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Just a Day at the Laundry

Another letter home

By Ronald Gordon PauleyPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
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Just a Day at the Laundry
Photo by Benoit Debaix on Unsplash

Greetings Mum,

and thank you for the lovely letter received today – the 5th January: You must surely have lent it wings to arrive so quickly, and as usual, it was a most welcome sight.. although scrunched into an unbelievably small space they call a mailbox. Actually the letter box isn’t too small, but when you get mail for the 5 current residents and ‘several’ previous residents every day, there ain’t much space left I can tell you. It is fortunate that your letters are protected with plastic liners, as the letters are often soaked by rains because the lid won’t close, and sometimes falls off completely.

One moment please, the kettle boils.

Still there ? Good. Sorry about the interruption. I was cooking up some peppermint tea, which reminds me; we spoke of it (along with many other things) but I’ll repeat myself. Herbal teas will be very beneficial for you at this time… chamomile, peppermint and others, there are so many on the market. My favorite brand is “Celestial Seasons” (and my favorite flavors, “Almond Sunset”and “Apple Cinnamon”) which is available from most health food stores, and maybe even the new 'Woolies'. You have mentioned the side effects of some of your medications, and “getting off them” …..well, these teas will help, in a gentle way, to cleanse your system, while being tasty too. They are great hot or cold (iced) and encourage drinking more water without storing the water. No flavouring is necessary, though a touch of honey or lemon may be to your taste.

When I was getting off of caffeine, I found these an especially good alternative, both refreshing and cleansing. Of course, you have been moving at such a rapid rate, you are just as likely to have settled into this already (you were only experimenting when we spoke at Xmas). Where was I ? Oh yes, the letter box. Well any way, it is a delight to find your letters. THIS ONE gave me such a warm feel (not only from your weather)… seeing the meditation room and your comments about doing some cards to promote it encourage me immensely. I have been so hoping you might want to become part of business, if only as an avenue to market your own creations and move into the healing arena… the perfect way to create an income without earning any money personally (technically) a salve to your conscience, and buffer to your economy.

I may be jumping the gun. It’s only a thought, but it’s been on my mind for the last six months… I really think you will enjoy branching out again as your confidence catches up with your growing interests and abilities. The business around the meditation room is merely offered as one option as a framework to work within if you wish. Oops! ‘scuse me again, I put the kettle on for another batch later.

OK, Back again. I stopped for a popsicle at the freezer. I’ve been peeling and freezing bananas. Taken out within several weeks, and eaten almost immediately, they are a lovely soft, tasty iceblock dairy and sugar free… great sliced into a bowl of fruit salad too. Thought that might peak your interest on a hot summer day?

‘scuse me, Jill’s home now, I heard the light switch click downstairs. Not as dark now as it was last term I am soooo! Glad the days are getting longer again. The Canadian Geese still visit, but there’s not much grass (live grass) for them to munch on now.

The weather these past two weekends has been glorious. We went into New York on Saturday after Xmas. It snowed coming home at midnight. But the next day, bright sunshine as we rode our bikes to the Bethpage Quaker meeting house. We wandered through the graveyards, Jill having a chat to a gravedigger digging a grave by hand in a small corner plot. An inch or two of snow covered the grass, and puddles were solid ice.

The week in between has been fine, but COLD! Those puddles never melted, although the snow did. Then this weekend, the thaw came. Temperatures up into the 50’s and the puddles melted and evaporated as we rode an hour to get to the Westbury Meeting House.

Today: Laundry Day (well it’s not a regular thing, but the wash had outgrown the volume that hand washing could practically cope with… and I had another reason for using the laundromat) Strange things have been happening to me. Saturday night I burned my left thumb very deeply, Sunday night I sliced my right thumb very deep.. stitch material. With Reiki, the burn was recovering by Sunday, but the cut – while sealing reasonably well for such a deep cut (right across the thumb print) it will take at least two days to heal the nerve damage… so I’ve been avoiding water, and knocking it on anything… and writing is painful, so typing with the usual two fingers became a better option.

Anyway, while sitting in the laundromat, I could absorb your letter leisurely, and inspiration came to me for some writing I have been looking for an angle to begin. (If I was presenting ‘this’ as a story I would change some of the grammar, but I reckon you won’t mind). It has become a real challenge to differentiate now, what is Australian grammar, what is American… you will have noticed spelling conversions too. It will be a bit like this when I go to drive in Australia again… so used to traffic coming the other way now.

