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October, 2011 - October 04, 2011


October 15, 2008

10:11 a.m.

Waking at Home

I made a mistake yesterday -- it was TWO thousand, three hundred and eighty miles, not 1,380. How silly of me. I've corrected the entry.

True to yesterday's vow, I awoke this morning, made coffee, and went back to bed with Jesse's CD playing. Not, however, before putting the fan in the window to air out the room and changing the sheets and covers. Now I have a fresh, messy bedroom with a clean bed. My beloved down comforter is with me, snowy white and light over my feet. I don't like blankets that press down on the toes when I'm lying on my back.

I also made a mammogram appointment for next month, and cancelled my car appointment, as the little brake noise has disappeared. I recall taking it in earlier this year for the same kind of thing, and it was just some dirt on the brakes. Until it starts again, I see no point in paying someone money to take it apart and look at it.

Those pesky things out of the way, I am sitting atop my comfy bed about to make lists for the day. Fun lists. Stuff I have to buy, replenish, replace. Sneakers. A slow cooker. A little giftie idea for Rose and Marc.

Marc had a birthday while I was in England -- I was unaware of it at the time, so it passed me by. But this month is also their one year anniversary! They wanted to have a leaf-peeping B&B weekend somewhere but things are so booked up by now they couldn't find a room. So they've decided to declare a work-free zone at the house and just stay there as their B&B. Now I have all these baskets of hotel and inn amenities I've collected over the years. I thought, why not put together a little amenity basket for them, to make their place a little more B&B-esque? So I pulled a few choice things out -- little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, a few pretty soaps -- and I'll hit TJ Maxx for maybe a pair of pretty hand towels, maybe look for one of those great Burt's Bees collections with all the small pots and packets of bath stuff. I'll make a nice little card that says, "Welcome to the Appleseed B&B!" I chose this name because, in amid the 7 acres of woods behind their house, there was an orchard at one time. It's all grown wild now, apple trees shaking hands with pines and oaks, but I liked the name because it speaks of what's hidden, and of new beginnings, and of the history of the land.

Dar is sending flowers this weekend with the same idea -- "Happy Anniversary, on behalf of the Appleseed B&B!" Hee.

While we were in Georgia, Rose sent me a picture on my phone of something they're excavating in the back yard. Marc's Neice, Pearl, is a young historian and has gone on archeological digs and such, and is keenly interested in what the property has to tell. She found the remains of a foundation of something near what used to be the original outhouse, and digging down a little, discovered shards of redware, which is 18th century pottery. She continued to carefully dig to about 2-1/2 feet, and it looked like a root cellar that had caved in and then been used to dump rocks and broken stuff.

They keep finding clues, like the poor, neglected, mute house is showing them pictures of its life. "See? This is where he hung the lantern while throwing hay out the swing door." "This is the well, the original water source. It could work again with a few parts. There is still water here." "This is where there were chickens. The fence has fallen and trees have grown in, but it was a pen once, and the eggs were good." "See all these flower pots? A gardener lived here, someone who loved the soil." "These bones, they belonged to a faithful horse. He died in winter and they couldn't bury him, so they left him here, in the soft woods."

Such a long story to tell.

Meanwhile they're simultaneously working like mad on their former house to get it ready to either sell or rent, and I want to go help as soon as I feel I've gotten myself together. Maybe tonight I'll go help paint or haul stuff. After I make my lists and wash my hair and run about a little. Lord help me, I don't ever want to leave home again.


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