Oh, me!

I had forgot that I have a walk-in closet. Last night I got a bee in my bonnet and partially cleaned it out.

So far there are two trash bags of stuff to throw away, one trash bag of stuff to donate, and the rest of those items out in the floor. Still in the closet are two big suitcases, several smaller bags. 2 bolts of fabric, & a three-shelf wire rack full of folded sweaters and things. Not counting the hanging clothes and the things [dolls] on the high built-in shelves that I'm ignoring because I can't reach them.

That pile of stuff in the hall outside my door are a set of queen-sized sheets that I had lost, and more very large pieces of fabric.

I need to have a yard sale. But as sure as I schedule a week-end sale, the skies will open up and pour rivers of water all over everything.

Oh--the shoes are against the wall on the other side of the bed, all except those old hikers beside the big doll's box. Wurra wurra!

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9:00 p.m. I just watched The Uninvited (1944) on TCM, with Ray Milland, Gail Russell, Ruth Hussey and Donald Crisp, all great actors. I don't know which ghost movie I like better, The Uninvited, or The Haunting of Hill House, (1959) with Julie Harris, Claire Bloom and Richard Johnson. The Uninvited is rather naïve in some ways, partly owing to Ray Milland's sunny personality. The Haunting of Hill House is a bit more sophisticated, and a hundred times scarier, but I'm not fond of any of the actors except Claire Bloom.

Cat Tale

I dreamed the dinner table was set with china, silver, crystal, and lace cloth. Mo brought in a live mouse, climbed into a chair and put the mouse on a plate. Of course, the mouse jumped off the table, and I thought, "Now we've got a mouse in the house. The Cook's man would want me to report this," but I knew I wouldn't.

Aha!

Only a hundred pages of Virginia to go! I expect to finish it sometime next winter. Why do readers suffer boredom willingly, when all you have to do is shut the book?

Mark Twain said it seemed a pity that they let Jane Austen die a natural death. I guess he'd have been mollified if she had filled her pockets with rocks and walked off somewhere--

At least one doesn't have to explain or feel foolish about reading Jane Austen. She wrote complete sentences [sometimes too complete] now and again, and made whole characters [troublesome, troublesome], at least the important ones.

Virginia Woolf, now, wrote beautiful words. At least one epigram per paragraph. I really do like the disjointed scenes in the British Museum.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. . .

My three medical appointments on Tuesday wore me out, so since then I've mostly slept. I think all my tests were okay, but haven't heard from the mammogram yet. Today I had to go to Walmart to pick up prescriptions. It kept misting rain, threatening to get serious, but I got home safe and fairly dry.

Yesterday Dave and Jennifer came and cleaned the house, and did several extra chores. One was moving the doll house out of the living room, to the office., and moving some other furniture around. Last night I finished reading Summer Lightning, by Judith Richards, a very good book once you get into it and realize what's going on (precious little boy with exasperating parents). I'm still working (hard) on Jacob's Room, and I'm past the halfway mark.

After Walmart, I stopped by KFC for a $5 mini-meal, which turned out to be more than I could eat at one sitting--two pieces of chicken, biscuit, potatoes and gravy, a big Pepsi, and a choc.-chip cookie. All that was missing was some veggies, but there's some of those in the fridge for dinner.

Currently. . .

Now I'm reading Jacob's Room. So far Virginia has described a few people and about 200 animals, scenes, and inanimate objects. Pretty words.

Coming up this week, I have three clinic appointments. I was clever enough to make them all on the same day, Tuesday. Just one day of torture instead of spreading it out over the month.

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Monday, Apr. 18 - I've been reading this little 200+ paged book for four days now, and I'm only halfway through it. Some books grab you, and some don't.

Smiley et al.

George Smiley is one of the fictional characters whom I've always wanted to meet. He was the protagonist of John LeCarre's first novel, Call for the Dead (1961). This was one of the paper-back novels that I probably read all to pieces, because I can't find it any more in the shelves.

The movie versions of Smiley never match my picture of him. If I met the "real" Smiley on the street, I think I would recognize him, also his friends Dieter Frey and Alec Leamas. Leamas was the hero of another Le Carre novel, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.

Other fictional characters I would like to meet are Jack Aubrey, Stephen Maturin, and Sherlock Holmes. "Special shoes, Watson!"

Drooling

A Breck's catalog came in the mail, and I put off looking at it as long as I could. Then the desire seized me to order a small fortune's worth of double daffodils and bearded iris.

Then I remembered all the hundreds of daffodils, tulips. hydrangea, cyclamen, roses, crocus, snowdrops, bluebells, Madonna lilies, chrysanthemums and who knows what else I've planted. Two or three of them bloomed, but most didn't even come up. Even the old common shrubbery has nearly all died.

I've never liked alliums, but I bet if I planted a couple, they would multiply exponentially.

Good Times

I seem to feel better every day, maybe due to the Vitamin D and increased exercise. I've really juned around this morning: Cleaned out the broom closet, put all my pills in the plastic compartments, ate breakfast, and rearranged some of the furniture. I can stand up a long time now before the pain and fatigue set in, and then they're not severe. Yesterday, or Monday, I did four loads of laundry, so I've got clean clothes for a while. But all my old clothes are too big and make me look fat.

Book club met yesterday at Nell's lovely home. Every time I visit there, I get inspired to do a little decorative work around my house. All our club members attended. The book we discussed was Old Dogs and Children by Robert Inman. Had a delicious luncheon and then a very good discussion.

Talented Bird

Tufted Titmouse

Standing on the deck in the sunshine, I kept hearing a bird go, "deeter-deeter-deeter." I looked that call up online, and turns out it was a tufted titmouse. When the Oak Trail apartments were new, Bob and I lived in the highest building in the community. A pair of these birds would sit on my balcony, and one of them would sing a beautiful call that sounded like Maria Callas.  I think they can make most any sound they like. Sometimes they sound like a cat mewing.

I can't find a photo of Bob, but this is a sketch I made of him about 1982. His spots were ginger-colored.

Bob

***

I have felt so good today. Thank you, Jesus!

Catching Up

When Jed was here last weekend, we watched the whole first season of "Poldark" on Roku or Amazon. The second season starts in the fall. I think. Or maybe next January. I'm amazed at how good a story it is, and the actors are good, too.

Today I had a great big tossed salad for lunch. While I was preparing it, I kept noticing all this fresh, dried and canned fruit sitting around, and thought now somebody needs to eat all that. So I made a rather awesome fruit salad, which I'll eat this week and hope it lasts past Monday. Forgot to dump in a bag of pecan halves, but can add those to individual servings. Those little dried things are cranberries. I didn't see any raisins, but maybe I'll find some.

Book Club meets next Tuesday, if we don't change the date. The book is Old Dogs and Children by Robert Inman, a very excellent book, chosen by one of my excellent sisters, I'm not sure which.

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If I ever feel strong enough (mind, I didn't say talented enough) to try to paint something, I want to paint that Warrior River scene with the people along the bank fishing. (Picture below, from our Moundville trip.)