Stuff.

 Tim and I went over and worked on the Wayne St. house today. Now is not a good time to be buying any new supplies for the new build, between property taxes and insurance and whatnot.  So we changed it up and worked on finishing up some projects at the renovation. We had the materials for that already bought.

Now, we call this house 'the hoarder's house'. We got a lot of the things out of there, but there is still a ton of stuff left. One of the things that I did today was to go through old record albums. They have so much old stuff dating back to the forties. A lot of Broadway musical soundtracks.  Mantovani, Mancini, Glenn Miller, Count Basie and other orchestras that scored old classic movies.  It didn't stop. Chubby Checker. A lot of albums that seemed to be collected under a theme "Girls in Music" which was a album of 50s songs that were titled with girl's names. Just so much stuff. Remember Barry Sadler? The Ballad of the Green Berets? My grandparents had that album and played it a lot. It was quite different from their regular diet of polka music. If you want to read a sad story, read about Barry Sadler. Died at 49, after being shot in the head in Guatemala. A few years earlier, he'd shot a friend between the eyes in a dispute over a woman. He also wrote like 23 popular novels. Who knew? 

Anyways, I keep thinking that these albums would probably be worth something to someone, but I'd have to find that someone. I gave away no less that 200 albums already, and am still finding more, these in an upstairs bedroom that contains three irons. One ironing board. Two rotary phones, 4 hair dryers, the old kind that came with their little cases which held the motor and there was a hose and a bubble cap sort of thing that you would put on your head. We already hauled out 4 sewing machines and two of the newer irons. I mean, this house has a lot of shit. 

I have boxes of mid-century mod decor that was bought and never unboxed. Brand new clocks and dated hanging lights, and clocks and wall sconces. Brand new appliances, still in their boxes. I mean, a trash compactor. Who even hears about them these days? But we have a brand new one, in an unopened box. 

We've got the matching punch bowl too and the short glasses which I discovered are called low ball glasses and used for cocktails. 

Yee haw. 

It's the never ending job, really. We gave the furniture away to someone who flips furniture, and while the house is emptier, it is not yet empty. We found a family member, and were able to ship out two truckloads of family photos and movies, along with the projector to play them on, and a screen. (We've still got another if anyone needs one.) Sometimes I think that house might never be empty. 

But we have found treasure there as well. A suitcase full of photos and tintypes, as well as pictures from Paris after the destruction of WWI, and a souvenir black velvet banner sent home to some soldier's mother. Even a Victorian death photo. But their are no names on the pictures, so we haven't got a clue who these people are. 

We found a set of pearls in a china closet. Old trolley tokens on the fireplace. We haven't had a trolley in town for a hundred years. Silver certificates folded up and stuck under a lamp. Calendars saved that date back to the civil war. They are so pretty. I'd like to save the pictures on some of them. Old magazines from the '30s. 

I like history, but...really. What do you do with all this stuff? After a day in this house, you will whole heartedly buy into the whole Swedish Death Cleaning thing. I guarantee it. 

I did get some things out of the house. I gathered up all the old fashioned wooden hangers and brought them home. Once cleaned up they will be nice for Tim's heavy hunting coats. There is a cast iron clothes rack, a pretty thing. I'm going to paint that black and put it in the garden at the new house to hold a couple hanging pots. 

But. That was today. And tomorrow, we will head over and get back to it. 

I just want to retire. Really. I just want to be done with all this work. I am starting to think it will not happen. 

Last of the Summer Vine

 Oh friends. Sad days. In my fridge, I have one last vine ripened tomato from Albert. Just the one. I'd bought 8 or 9 the last time I stopped in. I can't remember because he was telling me that this was the last of the produce for the summer and that he was closing up shop. I was telling him that I really was grateful for the produce over the summer. I bought A LOT from him, and he was always grateful for the business. I tried to tell him that there was no other place that could match him for price OR quality. I was grateful for him. And while we were thanking each other, he was saying, "Here...you might as well take these and, this one has a blemish..." tossing in apples and tomatoes and onions. 

It's like that when I stop in there. I go for one thing specifically, and walk out of there with a more than I ever intended to buy, but it is all good stuff. 

Anyways, so there it is. Every morning since tomatoes started coming on, I've been having a thick slice of tomato on toast, with a smear of mayonnaise and a hearty sprinkling of fresh ground black pepper. Every morning. 

Now I'm down to the last of it. I can get tomatoes from Aldi's, of course, but it is not the same. They are a whole different texture, not allowed to ripen on the vine. They are not the tomatoes of summer. 

I figure that I've got 3, maybe 4 days out of this tomato, then I'll just have to admit the truth. Summer is over. 

I think that we had a hard frost Thursday morning down at the new house (it was fine in town). But my basil is black. Presto, no pesto.  My morning glories are wilted and shriveled and no longer glorious. Looks like they're done for the season too.

We have three days coming up, with the highs only reaching the 40s and the lows in the 30s. They are rainy days, all of them, and there may be some snow. 

I miss summer already. 

Life's Funny Like That

 Yesterday, Tim and I stopped in to a fast food joint for a quick bite to eat. As we ate, I listened to the music, and realized that I knew none of the songs. None of them.

I continued to eat as I listened, wondering when did that all change. My youngest daughter and I used to listen to music. We had some common tastes. I used to be cool. (Do not ask her, though. She will assure you that I was never cool, and she will laugh herself silly that I ever, for a moment, thought I might be.)

As I ate my sandwich in a thinking sort of way, I remembered the two of us in a car listening to a song about fireflies. I tried to remember that song, but it is hard to conjure up a half remembered song when another song is playing in the background. I gave up. 

When we were done eating, I asked Tim if he would mind if we hit a thrift store on our way out of town, which he agreed to. 

