I have a Mary Engelbreit mug with the above saying plastered on it. It's probably my favorite mug in the whole world.
Life REALLY is "just so daily."
It goes on and on, and things happen. The things pile up. Some good. Some bad. And time just keeps going and going and going... like the Energizer Bunny.
I guess I could look to see when the last time was I posted here, but I don't want to. I promised I would get better, and I didn't. I don't think I want a date looking me in the face, taunting me on how long it's been.
Here I am. Today. Sunday.
I don't even know where to begin. Work, perhaps. It sucks - I mean, really sucks. Not sucks in the way that things aren't simply going my way. Sucks in the big way - the way that has led me into my boss' office more times than I'd care to admit.
Me. The person who's almost never been in trouble ever before in my 40+ years of working - and here it's almost a daily thing.
Okay, I exaggerate. But give me that, okay? I'm not used to being in trouble.
Life... goes on. I get up, I put my clothes on, and I stumble out to the car to get to work. I've got a few friends, and we hang out. Sometimes. This year I haven't much felt like hanging out, but I do it sometimes just because I know I need it.
I've contemplated suicide several times this year. Not in the sense that I was going to do it - but in the sense that it seems inevitable that I will do it someday. Not tomorrow, not next month, not next year.
This isn't a "gee I need some attention" statement. I don't. Believe me - I really don't. It's simply a realization that at the brink of 50, it became glaringly apparent why people get married and have kids. Build a family. Without that... what purpose does life have? Really? At 30 you can say you're still discovering life and reaching goals - and you are. At 40, you can say you're focusing on bettering yourself - and you are. At 50? At 60?... the circle of family and friends gets smaller and smaller. People die off. People move. Get sick. And you suddenly find yourself alone with no one that really cares if you live or die - and you realize it really doesn't matter if you do live - or die.
I'm not there yet. But, unless something changes, I imagine I will be there some day.
I'm not depressed - but I think I am stuck. I've been in survival mode for a long time, and I still can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm sure there is one. I'm just not close enough to see it yet.
But enough about that... I've been fostering kittens since about July. I'm on my third set. This current pair (brother and sister) are super timid. They pretty much live behind my toilet. I've never been around kittens with that much fear at such a young age. They are only about 5 weeks old.
I'm at my wit's end on how to help them.
I sat in the bathroom earlier today, and stayed there for about an hour. I read. I twirled a toy and made a clicking sound with my tongue (most of the cats I've been around have responded to that sound). Finally, the female came out... not close, but she came out. She had some food, and went back.
She's braver than her brother, for sure.
I've got them for two weeks before I turn them back in. I hope they become more trustworthy... I'm certainly not the cat whisperer, but I'd like to think I can help.
The truth is, maybe I can't.
I've been pondering what other type of volunteer work I can do. It's time to give back... it really is. Animals are my logical first choice... but what's my second? Food bank... maybe. Elderly people... maybe. Just not sure where to go and how to start.
I'm sure I'll figure it out.
My dad visited a couple of times this summer. It was nice to have him here - and the house felt so empty after he left. It's just us left now. And if he dies, then it's just me... and I guess that's where some of my introspection comes from.
I have no family outside of him. What happens after he dies? To whom would I matter?
Depressing talk. Let's move to something else.
Marietta Vineyards has a wine that I like a lot - they simply call it Old Vine Red Lot ##. Right now they're on Lot 55. I discovered it at Lot 47. The taste doesn't change much from lot to lot. I still like it as much now as I did when I first discovered it.
But it's been a while since I had some - and so when I had a glass of Lot 55 the other day, and had a bunch of vivid, strange dreams that night, I didn't connect them to the wine. I simply thought, "Gee, you had a lot of strange dreams last night.
I had another glass (or two) the next night. Low and behold, I had a bunch more vividly strange dreams. Could it be the wine? Or was it simply the stress from work?
To test it out, I had a different wine for the next few nights (that is, if I had wine at all). No vivid dreams.
I went out and got another bottle of Lot 55. I had a glass, and promptly felt tired. I cleaned up, and went to bed.
I was overcome with a string of dreams - so strangely colorful and striking. When I woke up, I realized it WAS the wine.
How very strange. I have never had that with wine ever before... but this particular brand of wine hits me in the most peculiar way.
I'm thinking of saving my next bottle for Samhain (Halloween) and sharing it with my coven. It'll be interesting to see what kinds of dreams happen that night, when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest.
I think what I'm really hoping for is that one night my mom will come to me in a dream and tell me life is going to get better.
I really hope it will. Because of current events are any indication (shoot up at IHOP, deaths at the Air Races, and the Street Vibrations shooting - all within three weeks time), it doesn't seem like it is. I'd really like to know it will get better.