Archives for posts with tag: choose wisely
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Drizzle

April 11, 2026 //
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Yesterday… Interesting day, and simultaneously uneventful, and also notable in several ways, which is why it was interesting. My studio is coming along and I plan to be painting this weekend. I got so excited about that idea that I left work early to get the weekend started. My Traveling Partner knows how important that is to me and dropped everything to figure out weekend plans that would give me the house to myself. (I feel very loved.)

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

By evening, two things were clear; there was bad weather brewing, and my partner’s attempts to throw something together for Friday night hadn’t worked out. We’d definitely be spending the evening together. Hell, how could I be disappointed by that? Sure, I’m yearning for some solitude and creative time that isn’t interrupted by all sorts of routine requirements of adult life, but I’m also okay with planning ahead. I’ve long found it quite necessary. And also? I really enjoy the company of my beloved.

… What to do?

My Traveling Partner asked me if I wanted to go get frozen yogurt together? I surprised him with an immediate yes, and went to put on something suitable for to leaving the house.

The sky was stormy looking. I don’t mind such things. We talked about the weather on the way to enjoying a frozen treat together. At least for now, so soon after his prolonged incapacitation due to injury and surgery, every outing feels like romance. Date night. We could have gone to the grocery store and I’d have been every bit as excited. We had fun. It was a good time. He was still talking about fucking off for the weekend to do his own thing, and I was still looking forward to it.

Sometime during the night, I woke for no obvious reason. He was up (still or also was never clear). I mumbled some sleepy greeting, heading back to bed (not really awake, honestly), he called to me quietly and reminded me he actually has a full weekend of project work (business), and really should stay home and focus on that to stay on schedule with his customers. I nodded sleepily, unsurprised (the surprise had been that he was so ready to step away and give me the solitude at home to paint). He assures me he’ll be busy and “won’t be in the way”. I say something, words, affirming I’m fine with that. I’m genuinely unbothered. I’ve got my studio back, and I don’t need much more, really. The solitude is – always has been – a luxury more precious than gems. I’m happy to be mostly left alone more or less to paint. It’s enough. I went back to bed, back to sleep.

I woke this morning in the usual way, no alarm set and still waking up quite early. The darkness before dawn was drizzly. It rained through the night, continuing long after the rare thunderstorm had passed. I don’t mind a drizzle. I hit the trail happily contemplating a day spent at my easel.

A beginning of its own. Beginnings take many shapes.

When I began painting in pastels, in July 2024, I had already collapsed my studio to make room for the Anxious Adventurer. I’ve never had my studio available for working in pastels. This feels exciting and new. After the first flurry of eager creative work in a new medium, the fatigue of caregiving began to overwhelm me, and certainly I had nothing left over for art once life was done with me each day. The Anxious Adventurer proved to be damned little help with caregiving, at all, that was all on me. What help he did provide generally came at the cost of my cognitive capacity, resulting in still more fatigue. He didn’t know our ways, and definitely seemed more an adolescent than the grown adult I was prepared for (based on his age). His chronic negativity was draining. The contentious relationship with his father was… annoying.

…I wouldn’t have an environment I could paint in for almost two years, but I wouldn’t recognize that for some months, and the care my beloved needed and could not get from his son would keep me at home, too… for nearly two years…

Two years. For almost two years I’ve felt my inspiration wax and wane, again and again, yearning for the freedom to paint. The time. The energy. The emotional environment. It’s been rough having to stifle all that for lack of space, resources, or control over my environment. I have resented it more than I wanted to, and mostly because I often felt I’d been taken in by some cosmic bait and switch scheme; the help offered by the Anxious Adventurer’s presence rarely materialized and time and again I felt tricked into having to parent a grown ass man who should have had basic life skills mastered at 32.

… We’re each having our own experience. Sometimes adulting is fucking hard…

I sigh to myself by the side of this rain soaked trail. Things are different today. The rain leaves everything fresh and green. The air smells of petrichor and Spring flowers. The day feels full of promise. I have choices and today I will paint.

There’s a ping in the Anxious Adventurer’s travel chat. He’s almost home to Ohio, just a day’s drive away. He complains about the rain. His mother suggests he complain to the rental firm about the leaky truck and the flat tire. He complains that doing so makes him feel bad. I’m surprised when she and his grandmother rush to offer to do it for him. Huh. That explains a lot. I shrug it off. “Not my circus, not my monkeys”.

… Today I’ll be painting.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Art, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, Words

Strange Days

April 10, 2026 //
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I’m still getting used to the sense of peace that has seemed to envelope our home. The Anxious Adventurer is well on his way back to his maternal family. He shares pictures and updates from the road, whenever he stops along the way. I’m glad he’s taking his time and having a safe journey. I’m glad he has moved out. I still don’t get how he managed to create so much tension and discord from his purported good intentions. One of life’s unsolved puzzles, I suppose.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

Yesterday ends with a pretty pink sunset.

