I was supposed to receive a box of tangerines from my father for Christmas, unfortunately they weren’t ready for shipping in time. Read More
Like a Dali painting, things are surreal around here… we’ve made plans to move in (gulp) six weeks. I tell the story of this decision here: bit.ly/2r9vlAz at 1010ParkPlace in, “It Feels Like Freedom to Me.”
I think I have been handling everything well, I’m excited and even eager for the freedom this next phase will bring. But, I am not sleeping. I keep waking up around 3:30 a.m. Then my brain turns on… and that’s it, I’m wide awake!
I make bargains with “the obsessive part of me,” promising I will pay attention to it later if it lets me go back to sleep now. I try breathing and meditation. After an hour, I get up and go lie on the couch and read another Carl Hiaasen novel. At 6:00, when my sweetie gets up, I just get on with my day.
During the day I am doing the work that needs to be done. But at night my brain is going into overdrive, trying to manage the entire Universe. Serenity Prayer, my ass. My subconscious has it’s own ideas; “Help me change what I cannot accept. And control, well, basically… everything. Amen.” Has this ever happened to you over a big change? How do you handle obsessing over things?
The other evening I had some alone-time, and I was going through a box of fabric that I couldn’t let go of during our last two moves. In it is an Indian bedspread given to me years ago by a dear friend. He died of AIDS in ’96 or ’97… and I can’t bear to part with it. Being over-tired, and consequently too hyper-active to read, (we don’t outgrow this stuff) I decided to whip up a summer dress like the ones I’ve been seeing on Pinterest. Yep, I know how to sew. My Mom was great at it – she always made us matching dresses when we were children. Later, she made our skirts and blouses, some maxi-dresses, and even my favorite prom gown in 1968. A simple, pale pink satin with a vee-neck and ruffle. I spent hours straightening my hair and thanks to Mom making that gown, I felt as chic as Cher.
I used to love sitting beside her sewing machine, talking and watching what she did. She chain-smoked and cursed the whole time, but she managed to made it look effortless. The sewing, I mean!
I really enjoyed how focused I became, how relaxed I felt for the first time in days. I was surprised that I remembered how to fill and thread the bobbin. I was surprised I got my seams so straight without a guide. I wasn’t surprised by my cursing, or the fact that my math calculations were as bad as ever. While my dress turned out beautifully, it is a good TWO SIZES too large! Rather than looking lithe and of-the-moment in my Boho sundress, I look as if I borrowed a muumuu from Mama Cass!
This weekend, since it’s going to rain, I’m certain I will remember how to take a dress apart and fix my mistakes. I’m going to look lithe, dammit! Tearing out all of those seams and re-cutting my pattern will make a great escape from packing.
As a waiter recently said to me when I pointed out that he had brought me the wrong order, “Hey… you can’t win ’em all, right?” I guess not .
My grown son came for Christmas Eve dinner a few weeks ago. Somehow the conversation around the table turned to places we have lived, and my son and I looked at each other across the table and laughed. Read More