“Just hang in till after the move,” I kept pleading with my body. Unrealistic in hindsight. Six o’clock, the morning before the move, I wake Ric with a request to drive me to the hospital. Turns out you can’t just pack chronic illness in a box and unpack it when convenient.
While they pumped fluids into me and awaited the results of testing, Ric decided to carry on with his to do list, pushing his own limits. He ended up in ER too. Guess it was a two-for-one day. Or a three-for week, as our son, who came to help us, ending up needing stitches when the heavy base he was carrying jumped back and punched him.
I read once (think it was Caroline Myss) that obstacles are the universe’s way of letting you know you are on the right track. We carry on; he with a broken foot and me fuelled by antibiotics. Guess this is the right path!
Oh, and did I mention, I am scheduled for surgery next week (minor), and he is booked for a total knee reconstruct at the end of the month?
Stuff happens to all of us. Let’s let that be the focus this week: not how rotten life can be, but how despite the bad, we pick ourselves up and keep going. You know: the everyday miracles.
To participate, publish a post on your site and then dropped a link below. All are welcome. Look forward to your responses.
It’s day three at the new abode and I’m sipping my first home brewed cup of tea while sunlight streams through the uncovered windowpanes. Body has put the brakes on, so its a good day to catch up on all things social media.
Lovely to see the sun; it has been overcast and stormy up until now. Day one of the move, a major storm system blew in midday knocking out the hydro. Too dark to safely continue, we had to halt the proceedings. The next two days also brought rain and finally, a break in the intense heat.
The scent of fall is on the air this morning – a reminder that the long winter ahead will give us plenty of time to settle in. Our kids descended en masse yesterday, ensuring that all the essentials are in place, so we are good.
So much to share about our home, but that will have to come later. As you can see, the dogs are happily discovering their new hunting ground.
In the meantime, I wish to extend a warm thanks to all who have continued to post and contribute to my weekly challenge. Sorry I was unable to return a quick response.
The boxes are piling up here. At the new house, the painters have been working diligently. Two rooms are completed and currently all the kitchen doors are off and strewn across scaffolding. The remaining walls are speckled with repair patches.
Both houses are a sight. I try to close my eyes for sleep but the endless to do list runs through my mind. In five days the move happens.
Your posts this week, focused on the visual, have kept me going: some evoking smiles, some tears, others a pause.
Needing a break from moving house, I took my camera and drove along the river road looking for birds. Always hoping for that one shot to brag about later.
The river seldom disappoints. A family of wild turkeys crossing the road welcomed me. Ripples in the calm water revealed a female merganser – a thrill as they have been gone for a while. A Cedar Waxwing, serenading the setting sun, glowed in my camera’s site.
And then, the moment every photographer lives for…that rare and incredible sight…
…a rare and unusual bird indeed.
This week I’m asking that we focus on the visual. Photography is more than welcome. Look forward to your responses.
Cornish pasties, the ones my father used to make when I was a child, were the one thing I craved while carrying my first child. Something in the taste of ground beef, sliced potato, and onion, wrapped in a flaky crust and seasoned just right, called to me.
Except my father had long since misplaced the recipe, and so he tried satisfying me with mass produced versions sold through Marks and Spencers, and when that didn’t work, he tried his hand at recreating the original from memory.
Nothing came close to my recall of blowing on piping hot pie fresh from the oven, and the satisfaction of that first hearty bite.
Funny that, as I never really like my father’s cooking. So why that particular dish, and why then?
Taste is the focus this week. As you might have guessed, I am tugging at our sensory experience with these current challenges, although the word ‘taste’ has other connotations.
Look forward to your responses. Anyone can join in, and all forms of creativity are welcome.