Wednesday September 12, 2012 outside Jimmy’s Coffee
Someday is Today
I keep making these grandiose statements like, “I’m never going to get to Bethlehem before I’m forty,” and “I’m always the last one left in the Supermarket!” My sister tells me to stop “talking in absolutes”. She went to university so has full permission to use big words and make commands. Even though she’s younger I’m not afraid to say that she far more intelligent, as that has nothing to do with age. Maybe you have to be old to realize that. I don’t know. She’s really good at being inspirational. Even when it hurts a bit.
I just say, “Hyacinth, you’re thirty nine years old, have eight hundred and four dollars in your bank account and a closet full of black. Get it together.”
I went down to the library and took out a book on opening your mind. I wonder if it’s working.
I stopped by a garage sale on Saturday morning and guess what I bought. A pink tank top with small green birds on it. I’m not sure what breed of bird they are, or species, or whatever… I bought a Bruce Springsteen tape and a coffee table with a few shiny farm equipment stickers on it. When I was carrying my finds home a blue convertible Fiat car honked at me. “Hyacinth!” It was my sister. I told her I’d rather walk. “It’s opening my mind,” I said. “It looks like you’re struggling with that table!” She said.
Wednesday September 12, 2012
Someday is Today
It’s a good place for two. There are only two of them so it’s a good place for that.
She has candles and things. Probably for ambiance and house-warming, hosting prodigy, way to go.
She has a huge hole in the bathroom wall behind the door that she’s managed to cover with a cute scarf of sorts. No one knows it’s there but she makes guests use the other bathroom just in case they get curious and don’t taker her decorative tactics at face value. She won’t say how the hole got there but she did it. She was trying a DIY project that she saw on Pinterest and it really wasn’t a DIY but a DIYWH. That’s Do It Yourself With Help.
All of those crafts were things she vowed to herself she’d be good at one night with a bottle of a Yellowtail Shiraz and an open window into the possibilities of her future. She was confident then, not so confident now, but no one knows but her. And I know. But I know everything about her so it’s not such a big deal.
I also know that her candles are season-oriented and even if they’re not fully burned down, she puts them away and takes out Pumpkin Spice or Apple Cinnamon depending on the day and who’s coming over.
That’s nice, I think, but we don’t need any help figuring out what season it is. We wear coats and we know. And in the summer if I smell the beach and I’m not on the beach I don’t feel good, I feel angry. She doesn’t need to know that part though.