A Good Day

Yesterday the Home Health nurse came by, and said it was his last visit here. He repeated his urging that I get a dog. His wife has a dog that "she loves better than she loves me," and Stephen himself entertains a whole slough of feral cats, doesn't even know how many. I'll miss him.

Then in the afternoon, Susan came by and we went to meet Pat at Cracker Barrel, where we partook copiously of their comestibles.

This morning I did two loads of laundry, and took out all the trash. I fixed my lunch, and then cleaned up the kitchen. I suddenly found that I felt terrible, for the first time since my "incident," so I spent the rest of the day in bed.

Poem for Sunday

 

Where Has All the Kudzu Gone?

Greener than this pallid privet flower

It was; edible, able to boast:

“No one need starve on my watch.”

Cursed while flourishing for a century,

Acres of it vanished overnight,

And the President has not said a word.

 

by JRC 05/17/15

Yesterday I went to TKC for my appointment with Dr. Gruman. He was very complimentary about my quitting smoking, and said I looked wonderful. I just wish this craving would go away. The feeling is something on the order of having lost one's best friend. No comfort. No one to talk to. Cold and lonesome.

*

Toward the end of Post Captain, there's a scene where Stephen says to Jack, "Come, brother. Here is too much blood altogether." And the tears roll down my face.

Progress

Pat and India brought me this lovely bouquet the day I came home from the hospital, and it's still fresh and pretty.

I've had several home health visits, from Steve, Anne Marie and Dan, who have shown me new easy exercises to add to my routine. Mostly they just want me to walk, so I try to do several laps a day around the house, inside and outside.

Some time ago, I saved up enough cash to get my kitchen painted. Now that the smoking issue is resolved--I lit one and it nearly knocked my head off so I'm quits there--I thought I should be able to save for another special project.

Maine Coon!

I found a site online that sells Maine coon kittens, and I emailed them to reserve a male for me. As a tentative color choice, I said black-and-white or gray-and-white. but they're all gorgeous.

So, last night I dreamed that I received notice that the April litter was now eight weeks old, and my boy was available. The picture of him showed a poor scrooched up black object. They said he was the runt of the litter, but I could have him if I still wanted to pay $800. I thought there might be room for negotiation.

Another Day Without a Smoke

The only way I keep myself from lighting up is telling myself, Wait another hour.

. . . Tall Buildings At a Single Bound. . .

This morning I got up at 5:00, did a load of laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, and got ready for a visit from one of the home health agents. That turned out to be a false alarm, because she hadn't coordinated with Steve, who came yesterday from a different agency. Anyway, later on, after Jed went back to Atlanta, I paid up all my bills, which had been weighing on my mind, and went to the post office.

Last Friday night I went to the hospital with the chest and back pain, and it turned out I had a real heart attack.  So on Sunday, I had a procedure where they placed a stent in my damaged heart artery. Man, this was weird. A team of about six or eight stout men and women, or similar creatures, all wore various hats, and the sound effects were deafening.

Ker-Blam! Ka-Pow! It sounded like they were flinging hundred-pound sacks of grain around the room. Maybe slaughtering cattle. Loud laughter. Muffled screams. I never felt a thing, except freedom from pain. But at last someone came in and told them to put down their weapons, and they all looked sheepish and sort of dried up. As I was wheeled from the room, I called back, "I like y'alls' hats!"

The team applauded!

I only slept about 4 hours last night due to back pain. When I sit or stand up, it quits hurting, but lying down brings it back. So if I can get comfortable, I may sleep some more today.

"Once More Unto the Breach. . ."

Yesterday I rearranged my chapbook, This Rough Magic, and made a hard copy to enter in the ASPS chapbook contest. The judging will probably be in June or July. The prize is $100 and 25 copies of the chapbook.

If it doesn't win this time, I want Jed to help me get it printed, using this free image for the cover. It's 20 poems, 24 pages including the title page. I left out the silly poems, and included a few others that are kind of spooky.

