More organizing going on here

Not closets today, or the drawers, or even the fridge, but my head. A few thoughts have rattled around, things I meant to report but forgot when the time came.

First, thanks to everyone who extended good wishes and warm thoughts during what I call “funeral week”. Several of my friends, whether they remembered it or not, came through for me with invitations and such, and got a lovely card from my sister, Lynn. Via Facebook many folks wrote their comforting messages, from all over the place. Some did not even know Timmy, but will, some day!

My friend, Julia, at Great Hang Ups, is celebrating 25 years in business and has asked clients to send in photos of work done in their shop, with a little story about the piece. She was looking for special memory pieces as well as photos which have been restored, and the like. I agreed to send in some of the special ones done for me and did so.

Click to make photo larger

This paper hug made by Timmy in pre-k was framed by Dee and Julia and hangs over my bedroom door to the river room. Besides framing the original one, they also had a copy made, and laminated, so that I actually can 'wrap it around you when you feel blue'....Yes, I would say this counts as being "special"

On a lighter note, I posted on Facebook yesterday that I might be ready to go the H-O-M-E soon. When getting my bottle of water from the fridge (yes, you read that correctly!), I reached into the shelf for the lemon to squirt into the bottle, and nearly used yellow mustard instead. Yikes! In my defense, both bottles had yellow caps, but to indict me, the bottles are shaped entirely different, and certainly smell different! Another time, I told Justin to get ready to pack me away when I nearly put in two different earrings. Either would have looked good with my outfit, though.

Many of my friends, then, reported going out with one black shoe and one brown shoe, even different styles of shoes without noticing. Another lady wrote to say the tell-tale sign is when you find the mail in the refrigerator. This made me laugh because Connie told me the mailman is afraid of me ever since my delivery was lost, so he delivers the packages to my door now. I am not mad at him nor did I give him any grief other than encouraging him to check his little truck from one end to the other. If he puts the mail in my fridge, sets me up to be sent away, well, that’s on him. (Is paranoia a tell-tale sign?)

Justin is so funny, and seems to be moreso since he’s come back home. His doing the laundry has brought up some interesting discussions, starting right off the bat with his washing HUGE loads at once. This discussion was short—NO! Not in my washer or dryer! His theory was as long as they are wet, they are clean. Well, this is simply not the case, as I explained the technical aspects of the machine. The agitator in the middle moves the clothes through the sudsy water, and then moves them again through the rinse cycle. The dirty water goes away, and the laundry is now considered clean.

My machines, though newer, are not the heavy-duty style he must be used to, more basic (i.e. cheap) than impressive. The same is true for the standard dryer I have. No sense loading it jammed full if the clothes cannot bounce around (hence the name of the dryer sheets!) and get dried (hence the name of the machine!) See? I get that. This has not happened again although sometimes I do look askance at how much he puts in, since his jeans weigh far more than do my pull-on denims.

Another time I used the washer after he was done and discovered dirt all around the top of the machine, and under the lid around the edges. When he helps his father, he does not usually come home filthy, but when he works his landscape job, he is a mess! Often Justin will step immediately into his room to change so he does not drag the grass clippings and other soil through the house. The schnibbles, then, end up in the washer for me to clean away, more easily done when they have dried. I asked Justin once why, oh why, is there enough lint in the trap to make a bail. His immediate come-back was, “…because my undies are cotton, not silk like yours…” Ha! That is likely the right answer, and a funny one, but I do not wear silk underwear! Nice that he thinks so, though!