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Morning Song by Darlinggirl
May 2017

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Thyme is on my side...
May 19, 2017

It truly is on my side, my side lawn and in big pots along the sidewalk and two blue pottery pots on the front porch. The slightest faintest whiff of breeze sends little grace notes of fragrance that everyone has commented upon. Our mailman sighed and asked me what all was growing on the front porch and said that he had never smelled lemon balm, lime basil, English Lavender, Chamomile, and four different types of Thyme. The only one I know for sure is the English Thyme, the other three I am going to have to ask the lady that sent it to me via Himself.

It's funny, I was joking to Himself when he left this morning, I wish I had as much time as Thyme for we have a gracious plenty of Thyme now. This lady, the wife of a Baptist minister, learned a few days ago, her spouse is being transferred to Colorado. I suspect she is not happy, we have talked about how very much Baptist "employees" life is rather like old time IBM days. (I've Been Moved) I prefer to call IBM Big Blue because of alllll the Valium bottles we used to see in various IBM engineers and their spouses' houses, purses, glove compartments, work shed, study, bathroom master bedrooms, just everywhere! There was a time when a certain hospital Shoal Creek was jokingly labeled "IBM West."

Spending time with the wives of Baptist Ministers has been enlightening and eye-opening. Some of the truly nicest women I have ever met since moving up here to Oldham County have been the wives of Southern Baptist ministers. All of them work full-time and juggle all the full-time household work and their children and entertaining and charity work and really, a Southern Baptist Church can keep a person going to one thing or the other all the time. I can't count how many Ladies' Retreats, Women's Camps, Mother's Retreats and the like I have been invited too. Even though I am not and never ever have been a Southern Baptist. After my years in Texas, I must confess, the Baptists up here are so much nice nicer. And as for the wives, so much prettier. And kinder.

This lady is an Alabama native and is a lovely lovely person. So, when she learned they have to move, she dug up all her glorious herbs and brought a big bunch to our house. I can tell she is very sad and angry, at having to move again. Their children are not too happy either. Pulling up roots all the time, will most assuredly wreak havoc on all growing things but the Baptist church is ran so much like a corporation it is eerie.

Her spouse, once not too long ago, as he dropped off a lovely casserole (this lady can cook), some homemade yeast rolls, flowers and a bottle of wine, "Peggy told me your husband was raised Catholic!", as he poked me in the ribs and winked. (Wherever there are four Catholics, you'll find a fifth? Oh wait, that's whiskey!) and he gave me a soft pitch about how he just knew we could, and I would especially be a real asset to his church and I could never really surpass the joy of a happy life in the church. It rather reminded me a speech given by a roofing contractor recently. So badly did I wish to ask, respectfully and sweetly, if he truly believed Jesus Christ would be running "his" church on a major LLC business plan, loosely based ona quasi, semi-military, business model?

Truly, I have no doubt his wife's heart is in the right place and that she has a lot of heart. Him? Not so sure.

And why am I even reflecting upon this? I guess because some of our dearest friends are moving to Seattle, and have to be there in ten days. We are throwing a big dinner-party for them tonight, planned weeks in advance.

In that time, I had surgery, a mild touch of sunstroke and a Himself has been so busy it is scary. We worked until dark last night planting seed potatoes because it's time and he will have no free time for quite awhile. It was funny, how carefully and slowly we worked...from my cutting the seed potatoes I started back in autumn and getting them eye just right and then the planting and spreading of more dirt and about to be eaten alive by huge blood-lusting skeeters! EGADS. We have to get some bat houses. STAT.

Anyway, I just get a call that the house cleaners are coming over and since I have spent the morning baking banana cake and preparing for tonight, the house is a wreck. At the request of re-locating friends, we are having a big, old-fashioned BigBreakfast for our dinner party, with everything. Since they are vegan, that means a bunch of stuff will be prepared vegan and I think I am getting pretty good at making flaky vegan biscuits and a decent vegan cream gravy. Same thing for the banana cake. For everyone else, all my cast-iron skillets will be brought into play and there will be bacon. And sausage. And grits. Four types of jams, honey, fresh strawberry-and-banana salad, eggs, hashbrown casserole, and lots of deserts.

So, yes, I figured the house would do with a quick dash not long before every one begins to arrive. The tablecloth, place-mate and napkins are freshly laundered, lightly ironed and ready on the dresser by the fireplace. I meant to just pretty much crash into a lovely cool bubble bath by beeswax candllight and be all relaxed and nicely dressed before I begin putting things together. I even have flowers, in a lovely blue-and-white pitcher.