Today I plan to pay bills, and make a chicken pot pie.

*

I made a chicken pot pie and a peach cobbler, and I'm worn to a frazzle.

Of Friends, Nails and Shoe Leather

Yesterday a dear friend phoned and said she and her mom were going shopping, and was there anything I needed. It was one of those days when I can't get out of the house, and I was amazed and tickled. They did some grocery shopping for me, and I gave them a check for the stuff and a copy of my book.

I feel guilty about it. Both those ladies, although younger, are in less robust physical health than I am. I ought to be running around town for other folks instead of letting them run around for me. There's nothing physical wrong with me except shaky hands. "Little shaky legs." Bald spots.

*

CLIP ART IMAGE

Online recently, I read that people pay up to a hundred dollars for a manicure. Sure, I think it must be a sin. I'll just find my nail clipper.

*

I once had a pair of Johansen pumps. They were white with brown leather trim. I find that they are still made in the USA, so next time I feel like buying new shoes--(To the tune of "My Sweet Little Alice Blue Gown")

One day, turning the pages of my mind, I remembered one of the best movies ever, that I hadn't thought of in years. Trouble is, now I can't recall what it was. Moral: When you think of something good, write it down.

*

Too Good for This World

(A Lament for Blue Bell Ice Cream)

The “Great Divide,” the sherbet,

The Cherry Vanilla, too!

All swept from every grocer's shelf—

And what's a guy to do,

With two cartons in the freezer

Just waiting there for you?

 

*

I wish English had a good equivalent for the French word "frisson." Then I wouldn't have to describe what happens to the back of my neck when I hear words like

 

"I know a song of Africa. Does Africa know a song of me?"

 

Semper Paratus, and Patting Oneself on the Back

Couple of days ago, I made this meatloaf in the crock pot. Had no idea how it would turn out, but it's one of the best I've made. It was enormous, and I've got to get the rest of it into the freezer today.

Yesterday I cleaned out the freezer and put parts of it into the dishwasher. I also went to the new hardware store on the Parkway and bought some emergency supplies--lamp oil, matches, and a can opener that doesn't break my hand when I use it. Just have one of my paranoid feelings that something's about to happen.

*

A little while ago, I read over some of the poems in my book, The Lightness of the Dark. Overall, they don't lament the state of the universe, so much as celebrate it. I hope some other people read them, and feel the same sense of hope and wonder that they convey to me.

Surprises

My freshman year at the U., the dorm had a dress-the-dolls-for-children Christmas contest, and I won it. My prize was a sterling silver fork, my first piece of silver.

Last night or this morning I had a dream almost identical to that, except the doll was a look-alike Maureen O'Hara Barbie doll. Come to think of it, the doll I dressed was really red-headed. (In the dream, the contest judge was Alex Trebeck.)

I also dreamed I heard scratching at the door, got up and looked, and it wasn't Gretchen, but a big black-and-tan-and white collie.

Poem by E. St.V. Millay

Intention To Escape from Him

I think I will learn some beautiful language, useless for commercial
Purposes, work hard at that.
I think I will learn the Latin name of every songbird, not only in
America but wherever they sing.
(Shun meditation, though; invite the controversial:
Is the world flat? Do bats eat cats?) By digging hard I might
deflect that river, my mind, that uncontrollable thing,
Turgid and yellow, strong to overflow its banks in spring,
carrying away bridges
A bed of pebbles now, through which there trickles one clear
narrow stream, following a course henceforth nefast—

Dig, dig; and if I come to ledges, blast.

Time To Get Fit

When I got up today, I drank juice and coffee, took my meds, and did some exercises until I began to feel tired. I'm going to do that every day until I get my balance back and begin to feel normal.

And by July fourth, I'm going to file my first law suit, if I'm not able to eat all these things:

Crisp bacon
Baked ham
Tossed salads
Raw broccoli, cauliflower, peppers, onions, carrots, etc.
Corn on the cob
Brazil nuts
"Payday" bars
Crackerjacks
Little green apples

Mule Skinner Blues (Jimmie Rogers)

 

 

Good mornin', Captain!

