Well, Johnny bailed on me for Friday. He had some work thing that was taking too much of his time. I wasn’t up for enduring country music for its own sake, so I stayed home and visited with my sister’s family.
It’s interesting to try to blog about this trip as it’s going along, because I think I have trouble seeing things for what they are while I’m still in it. It may be that things will not become clear until after I return home and have time to process everything.
Of course, I have the usual irritation at my mother’s nosiness and at my sister’s way of doing life. I am working on my attitude about all of those things, but I am entrenched in my grouchiness right now.
My mother has a bad habit of pacing around her small house, especially if I am in the bathroom at the sink or in a bedroom, and she will walk by, pretending to do something, while she looks in to see what I’m up to. Drives me freakin’ nuts. I can’t even take a birth control pill in privacy.
The weather has been chilly and rainy – disgusting.
Yesterday, we went down to Brazil to see my father. It was a nice visit, as usual, but I felt uncomfortable yesterday, evidenced by the fact that the insides of my mouth were chewed to shreds by the time we got home around 10:30 last night.
My Great Uncle Dick lives next door to my dad, and he lights up like the sun when he sees us at his door during our annual day trip. (One day I would like to write more about this fabulous uncle of mine.) He’s a loud-mouthed, cursin’ farm boy with a heart of gold, but he’d never let you know it. He always has room at his table for us and a full drawer of cookies. I was pleased to see the kids’ Christmas photo in a place of honor on the front of his fridge.
He was gutting a catfish when we arrived, out back with the chickens. He proudly showed us his newest acquisition which he is keeping in the red barn – a peacock, of all things. I have no idea what he’s going to do with that, but I think he mentioned (with a grin) something about driving my dad crazy with the loud peacock wailings.
I love that man, and every time I see him, I hope it’s not the last.
The kids tell me I’m talking “Indiana” already. I pick it back up so fast. Frankly, I prefer the sound of that twang to the nasal, grating sound of New Yorkers.
This afternoon, I’m meeting the girls, and I should have more to say after that.
My images are taking forever to upload, so I’ll try again at a later time to add them to the post.