Let me introduce myself again. Things have been really busy here on the hillside and I have gotten a lot done, which did not involve blogging. I miss the connections, but then, when one seldom goes anywhere at the moment, I figure there is not a lot of press devoted to sweeping the sidewalk or scrubbing the shower. Last Saturday was my birthday, and I splurged. Randy grilled steaks, made his now famous Randotater salad, and he and J actually sat at the counter bar and ate dinner with me. It was because I asked them to, but I will take it as a win.
The three of us sat around in the kitchen and talked for a couple of hours after dinner–best birthday in years. I made Strawberries Romanoff for dessert.
J had taken my table next door to re-finish and repair. This was one of two pairs of legs for the first dining room suite Mom and Dad owned. We had always eaten in the kitchen at a small chrome and formica dinette. When we moved to Seymour for dad to be closer to his work, we moved into a house that had a dining room and mom wanted a bigger table for when family visited. We had it from 1957 until 1967, and a boyfriend sat on the edge of it (yes, really, who does that? He was not raised in a barn!) and broke it. It was an extra table in the den, as by then we had bought the only house Mom and Dad ever owned, and it had come with a dining room suite which was newer and fancier than Mom’s. Dad did not like to eat in the dining room, but he was okay with eating at the “big table” in the den for evening meals since there were 5 of us. The dinette nook was very small and only held the small dinette (same one we had for as long as I can remember) and 3 chairs. Dad was building furniture and doing carpentry by then and he cut the top two pieces into rounds and attached each to a set of legs and Mom used them for occasional tables in the living room. When Mom moved into the assisted living facility and we had to clear out the house to prepare to sell it, she gave one to my sister and one to me.
Now you might find this next part hard to believe, but two things transpired as this table was moved to Mississippi. First, the table top got detached on the trip home. It was securely padded and wrapped in quilts and covered in plastic, and transported upside down. However, 13 hours driving in the back of the truck seemed to wiggle the screws loose. I repaired it by filling the holes with wood putty and slightly rotating the top. Worked fine as I was the only person who ever ate at the table. One day…Randy sat down, put his elbows on the table, and leaned forward with his weight. Yes, this time, a husband broke the table. As we were moving toward the kitchen renovation, I just stored the top and the legs. When we began unpacking and trying to return to normal, I put the top back on the legs, left it in the living room with nothing on it, and reminded Randy not to lean on it. One day when I went in, the top was missing. Turns out J had decided to take it next door to his studio, repair it correctly, and in the process, refinished the top and cleaned the brass lion’s paws.
We recently bought a new sofa because we were tired of the theater seating that only held 2 people and it had begun to be uncomfortable for both of us. The sofa was scheduled to be delivered today, so most of this week had been dedicated to clearing out the living room and the front porch. Last night was our final hurrah of watching TV in the theater seats. Cue Abby. Abby usually lies by my side and Steffi is usually sitting on the center rest or lying next to Randy. I was chilly and reached for my throw, but it did not take long for me to warm up, and I tossed it to the side, accidentally covering Abby and her head. She never moved or woke up. They have both been a little freaked by all the moving things out of the living room, and the pacing had just tuckered them both.
The new sofa is in the living room. We will see how they deal with yet another change later tonight. Meanwhile, I shall pat myself on the back and toot my own horn for making it another year, being able to still do physical labor, knowing when to let my body recover to work another day, and having the good fortune to be surrounded by caring people and loving dogs and wonderful family, friends, and virtual friends while continuing on my path to becoming a more effective human being. When you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. When you’re blessed and you know it, say thank you.
Thank you to each of you for being a part of my life, whether you are a regular reader and commenter, reader and regular ‘liker’, a kindred spirit, or just the occasional drop-in who happens here by chance. You routinely make my days.