Good mornin', Shine.

Good mornin', Captain!

Good mornin', Shine.

Don't you need another mule skinner,

Out on yo' new road line?

 

Hey, little water boy,

Bring your water bucket around!

Hey, little water boy,

Bring your water bucket around!

If you don't like your job,

Set your water bucket down!

(Recorded by Rogers and Horton, Bill Monroe, and others.)

Erik Larson

Yesterday, in between interludes of lolling on the couch, I did lots of loads of laundry. Alliteration.

Today I've watched a video recording that Jed sent me, a Wall Street Journal book club interview with author Erik Larson talking about Dashiell Hammett and The Maltese Falcon. Through Facebook, Jed had four questions about Hammett that Larson discussed.

Then last night, I happened upon an interview with Larson on CSPN Book TV, recorded March 27, 2015 in St. Paul, MN. One of his remarks that I found interesting was that Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald and Dashiell Hammett were significant influences on his writing.

The interview was about Dead Wake, the Last Crossing of the Lusitania. It was right fascinating; he said his favorite period in history was the 1890’s to the 1920’s—partly because it was the heyday of the typewriter, which made historical research much easier to read. He also said he’s claustrophobic on an airplane and hates to fly. He said some of the passengers on the Lusitania saw the torpedo coming toward them. Wow.

Larson's books that I've read are The Devil in the White City, and Thunderstruck (at least part of it).
*
This is the next tale: http://www.boop.org/jan/justso/camel.htm

Good Books

The book I'm reading now is Youngblood Hawke, by Herman Wouk. For the (number) time, I finished Master and Commander last night. Some of my favorite passages from it are:

JA: ". . . I should like to see him [Maturin] as early as can be; I am uneasy with him ashore. There are times when I feel he should not be allowed out alone; and then again there are times when I feel he could command a fleet, almost." page 232

JA: ". . . as righteous as Pompous Pilate." p. 247

"And so they moved back again across the same miles of sea, the Sophie knotting and splicing, the gunboats following and firing steadily, the old left-handed moon climbing with her usual indifference." p. 322

*

Today I received email notification that I did not win the Brickroad poetry book contest.

A Happy Holiday Weekend

Jed came over Saturday, and that evening he and we Three Weird Sisters, plus lovely India, played "Sheriff of Nottingham" until we almost thoroughly understood the rules. Then on the beautiful Easter Sunday, Ramey had fixed a big feast for her family, but Jed, Susan and I went to Carrabbas and over-ate. At least I ate too much, as usual. It was a great weekend.

This afternoon I have a dental appointment, and the poetry group meets at the Leeds Arts Center tonight.

Jed went home today, and I wrote a poem. It could really be about any one of us three sisters, because Daddy always wanted a boy.

             Philomena

Maureen lives down the Valley road,
Celeste lives up the hill;
They call me Baby Sister,
But Daddy called me Phil.

He thought two girls were quite enough,
And when I made it three,
He gave me a hound puppy
To grow up along with me.

The skills I learned were mumblety-peg
And how to build a fire,
To whistle through my fingers,.
And how to change a tire.

He taught me how to hunt and fish
And hit a target square,
And how to skin a rabbit,
And not to take a dare;

And how to fight a bully,
And how to lose a game
Without dissolving into tears
And acting like a “dame.”

I grew up and raised a family,

Just like my sisters did,

And Dad and I were never as close
As when I was a kid.

My mother said my name means “friend,”
And “loving,” and “good will;”
She named me Philomena,
But Daddy called me Phil.


By Joanne Cage
April 6, 2015

Not what it used to be.

