Sometimes Mondays

. . . feel a little empty.

For the past month or so, my life has been very . . . full.

Not busy, exactly.
Just . . . full.

Full of good things -- family, fun, love, silliness, laughter, lightness. But also full of a whole slew of things I've been letting go of - temporarily - but still holding in my head. (Y'know. As we do.)

So on this Monday, I'm feeling empty.
But also very ready to put myself back together again.

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Happy Monday!
I hope your week is off to a great start.

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are the gateway to a Really Big Week.

Stay tuned. I'll share more as the days unfold.
Meanwhile, here's a poem - one of my favorites. (And always good for a Gateway Monday.)

Wild Geese
Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like a head start.

Oh, it may look like a visit from The Ghostbusters. But it was just our yard service company doing a "spring clean-up" in my garden last Friday afternoon. (There were actually two more guys out there, but I couldn't fit them into the frame.)  For the past couple of years, we've hired a crew to do both a spring and fall "clean-up" in the garden, which is basically a couple of guys with powerful blowers making quick work of the leaves and detritus of the season. This year, I had to switch our yard service company -- and this new one? VERY thorough, very efficient! Not only did they blow the detritus out of the nooks and crannies, but they also cut back a lot of my perennials and all the grasses. I was astonished and amazed! (Because that is not usually part of the spring clean-up service.)

So I am now - officially - ahead of schedule with my garden chores. Without even trying, really.

It's even more amazing to be ahead of the game . . . seeing how it snowed the very next day.
Sigh.
(Spring in Michigan. What can I say?)

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Here's to a good week for all of us!

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . feel even more scrambled than usual.

It's the time change.

(Although, really . . . how often can you find a perfect monogram-shadow of your initial just sitting there, on the floor?)

I hate the time change - and especially in the spring. I'm not tired yet when it's time for bed. And then I can barely drag myself out of bed when it's time to get up. And all day long I find myself puzzled and amazed that it can already be whatever time it already is. 

I know I'll adjust. But for now? Sometimes Mondays are for the birds!

“You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight saving time.”
    -- Dave Barry

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Don't forget: Tomorrow - March 15 - is our Read With Us discussion day for . . . 

I'll be sending out Zoom information later this afternoon. If you don't receive a notification before 5:00 - and you are wanting to join us - please let me know, and I'll get you the information tout de suite!

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An added aside, and very off-topic . . . 

Are you a March Madness fan? I don't follow college basketball. At all. But I pretend to get interested when the brackets come out. Between Tom and I, we have five "alma maters" . . . and I always look for them in the brackets. There is usually at least one in the mix . . . but this year, all FIVE are in there: Boise State (Tom's undergrad), Colorado State (Tom's PhD), Texas (my undergrad) -- and Wyoming (my other undergrad) and Indiana (my masters) have a "play-in" . . . with each other. This makes things a little more interesting. . . (Also, this has never happened before.)

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like there's digital "house cleaning" going on.

I got a new laptop over the weekend. Although the migration from my old laptop to my new laptop has been amazingly easy (like mind-blowingly easy) so far, I'm still busy making sure everything is just the way I want it.

I'm taking it easy today, computer-wise.
I'll be back tomorrow with more to say.

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Hope your week is off to a good start.

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like GO Time.

For some months now, we've had a major painting project in the works. (Our entire first floor - except the yellow dining room that I love, plus the upstairs hallway.) It's time for change. BIG change. And, all of a sudden, the (only-vaccinated, please) painters are arriving later this week. My paint color choices (which I've had months to think about agonize over) were due on Friday, but since it was New Year's Eve, I figured no one would care until today. So I continued to think agonize all weekend. I still haven't decided on my new living room color. (It's a very dark green right now, and I want to lighten things up.) I'm waiting for sunrise to make the final call, but I'm leaning toward. . . August Moon. (I think.)

And the color choices? Really the least of my worries this week, because I also have to . . . get the rooms ready FOR the painters to come.

So. I've got a lot to do in a short period of time. (Which is how I roll, so no worries there.) I may be back to blog tomorrow, or . . . maybe not. We'll see how things go today.

Oh.
And Happy New Year.
(When it comes to "begin as you mean to go on" . . . I wonder what it means when you're starting with big changes to your home environment?)

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are moody.

One of my favorite things about these dark, December days . . . is waking up early, turning on some of my Christmas lights, grabbing my coffee, and just letting the morning wash over me.

It's not a bad way to start the day.

December mood . . . 

How about you?

Sometimes Mondays . . .

are all about acceptance.

This was the view of the sun setting over my garden (with my neighbor's tree-on-fire background) last Friday night. It was a very cold evening -- but Tom and I (stalwarts that we are) sat sipping our beers wrapped in blankets (or, at least, I was) out on the patio . . . with Mr. Heater* by our sides.

You see, although I consider myself a flexible person . . . one who can roll with most any situation . . . I really (really) have a hard time bidding adieu to the ease and joy of the warm months!

