so . . . dirty, sweaty, tired, energized, satisfied, and spent . . . (26/60)

I have spent the day decluttering, organizing, moving, and rearranging my mama's (and dad) house after 19 years of living in it. I'm not sure my mother understood what it meant when I said I'd organize . . . because I've gone a bit crazy.

But the result is beginning to show and I feel so happy about everything.

One example . . . the pantry . . . tomorrow I will show the bedrooms and living room and closets . . .

Only, I still haven't showered and I was nasty sticky gross at 9am this morning . . . for reals, these Floridians are AMAZING.

I was drenched! And had to snap a selfie . .

This is me after . . . I look better than I felt (ick)

How they can run, let alone walk, let alone breath in this weather is beyond me. I was a soggy, nasty, sweaty, tomato face, ugly girl when I came back from my 5 mile run (ok, walk). I thought I was going to DIE. Literally. I looked like I had just stepped out of shower . . . water was running down my face, back, neck, arms, leg, bum in rivulets.

Yes, I've been nursing poweraide and water all day long. And . . . eating constantly because I'm sure my sweat loss was food loss too (right?). I'm telling you, it felt so good to be in the AC (how did they live without it?) and organize INSIDE.

I also got totally distracted as I was cleaning up when I found file after file of old pictures . . . here are a few of my favorites:

My Sweet Mama:

And that baby on my mama's back . . . it's me!

And her mama and daddy:

The baby is my mama, her Dad is holding her, her mama is in front of her

I'm thinking they were bringing her home from the hospital . . . my Grami was 16, my grandfather was 18

My Grandmother Goodrich . . . on the left

And my Dad's Dad and Mom:

My nurse Gram (dad's mama)

My grandfather when he went off to WWII (I think he was in his early 40s)

Only Picture of my Gram when she was little . . . she always talked about sledding when she was older . . . here she is.

And then . . . just us . . .my family and the other favorites:

My best friends . . . Jerry (cousin) and Joseph (brother) and what on earth am I doing with my face?

And why am I picking my nose? I don't know . . .

Joseph with the ladies (hes the little cutie in the corner) thus it always was . . . and ever shall be . . .

Check out the shoes . . . AND socks . . . (yes, I'm wearing sneakers)

And my favorite . . . closed eyed photos . . . remember those, when you didn't know your eyes were closed until two months later when the film was developed? For old times sake . . .

OH, very bad choice. Perm. PERM! I will NEVER live you down.

And that's a small taste of my day . . . I literally blew up my sibling and cousins phones with photos I'd found. I may have used up my years quota of group text . . . ok, maybe a decade . . . but oh, the fun I had.

And now . . . I'm as usual going to bed (well, I may watch a tiny bit of Jane the Virgin . . . why didn't anyone tell me it was so good? I. Love. It!)

Forced Frugality

We are going on ten months of looking for a job. Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot. It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us. Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible. The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health. By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping. He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined. I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment. And it may take all that. And I still won't regret it. When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things. In fact, there is part of me (small though it

The Best Kind of Tired

My often daily life . . . (John is two feet away—I can’t do all of them by myself) Last week, every single time I sat down, I almost instantly fell asleep. I kept telling John, I have the sleeping disease. What is going on? Am I getting old? Is it the covid after effects? What on earth? He didn’t have any answers for me because he was doing the same thing. We didn’t really do anything for seven days straights. And our kids joined us in the sleepy, do nothing, lazy slug bug state. It wasn’t until this morning as I was looking over the pictures of the summer that I realized why. . . We literally haven’t stopped ALL summer long—one awesome amazing trip/visit/fun after the other. It’s like we are making up for last years “staycations.” Holy hannah have we ever made up for it. Just about did ourselves in playing and hugging and kissing and caring for babies. Highlights of the summer (in no particular order): Cousin sleepovers have resumed (most missed activity since the pandem

Midlife-Cri-sis

It's been a year. I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me. The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar. There have a been a lot of losses or near losses. Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this . More times than not, I need that deep breath. I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it. 47. My children are nearly grown. My house is established. Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things. I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without. I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this? For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years . It's about re-writing o

The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

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