That's quite a bit of rain, for those of you unfamiliar with this particular scientific method of gauging rainfall.
I just finished listening to The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce.
Highly fucking recommend. I would like to read more of her books and I will.
I did go to town today and I am glad I did. I had a wonderful time at lunch. Vergil got to come too and it's so precious to see him with his little boy and to see Jessie's happiness at the completeness of her family once again.
Every time I think of him leaving, of his mama and daddy leaving, I tear up but it's okay.
It's okay, it's okay, it's all going to be okay.
He will remember me.
Maggie slept through a lot of lunch, that little squishy monkey and when she woke up, Hank had to hold her, of course. She was fine for a moment but then she screwed up her face to cry and there is no child in this world who has a more precious pout-face than that child.
"I almost wrenched her arm off, putting it on her," she said.
Oh, how we women must suffer for beauty.
We all talked and we laughed and Gibson made great pronouncements in his great voice and I took him to the restroom where he told me to go in one stall while he went into another and not to look, and I did not, and then we washed our hands together and dried them well and we bought him and his brother both tattoos from the machine at the front of the restaurant where you put two quarters into vertical slots and slide it in and get a tattoo for your efforts.
He is getting very good at putting the quarters in and sliding the apparatus. Good skills to have, right?
Vergil told us some about his trip down the Grand Canyon and it sounded terrific. If by "terrific" you mean going over rapids a whole lot. No, actually, it did sound amazing and he got to hike and see so many beautiful things and live real life without technology for almost three weeks. I am glad he was able to go and I respect his adventurous spirit and athletic ability. I think that August will inherit some of these traits as they are strong in his daddy's family. And his Boppy's too, come to think of it.
After we all kissed and hugged good-bye, I took myself to the World Market to do a little birthday shopping for May and I swear to you- it was like a gift to myself to do that. I just love that place. So much hippie stuff, so many colors, so much lightness of heart. I spent an hour walking around and looking at silly stuff. I am not a big believer in retail therapy but today was definitely a sort of therapy for me. How can you not be happy looking at plates with smiling elephants and flowers on them? Or bags made of every sort of recycled, brilliantly hued fabrics? Or little jewelry stands made to look like tiny Victorian dessert stands? Or drinking glasses made in Mexico from recycled bottles which fit in your hand like a dream? I almost decided to finally start that salt and pepper shaker collection when I saw the little elephant and Taj Mahal set. I bought May a few fun things that tickled my fancy and which I hope will tickle hers and I bought myself a colorful ropey string of brass tarnished bells with beads to hang on my door. When I saw it and jingled it, I thought, "Freak flag. Perfect. I must have it." I also found a most sturdy magnifying glass on the clearance shelf and I had just been thinking that I really do need one of those because...well, wait until you become sixty years of age. Oh! The ticks and splinters I will now remove with ease! And of course the boys can use it to kill ants with. No. Not really. But I WILL show them how to start a fire with it.
Ancient magic passed on by ancient crone.
And here it is and here I am and soon it will be time to go shut the chickens up and those dang teenagers still haven't figured out how to get into their little night-time roost. Probably because we put them in there every night and they don't remember it and when they wake up they're like, "Whoa! How did this happen?"
Mabel is definitely gone and I found Trixie in the roost when I went to go get eggs after I got home, hours before her bedtime. I know she is grieving and that's all there is to it.
It is going to be cool again tonight and I will sleep with the window open and I will miss my husband. But I am ever gob-smacked that I have such a good husband to miss. Maurice just walked over my keyboard to come be near me and then acted like I was trying to violate her when I put my arms around her and kissed her.
Thank you for being here. It's not just my cats who keep me company. Not to sound all pathetic and shit. I don't feel pathetic.