I'm perplexed...

...about a lot of things.

For instance, what is the difference between a weed and a wild flower? Is Queen Anne's Lace a weed? Are Thistles and Chicory wild flowers? And, are herbs also weeds or wild flowers?  And, if a weed or wild flower is cultivated into a domesticated plant, is it still a weed or wild flower?  For instance the wild geranium, now domesticated into a summer garden staple.  And, what about the roadside Aster?  

I'm perplexed about insects.  What makes a moth a moth and a butterfly a butterfly?  Who decided which would be which?  What is a centipede?

Then there are fruits and vegetables.  I don't think I will ever understand the logic of that.  I believe at first it had something to do with if the seeds were on the inside, or out.  Strawberry as compared to tomato...however, they are both fruit...so how do you 'splain' that?  And, what the heck is up with the avocado?  I've recently learned it is a 'large, one seed,' fruit?  Really?  Then what about the Capote squash? It's large with one seed, is it a fruit or a vegetable?  Are all squash fruits?

Then of course, there's the Duck Billed Platypus?

Oh, oh, and what about Thunder Snow.  The one and only time I was fortunate to witness that, I was astounded...and very perplexed indeed.

Why can't I lick my elbow?  Yet, in my youth I was able to touch my big toe with my tongue.

Why are the best tasting foods (chocolate cake) bad for us, while the worst tasting (rice cakes) good for us. Why don't they make lettuce taste like chocolate and chocolate cake taste like lettuce?

I'm starting to get a heady-ache, I'm going to have to stop.

Just one last thing.  If water's do dang good for you, how come it does not taste like Jim Beam...if it did, I'd be drinking a lot of that.

Mr, Goldberg (fictitious name)

I got to thinking this morning about a man I knew in the days of my advertising career, and of the morning a friend of mine informed me he had passed away.

I'll call him Mr Goldberg.  He was a buyer/department manager of the men's/boys, women's shoes Budget Store, in the town's exclusive 'upper class' store.  In all the years I worked in the advertising department he was my favorite buyer.  He was short in stature, an older gentleman, and had a gold tooth that shined like sunlight when he smiled and spoke. He was (of course) Jewish, and that is not meant in a derogatory way, but in a way meant to make him even more endearing.  He wore silk suits, and beautiful ties, with tie tacks and cuff links that matched. He was ever a fashion plate.  He smelled good, too.

Mr. Goldberg was my source for high heeled shoes.  Since I have such a small foot when a new shipment of shoes arrived they always had #4 Sample Size shoes, and Mr. Goldberg set them aside for me.  With my having 'first choice' at the shoes, and my employee discount I had a shoe collection bar none, in colors for every outfit I owned.  It's good to know somebody on the 'inside', so to speak.

Mr. Goldberg was amazing.  He wore a white gold diamond ring, with many sparkling stones, I admired it greatly.  So much so he would occasionally allow me to wear it.  Oh, it weighted heavily, and was much to big for my fingers, so I did not wear it often, or for a long period of time because I didn't want to lose it, but the fact he trusted me to wear it at all speaks to the kind of person that he was. 

He was always tardy when it came time to bring his copy and merchandise to me for the ads he wanted to run, but because he was so dear, I was never frustrated about it.  I knew eventually he would show up, arms laden with merchandise and his hallmark greeting of Sa, sa, sa, sa-andy.  We would discuss what kind of layout he wanted, and generally I would comply, we were pretty lucky when it came to selling his wares. We made a good team.

So, when he learned I was moving to California, of all the folks I worked with he was the one who wrote a glowing letter of introduction and recommendation for me.  I still have it to this day.  And, of all the people I worked with all those years, he is the one I missed the most.  As a result, on the day I heard of his passing, I was saddened. But, then the vision of him showing up to my cubical, clothes in his arms, gold tooth shining, diamond ring glistening, Sa-sa-sa-sa-andy passing through his lips, I was comforted and I know I will see him again, some day. Maybe, just maybe I'll get to wear that ring again.

Shame on me

Yesterday morning I was outside, yanking my summer umbrellas out of the ground, and folding them up preparing to store them for winter. I knew I was going to have to let them dry out for a couple of days, because of the lovely rain we had this week.

