Beautiful October morning in Madi-tucky, Indiana. The kind that James Whitcomb Riley wrote his doggerels about. Frost not quite on the punkin, but it might have been this time of year before Al Gore's inconvenient truth. Frost, anyway, though a better poet than Riley, is dead too, so we move on.
Anyhow, "that old clown sunshine" (Updike) is barely over the horizon and is letting its light fall on the wall, with shadows of the slats of the mini-blind and dancing leaves. Dancing shadows in sunshine make me happy. Night before last we had a tornado scare but for all the promises of the weather boys that we were going to have a perfect storm it didn't happen and we're still here. :-)
Rosie and family and I are readying stuff for an estate sale of sorts, moving some of the old folks' belonging out and hoping to get a few liquid assets to defray the expense of Howard's stay at Thornton Terrace.
It is too easy to buy music from iTunes. Little and often makes plenty for Steve Jobs.
Since I've been out of the hospital I've been to at least one and sometimes two rehab sessions every day. It's a good life. I like the fellowship and I'm trying to help others in the same boat, which gets my mind off me, me, me. And I've felt better every day.
Only 11 more shopping days until Hallowe'en! Tune up your brooms, have a dental checkup of your fangs, ...
2 comments:
....and stay out of the kids Snicker bars.
You should show up at John and Cheryl's for trick-or-treat in your Raggedy Ann outfit.
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