So long, haste la vista, adios, arrividerci, sayonara, 2017.
It was nice knowing you, although you were a bit finicky, spiteful and contrary. You also had elements of kindness, fun, laughs and healing.
You saw my weight go down 90, up 30, my vision go from non-driving to driving. You witnessed me getting into good shape, climbing a mountain, and hiking at 10,000 feet, and falling smack dab, on my face on the sidewalk in front of the BP, for crying-out-loud. Splat!
Have you taken the time to go month-through-month of your 2017?
I haven’t, but i am doing it now. Considering I can’t recall what I said two minutes ago, this will be an interesting exercise.
January 2017. I spent most of that month trying to remember that it wasn’t still 2016. I think I recall boaters on Lake Wylie on New Year’s Day. It was that warm. I ate right.
In February, I had Bunco at my house the day before my birthday. My daughter, Andrea, flew down for my birthday and arrived after Bunco was over. She painted the rooster in the banner. She is coming down this month. Can’t wait. I ate right. Didn’t even eat my birthday cake.
What a fool.
March was Nick’s birthday. He got a year older. He was thrilled. Really. I ate right.
This is too hard on my brain so I am skipping. In May, our neighborhood had a block party. It was fun. I was in charge of side-dish contest and cake walk. I walked under the spray from the fire hose.
I ate right.
By then, eyes were messed to point that driving was iffy. I effing ate right.
Oh, in June, we stayed at the farm in Ohio and I had a lovely time. I learned that I could live on a farm with chickens and dogs and space and quiet. I walked a lot. I effing, flipping, ate right.
July brought swimming at the neighborhood pool. Yes, I wore a swimsuit. Yes, I got got one that was like a wet suit that held things in place. It was sort of like having the wizard behind the curtain. I effing, flipping, boringly, ate right. But I did climb King’s Mountain. Oh, and fell on my face.
August brought a trip to Vail, Colorado, a $200.00 winning scratch-off lottery ticket in Denver. The realization that the Rockys are rocky and that I was getting bored with eating right. One day I hiked like a loony bird, thinking I was still 18. Used most swear words that I know. Survived. Had a great time with other people.
Oh nutmeg, September. Eating right was precarious, to say the least. It was our 45th anniversary, with big plans to go to Savannah and Charleston. Hurricane What’s-its-name, blew the palm tree off that plan. Priceline even refunded our hotel. Woohoo. Went on a few day trips and realized how much we still enjoy that. Still, disappointed about Savannah and Charleston. Oh well. Ate my way through it. Told myself that the Titanic went down and that nobody lives forever and that even after losing a lot of weight, I did’t look like I was 18. Dang, hate it when that happens.
Oh, back a few months. Totally enjoyed being outside and in the back yard and screened porch, taking photos of flowers, chatting with friends, and seeing life in a different way. Ate right and walked.
Eye appointments were a constant. Would this procedure work? Would it not?
Cataract removed in October. Made me feel very old. I mean, my dad had cataracts. I am not old, how can I have one? Didn’t eat right. Food hath no fury like a fallen food purist. Effing food.
Helped out at a soup kitchen and saw that life and food mean different things to different people. While I struggle with eating too much, others struggle with being fed, at all.
November brought Thanksgiving with a side of breast cancer … the good kind. Almost cancelled mammogram because I just wasn’t wanting to deal with it. Got a wild burr up my aspirin and got my hai cut and dyed platinum. Nick about nutmegged. He kept his mouth shut.
Although it was a good thought, I haven’t felt like myself since. Trying to figure out next hair move.
What is eating right?
December brought meet-n-greets with oncology surgeons, radiologists and wonderful nurses. I explained my hair to each and every one. Crisis?
December was filled with baking and delivering treats because it made me feel good. The answer to everything was a Texas sheet cake. I delivered to people I knew and didn’t know.
Christmas plans were smacked with illness. Walked into cooties in Cincinnati and left town with them. In between, felt as if my being sick was disappointing a lot of people. Came home … sick. Still sick.
A cold will do what a cold will do.
Was 2017 a year that I want to remain in my craw?
Eh, not particularly. But that sounds a tad too ungrateful, doesn’t it? It was more a year of endurance, concerns and answers that weren’t what I wanted to hear. But it was also a year where there were people and laughs and joy and unexpected events that were the best of life.
Oh, how could I forget when Joy and I baked our buns off to give money to Hurricane What’s-It’s-Name? To feel that feeling of energy and goodwill and people in our neighborhood, rally to help others, was simply beautiful. That and St. Paul’s Soup Kitchen were definitely highlights.
And maybe, that is what the lesson for 2017 was. I am not a complete, joyful person, unless I am striving others. And just thinking about that, and the possibilities to serve in 2018, get me out of my own head, and into the world of kindness, serving and the future. The rest of this stuff, I will just deal with.
And to you, those of you who take your valuable time to read my posts, share what your hearts and experiences, I thank you. Through sickness and health, we march on … one foot in front of the other.
Let’s march into 2018 with zest, zeal and gumption … and help those in need.