SANS PHOTOS


I told you I'd forgotten how to blog. With a lot of trial and error I've managed to scratch out a few sentences in the last two entries. However, downloading photos is really beyond me. If memory serves me, and so often these days it doesn't, I need a different cable to plug into the camera and I don't think it's in my possession in the Skilled Nursing room. Heaven only knows where it is.....my life is in such a jumble right now. 


I've not been especially good about documenting my experience the past few months, so some stories will need your imagination in place of photographs..


After Mr. Bob departed and I realized I'd need to downsize tremendously I told the kids to give away EVERYTHING. The Manor had a sale coming up and most of our belongings could be donated to that cause.
I stressed that the whole lot could be given away, saving a few clothes for my back.


Some time later I was having my hair shampooed in the beauty salon and the hairdresser asked if I had been to the recent Manor sale. I had been bedridden at the time, so my answer was negative. She proceeded to describe the red sweater she'd bought and the more she talked the wider my eyes opened as I recognized it as a recently purchased, favorite sweater of mine. I said nothing at the time, but two weeks later when I returned for beautification, I told her the story which I considered mildly amusing and she insisted on giving the sweater back to me and wouldn't hear of me purchasing it. Now if only I could regain the red pants that somehow have gotten lost in the laundry which is collected each evening, and usually returned the following morning. I should be watching the residents with an eye for the red pants and while I'm at it, a brown pair, too. Meanwhile I'm giving thanks for the return of the red sweater.

THE SHIRT AND THE CELLO

I'VE BLOGGED for years now, but the bulk of the early entries were lost through corruption. I usually didn't bother to print out and my back-up technician, although much loved, wasn't always dependable (wink, wink). 

       A very few entries survived and I'm using one today. The stories actually date back to 1998 even though that was before I discovered the world of keeping a web log.

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There I was, winding down my day. I had bought a new shirt that day. Periwinkle blue. Linen. On arriving home, I tried it on over what I was wearing and it was so comfortable that I just left it on. When it came time for bed, the shirt was the first article of clothing I removed. Typically female, I checked the care tag, just to see what lay in store and noticed a twin tag sewed in next to the one I was inspecting. The second tag had two lines of tiny print on it:

    I am abundance.

    I am supplied.

What do you think about that? I want all my clothes to have little tags like that sewn into them. It made me feel happy, and abundant and well supplied.

I was  reminded of something else. Last night our Alaskan, 13 year old grandson played in an all schools orchestra program. He has cerebral palsy and is developmentally delayed and is being mainstreamed. Last year his teacher was eager for him to take up an instrument. Somehow a cello was  chosen. But in the middle of the winter, the teacher moved, leaving no one in her place who  had the slightest idea of how to carry on with Justin's musical training. But at this point, Justin would not be talked into discontinuing the "playing" of the cello. 

Our daughter said that he kept perfect time with the bow; his ability to finger the cello strings was questionable, but she obviously felt a huge pride that he had been able to perform with high school, middle school and elementary students in a combined effort. We sent our congratulations to Justin who was tickled to hear how proud his Granny & Papa were, and he said to his mom, "Let's not tell them about the disability, okay?" Okay, Justin, dear heart.........may you always feel abundant, supplied and very happy.


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"The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story."
                                                                                          Ursula K. Le Guin

SIMILAR GARB

ONE THING ABOUT living at the Manor is that one needs to dress decently every single day. None of this scuffling around in ratty clothes on one's "day off". Admittedly, my mood is improved by dressing nicely, but once in a while it's a satisfying thing to throw on shabby old clothes.

Only once did I indulge in a mother/daughter outfit.......in the days when I was still sewing, I made Susan and myself shifts made out of cotton. I can still remember the print.....little, tiny vegetables, realistically rendered on a white background. In general, I'm not fond of the idea of dressing identically. Mr. Bob and I don't wear matching outfits and I'll admit to being silently judgmental when I see spouses dressed alike.

But, here it sometimes happens and I've found it astonishing enough to capture the circumstances on film, just as a matter of curiosity.








I've never had the experience of going to a gathering and meeting someone wearing  a duplicate of my attire, probably because I'm rarely dressed in a fashionable manner. I wonder how I'd feel if that every happened?


My closet is filled to overflowing, because I keep my clothes forever. I have fat clothes and smaller outfits and I marvel at articles I've read on having six articles of clothing to mix and match into umpteen looks. I'm not talented in that direction.







In fact I can't take anything out of the closet without needing to set up the ironing board. We didn't bring one with us when we moved, and it didn't take long for us to realize it would be a worthwhile investment to buy another. Mr. Bob made the mistake of criticizing my ironing ability when we were first married; thus finding himself dubbed the King of the Ironing Board.

Possibly you've noticed that Mr. Bob wears a lot of Hawaiian shirts. Almost all of them are Reyn Spooners and they simply don't wear out, but go on and on, presumably into infinity. You've seen this last picture before. It's a classic. He and Roger inadvertently appeared wearing the same shirt one day. Roger looks like a proud first-grader. Mr. Bob, not so much.