This blog is about my cats. If ever there were a time when my husband's eyes actually do glaze over, it would be when I tell him a story of recent kitty activity. I can always see it coming, so I just begin to trail my words off slowly into the universe and change the subject. So, if you don't want to hear about my cats, please have a nice day.
I have two cats, the old cat, Pussy Cat, aka Queen of the Yard and Tigger, a yellow, used to be tomcat, who arrived here last Fall.
The Queen has disliked Tigger from the moment he stepped foot into her realm and has used many a tactic of cat warfare to remove him But alas, it has been all in vain. Tigger is still here and has learned to give her a wide berth.
He has actually been good for her as she has gotten more exercise from chasing him than she has had in years. One day, while Tigger was sitting at the far end of the pool deck, minding his own business and watching the birds in the hedge, the Queen rose from her throne, walked the entire length of the deck and knocked him off the edge. She then turned around, walked back to her throne and resumed her original position.
There is a difference between fur and hair. The Queen is a dark brown and black tabby mix with fur, much like that of a rabbit, with a thick undercoat. Tigger just has good ole cat hair. With the arrival of warm weather they are both shedding.....PROFUSELY. One can literally watch the fur/hair riding the thermals if there is a good breeze.
I have been brushing the Queen each morning. She enjoys this immensely and always casts a smug look Tigger's direction during the grooming session. The other day, while I was cleaning fur out of the brush, I let the large rodent shaped ball of fur float away with the wind. I figured some bird might find it useful for its nest.
The next day, the large rodent shaped ball of fur was all over the door mat outside the back door. Tigger had retrieved it and then proceeded to shred it to the point that the plastic astro-turf mat looked more like a wool carpet.
I guess that is the only way he can get close to her without suffering her wrath or maybe that's his way of getting revenge.
Whatever his motive, I shall now place the large fur balls in a bag and dispose of them in the trash. There's nothing better than to be greeted, first thing in the morning, by a freshly hacked up brown and black fur ball, out of a yellow cat.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Grand (ma) Fun
This week, I have a new job. Transporting my, going on 13, grandson to and from football camp.
This simple endeavor tossed me back in time when I would drive a bus fifteen miles to pick up a load of high school boys from football practice. Oh my, did they stink! They took great delight when I would have to hang my head out the window for some fresh air. Lucky for me, this weeks' temps are cooler than normal so I can ride with the window down.
He arrived at the house this morning before 7:30. He is an unusual morning person because it is possible to get a bit of conversation out of him at that time of day. I don't expect much, receiving two to three word responses from any member of the male species is considered nearly as valuable as gold.
Before leaving on our 8 mile journey, we had a brief discussion on parkour, the sport that requires a person to get from point A to point B using their body and surroundings to propel themselves forward.
I told him I always wanted to do that. He was impressed and asked me if I had seen any of the 'fails', the new word for mishaps, associated with the sport. I assured him I had but that I would choose objects lower to the ground and not try to run up any walls.
End of conversation.
We stopped at a new convenience store so he could purchase a drink and I commented that I had never been in it yet. I didn't accompany him in, that would have been way uncool, and received a five word description of the inside. I had scored big with that one.
We drove the remaining few blocks in silence and as I pulled the car to a stop, parallel to his coach and two other young boys, I spoke in my best grandma voice and said, "Want me to give you a hug?"
With the 'no' that he gave me was also the look of being completely mortified. I chuckled about that all the way home.
This simple endeavor tossed me back in time when I would drive a bus fifteen miles to pick up a load of high school boys from football practice. Oh my, did they stink! They took great delight when I would have to hang my head out the window for some fresh air. Lucky for me, this weeks' temps are cooler than normal so I can ride with the window down.
He arrived at the house this morning before 7:30. He is an unusual morning person because it is possible to get a bit of conversation out of him at that time of day. I don't expect much, receiving two to three word responses from any member of the male species is considered nearly as valuable as gold.
Before leaving on our 8 mile journey, we had a brief discussion on parkour, the sport that requires a person to get from point A to point B using their body and surroundings to propel themselves forward.
I told him I always wanted to do that. He was impressed and asked me if I had seen any of the 'fails', the new word for mishaps, associated with the sport. I assured him I had but that I would choose objects lower to the ground and not try to run up any walls.
End of conversation.
We stopped at a new convenience store so he could purchase a drink and I commented that I had never been in it yet. I didn't accompany him in, that would have been way uncool, and received a five word description of the inside. I had scored big with that one.
We drove the remaining few blocks in silence and as I pulled the car to a stop, parallel to his coach and two other young boys, I spoke in my best grandma voice and said, "Want me to give you a hug?"
With the 'no' that he gave me was also the look of being completely mortified. I chuckled about that all the way home.
Monday, July 28, 2014
A Summary of Summery Projects
For your viewing pleasure, before and after shots of Summery projects.
First on the list of Summery projects is the beloved Pompus Grass. If you are unfamiliar with my burning of said grass, please refer to the blog titled, Not What I Intended.
First on the list of Summery projects is the beloved Pompus Grass. If you are unfamiliar with my burning of said grass, please refer to the blog titled, Not What I Intended.
Before
After
The grass did grow back but usually at this time of year there are no visual spaces between them. Note to self: Do not burn the Pompus Grass.......or cardboard boxes.
Second, the hanging plastic bottle tower strawberry planter.
Pictured here with the lovey Ms. Sassafrass.
Before
After
This didn't work worth a hoot.
Coming in at number three, the square foot garden.
Before
After
So far it has produced 48 radishes, lettuce for two BLT's and 14 snow peas, of which I'm saving for some stir fry. I'm still waiting on the brussel sprouts and tomatoes. They might be ready by the time the first frost arrives.
Number four would be the bleach bottle planters.
Before
After
These have actually worked well. The only drawback, besides the homemade potting soil, which doesn't have enough nutrients to hardly grow a weed, is the fact that the thin plastic of the bottles makes it necessary to water......a lot.
Another success at number five is the trumpet vine tree.
Before
After
The rolling compost barrel is number six.
Before
After
It looks pretty much the same.......as does the stuff in it.
Last but not least, at number seven, the bird feeder tarp. I had the clever idea to put a piece of tarp material under the bird feeders. The purpose of this was to allow the ground feeding birds to easily find the seeds that fell from the feeders. Since the area is slightly raised, it was to serve another purpose. What seeds the birds did not eat would slide off the tarp. Since I only use sunflowers seeds in the feeders and they have a tendency to sprout when they come in contact with Mother Earth, the tarp, stapled to the ground, would allow me to mow over the edge, thus eliminating me from having to pull all of the sprouting sunflowers.
Although I do not have a before picture of this grand idea, I think you will see how it fared with the mower.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Road Ready
Having one's adult children and their families all living on the same street, on the same side of the street with three houses between each member, has its advantages. One of those being you don't have to go too far to search for some borrowed item.
That was the case with my bicycle. Deciding I needed some exercise, I began the hunt for my bike. It wasn't long before daughter number two confessed to it being held captive in her basement.
