This crazy weather has kept the New Guinea Impatiens blooming. Aren't they a lovely color?
Therefore I had one of those days. A day when I was just barely motivated, barely moved, barely thought. *double sigh* I really dislike days like that. For most of the day I thought that maybe maybe I had been successful in ridding my yard of THE RAT. But there it was at dusk zooming out to the lawn to see if there was anything out there to eat and then dashing back to the house. Tomorrow I'm moving all of the grill parts and trash cans away from the house, removing a lot of hiding places, and putting out the next couple of poison pellet stuffed weenies. Honestly. Die already.
I've always wished that I could draw and every once in a while I make a stab at learning. Today I hauled out the Zentangle workbook I bought a few years ago, some fine black pens, and some watercolor paper. I measured off squares and set about learning some of the standard designs. It wasn't relaxing, probably because I was hunching my shoulders and strangling the pen since it's a new thing, but when my eyes got blurry and cross-eyed I decided to put it away and stick with knitting. I think I need new glasses.
First I finished LC's second mitten I hope she likes them. I don't think I'm going to sew on an owl button since the stripes are so vivid and busy. I'll unearth some solid color wool to knit mittens with owl buttons on them.
Tonight I cast on the second Two Hour Bag. This is about an hour's worth of fiddling with the length of cable, I even dug out big, fat Double Point Needles but couldn't face using them since getting a project started on them is like wrestling a porcupine, so I got out a loooooong cable and will use the Magic Loop method. I'm knitting this bag top down so that I can make it as long as how much yarn I have. Once I get it done I'll felt both of the purses.
30 September--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
It always took Sam a while to get used to the hubbub of all the grand-children in one place, but it was harder on Merry. She held herself aloof for a while, even from the adults, until she felt comfortable. As the only child of an eternally dissatisfied and chronic complainer of a mother, Merry needed to take her time in our noisy family get-togethers. But soon enough she was on the floor building Legos with the littlest ones. She and Matt's eldest, Jim, got along the best. Jim was a serious boy, more interested in reading than racing around with his brothers and cousin, so he and Merry were more alike. They took walks around the place talking and talking about who knows what.
Lisa and Sara always spent the first part of any visit comparing Mom-stories. Since Merry and Sam didn't have kids, and probably wouldn't, she had nothing to contribute to those discussions.
It took a while for Merry to shed her big-city sophisticate air, too. But by bedtime of the first night she was back to the Merry we all knew. I think the other daughters-in-law were a bit intimidated by her stylish dress, her expensive haircut, and her name-dropping of places and people they'd only read about or seen in movies. But the three girls managed to find some common ground, even if it was just comparing notes about how alike, and annoying, their husbands were.
The next day Merry, Sara, Lisa and I sat on the porch watching the kids play hide-and-seek in the orchard. After a while, I went into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. The weak afternoon sun struck rainbows from the cut glass bowl of stem-less daffodils my littlest grandsons had picked for me that morning. I opened the bag of loose tea and breathed in the scent of spices and orange peel. As the kettle on the stove started to grumble and thump, I pulled out Mom’s old Brown Betty teapot and four mismatched mugs.
Sam had come in right behind me for a quick trip to the bathroom, he said. When he came out, I turned around to see all three of my sons lounging around the room. Aaron leaned on the fridge, Matt was in his childhood place at the table, and Sam stood at the sink.
“Oh, you startled me,” I said. “It won’t take all of you to help carry out the tea tray.”
One of those looks flashed among them and I knew they hadn’t just happened to all show up there accidentally. I turned to face them, hands on hips. It was the pose I had used for years to scare the truth out of them. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Sam had evidently been elected speaker. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me the way I had seen him glare at a defendant. “Mother,” he said, “are you sleeping with Abel Baker? And what are his intentions?”
“Oh, for the love of God,” I said, with a laugh. “Is that what brought you all in here?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Don’t pull that lawyer crap with me, Samuel. Remember who you’re talking to.”
Sam didn’t change his expression or his stance. “Are you sleeping with Abel Baker?”
“What makes you ask?” I said, playing for time.
Matt pulled a paper bag off his lap and said, “Mike and Luke were looking for games; they found this in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“So? What makes you think it’s not left over from when Dad was alive?”
Sam leaned over, picked up the razor, and brandished it in my face. “Because it’s one of those new ones with three blades. Three-bladed razors weren’t invented when Dad died.”
I was suddenly so angry, I couldn’t see straight. “Okay, yes, it’s Abel’s razor and, yes, I’m sleeping with him.” I turned to face my accuser. “Are you happy now, Mr. Lawyer?”
Aaron spoke for the first time. “Why didn’t you tell us, Mom?”
I whirled on him. “Do any of you call me when you and your wife have sex? Did you ask my permission before you did it the first time?”
Aaron and Matt looked at their shoes and mumbled, “No.” Sam remained silent.
“It’s none of your business if I’m sleeping with Abel, if I’m having sex with him, or whatever I choose to do with him. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Sam finally spoke. “We want to make sure you’re safe, Mom. That’s all. We don’t want some gigolo scamming you out of your savings or talking you into selling Dad’s farm.”
I rounded on him. “Have you met Abel Baker? He’s a well-to-do, cultured, retired gentleman who has plenty of his own money and thinks I’m pretty terrific. I have fun spending time with him no matter what we’re doing, and he usually pays, even if I try to argue him out of it.” I stepped closer so we were nearly nose-to-nose. “And it’s my farm. We used my dowry for the down payment when we bought the place, and my salary paid it off.” I held Sam’s gaze, not blinking, not looking away.
I have high hopes that I'll have more oomph tomorrow. It's supposed to hit the mid-70s and rain so I'll head to the Y to walk on a treadmill. I guess.