It seems that it’s far easier to get out of the habit of writing than to write every day. Or even every other day. Life has felt busy but as I look at the stacks of holiday cards I need to address I am wondering what exactly I have been doing. I haven’t even made it to rehab this week, though I did pull into the parking lot yesterday before I said, “I just don’t feel like it” and drove on to Walmart to pick up my prescription and then on to see Mom.
I haven’t felt creative. I haven’t felt like pondering big ideas or lightly posting small ones. I am trying to look for the positive in my day, relax some, let go of unrealistic expectations, and yet, I’m spiraling into a lethargic space that looks suspiciously like a rabbit hole. Honestly, I’m not even trying to make the holidays fun, I’m just trying to survive them.
I’ve had big menu plans – I want something different. I was planning on making prime rib (What? $70 for a 2 pound roast? That will be a regular rib roast, thank you.) and au jus, Yorkshire pudding, and Alton Brown’s fruitcake. Is it going to make me any happier? Bah Humbug, why am I questioning this now? None of it is particularly hard to do and yet I’m considering ham and sweet potatoes and a store bought pie.
I need to shake this. If I can’t please anyone else, I can please myself. I can’t fix Mom or make Dad happy. I can say hello and happy Christmas to friends far away and enjoy the small gifts I’ve gotten for those a little more near. I could probably do a little more decorating. I like the tree when it is up, after all.
And I think Stasia is not sick after all. She’s eating again and she had a nice big poop last night. That was yesterday’s positive, by the way. The kitty made a nice big poop.
Links! Everyone is writing about writing this morning. Okay, not everyone but several of the blogs I read. Here are a couple you might enjoy.