Although the tires were flat and it was missing a pedal....and the seat, it was none the worse for wear. After another brief search, I found an extra bike to rob parts from and set out to repair and replace previously mentioned missing articles.
The street, that I and my family live on, runs along the top of a very large and steep ridge and is the highest point in this small town. This means that everything to the east and the west is downhill. Even our garage, that sits behind the house and is accessed from the alley, is downhill.
After getting the bike road ready, I took the first maiden voyage up the alley and pedaled half a block up the street. All seemed well until I headed back to the garage for a few minor tune ups. The back brakes didn't work. Luckily, my descent was not at a high rate of speed and I was able to drag my feet while gently applying the front brakes. They were working, but I'm old enough to understand the law of physics and that thing called inertia. At this point, I enlisted my husband for the brake repair.
I've heard, from people who take long motorcycle rides, that the wind sheer will literally reduce their body weight. I don't "do" motorcycles, I never could get that 'lean into the corners' thing, but I'm thinking I may be able to achieve the same results if I ever decide to go east or west.
Yesterday, as I pedaled home from my second trip up the street, laughter began to fall upon my ears. I knew where it was coming from. The oldest grandson, sitting on his porch swing and wearing a neon yellow tee shirt, wasn't hard to miss. The closer I got, the louder he laughed.
"Is that TT's bike?", he asked between snorts.
"No, it's my bike."
"But it was TT's bike, right?"
"No, it's always been my bike. Quit laughing at your grandmother."
"Are you trying to get in shape?" He had almost quit laughing at this time.
"That's the plan.", I told him.
"Cool, grandma. We'll have to go on a ride together."
I should have pedaled under the cover of darkness. I've just lost the option of not going east or west.
That was the case with my bicycle. Deciding I needed some exercise, I began the hunt for my bike. It wasn't long before daughter number two confessed to it being held captive in her basement.
Although the tires were flat and it was missing a pedal....and the seat, it was none the worse for wear. After another brief search, I found an extra bike to rob parts from and set out to repair and replace previously mentioned missing articles.
The street, that I and my family live on, runs along the top of a very large and steep ridge and is the highest point in this small town. This means that everything to the east and the west is downhill. Even our garage, that sits behind the house and is accessed from the alley, is downhill.
After getting the bike road ready, I took the first maiden voyage up the alley and pedaled half a block up the street. All seemed well until I headed back to the garage for a few minor tune ups. The back brakes didn't work. Luckily, my descent was not at a high rate of speed and I was able to drag my feet while gently applying the front brakes. They were working, but I'm old enough to understand the law of physics and that thing called inertia. At this point, I enlisted my husband for the brake repair.
I've heard, from people who take long motorcycle rides, that the wind sheer will literally reduce their body weight. I don't "do" motorcycles, I never could get that 'lean into the corners' thing, but I'm thinking I may be able to achieve the same results if I ever decide to go east or west.
Yesterday, as I pedaled home from my second trip up the street, laughter began to fall upon my ears. I knew where it was coming from. The oldest grandson, sitting on his porch swing and wearing a neon yellow tee shirt, wasn't hard to miss. The closer I got, the louder he laughed.
"Is that TT's bike?", he asked between snorts.
"No, it's my bike."
"But it was TT's bike, right?"
"No, it's always been my bike. Quit laughing at your grandmother."
"Are you trying to get in shape?" He had almost quit laughing at this time.
"That's the plan.", I told him.
"Cool, grandma. We'll have to go on a ride together."
I should have pedaled under the cover of darkness. I've just lost the option of not going east or west.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Blocked & Baffled
These past few days I've not only had writer's block, but artist's block as well.
It's extremely frustrating to dig deep into the back recesses of my brain and find it empty. Nothing but a few cobwebs in the corners and a lot of dust.
Having had minimal contact with the human race probably has something to do with it. Being covered in poison ivy that looks like it has morphed into some primordial organism tends to make people turn and run, so I've stayed tucked away in my studio.
In there, the inspiration fairies must have packed their bags and went on vacation. No new ideas and the old ones were not working out so well.
I read this morning's paper and pondered over an article about school's being turned into a one stop shop for all a child's need.
I wondered why all the responsibility of being a parent has to be taken over by some other entity. How do we try to convince young people that becoming a parent too soon is a life changing hard-road-ahead-of-you given, when there is somebody on the other side of the fence saying, "don't worry, we'll take care of everything you will need and you won't have to do a thing"? What exactly does that teach?
Yes, I'm blocked and baffled, but I'm not going to quit. I'm not going to let someone else do all the work or steal my dream. I'm going to keep trying and if I fall, as long as I'm able, I'm going to get back up and try again.
I don't want to get to the end of my path and say I took the shortest route between point A and point B. There's too much to see along the way.
It's extremely frustrating to dig deep into the back recesses of my brain and find it empty. Nothing but a few cobwebs in the corners and a lot of dust.
Having had minimal contact with the human race probably has something to do with it. Being covered in poison ivy that looks like it has morphed into some primordial organism tends to make people turn and run, so I've stayed tucked away in my studio.
In there, the inspiration fairies must have packed their bags and went on vacation. No new ideas and the old ones were not working out so well.
I read this morning's paper and pondered over an article about school's being turned into a one stop shop for all a child's need.
I wondered why all the responsibility of being a parent has to be taken over by some other entity. How do we try to convince young people that becoming a parent too soon is a life changing hard-road-ahead-of-you given, when there is somebody on the other side of the fence saying, "don't worry, we'll take care of everything you will need and you won't have to do a thing"? What exactly does that teach?
Yes, I'm blocked and baffled, but I'm not going to quit. I'm not going to let someone else do all the work or steal my dream. I'm going to keep trying and if I fall, as long as I'm able, I'm going to get back up and try again.
I don't want to get to the end of my path and say I took the shortest route between point A and point B. There's too much to see along the way.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
A Favorite Topic
If you had read any of my blogs, then you know how passionate I am about anything extraterrestrial. I've read many books on the subject, followed along with the conspiracy theorists and scan the skies every chance I get. Probably the best video, in my opinion, was the one I watched that had a panel of several people who were doctors, scientists, and ex-military personnel talking to a group of press and news people. Every person took their turn to tell of their experience with actual contact with an extraterrestrial being, some sort of space craft or undeniable proof of a government cover up.
Imagine my excitement when I discovered there was a TV show being aired this past Sunday about the structures on the moon! Of course, this was perfect timing, Sunday happened to be the 45th anniversary of the Apollo moon landing.
The show was interesting, but much of it I had seen before, through searches on the internet. If someone was seeing this information for the first time, I wondered if they felt the same way I did. Why has it taken so long for this to be given to the public?
My biggest concern was all the doom and gloom associated with this discovery. That we should be very concerned. That our moon may not be ours and we should consider doing something about it.
SERIOUSLY?
First of all, if there really are structures on the moon, built by some one or thing other than us, don't you think it's safe to bet they are a tad bit more technically advanced than we are? I mean, come on, it only took the human race a few hundred millennium to get to the moon in the first place and there are scores of people who really don't believe we have been there at all.
