Begging your pardon for not writing much these days. The words just don't seem to come right now. Nothing going on, just quiet. I think my brain's tired. :)
Have been thinking about procrastination and how I have three pieces of fabric to make into skirts for me. Bought two of them the week before the stuff hit the fan here back in January. I have a thick book of herbal teaching I've set aside. Honestly, my children's antics have affected my ability to do what I love. Trying to change that.
Shake out the cloth, gather up thread, and dust off the machine. Be creative once again.
Put my herbalist's notebook on the work table with my collection of other herbal books. Begin making tinctures again.
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I realize some folks are sick and tired of me being sick and tired. Me too. But when the enthusiasm wanes, it's tough to do things out of the ordinary. We get into survival skills, and forget what brings us joy.
Made my husband laugh tonight. I told him how I have a tendency to see every event in the most tragic sense all. the. time. He just shook his head, but to give him credit, it made him laugh. He's driving me nuts right now. I have headphones on, and he keeps telling me things, waving his hands to get my attention. Be quiet, man!
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Great quote from my Faulkner: "Miss Jenny, being a true optimist---that is, expecting the worst at all times and so being daily agreeably surprised..."
I so understand that. Is that a mother's dilemma, or am I just odd? I live in expectation of calamity, and do you know how exhausting that is?
Hope to get back in the swing of things here. We'll see. Surely life is more beautiful than I allow it. Think I'll focus on that and stop looking at each day as a catastrophe waiting to happen. Anybody else struggle with this?
(listening to Mat Kearney's Air I Breathe and tobyMac's Til the Day I Die)