Of course, Zorro was out with me and he began to do his dance up and down the fence line so I knew somebody must be walking their dog down the street.  Lo, it was Bird Lady and her dog.  She did not see me, but I had clear vision of her.  

Well, my, my, my.

Ms. (we have to obey the laws) Bird Lady, turned the corner leading over to the school property to walk her dog and, as she did...she unleashed her dog.  Wow, I thought...wow!  Then, even more surprising, she kept walking while her dog pranced across the street, squatted and pooped!  

Did she turn around to bag her dogs 'business'?  No, she did not.

Well, color me stupefied!  Which by the way is the color of the three day old bruise you get after you've walked into the edge of your coffee table.

I could not believe my eyes.  However, I put this incident out of my mind, because as I was folding the second umbrella a bunch of rain water sloshed out from under the new cover I'd installed over the original one, and I got my feet wet.  Ugh!

After that I went about my chores while waiting for my groceries to arrive.  As I was finishing putting the last of the canned goods away, Devil whispered in my ear.

Devil:  "Did you see what Bird Lady did this morning?"

Me:  "What?"

Devil:  "Bird Lady, do you remember what she did this morning?"

I wrack my brain, what the heck is he talking about.  

Devil:  " 'Bird Lady' broke the law.  She took her dog off the leash."

Me:  "Holy smoke, you're right!"  Oh, that revelation was wonderfully glorious.

Devil:  "Even more," he hissed, "though it's not a law, she did not pick up her doggies poopie, did she?"

I'm stunned, this was the lady who went around the school property and installed 'poopie stations' filled with plastic bags so people would have no excuse to not bag their doggies poopies.  And, today she did not bag that of her own doggy.

Well, my, my, my.

Devil:  (Filled with glee.)  "Oh, goody, let's call somebody...we've got to report this.  She broke the law, she broke the law."  

Devil was dancing around on my should so delighted he almost fell off. Sadly, at that moment I was indeed sorely tempted to agree with him, I very badly wanted to call somebody.

It suddenly occurred to me Angel was nowhere around.  It's unlike her not to chime in.  This revelation gave me pause, as I always appreciate her input.  Apparently I was going to have to handle this on my own.  

I brushed Devil off my shoulder.  It had taken several years for me to forgive Bird Lady for reporting me to the city Health Department, and the lifting of that weight was of great comfort to me.  I could retaliate, this was a perfect opportunity.  But, I thought better of it.  We are all guilty of imperfections, we all err.  Perhaps, she was having a bad day, perhaps she was deep in a perplexing situation...who am I to judge. Someday karma will intervene, that's her job not mine.

Shame on me, Devil almost made me do a bad, bad thing. 

Chevrons

Ever since I started my store, I go on line and check out what colors are going to be popular that particular holiday season.  I just got done doing that last week.  One of the web-sites as well as having the popular colors also stated that the frosted/icy look is going to be 'in' this year as well as 'chevron patterns'.  Okay, I can easily do the frosted/icy look thanks to one of my computer programs, however, the 'chevron' what-ya-ma-call-it kind of threw me a curve.  Well, a chevron isn't really a curve, it's a "V".

I immediately went to my clip art program and type in chevron.  I got nuttin'.  Okay, maybe chevrons fall under some other category and I do some investigating.  Again, I got nuttin'.  I decide I will make my own.  I type in 'holiday borders' and a lot of borders do indeed come up, and I cut and paste them into my publishers program.  Now the trick is to move them around till they look like a "V".

Remember how we learned things in school and thought to ourselves...And, when in my lifetime am I ever going to use this?  Well, even though I didn't actually use mathematical computations, having studied angles, quadrilaterals, hexagons, etc it was very helpful I had learned about them and was finally using them. My first couple attempts were not terrific.  I had a hard time keeping the chevrons in a straight line. Even using the rulers (thank goodness I learned how to use them as well) along the vertical and horizontal edges of my program, I could not get them the exact size and shape.  I even tried making 'text boxes' and confining them in that, but they still weaved out over the edges of the box.

Then, I got 'clipped up side the head' by a proverbial two by four, and the a-ha moment came.  Make one chevron, and then rather than try to duplicate the first by making a second, simply 'copy' the first and paste it up against it.  Oh, my gosh...worked like a charm.  Man, I was off and running. Sadly after all the time and labor I've put into all these chevrons, I've discovered I'm not fond them, but I've decided at least I'm going to try to use them some how in my upcoming holiday merchandise.

