Not Much

 I don't have much to report tonight.  I spent most of the day downstairs sewing

a long-sleeved tee shirt that I cut out months ago.  I must have been asleep when I cut it out because I neglected to look at the cutting layout before I began and ended up having to cut one sleeve with the stripes going the long way.  That worked out okay, it just looks a little odd.  Odd, I don't mind, but I also cut the neckband with the stretch going the wrong way so that it wouldn't stretch to fit the neck opening.  I have puckers that I can't get out.  I tried but just ended up moving the puckers from one place to another.  I'm calling it a practice shirt.  When I make another one I'll be sure not to make the same brainless mistakes again.

Nothing much is happening in the garden anymore.  The bees are still happily visiting the mint flowers every day  I love watching them.  I love walking on the mint in the garden too; it makes my shoes smell good.

 

 

06 September--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's. 

Brady watched her go, his thumbs hooked over his apron top, feeling that even though his business was in shambles it had been a pretty good day.  He whistled as he disposed of the pizza boxes, finished his soda, and made sure everything was locked up tight before he turned out the lights and left, double checking the kitchen door lock before he got in his truck and drove home.

Naomi walked home in a fog, not the best idea for someone living in her neighborhood.  But it was not too late and the creatures of the night had barely begun to stir.  She let herself into the apartment, called out for Marcus and was about to get angry when she noticed the note on the table.  Mom, it said, I am spending the night at James’s so we can watch a Star Wars marathon. You forgot, didn’t you?  See you Friday around noon.  I will stop at the diner on my way home.  Love, Marcus   She smiled; she had forgotten.  She thanked god that she had managed to raise her son to be such a good boy.  He was still a typical fourteen-year-old, but listening to other parents at school functions, she said a little prayer that he stayed the good boy he was. 

Keeping Marcus on the straight path was the only reason she had been able to endure the slurs and criticism for staying on welfare that long from people around her.  Not everyone was critical, of course, but many of the older parishioners at church had a few sharp things to say until she either told them to mind their own business or explained that her son’s upbringing was more important than how she got money to live on.  She assured all of them and herself at the same time that as soon as Marcus was off to college, she would be first in line at the employment office.  But now she did not need to stand in any lines; she had a job.  And one that made her feel like a real person.  Fay and Brady treated her like she was an equal part of the family at Better Than Mom’s.  Fay teased her about her cooking and her conservative wardrobe.  Brady listened to her ideas for menu changes and seriously tasted any new recipes she suggested.  It made her feel like a person, more than anything had in years, because at the diner she was no longer Marcus’ mother or that lazy girl who was on welfare, she was Naomi who makes the best biscuits in the county, maybe in the state, and the tastiest fried chicken anywhere. 

Since Marcus was away for the night and it was only (she craned her neck to check the clock over the stove) nine-fifteen Naomi decided to treat herself to a bubble bath.  It was not often that she had the time or the privacy to luxuriate in a tub of hot fragrant bubbles, not with an active and popular fourteen-year-old boy in the house who thought nothing of bringing over a few teammates for popcorn and movies.   

She felt pretty darned grubby after working all day cleaning up the mess in the diner and a nice hot soaking bath would be just what she needed to soothe her aches and help her sleep.  She rummaged in the back of her closet and unearthed a faded orange pillar candle that used to smell of exotic spices but now just smelled like fabric softener, but she plunked it in the middle of a saucer from the kitchen and lit it to lend a little atmosphere to her bath.    Turning off the lights in the apartment except for the one over the sink, she drew her bath tipping in a capful of bubble bath that Marcus had given her for Christmas the year before.  She tuned the radio to a soft jazz station, stripped off her dirty sweaty clothes, and settled carefully into the steamy water.  She did her best to turn off her mind, leaned her head back on a towel and gave herself up to the sensations of the moment.  The hot water seeped into her bones and made her tight muscles loosen.  The flickering candlelight relaxed her, and the soft sexy music seemed to dance along her spine setting her toes to tapping on the faucet.   

She lay there breathing in the fragrant steam and imagining whirling around a starlit dance floor in a flowing gown made of dark red silk and chiffon in the arms of a graceful man in a tuxedo, palm trees swaying in the breeze.  Palm trees?  Where had that come from?  She had never been out of the state of Wisconsin, how had palm trees found their way into her dreams?  And was that fantasy dancing partner wearing an apron?  Her eyes popped open and she glared at the cracked plaster in the corner of the bathroom.  It was not until then that she realized that the station she had the radio tuned to was the same one Brady played all the time in the diner kitchen.  No wonder her imaginary dancing partner was in an apron; she associated this music with Brady.  She shook her head and settled back into the water determined to keep him out of her dreams.  At least until after their date.

Today's toss was a stack of cutting boards.  Do people buy used cutting boards?  I don't remember if I've seen any at Goodwill but then I haven't looked.  I'll take them anyway.

It was muggy and breezy today.  It was supposed to rain but it didn't manage more than a dozen drops.  If it's going to be overcast and dreary all day, the least it can do is rain a little.

--Barbara