Dat Cwazy Cat

Dat Cwazy Cat

Hello, my name is Tigger 

And I'm a yellow cat.

I've really grown much bigger, 

But I used to look like that:

I came here uninvited last Fall

When the leaves were no longer green.

This one did not want me to stay,

And let me tell you, she is MEAN!

I've learned to stay away from her,

Because she makes me cry.

But when she's really nasty,

I just get somewhere up high.

I like my new home very much 

And Mom rubs me with her feet.

And when she thinks I'm really cute,

She let's me have a treat.

I love to chase the birds and bugs

Or any moving thing.

But I'm having trouble with those wasps

Why do they have to sting?

The garden is my favorite place

Where I can act so silly.

And when I get all tuckered out,

I nap among the lilies.

Sometimes I'm a fierce jungle cat 

And sleep upon a rock,

Or if I'm feeling feisty,

I can hide inside a crock.

I do not like the mean neighbor cat,

He makes me run so fast.

Once I didn't see him coming

And he rolled me in burnt grass.

So I try to stay in my own yard

And be sneaky like a fox.

It sure is fine when I discover

The lid's off the sandbox!

And The Walls Came Tumbling Down

     This has been the worst freaking day of my life.  It's also been one of the most productive days too, but I'm not sure how that happened.

     I grew up with the iconic phrase of "honesty is the best policy".

     Well, screw that.  

     I think I must have a huge 'N' in the middle of my forehead.  I can't see it, but everybody else can.  It doesn't stand for nutcase, nimrod or nice.  It stands for NAIVE.  That's right, in big freaking capital letters.

     I also grew up during a period of time when having a good strong work ethic was a bonus, a wonderful attribute, a sign of good character.

     Well, screw that too.

     Maybe I should just play the system because all the other stuff hasn't worked out so well.  Yes, I made mistakes.  Yes, I should have asked more questions.  Yes, I should have been more shrewd, because it sure won't be fun watching it all go down the tubes.

     I'm really glad I quit smoking this week.  So glad that I really don't give a rat's ass if I stay a non-smoker or not.  Hell, I may put one in each nostril and both my ears and light those suckers up!

     I really did get a lot done today.  Maybe I should be sad and pissed off at the same time more often.  I'd even cry some more, but I've run out of tears. 

Smoking Dragons

     It was so subtle.  Moving fast but riding low, like a sidewinder rattlesnake skirting a sand dune.  It was just a story and a short story at that, but its climax carried enough force that it hit me like a 2x4 up along side of my head.

     Someone had found out, the hard way, that they had smoked one too many cigarettes.  I knew this someone.  The story ended with two words; oxygen tank.

     And that's all it took.  Two words.  Oxygen.  Tank.  

     I've been talking, thinking and writing about quitting smoking for months.  It was one of my resolutions for the new year.  There hasn't been a day since the first of the year that I haven't thought about it every time I put a cigarette to my lips and lit it up.

     It was Saturday night that I heard those two words.  Oxygen.  Tank.  I was going to a party and all through the evening, every time I smoked, I could hear the clang of oxygen tanks somewhere in the background.  Sunday morning, I was done.  Today is Wednesday and I have been able to go for over three days without a cigarette.  Don't start the high five's just yet.

     If you have never been addicted to anything, you won't understand.  It will make absolutely no sense whatsoever to you, no matter how I explain it.  You may have sympathy but you'll have no empathy.  Only an addict, someone who has walked the path of most resistance, can have empathy.  Not only is the path lined with pot holes and temptations, it's no wider than a tightrope.

     First and foremost, I didn't want to quit.  I like to smoke.  Yes, you can list all the nasty negatives that go with smoking, I know and have heard them all, but I like to smoke.  That fact alone is why I needed to quit, I would rather sit and smoke than do much of anything else.  I also knew that when I was completely out of breath when I packed a laundry basket full of clothes up two flights of stairs, that I needed to quit.  

     Please don't raise your hand to mention the cost of smoking.  Addicts care nothing about the cost, only the end result.  Only the satisfaction that comes from sucking nicotine laden smoke fully into each lung.  Makes absolutely no sense,......right?

     I have no intentions of ever smoking again and hopefully I won't.  One reason is because it's too hard to quit.  Right now, as I sit and blog about my addiction, it is 5:22 a.m.  I've been up since 4.  The sweat is literally pouring off of me as my system tries to wring itself of its loss.  

     I went to bed last night with my hair wet.  I walked past a mirror a while ago and my hair is standing right straight up.  I look much like the Mad Hatter......make that a sweaty Mad Hatter......possibly a sweaty Mad Hatter with a nasty attitude.

     So don't congratulate me just yet.  Let me battle this dragon on my own.  I may be smiling sweetly, when you see me, all the while holding a freshly honed hatchet behind my back, just in case I feel the need to plant it somewhere.  So, take heed, you've been forewarned. 

     As I remind myself again.......Oxygen.  Tank.   

