I got up this morning about 8 o’clock and went almost immediately to finish the dolly that I showed yesterday. I painted the blonde’s face (I don’t like that one near as well and unfortunately it showed when I did the face- droopy eyes and a large and ungraceful mouth) and even made a carrying bag for her that snaps shut and resembles a pillow case. I have a feeling that a childs size pillow would fit in it and she could take it all to granny’s house. I came out of the back room and checked on the time and lo and behold, it was 11 o’clock! Holy cow where did my morning go? I’m still in my pajamas and sitting in the living room. One of the older J’s picked up the younger ones because she and my husband and I switch off watching them. So now I’m left with a nice quiet albeit messy house and I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself today. I was ecstatic to see that several of my seeds have little green sprouts now and I went over each egg carton checking to see which plants were up and if any more showed signs of saying hello today. I was not disappointed. I also saw the prettiest cardinal couple out the window of my sewing room and made a mental note to mention them as these are really the first signs of birds we’ve had. I knew my ant was a sign that spring was on its way. I feel rather brilliant now even tho its supposed to be cold all week.
On a sadder note, I’ve got a memorial service to go to for a very dear family friend tomorrow night and I’m not sure what to wear. When my grandmother died, I wore jeans and the brightest red sweater because those are happy colors and my gramma wouldn’t have recognized me in something else. That was with family who understood my eccentricities tho and I’m not sure Frank’s family will feel the same. I met this man when I was 4 or 5 years old tho and he was like an uncle to me. Again, I was always in jeans when he was around. I’m a daddy’s girl and a tomboy and when Frank was over I was usually working outside with him and my dad so pretty clothes had no place in my life. I’ve never been good at this stuff anyway.
Frank was one of the last of a dying breed. He had family connections to the mob and of course that means he was Italian. I remember debating with him over whether or not you could make manicotti with cottage cheese in place of ricotta. I’m anti-ricotta for the most part and to him that was close to sacrilegious. Thats just the kind of guy he was. But always very upbeat and sure of himself and where he stood with life. He smoked who knows how many cigarettes a day but contrary to our expectations that wasn’t what got him in the end. I’m really going to miss seeing him around and this is yet another reminder to me that I should stay in touch with the people I care about because you never know when they won’t be around any more.