Cold and clear and Monday morning, get up, get up, get moving, get busy!
I should at least wash the sheets on the bed where I've lived for the past week, or at least mostly, that sweet, cradling bed where I've read and watched TV and eaten and slept and oh, it's so sad to admit but it's been a joy to release myself to it, allowing myself to rest there for almost entire days, icing my leg, watching ridiculous TV and let me say this- Estee Lauder can kiss my ass. Nothing makes me as angry as the ad they're running for some wrinkle cream guaranteed to turn back the hands of time and the model they use is perhaps twelve years old. The child hasn't had time to develop acne yet, much less wrinkles.
There is trash to be taken, there is cleaning to be done. I'm having a shower here for Jessie next Sunday, just some ladies and little sandwiches and some cake which sounds healthy but is not (this, according to Jessie's request) and maybe a punch and I had so hoped the wisteria would be blooming by then to take some of the attention off the dirt and dust in this house, the out-of-date spider webs, the toys and the junk, the vast displays of unattended and unintended piles of...stuff. But these freezes keep pushing back the arrival of the blossoms, dammit, and there is nothing at all I can do to change that.
All right. The sheets are in the washing machine. I would estimate that that bed is roughly two acres in diameter. I am waiting for May to call because she and Lily and I are scheduled to get together to make our lists, to buy some things, to start to get ready for this little party. Do you realize that Jessie is getting married in a little more than a month? Well, she is. My baby daughter is going to be a married lady. She is all grown up which must mean that...
I am all grown up.
Do we ever really grow up?
I am beginning to doubt that although I certainly know people who appear to be adults. I am not one of them. Old, yes. Grown-up? No.
Well, one must fake it, I suppose, at the very least.
Perhaps I should go buy some of that wrinkle cream and turn back the hands of time. Perhaps if I use it, Jessie will be a baby again, my hip-pocket baby who went everywhere with me, who listened every night as I read her stories while she brushed my hair. Owen brushed my hair the other day. He asked me if I would like him to and of course I said, "Yes." He did a pretty good job for a three-year old boy. And having said all of that, I must realize, surely, that I cannot turn back the hands of time but certain things come again and again, the smallest joys and baby boys and Jessie is going to be a bride and this life has certainly been one hell of a ride and it is Monday and there are things to do and places to be and trash to take and chickens to let out and it is cold but it is beautiful and it is time to get on with it.
Happy Monday, y'all.