They first started out being screened in porches, but the screens have been replaced with three new white vinyl windows and a storm door that leads to the deck. The apartment now has a sun room. Ours faces the north, so, since we are on the third floor, I call it the lookout tower. It will not have any sun, but I'm already visualizing how many shade loving plants I can put in it.
The weather has been very mild, with temperatures in the 70's and the scent of Spring right around the corner. With the warmer temps, comes the time to open the windows. The first day I did this, two of the windows in the sun room opened easily. I did not think much of this, after all, they were new....until I got to the third one. It would not budge. I pushed on the top of the window frame and pulled on the bottom, but still, the window stayed firmly closed. My husband tried, to no avail. As he walked off, he muttered, "It must be painted shut."
That did not make any sense. The windows were new and they were vinyl, they did not need paint, nor did it look like they had been painted.
A day or two later, I tried again. Nothing. I fetched my glasses and gave close inspection to the window. It was not locked, I had made certain of that when comparing the lock positions of the other two windows. I looked along the edge of the window and there it was....paint. The window itself had not been painted, but the trim board next to it had. I looked closer still. Surely, this could not be holding the window shut. I retrieved one of my knives I use for working with clay. It is a six inch long piece of flat steel with one long edge sharpened. Slowly, I ran the corner tip of the sharp edge down along the side of the window and watched as it cut through an incredibly thin layer of paint. When I reached the bottom, I put two fingers under the pull strip on the lower edge of the window. It went up as if it had been greased with butter.
All the brawn and muscle could not overpower a thin layer of paint. The paint is like the troubles we let into our lives. At first it does not seem like a big deal, but we let it sit and it dries. It begins to disguise its self as part of our being and tries to remind us that we need it. It can take the shape of many forms. Drama, fear, self condemnation and does its very best to keep us from wanting anything better. It convinces us we do not need anything better because it likes to be in control. Control is its only power. It knows the truth about itself, that it is only a thin layer of paint, an untrue thought that crept in and decided to make itself at home. It knows that the grasp it has on us is not true, is not real, but it continues to cling, like a parasite and we continue to feed it. We continue to believe we are helpless to do anything about it.
But we are not helpless. We have a immeasurable amount of resources, as vast as the universe, at our disposal. The help can be in the form of a prayer, the counsel of a good friend, the unexplained encounter with someone or something that has been on our minds of late. It is all there for the taking, we just have to believe it and receive it. When we believe, we see just how insignificant the trouble was in the first place.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
One of Two Things
The apartment complex we now refer to as home, reminds me of one of those activity rugs for children. The streets wind around all the buildings. Sometimes they will go all the way through to the next building and sometimes they end in a circular parking lot that exits the same way it entered. On the main street, into this area, is a mail kiosk with mail boxes on all four sides. At the end of the main street is a swimming pool surrounded by empty chaise lounge chairs and behind the pool is a tennis court. A car wash sits tucked in between two of the apartment buildings. In one small grassy circle are two grills for cooking and two park benches. There is even a community trash bin that crushes all the garbage and a line of recycling bins.
Just like the activity rug, there are lots of cars. Since this place is under a huge remodel project, there are lots of construction vehicles. Front end loaders and bobcats travel from one building to another, bringing in new supplies or taking out debris. The streets are very busy in this place.
Since a major north/south highway runs behind the complex and since there is always traffic on it, no matter the time of day or night, there is ALWAYS a noise in the air. Much like the white noise many a baby boomer can remember, when the station went off the air on the television set.....but not nearly as pleasant.
Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, is a really smart dog. He can perform numerous tricks and cocks his head to the side when we talk to him as if he knows exactly what we are saying......and sometimes he does. But, when it comes to walking on a leash, he has a mind of his own. I know this is no fault of his and I should have corrected the behavior early on. My excuse is, a JRT needs to move as much as possible, so if he wants to walk 400 steps to my ten, that is fine with me and I let him have the 16 feet of leash to roam with. The consequence of not letting him have his freedom is watching him boing and bounce off the walls like a steel ball in a pinball machine.
Walking the dog has now become a game of survival. The constant drum of background noise literally drowns out everything else. I cannot count on both hands, the number of times I have turned around, in the middle of the street, to find a car directly behind me. The driver is never amused, even when I do the "holy crapola two step" trying to get myself, the dog and 16 feet of leash out of their way. I have tried turning around, periodically, to check on the traffic situation. When I do this, I look like a child that just learned to ride a bike. If they look behind them, which ever direction they looked is the direction the bike is going to go. I shant have the good people of this small community thinking that the little lady with the little white dog has already been in the sauce......and it isn't even noon yet!
