One thing about going back through many years of keeping an online journal or blog is that it reminds me of some of the difficult times I’ve gone through–and come out on the other side.
This is a bad time for me, and it’s not just the attack on my website. It’s an ongoing list of things over which I have little to no control. I do have support, and it’s good support. I’m so grateful for that.
Tom and I went nursery shopping a while back and picked out some things to dress up our patio. He filled several large pots with knockout roses. They were fully flowering when we got them, though of course, those petals are gone. Above is one of the first of the newer buds that opened; I’m looking at it as a good sign. I had roses at The Compound, and I’ve missed them. I hope these roses will take hold and thrive here.
Houston’s experiencing drought-like conditions; with luck, we won’t end up with a watering ban. Even if we do, it’ll mostly impact our grass. We’ll have enough gray water to deal with all the new pots we’ve filled. It’s one reason we chose to go with pots instead of trying to spruce up our “flower” beds. I do have a lot of photos I can share… but I’m writing these posts with my site locked down until I can get everything cleaned up. Every post from LJ and WP have been affected (more than 7,000). I’ve finished cleaning up year 2022, and have completed 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. It takes a full day, sometimes more, to do a year, and I still have a household with dogs to take care of, among other things that require attention. I barely have time to look at social media or the news. Maybe it’s for the best; what I do see leaves me despondent (I am so, so, so, so tired of wealthy white men ruining the world). I know that I should be writing, and I hope as I get into a routine, I’ll manage my time better. There’s no TV, no movies, no reading happening right now. No coloring or art.
I feel driven to complete the task of repairing what’s been done to my eighteen years of people and animals, books written and published, and other interests, along with so, so many photos–it’s my life, or the part of it I’ve shared publicly. When you’ve gone through the experience of a parent with Alzheimer’s, you–or at least *I*–know that memories are packed into our identity and sense of place in the world. In moments when my mother couldn’t remember where she was, and sometimes who I was, all I had to do was bring up something from twenty or thirty or fifty years before, and she could remember and talk about that. Even if she sometimes got a few details wrong, she was happy in reliving things as she remembered them, and seeing her happy was enough.
I’ll keep posting every day. Even if no one ever catches up on what they missed, it’s my record so that, once again, when I’m on the other side of all the things that are awry right now, I’ll see that it all worked out.