Had the big twice-yearly family party today, out under grey skies in the Orangetown Memorial Park. Odd to see everyone together - our family being a blended family and having quite a disparate social makeup at this point. Still, I'm writing this from the upstairs room that used to be my sister Leah's bedroom, and then for a brief time, my stepsister Gail's, and I think even my stepsister Amy even lived in it for a short while. That was an upgrade from their rooms in the basement, and having spent 18 months or so living in Amy's old basement room and coming away with a lung ailment that took another two years to get rid of completely, I cant blame them.
But I'm getting off my main point, which is this: everyone at the picnic today - including my mother, in the early 70's - has lived in this house. and now it's just me and Yesenia. Our house. It's a very, very, very fine house. One cat in the yard, life used to be so hard, etc.
I wonder if I can press any of them into service to help paint the damn thing?
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