When I read other blogs I sometimes get the impression that my life is very small-too small for my liking. Other people blog about art and politics and sexuality and peace and God and all kinds of shit, but me? i blog about my boring little life in the suburbs and how boring it is. I am concerned that the flowers on the dining room table are wilting and need to be thrown out, or that my kid left her stuff splashed all over the kitchen table, or that my man is on a mission to terrify my cats into submission. I actually watched the Bachelor for the last two weeks-including last night's ratings grab extravaganza-that's how dull it is. I'm watching the fucking Bachelor.
But this is my life now and I must own that. Life is small sometimes and I think that's ok. I am glad I am not one of those people who are running around trying to accomplish forty things every day and then collapsing into bed at night too exhausted to even think. I am going to a funeral today for my grandmother's sister-in-law who passed away the other day leaving my grandmother as the last of her peer group. She was a very lovely woman, the kind who held your hand when she talked to you and actually listened to the answers you gave when she asked you how you were. She laughed a lot and had a twinkle in her eye and was always very kind to me when I was a kid. My grandmother turned 93 on Sunday and I baked her oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies and made some chili for her gift (2 of her favourites). Her eyesight is poor so we all signed her card with a black marker in very big letters and she said that ours was the only one she could read and I felt happy that my kids had the opportunity to hear that-the special little consideration and how important it is. Boring? perhaps. Small? probably. Fantastic? absolutely.
1 comment:
sounds like you've got it where it really counts.
but you already know that.
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