Rain delays are no good for me-- saw Fuddruckers on the Phanton Gourmet and got to thinking about my father. One of the last times we went to Boston together for appointments we stopped on Route 1. He couldn't eat his whole burger but we had a good time. Cleaning yesterday I found a letter I wrote to my father while he was still in isolation after his lung transplant, me sitting at Fuddrucker's on the way home from the hospital because I wanted to be somewhere he enjoyed.

Saw the hot peppers on the condiment bar on the television and it got me to thinking about how much my father enjoyed little things in this world. I realized how much pain he must have been in to decide to die and how long he must have been in pain.

So I start crying and I leave the room. Come in here and try to get things off my mind by checking who was voted off American Idol. Give me baseball or give me fluff-- without whiskey it is the only way I will make it through.

Do you like mail? I have a bunch of address labels I think I should use before I move. If you would like some mail send me your address and I'll see what I can do. You never know what you will get in the mail.

Just heard Frank from Gloucester for the first time ever-- funny thing, me listening to sports radio in the middle of the day. I am in a good mood today, a very good mood. Had a nice breakfast with my mother and Ralph. We walked to the house and after they had seen it all we sat on the linoleum in the living room talking for an hour or so. Good for them, good for me.

I have lettuce and peas to plant in my garden. I don't think I will plant more than that, maybe some radishes or something fast. It is sad to think of planting a garden you may not be able to harvest.

I am in serious need of paper bags for recycling.

So we bought a house. And we invited people over. And we tried to turn the water on. And there are holes in the pipes. And the plumber can't come until Wednesday.

Tired from yesterday's events and feeling a little odd. I get worried sometimes, for no reason really. All I want to do is sit very still and feel for little kicks. And they come.

Playing with Barbie

James has gone to the li-berry to see a Move-On movie and I am staying home to play with Barbie. Last time I was up in the barn I found a box of dolls and clothing, all the things my sister and I played with when we were little, covered in some sort of seed and fluff left by some small rodent. Elizabeth has asked me if I had seen this stuff a few times and I knew it would just get tossed if I didn't grab it...

Most of our Barbie stuff came from yard sales. There are 3 Western Barbie outfits but only one doll, the blue eyeshadowed winking action barely working. Outfits my grandmother made for us out of her old flannel nightgown and the legwarmers she knit, roller skates and the Barbie Dream Store, a horse carrier and dog bed... Pillars and the elevator to the town house, but I can't find the floors or back. Lots of heels and go-go boots.

Elizabeth's favorite Barbie was the one with the bangs and the long hair. She is here with just a few spots on her legs, in a Sunshine Family dress that barely fits over her curves. One of my favorites, a princess with a crown permanently atatched to her head, also fared well. Black Barbie's hair is a little much for me to handle right now. I thought we had a ton of Barbies but there are only 5 or 6 now, lined up on my kitchen counter after a thorough bath. There isn't a single Ken here. Maybe there's another box in the barn.

Clothes in the sink, some will make it into a gentle wash in the machine. Pink satin dresses, the first we had, and mini skirts made from my mother's short dresses of the sixties. Orange dress with frills much like Orange Blossom from Strawberry Shortcake would wear and a yellow and white lace number in four or five pieces to layer. Our Barbies would give Xtina a run for her fashion money.

Whiplash.

On my way to Peter's reading last night some girl thinks my car shouldn't be where it is and boom she tries to take its place with her ugly aqua machine. Baby was safe in an amniotic cushion but my head was craned over my left shoulder. Felt okay but for the ringing last night. Went to work today and found I couldn't turn my head one way. Then I couldn't turn it the other way. Then I couldn't look at the books on the top shelf.

I called the doctor and went in. Nothing to do but wear this silly collar and wait- a week or two, she says. Not my doctor but a fill-in who is as cold as ice. Now it hurts a lot and I can't do a thing. Perfect timing, no? We close on the house on Wednesday and not only will not be able to lift anything I doubt I will get much packing done since I can barely move.

Yuck.

Something tore into our trash last night, a trail of food across the front lawn. Had a very sad dream last night, a silly dream but it made me so sad I woke up crying. Sometimes these dreams come with flashing lights, neon signs saying "This is how you feel! Don't pretend you don't!" Fell back asleep again so I could wake up from a better dream.

Finishing jars of jellies and jams. Rose petal and quince, beach plum. Ginger, gooseberry, apricot and orange still too full to consider. Wash the linens and pack them away, tablecloths embroidered with the initials of Faulkners long gone.

Talked to the man who will sell me insurance for our house. Seems he used to own it. Talked about used books and NPR, book dealers selling online. He reads science fiction and orders British authors from a man in Canada before they are published here. He is happy we don't have a dog or a trampoline.

Work today, new catalog out. Body feels wrecked, back and hips. I swear I will be in better shape before I do this again. This winter's stress and sorrow must have taken its toll. Strengthen and stretch to baseball, music and reading. Must not sway my back.

Time to take time for myself. The little one in my belly is making his or her presence known. There is a house on Knowlton Square that should be ours by month's end and with it hours of cleaning and painting and moving. The old folks downstairs have left for a month or two, granting me rights to their cable and Red Sox games and leaving rooms I can fill with boxes until I have a basement of my own.

Rush hour traffic this morning and I don't see how people do that daily. Funny how as each of these issues is resolved-- big and little worries washing away-- the sadness and joy is still there. With more time to think I miss my father more and more and with things quieting down I am enjoying these little feet kicking my belly. All this makes a girl weepy and it is best not to ask her why.