent about my pickleball, but not so with my eating habits, so one negates the other. I’ve done nothing about my rotator cuff, or that pesky ACL in my right knee, and have yet to find a doctor (the #1 entry on my list of things to do this summer). I have had four trips to the dentist in as many weeks, and got that problem solved. I’ve managed three door installations, several new tree and shrub plantings, and finally bought a tankless water heater (something I’ve wanted since I first saw one in Europe fifty years ago) to replace the twenty-year-old behemoth that made funny noises in my basement. I’ve wandered several new towns and villages and found many more gardens and wineries. I’ve read a couple of books, the last of which was visually stunning about hummingbirds. And one of my dear friends sold her house and is moving quite close by which should significantly change my social activities in the future.
Yard sales and Goodwill Hunting have added a few new things to my yard and studio, though I have not given up on my intent to scale back on “stuff.” One of my finds is an old patio set with four rocking chairs, a double glider, and a humongous table, items I will find both useful and comforting until the day I die. My interest in soccer exploded because of the World Cup which had a positive impact since my Red Sox are in last place in their division. Thoughts of the gridiron are ratcheting up, and I can’t wait for the first pre-season game.
I’ve kept up with the news and paid a hefty emotional price in the process. Every day I mumble “things can’t get worse,” and the next day I am proven wrong. It’s good that I am not writing about these things. You wouldn’t want to know my opinion as I am not in the political mainstream of North Carolina, a state which finds itself inextricably a well as inexplicably stuck in the 1950’s.
But most significantly, and as a direct result of my writing less and living more, I have made more friends. Pickleball keeps growing, my art class is full of kindred spirits, and my Meetup group out of Charlotte keeps cycling new people through my life. Getting to know them is the best reason I can find for walking past this keyboard.