It's almost 4pm, my hair has been washed (and I put a treatment on it before I dried it--huge difference), I've talked to Mike, I've worked out (much, much earlier--not running, by the way, I went to my sister's gym with her and did a stairmaster for forty minutes..ouch), I've done laundry, I've cleaned (somewhat, in my defence I've been cleaning off and on all weekend, so I'm slacking a bit now).
We had our Easter celebration last night at my mom's, and I made it to church on Friday afternoon, Good Friday, avoiding the Easter Sunday morning mass crowd.
So it's one of those times where I actually am 'free' to really do...nothing. I'm on my own, and missing Mike, obviously, but liking the grey day outside as I listen to Old School drone away on the tv.
Also, that stack of library books. A couple of years ago I read Kate Furnivall's "The Russian Concubine" and I found the follow-up book I didn't know existed, "The Girl from Junchow" at my last library visit. I started reading it a few nights ago, it doesn't quite have me in its' grip yet, but I'm getting there.
I also borrowed Elizabeth Strout's "Olive Kitteridge" that I seem to recall having heard about from a number of sources, and I was interested to read it takes place in Maine, so I'm anxious to starting that book too.
I've emailed my friend L., nails need to be painted, and I'm getting take-out on my own later tonight.
In short, it's a Carolyn day.
I'm having memories of last Easter, for some reason I'm also remembering last years' election, I think they happened around the same time, taking my dad to vote in the advanced polls on a sunny April day, one of his last outings.
Easter at my mom's apartment last night had its moments of tension. I've written before, we don't grieve together, we don't really share our grief. It's yet another 'first' holiday, a holiday 'after', and soon, there won't be any more 'first' holidays left in this round.
They're hard, and they create a burden of expectation that we have a hard time living up to.
So today is kind of a recovery day against the emotional turmoil these events stir up.
I'm going to read now, and I'm working on another long blog post about my upcoming five-year milestone, this Friday, April 13th, of closing on my condo (I moved in the following day, Saturday April 14th), and all that went on around that crazy time, and the year 2007 in general. My friend L. and I refer to it as a watershed year, for many reasons, and it's hard to believe five years have gone by since that weird but sometimes wonderful time. Real change takes a long time, but in terms of cycles, I seem to notice that life, for me, takes place in five-year cycles. Not necessarily keeping in time with age, even though in my adult life, the ages ending in five seem to be alot more challenging than those that end in zeroes. Not sure why--the decade ages seem to signify renewal, re-awakening, but the mid-decades remind you of where you are and sometimes, where you don't want to be.
My friend A. always uses the expression, "as we approach forty" and for a while, I've had trouble believing how imminent this really is. But time marches on and this new zero is not far off. But, as I look back at the last zero to now, so so much has happened, the roller-coaster ride has continued, but there is a real feeling of accomplishment. And not just the type of accomplishmnt where someone has been there the whole time to hold your hand. I'll talk more about that in the five-year-home-ownership post. I'm still mulling some details over and it's a lot to write about--the closing, my nephew being born between the time I purchased and the time I actually moved, mending a feud with my father. It's taking me some time.
As I said--2007. Watershed.
And here it is now, 2012, five years knocked off a mortgage, one remaining parent, surreal holidays, and a long-distance marriage. Looking in the mirror somedays I think, who made all that happen, and how did she do it? And how, based on reading some entries in my work journal recently, does she continue to do it?
All in the journey so to speak.
A good reminder not to stress on those everyday 'little' problems, as I am wont to do so often.
Happy Easter Sunday (girl).