Earthworm of Trill
Mar. 29th, 2023 10:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoAll up and down our street, workers are digging up the edge of the lawns. Previously, they marked all of the utilities with little colored flags, and occasionally with cryptic symbols spray-painted on the grass. When I left this morning to ferry Madame to the cafe, they were industriously spading up the horrible clay soil that we must all contend with. I felt sorry for them, not only because of the clay, but also because by that time, it was snowing quite hard. It really was blizzardy, and I had to clean off the car before I could go. I thought "Good heavens, how many more trips must I make in foul weather?" Madame was already waiting by the front door. I saw her through the glass because she was wearing her red sweater. She had decided not to take "this contraption," as she refers to her walker, and made do with just a cane. I dropped her off at the door, as I usually do, so she would not have to make her way across the parking lot.
She didn't push me to take her to her house to retrieve her car, although she did suggest it. I had to demur as gracefully as possible. This harrows my soul. I so long to see her making her getaway victoriously, but I don't want to get embroiled in her family conflict, and much more than that, I fear being the facilitator of her destruction. If she did get in her car and had an accident, I'd never forgive myself. I wish her kids would settle this in some sensible fashion, but I have no control over that, either. I grieve along with her for her loss of that independence and enterprise that has been such an essential part of her life. It also makes me pre-grieve my own future--which I probably shouldn't do, because I have no idea how that will play out. The thing is, everyone is fine, or thinks they are, until they suddenly are not. I wish I didn't have to think about it right now, but with Madame before my eyes as a living example, I can't help it.
Anyway, we had a nice time while we were there, and by the time we'd finished our lunch, the sun had come out and most of the slush had melted. The Sparrowhawk found out while I was away that the work in progress is installation of fiberoptic cable for a municipal wifi system. Now there's a tidy little cage around each of the rather deep holes in everyone's front lawn. I only slept for five hours last night, so I was fairly tired when I got home. The Sparrowhawk was also not at 100%--still recuperating from Monday night, perhaps. He had mopped the kitchen and dining room floors and cleaned the microwave, so no wonder he was tired! I cut up the chicken breast I meant to cook yesterday, coated it with flour, sea salt, pepper, thyme, and parsley, sauteed it with mushrooms and onions, then poured in part of a bottle of champagne that we'd never finished off, and simmered it until the sauce was gravy-like. Champagne chicken! Steamed carrots with dill and butter, and some rice made a nice simple meal. I always feel pleased with myself when I can create a fresh, fairly healthy dinner in roughly the time it would take for the pizza delivery to arrive. Not that there's anything wrong with pizza . . . . The sun was still shining, and the Sparrowhawk thought I should take a walk while he yielded to my persuasion to take a nap, but I decided I'd be better off joining him. And now we're going to go back to bed again. Hopefully NOT to wake up at sparrow fart this time!
She didn't push me to take her to her house to retrieve her car, although she did suggest it. I had to demur as gracefully as possible. This harrows my soul. I so long to see her making her getaway victoriously, but I don't want to get embroiled in her family conflict, and much more than that, I fear being the facilitator of her destruction. If she did get in her car and had an accident, I'd never forgive myself. I wish her kids would settle this in some sensible fashion, but I have no control over that, either. I grieve along with her for her loss of that independence and enterprise that has been such an essential part of her life. It also makes me pre-grieve my own future--which I probably shouldn't do, because I have no idea how that will play out. The thing is, everyone is fine, or thinks they are, until they suddenly are not. I wish I didn't have to think about it right now, but with Madame before my eyes as a living example, I can't help it.
Anyway, we had a nice time while we were there, and by the time we'd finished our lunch, the sun had come out and most of the slush had melted. The Sparrowhawk found out while I was away that the work in progress is installation of fiberoptic cable for a municipal wifi system. Now there's a tidy little cage around each of the rather deep holes in everyone's front lawn. I only slept for five hours last night, so I was fairly tired when I got home. The Sparrowhawk was also not at 100%--still recuperating from Monday night, perhaps. He had mopped the kitchen and dining room floors and cleaned the microwave, so no wonder he was tired! I cut up the chicken breast I meant to cook yesterday, coated it with flour, sea salt, pepper, thyme, and parsley, sauteed it with mushrooms and onions, then poured in part of a bottle of champagne that we'd never finished off, and simmered it until the sauce was gravy-like. Champagne chicken! Steamed carrots with dill and butter, and some rice made a nice simple meal. I always feel pleased with myself when I can create a fresh, fairly healthy dinner in roughly the time it would take for the pizza delivery to arrive. Not that there's anything wrong with pizza . . . . The sun was still shining, and the Sparrowhawk thought I should take a walk while he yielded to my persuasion to take a nap, but I decided I'd be better off joining him. And now we're going to go back to bed again. Hopefully NOT to wake up at sparrow fart this time!