      

     

Hello Summer!

     With Memorial Day behind us and another school year coming to an end, it's time to officially roll open the gates to welcome the arrival of Summer.

     There has been many a graduate walking the path to receive their diplomas.  Many a gown, cap and tassel tossed in the air, celebrating a new found freedom.  Good luck to you all!  May you not get caught up in all that glitters and carve your own path.  It's a tough job, but much more rewarding than following the beaten trail.

     I remember when I was little, I thought Summer lasted an entire year.  You went to school for a year and then you got a year off.  Ah, to be free of the binds of being civilized.  To have absolutely no sense of time.  Some members of the male species have been able to master this, but for the rest of us, we have fallen victim to the restraints of the clock and calendar.

     Now is the season for the swimming pool, that has laid dormant for so many months, to be awakened by the constant splash and hoopla of children of all ages.  Our youngest grandson gave our pool a try the other day.  He gave a mighty battle cry at one end of the deck, ran and leaped into the water as far as he could get his small self to travel.  Because of a leak that took place during the long fall and winter months, we had to put a lot of water in our pool this season.  Needless to say, when the young water warrior popped up like a cork from his self proclaimed ritual of being the first person in the pool this year, he didn't stay in there long.  The water temp was only about 75 degrees and that's a tad bit chilly.  

     Warm long days will bring out the master chefs and the scent of burgers on the grill will fill the air.  One of our sons-in-law received a large smoker grill for Christmas, that he immediately assembled in the living room.  He was so excited, we all feared he might fire it up in the house.  Luckily for everyone involved, the first warm day the smoker grill was taken outside and has been sending wafting messages of tasty treats of Summer cookouts ever since.

     Lawn mowers will be busy and since I thought it a good idea to put the weed and feed on my lawn, mine may be working overtime. That is just part of the song Summer sings, along with many an outdoor project so the sounds of hammers, drills and saws can provide a backup tempo for the mower and the weed eater.

     Summertime gives us a chance to get out of the house.  A chance to enjoy some of Mother Nature's finest handiwork.  A time to leave the day to day grind we have created and remember what it's like to relax.  A time to be a kid again.    Get outdoors and help Summer sing, you'll be glad you did.

No Blog For Old Women

     The marriage experts use the following phrase:  Don't go to bed angry.  Good advice.  But I think I'm safe in saying there isn't a married couple alive today who didn't spend the night perched on the edge of the mattress, holding on to the carrying handles so as to not fall off, because they weren't going to get anywhere close to the other person.  Even if the other person was the last person on Earth.

     Here's some more sage advice:  Don't go to bed feeling guilty.

     I did that last night.  Why?  Because I didn't blog yesterday.  I was tired, I was blank........and those are the only lame excuses I can come up with at the moment.

     I did play the Yard Goddess though.  Yes, I became one with the lawn.  It had rained the night before so I rolled out early, fixed my hair, put on some makeup, donned my knee high rubber boots and headed for the shed.  You never know when fixed hair and makeup might come in handy whilst doing some yard work.

     It was time to apply the weed and feed.  I gathered up my little hand held, hand crank spreader and filled it to the brim.  Then I noticed something.  The grass really wasn't wet.  I'm not sure how that happened because we got some heavy rain, but as I did a little closer inspection, the weeds were dry as a bone.

     Not to be outdone by Mother Nature, I decided to wet down the grass before I started.  For some reason I have enough garden hose to go dang near up town.  I don't know why, but at the time of purchasing garden hoses, I must have thought the more the merrier. 

     I plodded back through the yard to where the hose was and proceeded to take it off the rack that it hangs on.  It was cool yesterday morning, in the mid 50's.  Those are not user friendly temperatures when it comes to trying to unwind 200 feet of garden hose full of cold water.  It would have been easy if I'd had a straight shot from the hose to the end of the yard, but no, my yard is full of stuff.  A couple of raised patios, a flower garden, a huge slab of concrete that serves for a basketball court or race track depending on the game of the day and numerous articles of yard art.

     I wrestled that stupid hose from the back yard to the front, but by golly, I succeeded in getting the grass wet so the weed and feed would be applied as to the directions.  A local farmer stopped by, while I was out front, to ask me if I had a license to apply said chemicals to my lawn.  I assured him that my trusty hand crank spreader and rubber boots were all the license I needed and was certainly glad I had taken the time to fix my hair.

     By the time I got finished and got the garden hose returned to its rightful spot, I knew right then and there, I did not want to be a fireman.

     The rest of the day was spent in the studio, working on orders.  It was at the end of the day I realized there wasn't enough of the special protective coating, that I use on the beads, to get a first coat on them.  This was not good.  The only place that carries it was 45 miles away.  I didn't have the time or energy to go that far, so I said the heck with it and called it a day.

