December 30, 2008

10:13 a.m.

So Much for an Early Start

The trouble is, I just love these long mornings at home. I have a routine that doesn't involve an alarm clock (usually), or packing, or unpacking, or having to speak to anybody, or consulting a map, or doling out my breakfast ingredients from little plastic ziploc bags and miniature, travel sized cartons of Edensoy. I taste the morning tea (Earl Grey), gaze at the sunwashed kitchen, let the colors saturate my eyes. I put on soothing music ("Healing Waters" by Dean Evenson) and listen to my body. I envison and affirm my goals for this year. I think about my family nearby and feel love. In these hours I have exactly the life that I want.

This morning the wind woke me. It was howling around (and in some cases, through) the house! I hadn't slept so comfortably; gastric distress last night and the apartment seemed so cold. Too hot under the covers, too cold with fewer. I got up to a blazingly bright kitchen. I showered right away. Better. My thumb is very painful right now with the eczema that is no longer responding well to the Elocon. But I was up, and I hadn't slept too late. I have many things to do today.

And here it is a couple of hours later and I'm still on the Earl Grey and the nice music and puttering around online. I'll be quite busy the next few days but right now I can breathe deeply and relax my insides.

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'Tis the season for house troubles. Dar has a house in Florida which he rents. His tenant had been delinquent with the rent for quite a while, and he finally managed to evict her. Sad times, but the rent isn't that high and the house costs him more than he makes on it if it's not paid. He has a friend down there who manages all that but is very busy with his own life's troubles (messy divorce, wayward kids) so he can't really keep up with the condition of the house. So, once the tenant was out, it was discovered that there had been a lot of dampness damage from the weather, and he's having to steam and scrub all the walls and carpets and disinfect everything from mildew. (Another friend is handling this for him.) The boiler also needs replacing and I can't remember what else. There's a few thousand dollars. Ah, the joys of an investment property.

Meanwhile Marc discovered that the pipes in their soon-to-be-on-the-market house not only froze in the last cold snap (the oil ran out before the delivery arrived, apparently) but burst in four places upstairs. He's spent several days welding and fixing and drying out carpets, and the last break simply would not mend no matter what skill he brought to it. Fortunately he had a friend in his stock club who is a plumber, so they went over there and spent several hours working it out -- it was even a challenge for the plumber guy -- and then the friend wouldn't even accept a cent for his help.

Then Marc went home to find there was a klinker in one of the corn stoves (big charred lump of ex-corn that blocks the auger), so he had to work on that, and then the tractor battery died altogether and he had to buck up and get a new one. Hard couple of days. I'm bringing them some cookies today. Cookies make it better.

And that's another thing, now. Cookies. I make these cookies for Dar once in a blue moon and mail him a box. They're his absolute favorite. I haven't made any since I took all the wheat out of the apartment. This batch I made last night is the best yet. I do them completely seat of the pants, though they always have somewhat the same ingredients. I play with the wet/dry measure until it's the right consistency. They're muesli based but have all kinds of chunky things in them like nuts, coconut, chopped up candied ginger. I made a big batch to share and will send some out today. He's very busy brushing up his Irish accent for a role in Playboy of the Western World which begins rehearsal next month. He needs his strength.

And laundry, and CVS, and Wholefoods, and hemming of pants, and I have to call my doctor back today to follow up from the endoscopy. And make use of that 50% off coupon at Michael's Crafts. And a dear, elderly fan of ours in England sent me a nice Christmas card and a note (he doesn't do computers so has no email). I must answer him in longhand, like in days of old. Days when you simply had to get an early start, because everything took longer.