Oy ... how is it possible that a week can feel like it's dragging while it's going on, but once I get to Friday it seems as if it has raced past. One of the infinite qualities and/or quirks of time. But, since it is Friday, it surely is way too late in the day to wade into the quagmire of philosophy of time. Wouldn't you agree?
I have not been as faithful to my blog as I had hoped to be ... but it doesn't seem as interesting without anyone commenting upon it. I wonder if it is because I've told so few people that I'm doing it?
I spent all the evening on Tuesday in the Emergency Room with my beloved mother. We didn't get home until the wee hours of Wednesday, and I've felt exhausted ever since. Not that I don't owe her. She has spent much more time in the ER with me as the patient than I have with her.
Alas ... another short post ... way too tired to think of anything else to say. Sigh.
18 January 2008
09 January 2008
How can it be 2008 already?
When I was in my 20's my father's mother (Grammie) told me that the older you got, the faster time went. At the time I thought that was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard! Now, however, over 30 years later, I confess my youthful error. She was absolutely correct. A very minor example of that would be that some part of me still thinks it's the end of 1999 and we're waiting on tenterhooks (metal hooks on a wooden frame to dry new woolen fabric that has been washed so that it won't shrink) to see what Y2K would bring.
Another part of my foolish hobgobblin little mind is still wondering when my prince (prints?) will come. After all, any little girl who grew up in the 50's and 60's knows perfectly well that what we're "supposed to do" when we grow up is get married and have children. Maybe he's stuck in traffic? Maybe he doesn't recognize me because I dyed my hair? Maybe he's old and blind as a bat! Either way he ain't here, yet (hope springs eternal even for the old bats). Or, if you leaned into femininism in the 70's ... at least grow up and have a brilliant career. Having done neither of those things, it is hard not to feel like a failure in my life. Clearly, I've missed the whole point. Or have I?
I haven't mentioned my diabetes because I've begun 2008 on an interesting note ... I'm taking my meds and otherwise sort of ignoring it and not obsessing about it. I have way too many OCD tendencies to add obsessing about my diabetes to the list of little eccentricities I enjoy.
As an aside (I do this often ... I also digress) I was speaking to a very long-time friend recently and we were speaking of my eccentricities. I told her that I had become comfortable with my eccentricities. She said "Hogwash! You cultivate them." We laughed our heads off ... because there is a grain of truth to that. If I cannot be married, or a mother, or have a brilliant career, at least I can be known for a terrific sense of humor and an eccentric mind.
So long, farewell, aufwiedersehn, adieu, adeiu adieu, au ’voire, goodbye ... good night, good night! Parting is such, sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow. (From Rodgers and Hammerstein to the Bard ... how's that for eccentric or at least ecclectic?)
Another part of my foolish hobgobblin little mind is still wondering when my prince (prints?) will come. After all, any little girl who grew up in the 50's and 60's knows perfectly well that what we're "supposed to do" when we grow up is get married and have children. Maybe he's stuck in traffic? Maybe he doesn't recognize me because I dyed my hair? Maybe he's old and blind as a bat! Either way he ain't here, yet (hope springs eternal even for the old bats). Or, if you leaned into femininism in the 70's ... at least grow up and have a brilliant career. Having done neither of those things, it is hard not to feel like a failure in my life. Clearly, I've missed the whole point. Or have I?
I haven't mentioned my diabetes because I've begun 2008 on an interesting note ... I'm taking my meds and otherwise sort of ignoring it and not obsessing about it. I have way too many OCD tendencies to add obsessing about my diabetes to the list of little eccentricities I enjoy.
As an aside (I do this often ... I also digress) I was speaking to a very long-time friend recently and we were speaking of my eccentricities. I told her that I had become comfortable with my eccentricities. She said "Hogwash! You cultivate them." We laughed our heads off ... because there is a grain of truth to that. If I cannot be married, or a mother, or have a brilliant career, at least I can be known for a terrific sense of humor and an eccentric mind.
So long, farewell, aufwiedersehn, adieu, adeiu adieu, au ’voire, goodbye ... good night, good night! Parting is such, sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow. (From Rodgers and Hammerstein to the Bard ... how's that for eccentric or at least ecclectic?)
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