Brrrr

I may have posted this before, if I did, well here it is again.

My mother died in May, 2020. My father died ten years prior. He was also ten years older than she was. They lived in the house I grew up in for over sixty years and they weren't people who disposed of things. It took me eight months to get the house cleared out and ready to sell. I spent most of that year in St. Paul, in the neighborhood I grew up in, where no one I knew from those long ago days remained. This radio had been in the basement since we lived there. If I ever knew anything about it, I have forgotten. I know it used to work. Decades of unmanaged dampness took its toll on the veneer.  I have no idea how old it is, if it belonged to my father before my mother or had they bought it? I decided to bring it home, clean it up but not try to fix it. It''s got damage from moisture in the top and along the bottom. It's sort of a metaphor for life, if I think about it. In this case it ended up with a more difficult situation, survived and is able to spend the rest of its time displaying my Howard. A resurrection of sorts.

I bought the poster I call Psychedelic Howard online several years ago. It's uncanny how much it looks like Howie. Even down to the woeful, the world-is-too-heavy-for-my-shoulders expression. The old radio fit right into the spot in the corner. I brought home a craftsman rocker from the house, it was stuck in the back of my father's huge shed. I need to put new fabric on the seat, otherwise it managed to survive in good condition. I may put it in the spot where the plant is. 

Anyone else affected by a change in barometric pressure. When it goes down, my whole body inflames. Yesterday was one of those days. I ended up loading the dishwasher and making dinner. In between I did nothing. So much for plans. I told Mark a few minutes ago that I'm not sure this is a good thing, but I realized as I'm frittering away the morning I have no guilt at all. That ingrained yankee work ethic is melting away. Not that I've worked all that hard the past couple of years, but I've spent many hours feeling guilty about not doing so. This morning, another cup of coffee, read another blog, repeat. Mark said not feeling guilty is good. He doesn't practice what he preaches.

I think I've covered whatever popped up in my brain for now. I'm going to mix some bread dough. I got my flour order yesterday, I may as well put some of it to use. Oh, it's cold outside, it was around 0 F this morning. Not getting out of single digits. I am happy Bill fixed the pellet stove!