I was driving home from church yesterday. As I pulled into my driveway and got out of my Jimmy, I heard someone call my name. I turned around and it was Norma, a lady I used to work with out at the plant.
"I didn't know you bought this house," she said.
"Yeah," I replied. "I moved in the middle of September."
"Well, I live just right over there," she said as she pointed to the house across the street and one over from Mr. Clark. I have another neighbor that I already know, so yay!
The rest of the weekend was much less eventful. Since I'd made such a success cleaning up the back bedroom, I thought I'd work on the other bedroom -- which is my office/craft/snake room. When we were bringing in my filing cabinet, it fell over and got bent out of shape. The drawers weren't shutting correctly, so I took everything out and beat the cabinet back into place. It's still kind of crooked, but at least the drawers shut now.
Instead of just shoving everything back in, I took the opportunity to sort through and get rid of what I don't need any more. Which means most of what was in there in the first place. Seriously, most of it was owner's manuals to stuff I don't even own any more. Cody's potty seat? Seriously? Why did I keep that?
It's gone now, along with a huge stack of other things, which made a nice, cheery fire in my wood burner. Speaking of fires, my wood pile is wet. I had the hardest time starting a fire yesterday morning, because of it. I started moving some of my wood into the chicken coops so it can dry out. I need to buy an ax so I can split the bigger logs down so they'll fit into my wood burner. In the meantime, I bought some of those duraflame type logs to burn. It's supposed to get down into the 30s this weekend, so they ought to come in handy.
This morning, the weirdest thing happened. I got up at my usual 3:30 AM, and went to work at 5. I got there and there was nobody there. I mean, nobody. The parking lot was empty. That was just a bit freaky to be the only person in the whole plant. They'd cut out the early morning overtime, and my supervisor forgot to tell me. So, yippee to no more early mornings, but boo to no more overtime.
Finally, in my mad house cleaning binge over the weekend, I found this old photo.
The date on the back is November 2, 1980. That would have made me just a few days shy of turning 16. This is my step grandma Vivian. My grandma died in September 1979, so Grandpa and Vivian had only been married a few weeks when this was taken.
When they first married, we kids were a bit bumfuzzled as to what we should call her. It seemed disrespectful and rude to call her Vivian, but we couldn't call her Grandma. Grandma was Grandma. Finally, my sister flat out asked her, "What should we call you?"
Vivian said, "Just call me 'Granny', like the rest of my grandchildren do."
From then on, she was Granny to us.