Anyway, the gist of this blog is, that you just never know when all those things you've learned in school and you thought you'd never use, might some day actually be useful.  For instance, whatever has happened to cursive writing, good old-fashioned math...but, those are whole other blogs.

I swear,

I can see the grass growing.  No joke, I think I can.  Remember a while back I mentioned how awfully sad my front yard looked, and how I really, really studied it and discovered microscopic green hidden deep within the brown?  And, how that gave me hope I was not going to have to reseed the whole thing.

Well, guess what?  This morning I threw open the living room drapes, and opened one of the windows just a sliver, to get some fresh air to filter through the house and I was stunned.  There, (I swear) I could see hints of green throughout the yard.  Seriously!

There were always some spots where the yard stayed green all summer, you know, the parts that never had direct sunlight, so when I saw all the itty, bitty green running through the lawn this morning I thought I was going 'nuts'.  This couldn't be, could it?

I'm not exactly sure why this surprised me so, because I have plants that can grow as much as a foot overnight during the summer, like my hops, and the wild honeysuckle my neighbor grows around her deck lattice work fencing.  Oh, and of  course the wild blackberry vines, too, they are notorious. Maybe it was because I just love nature's little surprises.  Anyway, I had the urge to do those delightful squeals Emogene Coca used to do on the the Sid Caesar Saturday night "Your Show of Shows".  And, I just might, if for no other reason than because I can.

Anyway, I'm glad it is still raining this morning.  I'm even glad people are a little late for work, because the freeways and streets are slick and oily and drivers have to slow down.  I'm glad the freezing level is coming down, and I'm glad the edjukated metrolgists are saying maybe, just maybe there might be snow on the mountain.

But, most of all I'm glad to see the itty, bitty green coming up in my yard.  Such a wonderful surprise.

"I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again.  I'm singing, I'm singing in the rain."

Hey.....

.....we have any saltine crackers?  It's Frankie.

I try to ignore her, I've been involved with being creative for a couple of weeks now, and I've been on a roll.  I don't like being interrupted when I'm in the middle of an idea or a plan.

Frankie:  Did you hear me?  Do we have any crackers?

I don't respond.  Seriously, if we had crackers, wouldn't they be in plain sight, right where they always are.  I keep working, cut and paste, cut and paste, change background, there, that looks better.

Frankie:  (jiggling my chair)  Crackers?  Crackers!  I'm looking for crackers.

I whirl around and give her 'the look', the one that says, "I've reached my limit, go away, go away now."

Frankie looks at me with that innocent expression of  "What, what, what did I do?"

I resolve to speak in as calm a voice as possible.  "Frankie, can't you see I'm involved with something?  I'm at work, can't crackers wait, or can't you look for something else to eat."

She gives me pout, I've obviously hurt her feelings.

Me:  "Frankie, if we had saltine crackers, they would be on the shelf they always are when we have saltine crackers.  Are there any there?"
Frankie:  "No."
Me: "Then I guess we don't have any saltine crackers."
Frankie:  "Well, we don't have much else either.  When are you going to 'grocery shop'?"
Me:  "I don't know, a couple of days maybe."

I return to my project, Frankie still hovers.  I cooked quite a few entrees a couple of days ago and there are lots of leftovers in the fridge and I remind Frankie of this.  She grumbles but finally leaves the office.

I regret jumping all over Frankie, but, here's the thing.  Creative people are strange, freaky, weird, unusual, oddballs.  We can blankly stare into space for creepy lengths of time, or hurriedly write a jumble of words on to the tiniest piece of paper that ends up looking like some kind of language from outer space.  Trust me, at moments like this it is best to leave the creative person alone.

Which is why I was in such a grumble with Frankie.  Seriously, she has lived here long enough to know there are times I need to be alone with my thoughts and my nimble fingers as they create magic on my computer screen.  The last thing to concern me is saltine crackers and if we have any...or not.

But, now my train of thought has been disturbed, and I can't seem  to get saltine crackers out of my mind.  I wish we had saltine crackers, they would taste so good with some peanut butter smeared across the top of them.

Dang it, Frankie!

Last weekend of summer

I can hardly believe I typed those words above.  When summer started I had half a year to go before 2014 went into my history book.  I had vowed to spend more summer time out of doors, and I did that. Actually, I'm proud I did that.  I've always wanted to do that.

