the fountain head

sundays are usually laundry day. i've come to enjoy doing laundry. it was a tolerated chore when i was younger, but it became totally different only in the last few years. i think it has something to do with settling into a routine. it's definitely different once you own your own washer and dryer, doing it on your own terms. there's only two of us so it's not an overwhelming task as most people have come to look at it. i've reached laundry zen.

mom called last night as i was folding clothes. she told me of her new project: she's having a small one-bedroom "apartment" built next to the house that she can rent out. i have my misgivings; i don't like the idea of strangers living on my mom's property. maybe that's my american paranoia talking. conversation soon turned to how she missed us -- at one point talked about how she wanted to see everyone and the places she remembered. she was homesick and she started to cry. "i'm ok," she said. "i'm ok here, it's just that i miss you guys sometimes."

after we had said our i-miss-yous and i-love-yous i set out to put away the winter clothes and replace the dresser drawers with the summer stuff.

while at work i was wishing i could get home earlier so i could ride while there's still a little light. that's one of the few things i like about the summer. warm summer nights are imprinted in my memory, aspects which include picking up mom from the tomato canning plant with Peanut the dog coming along for the ride, driving down the dark country road, sitting in the parking lot waiting for the workers to come out as the smell of stewing tomatoes filled the air. along with music, smells bring memories to the forefront: damp or fermenting hay, garlic...memories of picking a couple sacks full of leftover garlic from the harvested fields on the westside in the summer. dairies always remind me of the south valley. it's a familiar but not missed smell.