Second, why is the first reaction the human race seems to have at something new or unknown is to throw something at it? We started with rocks and have worked our way up to missiles that can blast a target hundreds of miles away.
What has happened to extending friendship and goodwill towards others? Sure, they might be cloaked in a Trojan Horse, but if they want to annihilate us, I think they probably could have already done it. I'm beginning to think they are probably just sitting back waiting for us to annihilate ourselves, then they can come in, clean up the mess and get on with whatever it is they do.
I don't know what to think about it. I have many questions, as I'm sure most of us would. I do know that the masses are not easily controlled when given too much information and that is usually passed along as being for our own good. After all, we do tend to get nasty when we find out we've been lied to.
What ever is out there, I may be first in line to holler, "Beam me up, Scottie!"
Imagine my excitement when I discovered there was a TV show being aired this past Sunday about the structures on the moon! Of course, this was perfect timing, Sunday happened to be the 45th anniversary of the Apollo moon landing.
The show was interesting, but much of it I had seen before, through searches on the internet. If someone was seeing this information for the first time, I wondered if they felt the same way I did. Why has it taken so long for this to be given to the public?
My biggest concern was all the doom and gloom associated with this discovery. That we should be very concerned. That our moon may not be ours and we should consider doing something about it.
SERIOUSLY?
First of all, if there really are structures on the moon, built by some one or thing other than us, don't you think it's safe to bet they are a tad bit more technically advanced than we are? I mean, come on, it only took the human race a few hundred millennium to get to the moon in the first place and there are scores of people who really don't believe we have been there at all.
Second, why is the first reaction the human race seems to have at something new or unknown is to throw something at it? We started with rocks and have worked our way up to missiles that can blast a target hundreds of miles away.
What has happened to extending friendship and goodwill towards others? Sure, they might be cloaked in a Trojan Horse, but if they want to annihilate us, I think they probably could have already done it. I'm beginning to think they are probably just sitting back waiting for us to annihilate ourselves, then they can come in, clean up the mess and get on with whatever it is they do.
I don't know what to think about it. I have many questions, as I'm sure most of us would. I do know that the masses are not easily controlled when given too much information and that is usually passed along as being for our own good. After all, we do tend to get nasty when we find out we've been lied to.
What ever is out there, I may be first in line to holler, "Beam me up, Scottie!"
Monday, July 21, 2014
Home Remedies 101
Saturday morning I hopped in my car and drove 40 miles to the nearest prompt care facility I could find. The reason for this was the losing battle I was having with the recent infestation of poison ivy. I was miserable, it was still spreading and nothing seemed to work.
There is something very odd about going to a big box store for medical services, but I must admit, it was convenient. Just like in a fast food joint, there on the wall hung a large sign with a list of ailments to choose from. I picked #10, the poison ivy/oak combo meal, and asked them to super size it for me.
I received two steroid shots and some ointment. I think steroid shots should be a monthly regimen, I was super woman by mid afternoon.
I guess I was looking for an instant cure and it has yet to happen. I didn't ask how long it would take the shots to work and the ointment really wasn't helping. I woke at 1 a.m. Sunday morning and thought I just might go stark raving mad because of the itching. I got out of bed, still feeling like super woman, and just stayed up.
Last week I had found some relief with a paste of baking soda, of which there is still a trail throughout the house. Someone mentioned fingernail polish, so I thought I would give that a try.
It's always a wise idea to choose either clear or some neutral, skin matching color of polish....I had hot pink. Not only did I look like I still had the plague, it shimmered.
Yesterday afternoon I got in the swimming pool. It's been unusually chilly in this area over the past week and the water temperature was a bit cooler than I like, but the relief was instant. The cold water made the itching stop and even helped with the swelling.
Realizing I couldn't stay in the water all night, I decided to try one more thing and I may have hit upon the magic combination: oatmeal and salt.
Putting the dry oatmeal in a blender helps to reduce the size of the chunks. A few quick pulses, especially if the blender has an ice crush mode, works quite nicely.
Place the freshly pulverized oatmeal in a small bowl and add some salt. I used Himalayan crystal salt. It's much better and healthier than plain old table salt, but I'll save that information for another day. How much salt to add depends on how much pain one can stand, I used a lot.
Next, add a small amount of water, just enough to make a paste. This will continue to thicken the longer it sits.
When the solution is thick enough to stay on the end of your finger and not land in big blobs all over the floor, apply liberally to all infected areas.
Let dry.
If a speedier drying process is needed, a quick trip up the street on a bicycle helps with this and also keeps the thighs from rubbing together.
The end result will look like some small child just projectile vomited all over you, but the relief from itching will be instantaneous. If necessary to venture out in public, be sure to follow someone carrying above mentioned small child to place the blame on, because you will be noticed.......from a mile away.
Before bedtime, place another sheet on your side of the bed. This will help to keep the chunks that fall off out of someone else's sleeping area. This will give you the feeling of having eaten a large bag of chips in your bed, but sleeping and not itching will be achieved. Also, keep bowl of paste nearby, in case of relapse.
The next morning, if there are plants to water outdoors, that is a good time and place to wash off. The cold water from the hose will not only help loosen what chunks did not end up in your bed, but will remove any sleepiness that may be lingering.
Reapply as needed.
It's working. Maybe when the oatmeal mixes with the baking soda all over the floor, there will be a batch of cookies soon and I won't have to run the vacuum again.
There is something very odd about going to a big box store for medical services, but I must admit, it was convenient. Just like in a fast food joint, there on the wall hung a large sign with a list of ailments to choose from. I picked #10, the poison ivy/oak combo meal, and asked them to super size it for me.
I received two steroid shots and some ointment. I think steroid shots should be a monthly regimen, I was super woman by mid afternoon.
I guess I was looking for an instant cure and it has yet to happen. I didn't ask how long it would take the shots to work and the ointment really wasn't helping. I woke at 1 a.m. Sunday morning and thought I just might go stark raving mad because of the itching. I got out of bed, still feeling like super woman, and just stayed up.
Last week I had found some relief with a paste of baking soda, of which there is still a trail throughout the house. Someone mentioned fingernail polish, so I thought I would give that a try.
It's always a wise idea to choose either clear or some neutral, skin matching color of polish....I had hot pink. Not only did I look like I still had the plague, it shimmered.
Yesterday afternoon I got in the swimming pool. It's been unusually chilly in this area over the past week and the water temperature was a bit cooler than I like, but the relief was instant. The cold water made the itching stop and even helped with the swelling.
Realizing I couldn't stay in the water all night, I decided to try one more thing and I may have hit upon the magic combination: oatmeal and salt.
Putting the dry oatmeal in a blender helps to reduce the size of the chunks. A few quick pulses, especially if the blender has an ice crush mode, works quite nicely.
Place the freshly pulverized oatmeal in a small bowl and add some salt. I used Himalayan crystal salt. It's much better and healthier than plain old table salt, but I'll save that information for another day. How much salt to add depends on how much pain one can stand, I used a lot.
Next, add a small amount of water, just enough to make a paste. This will continue to thicken the longer it sits.
