IN WHICH WE MELT DOWN ALL OVER THE DARN PLACE

 

Oh, Good Grief. I am, as the kids say, having a moment.

It's been thirty-eight years since my mom died, but I miss her more fiercely now than ever before, and I just don't know what to do with myself. Here I stand, on the doorstep of sixty, and I haven't a clue how to be a fully grown a$$ woman who has enough sense not to act like a child most of the time.

They say that you freeze emotionally at the age you were when you lost your mom, so that means I'm wandering around down here as a clueless twenty-one year old. I just don't know how to do this, Dearies. So instead of figuring it out, I grab the tape and glitter and fumble my way through and hope that nobody notices that underneath all of the clowning...is a big fat mess.

My to do list for the day is as long as my arm, but instead of actually attacking it, I'm still sitting in my chair drinking coffee at 4:10pm and wondering what to make for dinner. Does that ever go away, by the way? It seems to me that being a woman in a relationship means spending an inordinate amount of time wondering what the hell is so sticky on the countertop and what to make for dinner. (The answer, by the way...is strawberry jelly and tuna melts.) 

(It's always strawberry jelly and tuna melts.)

I am, however, very happy to report that my canvas piece is coming along beautifully, and if I get out of my own way this afternoon, I should be able to get to the half-way point of the border. I am so happy with the decision to frog and re-stitch. It has been a real pleasure to have that angst behind me as I watch those colors come to life, and I think (knock wood), that I will have plenty of thread to finish.

Thank you for indulging me today. I do this every year, I know, and I realize that I will get to do it all over again on Friday when I remember my Stewey. On that day it will be nine years since his passing, so I guess I should just prepare for more waterworks and sadness.

(Waterworks and Sadness. Sounds like a good title for my book, I think.)

Enough. There's things to do and stitches to be made and Outlander to be viewed. Mom would be peeved at my wallowing, I'm sure. 

(Stewey, on the other hand, will be disappointed if flags are not lowered and a moment of silence is not observed, so lemme go find my black outfit and veiled hat for the festivities.)

Cheers to Vaceila. I'd like to think she's happily needlepointing today, with Dad beside her watching a Notre Dame game. As for Stewey...hopefully he's supervising and has finally found a proper valet to keep him in fresh little smoking jackets and cravats.