My mom still speaks up

So.

If you don't believe in spirits, rather than scoffing at what I'm saying here, just move along.

Close it up.  This particular post is not for you.

IF, however, you do believe, then let me assure you my outspoken mom is still speaking out.

As I've mention about a hundred beezillion times, we're living in a wee bit of chaos here.

I know there's an end in sight, so for now, I'm going with the flow.  (Funny how as I've aged, I find that going with the flow/rolling with the punches thing easier than i once did).

During all this, Donald left for about a week to spend time with his folks in Birmingham.

And because they're preparing to move from their home to a smaller place, they sent him home with a few things including some furniture.

One of those pieces is a desk we have both loved for many years.  

It used to belong to Donald's much loved and adored Great Aunt Gladys.  

The timing for receiving things - ALL things we love and feel quite blessed in receiving - including this sweet little desk isn't ideal, but so what.

The house is going to be in disarray for awhile anyway, so what the heck.

We love it all and it all falls very firmly in the category of cherished treasures.

We knew exactly where we wanted the little desk to live, but that meant moving another Aunt Gladys treasure that we've had for a number of years.

The place where this the desk now is used to be the spot where this magical rocker was.

The space where the rocker will go . . .  well, as you can tell by this photo, is in a bit of a mess right now due to that closet redo, which was put on hold due to insulation installation, put on hold due to broken pipes and another set-back i'll tell you about another time.  Enough is enough.  Right? 

(going with the flow here . . . ).

Back to the subject at hand.

(insert my old and very dear and much missed friend, Michael Dean, saying, "Kaye Alan, can we have the abridged version of this story, please?").

So.

See this piece?

 

It's my mom's jewelry chest.

She LOVED this piece.

It's no longer filled to the brim like it once was, but suffice to say there's still a lot in there.

Well, last night while Donald and I were moving furniture around finding a place for Mom's prized jewelry chest became a challenge.

At about 2 a.m. we called it a night.

Left things in disarray (insert maniacal laughter) and went to bed.

And sometime during the night I woke up to the very distinct smell of cigarette smoke.

And not for the first time.

I knew exactly who was in our bedroom.

My mom, very nicely, but very firmly, assured me that we would find an appropriate spot for that jewelry chest.

And i agreed.

And so does Donald.