Clean Enough for an Irish Housewife

 I woke up this morning and cleaned my entire apartment, top to bottom. I wiped everything down, cleaned the windowsills and baseboards. I scrubbed the bathtub and toilet. I dusted, swept, vacuumed, and mopped. It all took me about an hour and a half to accomplish. I wasn't in any hurry.  And when I had finished, I heard my mother speaking in my head saying, "It's clean enough for an Irish housewife, I suppose." 

It wasn't a compliment. My mother used to say it after we'd all finished our chores. And what she meant by it was that it was clean, but you could still tell that someone actually lived in the house we had just cleaned. Then she'd go back through and by some trick I could never figure out, turn the space we'd just cleaned into a room that was good enough to be in a museum. Why she thought that a house inhabited by six children should ever look as if nobody lived there is well beyond me. 

I heard my aunts and grandmother use the same term, so I think it must have come from my great-grandmother, and who knows who before her. The cultural derision is still apparent, though no one in my family is ashamed of having Irish descent. It was just a term that was used.

I looked around after my imagined critique from my dear departed mother and decided that clean enough for an Irish housewife was plenty good enough for me today. The king isn't coming to tea, after all. I don't need my home to look as if nobody lives here to be comfortable in it. I enjoy clean. But clean enough is enough.

Time

 The first day of the year has quietly slipped into the second. I am awake, as always, in the wee hours of the morning. 

I had plans to start the new year off doing traditional things, like making the peas and greens etc. Instead, I spent the day writing letters to those who were kind enough to send me Christmas cards. I could have gotten cards out, and it would have been a good time to do it. But to be honest, I just didn't think about it until I started receiving cards. The letters were brief, just an acknowledgement of receiving the cards, and explanation that I had moved and an invitation to visit me anytime. I included the new address. I have six of them stamped and ready to go into the mail. 

Where the rest of the day went, I could not tell. As my grandmother would have said, I piddled. I got a few small things accomplished. I read a few pages of The Hobbit. Mostly I looked around and made plans. Or to be more accurate, I remade plans. I have been planning to get a full-sized bed for the main bedroom. But I have queen-sized sheets and blankets and comforters. And if couples come to stay, as I have invited six so far, having a queen-sized bed would be much more comfortable. The room is big enough to handle a queen. My main objection is that I can't manhandle a queen-sized mattress by myself. But the truth is that I doubt I'd be able to manhandle a full-sized one either. When I need to flip it around, I'd still need to have my son come over to help me do it.

After piddling my day away and remaking decisions that I thought I'd already settled, I looked at the can of peas and the can of greens and just couldn't bring myself to want to eat them. I took them out to the small sharing shelf near the mailboxes and left them there. Someone had left two televisions there. I brought one in to see if it worked, and it did. But it isn't a smart TV and will need an interface to hook up to wi-fi. I decided that televisions are the only thing that are still cheap enough and decided that I didn't want to mess with that one. I took it back.

When I got back inside, I took all of the leftover snacks and treats from the holidays out of the refrigerator and made myself a charcuterie meal. I may have no luck or money for the whole year, but I did not have to eat those peas and greens. I hope someone else will enjoy them for me.

And now it's the early morning hours of the second day of the year and I'm still piddling. But that's okay. 

It Was Christmas

Brrr...It's cold, even this far south. Twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit, and I choose this morning to take the empty cardboard boxes out to the dumpster. I am down to four now. And I realized that until I'm ready to buy a full-size bed frame and mattress and a dresser for the room they are in, there is no rush to unpack them. Even they are mostly unpacked. I am down to the minutiae. Most of it I am unsure why I even packed it. Most of it will be tossed after I have gone through it to make sure there isn't something left that I want to keep or need to keep. 

Christmas came and went, even though I was mostly unprepared for it until the last minute. But it was a nice Christmas this year. Tim and Jack came over on Christmas Eve for snacks and to open presents. I saved the presents that Mollie and Chris sent for Christmas morning. I thought that I would feel sad if I didn't have something to open then, but I really think I would have been fine opening them anytime. Christmas day was spent with Emily and her family. It was a nice time, but I was happy when I got back home. 

The apartment is coming together. It still feels a bit empty and stiff, It's not that cozy feeling that as a child I called "homey home" but have now embraced as the idea of hygge. Getting my things out has helped, but the apartment is a lot more space than I have had in eleven years. And in those years, I have pared down to practically nothing three times. 

 

There are still things that I am missing. The furniture for one of the bedrooms that I mentioned is most of it. But I am looking for a dining table on FB Marketplace and the local swap sites. I haven't started looking in the thrift shops yet. Tim tells me that the thrift shops aren't all that great here. I will take a look around If I can't find anything acceptable soon. But again, there really is no hurry. I'm hoping to be rewarded for my patience. Who knows, maybe the republicans will throw some money at us hoping to buy our votes in November. It could happen. Mostly, I am looking for chairs. The patio furniture helps with seating, but it just doesn't have the feel that I want to live with. I am torn between a mid-century modern reading chair and something I have come across called a lazy chair. Both are light weight and easy to move around as I desire. But the lazy chair can be taken apart and washed in the washer. That has an enormous appeal to me right now. I actually need three chairs, one for the living room and one for each of the bedrooms. So, I might just get one of each and decide which needs to go where. That is how I have been making my decisions. I place things around and rearrange them until it tells me it is where it needs to be. It's working better than anything else.

So now it's New Years Eve. I have no plans for tonight except to finish off the treats from Christmas and read The Hobbit. As unexciting as that sounds, it is actually a grand site better than last year. I was very sick on a train heading for Seattle. If anything has taught me that life changes on a dime, it's been this past year. I don't want to make any prediction about what the new year will hold. And I don't want to place any expectations on it either. So, I won't be making any resolutions to change my life. My life does that well enough on it's own. But I hope to find the furniture that I am looking for and maybe find a community in this town. And maybe I will finish the afghan that I started, 

I wish you the best in the New Year. 

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.