Here is an amazement - once I was twenty years old and in every motion of my body there was a delicious ease, and in every motion of the green earth there was a hint of paradise, and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.
Mary Oliver
But wait until you're 67 and had surgery . . .
Accepting
- limitations of age
- chronic illness treated with immune supressives
- after effects of surgery due to 3
- massive lack of get up and go
All of it a work in progress. Isn't this the life.
Due to a massive lack of energy and brain power, all I can do is dig up my seemingly endless list of drafted blog posts, mostly first sentences, half finished posts, a selection of what I saved ten years ago:
There’s being dogged in pursuit of a goal and there’s the pointlessness of being bitchy.
A hen is a hen and a cock is a cock, but a chick is always female.
An Old Master is one thing, but an old mistress is something else entirely (note those capitals).I spent the last two hours editing papers on oxytocin and its effects on hunger craving in women. Yes, it is just as you imagine only now male scientists have found a way to prove it using big machinery and extensive tests which include healthy women staring at images of sweets and desserts while inside MRI tunnels.
I am whistling in the dark - praying, hoping, that fraying edge between worry, misery, loneliness and actual illness, that blurred line.
Recent social media finds:
A fitting addendum to my bicycle post: Norman Quentin Cook (aka Fatboy Slim) shows off his new one.
Also, the last post was censored by my family. And they come first.