I’m waiting for my butter to come to room temperature. I’m having people over for brunch tomorrow and I need to get out of my pajamas and start cooking. I guess I don’t really need to get out of my pajamas to cook, but I feel like it might help me feel more like a participant of the day. But before I get to that point, I have this practice, this daily practice of doing some exercise, a very short meditation, then some writing. I write to try and inspire myself into writing more, it doesn’t always work. But I enjoy it nonetheless. Anyway, anyway, I sit here in my chair every day while I do these writing, meditation type things. All of this background means absolutely nothing. What I wanted to share is while I am waiting for my butter to come to room temperature, I was looking around the room, as I often do while sitting here, and then I twist my neck to look out of my big picture windows and there were big snowflakes coming down. And I thought to myself “I love my life” – I mean I just LOVE my life. I love my apartment. I love sitting in this chair and looking across the room at whatever is over there. I love looking out the window at the view or the weather. I love this chair. I love my life. I cannot stress this enough. There is something about the feeling like I deserve this rest, this retirement. I remember one time being out of work, this was even before Jimmy was born (so over 30 years ago) where I was on vacation but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right because I wasn’t working and I didn’t feel like I really deserved a vacation. Like the normal way of feeling when you can’t wait to get away from work for a week. It was not the same. I’ve gotten over this in subsequent years, but for this particular purpose I am thinking that these feelings of loving my life so much, post-retirement, is because I feel like I deserve it. I worked so freaking hard just to maintain life, just to pay the bills, just to get to the weekend, just to have a vacation just to be a member of society, and to what end? I mean what end? The answer, to retirement. The best thing about my work experience was the friends I made to which I am forever thankful, or this retirement would REALLY be lonely. I would even go so far to say that about 90% of my friends I have, have been made through some type of work connection. Even Diane. We met at Secretary school where we were learning about working! Yes, I have highschool and college friends (and church friend) but 90% are work related. So to say that my working years were a waste would be a lie. But the point of this waiting for butter blog is just to share, once again, how much I love my life. I think the last 657 posts have mostly been about struggling to find my way so I thought I’d mix it up and keep sharing my good fortune, and I don’t mean fortune in monetary terms, but I feel so fortunate to sit in this chair, look across the room, look out the window and say to myself “I love my life.” Every day I say this. Every day.
Alright, that’s enough of that. Now onto dressing in real clothes, creaming butter and sugar together and seeing if my pie crusts work or if I have to go quickly to the store and buy store bought crusts. Whatever happens it will be wonderful.
xoxoxoxo
PS – this blog was written at a previous time. I’m experimenting with delayed posting. Although I am guaranteed to still love my life when this posts, the brunch and pie crust dilemma will be over and it may or may not be snowing.
Well, did the pie crust work??
Well, ya know, it was delicious BUT I have yet to figure out how to make it big enough to make those fluted edges. It’s never quite big enough. Thanks for asking ❤️