Chance encounters

Combo post, where I also show you my "plantio" - ha

While I was re-doing the pavers in the red rocks area, I also made a small plant patio (plantio) for the terra cotta pots I wanted to group together.

They get the perfect ratio of sun and shade here.  See that tall pretty pink bloom in the background?

I was walking into HEB and a woman rushed up to me with this potted plant saying "Look what I bought!" - just like she knew me. She took the plastic tag out of it to show me, and pointed down the sidewalk where they were displayed.  I thought, well, that's pretty, and I do have an empty pot.  So I walked down there and picked one out.  Immediately another lady came up to me asking where I found it. I pointed to the display and yet ANOTHER woman stopped me about it as I was walking away.  Weird.  Usually no one pays me any mind at HEB.

Its a Curcuma, a type of tropical lily, from the ginger family.  Apparently it loves the heat and will bloom all summer long, indoors or out. (the rocks at its base make it harder for the squirrels to dig)

Another person inside the store commented on it, as well as a woman in the parking lot.  I thought "do I look extra nice today? (I did not) Was it because I was smiling and looking people in the eye? (again, no)  Maybe I haven't been grocery shopping at the right time of day, because it felt very nice to have friendly interactions with strangers. It gave a little boost to my afternoon, frankly, and makes me think that I can reciprocate and will meet people.  Its not scary or terrible - it's doable.  I need to get out more often and initiate more chance encounters.  Life is not meant to be lived alone, they say.

Happy Things for Summer 2026

 Like Monty Python would say; "and now for something completely different".

I love the way the late afternoon sun looks in this room as I read

I am feeling physically and mentally better.

My yards loved the rain - I have healthy looking shrubs out front, including the Crepe Myrtle that I was so worried about last summer.

Took a solo beach vacay.

Working on home projects that spark creativity and create cozy.

Reading good books for two book clubs, and just for me.

Getting regular pedicures and side trips to a winery.

Giving myself more breaks from cooking - leaving the oven off.

Planning a family meal for July.

Focusing on my "best life" goals.

Overall, I feel like I am in a healthier place than I was last summer.  No big worries with the kids, money, or the house. All of my spaces have been refreshed and made to accommodate my comfort. I have a list of things to work on, but I am not pushing myself with time and energy. Looks like summer will be a scorcher so I will prioritize water, relaxation, and self-care.  Right now, life feels good! 

That old familiar feeling

I was telling a friend of mine that every overworked mom reaches a point where she needs a break.  Maybe she doesn't want to continue being not only a breadwinner, but chief cook, cleaner, laundress, and admin.  Maybe she needs a hot shower, a nap, and someone else to pull the load for a bit.

That break never seemed to come for me.  And rather than rock the boat too hard, I just kept doing what I knew I was good at.  Then after Mark died, I found I felt super angry about having to cook for myself.  I tried easy meals, or cooking one big batch of something, or just making sandwiches.  But every time, I felt like I still wasn't getting a break.  And never would.

even simple meals make me feel mad

The male therapist I was talking to (before the current one) said "yeah, but now you can eat whatever you want".  But I was doing that anyway and I still have to do the work: making a menu and list, shopping, schlepping, storing, preparing, serving, loading the dishwasher.  Why did I take it all on?  Maybe it was my love language, or a trade-off for peace in the house.

My question is: when was it going to be my turn to be cared for?  There has never been a time that someone took care of adult me by providing me with meals.  I even made lunches for Mark when he was working from home.  (and to be fair, he did thank me often)  I have so much built up resentment and anger about it.  I feel like I created, or at least contributed, to the problem.

Sitting in my kitchen yesterday, thinking about what I was going to pack for meals over the weekend made me so mad I cried.  So I really need to try to figure this out for myself.  Something tells me its a bigger issue than just cooking.  But for the rest of the summer, I am dropping down to cooking meals for myself only two days a week. 

I am determined to get to the heart of this and resolve it.

Living my best life

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about what kind of life I want to live. Rather than be stuck in survival mode, I would like to actually thrive and enjoy what life has to offer me now.  There's no sense in fighting reality.  But I can make changes to steer life where I want to go.

So here's what "living your best life" goals look like for me.

Getting enough good sleep and a slow start to each day with my coffee.

Taking care of my body and mind. Showing myself love.

Eating foods that make me feel good and cooking simple meals.

Eliminating too many possessions, toxic people, rumination, guilt, and excessive crying from my life.

Putting my home in order and creating spaces that are comfortable.

Taking care of my bills and responsibilities. Making informed choices.

Leisure to pursue hobbies and interests.