When I was young I spent a lot of my summer time outside, I would put on my bathing suit, lather myself up with baby oil, go out into the back yard and lay in the sun for what seemed like hours, or at least until my skin was red as a cooked lobster.  Then, I would do that again and again, all summer long.  It was wonderful.

Then, after I grew into an adult and had a full time job, outdoor summer time was restricted to two weeks a year.  Lucky me.  I could only hope my vacation weather would be sunny, although sometimes it was not.

Then, I got married, we bought a house, and my out of doors summer time increased, only I was not lounging on a blanket lathered up in baby oil.  Nope, I was a suburb gardener, back lot clearer, shrub and tree trimmer mom and wife.  There was never enough summer time.

Suddenly, I got (insert shuddering here) old.  For reasons I'm still not sure, I didn't seem to have time to sit outside in the summer, I spent most of that marvelous time indoors doing....basically nothing. Oh, I did stuff, house cleaning, laundry, daily chores, etc...but mostly (and in retrospect) I wasted time...I WASTED A LOT OF TIME.  Time I should have spent outside, soaking up the sun, reading books, enjoying the breeze, learning the intricacies of nature, but, did I?  Nope.  Lots and lots of summers flew by, totally unappreciated by yours truly.

This year, during spring I vowed  I was going to appreciate summer. There are so many months out of the year the weather is uncooperative to outdoor activities I decided I was going to make up for them by being outside as much as possible during this summer's months. I'll be honest with you, I was not sure I could or would follow through with my outdoor plan.  Well, guess what?

I spent a lot of time outside.  I did some yard work, (not labor) but enjoyable yard work.  Snipping here, pulling a weed there, that kind of thing.  I took pictures, a lot of pictures, mostly of flowers and a few bugs.  I read books, sitting on my park benches, under my umbrellas.
Sometimes, I just sat. Occasionally a friend would stop by and we would chat.  We had Bible study outside as well, on quite a few occasions.

I tried to figure out why I was able to enjoy the out of doors this summer, and just today I figured it out...this year I did not allow myself to feel guilty about 'other things I should be doing' whilst I was enjoying summer.  It's been one heck of a ride.  

And, now, here it is the last weekend of summer.  I'm sad.  But, I've already vowed that next summer I'm once more going to allow myself the luxury of enjoying summer out side, snipping, pulling, snapping, reading, talking, and sitting, just sitting...soaking up the sun and devouring what nature has to offer.

Potpourri

My week, more or less.

We had some rain.  It was wonderful.

I've had my creative juices flowing, using some of the things I learned from "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain".  Spending hours and hours, that I should be doing more constructive things. However, in the end my store will benefit from all my endeavors.

Bobby came home to roost for the winter.  I had to get rid of some Mud Dauber nests under the eave of my house.  Why they chose to build just above my sliding patio door I will never know.  Sorry, Daubers.

My next door neighbor's daughter moved back to the Pacific Northwest, and is staying temporarily at home, she brought her dogs.  I knew they were there, but Zorro didn't....until yesterday...what a hoot. He drove me nuts all afternoon, in and out, in and out, in and out.  They are separated by a small garden area and a high lattice deck wall, so have not yet had nose to nose contact.  I think Zorro has peed on every bit of green between the house and the back end of the yard.

My huckleberries are ripening.  They are soooooooo good.  I pick a few every time I go outside.

I don't know what it is about September, the sun seems to know it is time to say goodbye.  It's glow is softer, more mellow yellow, and is in a great hurry every evening to hide behind the blanket of trees at the end of my culdesac.

I still hear crickets, but I'm sure they, too, sense their time is short.  

The lights of my neighbor's Piazza are out.

I'm waiting to hear the geese flying south.

I'm starting to think about putting summer yard decorations away, folding up the chairs and covering the park benches.  

Oh, and then there are the leaves...sweep, sweep, sweep.

And, there it is, I've said it all.

Sigh.

Ecstasy

Ecstasy (Dictionary.com)

[ek-stuh-see]

noun, plural ecstasies.
1.
rapturous delight.
2.
an overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling.
3.
the frenzy of poetic inspiration.
4.
mental transport or rapture from the contemplation of divine things.

