It's getting ready to storm again in New Hampshire, which is getting somewhere between ridiculous and oppressive. All this snow, towering all over everything. Roofs caving in under snow loads. Roof contractors making megabucks shovelling snow off of roofs--and being able to pick and choose the roofs they will and will not work on.
Pipes freezing, heating systems quitting, more than one contractor friend of mine going flat-out...
..and here I am, debating on whether it is time for me to give up a winter coat that advertises a company that makes a product I don't currently use.
Now, on the surface of the matter, one would think I was nuts. I have Raynaud's Disease, which leaves me intolerant to cold, and this is a very warm coat, so giving it up could safely be considered a foolish move, on the surface of the matter. Looking past that, however, is the history of the thing, moving forward to the present day.
I got this coat from a contractor when I really needed a warmer coat, because it was cold out and I was freezing my ass off. I was (and still am) very grateful for this coat, and to and for the person who gave it to me. However, due to time and use, I've got to decide whether to repair the coat, or retire it.
The zipper is breaking in chunks, and because I've lost weight, the coat is now several sizes too big. Monetarily, I could probably buy a new coat for what it would cost to repair this coat I love so much. and I'm getting kind of tired of, but not intolerably so, of being approached by older gentleman contractors and engineers and being asked "Honey, do you know what Slant Fin makes?" (Older gentlemen contractors and engineers seem to adore me for some reason, and I do know what Slant Fin makes.) At any other time, in any other place, I'd have given up this breaking down coat and replaced it in a heartbeat. I'm having a hard time with this one, despite the fact that I do have a coat that would replace it.
I still love that I have the co-ordinating-with-a-clash accessories (my Scarf-of-Many-Colors and black fleece mittens), that, coupled with this big bright red coat, assure that I am seen no matter where I go. I consider this a win on all fronts, because many of my activities are solitary, and if something goes horrendously horribly wrong, I do want to be rescued.
Well, last night, while I was doing my grocery shopping, I was also doing some musing about why I haven't replaced or repaired this coat. Then I saw this older couple. Maybe in their seventies. They were so small, fragile and cute together as they did their grocery shopping, holding hands and lost in each other. So careful and courteous of each other. It was a thing to watch, and it made me smile. *I* want a marriage like that--although I can do without the physical fragility part for myself, thankyouverymuch.
It hit me. I wasn't giving up this coat willingly just yet, because it represents the gift of a literal security blanket from the person who gave it to me. While it also garnered positive and safe attention, I realized that it really wasn't the sort of attention I really wanted. If I'm going to get approached by folks, I want to be asked about my own business, dammit!
Obviously this state of realizations required some further thought. So I finished my grocery shopping, and headed home for a glass of wine, a square of dark chocolate, and some dinner. When I walked in the door, I was greeted by my roommate's dog, a Pomeranian puppy, barking his furry little head off for attention.
So while I got dinner going, thinking about this state of affairs, the dog just kept barking and barking and carrying on, while Lou and Bullet (two of the three cats in residence) kept jumping on the table and getting into things. Quiet thought was completely failing to happen. Finally, I snagged the puppy, dispensed with the household rules of no cats on the kitchen table, and between the dog winding up in my lap, along with the cats being on opposite sides of the kitchen table, we all had family time, with much love, petting, and touching of noses until the oven timer bing-ed; I put the puppy back in his playpen, and shooed the cats off of the table--and all parties stayed quiet and well-behaved, as I finally understood the lesson.
People and other beings give the kind of love, appreciation and gratitude they are capable of in a given moment. Not all of them are meant to last forever, and that's OK.
Until next time...peace.
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