Hammocks

It was a perfectly good, normal morning when Frankie entered the room and announced...

"We need a hammock."

I'm taken aback.  Where the heck did that come from?

I confess a hammock was not something I gave much thought to because mostly I've just seen people being 'tossed' out of them as thought the hammock didn't want them there in the first place. Also, I've seen videos of dogs getting stuck in them, kids desperately trying to get into/out of them, couples uncomfortably cuddling in them, and as I've said mostly people being 'tossed' out of them.  But mostly we certainly didn't need one.

I suspected I was going to have a battle on my hands because Frankie had that look she was not going to 'give in' easily...she wanted a hammock.

Shoot!!!!!!!

My main argument against a hammock was that we had no room for one.

Frankie immediately went to the tool box and extracted the tape measure.  She went out onto the patio and began to measure off the area she suspected a hammock might fit.

Uh,oh.

I followed her outside and began to make my case against this purchase.  "Frankie, they're dangerous, especially for (grimace) 'old people'.  I could break an arm, a leg, a hip trying to get in and out of it."

She ignored me and kept measuring.  

Over the next couple of days the discussion over a hammock continued.  Soon a catalog was (literally) shoved under my nose and double chin.  There in 'living color' was a hammock.  This girl had done her homework!  Not only was it NOT macramé, it was stationary.  The hammock itself has a twill washable fabric that firmly anchored to each end of a sturdy metal frame.  It even came with a matching carrying case should you want to dismantle it and spend a day at the beach.  Then circled in a broad permanent marker was the price, and last but not least the dimensions; a perfect fit for the area Frankie had so carefully measured off.

The price was reasonable, and after examining the picture to establish there was little likelihood this contraption would 'spit' my body out I agreed to make the purchase.  

With the speed that an item can be shipped the hammock arrived within a few days and Frankie and I proceeded to put the thing together.  That was a piece of cake, great instructions, and with the exception of 'human error' (we had attached the hammock itself up-side down to the frame) it was ready for occupation within a half hour.

Of course Frankie went first and gave a glowing review; Muse, coming out of a good long sulk came next.  She also approved.  Finally it was my turn, Surprise!  The hammock accepted me, I wiggled and squiggled myself into a perfect comfort spot and settled in.  I wish you could have seen the looks on their faces when I refused to budge from the comfort of MY new outdoor bed.

On the down side, I've tried reading in it, playing I-pod games in it, enjoying the breeze, clouds and chirping birds in it all to no avail.  I LOVE IT because, within minutes I am sound asleep.  Do I share with the girls...no, not really. However, if they happen to get up early I do let them argue over whose turn it is to use it.

Frankie...get out of there!

Every Old Woman Should Have a Pig.

Once upon a time there was a Boutique (that’s a fancy name for a store) in a quaint little town.  In the Boutique there were quaint handmade items from countries and nations around the world.  One day an Old Woman ventured into the Boutique.  She was delighted and fascinated with the colorful scarves and fans.  She spent time applying finger puppet animals and birds to her fingers, making them dance up and down.  Then she spied some bracelets, that sparkled in the morning sun and she thought about buying one, but walked by instead.

Old Woman took her time walking up and down each aisle marveling at the imagination of the folks around the world who spent their days making these marvelous items.  She tried to be very careful when she picked something up for close inspection, because the sign clearly stated “You broke it, you bought it”.

As she meandered about she spied a bucket filled with small black objects.  Gathered together in a mish-mash Old Woman was not even sure what they were.  Spying a wrinkled sign sticking out of the middle of the bucket she took it out and read it.

                                                          LUCKY THREE LEGGED PIGS

Well, she thought, what Old Woman could not use a little good luck.  So she began to sort through the pigs, looking for the ‘just right’ one.  Some had eyes slightly cockeyed while others had snouts slightly out of kilter one nostril quite larger than the other.  Sadly, none of these pigs seemed to ‘speak to her’ and Old Woman was about to turn and leave when a lopsided smile caught her attention, carefully she dug the smiling pig out from under the others and held it carefully in the palm of her hand.

“Cash or Card?”  The Boutique clerk inquired.

“Cash.”  Replied Old Woman as she handed the clerk some money.

“Would you like this in a box, or will a bag be okay?”, asked the clerk.

Knowing Pig would be going home to live, Old Woman settled for a bag.

The clerk carefully wrapped Pig in paper and placed him in a brown paper sack.

Pig’s world went dark, little did he know what was about to happen.

After quite some time and a lot of jostling around Pig came to realize he was at last on a solid surface.

Soon Old Woman picked up the bag, opened it and started to un-wrap pig. Something small and dark tumbled out of the paper and fell onto the table.  What in the world is that pondered Old Woman?

