Ungodly Hour.

Well, it is not such an ungodly early hour that I need to worry about it, but I do realize that I write so many posts that some of them seem to slip by you. I will try to contain this constant need to write, but I can’t help myself, it is like mopping up the kitchen floor with the faucet turned on, more and more keeps pouring out and you can’t get the floor dry.

If I were a novel writer, I would say that these are my prolific days. Maybe I should be writing the great American novel instead, except that I don’t do fiction well. I can only write first account narratives. I never do have the necessary patience to write good dialog and have my characters come over as sincerely engaged people. They all seem kind of like soap opera actors with bad lines who have been stupefied by some drug.

Anyway, I slept a decent enough time and I was happy to wake up and get the day started, but now it is pouring rain outside, it is really coming down by the buckets full. Hopefully this will clear up by the time Jesker and I need to take our walk. I can walk under an umbrella, but Jesker refuses to walk in the rain and can you blame him? He has one good look outside the front door and heads back inside again. That dog wasn’t born yesterday.

Does it seem to you that time is slipping through your hands like very fine sand and that it was only yesterday that it was wintertime and now it is almost summer solstice and where did the time go? It is scary how it just seems to disappear like fog in the hot sun. I am so totally unprepared for summer emotionally. In my mind I am still at the beginning of springtime. I want to call a halt to it and have several people help me slow it down by some huge effort, but I’m afraid it can’t be done and I just have to live these June days with a greater awareness. I try to pay attention to the changes in nature all around me, but it seems to happen in one big burst overnight, as if I was not consciously aware of it and I regret that very much. I would like to do it all over again in slow motion.

I have told you about the “finding clothes in the closet” phenomenon, haven’t I? Yesterday I found the cutest top and I thought, “Oh wow, does that belong to me? I must try it on and see how it looks.” It looked great and it had a familiar label on it, so I know I bought it myself, but again, I have no memory of it. I have no idea when I bought it and under what circumstances. It does make diving into my my closet very interesting and this was after I had already cleaned it out and taken some things out that I didn’t wear anymore. I blame it on the Irene woman, I don’t think Nora would do things like this, but we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe it is an eccentricity that belongs to the whole character. Nora will not have the money to do it however. She will have to think about every dime she spends. I sure as hell hope she doesn’t take up shoplifting or robbing gas stations to finance her clothing passion.

Jeez, women!

It rained so hard that it woke up Eduard, but the water was coming of the roof like a waterfall, because the drain pipe is plugged up again and a man will have to come and fix it. Actually, where the water lands is where two of the little trees are, so it isn’t all that bad. The mountain ash berry trees that we thought were dead and that are now growing like crazy. One for my daughter and one for my son. And the third little one for my grandson.

My god, I am too young to be a grandmother. Somebody shake me and wake me up. The child is nine years old already. I hardly ever see him, that’s why it makes it such a surreality. I am not confronted with it every day and then he does call me Grandma instead of Oma, which would really make me feel old. Grandma still sounds alien enough to me. As if it concerns someone else but me. Oma would be someone like my grandmother, who was always ancient to me and never young and modern and happy. I think my grandmother turned old when she was 39.

Well, dear people, that’s about it for me for today. It’s thankfully Thursday, although I really don’t give a hoot which day it is and it is all the same to me since my emancipation. Certain days stopped having special significance for me and now they are all equally interesting and full of potential to me. See if I care if it is Saturday or Sunday, every day is Nora day.

Have a good one, see my other blog, “Nog eens een keer een leuke weblog…”

Ciao…