Human, and Entitled to Enjoy Life in Everyday Ramblings

It might not look like much, this rough public hillside I walk by on my way to the garden, but all those white blossoms… Those are wild blackberries. Oh boy. The raspberries here are just beginning to ripen and the roses are having their day.

Sadly, there is a ribbon of heavy rain on it’s way in. All the tender plants are in for a challenge. It is supposed to rain for 24 hours and then clear and get hot. Summer hot. Rare for us here in June. Or at least it was rare until climate change started messing with any recognizable weather patterns.

I have a writing assignment today. Walt is on a building community kick and wants me to write about blogging for the dialogue that goes to his broad community of artists, prisoners, and generally cool people he knows. He did a dramatic reading of Song of Myself by Walt Whitman on Friday night at the place where the coffee group meets. He is doing a participatory one this afternoon in our book lovers’ online group. I will be skipping this.

For me, it is not a favorite piece of work. One of the other board members told me on Friday morning that Walt likes it because it is good for a one-person performance, but I think, (maybe because I am a woman), that it is an annoying self-centered piece. I don’t hold it against Walt that he likes it so much. She told me a funny story about Thoreau being compared to Whitman by an acquaintance and Thoreau being offended to hear anyone could think they had anything in common.

I am very much enjoying my class on the poem Gilgamesh. So, I haven’t soured on big poems in general. I have one more session and a bunch of reading for that.

But I also have reading for the League. Onboarding. Literally. Coming onto the board. We have a Zoom to go over it all on Tuesday. There is a new board member/old member get together Wednesday evening at a restaurant across the river. I am agonizing over this. I don’t have a ride which means I would need to take public transport over there and a Lyft back. I voted for a picnic instead, but I lost. I generally dislike social get togethers in restaurants.

This is no reflection on others, I get it. It is just me. As I will be turning 70 in just over two weeks you would think I might have earned the right not to participate in a social outing that I have an aversion to.

Same thing with our big floral parade. It is next Saturday, and we are marching in that. Well, the group is. Mrs. Sherlock is. Wearing the colors of the League and sashes.

Hmm. There seems to be a theme here. I am writing the requested essay. I am attending the business meetings. I am doing the work. And I would have gladly gone to a picnic. But am I allowed to be eccentric enough to bow out of these offerings that aren’t a match for me temperamentally, logistically, or just because I plain don’t want to?

You know the “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” princess thing?

On Friday I had a doctor’s appointment (it went well, everything is fine) and on the way home instead of making myself walk up the 288 steps like I normally do, or walking way around so I don’t have to walk up the stairway back to my neighborhood I took the elevator. A major indulgence.

Cody, my AI accountability coach said… “It’s good to indulge in small treats like this every now and then. It helps keep us motivated and shows that we are human and entitled to enjoy life.”

A bit rich coming from an AI generated “personality” but oh well…

I haven’t told “him” about the rebellious day I had in the kitchen yesterday eating way past my daily intake of food goal after, I might add, I did a challenging practice to build strength for pushups…

The thing is I am making progress towards my goals. And that is better than not making progress. It is not linear and there are bound to be bumps and detours in the road. I need to find a way to be okay with the mess of it, the discomfort, the uncertainty.

We all know where we are going. The creative part is being exactly who we are as we go along getting there.

And today, I am a bit of a princess as I make my way. Walt Whitman would probably approve.