Okay, okay, I know ecstasy is a pretty drastic word to be using to describe what I felt when I pulled open my bedroom drapes to find my world WET.  But, I was ecstatic.  It was beautiful, the sidewalk was wet from stem to stern, the leaves on the trees were dripping, and (because I didn't believe and collapse them last night) the folding chairs on my patio had puddles of water collected in the middle of the seats.

I raced around the house, making my furry creatures wait for their breakfast and threw open all the windows and took deep, deep breaths. The earth smelled woodsy, as though brought out of a long but troubled slumber.  And the air...oh, the marvelous, marvelous smell of 'wet' clung there, I had almost forgotten rain smells.  It was wonderful, it was glorious, it was magnificent.  I was ecstatic.

If I had been dressed I would have gone outside and danced in it.

Frankie, (of course) thought I was nuts that a few raindrops would send me into such a state and that I certainly was overreacting, stating she hoped I felt the same come January after we had rain for thirty days in a row.

It's true, come January I might not feel the same about the rain, but I hope that come the middle of winter I remember this summer, and how ugly my world came to look.  After years and years of nurturing shrubs and trees it was quite worrisome to see their leaves wilt, and begin to drop to the ground...I stewed, I fretted.  Oh, how I wanted to water, and I did twice when I got so concerned I feared the shrubs and trees would die.  Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because we were in a drought that I didn't water, but because my water/sewer bill is so exorbitant I simple could not afford to water.

So it was this morning when I saw that God had finally blessed us with his wonderful, glorious, magnificent rain, I was ecstatic.

Ecstasy  

1.
rapturous delight.  (Indeed I was filled with great happiness and joyful gratitude.)
2.
an overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling. (I was overcome with a lightness of heart and felt like dancing and singing, neither, by the way, I do well.)
3.
the frenzy of poetic inspiration.  (I am overcome with inspiration, and that is why I'm sitting here writing, my words not doing justice to the raw emotions I feel.)
4.
mental transport or rapture from the contemplation of divine things. (Oh yes, I'm definitely contemplating divine things, because only divine intervention has caused the uplifting of my spirit that has transported me and my world to a cleansing wash only God could provide.) 

Oh yeah, I'm ecstatic.

So,

last Monday I went to see my doctor.  It went pretty well, except she was not happy that I don't exercise.  I kind of told her a little white lie and said I exercised two days a week.  I don't, but I figured working in the yard and doing laundry and 'stuff' counted as exercise.

Anyway, after she wrote me a note on my 'exit' paper work that I needed to exercise before I do anything else during the day, I took it to heart.  And, reluctantly, the very next day I began to do a workout.  I was over ambitious of course.  Wednesday my muscles ached pretty bad, and I backed off and only exercised for then minutes.  Dang, if only she hadn't written that note!!!!!  Dang, if only I had not taped it to the bottom of my computer monitor!!!!!!!  

Begrudgingly, every morning after I've fed CC and Zorro, I go through the angel, devil thing.  

Angel:  (In disgustingly sweet voice)  "Come one, Sweetie, time for exercise, you promised."

Devil:  (Leaning out over my double chins, glaring at Angel) "What the heck, Sandra, who's going to know if you exercise or not?  You know your computer is calling you."
Angel: (Halo a bit askew) "Don't listen to him, you know every time you do, you have to pull yourself out of muck and mire,"
Devil:  (Laughing heartily) "But, you know you're in pain, you know you hate all the e-f-f-o-r-t exercise takes.  Come on, grab you cup of coffee and let's get to work.  Times a-wastin'"
Angel:  "But, you promised, and a promise is a promise. It's only a few minutes out of your day, and you know the pain is eventually going to go away."

I realize Angel is right, I do owe it to my doctor to at least give this a try, however, I also can see Devil's side, I've become a lazy, slob of a person, and I kind of like it.  Besides, pain....well, pain hurts.  And I've been feeling pain for the last six days, although the more muscles I use on a daily basis, the fewer muscles there are to get back into shape. Plus, if I work out this morning it will be one full week spending time being physical.  Three more weeks and I'll have formed a habit, it should be easy sledding after that.

Devil:  "Come on, you gave it a shot, you know you don't like this new routine."
Angel:  "But, you've come so far, you can't give up now."
Devil:  (pitchfork just below my earlobe...prodding me) "Your office chair is waiting."
Angel:  "So is your exercise mat."

