As Much As One Life Can Hold

Every time I woke up last night I was startled to hear rain outside. It's been so long that my brain actually had to do a bit of scrambling to identify the sound.
Rain? Really? Yes.
Soft rain. Patter rain. But still...real rain.
It is still raining this morning. I just looked at the radar and we may have seen the most of it and now it's going to get cold but that's fine. If the weather didn't change all the damn time, what would we have to talk about?
What DO they talk about in Hawaii?

Well. It's Monday. The Thanksgiving Holiday is behind us except for the turkey carcass and the soup I shall make for us which is in the future. We cleaned out some leftovers last night but of course, there is never really an end to them. I just take them and make more leftovers out of them in a different form. An alchemy of sorts.

The new washing machine is supposed to be here in two hours. I hope with all my heart it comes on time because I have to take my mother to the knee doctor and then pick up Owen and I will have him until late when his parents get off work. He and I shall learn how to use the new machine together. We shall wash all of the things which the old machine finally gave up on yesterday. I tried, it tried. But it's just so tired, that old machine. There are drippy towels in the shower of the bathroom off the kitchen and Owen and I shall start with those.

Rain. Water coming from the sky. Yesterday we sat outside and ate our pancakes and it was blue and soft and warm. Thanksgiving is over and for the first time in my life I am not concerned with the upcoming Christmas madness. I have finally said, "Enough." I am not doing one damn thing. If I am on your Christmas list, please mark me off. I am calmly thrilled. Black Friday meant nothing to me, not that it ever does. All of a sudden, it just seems so simple- not unlike the taking up of the poop rug. Just...do it.
Or don't do it, as in the case with Christmas.
Refuse to participate.
Baby Jesus was born when he was born. That's all I have to say about that. Here's what I think- I think that every day of my life is a fucking miracle and that every baby born is a fucking miracle and that since I love Christmas lights I keep them up all year 'round, or at least a string here and there. I love trees and so I live beside and beneath a whole bunch of them.
It is Christmas every day here. As much as I can hold, anyway. Every egg I get from the nest is a present. Every kiss I get is a present and every "I love you," and every cardinal at the feeder is a present wrapped in red. This rain is the best gift I could get today. The rest of it? All that stuff they talk about on TV?
Not this year, baby. Not this year.

Well. The wind blew the door shut into the hen house and when I went to open it in case one of my lovelies needs to lay an egg I saw the gate into the garden had blown open and all of the chickens are in there. I tried to herd them out and then tried to lure them out with stale bread. It worked, except for one, Miss Dahlia, who seems to prefer the tasty bugs and tender weed shoots of the garden.
What to do?
Oh you know what I did. I left them in there. They'll all come out sooner or later. They seem to be most interested in what lies under the mulch than in my greens, anyway.

And Lis just called and I HAD FORGOTTEN! that she and Lon are in Monticello visiting Lon's sister and that they would be coming over this morning.
Ah, the brain of the elderly.
But see? It's always new. Always a surprise.

It's like Christmas every day.
Without the mall and the crowds and the guilt.
Well, I'm working on the guilt part. I am finding it surprisingly easy.

Happy Monday, y'all.
Love...Ms. Moon