That's mighty neighborly of you

My neighbor across the street had just finished pressure washing her aggregate driveway when I got home from an errand. I stopped to say hello. She said, "We could pressure wash your aggregate steps and path and get rid of all of that moss."
"Oh, yeah, we should do that sometime," I said, thinking nothing of it really.
"What are you doing right now?" she asked.

My front steps are beautiful. They didn't look this good four years ago when we bought the house. My husband who doesn't really notice much noticed the difference right off. Pressure washing was also kind of addictive. The back spray felt good because it was about 86 degrees Fahrenheit. We ran out of gas, but I think in the next day or two I might borrow it again and do the driveway and the curb. Fun, fun.

Afterwards we all had big glasses of iced tea.

I love getting to know my neighbors. They are really all very kind people. I feel blessed.

Another quote that resonates with me

"I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden or silver fetters."

From Walden Pond by Henry David Thoreau

Silly life getting all complicated and topsy turvy.

I don't know that I will be keeping this blog anymore. We had a vacation for a week (a while ago) and had no cell phone access and no computer access. I was jonesing the first day or two and then afterwards it seemed easier and better. I'm back to my old ways with the cell phone, but I'm trying to keep some distance from teh internets. I get sucked in too easily, like TV. I also need to go back to work. We finally figured out why we always have credit card debt. It is because we are running a deficit. I'm going to pursue being a doula. I've done doula work for friends, but now I'm going public. It is exciting and scary. My husband is being really supportive. I have to get a business license and everything.

Here is a lovely quote from a poem by W.B. Yeats.

May we two stand,
When we are dead, beyond the setting suns,
A little from the other shades apart,
With mingling hair, and play upon one lute.