Yesterday was a lovely, rather ordinary seeming work day. I’m able to comfortably work from home any day – which was not at all the case while the Anxious Adventurer resided with us. We just weren’t getting enough good quality sleep and it was a far better choice to avoid bullshit conflicts caused by fatigue and lost resilience by working elsewhere. I sit at the halfway point of my walk this morning thinking about that between sneezing fits. I add travel tissues to my shopping list.

Today begins with a chance to begin again.

The weekend is almost here. I plan to spend time in the garden. I remind myself to ask my beloved Traveling Partner to turn on the outside water to the front of the house (I can’t reach that valve) and add a reminder to turn on the water to the back (which I can stoop down for more easily). It all feels so relaxed and ordinary.

… I feel so much love…

Pain changes who we are. Mine is more well-managed than it had been. The medications we may be asked to take for some variety of conditions may change who we are. I watched my beloved go through it both before and after his surgery. Of course the changes we go through (or which are inflicted upon us) also change us. No question about that, and as human beings we go through a lot of changes. The Anxious Adventurer chose change, but found it uncomfortable and never quite embraced the opportunities it presented. Fighting change also changes us. We are who we are – also true – and change itself is nonnegotiable. Change is.

… What we choose to do about change and how we behave in response to it matters a lot, and we have so much control over that…

I sit smiling, breathing the almost warm Spring air. It smells of flowers. I sneeze a few more times. Tree pollen. I’m okay with it. I like the smell of flowers more than I care about the sneezes. I think about my beloved Traveling Partner and my heart is filled with joy and encouragement. I’m grateful that in spite of going through so much these last couple of years, we’re still together, still a strong loving partnership. The outcome wasn’t guaranteed, and at times I had doubts. It was hard sometimes and I honestly wasn’t sure I could do the needful when called upon. I was so tired, so often. Here we are, though, on the other side. I’m glad.

I sit listening to the noisy robins and watching squirrels play. I spot shy bunnies in the underbrush at the edge of the trail. They are quicker than my camera this morning. I’m in no great hurry to rush off to begin the work day. I sit with sore muscles thinking about love.

For a time I allow myself the luxury of paying no mind to the ticking clock. I am not measuring minutes or moments, just enjoying them awhile. Later will be soon enough for work calendars and meeting schedules, housework and to-do lists. This moment is mine. I savor it. I can begin again a little later.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, women, Words

What Path Are You On?

April 2, 2026 //
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I walked down the trail this morning, with my thoughts and a smile. I feel pretty good, in spite of arthritis pain, in spite of a handful of chronic conditions that do slow me down (but generally don’t stop me). I’m grateful for the changes in health science that find me, at almost 63, in the same relatively good health as my grandparents were in their forties. Progress.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I do my best to take care of myself. It’s vexing when the guidance changes over time, but that is a necessary consequence of progress. Unfortunately, it’s also an unfortunate consequence of human stupidity or corruption and greed, and it’s sometimes less than obvious where changes have come from. Right now, it’s mostly pretty obvious, because the fucking clown car of corrupt greedy assholes in our government are like cartoon villains, and pretty easy to spot.

This morning the only thing that matters, really, is this moment here, and this path I’m walking.

Where does this path lead?

It’s a lovely mild Spring morning. I think of dear friends, faraway, and remind myself to reach out. Life is precious and too short. Our best moments are in the company of our dear friends.

I think about the garden. It rained during the night. If the afternoon is warm it will be a great time to plant new starts. I remind myself to get going on that.

It’s a short work day ahead. The Anxious Adventurer is coming by a little later to complete some moving details, and help move things around after his furniture is moved out. It’s a milestone and a bittersweet moment. I’ll admit, I have mixed feelings about it; it could have gone quite differently. Ah, but here we all are with choices made and actions in progress. I’m looking forward to having my space back, and my own bathroom, and enough room to paint, and more privacy for sex with my Traveling Partner (no kidding, that’s just real).

We choose our path and walk it. I watch the full moon setting. It’s time to begin, again.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5

A Breathe of Fresh Air

March 31, 2026 //
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Get it while it lasts. I stepped onto the trail this morning feeling lighthearted and merry. I slept well and deeply. I woke feeling rested. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful moon setting through Spring clouds, stormy looking but only a threat of sprinkles, here.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It’s definitely Spring here, now. Things are green, all around, and each morning some flower or tree begins to bloom. There’s enough pollen in the air some days to dust my black Mazda in a fine dusting of yellow. I sneezed walking down the trail, grateful to have remembered to add an allergy remedy to my morning medication, and remembered to stuff a travel pack of tissues in my pocket. It passes. Tree pollen gets me, just a couple species, but common here. I don’t let it stop me walking, as I said, it’s not that bad. I walk on to my halfway point and stop to write and watch daybreak become dawn. Soon enough every step will be in daylight.

