Sunday Night Again

Planoamy
It's been another fun weekend. Spent Saturday helping my little brother move to an apartment near his grad school campus. Spent this morning nursing a head/neckache from said moving. I think it was more related to my horrible blood pressure than anything. I can stoop or crouch down for 5 minutes and when I stand back up I lose my vision and have to grab onto something. No biggie.

After a few Advil and Sweetie grilling supper for us, I felt better. It still hasn't rained here. We were out in the back yard tinkering with plants and the garage stuff and I told Sweetie that I felt air-hungry, which is not being able to breathe deeply enough to get satisfied. I think this is technically an iron deficiency but I told him it was genetic and the only thing I have found to improve it is a Cookie Dough Blast from Sonic. I guess I am transparent. He laughed at me and said let's go. So we drove to Sonic for some dessert then took a tour of the countryside. We went to see if "our" old house is still standing. A few months ago on a Sunday drive much like this one, we passed an OLD farmhouse with trees and hummingbird vine growing up around it. It had shutters with real hinges on them, and a porch on the first and second floors. It was posted and for sale. The next weekend, a sale was pending. Now when we drive by there we hold our breaths until we see the old roof outlined against the sky. I know it would be an expensive and time consuming task to rebuild it, so it probably doesn't have long. It's the kind of house that writes its own story and tucks it into a corner of your brain while you are sleeping.

~~"Martha's peonies along the driveway were stooped, their white mopheads low in the August heat. Still the grass around them was closely kept, and the hot air held on to the smell of honeysuckle and fried chicken as if there was nothing else better to do this late on a Sunday afternoon. And indeed there isn't much better, I thought, listening to the murmur of katydids in the shrubs that followed the fencerow around the front yard. I walked up the slight hill toward the front porch where a cool evening breeze began to turn day to night. There was a rhythmic creak coming from the rusted old chains of the porch swing, so I knew where to find Uncle Paul. I could see the orange glow from his cigarette as I stepped up onto the wooden porch, and we exchanged the news of the day. Yes, he'd been down to see the tomatoes in the garden this afternoon; there was a basket full in the kitchen for me to carry home. No, he hadn't heard that Will had been sick and was sorry to hear it now; he'd go by to see him on Tuesday. After I spent a sufficient amount of time with Uncle Paul to pass through his always open gates, I excused myself inside to see Aunt Martha. I heard her start into "Rock of Ages" as I opened the screen door..."

Hmm. I like that. Now what would I be doing at Aunt Martha's?