Rambling, rambling, and yet more rambling.

Not much in the way of "deep" thought to post here.

But I felt that I had to present something. So, you have some stream of consciousness posting from yours truly. I apologize in advance for how ever boring it may prove to be.

I'm sitting here, listening to Loreena McKennit's Elemental CD. It's just lovely, some of the most wonderful music on Earth, I am convinced, is rooted in the Irish-Celtic melodies. I am, however, biased as I am what many would call a celtophile. I have a huge facination with the Irish culture. Some day, when my husband and I can afford it, we're going to go there on a vacation.

We've discussed the possiblity of retiring someday to the hinterlands of Ireland or Scotland. Something about that part of the world makes it the beautiful and quiet place that we'd like to spend our elder years. Isn't that part of the thing that you're supposed to do when you retire? Spend some time just enjoying the company of your beloved spouse?

The day dreams that I have are small, domestic things when I'm not thinking of my writing projects, work, or something of stressful and pressing importance. Daydreaming of happy things generally doesn't happen enough, neither does the contemplating of my writing. Such is life, I suppose. I would love to some day have a nice little house on a farm where the skies are dark at night. Where it looks like velvet dusted with diamonds when the skies are clear and the moon is just this amazing orb of waxing and waning silver light. On my little farm, I'd have a garden of roses and a vegtable garden. I'd grow an orchard of apples and pears.

In the back yard there'd be a laundry line and every sunny day of the spring, summer and fall there'd be clean clothes snapping in the wind. And small children would run, laughing and playing thru them. I'd have a neat and clean kitchen hung with blue and white gingham curtians. Our good china would rest in a nice little glass fronted hutch that matched our large dining room table. That kitchen would be filled with the warm, comforting scents of good, hearty food. And the table would be a welcoming place for family and friends. The living room would have a large fireplace, like the old colonial ones. Complete with a hearth, andirons, and a firescreen of wrought iron.

In many respects, my dream house on that little farm where we'd raise wheat, corn and children, is the same house that is my grandparents' house. I spent an enormous amount of time in that house as a little girl. I've loved it dearly. I'll miss it horribly when I can no longer come back there for holidays. It's sad, because this is the same dream that my husband had in many respects a few years ago. And then, he had to give up that dream. The house that had been is grandfather's was sold after the dear man had died.

Some day, I'll give up my dream too. But we still have the memories in those houses that we've loved.