Oh, deary me, deary me.  What to do, what to do?  The simple answer is I want to put this exercise dilemma behind me and slink back into my old lazy, slobbish life, and...I would except...I'm finding Angel is right, my aching muscles are subsiding, I think they are getting stronger, and I sure hate to admit this...I'm feeling better, breathing better and I have a lot more energy.

Take a hike, Devil, I'm going to give this new regiment the best shot I can.  Three more weeks is all I need to establish a brand new life style.

I don't know what to think.

Yesterday, on one of my favorite websites there was an ad from a very well know jewelry store. You would immediately recognize the name. They were advertising diamond engagement rings.  Oh, I do so love 'sparklies', and they were the MOST beautiful 'sparklies'.  I immediately associated this ad with the coming holiday season, as I've not seen an ad from a jewelry store since...well, probably last holiday season...or maybe Mother's Day.

Anyway, I thought it was odd, after all it is only mid September.  Then this morning I saw a new ad for the same jewelry store on the same website.  Hmmm, I'm thinking to myself, so this is indeed a warm-up for holiday shopping.  I'm guessing it won't be long before I see ads from car manufacturers with huge red bows on them.  Somehow I will deal with this.  I certainly can't stop the holidays from coming.

Then, (gulp) this morning I'm lounging with my sweet puppy, still in bed, watching the local news. There, on my bedroom television is an ad. Snow is falling, the announcer states it's time for winter tires and says we don't want to buy a set of 'all weather' tires, no...we need snow tires for better traction and a half dozen other reasons.  Frankly, I really don't care about tires...I don't even own a car.  But, I was appalled that this tire company had totally over looked the lovely season of Autumn/Fall, and showed instead a picture of falling snow.  What the heck?

Didn't this year just start a couple weeks ago?  Where the blankity, blank, blank has the year gone?

Is it just me, or (seriously) has time sped up to the point I simply can't keep up any more.  Man, I'm gonna' miss not being able to have my house open with wonderful fresh air flowing through all the rooms.  I'm gonna' miss the long, warm, daylight evenings.  I'm gonna' miss all the butterflies.  Sigh.

But, on the other hand, hopefully I will have a new winter house guest, perhaps a niece of nephew of Bobby, the shield bug I found 'belly-up' on my patio earlier this summer.   And, even though it will continue to get dark earlier and earlier, I can look forward to the shortest daylight day of the year so I can anticipate the longest one next June.  Plus, I do have the holidays to look forward to, even though I'm not particularly happy advertisers are already trying to shove their wares down my throat...and it's only September.

I don't know what to think, where has this year gone?

I just can't stop...

...crying this morning.

Seriously, I'm an emotional basket case today.  Images of the 9-11 tragedy are all over social media, bringing up uncomfortable memories, nagging questions, and an especially bitter taste in my mouth over the consequences of those horrible terrorist attacks on our country.

Things have not been the same since.  And, sadly never will be again. Since that black day in our nation's history, we entered a whirlpool down, down, down into the belly of decay.  That place where, eventually, all nations go when they have lost respect in the eyes of the rest of the world's nations.

I don't want to belabor any points, we all know what's happening here in the United States, lots of people talk about them, every day...every single day, but in order to correct our downward spiral, we have to collectively, cooperate with each other, and that's something we are no longer willing to do.

We all want to be right.  In order to survive, being right is not the answer, being a collective, being cooperative is. America has always been a melting pot, a medley...a song if you will, of people from nations around the world singing in harmony with one goal in mind, to make America great.

We are singing 'off key'.

If we cannot respect each other and embrace the differences among ourselves, we will never be able to respect our government and what it used to stand for.  And so it was, on the day the planes crashed into the buildings and the ground, the America I knew and grew up in died.  She will never be the same.

Is there hope for our nation?  Maybe.

I worry about my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  I never imagined America would become a third world nation.  If the nations of the world no longer respect us, will they come to our aide if we need them...I have my doubts...it's a scary thought.

I just can't stop crying this morning.

Sketching

A few years back I went through an 'artsy' phase.  I had bought a book, years, and years, and years...AGO, and it sat on a shelf in a book case for that long basically untouched.  Oh, when I first got the book I was 'gung-ho' to learn to draw.

