I'm Home

The couch is coming on Thursday. The rest of the furniture still needs to be built. We were supposed to get everything out of storage today, but I am too sore and exhausted to get it. It doesn't really matter; I have plenty here to keep me busy for a while. It will possibly stay there until the weekend. But the kitchen and bathroom are sorted. And the tree is up, Or, at least what I have the bandwidth to do this year. 

I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed. Good night.

 

All My Bags Are Packed

The big day is tomorrow. I'll be moving into my own place. I'll have my own kitchen for the first time in years. I can make popcorn in the middle of the night without disturbing anyone. I will have control over the HVAC unit. No one turning up the heat to tropical levels while I'm trying to sleep. My bathroom is small, but it's mine, all to myself.  No more waking up to holding it while someone else is taking a leisurely shower. I can take that leisurely shower whenever I choose. The cabinets, and closets and pantry are mine as well. I will have room to spread my things out. I can play the music that I want to hear without considering anyone else's tastes. 

I'm giving myself a week to get my things sorted. It will probably take a month. But I envision myself cooking in a kitchen where the utensils are in a drawer by the stove and the cups and glasses are in a cabinet by the sink. I want the chaos of packing gone as soon as I can make it happen. And Christmas is coming. I don't want to be living out of cardboard boxes for the holiday. 

Tomorrow night I will sleep in a bed that I bought for myself, on sheets that I chose. All of the things that I packed eight months ago, not knowing it would be so long before I enjoyed them again, will be around me.

I ordered the groceries on Monday of last week. I hope that they will arrive as planned. It's almost $400 of groceries. I gasped when I saw the total. But there are very few splurges with them. And the splurges tend to be things like apples and oranges, and natural katsup and peanut butter rather than the kind that uses HFCS.

My internet will be one of the no contract, pay by the month set-ups. I hope it will be okay. 

I hope this all will be okay. I have such high hopes for it. I really don't want to be disappointed.

Thankful

 The bird is there, in the freezer keeping the dinner rolls and frozen corn company. The cranberries and pineapple are in the fridge with the celery. The onion and potatoes are waiting in the bin on the counter. And the green beans and soups are in the pantry. Everything to bake the pies is here, ready to go. 

I told Aunt Joan not to worry about it. I would bring the food and prepare it. Her daughters were going to help me. Her son was going to bring the paper plates and the drinks. I learned to cook the Thanksgiving feast in that kitchen, watching my mother, grandmother and aunts. I was looking forward to doing it again. My cousin says they don't feel up to celebrating this year. I can understand that. They say maybe we can all get together next year. But the house will be sold by then. Or at least, for my cousin's sake I would hope so. For the very first time since the house was built in 1941 another family will live there. They will cook in that kitchen and never know that is where the core of my memories was built. It won't be the same.

My son will be working on Thanksgiving and then spending the evening with his fiancé and her family. I was invited, but he works in Georgia and they live there. It would be inconvenient to come back here after work to get me. I could drive there by myself, but I don't really want to. Jack will spend the day with his mother and her family so there is nothing really compelling me to do it.

I think I'm going to box the food up and take it to a food pantry, see if they know of someone needing a volunteer to serve potatoes and gravy at a community meal. If not, I will bake myself a pot pie and watch the parade and Christmas movies on TV. I like pot pies, and I make a really good one. Besides, I have a lot to pack up for my move the following Monday. 

I knew this was going to be a hard Thanksgiving. But I have a lot to look forward too. I'm not going to throw a pity party. Even if I'm doing it alone, I'll be doing things that I enjoy. And I'm almost done with the afghan that I've been knitting. Maybe I can finish it. It would be nice to have it complete for my new home.

Good things will happen in December. I just have to get through the rest of this month.

Dilemma

So, I have a dilemma. We are boycotting the Christmas rush this year. It's a really important event. No Kings rallies are great and well attended. But they don't do any real harm. Being loud and in your face is fine but if the other side has no shame and doesn't care, what good's it going to do ya? So the next big protest hits the only thing they care about and that is their pocketbooks. We are closing down the economy on the biggest money-making week of the year. No last-minute Thanksgiving. No Black Friday weekend. No Cyber Monday. I'm not sure why they are detonating Giving Tuesday, but it's on the list. We will not be spending money that week. 

It's not like I really have a ton of money to spend. So far I've spent around 3K getting into the apartment, considering the furnishings and goods I need to live alone, the fees and deposits etc. I still have another grand that I will need to pay on the first in rent and deposits. And then I will need to stock the larder. And that is my dilemma. I will need to buy groceries, and quite a lot of them even for just the basics.

The rules call for spending at local businesses. But the only grocery stores in the area are big box, Publix, Target, Aldi, Walmart, Kroger etc. If there is a mom and pop in the area, I don't know about it. And the amount that I need to purchase is staggering. Just basics to get set-up is coming out to be in the $300 range. How do I do this. My options feel like cheating. I can place an order on the 24th to be delivered on the first. But I've never had that much of a spread in the time between placing the order and having it delivered. And it really isn't the impact that the organizers are going for. I can purchase a few basics and frozen pizzas to get me through the couple of days. But that order is going to need to be placed. And breaking it up is adding a complication that I don't need. 

I'm open to suggestions. What would you do?

