Secret to Slow Transitions


We drove up to Lexington from the cabin yesterday morning. Made it in two hours. Unloaded one bookcase and four heavy plastic boxes filled with art and books. I'm so glad I read the article by Jessica Stillman about the value of having more books than you can read. Unread books are even better than read. We dropped off one of the old oriental rugs to be cleaned. It will go in my studio-shed, or in the attic. A perfect place to put the books and curl up and peruse, deciding which to take down to the comfy chair and read.

While Larry tuned pianos Marcie and I wen shopping. I bought a glittery fuchsia wreath for the front door for $5.00. And came across the perfect mannequin. Every good designer needs a mannequin in her living room.


Later, on the way over to Donnie's to fix supper, we stopped by Joe and Elise's for a peppermint tea break, and to pick up newspapers for the wood stove at the cabin. When there, morning fires are a must.

Being paralyzed is not easy. Donnie has it down. "Get all your ducks in a row," is his motto.  He bought chicken. Larry sautéed while I put in a load of laundry. Over dinner we discussed plans to purchase a 3 x 4' 3/4"plywood for a ramp for him to be able to get his wheelchair into our tiny new house. After watching "Longmire," I cleaned up the kitchen. 

"Can you throw me in bed?" Donnie asked. Larry reached for the sliding board needed to transfer from chair to bed. 

Back at our dollhouse, Hignlin' greeted us, tail wagging, seeking a walk. Too cold. Too late. I'm grateful for the picket fence dog yard Larry built. We sat for a moment by our fake-fire space heater. "I'm exhausted," Larry said and went to bed. I took my nightly hot bath. The secret to a slow transition is maintaining rituals.