Friday Chatter

So much for the sunshine. It rolled on out of here, and we're expecting something like five straight days of rain. Like most places, we need the water, so I won't be complaining overmuch.

Had my post-op check up yesterday, and everything's healing up right on schedule. One more week, and I get my stitches out. It happens on the same day I appear at the grand re-opening of the Albertson's store in Liberty Lake. I'll be hanging around from three to five in the afternoon, October 4, so if you live in the area, come on by and say hello. I'll be the one in the funny shoe. :) My good friends Sam and Janet Smith will be hanging out there with me--two of the nicest people I've ever known. Sam is part of the Harlequin sales force, and Janet is an accomplished stained glass artist.

We got off to a late start around here this morning, due to a late night at the casino. Sadie didn't go on the slot-machine junket, but she's snoring away on the foot of my bed like a buzz saw cutting through hard wood. I'm going off to roam this big place looking for a cup of hot coffee.

Talk to you on Monday. Have a fabulous weekend.

Old Horse, Old Tricks

I have a post-op appointment with my doctor this morning; unfortunately, I just get a new bandage. He isn't going to remove the stitches just yet. Except when it comes to taking a bath, this isn't a great problem. I manage to get around well enough, and there has been no significant pain from the first.

Confession: I've got a stubborn side. (I can just hear my friends and relatives chuckling, as if this were some great and stunning revelation.) I'm usually blessed with complete mobility, and when I'm not, I start wanting to do things just because I can't. Right now, for instance, I want to go shopping for that new saddle. While I've managed a couple of forays to the casino--and won enough to buy another horse--shopping involves too much walking. No Walmart. No Target. No tack store. Woe is me. :)

It's a real lesson in One Day at a Time, which has always been a challenge for me. Guess that's why I'm hobbled.

Chili and Cornbread Memories

What a beautiful, sunny day we're having here in Spokane! This is the kind of weather I remember from childhood--the crisp snap in the air, the leaves beginning to change--though most of the trees around my house are pines or Douglas fur. We're seeing more deer--fawns following mama into the woods. When Joan and I were at the lakehouse last week, we actually saw a fawn in the back yard, almost close enough to touch.

Way back, there used to be a big rummage sale in Northport in October, and the whole town looked forward to it. There was always chili and cornbread--50 cents for both, if I remember correctly--and people would wait in line to get in. The sale was held in an old storefront, and the stuff in the windows tantalyzed us for weeks before the big event. Several folks usually wanted the same item, and they were prepared to compete to get it, albeit good-naturedly. They plotted the snatching up of a particular vase or necklace or potato ricer ahead of time. Northport isn't exactly a metropolis, and all the items on offer were donated, but we all enjoyed buying each other's junk. :) I scored my first pair of western boots at that sale--for 5 cents--and wore them until my mother made me throw them away. ("They'll ruin your feet!") They were pretty bad, but when I wore them, it was easier to believe I was Annie Oakley. :) Today, I own many pairs of boots, snazzy and jazzy, but they don't have the same magic as the ones I bought for a nickel.

Now, of course, I understand that it wasn't the cracked plates and forlorn prom dresses that brought out the crowds--if any group in Northport could ever be large enough to qualify as a 'crowd'--it was the conviviality. The cornbread and chili. The chance for a whole community to gather, setting out early from lonely, far-flung farms, everybody in their best clothes and carrying a dollar or two in pocket and purse, to celebrate the change of seasons. To laugh and talk and proudly display our eagerly garnered treasures. At the risk of sounding like an old fogey, I can tell you, it was a lot better than eBay, simply because it was personal. Face to face. Elbows bumping at the chili tables.

There was no internet, of course, and only three channels on the TV--plus a fuzzy one out of Canada--and it was forty miles to the nearest movie house or library (we had one, but it was only open on Tuesday afternoons and there were zero new books)--so the annual rummage sale was an EVENT, like the lighting of the Lion's Club Christmas tree in the center of town and the Labor Day picnic out at the park.

OK, so maybe I'm making it sound like a Norman Rockwell painting, but it really was wonderful. Today, a crowd is a big collection of strangers, cautiously polite at best, and anonymous. Back then, it was a gathering, people had names and faces and histories, and they interacted. They had a place to share their stories.

I miss that.

Tuckered

I overdid it a little yesterday. So today, I'm going to have to slow down.

It's write, rest, write again.

More tomorrow.

I'm Back

My foot is still in a surgical boot, and I need to use crutches most of the time to keep from putting too much weight on the newly pinned bone, but I'm in good shape. I had hardly any pain at all. Mostly, this makes me think about and appreciate how blessed I normally am, just to get around without any problem. I've been getting a lot of rest, and that has been good for me, too. Still, I'll be VERY glad to get back to normal. And speaking of that, I'm over my cold, too. Probably all that bedrest.

Plans for today include writing a chapter of the current book.

The draw is rolling with fog. The horses are fonder of their warm, snug stalls than they were in summer. That fall snap is definitely in the air.

Sadie and Bernice have kept a doggie-vigil, cuddling close whenever I sleep.

It's all good.