My right hand looks like it's beginning to turn into 300-grit sandpaper. So this morning I decided to wear an acrylic glove on it all day while I'm cleaning the microwave and refrigerator, washing dishes and trash cans, picking up trash out of the yard. There's what looks like a bundle of packing material in one of the trees in back, but I couldn't reach it with the rake, which is the longest-handled tool I've got. I've worked on the house some today, but not frantically. I think I'm done with frantic.
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Joyce Earle called me yesterday and said that we'd lost another classmate, Jerry R. He didn't graduate with us but we've always considered him a classmate for some reason. I don't even remember his being in any classes with us. Anyway, that's a sad note.
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Another Elvis dream. I feel like Blanche Devereaux, dreaming about "George." These aren't romantic dreams, just sometimes sweet and usually funny.
4 comments:
Don't you have any cloth gloves? They have to be more comfortable than latex.
And what's the scoop on the Elvis dream?
Cloth gloves wouldn't keep my hands dry. And the latex keeps my hand cream or lotion from being washed off.
Elvis was on the stage in my high school auditorium making a speech, and I kept dozing off. I don't know what the speech was about.
I read about Jerry's passing in the newspaper. At the time, I didn't quite remember him but thought he was someone you went to school with.
He got rich--I don't know how. He and his wife traveled all over the world, then they built a bed-and-breakfast colonial-style mansion in Steele, Alabama, and lived there until his wife passed away several years ago. Then he lived in Hoover with his daughter's family. We had a class reunion at their B&B, late-80s or early-90s.
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