It's been a hard week and I've come a bit undone. Getting lost in looking down the road. Anytime I start counting the time that we are apart: 8 months a year, 20 years over a 30 year career. It devastates me. I honestly cannot understand how anything, any amount of optimism or putting a positive spin on things can ameliorate the effect of those numbers. What they mean. Living our lives apart. I can't comprehend how he can hear those numbers and not pause.
He just left today around noon, after getting home the night before last around midnight. In his book, that's three days at home. Feels more like a day and a half to me. But I can't say that. That is being negative. Five more days away, then two more home.
I'm just really struggling.
So, I haven't been writing. Not even fluffy cooking pieces. Though I have been cooking.
I've been cooking fall food: soup, chili, roasts, root vegetables. I made a yummy roasted eggplant salad the other day that I'd never tried before and was quite fond of it. Then there was the Green Chili Pork Stew with lots of fresh jalapenos, cilantro and lime. Even the 12 year-old boy with the "hot" aversion liked it.
I've been cooking pear crisp and giving away pears, and snacking on pears and I still have bags of pears in the garage. My trees fruited abundantly this year. And I can see I must learn how to prune, for they damaged themselves with the weight of the fruit.
I've been talking about training for a half in early November. I put together a catch-up training schedule. I've been seeing a new chiropractor to help with my hip issues but I've only half-heartedly been running.
And I've been trying to live on a budget. Money freaks me out. There. I said it. I suck at money. So, this budget thing....yeah, we aren't really friends, yet.
I've been going to cross country meets and soccer games. I've been letting the grass grow way too long in my yard and then, today, I finally cut it.
But, all along, as I go through my days without my partner by my side, I've been feeling low.
Knew this Newark thing was gonna be hard. But, yep, I'm struggling. It's a glamorous life this: living "with" a pilot.