Steven's Journal

For the last 35 years (well, not the last two), the town we live in has held "Light Up" which falls coincidentally on US Thanksgiving. They shut the main drag down, have music and food trucks and hot chocolate and and and... Santa comes at about 6:30 and flips the switch to light up the town. Every building, every tree, every light standard, and lights strung back and forth across the road for a mile are lit up. 300,000 lights. Then there's a parade and the lighting up of a gigantic live Christmas Tree. I assume thy hired an army of squirrels to decorate that one. Then there's fireworks. Oh my there's a lot of them, about 20 minutes worth and enough to scare dogs, cats and a few adults.

We are a small town, roughly 10,000 people. You almost know everyone here, and people have been talking this up for months now.

At any rate the missus and I wandered down (15 minutes downhill, 25 minutes back uphill!) to see what the arts and crafts fair was about, then went home and came back for the parade.

Basically it was BEEEG Trucks lit up, and lots of kids dressed up, and fun. 15,000 people came in to town for it all. It did the heart good.

So... nothing more to report than to say that sometimes it's the small stuff that gets you up and going. I hope you're all having a great weekend with family and friends and those of you who are in need of recovery wishes... here's some fireworks for you.

I can get to feeling sorry about myself. I’m good at that. I knew that surgery is an inevitability but year after year the ball kept getting kicked forward and I got used to not having to look at It squarely in the face.

When we moved out here in 2021 the housing market was insane. We basically flipped houses for one half the size as our old one and although it had good bones we spent from July 2021 until today working our tails off on it with still more left to do. We’ve learned that when you’re in a more rural area you have to do things for yourself as tradespeople are rarer out here in the boonies. Walls came down, workshops demolished and new ones constructed, closets built, rooms redone, soffit here, fascia there, doors removed, stucco, the list is a mile long. What I didn’t know how to do we learned, and we managed, but it was hard work that we gladly undertook to make our “forever” home a reality.

And so when the news that my cardiologist was passing me along to my surgeon for “action” came I was thrown for more of a loop than I’d anticipated. What? Now? But hadn’t I known that this day was coming? But… but… but… we haven’t had time to settle in yet. We haven’t had time to really enjoy this place, to make connections, to just “be”. I wanted to get stuff done before I had to face the knife. Isn’t it always the case though that we’re not quite ready for something like surgery?

Last weekend I put the finishing touches to some silk pursing I had undertaken, you know, making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? It is a breezeway to an extension that is solid but badly designed and executed by a previous owner. Nothing is plumb, level or true. It had an exterior door (!) that couldn’t open because the space is too narrow, the wall board was badly mudded, it just was ugly. At any rate I did what I could to make do and the last touch was adding a bit of wainscot to hide some nastiness after I’d replaced the door with a window and repaired the mudding. When I came home yesterday from the trip to the big city for the angiogram I looked at the breezeway, now elevated from “ugly” to “quirky” and felt… at home. There was a fire in the wood stove and I was with the love of my life and supper was warming up.

A song by Carly Simon (I am THAT old) came to mind. There’s a refrain in “Anticipation” that reads “These are the good old days…” The whole song actually speaks to me, but that line keeps echoing in my cranium. It tells me to be present in the now, to realize that what I have now is precious and not to put off feeling satisfied for some future time. And the surgery? Well just like the renos, we'll figure out what needs to be done as we get there.

Oh yeah, there’s a bathroom to be done and that roof is looking like it needs new shingles. What of it? There’s always something, but these are the good old days. And when that surgeon calls I’ll be ready and content.