My new life

 Well, actually it’s just the same me. But different circumstances in my life make it feel new.

So, this happened…

It was a perfect day and a lovely way to formally celebrate our commitment to each other. After some years of widowhood for both of us, we met a year ago and as our relationship grew so naturally and easily, we found life is much better together than alone. And this next step seemed just right. 

We consider ourselves very fortunate to have had loving spouses and many faithful years with them before their passing. We acknowledged both George and Joyce in our ceremony and we keep them alive in our hearts by readily sharing stories and memories with each other.

Living 150 miles apart, we had been informally sharing residences, going between my Chisago City condo and David’s country home in Staples. We have gotten to know and love each other’s families, spending time with each—summer vacation get-togethers, dance recitals, holidays with both families and even a rock concert, compliments of the bass guitarist, my 17-year old granddaughter. Both sharing our Lutheran faith, we have enjoyed worshipping and joining in our respective churches. 

The support and encouragement we have received by all our family members and our friends has been amazing. We have both been made to feel welcome in our circles of love and friendship.

So the next step in this new life: I have moved—not withstanding the boxes in every room waiting to be unpacked—into my new Staples home. Though I have previously stayed here and have brought some belongings, this feels much different. It’s real, it’s permanent, and it’s HOME.

I am ready. I am grateful. I thank God, the master matchmaker. And I am very happy. 🥰

Thank you, as always, for reading my random thoughts and believing I have something to say.

On being late

I know someone who is always late for everything. Meetings, church, work, social events, birthdays, you name it. She’s likely to be late for her own funeral.

This tends to frustrate others especially if they're waiting for her. Car running, keys in hand, all they can do is sigh and wait. This strikes me as being, well, thoughtless and yes, irresponsible.

Yep, it is me. Guilty. 

But I come by it naturally. Growing up, we were always the last family to file in to church, the last ones to arrive for any event, and even the last to eat dinner while our neighborhood friends were playing outside and waiting for us. At school we were often marked “tardy.” Seems I have just kept repeating this behavior.

Most of my own lateness—and I do own it—comes from being distracted. My intentions are good, but there are so many things that divert my attention from being fully prepared to be on time, and I grossly underestimate how long a task will take to complete. 

Scientists call this the planning fallacy and have found that people like me underestimate by a significant 40 percent how long a task will take to complete. And, according to The Wall Street Journal, it’s estimated that the U.S. loses a whopping $90 billion each year as a result of people running late.

Being embarrassed by walking in late to a gathering or upsetting someone’s schedule by being late to an appointment would seem to be a disincentive to repeating this behavior, but I am late despite the consequences. 

I’ve heard it suggested that chronically late people subconsciously like the attention they get from being late. They’re noticed. Another suggestion is that it’s a control thing, like “I’ll decide when I want to show up.” 

As for me, besides being part of a long-practiced habit, it just comes down to poor planning.

So there you have it: New Year’s resolution #1. 

But now I have to run. I’m late.  ⏰ 

                   Thank you for reading my random thoughts. 💭