I’m feeling quite nostalgic

It’s just over two weeks before Ava and I go to the Romance Writers of America National Convention in Atlanta, GA. We have so much to do before then, but I’m so excited I can barely stand it.

I can hardly think or talk of anything else.

I had my first dress fitting for the regency ball gown my mom is making for me. It’s going to be so beautiful – champagne colored satin with a beaded lace overdress. I managed to find some acceptable shoes. There was some concern about acceptable underwear, but that’s been handled. I won a gorgeous burgundy and cream pashmina to use as a wrap. I’ve hauled out my grandmother’s vintage evening purses and I think there are two that will work for Ava and I. I also pulled out the pearl and diamond jewelry.

Then I headed into the spider shed – that’s what I call the storage sheds outside. They’re rife with spiders and I’m terrified of them. That I went inside is a true testament to how badly I wanted what I thought was in there. It took three trips before I found what I wanted.

The first time I opened the double doors and stared at the mountain of shit clogging the way. I tried to peer around the bulk because I was positive that the trunk I wanted was in the far back. Isn’t everything you want in a shed in the furthest corner? Then I shut the door and went back into the house. I told myself it was too hot. There were too many spiders.

A couple of hours later, I went back out there. It was no less hot and there were no fewer spiders. I opened the double doors again and pulled down a bicycle trailer we haven’t used in at least nine years. I toted out a couple of tubs and a camping oven. I got another couple of steps inside the sweltering shed and tried to poke around and see around the nonsense. I could not immediately find the trunk I was looking for. I shoved everything back inside and shut the doors.

Back inside the air conditioning – it was 110 degrees outside – I contemplated whether what I was looking for was actually in that old trunk. Maybe it was in one of those 764 plastic tubs out there. Maybe we got rid of that old trunk. It was kinda falling apart the last time I saw it. That made the task even more daunting. Those tubs all look the same and who knew where the one I wanted was. The trunk was at least easy to identify. My Honey told me where it would be if it was indeed in there. I noticed he wasn’t offering to go out there and find what I wanted. Drat.

Another hour later, I stomped back outside. The wind was picking up and I heard a ripple of thunder. I hauled out that stupid trailer and the camp oven. I moved four camping chairs to the other side of the shed and lifted the lid of the first box I came to. Oh. My. God. It was the one I wanted. I had to lean over a bunch of stuff and dig around with the tips of my fingers but I found what I was looking for.

I shoved everything back inside and shut the door to the sound of thunder booming even closer. I raced back inside to check over my treasure.

A quilted box that held probably fifteen pairs of my great grandmother’s gloves. Back from a time when ladies wore gloves to leave the house. There are white and cream and black and teal and pink and brown… There are opera length and just to the wrist and everywhere in between. Cotton and kid leather. I have them in my possession because just like her wedding ring (which I wear everyday) I am the only one with small enough hands to wear them.

They’ll be perfect with my dress. Between the period dress and all my grandmothers’s stuff…I’m so excited.