The beautiful weather of August taunts me as I find myself spending a week as assistant, caregiver, tile fixer, paint crew laison and "chief cook and bottle washer" here in suburbia turned small wealthy city via microsoft.
(My window spell check puts the angry red line under the word 'microsoft')
I went to the local Home Depot, which is probably the closest one to the famed area of downtown Bellevue, and it is busy as a beehive. Outside in the parking lot stand 10-12 Hispanic men waiting for day labor. The contrast is striking between the white population shopping, and this little group at the edges of the economy. As I leave the store with my little tube of silicone caulking, I fantasize about hiring one of them to sit and "platicar" en Espanol for an hour at the nearby Starbucks. An easy 12.00/hour or whatever their going rate is. It seems like a good story, and a great way to get my conversational Spanish up to traveling standards. Maybe I will do it in the winter, when being inside will be a welcome option.
Right now the weather in the Pacific Northwest is just lovely. When I set my Mom up for a massage yesterday, we didn't need extra heaters or blankets. The air was toasty warm naturally. We take it when we can get it.
Mom turns 87 on Friday. We have been having mini birthday events all week, including a cherry pie I made just like the ones she made from our cherries in Salem, OR, where we lived when I was little. It was a different time and place, not like this Bellevue life. Reminiscing is one of my folk's favorite pastimes these days. I totally relate, as I am old enough to love that too. I'm sure my sons have had enough of my stories about how cute they were and what funny things they did with words when they were little. Someday they may understand, as they pile on the years and realize how much there is in the old memory banks. Some precious bits bear pulling out every now and then to look at like the jewelry in safe deposit box.
Later today my sister and I will go through 45+ years of accumulated books, to find homes for them, maybe a little cash too. I'm sure the children's books will bring a little tear of nostalgia, knowing they were read to our little children by their loving grandparents. Some things will never happen again, but we hold their essence in our hearts.
