Getting Over Married

Yesterday was my 34th wedding anniversary. I went to work. Took a nap. Went out for pizza with a friend and my granddaughter. Then came home and went to bed.
Beyond that - I obsessed over the idea that my husband, was blithely passing the day away with his new honey totally oblivious to the life he had thrown away.
Most of the day wasn't too bad. Interacting with customers kept my mind mostly off of the anniversary cards that I wanted to deface and send to him. The evening with my friend kept our conversation around local issues. And at first I was tired enough to sink into sleep, comfy under the quilt.
Then, after the initial exhaustion had worn away, came the tossing and turning. My daughters were out partying. With my blessing and encouragement at a charity event that I did not wish to attend. Loud music is not, and really has never been my thing. They are oblivious to the days significance, having long since moved beyond it.
Not me - oh no. I reviewed my wedding day, or rather that night. We spent our wedding night in my Aunt's camper van, on my parents lawn. We couldn't afford a honeymoon, and we needed to be around to do barn chores. We had planned our wedding to be between haying season and corn harvest. Weeks of rain had kind of messed that up,but our day turned sunny and nice, for our indoor/outdoor reception.
These years were supposed to be a return to our beginnings. A time when I could finally turn my attention back to my farm after retiring from an exhausting career that had turned completely sour. Instead, the rat bastard, stuck in the knife, twisted it and stood there smiling. Bitter? Yeah. I am.

There goes the Weekend

I was supposed to be in the Adirondacks by now. When the kids were little I'd have the gear all packed and the canoe tied to the top of the car or truck and we'd hit the road ASAP when work was done. We've even arrived at midnight and camped on shore, uncomfortable in the car, and paddled over in the morning.

Then things got complicated. Even as teenagers the girls had jobs which usually took over their weekends. Retail doesn't stop, so holiday weekends meant mandatory hours for the young staff. One daughter often worked in restaurants and they certainly don't close on summer holiday weekends.Then came grand-kids. Their schedule had to work in too, including getting Dad to give up one of his weekends.
Now one daughter doesn't want to go if all we are going to do is sit in the woods, so her daughter doesn't want to go if we're not going to the amusement park. An old story, but now that my daughter is an adult she can be adamant about it. So she and our car and my granddaughter have headed to NYC.

And me I'm heading off to work. Yeah. Crap.

Columbus Day - I'm outta here.

A tent by myself if need be. 

I'm gonna get out of the city and into the woods.

430 am cool and quiet

As the summer has waned and morning light has come later and later, so have I slept. This morning I woke early and so, fed the cat, made my coffee and walked the dog at 430. I'm so glad I did.
I've had several days of poor sleep due to the traffic outside my window. By the time the bar crowd finally makes its way home there are only a few good sleeping hours, except on every other Monday when the garbage trucks start early.
It was so nice out this morning. The air was cool and I made it all the way around the block before I heard my first car. From my porch, when it is quiet you can just hear the waterfall as background for the crickets and peepers. Since it is still dark now, the birds have not yet begun their song.
Soon one, and then another vehicle came by. The parking lot across the street is a meeting place for many contractors, so the diesel pickups are rampant. I don't know why, but those pickups are louder than dump trucks. Even a small car is disruptive, the squish of tires on the road and the rumble as the engine revs to bring the car up and over the knob at the intersection.
As the sound of the vehicle slowly recedes the song of the peepers emerges and you can hear the breeze and early morning rain on the leaves of the trees. By 530 the constant thrum of commuter traffic is enough to drive you inside. Even trying to have a phone conversation is impossible.
By 9 things have subsided a little. The neighborhood has emptied out and now it is generally delivery vehicles and buses. Still, the magic is lost. My brain takes on the hum of hubbub, and my pulse is up. No peace now until after midnight.