This week, being unable to get anything on TV, I've watched ten episodes of Ken Burns's "Baseball" on Netflix. The reason I lost interest in baseball, I think, is that late in the 1990's, or maybe even sooner, baseball stopped being fun to watch. I think it stopped being fun to play, to judge by reactions of the players. A Columbian or Puerto Rican kid could somehow get into U.S. big league baseball, having the time of his life, and get caught up in a race to break a Babe Ruth or Roger Maris record, and get his life essentially ruined by drugs and steroids and owner malice. All of that was much worse than, for instance, Carl Furillo trying to strangle Leo Durocher, which was lots of fun. Anyway, "Baseball" is a good series, at least up until the mid-'nineties.

Murder By Decree

Last night on Netflix I watched the best Sherlock Holmes movie I've ever seen, "Murder By Decree," 1979 from Canada. It has some of the best and most attractive actors as stars: Christopher Plummer, James Mason, Donald Sutherland, John Gielgud--and Genevieve Bujold as Annie Crook! I've only seen her before in "Anne of the Thousand Days" with Richard Burton. Great actress.

My TV has done something that I haven't figured out how to undo. When I hit the power button, a blue screen comes on with the HD1 logo jumping around, and nothing I've tried makes it go to the channels.

Dinner Last Night

Sour-cream chicken and biscuits. Plus some veggies.

It took most of the day, but the refrigerator is cleaned out and restocked. I'm not exactly proud of myself for going grocery shopping. But it's a good feeling when I force myself to get out of the house, instead of yelling for help.

*

I keep thinking about a book I'd like to re-read after about fifty years. Herman Wouk's Youngblood Hawke. I used to have the book, but don't any more. It's about a writer. A movie was made based on it, but they got the wrong actor to play Hawke, and it made me not want to read the book again for 50 years or so. I wish somebody else would read it and tell me if they agree with me that the movie part would have been perfect for Andy Griffith.

Mr. Reed's guys cleaned up the lawn and driveway today.

"When there's not any ordinary heroes around, just anybody can jump up and be one!"

That will be the last line of the play about Moonlight Ridge. This morning I finished the outline and summary; now Ramey and I just have to get together and flesh it out. Or maybe I'll do that myself, then let her fix it or mess it up according to her wishes.

As usual, when I've been writing, I'm so excited I can't think what to do next. Maybe eat some more yogurt and applesauce. The day before yesterday, or maybe the day before the day before yesterday, I threw some ground beef, a can of celery soup, a can of Veg-All, a can of diced tomatoes, a can of water, a chopped onion, and lots of salt, garlic salt, celery salt and 3 kinds of pepper in the crock-pot and made beef stew. Then I made cornbread. I wish I had saved some of it.

*

If my alarm clock didn't wake me up, the woodpecker would. He/she starts drumming on my house about good daylight almost every day. Hope he's not making a hole in the roof or wall.

An OCD Poet Mentally Correcting Incorrect Rhymes

"Come sit by my side, little darlin',
Come lay your cool hand on my spine,
And promise me that you will never
Be nobody's darlin' but mine."

There. Isn't that better than pretending that "brow" and "mine" rhyme?

Plan Ahead

April is National Poetry Month. I haven't written anything lately, and hope to make up for it by writing a poem for each day this April. Also, I intend to finish writing the play based on Ramey's book, Sweet Music on Moonlight Ridge. For the latter project, I have to buckle down and sift through all the images in my head when I think about Moonlight Ridge. Get organized.

Arthritis Treatment:

These mugs were made in Mexico. When my big measuring cup is in the dishwasher, I sometimes use one of these to heat water in the microwave. The mug doesn't get extremely hot, and the warm handle feels so good to my old arthritic hand, I sometimes hold onto it until it cools down.

Changes

If I survive this year, I'm determined to make some changes in my life.

For a while I was gaining weight, up to 5-6 pounds. But in the past couple of weeks I've lost a lot--am now below 120 again.

Next year, if I'm still here, I'm going to be the equivalent of a purple-wearing hell-raiser. And do exactly what I want to do, and nothing else. Stop stopping myself from cussing when I feel like it. Spend most of my money on clothes and makeup. Wear a different hairpiece every day, and never no more flat heels.

