November 16, 2022
All things considered it has been
a very mild November so far. But in the last couple of days, the temperature
has dropped below freezing. To add insult to injury, there have been a couple
of times in the last few days when I’ve looked out to see white pollen swirling
in the air. And then this morning, horror of horrors, that white allergen
covered the grass and the cars!
It might sound counter
intuitive, but the truth is when the cold comes, and the snow falls, my
arthritis aches less. I think there is a threshold of chill plus damp that is
the hot zone for maximum suffering where this condition of mine is concerned.
I believe that’s why the
spring and the autumn are the worst times for my poor body. It doesn’t mater
that I don’t go outside very much during these times; the damp and the chill
seem to permeate the house.
But I am very, very lucky—luckier
than my mother was. She too had osteoarthritis. But back then, she didn’t have
the pain medications that I have access to. She did allow herself what was
available to her, and that was why she’d drink two bottles of beer every night.
Just two. It was a good thing that she liked beer. Rarely did I see her with anything
stronger. Except if we went out to dinner. She’d allow herself one cocktail. And the only cocktail I ever saw her drink was
a Singapore Sling.
I suppose that, like pain
medication, the numbing principles of alcohol are best if they’re not overused.
I have worked hard to keep any
political opinions I may have to myself. If I were living in the United States,
I would be an Independent. There are members of both political parties who I
admire. But I’m not American, and so do not feel entitled to tell those who are
my opinions. I’m not after offending anyone. I can today tell you only that I
have been offended by the use of lies as a political weapon. I grew up in a
world where telling lies was the most offensive thing one could do. To be
labeled a liar was the scarlet letter of my day. If you did something wrong,
that was on thing. Lying about it put took the sin to a whole other level.
So to my American friends,
thank you for restoring my faith in you and for the most part turning away from
elected office those who are liars—and a liar is a liar regardless of political
party.
Mind, you’ve let a few liars
slip through, but I have hope that the sieve you use next time will be of a
finer mesh so you can get them all.
Christmas is approaching as Christmas
does. I continue to be shocked that this is so, but that is just me. No longer
capable of doing as much as I did even ten years ago, I am working on being
kinder to myself. I can only do what I can do. I have to accept that and let
the small things not bug me.
We’re happy with our small, just
under-five-foot-tall Christmas tree. We can’t have an actual real evergreen
because that’s the only thing my daughter’s allergic to. And just as well. I
don’t believe in murdering trees for vanity’s sake, and the artificial tree of
today is quite life-like.
As much as I love that tree,
what I like more is having children decorate it. Fortunately, we have our great-grandchildren—my
daughter’s grandchildren—to do the task. But that’s not yet. This is only the
middle of November, after all. We’ll look to doing that at about the time our
son turns fifty this year, on December 11.
So for now, we’ll spend the days
keeping our minds if not our bodies occupied. There are always, for me at least,
new books and essays to be writing or reading, new recipes to discover and try,
and music available on my television for those evenings when I want to relax in
my recliner in warmth and peace.
We here in the Ashbury
household don’t hibernate—at least, not exactly. But we do seem to get our most
restful and thoughtful times when the snows come down. And maybe that’s the
Lord telling us to sit back, relax, and take in this version of nature’s beauty.
Love,
Morgan
http://bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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