I went to the apartment after work yesterday for an hour and finished boxing up all the donation stuff. Now all that's left is to go over on Friday morning to wait for the St. Vinnie's people, load the remaining tables (DS is helping with that) and Mom's sewing rocker that I decided to keep, hand over the keys, and that's that. Oh, and carry out the trash while I wait for the charity folks. What am I going to talk about when all this is finished? I looked at Durwood last night and asked him what I'm going to do now that I don't have that big job to do, and he said "come home." I thought I'd been home but I guess even when my body was here my mind was 5 miles away plotting how to best attack a big job. I'm very glad that we didn't have a house to sell or any real estate. I've been figuring out where I can park the dolls until I find out if any of them belong to anyone and where I can store all the photos until we can get together this winter to divvy them out. I realized the other day that now I'm essentially the top layer, the oldest generation in my immediate family. I have a metric crapload of aunts and uncles, cousins, in-laws and out-laws scattered around but on the smallest, nearest branch of the family tree I'm at the apex. Eek. And on a happier note, it's trying to snow. It's kind of sleet/raining right now but every once in a while a flake barges through. We're supposed to get around an inch today. Handyman Dave's supposed to come this afternoon to fix the garage door so then I can exchange the lawn mower for the snow blower (I don't like to rush these things) and be ready for the winter onslaught. "Onslaught" is a lovely word, don't you think? "Onslaught," I like it. I made pumpkin pecan bread last night. It's not quite4 as pumpkin-y as I'd like. Oh dear, looks like I'll have to give this away and try again. Ah me, life's a constant struggle.
November 30--Guatemala, Mayan,Vase with Mythological Scene. The sound was so loud that it rattled all the china in the cabinet. It was like an entity in the small room. The weight of it pressed on her skin. She felt it throb in her feet and it radiated up until it nestled in her chest altering the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Promising, but once again I conked out and the pencil scrawled down the page. Stay dry today.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Handing over the keys -- a real milestone. So glad you don't have to do the cleaning bit. And I love D's comment about you coming home. No wonder you love him. In addition to many other attributes, he has a real way with words!
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