We walked into the store, and I had scarcely begun to look around when I heard a song playing on their intercom. 

I recognized it immediately, and stopped browsing to listen, with a secret smile, remembering. 

I love those little coincidences, those little happy synchronicities. 

Season

A member of my family is dealing with metastatic cancer, stage 4. Chemo had to be halted as she deals with a systemic infection. 

I look at her precarious situation, and somehow it seems shocking because she is someone I know. Because she is a contemporary. Because we're still dealing with the ramifications of Tim's cancer. It's starting to sort out, but it has been a huge jolt in our marriage. Today we came home from the new house. We weren't doing a lot of talking. A lot of thinking though. 

I read Tim a text from my sister. I said, "It's just such a shocking thing." 

Tim said, "I know it. To think you needed to have your gall bladder out and then find out all of this..." 

I said, "Yeah..." 

I said, "Do you ever think about it? I do sometimes. I mean, someone is going to go first." 

He didn't answer. 

It's morbid, I know, and I feel an idiot, but it is where my head is at. 

But we cannot know the future, and I suppose that's a good thing. 

It's cold here today. After a high of 54 degrees, it is now 39. It is definitely fall. I discovered that when we are at the new house, we can hear the wind as it rushes past the house. For whatever reason, we don't hear that sound here in town, but we did when we lived in the woods, and I loved that sound...because it reminded a middle aged mother of being a child, laying snug and warm in my bed and listening to the wind howl during a winter storm. 

The years have flown by. I am a gray haired grandma now. The wind blows just as it always has, and for a moment, I allow myself to go back to a time when I was young enough that dying had not yet occurred to me. 

Goodness, what a state of mind! I shiver, and it is not from the cold. 

I grab the cat food, and the milk from the fridge and head down to the garage to feed the kittens. They are glad to see me and hungry, and dart around excitedly while I mix up their food. I give them an extra can of cat food, grateful to be able to do some small kindness in this cold season. 

This evening, I found another Christmas gift and placed my order. Winter is cold, but it does have its comforts. 

Good bye.

 The Hardy Thistle

It felt as if she'd written her own tribute, speaking her own words in her own voice. 

RIP Pat Thistlethwaite. 

Cats and Cars.

 Now that Tim has moved his truck back into the garage, the kittens no longer have half the garage to frolic around on and keep their distance. We have a small space behind the truck. I sit on the floor and mix up their dinner, talking away to them. They really are getting bolder and bolder, and the cat treats have been quite a motivator. 

Yesterday, Tiger and Sigh did not appear at all, and I was a bit worried about them, but today, they all showed up. They mill around rubbing against the stacked lumber and purring loudly while I talk to them, and usually, there are one or two darting in to grab little tastes of dinner while I'm mixing.

Their dish is probably no more than a foot and a half away from where I sit, and my proximity doesn't seem to bother them as much as it used to. Today, Tiger actually stared at me for some time, finally approaching me to sniff at my shoe, and then to 'boop' my hand with his forehead a couple of times. Sigh came over to sit by me, and almost had a heart attack when I sneezed. All of them were very interested in the treat packet in my lap. 

So...that felt like progress. 

My oldest grandaughter is having her first communion at the end of the month, and I was trying to find something special to commemorate the day. One night when I couldn't sleep, I got to thinking about charm bracelets and how popular they were when I was a kid. I always wanted one, but luxuries were few and far between in those days. 

I got up and headed off to do some googling, and found the cutest little charm necklaces. They were not so expensive that she wouldn't be able to wear it to school if she wanted. I had a good time looking through all the charms, finally selecting an initial charm, a birthstone, a cross to mark her communion, a ballerina because she does love her ballet. and a heart with 'sister' on it. 

It's always kind of dicey when you buy something like that on line, but it arrived today and I was very pleased to see that it is worth every penny. Nothing 'cheap' about it. I think that she will love it, and I plan to let her select five more charms for Christmas. I see several that are fitting. 

We received a package in the mail from the local police department. It is about the broken window. The boys who broke the window have been charged. We have a chance to attend the hearing. Neither one of us see the point in that. We did ask for the decision of the court to be forwarded to us, and we did request a written apology. We don't really expect restitution. I mean these are kids that have done hundreds of dollars in damages, to multiple houses. They'll never pay it off. 

I discovered that one of the boys has a facebook page. In the midst of all the crazy things that kids post, there is one post he wrote to his father who had left the family and started a new one. It seems that the young man had waited for his father to call him for his birthday, and the call never came. 

That struck me as sad. 

Remember the guy that ran the red light over the summer and hit my car? 

Tim bought the car from the insurance company. He had to get a salvage title for it, and then he bought the parts he needed to rebuild the front end. It is done now. He will have to get an enhanced inspection to verify that it is road worthy. I think he did a good job. 

He's a clever fellow.  

I, at least, was clever enough to know that when I met a good mechanic, I should marry him. 

Tame thing.

 Tim went up to work on the house yesterday. I stayed at home. Laundry. Cleaning. Made a pot of spaghetti sauce. 

I got a call about a half hour after he left. He'd staked down the trap before we left and baited it with cat food. There was a raccoon in it this morning. I usually am the person who takes the animal to its new home and opens the door and watches him waddle off into the sunset. Or something like that. 

This time, Tim was on his own. He asked me a few questions, and then disconnected. 

He called later, a little amazed at how easy it all was. 

"So the raccoon wasn't upset?" I asked. 

"No," he answered. "He watched me. Never made a sound. I put the blanket over the trap and picked him up. I took him to the top of ------- Hill and let him go in the woods. He headed for the trees and never looked back."

"Good," I said. 

"The raccoon was a lot more tame than your kittens," he observed.