I began this letter about 4.30pm and it’s now 6.15pm. Jill has filled me in on the school day traumas (the usual administrative fiascos). Ryan has been diagnosed allergic to the class hamster, and his parents want it removed from the classroom. Andrea’s mother decided her child was too, and rang to ask for the hampster’s removal - even though she hasn’t even got a doctor’s report (she’s very suggestive - Ryan’s dad has influence… when he wants something done, he convinces other parents that they want it too… really into school lobbying).

A while back there was some virus going through schools and one child was off, “suspected” as “possibly” having the bug. Before the doctors could even tell, half the students in Jill’s class didn’t turn up for school. A concerned parent (guess who) took it upon themselves to escalate the panic, and inform all the parents of the plague that was rampaging through the school. As it turned out, the sick child returned after three days, none the worse for wear and declared ‘not’ to have the feared virus. It’s a bit like a soap opera hearing about these ‘concerned’ parents, wanting to run the school, and yet quite content to entrust the lives of their 3year olds to the school buses which inhabit Nassau county like a herd of big yellow buffalo on wheels.

Still, it’s not as bad as the kids that live at the Ranger’s station at Chaco Canyon. They live so far from school that they spend 3 hours EACH way, EACH day, on the school bus. They are a long way from the nearest school, living out in the New Mexico desert. The buses here too, can be considered reasonable – not like the bus we rode out of Tepotzlan in Mexico. I remember it well. It was an extremely hot day, and the bus was taking us out to the site of the new university. We travelled over dry dusty roads, and dirt tracks… I watched the road pass by – through the floor! I mean I watched the road through the gaping holes in the floor of the bus… I also was very careful where I put my feet, lest one make a new hole in the floor. They do not retire vehicles in Mexico UNTIL they literally fall to pieces.

Brenda’s sister, Dianna was telling me how it was almost impossible to buy a second hand 4wd vehicle in Florida and in the southern states bordering Mexico : evidently, because new cars cost so much, few in Mexico can afford them… thus car dealers travel north buying up every available 2nd hand 4wd to take back and sell in below the border. Why 4 wheel Drives? Because the roads are so bad down there, especially in between the smaller towns, that only 4wd’s can traverse the roads.

I think I mentioned one night in the township of Tepotzlan, when I walked the mile or two back to camp around midnight. No streetlights, no moon. Stars you wouldn’t believe, the most I’ve seen since leaving the farm… but still very dark. A volkswagen was following the same road (I later discovered it was going to the camp also),. I walked ahead, thinking, I would use it’s headlights to light the way until it passed me. I walked for about half an hour, along a road with pot holes so big, the lights of the car dissappeared as the entire car was below the road surface at times. In fact, I reached the camp before the car did; it never did overtake my walking pace as it navigated the roads, but its headlights provided me with illumination to get home on my own through the strange ‘suburbs’. I was very grateful at the time, I was in a strange place, and I knew not enough Spanish to even ask for the camp we stayed at, should I get lost. Walking alone from the town it was nice to have the company of some one at least, behind me.

Well its now 7.40pm, Jill’s asleep on the couch, I’ve discovered some clip art to brighten up this letter (alas, the printer is not cooperating, you''l just have to visualise). My thumb is throbbing no end, amazing how even holding the mouse puts pressure on it. Lots more to say, and so will Jill when she awakes….

8th January: Another day dawns, a strange combination of wind, rain, fog, and desolation. The constant stream of cars rumble past as I read in Barabara Kingsolver’s book “High Tide in Tucson” about her trip to the Canary Islands, staying in a lovely villa overlooking fig trees and a lazy street with occasional pedestrians. She talks of her peaceful days looking out over the bay, writing her books.

Noon. Rugging up to brave the rain, I climb down to the mail box. A travel guide from Nebraska, weekend shopping guide, a “free” offer to subscribe to PC World (for only 19.95 + tax + Postage), aghh !

This looks more interesting. Another Letter from guess who? Thanks, I will get this one off as soon as it is printed. I got the pens thanks, I should be well supplied for some time. Oh, my thumb(s) are doing fine, by the way.

Lots of love, sparkles, rainbows and dreams.

humanity
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About the Creator

Ronald Gordon Pauley

Observer of the human condition, but mostly lover of animals and all things nature.

Writing at last to explore my creative, searching for my real voice.

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