When the solution is thick enough to stay on the end of your finger and not land in big blobs all over the floor, apply liberally to all infected areas.
Let dry.
If a speedier drying process is needed, a quick trip up the street on a bicycle helps with this and also keeps the thighs from rubbing together.
The end result will look like some small child just projectile vomited all over you, but the relief from itching will be instantaneous. If necessary to venture out in public, be sure to follow someone carrying above mentioned small child to place the blame on, because you will be noticed.......from a mile away.
Before bedtime, place another sheet on your side of the bed. This will help to keep the chunks that fall off out of someone else's sleeping area. This will give you the feeling of having eaten a large bag of chips in your bed, but sleeping and not itching will be achieved. Also, keep bowl of paste nearby, in case of relapse.
The next morning, if there are plants to water outdoors, that is a good time and place to wash off. The cold water from the hose will not only help loosen what chunks did not end up in your bed, but will remove any sleepiness that may be lingering.
Reapply as needed.
It's working. Maybe when the oatmeal mixes with the baking soda all over the floor, there will be a batch of cookies soon and I won't have to run the vacuum again.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Not Today
Making people laugh gives me great joy. I believe it has even been scientifically proven that laughter can help heal sickness.
I wonder if maybe the leaders of the countries on this planet need to get together and share a few good laughs. I wonder if that would help to make people get along?
What makes the human race act so callously towards each other? Is it greed? Is it the need for power?
Wars based on religious beliefs are so futile. They will never end because everyone who believes in something thinks their belief is the right one. Just look around, especially if you live in a small community, and count how many different denominations of churches there are. Is it really too much to ask to be able to agree to disagree?
One thing most all religious beliefs have in common is an 'end time' and world peace. Well, what say we just bring that on?
I would venture a guess that most people just want to live their lives without a lot of hassle. To aspire to a dream, or raise a family, or invent some new thing to make life easier. So, what happens along that route? At what point do things go so terribly askew?
We put people in leadership positions because for as long as humanity has roamed the earth, people have felt the need for a leader. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe all the world leaders are already having a get-together, laughing it up and the collateral damage is just a means to an end.
I wonder if maybe the leaders of the countries on this planet need to get together and share a few good laughs. I wonder if that would help to make people get along?
What makes the human race act so callously towards each other? Is it greed? Is it the need for power?
Wars based on religious beliefs are so futile. They will never end because everyone who believes in something thinks their belief is the right one. Just look around, especially if you live in a small community, and count how many different denominations of churches there are. Is it really too much to ask to be able to agree to disagree?
One thing most all religious beliefs have in common is an 'end time' and world peace. Well, what say we just bring that on?
I would venture a guess that most people just want to live their lives without a lot of hassle. To aspire to a dream, or raise a family, or invent some new thing to make life easier. So, what happens along that route? At what point do things go so terribly askew?
We put people in leadership positions because for as long as humanity has roamed the earth, people have felt the need for a leader. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe all the world leaders are already having a get-together, laughing it up and the collateral damage is just a means to an end.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
No Scratching Allowed
There it was, in plain sight. I knew it was there. It had been there for a really long time and all that time I had avoided it.
I was instructing my husband, who had been wielding a chain saw all day, as to where to make the cut. Men who have been cutting stuff with a chain saw are dangerous. Nothing is sacred in their eyes, if it stands, it can fall.
The old part of this lilac bush had been overtaken by a large vine. I was never sure what the vine was, but I knew what the lovely three leafed foliage was growing on the ground, around the lilac bush. Poison Ivy.
It turned out, the large vine also sported three leaves, Poison Oak.
When I was a kid, all I had to do to get poison ivy was to look at it. I remember a time when the real Lela and Blanche brought me home from a week at the cabin. They went into Mother's work place to bring her out to the car. I was so happy to see her. She took one look and me and burst into tears. There wasn't a place on my body that didn't have the blistering menace, even my eyelids were covered. She took me to the doctor and they gave me a steroid shot. By the next day, I was better. For years after that, I didn't get poison ivy again.
Obviously there is an expiration date on steroid shots. I believe I have milked the first one completely dry.
I knew I was standing in it.......wearing shorts. But, I was sure I was being careful. Not so much. My legs look like I have the plague and my husband is pretty sure that I do. I keep reassuring him that, at his age, if he's never had it, he's probably not ever going to. He doesn't believe me, I keep waiting for him to come in with the ten foot pole.
I'm trying every home remedy I can come up with. So far, a paste made with baking soda seems to be helping. The only problem with that is I can't wear my jeans, only shorts. Now I really do look like I have the plague and I'm leaving a trail of baking soda everywhere I go.
That figures, I had just run the vacuum the other day. It had set out in the office for so long I thought about hanging a plant on it, giving it a new function. It's just like mopping the kitchen floor. You can wait for days, weeks, even months to mop the floor and as soon as you do, somebody will drop a glass of milk right in the middle of it. This is a true example of the law of physics.
If you have ever heard the expression, 'leaves of three, leave them be', take heed of that advice. There's not much of anything that is worse than havin' an itch ya can't scratch.
I was instructing my husband, who had been wielding a chain saw all day, as to where to make the cut. Men who have been cutting stuff with a chain saw are dangerous. Nothing is sacred in their eyes, if it stands, it can fall.
The old part of this lilac bush had been overtaken by a large vine. I was never sure what the vine was, but I knew what the lovely three leafed foliage was growing on the ground, around the lilac bush. Poison Ivy.
It turned out, the large vine also sported three leaves, Poison Oak.
When I was a kid, all I had to do to get poison ivy was to look at it. I remember a time when the real Lela and Blanche brought me home from a week at the cabin. They went into Mother's work place to bring her out to the car. I was so happy to see her. She took one look and me and burst into tears. There wasn't a place on my body that didn't have the blistering menace, even my eyelids were covered. She took me to the doctor and they gave me a steroid shot. By the next day, I was better. For years after that, I didn't get poison ivy again.
Obviously there is an expiration date on steroid shots. I believe I have milked the first one completely dry.
I knew I was standing in it.......wearing shorts. But, I was sure I was being careful. Not so much. My legs look like I have the plague and my husband is pretty sure that I do. I keep reassuring him that, at his age, if he's never had it, he's probably not ever going to. He doesn't believe me, I keep waiting for him to come in with the ten foot pole.
I'm trying every home remedy I can come up with. So far, a paste made with baking soda seems to be helping. The only problem with that is I can't wear my jeans, only shorts. Now I really do look like I have the plague and I'm leaving a trail of baking soda everywhere I go.
That figures, I had just run the vacuum the other day. It had set out in the office for so long I thought about hanging a plant on it, giving it a new function. It's just like mopping the kitchen floor. You can wait for days, weeks, even months to mop the floor and as soon as you do, somebody will drop a glass of milk right in the middle of it. This is a true example of the law of physics.
If you have ever heard the expression, 'leaves of three, leave them be', take heed of that advice. There's not much of anything that is worse than havin' an itch ya can't scratch.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
The Hummer
Some Eastern religions believe that the human soul may be reincarnated as an animal of some kind. This concept gives me a lot to ponder. It is my sincere hope to not come back as the common house fly, especially since I swatted one this morning in the kitchen.