I decided I only had two options left.....get run over or look for some of those spy glasses, the ones with mirrors, so the wearer can see behind them.....without having to turn around! Imagine my delight when I looked online and there were so many to choose from I still have not made up my mind which one to get.
One thing is for sure, when I get a pair, Runtly and I will be looking savvy as we stroll down the street, looking oh so casual as we deftly maneuver out of harms way..... especially if I get him a pair too.
Just like the activity rug, there are lots of cars. Since this place is under a huge remodel project, there are lots of construction vehicles. Front end loaders and bobcats travel from one building to another, bringing in new supplies or taking out debris. The streets are very busy in this place.
Since a major north/south highway runs behind the complex and since there is always traffic on it, no matter the time of day or night, there is ALWAYS a noise in the air. Much like the white noise many a baby boomer can remember, when the station went off the air on the television set.....but not nearly as pleasant.
Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, is a really smart dog. He can perform numerous tricks and cocks his head to the side when we talk to him as if he knows exactly what we are saying......and sometimes he does. But, when it comes to walking on a leash, he has a mind of his own. I know this is no fault of his and I should have corrected the behavior early on. My excuse is, a JRT needs to move as much as possible, so if he wants to walk 400 steps to my ten, that is fine with me and I let him have the 16 feet of leash to roam with. The consequence of not letting him have his freedom is watching him boing and bounce off the walls like a steel ball in a pinball machine.
Walking the dog has now become a game of survival. The constant drum of background noise literally drowns out everything else. I cannot count on both hands, the number of times I have turned around, in the middle of the street, to find a car directly behind me. The driver is never amused, even when I do the "holy crapola two step" trying to get myself, the dog and 16 feet of leash out of their way. I have tried turning around, periodically, to check on the traffic situation. When I do this, I look like a child that just learned to ride a bike. If they look behind them, which ever direction they looked is the direction the bike is going to go. I shant have the good people of this small community thinking that the little lady with the little white dog has already been in the sauce......and it isn't even noon yet!
I decided I only had two options left.....get run over or look for some of those spy glasses, the ones with mirrors, so the wearer can see behind them.....without having to turn around! Imagine my delight when I looked online and there were so many to choose from I still have not made up my mind which one to get.
One thing is for sure, when I get a pair, Runtly and I will be looking savvy as we stroll down the street, looking oh so casual as we deftly maneuver out of harms way..... especially if I get him a pair too.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Get Outta Town
"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
Mark Twain
That quote should be considered an absolute truth, a recipe for peace, a simple way to change the world.
Many years ago, I read that the majority of people never travel more than 600 miles from their place of birth.....for their entire lives. I will agree that a 600 mile day trip can make one feel they just ran the gauntlet, but in reality, it really is not that far. It can be achieved easily in two days and even if it took three days to go 600 miles in one direction, the scenery alone would be worth the trip.
If we start from home base, in good ole Pike County, and head east, 600 miles later we will be in the Appalachian Mountains and if you have never seen a mountain, put that on your bucket list. 600
miles south will put us in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Just a few miles more and we will be standing on the Gulf of Mexico. If you have not planted your feet on a sandy beach and looked out over water that is so vast you cannot see where it ends, you should try it. Next, we head west and our 600 mile journey gets us almost to the border of Colorado and just a few miles more and we are looking at the Rocky Mountains. A definite on my bucket list. Now, if we head north, 600 miles will put us in another country! Think of that, our northern neighbor, Canada, is not that far away.
A person does not have to get 600 miles from home base to realize that not everyone lives, talks or thinks the same way and to not understand this, is to live in an unreal world. It is also a great way to see the lay of the land and how it unfolds, sometimes instantly, from one scenic view to another.
One thing we are sure to discover is, that even though people come from a totally different set of ideas than what we are accustomed to, they are still people. They are people with families, dreams and struggles and if we take the time to stop and chat, they will share a bit of their life with you. That will be the best souvenir of the trip.
Here's to hoping you can get outta town soon!
Mark Twain
That quote should be considered an absolute truth, a recipe for peace, a simple way to change the world.
Many years ago, I read that the majority of people never travel more than 600 miles from their place of birth.....for their entire lives. I will agree that a 600 mile day trip can make one feel they just ran the gauntlet, but in reality, it really is not that far. It can be achieved easily in two days and even if it took three days to go 600 miles in one direction, the scenery alone would be worth the trip.
