Sort Boxes? Check.

I sorted through the last of the living room boxes yesterday after letting Porter out and playing with her for a few minutes. Now the only things in the living room are DD's clock, the rack of American Girl doll clothes and their box of hats and shoes, and Mom's cremains. Friday's the day for taking care of that. As TW, AJ, and I agreed, she'll be at Dad's grave (well, their grave, the headstone will be carved in spring), at her favorite bridge spots, and at The Clearing at the tip of Door County where the view of the sunset is unsurpassed. I'm hoping TW can meet me at the cemetery before work so we can do it together. I just want to get this done. I feel like I can't relax and grieve until it's all settled. The auction is tomorrow evening so all the big stuff will be sold then, hopefully for something near value, but if not, well, we don't have to deal with it, none of us has time or room to store it. I keep wanting to call Mom to tell her things and I can't. When the phone rings at supper my first thought is, "oh, that's Mom" but it isn't. As annoyed as I'd get sometimes with her daily calls, I confess I miss her. I was sure I was totally unlike her, I'm not. I'm not exactly like her but I like to think that I have her best qualities. Don't try to change my mind.

December 6--Bamen Tomotsugu, Armor of Gusoku type. The thing had intricate layers and many colors. Julia stood in the dim display space long after the museum doors had been locked trying to assemble the suit of armor. She had been so sure that all the years of sewing her own clothes would help her but the Japanese must have been made of different shapes in the 18th century than Americans in the 20th century.

Sorry it's so short but I went to be too sleepy for words. Tonight Skully and I are going to the first night of Yoga Basics. Can't wait! Oh, and happy Pearl Harbor Day.
--Barbara