The World Has Gone Mad

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Getting rid of my cold is proving to be a hard task. I try not to despair. I try to stay positive. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I fail. Sometimes I feel great. Then I get hit with a bout of coughing and heavy fatigue. Meanwhile no peace is evident on the global front. The world is on fire. One cannot blame Iran for defending itself from one mad man’s insanity. It feels like a dream, a nightmare, a TV reality show.

There is nothing to do but buckle up, take a tylenol and put my best foot forward. Best that I would not look at any news feed. I’ve done my running around this afternoon, shopping for my father and myself and stopping in to have a coffee with him. I feel all done in. The best thing to do now is drink my fluids, stay calm and rest. Not so easy as this is getting towards the end of the 2nd week. I am frustrated and tired. But I shall chill. There shall be no sewing today. And no cutting of fabric though I’ve just got what is considered the best tailor scissors in the world. It’s a Kai 7230 9 inch professional shears. What a treat! It cuts through fabric like butter with no noise at all, whereas my cheap ones moaned and groaned.

I’m feeling better just thinking about that cutting experience. I have to remember to treat myself better with more luxury items. I can afford to and am worth it. I should not wait. There might be no tomorrow.

It’s a Difficult Life

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Nowadays I like to start my morning reading the two Heathers. They are strong women. They speak the truth. They educate me to care, to listen and that I can make a difference. I’ve become politically interested and engaged. The Heathers are Heather Cox Richardson and Heather Delaney Reese. I’m always a truth seeker and speaker. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I find life difficult. Another one is I am a woman of colour and an immigrant. Though I come from a culture where sons are preferred over daughters, my parents weren’t of that mind. My paternal grandmother was though.

She had no influence over how I felt about myself. I grew up feeling I am a person of worth. I’ve never thought I was less because I am female or because I am an Asian. I come from strong stock. My maternal grandfather escaped the clutches of Mao but not my grandmother. She was thrown in jail in his place. She survived and thrived. They had done nothing wrong. My grandfather was a teacher and mayor of their village. My grandmother was a housewife. They were not landowners. They were persecuted because of jealousy and fake stories. That’s been many years ago. Both of them have been gone for many years but their story still lives in me.

It is the 10th of March. We had snow overnight. The sun is shining bright. The thermometer dips and rises unpredictably. One day is spring. The next it is winter. My cold is better but the cough lingers. I feel better and worse at the same time. I am sickened by Donald Trump and his wars. I wonder what all the bombing and destruction are doing to the environment. In this moment, I have no positive bone in my body. It is a difficult life but I must rise and take charge of this one precious one that I have. What will I do? A little this, a little that. It all adds up. What will you do?

Slow Living

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It is March 8th. It rained this morning. It is day 15 of #the100dayproject. I have been working a little on it each day. My cold is still hampering me. I can’t go great guns with anything. However, I am happier with this slower pace of living and sewing. I am enjoying the process more. I have 5 completed logcabin blocks and 2 partial ones. I continued to be my usual disorganized self, not having my fabrics sorted to darks and lights. I don’t have all the strips cut either. I am in continuous state of search for the best strip.

It is a grey dismal day.This world is going nowheres fast except maybe to war. I am astounded by this world we’re in, aren’t you? I feel as if we are in a fake reality show. The only trouble is, it is not fake. It is not a bad idea to stick my head in the sand, ignore all this madness and do the things that nourishes me. Wake me when it is all over.

I had coffee with my 94 year old father this afternoon. We talked about the times from way back. He still has a good memory. The very first house we lived in was behind the cafe. It was owned by the town doctor. The rent was $7/month. It had 2 rooms. The linoleum was peeling. The next house was by the highway, across from the railway station. It was owned by grain elevator company. The rent was $20/month.It was bigger but not really better. My foot went through the floor board in a bedroom.

It was good to have memories to share. We hadn’t shared or conversed much before. We had a laugh over the rent. Who would have thought I could do this with my father?

Antidotes For What Ails Me

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My cold is still with me. It is attached and reluctant to leave. I am an endless fountain of gooey mucus. Like Christopher Plummer, I don’t like the sound of mucus. I’m carting around a large toilt roll from Costco. I’m constantly blowing and spitting into toilet paper. The roll diminishes quickly. It’s cheaper than Kleenx. I dislike using a spittoon. It grosses me out.

I’ve had a week of this misery. Just when I think I’m getting better, I get knocked down again. Last night was a hard one. I was afraid I was getting super ill, enough that it made me seek help from my prayer community. It helped. I was able to fall asleep shortly after. In the morning I felt better in some ways and worse in some. Now, at the end of the day, I can see light at the end of the tunnel. Being sick could have been what I needed.

