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6 of #100
Another June Gloom day in April. Fortunately, I am not particularly gloomy. I found a brown turkey fig tree to buy and it won't even break the budget so I will be moseying over the nursery in a bit. I don't normally like to go to the nursery on Saturday and Sunday but I don't want to miss this. And then I will have only two trees on my list, a bergamot (sour) orange tree, and a kaffir lime. But they can wait for next year.
11:46 p.m.
Listening to music, uploading music to my new iPhone, sipping gin and lime juice. Considering that the partying neighbors are, indeed, partying, it is remarkably quiet. The cats were fed a second dinner a little bit ago, so they are settling into their sleep. Dishes are done. A post to write and post and I can go to bed.
I very much wanted to throw myself onto the bed or wherever and binge tv, but needing to write keeps me from zoning out. Kinda.
Weekends are tough on Janet. She really needs the comradeship and conversation of The Domineers. She can't get comfortable with anything on television, she doesn't like to move much (and in any case, she shouldn't go out without someone), and I think she has a pervasive sadness that she is going to die. I was out for several hours, what with tree (and other plant) purchases, yard sales, and visiting my pal Patty's new house. Janet was playing solitaire when I got home, which meant she had to find the cards and do some thinking for herself. I wish I could think of some way to get her entertained on the weekend that did not involve me.
Spacing out to gin, music, and music is lovely, but I should to bed so that I can get my plants into the ground and maybe work on this disaster (library). Amanda Anne Platt is having an on-line concert at 2:00 PDT, so I would like to tune into that.
Meanwhile, I heard this John Gorka song for the first time today (I have a lot of music on my iPhone) and found it so beautiful it will stand in for Kay Ryan today.
I didn't know where to find you
I didn't know how I could touch that light
That's always gathering behind you
To find you in the morning
But love can pull you out of yesterday
As it takes you without warning
I want to be a long time known
Not one of your memory's used-to-bes
A summer's fading song
For your eyes
It's a weight, a wonder that is wise
I am here, you are there
Love is our cross to bear
With the golden moon arising
And the stars will fall around us still
While the love is realizing
And I throw my arms around you
You can count the gray hairs in my head
I'll still be thankful that I found you
For your eyes
It's a weight, a wonder that is wise
I am here, you are there
Love is our cross to bear
I find this particularly poignant as folks begin to see friends and loved ones they have missed during the quarantine. There is a bit of media floating around about this topic, which friends to keep, which to maybe let go. My life has been fairly contained since I left New York so in some ways, it didn't change ALL that much, at least until the yoga studio closed. I do miss that. I was just moving in to some real friendships, on beyond nodding acquaintances, with some very interesting folks. I am not sure I will be able to rekindle that interest, but I plan to try.
Keep them coming! I was outside today scrounging through the gay neighbors hot tub debris on the curb. Seattle is one of those cities where people put stuff out for others to perusal. I got some giant metal self brackets and some weird AC adaptors, cables. When I went back into the house to attempt to size the giant metal shelve brackets I left the back door open, the cat had escaped. The door was open like a TWO MINUTES! But he is a brown furry devil and wants to escape constantly. Search the backyard I found his face peeking out of a tarp covering my chop saw. A small chase and he was secure. What would I do if I lost him, my beloved pandemic pal? I repent all those things I said about the Syberg cats. Would I become one of those people putting up cat poster on telephone poles I used to make jokes about? TL
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