That's what this post is - bits and pieces, random observations and questions that cross what passes for my mind these days. If any of these fragments end up related to one another, it is by pure happenstance, not conscious design.
- This morning, two days post election, I feel like the day after the great party: a little let down, now that the excitement is over; taking a look at the clean-up ahead of me. Don't want to clean-up. Want to still be celebrating, whooping it up and drinking the bubbly 'til I can hear the fizzy in my head. Now the real work begins. Where to start?
- The carillon in the arboretum behind the Mansion is playing "Camptown Ladies." My feet are tapping time with each peal...and then we hit a bell that sounds like it's made of lead. Since I know the bells are non-existent, that the music is a recording played over an elaborate sound system, what made them choose a piece with a flat bell? Authenticity?
- Guess I should close the back door; left it open (after I tossed the cats out this morning) because of the fragrance of the witch-hazel at the gate. We are entering the nakedness of November, when the remaining leaves and the outside temperature are in a race to see which can drop faster. Right now, it's almost neck-and-neck. I'm hoping the leaves win...not ready for sub-zero weather just yet.
- Watched "Meet Joe Black" the other night. Movie reminded me that I'd made a vow when my mother died that (1) I would make damned sure my family knows I want to be told if I have only a few days left, (2) I would try to tell those I care about how much they mean to me on a regular basis, so there wouldn't be any love left unspoken, no friendship left unrecognized, and (3) that I would not put my life on hold, waiting for "permission" to live. How have I done so far in keeping the vow? My daughter knows to tell me when I am that ill. I try to tell family and friends the value they have added to my life, although I think it unnerves some of them when I do that. I'm still seeking "permission," but not like I used to do. Some things are harder to overcome than others, I guess.
- With three half-grown kittens underfoot, I have observed that one doesn't live with cats so much as one lives for cats. I am known to my owners as She-Who-Feeds-Us. From Sunday past until last night, my sub-title was She-Who-Puts-Medicine-Down-Our-Throats-and-Whom-We-Will-Kilz-Someday. (http://www.icanhascheezeburger.com/) One other thing: you know it's time to change your socks when your cats paw at invisible litter to cover them up. This is particularly disconcerting while you're still wearing them. (The socks, I mean...still wearing the socks.)
-
Time for lunch. It's a good soup-and-sandwich day today: grey and overcast, chilly out. I made some bean-and-bacon soup the other day, from scratch; sounds good, with a grilled cheese sang-witch, as my grandson used to call them.
No comments:
Post a Comment