A Garage. Nathan and Sarah.

This is what our garage looked like at exactly 8:37 am yesterday.

And this is what my husband looked like yesterday one minute after 8:37. Can you hear him? He was saying, “Get out into that thar yonder garage, woman, and get it cleaned! Move, move, move!” (Such a mean husband.)

Much of our mess came from the fact that we’re trying to get into recycling and we’re not real organized with it yet. Therefore, stuff was just strewn all over in a miserable mishmash of miscellany. And there are few things in the world that are much worse than a miserable mishmash of miscellany.

The only bright spot in the whole mess was this wall which Steve had organized a few weeks ago. Sometimes I had to stop in the middle of my cleaning and just stand and stare at it for a few moments so that I could be re-inspired to continue to work our way through the mess. And the miscellany. And the mishmash-ness.

We worked. And then we worked some more.

And eventually? By 10:47 am? We had made some progress.

And we would’ve made even more progress if we hadn’t spent a whole hour just sorting our recyclables and hauling them off to the Recycling Center. (Which is a blog for another day.)

But all in all, we felt like we’d accomplished quite a bit. And also we got really grimy and sweaty which is an especially good way to judge whether or not you’ve accomplished something worthwhile. If you didn’t know: One part sweat equals one part worthwhile-ness.

On another note, I want to send out hugs and hellos to my Mom up in Wisconsin who fell yesterday and broke her wrist. Love you, Mom!

And on yet another note, I posted these pictures earlier in the week on Sarah’s site. But since some of you who read this blog don’t read that blog, I’m re-posting them here.

This is Sarah and Nathan on a first day of school many eons ago. (He was a senior; she was a fifth grader.)

And in this picture (taken last Wednesday) is our little fifth grader, all grown up and headed out for her first day of High School. Her first three days of the school year went great; she really loves it!

And here’s a recent picture of Nathan who’s changed quite a bit since High School. (I miss my boy! Sniff.)

The Aroma of Yesterday.

I love an old building. I love its look, I love its history, I love its aura, I especially love its smell.

You can walk into an old building and stand for a moment with your eyes closed and hear the memories chasing each other down the halls. You can sense the spirits of the lives that were lived within those walls and if you stand still long enough, you might even be able catch a scent of the aroma of yesterday.

Our modern brand spankin’ new buildings can never, ever measure up to those grand buildings which were first given life a century or two ago.

Much to my delight, we were recently invited to a birthday party held in a rather famous old building on the island. It’s in the fishing village of Wanchese and used to serve as the town’s only school. (The building is over 100 years old and is now used as the town’s Community Center.)

I was delighted to find that several of the people in attendance at the meal actually attended the school over sixty years ago. What fun to hear their memories!

Once we arrived, I was so entranced with the surroundings that I almost forgot all about eating.

This is the school auditorium. Obviously, the padded seats are not original to the building but everything else is.

I can just imagine how many feet—big and little—have crossed this stage over the years. I love to think about the songs that were sung, the speeches given, the poems recited, and the dramas enacted. A few people have stood on this stage and brought down the house with their great talent and charisma. Others have stood up here and wished the house would fall down around them because they forgot their lines or because their voice squeaked at an inopportune moment.

The scent of dreams--both filled and unfulfilled--filled the air.

I looked across the footlights and saw my own dream come true.

I especially loved the wooden floors. They reminded me of myself and so many other people—scarred but lovely.

The view from the back.

Huge, grand windows.

It’s hard to calculate how many people beneath this sky have come and gone from this sweet, old building.

I am thankful I got to be one of them.

The Pizza Delivery Dude. And A Birthday.

At about 5:30 pm Monday evening, the Pizza Delivery Dude (why yes, he is related to the College Dude—why do you ask?) showed up at our front porch. Sarah and Snowy were all agog. (Is it possible to be just plain “agog” or does one always have to be “all agog?” Hmmm.)

The Pizza Delivery Dude did his best imitation of a Pizza Delivery Dude on a Pizza Delivery Dude TV commercial. Would you buy a used car from this man? (A used car, maybe. Definitely not a used pizza.)

We invited the Pizza Delivery Dude inside where it appeared that a birthday celebration was about to commence.

And commence it did.

The Pizza Deliver Dude happened to bring with him a lovely (and expensive) card to give to the Birthday Daughter.

The Birthday Daughter (wearing the obligatory Birthday Hat) blew out birthday candles. (On a cake that was not home made, considering the fact that the Wife of the Pizza Delivery Dude and the One and Only Mother of the Birthday Daughter had spent the whole day on the road getting to and from the office of the Plastic Surgeon Dude.

The Birthday Daughter opened gifts.

And smiled a Birthday Daughter Smile.

She flung tissue paper hither. Not to mention thither.

Here she is in the process of saying, “Yesssss!” after opening one of two CD’s she got by one of her favorite artists, “Owl City.”

She posed with the Pizza Delivery Dude.

And was even the recipient of a Pizza Delivery Dude Birthday Kiss.

A Good Time was had by all.

In non birthday news, my visit with the surgeon went fairly well. The highlight of the visit was when he told me that I could switch to a more comfortable bra, even though I still had to wear it 24-hours a day. I felt like I’d been presented with a “get of out jail free” card. Ahhhh.

And? I got to take a shower when I got home. Yee-haw!

I have to go back again next Monday for yet another visit and to have some stitches removed. I also have a couple things I need to discuss with him.

All in all, the recovery has been so much less difficult than the mastectomy; I was back on my bike within a week of the surgery and feeling just about normal. The only problem I’m having now is getting my sleep cycle reconfigured. When I got off the pain meds (after only six days), I started having a lot of trouble sleeping at night and then had several nights full of nightmares. Very strange reaction. I’m still working on getting all that squared away but all, in all, I’m feeling fairly okay. (Except for what seems to be yet another midlife crisis. How many is one allowed to have?)

And now? Now, it’s time to take Snowy to the van and go pick up a certain young lady from HIGH SCHOOL! Can you believe Sarah is in High School?

Me either.

Down.

Having a bit of a down day today, on several fronts.

Will be back tomorrow . . .

(One more thing. If you haven't yet wished Sarah a happy fifteenth birthday--it was yesterday--you can go on over to her site to do so. Thanks.)

Does This Look Like Love To You?

Yes, this.

This little switch on this little cable. Does it look anything like love to you?

To me? It looks like love.

Because to me, the longer I’m married, the more I discover that Love shows up in many forms and permutations and disguises. And this little ol’ switch is one of them.

Because when you have a bedside lamp that is this tall . . .

. . .and you’re lying on your bed waaaay down below. And you’re reading. And you have new stitches and new surgical owies. And you can’t reach up high enough to get to the switch on the very tall lamp beside your bed. And you get frustrated because it’s hard to nap with the lamp on. But it’s also hard to read with the lamp off.

Well, that’s when you need Love to show up.

In my particular case, Love took the form of my hubby going to Ace Hardware and purchasing the switch to install on the lamp cord so that I could control the lamp by simply reaching over. And not stretching at all.

And every time I’ve turned the lamp on or off over the course of this week of recovery, I’ve been reminded again of what Love looks like.

Thanks, Honey, for all the big and small ways you show me love.

____________________________

Today, I’ll be on the road to my plastic surgeon for my post-op visit. I’m hoping that he will clear me to take a shower and at least give me a little bit of a break from the horrible girdle bra I’ve been wearing
24-hours a day. Ug.

I’ll let you know how things go!

Thankful.