Feeling hopeful, engaged with life and others.

Companionship - life is not meant to be lived alone.

Stuff that makes me mad

     Background:  When I was about 21, my mother decided to move from Galveston to Victoria, get an apartment, and take a new job in dang near the middle of the summer.  I was home on summer break from college, but the timing of how I was going to get my stuff from Galveston back to my furnished student apartment in San Marcos did not concern her.  Nor how I was going to live in a totally empty house by myself until time to return to college.  She just loaded up her stuff and said bye, in the middle of a hurricane, no less.  Mind you, I did not even have a car.  (and back then, no one had computers or cell phones)  I did, however, have Mark, who would also be returning to Texas State.  I had to leave or toss most of my belongings - it could not all come with me, and Mom wasn't going to move or store it for me.  Same for my cat, which I had to abandon in Galveston.  When Mark's mother got wind of my situation, she was appalled.  She insisted I stay on their fold out couch in her back bedroom. This was for about 2 weeks, at the end of which Mark borrowed his boss's old work van and we loaded it and hit the road, ending our last summer ever in Galveston. 

     Now:  Wanting to do this differently, I have stored all of my kids' things for many years, in those big plastic bins, out in my garage.  I have reminded them to come look through them, to see what they wanted to keep or toss.  (friend, my "kids" are in their 30's)  Lovingly stored are their yearbooks, uniforms, karate belts, summer reading totes, baby teeth, toys, pre-K art, and other mementos of their childhoods, not mine. And you know - I kind of feel over it at this point, but I wanted to be respectful of their right to their stuff.  I get that they might not have the emotional capacity to deal with it.  But can we talk about my struggles these last 4.5 years as a full-time working woman and widow who is nearing retirement and was left with our clutter and possessions to deal with alone?  I don't think my mom had that same journey, though I can appreciate that she was arranging things by herself, as well.   But am I just a storage unit?  I have a lot of guilt over this - maybe I burdened my peeps with too much stuff.

The situation I created  kind of pisses me off.

Text messages

Sometimes I scroll through old text messages between me and Mark, especially when I am really missing him and longing to have a conversation with him.  Occasionally when he was at work, I would call him - he didn't seem to mind it.  He was always the first person I thought of when I wanted to talk to someone.  I would call him the minute I left Mom's house and he would help ground me in my own safe and loved bubble of reality. (visiting mom could do a number on me) 

 But I feel like we really didn't get enough talking time. 

I bet every widow feels that.

cheers!

The last text messages we exchanged will live in my phone forever.  They are proof of life.  We would talk about what the weekend's weather was going to be like as we made our plans.  Or talk about our lunch that day.  Around the time of Covid, he would text me about when and where he was getting the first shot, then the second, then "when are you getting your jab?"  He was worried about it.  I would remind him to turn the crockpot to warm, or tell him I was picking up take-out because I didn't feel like cooking dinner.  To ask him what he thought about me taking on over-time hours at work, or remind him that I was on call this weekend.  To let him know I was running late because of traffic.  And the very last two texts were me asking him if we could go somewhere to drink a beer instead of staying in that Friday evening.  He never replied.  I sent the text at 4:48 p.m., less than an hour before he would die suddenly of a massive heart attack.

Sometimes I imagine his response.

"yeah, I'm down with that.  Dinner at Rancho?  Whataburger?  you call it."

I'm going to top off the grass, get a shower, then I'll be ready to boogie!"

"see you when you get here, girlfriend!"

People who like to piss in your cornflakes

 I told someone that I had joined a wine club and the response was "don't ruin your liver", and "just don't be a drunk".  Mark would've called this "pissing in your cornflakes".

So....Brigid and I will teleport there?

It goes without saying that I am not on a mission to do either.

But the issue here is having people in my life who bring a negative slant to my wish to live a varied and interesting life, full of new people and places.  I am a widow who is finding her way in this world as a single person for the first time in 39 years.  Let me live!

And not to justify, but the addition of the wine club satisfies a longing in me I didn't know I had.  Not just a reclaiming of visiting wineries and relaxing on a day off outside of my normal schedule, but a place to decompress and unwind doing absolutely nothing at all if I wish.  It was something I loved to do with Mark, but now I will make it my own.

I probably need to share far less with others, in general.  Vulnerability can have an upside, but also drawbacks.  It is OK to forge ahead with what brings me happiness and joy, regardless of what anyone else prefers. Its Ok to make a life that is separate and unique to me as I figure out who I am and what makes me jazzed about the day.

And its 100% OK to drive out to the country, put your feet up, and stare off into the distance or journal, with a glass of wine in your hand.