     This morning I hopped out of bed at 4 a.m. to finish an order, then jumped in the car and drove the 45 miles to buy the finishing product.  It was a nice drive and early enough that the traffic was minimal. Of course, there was a "the left lane was made for me" driver who passed me and then decided to get in the right lane. About four miles down the road, she decided to hit the brakes and drive under the speed limit.  Maybe she had a wasp in her car, I don't know, but I flew around her and headed on my merry way.

     The return trip was more interesting as I got to draft with an 18-wheeler.  That makes for a shaky ride, but I figured if it helped with the fuel consumption I could drive white knuckled for as long as possible.

     The beads are resting quietly with their first coat, on the drying rack and I've had the time to write.  The title of today's blog has absolutely nothing to do with what I wrote, I just liked the way it sounded.  It reminds me of a movie with a similar title and despite what the critics said, I thought it was the dumbest movie I'd ever seen.

     Today's going to be a good day, hope your's is too.

     

The Maiden Voyage

     It's unbelievable how screwed up my schedule is.  But it is what it is.

     Now, about that unsightly downspout.

     After weed eating the bejabbers out of the flower box in the front of the house, I needed a solution for the downspout.

     It always drained to the front of the flower box, which meant it drained on the sidewalk, which meant it didn't get enough drain distance from the house to keep from eventually making it to the basement.  

     Problem solved.

     I had this really large flower pot that was made out of foam.  Oh yeah, they look beefy, but you can pick them up with one finger, if said finger is in the right place.

     This pot has served many purposes.  It has housed a banana tree and several other plants over the years.  Since I decided to cut back on the amount of potted planters for this year, I came up with an idea......Why not use the pot for another purpose?

     And so I did.

     After some careful calculations, which my husband rolled his eyes at, I decided the large foam pot could be used as a "catch" for the water that runs off the front porch.  

     I got out my trusty Dremel tool, installed a Roto Zip blade in it and cut a nice angled hole in the side of the pot.  This was for a piece of downspout to fit in.  Despite the hole being a bit larger than what I had anticipated, I figured that is why God made caulking. The downspout from the pot was to direct the water from above to a different location, further away from the house. 

     I showed my husband the design, already in progress, and "viola" he agreed it just might work.  Naturally, I wanted this to be done in an afternoon, but alas, the super-duper caulking took longer to set up than I expected. We had to caulk the sides we could see, which would be three of them, and then wait until the next day to caulk the fourth side of the hole.

     After the fourth side of the hole was caulked, we had to wait another day for that to set up......As much as I hate to admit it, it's probably a good thing I had his assistance because I would have blooped a whole bunch of caulking all the way around it and been done.

     This morning, we turned the entire thing up right and set it in position.  I placed some bricks in the pot for stability and patiently waited for some rain.

     I didn't have to wait long.

     We had a nice shower this evening.  Lucky for us, we did not get the ping pong ball size hail that our neighbors to the north had to endure. We ran out to the front porch with a flash light to check the functionality of the downspout pot.

     It was perfect.  No leaks and the water was running out in the yard, where it needed to be in the first place.  

     The downspout pot survived its maiden voyage, so I wonder what I can think of next.....I already have something in mind....

     

One For The Book(ie)s

     First of all, one of my New Year's Resolutions was to not do this.

     I'm not good with math, most of you know this.  I'm even terrible at odds.  Odds vex me.  They have no meaning, what so ever.

     Oh yeah, I understand the odds of me getting struck by lightning are high.  I understand the odds of me winning the Powerball Lottery are probably even higher, but since my husband picked the numbers, we buy one anyway......every time they draw for it.

     It's been nearly 20 years since I was at a race track, a horse race track.  I got all caught up in the action, but really didn't understand it.  Mother, on the other hand, liked to gamble and betting on the horses was fun to her.  "You have to play the odds.", they said, well you could have said it in pig-Latin and it would have made just as much sense to me.  

     Nope, I don't understand odds.

     But.....the great state that I, and many other people live in, seem to think that yet another casino is the way to go for more revenue. Sigh...I beg to differ once again.

     When I was at the horse race track, many years ago, one thing I noticed was the people who were betting.  I didn't know any of them, but, when you see someone crying because they just lost their entire week's paycheck on a horse race, it didn't matter.  The truth of the matter was, they couldn't afford to be betting in the first place.  The sad part of the matter was, there wasn't any big win for the groceries or the rent.

     I realize that not everybody who bets, can't afford to, some can.  Some are very good at it, they understand the odds.  But I also realize that there are a whole bunch of people who shouldn't bet....me included.  Why?  Because we can't afford to.  Plain and simple.

     Why the state would want to implement more gambling is beyond me.  But then again, why they would want to pay over $7000 to fly a boat load of prairie chickens to Illinois is beyond me too.  Guess, the odds are in favor of the feathers.

       
   

Weekend Creativity

     Another beautiful weekend in the Great Mid-West.  Once again, I spent most of it outdoors.  

