Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Today, though, I told Renee, who is in charge of volunteers, that I would be returning to my old schedule in September. My shoulders have not completely recovered, but I feel that I can do the work now. I've been going once or twice a week for awhile, doing more each time. Yesterday I conquered the last hurdle...the dreaded manure pile. Dumping the wheelbarrow full of manure is the hardest thing we do (at least I think so). It was always hard for me, but I got to the point where I just couldn't do it. Shoveling is bad enough, but pushing a full wheelbarrow up a narrow board to the top of a huge hill of poop, then turning it upside down, is quite a challenge. Yesterday I found that by using the smallest wheelbarrow and keeping my load relatively small, I could do it.
Having thus recovered, I am going back four days a week. I will be glad to be doing something that is really worthwhile and allows me to be intimately involved with horses.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
My house was inspected today by the Section 8 police and passed muster for the fourth time. I will continue to have a roof over my head for another year. Of course this will not hold if Phil's lawsuit against me is successful and I loose my income. My disbelief that this is happening has turned to indifference....a function of self-preservation. Since I lost me beloved Lytton, all of my emotional output focuses on his absence. Everything else pales by comparison. I spend days at a time obsessed by thoughts of him and the consequences of his death. Death itself looms large in my mind. I've decided that the middle of life is the best, when there is a certain consistency. The troubles of the past, of arranging what will be your life, are over. The future stretches before you, endlessly. There is still room to change, make plans for the future. Dreams might come true. Then slowly possibilities slip away, all that seemed permanent disappears. People who have been alive forever, and presumably would be there forever, begin to vanish. Options narrow......no time left for a new career, a trip to Europe, another baby, a new puppy. Every action must be measured against a short, indefinite future. There is a finality about most things. Every experience might be the last.
My father always said that no one ever knows when life will come to an end. Being old is no different from youth in that respect. Well, perhaps so. But young people have reason to be optimistic about their own longevity. They can pretty much ignore the fact that their lives will end. Not so as one ages. I must admit that I am more fascinated than chagrined at the changes in my appearance. My wrinkles and moles and an visible blood vessels intrigue me. Nevertheless, they are changes that are pretty much irreversible. A diet or a new hairdo won't change me much. There is comfort in that. There is comfort in knowing that others' expectations are minimal. Inadequacy in both physical and mental tasks is expected. Freedom.