Rain!

 

It looked nice and calm this morning when I got up.  But the sun didn't shine for long.



I spent the morning at the bank and then at the Social Security office.  I got two letters from the SS Admin yesterday with two different amounts on them and it made me nervous so I went over there (along with half of the population of Green Bay, it seemed) after I got done at the bank, took my number, and waited.  Only about half an hour and it only took five minutes for the person to give me the answer which was, "you'll get another letter in about 30 days with the correct amount on it."  Thanks for nothing.  But I changed the withholding so of course it'll change.  Good thing I'm not living paycheck to paycheck.

I had every intention of sewing up the black leggings today but I just didn't have the energy.  As the afternoon wore on it got darker and darker until this is what it looked like in here at 5 o'clock.  That's 5 o'clock in the evening, two and a half hours before sunset.  It had been raining for about an hour by then and hadn't really lightened up much.  I made a quick trip to the store for 3/$5 strawberries because today was the last day of the sale and was lucky not to be out in a downpour and home before the next wave.



   




Tonight's supper was curried chicken salad on a bed of spinach.  Next time I'll shred the chicken instead of dicing it, the pieces are a bit big, but it's tasty and quick to fix.  One of these days I'll get back to actually cooking meals but for now it's summer so I figure a salad is a valid meal.


August 28--Paul Gauguin, Brittany Landscape:  The David Mill.  You could hear the rumble of the millstones far down the valley.  This time of year, when the harvest was in full swing, farm wagons lined up to sell corn and wheat to Laurence the miller.  At the other door housewives lined up to buy flour and cornmeal.  The stones made a sound like thunder that led people to look up into the sky to see if storm clouds were piling up in the west.  Fallen aspen leaves floated on the stream like coins from the forest that got sucked into the sluice and fed into the mill to drive the gears that turned the stones.  Laurence thought of the golden leaves as Mother Nature's payment for his labor but he never said it out loud.  It was too fanciful a thought for a working man like him.

I keep thinking that soon I'll have all of the post-funeral paperwork done and then something else comes in the mail.  I know I need to keep an eye out for the name on the bills that come over the next month or so to change any of those to my name.  I got a phone call from the social worker at the hospice office asking how I'm doing.  I don't mind the phone call but I find that low, sing-song tone of voice (pseudo-sympathetic like a funeral director) annoying to the max.  It makes me want to reach through the phone and bitch-slap her.  Nice, huh?  On that happy note, I think I'll turn in.  Maybe it'll rain and thunder me to sleep again tonight.
--Barbara