Rebecca Nolen, Historical Diaries, writing

I’m trying to think back to when we were first married. We were so young. We thought we were so old. Thirty two years ago today we were married. It has been an interesting journey.

He admitted that if I hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have remembered. That would be a first. He has always been the first one to say it on the day of. He has always been the one to remember. So let me tell you why this year is different.

We are trying to get two houses on the market this week. Houston is experiencing an amazing seller’s market but we really can’t know that for sure until our houses sell, right?

One house is the one where the renter left in the middle of the night. The neighbors told me about the commotion waking them, and wondered why she would do that to me. I found out that she was gone on the first of the month when I told her I was coming to get the rent so she wouldn’t have to mail it. I have always had a good relationship with the renter so I was puzzled as to why she would move without notice. I found out the real reason a week later when Aaron “Rents” pulled their van into the driveway. They were looking for their furniture. which hadn’t been paid for. Okay. I get it. The renter stole the rented furniture. She plotted it well. I remember how she called me because of a leak under the sink fifteen days before she disappeared. I had it repaired immediately. Later I wondered why she didn’t take that opportunity to tell me she was moving. It was because of the plot to steal the furniture, yet she wanted to leave the house in reasonable repair. Well, I say reasonable repair without detailing the holes in the walls and the unreasonable layer of in the kitchen. There are great globs of white paint spilled on the hard-wood floors, deep scratches where something has been dragged across the wood and patches where it looks like water sat for some time. Today I discovered a layer of gunk around the baseboard. What is it? I don’t know. I think a nice thick coating of dark floor stain is in order.

The picture is of my husband while we are delivering a window from Home Depot to the house. It hardly fit in the car so we have the seats scooted as far forward as possible, the seat backs are nearly jacked-knifed into the dashboard. This is immediately after our anniversary dinner. Needless to say this is quite dangerous.

The second house is a sweet little gem in the heart of the city (Houston). The front yard is in a horrible way. Probably because I’m a gardener and can’t bear the weeds creeping from one end of a flower bed to the other. We’ve had renters here, also. They are busy guys who don’t know too much about gardens, I suppose. Details of garden mess? There are trees that have come up as volunteers – from birds planting them or squirrels forgetting where they put their stash – they’ve come up inches from the pavement so they have to be removed. It’s a shame when you can’t get a nursery-bought tree to grow but there are the wild birch, pecan, and camphor seedlings doing so well they must to be uprooted. The old shutters have finally shuffled off their earthly coil, which means they are crumbling to pieces and I can no longer glue and tape them together. The dust must be power-washed off the exterior of the house. The porch paint is chipped. That is all. The work must all be accomplished on Friday, that is the day after tomorrow. Yikes.

Then my husband’s mother has been in and out of the hospital twice since the first of May. They can’t find what is wrong with her. She has a low-grade fever and doesn’t want to eat. Then they found fluid around her heart but determined that it was a result of the vague inflammation that can’t be found. Zounds! What to do? What to do?

The grand girl isn’t feeling well, hasn’t been all week. Her temp is up and she is coughing at night.

This is keeping us from being current on birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries at the moment. So the husband is forgiven for forgetting. Plus, he is doubly forgiven because he quickly rallied and gave me a great gift card and took me to Carrabba’s Italian. It was scrumptious.

Please forgive us both if we haven’t been keeping up very well with you and yours. Happy birthday, Happy Memorial Day, Happy Anniversary, and cheers!