Let’s Start Over, OK?

Remember when I wrote about our New Year’s Eve pizza bonanza, and my idea that getting all that unexpected free pizza was a sign that 2012 would bring us “more than we expected” in other ways?

Well, it has.

But not necessarily in a good way.

Sure, the weather has been delightful instead of frightful. But that’s about all I can say.

Last night at choir rehearsal I learned another friend had been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer, while another had suffered a serious mental collapse, and a third was in the hospital following a possible “brain bleed.” My mental worry list has now stretched even farther across my brain, adding these folks to my heightened concerns about my dad, and my sadness over the impending death of my neighbor.

When we came home from rehearsal, I went outside with the dogs. It finally turned cold and blustery, and I was trying to hurry them inside. As I followed them through the back door, I tripped over my own toes and went sprawling on my face, landing my entire weight <crack> on the bridge of my nose.

And in case you ever wondered – yes, you do see stars.

And yes, there is an obvious, tiny broken spot just south of the bridge.

I’d like to start January over, please. I’m declaring this National Do Over week. Let’s do the Etch-A-Sketch trick, shake up the past two weeks, and erase them so we can start again with more positive experiences this time around.

Anybody with me?

How about you? Has your year so far been delightful or frightful?

The bright spot in an otherwise troubling month? Seeing this little face pop up almost daily in my in-box:




20 thoughts on “Let’s Start Over, OK?

  1. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to get out of bed in the morning, at our age we see more and more of the sadness of friends and all we can do is to extend a hand to help where we can.

    Your little bundle of joy grandson will keep brightness in your life.

    • So many of my closest friends are older than I am, which doesn’t improve the odds of them remaining healthy! Still, it’s hard.

      But yes, Connor is the light of our lives right now!

  2. Ouch, your poor nose. 😦 I know that must have ruined your day. I hope you mend quickly. As for us 2011 ended with everyone being sick. We are still on the mend and I am hoping that Katy and I will be 100 % very soon. It is very sad when we find out that loved ones that are close to our hearts are sick or passing on. I guess it is part of life that we have to deal with in our own ways. The pic of your grandson is beautiful. Thanks for sharing it with us.

  3. Your nose is a much more serious issue than my foot – thank goodness you didn’t do more damage! – but I did manage to run over my own toe with a grocery store cart the other day. Never mind how that happened – it took a full week for me to be able to walk without a limp.

    I don’t know – my dad used to say to me, “Don’t wish to relive the past. It might turn out worse!” Your present has to be painful, but Lou’s right. We’re getting to that time of life when we’d better start honing our coping skills. I was shocked – shocked, I say – to discover the other day my best friend is 77. I mean – I knew it, but I didn’t really KNOW it. I’m hearing more and more conversations about the importance of younger friends, and I’m sure beginning to understand my mom’s loneliness at the end of her life when everyone of her best friends had been gone for ten years.

    Well, on we go. I really hope the rest of January is better for you – not to mention the rest of the year!

    • Funny, last night one of my dearest friends talked about the fact that her knee was giving out. “It has had 77 years of use!” she said. I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out, ” You can’t be 77!!” Like you, I knew it, but didn’t really KNOW it. That is a testament to her youthfulness, though, which I hope to emulate over the next 20 years!

      My mom is terribly lonely too, and my neighbor who is ill is also one of my mom’s greatest (and last living) friends. I think each loss takes a little bit out of her own life.

  4. So sorry Becca! I know others who are having the same sort of start to the year, so you are not alone. I think a do over would be great for those in need! Hope you mend quickly!


  5. Ouch! So sorry to hear about the trials in your life right now. It sounds like a hard time, both for you and for your friends and family. Sure hope that one of the words that came your way this Epiphany was “grace,” and I hope that you are feeling enough of its warmth to carry you into a more hopeful place. That adorable grandson of yours sounds like a great blessing in more ways than one!

  6. Oh, Becca, Becca, Becca, I’m so sorry. Sorry on every level — the worry for your friends, the sadness and now the pain. I’ve heard noses are painful. I’m so sorry! I echo anno with the word “grace.” Sometimes it’s all we can hold onto. Many hugs across the not-so-many miles that separate us on this snowy winter morning. (The snow is coming down in big clumps here. Lovely, but…)

  7. Good grief, Becca! I don’t even know what to say. I wish I lived close enough to give you a hug for your soul and some tape for your nose. I’m so sorry.

    I remember talking with my sister about how difficult it was for Dad when he started losing friends and relations. He is almost the only one of his peers who remains, and now we’re starting to experience this sad part of life.

    Not only are we losing friends, but the other part of the equation is that it isn’t as easy to add new friends (not replace old) to you life at this age. It takes years to bond and build memories with others. Certainly, we can begin, but it is more of a challenge. We used to meet people through our son and our activities and by living in neighborhoods with people of common interests. That’s why we’re considering moving to a community that has more people our age.

    I hope your year starts looking up pretty soon, and Connor is beautiful.

  8. It’s hard to shake how sometimes the bad things happen in waves. I’ve often wondered why they seem grouped together like that. It creates an uneasiness when things are good. It’s hard to trust it. I have a list of worries and burdens and it’s hard to figure out how to balance it with the blessings.

    I wish I could give you a hug. Sending a virtual painkiller your way.

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