and wasps, bumblebees, bats, and pollen. Yep, I’ve encountered each of them this week. Oh, I forgot about the brown rabbit romping in the uncut grass in my backyard. Ears sticking up like twin radars tuning in to the sweet sounds of springtime. Looks like rain is headed this way tonight which means the lovely yellow color of pollen will wash away from everything exposed. My sinuses send their best regards. I’ve finally figured out this deal with the blog postings. So glad, as I enjoy writing and keeps both fingers and mind nimble. Today has been very fortunate for me, obtaining a trunkload of flat boxes and a backseat of ready boxes for a yard sale. All free. Shying away from this for years, it is time to gather those items and sit through a few hours of people. Last time I held one I still showed signs of youthfulness in hair color. ūüėÄ A different mindset is what I’ve embarked upon this time. That makes all the difference in the world. Besides, it’s interesting to watch people and getting paid a bit to do so is pure bonus. With a cleaned out section of my house that makes for a third times’ the charm, don’t you think?

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in sixteen days. Years ago birthdays meant presents and fun. They snuck up on you and yelled, ¬†‚ÄėSurprise!‚Äô¬†like some secret party that you were already aware of and yet had to pretend to be caught off guard.

Now they come often, with a matter-of-fact approach. Whispering every quarter, ‚ÄėGosh, only x more months and you‚Äôll be that age.‚Äô

I listen. 

My ducks aren’t all in a row on anything. Some are missing, misplaced and generally not at attention. These days writing is therapeutic.

Many years have passed. Some things are resolved I think, others are not so clear. Mostly it is learning to accept my lot in life.

I live a life that is day to day. In truth, I have no idea who I am. Roles are played that the day calls for. It is the only way I know. Shakespeare said something of the sort. My script was written for a set number of acts and then my portion of the play will be finished. Times of happiness, as well as sorrow and sadness. All in a play. All in a life. 

The name of this blog reflects¬†how¬†¬†I spend¬†my evenings.¬†¬†Dishwashing is almost a lost art among women thanks to¬†automatic dishwashers and throw away products. Personally, I’ve found solace in a sinkful of soapy water. It gives me time to reflect on the earlier day’s activities, bringing into balance the oncoming night. During the day the double sided sink is the catch all for the nutrition gamut of the household. At the end of the day it becomes the resting place for the final cleansing of both dish and soul. The water and suds piling up. Dirty dishes, cups, glassware, utensils, and pots each taking their turn in the hot ¬†gray water, giving up the caked on, drunk from, smeared on cares of¬† daily life. Clean again, waiting to take on the next fulfillment of their purpose.

Sometimes I wonder if they dread seeing the cupboard open. With hands reaching toward them, knowing¬†¬†that they are about to be *used*. But then…that is their purpose. And when they once again set patiently waiting, they no doubt, have a sense of having done their duty. I wish I could always say the same.