I'm already tired from thinking about it.

Book Club

Our meeting yesterday was delightful, at least for me and I hope for everyone. Carole couldn't be there, because of her husband's illness, and we missed her. We discussed Handling Sin by Michael Malone, and for next month's meeting we chose Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian.  Nell and I had fun guessing astrological signs of fictional characters. She said Scarlett O'Hara was an Aries, and I agreed.

I was proud of my success in putting together several tasty dishes, having burned only one pot and broken only one wine glass in the process.

Plans

Yesterday I did nothing useful--at least what was left of yesterday after I got out of bed about two p.m. I did nothing useful, but made a lot of good plans, including sprucing the house up for the book club meeting Friday.

For the book club's April book selection, I'm going to suggest one of the best novels I've ever read in my whole life, Patrick O'Brian's Master and Commander. Those who have only seen the movie can't imagine the delights of this book and its 19-volume string of sequels. I would take off my writer's hat to Patrick O'Brian, but I don't have a hat, and O'Brian is dead.

Cuppa Tae

I'm afraid I have formed a new addiction. Habit, at least. Green tea. It's a yucky color, has no aroma, and tastes like parboiled sawdust. Still, it's one of the more appetizing things in my largely liquid diet. It took about a week for me to get good and fed up with soups, juices, and soft sweet foods. Almost everything I can eat or drink is sweet and high in calories, and I keep gaining weight. Aaargh!!!

PBS is playing a lot of old recordings by Tennessee Ernie Ford, as part of a fund-raising program. It's good to be reminded of everything we loved about Tennessee Ernie. His singing voice was one of the most pleasing I've ever heard. However, the sound on these recordings seems deeply flawed.

Just Saying

I listened to Prime Minister Netanyahu's speech. I didn't hear any insults, only praise for what President Obama has done for Israel, and a plea to the President and the world, not to advocate giving Iran implicit permission, and plenty of time, to amass a nuclear arsenal.

Last Night

Unable to sleep much, I watched PBS's rerun of the Downton Abbey finale in the middle of the night. For some reason, my head noises had calmed down enough that I could understand what everyone was saying. Strangely, I haven't lost hope for Edith's happiness: Several times during this season, I have seen a man in a crowd somewhere who looked like Michael Gregson, Marigold's father. I kept waiting for him to turn up at Downton. Maybe next season.

I loved Mrs. Hughes's acceptance of Carson's proposal of marriage. My other favorite lines in this episode were when Robert told his wife that he had a stomach ulcer:

Cora: "Whitefish, chicken, no alcohol--"

Robert: [startled] "Steady on!"

Also, when Violet was telling Isobel about her adventures with the prince and princess, she said regretfully, "I will never again receive an immoral proposition from a man."

Yesterday I watched an excellent Hallmark TV movie, "The Lost Child." It was about a nice Jewish lady who discovers that she's really a Navajo Indian. Tantoo Cardinal was the only actor I recognized, as the movie was made in the year 2000.

*

This morning it occurred to me that "everything's going to be all right," and I immediately stopped worrying. Call it holy Comforting.

Proof Positive

I hope my father has learned that the seat is not always the first place where my jeans wear out.

I don't resent Daddy's criticisms, though. If I had really been a boy, he would have been even tougher on me.

A Bonus To Having a Good Memory:

You get these delightful old songs stuck in your head, and they follow you all day. Such as this one:

"You're the cream in my coffee,
You're the salt in my stew . . ."

Snow at last

Not much, but enough.

The King Charles's Head Syndrome

I'm dreading next week. But as time plunges headlong, it'll be over before you know it.

I started to say we had a "puny little snowfall," but I'm too superstitious--it could bury us next time. The deck was covered with glittering crystals of snow over ice.

Three things that went right today: I woke up. I had one Coke and plenty of coffee. My sore arm is better.