Homeward Bound

Once again, it's been a while. And a lot has happened since we last spoke. Thank all of you who reached out to your higher powers on my behalf. I am happy to say that I am officially no longer homeless. While the home I have found looks nothing like the picture to the left, it may well have been built in the same era. I will be moving into my own apartment on December 1. And I am almost shocked at how easy the process was in relation to my fear of it. The last time I lived in a commercial residential property was in 1987. Since then, I have lived in private lease situations with the exception of about a decade where I owned my own home. So, I was expecting some push back, if not hairy side eyes at my lease application. It was accepted within an hour of my submitting it.

The apartment is two bedrooms, which is more than I really need. And larger than the house that I shared in Washington and larger than the apartment that I am in right now. It really is much more space than I need. But I will try to adjust, wink-wink.  It is across the street from the post office and senior citizen center, And it is only a few blocks away from the university and all the surrounding shopping and community/campus life. From what I am told, my neighbors will be mostly college students. I don't expect it will be quiet.

There are things that I have missed about having my own place. I look forward to having a kitchen and bathroom all to myself. I will be able to pop popcorn at 3am if I so please. I won't go into the gruesome details of why I am excited to have a bathroom to myself. I'm sure you can imagine why. Let's suffice it to say that for the first time since I left Georgia, I will have a towel bar in the bathroom. That shouldn't be as exciting as it is. 

I left almost all of my belongings in Georgia when I left. And when we left Washington, again household items were left behind. It is far easier, and cheaper to replace items than to move them three thousand miles across the country. I have been busy the over the last six weeks gathering all the things that I will need to function in my own home. I haven't gotten the best of anything by a far shot. Mostly, it has been what is affordable, functional and light enough that I can dismantle it and move it myself should I ever desire to do so again. But I am getting excited about making a home out of the things I have bought. My new dishes are beautiful, and I have spent a good deal of the last few weeks daydreaming about serving myself a meal on them. This isn't the exact set I purchased. But it's pretty close and mine are all packed away waiting for the move.

I've signed the lease, have the utilities set up, and now I'm just waiting for the first of the month. Waiting is always the hard part for me. Patience isn't my strong point. 

In sadder news, my Aunt Joan died. She and my mother were exceptionally close. And she was the mother of my favorite cousin, a second mother to me. It hit me very hard. My cousins are having a very hard time with it too. Lots of tears have been shed over the last couple of weeks. 

She died in the early morning hours of November 1st. Almost as if she had been waiting for the veil between worlds to thin out so she could cross quickly over. She was the last of that generation for that family. And that fact alone struck us very hard. We are the elders now, I guess. 

I had hoped to visit her for Thanksgiving this year. I offered to cook the feast for her. I already have the turkey in the freezer. I will have to make other plans now. With the upcoming move it's probably better, but Thanksgiving will be a heavy day. But I will have the move to keep me busy and that is good. 

 

I Just Can't Even...

It's been a while again. I don't plan these absences. They just come. Mostly they are coming because I am so totally overwhelmed with the things I should be talking about. 

Every day is more insanity. The King Fool had bulldozed the White House. There are masked men masquerading as police kidnapping people off the streets. And the police are providing cover for them while the governors of the states they are in pretend that they are getting tough on the masked intruders. Congress men and women say, "Just you wait, justice is coming." But we all know that there will be no justice to come. They had their chance to bring justice and wrang their hands and clutched their pearls instead. 

And still there are people who bow down to the King Fool. Like the sheep in Animal Farm, the baa out "Blue hat bad, Red hat good" I had one tell me that the Fool had lowered their taxes. I wanted to ask just how much pension a retired cop gets, but I'm too polite for that. And I will be expected to spend Thanksgiving and probably Christmas too with these people. I just can't. 

I am trying to find an apartment for myself. I hope that I will be in one for the holidays. I'm knitting myself a blanket to make the living room feel homey to me. I'm pretty sure that once I find a place, I will hole down and spend a lot of time making it a home.

This post sounds hopeless. Sometimes that is how I feel the situation is. 

But Why?

I wrote out a whole post about a FAFO situation that someone I know is involved in. And writing about it, I realized that I was picking a prickly fruit here. The person, a devout MAGAt Catholic, is tasting the fruit of her devotion to the Rapist-in-Chief and isn't liking the sourness of it all. And me...I want to gloat about it. I want to dance around the room and sing FAFO at the top of my lungs. The problem with this is that I dislike this person because she in her MAGAism, is unkind and lacks the common sense to know that she is as vulnerable to MAGA cruelty as those she thinks she is targeting. And if I gloat about her misfortune, I am just as unkind as she ever was.

My grandmother used to tell me that if you plan on digging one grave, you might as well dig two. It's too bad no one ever shared that wisdom with the person I know.

There's Nothing to Say Really

I came outside to sit at the end of the day. In the distance there is a cloud where heat lightning is dancing in a futile attempt to become a storm. Otherwise, the skies are clear. I hope that I might be able to observe some of the meteor showers that have been gracing the horizon. But considering the amount of light pollution that isn't very likely. Nightfall is slowly setting in. The tree frogs have begun to sing their evening songs. The stars are making their appearance.  In the distance, someone's car alarm has begun to blare a warning. It is taking a long time for the owner to quiet it. My head is throbbing. As I become annoyed at the disturbance, I see one meteor and then another shoot across the sky. I am amazed that I caught them. 

I stand to go inside and stumble, nearly falling. I didn't realize that I am that weak. My head is throbbing all the more. I have a sharp pain in my left abdomen, is it my spleen or my pancreas? I use the resources that are available to me, my sphygmomanometer and my glucometer. Both readings are extremely high. I consider getting medical help, but that seems like torture to me. That will be torture. Or I could just go back outside and watch the skies, be peaceful. 

