THOUGHTS THAT SURFACED

Recently I celebrated another birth anniversary--commonly known as a "birthday," although I, like everyone else, have had only one of true "birth day". . . anyway, I celebrated the day of the month on which I was born. It was a quiet day--unhelpful weather so no getting out and about; middle of the week, hardly a time to whoop it up; and the number of my new year is nothing special. (In a few years I'll have one of those numbers that ends in a "0" and makes people say, "Really? You're how old?" And I'll wonder if they're thinking, "Good heavens, I thought she was a lot older than that.")



As an aside--I bought a bunch of birthday greeting cards several weeks ago, ready for the onslaught of family celebrations coming up in the first three months of the year. One has a springer spaniel on the front, in a party hat, of course, and the message: "Wow! People years go by fast!" They do indeed.

This thing we call Time . . . not sure how to think about it nowadays. People, like the above spaniel, say, "Time goes by so fast." Does it really? Does it "go faster" than it used to? Or is that an illusion? Some cosmic sleight-of-hand that whirls the clock hands (or digits) around while our attention is drawn to some other part of this awesome universe?

If you want to experience time in a different way, read some of the short stories or novels of Jack Finney. They're science fiction, yes; but they're entertaining; they're engaging; and they suck you into the story before you realize it and once you've swallowed the premise that this world operates in this way, you're in for a treat. Finney's stories are easy to read, there's humor there, and the twist at the end  . . . . Well, just read some for yourself. The best ones are about time: Time and Again, From Time to Time, and so on.

Back to Time as we experience it--. Since this winter has been another one of those cabin-fever producing seasons, I noticed that days looked almost exactly alike. Which makes it hard to distinguish Monday from Thursday or Tuesday from Wednesday. On days I could actually get out of my driveway, or felt like wearing everything in my coat closet to keep warm and covered, I tried to maintain my personal Calendar of Events--Monday, sewing with Jane; Tuesday, shopping, etc. 

A few days ago I thought we might be in for an extended warm spell--what we affectionately call The January Thaw. Well, okay, stuff thawed. Ice build-up at the end of the driveway turned to its liquid state, and grass turned green again. But I wasn't prepared for the warm moist air to hover above the cold earth in a dense cloud. Fog, fog, fog. Deep, dense; enough to cause the weather people to issue weather advisory statements. And as I couldn't see much beyond the house across the street, I heeded the statements and stayed home.

Thus the third Sunday of January went by and I again didn't get to church due to weather. Also, two Fridays had passed us by and no sewing group met, again due to cold temps and high winds.

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With the universal human trait of perversity, not getting out to go places has come to feel like deprivation. Yet, there's always good advice to be had:

Snowed in? Read a book! 

Too icy to get out? Make tea and play solitaire! 

Wind too strong for easy breathing? Stay in and sew/knit/clean house/cook/listen to music/write letters/email everybody on your contacts list . . . .

Nothing appeals. Not after the third or fourth week.

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Confession: I've turned into a reader, not a writer. Three partial manuscripts lounge around in my computer, novels ready/willing to be finished. One is two-thirds along toward the end. It's a story I like, the characters are people I'd like to know, the conflict is altogether human and understandable, and to top it all off--I know how it ends!! But I can't seem to write.

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This is the time of year when I wish I could hibernate--sleep away the next couple of months until buds appear on trees, grass revives, birds waken the dawn, and us hibernated creatures yawn, stretch, and amble out of our caves for a breath of Spring.

Instead--I'm stuck with Winter, and with trying to make these days/weeks/months of inactivity into a blessing. 

This is a challenge, for sure. I'll be working on it for another, say, 60 days.

In the meantime, keep your spirits up--find your own way to survive cabin fever (if you have it), share some of your wisdom with the rest of us who desperately need it.

Make it a blessed week!