Good news, bad news

Today has been brought to you by the letter “O”, for “opposites”.

Good news:  My friend Catherine Kenyon came over at 7:15 a.m. today and in two and half hours, we knocked out 3/4 of the yardwork.

Bad news:  My friend Catherine came over. . .Did I mention my aching muscles, sweaty personage, and the brambles that fell from my hair while we enjoyed coffee at Heirloom?

Good news:  I went out last evening!  I took a shower, washed my hair, put on a new dress, and drove to the Mission City Limits patio at RJ’s.   Jake Carmack, Angela Garrett-Carmack, Jeremy Clark, Susan Williams, and the  other members of The Accidental Project entertained a full house.  Lori Hooten cajoled me the whole way with encouraging text messages.

Bad news:  I’ve set a dangerous precedent which Lori will be expecting me to repeat.

Good news: Somehow I managed to agree that my secretary could be off tomorrow, Tuesday, and Wednesday, which will enable her to enjoy a mini-vacation and complete the process of enrollment for Longview Community College.

Bad news:  If I want to get any work done before Thursday, I’m on my own, which seems to characterize much of my working life, to my frustration. (Wait:  That’s a complaint.  It’s true, but a complaint nonetheless.)(So disregard that  .  . . she says, grinning.)

Good news: The person who dumped a beer on my favorite little refurbished Lenovo at the fiscal-year-end party of my Rotary Club paid 1/2 the cost to replace it.

Bad news:  The new one won’t be delivered until Thursday.

I’ve got another little refurbished Lenovo, older, which sits on the desk in my upstairs haven.  I’ve gotten accustomed to having one that I can tote everywhere but which lives on the first floor, and one which stays where I can write while gazing through the broken blind on the soft blue sky or the winking stars.  Let’s put this in the category of #FirstWorldProblems.

I genuinely enjoyed my evening among the living.  Farmer Steve Greene whisked into the place before the ice had melted in my one-and-only drink, completing the four-top with myself, Lori, and her friend Suzie.  We ratcheted the hilarity to full-throttle, made friends with the waitress, cat-called the band, and generally proved that we knew how to enjoy ourselves at least before midnight.

Along the way I managed to convince myself, if only for three hours, that everything will, indeed, be fine in the end.

It’s the second day of the forty-third month of My [Very, Very, Long Journey to Joy While Trying to Live a Whole] Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

 

Ruthie Becker, Artist, owner of Gallery 504, and jeremy Clark’s lady

My Amish glads in front of Ruthie’s painting of her daughter, a woman caught in the throes of family violence.

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