waiting (and pain) win

this is my view, these long, painful days, spent mostly in bed. i feel like i'm once again being taught a lesson in patience. back pain takes the time it takes to heal, there's no hurrying it along and there's no escape from it. and there's no denying it and just pretending it's not there. it wins, every time. i've spent so much time waiting over the past year and all of it has been agony in some sense. maybe i'm supposed to be learning a lesson here...about patience and taking things one step at a time. but i remain resistant and defiant to that lesson. i want my back to be better now, so i can go back to work at my wonderful new job. i want to be without the intense pain of the past two weeks. yes, i've been in steady pain for two whole weeks. what is it i'm supposed to learn from that? to get in better shape? to take better care of my body? probably, but the doctor also says it wasn't necessarily something i did, it could just be bad luck. but as i lie here, grateful for the company of cats, i do ponder yoga and meditation and maybe even taking up running. i'm ready for the pain to pass. it feels like i've waited long enough. but i suppose it will take the time it takes. and there's no getting around that. i do wish someone would clean the muddy pawprints off that window tho'...

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can't afford to live in london? try copenhagen.

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what if hipsters need help too?
you may think i'm posting this facetiously, but it's definitely a good read.

from where i sit

a simple oak tree in a bottle.

a bowl of beloved stones.

a candleholder gathered on a favorite beach.

a whirling dervish.

a whimsical robot.

a window in need of cleaning.

and golden light lasting only a fleeting moment.

a glorious light between the squalls.
during the squalls, i wonder if we shouldn't have built an ark.
my favorite sweaters are back in rotation.
as are the scarves.

i've started to knit a bit again.
it's like starting all over from the beginning.
i'm actually the same way with playing cards.
i have to relearn the game, despite 100s of games of whist and hearts played over the years.

pepper cat had four kittens last night. 

they're so tiny.

and i fear it's too late in the season.

but so far, so good.

she's attentive to them.

we're entering a cake contest on friday.

and the regional t.v. folks are coming out to film us making our cakes that afternoon.

so we need a new house by friday.

and it doesn't look good for that happening.

by the way,
with my earlier post about the elderly having sex,
i didn't mean to offend anyone.
or imply that older people shouldn't have sex.
or even that people in their 60s are elderly.
because that's not really true anymore today.

i'm GLAD that older people are having sex.
i just wish they wouldn't talk about it so much on the radio.
mostly because i think that what sex feels like can't really be described.
it's so personal.
and i guess i'm enough of a prude
to think it should stay that way.

so if you were going to make a cake

for a cake contest,

which one would it be?

we know sabin's will be something like this.

but i haven't yet decided.

reflections on the lake

last evening - reflections on the lake

why is that having a view is so important to us as humans?  there was a time, not all that long ago, when it wasn't. here in denmark, the older houses along the harsh west coast have small windows and you can see that people weren't concerned about seeing the sea. they were more concerned about keeping out the wind and the sand. in the laura ingalls wilder books, there's only one passage about how pa got a real glass window for one of the houses on the prairie and it was a tiny one. there was a time when people living along canals and rivers did their best not to see all that dirty water and waste flowing by and those living closest to it were the poorest. today, the most expensive properties brag about their view and their proximity to water. when did our view on having a view change? is it the fault of creative real estate agents? or do we as humans crave the horizon as our horizons have expanded?

we've noticed since moving out to the countryside that our neighbors who have lived here for 40 years have what to us is a curious lack of a seating area outside. if the weather is good enough (and sometimes even if it isn't), we eat outdoors. our neighbor is likely to be mowing his extensive lawn during those early evening hours when we're trying to enjoy a meal outside. but we want him to sell us his barn and a bit of land at the back of it eventually, so we don't complain. we've realized it's just a different view on what activities happen outdoors. to our neighbors, long-time farmers, outdoors is where you work and in the house is where you relax. we work indoors all day and so we want to go outdoors to relax.

we move our table all around the lawn, taking advantage of spots of sunshine (or shade) and wind directions (if we're grilling). and tho' the view of our lake isn't from the table in the garden, it's important to us that it's there. we are drawn to it and seek it out, most often in the evening, during the golden hour when the sun is sinking in the sky. an amble down to the end of the pasture to spend a few moments gazing at the lake in the quiet of the evening makes us feel restful and relaxed. the view is important to our mental well-being. 

i think as our work has taken us farther from nature, we naturally are drawn to it in other ways, so we have larger windows on our homes and we move many domestic activities - like eating - outdoors when weather permits. i surely hope it's not just the manipulation of conniving real estate agents.