Isn't seven supposed to be a lucky number? I feel lucky. At least in terms of the nest. I still love it and enjoy it and appreciate it. Which is good because I've been spending a lot of time here lately.
I am still ambivalent about Hood River but watching all the little shops on Oak street work hard to survive Covid shut downs has had an impact on me. I'm not likely to shop in them. There is a really expensive clothing shop that doesn't have my size. It was interesting to see people come and go to pick up things. Not trying anything on. Not hanging out. The flower shop on Mother's day. Meeting people at the curb with masks on. The Italian place making a take out window and coming up with special dinners. It felt like a community. I may not be a complete part of it but I live here.
It doesn't really matter how I feel about the Hood. I didn't go out much before the virus.
After a month or so of not swimming my right knee, the more painful of the two, started locking up. It was extremely painful. Is extremely painful. I think it might be pain from a pinched nerve in my back. I think that because the pain starts in my hip and goes through my knee and down the front of my calf. Something similar happened last year in my left knee and after a lot of rest it settled down. I'm laying around with a heating pad on my back. An ice pad on my knee. Getting old ain't for sissies.
Last year was the year I began using my dishwasher. I had used it from time to time but never regularly. I don't really use a lot of dishes. I'm not even sure what started it. I think it was one time when I used a lot of pots, pans and dishes for a meal. And then it just became a habit. It takes me a week to fill it up. It's not that big.
I haven't been to the grocery store in months. My friends bring me food. I can't do a lot of food prep because of the knee but it works out.
It doesn't feel like seven years. It feels like much less but also much more. The mommie time was a lifetime. I remember the first year. The mommie had come to visit and then I went back to NC to spend a few months with her. When I came back the nest didn't smell like me. It didn't smell like anything. Now it smells like me. Some times it smells like her. So much of her stuff is here. When I open her jewelry box I smell her. It smells like detergent and candles and what ever is in the fruit bowl.
These days I'm just looking up from my book, out the window. The view is summer green. This is where I live. My little nest.