The school where I teach calls this day the "Head's Holiday"...she (the Head of School) felt that it was important to have a day off in March since there aren't presidents or civil rights leaders in this month.
Ahhhhhhh...how nice it feels...even though I woke at 5:15 with Mr. Pajama Pants. I let Ann sleep in as she has a math workshop to attend to today.
So, I'm doing laundry, did the dishes, paid the bills and when it stops raining for a moment, I shall take Chester (aka: Mr. Pajama Pants) on a walk through the neighborhood, past the mailbox where we shall mail the bills I just paid.
Then a haircut...much needed as I look like Elvis or perhaps Roy Orbison this day. Then I'll pick up Ann and we'll go for an obligatory workout, walk Chester again (in our old neighborhood) and take a gander at the remodel, which as of yesterday, has all new windows. Wow, did that change everthing. As did the new front door. It's amazing what new and clean can do to spruce up a house built in 1900.
Things are moving fast -- new appliances on Tuesday afternoon, cabinetry the week after, and siding as an on-going process. I feel so decadent, though I know our abode is still humble by some standards...then again, a mansion by others. Perspective. It's all about perspective.
My parents and Bookworm and Fossilguy are at the beach and I wish them well. I hope there is no rain, a stiff wind for kites, and lots of leisure time to work on puzzles, read books, and discuss whatever it is that Bookworm brings up about the Sopranos.
I know my parents read this blog, but I must say, they are active "elderly"...yes, mom, 78/79 is elderly...hell, it's past the life expectancy of most Americans. While I'm proud of them for living such rich and full lives, I worry about them so far away at the ocean. Though I think, and don't take this the wrong way folks, but I think, what better place for them to "pass on" if it is their time -- at the beach house where they've spent a yearly expedition with their dear friends eating amazing food and laughing through the most awful weather.
But my mother is too stubborn to "pass on" and my dad needs my mom so I'm certain they'll be flying kites again next year at this time.
Meanwhile, there's a dog to walk and a mound of hair to cut and laundry to fold and a partner to meet and a house to watch grow and a day to spend not thinking about 11 year olds.
Nice. Very. Very. Nice.
4 comments:
dear no apologies - I saw this poem on-line somewhere today and it made me think of your Chester - I hope you enjoy it.
bs
WHY DOGS STOPPED FLYING
Before humans,
dogs flew everywhere.
Their wings of silky fur
wrapped hollow bones.
Their tails wagged
like rudders through wind,
their stomachs bare
to the sullen earth.
Out of sorrow
for the first humans--
stumbling, crawling,
helpless and cold--
dogs folded their
great wings into paws
soft enough to walk
beside us forever.
They still weep for us,
pity our small noses,
our unfortunate eyes,
our dull teeth.
They lick our faces clean,
keep us warm at night.
Sometimes they remember flying
and bite our ugly hands.
-- Kenneth W. Brewer
That is a beautiful beautiful poem, bs.
Exquisite. Perfect. Thank you.
The poem brought tears to my eyes, it is so wonderfully dog.
I know your parents, No Apologies. They are timeless and I suppose one day they will not be here, but you must not worry. We don't want our children to worry about our later years. We just want to enjoy them to the bitter (?) end!
Post a Comment