If we start from home base, in good ole Pike County, and head east, 600 miles later we will be in the Appalachian Mountains and if you have never seen a mountain, put that on your bucket list. 600
miles south will put us in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Just a few miles more and we will be standing on the Gulf of Mexico. If you have not planted your feet on a sandy beach and looked out over water that is so vast you cannot see where it ends, you should try it. Next, we head west and our 600 mile journey gets us almost to the border of Colorado and just a few miles more and we are looking at the Rocky Mountains. A definite on my bucket list. Now, if we head north, 600 miles will put us in another country! Think of that, our northern neighbor, Canada, is not that far away.
A person does not have to get 600 miles from home base to realize that not everyone lives, talks or thinks the same way and to not understand this, is to live in an unreal world. It is also a great way to see the lay of the land and how it unfolds, sometimes instantly, from one scenic view to another.
One thing we are sure to discover is, that even though people come from a totally different set of ideas than what we are accustomed to, they are still people. They are people with families, dreams and struggles and if we take the time to stop and chat, they will share a bit of their life with you. That will be the best souvenir of the trip.
Here's to hoping you can get outta town soon!
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Probably Never
Mother: When are you going to start drinking coffee?
Me: Mom, I don't like coffee. Probably never.
Mom: Well, you really should start drinking coffee.
Although that conversation took place many years ago, and on more than one occasion, not much has changed. I still do not like coffee......unless there is a substantially large bottle of Bailey's close by.
On a recent trip, we had the pleasure of staying at our good friends' vacation home. They were not going to be using it during this time period and insisted we treat it like our own.
I rose early the first morning and decided I would be the "little lady of the house" and fix a pot of coffee. On the counter sat a large Bunn coffee maker and it wasn't long before I found some coffee in a near by cabinet. What was even better, the coffee was DD (Dunkin' Doughnuts), my husband's favorite.
I located the filters, put the grounds in, added water, turned the machine on and went about finishing a project I had been working on. Several minutes passed by when I realized there was no brewing going on at the coffee maker. I walked over and looked at the machine. The button was on, it was glowing, the warmer beneath the pot was warm, but not one drop of water had seeped into the filter compartment. I noticed there was a button on the side of the machine, so I pressed it and once again went back to my project.
This time, I paid a little more attention to the machine and it did not take long for me to figure out that it was just not working. I turned it off and remembered that I had seen another coffee maker in the pantry.
This was one of the new, fancy models called a Keurig. My spell checker wants to write Kruger. If you have ever seen the movie, "Nightmare on Elm Street", you know that nothing good goes with a name like Kruger.....and it was at this time the Voice, who lives inside my head, began to slowly stir its cup of tea with the handle of a red flag.
I took this magnificent piece of coffee brewing machinery out of the pantry and placed it on the counter, next to the silent Bunn. . I was vaguely familiar with the knowledge that it brewed one cup at a time and after looking it over, I decided I could figure out how to make it work. I found a box with a brand new filter apparatus in it and began to painstakingly put the DD coffee grounds, from the Bunn, into this filter. I had noticed that there were some of the small individual cups of DD in the cabinet, but I did not want to waste any of the coffee grounds. When I looked to see how to put the water in, I discovered that inside this detachable water compartment, was a filter....just like the one I had already opened.
I filled the water reservoir, put the filter inside and looked at the small screen to see what the next step was. It told me it was getting ready, so I waited. Several minutes went by, again, and it was still getting ready. I thought this to be odd and lifted the arm that lowers over the filter. Nothing seemed to be going on and I lowered the arm back to the starting position. That must have been the magic touch, because now the screen was flashing that it was ready and three "brew size" buttons were blinking in my direction.
The little icons on the buttons gave me a choice of a small cup, large cup or something that looked like a tall thermos. Since I know my husband does not like his coffee strong, I pressed the tall cup and the Keurig sprang to life. When it had finished, I poured the coffee into the Bunn carafe and turned the warmer plate back on. Then I brewed another cup of coffee, with the same grounds.
This next cup was rather pale, but I added it to the pot and although I felt like I had used a lot of coffee grounds, made the decision to start again with fresh ones. I took out the filter apparatus and dumped the grounds in the trash, then washed the remaining ones out in the sink. I took one of the individual DD coffee ground cups and PAINSTAKINGLY peeled the foil off the top. My first thought was, "Holy cow, they sure crammed a lot of coffee grounds into this little cup." That thought was followed by another about it not being very user friendly when trying to transfer the coffee grounds into the coffee filter apparatus.
By the time I had succeeded in getting as many coffee grounds as I thought humanly possible in the filter and had cup #3 brewing, my husband came into the kitchen. I commenced to lamenting about my coffee making experience and when I quit he said, "That Bunn ought to work." My response was, "Well, it doesn't."
