I’m in trouble. I have my Chai. Feeling better, head clearing. I can feel things draining downward. But when I speak, I can hear my hoarse voice echo in my head. My ears pop and my eyes tear. When I cough, I can hear the rattle in my chest. Too soon for complete recovery yet. BIG HEAVY SIGH.
I need to be patient and let the cold run its course. But I am getting cranky and feeling distraught with discomfort at times. These are not the restful symptoms of being totally sick, of doing/not doing of yesterday. I’m going to take these as signs of healing. I better keep pushing the fluids and take an analgesic to relieve my distress and crankiness. This morning, my tapping fingers are not enough.
I don’t know how other Canadians are feeling, but I am sick of the Jian Ghomeshi story. Only a day out, it seems to be in our lives over everything else. So much speculations. So many different opinions. So much #*^!!!! Reminds me a little of the O.J. Simpson story. Let me not add to the hash and rehashing of these stories.
Let me move onto my second week in France. I was interrupted by a slow Internet there.
October 22, 2014
It is now Wednesday in France. We are down to our last two days before heading home.
I am happy for this time away from my familiar surroundings. It helps to take me out of myself, out of my small mind and gives me a larger scope of the world. I hope I can be more open-minded. At this same time, being away from home brings me closer to understanding who I am. I see my small concerns for what they are. I see my selfishness and my mean ways. I wish to do better.
I am missing my fur baby, Sheba. I can imagine her excited barks upon our return. I remembered the first time we were away from her. She was so happy to see us upon our return that she ran circles in the street. She brought tears to my eyes. I’m thinking that we could learn from our pets. They know how to greet us. We should let the people in our lives know they are appreciated.
This is what I’m thinking as I sit here tapping my words. It should be that simple. But it is not. We have to make things complicated. We put in conditions. We insist that people see things our way. We demand that they hear us before we will listen to them. I believe we call this tit for tat.
I am quite weary of this way of living. I am exhausted by it. I am at many crossroads at this time in life. What a better place and time to find this out than in a place of neutral ground. Perhaps I will have a clearer sense of direction as I fly home.
I am hoping when we get to the airport on Saturday morning, we will not be told there is something wrong with my ticket. It is strange all the things that had gone wrong with our bookings when they were done by professionals. Now I’m totally sold on that there are no such things as accidents. Everything is meant to happen.
On these last mornings here, we walk the streets of the village. They are still quite empty. We see the same cat and dog. Some cars drive by. We wave. Now we are able to discern a nod from the drivers. We see a woman here and there clearing the flower boxes in the windows. We say bonjour, the only French word we know besides Je ne parle pas Francais.
Well, I like to say I’m trying. I am. Every day. Always. Sometimes it wouldn’t hurt to give it a rest.