It was February when I started blogging. That’s a good time of the year for me. Even though it’s still cold and dreary in southern Indiana, I know that spring is on its way.
Now it’s the end of October. The days are getting shorter. The dark days of winter are closing in on us. Worse, the holidays are on their way. Holidays. Holy days. Busy days. Days driven by rules, traditions, and expectations.
Have I mentioned that I’m domestically challenged? I’m a woman with an engineering degree. I can do math. I love maps and exploring new territory with them. I’m a compulsive accountant. I follow written instructions well. I’m always ready to rip open a package stamped “some assembly required” and get started. I have designed and built simple wood shelving units for our house. I can hunt down and eliminate computer bugs. When I worked as an engineer, trouble-shooting electronic circuits was my specialty.
On the other hand, I’m lost in the kitchen. When I’m in large groups of women, I feel like an onion in a petunia patch. They complain of filth in places that look fine to me (prompting me to make a mental note not to allow them into my house, which doesn’t look at all fine to me). They exchange household hints for tasks I didn’t even know were part of housekeeping. They give oral instructions for making the dish of the night and I listen with amazement. Are others actually taking in the information and leaving equipped with the knowledge to duplicate the dish? Assuming that I’d want to make it, I’d need clear, written instructions that detailed every step. The verbal list of ingredients has no meaning for me. Is the person who is handing out the information just making conversation or does she assume I’m capable of hearing and understanding it?
Oh, I can bake well enough if I have to. I can find clear, written instructions for that. But my heart’s not in it. I don’t view it as an art or a pleasure. Cooking is harder. Gravy is beyond me. So is fried chicken. I don’t have a knack for such things. Not for cooking or decorating or fashion or entertaining.
Along come the holidays. Women cook for the holidays. Women decorate for the holidays. Women host gatherings for the holidays. People give gifts during the holidays. I strike out in all those areas, but opting out of holidays is not really an option. Holidays happen.
This first year of the empty nest will surely be different in many respects. Still, sometime in the next few weeks, I’ll likely slip into survival mode: lowering my expectations for routine accomplishment, doing what I have to do for the holidays, plugging away one day at a time, counting the days until normal life resumes in January.
It's not that I won't enjoy seeing friends and family during the holidays. I’ve even invited my extended family here for Thanksgiving and I’ll do my best to prepare a tasty meal for them. I’ll probably try to send Christmas cards and make goodies. I tend to put my actual Christmas shopping off until almost the last day in the evening -- waiting until gift choices must be made and there will be little time for second-guessing those choices before Christmas arrives. There are enjoyable times during all the hustle and bustle, but it tends to be primarily a stressful time for me.
I’ve been trying to post something here once a week. That frequency may go either up or down as the holidays approach, depending on whether blog entries turn out to be one more pressure or a temporary escape from the pressure.
Just thought I'd post a warning.
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