A little bit of wild

I've been working on getting the house looking more like a house. I told my brother-in-law I was working on the living room. "You mean the golf-storage room?" Yeah, that's about it! This past Monday, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I brought the 500 cookbooks upstairs to the den, and moved the wine cabinet out of the living room to another place in the house. The living room got painted, and there is no more O.S. color. (O stands for orange, and you'll have to guess the S. Bob, my dear F.I.L. so named the color!) Now the living room is a lovely neutral color. Yesterday, I had help in moving things around the house, and now the living room looks almost like a living room! Today I bought two chairs to go in the living room. A zebra chair! Perfect! Nothing makes a girl feel better than a little bit of wild.

Someone who hasn't seen me since Peter's funeral asked how I was doing. She supposed out loud that I must think of him when something comes along that reminds me of him; something I see, such as his picture, and as a result, I get sad. Obviously, she hadn't experienced grief, at least lately. I always think of Peter, and I'm sometimes happy, and sometimes sad; sometimes feeling strong, sometimes feeling weak, but he's always near. Anyway, I don't fault her. I am living this grief and not just being surprised by a jolt here and there.

I see January 27th coming up, and February 27th isn't far behind. What is it about this "year"? 365 days. A trip around the sun. A return to the season, to the time of a great loss, a great sadness. I don't know if I should have people over to commemorate this, or what. I will know, I hope.

Meanwhile, I do laugh, and I do start to hope. And, I'm enjoying a little bit of wild. I think Peter would enjoy that I do.

Kara