New but comfortable

I've started to carry a  little notebook (3.5" x 7") with me.  It is 1/2" thick and fits in my purse.  It closes with a magnetic clasp and I got it on clearance at Tuesday Morning.   I love its size, its shape, and how it feels in my hands.  Because the pages are sewn together at the spine, it lies flat when opened.  Here is a picture of it:

My little notebook

I am keeping it near me at all times so that when I have an ah-ha moment I can write it down.  I also am using it to write some pretty personal stuff, which is better than keeping it inside.

I went to my first Book Club meeting this past Saturday.  It was fun!  I was among a bunch of people that were like me and this introvert was comfortable.  I left feeling energized instead of drained and that is unusual and exciting.  When I got home, I immediately ordered off of Amazon the next two month's books.  I didn't do it prior to the morning's meeting because I wasn't sure I would like it and want to return.  The October meeting is on my birthday.  A gift to myself.

I wasn't the only newbie there.  The majority of people attending were new to the group.  I paid my $5 annual dues on faith that it wouldn't be wasted and if so, oh well.  The group was composed of 2 men and 15 women.  One of the men who came in late and I think just did it on a whim because I caught him peeping at us from the conference room door window, was well spoken and had good points even though he hadn't read the book.  The women were interesting and thoughtfully expressed themselves and their points of view.

It was refreshing to discuss opinions without arguing which one was right or wrong.  The leader of the group kept us all on point and it made reading the awful book selection worth it.  It also showed me that I am track.  I always loved reading (Thank you to Lucille Stark my 1st grade teacher) and so do the others in the group.  It was like I was with my own kind.  I don't care if that sounds weird because it is the truth.  I am an egghead, coo coo kachoo.

  

The Tide

It is August.  Over half of the year has passed.  I am at the beach cursing that I don't have a pen and paper with me.  They are back at the car in my purse in the trunk.  I am trying to not to think about the results of the biopsies but I can't stop from doing it.  Don't think about a ballerina dressed in pink riding on the back of a circus elephant.  See?

I grab my car keys and hike back to the car.  I really need to write.

When I got to the beach at 9:30 this morning it was sparsely populated.  That's how I like it.  The wind is blowing hard and I like that, too.  As I get closer to the water, I can see that the tide is coming in as the waves crash to the shoreline.  After setting up my blanket and bag, I slather on sunscreen including getting as much of my back as my fingers can reach and I am sure I have left white globs of goop back there.

The sounds of the beach fill my ears.  Waves, birds.  The water is warm enough to walk right in and as I do I am tossed about.  Waves hit me and spray my face.  When I lift my feet off of the bottom I am carried by the tide southward so periodically I have to fight my way back trudging against the current fish swimming ahead of me trying to stay out of my way.  Sometimes I face the shoreline and watch it pass by fast enough it seems as if I am in a car.  Sometimes I drag my feet in the sand to slow the driving water.

Crash into me!  Crash into me again!  Make me keep my mind on now.  I don't want to think.  I just want to be.  Sea salt is in my mouth and I taste it when I lick my lips.  It gets in my eyes and the burning doesn't last long.

Hit me some more!  Drop me low and then pick me up and carry me away.  Floating up and then pressed down.  I stand in front of walls of water topped with froth and enjoy the impact that is so strong I walk backwards.  Tire me out, please.  I need peace and if it means standing here in your strength being knocked around for an hour then I will.

I finally am tired enough and peaceful enough to leave the water.  The beach is inhabited by more people and I know I will want to leave soon.  White powdered sugar coats my feet and ankles as I walk back to my blanket.

And now a word from our sponsor

If anyone is keeping up with my posts, you probably think I am a lunatic with wild mood swings.  I am actually someone very hurt from a freshly ended relationship and trying to find solace in writing.  It doesn't matter if I write about something funny, something sad, something true, or fiction.  If I am writing then I am helping to rid myself of the painful infection that keeps trying to build up in my bloodstream. 

I am mad at myself for feeling like this.  I should be happy it is over after all I am the one that ended it.  For months it had deteriorated until I had to cry uncle.  Even so, it is a loss and I must allow myself to grieve and give myself permission to one minute feel riddled with bullet holes and the next laughing.  I think part of the problem is I am normally more in control of my emotions and this time they are guiding the ship over rough waters making me seasick. 

Thanks for being there.  Thanks for sharing my life with me.