I learned an interesting little factoid the other day: In a non-leap year, July 4th is six months from the new year.
That means that my birthday (7/11) is only one week past the six month mark. Which means that maybe this year won't be a complete bust as far as my goals, professional and creative are concerned. As long as I can turn it around rather quickly.
As many of you know, I spent most of the first part of the year in Texas to be with my ailing mother. I do not begrudge this time that I spent back home. I sometimes regret moving so far away from my family. Especially during crises. I felt very guilty when my mom was first stricken ill. I felt absolutely awful that my mom was gravely ill and that I was a thousand miles away. For a few days it looked as though I might never see her again. I have rarely felt more hopeless in my life. Thank goodness that she started to heal just before I flew home. And I am so glad that I was able to be there with her during her long recovery.
My mother is truly a delight, and I will always treasure the months I spent by her bedside. Attempting to sing from an old Church of Christ hymnal (it is astounding how few of those songs I remember), watching and playing along with Wheel of Fortune—Mom is much better at solving than I am, deep talks, and just chatting about this and that—getting to know my mom better in a few months than I had in the last twenty years. I am very glad of the time I got to spend with her. Truly.
And I am so proud of Maa. She has spent the last several months adjusting to a very strict diet and body horrors that would have done me right in. She has been re-learning how to walk, get out of bed unassisted, and many other activities of daily living that she used to be able to take for granted. She has even developed a fondness for the lat pulldown machine from her occupational therapy.
On Friday Mom goes home. By my best calculations, she will have spent 175 days in a hospital or rehab facility. To spend that much time in care would be unthinkable to me. I was starting to unravel a bit just from not being in Chicago for a few months. Just from missing Jennifer and our cats, my routines etc. But to be mostly confined to a hospital bed for almost six months like Mom has been would put me right over the edge, but she just seemed to take it in stride. I know that Maa had days where she was depressed and demoralized, but they were so very few and far between—I remain in awe of her strength and equanimity. She also charmed and befriended the vast majority of her caretakers. Whether they were the janitors, the techs who helped her get clean and clothed, or her doctors, nurses, occupational and physical therapists, all but a very minor few succumbed to the full Ms. Janet Nichols charm offensive. My mother did not make charisma her dump stat.
Please keep Mom in your thoughts and prayers as she continues recovering at home. Please hold my sisters Juliana and Jessica in your thoughts and prayers as they will be taking on more caretaking duties now that Mom is going home. They both work demanding full-time jobs, but due to the vagaries of Medicare and our purposely dysfunctional health care system, they are going to have to take up a lot of the slack as far as Mom’s recovery at home goes. The physical and mental toll is high for them, and the financial load is heavy as well. Never get sick or old in the self-aggrandizing failed state of Texas (or the failed state of the USA, for that matter).
I don’t want to end the discussion of Mom’s recovery on a minor key. She has come so far and worked so hard—she would not even be coming home were it not for her perseverance, after all. I want nothing but the best for her as she returns home. I feel confident in her ability to continue her recovery. Even a month ago, I would not have been too bully on her prospects, but in the couple of weeks since I left Texas she has made great strides—literally. Don’t count Ms. Jan out!
What about me? What am I going to accomplish with the rest of the year?
When the new year began, I was ready to hit the ground running. Practicing guitar every day, exercising (walking) every day, blogging regularly, making videos of my guitar playing, and so many other things that I have honestly forgotten. I was so ambitious. But Mom’s sudden illness really took the wind out of my sails. Please, please know that I am not blaming Mom for my inability to work on my own stuff. I know who the problem is. Believe me.
I tried to keep my mojo working for me, but I’m me. I borrowed a guitar from a friend in Texas (thanks, Kristi). I never even took it out of the case. I initially brought my iPad and a Bluetooth keyboard to blog with. I found that too unwieldy, so I bought an inexpensive laptop that was lost in the ice storm that crippled Texas. When I got the replacement for the lost one, I promptly did sweet fuck all to make up for lost time. In fact, I’ve blogged less than a handful of times in 2021, and I have no good reason for it. Other than my mind could not be coerced through any means to focus on blogging, guitar, or other accomplishments while I was in Texas. I did take regular walks with my friend, Tiffany, who lived in my hometown, so I didn’t completely scrap all the things I was trying to do. Right after I came back to Chicago, Tiffany moved here. She lives with her newish husband in Irving Park—about a mile away from my old apartment. It’s nice to have a friend from back home living across town. Welcome to Chicago, Tiffany!
I just referred to “my old apartment” as though it were years since I lived there; it’s only been a couple of months since Jennifer moved (on her own) us into our new place in Rogers Park. I really liked our old place and would have gladly lived there for several more years, but the owners decided to sell during a fucking pandemic. We decided to break our lease and get into a new joint ASAP. I love the new place. It is superior in almost every way to our old place. I have many fond memories of our apartment on Richmond—we weathered the worst days of the pandemic there. We had separate floors to retreat too, after all. Good fences make good neighbors, and room to breathe makes good marriages. Good memories not withstanding, I will not miss the tiny kitchen or the periodically flooding downstairs. Nor shall I miss our bedroom window being directly above the dumpsters. I really won’t miss the flies that those dumpsters attracted.
So, what am I going to towards completing my goals in this new apartment after July 11?
I am going to get my office/creation station unpacked and organized as much as humanly possible before Sunday. It looks a fright right now. Unpacked boxes and other moving detritus litter the space. I did finally get our printer set up today—baby steps.
I will be taking an online technical writing course. Writing is where my future employment lies one way or the other, and technical writing is the kind that pays the bills. Plus, I like teaching people how to do things, and that is what technical writing is when you strip it down to its basics. Also, learning to make my writing more terse is a bonus.
Begin practicing guitar again in earnest. Keeping in mind that I haven’t played in months. Being gentle on my hands.
Start making content for guitarfiasco.com again.
Start drawing again. Just for fun. Not every hobby I have has to become a calling.
Walk daily. Sometimes with Jennifer, sometimes alone, but daily nonetheless.
Get my blood sugar and blood pressure back under control. I was off of the medicines that I need for the first few months of the year because of deductible bullshit. See above about this fucking failed experiment in “democracy” we call America.
Get back in the habit of blogging regularly. At least once a week. More if I can handle it.
I think that that’s enough for now.
I think that this post is pretty damned disjointed, even by my usual standards. Thank you for allowing me to just write my feelings today. I have a lot of them right now.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
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