About Me

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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Ms. Van Winkle

That would be me. I was standing in the shower yesterday, pretty much ready to charge into work and catch up my desk from Thursday, when it occurred to me that that might not be what my body needed.

So at 6:50 I was in line at the city's drive-thru to pay my utility bill, and at 7:05 I was on my way home, having called in sick. I ate just enough breakfast to not have hunger dreams, and I went right back to bed. I slept another four hours, was up for three more, and back to bed until 8:00. At which point I made a quick run to Braum's because I was out of milk and nearly out of juice. Both literally and metaphorically. Back to bed around 2:00, and asleep until almost 7:00.

Not a lot to show for yesterday. Finished reading a slim volume of essays by Bill Cosby. Started another by Virginia Hinckley Pearce. Finished the last doll sleeve and began the raglan decreases. Filled a fourth box with mostly cookbooks and found a shelf to hold the ones I want to keep.

I'm about to leap up (leap being a relative term) and search for more cookbooks. Squishy and Mel will be here in a couple of hours to sort through those boxes and load what they don't want into the back of the truck for me. LittleBit will be here later today, after her gig, to pick up some of her stuff that I've found, and for us to figure out what it would be worth for her to finish painting the trim in the dining room.

Between naps, I'd like to finish emptying at least one of the bookcases in the dining room. Yes, I know I had hoped to work on it a little every night this week. We see how well that worked out.

The Santa suit is gone. After waiting over a month and a half for one of the twins to come get it, I found it another home. At the moment, neither twin is returning texts or emails. They're grieving. I respect that. They would have preferred that I go quietly back to Tarrant County after their father's passing, instead of standing up for my legal right to inherit the house. I understand that.

One of them is cranky because he did not get the truck at a fire sale price. (They tried to convince me that Beloved agreed to pay more than it's worth. I checked the Blue Book value while putting numbers together for the refi. My faith in Beloved's good sense, and his sister's integrity, remains unshaken.)

One of the reasons I have a kidney infection is because I have been quietly p'd off at the twins for their rudeness. The anger went inward, instead of outward. Part of the healing process is to let that anger go. So I'm increasing my prayers for their healing, and I'm no longer waiting for them to tell me what they'd like to have, or for them to come get it.

And now if you will kindly excuse me, I've taken an hour to write this, and the kids will be here before I know it, and I need to feed the cat.

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