And oh, the Mother's Day's gifts pottery plates and dishes the Little Beans gave me are just so gorgeous and I can't wait to christen them, so to speak at tonight's supper party.

Still, I am feeling very pressured to clean up for the cleaners and that is what I've been doing instead of my plans. The last bit of fatigue and weakness from that surgery and the lingering effects of heat-prostration have been hard to shake off and never mind the severe lectures from the doctors. Heat is literally krypton-nite for me and sunlight? Well, I wished I sparkled but alas, no.

When the text came in, I had just started making the Hominy Casserole (for the vegans and vegetarians) and the frosting for the banana cake. It's a boiled frosting, so that is a bit messy and I kept telling myself, just one more chore, then bath time. Cleaning out the refrigerator is one of those chores I am never sure is worth the mess, it makes such a mess and at times, barely seems worth it.

This fatigue and anemia and heart-issues is really really beginning to wear me out. It takes an incredible amount of time to do simple things and is very frustrating. Oddly enough, one of my aunts called not long ago to finally tell me that I was born with supraventricular tachycardia and explained that was partially why we lived with my grandparents so long and all those mysterious doctor visits with my grandmother only.

Sooooo, now, the doctors are looking at my poor ol'heart in different ways, and not just blaming everything on the kidney "issues." See? Easy fainting is not always an emotional thing.

That's what I did awhile ago, just keeled right over in the sunlight as I tried to help a little widow with the plubming company. Bless her heart, she 's as deaf as a post and won't admit it or wear any hearing aids so she needed someone to deal with the workers. Only, this time, even hours and hours later, the heart was just doing bad things. NO way I can hide stuff from Himself now, he's got equipment and information about heart stuff I can't argue with.

So, I am a delicate little flower, for real, after all? *heehee*

Anyway, I carefully put all my cleaning products in a box in the kitchen island and will politely ask to have the house cleaned with only these products:

Better Life Citrus Mint Floor Cleaner
Seventh Generation Lemongrass Everything else.
Okay, except for the Better Life Cinnamon & Lavender Wood Polish!

At the same time, I've been dealing with Canadian real estate agents. It appears at least one of us will be going off to Canada this summer and seriously looking over towns and land with houses and islands to super-early retire upon.

The other day, it hit me oddly, all my family members have Canadian passports except little ol' me. Even our granddaughters! However, the wife and "matriarch", of the family, nope! And truly, the American passports are not any near as classy and neat looking! I just have my lonely little American and everyone else has both. Is that fair?

Is that where my nightmares of being left behind in airports comes from? These nightmares always have Himself leaving me in this airport, with some sort of disaster happening all around us (shoot, getting to the airport is a nightmare within a nightmare) and for some reason, I can't get on the plane. He swears he will send for me, the plane takes off and the world ends, war, guns, ugly men with wrap-around sun-glasses everywhere, thunder, bombs, pouring rain. *shudder* This recurring dream i worse than the terrorists-take-over-a-shopping-mall. (Malls? We never go to malls. Ever.)

Anyway,house, at 4025 Marpole Street in Port Alberni and two others in this town, have really caught Himself's eye. The yard is horrible and I don't know exactly how I feel about this house. Although, one should have as many houses on the list as possible. I like the one on 7th Avenue much better along with some others. (The one I love is at 2992 7th Avenue. I love this house. Only, it's too expensive, it would mean five more years of gainful employment and saving a boat-load of cash and anyway, five years it will be long sold, right? Yet, it's the kind of house I like.) There are not a lot of houses for sale on the island we like, not at all. Hornby Island? Nope. Two properties on Denman Island...two! As in under or about 300,000. Tiny but oh, it's so beautiful there.

What seems to be taking shape is a plan for us/Himself to go up there in June-July and do some serious serious research and house-hunting. There are a few others on various islands too. Islands? I? Live on an island? Retire to an island? With all our children, big and small, living in the DC area? Leave this house?

Well, my mind and heart has rambled all over the place and the cleaners are making noises to let me know they want to be in here next. It makes so nervous, to have others cleaning my house as I don't do anything to help. As for the guilt? So much guilt. Himself manages to get to work and work, so I should manage the house by myself too, right?

Only, he teased me that the cooking and gardening and volunteer stuff and laundry and other things are important and so, the Children and he want to take some of it off my shoulders.

At least I still do the refrigerator! Even if it takes a laughable long time.

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