Saturday, October 18, 2014

anchors aweigh

Underway, shift colors

Seeing as it’s my blog and post, it’s none of your business whether it’s interesting or not, is it, it only need please me. But to be perfectly frank ‘n clear, it doesn’t even need to do that, I don’t need a blog, I have plenty to do without it, what with clearing out, getting ready to sell and move on with life and less, a seemingly unending undertaking. As Linda notes, we’re clearing through 99 years of my mother’s things, 90 years of her mother’s things, things each of us has each held onto for 157 years of individual lives and the accumulated detritus of 57 years of married life, not a collection but the acquisitions of a couple of hoarders. 

When a house has a walk-in attic that’s bigger than any other room in the house, you never need trash anything, put it out in the attic, we may need it someday. Or the children may want it. There’s nothing wrong with keeping a string of Christmas tree lights that quit burning thirteen years ago, I may try to fix it one of these days. 

And the +Time blog certainly doesn’t need me, it has a life of its own. If I stop writing, I bet it continues on it’s own for awhile as fingernails and toenails continue growing on a human body for a while after death of the host. It that’s too graphic, get real, get a life, remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.

What’s exciting this Saturday morning? I didn’t hear it, but Linda awoke predawn and pitch black dark to the sound of loud voices. The bedroom door that was open an inch to admit the sound of the surf was also admitting the sound of voices, loud. She got up and looked out and around, thinking someone was out on their balcony or on the beach. No, the sound was coming across the water, from a large ship that has been lying at anchor offshore. Easily a mile from here, and slightly to the east. Brightly lighted in the living and working spaces, it’s picturesque to view from the balcony. And somewhat reminiscent. The voices heard may have been shipboard announcements, changing the watch, or “Now turn to, commence ship’s work.” Or, “All hands make preparations for getting underway.” Remember? I do. I love remembering far more than I liked being there.  

To do today. Some yard-work to spruce up a bit, still some picking up after the strong thunderstorm that swept through the other night. Furniture that someone’s grandchild might be able to use. My office that we’ve been using for the upstairs gathering room, mama’s sewing room downstairs likewise, jammed with stuff. Found more books in the attic, to move out. And GOK how many drawers of years of records and files. I was leaving all that for the children to deal with. 

A friend recently emailed reminding me that relocating, selling out and moving, is one of the several greatest stress events of life. I'm finding it just so.


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