03/06/2017 by syrbal-labrys
Snow was falling this morning when I woke at about 0600. Big soft flakes, as if a feather pillow was opened far overhead. Now, the sky is blue and the white stuff won’t last till lunch. It is already falling from trees and will steam off the roofs in another hour.
Which is as well, because the family “pattern” is full. The truck is full for a run to the dump – results of garage cleaning/emptying. Driving on snow is not the most fun ever. More will follow; we discovered the outer wall is not insulated, so the drywall will have to come down for insulation to go up. Ah, well – every project has the surprises, right?
The old 1930’s mahogany veneered table must find a new home; there is simply no room now that the exercise machines took its place in the small once-upon-a-time formal dining room. Where my children once ate off china and learned manners, now we-who-are-about-to-sweat give a one-fingered salute to hated exercise.
We also need to go to Olympia this week, to be with a friend who is sitting a death’s bed watch over his infant grand-daughter. In January, the babe’s mother died and was buried and this wee girl won’t be long without following. It is a tragedy in slow agonizing motion.
And so it goes. Sometimes life is a battle more than other times. Life and love in the time of Trump. Activism and protests amidst daily events of personal life. One foot after the other, over and over.