Posted tagged ‘small house’

“The greater part of the world’s troubles are due to questions of grammar.”

August 12, 2017

It is quite late for my posting. I first woke up at 7:30, and when Gracie heard me, she left her crate and came to me in the den, her usual morning routine. We went to the door, and as soon as I opened it, she backed away. It was raining quite heavily. I went back to bed and Gracie joined me on the couch. We both slept away the morning.

The day is very dark and very still. All my windows are closed. The rain has stopped, and I miss the beating of rain on the roof. It has always been on the list of my favorite sounds. If I were to build a tiny house in my yard, it would have a metal roof. I would go there every time it rained.

One Easter, I wanted a suit and a new blouse instead of froufrou. I had outgrown froufrou. The blouse was white with a bit of frill on the collar, and the suit was blue, a darker blue. We were at my grandmother and grandfather’s house on Easter Sunday where the whole family converged on some weekends and on every holiday. I overheard my aunt ask my mother why I was wearing a suit and not a new dress. My mother said that’s what she wanted.

Gracie and I have a couple of errands today. She needs refills on pills, and I need a few things for movie night which has been postponed until tomorrow because of inclement weather. I always wanted to use inclement weather. I didn’t have much of an opportunity.

I think television dialogue ought to set an example by using correct English. Perhaps hearing it often enough would permeate even the thickest of minds. The object of a preposition is in the objective case. Stop using I after a preposition. For example: after Don and I isn’t correct. It is after Don and me, with me being the objective case. I used to tell my students to take out the name and just use the pronoun. It would then become after I. Does that sound right? How about after me? That was lesson number 1.

“You’ve got bad eating habits if you use a grocery cart in 7-Eleven.”

January 12, 2016

We have a light snow shower which I doubt will amount to much. The flakes are tiny and susceptible to the wind. They keep changing direction. I’m staying close to hearth and home today. It’s dark and cold outside, unwelcoming.

I could do a wash, but I won’t. I could change the sheets on my bed, but I won’t do that either. According to Martha Stewart I could make my own pretzels sprinkled with my favorite toppings, but I’ll never do that. As you can tell I have no ambition today, and I’m just fine with that.

When I was a kid, it was difficult to find a place where I could be alone. The house always seemed filled with people. It was small, and there were six of us. I shared a bedroom so I couldn’t kick my sister out if she wanted in. Sometimes I’d go down the cellar and sit and read. The cellar was below ground and had those small windows high up on the walls. When the sun shined through them, I could see dust in the light. I didn’t care. I was a kid. Dust has no meaning to a kid.

In my mind’s eye, I can see that whole house. The kitchen was small. One side had the sink, the counter and the fridge. The other side had the stove and the kitchen table. The fridge saw the most action. We’d all open it and stand there looking. I always had the hope they’d be something delicious, but delicious disappeared really fast in my house. My mother always yelled for me to close the fridge,”Get what you want then close it!” I didn’t know what I wanted. It was usually an exploratory hunt.

My parents grocery shopped on Friday evenings. My dad had to take my mother as she didn’t drive. They’d carry the filled brown grocery bags into the house, and we’d empty them not as a help, but to find the Oreos, the go to cookie in our house. There were always Oreos but not for long.

“A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule.”

October 18, 2013

Today was a break in routine, an out to breakfast morning. My friend and I decided to celebrate the Sox winning the game last night with breakfast. In the old days, I would have celebrated during the whole game and suffered for it this morning. I can remember going to work barely able to open my eyes and with a headache which made me think the top of my head had erupted. I was a whole lot younger then.

When I was in elementary school, my friend I walked to school together every day. She lived at the top of the hill facing the small rotary in the cul-de-sac. She lived on the same side of the duplex  where we once had lived. I remember that house really well. The kitchen was small, the spot for the table was by the window and there were only two bedrooms. The stairs were the best part as there was a small landing, and I used to arrange pillows and sit there and read. We moved from there when my sister was born as we needed more space. We moved down the hill to a bigger duplex apartment, one with three bedrooms.

They called where we lived the project. It was composed of wooden duplexes, either twelve or fourteen of them; I don’t remember which. We lived in the first set almost at the top of the hill. Ours was on a corner and angled to face the street. All the rest were square to the road. We had the biggest lawn in front which we shared with our neighbor. Their side of the duplex was the mirror image of ours. We also had a lawn on the side of the house which was sacred to my father. I remember it was always green and always well-trimmed. My father prided himself on his grass no matter where he lived. He swore by a hand lawn mower. He claimed it did the best job. I loved the sound of him mowing the lawn, the clicking of the blades as he moved up and down in the same pattern he always used. We weren’t ever allowed to mow the lawn. We didn’t follow the pattern right.

The cellar in that duplex was where we played a lot. The big toys were kept down there as were our bicycles in winter or summer rain. Next to the back wall was where the wringer washing machine stood next to a sink. Later on, my brother turned part of the cellar into his bedroom. He didn’t like rooming with my youngest sister. I understood that. One of the lures for our cooperation in moving down to the Cape was that he and I would each have our own bedroom. They were both on the first floor, and he used to sneak out his window late at night. I never did though I did sneak in a couple of times.

A few weeks ago my sister and I drove by our duplex. We both noticed how big the trees were but we especially noticed how awful the lawns looked, especially the one at our old house. My father would never have allowed that.