I had decided not to put out the hummingbird feeder this year. We always have two hummingbirds and on rare occasion, three. I'm always envious of the pictures I see of my friends, who live in the outer parts of this rural area, they have hundreds of them.
My reasoning was simple, I wanted to save them. With the arrival of the latest feline member of this family, I thought it best not to put the feeder out. Tigger may be full grown, but inside he is all kitten. Anything that moves is fair game. He lacks quite a bit in his hunting skills, but that doesn't stop him from trying. His most recent accomplishment in the hunting department is night crawlers. He finds them in the mulch around the yard and proudly carries the worm, hanging out of his mouth like a fierce jungle cat with a large snake, to the back door. From there, they provide him with much entertainment.
A couple of weeks ago I was standing on the back deck, surveying my domain. I do this often and it always seems to give me a sense of peace and tranquility. It also is much more enjoyable than doing things that I should be doing.
While I was gazing, a male hummingbird came to me and hovered not twelve inches from my face. I made a mental note that I was not wearing red at the time and he wasn't mistaking me for some giant sized flower. I spoke to the bird. I talk to all creatures, even inanimate ones. He still hovered. Then he began to make that chipping sound that hummingbirds do. It doesn't really qualify as a chirp, I suppose that is because they are not big enough to chirp, so they chip.
The whole time this is going on, I'm thinking how amazing it is. This tiny bird, master of all things aerodynamic, seems to be trying to tell me something. He stayed in this position for a long time, then shifted his speedy gears in reverse, gave me one more 'chip' and darted off.
I came back into the house, pulled the hummingbird feeder from beneath the kitchen sink and mixed up some sugar water. I hung it in its rightful spot and within less than five minutes, he was back.
Is this small feathered creature the embodiment of some lost family member? I have no idea, but I will enjoy his company and he seems to enjoy mine.
I had decided not to put out the hummingbird feeder this year. We always have two hummingbirds and on rare occasion, three. I'm always envious of the pictures I see of my friends, who live in the outer parts of this rural area, they have hundreds of them.
My reasoning was simple, I wanted to save them. With the arrival of the latest feline member of this family, I thought it best not to put the feeder out. Tigger may be full grown, but inside he is all kitten. Anything that moves is fair game. He lacks quite a bit in his hunting skills, but that doesn't stop him from trying. His most recent accomplishment in the hunting department is night crawlers. He finds them in the mulch around the yard and proudly carries the worm, hanging out of his mouth like a fierce jungle cat with a large snake, to the back door. From there, they provide him with much entertainment.
A couple of weeks ago I was standing on the back deck, surveying my domain. I do this often and it always seems to give me a sense of peace and tranquility. It also is much more enjoyable than doing things that I should be doing.
While I was gazing, a male hummingbird came to me and hovered not twelve inches from my face. I made a mental note that I was not wearing red at the time and he wasn't mistaking me for some giant sized flower. I spoke to the bird. I talk to all creatures, even inanimate ones. He still hovered. Then he began to make that chipping sound that hummingbirds do. It doesn't really qualify as a chirp, I suppose that is because they are not big enough to chirp, so they chip.
The whole time this is going on, I'm thinking how amazing it is. This tiny bird, master of all things aerodynamic, seems to be trying to tell me something. He stayed in this position for a long time, then shifted his speedy gears in reverse, gave me one more 'chip' and darted off.
I came back into the house, pulled the hummingbird feeder from beneath the kitchen sink and mixed up some sugar water. I hung it in its rightful spot and within less than five minutes, he was back.
Is this small feathered creature the embodiment of some lost family member? I have no idea, but I will enjoy his company and he seems to enjoy mine.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Me n' Bob
Many years ago, my fourth grade teacher lived across the alley from us. She had lost her husband and later suffered from illness. When she was able to return to school, it was my job, at nine years of age, to go over each morning and help her get dressed. I would go in through the side porch, open the door and announce, "It's me."
Being a teacher of all subjects, she was a stickler for grammar. It wasn't long before I had to announce myself with "It is I", which I thought sounded dumber than dirt, but I did it anyway. She had a reputation of being a teacher that you never wanted to cross. Since I had known her seven of my nine years I rarely was witness to her wrath. She didn't scare me and I spent many an hour in her home. Mother would call out the back door, "Ruth, where are you?"
I would answer, "I know where I am." This usually did not end well.
Anyway, so the title should be Bob and I, but not today.
Today is my youngest grandson's 7th birthday. Last Friday his mother, our youngest, sent me a text wanting to know if we could make his cake instead of her buying him one. This instantly brought back memories of my cake decorating days and I responded with a "I don't see why we couldn't."
I have some kind of brain malfunction that makes it impossible for me to gauge how much time has past since I last did something. Hopefully I will not be trying any cartwheels soon.
Friday was also the day I had started to get caught up with my work. I had the entire weekend planned and after all, his birthday was four days away.
My daughter and I, (proper grammar), continued to text about what ingredients she would need. About two hours later she showed up loaded down with construction materials for cake and icing. I was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the finish on some beads to dry, and I thought it was odd that she had bought everything so soon. She immediately set out to whip up the cake batter.
"Why are you doing that now?", I asked. I knew why she wanted to do it at my house, so he wouldn't see it, but I'm thinking the cake is going to be a bit dry by next Tuesday.
She responded with, "Well Mom, his party is tomorrow!"
Being unaware of this fact, I watched as she put all the ingredients together before I had to tell her we had another problem. I still haven't fixed my oven. My reasoning for this is, if it doesn't work, I don't have to use it. Sounds good to me.
We loaded the batter filled pans back into her car and off she went to bake them at her house. When her son looked at them he declared it looked like mustard and she played along with that, so he was none the wiser.
She brought the freshly baked cakes back to me and I flipped them onto the cooling racks. By this time, I'm beginning to remember what it takes to decorate a cake. When they were cooled, I covered them and tossed them in the frig. The icing could wait for the next day, after all, I had things to get caught up on.
I shall not bore you with the details of what it takes to make buttercream icing. The one thing I did remember was to not put the 4 pounds of sifted powdered sugar into the whipped shortening while the beaters are still running on high. Not that it would have mattered, I already had powdered sugar everywhere.
For some insane reason, I feel I should always do things on a grand scale and this usually creates a grand mess. This was no exception. I wrestled Sponge Bob all over the kitchen. I had decided to put him in underpants which was a good idea, it's really difficult to make brown icing.
Sponge Bob had no arms or legs, but in the end, no one cared. It was seven o'clock that evening before I was able to clean up the aftermath of icing warfare.
Being a teacher of all subjects, she was a stickler for grammar. It wasn't long before I had to announce myself with "It is I", which I thought sounded dumber than dirt, but I did it anyway. She had a reputation of being a teacher that you never wanted to cross. Since I had known her seven of my nine years I rarely was witness to her wrath. She didn't scare me and I spent many an hour in her home. Mother would call out the back door, "Ruth, where are you?"