This is America right now. Our government is raging out of control. It is criminalizing being poor. And our medical system is doing everything in its power to assure that those who dare to get ill will have every last financial resource drained from them. If I seek help I will be crushed by debt I will never be able to repay...again. Or I could go outside. Maybe I will die, but I will not be tortured to death. My finances will not be vandalized and pilfered. The supposed best medical care in the whole world is of no use to those too poor to obtain it. In this country, you don't have to be poor to meet that standard.

I wish my head would quit pounding, that my side didn't feel like an icepick was chipping away at ny internal organs. Maybe then I could think straight.

It's hot. There is no breeze tonight. The world is falling apart while it spins along unaware.
 

Morning Thoughts

Standing stones in West Ridge Nature Preserve

I've been away for a while. I went to Chicago to see Mollie graduate from her radiology school. She did well. She passed the boards with 93%, which seemed to impress the administration of the school. Apparently, that is an unexpectedly high percentage of obtain. Mollie, in her usual fashion was disappointed that she hadn't done better. But the boards are passed, and she is fully licensed to give you an ultrasound, an ex-ray or a mammogram. She also will start working full time and making three times the amount that I made the year that I retired. It's a huge salary bump for her. I don't think that she has grasped that for the first time in her life, she is fully financially secure on her own account. If everything falls apart. If Chris's job becomes less secure, which it might in a recession, she can support herself and him too. As a parent, I feel tremendous relief, and a bit of pride that my children are secure. 

As always, I ate well in Chicago. We had brunch at Kitsch-In on Roscoe, of course. The food is amazing. And the owner, Andre was there to offer mimosas to everyone. I had the Dulce Leche' pancakes, so very decadent! I usually get the chilaquiles or the eggs benedict. But this was a celebration of Mollie, and I wanted over the top. For the celebration dinner we went to Anatolia in Andersonville. But I was blown away by the breakfast that I had after a morning walk with Mollie, just blocks from her apartment. We went to a cafe' called Savanna. I had the Fruta Roja waffles, and oh my goodness! Throw decadent over the cliff! I spent the equivalent of my weekly grocery bill on one breakfast and didn't care a bit. It was worth it for a memorable meal. That evening we told Chris about it when he asked about our day. Apparently, he had been wanting to go there too. So the next morning, before I boarded the plane to return to Alabama we went there again. That time, I had the red velvet pancakes and could not believe there was anything more decadent than the waffles, but there it was. 

My flight back to Atlanta was delayed. Some maintenance problems caused a delay in boarding. And then we sat on the tarmac waiting for clearance to take off. I had been worried about making Tim wait on me to arrive. But when we landed and I was able to turn my phone back on, I got a text that he was still 45 minutes away. He had car trouble earlier that morning and spent the entire day in the shop with the car, getting the brakes fixed. I really didn't mind finding a seat and waiting for him. And I had a fascinating conversation with a woman travelling from India, who was on a layover. 

When Tim arrived at the airport, I offered to buy him dinner to smooth over what had been a rough day and he eagerly accepted. We went to a chain restaurant that we usually enjoy. But I was struck by the mediocracy of it. The server was okay. The food was okay. But there was nothing special about it. You would not take pictures of your food there. You would not write about it in a blog. It was just another overpriced meal. 

What is it about Chicago that makes the food so much better? I have never eaten in a restaurant there where I walked away feeling disappointed with either the food or the service. But I pretty much quit going out to eat in Seattle because I was always disappointed. And here in Alabama, in a college town at that, I have yet to find a restaurant that wows me. But it's not just the restaurants, but everything in Chicago that is over the top. It's everything: the churches, museums, libraries, the parks and nature preserves, even the presidents and popes. I always come away from there inspired to better, to knit a better hat, to bake a better sourdough, to make crisp waffles with fresh fruit toppings and mint grown in my garden. Will I ever move there? Probably not. The rent is as high maintenance as the city. I simply can't afford it. But it is great to know that I can visit it often.

'Nuff Said...

She was praying for God's protection for ICE agents

 

Falling Stars

My parents were from Alabama, as were their parents and their parents before them. In fact, my family has lived here since Andrew Jackson stole it from the Creeks and Cherokees, I'm not really proud of that as they would have been here sooner if they hadn't feared for their lives for doing so. I am told that it is unwise to judge the past by today's standards, but some things are just wrong by any standard, and that was just wrong. 

So, there is this story I have been told all my life about the night that thousands of stars fell on Alabama. I can remember sitting out on my grandparent's porch on warm summer evenings watching the "falling stars" of the Perseids meteor shower. Someone would always bring up the story and my grandfather would claim that his grandfather had actually seen it. The likelihood that our ancestors had viewed it is almost !00% as they were all living here by then. But my grandfather told the story as if he'd seen it himself. 

Tonight, both the Delta Aquariid and the Perseids can be seen in the skies above us. I was looking forward to seeing it, but there is a tropical depression sitting out in the Gulf of Mexico that might ruin my chances. Luckily, the star showers hang out for a few months, and I hope that it doesn't rain the entire time.  

Around midnight, I will be heading out to the porch and looking up into the southern skies. If Jack decides to join me, maybe I will tell him how my ancestors and his mother's all were here to see the stars fall on Alabama.

 

Sleepless

It's almost 4:00 am and I'm still awake. There is no reasoning for my sleeplessness, I am just awake. It happens a lot nowadays. If I allowed myself to worry about it...

