Hello Blog! We haven’t seen each other for a while, eh?
Well, time to catch up.
The last time I blogged, it was with some excitement on a planned trip to DC.
And….it didn’t happen.
Yep – I walked away from a once-in-a-lifetime chance at the big shindig in DC.
However, I also walked away from a buttload of stress and BS.
After the last several weeks (more like the last six months really) of one-fricking-thing-after-another and *way* more drama than this mama needs recently, everything that could possibly go wrong on one trip collided and resulted in me walking out of the airport, collecting my bags and going home to the dachshunds instead of flying off into the wild blue yonder.
And – it was the best, most emotionally satisfying decision I’ve made in many moons.
I’m now armed with the knowledge of exactly what my BS tolerance level is (pro tip: not very high), and ready for the next chapter.
To that end…
This March 29th will mark the 120th anniversary of the birth of my grandmother.
We called her Nina. Don’t know why, perhaps she was one of those women who loathed the thought of being called “Grandma” – possibly it was my mangling of words when I was a toddler and it stuck – but Nina it was.
Nina had been a nurse in Pueblo, Colorado until she retired. A few years after that, she moved in with our family and lived with us until she passed away many years later.
She doted on her grandchildren – and, as the oldest I, of course, got the first doting.
She hand made the most beautiful dresses for me when I was a wee one and, as I got older, her sewing talents even extended to my Barbie doll. That doll was the epitome of haute couture.
Nina adored us. All of us. And how that woman managed to do what she did for us on her tiny pension amazes me to this day. She got front row seats to take me to see Van Cliburn and Liberace at the Broadmoor Hotel when I showed an interest in playing piano.
I remember so many things about Nina – how much she adored the color purple, how she enjoyed a nip of blackberry brandy on cold winter nights, the way she whistled softly while she was sewing. I also remember her hands – gnarled with age, joints stiffened from arthritis – wise woman hands. The hands of one who had lived and done so much, created so much. Even toward the end of her amazing life, she kept doing as much as she could do – only much slower.
When I told her that I was going to be attending CSU to study journalism, she couldn’t contain her pride – she was positive that her granddaughter was going to be the next Nellie Bly.
As fate would have it, I didn’t graduate with a journalism degree – and instead went on to a short stint in the world of broadcasting at KRDO radio and later KRDO TV.
And the twists and turns of life eventually led me in a direction as far removed from journalism as could be.
As I re-discovered my passion for writing recently, the twists and turns of life have emerged again. A few weeks ago, I woke up and noticed that my hands ached. And, worse, I had huge “knots” on some of my finger joints.
Arthritis runs in our family, so I began searching RA treatment options and – every single one of them are kidney killers. Not interested. Thank you.
So, at the tender age of NunyaBusiness, I’m now learning that it takes me all day to do what I used to do all day.
And that’s okay.
The blogs will be a bit fewer and farther between.
It’s going to take me longer to get the next few books put together.
And it is in some esoteric way physical reinforcement of my newly discovered low BS tolerance level.
I’m no longer accepting things that are beyond both my emotional and physical comfort.
I’m saving my stamina for things I deem truly important. (Yet another pro tip: There are a whole bunch of things that don’t meet that criteria).
So the next chapter?
I have no clue. It’s waiting to be written still. I am just going to enjoy my newly found slower tempo and, yes, my wise woman hands for now.
And maybe have a nip of blackberry brandy. For Nina. And for me.