Ten-Finger Exercises

the apres vacation blahs

Yes, we had a wonderful time. Sorry I can't get more excited about it at the moment. My jaded nature has the upper hand tonight. I'm tired, and we both caught some bug John had and brought it home with us.

Yes, the baby was an amazing little soul, so different from my babies and their babies. He has such black hair, and even the backs of his ears are hairy. Now I don't want to offend anyone, but, as a species, three-week old babies aren't all that much fun. They nurse, and they sleep. Some of them cry. Mine did. This one doesn't get much chance to. His parents don't know a lot about babies, and "the book says" they should eat every two hours or so, play a little and then sleep. The parents are distressed that it doesn't work quite that way. They're used to a life they have control over. Well, ha!

Ordinarily, the sight of palm trees thrills me, and the tall oak trees with the Spanish moss. I guess they still affected me that way, but I was inside most of the time. I petted the dogs, who are feeling left out; and I did some laundry, and some grocery shopping, and read a couple of books. Bill played games with his son John on the Play Station 3, and helped with some plumbing and wiring and other manly chores. I baked Elizabeth a birthday cake, and we went shopping and out to eat many times.

It was lovely to be with them, and I wish we could see them more often, but Florida is clear across the country from us. We got up at 3:30 a.m. to get to the plane, and arrived in Jacksonville three airports later in time for bed. Coming home, we opened our front door at 10 p.m., which is 1 a.m. Florida time; even though I got a good 9 hours of sleep, I'm pooped. I'm tired of traveling, tired of shopping, tired of eating out, tired of spending money. Just plain (plane?) tired. Tired of being in somebody else's world.

If I could have done anything I wanted today, I don't know what it would have been. That isn't a happy feeling. I didn't have time to really dig into anything and see it completed, no sense of satisfaction at getting the suitcases emptied and back downstairs, or the laundry done and put away.

It was a foggy day, and after reading a good poem in the blog of a friend, I began to try to think of some words to describe how I felt as I drove toward town to go to work.

"The day was stuffed with fog and mush, and I, undone by things undone, was captive in a paper bag of gloom."

I didn't get any farther with it, but by then I was having a good time. In the thick fog, I noticed one of the nurseries along the highway, looking drab in its midwinter, not-in-season way, all boards and pipes and muddy ruts. And then I saw the palettes of primroses, cheerfully alive; and I remembered, from somewhere, that God is in the Now.