She finished unwrapping Pig and found…Lucky Pig was not so lucky after all, one of his three legs was missing.  Uh, oh.  It was a clean break, and there was no bleeding, but poor pig… simply could not stand on just two legs.  Old woman was beside herself, and absolutely inconsolable.  The accident must have happened when she had dropped the bag while trying to unlock her door.

Old Woman closely inspected Pig, and the broken leg; she felt with a little first aid from her super-duper heal-all glue she just might be able to make Pig stand on his own again.  Patience…it turns out…is a virtue!  Before long Pig was mended and almost as good as new; well except for the shiny glue scar on his back leg, permanent evidence of his terrible accident.

Next morning Old Woman gave Pig’s back leg a good jiggle and tug she was pleased to see super-duper heal-all glue had done its job.  Later that day Old Woman and Grand-daughter wondered if Pig should be lacquered to be shiny all over, but they both rejected that idea.  In the end they felt that Lucky Pig should be proud of his shiny scar as a symbol of just…exactly…how lucky he is to live with Old Woman.

My Way

I've mentioned before I have a cousin that writes a column for her local paper.  It's always heartwarming and usually about what's going on in her and her family's life. I frequently post a note back to her.

Today she talked about her mom and how busy she always was, and how often times nobody knew where she was, but never worried about her. I got to thinking about that and realized I (for a long time) was much like her.  I would think nothing about hopping the local public transportation and going downtown to window shop, take in a movie or go into my favorite cheap jewelry stores and pick up a few bobbles, bangles and beads. I would encourage my friends to call me and give me 20 minutes to touch up my makeup and I'd be ready to go anywhere, anytime. They frequently did call and we would have some pretty grand adventures; over time we became a group known as the local La La Ladies and we had good times people...very good times.

Now, not so much...I always told my kids, go where you want to go, see what you want to see, do what you want to do and you will never look back on your life and have regrets.  I guess I must have taken my own advice because now I'm happy, content and love being a homebody, my front and back patios suit me just fine, thank you very much.  I've even started to tell folks I could easily become a recluse and I actually have to 'make myself' go places and do things.  And, seriously, I don't think that's a bad thing. I've realized I've gone where I've wanted to go, seen what I wanted to see and done what I have wanted to do. Are there still things on my Bucket List, yes, but do I really need to complete it...no?  Things are complicated now, sadly danger looms just about everywhere, travel isn't fun anymore.  Just thinking about going to an airport makes me want to hyperventilate.

So, as my adventuring life draws to a comfortable close I guess I have to say Frank Sinatra had the right idea when he sang....

"Regrets I've had a few
but then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
and saw it through without exemption

I planned each charted course
each careful step along the byway
and more, much more than this
I did it my way."

I'm happy to say I must have lived my life...."my way".  Thanks, Frank.

Oh, hum.

Talk about the doldrums, man, I've been in one heck of a slump.  I can't blame it on Frankie or even Muse, they've been great.  All I can say is "I'm at a loss for words."  They simply aren't coming, I tried to take some time off and contemplate this whole thing, but that didn't work either.  Then I simply decided "Phooey", and stop writing my blog altogether.  And for a while that worked, for a long while that worked.  

Then this evening as I was scrolling down my bookmarks list I happened to stop on Ramblings of an Old Woman and decide to see what was new.  To my surprise and delight I found some folks must be accidentally finding it and at least dropping by out of (perhaps) curiosity.  And, I also notice the one blog that seems to pique the most interest seems to be the blog I wrote about my favorite children's story called Pinky Marie.  Each time I see that someone has looked it up and perhaps actually read it I am even more puzzled.  It makes me wonder what people must think the blog is about.  Mostly I think they suspect is it an adult only web-site, if you get my drift.

Well, one thing hasn't changed I still go off on tangents. Anyway, I decided I would write a quick note to let all of you who stop by that I am still alive and kicking.  

Here are a few things I can report.  I went on a vacation to California with my daughter and two grand-daughters to visit family, and to do lots of sightseeing.  It was wonderful but exhausting; nine days on the road for a Rambling Old Woman, only proved that somebody pushing (mumble, mumble, mumble) is not an easy thing to do.

My sister passed away in November from perhaps the most rapid bout with cancer imaginable that threw us all into a time of....this can't be possible....to this has to be a bad dream....to the realization that cancer is perhaps the most insidious thing that can happen to a person. Especially for a woman as healthy my sister had always been.

Then, I got a horrible bug myself, on Christmas day (of all times to become ill)  And was down for the count for one whole week doing nothing but lie on the sofa and wish I'd just die.  But I didn't and it took another two weeks until I began to feel about 90% of my normal self.  I was talking with a friend today that I hadn't seen for a while and she apparently had the same thing and she commented she had not been that ill for at least twenty years.  I had to agree.  It was awful.

