Second Saturday

Today is like a second Saturday. Thursday, Thanksgiving, was like a Sunday: religious aspect (giving thanks) and big mid-day dinner. Yesterday, Friday, was like Saturday: nothing scheduled. And today is like another Saturday, plus it actually is Saturday.

I have have two kinds of Saturdays. One is the usual: sleep in, intend to do housework but then read and play on the computer all day (possibly with a nap included somewhere). I always justify this Saturday by the fact that I'm worn out by the work week. Yesterday was that type of (pseudo) Saturday. I'm hoping today is the rarer kind: actually carry out my intentions of housework.

The more I can get straightened up today, the better. Tomorrow, of course, is the real Sunday. I generally spend Sunday afternoon at my sister-in-law's house, having the big mid-day meal and then either doing needlework, or just chatting.

Then comes Monday, which would be going-back-to work day, but I scheduled a vacation day. My sister-in-law is coming over and we will do more on the really long, slow project of unpacking and organizing my belongings. I moved back into my house after water-damage repairs in March 2018, and I am still working at it. I don't get much done on my "usual" Saturdays, and forget about weekday evenings.

The only real progress takes place when I schedule a vacation day for this specific purpose. Even then, progress only happens because my sister-in-law comes over and works with me. She keeps me upbeat and focused. She takes away the empty boxes and paper (at least 50% of the area of each box is occupied by crumpled up butcher paper)—otherwise, the clutter issue becomes worse as I unpack, instead of better.

If I can get some cleaning done today, then when she comes we can do more of the actual unpacking without first having to do cleaning.

Also, Amazon had a Black Friday special yesterday and I ordered a Roomba. It's scheduled to be delivered Monday. So, if I have most of the floor space cleared, I can start using that and hopefully have better cleaning maintenance than I have up till now.

Anyway, here's a picture of the wonderful lady who keeps me from getting buried under clutter, mess, and boxes. I don't mention her name, because she is a very private person.



Oh, one more motive for cleaning up is that tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent, and I want to set up my Advent wreath. It would not look pretty in the middle of a mess, so I'll be trying to make my living room worthy of its presence.

Give thanks

Today is Thanksgiving. I had dinner with my sister-in-law, my niece and her husband, and their four children. Two of the "children" are adults now. The other two are teenagers. It was a nice time together. Good food, good company, as they say.

It was a chilly day. We're having some gusty winds and cold temperatures. It was sunny, though. A pretty day.

Thanksgiving marks the beginning of Christmas season in the popular culture here in the U.S. Several of my neighbors have Christmas lights up. I imagine more will put them up tomorrow. For several weeks, my nighttime drives will be brightened by the display.

I had two firsts of my own for the holiday season. I drank my first glass of eggnog (with a dollop of whiskey), and I listened to Handel's Messiah for the first time. Eggnog starts showing up in stores around Halloween already. I love eggnog immoderately, so I make myself wait until Thanksgiving to start having any. As to the Messiah, perhaps I misspoke to say I listened to it, because I slept through much of it. That tryptophan coma, you know. I dozed off in "Comfort ye my people" and woke up at "All they that see him laugh him to scorn." So I was able to hear the trumpet solo, and the Hallelujah Chorus, and the rest.

So, a quiet, pleasant day. Now I still have days off ahead of me. I love a loooong weekend.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When I link a blog entry to Facebook, I don't like how the first sentence or first few words show up there. So I'm putting in these two sentences as space filler.

Well, I guess I had a recrudescence of anxiety, or depression, or whatever. I like the word "recrudescence." It's like I had crud, then it cleared up, but now it's cruddy again. Kind of gross, actually. I don't feel cruddy at this moment. It was more that, as autumn moved in, I started having trouble waking up in the morning and getting out of bed when I did wake up, and throughout the day I would feel sad, almost tearful, from time to time for no reason. And when I thought about blogging, I would feel anxious. It came and went.

I am (or at least I think I am) a high-functioning depressive. I don't think people I meet and interact with would leave the encounter thinking, Now, there's an unhappy person. Actually a lot of the time I don't feel depressed because I don't feel it. I put a lid on it, and the top layer of my consciousness goes along as though what's under the lid doesn't exist.

And this autumn's downer is not a pervasive as some depressions I've had. It's a mild attack.

I guess I'm just trying to explain why I disappeared from this blog, and perhaps some other parts of my life, for a little while, but not wanting to make my friends and loved ones worry about me.

Almost all the time, there's some level of depression down in me somewhere. It ebbs and flows, like the tide, or it rises and falls, like the creek behind my house. Yes, I like that one. And sometimes it overflows its banks, like the creek does every few years, and covers its flood plain. My house sits higher and has never had the flood waters touch it, and maybe part of my mind is above the flood, too. It doesn't overwhelm me, it just flows along, sometimes low and slow, sometimes high and fast, and only occasionally out of bounds. So the water has risen, but there's no imminent danger of flooding.

I'm safe and dry. Don't worry.

The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you. — Frederick Buechner

It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are—even if we tell it only to ourselves—because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier that way to see where we have been in our lives and where we are going. It also makes it easier for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own, and exchanges like that have a lot to do with what being a family is all about and what being human is all about. — Frederick Buechner