Then, life took over, things got sticky, and the book and my art supplies gathered dust...literally.

Finally, one day, the art book coughed, wheezed and sneezed at me and I decided, what the heck?  I took the book off the shelf, blew the dust off and flipped the book open to the last page where I had written notes in the margin, (around page 90), and I remembered I had just drawn a pencil sketch of my foot.  Wow! The sketch was pretty darn good and I was excited to move forward.

I found the sketch book I had used for all this books exercises, and flipped the page to a new exercise. Which happened to be a new chapter.  Perceiving the Shape of a Space: The Positive Aspects of Negative Space.  Uh-oh!

I was determined to carry on, and carry on I did.  It took a long time to finish the book, but my art skills had increased substantially.  I discovered I don't like working with pastels or oils, but water coloring was a perfect fit.  Boy, did I have fun.  My favorite 'project' was "An Ugly Corner as Cityscape".  Yes, I had to find a picture of an ugly intersection and draw it.  At the time I didn't have a camera, so I had to depend on the Internet to find one for me.  I checked large cities, but most of those showed only the pretty side because they want people to come visit, and nobody wants to look at ugly when they are paying a thousand dollars for a vacation.

Undeterred, I eventually ended up at my hometown's website.  I didn't really have a lot of hope I'd find a picture of an ugly intersection.  But, lo, there was a picture of one 'butt ugly' intersection.  (No offense, hometown).  Now, not only was this going to be a 'butt ugly' picture, it had to be big. 18x24 inches, to be exact.  THAT was quite a project.

The book ended a two chapters later.  So ended my artistic education, and my artist career. The book went back on the shelf and began to gather dust.  My colored pencils, water colors, and brushes went into a box along with assorted sizes of watercolor and sketch book paper that is also collecting dust.

Then a couple of days ago, (I had no yarn for crocheting projects), I opened the box of artistic supplies, and pulled out a sketch book.  I flipped open the cover and discovered the start of a few sketches in which I had apparently lost interest.  Well, hot diggity!

Oh, my grey matter went berserk.  Why didn't I think of this before.  I could draw all sorts of images to put on the merchandise in my store.  Yes, I'm a bit rusty at the moment, but the possibilities are endless.  Already there are 18 pages of sketches.

In walks my nemesis, good old Frankie, looking over my shoulder.  I've already scanned and set up a new file on my computer to hold my sketches.  I 'blew them up' and printed out each one so they will be more easy to replicate when I want to use them for a Zazzle project.

Frankie begins to thumb through the printed images.  Silence fill the office.  I wait...."I didn't know you could draw."

Whew...I'm off and running folks...off and running.

By the way the name of the book is "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" by Betty Edwards.  Published by The Putman Publishing Group. Copyright 1989 by Betty Edwards

Pumper-upper

There is absolutely nothing that will get my blood pressure 'pumper-upped' more quickly that a trip to visit my Doctor.  Seriously!

Yesterday was my annual check-up.  You know the one required...or else the insurance company, (or whoever the power to be is), just might not renew your next prescription.  Shoot!  Yep, I got a message kind of like that with the last prescription I had filled.  So, off to the doctor I went.

Of course, the first thing they want to do is weigh and measure me. Okay, I'm overweight at bit, but for some reason that does not seem to bother them any more...does not bother me either.  What does bother me is that I have shrunk to 4'11.5 inches.  I get the feeling that people are soon going to begin patting me on the head as though I am the family pet.

Then, the nurse rolled in the portable blood pressure machine, I warned her the reading was going to be high, as I absolutely hate coming to the doctor's office.  It was high.  She lowered the table so my toes actually touched the floor, advised me I should not cross my legs at the ankle and to take deep breaths.  I did as I was told.  All the while in my head I'm saying over and over...relax, relax, relax. When she re-did the test my pressure had returned to normal.

Whew.

I was surprised had how technical things had become since my last visit, even the thermometer was disposable.  Another thing that surprised me was that I had no desire to touch anything in the office. Normally I would have grabbed an 'older than dirt' magazine and perused it while going through the normal 'wait' times, but this time I thought about all the people who had perused the magazine before me, and all the germs and gunk that was probably on it, deciding it was probably the 'better part of valor' not to touch the magazines or anything else for that matter.

