I Need a Few More August Days

 My brother Benjie is here to visit Queen Mary, so I have a few minutes to chat.

I just fed all the outdoor animals, birds, squirrels, chipmunks and the hawk will be thanking me later.

The HUMIDITY will take you to your knees, and make your hair look rather, pubic!!! OK, maybe not pubic, but( I cant find a word) frizzy is too simple. Let me think........coiled, wound, electric?? add your own. My hair is DNA curly, but August takes me to the circus!!!!

AND I love it!! I love beach hair, ponytail, chaos!! with a drive through beverage store, near the shore!!!

A road drink, as we Florida folks call um.

Now we are wine sippers, or sober to the core.

The reason for my blog today are two wonderful books. Little and Often by Trent Preszler,

The Comfort Book by Matt Haig. ( Now reading The Midnight Library by Matt Haig)

I have highlighted so much in these two books, that it would cruel to subject you to the entire story. You need to read these books.

Little and Often, I chose to read it, because of my child's sudden artistic, wonderment of woodwork.

My Hart, ( number 4 son) is artistic, and I did not know this. He was all sports, all day and night. I missed his artistic vein, or maybe he developed it later?? It is fun to watch. Back to the book, It is about a man, a gay man, from South Dakota !!! that late in his life, after his fathers death, build a canoe in his living room!! from scratch!! Never even held a hammer before, magic.

Brilliant stuff

Talking about his father he said, "Providing comfort was not in his nature." ( blew me away, that generation, war vets, from all the wars, maybe were just not huggers!!) ( men were suppose to be so strong, and masculine, whatever all of that means!!) ( maybe loss????)

He also said, " The imposition of structure to any story, can alter realities." ( who is telling the story, is a big deal)

One More, " My grief was complicated that way.  A mix, or anger, regret and longing." ( sweet baby Jesus)

Have I mentioned this book is about building a canoe??  Enjoy between the lines, and embraced with sawdust.

The Comfort Book ( I think that is the name) ( short term memory, went out the window!!) (and I need to turn the italics off) ( I amuse myself)

A few pearls, from this book are:

but the I is always bigger than the pain. Because the I is there even when the pain is not.

Silence is the pain.

No physical appearance is worth not eating pasta. ( AMEN)

Your value NEVER needs to be jsutified.

You are the right quantity.

TRUST me, I highlighted this entire book, so I will stop and let you decide to read this gem. ( OK, I lied)

He said, the author, " Ignorance shrinks us!" and " The cure for loneliness, isn't more people."

I promise, no more highlighted diamonds of words. Look for the words that speak to you.

Need to leave an start adulting again, Hungry people, family, animals, love all around. 

See you in September.

Last Chance Texaco

 August remains, sunny and Hot!! Not sure of the date, but it is Sunday and I need to be in the yard.

But....here I type, turning my head after every letter, it is just stunning outside. This morning I felt a twinge in the air, which, if you know me, I panic. I hold onto summer, with each cell in my body, begging it not to go.( turning my head, to look out the window) ( cleared that up) (maybe)

Mom has had a couple of weeks, of what she calls, weakness. She can't describe pain, and unlike me, she does not embellish!! I ask does anything hurt, and she can't find the words. I pray as I type, she is eating her lunch and recovering from, The Weakness!!! A shower and hair rolling do her in, however she refuses to cut her hair. So we continue on, the push and the pull, of growing older together.

If we can find something to laugh about, or look about in wonder, I consider that a positive day. NOTE..Mom Mary noticed the leaves on the trees looking different this morning. I TOLD YOU, I felt a breeze blowing.

The reason I needed to share, ( don't need a reason) is, of course a book.

Last Chance Texaco, is for Harriett and Susan, to take a looky loo.

Its for deep feelings, rock music and not all would love. It is written by Rickie Lee Jones, and if you don't know her, that is OK. A chronicle of an American Troubadour, is not all of our, cup of tea or whiskey.

The book is dedicated to her family, or whatever the call themselves at this stage of her life!!!!

Fantastic, so it is about family??? Maybe??

I loved it, knowing it would be for a select few, so happy to be in that group.

Words from this jewel-

After all these decades, life remains stubbornly mysterious.

We Do Not Ever Recover From Music. ( FACT!!!!)

I know the smell of dime store counters ( Yes)

Perpetual state of fear ( I blame hiding under our desks, as children!!) ( I could smell bombs coming)

All that hand-wringing and chanting of unfortunate memories

I left my strength on the lunch tray, that day ( YES)

The heart is always that one summer night....( AMEN and AMEN)

Some of us are born to live lives on an exaggerated scale. Even as children we have a larger suitcase in which to carry all the things that will one day be on our backs!!!! ( HONEY, this is trunk worthy!! words)

We had a map of maybes ( that caused me, to hold my heart)

The greatest moments of life simply slide off our skin like fairy dust. They do not have weight. The hurts and sadness and tragedy embed our lives!!

every single moment, every accomplishment, deserves a hallelujah

Family will break your heart, period

I am here to listen to you mom. Imagining all that you were-humble, kind, innocent, vulnerable and tenacious. ( Maybe Ricky Lee was with her mom at the end of her life)

OK, I am back to my voice, outside of italics. Turning off my Kindle, phone and computer, to stroll outside for awhile. We had a big pine tree removed this week, and I asked the tree men, to leave me a tall stump. I need to sit by it for a spell, make a bird area, thank it for being with us for 31 years. It smells like Christmas in August, in my yard. To me, that is the best of both. Enjoy your day, sit outside, write or call an elderly person you know, ( I think that includes my young 69 year old self!!) (yikes)

Read a book, write a book, play with a toddler or dog!!

Get a vaccine, for yourself and others, we are the village.

Love

B