The house is getting back to a normal rhythm. Jack is going out again, but not into the woods alone. At least not that I'm aware of. He's been meeting up with friends, and I try not to pay attention. Honestly,,,just...that these kids will be turned loose on their own in a year is a very frightening idea. What's worse, they will be the ones caring for us in our nursing homes...I just can't even...I'm pretty sure that my grandparents felt the same.

Tim has started his new work schedule. He is much happier than he was working close to home. He and his fiancé have been looking for property in north Georgia for both families to move too after they are married next June. They found something they are interested in, but it isn't their dream property. They are holding on putting in an offer to see if the price will drop. When Trumpsession finally hits I'm sure they will be able to get a better price, either on it or something similar. He's a paramedic and she's a court clerk. They will have jobs when no one else does.

I have been baking, and shopping. Mostly shopping it seems, and that needs to stop. But the baking...I'm getting a handle of the sourdough bread. The loaves have been good, but I have wanted a softer crust. I asked Copilot how to do that, and it gave me a few suggestions that have worked well. As scary as AI is for the future of mankind, it is a very useful tool now. But then, chat rooms used to be fun. 

This is my bread recipe: The card created by AI...

As for the shopping, that isn't something I will be leaving up to AI. Actually, it's not something that I should pursue much further. But you know, OH LOOK! Something shiny...

Hanging

As Debra aptly pointed out to me in a comment on my last post, I left you hanging on the side of a cliff. Details should be coming...

Unfortunately, there really are none that we know. I have a lifelong habit of not asking the questions that I really don't want the answers too. It seems that I have passed that on to my son. He didn't ask many questions. Jack is in deep shock and isn't really talking right now. I have ordered a large cheesecake from Walmart that should arrive in an hour and have baked a lasagna for when Jack wakes up. Apparently, we eat through our hardships.

Last night Jack went out with some friends. Tim thought that he had plans to stay over at the home of one of them. So, we weren't concerned when Jack didn't show up at curfew. 

I was up late following through with a genealogy hint I had just learned, when around 2:00 am I heard Tim in the hall on the phone with Jack. I didn't think much of it, we are all night-owls and don't sleep when others do. But then, Tim came in and told me the news: Jack had left his friends, heading home for curfew when he passed some woods that he wanted to explore. While he was exploring, he came upon a dead body. When he called Tim, his first sentence was the one that every parent dreads, "I'm okay, I'm not in trouble. I'm here with the police."

The Jeep is still in the shop. Tim had to call Uber to get to where Jack and the cops were. I baked cookies while I waited for them. And then I took a shower. And then I blogged...because what else do you do in a crisis? 

Tim didn't ask the police, or Jack any questions about the body. His focus was on Jack being safe and being supported. As I said before, Jack is in shock. He really isn't talking. This morning, after Tim got him home, he was pacing, circling the apartment from stress. He ate all the cookies in the baggie before I went to bed. When I got up around noon, I found a pan half full of canned soup, another one unopened on the counter. If you are going to eat your stress, you may as well have something decent to do it with. That is when I decided to bake the lasagna and order the cheesecake.

I know nothing about the body. From the Facebook neighborhood page, I know that there are a couple of college students that have been missing for a few days. I hope that they have just decided to take a quick trip down to Gulf Shores and will show up in a bit. hope that the body Jack found wasn't either of them. I don't know why that should be more comforting than if it was a homeless person, or a confused patient that wondered away from the nearby hospital. Someone died in the woods alone, and that is disturbing. And Jack found their body. We are in shock. The hygge has been shattered

I don't know if we will ever find out anything more about it. I don't know that we want too. Maybe it is better if we don't. 

 

Those that Roam the Night

I have complained mentioned in the past that Jack thinks he's a hobbit. And not the kind that likes to stay close to the shire and eschews adventure. He roams the local woods at night, looking for what, I could not tell you. Tonight, he found more than he'd bargained for. 

He's a good kid, mostly. The cop noted that, and that he's polite. It's a good thing that his father, being a paramedic in the town, is well known to law enforcement for the right reasons. And his mother is a senior manager at the University. And her parents are well established in the area, being alumni donors to the same university. That sort of thing helps around places like this. It especially helps because his grandfather is known for hiking and exploring, having established many of the trails around here. It does explain why a teenager might be roaming around the woods at 3:00 am on a random Tuesday in July.

My fears, being the worrying kind, were that he'd find a bobcat or a snake of some wild beast suffering from rabies. There are plenty of dangers without even considering the evil caused by humans. You wouldn't want to come up on someone's still, or anything like that. Everyone knows that nothing good can be found after midnight. 

But tonight, Jack found a dead body...

Reports From the Homeland...

The reports are beginning to come in. My friends are posting their pictures online. This photo was sent to me from an anthropologist. She is ordained as an Episcopalian minister and is working as a manager for a fortune 500 company. She is bold in her efforts. She posted her pictures online with her name attached. She is unafraid to let others know what she is doing. 

Other friends from Seattle, Portland, Flint, Austin, Charleston and many other places are also sending out their pictures. Like me, they still feel that we have the right to protest. I wonder if they too were cautioned that their photos might at some point be used as evidence against them, and they just don't care. That kind of prosecution is not supposed to happen here. But many things that we grew up believing don't happen here are happening now. 

My friends are telling stories of meeting people at the protests that less than a year ago voted for the regime in power. They say that this isn't what they were voting for. When they voted to deport the criminals, they weren't voting to deport the pastor of the Spanish speaking church or the coach of their kid's baseball team. Now they realize that the criminal with 34 felonies, the adjudicated rapist, is actually running the country. It would be all to easy to just say, "FAFO, I guess you didn't see the leopard coming for your face." I wonder how many more of them will

be at the next protest when they realize that the disabled child they know was kicked off of Medicaid; that they got no warning of an impending storm because the program was cut; that the roadway project to fix the potholes in their streets and the projects to fix the bridges and dams where they live have been gutted. The money was all diverted to give tax breaks to the already very wealthy. 

