I wish I could write poetry. I would write one about fall in Texas. It's not like fall in other places. We don't have many pretty leaves. They usually just turn brown and start falling and filling the yard. I don't rake mine... which probably annoys my neighbors to no end. But I like the randomness of the piles of leaves in the front yard where the trees are and in the back yard where they blow in from other places. My back yard has no trees just some attack bushes. Holly bushes love to attack and scratch you when you attempt to go past them. I haven't been in the back yard much since Blarney died. It makes me a bit sad to go back there. I know I'm rambling here, but that's how fall arrives in Texas. We ramble back and forth between the end of summer (warm weather) and fall (cooler weather). I think the temperatures finally dipped below 30 degrees F last night, so it's definitely fall.
How am I doing? A bit down. Work has been stressful. When I'm home, inertia takes hold and I don't accomplish much. On weekends I manage to get the laundry done and pay the bills. But I generally just lounge in bed reading books. Chuck isn't too demanding that I do anything at all. Inertia is a good way to describe my weekends. But time for cleaning house and company is coming. We have plans to host an "American Thanksgiving" for our friends and their family that is here from China. If you remember my story about shopping with Gia, this is the same family. A big turkey and all the trimmings is being planned by Chuck. I'll be the chef's assistant.