You know, people, this week has been “just one of those weeks.” Not in the way we usually mean that phrase, not “one of those weeks” where everything that can go wrong does.
Instead, it’s been a week which cannot be faulted. Not really. I haven’t won the lottery or had anything big happen to me. It’s just that thinking about this week makes me feel grateful. And I don’t think I say that often enough.
|A late afternoon on the river.|
I feel as if I’ve been whining too much lately. It’s so cold. I wish it were spring. Why is winter so long? What will I wear? Blah, blah, blah. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record. And really, what do I have to complain about? I should be grateful for all that I have. I should be grateful for my health, and for the continuing good health of my loved ones. Grateful for all the wonderful people in my life, for my family and friends. I should count myself lucky that Hubby and I are financially stable, and happy together, and able to live the life we’d planned, mostly, anyway.
And I am. Grateful. Most of the time. But I rarely think about gratitude, I mean consciously, think about it. And I express it even more rarely.
So. All in all it’s been a pretty darned good week.
Hubby and I have had a couple of great walks in the snow and the sunshine. I finally bought new bedding for our spare room bed, for which I’ve been shopping for ages. I managed to squeeze in a good workout every morning.
After all the planning and phone calls and wading through bureaucracy, the arrangements for home help for my mum, which we thought were all looked after when I was in New Brunswick, and which began to fall apart last week, have now miraculously fallen into place. Mum called two days ago to announce that all was well. Phew.
And Wednesday was treat day. I met my good friend Susan for afternoon tea at the Chateau Laurier. This has been a kind of ritual for Susan and me. We’ve done this a couple of times a year since we worked together in the nineties.
|The Susans take afternoon tea|
David, our waiter and a former student, took very good care of us, with perfect service, complimentary glasses of prosecco, and even a complimentary cheese tray to start. The food was delicious. As we ate and sipped, we talked of our families, and books, and our travels. But after prosecco and tea, and cheeses with chutney and crackers, and scones with Devonshire cream and jam, and sandwiches, we were unable to even start on the sweets. So when I returned to my car I carried my share of the top layer of our tea tray nicely packaged up by David. And discovered, to my delight, at what should have been the height of rush hour, that the traffic had somehow evaporated. Sigh. All in all, a perfect afternoon.
And today. Well, today was lovely and sunny. After my physio appointment, I met Hubby on the ski trail, and we walked (or I walked and he skied) back to the car together. Then we stopped for a take-out latté on our way to our accountant’s office, where we found out that we owed much less on our income tax than we expected. So, my neck feels considerably better, we had a lovely walk in the sunshine, then a nice coffee, followed by good news.
And when we arrived home, I sat for an hour in my sun room, with my tea and a sweet little book called Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris.
Now, that’s a pretty good day, don’t you think? At the end of a pretty darned good week.
You know, in looking back at some of my posts over the months and years, I’ve noticed that I’m not adverse to running off at the mouth over stresses big and small. Sometimes I do it because I think that small disasters make a funny story. Sometimes it’s just what’s going on in my world. But not this week. This week has just been one of those weeks that makes me feel grateful to be alive and living the life I’m lucky enough to have.
Don’t get me wrong. Life is not perfect. Hubby and I are not jetting off to exotic climes every weekend. I’ve not been nominated as most devilishly attractive and stylish over-50 blogger of the universe. Ha. As if. We don’t live in luxurious style. My hair needs a good cut, and I know that I’ve gained a pound (or two) lately, and I’m a little afraid to try to squeeze myself into some of my jeans from last year. That ginormous tea the other day did not help. Still, I’ve a hair appointment with Carmen booked for next week, and I’ve decided that losing a couple of pounds will be my spring project. I love a good project. Something to write a blog post about, eh? I’m on the hunt for red sweaters to go with my new anorak; I do love a hunt. I’ve good books waiting on my shelf to be read. And Hubby and I are deep into the planning of our autumn trip to Italy. So, really, what is all my whining about?
Seriously… I’ve decided there will be no more of that, my friends. No more whining.
At least for this week.
How about you, folks? Has it been just one of those weeks for you? One of the pretty darned good ones? Or one of the other kind? We want to hear it all.