A sprinkle of fine misty rain dots my phone screen. I don’t do anything about that. I’m sitting quietly thinking about my garden for some little while. Funny that the thought of various laborious tasks seem less daunting in spite of knowing that the Anxious Adventurer won’t be around to help with those, very soon. It’s the emotional labor involved in working with or alongside him; it’s too much, and often undermines the value of his help. I’m not complaining, just an observation.

I needed the help while I had it, and don’t need it so much now that my Traveling Partner is so much improved. I move slower than I did at 30. I plan with greater care, and have to account for physical limitations that change as I age. Sometimes I have to do things quite differently than I once did, but I am quite capable, and using my muscles keeps them strong. I’m eager to be in the garden again.

Another new day, another step on the path.

I’m not looking at the news. I know it’s bad. War mongers war-mongering, profit-seekers seeking profits, billionaire nihilists are assuring us all that their greed and destruction are good for society, pronatalists are begging everyone to have more babies, while christian nationalists remind us they only want white babies. What a fucking mess. I don’t need to indulge in the consumption of repetitive slop about that bullshit, not because it isn’t real (it very much is) or doesn’t matter (it definitely does), not even because I’m powerless (I have the power to choose wisely and speak truth to power), it’s just that I am choosing differently now, and this moment is mine.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The Spring air is fresh and scented with flowers. The sky is a rainy day gray. I smile contentedly, thinking about love and laughter and roses that need weeding. I glance at the time and get ready to begin again. I chose this path, and I will walk it with purpose.

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, thoughts on AI, War and News of War, women, Words

Real Luxury Isn’t Always Costly

March 28, 2026 //
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I woke up slowly in a quiet place – home. I made coffee. I made oatmeal, and contentedly sliced the last banana into it, chuckling because my Traveling Partner handed it to me yesterday, before he departed, and I forgot to eat it. I was busy with work (what a fucking waste of limited mortal lifetime, but it pays for everything else).

I took a comfortable seat in the living room. Ate my breakfast. Sipped my coffee. Watched the news Bubu and Dudu videos. I have the house to myself. What a crazy luxury! Better than diamonds or Louboutin shoes for me personally, the luxury of solitude at home is a favorite delight. My beloved knows this, and took his first opportunity to get away, meeting needs of his own, to give me this gift. I feel very loved lazing in my jammies, enjoying my coffee, soft jazz in the background as I write – on my laptop instead of my phone! Good grief, I could get used to this, but g’damn I’d miss my Traveling Partner…

Enjoying a moment of luxury, on my own terms.

… I reflect on that for awhile. When we maintained separate households, morning coffee together was the precious luxury. We made a point of it, often. I would not trade this relationship for solitude…or, not permanently. I do need my time away now and then, no shame, that’s who I am. Wow am I enjoying being able to enjoy that at home. I sigh happily.

Shortly, after coffee, after writing, after meditation, I’ll enjoy a leisurely shower, fold some laundry (because there are still chores to do to maintain good quality of life), and then head to the garden supply place on the other side of town, maybe, for more compost for the garden. I smile, thinking about taking my walk later in the morning, or possibly in the afternoon, maybe on a different local trail? No rush.

I feel content and unbothered, and comfortable in my skin and in my home. How lovely!

… I slept like crap, not gonna lie. With just me and my stepson (the Anxious Adventurer) at home, and considering the bridges he’s managed to burn with me due to his poor judgement and dreadful communication skills (and poor social skills), my mind refused to rest, I was restless and hyper vigilant, fighting PTSD “monsters in the vicinity” alarms clanging away in my consciousness. I slept poorly, woke often, and for too few hours. I shrug it off because this morning? Just wow. So good. This meets so many needs.

I’m grateful for this beautiful morning and the loving partnership that recognizes and supports that need. Did I say I feel loved? I definitely do. I finish my coffee. I’m looking forward to my shower. I’m enjoying these precious moments of solitude at home.

What are the little luxuries you yearn for and struggle to have or enjoy? So much of what matters most to us can feel just out of reach. That’s often because we placed it there, just out of reach, for… reasons. Choose wisely. For fucks sake don’t leave them there out of reach! Do you! What does that look like? Indulge the freedom to be truly who you are. Embrace the experiences you love. Enjoy your moment. If you’re not free to get there now, maybe begin again? These mortal lives are too short to waste time on a shadow of living, constrained by expectations, or the pressure of circumstances (or opinions). Take time to enjoy life’s simple luxuries while the opportunities last.

… Thanks, Love, 😍🥰 I definitely needed this…

I turn off the music and listen to the silence, before I head to the shower. These moments are mine – a precious treasure beyond price – I’ll enjoy them as long as they last, and then? I’ll begin again.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, women, Words
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