     I think most everyone else did too.  Readership on my blog falls way down on the weekends.  That's OK, it was a long winter, we pleaded for this kind of weather so now we must act accordingly. No sense in staying inside, glued to a glowing screen.  Perhaps I will pick up a reader or two in the southern hemisphere since it is their turn for colder temps.

     We made quite a dent in the list of things to do in the yard.  All but putting on the weed and feed.  The directions said to put it on a wet lawn or to water the lawn thoroughly before applying.  My husband convinced me to wait until this morning, there will be plenty of dew he said.  I jumped out of bed bright and early, got dressed and ran to the shed....through the grass.....not one drop of dew.  It also said to apply on a calm day.  My days are rarely calm anymore but I realized it meant no wind.  The wind was already blowing and is supposed to blow about 30 mph later on, so no weed and feed today.

     The latest in the yard art projects was the front flower bed.  Over the years it has had many tulips, a bleeding heart and a few surprise lilies.  The bed is raised a bit and surrounded by railroad ties because that was the only safe place to put things I didn't want my husband to mow over.  Lately the bed was becoming unruly and was amounting to more work than I wanted to devote to it.  

     I needed to put a sign out front, for my business, and decided the flower bed could serve a new purpose.  I turned my husband loose with the weed eater.  A man with a tool, that has any kind of motor attached to it, is a beautiful thing.

     "What part do you want me to weed-eat?", he asked.

     "All of it.", I answered.

     His demeanor instantly changed to that of euphoria.  I stepped back around the corner, this is one mean weed eater and this was a man with a mission.  Besides, I learned long ago he could whack me with a rock at 50 feet.

     With all the foliage shredded to smithereens, we put down some yard fabric and covered it with mulch.  I had to admit, it looked much better than before.  My sign was ready and I "planted" it in the middle.  My bonus daughter had given me a lovely hanging planter filled with wave petunias for Mother's Day and I hung it on a shepherds hook to one side of the sign.  

     My neighbor asked me what I was doing.  "Hanging a shingle.", I told her, instantly regretting that choice of words, geeze, I'm getting old. 

     The sign is a little small for the area it's in, but it works for now and will give future customers something to look for when trying to find the house.   Notice the unsightly downspout to the left of the sign?  Oh, wait until I tell you what I've done with that!

     

     

Live Your Own

     Yesterday was our youngest daughter's birthday.  She turned 29.  I think most parents will agree with the next sentence.  Our children grow up in the blink of an eye.

     As we laid in bed, my husband and I talked about how it didn't seem possible that 29 years had passed so quickly.  It seemed like just yesterday, our little girls were just that, little girls.  We talked about death too, neither of us are afraid of it.  That must come with age.  Not that I'm ready, by any means, to leave planet Earth just yet, but it happens.

     Before I drifted off to sleep I thought about being a parent.  It has been the greatest gift of life for me.  I reflected back over the years, thinking what I would have done different.  Being older and having grandchildren brings a strong revelation.....that our children are people.  They are people, individuals with a purpose, a plan, a reason for being here.  Their purpose might not be what we think they should be.  

     I remembered being disappointed when they made mistakes and then another revelation struck me.  I really wasn't disappointed in them, I was disappointed in myself.  I thought by their mistakes I had failed them, let them down.  I felt like I had received an F in the parenting course.  I started out parenting with the intent to keep them from all the dangers of the world and all the heartache.

     What grandeur assumptions we make.  That we can control every aspect of our children's lives.  The truth of the matter is if they don't make any mistakes, they don't learn much about how life here works.  

     One thing I have witnessed a lot of is parents trying to live their lives through their children.  They try so hard for them to do all the things they, the parent, wanted to do or wanted to be themselves. How foolish and how very sad.  

     If you're still drawing breath and there is something you wished you had done, then go do it yourself.  That will make a much more lasting impression upon your children than you wanting something for them that they possibly don't want.  If they are living their lives trying to keep you happy, they aren't living their life.  When they fail at your expectations and you berate them for that failure, all you have done is ingrained failure into their self esteem.  They were not sent here to make you happy, or to make all your dreams come true.

     Their life is not your life, it's theirs.  You've got one, live your own and spoon as much encouragement of good things upon your children as possible, especially when they stumble.

Take The Plunge!

     I don't know what you call it.  Maybe it's 'stepping out on faith'.  Maybe it's 'have you lost your freaking mind?'  Maybe it's 'you should have done this a long time ago'.  But, if anyone had told me three months ago that my husband quitting his job and coming home to help me in my business was a good idea, I would have asked them what they were smoking.

     We are on week two of this new endeavor and today we took another road trip.  This would be the second road trip in less than two weeks.  

     This particular kind of road trip consists of riding the gravel roads we traveled as teens.  Talking about who lived in that house and who might live there now.  It's about trying to remember if we should turn right or left, but not really caring because eventually, we will come out somewhere that is familiar. 

     Is this new adventure the easiest thing we've ever done?  No, far from it, we ain't spring chickens anymore.  In fact, it's probably the scariest thing both of us have done in a long, long time.

