I think a lot.............

There is a reason one should keep all the paperwork in files and in order. I know. I happen to be missing the gene that automatically triggers organisation. Sigh. So, on a grey day more reminiscent of winter, where the heating is on (I know - nightmare) I have been upending box after box trying to find facts and figures that we need at the moment. The lawyers. Oh well. For those of you new here, my husband's death is still being investigated. Nearly 7 years on. Hospitals. Manufacturers. Importers. Aaaaargh.

And in the meantime, life goes on. Doesn't it always? That is one of the most reassuring of facts, you know. Time ticks on, seasons change, night follows day and we get on with living the best we can.

The organising. I loathe it.

Unless it involves fabric or yarn or fascinating bits and bobs, like templates or cameras, or ........

I digress.

My days may seem boring to some, but you know, I have earned the right to slow down and savour things a little more. 36 years of being a Mum does that. I love poddling about in the garden. I love reading, although that is seriously challenging when the meds I have to take interfere with my short term memory. I start a book and by chapter 3 I have forgotten everything. So I read non-fiction instead. Somehow, I remember that better. I love being creative. Sewing, quilting, playing with wood, paper, fabric, wool. I absolutely love writing. I bake a bit, especially at Christmas. I need to have people around to eat the things I make or you would be talking to Jumbo here. I love talking. Thinking. Remembering. Reflecting.

Multi-faceted. Facetted? Whatever. Me.

And the doing. Things like the aquazumba - I can dance in the water. Pilates when I can get into a class. Walking.

I am happy to stay close to home. I do not have to be out every day. I love being here. That doesn't mean, however, that I want to be a recluse or to avoid travel. I LOVE people. I LOVE adventures. I love going to different countries and exploring everything. I have big dreams, and a List of Things To Do Before I Die too. My own bucket list.

Actually, I have had it for decades. Long before it became fashionable. I try to cross a few things off each year, and keep adding to it as I grow older. I eliminate stuff too. Seriously, my days of dreaming about a tandem paragliding flight are now out of the question. Not just the physical part where you have to run off a cliff .(I can't run anywhere any more, never mind off a cliff. Maybe if a lion was chasing me, I could. Jet propelled.) But the mental part. I have no desire to do it anymore.

One thing though, as you get older, the need to suddenly add more and more things to that list speeds up dramatically. There is more of a sense of urgency. I want to try things. Be in places. Do stuff. Meet people. I don't mind being alone. But it would be lovely to do some things with friends as well. Will be. I have great friends.

There is a variation of the words below out on the Internet, but I rather like this version. See what you think......

Hunter S Thompson wrote it this way:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”

So much to do. Dreams to fulfil. Some of mine are teeny. I can manage them. Some are immense. I will manage them too. One day.

And so, I am happy here, watching my garden grow. planting seeds, watering them, tending them, and seeing them blossom into beauty. Just like it was giving birth to and raising 3 children of mine. All grown, blossoming and beautiful now. And still the gardener watches over them, and still is tempted to prune and tend. Mothering, you know, never stops. They forgot to mention that in the handbook.

A lot of words today. I like words.