Typical morning here in Heaven with Bear chewing her morning rawhide and Teddy waiting for his coffee(cup). The eliminating of unwanted fardles continues apace, and yesterday I went at the top shelf in the kitchen cupboards to discover that in that terra incognita was a LOT of dust. I could hear the entire maternal side of my family saying, “You could plant potatoes.”
The cupboard is near the back door so who’s surprised? I packed up most of it for the thrift store, but I listed my mom’s Roseville vase on eBay along with a terrifying number of OTHER mother’s (and grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s) Roseville vases. The good news is that someone has bid on it, and I will be able to pack it up and ship it out in a week or so. Why oh why didn’t I save all that bubble wrap?
Last time I went to the thrift store with stuff I was turned away because they didn’t take donations on Monday. Their sign had blown down the road so how was I to know that? It was kind of amusing because I was parked right by the intake door. I had two bags. I am SURE the woman who warned me off was wondering why I didn’t put up a fight of some kind, you know, say something logical like, “Well, it’s just two bags and I’m here now.” But I didn’t. I honestly didn’t care enough besides, she should have said it, but no one did so they’re in the garage soon to be joined by a box of stuff. The shelf is empty and free to gather all the dust it wants.
Among the stuff I’ve found in this long adventure are a few photos of my family (featured photo). Back in the Little League days, my brother, who was adamantly NOT a sports guy, wanted to be a pitcher. His big sister, who was adamantly a sports person, wanted to play centerfield. That worked out pretty well since I played centerfield with a well-padded first-baseman’s glove so I could play catcher while my little brother worked on his pitching. “Against the fence, kids,” said my dad, “So you don’t break any goddamned windows and you don’t have to chase the goddamned ball.”
My dad was given to florid language. Meaning, gratuitous cursing 🙂
We spent many summer days in the backyard training. Unfortunately, my brother never got to play pitcher on his little league team. He played right field most of the time, the field where nothing much ever happens. He was so not into the game that, often, he didn’t even come in to bat when his team was up. Once in a while his coach would yell at him, “Kennedy! You’re up!” meaning it was my brother’s turn to bat. Sometimes my brother would come in and sometimes not.
I wonder what he was thinking about out there.