As my tea kettle started to whistle, I grabbed my favorite over-sized Wonder Woman mug to hold this magical, healing concoction. The size and weight was perfect and always gave me a sense of strength and nostalgia at the same time.
All in Musings
As my tea kettle started to whistle, I grabbed my favorite over-sized Wonder Woman mug to hold this magical, healing concoction. The size and weight was perfect and always gave me a sense of strength and nostalgia at the same time.
Today is our 19th wedding anniversary. We got hitched just three short days before 9-11-01, launching into wedded bliss as the world changed forever. However, this is not the most interesting thing about our wedding.
I grew up in Grant’s Lick, Kentucky on a property my mom lovingly named Rocky Top Farm. I spent my childhood hoeing in the garden, throwing hay bales, collecting eggs from the chicken coop, canning green beans, shoveling cow manure, and picking up rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. My dad taught me to drive on his Case tractor and our 1949 Willy’s Army Jeep.
As the quarantine wears on, I’ve been looking for new ways to entertain the boys. As I was cleaning my bookshelf I came across the box set of my favorite books from 4th grade, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. I managed to convince my boys to let me read a couple chapters to them every evening before bed rather than watching another lame YouTube video.
A year ago, I decided to launch this blog. I thought it would be an opportunity to flex my writing muscle while working through my midlife challenges.
When all this started a month ago, I had a can-do attitude. I was getting things accomplished. I rallied the troops at work while memorizing the CDC website. I lectured my parents and in-laws to get them on board with social distancing.
I went to Kroger this morning for the first time in four weeks. The grocery store used to be my happy place—used to.
Every single person you know or encounter—on the road, on the internet, on the sidewalk—is under copious amounts of stress.
Being in the midst of a pandemic is scary. Very scary. I’ve also experienced a lot of other emotions and I bet I’m not alone. We’re all entitled to our feelings, right? Most people aren’t stupid enough to say it aloud, but I am. So here goes nothing…
Throughout the day, I’m productive and distracted enough to not let COVID-19 get into my head. But every night, about the time I would have normally gone to bed 4 weeks ago, my mind starts racing and I don’t know how to settle down enough to go to bed. Where I normally feel very safe and secure, lately I’ve been anxious and uncertain.
When I was about 5 my dad built a pond on our family farm. This pond, affectionately known as “the lake” has been a refuge for my family for 40 years.
I’m not really in the mood to write today. My brain is mush and my heart is heavy, but this Facebook post from NYC reminded me of the strength that we all have within us. Keep plowing ahead, friends. We’ll get through this together.
