Up early this morning.  Gorgeous weather, sunny and in the 50’s.

Went back to sleep, up for good around 9.  Made steak and eggs.  Cleaned up the kitchen.

Ron’s van got fixed at Cormier’s yesterday.  Buddy gave him a lift to pick it up.

I worked from 9 until a little after 3 and was beyond tired even after a short day.  Had a piece of quiche from the bakery, the rest of Laura’s excellent lasagna and leftover veggies for supper; thank goodness for a nice hot meal with no cooking.

We observed/celebrated Thanksgiving with the Winslows: shrimp cocktail, cheese board and cashews to start; turkey, etc. and pies. Laura set a beautiful table, and it was warm enough for us to start the day at their fire pit!

Liz and Chris have been magnificent to us.  She gifted us with a gorgeous pecan pie for Thanksgiving.  Between Ron and me, we’ve netted enough in three weeks to make up for lost rental income this month.  It hasn’t gotten us ahead, but it’s kept us from falling behind.

Yesterday, I worked at the bakery from 9:10 am to about 8:45 pm.  Must have washed the cement mixers at least 6 times and a dozen or more detestable oxidized aluminum trays, not to mention two cycles of pan liners.  Grateful for the work.

Ron was busy as well:  he drove James to and from work, returned unneeded hardware, mowed the back yard at Edgewater and mounted the TV stand door that I’d painted yesterday.  Paint was the wrong finish, but it’ll do for now.

Had breakfast with Cindy and Cathy on Sunday.

Below freezing this morning.  Vacuumed the truck to see if that helps Robert’s allergies, and it did seem to (help).  Drove Ron to Cormiers to drop off the van last night to fix the window; gave him a ride to work this morning.  Missed any good pickings at the Senior Center.

Decorated the window boxes with pine boughs from the transfer station and ribbons from last year.  Added a ribbon to the swag Ron bought last weekend at Sprout Farm.  Touched base with Laura on the Thanksgiving menu; she gave me two servings of an excellent lasagna.

Ron worked from 10 until almost 7.

I mowed and picked up leaves from the front yard at Edgewater, including the debris on the street, and mowed front and back here.

Finished the MRS schedule for 2016.  Couldn’t reach Jim yesterday or today.

Ron’s hair has so many beautiful colors!

Dripping woke me up last night.  Still raining.  Ron’s timing could not have been better.  I’m so glad he finished the powerwashing yesterday.

Had a nap last evening after riding with Ron to bring James home.  Was in a lot of pain last night but much better now: back, left ankle, hands.

Looked back at some posts from December 2008.  That was a very tough year.

Ron finished the power washing! Fantastic. That leaves only gutter cleaning for the last major outdoor chore.

Had a great annual checkup.

Finished out my week at the bakery. Pureed a case of bananas, washed a “cement mixer”, labeled bags, cleaned a cooler, washed dishes, cleaned the coffee area and the side window sill.

We are running very lean this month. Peter is late with the rent; property taxes were due on the first; and we had a gigantic water bill thanks to someone’s leaving a sprinkler on all night.

So, I was astonished to find that Ron had drawn down his bank balance to $0.

Turns out, he transferred about $270 to PayPal – for probiotics! – and didn’t realize it.

Finished cleaning the windows this morning, or at least, made a good attempt.

Slept with the puff last night. Frost this morning.

Made a killer chicken stew and rice and beans tonight.

Drove Robert and later, James, to work.

Ron was at the bakery. He drove everyone home tonight!

Did some database updates for the school.

Swept leaves from the driveways, Edgewater and here.

Made more progress with old paperwork.

You like it under the trees in autumn,
Because everything is half dead.
The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves
And repeats words without meaning.

In the same way, you were happy in spring,
With the half colors of quarter-things,
The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds,
The single bird, the obscure moon—

The obscure moon lighting an obscure world
Of things that would never be quite expressed,
Where you yourself were never quite yourself
And did not want nor have to be,

Desiring the exhilarations of changes:
The motive for metaphor, shrinking from
The weight of primary noon,
The A B C of being,

The ruddy temper, the hammer
Of red and blue, the hard sound—
Steel against intimation—the sharp flash,
The vital, arrogant, fatal, dominant X.

Wallace Stevens, 1879 – 1955

Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.

What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?
What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?
What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?

Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,
And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.
I was myself the compass of that sea:

I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw
Or heard or felt came not but from myself;
And there I found myself more truly and more strange.

Wallace Stevens, 1879 – 1955