     But, ya know what?

     It may turn out to be the absolutely best thing we have done in years.

     I wasn't sure how it would work out in the studio, with him helping me.  I was afraid that I would have to look for mundane things to keep him busy.  So much for that thought, he kicked my butt today and we got more done in one day than I could have accomplished in two.  It was fantastic.

     I could go on and bore you with details that you would  just as soon not know, but I will tell you this;

     Life is short, do what you've always dreamed of doing.  Don't let someone steal your thunder and for goodness sake, don't worry.  Worry only gets you one thing, well maybe two things, grey hair and early death.

     Go ahead, take the plunge.

The Wind

The Wind

It sings an invisible song through the night air.

It makes its presence known

By the bend and sway of the trees.

To and fro, to and fro.

Its touch can be as gentle as a lover

Or soothing to a weathered brow.

It can not be held within a grasp,

Only felt.

To and fro, to and fro.

It carries with it no prejudice.

But yet, no mercy.

It does not judge, nor does it choose,

It simply moves.

To and fro, to and fro.

It laps a field of grain, a body of water

Like a thirsty beast.

Within each, it makes waves.

To and fro, to and fro.

It takes and it gives.

Carrying on its mission,

With no other thought as to why.

It crosses mountains, deepest valleys.

To and fro, to and fro.

It feels no emotion

But can screech with the vengeance

Of a heart scorned, moving on

To and fro, to and fro.

Its purpose is to simply be.

Taking command from all other forces of nature

Or angels of greatness.

Never pausing to look back,

always moving forward.

To and fro, to and fro.

It flies on shapeless wings,

Lifting the prayers to the heavens.

Never caring, only being

The wind.

To and fro, to and fro.

Author: Ruthie Reeves 

Watch Closely

     No news is good news.  Maybe.  I wouldn't know because this household hasn't received a daily newspaper for many days.  

     We did get two over the weekend because a very sweet lady who delivers another daily paper in this small community decided she could do it for them on the weekends.  Then she told me she has been getting her newspaper every day.  Hmmmm......me thinks I've been put on the 'bad' list for quitting.  Time will tell, I sent the editor an email this morning.

     So, I know nothing of the happenings of the world.  I wonder if that is a good thing?  I do hear a snippet or two of news on the radio, most of which is unpleasant.  It is unfortunate that bad things sell more news than good.  Unless, of course, it's sex.  Sex sells just about anything.  

     Yesterday I had to take Ms. Sassafrass to the doctor's office while her mother was en route from a history final.  As we sat in the waiting room, Sassafrass watched the big screen TV that was tuned into a cartoon network.  Every so often, she would tell me something I missed, so I began to watch it with her.  I don't know the name of the cartoon, but the main characters were cows.  

     I'm not a farmer or rancher, but I do know the difference between a cow and a bull, so from here on I shall be using the term 'cow' loosely.

     One of the cows was a cow, female.  That was obvious by her sexy eyes with long lashes and possibly a ponytail.  It was also obvious because she had a huge udder on the lower abdomen.   I'm not kidding, it looked like a toilet plunger on steroids.

     This cow's friend, another cow, was supposed to be a boy.  By this time my daughter had arrived.  I asked her about this cartoon and she assured me this cow was a boy.  "OK", I said, "Then why does he have an udder too?"  Yep, there it was, just as big as the other's udder.  She hadn't noticed it.  

     Seriously?!?  These udders protruding like large and in charge pink plungers were hard to miss.  They even swayed back and forth as the cows walked, bipedal of course, after all talking cows need to be as human as possible.  

     Perhaps the persons responsible for the structure of the cows never stepped foot on a farm.  Perhaps they were trying to send some kind of hidden message, a conspiracy theory of cow parts.  Maybe they thought it was a good idea, rather than to put the actual bull parts on.........Oh, I'd love to say something about that, but shall choose not to.

     I guess my question is why was it necessary to put gender body parts on at all?  Did they think no one would notice?  Perhaps that's the message.

     


   

     

Missing Lois

     Yesterday was Mother's Day.  I woke up thinking how odd it was to be in my own bed.......on Mother's Day.  I hadn't been in my own bed on this day for almost 20 years.  

     For all those past years, Lela, Blanche, Mother, my daughters and occasionally one or two of my sister's children had always been in the Ozarks.  Osage Beach, Missouri to be exact.  Boosting the economy.

     There is a large outlet mall located there and we would spend every Mother's Day weekend, starting on Friday, pilfering through all the different stores.

     Each evening we would drag all of our bounty into our hotel room, empty the sacks on the bed and show each other every item, even if it was a pair of socks.

     On Sunday morning, Mother's Day, we would have breakfast, hit an antique store or two and then make the journey home.

     As I laid in bed yesterday morning, I thought how very much I missed Mother.  It will be seven years this September that she has been gone.  She passed on my 51st birthday, which I think she did on purpose.  

