Concessions

An outrageous sunset from 2010

Talking about concessions to old age here.

I keep running into myself, the old self. The one who thinks she'll wake up in the morning and she'll have been "fixed" overnight into what she used to be. You know, tennis, marathons, hiking. And that's just before breakfast.The acceptance of where I'm actually at physically has taken forever to penetrate. I've gotten glimmers, of course, but not complete acceptance. And I know that acceptance doesn't mean approval.

But I need to deal and stop this magical thinking. And I think I've made headway in the past week.

I had a terrible experience during the week where I did too much in one day, didn't pace myself, and nearly collapsed in a grocery store, felt ill. Completely out of steam. Pain like gawd knows what.

I called my Whine Buddy the following day after first of all brushing off some smaller commitments as I was cranky, upset, overly tired and felt like a blight on humanity.

I always feel like a new woman, freshly invigorated, after talking with her, she is only in her fifties but has challenging physical issues of her own, compounded by an elderly parent now in hospital. She has to use his old walker to visit him, she's the only designated visitor due to Covid. And the interminable trudge through the poorly designed Health Science Centre here has to be seen to be believed. Instead of pushing the design upwards, they went all over the map into a massive sprawl of unmarked corridors and cul-de-sacs. this with an aging demographic. I've had to be pushed though it in a wheelchair just to get from clinic to clinic.

But I digress.

We started coming to terms with "I'll have to ask for help" which is something we hate to do. I just know I can't face another day like Wednesday where I thought I'd be one of those carted off, unconscious, in an ambulance. Afterwards I went to the lake and bawled like a baby. This is an honest blog.

I need to explain myself better to those who care about me. And stop pretending. Say no without fear. Accept the help of a friend recently who said she help with some physical therapy. Accept the help of loved ones who offer to pick up groceries. Have Joanna come once a week to do what's necessary here. Stop complaining about the increased cost of my podiatrist.

And every time I start to feel I can't carry on ask that old question a therapist way back had taught me."Because?" If you've never heard of it I'll post about it the next time. It's enormously helpful and I had forgotten about it until someone in Zoom mentioned it recently.

So I've hauled it out.

And I tumbled across this photo looking for something else. How Ansa, the Wonder Dog, loved to pose. 2009. She makes me smile now, it took me years to stop crying over photos of her.

Sunsets at my Door

I'll never get used to them. I never want to. I sometimes put my hand in the golden water and bow to the Sun King.

I treat each one, at the end of every day, like I see it only once a year.

Awe seems like an understatement.

I'm often the only ones who notices. But others notice me with the camera and wave and hulloo.

I always want to say: look behind you. See what I see?

And they sometimes oblige me. And shrug a little.

I'm the CFA*, out there looking at sunsets, taking pictures even. They've seen thousands.

What's new?


*Come From Away

Cnáimhseáil

Stan Carey of Sentence First explains the Irish language (Gaeilge)title of my blog post better than any translation I've seen.

I've been knawvshawling (the phonetics and pronunciation of the above word if you're up for it) far too much lately. Whinging, whining, complaining - yeah, that's where I was at.

Isn't it odd that when stress and "too much" and "OMG not another problem/task/item/project!" takes over the brain there is very little room for joy or just plain presence in the moment.

One of my cast members reminded me of that after rehearsal today. I had told her last year that I never miss a sunset and she said since I said it to her she has taken the half an hour every day to drink them in and see life through a different lens.

I was too ashamed to say I'd just been peering out my office window at them for about a minute (busy, donchaknow)recently and needed to get back into the saddle of gratitude and joyful reflection.

So enough with the cnáimhseáiling and on with the attitude adjustment.

Last night, from the deck

Even though we only catch a glimpse of your warmth
As you slip below the headland of the bay
We see you, sun, and entreat you to come forward
Into the days of our longing,
And the dawns of our imaginings.
This once a month thing, dear sun,
Is just not good enough
For your yearning admirers.