Then today, was a wonderful day.  The temperature was in the 50's, the sun was shining brightly (not filtered through clouds), my crocuses are blooming and I had the doors wide open for hours.  Perhaps my doldrums are about to pass.  I wish I could guarantee I will write more often...but Frankie and Muse (although they are delighted I'm typing) are taking bets this is just a fluke and marking the calendar with various dates I MIGHT write again.

Any....way, I hope you all are doing well, and thanks for keeping in touch.  You've all been good and faithful friends, I do think of you often.  Really, I truly do.  

Bye for now.

I'm reminded.

I have a cousin who writes a column for her hometown newspaper.  I try to remember to read it every week, sometimes I even leave a comment. Her column this week had to do with the weather and summer's heat in particular. As her column was winding down she happened to mention how as kids they would try to put ice cubes down each other's backs.

Boy, did that bring back memories.  Yep, we used to do that too.  In summer after our dinner meal was over, dad would retire to his chair in the corner of the room and bury his nose in his newspaper while the rest of us would sit around the table and play a game we called "hid the salt shaker"-or whatever article a person chose to hide. The object of the game was we would have to guess which article was gone from the table.  Sometimes someone got really tricky and it took a while to actually find what was missing.  We spent hours playing this game; of course not all at one time because we eventually had to clear the table and do the dishes. 

However, during summer mom frequently prepared iced tea for dinner and our “Hide the Salt Shaker” game frequently ended when someone would pretend to take one last sip of their iced tea, slip an ice cube into their hand; nonchalantly rise, walk behind a person and drop the cube down their shirt then...dash...for the nearest exit.  Said victim then chased the perpetrator round and round the house in an attempt to put an ice cube down their shirt. Generally the 'perp' was never caught.  I remember once in my haste to catch my 'perp' I got my ring caught in the screen door handle which bent the ring and bruised my finger very badly.  Such was life.  

It was great how we could find fun things to do that didn't cost any money yet filled us with hours of entertainment.  We played cards and games on the porch and hide and seek in the yard.  At dusk we caught fire-flies in jars and waved sparklers around when it got dark. 

Oh, yes, like my cousin said in her article, we too sweltered in the heat at bedtime and prayed for a breeze or ever better an electrical storm that would drop the temperature a good ten degrees, but that's not really what I remember about summer.  There were afternoon's lying on a blanket in the back yard in a bathing suit slathered in baby oil, sprinkling ourselves with salt water (okay it wasn't the ocean) we could dream couldn't we? There was hanging laundry in the early morning and retrieving it warm, dry and smelling delicious in the late afternoon.  There was the smell of freshly mown grass, and the joy of watching grasshoppers leap out of the way of the mower.  And, last but not least there was the fun of being the perpetrator when it came to slipping an ice cube down a sibling's shirt.

   

Coloring

Okay, I confess I'm addicted.  It's those dang adult coloring books.  I have a love/hate relationship with them

On the one hand I love them, they are relaxing, exhilarating, elating, inspiring, beautiful and perhaps the most creative coloring I have ever, ever done.

On the other hand I hate them, they are the most complicated, exasperating, annoying, intrinsic and frustrating coloring I have ever, ever done.

I tried using colored pencils, but found I could not stay within the itty, bitty lines and that told me I would never be able to use crayons either.  So I settled on fine tipped markers.  I love them.  However, when I first started using them I colored while the picture was still in the book, and immediately discovered the markers 'bled' through to the picture beneath.  Lesson learned?  Remove the picture from the book, oh, then I learned the ink also 'bled' onto my TV tray and I can't remove the markings.  Lesson learned?  Place cheap newspaper paper under the picture.

Oh, yeah, I'm getting the hang of this.

Here's something else I learned.  I must never, never color if I am in the least bit drowsy.  I've ruined many a picture by falling asleep, pen in hand, to awaken and find a long, crooked colorful line going across a perfectly beautiful work of art.

I've also learned I cannot color well once it gets dark and I have to turn on lights.  Oh, I do color but found I don't stay in the lines as well as when I work in natural light.  I do get exasperated.  Still, these coloring books present a challenge that (again) I both love and hate.  Frankie wants to know why I continue with this new hobby since she often finds me with my nose barely an inch from the picture.

I've no answer for her.

I know she wishes I'd quit mostly because I'm ignoring her a lot...Zorro doesn't much care for this time consuming hobby either.  I find myself telling him "Just a minute, I have to finish this one section, then we'll go out."  In the meantime he is prancing and dancing about eager to find out who's talking and walking by.  Or, perhaps his water bowl is empty and he paws it into my view to let me know...sadly, again I make him wait.