It used to be those other people who protested, who got out in the streets and made the government listen. Now it must be all of us.

And Maybe It Happened...

Not saying either way, but it may have happened. So, if we were there at Toomer's Corner yesterday the feeling was to not post any pictures online that could identify anyone. The rumor being that the 🟠💩administration might at some point run out of immigrants to harass and start deporting protestors. You know, don't rat out your neighbor. Maybe I was there, or maybe I wasn't. 

And if I happened to be there, innocently holding a sign and looking around, I might have been surprised that in this very red state hundreds of people were hanging around some trees that suffer from toilet paper poisoning. Not that anyone was tossing toilet paper, the football team hadn't won a game after all. I mean if there had been anyone there at all.

It was hot, and the air was soupy. So, if I had gone, I had to leave early or get sick from the heat. And if the teenager had been with me, I would have thought he'd complain about having to leave early. But if he was there, he was more interested in going home and playing video games in the air conditioning than standing out in the heat. Priorities, after all...

I'm not saying it happened, but you know...it could have... And kudos to the people walking around handing out red, white and blue popsicles.
 

Cluttered

I keep trying to write this blog post, and when I get the words written out, I realize that I have gone too far. I will be telling a story that is not mine to tell. It will reveal things that someone else may consider private. (Nothing illegal, or immoral. Just something someone else might not want discussed in public.) A blog is gossip, after all. You get one side of any story that is told.

We live in a cluttered place. It's very small and there are three of us. We all have our things and they kind of compete for space. We see each other's things: mail, purchases, laundry, medication. And this is where it becomes not my story to tell. It frustrating, because it affects me, and my hygge. And deep down, I know that as much as it isn't my story, it isn't my responsibility either. My best bet is to let it rest. 

I'm a clean as you go type person, and a semi-un-fit housekeeper at that. The house will be clean enough to eat off the plates, but you don't want to set up your charcuterie on the floor. The floors get vacuumed. swept, and mopped every day. I keep dishes washed, surfaces wiped down, furniture dusted. It's clean enough. 

In my mind, the clutter equals depression. In reality, it is mostly caused because there are three of us in a small space and our things compete for space. There is a component of depression there. We are all three recovering from recent trauma. 

I need to do more to deal with my depression. I told myself on the train here that I'd seek counseling when I got here. Then I said I would get help when my insurance got changed over. Now I have no excuse really. So, I say as soon as I get back from Chicago. I'm putting it off. As easy as it is to overshare on social media about other people, calling it venting or telling my story, it is hard to do it when the person I'm venting about is myself, when it's me being scrutinized. I want to control my private things. 

 

Where Have All The Old Blogs Gone?

I'm becoming more undisciplined in my old age than a teenager on summer break. I sleep when I want, eat what I want, waste massive hours of time doing whatever I want. It's fine to do here (at least for now). Tim and Jack tend to keep odd schedules themselves and don't seem to mind my selfishness. 

So, in keeping with my lifestyle of time wasting, I have spent a good portion of the morning perusing my blogger reading list. I follow over 100 blogs, but most of them aren't active anymore. I kind of knew this because when I log in to read blogs, I am only seeing the same 10 or so bloggers anymore. That led me to nostalgia. Remember the good old days?  The Cheerful Oncologist...Radish King...37 Paddington...Six until Me... there were so many more. And I realize as I am typing this, that I too, am part of the problem. Like everything else in my lack of discipline, I am an undisciplined blogger. I blog when it suits me. That doesn't make me a very good friend, even if it is a virtual one. My sincerest apologies. I am trying to get better. The new computer helps.

I worry that blogging is becoming a thing of the past. You know, one of those odd things boomers did, like chat rooms and dial-up internet. It has been a decades long lifeline to me. I really don't want to see it go away.

July

It's July 2nd already. In a few days will be the 249th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. I feel like I should celebrate.  It may be the last opportunity I get to do it. Who knows if we will even still have a country to celebrate for the Semiquincentennial. 

More than one of the most memorable 4ths that I've ever had were spent at a fort that is less than 40 miles from here. But Tim will be working, and I won't have transportation, let alone a pass to get in the gates. But I'd love to be there, to see the fireworks, to hear taps softly playing at the end of the night. to remember normal.

I honestly have no plans for the day, none for the evening.  Maybe I will take a trip to Toomers Corner to join the No Kings protest. That seems a better use of my time anyway. The larger protests will be in the big cities, Montgomery and Birmingham. But if we are protesting everywhere, they can't attack us all. There are more of us than there are of them. The flag is wrong. It must have been drawn by a republican. They don't seem to understand what it is, or what it means.

In other news, Mollie is finishing the program she's been training at to become a radiology tech. After the mid-term grades were available, the decision was made to let her take the boards early. That is almost unheard of. She will be taking them on July 10. If she passes, she's done with her training. And she already has a very good paying job. The hospital where she did her clinicals approached her and asked her to apply. For once she is quite proud of herself. She should be and I'm glad to see it. She is normally self-defacing no matter how well she has done. 

