Monday morning things

 * I cleaned house *a little* this weekend. I need to do more but after an hour of running around putting stuff away, and throwing out stuff, I was kind of sore and tired, so I quit. 

I did find the big corner-to-corner blanket I had been making out of one of those color-shifting yarns, so I pulled it back out and worked on it during Zoom knitting. I got *almost* to the end of the first of the giant cakes, so I started the decrease section. It's still going slowly because it's so huge but at least I can once again imagine it being finished. It's going to be heavy but that's fine; it will be like a lighter version of the weighted blanket I had to quit using because I realized it was making my knees and hips worse because it pins me down and I don't move while I sleep.

* a little melancholy this morning, for two reasons. The most immediate being (vagueposting) someone in a group I am part of was mildly criticized/asked to share the leadership and responsibility and instead what they have done now is apparently dropped that part of their responsibilities in what I interpret as a fit of pique, and it means a couple other people (including me) will have to pick them up.

It's really weird - I think of myself as a tremendously sensitive and touchy person, who gets their feelings hurt at the drop of a hat, and it surprises me when someone gets that way over something that I look at and am unfazed by. Like if I were in a role and someone said "you need to share the responsibility with us" I'd be like "Great! I want to hear your ideas and work together on this"

I guess years and years of having to stuff down my hurt feelings because "if you don't react the bullies will stop bullying you" was a good lesson. Except. I still will have those added responsibilities. Ah well whatever.

Part of it is just feeling sad and gobsmacked at how hard it is to be a human sometimes; it seems like sometimes things that seem like a small input to me cause a big reaction in another person and I know it's just personality differences or possibly the effect of past traumas but still, I wish people were more predictable.

* Though I also got thinking about that Bluey episode. Yes, I watch Bluey sometimes. It's a really beautiful cartoon in many ways. It's quite different to the "ha ha funny animals doing funny things" cartoons I ordinarily watch - the humor is mainly a sort of observational humor about what children are like or about how Bandit is willing to be a big goof because it makes his daughters happy when he enters into their games (and to a lesser extent, because she seems more serious, Chilli doing this). 

Anyway, I had heard "Thaxted" (the hymn-tune based on Holst's "Jupiter") and it reminded me of the Sleepytime episode (which is often lauded as one of the best episodes, and I'm inclined to agree). The event triggering the story is fairly simple: Bingo, the younger sister, wants to sleep all by herself in her own bed for a whole night, without having to crawl in with her parents. 

And there's a lot hung on that simple hook - the various Heelers wind up in different beds throughout the night (and Bandit winds up on the floor) - but the dream that Bingo has is the one that often mildly emotionally destroys adults. I think one of the marks of something that is art is that people from different walks of life respond differently to it, but they find something to respond to? I think most parents would see the idea of "my baby is growing up and getting ready to be on their own" and be sad; I saw something else.

In the story, Bingo dreams about the Solar System after her mum read her a book about it. At the beginning, she hatches out of the earth - which is now in pieces - and sets off with Floppy, her stuffed bunny. At one point, they arrive at a bunny planet that looks like Saturn, except the rings are hundreds of bunnies like Floppy. Floppy looks wistfully at the other bunnies, then at Bingo, who lets her go to join her friends. And Bingo is understandably sad at this - giving up a "lovey." Which I guess most children do. (I never did, but I know I am sort of an oddball). It also mirrors an adult encouraging their kid to go out on their own.

And then Bingo approaches the sun - which in the dream is lovely and warm and not dangerous like getting close to the REAL sun would be - and the sun says in Chilli's voice, "Remember, I'll always be here for you, even if you can't see me, because I love you."

 And oh, that's where I start crying every time I see the episode. I am still JUST young enough to remember being an age where my parents could make everything OK, where they could take care of me, where nothing bad would happen when they were close by. One of my very early memories is hiking in one of the Akron Metroparks with them, reaching up high to hold each of their hands; I was probably three or four. 

Of course, at 54, what gets me now is that I don't really have that any more, and probably never will again. My dad is gone, and I admit I've taken on some of the "reassurer" role he used to fill for my mom (and I see now where I get my anxiety and tend to ruminate over things). And so now often on the phone calls we have, I do things like tell her that no, it's not silly for her to continue to wear a mask at church, it's probably a good idea or that if she doesn't succeed at the driving test in May (Illinois makes everyone over, I think 80? Take a road test every year) there is good bus service in the town and I can help her figure out the schedules when I'm up there, and she has friends who will drive her places, and there's the Faith in Action group to drive people to doctor's appointments. 

But what that means is there's not really a place for me to get reassurance that I need, or that I don't feel like adding my worries to the pile she already has, and that's kind of a hard and lonely place to be. 

And then, as the end of the episode approaches, we see Bingo returning to the shards of the earth, and trying to reassemble it, and it's hard, and some of the pieces are far away and difficult to reach. And well, yes, she gets help - Floppy comes back and brings a couple friends - I can see myself trying to stick the bits and pieces of my world together, all on my own without help, and it's just hard and frustrating sometimes. 

So I don't know. I'm in here (my office) trying to grade some papers and I REALLY need to evaluate the scholarships and I kind of wanted to try - late in the day, because allergies and then I can shower and wash the pollen out of my hair when I get home - going out to the field site to try to get research inspiration but also to walk a little, just to convince myself I can walk in the field. (I need to walk more; I think it's staying too still at this point that makes me hurt)

* Also in the news: JoAnn Fabrics has formally declared Chapter 11 and while it sounds like they are going to try to keep going and not even close any stores, it makes me sad to see parts of the craftworld contracting. (A lot of knitting shops and some quilting shops have closed down; a number of indie dyers have gone out of business). And yes, I think part of it is our lives now: lots of people really have no money for "fripperies" like that (though in the end: you need things that make your life seem worth living, as well as the things you need to go on living like food and housing and medicine) and also many people don't have the time or energy for craft now (she says, thinking of her dozen unfinished projects and all the stuff in the "stash" that may never be used).

I don't know. My tentative fun-day plan (either tomorrow or Wednesday) is go to back to Michael's for a bit more time - I was tired and struggling with the hard floors last weekend - and maybe go to JoAnn's as well, even though of late, you can tell they've been struggling, stock has been low and not well replenished. 

I wish I had a better idea for a "fun day" but there's no one to go do things with this week, and I am physically incapable of strenuous hiking right now. And there aren't any cool museums near enough to feel worth the drive. 

I might run out to the local quilt shop before heading to the field this afternoon, just to ask if they're still taking quilts to be quilted. (I have a top that's been done for over a year that I could take in, if I can run up the backing this week)

But I do feel a bit like I did during 2020-2021 after having been so limited by this knee for a couple months; I feel like I'm suffering from a shortage of fun in my life and that it's hard to come by.