Thank you, thank you for your patience! Nature's damage has been repaired. Summer and fall/winter clothes have been switched. What a relief it is to have a sense of order. I'm a Cancerian and have to have home and hearth in sync, not every mag or tea cup, but enough so I can focus on other matters.
Like "Remy Broussard's Christmas," my Christmas story I want to upload to Amazon soon. (Any suggestions as to when would be the best time? I have had visions of Remy buried beneath an avalanche of holiday stories. Poor kid. He's only eight-years-old.)
I think it worked out for the best that my net book died while we were on holiday. Not reading Remy for some weeks opened my eyes. Yep, there were mistakes I wouldn't have known how to correct if it weren't for all the fab blogs I've read. Thank you to all who were so honest and up-front about what could go wrong and how to correct it. This is not to say I've spotted every angle begging for help (Ha!) The story is my first time out of the block. Six weeks from now, I'll probably read what I wrote and die a thousand deaths!
But that's a minor emotion compared to how I felt earlier this morning, a routine morning where garbage/recyclables are picked up. I'd put the bags out last night. This morning I decided to add a couple of Diet Pepsi cans to the recycle bag.
Looking like one does in the morning, I opened the front door, stepped outside, and froze.
A little girl, about eight years old, with long brown hair, neatly brushed back from her face, rummaged through the bags.
She was careful not to dirty her dark blue smock (with coordinated turtleneck beneath) or scuff her lace-up shoes with white, folded socks at the ankles.
My mind raced - what to do? Should I offer her a peach and a banana? Should I call the county? A child going through rubbish, no no.
In the split second when I had to make a decision, her mother appeared, walking around the corner on the left. As her mother approached, the child looked up. She had eyes as blue as a spring sky.
"Can I help you?" I asked the mother. She was neatly dressed and groomed.
"We are looking for coupons," she replied.
"I love tuna fish," the daughter added.
My face fell. "I'm sorry there aren't any coupons. I clip and pass on to a neighbor what I don't use."
"Maybe next time," the mother said, waving as she walked away, daughter in tow.
"Wait," I called. "I have tuna fish in the pantry."
"Maybe next time," the mother said. "I'm sure we'll find some coupons."
Like "Remy Broussard's Christmas," my Christmas story I want to upload to Amazon soon. (Any suggestions as to when would be the best time? I have had visions of Remy buried beneath an avalanche of holiday stories. Poor kid. He's only eight-years-old.)
I think it worked out for the best that my net book died while we were on holiday. Not reading Remy for some weeks opened my eyes. Yep, there were mistakes I wouldn't have known how to correct if it weren't for all the fab blogs I've read. Thank you to all who were so honest and up-front about what could go wrong and how to correct it. This is not to say I've spotted every angle begging for help (Ha!) The story is my first time out of the block. Six weeks from now, I'll probably read what I wrote and die a thousand deaths!
But that's a minor emotion compared to how I felt earlier this morning, a routine morning where garbage/recyclables are picked up. I'd put the bags out last night. This morning I decided to add a couple of Diet Pepsi cans to the recycle bag.
Looking like one does in the morning, I opened the front door, stepped outside, and froze.
A little girl, about eight years old, with long brown hair, neatly brushed back from her face, rummaged through the bags.
She was careful not to dirty her dark blue smock (with coordinated turtleneck beneath) or scuff her lace-up shoes with white, folded socks at the ankles.
My mind raced - what to do? Should I offer her a peach and a banana? Should I call the county? A child going through rubbish, no no.
In the split second when I had to make a decision, her mother appeared, walking around the corner on the left. As her mother approached, the child looked up. She had eyes as blue as a spring sky.
"Can I help you?" I asked the mother. She was neatly dressed and groomed.
"We are looking for coupons," she replied.
"I love tuna fish," the daughter added.
My face fell. "I'm sorry there aren't any coupons. I clip and pass on to a neighbor what I don't use."
"Maybe next time," the mother said, waving as she walked away, daughter in tow.
"Wait," I called. "I have tuna fish in the pantry."
"Maybe next time," the mother said. "I'm sure we'll find some coupons."
