August already.
My birthday month (I'm Liz and I'm a Leo, grrr).
Time marches on.
Although it feels like it stopped at the beginning of the year.
The days are by no means dragging but it's like I'm treading water (not that I've ever tread actual water).
Despite some easing of restrictions nationally, I seem to be still mostly living life to the lockdown beat.
There's food shopping once a week, dog walking every night, and whatever I feel like the rest of the time.
The garden's had more attention than it would usually and stuff is actually growing. The rose display was the best yet and now the hydrangeas are putting on a good show. The pond is still problematic. There was an emergency when the water stopped flowing, which had implications for the remaining fish, and I didn't have a clue what to do. Cue much Googling and Youtube video watching and hey presto, pond pump located, cleaned and up and running once again. I've found a local company who can undertake a proper maintenance and cleaning job on it and just need to persuade the now far from rational/ reasonable mister that this would be the best option (for me and the fish).
Two conifers in the front garden had outgrown their space (I was forever reversing into one of them) and it was time to have them removed. The resulting space has been strewn with grass seed and watered religiously. At the moment it's looking a tad, erm, tufty but hopefully will fill out over time.
Talking of filling out, if the size of my backside is anything to go by, there's been far too much baking going on. Cakes, biscuits, flapjacks, buns, crumbles (using redcurrants gifted from my neighbour), bread. You name it, my oven has delivered it. I've called a halt for the time being and am trying to cook and eat sensibly (definitely not on a diet, a less cereal, more fruit kind of thing, but I would like to become reacquainted with my jeans).
Sometimes there's a bit of knitting (I've been buying kits from here, three so far) and, despite an ongoing issue with maintaining focus, there's always a book on the go (I've just finished what is undoubtedly the best book I've read so far this year and which may even be one of my best reads ever) and I'm currently loving this.
Unfortunately, yoga hasn't been happening much at all after I injured a hamstring, probably as a result of stupidly over stretching (at my age, you'd think I'd know better).
I've (somewhat nervously) left the house for reasons other than buying food. There's been an appointment with my GP ('Wear a face mask'. 'I haven't got one yet'. 'Well, just cover your face with something'. The buff I found in a drawer seemed a better option than a tea towel) and then one with the oncologist ('I like your face mask.' 'Thanks. I've just bought it. Cost me 45 quid.' 'Someone saw you coming.') at the hospital in another town (don't worry, I'm fine).
I've been to the dental surgery three times after the crown (neither my dentist nor I will ever forget that particular day) from my tooth fell out (I'm never chewing gum again). More recently, I've had my hair cut and coloured and I've braved the local park for socially distanced catch ups with a couple of lovely friends. Yesterday, after a highly stressful start to the day, I got in the car, parked by the river, sat and read my book, people and dog watched. It helped.
Deprived of conversation most days, I'm probably still talking far too much to supermarket staff (and to the poor bloke who came to fix the washing machine) but, thankfully, since we've been part of his 'support bubble', the Boy has been able to pop over at weekends, providing some much appreciated company and chat (and help with the removal of bags and bags of garden rubbish).
Then, last Sunday, the littlest and his parents drove up from Manchester to join in the Boy's birthday celebrations (a picnic in the Priory followed by mint choc chip ice cream cake and champagne back here), the first time we've seen them since February.
The soon to be 5 littlest has grown. A lot. And currently speaks with an American accent ( 'Hey, Mom!').
So, that's what I've been up to since I last posted. Nothing wildly exciting. Not all bad. Ticking over.
But I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a permanent knot in my stomach, that living with someone with dementia isn't testing me to my limits, that I wasn't missing my old life, that I wasn't wishing for the old rhythm.
I know there'll be no neat and tidy finale to this seemingly interminable pandemic and that the way ahead is paved with oh so much uncertainty (difficult for those of us who like to plan and have adventures of one sort or another in the pipeline, to have something to look forward to).
Heeding the advice of the wellbeing gurus, I'm trying to focus less on what isn't possible and can't be planned for and more on what I have and can still do. Being more comfortable with the uncomfortable.
It ain't easy.
Baby steps, baby steps.