Life: a poem of joys!

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Mussar. On Thursday afternoons weekly. On second Thursday evenings monthly. Claritin. Allergies. P.T. Eggs mayo. The Future. Joy. Seoah and Mary doing English together. Joe. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe on their trip today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:     O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys!

To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on,
float on,

An athlete—full of rich words—full of joysPoems of Joy: Walt Whitman

 

Making progress. With a plan. The downstairs has begun to yield to regular work. Comforters are stowed, pillows, too. Extra blankets and wool throws. On the bottom, the luggage. Above the comforters picnic stuff: thermos bottles, a kit with plates, knives, forks, a sleeve for a bottle of wine. Paper plates, plastic cups and utensils. Diapers. Mine. Still more room.

Pushing past inertia. That was important. Just getting at it leads me to stay with it until I’m finished. Afterward, upstairs. Will need mover type folks.

Canceled Mountain Waste, started with Shirley Septic trash service. Mountain Waste threw my trash cans in the middle of the driveway or let them slide off into the ditch after emptying them. Frustrating. They got bought out by a national firm and their service went, well, down hill. Shirley is local and many of my neighbors have shifted as well.

Busy day today. Two mussars, p.t., calling several places. Social Security, for instance. After five calls I’ve still not gotten anywhere on applying for spousal benefits. Calling at 9 this morning at the recommendation of a local S.S. employee yesterday. Also gonna get Ken, the boiler guy, out here. Last winter the radiant heat in the living room and the base board hot water heat in the sewing room did not work. Want it taken care of before it gets cold.

Taking a check to Rich Levine for his work with the will, with Joe and me. Paid off the Credit Union visa and am closing all those accounts. Stuff. I will run out of stuff to do related to Kate’s death and the immediate future. I hope sometime around the middle of August.

Still waiting for a new way of being to emerge from the ruins of mourning and grief. Good ruins, necessary ruins, but ruins none the less.

Allergies have my nose dripping, sleeping difficult. Realized I’d better mow my back. Something I do between 2 and 4 times a season. Looked out there and saw all the grasses, dandelion, flowers in bloom. Immediate sources of pollen.

Gonna make eggs mayo for breakfast. New to me. Big deal in France. Recipe in the NYT.

 

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