The View from the Hermitage, Day 195

I posted something on Facebook I'm going to repeat here. I think my favorite author is Mary Doria Russell. I picked up her first--and at that point, only--book The Sparrow at the local Barnes and Noble and read the first page. I marveled at how well it was written and bought it on the spot knowing nothing about it but the title and that it was science fiction. I follow Russell's blog, and each year at Yom Kippur, she repeats a post at the request of her brother concerning the unexpected death of his fiance. This year's posting can be found here. Each year, I take a deep breath, read the post, and remind myself to live by it for it is wise indeed. I could include an excerpt from it here, but it is more important that you read the whole thing.

I have always been big on telling the husband and sons that I love them. We typically do not end a phone conversation or a visit without trading that sentiment. I'm not sure why I started doing this. It is not something I grew up with. I am glad that the sons have picked up the habit; I am not always the one saying "I love you" first. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. Heck, we don't know what an hour from now will bring. We know that we love each other, but I can't imagine not telling them.

Mad face! I had a paragraph about HWSNBN's Supreme Court nomination and the state's and local university's covid-19 numbers. I accidentally deleted it, and the Blogger input only does one level of undoing. I am not going to re-type it now. I should probably compose posts in Word with its multiple levels of undoing and then paste them here. I doubt I remember to do that tomorrow.

I assume that I am now officially no longer associated with the local university, that all the paperwork I completed went through and is official. I am owed one paycheck which should cover the grand total of one hour of work. This coming week I get to see whether they let part-time, wage retirees keep their .edu email addresses. I've tried to move anything personal over to my personal gmail address, but after 22 years, a lot of people have the .edu one in their address book. If I can keep it, even without my alias of "jean," it would make things simpler. 

The husband and older son presented me with two bottles of champagne yesterday morning. The husband and I opened one last night; we're finishing it now. I'm typing here, and he's doing a sudoku while watching college football. There are visible signs of the unpacking and putting away I've been wrestling with. I even treated myself to some time with the felting machine. I'm trying to make a leaf design using a photo I took of a real leaf as a guide. I'll post the results when I have them.

And now I must commence with dinner preparations. But first, to anyone who reads this, I love you. I may not know you, but I love that you came here and read my random thoughts.