Inflatable Sheep

Sorry to have been so quiet the past few weeks. All is well. Ever since I broke my leg in May, I've been going through an internal taking stock of my life. My upcoming ten years on the Web has had me thinking about what I've accomplished versus what I want to accomplish. I turned 53 last Friday which had me thinking of how many more birthdays are to come, what do I want to see/do before I go.

I work hard. I love my work. I love new things. I love a certain security also. But trying to keep up is not as fun as it used to be. More of a grind than an exciting challenge. Working all day for my bread and butter, working all holidays and weekends to keep my business going, to keep my website alive*I'm feeling more wrung out than filled up. I realize that part of this could be that pain-in-the-butt menopause thing I'm existing through, but it feels like more. I'm even considering shutting down my business. Feels scary to contemplate, but there it is.

I used to bounce off every new direction I thought I could go when faced with this ennui. Older and wiser now, I'm taking a different approach. I'm trying to stay still. Still inside. Which is very hard for me to do. I have some internal mechanism that just keeps on ticking; it's not a manic ticking, but a steady non-stopping kind of ticking that only temporarily stops when I fall asleep.

Some people meditate to relax. Me, watering the grass is as close to meditation as I get. However, with fall coming on and less grass to water, I bought skeins of pretty colored yarn yesterday. Several years of not lifting a sewing hand and I'm about to crochet an afghan for my bedroom. Maybe by the time I finish it, I will have things sorted out. But given my past record on finishing up sewing project, I have a better chance of sorting things out than finishing the afghan.

“Humanity, I think, is what fills the little gaps between all the broken shit, all the breaking, and all the plans, schematics, graphics and orders. It's the sand slipping out of grasping fingers. It's our instinct without progress as a motivator. It's who we are when we concentrate on being more than doing.” —Thomas Strickland