Posted tagged ‘cleaned’

“How strange it is to view a town you grew up in, not in wonderment through the eyes of youth, but with the eyes of a historian on the way things were.”

February 22, 2018

For two days Boston has hit 70˚. We hit a high of 55˚. The sun has deserted us. It is cloudy again and damp and chilly. Last night it rained a little. I was lying in bed reading and heard what I thought at first was a mouse gnawing. It wasn’t. It was the patter of rain falling quite slowly at first then more heavily, but it quickly stopped.

Yesterday I went to the deck and did a bit of cleanup. I also filled the bird feeders. The cover for the barbecue has disappeared. I checked the yard from the deck but didn’t go under the deck. My first thought was an army of squirrels has set up camp somewhere close and my cover, which already had a huge section chewed off, was perfect for their tents. Two bricks were on the top to prevent the cover from blowing off. I found those on the deck. Maybe a spawn of Satan will be back to get the bricks for their camp walkway.

I actually cleaned most of this room. I polished and washed all the curios on shelves. I did such a good job I need sunglasses now because everything shines. I also caught up with the laundry. I feel accomplished.

When I sleep, I look a bit like a question mark as I still make room for Gracie to sleep beside me.

When I was a kid, my town was my world. I never thought it was small. Uptown had wonderful stores, and the library and the post office anchored the beginning and the end of the square. Some days the square smelled like fresh bread from Hank’s Bakery or popcorn from the candy makers behind the square. O’Grady’s Diner was across the street from the library. Once in a while, my father took me to breakfast there. We sat at a booth with red vinyl seating. I used to beg for dimes or a quarter to play the juke box. Every booth had a small box, and I’d turn the pages in our booth to find a favorite song. On Saturday mornings seats at the counter were mostly filled with all men. Saturday was their errand day with stops at the Chinamen, the barber and maybe the drug store or the Redmen then finally the diner. I loved my little uptown

“Home gives you something no other place can… your history. Home is where your history begins.”

February 24, 2014

Today is a good day. It’s cold and will get colder, but I don’t mine. I haven’t anywhere I need to go or anything I need to do. The ceiling stains were painted this morning, and I arranged for the whole ceiling to be done in the spring. The stacks of assorted stuff sitting in the living room until the stains were gone are now in their rightful spots in the den. After the spray painting, I had to dust or polish everything near where the stain was, but it didn’t take long, and it is so bright in here I think I need sunglasses. The toilet no longer needs a jiggle to stop running. I put the rock back, and it works perfectly. Peapod is coming this afternoon. It seems all is right with my world.

I was not the doll type of girl for very long, but I do remember a few from when I was really little. My favorite was a Ginny doll who had a wardrobe filled with clothes and a pink bed which was the same color as the wardrobe. I also had a tall stuffed doll wearing a dress who had elastics on her feet. You put the elastics around your shoes and danced with the doll. The last doll was small with yellow hair made from yarn and woven into pig tails. She wore a shirt and red overalls with patches. My mother, for some reason, had saved that last doll, and she gave it to me when I first moved into my house. She also gave me a small chair I had been given when I was three, yellow egg cups we always used which looked like chickens and my books, lots of books including The Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew.

When I first moved into my house, I had a desk, a TV and a studio couch, and my mother added memories. She gave me connections to my childhood and made an empty house my home.