*
Probably for the first time, I don't even want to watch "Jeopardy."

William Goldman

The Novelist and Screen-writer Genius of the Age.

"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Princess Bride," and "Marathon Man" were all his from start to finish. He wrote the screenplay for "Misery," said to be Stephen King's most difficult novel to adapt to screen.

Goldman is 83 years old.

[Images listed as "free."]

*
What's Fair About This?

As if winter weren't hard enough to begin with, my whole winter, and one autumn month, have been dominated and spoilt by clinic, hospital and dental visits. I guess it is my fair share, after a generally healthy adulthood. When it starts catching up to you, you might as well hunker down and deal with it. It has left me with tremors in both hands, and sometime in my knees--my kneecaps will jump up and down!

Soup du jour

Chicken with fresh steamed broccoli. A sprinkle of Colby and Monterey Jack. Plus another delicious corn casserole, topped with crisp bacon slices. I eat too much.

The weather for tomorrow is supposed to be heavy rain, so I'm going to call the Clinic and ask them to reschedule my stress test. I think it will take most of the day, and I may not even feel like driving home, let alone in a rainstorm.

Downton Abbey tonight. Last night I watched "Ghosts of Mississippi" on the Sundance channel. That is a most excellent movie, and along with "Beetlejuice," "The Confession," and "The Shadow," one of the reasons I think Alec Baldwin is a great actor. Or was. I think maybe making "Mercury Rising" and "The Juror" spoiled his disposition. They are both good movies, but very violent.

This morning TCM showed "Girl with a Pearl Earring." If it hadn't been so beautiful, it would have been boring. And had the most annoying musical score I've heard in a while. If I ever watch it again, I'll just leave the sound off.

Christmas in February

Amaryllis

I guess I should have waited until they're fully opened, but I'm so thrilled to have a living, blooming plant in my house! This was a Christmas gift from my lovely sister--which one, I don't remember, but I thank them both.

I think I'm going to paint this pitcher/picture:

The way to make time pass quickly is to make a clinic appointment and a dental appointment in the same week. I know, because that's what I've got next week. Stress test Monday; I'm betting my heart graduates cum laude.

If I ever succeed in establishing a détente with the medical arts, I think I'm going to start painting again. Maybe even writing.

Helen Van Wyk. I used to watch her and Bob Ross on PBS, and admired their paintings. Helen did mostly still lifes and portraits, and Bob Ross did mountains and scenery with a palette knife.

*

The dental appointment is for Tuesday, the 24th, instead of next week. Just that much longer to dread it. Grumble, grumble.

Low Battery

These old bones don't want to go, but I've got those two clinic appointments, so I guess I'd better put it in gear. Every time I go over there, I say I'm not going to do it again. But I guess Dr. G. gets the credit for keeping me going for the last twenty-odd years. Pretty good mechanic.

Very cautiously climbing to "remount" my pottery collection, after the cabinets have had some repairs and new paint.

I haven't run all of them through the dishwasher yet. It's amazing how the collection has grown.

Come spring, I'm going to have a seriously huge yard sale, maybe run it for a week. I need to get rid of things I don't use, things that are hidden away in cabinets and closets. Things. But not my pottery collection.

That "new" pitcher on the table was from a guy in Texas who called himself "The Blue-Eyed Indian." It was made in a Texas pottery, but I don't know if the "Indian" was connected with the pottery.

*

The book club meeting yesterday was a great success. We had lunch at the lovely Music Room in Leeds, then discussed The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. The Music Room is definitely a keeper; I hope it keeps going and going.

A quick lunch

Precooked bacon, green beans from the can, and corn pudding from the freezer. That's the best corn pudding I've ever made.

Today I messed up next week pretty well. Already had a radiology appointment for next Tuesday, and today I complicated it by making an appointment for the same day, different time, with Dr. G. He told me in December to come back in a month, so I guess I'll go.

Then the week after that, it's dental work. Happy Valentines to me.

