Dreary Monday

I'm getting tired and staying tired these days. I suspect its a mental/emotional condition and I'll get over it. Never fear. I'd like to play hooky the next three days and just give 'er, as they say around here, and get Mom's stuff all set and primped up for the sale next weekend. Next week's the last week for leaf collection and I just don't have time to go out and round up the stragglers. Ah well, they'll make good mulch, and the work will get done before the sale. The sole good thing to come from Mom's sudden passing (aside from not having to watch her have to give up her bridge playing, get really sick, and either lose her marbles or be in excruciating pain) is that I get to spend a few days with my brothers. I haven't done that in forever and when we've been together it's been with all our families. Not that I don't like to spend time with them too but TW and AJ and I have been family for 56 years and we're too busy to get together much these days. It's something I appreciate and don't want to lose. AJ loaded all the doll babies--dressed and naked, whole, headless, articulated and dis--into totes with quilts and towels to protect them, and most of the boxes of pictures into Durwood's van yesterday for me to bring home. I'm going to bring home some of the shelving units from Mom's and use them to store that stuff. Somewhere. I may have to sort through a crapload of our crap to have room (which would not be the worst thing). Then if someone calls to say Mom had their doll, I'll have it, and some weekend this coming winter we can get together to sort through pictures and divvy them out or have copies made. Once we can walk through the living room again, that is.

November 20--Southern Netherlands, Crib of the Infant Jesus. She walked back to the square glass case that held the ornate crib. "Did you see that there're four angels? One on each corner." Sally huffed in frustration and trailed back to stand beside her mom. "Angels. Yep, I see them." Her tone of voice was flat and bored. "I wonder why they put jingle bells on those ropes," Lois said, pointing. "Those are bells, right? The baby Jesus must not be a light sleeper." "Ma," Sally tried to keep her voice down, "the baby Jesus doesn't sleep here. It's just... just furniture." Lois tugged on her daughter's sleeve to make her follow her around to the side on the case. "See those openings in the sides? Don't they look like church windows? Do you think they'd let me rock the Baby Jesus to sleep next time he's here?" She looked around. "They'd have to lower the lights so the little Guy could sleep." Sally shook her head. The museum might have been a bad idea. Maybe they should go to the zoo next Sunday. At least she'd get a nice walk outside along with her weekly dose of crazy talk.

Oh. I didn't know that Lois was that old. Huh. Funny how that stuff happens when you're not looking. Enjoy your day. I will. Two words. Pay. Day.
--Barbara