A place to call my own

It has been raining off and on for the past few days, deluges that slow down into steady falls of rain that have cooled the summer heat so much I actually wore a nightgown to bed, closed the living room windows and turned off the fans -- for a while. I had to turn the bedroom fan back on because I had another of those center of hell flushes. It's cool and damp this morning and I have a date with a very sweet fella today. The landlady is going to the crags with a friend and since Pastor has been ill he's staying with me. Of course I have to put up the trash to keep him from nosing through it and strewing it all over the clean kitchen floor but that's a small price to pay for such loving companionship. I get to have him next week, too, and again in a couple of weeks when the landlady is out of town. I'm looking forward to all the cuddling and petting and even the walks together. I'll have a companion for a little while who wants to spend time with me and will show it in no uncertain terms. Dogs are so uncomplicated.

Beanie emailed me yesterday to tell me that when she comes in October she may bring my mother and my other sister. That should be interesting. Mom has been threatening to come for "one last trip" ever since she left her nearly two years ago. My place is much smaller and I don't have the extra bed I had at the cabin, but if it was just Tracy she was going to stay with me. We've slept together before -- about 100 years ago. We'd have almost a whole week of catching up and talking and laughing and probably her begging me to make gumbo and crab cakes. Every fall she reminds me how much she misses that. I don't mind cooking and I certainly don't mind making gumbo and crab cakes but she's going to have to reciprocate by making her oatmeal cake. I'll probably gain fifty pounds, but I can lose it again and at least my bagging and sagging clothes will fit once again.

But having Mom and Carol along will change everything. They'll have to stay in a hotel because there is definitely not enough room for all of us here unless I move out and go to a hotel. Beanie said it was Mom's idea to bring Carol and I don't think she's informed Carol yet. I guess we'll see.

I'm planning a leisurely weekend of work, work and more work, fitting in time to do a little laundry on Saturday and reorganize and shelve all my books. I need to separate them into my books and review books and weed out the books I've read and reviewed and donate them to the library. I almost have everything organized and put away but some of the clutter remains. It's hard planning to spend my weekend working when I know it's going to keep raining in between glorious blazing sunshiny hours like now when the morning sun is shining on newly washed leaves, creating a shimmery halo effect that's just a little bit out of focus like a fairy tale dream. The view out my bedroom window as I sit on the bed writing is of a peaked red roof, rough brown bark reaching toward the sun between, behind and spearing through a forest of variegated green sparkling with rain and lit by a hidden sun. Except for the intermittent sounds of traffic whooshing by and the clank and sweep of the city truck cleaning the streets, I might be hidden in a forest with no one around for miles. The busy street cleaning truck brushing up the accumulated wind blown dust and storm debris reminds me I should be up and working not sitting here in this calm and peaceful reverie happily tapping out the letters and words that give some reality to this dreamy existence.

I could easily sit here for hours, nudged into action only by the demands of my body, and simply write, but in order to be able to write I must work to make the money to keep me in this comfort and stability like I've not know before. For the first time in my life, I don't feel the urge to pack the car and get moving to another city, another country, another life. I have finally found my home and not even a threatened invasion of relatives makes me uneasy and anxious to get back on the road. I need little more than I have: friends, a pet I can borrow from time to time and the peace that comes with having found my place in the world.