On Sunday I braved some frigid, frigid temps to go to Michael’s and buy yarn. So much yarn.
So very much yarn.
In my defense, I had a great coupon. And the yarn was on sale. But purchases beget other purchases and now I need something in which to store all that yarn.
I did get a reusable shopping bag where I have the yarn for the project I’m crocheting right now, and it’s got a zebra with a crown of flowers and I ask you, how does a person resist such a thing?
Besides, right now, crochet is a thing that I need. There are worse habits to feed.
It’s still frigid, but it’s gleaming outside like an ice cube, the sky a bright, cool blue except at the horizon, where even now there’s a faint band of color. Maybe the sun didn’t feel like getting up this morning.
I get it.
This is January in Chicago, determined sunshine with no warmth at all, and it’s its own kind of beautiful.
Less beautiful is the state of my manuscript, so I’m going to get on to that. I hope you have a fabulous Tuesday.
And by joint I mean slang from early last century, not the marijuana kind, even though that would be perfectly legal here in Illinois. Not my thing but you do you. With the blessing of the Illinois state legislature.
Well, that’s a tangent I didn’t expect to take this morning. No, here on this particular Monday, on this day of remembering the great Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr,. I am raring to go.
Because here’s the thing. When he started, he had so much further to go than we have to go. When he started, the people before him had even further to go. And the people before that came here in chains, against their will, eventually to be decreed 3/5ths of a person.
Just think about that.
But here we are in a future full of robots who can vacuum your floor and cars wanting to drive themselves and more information within our grasp than any human could conceive. We can speak and be heard.
Dr. King’s legacy isn’t just the remarkable things he did. His legacy lies in what he showed us we could do.
And with that thought, I feel renewed to face the wilds ahead. These are tough times, but there have been tough times before. Oppression’s win is in our resignation to it.
So you may have made a fitness goal to usher in this impossible-sounding year, 2020. Or you’ve been dabbling in fitness for a while. Or you’re a regular exerciser.
No matter where you are with fitness, the days–or the weeks, because sometimes it’s weeks–will come when you just don’t wanna. At all.
Maybe that exercise glow isn’t as strong. Maybe you’re achy. Or maybe your couch/bed is calling.
Only you know whether it’s a can’t or don’t wanna situation.
Pushing through those don’t wannas, even if you whine the whole time you’re doing it, gives you a special sense of accomplishment. Pushing through those don’t wannas, knowing there are times they will beckon far more loudly than the “you can do its” makes you feel like you’ve climbed a mountain, even if your workout is climbing mountains.
Then it’s like climbing two mountains.
Sometimes I think of exercise as medicine it takes 30 minutes to ingest. And I always, always, always feel better afterward.
Even if I don’t wanna.
Especially if I don’t wanna.
And this is after a week of don’t wanna. And here’s the thing about that: eventually you turn the corner and wanna. And you’ve stuck with it.
And that’s pretty cool.
Anyway, have a great Wednesday. Maybe get in a workout, if you’re able.
Still in Grayville over here. Looks warmer, though; most of the snow is gone, patches of a color more green than it should be in January now bigger than the white ones.
I’m drinking my coffee but not drinking it enough, I think, I’m still woolly-headed and my alarm sliced through the very middle of a dream.
A busy dream.
Busy with what, I don’t know. I also don’t know why I can’t just have dreams that involve sitting quietly somewhere pleasant. That seems relaxing.
Editing went not too terribly yesterday, though it did highlight how many problems I have earlier in the manuscript. But that’s what getting your hands dirty, getting up to your elbows in the muck of the mess of the manuscript, is all about.
Or so I tell myself. For me, it’s the hardest part.
Anyway, I’m going to Tuesday my own Tuesday, and you have a terrific one yourself.
Usually, when you hear the word “wintering” you think of people flitting off to somewhere warm, usually Florida, to wait out the frigid months somewhere cold, like Chicago.
Well, I’m not doing that.
No, I’m wintering in winter. It was slow this year but it did arrive, snowy, windy baggage in hand, and here I am, looking out at a landscape that is a stark arrangement of whites to grays to blacks. Not a speck of color to be seen.
This weekend I cozied it up as best I could, as it was chilly inside and out. I baked and crocheted and I don’t know who this person is but she can keep me warm and full of sugary goodness so I’d count that as a win.
And now that we’re firmly into January, my mind turns to those writing projects so very neglected. Editing, my friends.
So much editing.
That will be my Monday, and I hope your Monday is as glorious as any Monday has a right to be.