Well, and there you are. Less than two weeks into my self-imposed regimen, and I have stumbled.
To be honest, thought, I had to remind myself, this afternoon, that yesterday had been a different day from Friday, so compacted in time, and disorienting, and frazzling were the events of Saturday.
There was the memorial service for John's mom, held at a Lutheran church not too far from where she'd lived and died. Most of those in attendance were family members, but there was a fair number of friends from other parts of her life. Early in the service, there was a time for anyone who felt the need, to give a remembrance about Ruth. At first, I didn't think anyone would speak, after John had read his recap of, not only his mom's life, but the deeper history of the two combined families that resulted in Ruth and her identical twin, Rosemary. I made some inane comments, and then others chimed in. After a few hymns, there was communion, and then a reception, catered by some of the women who'd worked with Ruth during her fifty + years of activity there, that was held in the church's social hall. Afterwards, most of the family all went out for lunch. When that was over, John and I came back here to his cousins' house, and just kind of lounged around for the rest of the evening. I think we had cookies for dinner. It didn't even occur to me to open the computer, much less delve into anything like a blogue entry.
My bad, I suppose.
Today, though was a bit different. John went off to a church service nearby, so he could hear what is said to be a remarkable organ, in action. I hung around the house here, focused on one or more of the various Sunday puzzles available, and then Nancy & Jamie's daughter Megan needed to go to the local farmers' market, to pick up some veggies for dinner, and also to fulfill the requirements for an assignment in her Spanish class -- she was supposed to speak the language in public, and document whatever transaction or conversation took place. Because I'm so shameless, I offered to accompany her to the market, where we took in the rather meager array of goods, and then plunged into our fractured attempts at learning, for instance, what avocado is in Spanish. Which starts with a z, I think, but I've obviously already forgotten it.
Anyway, we bought broccoli, and the aforementioned avocados, some strawberries (fresas), a lot of beautiful blackberries (quite surprisingly expensive, but you only go broke once. Or,,, do you?), and a strange citrus fruit called a Buddha's hand -- something like a lemon drawn by Tim Burton. I have no idea how Megan felt about having this huge lunk of an old man, chatting up vendors with 'Habla espanol?', to break the ice. I also got the NYTimes, and have already finished the Sunday puzzle. The acrostic is the next challenge -- I may save it for the flight home on Wednesday.
Back at the house, everyone had things to do -- John had to go over to the mobile home, to take his sister to Lenscrafters. Ryan had a basketball game early in the afternoon, which his parents attended. Megan vanished. I had assigned myself a little chore -- the Whites have two new little trees in their back yard, and wanted to plant them soon. So, while everyone else was doing this and that, I got a spade and dug two nice, deep, straight-sided holes, right where Nancy said she wanted the trees to go. (One of them is a pomegranate tree! I feel almost mythic) The soil in their back yard is so soft and black and deep and cooperative, that I don't think it took over twenty minutes to get the holes laid out, the planters moved aside, and the holes dug. I made two nice neat piles of soil. Then I went into the house and tried to read, but kept falling asleep, so I took a long and confusing nap. Later on, when everyone had come back, Nancy and Jamie and I put the trees in the ground. It was very satisfying. Now we're all waiting for John to get here, so we can go out for pizza.
It feels odd, this stress-free living. I feel somehow guilty because I'm not either doing something productive for someone else, or worrying about not doing something productive for someone else. It makes me wonder how I live my life at home -- I have the same amount of time each day, and the same basic resources. Maybe it's just that here, most of my activities are voluntary, where at home, I'm faced, all the time, with the huge mounds of work lying everywhere I look, and it seems as though no amount of effort will ever make an impact on my personal mess from Hell.
Ah well, the missing piece of the pizza puzzle has just arrived, so I'm going to put on my shoes and get ready to decide whether I want sausage and mushrooms and olives, or just extra cheese...
© 2013 Walter Zimmerman
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