Friday again already …

I know that doesn’t read “profound”, but it feels that way.

Why? I have been thinking more often than ever that life is going by WAY too fast! How is it that now that I have most of the biggest things figured out, the days, weeks, months, seasons and years are flashing by?

I have no premonition of dying, but one of my same-age friends and I have had this conversation: we are in our “waning” years. We can say this without a sense of impending doom… it just describes the fact of the matter, the reality of a human lifetime.

Mom died at 46 and I am almost 61. I would love to live to 96 if I can accomplish that with no fewer marbles than I have today, and a relatively healthy body. Our mother’s siblings have exhibited a remarkable longevity: the two oldest are 97 and 98, and the two youngest are 86 and 88. The four “in the middle” are gone.

I was thinking this morning how quickly the winter has passed. It is like springtime right now: most of the snow has gone due to warm temperatures, rain and wind. Instead, we have “mud season” in early February. We can still get some extremes of temperatures, but we have had an “easy” winter.

The winter is when I aspire to rest, hibernate. This season, I have again not organized Myrtle’s slides and photos, done paperwork and taxes, cleaned the house deeply or painted any wall (as opposed to gleefully painting a couple of pictures to hang). I haven’t done much reading, sewing, or crafting.

My work is not too physically demanding, but every day is taken up with at least a certain amount of pet care, sometimes several hours. It used to be that I could do all of it, plus accomplish some projects in the evenings. Not so much any more. With my “waning years” comes waning stamina, strength and ambition! I have to push myself many days, even though I’m healthy and think I’m thirty years old until I actually stop to think!

I will have to come back to this later… I have some animal care to attend to, and customers coming up the driveway!

Love, Ann


Jack, one of my sweet constant cat companions, usually right beside my grooming table on the countertop. When he’s not there, Smokey often is, and Gilbert (who doesn’t relish petting) is around occasionally.




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