but oh, so artistically. See, no straight lines. Nice gentle curves. I worked my ass off outside this week, and my poor old body is feeling the effects of physical labor. I mastered the lawn edger or weed whip or whatever that machine is called, but after many fits and starts that culminated in running out of the gas mixture used to power it, and realizing that one of my kids had borrowed the container for that particular mixture. Only got half done with that chore, but the rest can wait until the next time I mow.
I continued in my efforts to declutter. . . yesterday and the day before, I attacked the bookshelves in the den/computer room. That mission was accomplished but the room looks worse now than it did before. I have packed up the books that I don't need, but I still have the desk left to do, and that is full of about four years of paid bills, old receipts, tax information and other junk. I unearthed a huge stack of old magazines dating from 2001 and 2002, so I had a good time looking through those for inspiration. In one, I found the St. Paul home of Garrison Keillor featured, which ties in nicely with his column that appeared in my paper today. It's headline: "Art Breaks the Drought in our Lives and Souls." Perfect.
"Life is good, no matter the disappointments--O God the disappointments.
Just square your shoulders and give them your utter best. As the late
great Marilyn Monroe said, 'I don't want to make money, I just want to be
wonderful.' Life is insurmountable, but we mount up every morning and ride
This blog has afforded me the opportunity to connect with a lot of people, and in the time that I have had it, I think I have only had a couple of negative comments, and those came from my husband's girlfriend after my May 25 post, and which I have chosen not to publish because I'm pretty sure that my blog friends would eviserate her. However, today there appeared a comment from Anonymous, someone from my past, which I did publish and appears as the last comment on my post of May 14. Please, whoever made that comment, please let me know who you are. It was just a wonderful comment, but of course, in typical high school fashion, I want to know who it was that didn't like me all that much back in high school. Not that I blame you, but I would so much like to reconnect. How about a few more clues as to your identity? And just so you'll know, as I write this blog entry, I am listening to Frankie Valli (Opus 17, Don't You Worry About Me) so the oldies do rock on here.