After my haircut I went to a local shoe store to see if they had any Keen-type sandals on sale. I've been wanting some but am not willing to pay full price. I bought this pair of oyster gray ones. They fit right and feel pretty good. They might even get to go West--if they behave.
By then it was time to go to The Attic cafe and bookstore to meet ACJ to write for a couple hours. My brain felt turned off for the most part but after an hour of visiting chat I poked earbuds in, cued up nature sounds on my phone, turned on my Alphasmart, and put my fingers on the keys. And words came out! Four hundred sixteen of them, to be precise. I was amazed and pleased because I've been so distracted by the anniversary of Durwood's death and my impending trip out West. Earbuds, nature sounds, and Alphie are my three writing triggers. They work every time. No brilliance guaranteed, of course, but words come and that's all that I can hope for.
We chatted and wrote, read our writing and chatted some more until it was too late for me to go home to shake the hair schnipples out of my clothes so I toddled along to my monthly grief group meeting feeling rather itchy. An old friend came to her first meeting (at my urging) so we caught a burger afterwards. That meant that I had been feeling little tiny, itchy pieces of hair sift down my back, under my bra, and begin making their way into my undies. Aargh. As soon as I got home I flung all those hairy clothes down the chute and took a shower. Ah, what luxury. What relief.
I knitted on Car Knitting Warshrag #14 at the grief group meeting and got to within half a row of finishing so I brought it inside, finished it, and dug out two more colors of yarn to start #15. I'll knit a few more rows tomorrow before putting it into the pocket of the driver's door of my car so it'll be there when I need drawbridge-up, waiting-room, or support-group knitting.
21 August--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
When I awoke the next morning I could tell before I opened my eyes that the blizzard was over and the power was back on. Bright sunlight magnified by fresh white snow edged the shades and the wind wasn’t whistling around the house. I could hear the furnace churning out heat. I rolled out of bed, put on my robe, and went into the bathroom.
It wasn't until I stepped into the kitchen that I remembered I'd had an overnight guest. By then Abel had seen me and it was too late to go back and brush my teeth and my hair.
"Good morning, Gail. How'd you sleep?" he said. "I hope you don't mind; I made coffee." He held out a steaming mug.
“Thanks.” I glanced up at him and decided he'd been up for hours. He looked fresh and cheerful. At that moment I hated him. I was certain my face looked like a used paper sack and my hair was a rat's nest. "Thanks for the coffee, Abel. I'll go take a shower." I turned around and made my escape before he could get too close a look.
Fifteen minutes and one cup of coffee later, I felt like I was back in control of the situation. When I got back to the kitchen, Abel was sitting in my favorite spot at the table watching the chickadees squabble at the bird feeder.
"Breakfast?" I asked.
"I'm not much of a breakfast eater," he said. "What did you have in mind?"
Mentally going over the things in my larder, I said, "Oatmeal?"
"Oatmeal would be perfect. It'll keep me warm on the ride home."
It took only a few minutes to make two bowls of oatmeal in the microwave. I set out brown sugar, cream, and spoons.
"Can I do something to help?" he asked.
"No thanks, I've got it under control. You could pour me some fresh coffee, though, if you wouldn't mind."
He poured us each more coffee as I put the steaming bowls on the table. As he stirred the sugar into his, he asked, "What're these things?"
I had to smile. He sounded just like my boys when confronted with unfamiliar food. "Dried cherries from Door County. They served oatmeal with dried fruit every morning at The Clearing and one morning they had cherries. I loved it so much, I put them in all the time now." He handed me the brown sugar. "I hope you like it."
After clearing the dishes and helping load the dishwasher, Abel decided to go home. "I hope you aren't bombarded with gossip about me staying here last night, Gail." He put his hands on my waist and drew me closer. "I wouldn't want to do anything to make you unhappy." And he kissed me. Really kissed me, like he meant it. I realized that I was kissing him back and meaning it every bit as much. My breath was short and I could feel my heart pound. I began to slide my hands up his arms to his shoulders. We broke the kiss at the same time. "Gail?" he said in a low voice.
The phone rang. The spell of our ardent kiss evaporated and I rushed to answer it. "Hello?" I expected it to be the first of the busybodies.
"Mrs. Logan, my name is Lawrence Kaster and I’m with Global Life & Casualty Insurance Company… ”
“I am not interested in insurance. Thank you.” I hung up on him and turned back to Abel, eager to resume our interrupted kiss, to see he had put on his snow pants and was tugging on his boots. “Oh, you’re leaving.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d better get on home before the weather turns again. Do you want me to clear your walk before I go?”
“No, thanks. It’s nice of you to offer but I kind of like getting bundled up and playing in the snow. I’ve got a new red snowblower that’s real easy to use. I’ll have it cleared in no time. But thanks for asking.”
He stood and put on his jacket, zipped it up, and came over to where I stood. He leaned down and kissed me again. “Well… I’m glad your phone’s back on; give me a call if you need anything. Watch out for the gossips.”
I laughed and kissed him back. “I will. Have a safe ride home. Call when you get there so I know you made it okay.”
He picked up his helmet and gloves and left. I was tempted to call him back but let him go.
I woke up at 5:30 AM again today. I wake up to make a potty run, barely open my eyes, and lay right back down. Do you think I can go back to sleep? Nope. It's making me mad. I need to get my light turned off before 11:30 PM. That would help.