We were at a farm supply store the other day when we saw these little chicks for sale along with baby ducks and baby geese. I stuck my finger through the wire and petted them. They’re uber soft!
When I was a little girl on my parent’s farm we raised chickens so it felt familiar. But as I looked, I realized I hadn’t seen a chick in person in about 35 years and I realized I’d never seen a baby duck or goose. They’re quite big and fuzzy, which surprised me. It made me see that even after getting to the half century + mark on this earth, there are still new things to experience. I can’t wait to have little chickens on our place, soon.
I’ve been watching “Live, Pray, Love” on Netflix today. I tried to read the book but I didn’t like it. I liked the idea of it, but the actual book, not at all. I couldn’t get through it. The movie, I’m enjoying.
As a couple, we’ve been looking hard at our inability to do anything but work, work, work and we both want to change that, because retirement is looming in 2 years and 11 months and we intend to both work AND enjoy life. So we’re practicing. Isn’t that funny that we have to practice? But we do. After doing gut-busting work on the farm property, we sit on the porch with a glass of wine and watch the sun go down and then we sit until the stars come out and then we wrap ourselves in a light blanket and sit and talk and laugh and just relax. That’s pretty foreign to both of us. We’re both ambitio,s and too often, “rest” does not equate. But now it’s going to equate, I’ll tell you what.
This philosophy is what I’m loving about the “Eat, Pray, Love” movie, the concept of simply embracing life and enjoying it. Letting work be work and play be play, not competition, not achievement, not advancement. I’m tired of that. Very tired.
For dinner tonight, I got a little avocado and mashed it up with some spices, really taking my time to make it just for me, because Jeff thinks Avocado is the food of the devil, judging by how he goes on about how gross it is. I made my avocado dip and put some of my homemade flax crackers on the plate and instead of doing three things at once, I sat down in the office beside Jeff while he finished up his work day and I just focused on and enjoyed a small, great dish in moderation. Sitting in the sunshine in a cushy chair, just relaxing. Not cleaning, not packing.
That’s the thing, see. I’ve spent endless days this week cleaning the house, packing many boxes and bags and bringing them to Goodwill; I’ve been boxing up my art supplies and contemplating getting back to my painting this summer at the cabin, (I took the whole of the winter off due to burnout); I’ve been throwing things out like mad, gutting the garage, you name it, it’s being done. And yet I feel guilty for sitting down at 3 pm, after a crazy long, emotional day, and watching a movie. This is stupid. I don’t often take the time to focus and just “be” in a moment.
Being a middle child is not always all it’s cracked up to be, people.Apparently, sometimes you have to let go and stop working, stop trying to do the right thing all the time, stop trying to be the good one all the time, stop trying to please people all the time and just have some fun and relax. So we’re committed to having more peace and enjoyment in our lives.
Jeff and I got hardly more than two hours of sleep last night because our son left today in his (new but not new) car to drive all the way to WA state for the whole summer. He may not be back to New Mexico to finish his BA program, but he may. Time will tell. He misses his friends and his life in Washington and we get that. He needs to be able to go. But, we were both quite worried, as anyone would be to watch their child drive off, across country. It’s hard. It’s also incredibly GREAT that he’s off on his own, because if and when he comes back, it’s not to live with us anymore.
We will be moving out of our house here in Albuquerque at the end of September and will be initially renting it out with a rental company, with an eye to selling it when the market improves. Our daughter is moving back downtown to the condo she owns and son will rent her spare room and bathroom from her, should he choose to finish school. So they’re both out on their own again, for good this time.
How can I know that, you ask? Because cleverly, we bought property 40 minutes from ANYTHING and no one could ever live with us and have a job. Plus it’s hot and they both hate the heat while we love it. How sweet is that? We get exactly what we want, AND we are not available for sharing our 300 square foot cabin. So it’s a momentous day around here. A little teary but good. I mean, get this-we are alone in the house tonight!
How does this apply to eating and fitness? I’m open to enjoying things, all things, in moderation. Chocolate, a burger, fries sometimes, nuts, you name it, it’s all alright in moderation. I don’t find pleasure anymore out of eating a huge pound size bag of M&M’s? But a small serving? Of course.
The French really have it right when it comes to pleasure tempered with moderation. So often we feel we just must have the Quarter Pounder with a huge serving of fries and then a giant chocolate shake on the side for “special”. But pleasure? Is there pleasure in that? Do we even taste it in our zeal to get it down? It’s not “special” and it’s not really appreciated. It’s cheap and fast and easy and it momentarily fills the empty hole in our feelings/heart, whatever you want to call it.
A slab of cheesecake versus a little 1/2″ slice of the most perfect cheesecake you can find, that’s what I mean. Sharing a desert with someone you love instead of buying a giant ice cream treat at DQ in the drive through.
At this point in my life, having better quality but much less of it sounds so much better than having basically an all-you-can-eat buffet of crap food. And without the side of guilt. I want to enjoy more of life, one slice at a time. In moderation.