waddaya know.

Well I am glad the pictures are going up again. I think my file size was too big initially, and I needed a few minutes (very precious minutes lately) to resize to less-than-behoemoth proportions. So I will post a few pics on my Christmas post, like I tried to do previously, and then some pics of crochet projects I have completed recently.

I have not done any heavy-duty emailing or posting here in a week or so, as I have been very preoccupied with things and feeling overwhelmed for the umpteenth time. I'm going back to the doctor next week to check on my thyroid, because I have been more tired than I should be (full night's sleep and a nap almost every day, and I am still tired) and also more irritable than my normal short-fused self. I don't know if it's hypothyroidism again, or if I am just depressed. It's really hard to tell, but it was such a relief to know the first time I was checked, that it was completely out of whack and explained most of the problems I had after A was born. Not too often that one diagnosis can cover depression, fatigue, weight gain, hair loss, and being cold all the time. And that a little inch-wide organ can control all of that. It's pretty amazing. But not unlike much of the body--the smaller the organ is, it seems that much more complex, like the eye.

Things are also less than ideal at D's work at the moment. There have been lots of changes in the management, accompanied by some extremely untrustworthy behaviour by the corporation running things, to the point that D is considering other places to work. The problem is, if one wants to move up in his field, there isn't any other place in the commutable area that would suffice. So for the first time in my life, I don't want to move away from Baltimore, but find that I might.

If I think about it too much, I just can't function. I hate moving, even though it pares down so much of the accumulated crap that creeps in. I can pare down if I had two uninterrupted days and about 20 trash bags (not likely to happen...). But the idea of getting a house ready to sell, uprooting myself from everything comforting and secure here, going someplace where there is no one I could call in a pinch to babysit or commiserate with, just gives me the horrors. And the biggest thing is friends and family that I wouldn't see but once or twice a year... I can't do it. It's hard enough as it is.

So a lot is on my mind. After the initial shock that this is a possibility, I have been more calm than I might have been a few years ago. Because today has enough worries of its own, as Jesus says. But still, it lingers as I make plans to enroll A in preschool, to take a trip with friends to italy in May, teaching plans. Being around friends and family.

I know that nothing in this life is guaranteed, except the fact of my salvation and God's love for me. Those things will not change, but everything else can be changed in an instant. One cannot really live well by dwelling on that, though. Living like this is the last day of my life, like the cheesy country song I heard in a waiting room, is just too emotionally exhausting, packing the day with so much meaning and importance. How does one live like that, and not feel crushing dread that the other shoe will drop?

I need to stop reading the news, or at least news about regular people whose lives were instantly changed by tragedy. Having reports of global chaos at my fingertips is a terribly dangerous thing, since there's always something awful happening to somebody in the world, and some joe reporting it. So every day there's something with a body count, or a crime so unusually horrid that the numbers don't matter. Good and praiseworthy things are not good copy, I guess; you can almost hear the disappointment when someone makes a full recovery, or they find that the missing kid was just hiding in the basement or whatever.

I guess you could say it's no wonder I am depressed, thinking about any one of these things. If I was really busy I wouldn't have time to think about it all, or read any of it. But no, I remember feeling the same things when my life was full of grading papers, planning lessons, disciplining students, and trying to find time and energy to paint. It's just the way I am wired.