I would answer, "I know where I am." This usually did not end well.
Anyway, so the title should be Bob and I, but not today.
Today is my youngest grandson's 7th birthday. Last Friday his mother, our youngest, sent me a text wanting to know if we could make his cake instead of her buying him one. This instantly brought back memories of my cake decorating days and I responded with a "I don't see why we couldn't."
I have some kind of brain malfunction that makes it impossible for me to gauge how much time has past since I last did something. Hopefully I will not be trying any cartwheels soon.
Friday was also the day I had started to get caught up with my work. I had the entire weekend planned and after all, his birthday was four days away.
My daughter and I, (proper grammar), continued to text about what ingredients she would need. About two hours later she showed up loaded down with construction materials for cake and icing. I was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for the finish on some beads to dry, and I thought it was odd that she had bought everything so soon. She immediately set out to whip up the cake batter.
"Why are you doing that now?", I asked. I knew why she wanted to do it at my house, so he wouldn't see it, but I'm thinking the cake is going to be a bit dry by next Tuesday.
She responded with, "Well Mom, his party is tomorrow!"
Being unaware of this fact, I watched as she put all the ingredients together before I had to tell her we had another problem. I still haven't fixed my oven. My reasoning for this is, if it doesn't work, I don't have to use it. Sounds good to me.
We loaded the batter filled pans back into her car and off she went to bake them at her house. When her son looked at them he declared it looked like mustard and she played along with that, so he was none the wiser.
She brought the freshly baked cakes back to me and I flipped them onto the cooling racks. By this time, I'm beginning to remember what it takes to decorate a cake. When they were cooled, I covered them and tossed them in the frig. The icing could wait for the next day, after all, I had things to get caught up on.
I shall not bore you with the details of what it takes to make buttercream icing. The one thing I did remember was to not put the 4 pounds of sifted powdered sugar into the whipped shortening while the beaters are still running on high. Not that it would have mattered, I already had powdered sugar everywhere.
For some insane reason, I feel I should always do things on a grand scale and this usually creates a grand mess. This was no exception. I wrestled Sponge Bob all over the kitchen. I had decided to put him in underpants which was a good idea, it's really difficult to make brown icing.
Sponge Bob had no arms or legs, but in the end, no one cared. It was seven o'clock that evening before I was able to clean up the aftermath of icing warfare.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
To My Readers
What I have been waiting for has happened.
It seems sometimes it is necessary to have to walk through some cat crap, get it stuck in the treads of your shoes and wonder where the awful smell is coming from. Once you figure out that it's actually coming from yourself, there is a decision to make. Either continue to smell like cat crap, which is not pleasant whatsoever, or clean it out.
This same thing applies to people or circumstances in our life. If it stinks, do something about it. If there is nothing done, it is sometimes hard to attract the things that you need to come into your life because of the stench.
My sideline business that I started a few years ago has exploded, literally overnight. It happened as soon as I cleaned out my shoe treads. Last night I realized I had missed a deadline on an order and to me, this is unacceptable.
So, I'm going to take my fingers away from the keyboard for the next couple of days and use that time, plus the weekend, to get caught up.
Thank you all for reading tRuth As I See It. You have no idea how it makes me feel to know that it is being read worldwide.
To my readers across the big pond. I think of you often and wish there was something I could do to make things better, or more peaceful for your sake. I shall continue to send good vibrations your way. I hope the rest of the world will too.
Until next week, enjoy, smile, live and laugh and for pete's sake, if there is any cat crap stuck on the bottom of your shoes, get rid of it!
It seems sometimes it is necessary to have to walk through some cat crap, get it stuck in the treads of your shoes and wonder where the awful smell is coming from. Once you figure out that it's actually coming from yourself, there is a decision to make. Either continue to smell like cat crap, which is not pleasant whatsoever, or clean it out.
This same thing applies to people or circumstances in our life. If it stinks, do something about it. If there is nothing done, it is sometimes hard to attract the things that you need to come into your life because of the stench.
My sideline business that I started a few years ago has exploded, literally overnight. It happened as soon as I cleaned out my shoe treads. Last night I realized I had missed a deadline on an order and to me, this is unacceptable.
So, I'm going to take my fingers away from the keyboard for the next couple of days and use that time, plus the weekend, to get caught up.
Thank you all for reading tRuth As I See It. You have no idea how it makes me feel to know that it is being read worldwide.
To my readers across the big pond. I think of you often and wish there was something I could do to make things better, or more peaceful for your sake. I shall continue to send good vibrations your way. I hope the rest of the world will too.
Until next week, enjoy, smile, live and laugh and for pete's sake, if there is any cat crap stuck on the bottom of your shoes, get rid of it!
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
My New Pet.....Peeve
Years ago, Mother and I took a trip with her sister and husband. We drove to Florida and it was the first time I had ever seen the ocean. It wasn't one of those trips where you drive non stop trying to reach the final destination because we stopped at each and every point of interest between here and the deep blue sea.
We took Uncle Neal and Aunt Venice's car and the three adults shared the driving. When Aunt Venice would be behind the wheel, the more she talked, the slower she drove. Keep in mind, cruise control was only in science fiction at the time. When her story or conversation ended, she would accelerate, laying us back against the seat, and we would be on our merry way.
When Uncle Neal took his turn, he slowed down to read every billboard along the highway. Believe me, there were hundreds of them and I thought if I saw one more Ruby Falls billboard, I might croak. I just wished someone would stop and help her up.
About half way through the trip south, Aunt and Uncle realized I had my driver's permit. I don't think they ever got behind the wheel again until we arrived back home.
This area doesn't have a lot of billboards. There are a few, but since they have been deemed unsightly, their locations are restricted. But something new has sprouted up all over the place, the digital sign.
These are the signs that have the business name at the top and then a lighted area beneath the name. When they first started showing up, the lighted area usually told us two things, the time and the temperature.
Now it seems they are used to tell us a whole boat load of information that is usually impossible to read at whatever the posted speed limit is.
Things such as, WECANMAKEYOURSMILESOBRIGHTYOUWILLHAVETOWEARSHADESTOOBRUSHYOURTEETHINTHEMORNING!
Or, STOPINSOONANDCHECKOUTOURLOWINTERESTRATESFORYOURNEXTHOMEIMPROVEMENTPROJECTVACATIONORSIMPLYPAYOFFBILLS!
Then there are the ones who think it's a good idea to be the community bulletin board and will have something like this, SUNDAYFUNDAYINTHEPARKBRINGTHEKIDSTHECATANDTHEDOGANDALLYOURFRIENDSFUNFOODANDAGOODTIMEFORALL!
With the evolution of the automobile and the billboards we are constantly bombarded with tons of useless information. Down deep inside, all we really want to know when we come upon a digital sign is two things, the time and the temperature. The only reason we want to know this is to make sure the sign is right, because our vehicle's time and temp is never wrong.
We took Uncle Neal and Aunt Venice's car and the three adults shared the driving. When Aunt Venice would be behind the wheel, the more she talked, the slower she drove. Keep in mind, cruise control was only in science fiction at the time. When her story or conversation ended, she would accelerate, laying us back against the seat, and we would be on our merry way.