There will be a ceremony on the 24th to celebrate the achievement. She will be getting a pin? I will be flying up to be there for it. 🙁 Yes, flying. It started out as a road trip, but car issues changed those plans. No matter, I have round trip tickets and will be there. I would be happy to never have to fly again. I could take Amtrak, but it would be twice as expensive as flying. And I didn't get a deal on the airline tickets. I booked them a few weeks ago, and then, not even a week later I found out that the airlines have dropped their prices. I went back on to the site and found out that it was a substantial drop. But I booked the cheap flight that don't allow cancellations. I should just be happy that I can afford to travel. It will be nice to see Mollie again. It will be great to be celebrating with her in a city that specializes in celebrating. 

I have other travels planned for the fall. I'll be in Atlanta for my 50th high school reunion. My itinerary is already booked for that trip too. I have been approached by several of my former classmates asking if I'll be there. I really wasn't all that popular in high school, but we are all older now. We have different perspectives. 

And then the holidays...

Ring of Fire

Apparently, being on the outside edge of a heat dome is called being in the ring of fire. I'm not sure if it would be better to be in the center or in the ring. Violent storms break out in the ring and we experienced that last night. The sky above us was filled with lightning all night. The thunderstorms were intense and lasted for hours. Trees fell, tornadoes touched down and we lost a few lives to the storm.

But the heat broke. Temperatures today and forecasted for the rest of the month will not hit 90 degrees. I'm grateful for that much. 

Jack seems to think that he is a hobbit. He decided to wander out into the woods shortly before the storm started. It worried me. He stayed out through the worst of it, coming in after the rains had let up. I wonder what motivates young men to want to experience such foolishness. But he came home safe.

His father was out in it also, but for very different reasons. His ambulance was hit by a falling tree but was only slightly damaged. They were able to keep it in service.

Tonight, we are enjoying the cooler weather and a spectacular sunset. It feels like a testament to the idea that life goes on, even after the storm.

Hot!

It's hot! Hot and muggy, and it won't get any better for a few days. The last time I was sitting under a heat dome, it was 2021 in Seattle. I was living, as most people in the area, in a house that has no air conditioning. No one really needs it there most of the time. A hot summer day there is usually around 90 degrees. And if it cools off at night, you can bear that kind of heat. But then it was 116 degrees in the day and didn't get out of the 90's until well after midnight. Because everything was closed down due to Covid, there were no cooling stations like malls, libraries or movie theaters we could go to. We all got sick from the heat. The cats were kept alive because we froze towels and laid them on the counters for them to cool down on. I soaked cotton scarves and kept myself hydrated. 

I am grateful for the air-conditioning that we are enjoying here now. But I am afraid of the grid failing and the power going out. At least there are cooling stations now. I am grateful for that too. 

Alabama is on the edge of the dome. We won't see the most extreme heat. I fear for the people of New York where the dome is centered. A few more days and it will be over, but how many people will die of the heat before this thing move out into the ocean? 

It would be great if we had a real government now. One that didn't see life as expendable. But we know that is how they see it. They convinced a kid to climb on a roof and take some pot shots at the dictator, all for a publicity stunt. They picked a kid they knew was a bad shot. It was okay that he was killed, that he killed a cult member sitting in the audience. They needed the photo-op. They even faked an injury on the dictator's ear to gain a little sympathy for the fat old man. Life is expendable to them.

The mango Mussolini got laughed out of Canada, so he decided to bomb Iran. He needs another photo-op. It's okay that people will die because of it, as long as he can show that he is a tough guy. We can't afford medical care for the disabled, or to feed school children. But another republican vanity war is just the ticket that we need. Right. 

I asked Matt if he'd be deployed. His answer was surprising to me. He thinks this was a one and done operation. He seems to think that Iran blows a lot of steam, but there is no substance to what their power. I doubt the people of Tel Aviv agree. I worry that the idiot has started WW3 with a nuclear power because Mark Carney laughed at him and Emmanuel Macron hurt his feelings. But you know, it's okay with him that people will die. Nobody gets to make fun of him. 

When I was 12, I got in trouble in a history class because I said that the people who followed Hitler had to know what they were doing was wrong. Nothing anybody has ever said to me has changed my mind. That is why I am at the point of distain for anyone who follows the 🟠💩now. I think it has to be a choice to be evil. The man sows chaos wherever he goes, He never does the right thing, 

 

Rest

If you think you've seen this meme before, you have probably been over at She Who Seeks blog. Debra graciously gave me permission to use it. And I am ecstatic about that as it so succinctly expresses a theme that has been roaming around in my head. 

When I was in college, it was not enough to take a full course load. We were expected to be actively involved in, if not running a full-time ministry as well supporting ourselves with a job. And just to make sure we were well rounded individuals, we needed to have extracurricular hobbies and pursuits.

This preference for over-extendedness carried on into our lives well after we left and seemed to permeate every environment I was in. In my early twenties, I lived in a Mennonite community where women were expected to be seen fully dressed and made up by 7:00 am every morning. We would all meet at the bus stop where we accompanied our children on their way to school, our coffee and tea mugs in hand. Housework was done on a schedule, that did not vary from household to household. To which I thought, "You people are nuts, and seriously need to get a life." I don't think that I ever said that out loud to them. But I had two hyper-active boys to raise, and I cleaned as needed. I never felt the need to be able to eat off my floors. If all this wasn't enough for these women, they were also expected to be active and involved in the community. They must not only be involved in the women's groups from their church but have some sort of community outreach as well. Their children had to be well behaved as they were dragged from activity to activity.