I like the easy flow of being inside/being outside. I like running out for an ice cream. Just sitting on my patio or my garden swing while I talk on the phone. I like throwing on a pair of shorts in the morning and calling it good. I like snipping herbs from my garden . . . grabbing some flowers for a vase . . . prepping dinners that are really just throwing stuff together for a salad. I like the sun going down at 10:00 at night (which is the case, here at the very western edge of the eastern time zone).

I put up quite a fight when it starts getting dark.
And cold. 
I deny. I pretend it's not happening. I refuse to wear socks.

Until, eventually, I just . . . accept it. 

And I do every year. Because there is comfort in the dark season, too. There's a loveliness to my dying garden. There's a coziness to candles on the mantle and a fire in the fireplace. Chili. Fresh bread. Wool layers. Twinkle lights. Beer tastes good in front of the fireplace, too.

So I'm giving up the fight now.
Accepting.
Coming around.

It's time for me to embrace the dark season.

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(*) The Story of Mr. Heater: A Special Bonus

Several years ago, I wanted to get a heater for our patio so we could extend the outdoor season and stay warm while enjoying our evening "cocktail hour" on the patio. I, of course, had one of those rather elegant tower-style heaters in mind. Y'know . . . the ones you see at outdoor restaurants or on the more put-together home decks and patios. Tom was quick to agree that a patio heater was a great idea -- and he volunteered to pick one up for me when he went to Lowe's.

He came home with . . . Mr. Heater.

NOT AT ALL what I had in mind. Mr. Heater . . . is designed for hunting camps, ice fishing shacks, pick-up pond hockey games. Absolutely functional. Totally portable. All you need is a propane tank! He keeps things toasty, for sure.

But . . . not the elegant tower-style patio heater I had in mind!

Several years later, Mr. Heater still accompanies us out on the patio (spring and fall). At this point, friends and family all know Mr. Heater. It's a good story. We get a lot of laughs. And Mr. Heater is a perfect example of how Tom (Mr. Function) and I (Ms. Form) . . . complement . . . each other. Every year, I plan to replace Mr. Heater with that elegant tower-style patio heater I originally wanted. And then I don't. 

Because Mr. Heater? Well . . . he's part of the family now.

 

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . feel kinda weird.

According to the calendar, fall has arrived. But it hasn't really felt much like . . . fall . . . in my corner of the world. Not yet. Oh, sure. There have been a few days where there's been a little nip in the air. And the sun is certainly rising later/setting earlier than it was a month or two ago. 

But the leaves are still not turning.
And there hasn't been even the lightest hint of a frost.

And that's really weird.

In fact, we are on track here . . . for the latest "first frost" ever. The weather-folk are pushing that date for my area into early-mid November. (Usually it would have happened by now.) And we're having the latest "peak color" in decades (maybe ever) throughout the state.

I guess that explains why . . . I'm still wearing shorts and flip-flops (sometimes with sweatshirts, but still). And I haven't brought out my warm clothes yet. And I only just this weekend pulled out my pumpkin collection to decorate inside my house. I'm still working in my garden and watering containers that would normally be in the compost heap by now.

Very weird.
But I guess I still have plenty of time to plant my fall bulbs!

(How about you? Has fall arrived in your neck of the woods?)

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are scrambled.

Sundays . . . have always been my get-it-together day of the week. The day I wrap up the week just ending . . . and plan for the week that's coming. I have Sunday Chores (laundry, for example) and "calendar-ing" (where I get my schedule for the coming week set in my head) and Planning (meals, blog posts, etc.). I like my Sundays to be neat and orderly so I can hit the ground running on Monday.

But. . . that was not to be yesterday.

In fact, I lost the whole Sunday! I was down for the count after getting my 3rd Covid vaccine dose on Saturday (part of a carefully orchestrated plan to be able to get me in a place where I can safely get an infusion treatment for my RA next month) (it's complicated). I didn't have terrible reactions to my first 2 doses, but this 3rd one did knock me out of contention for the whole day.

I'm feeling just fine today. But scrambling.
Because I didn't (at all) get-it-together for the week ahead yesterday.

“You don’t get explanations in real life. You just get moments that are absolutely, utterly, inexplicably odd.” 
    — Neil Gaiman

Let's see how well I recover this week! (Because, often, when I miss my Sunday . . . I never quite get-it-together and end up flailing all week long.)

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A Reminder:

Tomorrow is our Read With Us book discussion day! Join Bonny, Carole, and I for blog book discussion questions (we'll each be posting questions for you to ponder on our blogs). And then -- tomorrow night we'll have a Zoom meet-up where we can talk about the book together. Please join us -- it's a lot of fun, and always an interesting discussion, too. 7:00 pm Eastern time. If you'd like to join in, please let me know in the comments -- or send me an email (see sidebar) -- and I'll add you to the Zoom invitation list.