There's a lot worrying me these days. Our building may need substantial, expensive work. Or maybe it doesn't. We're awaiting information from the local government about structural problems with the building next door. It could be that their issues have nothing to do with us, but if they do and if it's warranted we're going to commission an architectural study, and if that study reveals problems, we'll have to investigate the scope and expense of repairs. That's a lot of "ifs" right there. That's a lot of "wait and see." I'm not built for "ifs" and "wait and see," so I'm anxious and obsessed and scared.
I'm upset about the fire. (See post below.) It not only makes me sad for the people who lost their livelihoods and homes, it fuels my feelings of impermanence and danger, right here in my own home.
But it's Thanksgiving. I don't want to lose sight of the blessings of today because of worry about "if" and "wait and see."
• First of all, I'm getting together with John and Gregory for our Friendsgiving feast. Because of covid, we were on our own last year and it was sad. So I'm thankful the three of us all are all triple-shot, that President Biden is leading us with science and not tales of hydroxychloroquine and bleach remedies, and that our neighborhoods and nation are coming out of our coronavirus cocoon.
• I feel good. Nerves and worry aside, I'm rather strong. Two of my friends -- contemporaries! -- actually use canes on a regular basis. Not this gal. I'm grateful for that.
• I can afford care. I have a doctor I trust and thanks to my insurance, I talk to a shrink regularly to help me deal with the nerves and worry. Not everyone can afford these things.
• My niece and nephew are both happy. I love those two to the moon and back, and I'm happy that they're settling well into adulthood. My niece is not only happy with her new husband (one year in October), she has been accepted by his vast and loving family. This is important to me, because she and her mother (my sister) have clashed mightily over the years and I'm glad she has this support. It has also somehow alleviated the stress between mother and daughter, which makes me happy. My nephew is about to graduate from college and tells me has "exciting" news to share with me in a few weeks when he's home for Christmas break. Since patience is not a virtue I possess, I want to know NOW but he says he has to see my face when he tells me. Does he have a good job lined up? Does he have a girl to introduce me to? Is he changing his career path to teaching? Does he have an autographed Anthony Rizzo baseball? Whatever it is, I'm grateful that he's happy and wants to share his joy with me.
• Roy Hobbs has integrated himself into our household. I still miss Reynaldo with my whole heart, but that's the thing about hearts -- they can expand to allow more love in. While he and my Connie Cat are not yet buddies, they co-exist very comfortably and she seems to like having him here. For his part, he's settled in and is quite happy. (Though he finds every closed cabinet and door a challenge.)
• I'm happier at work than I've been in years. My new boss, Aaron, and I have been clashing lately and you know what? It's good and healthy. We respect one another and appreciate one another. A new experience for me! I have help now, too. Rita just started on Monday. She's madly enthusiastic and eager to take as much off my plate as I'll give her. (Of course, as luck would have it, much of the crunch ended on the very day she started. Isn't that how life works?)
• I have friends, real and cyber. For the ones in my life, and for the ones who comment on this blog (I read them; thank you!), I am so grateful.
• I'm still a fan girl. I'm going to watch the first installment of Get Back today before I go off to meet John and Gregory. I'm so grateful that the Lads still bring me joy after all these decades, and feel sorry for people who don't have a similar passion in their lives.
I feel better for having written this. So I'm grateful God gave me the gift of words, and I'm thankful to everyone who reads them.
