Diaries I Read:
I had a good weekend.
I started off with a mile-long list of things to do, including outrageous tasks like painting the guest bathroom and cleaning out my closet, neither of which happened. But I did get a bunch of little things checked off the list, which was very satisfying.
First, I went to Michael�s and bought a bunch of crafty stuff � silk flowers, a little bale of hay (don�t ask � my kitchen�s a country theme), some ribbon, etc. Then I went to a fancy-schmancy store where I only bought two things, both of which were on sale. Then I went to Lowe�s and returned some hanging flower pots I had bought in August and bought some (real) primroses to plant outside the house. Then I went home and crafted my heart out. I did lots of flower arranging, tied ribbon around my hay, hung decorations, and painted a little decorative wooden barn. I was very proud of myself.
On Sunday (after church, which I�ll tell you more about later), I planted my flowers, cleaned up my mess from all my arts-and-crafting (including a whole lot of hay that ended up on the floor), did laundry, got my car washed (during car wash rush hour, apparently � it would have been quicker for me to just do it myself), and even made dinner. I was very productive.
XXX
But before being productive on Sunday, I cried my way through church. It started off innocently enough � the pastor asked for prayer requests and B asked if I was going to say something about my granddad. I said no, because I couldn�t say it out loud without crying. So B raised his hand and said it for me. Before he even did that, I had started crying, but then when he started talking, and his voice began to crack as he got choked up too, I really lost it. I was a slobbery, snotty, crying mess. It was really embarrassing. The tears just kept coming and coming. I�d think I had it under control and then there I was crying again. I had to leave twice during the service to try to pull myself together. But it was good. We all need a good cry every now and then, don�t we?
I�ve been thinking a lot about my granddad, obviously, and all the wonderful things I think about him, and all the wonderful things I would say about him at his memorial service if I had the chance. And then I got to thinking, why don�t I say these things to him now? While he�s here? While he can appreciate how much he is loved? Should I write it all in a letter? Wouldn�t you like for people to tell you how much you mean to them while you�re still alive instead of saying it in front of a casket at a funeral?
But then I get afraid. I think that maybe he�s not well enough to have a letter read to him. Or maybe it�s just too transparent � too much of an admission that he�s dying � and he doesn�t want to acknowledge it right now. Or maybe it would upset him somehow?
I guess I�d just like to say some things to him before he�s gone.
XXX
To change topics (and tone) completely, I�m planning on going to a kickboxing class tonight. I used to do kickboxing and other aerobics classes pretty regularly, but it�s been several years (ever since I started running) since I�ve gone. You know, it�s kind of intimidating to go to a new gym or a new class or even to return to an old gym after you�ve been gone for a while. I always feel like a dork. I assume that all the other people there are regulars and that they all know I�m �new.� I start being extra-critical of my body, comparing it to the perfect little skinny girls in their little biker shorts and tank tops. I hate it when you�re unfamiliar with the gym layout and you accidentally walk right past the women�s locker room and then have to turn around and pass the guy walking down the hall toward the men�s locker room. Or when you�re looking for a particular machine and you kind of stand there looking around like you don�t know what you�re doing. I hate that.
But then, it�s never really quite as bad as you thought it would be, and once you�ve gone once or twice, then you don�t feel quite so dorky. Or you realize that maybe you do look like a dork, but you just don�t care.
So anyway, tonight I�m going to brave being the gym dork.
XXX
In between my crying spells, I did happen to catch one thing the pastor said yesterday at church. I don�t even remember its context, but he said, �Don�t ask if it will be hard; ask if it will be worth it.� Isn�t that amazing? Isn�t it wise? I�m going to try to remember that one.
Working at home - Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004
Toronto - Tuesday, Nov. 16, 2004
On the way to Toronto... - Tuesday, Nov. 09, 2004
A Good Day - Monday, Nov. 08, 2004
Another letter - Thursday, Nov. 04, 2004