The last few weeks have been like this. Quite likely, for you, too. In fact, from the looks of things while scanning headlines, the world, in general, has been living a whack a mole game from or with the energies or angels or astrology or life (take your pick) much the same way. Most more drastically than mine.
I remember playing the game when my grandson was young and we’d take a trip to Chunk E Cheese. He always won.
I’m on my own this time.
Today, for the first time in weeks, months maybe but I don’t want to look back at the calendar as it will only produce my usual, “Mercy!” which is what my mother used to say, I have four free days with no appointments. Four!!
I have three saved blog ideas/starts from the past few weeks but, obviously, haven’t written. You have no idea how many mole heads I had to bop just to find an image I could use for this post! It’s an endless game.
I have set up and taught the first class for the online Memoir and Personal Essay workshop. Talk about moles to bop in learning and setting up that one! Including downloading an app on my phone so I could record the audio only to learn the files are too large to send. But they do go directly to my Dropbox. There’s that. However, I forgot to put on my ear bud for the first class, on which the app was set to record from, so I had blank audio files and had to redo. Another mole that WOULD NOT stay bopped. But I got ‘im.
And we, husband and I, have completed yearly physicals because that’s the time of year it is and all the attendant blood work and the attendant (fill in the blank) of one thing or another except for the last one this coming Tuesday when my free days end with a rousing full one to maneuver. And then there was all the other stuff, the summer classes he does, the counseling/mentoring she does. Oh, haircuts. Of course!! We must look good, after all, as was famously said by Fernando Lamas.
I’ve had several grants meetings, the committee of which I’m the leader of as the VP of Grants on Whispering Prairie Press, a small literary nonprofit. We’re inching along
Mephistopheles the Gremlin returned to the inbox, which is overflowing, and in which some of your blogs are waiting to be read. I know. I’m sorry. But they are highlighted so maybe in these four empty days I can attend to same.
However, in perusing the world’s whack a mole game, I feel pretty fortunate. It looks a lot grimmer than my game. My husband and I are both healthy; he’s finished teaching and has taken over errands and grocery shopping. He always fixes dinner. I may go hungry the week he’s away on a brother-trip, but I expect I’ll remember to shop. At least for yogurt and blueberries. I already stay home a lot and do much of my work here in my office, and while the work has whacked at me as much as it has the moles, I’m home.
It’s often more common to look at the challenges in our own lives and not recognize society, itself, going through big changes and challenges. When we can see ourselves as cogs in a pattern, whatever we want to call that pattern, which is birthing itself in such grievous convulsions, it’s easier to feel grateful.
Because most of us, individually, are doing okay. Tired, maybe, but okay.
Hope you are, too.