Sometimes, people who do certain things, know certain things...like people who drink coffee. My husband walks over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. He then proceeds to add a few grounds to the filter in the Bunn and then added another pot of water to its water reservoir. He presses the button to the start position and instantly, the Bunn coffee maker began to rumble. He then walked over to take a look at the Keurig. "You know", he said, "Those little cups fit right in there and when you lower the handle, it pierces the top of the foil.........."
Nope, probably never, Mom.
Me: Mom, I don't like coffee. Probably never.
Mom: Well, you really should start drinking coffee.
Although that conversation took place many years ago, and on more than one occasion, not much has changed. I still do not like coffee......unless there is a substantially large bottle of Bailey's close by.
On a recent trip, we had the pleasure of staying at our good friends' vacation home. They were not going to be using it during this time period and insisted we treat it like our own.
I rose early the first morning and decided I would be the "little lady of the house" and fix a pot of coffee. On the counter sat a large Bunn coffee maker and it wasn't long before I found some coffee in a near by cabinet. What was even better, the coffee was DD (Dunkin' Doughnuts), my husband's favorite.
I located the filters, put the grounds in, added water, turned the machine on and went about finishing a project I had been working on. Several minutes passed by when I realized there was no brewing going on at the coffee maker. I walked over and looked at the machine. The button was on, it was glowing, the warmer beneath the pot was warm, but not one drop of water had seeped into the filter compartment. I noticed there was a button on the side of the machine, so I pressed it and once again went back to my project.
This time, I paid a little more attention to the machine and it did not take long for me to figure out that it was just not working. I turned it off and remembered that I had seen another coffee maker in the pantry.
This was one of the new, fancy models called a Keurig. My spell checker wants to write Kruger. If you have ever seen the movie, "Nightmare on Elm Street", you know that nothing good goes with a name like Kruger.....and it was at this time the Voice, who lives inside my head, began to slowly stir its cup of tea with the handle of a red flag.
I took this magnificent piece of coffee brewing machinery out of the pantry and placed it on the counter, next to the silent Bunn. . I was vaguely familiar with the knowledge that it brewed one cup at a time and after looking it over, I decided I could figure out how to make it work. I found a box with a brand new filter apparatus in it and began to painstakingly put the DD coffee grounds, from the Bunn, into this filter. I had noticed that there were some of the small individual cups of DD in the cabinet, but I did not want to waste any of the coffee grounds. When I looked to see how to put the water in, I discovered that inside this detachable water compartment, was a filter....just like the one I had already opened.
I filled the water reservoir, put the filter inside and looked at the small screen to see what the next step was. It told me it was getting ready, so I waited. Several minutes went by, again, and it was still getting ready. I thought this to be odd and lifted the arm that lowers over the filter. Nothing seemed to be going on and I lowered the arm back to the starting position. That must have been the magic touch, because now the screen was flashing that it was ready and three "brew size" buttons were blinking in my direction.
The little icons on the buttons gave me a choice of a small cup, large cup or something that looked like a tall thermos. Since I know my husband does not like his coffee strong, I pressed the tall cup and the Keurig sprang to life. When it had finished, I poured the coffee into the Bunn carafe and turned the warmer plate back on. Then I brewed another cup of coffee, with the same grounds.
This next cup was rather pale, but I added it to the pot and although I felt like I had used a lot of coffee grounds, made the decision to start again with fresh ones. I took out the filter apparatus and dumped the grounds in the trash, then washed the remaining ones out in the sink. I took one of the individual DD coffee ground cups and PAINSTAKINGLY peeled the foil off the top. My first thought was, "Holy cow, they sure crammed a lot of coffee grounds into this little cup." That thought was followed by another about it not being very user friendly when trying to transfer the coffee grounds into the coffee filter apparatus.
By the time I had succeeded in getting as many coffee grounds as I thought humanly possible in the filter and had cup #3 brewing, my husband came into the kitchen. I commenced to lamenting about my coffee making experience and when I quit he said, "That Bunn ought to work." My response was, "Well, it doesn't."
Sometimes, people who do certain things, know certain things...like people who drink coffee. My husband walks over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. He then proceeds to add a few grounds to the filter in the Bunn and then added another pot of water to its water reservoir. He presses the button to the start position and instantly, the Bunn coffee maker began to rumble. He then walked over to take a look at the Keurig. "You know", he said, "Those little cups fit right in there and when you lower the handle, it pierces the top of the foil.........."