What I needed was to see I have to take care of me. Being a caretaker by nature, I tend to look outward to others’ needs. I seldom think of my own. I am doing that now. I see that endless scrolling is making me sick. I feel it but seem unable to stop. The more I touch that button, the more I want to even though it brings me no pleasure. I was pleasureless enough yesterday that I was able to curb my addiction. I limited my scrolling time to before breakfast. I sought out other activities that would bring me pleasure.

One antidote is reading Margaret Atwood’s biography Book of Lives: A Memoir of Sorts. I’m travelling through stories of her childhood now. They’re delightful. Just what I need. Another activity is non-activity. I laid down on my exercise mat with my legs resting on an armchair for 10 minutes, doing nothing, trying to empty my mind. It wasn’t hard. It was pleasant and restful, not fussing about anything, letting the world go on by without me. It also helped to drain gooey mucus out of me.

Looking a Cure

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I can’t believe that I am all done in just having a shower! I’m all out of puff. My cold lingers and I had to cancel yet another lunch date. I am getting better but the way things are, I am not sure what my ‘cold’ is. I don’t want to pass anything bad to anyone. I am going to take my father out for coffee tomorrow. It’ll be day 6 or 7 with this thing.

I’m trying to get my shit together. This scrolling disorder is hard to curb. I am wasting alot of time but I recognize that I am not alone in this. It is being a human with addictions. It is hard to stop even when I am not enjoying it. There’s no point in scrolling for a fix. It would be just another trap. The only sure cure would be to get rid of all my devices. I wonder what would happen if I did. Would I go mad, go into delirum tremens? Would I die? Would I go out and buy new ones? Somethings to think about.

There was a time I was the last one to get anything digital. I was happy then. I had time to enjoy my breakfast, listening to CBC on the radio. I didn’t google. I found everything of interest and needed at the librarby. I was able to sit down and read for hours at a time. Now, nothing seems to hold my attention and interest. I physically take out books from the library. I take them back mostly unread. Then there’s books I take out on Libby. Most of them return without me noticing. I am in a bad shape. I need my mind and brain back.

I’m realizing, too, that I don’t enjoy doing much of anything. I am really struggling with my spring seeding. I don’t bake cookies or muffins anymore. I still bake bread becuase it is a staple. But I haven’t done sourdough bread for a few years. I haven’t kept up with housecleaning since we lost Sheba and that’s almost 6 years. We are not living in filth. I haven’t deteriorated that much – yet. I think I’ve caught myself just in time. I’m working on a cure. It’s going to be a long work. At least I am freshly out of the shower squeaky clean.

How To Get My Shit Together

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I keep saying that I have to get my shit together. So far it hasn’t happened yet. So far I haven’t figured out how. At least I am feeling a little better. My cough is not as hard and harsh. My stomach and chest are sore. My shoulders stiff from hunching and holding them close. Sometimes I feel as if I’m going to cough up my liver. I’ve been drinking and drinking gallons of fluids and making a million trips to the bathroom. Such fun, eh?

Hopefully I am on the road to recovery. I was able to lie down and had a decent night of sleep. I’m having my second cup of tea and trying to tap out how to get my shit together. First, I think I have to curb scrolling and scrolling through news from south of the border. It’s not good for my mental health. But I do like reading Heather Delaney Reese’s and Heather Cox Richardson’s posts on the U. S. political scene. It’s good to stay informed. But I also need to disconnect and move on with my day and life. That’s the hard part.

I’m taking little stabs and short runs at it. Yesterday I finally did seed my peppers. They take a long time to germinate and need a long growing season. Maybe today I can seed a few eggplants. I haven’t been successful with them. I did learn they are heavy feeders and need lots of pruning. So maybe this is the year. My sunroom is a holy cluttered mess. I have to clear some surfaces to put the plant trays. I had never thought I could be this bad. But then I never counted on my mother dying either even thought she was in her nineties. How silly could I be?

Now I feel the harshness and difficulties of the past year. I was perhaps operating on numb. I just had to. Life goes on. I like to think this part is my healing journey. Now I know everyone goes through this. It is hard but also necessary. I like to think of it as Joan Dideon’s The Year of Magical Thinking. I should read this book and Blue Nights. They are hard reads. I will try.

Where would I be?

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I’m sicker today. It makes me mad with this hacking and hacking and the cough won’t turn over. Sometimes I feel like something is going to blow. Needless to say, I didn’t have a good night’s sleep. I’ve had to cancel two lunch dates now. I’m trying to make myself more comfortable but there just isn’t any way. I’m entitled to feel a little ticked off. The truth is I am alot ticked off. It doesn’t help that I’m reading all the stuff that is going on south of the border. Does that border really separate and keep us safe? Aren’t we already pretty well assimilated into the American ways?

