It is my lawn that needs to sun-dry. I tried to mow yesterday but it was too wet. Rumor has it Gordon is all worked up about the state of my yard, and decreeing what needs to be done to it. <peering sourly over glasses> So who's stopping him? ... Actually, he may have been here. An enormous limb has been neatly sectioned into firewood and stacked by the shed: the Firewood Fairy has visited!
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Sundry Sunday. Sunday mornings used to belong to Dale. I tried to visit on Sundays in time to get him out of the dining room before the church service started. I notice I've moved into a new phase, of talking to him in my head. Folding a Pink Floyd shirt, I thought, "Wasn't that a hell of a concert, Hon?" Stuff like that. Things that I probably said many times over the years, but that forged bonds between us every time they were said.
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Talked my sister into going to see Dracula, and she brought her daughter. "Why did we wait so long to learn about DANCE?!" she asked.
Different dancers this time, which made me ponder the logistics of rehearsing three different sets of principals. It was every bit as stunning and emotionally exhausting as the first time I saw it, and gave me a chance to look for nuances, as I knew basically how the choreography would progress.
But the one huge difference in this performance was an audience member, Tutu Lady. This was an OLD lady - I mean, REALLY old, not like "KayO is old," which of course I'm not (heh). I mean, Old as Dirt, with two spots of bright pink rouge on her leathery cheeks. I mean, she started to go into the ladies' room and changed her mind, and as she walked away muttering somebody asked, "Was that a man or a woman?" THAT old. (One of my secret fears is that I'll become androgynous enough that people have to ask that.)
Anyway, Tutu Lady was wearing a baby blue spandex leotard and tutu. No, really. They DID say costumes were welcome at these performances, and I had seen folks in witch/warlock/vampire costumes - plus one AWESOME fiftyish woman in full pirate regalia - so, okay, Tutu Lady went for the ballerina thing. It was shocking and horrifying, actually - one doesn't actually want to think about aging flesh, or have it so prominently displayed - but I tried to keep an open mind. My niece, far less tolerant of eccentricity (she's 16), was frankly disgusted.
And then it turned out Tutu Lady had a box down by the stage, so chances are she's someone Awfully Important - and she spent the performance, performing! When the audience applauded, she would stand and pirouette. When the dancers took their bows, she gracefully spread her arms in classic curtsy style, or possibly as presentation: behold! For all I know, she was a fairy godmother, offering us this performance as a gift.
Hell, maybe she was Blanche M. Touhill.
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Next week I have an appointment with Social Security to determine whether I'm eligible for spousal survivor benefits. Yesterday I received a notice from my health insurance, addressed to Dale, notifying him that his coverage was terminated Oct. 7 but he might be eligible for Medicare Part D. <glowers> Wouldn't you think that when you put "Deceased" as the reason for changing your Plan Elections, they would have the courtesy of suppressing these automatically generated letters? Eel's dad got one of these from his own insurance carrier after his death. It seems awfully ... insensitive.
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Welcome, Autumn! I love the crisp mornings and the overcast skies with occasional sunny breakthrough, sharp and glittering. No bike riding lately; too windy to enjoy the treeless plains. I am still waiting to see the shape of my new life and not developing new patterns yet.
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