Blog Jam

I try and avoid rigidity, I've observed older people who fall into the trap of sticking to an agenda of their own choosing and not veering off that path come hell or high water.

This was reinforced by The Da.

A life of discipline and ritual, he would intone, makes for a happy life.

He would have had a lot of problems with my day today.

I had plans. Nothing engraved on the proverbial stone. I was going to head her on out, it being a gorgous day 'n all around 2-ish AFTER I had prepared my evening meal in the crock pot (slow cooker). This involved chopping and peeling and browning and spicing and firing in a can of tomato paste as per the recipes of my dear dead mother-in-law. She passed this major secret of her marvellous dinners on to me when I gave her her first grandchild.

She would stock up in the only place that carried tomato paste in those long departed days - Woodford Bourne in Cork City. Anyone else out there remember them, around for centuries with the exotic smells of the spices and teas and coffees that absolutely no one that I hung out with could afford?

Anyways, where was I? I had just about started on the slow dinner, next was jump in the shower and next was load dog and camera into the car and go to the beach for a brisk walk along by the powerful waves over at St. Vincent's and maybe drop in to friends along the way to scrounge a cuppa and then head on back here for dinner, all cooked and waiting like I had a personal chef or my mother working quietly behind the scenes of my life.

And my daughter calls. And we talk. And we talk. And we talk. For something like 5 hours. And the plans of the day get shelved.

And we sort out the world. And we discuss the books we share reading. And the grandgirl's being 16 today. And recipes. And life. And love. And travel.

And made plans for her to fly here early December and then drive back with me to Toronto where I will stay for a month to 6 weeks. This should be interesting as fate has thwarted our plans more than once. See here and here.

You know how it is. Day suddenly becomes a breathtaking sunset, and I took a picture of it facing east. Still unwashed in my PJs and surfacing outside, for the first time today, on my front deck. And my dinner will now be at midnight.

And who cares? A five hour conversation with a beloved child is worth more than gold.

You were wrong, Da. Again.

Free for the Taking

You know what matters?

I'll tell you what matters.

Facing away from the breathtaking sunset on my left tonight and looking east, and then north and south, I catch all points of the sky reflecting shyly, in these delicate shades of pink, the wildest colours of crimson, orange, purple in the west. And I stand in awe.

And think to myself: if more people were aware of this staggering beauty, maybe we could all just cop ourselves on a little more and treasure this one wild and precious life and its awesomeness.

I mean, if we only saw this sight once every, say, 25 years, we would be on our knees, right?

Outrageous Sunset

After working this morning, I had lunch with a dear friend. She's 85 and just about adopted me when I moved here. As is the way when you don't have any familial baggage obstructing the view, we are right easy with each other, supportive, loving and interested in each other's lives without any preconceived notions or judgements.

We should all get our mothers when we're well broken in like a good leather: soft, gentle, respectful and never, ever irritated.

She's anxious for spring to come. She tells me she gets anxious that this might be the year she'll miss it. She tells me she'd never tell this stuff to her sons. They'd laugh at her, think her weird, might even start looking at where to put her. I tell her I understand. Totally. My dad would get antsy about spring too but I would get irritated with him. Not understanding. Now I do. She keeps gifting me in this way.

I cancelled dinner plans as the forecast was freezing rain which is just about the only condition I won't drive in and the dinner party was in town a good 75K drive.

I was coming down my stairs and glanced out the window - I never do miss a sunset - and this stunner was outside. It fair took my breath away and I thought to share it. Then I napped on the couch, safe and sound, in front of the fire.

A rather perfect day.

And now I'm a little jumpy for spring too.

A Solstice Promise

I took this photograph {click on it to enbiggen} a couple of days ago, standing on the front deck of my house. The sunset bathed everything, including the road, the traces of snow, the water, in this breathtaking pastel pink. All was drenched in a misty rose. So difficult to capture on film. But I tried.

The snow has now vanished. And the last two evenings had no visible sunset.

This was like a tease, a preview, a trailer. A solstice promise of the long beautiful days of summer to come.