I don't post so often anymore. I'm really busy, and sometimes I'm not too sure about my feelings or thoughts to post them.
Betty Pike says I don't tell enough about myself, but more about my duties.
I think that's because she loves me more than anything I can do. She really gets it. We should love people and use things, and not love things/actions and use people.
The recent storms have been the (almost) total topic of all conversations around here lately.
There were great preparations made for their coming, and almost constant updates during.
The worst weather went around Rutledge, but Richland's Creek is way out of it's banks this morning. It's so pretty down there, with all the water, but it's trecherous. All kinds of things float down the creek during flood stage.
I don't think we had any damage from the storms, but we did take the precaution of taking in the porch and yard furniture, sealing the crawl-space doors, and laying down any loose, tall objects.
Steve and I have been watching the agonizing and very slow process of our Smokey dying.
He has been the boss cat of our farm for 17 years, mostly because of our support and his incredibly strong personality. He has been the cat with the most personality and character. He came and sat, watching, while I leaf-blowed the porches. We could vacuum his hair. He was so smart, and he could get almost anyone to do almost anything.
He just lived so long, and he was worn out. I had planted a "Smoke Tree" several years ago out in the side yard, and it was to be his name-sake. I hate the chore of completing the process.
Steve is totally helpless with these kinds of chores. He truely loves our cats, and one of his favorite pastimes is to lay in the yard or on the porch, and let the cats come and 'pile on' him.
Smokey came to us through Beverly McMillan, who is a lovely Professing lady, and lives in Halls. She had seen Smokey in the middle of Halls Crossroads, and rolled down her window and called out to him that he shouldn't be there. He literally jumped through her window, as if asking her to rescue him. He was wearing a pink collar, so she presumed that he was someone's treasured pet. She advertised for his owners, but got no response, and her cat, Raisin, did not want another cat in the house. She asked her mother, Illa Brawdy, to call me and aske if we might take Smokey. It was love at first sight for all of us, and he has been a delight to us for many years. He could not be house-broken, because he would not use the litter box twice, so he was an outdoor cat. I think he wanted it that way. When he was small, we tried keeping him indoors. He played the piano by walking over the keys, he climbed the curtains, he sprang onto the waterbed and created 20 leaks at one time, and, in general, was a pain. But he was lovable, and he was loved. There will never be another cat like him.
S2 and Tim have been working on the area beside the kitchen and at the top of the cellar stairs at Creekside. They couldn't picture what I wanted, and I even had trouble 'seeing' how it would turn out, but it's really visually pleasing. I'm going to design a small 'pantry' area there, and the new double-insulated window makes the area so light and nice. It's considerably larger than the old, aluminum window that had been there.
There's only one wall left to sheetrock, and the kitchen will be ready for taping and plastering.
It's been a really tough job. We completely 'shelled it out', and it's been the hardest room of the house to do. It's coming together now, and it's going to be so nice.
S2 and Tim work hard at their jobs and at trying to get along.
Another man, Orlando, came by yesterday to ask for work. He usually has a good job that is full time and has benefits, but Obama has so ruined the economy of this country that skilled people are now looking for menial work. He's a really nice black gentleman, and he's strong, so his help will be much appreciated. He's been friends with S2 for some time, and I think he can get along with Tim. Tim has such a pleasant personality. He works at cleaning messes (and the house) long after his work hours are over. He also is a reassurance to me that he's there at night and keeps things from 'taking a walk'. He seems to be scrupelously honest.
There's a cute story about Tim I'll tell.
S2, Tim, and I were sitting on the front porch taking a short break, and something was said about the churches taking money/offerings during their meetings. Tim spoke up and said, "Yeah, got to get those tithes." I was intrigued that a man who does not attend church knew so much about the subject, and commented to him about that. He then disclosed to me that he had been raised a Methodist. I'm learning more about him all the time.
I'm also believing that Elaine might be missing out on a great guy. He's interested in her, and has asked me to speak to her on his behalf.
He humors me when I want to heavily insulate the house.
That house has a reputation of being really hard to heat, and I want to change it's image.
It's almost never too late for old habits to be changed.
S1 spent almost the entire day being surly and working alone in either the upstairs sunroom (which did not reflect on his mood) or, in the later afternoon, in the cellar (which certainly DID reflect on his mood). I so wish he could see the importance of wiring the bedrooms, the dining room, and the library, so that the plaster could be finished.
I don't nag or complain to him (well, not often), which may be a small part of the problem. Sometimes people have to be pushed in the right direction.
You can't polish your jewels without friction.
I have worked too hard and too soon after my sugery, and I'm swollen and terribly sore.
There's so much to do, and there's so much I'm seeing NOT done.
I don't know if the lawn at Clairemont can be rescued. It's past knee high, and I can't be on a lawn mower or be pushing one right now. I don't know if Steve doesn't see the situation or just doesn't care, but seeing the neglect of our home dismays me no end.
The food Barbara sent for my period of 'laying in' has been great, and it's so nice to have something good to eat after a long, hard day of work. Steve thanked her personally on the phone last night. She glowed from his praise.
I think she intended it for an invalid, but it's going for a working woman.
The bridge construction in front of the house at Creekside is going so slow. I think it's just a ploy to keep all the relatives of state supervisors employed. Those men move so slow you can see the dead lice falling off them. I thought I'd never see a man move slower than Darrel McFalls, but they have proven me wrong. David, the man I call Shingle, who runs the car detail shop across the raod, says they'll be gone before the end of this year, but they'll either leave an unfinished project behind or they'll have to get moving a lot faster. I've never seen so many useless, lazy people in one place at one time. I think they need a good dose of Sam McKraken or some old maid Sister Worker to supervise them for a while....if they could FIND them. They stay gone a lot.
Judy left me a message on my machine that she wants to talk to me about some of my things I got in a trade, but I'm not sure when would be a good time to call her. She was interested in some of the stone to put on her foundation, but I don't know if that's what interests her now.
I'm still pretty sore from my surgery, but I'm glad I had it done. The hernias were causing me some trouble, and I'll feel better with the mesh to help hold my insides in the right place. It's hard to not lift and carry things right now. There's several bags of corn in the back of the white truck that need to be carried up to the poultry houses, and they've been there for days. I can't carry them now. They weigh 50#'s each.
I need the corn for the birds. They can't eat out of the back of that truck.
Maybe someone around here needs a Sister Worker over them, too.
It's time to get ready for my other jobs.
Off and runnin'!
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