What Comes Next in Everyday Ramblings
- Oct. 22, 2022, 7:29 p.m.
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- Public
The community garden a few days ago. This is the view from the front of my plot. I am not covering mine with burlap, but I am laying down a mulch of maple leaves and there are plenty of oak leaves to go around. The tomato plants are out, and I will probably pull up the marigolds and chard in a week or so. I took off the netting so the birds and the wild rabbits can have their fill.
Ideas for next spring are percolating. More flowers, I think. And I will get seeds going way earlier. I am not going to try carrots. There is a reason no one else in the garden is growing them. A sweeter tomato for fun. And eggplant darn it. I love the look of the plants, the flowers, and the fruit.
I have accepted the role of apprentice Budget Chair for the League of Women Voters Portland. I do that for a year helping out the current chair, who is incredibly knowledgeable. Then I do the job for two years on my own. I had a lovely conversation with the nominating committee chair yesterday. She takes yoga from a teacher I know.
They tell me if the Discussion Leader position is too much for me with the budget chair thing, I can let it go. Doing this work helps me feel like I am engaged and doing something that matters in terms of trying to keep our democracy functioning and I feel I owe a debt to the women who risked so much and worked so hard to get us the vote. Plus, we talk about all the stuff that matters in our community and county. I also value the non-partisan aspect in a sea of crazy partisanship.
The rains finally came and last night my heat came on for the first time this year and a whole bunch of leaves blew off the trees.
Yesterday I was doing something in the kitchen. There was pounding and banging upstairs. I knew they were working on the water damage up there. The next thing I know there is water dripping from the light fixture above my sink. The light was not on. I grabbed a mask and ran up there. The plumber, (not the drunk one), said he would shut the water off and be down shortly.
He fixed it and came down and checked twice but I don’t know, the idea of water and electricity mixing made me super uneasy. He was not wearing a mask and the two times he was in here briefly neither was I. Fingers crossed.
I talked to the property manager, and so did he and everything seems to be okay. I so hope there doesn’t need to be any interior work done here. They have already told me that my whole patio railing will be replaced because of dry rot.
Mrs. Sherlock canceled our tentative plans to walk today. It was dark and wet this morning, but it turned into a lovely fresh day. Our air was so bad from fog and smoke the last few days, dangerously bad. When I took the above picture, you could taste the smoke in the air. Today, oh, after a night of rain, it tasted sweet.
I need a companion. I am going to put a call out to the universe. I don’t need a partner or a lover or a mate. I need a companion. A human one. Someone I can hang out with, share a few meals with, walk with. Maybe even workout with.
When I was in my early thirties, I had a best friend. She was extraordinary. Although American, she had been living in Amsterdam for 14 years. We met at a party that neither of us wanted to be at.
She was in a difficult relationship, and I was living in a kind of a guest situation in transition on a number of levels. We talked and drank and smoked and listened to music and danced and cooked together and shared our days in long phone conversations. Back when phones were attached to wires and the wall.
At that time and place we were a good match. She got me to eat spinach. And made me potato pancakes, which I love. I can’t eat either now without thinking of her. She became ill quite suddenly. An infection. And she died. It was this time of year.
I feel she checks in from time to time to see how I am doing. I think she would be happy to see me feeling the ease with someone now I felt with her. I am so grateful I got to know her and for the time we had together.
And ready for what comes next.
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