It took me four years to escape from Stepfordville. But my escape landed me in the lap of corporate America, where the real fun began. I have been blessed to work with some amazing people. They were good people. People who wanted to do their best job, no matter if it was at work or parenting their child, but the culture tended toward over extension. Everyone had to be in back-to-back meetings and constantly working on overlapping deadlines. And if you ever had room to breathe, someone would put another project on your desk. If that wasn't enough, there was a committee or two and a community action program to be involved in. And of course, all of this was to be managed with a work-life balance that included raising your otherwise latch-key kids and running them from soccer to ballet to piano practice, and chaperoning school fieldtrips on the side.

And then my kids all graduated from high school, the moved out and went on with their lives. And I looked around and thought, "What good did all of that do any of us?" Who actually benefited from all the pressure to overperform? And one day in a meeting with an overbearing supervisor, a door in my head slammed shut, and I just quit. I had had enough of it. 

In my mind, my retirement years were my chance to re-introduce myself to that happy creative child that I was forced to abandon when I picked up my pencil box and headed off to school so many years ago. I thought that she would finally be allowed to thrive in the world of needles and yarn and color that I wished to knit. I have my small pension, my social security. I can pay rent and my bills. So I wanted to get out my yarn, and my paints and create a world of color. I wanted to get on a train and travel to see the things I was always too busy to see. I wanted to take up an easy instrument and learn to play it, even though I knew I would never be any good at it. 

What I have learned is that my lack of ambition to "be a productive member of society" has put me at crosshairs with people who can't yet, or maybe, never will be able to do that. I have been told outright that I am lazy. I have been made to feel guilty for taking an afternoon nap, even when there is nothing else pressing that I need to do. I have had many awkward moments when people ask, "So what do you do with your time?" and the answer is, "Whatever I want to do." And the assumption is always; you must be as productive in your retirement as you were in your work life. After all, didn't Ada Lovelace create computer programs in her 80's and Joe Biden lead the country out of a pandemic in his 70's? Shouldn't you be at work?

I have to ask, when is enough, enough? Why is clean enough not good enough. or busy not busy enough? Why, when there really is no benefit, must everyone over-extend themselves into exhaustion? 

So, my inner child is here to play with color, and music, and travel and the written word. And nothing will come of it. But I will live out the few years that I have remaining happily and radically resting in the activities that I choose. And I will die having lived a life that someone else will consider a waste. But the truth is that it is the exceptional person that makes a difference, and most of them chose to do what they made a difference at. 

Find yourself and be at peace with that.

Rainy Day

Another rainy day here. I chuckle to myself, Seattle had nothing on this. It rains all the time here, at least two or three days a week. The picture doesn't show it much, but it is the steady downpour kind of rain. And it has been going on for the better part of two hours. 

I am sitting on the veranda enjoying the day. I like it out here. I was afraid the summer heat would exclude me from my favorite perch. But the temperatures so far haven't been all that bad. It is usually in the low to mid 80's and there is always a nice breeze. The worst is that I sometimes have to move back near the building because the rain blows in from the sides. If I didn't have my electronics out here, I wouldn't mind. 

This is a good place to be out in nature. I have been enjoying the companionship of a host of birds. There are whippoorwills, cardinals, sparrows, robins, and finches that I see regularly. I know there is a mockingbird somewhere, because I hear him all the time. We are near a state park and a wildlife sanctuary. I see the great raptors circling in the evening. I am told that there are eagles there, but I don't think I'd be able to identify them in flight. I think the ones I see are hawks. This guy, who I think is one of the whippoorwills, regularly hangs out with me. When I am sitting on my veranda perch, he is perched in the tree across the parking lot. I wonder if he thinks I am as strange as I think he is awesome. I wonder if he is watching me. Maybe he is just looking for an afternoon snack.

But alas, the rain has stopped, and the breeze is gone. It is now too hot and muggy to continue enjoying my sanctuary. I will end this for now and go inside. I have chores that need to be done, dishes to wash and floors to sweep. Maybe I will reward myself with a bowl of ice cream and a cookie or two when I am done.

Not a bad day for a Thursday.

 

A "Regular" Day

Tim and Jack were supposed to go see "The Ritual" at the movies late last night. But Jack had spent the day swimming at a friend's pool and was too tired to go. It wasn't a movie that I really wanted to watch, but Tim had already bought the tickets, and who wants to go to the movies alone. I went with him. We were the only two people in the theater. And the movie was intense. I could have screamed if I had been so inclined.

The movie is about the most well documented exorcism in America, and was the basis for many horror stories, including the 70's movie, "The Exorcist". Without spinning heads and projectile vomiting, I didn't find it as disturbing as The Exorcist, but it had its moments. I spent a lot of time looking into the tub of popcorn. The things we do for our children...

It was nearing one in the morning when we got home. Jack had gotten up while we were gone and finished the pan of lasagna and the loaf of bread that I had made the day before. Just as well on the bread, because it was going stale. But it meant that if I didn't set a new batch to rising. Bread is a lot of time letting it rise and bake, but very little actual work. I spent about 20 minutes mixing the dough. I blame forgetting to put salt in the mix on it being past 1:00 am when I mixed it. It rose while I slept, and I woke the house up with the aroma of fresh baked bread this morning. Unfortunately, it smelled better than it tastes. Tim and Jack have dutifully eaten a few slices just to make me feel better about my mistake. This loaf may just become bread pudding.