Nope, probably never, Mom.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
In With The Din
Ringing in the new year in the peach state was a new experience. We had arrived here before the holidays, made a quick trip north to see the family, then headed south once again.
This new place we have found ourselves in is different than what we left in N.C. There are still lots of pine trees, but so far, no geese. Some of the street names change depending on which way a person is going so I have come to the conclusion that must be a "southern" thing.....or maybe it is a city thing. Of course, along with a large metropolis comes all the amenities like restaurants, grocery stores, shopping centers and the like, all within a short distance from what we now call home.
The apartment complex is set up to where the front doors are hidden from view and are located in a common area towards the center of the building. There are four doors at each level. Then the back of the apartment faces the street. I don't know whose idea this design was, but they obviously never experienced "sittin' out back". Most folks, after a hard day's work, enjoy a little quiet time. When the weather is nice, a lot of that quiet time is spent sitting out back, on the patio, minding their own business. Here, everyone is facing everyone else. The level of privacy is so low that one could actually jump over to the neighbors' deck for a visit. Being on the third story, I won't be trying that any time soon. There is the advantage of the screened in sun room, that leads to the deck, but it's still not the same as sittin' out back.
The entire complex sits in what I call a soup bowl, nestled in a wooded area, so walking involves either going up or going down, but the hills are not near as steep as the ones in N.C. Right next door is a huge park with mountain bike and walking trails. I have yet to find any information as to how many acres are in the park, but it spans from mile marker 7 to mile marker 8 on the map and one of the trails boasts a total of 12 miles. I may have to tie a few ribbons along the path in order to find my way back to the starting point.
I had looked at the map, before we came here, and noticed that one of the major thoroughfares skirted the back edge of the complex. Since we had been warned about the traffic, I hoped there would be enough trees between it and us that we maybe would not hear it. Standing out on the deck the first evening we arrived, I asked my husband what was the noise I could hear. It sounded like the feed mill back home, when all the dryers were running full blast. His answer was short, "The traffic." I listened more closely. Sure enough, it was the sound of thousands of vehicles, of all shapes and sizes, speeding north and south to whatever destination lie ahead. I expressed my disappointment that it was so loud. He smiled at me and said, "We can just pretend it is a waterfall."
With the din of our automotive waterfall in the background, we rang in a new year, with new hopes and new dreams and new adventures to be found. May your new year be full of the same, well, maybe minus the din.
This new place we have found ourselves in is different than what we left in N.C. There are still lots of pine trees, but so far, no geese. Some of the street names change depending on which way a person is going so I have come to the conclusion that must be a "southern" thing.....or maybe it is a city thing. Of course, along with a large metropolis comes all the amenities like restaurants, grocery stores, shopping centers and the like, all within a short distance from what we now call home.
The apartment complex is set up to where the front doors are hidden from view and are located in a common area towards the center of the building. There are four doors at each level. Then the back of the apartment faces the street. I don't know whose idea this design was, but they obviously never experienced "sittin' out back". Most folks, after a hard day's work, enjoy a little quiet time. When the weather is nice, a lot of that quiet time is spent sitting out back, on the patio, minding their own business. Here, everyone is facing everyone else. The level of privacy is so low that one could actually jump over to the neighbors' deck for a visit. Being on the third story, I won't be trying that any time soon. There is the advantage of the screened in sun room, that leads to the deck, but it's still not the same as sittin' out back.
The entire complex sits in what I call a soup bowl, nestled in a wooded area, so walking involves either going up or going down, but the hills are not near as steep as the ones in N.C. Right next door is a huge park with mountain bike and walking trails. I have yet to find any information as to how many acres are in the park, but it spans from mile marker 7 to mile marker 8 on the map and one of the trails boasts a total of 12 miles. I may have to tie a few ribbons along the path in order to find my way back to the starting point.
I had looked at the map, before we came here, and noticed that one of the major thoroughfares skirted the back edge of the complex. Since we had been warned about the traffic, I hoped there would be enough trees between it and us that we maybe would not hear it. Standing out on the deck the first evening we arrived, I asked my husband what was the noise I could hear. It sounded like the feed mill back home, when all the dryers were running full blast. His answer was short, "The traffic." I listened more closely. Sure enough, it was the sound of thousands of vehicles, of all shapes and sizes, speeding north and south to whatever destination lie ahead. I expressed my disappointment that it was so loud. He smiled at me and said, "We can just pretend it is a waterfall."
With the din of our automotive waterfall in the background, we rang in a new year, with new hopes and new dreams and new adventures to be found. May your new year be full of the same, well, maybe minus the din.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)