Valentine Ballantyne and his dog Jerry

But tomorrow will be fun. The book club is meeting at The Music Room in Leeds to discuss The Shadow of the Wind. I haven't read the book, but I read a good review/analysis of it. Will get it later.

I'm missing Jeopardy!

Dream Analysis

When I'm dreaming, I never have on my glasses. This causes all kinds of personal and professional problems, especially the former. If I would just remember to put on my glasses, maybe the dreams would be less complicated.

I think this means that I get into jams because I forget to do all the details of my homework. In other words, the lesson for today is Look Before You Leap.

"No jam today . . ."

I'm Off To See the Wizard.

Y'all can whisper among yourselves till I get back.

Greens in the Pot

Leftover cornbread in the fridge. I had forgotten how delicious fresh turnip greens taste, even raw or barely steamed. If any are left over, I may try making some cornbread dumplings.

A New Experience

Well, it's been many a year, I think, since I had stage fright,
but today made up for the hiatus.
I read a selection
of my "relative" poems to the Castalia club meeting, and for some reason I was so nervous I could hardly hold the papers. Maybe it was because I was reading to so many people that know me. A room full of strangers is much less intimidating than a dozen friends or acquaintances. But I stuttered and spluttered my way through, and sold a bunch of books.

A Favorite Food

When we went to England, I filled about half of a suitcase with Twinkies as insurance against starvation. If I ever go again, I'll take Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème Pies. They're healthier.

Nijinsky on an Ordinary Day

That's the title of a new poem that I'm going to write. Someday.

"I merely leap into the air and pause"

Maybe today.

"and wait for the applause" ?

On Tuesday this week I'm supposed to read to the Castalia literary club. I made a list of poems I've written about my kinfolk. I didn't realize there were so many. One of my favorites is about Maw Maw and the pear trees.

Can't Win for Gaining.

As the nicotine craving subsides, the food craving increases. I've already gained five pounds. If this keeps up, by summer I'll be my old roly-poly self.

Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child . . .

But yesterday I woke up feeling like eighty is the new sixty. So I gathered up most of the boxes of stuff left over from the newly-wed dolls' house, and planned Grandma Gray's old house for the empty bookcase. I miss some things that are not there, so I know there's more hidden away somewhere. And all the people who live at Graymont are present and accounted for: Alex, Miranda, Camilla, Peter, Little Joe, Grandma Buff-Orpington, Billy Bones, Cook, Beau, Lucinda, Mrs. Gudenov and her daughter, Tiny, the three sooner hounds, the cow, even a ghost or two.

Actually, Grandma B.-O. doesn't live here; she has an apartment in town, but she spends a lot of time with the family.

Ned, Beauty, Maybelle, Dolly, Spot, the Mama cat and two kittens, and Kitty are at the new house.

Graymont will have six levels:
1. The gardens, service yard and garages
2. The kitchen, butler's pantry, and conservatory
3. The dining room, living room and library
4. Bedroom, bathroom, guest room
5. Day nursery, nurse's room, bathroom
6. Children's rooms and attic

*

I didn't go to book club on Thursday, because it was so cold outside it put the fear in me. I've been sick, and I don't want to repeat the process any time soon.

Lots of stuff has happened in the past week.

On Friday, Dave came and cleaned the carpets, and Jennifer came and cleaned the house. We're going to try her coming over every other week to help clean, and see how it works out. She's a lovely young woman. Her seven-year-old son came with her, and I wanted to keep him.

 On Saturday, Jed, Susan, Pat and I celebrated my birthday with lunch at Carrabas, one of our favorite restaurants, and they gave me some lovely gifts. Jed went back to Atlanta, and on Sunday, Mary Anne M. phoned and asked me to have the Castalia literary club program on January 20th. So that's something to look forward to.

I gathered up most of my quilts and put them in the former TV cabinet, mainly to see how big a stack they make. If I decide to leave them here, I'll have to protect them somehow from the wood.