     Mother most always kept a journal of some kind.  It may have been a diary or, in her later years, a large calendar.  She would laugh and say most of the days were filled with doctor appointments, but there was usually some little ditty, written in the square, about what she had done that day.

     Not long after she had passed, I found her last calendar.  As I flipped through the last couple of months, I was surprised at what I found in September.  Mother's birthday was on the 4th, Lela's on the 6th and mine on the 8th.  Easy dates to remember, if you weren't born in September, you were s.o.l.  She had written each name in the correlating box, but when she wrote my name, there was a period behind it.  I went back through the pages of the calendar and that was the only time she ever did that.

     Mother knew her days were numbered, we all did, but she wasn't really ready to go.  She had accepted it, but not because she wanted to.  We were not ready either.  Perhaps we never are.

     Losing your Mother, regardless of what age you are, is like being sucked back into a time vortex.  It makes you feel like a small scared child and the only thing that will make things better is your Mommy.

     There were lots of reasons why we didn't go on our Mother's Day adventure this year, but it's never really been the same without Mom. On the other hand, it didn't feel quite right to stay home. Maybe we can resume this tradition next year, I'm sure Mom would like that.

     Take time to talk to your mother.  Make each visit with her special, not just one day out of the year.  Life is short, try not to waste it, because the hand we are dealt can fold at any time.

     If your mother was all kinds of bat crap crazy and you never want to see her again, at least take a moment and thank her for giving you a chance to make your own way in this world.   

     

What's Next?

     I asked my electrician buddy the following question:  "If, while the oven is preheating, you walk past and peer in the window and you see something that looks like a welding arc on the heating element in said oven, is that a pretty good indication the element is toast?"

     He chuckled and assured me it was.  

     I don't remember what it was that I was going to put in the oven, but I'm sure it ended up in the microwave.  I believe that appliances today only have about a 10 year working life, but I don't believe the stove is that old.  I have yet to replace it, if it's not working, then I have an excuse not to bake.

     Next was the ice maker.  It has churned out ice all through this past winter.  Now that it's time for cold icy drinks, it decides to shoot craps.  Back to the good ole plastic ice trays.  At least they are reliable, even though they do work much better filled and in the freezer than sitting empty on the counter.....which is where they are now.

     We were told last summer that the central air conditioner unit was on its last leg, but it made it through the summer.  I'm not turning it on until I'm about in melt mode, besides it's only May and there are a few cool days in the forecast.

     All good things must come to an end, but is it necessary that they all come to an end at the same time?  Hope I'm not next on the list!

     Today I'm off on another road trip.  "It's only a couple of hours.", he said.  He lied, it's more like three....one way.  Oh well, if I'm on the road the rest of the working appliances in the house can have a break.  No pun intended.
     

Yard Art

     Last weekend I made a tree.  It's not a real tree and it will take a year or two before it looks like a tree, but I can still say I made a tree.

     I had seen one of these homemade trees in a friend's yard.  She had planted four trumpet vines and trained them to grow around and up a post.  Her husband made a "box" for the top of the post out of rebar and she laced the vine in and out of the box and then let it grow however it wanted.  The end result looked just like a flowering tree.  

     Unfortunately, a strong wind that blew through here a couple of weeks ago up ended her tree.  Not to be out done by wind nor weather, they planted a new post and this time chose a honeysuckle to be their future tree.  

     Their misfortune worked out for me.  I had tried twice to start my own trumpet vine from seed.....to no avail.  Since they were changing out the entire plant, I received a large root stock with vines already emerging.  I couldn't have been happier.

     I had just the spot and set a treated 4x4 in the ground.  Since it wasn't as tall as I would have liked, I attached a couple of 2x4's to two sides of the post.  Perfect.  

     Since it will take a while before the trumpet vine actually looks like a tree, I decided the top of my tree support needed something. I had just the thing, a weather vane!

     The weather vane was a Mother's Day gift I received several years ago.  It came with a weighted base and I kept it inside for a long time, nestled in with some house plants.  A couple of years ago I moved it outdoors to the patio.  I liked it there but the base was not heavy enough to keep a strong wind from blowing the whole thing over and after a time, the weather vane's flag was  getting pretty beat up.  That's what I liked about this weather vane in the first place, it looks like it belongs on top of a castle turret.   

     It may not be on top of a castle, but it's yard art and it works for me.  As the vine grows, it will someday provide shade for the hostas that are planted around it.  In my yard, I hosta have hostas.

   

New Beginnings

     In the background I can hear Ms. Sassafrass playing cards with her Papa.  He never plays cards.....ever.  She has him wrapped around her little finger.  Her blonde locks, blue eyes and a perfect sprinkling of freckles across her nose melts his heart.  

     She is making up the rules of the game as they go along.  If she can get rid of her cards first, she is happy.  Papa accuses her of cheating from time to time but she  just grins and continues to play to her advantage.