When Uncle Neal took his turn, he slowed down to read every billboard along the highway. Believe me, there were hundreds of them and I thought if I saw one more Ruby Falls billboard, I might croak. I just wished someone would stop and help her up.
About half way through the trip south, Aunt and Uncle realized I had my driver's permit. I don't think they ever got behind the wheel again until we arrived back home.
This area doesn't have a lot of billboards. There are a few, but since they have been deemed unsightly, their locations are restricted. But something new has sprouted up all over the place, the digital sign.
These are the signs that have the business name at the top and then a lighted area beneath the name. When they first started showing up, the lighted area usually told us two things, the time and the temperature.
Now it seems they are used to tell us a whole boat load of information that is usually impossible to read at whatever the posted speed limit is.
Things such as, WECANMAKEYOURSMILESOBRIGHTYOUWILLHAVETOWEARSHADESTOOBRUSHYOURTEETHINTHEMORNING!
Or, STOPINSOONANDCHECKOUTOURLOWINTERESTRATESFORYOURNEXTHOMEIMPROVEMENTPROJECTVACATIONORSIMPLYPAYOFFBILLS!
Then there are the ones who think it's a good idea to be the community bulletin board and will have something like this, SUNDAYFUNDAYINTHEPARKBRINGTHEKIDSTHECATANDTHEDOGANDALLYOURFRIENDSFUNFOODANDAGOODTIMEFORALL!
With the evolution of the automobile and the billboards we are constantly bombarded with tons of useless information. Down deep inside, all we really want to know when we come upon a digital sign is two things, the time and the temperature. The only reason we want to know this is to make sure the sign is right, because our vehicle's time and temp is never wrong.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Being Okay
"I am nuts for real,
But I'm OK with that......"
Eminem, Rihanna The Monster
Down one day, up the next. I really didn't like roller coasters when I was a kid. I've decided to get off this one.
Perhaps there is some kind of divine intervention taking place. Someone, somewhere, sending out a message of good vibes for my sake. I'm not sure.
It just seems like it's time to take the bull, that I was so eager to climb into the ring with yesterday armed only with a red cape, by the horns. So what if I lose the battle? The odds of winning are the same amount, 50/50.
If I do not win, does that mean I'm finished? No. It simply means I must get up again, shake off the dust and try a different approach. Sure, it would be easier if I could just go open the front door and find a box, filled with all the right answers, but nothing great is ever achieved the easy way.
How does that go? It doesn't matter whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game? Yes, I believe that's it, although there are a few sports enthusiasts whom do not follow that adage.
Today's word on the dictionary app is 'foofaraw'. It means to cause a great disturbance over something insignificant. A much cooler way to refer to those who create their own drama.
So, no more foofaraw for me. I will just dig down inside and find that stuff that made me try out for cheerleading, six years in a row, before I ever made the squad. If I could survive that kind of foofaraw, I believe I can survive what ever comes my way.
I'm Okay with that.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Stuck
My wheels are spinning. It would be nice if they were spinning, sending up big plumes of black smoke, like a hot rod muscle car at the front line of a drag race. Just aching for the tree lights to go green.
Mine are spinning like a riding lawn mower that doesn't have bar tires, on a slope of green wet grass, making mud, as they continue to spin in the same spot.
I don't know why I'm so stuck. Fear, perhaps. Being told "no".
That's why I could never be a good salesperson. One "no" and I was done. Kapoot. I'd rather take my chances with a bull and a red cape than to be told no.
I have no idea why that is because if someone tells me I can't do something, I'm hell bent for leather to prove them wrong. So, what's my problem?
I wish I was the person other people think I am. My best friend in the whole wide world described me, many years ago, to a tee. She may look like steel on the outside, but on the inside, she's pretty tender. She was right, nothing but Jell-o on the inside.
Sigh, I think I'm a little too old to be anything or anyone different. My dreams seem to be wafting out of the end of a pipe.
The longest journey starts with one step, then another, then another. Maybe I'll just go for a walk.
Mine are spinning like a riding lawn mower that doesn't have bar tires, on a slope of green wet grass, making mud, as they continue to spin in the same spot.
I don't know why I'm so stuck. Fear, perhaps. Being told "no".
That's why I could never be a good salesperson. One "no" and I was done. Kapoot. I'd rather take my chances with a bull and a red cape than to be told no.
I have no idea why that is because if someone tells me I can't do something, I'm hell bent for leather to prove them wrong. So, what's my problem?
I wish I was the person other people think I am. My best friend in the whole wide world described me, many years ago, to a tee. She may look like steel on the outside, but on the inside, she's pretty tender. She was right, nothing but Jell-o on the inside.
Sigh, I think I'm a little too old to be anything or anyone different. My dreams seem to be wafting out of the end of a pipe.
The longest journey starts with one step, then another, then another. Maybe I'll just go for a walk.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
The Down Side of Downsizing
I've seen the look before. My husband's ever steady gaze as I reveal a new idea to him. The man deserves a gold star, he never realized how much crazy he got when he got me. Lucky for me, his eyes haven't ever glazed over while I'm sharing my next adventure, but he has been know to snore in the middle of my sentence.
I've been looking at the tiny house movement. These are small homes.....really small. What I have read and researched about them I find fascinating. No big overhead, simple living, and if they are on wheels, they can be taken just about anywhere. Oh boy, that sounds like fun!
Since we have actually been talking about downsizing, the first thing to do is decide what to do without. I'm discovering this is a daunting task.
We have lived in this house for almost 30 years. This is also the house I grew up in. As I make the trek from the basement to the second floor, I give a small prayer of thanks that we don't have an attic. Good grief, how does one accumulate so much stuff?
I thought I had done well, getting rid of many items, but when it comes to going from many square feet to say, maybe 400 square feet the old saying "you can't take it with you" has a whole new meaning.
Standing in the basement I see I have kept many a valuable item. On the top shelf of one of the eight sets of shelving units sits a coffee can wrapped in tin foil. I have no idea why it is wrapped in tin foil, that's just the way it has always been. It is full of rocks. These rocks are not anything special, they're just rocks. Some forty years ago, when Dad retired, Mother thought it a good idea for him to have a hobby. She bought him a rock tumbler, thinking he could while away the hours making trinkets. He did pick up some rocks, they are still in the can. As far as actually tumbling them is anyone's guess. I look at the rocks and gently place them back on the shelf.
At the far end of the row of shelving units, again on the top shelf, is an assortment of small plaster houses. These were to be a Christmas village, when I got them all painted. There are 13 little houses, three of them are finished. The other 10 are still wrapped in plastic, never opened. I haven't touched them in over ten years, maybe even longer. I go back up the stairs.
