What Rosie Did Today. And It Was Not Fun.

Is today Tuesday? I really don't know at this point. If it is, then I spent Monday and Sunday cleaning up most of the branches, limbs, and debris in the yard. I'm oblivious to time right now, except I realized a little while ago that tomorrow is Mr. Hawthorne's birthday. I'm in the middle of hurricane clean up and Mr. Hawthorne is selfish enough to throw in a birthday. The nerve. OK. Just checked my calendar and indeedy it is Tuesday, August 30, 2011. Before I show you what I accomplished today, I have to mention what semi-disasters like this do to neighbors. We band together. We help each other out. We talk. We joke. We laugh. Because we need to. We need each other. And everyone gives their all. Friends and neighbors come to help you. It's a beautiful thing. And something I appreciate very much. The camaraderie is wonderful and uplifting. I've met so many lovely, hardworking people. They're out here scavenging. In people's crap. I believe they get $250 a load for scrap metal, dishwashers, water heaters, washers, dryers. Steel is in big demand. I'm keeping all the copper we have. People are in pain for cash. They're combing the area for $$$$$$.

Here's the swan that swam into my yard. Hopefully, his owner will see him in my front yard and reclaim him.

I found this waterlogged pamphlet from Main Street Methodist Church in Danville, Va.

Guess who this little cherub in the middle is. I remember Mama Hawthorne cut my hair. She would comb my bangs down my forehead, apply a length of scotch tape where she wanted to cut, and would snip exactly along the tape line. I always hated my bangs. She did this until I was in the 10th grade, I think. I rebelled at that point. And I've been a renegade ever since.

I found this Quarterly Conference Records book from 1878-1882. With the beautiful handwriting artistry.

This is my before carport. In the very back on the right hand side where you can't really see it, there's a huge pile-up, both vertically and horizontally, of an assortment of lumber/molding/pickets/ peg board/cork board/ad nauseum/ad finitum, which Mr. Hawthorne has saved since the house was built in 1987. Just in case he needs them for a project. His last "project" was 15 years ago.

I know. I know.

Rosie is a freakin' slob.

The extra door has been there since 1989. Two years after we built the house, the front door, which is now the side door (We added on.), got a slight crack in it. We informed the supplier and they gave us a new door. So all of this is NOT Rosie's fault. Others are to blame too.

Rosie had a whole slew of slobs contributing.

Slowly, but surely, I'm cleaning up.

Dixie is curious about this new space.

Everything is going outside.

Lookie! Progress!!

Click the pic and check out those lovely rose-colored glass lamps from Mama Hawthorne's. I didn't even know they were packed down there. Need to get Mr. Hawthorne to rewire them since they were underwater.

My front yard is starting to look like Sandford and Son's.

My trash pile in the cul de sac is growing.

Rosie takes time out to relax in her beach chair and read Mama Hawthorne's waterlogged cookbooks.

Check out my carport now! Only eight hours worth of work. Sprayed, bleached, and brushed. You know what? I might just pressure spray this tomorrow. I'm very excited. I can actually get my truck in here now. My truck has never seen the inside of my carport.

Still a muddy mess outside.

Check out Rosie's plaques. I told you I used to be a photographer in another life.

I'm trying to dry out books on the hood of the trucks.

My trash pile is piling up. I can't tell you how happy I am to throw this crap out.

My trash pile groweth.

Neighbor's crap.

My driveway.

This book was high and dry. I've started reading it.