Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way

It’s been a glorious weekend, weather-wise, here in Maryland. I spent most of it at home but on Monday, I took a drive with my husband to get groceries and staples in Amish country.

The only groceries we seem to buy there are meat, though. We got enough chicken to stock the frig for over a month, but the store we’ve been going to since the early 80’s has expanded to a size that is almost ridiculous.

Nearly the entire store has been changed around, and I found myself not liking it one bit. Well, maybe just a teeny bit. Perhaps it comes with age, I don’t know. And when we were done with our shopping there, we went next door to get some clothing staples for my husband. He wears Carhart everything and if they made underwear, he’d probably wear that too.

Please don’t tell me they make Carhart underwear.



I’m showing you the bucolic scenes that we drove past early this morning. Funny story: When we loaded the groceries into the car, my husband noticed that George was favoring his left paw. He tried to walk from one side of the back seat to the other and nearly fell over.

He was fine earlier, and after closer inspection of his dangling hoofer, we both determined that his foot had fallen asleep and he was experiencing pins and needles.

Actually, it’s not really that funny. He did look a little forlorn back there.



And speaking of forlorn, I will tell you that today it was hard driving back into our past. That’s what I call it, anyway. We travel through all of these areas where we used to live (in Pennsylvania) and today I found myself wishing I hadn’t come along for the ride.

I tried to change how I was dealing with it but everywhere I looked, there lay my past. The high school where I used to work, the elementary school where my boys attended kindergarten, the gas station near our cottage on a horse farm where we lived for years, the roads where I traveled with my two young sons in tow while Tutu drove. I think that was the part that made me the most forlorn.



I began to wonder if this is how the rest of the day was going to be for me.

And then I thought of Cher in Moonstruck with Nicolas Cage.

“SNAP OUT OF IT”, she yelled at him when he told her he was in love with her.




My husband asked me what I was smiling about. “Oh, just a movie line,” I told him. And the closer we got to home, the better I began to feel.

I’m strange, I know.

These photos were processed using two actions from Set 1 of Pioneer Woman Actions.
I used Vintage, reducing the opacity to 50%. Then I ran fresh and colorful at about 90%. I just felt the need to share that with you.


Well, then. I guess it’s until tomorrow, my friends . . .


PS ~ The post title is a line from a song that was playing while we were driving home. It seemed appropriate to use the lyrics here.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.
~ Time, Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon