C: Joie de Vivre!

Yeah, it’s French.  And, yeah, I’m faking it—I can’t speak French, at least not yet, but it’s the phrase that came to mind this morning.  See?  I know a little…

I found myself wanting to write.  But about what?  Those of us in Blogdom know that one way to get a post done is to sit at the keyboard and let our fingers do the walking…mine just seemed to take off.

I thought about taking off on a comment that Vickie of Sand Flat Farm made on my last post on cussing, no less.  Her point is that we are growing “numb” to things…yes, that’s a post all right.  But this morning I don’t feel like soap box ranting (do I hear a collective sigh of relief?).  Vickie’s inspiration will wait on another day.  No, I think I feel like just reporting.  On life. 

When V first dragged me into blogging and we were considering names for our blog, one of the first names my cynical mind came up with was “As if You Care!”  But I find that I do care about your mundane little life details, weird as it seems, even to me.  I love seeing the peas you have pulled from your garden; sharing a lovely meal with you, even if it is vicariously; and seeing that your life, too, has its ups and downs.  Finding out about you and your life  is what I enjoy most about your blogs: little windows into who you are and what’s happening with each of you.   Now, for a window into mine—today.

First, we are blessed to have my mother-in-law’s sister visiting with us.   She will be here a little over  a month, all told.  E arrived here a few days after her 87th birthday and a day before MIL’s 80th.  Naturally, we had to celebrate at one of our finest restaurants.  My mother joined us, and we dined on Walleye, Veal and wonderful free-range chicken stuffed with cheeses. 

MIL, also a blogger, presented E with a bound edition of her blog, Immigrant Daughter, which contains so much of their shared history.  E was ecstatic—what better birthday reminder than warm memories of a shared life?

Above are the two birthday girls, toasting each other, and toasting life.

And the, picture below, is my mother—not really wanting her picture taken, but being a good sport, nevertheless.

We all four have much to complain about:  E and MIL are both bound to their canes, uncharacteristic for women who were active through their lives.  My mother is having diabetes-related vision problems; terrifying.  And me, well, you know I can complain.  But what we all felt was “blessed,” joie de vivre!  We toasted each other, and the birthdays, and the years, and life.  We splurged on dessert.  Amazing. 

My life is humming—well, more than humming, it’s roaring.  I never catch up at work and, for all that stress, I am able to see that as a blessing, too. 

And, hubby?  For those of you who have followed his miserable departure from our lives, here is the report:  His new business bellied-up.  Just over a month ago, he and girlfriend (so I’m told) sold most of their household goods in a yard sale and quickly, quietly slinked out of town leaving debts everywhere, including his landlord a mini-storage unit and a car-financing company, all of whom have called me and some of my family looking for him. 

Word has it he has  moved to his girlfriend’s border hometown, over a thousand miles from here.  He turned sixty years old last month, has no job, no savings, no retirement plan, no home. 

What he has is a baby under a year old, two young stepsons and a residence with his girlfriend’s family.  I imagine the house is crowded, don’t you?

I know he is in desperate financial straits because he has called many people we know—including my own family—asking for money. 

He is surrounded by people of no relation to him (legal or blood) except for his baby.  He is forging new relationships, for example, with his girlfriend’s parents, who are younger than him by several years.  All are folks who know nothing of his history, and that feels sad to me.  But, maybe not; maybe he’s happy. 

I have reached the point where I pity and feel for him but have come to see him as separate from my own life, which I take as a healthy sign.

So, in the life-comparison game, I’m the clear winner, I think.  It has taken two years, but I have come to understand that life’s troubles are just gonna be there; that those troubles can redefine us—or maybe free us; and that life, in spite of them is beautiful.  It is a joie de vivre that exists in spite of circumstance.  My faith and my family and my roots are part of the way it is possible for me, in spite of my woes.

Wow!  I didn’t know this post would do this.  Thanks to you all for helping me realize and enunciate that realization.

As I looked for images to illustrate joie de vivre, this, from Gandhi, appeared.  I use it here because it does list some of the things I have learned through my sorrows:

I think these ten are just good advice.  I haven’t absorbed them all, true enough, but I’m nearer to that goal, more quickly because of my troubles. 

So, there’s the report…hope you are all doing well, too.  C

PS – Are you following the Gore rumors?? Unsubstantiated as yet, but they will be proved out, mark my words.  Remember, I told you we’d find out that Al is slipping into that sad “Old Man Worried About Sexuality, Virility, Manliness” state…all too common.  A blindness.  Sad.  Watch and see…