Muddled Thoughts of a Non-Productive Sewist

 A beautiful season this one. A gift from Mother Nature. A bittersweet one, surely, but much appreciated. It has been a long week. Overshadowed by the passing of the husband of a dear friend. As we often hear, and even repeat, ..."even if you know the end is near..." Many years of illness and infirmity, a declining awareness of reality, a hopelessness beyond my understanding, grief is exhausting. Just that. Of my friend group, about 12 ladies, there are only two of us who are not widowed. It is life affirming in a way. Life goes on. 

 

A casual friend who resides in France, one who has lived a full and brilliant life, summed up a thought that has been a bit unsettling as well.  By commenting in a note she added, " I wish I could sew better. I only do basic sewing but I love darning I find that relaxing. I wasn't allowed to do sewing at school as I was concentrating on my academic subjects to work towards the national scholarship. Guess we can't be good at everything." While I know her intent was positive, there is something poignant in the translation. Is it possible that one cannot be proficient at more than one skill? Are creative pursuits of less value (in the real world) than academic prowess? Is it not likely that we all grow and learn more with each year and with the passing of time?  So there you have it, muddled thoughts of a non-productive sewist. 

 

Antibiotics play havoc with my tummy. I suppose from the beginning this might be better explained. You know that living in the woods has been another gift of Mother Nature. With these positive thoughts come the beautiful, yet destructive deer. And with the deer come hitch-hikers. Ticks. Nasty little buggers. Particularly when a pair of them decide to burrow into your chest wall. Miserable situation that one. After the removal process, the inflammation, the glib doctor in urgent care with a sense of humor much like the entomologists at convention where glass headed straight pins are the passion of the moment, this charmer with 25 years of education peers at me over his surgical mask as if he had never had so much fun. There you go says he, next time. And there will be a next time. Not if I can help it Spike. He even gave a printed page full of pictures of ticks. Like I didn't already know, right?

 

And the dog ate my receipt. I needed that for some returns. Seriously. She ate it, all of it, a full page. I am hoping for a sympathetic dog loving sales lady. Positive thoughts my way would be a good thing. Again, what a week.  Better days ahead.