A humid rainy day, thunderstorms on and off. We dawdle. It is very pleasant to dawdle on a humid rainy thundery day. Presently, I shall make coffee and grilled tomato and cheese sandwiches for lunch.
Before lunch, I usually persuade myself that I am fit and healthy and really should go back to work straight away. I organise stuff around the house, clean the shower and do all the physio exercises as instructed.
After lunch, I usually fall asleep for a while and dawdle some more until it's time to watch the next two episodes of the Spanish thriller we are hooked on right now. After about 30 mins of subtitle reading, I fall asleep again (I read the recaps online in the morning).
Meanwhile, R - on eternal holiday at last, he will now be 65 forever - is entering all my lab reports from hell into a massive excel spread sheet. He is an example of data entry diligence and soon enough will present me with the appropriate tables and columns and all the other graphics shit microsoft has invented for genius people like him. Every night before sleep, I pray to all gods and demons of this and all the other universes begging to please please please always keep him healthy and happy. (Or at least for as long as I am alive. I am a selfish bastard.)
Yesterday, we stored the onion harvest in the cold frame on the patio. It was an easy task, R cutting off the chaff and me smoothing away any dry skins before placing them in neat rows inside the box. If we have two a day, we'll make it to November. Later, in my favourite spot, stretched out flat on the patio stones, I watched the swifts in the sky and from time to time lifted my fingers to my nose to smell the fresh onion aroma, while across the road, my neighbour had a short argument with her son about his car running idle. They were yap yap yapping back and forth, she in Filipino, he in German. Ok, ok, he finally shouted, I'll do it, I turn it off, but just for you. And she laughed and replied, who else!
Earlier, the quiet young woman came to clean all our windows. She hummed and smiled as she moved through the house. My mother would not approve. Paying someone to do that kind of work. Tsk. Tsk. The kitchen window boxes had to be replaced for a while.
A well meaning learned friend sent me a scientific article on
Ah well, I knew it all along. What's next? There are days when I can read that stuff like the next best person, research it further and get proper references and quotes, reassuring tables and figures and all. But then there are days when it makes me want to slam my fist into the wall and shout the house down.
Also.
Reading these two word: old paperbacks makes me feel happy.
Reading this, however, makes me want to cry:
Researchers find that economic, emissions and population trends point to very small chance Earth will avoid warming more than 2C by century’s end
Watching this short film, makes me think and wonder:
Listening to this song, makes it all better:
I love reading this post. It's like sitting across the table from you, having this conversation and eating a bit of that grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. I am so happy that R is on eternal holiday. Such wonderful news. Onions until November, music films and news... this is all and everything.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a languid, peaceful summertime. Hope it stays that way. Burn the article from the well meaning 'friend!' We've been reading and binging on Turkish historical soap-operas here. I try to sew at the same time but it's problematical when you've got sub-titles to keep up with! Unfortunately only 'mad dogs and Englishmen' would enjoy our stinky hot, buggy and muggy, though tropically lush outdoors at the moment, but come November we'll open the windows and love being outside again!
ReplyDeleteMy m-i-l was like your mother as far as having someone in to clean. She would have cleaned first herself, and on one occasion the cleaning lady looked around, baffled as the house was already spotless. Needless to say, I'm a lot more relaxed. And happier! After all there are swifts to watch, flowers to smell and wonderful books to read...
One time my mother hired someone to wash her windows and then spent the next decade discussing the fact that the window cleaner had been able to afford a vacation somewhere exotic and thus, she never hired anyone to wash her windows again.
ReplyDeleteIs there anything more comforting than tomato and grilled cheese sandwiches? Such a perfect food.
I'm sure your friend meant well but...people just don't always think.
This whole post was just the best -- glorious, really. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteFeels as if we are right there with you. As if we are all right here together! And we somehow are! So much can be expressed in one post like yours. After being moved by "A House Without Snakes," I was startled to see my first cousin's daughter and son-in-law listed in the credits. Small world. Then, after looking at your post but not ready to comment yet, I idly looked up the website of a musician cousin of my former husband and was startled to see that that first music he ever bought was "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy," played by Cannonball Adderley!
ReplyDeleteFires in British Columbia have filled our beautiful blue Whatcom County August sky with smoke on the hottest days of the year. And guess what I just read in a yoga book before sitting down to meditate this morning:
One such practice is called pañcagni, meaning "five fires," where a person sits in the hot sun (fire number one) surrounded by four fires and tries to meditate.
Ha!
Sending love to you and R and to your garden.
You know you have written a good post when you get such lovely comments. There's not much more for me to say except, that photo of the green pumpkin just about knocked me out. Beautiful. I haven't watched the videos yet, but I will. Thanks for sharing so many wonderful things.
ReplyDeleteWow, those window boxes. I'm with the mom! Known to rebuke idle-ers myself. (Even diesel engines - greater than 30 second stop - turn it off! Also I learned Filipino *is* a language (always thought it was just Tagalog). That giant (acorn?) squash looks delicious.
ReplyDelete