You deserve to be attacked like a starving velociraptor.
The other night, I went to Anchor & Hope, my favorite gastropub in London, with some out of town visitors. I have always gone there on my own, so I was curious to try on of their meals for two. My friend Tonya and I took the plunge on rib of beef with chips and bernaise sauce. When it arrived, I realized it was actually designed for three normal people or two hungry lumberjacks. As it turns out, Halcyon and I are lumberjacks.
We finished the whole thing, minus this little beauty. We felt it wasn’t the kind of restaurant where you were free to do it justice — that is to say, pick it up and attack it like a starving velociraptor. My experience tells me that most restaurants in England don’t really do take home boxes. Not quite sure why, but I often wonder if it’s something only uncouth Americans do. The portions here tend to be smaller, so usually that is fine.
On this night, however, I was cursing good breeding. Thankfully, our waitress rescued me after she caught me staring at the bone longingly, with all that juicy meat just sitting there clinging on for dear life. Let me just say “You want me to wrap that up?” are the most wonderful words in the English language.
Winter is a time of rest. The trees shed their leaves, and close up shop. The grass dies back. Animals hide away, waiting for warmer weather. Everything looks cold and gray, and for some, it feels as if life has drawn back the curtains to reveal a certain starkness that perhaps we were naive to before.
Humans go through seasons as well. For the last year, I have been on sabbatical, a time of rest from my work. I didn’t intend it, but I feel as if my soul drew back and hid itself away. I didn’t feel like sharing my treasures with anyone…and to be honest, I don’t think I knew how. I didn’t even have a desire to write, and my blog here, and Hope Ink Magazine, have remained silent. It’s been a bit barren and a bit hard. Sure, there were moments where the sun would peek through, but the hibernation remained intact.
But as we all know, winter does not last. Spring comes next. The wind picks up and blows away the clouds. The rain falls a little more gently, nurturing the buds on the trees. Pretty soon, new life is everywhere.
My life has been mirroring this new season. There are still days of rain and cloud, wind and bluster, where I feel sleepy and stupid and not quite with it, but the sun is beginning to dissipate the gloom and mist of winter. My desire to write is slowly coming back. I came to this blog and looked it over. I thought about writing. Then I decided to take the plunge…new layout, new font, new outlook. I even decided to renew Hope Ink’s hosting, even though I haven’t written there in about a year. I don’t even know what the next step for the site is, but I feel the ground under my feet is starting to break up, and I want to be open to whatever opportunity presents itself.
Spring is coming into my life…so bear with me. Be watching this space. You never know what might spring up.
Over the last six months, I think I’ve gone from being an extrovert to an introvert. I just want to be away from people for the most part, it seems. Which is weird for me, because I used to go to the mall during Christmas just to be around people.
But when I think about it, it makes complete sense. I now live in a house with three other gals, one bathroom. I share a room with someone who is several years younger than me. At my former house, there were three of us, but they were often gone and I had the house to myself. Now it seems I can’t get away from people.
I am perfectly content to be alone over Christmas this year. I’ll be with family for a bit, but my parent’s house is huge, and I can hide out when I need to. Then Nashville. I’m staying with friends, but they work. The prospect of wandering through Nashville alone — visiting the places I want to visit without anyone else complaining about me dragging them everywhere — is absolute bliss.
The next five months of my life are settled, but after that, who in the world knows. Well, God knows, but yeah.
I have all these pieces that are currently floating up in the air that have yet to land. One thing I do know: I’m most likely leaving my current do-gooding position at the end of April to go do more do-gooding elsewhere. It looks like that place might be Los Angeles. But before I land there, I have an opportunity to work with the global communications department of my organization in England. But for how long? One month? Two months? I have no earthly idea.
Will any of this actually take place? Well, that’s what I’m praying about. Please join me in praying as I seek God’s face for the future. The one good thing in the middle of all this chaos: I’m really OK with it. I feel that wherever I land, it’s all going to be OK. I know I’m going in the right direction today, and for now, that’s all that matters.
At one of the coffee shops I frequent, the bathroom has one of those indicators letting people know the facilities are in use. Of course, that doesn’t stop people from careening around the corner and yanking hard on the door.
One of these times, I want to whisper in a creepy voice:
“The way is shut.
It was made by those who are Dead.
And the Dead keep it.
The way is shut.”
Paw Paw, playing Cupid. And goofing off, as usual.
I stopped in to my local coffee shop for some Joe this morning, so I could work and watch the rain outside through the paned glass. And now I’m tweeeeking on caffeine. Not quite sure how this happened. I think my barista may have put two shots of espresso in my drink. Hooboy.
But yeah, it’s raining. In California. My cousin got me this keen-o umbrella for Christmas, for which I am entirely grateful at the moment. I so infrequently get to use said umbrella. It’s a treat to break it out today.
It cracks me up that every one of my California friends has Facebook updates like, ‘I love the rain,’ or ‘Watching the rain fall.’ It’s all anyone has talked about since Sunday, when the rain was forecast. I even had a friend bail on lunch plans because it was so nice and cozy at home, and she didn’t want to get out and drive in the spitting, driving deluge. Californians are enamored by the ‘novelty’ of rain. If only they knew what it was like to get rain for weeks on end, with no sign of sunshine. Californians, I find, start to change their tune when there are more than two days of consecutive rain. They are sunny creatures by nature, and have a hard time driving, walking, and generally functioning when they can’t be outside soaking up that dazzling California sunshine. They start to grumble, then whine, about trying to get from Point A to Point B with soaking feet and flat hairstyles.
Sorry California. I have no sympathy. I lived 26 years with “weather,” and I survived well enough. Put on a hat, break out your barely used umbrella, and wear thick socks. It’s going to be a few wet days.