Tag Archives: christmas shopping

Words on a whim – 12/18/13

The air warmed up a bit today.

I did not expect to begin one of these posts with a statement about the weather. In fact, I thought I would avoid it. But I am trying to sit here almost daily and simply allow my fingers to improvise the words as thoughts flow through my mind.  There must be a reason we talk about the weather after all.

I’ve been going to bed late, after sewing for up to four hours straight while one episode after another of Star Trek or Ted Talks accompany me on the computer screen. Star trek does not require full attention. The pattern is pretty much always the same. And Ted Talks require only attentive ears. I finished two sets of pouches for Ornament Studio. This December started out slow, and I should have taken advantage of that slow pace to perk up my inventory. Suddenly, this past weekend, shoppers came out to play. I’ve always loved working late at night.

Funny how life comes full circle. When I think about it, my current circumstances are very similar to how I started out when I moved into my first apartment after my mother passed away, 29 years ago. I loved living alone then. In fact, I think I’ve always known I would love living alone. Back then, also, I’d work on some art project very late into the night. Personal computers did not exist then. I listened to the radio.

I loved living with Roderick because we were able to be together without ever invading each other.

The Holiday season is a weird time. I do not decorate, but I enjoy seeing other people’s decorations. It is funny that I never wonder what my life might have been like had I had children. For instance, it never occurs to me that I may be missing out on Christmas eves watching them open their presents. Just as it was clear to me that I would love living alone, it was clear that I did not have the instinct to multiply.

My friends played pretend, making believe they were parents to the dolls they pushed around in strollers. I could not relate. I loved stuffed animals instead. Interestingly, it occurs to me as I write this that I refer to my cat and dog as my daughter and son.

How did I get from talking about the weather to talking about my distorted maternal instinct? I suppose our circumstances evolve like a sort of wind current, or maybe more like a river as it is nourished by the rain and pushed along by its own strength.

We are quiet rain and powerful storm. We are clouds and sunshine. It is said that the face becomes weathered as we age. Perhaps there is more to this expression than meets the eye.

Slàinte!