I walk around and look at all the stuff hanging on the walls. Then I go to the closet in the entry way, slowly I open four sets of bi-fold doors. This closet is jam packed from the floor to the ceiling. Within its confines hangs a beautiful long grey wool coat that I thought was just the cat's meow. I think I wore it once. It's very heavy and nearly wore me out getting from the house to the car. I glance at the other treasures this closet conceals and slowly close the doors. I'm not even going to venture into the kitchen, I know what's in there. I have 30 dinner plates within arms reach. That doesn't count the twelve piece place setting of china, it's in a box, in the basement.
Maybe the second floor will give me more motivation.
I walk down the hallway, and out of the corner of my eye, glance into five bedrooms. All but one has a closet. In one closet I find a dress that I know darn good and well I will never wear again. It is pretty though, I close the door.
Perhaps I will just go outside. I could live out there if it didn't get so cold in the winter. I look back at the house and think of the large antique mall my sisters, Lela and Blanche, made me take them to. Those are the places where all your stuff ends up if your kids don't want it, and they don't because they are in the process of accumulating their own stuff.
Maybe we could just jump in the car and just start driving. When they finally find us, we could claim amnesia and act like we don't have a clue. That might be the best idea yet.
I've been looking at the tiny house movement. These are small homes.....really small. What I have read and researched about them I find fascinating. No big overhead, simple living, and if they are on wheels, they can be taken just about anywhere. Oh boy, that sounds like fun!
Since we have actually been talking about downsizing, the first thing to do is decide what to do without. I'm discovering this is a daunting task.
We have lived in this house for almost 30 years. This is also the house I grew up in. As I make the trek from the basement to the second floor, I give a small prayer of thanks that we don't have an attic. Good grief, how does one accumulate so much stuff?
I thought I had done well, getting rid of many items, but when it comes to going from many square feet to say, maybe 400 square feet the old saying "you can't take it with you" has a whole new meaning.
Standing in the basement I see I have kept many a valuable item. On the top shelf of one of the eight sets of shelving units sits a coffee can wrapped in tin foil. I have no idea why it is wrapped in tin foil, that's just the way it has always been. It is full of rocks. These rocks are not anything special, they're just rocks. Some forty years ago, when Dad retired, Mother thought it a good idea for him to have a hobby. She bought him a rock tumbler, thinking he could while away the hours making trinkets. He did pick up some rocks, they are still in the can. As far as actually tumbling them is anyone's guess. I look at the rocks and gently place them back on the shelf.
At the far end of the row of shelving units, again on the top shelf, is an assortment of small plaster houses. These were to be a Christmas village, when I got them all painted. There are 13 little houses, three of them are finished. The other 10 are still wrapped in plastic, never opened. I haven't touched them in over ten years, maybe even longer. I go back up the stairs.
I walk around and look at all the stuff hanging on the walls. Then I go to the closet in the entry way, slowly I open four sets of bi-fold doors. This closet is jam packed from the floor to the ceiling. Within its confines hangs a beautiful long grey wool coat that I thought was just the cat's meow. I think I wore it once. It's very heavy and nearly wore me out getting from the house to the car. I glance at the other treasures this closet conceals and slowly close the doors. I'm not even going to venture into the kitchen, I know what's in there. I have 30 dinner plates within arms reach. That doesn't count the twelve piece place setting of china, it's in a box, in the basement.
Maybe the second floor will give me more motivation.
I walk down the hallway, and out of the corner of my eye, glance into five bedrooms. All but one has a closet. In one closet I find a dress that I know darn good and well I will never wear again. It is pretty though, I close the door.
Perhaps I will just go outside. I could live out there if it didn't get so cold in the winter. I look back at the house and think of the large antique mall my sisters, Lela and Blanche, made me take them to. Those are the places where all your stuff ends up if your kids don't want it, and they don't because they are in the process of accumulating their own stuff.
Maybe we could just jump in the car and just start driving. When they finally find us, we could claim amnesia and act like we don't have a clue. That might be the best idea yet.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Newsworthy Tid Bits
For the first time in a long time I sat down and read the daily morning paper. I think I now know why I don't really miss reading it.
There is more flooding on the way. It is proving to be a summer filled with lots of rain. The reason for this is said to be because there is still ice in the Great Lakes. The wind from way up north comes across these cold waters and as it travels south, it meets up with the warm Gulf air traveling north. They tend to meet here, in the middle, so we get the rain this atmospheric weatheriness creates.
I may have come up with a solution to this problem. It seems the governor of our great state of Illinois is under fire......again. His administration has been accused of hiring people who had ties, political or otherwise, to his administration. Several of the positions that were filled had never been advertised to the public. Of course, this administration had no idea this phenomenon was happening.
When I was very young, I learned something from the adults who infiltrated my small world. At the time, I didn't really understand the concept, but as I grew older, the meaning began to be crystal clear. It pays to know who you know. This is nothing new, or newsworthy and has probably been going on since the dawn of civilization.
Since the powers that be tend to all congregate in the northern part of this state, here's my idea. Perhaps, if they all turned to the north and blew their hot air that direction the ice would melt faster and the remaining summer months would begin to dry out. I don't know, but it just might work.
As usual, there is lots of chaos going on across the big pond. It is too bad we all can't get along. Maybe it's time for a huge extraterrestrial craft to glide slowly across the open skies, where everyone could see it. That would certainly change the focus of the human race always thinking they need more land, believers, or just stuff in general.
The rock band "The Who" is getting ready to tour, maybe for the last time. The lead singer is 70 years old, so yes indeed, it may be the last tour. But hey, 70 is the new 50 and I figure that puts me somewhere around 40. I like that. I think I'll go listen to "Pinball Wizard" and then check to see if I need to color my hair.....again.
There is more flooding on the way. It is proving to be a summer filled with lots of rain. The reason for this is said to be because there is still ice in the Great Lakes. The wind from way up north comes across these cold waters and as it travels south, it meets up with the warm Gulf air traveling north. They tend to meet here, in the middle, so we get the rain this atmospheric weatheriness creates.
I may have come up with a solution to this problem. It seems the governor of our great state of Illinois is under fire......again. His administration has been accused of hiring people who had ties, political or otherwise, to his administration. Several of the positions that were filled had never been advertised to the public. Of course, this administration had no idea this phenomenon was happening.
When I was very young, I learned something from the adults who infiltrated my small world. At the time, I didn't really understand the concept, but as I grew older, the meaning began to be crystal clear. It pays to know who you know. This is nothing new, or newsworthy and has probably been going on since the dawn of civilization.
Since the powers that be tend to all congregate in the northern part of this state, here's my idea. Perhaps, if they all turned to the north and blew their hot air that direction the ice would melt faster and the remaining summer months would begin to dry out. I don't know, but it just might work.
As usual, there is lots of chaos going on across the big pond. It is too bad we all can't get along. Maybe it's time for a huge extraterrestrial craft to glide slowly across the open skies, where everyone could see it. That would certainly change the focus of the human race always thinking they need more land, believers, or just stuff in general.
The rock band "The Who" is getting ready to tour, maybe for the last time. The lead singer is 70 years old, so yes indeed, it may be the last tour. But hey, 70 is the new 50 and I figure that puts me somewhere around 40. I like that. I think I'll go listen to "Pinball Wizard" and then check to see if I need to color my hair.....again.
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