Maple Tree On Fire

At least that's what it looked like this morning when I stepped out to get the paper.  I slept a little later today so I missed the sunrise but I sure didn't miss the conflagration that is our maple tree.  It's a festival, a carnival of autumnal celebration, all the more amazing because of all the green trees and lawns around it.  There are a few other trees chiming in but mine is the best, the most beautiful.  (aren't all mothers so proud of their children?)

Pretty soon the guy with the measuring tape will arrive to take precise measurements of our rooms so that later today we can go get a final estimate of the cost of carpet and installation.  (I hope he can find the edges of the rooms.)  I will be happy to lose what DS calls "the banana bread carpet" in the kitchen.  It's from the mid-80s (can you tell?) and buckling.  It'll be replaced with a tight Berber, still multicolored, more spilled-food colored, but nowhere near as busy or figural.

Last night I started assembling and packing for my escape tomorrow to The Clearing and a week-long writing workshop.  I am impressed with myself that I'm planning to take less stuff than I have in the past, although I am certain that I'll keep finding other random crap that needs to come along. (it's not like you're going to the Gobi, lighten up, Barbara)  I realized that I'm staging it on the treadmill but I'm mowing today so I'll do my walking outside instead of in.

Finally finally finally the fixit guy came with the right computer chip and fixed our furnace/air conditioner fan so it doesn't run constantly, and the company gave us a $50 gift card for our frustration and annoyance over the last month or so.  (now what can I spend it on?  hush, Mom, we need to share with Durwood)

September 26--John Singer Sargent, Padre Sebastiano. For a man of the cloth Father Matt sure was messy.  His office looked like a whirlwind had just blown through.  Julia could tell where he's been in the rectory by the trail of paper scraps, empty coffee mugs, and pens.  She had started hitching a plastic grocery bag to a belt loop of her jeans so she could gather things up as she went.  It was Tuesday afternoon which meant that Father Matt was off visiting the old and sick parishioners.  That also meant that Julia had three good hours to get things done.  All that ended when she saw the shoes sticking out from behind the sofa in the study.  She'd know those shoes anywhere.

It's funny, last night the shoes kept shifting from high heels to wingtips and back again and they still are so I have absolutely no idea who's laid out behind the sofa.  Sorry.  Time to get dressed so I'm not in my jammies when the measuring guy comes--soon.  Ta-ta!  (Tomorrow I get to run away.  Eeeee!)
--Barbara