Today I gathered together drafting supplies that have accumulated over the years, most of them many years ago. Several lead holders (one once belonged to my supervisor), paper cleaning powder and pad, long leads of different hardness, compasses and dividers (most missing parts) and a variety of sharpeners are all going to the landfill.
All this equipment is obsolete. I have moved them around over 40 years, putting value on them based on the symbolic representation of work performed.
I wanted to save a few things while filling a garbage bag.
but they’re all gone now.
We are on a fixed income. Every month, when the money from two Social Security checks is down to zero, we must stop spending. Yesterday when we came back from our trip to St. Paul, it was discovered that a pin hold sized leak had started in one of the copper tubing joints of the water supply in the crawl space. The floor was half covered with water and the wall was all wet.
I was tired from traveling. I initially reacted with a flash-vision of hiring a plumber and spending at least a thousand dollars.
Today I spent 61 cents at Menards for a hose clamp. I squeezed a layered strip of duct tape over the hole.
[from 4/21/2016] For those of you who weren't at writers group yesterday, the assignment for next week is - "Write what you learned this past week." (From yesterday's meeting until our meeting time next Wednesday.) [S]ee you next week. Joann
I was looking forward to our Buffalo Writers Group meeting last week. I got up early; so early that the sun was just coming up over 1st Ave NW. It was a perfect early morning day. Out in my back yard, I went to many potential garden stations: a rock near the alley, three or four ready-but-empty planting sites surrounded by mulch and a dozen perennials already coming up in a large field of the same cedar chip mulch. Anxiously I went to check on the comfrey rhizomes that I transferred from Duluth last November.
The comfrey was fine.
Suddenly, my attention was drawn to notice that within the healthy presentation of comfrey shoots an obvious raspberry sprig showed its lovely leaf. My gardener’s brain shifted to Duluth, MN, where I was the estate gardener to a vast, mature colony of raspberries.
If the shoots are just sticking out in Buffalo, they must be still dormant in Duluth.
I looked at my dumb phone to check the time. I selfishly noticed that “now” is the time to go to Duluth to get raspberry roots. But, what about the writers meeting? The raspberries won and I headed to Duluth with a shovel and a bucket.
There is a rock in my back yard that is so big that I had to dig a little to see how big.
We decided to use it as an area inside a raspberry garden that would always be clear because it was a big rock. One could stand there and pick (eat) raspberries.
The rhisomes came from our Duluth bush. The original roots came from a nurse-friend at St. Luke’s Hospital. (If you remember who you are call me and set the record straight.)
Last night was one of those thoughtful toss-and-turns when dream life and real life overlapped. The urge to get up and pee arrived as usual, but a voice of reason suggested that I could fall asleep again without any consequences.
A deep sleep produced a world hero. This guy was going to ease the tension between normal people and Islamic terrorists. It all came down to a few secrets. My protagonist self became the owner of knowledge based on a peek into the way…
The edge of fabric started to unravel giving a look at the show inside a tent. For a while images were sexual, almost pornographic, but that was excused as smaller thinking that everyone enjoys.
Solid action idea: Move boxes of old stuff from the shed after sorting into relative likeness. Put labels that identify literary coffins of books that were never written. An easy starter set is Bill’s notes from Paul. This could be the kernel of a future book. Or maybe Pam and Bill would want…
Another box would hold Bob’s rock data.