Tim and I spent the afternoon taking the things I brought from Tuscumbia to storage. Then we visited a clearance store. It is the kind of store that if I hadn't just dropped off clutter in a storage unit, I would be inclined to purchase a lot more clutter at very good prices. As it was, I only purchased a birthday present for my soon to be new grandson. He will be turning 15 in a few weeks. After that we went to the farmers market where I bought some pickled cucumbers, okra and asparagus and some pecans. I will go back soon to get some fruit to make jams and jellies to give away for Christmas gifts. Then we went to a comic book store where Tim bought gifts for the same kid, his soon to be stepson. The store is owned by a woman that he used to work with. 

I was tired when we got home, so I used my retired person prerogative and took a long nap. When I woke up, the bread failure from the night before was disturbing my hygge. I made up for it by baking a batch of cookies. Neither Tim or Jack have touched the cookies, I guess they are wary of it after the bread fiasco. You know, "Nana's not quite as sharp as she used to be..."

Family Update

We made the trek back up to Tuscumbia yesterday. When I was digging through my boxes to find some of the things I need, I found that I had inadvertently taken the box that had my sister's stereo and some of her albums in it. It was kind of an "Oh isht" moment for me as she has been throwing such a fit over artwork that she cares little about. I immediately contacted my brother and made arrangements to return it. The upside was that she had a few things to return to me, my tool kit being among them. I was surprised that she also gave me things that I considered hers. We purchased a strawberry cookie jar that was a replica of one that we grew up with in my grandmother's house. She included that in the boxes, and also, a very nice hand thrown bowl that we had used for baking. But the most surprising thing to me was she gave me her sewing machine. She doesn't sew, and I used to quite a lot. I had even been thinking about purchasing a machine for myself. But here, we don't really have room for it. That will be changing in a year, so the machine feels like a real boon for me. I hope it is an olive branch.

The trip was good, though we started out in some heavy rain. Tim talked with me about some changes he wants to make in his job situation, and they seem good to me. He wants to work a 7 days on/7 days off schedule at the job he holds in Atlanta and quit the job he has been doing locally. He hates the local job but was keeping it because it had him closer to home most of the time. He says now that I am here if something goes wrong at home, he feels the freedom to move forward with it. The change will have him working about 15 less hours a week and gaining a respectable amount in income. Jack is self-sufficient. He is old enough and can handle most things by himself. But there is a taboo about leaving your kid home alone. Being a divorced single father, Tim doesn't want to give any rocks for anyone to throw at his glass house. I suppose that makes me the token adult. But really, I don't mind if it helps. This new schedule will also be more amenable to the continuing ed courses he wants to take in the fall. Those classes will allow him to advance into the career path he hopes to follow. I asked him what the cons were to quit the local job. He said there were none. I say it is time to go for it.

While we were traveling Mollie texted the family chat. She was offered an opportunity to interview for the job she has been filling in her clinical practices. She wanted our support; of course she had it. The interview was this morning, and she got the job. There really was no doubt that she would. In that situation, they already know her and her work. If they weren't going to offer her the job, they wouldn't have asked her to interview. She will be working an extra eight hours a week until she finishes her program and passes the boards. But rather than it being an unpaid internship, she will draw a salary that she is very pleased with. This will allow her to stop her waitressing job that she took after the economy opened back up post-covid. But she says that she will continue with it through their busy summer season. I am proud of her for that. The owners of the restaurant have been nothing but good to her. They even supplied the rehearsal meal for her wedding. I'm glad she has people like that in her life.

To round up the comforting conversations with my children, Matt joined in and told us of his plans to spend some time in Arizona this summer going to festivals with his new companion. He speaks in code a lot, but I'm hoping this was his way of telling the family that he isn't involved in any of the garbage the 🟠💩 has going on in Los Angeles, or anywhere else for that matter. He spent last summer in the middle east, and he seemed fed up with it all when he got home. Maybe it was just a segway to introducing us to his new companion. He hasn't told us much about her. I can only hope that she will be good for him. I don't want to be THAT mother, but I would really like to see him in a committed relationship. I remind myself often that it does no good to meddle or nag. But I really do want him to be happy. So, God, if you are listening...

The Hygge of Doing

When I think of Hygge, I often picture winter-cuddling up in a warm blanket by the fireplace sipping a cup of hot chocolate. But as the seasons shift, so does the way we seek comfort. Hygge doesn't disappear with the warmth: it simply takes a different form.

I started my day as usual, baking a fresh loaf of bread. I had hoped to bake muffins the night before to have ready for breakfast. But alas, the half gallon of milk we had in the refrigerator had been there far too long. It had spoiled far beyond usage. Jack, in his typical teenaged mentality dealt with it by placing it beside the rather full trash bin. It was the early morning hours, so I didn't fret much over it. But night turned into morning, and then afternoon and then evening, With the milk long past its usefulness and the trash bin refusing to empty itself, my sense of cozy order began to itch. A short trip outside was exactly what I needed to reset the space, clear the air and bring back my sense of comfort.  And besides all that, I needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and walk around a bit. 

The day was a warm one, we were still out of milk and popcorn. Tomorrow is Father's Day, I hadn't gotten anything for my son, and wouldn't it be nice to have some ice cream? I told Tim that I was going to make a trip to the Dollar General to get the milk. He must have been reading my mind, because his response was "can you pick up some ice cream?" 

Summer's version of hygge isn't about candles and blankets; it's found in the crisp relief of cold treats, the quiet satisfaction of a stocked pantry, and small moments of synchronicity-like Tim and I, perfectly aligned in our craving for ice cream. 

And the fresh bread barely got touched today. Summers in the south are just too warm to desire heavy foods. Maybe it's time for the sourdough starter to find its hygge in the refrigerator.