Written @ 10:34 a.m. on 2007-12-14
Call me Emily Dickinson
I have become a shut-in lately. I just don't have any real NEED to leave my house. I work from home. B. did the grocery shopping. I had a party, and all of my friends came here. I've been cooking dinners at home, and helping with homework projects in the evening. It has been raining, snowing, blowing and cold, and I was just as happy to burrow in like the happy little Ursula Major that I am. This must be what it is like to be old. It's not too bad. I like my house.
Today, the blue sky came out for the first time in two weeks. TWO WEEKS! The ice storm is beautiful, and I decided that we ought to walk to school. What fun! I liked that so much, that after dropping off N., P. and I just kept walking. We walked all the way to the farmer's market. We were just about the first ones there, at just a little past 8 in the morning, and everyone was chatty and giving us all kinds of samples. P. tried two kinds of lemonade, and a free peanut-butter covered pretzel! I think the farmer's market is my happy place.
We bought half a lb. of chocolate covered cashews for B's mom. She has been so nice to us, babysitting and feeding us all the time, so I wanted to give her a little surprise. Chocolate covered cashews are her absolute favorite, I'm told, so we walked from the farmer's market over to B's. We met some very nice dogs, and I taught P. about digestion, and we discovered that all sorts of ordinary things look stunning when they are covered in ice, and the sun makes them sparkle.
After a quick stop at B's (and giving the sleeping B a kiss) we headed home again, slipping and slushing, dodging the drips coming from the overhead trees. I mapquested our journey...3.54 miles. My kid is Ironwoman.
This getting out of the house is good. When I was last home, at Thanksgiving, my sister gave me a sexy chamise that she got at a buy one/get one free. I told B. that I had it, but I was waiting for the right time. I've been so unsexual lately. ME! Unsexual! I know, right? This means something must be truly broken. Last night, I put the silly thing on, and looked at myself in the mirror, and truly felt disgusted with myself. Money to the gym, money to weight watchers, and I look worse than I ever have in my life. Way worse. Bad. Rather than being romantic, I cried myself to sleep, while the bewildered B. assured me that I was just as beautiful to him as I had always been.
Poor B.
My life has been in a depressive rut lately. I spend time in bed when I should be out enjoying life. I am going to make an effort to be outside as much as possible this winter. I don't care if it's cold. I don't care if it's slushy. Life is to enjoy, not just sit around staring at the walls of my apartment. I feel so directionless. I have all of these chances to create christmas gifts, and I have no spark. No inspiration. I miss my spunky, fuck you attitude.
This happened to me before. After P. was born, when we had moved back to PA from the west coast, and I was so isolated without a car, with two small babies. I spent all of my time in the house, and I was pretty well happy to do so. My only problem was when my then husband, now ex, came home. That's when things got truly ugly, and I knew I had to leave.
Before we went to Virginia, before we lived in the hotel in Alexandria, before we moved to the giant house in Fredericksburg, I knew. I just didn't have any idea how. P. was 15 months old before I made my move. Gah. I could have done a better job at leaving, but looking back, I absolutely had to leave.
I don't want to live that way again. I don't want to become atrophied in my little hiding spot.
Remind me to grab life by the balls.