     Our morning routine has been turned topsy turvy this week and my schedule is all out of whack.  I guess when Papa is home, I feel the need to make sure he isn't bored out of his skull.  I have to stop that, he's fine.  He has actually been Mr. Fix-it to things that have been shoved to the back burner, a broken hinge, a crooked board, a squeaky door.  

     It's odd though, him being home.  It will be even odder when he starts helping me in the studio.  We've worked together for years, but this will be a little different.  In the past, we had separate jobs to do so we were not always in each other's hair.  The next couple of weeks ought to be interesting as we work out the kinks in being "together" full time.

     Speaking of hair, I hear Papa tell Sassafrass that he has found a long blonde hair in the cards.  "Is this mine or is this yours?", he asks her.  Papa has shaved his head for years.

     She inspects the hair, looks him in the eye and tells him, "You don't have any hair."  Mystery solved.

     Change can sometime be difficult, but when one door closes, another one opens to a new opportunity.  At least this one isn't squeaking.

     Something new is on the horizon, I'm looking forward to seeing just what it is.

     

Sweet Dreams

"You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one...."

                                                                                   Imagine, John Lennon 1971

     The night temperatures have been in the upper 40's, lower 50's.  I'm sleeping with the window open.  Luckily, the wind has been coming out of the east, I don't have to smell the wood smoke from the western neighbors.  

     Mother always said nothing good came out of the east.  I beg to differ with her on this, it's been glorious.  The cool night breeze feels like cold satin on my skin.  Since I do not have the ability to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, like my husband, I can lie in this breeze and reflect.  I can think about what has happened during the day or  mull over the goings on of the last several days.  Or I can dream.

     I can picture myself being in a completely different setting.  Maybe the breeze is blowing through an open window in a tree house set high in the rain forest.  I can imagine all the sounds that the forest creatures of the night might make.  Maybe I'm sleeping in a sprawling beach house, far away from any other inhabitants.  I can hear the ocean gently lapping the shore.  Maybe I'm in a old castle in some distant land, high in a tower, listening for the last battalion of soldiers to return from battle.

     When I do this, crazy as it may sound, it helps to lift the burdens of my soul.  It allows me to escape and be anything or person I wish to be.  It lets my brain release all of its crazy ideas and play them out to either my advantage or disadvantage.  It helps to form the characters for my story, my book, that tugs so strongly at my heart.  It lets me know I'm on the right path, regardless of the obstacles I may face along the way.

     I used to do this as a kid except most of it was done during the day.  I could daydream for hours on end.  I'm sure this must have driven my folks crazy.  I think I heard the phrase, "pay attention!" a lot.  

     I believe we choose the path we walk on this earth before we ever get here.  Sometimes I wonder and even ask out loud "Why the hell did I choose this!?", but I know in the long run, it's just part of my journey.

     If you have a dreamer amongst you, don't be too hard on them.  You never know, you may be raising the next president, or best selling author or a quantum physicist who will unlock the mysteries of the universe.  

Fraudulently Frazzled

     The weather this past weekend was fabulous.  I spent most all of two days outdoors.  I should have stayed in.  I should have worked all weekend.  Today I'm overwhelmed. 

     I had to go back and read some of my own sage advice.  Easy to dish it out, not always so easy to apply it.  "Let go and let God" someone said.  Such silky words to fall from our lips, but oh so hard to do.

     I thought this morning I might explode from the pressure I was feeling.  Last Friday, I felt I was all caught up with my time schedule.  Today I felt like I was in a landslide and going down hill fast.  How could I have gotten so far behind?  Then I looked at the calendar.  It's May 5, 2014.  I thought it was the 12th.  Somewhere I had lost an entire week and was near panic mode.  

     I'm not sure what brought this sudden rush of paranoia into my brain, but it seems it was all self induced.  Why do we do that?  Why do we let ourselves get so worked up over things that aren't really so?  I don't know the answer to that.  Maybe it's the negative thought waves trying to convince us that they are right and everyone else is wrong.  They can be so deceiving.  That's the nature of their game.  If you aren't happy, content, they're throwing a party at your expense.  Negative thought waves like us to stay at their low frequency.

     After I realized I hadn't actually lost seven days of my life by some mysterious force, Ms. Sassafrass and I went out side for a break.  She played, I cut weeds out of the garden.

     "Why are you cutting out the dandelions?" She asked.

     I explained to her that they were really weeds.  

     To her, that made no sense at all.  They were flowers as far as her almost 4 year old self was concerned.  She told me, "We love dandelions, we have a yard full of them."

     As I cut the next one out I remembered a time when I would gather as many dandelions as I could carry and deliver them to my mother or any other adult I would come in contact with.  They were beautiful yellow flowers that needed to be shared.  

     Maybe God speaks through small children.  I believe that children have a much closer and better understanding of just how God works because they haven't been away from him as long as we have.  They still have a memory of where they came from.

