I like statistics. For example, this blog with its 340 posts
since my husband died in January of 2012, has over 121,300 views (not
counting my own) and 2,200 comments (counting my own). The post that’s gotten
the most views is Another Letter to my
Deceased Husband topping out at 5,660 views and the second most viewed post
is The True Meaning of our Dreams
coming in with 4,315 views. Bloggers overview page doesn’t show the least
viewed post but I wish they did. Not that I’d avoid writing about that topic if
I knew what it was, but curiosity is my middle name.
I enjoy the blogging community---writing in it and reading
what others are sharing about their lives. We are all so different but very
much a like at the same time. Like all bloggers, however, I wish more readers would comment once in a while, but it is what it is. Some people can’t make the comment widget
work. Some don’t have the time or feel a need to share
their thoughts. Others land on one post or another by a Google search that went
in a direction they didn’t intend. You can tell when that happens because they
only stay on the post a few seconds. Well, enough of that….
I’ve only done two things the last half of this week that
are worth writing about. One of those things being I attended a lecture about
de-cluttering your house. I went for inspiration rather than how-to
information. Unless you live under a rock or haven’t watched day-time TV in the
last five years most of us know the process for de-cluttering our houses. Peter
Walsh has made sure of that. I am very proud of myself because earlier this
week---before the lecture---I took a three foot high stack of my husband’s specialty
magazines to recycling. I’d sold a similar stack of them on eBay at five-for-fifteen-bucks
a pop plus shipping but it’s a lot of work and I wanted the space on the library shelf for
books I’ve accumulated since his passing. Still, it was hard to do because it
was like throwing money away…at least in my head and I kept telling
myself those magazine served their purposed when my husband was alive and they
didn’t owe me anything. I do like the way my library looks, now, without books
stacked on the floor. Decorator magazines often show stacks of books used as
end tables but they are not practical to live with. The stacks get tipped over
with the vacuum and you always seem to want a book near the bottom of the pile.
The woman who did the lecture is a professional, certified
organizer and I wouldn’t let her within a 100 feet of my house because she
doesn’t have a sentimental bone in her body. If she’d been around to help Thomas
and Abigail Adams move out of the White House after his presidency was over all
of the letters that Abigail and my ancestor (Mercy Otis Warren) exchanged would
have gone in the trash and I wouldn’t be able to read them today in the form of
a women’s history book. The organizer would call 1-800-Got-Junk for everything that isn't nailed down, I think. "No one needs a closet full of clothes and a kitchen full of gadgets. Your childhood doll and mother's locket? Seriously, do you really need those? Let someone else enjoy them." What about me? I thought, I still enjoy things from my distant past!
About the only useful thing I got from the lecture---aside from the fact that the woman threw us many laugh lines and I had a good time---came from a conversation I had with a widow in the parking lot who is 17 years out from her husband’s passing. She said, “Widowhood is a wave” and she explained that widowhood sadness comes in and out of your life like waves on a shore, even as far out as she is. “But,” she went on, “you know from experience that the waves will go back out as quickly as they came in and they will never be as high or as often as those in the beginning.” You could tell she’d given that speech many times but I do love the metaphor.
About the only useful thing I got from the lecture---aside from the fact that the woman threw us many laugh lines and I had a good time---came from a conversation I had with a widow in the parking lot who is 17 years out from her husband’s passing. She said, “Widowhood is a wave” and she explained that widowhood sadness comes in and out of your life like waves on a shore, even as far out as she is. “But,” she went on, “you know from experience that the waves will go back out as quickly as they came in and they will never be as high or as often as those in the beginning.” You could tell she’d given that speech many times but I do love the metaphor.
The other noteworthy thing I did this week was go to a
birthday party for my Red Hat Society chapter which is marking its eleventh
year. For the party we dress to the hilt. (Isn’t it funny how that expression
is still around? No one wears ceremonial swords with hilts anymore.) The community room where the party was held has a
three story, twelve room Victorian dollhouse and another woman and I sat behind
that house rearranging the furniture and tinkering with the electrical system
for over a half hour. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. The others
had to drag us out to the tables when it was time to eat.
After the party we took cupcakes and cider punch over to a
nursing home where we sponsor an unofficial a Red Hat chapter consisting of 45
ladies and 5 guys. There, we also helped our sister chapter play bingo, giving
out door prizes to the winners. I was the ‘O’ girl. Whenever the caller called
out an ‘O’ number I walked the aisle with a giant queue card that matched the
number called. We five card ladies---B-I-N-G-O---looked like fashion models
walking a runway only without the high end fashion or the stone, cold faces. What
the heck, if you can’t be in entertainment mode at a nursing home, then this
world has gotten too boring and reserved. The residents always thank us
profusely for coming so all’s well that ends well even though going there is
not one of my favorite Red Hat things to do. ©
