Wednesday, November 28, 2018
A Knotty Day Of Circumstances
I have things on my mind tonight and have all day long. Not things that I'd really talk about here but everything is fine, really, just some everyday life pushing up into the spaces where worry lives, where anxiety always keeps a foot in the door.
It did indeed freeze last night and my yard is going to look pathetic tomorrow, the frost-bit plants all wilted and brown and thus, the most intense yardwork of the year will commence.
Jessie and the boys came out and we met up with Boppy at the Hilltop for one of their fabulous lunches. We ran into our neighbors again.
"Best restaurant in the neighborhood!" Mr. Moon said cheerfully.
"How's Jack?" my neighbor asked. "We haven't seen him in forever."
"He's fine," I said.
My cat Jack started out as a stray and went back and forth between our houses for a long time before he settled in here but he's kept up a relationship with them because they serve wet cat food and we give him only dry. But they have a ton of little dogs and I do not think Jack likes them. Plus, my old man cat has gotten so corpulent that I'm not sure he can make the long walk between our yards.
Well, I'm sure he can but for some reason, he isn't.
August was beside himself, having his Boppy to sit with at the picnic bench and to share food with. He loved the new refrigerator, by the way, and now knows how to operate the buttons to reveal the door within the door from the outside and the inside. This charms him. I have to admit that it charms me too. I love knowing exactly where the juice and butter are. This makes life a great deal simpler. Isn't that silly?
Levon is walking all over the place now. He's still a little unsure of his footing, especially in my kitchen which is so uneven that if you drop a marble at one side, it will reliably roll down to the other. Helps a kid develop balance! That's what I say.
He's getting new teeth and has a snotty cold on top of that and is a bit miserable.
But not too miserable.
He can say, "Boppa," now. And "Tant-u," for thank-you.
If I try to get him to say MerMer, he sticks his tongue out and gives me a raspberry.
Somehow, by some alchemy, he has come to prefer his grandfather to me and all I can do is sigh and relinquish the title of Most Beloved.
What the hell, kids? Who makes those muffins you love so much?
They don't care. They love their Boppy.
So do I.
After lunch and after Jessie and her boys left, I was so unexplainably tired there was nothing for it but to lay down on the bed where I slept without moving for hours.
And now I'm going to go stir fry some stuff and make jasmine rice. I feel as uninspired to cook as I ever have in my entire life.
One of the little brown chicks got taken some time between last night and this morning.
And now there are eight.
I study them closely to see which ones I think are roosters but I can't begin to tell. Only time will allow me to do that.
This is true in so many instances.
Here's to tomorrow. Let there be peace.