HOME.... HOME. HOME!

Love being home. Finding it stressful even to go to our little Walmart. I'm sure I chose the wrong time of month - a Friday after the first, and after a holiday... Restocking, destocking, pushing carts, cinnamony scent over half the store, roaring-swimming sinus headache. I had intended to go to the grocery store, but myself just would not go. I came home to my four cats, my dog and my old husband and was glad to eat a little Butterfinger, put most of the things away and lie down for a nap.

Velma's obituary was in this week's paper and I scanned the picture of her. I had noticed in the service bulletin that her birthday was eight days before Mama's - November 21, 1928. 

Tomorrow is Tara's (her youngest granddaughter) baby shower - her third child and first girl! How sweet it would have been had they met, but God had other plans. No doubt Tara and her mother Glenda (Velma's daughter) will fill her life with stories of great grandmother... The new little one's name is Ruth Ellen. Ruth is Paul's (and Glenda's) grandmother's name. (Ellen was my grandmother's middle name, which has nothing to do with the Broughton family, except I always liked it, and Ruth.) Such a pretty, gracious, elegant lady. Always the Southern lady.

Jimmy A and his son came this morning to check the A/C - everything was clean, dry and considering two cats and a dog in the house, hardly any dust inside the cover. Just about clean as a whistle. They did find a tad of moisture around one of the "boots" the part that the ductwork connects to the hole in the floor. But it wasn't inside the ductwork - nothing expose to inside air that would blow into the house... Today, after it warmed up some (they were here at 9 a.m. and tried running the heat strips constantly... anything they could think of) today it was better.  Underneath the house is dry. Everything is dry. We finally tentatively concluded it is environmental - the return is pulling the outside moisture (i.e., rainy days) into the house. Thus the very, very musty, earthy smell; to the point of smelling almost like something dead. I bet the dirt under the house is Very Old. Anyway. Process of elimination... They'll be back in the morning and lay plastic underneath the house to act as a moisture and dirt/dust barrier, wrap all the "boots," and clean the already clean coils with Mr. Clean/Febreze - that's about as strong as I can stand. Trying to leave the thermostat alone. As he said, this isn't a brand new house, no insult intended and none taken - it's just an older home and it will have odd characteristics about it. This happens to be one - and my nose is sooo sensitive that I'm the one it bothers. (Paul can't smell it. Amy can.) So from now on I'll notice the wet days. I'm thinking that's what it is; maybe the extra barriers will help.No guarantees. Gotta do something.

We had the thermostat so low last night the animals slept with us again, and Oscar shivered this morning. I covered him with a quilt. Barney likes to come inside to visit and he'd make a really good, fat ol' house cat, but two is plenty, especially when one sneezes several times a day. Barney and Thelma have beautiful winter coats - soft, silky and fluffy. Thelma seems to weigh twice as much as when she came here. I'd say she's fat and happy.

Oscar snugged in quilt.

 Barney in ugly chair. He thinks it was made for him.

Neat storage boxes wrapped in newsprint and old maps. January's Country Living.

Tennessee Williams quotation from intro to The Glass Menagerie, this month's book club book. Very modern though written over 60 years ago. I often feel this way when I start a project - the fun is in the planning. I can't "camp" for looking out the lace curtains!

Little Lucy.

Love my kitties, aggravation and all. Love my Oscar. Love my old man. Love home. Friday night. Time for pizza.

Happy Birthday, Goobie - 113.