My digital picture folders start with May, 2004. Thought I’d pull some out into the fresh air.
There were a couple of young Breagha, but I can’t.
I do hate this month so, so much. Here I am, larking about the place… dogs in tow, fire extinguisher in hand… (I’m not a good cook) and 1,000 miles away a fecking great bloody hurricane storms up the Texas/Louisiana border lashing everything half to death with the waters of the Gulf.
It’s not as if I wanted the blasted thing here, but there is an element of… guilt… for some reason. We south Floridians have had so many similar ‘episodes’ that we might be better equipped to deal, if you understand me. We’ve had to rebuild our homes. The cracker box has Cat 4 windows (even if they did install them wrong side around – shhh… don’t tell the man!), a new roof and new doors that Jesus himself, should He decide to come round for a cuppa, couldn’t manage without a key.
A Cat 4 is catastrophic anywhere, though. I’m not looking at the aftermath because I don’t need to – August 24, 1992 is still fresh in my mind. Hurricane Andrew blew in as a Cat 5 and changed the landscape… and many lives… forever. Laura will do the same as those before her.
People ask -as if no one’s thought it before- “why would you live in such a place?” Gee, why would anyone live in ‘tornado alley’? There are many reasons, but most important among ours is money. Will we move when the man retires? I don’t know. There is the ocean, after all…
This is just to say: Feck off, August.
I think this picture adequately describes my mood.
In other news, my long time stylist retired. Yes, I am bereft. Guess my long, stringy hair will remain that way…
One year ago tonight I took Bree on her last car ride.
It’s been a long, bad year. Other than that horrible night I’ve not mourned her, pushing everything down deep.. so far down I couldn’t feel anything. Then a week ago I was cleaning the house, listening to music (some of us dinosaurs still have iPods!) and James Taylor’s Never Die Young started. I didn’t notice, until he sang “…take the sky, forsake the moon…”. And I collapsed into a weeping rag. You could have done anything to me at that moment; I was immersed in grief, not reality.
Younghaven’s Take the Sky, a.k.a. ‘Breagha’
Guess you’re really gone. At least I can cry for you now. I will forever miss you and forever look for you everywhere, as if you’re only just out of sight.
Yep, it got me. Preparation for our new fence led to cleaning out weeds and… rash. But I can’t find the plant. Every year… but I can never find it. How crazy is that?
Meanwhile, I’ve got a massive canna near the front door. Think I’m hoping that it, along with the v. large green thing on the other side of the walk, it will discourage visitors. Let me tell you, Amazon drivers are not easily intimidated by foliage. Thankfully, neither are Whole Foods delivery drivers.
Yesterday we had a Publix delivery… (Of course I’m spoiled now.) Our first smoker. The bags were horrible; they smelled like they’d been sitting in a giant ashtray and someone had exhaled smoke right into them. We almost vomited. My allergies went insane and I was drugged and in bed by 7:00p.
I did contact Instacart and they “unpaired this shopper from all of your future orders.”
The fence went in yesterday, but I’ve yet to get any good pictures.
Later, gators. Must soak my arm in salt water. Oh, hell yes it’s infected! Grrr…