I suppose eventually I will tire of this new 'time consumer', I generally do...for a while it was word jumble, then cross-word puzzles, then sudoku, and for years I built miniatures for dioramas so I guess this too will pass.

In the meantime, I will continue getting ink stains on my hands, arms and TV trays till I move on to some new time consuming hobby. However, if you haven't tried these adult coloring books I can guarantee you will find them relaxing, exhilarating, elating, inspiring, beautiful, complicated, exasperating, annoying, intrinsic, and frustrating but you will discover you've created the most beautiful works of art you have ever done.

At the moment....

...I'm a non-person.

A couple of weeks ago I decided I wanted to get a new state ID and went on line to see what sort of identification I would need to get the job done.  I should have taken care of this as soon as I moved but didn't. It just didn't seem that important.

So, after learning what was required I put together a file folder including A. A utility bill. B. A bank statement.  C. My voter's registration card. D. My old ID card. E. My social security card.  F. The only copy I've ever had of my birth certificate.  Boy, I thought I was ready for everything.

The DMV guy looks at all my papers and announces to my daughter that he is quite impressed with how prepared I was.  Then....he looked at my wrinkled, folded, torn, old...very old...birth certificate. He excuses himself and walks to a woman sitting in the back of the room and they discuss my certificate. As the two of them are walking back to where I'm standing I whisper to my daughter "Uh-oh, this can't be good."

It wasn't.

They told me my certificate was not good because it did not have 'the state seal', and there was no writing on the back indicating it was good for anything...actually it was good for nothing.  I was told I need to send for a certified certificate from my home state and then come back when I had it in hand.

Always one to obey the law, I sat about to obtain said certificate.

I went to my home state's official website, vital records department and there in the upper right hand corner there was a box that said if I wanted to get my certificate quickly I should 'click here' and before the dust could settle they would see to it I would get my certificate 'post-haste'.  Of course I wanted my certificate as quickly as possible...at the moment I'm a non-entity.  So, I filled out the application and sent off my credit card information and sat back to let them do their magic.

Here's the thing!

They informed me they needed my photo ID, and it had to have the same address as the one they were going to send my certificate. What???????  I informed them I had moved and I was trying to get an ID with my new address on it, but could not because I didn't have the required birth certificate.

Next they told me to send other documents to prove I live where I live.  I immediately scanned them into my computer and shipped them off along with a copy of their form saying I am who I am and I have not had someone else filling out this form.

Zip...off they go.

I get an e-mail telling me the documents were not legible.  Please send a photo ID.

For two weeks, I went around and around and around with these folks. I was ready to scream. Finally a light bulb came on and I decide to go on line and check these folks out. Oooooooh brother, do they have a bad, bad, bad reputation.  But, now my dander is up. I e-mail my home state's governor's office and tell them about this company.  Then I write the Vital Records department and tell them the same thing.  Finally I e-mail the company (who is still insisting they want a photo ID, and that the documents I'm sending are not legible) and tell them I don't believe them (because many, many, many other customers have been getting the same messages) and further I had written the governor and the vital records department of my home state telling them all about their 'shady' practices.  And, I just might visit a lawyer and start a class action suit against them.

Next morning I get the same form e-mail from them telling me I need to resend my documents.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Once I regain my composure I reply to their e-mail asking if they are even reading my e-mails, and tell them I am going to send them hard copies of my documents via USPS Certified Mail.  And, I did that immediately.  The people at my substation took care of this in a few minutes and gave me a receipt so I could track my envelop, which I did, every day, several times a day.  When I saw it reached their post office box I was daring them to tell me there was something wrong with the documents.

Lo and behold, the every next morning they tell me my documents had been forward to my home state's vital records department.  Gotta' tell ya', I didn't even e-mail them a 'thank you'.

In the meantime, I went back to my state's website and thought there has got to be a better way to get a certificate, so I scrolled down, down, down the page and there close to the bottom I was informed I could order certificates...by mail...at five different offices throughout the state.  Yeah, Buddy!!!!!! So, I filled out the exact same form the outside vendor had required me to do (without the photo ID) and sent that package out Friday afternoon.  I got a tracking number and already know the package will be delivered first thing this morning.

What an ordeal this has been.  Here's the lesson I have for you.  If you go to your home state and up at the top of the page you see a box that says if you want your certificate quickly order on-line. DON'T DO IT. Keep looking til you see where you can either walk in or order by mail. It's a lot cheaper and certainly a lot quicker.

Anyway, with a little luck in four to six weeks I should receive six copies of certified certificates: one from the 'quick' vendor, and five from the state's vital records department.  When asked by a friend why I ordered so many I replied, "So when I die my kids can prove I actually lived." Oh, and when I return to the DMV to get my new ID you better believe I'm gonna' take all six copies.