I ran the vacuum over the upstairs, but it’s really hopeless. Once the underlay comes up, there will be enough dust in the old homestead to decorate a haunted house. I’m still liking the paint job, but now… the exterior. When I get home tonight it will be grab the last hour of daylight and police up the front bed, or at least get a start on it. And now to wheedle a pressure washer out of Tom, which shouldn’t be too hard.
The cats are in full-bore freakout mode. Kira keeps running to Keith’s room to hide under his bed and it’s…. GONE!
Spitted briefly yesterday with the Dunnettfolk, and picked up my Sheep In Helmets Mug from Ingrid, may she be blessed and adored. We also watched a wonderful travel video about Venice, which is much mentioned in Dunnett. May Dee be blessed and adored – she got me to and from the Spit in good order and it was really good to talk with her about the whole ‘dayvorce’ thang. Pretty much all the Dunnettfolk are never marrieds or long-divorced, either with relentless cheerfulness (à la Jan, who really is almost obscenely cheerful, AND energetic, and she teaches very young kids one third of whom speak no English) or more soberly (à la Dee). I brought Camembert, and we ate the whole damned wheel. Oh, and Ingrid BAKED a coffee cake which was the last word in succulence, and she never bakes, so we all felt especially happy about that.
If I talk about the other stuff that happened this weekend, I’ll just cry until I puke, but at least I know that Paul and I have agreed to disagree. That’s what civilized adults do.
I’m up at 8 am this morning – and no one else is stirring. Very peaceful……
I note that Conrad Black’s emails are being blown up to “size large” in a Chicago courtroom. The only thing missing, that I can see, is that Orson Welles isn’t alive to read the damning phrases to the jury in his snide and orotund way.
Once again, my friends have managed to transform me back into a human being. I’d like to thank Mike, Katie and Heather for being friendly to me tonight.
The painting – except for the trim / doors – is finished, and now we have to get every stick of furniture out of the house preparatory to the carpet going down on Monday. Katie is going to show up around supper time and she and I will go out for fish and chips with Mike (or such is the current plan). Then Kate will head back to the inlaws and I will head home, hopefully to do some serious revision on the homily for next week.
I light a candle for a workmate who is sad right now. I light a candle for my boss’s son’s safe return home from his bout in hospital. I light a candle for the workmate who was burned out of her home. I light a candle of joy for Keith, who had a workshop session with the stellar Atsuko Wakai last night, four time Kata World Champion in Karate – not an easy gig for a woman as you might imagine. I light a candle for the rapid departure of Peggy’s cold.
As for the rest, I guess I’d better just shut up now.
For some of us, only the momentous encounter with death unites us with the notion of tact.The fortunate remainder become more tactful as we age.
Que l’on continue….
Would the FBI abuse its powers? Uh…. yes.
We have a depressingly long list of things to do to get the house in order for sale; fortunately I have some time off next week as well as this weekend.
Go here and learn more about authoritarianism. The introduction alone had me laughing my ass off.
Why, they even have mandolin lessons.