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Hearts on my pajama pants. I got them at the Gap Outlet years ago for $2. They are long and lovely cotton. I also got them in black because . . . why not?
After a hot night, I turned on the ac this morning. I wasn't hopeful, in fact had put it off. When I got my new furnace last winter there was an installation glitch and the heat and air were both running for about a week. I thought there was a good probability that they just disconnected the air for a temporary fix. But, no, there is cool air coming out of the vents.
And maybe, just maybe, the compressor will hold up for another summer, giving me more time to save for a new one. It is old, I know that. I'd like a more energy efficient one. But I'd also like one more year.
Tomorrow is my second cataract surgery. I am a little anxious, but I am picturing getting back in the car afterwards. Going down the road. Having a nice lunch. Sarah and little dog P-Nut are driving back from North Carolina tonight.
I will be picking up my grocery order in a bit and just got the message about possible substitutions. Nothing big. Except that no, I don't want to substitute beef corn dogs for veggie corn dogs. Not that I need corn dogs anyway, but sometimes they are just a quick fix.
I'm still pretty upset about a protest-gone-wrong this weekend that ended up with a group marching to the governors's mansion porch and then hanging the governor in effigy on the capitol lawn. Please, aren't we better than that after all these years?
But one of the marchers to the governor's mansion raised an interesting question for me. She said, "It's our house too." In some ways, that's true, it's a state building. But it's also a private residence. Something to think about.
After the slow-moving March and April, May is moving by quickly. Memorial Day weekend sneaked up on me.
One reason was the cool weather, it did't feel like the end of May. And then there is the way the calendar falls, with Memorial Day on the 25th, early. And for another thing - there has been no plant shopping. Usually, in May, I make lots of visits to the big box store, looking for bargains that are marked down before the truck arrives with new plants. This year the closest I've come is driving past the local nursery, where the parking lot is always full, like every other year.
My plan is to divide some perenniels, fill in a little that way. And I will probably find some annuals here and there. The little grocery on Monmouth Street always has a few plants on the sidewalk, never has a crowd.
Last night I ordered some summer shorts from my favorite retailer. Other summers, I would duck into Sears while Nora had her music lessons - that favorite brand had its own little store within the store. It was fun to see whether something I liked was marked down that week. Now, there is no more Sears, the music store and the mall have been temporarily closed, and Nora's music lessons are on some virtual platform. It seems like a long time since we've had some Aunt Annie's pretzel nuggets after her lesson.
Most days, I move forward, feel happy, feel like I'm adjusting. And then, like now, I remember those music lessons and Aunt Annie's pretzels and I feel so sad, reminded of the day-to-day simple pleasures that are missing now. I just sit with the sadness for a bit, don't stay there, but somewhere in the depths of my soul, it must still be there.
(Oh, and I finally got a green light bulb, a way in my state that we remember the folks who have died from the virus.)
From my Mary Engelbreit calendar from yesterday. So true for me these days. I am content. Although, of course, I am getting out more than I was. My post-op visit yesterday was very good, and I drove through Panera on the way home.
Our state's slogan was Healthy At Home and is now transitioning to Healthy At Work. Maybe Phase Three should be Happiest At Home.
Next Wednesday I'll have surgery on the other eye and then my vision will be balanced. Just a little near-sighted, hopefully. I've ordered readers from Amazon since I know I won't have the good near vision without them. A different world for me.
I'm transitioning to less screen time, especially news. It's just too crazy. Not the actual news, but the political posturing and distracting. I am worn out from it.
Sarah was here last week with smallest brown dog P-Nut. Here P-Nut is looking hopefully out the door for Sarah to return from working in the yard, running, or bicycle riding. Sometimes there was even a little crying involved, despite my trying to reassure her that Sarah would indeed come back.
P-Nut isn't the kind of dog that enjoys being petted, but I've learned that if I cover her with a blanket or fleece jacket she will tolerate my putting a hand over the fleece. Prior to her rescue, I think she had a hard life.
Sarah was here because I had cataract surgery on my right eye. It was a fast-growing cataract, originally scheduled for surgery when things were shut down. When I went in for the surgery I could barely see with that eye and now . . . I can see well. Truly a miracle surgery for me.
Of course, I worried more about the surgery than I should have. Partly, most likely, from being isolated those weeks ahead of time. When I went for testing two days prior to the surgery it was the first time I'd been anywhere except for pick-ups at the grocery or pharmacy or (yay!) the quilt shop. Suddenly I found myself in a large medical building with many people, elevators, masks everywhere. It was a little shocking.
Next week, most likely, surgery on the other eye, and then the eyes should be equally slightly near-sighted.
On April 5 I started this stocking during the governor's press conference. Every day for a month I worked on it during the press conferences, sometimes did a bit at other times. On May 5 it was finished. That's a lot of hours, but I'm reminded of the Appalachian saying, "What's time to a hog?"
It's not for anyone, that wasn't really the point. The point was keeping my fingers busy and working toward something. Anything.
I have no more stockings in my stash, but there are a couple of banners that I might work on. I have no desire to do another stocking. In fact, I'd like to find a hand project that is more creative and doesn't include beading at all.
After days of stable positive coronavirus cases, there was a big spike in the state yesterday. Half of those were in a state prison. Probably more in long term care facilities. That seems to be where cases concentrate quickly.
On Sunday my family delivered two lovely hanging baskets from a band fund raiser. I'm keeping an eye on the weather - Friday night for sure they will need to come in to escape the frost. Possibly even tonight. I don't want anything to happen to them.
It's Kentucky Derby Day. The race has been postponed until September, but it's still Derby Day. There will be a virtual race later this afternoon between former winners. Not the same, but something to look forward to.
In other times, there would be big hats and mint juleps, Celebrating in the infield. Excitement for a dry track. Waiting for the University of Louisville band to play My Old Kentucky Home.
Never mind our often-cited poor health, less than stellar education. On the first Saturday in May, for a brief time, everyone wishes they lived here.
The pin in the picture is enameled metal, by the way. A long-ago lovely gift.
