My favourite recent photo of Catherine and I. We were out revisiting our first date and the sun was so hot, but, not nearly as hot as that day in August when we first met.
I have been very tired, lately.
The heat and humidity means,
I don’t sleep well.
There was the whole week,
with George having his issues,
Btw, he is 100 percent recovered and his new food should keep these issues from recurring, phew
and generally I think I need a vacation,
I am not as young as I used to be.
Don’t get me wrong,
I am very happy,
I appreciate all that I have.
I think I am very lucky,
to have found someone,
like Catherine,
a fun, kind, nurturing,
loving and sexy woman.
Love in my late fifties,
is so very different,
because, I am different,
I appreciate more,
I laugh more,
I love more,
I have grown,
through the good,
through the bad,
these are wonderful years.
In spite of all the positives,
there are also,
the negatives,
the old bod,
doesn’t handle the abuse,
as well as it used to.
I can’t concentrate like I used to.
I find myself looking ahead,
thinking of retirement,
which, let’s face it, in the greater scheme of things is not that far off. I am fifty-seven after all.
I look ahead,
what will I do?
How will I supplement my pension?
What sort of volunteering?
What new skills will I attempt to acquire?
What hobbies will I indulge in?
I have taken up painting,
and ceramics has always,
interested me,
will I finally learn a musical instrument?
Ballroom dancing?
Which European countries,
must I absolutely visit?
This one is easy-Scotland and France, specifically Edinburgh, Glasgow, the Highlands, Paris and Aix-En-Provence.
Also, I think of books,
the ones I still want to read,
the ones I dream of writing.
More and more I think,
about turning parts of this blog,
into a book,
maybe even a few,
letters to my mother,
odes to my beautiful ugly,
elements of butch style etc.
My mom, the year before she,
retired,
bought the first three volumes,
of Proust.
She had them for years,
had plenty of time to read them,
but, didn’t.
Earlier, I went to ‘her’ bookcase,
and took down the paperback copy,
of,
Du Cote De Chez Swann,
the first volume of,
A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu,
at page 111,
there was a yellowed note,
in her hand,
the titles of all the volumes,
in order.
I don’t know if that means,
she made it to page 111,
and stopped,
I doubt it,
I think she just stuck,
the list somewhere in the book.
It makes me feel,
strange,
when I find something,
unexpected in mom’s handwriting,
which is as distinctive as her face.
So, I put the book,
on top of my to read,
pile.
I am not saying I will read all,
seven volumes,
but, I am saying I will read this one,
for mom.
These are some of my current,
thoughts and musings.
Be well you all.
Later girls,
BB
