I'm remembering Grandma Skrivseth this evening, because of weariness. I didn't work hard today... Just all day. So I'm ready to hang out in Elv's study under the AC, curled up in a corner of the big red couch.
Grandma sat a lot, the last years of her life, because she could, not because she had to. She crocheted doilies. I have a lovely blue one that she made. That was her way of wearing purple, unapologetically. My mom walks a mile every day and keeps her home and larder beautiful between her brisk sittings. Her purple works, too.
Tonight, I think I'll be like Grandma, come old age, if not sooner.
We have a few fall decor displays up and running already. The flowers are extra specially nice, in my opinion. I'm not nearly as impressed with the silly pumpkin craze, but some people are, apparently. And the customer is always right. Thus, we have them in stock.
We've been refinishing the little red patio set. Another four years of patio suppers for Elv and I are provided for. Asher and Angelie have been sanding and varnishing happily. Now we can reassemble it.
What I really want to do one of these days is to sit in the canoe over a panfish hole, the sun bedazzling the sparkling water from a blue sky. I want to stay out there till I'm nearly blind from the sun and the worms are gone and the fish basket is full. Until my fingernails are black with worm dirt and yuck so that I'm afraid to touch the snacks. Then I'll eat it anyway, because it's just clean ordinary dirt which never hurts anybody. Now there's a good brisk sit for ya.
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