september 17th. the end of the birthdays
Well I spent the entire afternoon going around and around on the mower tractor. The field, which took me at least 3 or 4 days earlier this summer, took me 4 hours.
I had thought it would take me 4 hours, and I was exactly right.
The tractor ( IH 766) is a wreck, but I can't really pick on a running tractor since mine is clutchless at the moment. However, it has a cab which is absolutely full of spiderwebs, completely filthy, and the windows are completely rusted. So much so that the sound of the rusted window frame constantly banging as I drove was almost as loud as the tractor and the mower. The windows are so rusted that they can't be opened any more than a few inches, and it was hot in there.
Driving around and around for hours I get into the zone where I am on autopilot and start thinking of all sorts of stuff.
Goth baby clothes.
Today is my Memaw Bonnies birthday, 94th I think. I sent her a card, even though she tells me she doesn't like to celebrate birthdays. Too bad. I do.
We have been correspondants since as far back as I can remember. I'll bet I've gotten 200 letters from her.
It is also my mothers birthday, at 74.
I start thinking about her announcement to me one day in 1975 or so that she had cancer, then her berating me the next day because I didn't react correctly ( I guess I didn't read the manual). Strangely enough after that particular bout of emotional manipulation, she never mentioned it again, and now over 30 years later, she's still alive. Or so I think she is. and that's all I want to say about that.
I had thought it would take me 4 hours, and I was exactly right.
The tractor ( IH 766) is a wreck, but I can't really pick on a running tractor since mine is clutchless at the moment. However, it has a cab which is absolutely full of spiderwebs, completely filthy, and the windows are completely rusted. So much so that the sound of the rusted window frame constantly banging as I drove was almost as loud as the tractor and the mower. The windows are so rusted that they can't be opened any more than a few inches, and it was hot in there.
Driving around and around for hours I get into the zone where I am on autopilot and start thinking of all sorts of stuff.
Goth baby clothes.
Today is my Memaw Bonnies birthday, 94th I think. I sent her a card, even though she tells me she doesn't like to celebrate birthdays. Too bad. I do.
We have been correspondants since as far back as I can remember. I'll bet I've gotten 200 letters from her.
It is also my mothers birthday, at 74.
I start thinking about her announcement to me one day in 1975 or so that she had cancer, then her berating me the next day because I didn't react correctly ( I guess I didn't read the manual). Strangely enough after that particular bout of emotional manipulation, she never mentioned it again, and now over 30 years later, she's still alive. Or so I think she is. and that's all I want to say about that.
posted by sarah at 6:58 PM
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