By Georgia Osten
…the tree is done, the floor mopped – Now, time for me! I managed to get part of the house decorated the week before Thanksgiving. This meaning the outside lights around the deck, which I strung as a norther was coming in and I liked to froze my fingers off. I happened to find more lights later that evening as I was bringing the tree decorations downstairs, oh dear … Nothing would have it, but I had to redo the lights out on the deck the next day, spacing them closer together. My mind does this to me – I manufacture more work than absolutely necessary.

Then, there was the garland that I normally string on the inside stairs and around the loft upstairs. Now, this part, I easily could have omitted. But, my conscience got the better of me and I went ahead and bit off that task. It actually goes easier each year, so I don’t know why I was being so lazy about it all.

Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, my husband brought the tree inside, set it up, everything still worked, all the lights intact. I guess I started decorating it a little late in the evening, so I didn’t finish that night. I figured since I had to start the turkey first thing in the morning, I could re-tackle the tree, which I managed to finish in plenty of time before our guests arrived.

The turkey was a hit, so was everything everyone else contributed, games, drinks, dessert, a few old episodes of Taxi – what else could you ask for?? We kept replaying the part about Reverend Jim taking the written driving exam – “Whhhaaaat doooeees aaaaa yeeeellllllllloww liiiiight meeeean?” Well, we laughed so hard, I guess the laughter made more room for more dessert and another game of Moon.

Black Friday, I talked myself out of going shopping, so I mopped the floor instead which was way overdue. I figure I’d done plenty and felt very good about my accomplishments, so I decided to reward myself with my favorite past time – a puzzle (zone out)! When I’m in “puzzle zone,” my mind is not allowed to interrupt. Check ya later!
[11-30-2015]

GO’s Sand Bucket is only one beach bum’s journal of life at the beach, probably something each of you can relate to. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts, visions and/or feelings of just exactly what the beach means to you.

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