The icky bug that everyone it seems has had... I have a mild case of it, but it is still making me feel queasy, and very much like not wanting to do any of the many tasks I have set up to do before we move.
I asked himself to bring home chicken noodle soup and some pre-made jello. He is aware that I'm avoiding sweeteners, yet did not notice that all the jello he brought me was sugar-free. They make me feel queasier. How does one handle this? I'm so thankful he was willing to stop by the store to pick them up for me, but yet they are not what I need. Yet I won't tell him, because that won't do any good. He hates 'jelly' - so no fear that they'll be eaten by anyone but me. Great.
How is it that we can be so unaware? I didn't set out with this post to be whiny and complaining, really I didn't. He is so thoughtful and spoils me in so many other ways ~ and I'm a lucky lucky woman to have someone who isn't uptight, isn't a perfectionist about neatness, isn't a clothes horse or finicky about how his laundry is done. And who buys me roll-up keyboards :-) Argh...
I've been reading a Pepperdine friend's blog, and read a post that they were in Arizona in April. I'm bummed he didn't even send me an email to say "hey, if you're around, our schedule will be... and it would be great to hang out and have pie & coffee..." And I know he would feel bad if he knew (I left him a comment on the post letting him know with humor that I was bummed). And really, to be honest, my feelings are not really directed at him.
It goes back to being the one who calls. Though today a friend of mine did ring and say lets get together, and that helps balance out the scale :-). Why does it matter who calls? I know my friends love me and always appreciate hearing from me and being able to catch up... yet what would happen if I didn't? Life would intervene and friendships would fade, and that would make me even sadder, so I call.
What goes around comes around.
And death. Sudden, shocking, I can't believe these people are no longer alive death. Terry Howell, founder and force of Arizona Rose Theatre, died pretty suddenly May 2nd of Congestive Heart Failure. I went to the memorial on Friday -- and how thankful I am that I saw the Howells in December and got hugs, and felt peace from that chapter of my life, and that it was finally closed. Otherwise, it would have been much uglier for me on Friday. When I heard the news a couple days after he passed away, I went into administrative mode, and contacted some old Arizona Rose Friends - kids I worked with who are now all grown up and graduated themselves from college and walking the pavement trying to be professional actors. How much I admire them for their talent and their committment... their committment!!
A day or so later, I get news that a friend from Scotland, part of the Forth Valley Chorus, died after not being well -- but only a couple close friends knew that she'd been diagnosed with bone cancer. She leaves behind a teenaged severely handicapped daughter. The chorus was competing in their regional contest when they heard the news -- what an emotional time it must have been -- and the memorial is the 18th. News of Margaret's death hit me harder, and the realization that we really need to live with joy, peace, love, and courage -- live without fear -- that realization I would like to say has made a difference and stuck with me. But I'm not living life any different.
This truly is a rambling post -- no plan, no continuity, no trying to be witty, just trying to spell things write, er, right, yeah.
It is time for me to stop wishing and wanting and to choose. And I've been avoiding committment and choice all my life -- I don't choose to committ to living a healthy lifestyle or adding exercise to my life, I don't choose to clean my house for 15 minutes a day (only 15-daggum minutes.......!!!!!!!!!), and I don't choose to grow up. I keep saying I want my own business, but have wasted a lot of time, and it is not funny anymore. We're moving to an expensive house and I need to step up and start contributing.
Well -- now you've seen the inside of my head.