The thought that we are makes me feel worse. Assimilated feels like being sucked in. We have no personality of our own. We watch American movies. We shop at Walmart. A lot of our businesses are American owned. Trump calls us the 51st state. I’m feeling worse. Sometimes I feel the same, no personality and sucked in. But is that true? I have to ask the Byron Katie questions. And where would I be if it wasn’t true? I think I would be in a happier place.

Tapping and getting it all out feels good. I hope I can get a good sleep tonight. Sleep can make such a difference. It can take the edge off my sour disposition. Maybe now I can coax myself into seeding a few peppers and maybe sew half a quilt block. How is your day?

Working on Joy and Hope

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It’s March 1, a new month and a new day, so they say. I woke up to the same world, full of bad news of Donald Trump and bombing in the Middle East. No overnight transformation of world peace and love. Whatever happened to the age of Aquarius? Where is the humanitarism and collective consciousness? Where has our conscience gone?

As you can see, I still am sick of this world. I am still a bit sick with my cold. It could be affecting my outlook. It doesn’t help that my iMac is not performing at its best. I am still working on improving my mood, trying to find some positivity and joy. I don’t want to add my negativity to the already existing toxic pool. This morning I found 2 inspiring stories. I should say they found me. I had not known or heard of these individuals before.

The first one was Margaret Anne Cargill. She was an heir to millions. Yet she lived a simple life and donated everything to charities anonymously. The 2nd person was Hamzah Jihad Furquani. He made 13 cents an hour as a prison janitor. He donated $17.74 of his earnings to relief efforts in Gaza. Their backgrounds were totally different but their hearts were the same, big and generous. Their stories are fascinating reads for me. They are real and not fake news. It gives me hope and inspiration in these dark times. I try a little harder to find and feel joy. I try a little harder to have a good day. The world is still full of good people. But we still need to acknowledge the evil, too.

I’m 8 days into the #100dayproject of sewing logcabin quilt blocks. My pace is slower, making a ½ block a day. The slower pace is more enjoyable. Here’s square #3 and #4.

Let Go a little, Live a Little

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Some days I am just sick of everything. Today is one of those days. I am sick to death of the Epstein files, Deepak Chopra and Donald Trump. I am also sick of myself for not being able to resist on clicking on those links. I’m so disappointed that we are all such flawed human beings.

That was yesterday. Today I am really sick with scratchy throat and coughing. I am not feeling bad yet. Here’s the hope that it will pass quickly with endless cups of chrysanthemum tea, lozenges and tylenol. I am trying to improve my mental outlook, too. I can’t heal feeling pissed about everything. So, I’m pulling up my socks and cleansing my thoughts. But first I have to say this. I really do not like all those feel good ‘gurus’ who are suppose to inspire us. I can’t believe that I was such a huge fan of Oprah back in the good old days. Now I can’t stand the sight of her and her gushy gushy ways. She was more real when she was fat.

I’m trying to rescue myself from the misery I find myself in today. I no longer believe or trust anyone else with my own well-being. We are all capable of deceiving ourselves and others for whatever and any reasons. I’m disappointed in learning this at this late stage in life. But it’s better late than never. I’m having another cup of chrysanthemum tea while the roomba robot vacuum is sweeping the kitchen floor. It’ll be nice to walk on a smooth instead of a gritty floor. Physical comfort is conducive to well-being.

I will not attempt any heroic measures in self-improvement today. I will try to accept myself as I am. Maybe that in itself is a heroic act. I am into #the100project today. My plan was to sew a logcabin quilt block a day. I’ve only done 3 ½ blocks so far. I take challenges seriously. This definitely is not up to my standard. Maybe it’s time and good that I lower my standards a little. Let go and live a little would make a good motto. I’ve proven I can live up to challenges for many years now. Last year I drew and painted 100 teacups, the year before I did 100 sketches from our family album. I’ve proven my mettle. I don’t need to do it anymore.

Teacups and Blocks

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It’s day 3 of #The100DayProject. I can’t remember how many years I’ve been doing this. Last year, I drew and painted a teacup a day. It was quite challenging to come up with a different one each day. After all, a cup is a cup. I had to whack my brain and creative juice to come up with one daily. Here’s a few of them.

My project this year is make a logcabin square a day using some of my mother’s blouses. She passed away in October, 2024. I still have alot of her clothes. The squares are for a quilt for my sister. So far I have I have made one and a half squares. I’m finding that cutting up my mother’s clothes is no easy task. There’s all these feelings arising as I handle each one. I will poke along as I am able and try to sort, make use, keep or give away the items. Here’s the square(s) so far.