     I couldn't see the forest for the trees or the flowers for the weeds.  I will still cut them out of the garden, but I will take the time to reflect on how the universe does not work on my time line. For that I am deeply thankful.

     

Week's End

     It's been a glorious week, a restful week.  I've been sleeping like the dead, it's wonderful.

     Today is the sixth day of not having to deliver papers.  Of not having to rise at 4:30 in the morning.  Of not having to dodge sprouting peony bushes in the dark.  I shall never take sleep for granted again.

     The paper did find a replacement, but as yet, we don't know who they are.  They have done a pretty good job, at least until today.  There is no paper this morning.  Maybe they overslept, maybe they are still fine tuning the route, trying to figure out the shortest distance between point A and point B.  Maybe they had to fill up the tank on their truck, that will be a shocker.  I've had to take two short trips this past week and I still have gas in the tank.  The last time I filled it up, while still delivering papers, it cost me $29.00, I made $28.  I may not be good at math, but even I can figure that's a no brainer.

     I read an article the other day about the powers that be picking on the people with the e-cigs, the electronic cigarettes, or vapors. The powers don't want people to use these in public because of the stigma associated with smoking.  They feel that when young people see this activity, it will make them want to try it.  In the article a woman said that tobacco should be a thing of the past, like a rotary telephone.  I'd wager there is still a rotary phone or two, in working order, in this country, but this woman obviously knows better.  I know smoking is not a healthy activity, neither is playing in the traffic.  But, I believe the human race has been smoking, drinking or eating some sort of substance for a euphoric sensation for as long as the human race has been around.  If the health police would spend more time working on the good things, like a child's self esteem, and pointing out all their wonderful qualities, there would be a lot less kids who would need to turn to a substance.  This would also be a much cheaper route than dragging frivolous banter through the muckiness of the court systems.

     The bleach bottle planter design has a flaw.  They are still up, but I have noticed they need more support between the handle of the bottle and the bottle itself.  I think I have an idea that will work and it should be an interesting endeavor since all three bottles, per post, will release simultaneously when the zip ties are cut.  Perhaps my husband will be overjoyed to help......then again, perhaps not.

     I've about given up on the strawberry plants, I think they must have been duds.  I will plant something else in the hanging bottle tower planter, like leaf lettuce.  If the strawberries do decide to grow, I'll have a nice ready made fruit salad at my disposal.

     Have a wonderful weekend.  Read something, plant something and be sure to give a kind word or smile to a deserving child and especially to the undeserving one.      

A Day In My Odd Life

     The aroma of hair color is wafting down over my face this morning.  It seems like I just colored my hair the other day.  I did.
Since I used to be a hairdresser many moons ago, I usually do it myself.  This not only saves me a few bucks but also keeps me from having to sit still for a certain amount of time.  That was the only thing I didn't like about having a fleet of school buses.  I could drive all day and I loved the kids, but sitting still, waiting on an activity to end, drove me crazy.

     The last time I colored my hair I obviously had a bit more developer, that's the stuff that helps put the color into the hair, than actual color.  I ended up with a much lighter shade of brown than I like and it didn't take long for the color to slough off the grey.

     I tried to go "natural" a couple of years ago.  Thinking it would be best to bleach as much color out as possible first, I ended up with hair the color of finely polished brass.  Being a brunette all my life, that choice soon fell into the category of other not so wise choices I have made over the years.  My proof reader told me I looked like Maude on the Golden Girls.  She was right.  

     I was hoping that my grey hair would be like Mother's, nice and silver.  It wasn't.  So back to black I went.  Doing this myself may result in a missed place or two behind my ears, but I can't see back there, so I'm fine with that.

      My Silver Cat Studio, Inc. business of turning real flowers into lasting keepsakes has absolutely exploded in the last couple of weeks.  It's been a blessing and a dream come true.  Orders have been coming in almost daily and just this week I've received two from the state of Virginia.  Updating my website is one of the things on my to-do list and it isn't done yet, but if you want to check it out, here's the link:  www.silvercatstudioinc.com

     Learning some new techy things is still on the to-do list also and I'm working on that.  In fact, looking at the tool bar on top of my page, I have discovered a little icon that looks like the board used when film makers are shooting a movie.  They hold it in front of the camera, snap the top down and yell "Action!"  I also discovered that when I hold my mouse pointer over this icon it says "insert video".  Really, it's that simple?  Well, how about that!  I shall give it a try.

     I've blogged before about a crazy thing I do when it comes to birthdays.  I make up words to songs and video myself singing, then post it for the lucky recipient.  Last Friday was my husband's birthday, he was not immune to my array of talents.  One person suggested I should do this as a business.  Hmmm......just what I need, something else to do, I could call it Lucky Duck Birthday Ditties. 

     I knew it was too good to be true.  The 'insert video' isn't quite as simple as I thought.  I've tried three times and got nothing.  Oh well, I'll keep trying to figure that out.

     Today is my proof reader's birthday, she is not immune to my talents either.  May your day be filled with laughter.