Tuesday, July 01, 2008

One more day in the life

When I get up in the morning, after the usual round of answering Nature's call and waking up and getting something to eat, I sit down at my laptop and go through my email, deleting most of what's there (spam), but my favorite thing, after playing my morning word game, is answering email from friends, family and friends-to-be. It's the first highlight of my day. Yesterday, I received an invitation to move to Sri Lanka and I can't say I wasn't tempted. I'm still tempted. I'd be that much closer to India and have a chance to live and get to know the customs and society of a whole different world, one that I know only from news stories, movies and books. Who knows? I may one day decide to retire in Sri Lanka.

It's not my first invitation to move to India or nearby, but it is certainly the latest. The last invitation came from a publishing company that wanted me to write books to be translated into Sanskrit and Sinhala. I'd be famous. My stories would be made into movies and I could live a life of ease and comfort and wealth, but I'm not a big fan of the heat and I would miss the change of seasons that I love so much here. Still, maybe one day...

This morning I received a message from a Capricorn, a sort of Jack and the Beanstalk kind of guy who tools around the countryside in Missouri in his company truck. The combination of astrologer, world traveler with military experience and a teaching degree who once taught English is fascinating, a little like catnip in a way. He's one of my recent pen pals, and one who was certain I was looking for pen pals only in foreign countries. I didn't tell him it was too soon for him to judge my intentions, but I'm sure he will figure it out.

After a very long wait, I finally received my new knives yesterday, lovely, sharp, beautiful knives to go along with the cutting boards I had to replace. They weren't expensive, but they are necessary as my one paring knife is insufficient to the tasks it has been forced to perform the past two months.

Two months. I have been here two months and will pay the rent for my third month here today. The time has flown by, but everything is coming together quite nicely. I will have to finish getting everything in place since I have a birthday party to host at the end of the month for Nel. I still have to figure out what to serve that will suit everyone coming and how to fix a dessert that isn't too sweet for Nel and still satisfying for everyone else who will expect a sweet dessert of some sort. At least I have some time to figure it out and get the invitations ready.

In a couple of days I will also send up my very last issue of the ham club newsletter. No one so far has stepped up to take the job and I am afraid that the newsletter will end up consisting only of a president's message and the minutes of the board and club meetings. At least it will be very inexpensive to publish and will probably end up only on the web. But I can see what is happening. The members and board have decided that if no one steps up to the plate I will have to stay on until someone is found. I can't say I haven't thought about sticking around, but I'm not going to do it. I may not do it. Yeah, I'm considering it, but not seriously. I need a break. Maybe that's what I'll do, take a break for a few months and then pick it back up again. Then again...maybe not. I don't want to spend the rest of my natural life doing this newsletter.

The city workers started early this morning but the one workman who sings either isn't here today or even he doesn't feel like singing. They've moved a little farther down the alley so the noise and vibrations that nearly shook the cottage off its foundation yesterday are lessened but the dust they're kicking up sifts through the screens and coats everything with a fine gritty layer. At this rate, they may finish soon and will be out of sight and sound and mind. I certainly hope so. As much as I dislike typing operative reports for doctors unwilling to learn to speak English properly or without things in their mouth or even at a rate that is clearly and understandable to an ear other than a canine's, at least it keeps the cottage roof over my head and allows me to be inside almost protected from the dust and heat and cacophony of sewer repair, and that's something.

That is all. Disperse.

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