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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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10:10 a.m. - 2004-07-05
Mike built a cupola on top of the house today. Okay, he mostly built it on the ground and hauled pieces up there to assemble. Still, my storybook pointy little house now has a nifty little square cupola with a shiny copper roof. The rooster weathervane has to wait until Mike can fabricate a socket fitting for it. Goodness when he installs that this house will be too adorable. Of course I see my house with the magic eyes of love. Might be a very ordinary kind of house to other people. It’s turning out to be a friendly house, though. I like that. I’ve always wanted a friendly house. We did the big imposing grand dame house. We’ve lived in the “Wow, I didn’t know there was an apartment up here” hidden place. We lived in the tiny converted garden shed of another big imposing house. We lived in a row of 4-plexes that were so identical if we didn’t count from the corner we could never tell which one was ours. But none of them were friendly. Not from the outside. I’m pleased we got the serious grown-up house out of our systems already. Though this be our first mortgaged place, it’s definitely a second child. A late in life child, the one you have fun with. Neither Mike nor I feel the least obligation to be adult about this new house. Maybe formal is more the word I mean. Wolf made me a sign. A wooden slat nailed to a stick. The slat says, “Welcome to Mom’s garden” and he drew some flowers and an arrow (just in case you might miss it). I love that sign and it has pride of place right smack in front of the tiered beds, which are the very first thing you see when you turn up the driveway. We have the kind of house where a homemade sign in the front yard looks just right. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Good morning. The above was written last night. I’m trying to keep a grip this morning because I woke up in bad shape. My elbows are killing me. Guess I slept on my arms. Neck is all screwy too. I am trying not to run in demented panicky circles, I’m terrified this sore neck will trigger a new headache. I cannot deal with another headache. I can’t. Not now. Not so soon. I’m exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I’ve done stretched it as far as it will go. I did some archive diving last night and it’s been months since I’ve had any kind of decent health. Months. I literally cannot remember a day when I got up and nothing hurt and my parts did their jobs correctly. So I’ve choked down my dozen pills and I’m waiting. Waiting to see if I’m going to get anything out of this day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The waiting game goes on in other ways too. Far nicer ways than sitting here hoping I can get to the toilet if I need to and not wet my pants. Good thing coming #1: Tomatoes. Yuppers, my tomato plants have wee bitty tomatoes on them! Well duh. What else should a tomato plant have? Carrots? Anyhow, the prospects for a decent harvest of love apples looks pretty good. Good thing coming #2: The hot tub. A client is giving Mike his old hot tub. Only in America do people have ‘spare’ hot tubs. According to Mike our ‘new’ hot tub is a big one. Should we want to, the whole family could bathe together Japanese-style. Mike will install the tub in the garage. Not as weird as it sounds. The wee garage will make a nice hot tub house. A lot of my books are going in there. Add in the hot tub and I will have a retreat fit for a queen. In my most grandiose imaginings I see him setting up that hideous big screen TV in there too. Just think about that. Bobbing around in my hot tub, good book near to hand, a favorite flick on the screen, and just for kicks the samovar I’ve always wanted so I have my tea too. What crip could ask for more? Mike is all twitchy to get going on the bathroom renovation too. I am so not up for any more house decisions right now. And tile? Man, you have to do tile right. Tile isn’t something one can choose on a whim like paint or a bodacious area rug. You have to live with tile for a loooooooong time. He’s not noodging me into a hurried choice. If he’s so anxious to do some fixing up around here he can start by putting some clothes rods in the closets. He can finish sewing the curtains for Wolf’s room. He can finish shelving the attic. Not as fun as ripping out the bathroom, but even unsexy boring things need doing too. I guess I’m officially an unsexy boring thing too. Randy rowdy thoughts of hot tub nookie didn’t even come into play when I heard about the hot tub. All I thought was, “Hydrotherapy! Whoo! I might feel a little better!” It’s pretty pathetic when your idea of a good time is sitting in a fancy bucket of water and watching It Happened One Night for the billionth time. Feh, ~LA
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