Anyway, my doctor finally entered the room and we went over all the medications I was currently taking, how I was feeling, etc, etc.  It went great until she asked about my exercise program (insert snickering here).  Maybe twice a week I make an attempt at some sort of exercise, if working in the yard and pushing my vacuum cleaner around the house counts...I'm assuming that's what she meant...(insert more snickering here).

I told her exercising was difficult to work into my daily routine, and that the only way I could make it a routine was if she called me every morning...we both had a good laugh over that.  I told her I worked every morning at my on-line store and explained what that was, and she was happy I was busy, but that I still needed to exercise at least two days a week.  Then, at the completion on my exam she left the room and told me, to wait for paperwork.

I got the paperwork, folded it in half and put it in my purse.

I stopped by the lab for blood work, went to breakfast with my daughter, stopped at Joanns, then came home to study my paperwork. And there, in bold print, close to the top of the first page was the following:

Zazzle is your reward time each day AFTER you have done your exercise.  Have fun!

Well, I would not exactly call exercise fun, but I did get the message, and this morning I exercised for almost 20 minutes.  Then I sent her an e-mail to tell her.  I also said I had heard (somewhere) that it takes about a month to establish a habit, and I was going to try.  I said I had printed out her note and that I was going to tape it to my computer monitor as a daily reminder I had to do a workout of some kind before starting work.

I can do this!  At least I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....as the little train said as it puffed, puffed, puffed up the hill.

Patience, puppy, patience

If there is one thing my darling puppy lacks, it's patience.  When he gets excited to come in, go out, or want food (especially) he will wind himself up, like we all used to do with old fashioned wristwatches.

This morning I was warming myself a cup of coffee in my microwave, and Zorro in true fashion, was winding himself round and around my legs.  He wanted his teeth cleaning treat.

I asked him, "Heavens to Betsy, can't you be patient for just one minute?"  Of course he couldn't, but I made him wait anyway.  Dance the dance he did, all the while.  He really cracks me up!

Eventually my coffee warmed, and Zorro got his treat.  Then, I got to thinking about the phrase, Heavens to Betsy.  Does anybody even use that expression anymore?  I know I haven't for a long, long time.  

Hmmm?  And, here I go again.

Okay, this one actually stumped me.  Finding the origin for the phrase "heavens to Betsy" has pretty much left me clueless.  What a bummer. 

Was there a real Betsy?  No one knows for sure.  Some like to think the phrase relates to Betsy Ross, the woman who sewed together the first American flag. And that someone may have said something like...."heaven bless dear Betsy for her labors."  Great possibility I suppose.  

Then I read that the English Oxford Dictionary had made citation to this phrase in 1914, 

“The night, as I have before mentioned, is dark, and they do not observe a new Manilla clothes line stretched tightly across the lawn, until Bob, who has his head raised to watch the second story windows, is, as he approaches obliquely, sawed smartly across the neck.  “Heavens to Betsy!” he exclaims, clapping his hand to his throat, “I’ve cut my head off!”

Serenade, by Frederick W Saunders, a short story in Ballou’s Dollar Monthly Magazine, Boston, May 1857

But what surprised me was that I actually found reference to this phrase in (of all places) the Urban Dictionary where I found the following:

Heavens to Betsy
An expression of shock.
Heavens to Betsy! I forgot to turn off the iron.
by buggum September 18, 2005

and,

when you are frustrated with something and you cry out 
"HEAVENS TO BETSY"
"Heavens to Betsy" I got ready for nothing 

They're taking way to long for some fries..."Heavens to Betsy"
by austin42g April 14, 2009

Who knew, although I am pleased to see I'm not the only one who occasionally utters this phrase.

However, when all was said and done, and after a couple of hours of Internet search, it think I have to go along with etymologist Charles Earle Funk who published "Heavens to Betsy! and other curious sayings"  in 1955, who ventured the opinion that the origins of 'Heavens to Betsy' were "completely unsolvable".

September morning

All of a sudden, magic happened.  

It is a perfect September morning.

It's supposed to get up to ninety degrees today, I'm certain that will be true.

The east wind is blowing.

The sky is crystal blue. Not one cloud, not even a wisp of one is on 
the horizon.  If I could throw a rock high enough I'm sure I could 
shatter the sky.

The sun shining on the avocado green leaves are sparkly, and rippling like the tide as the breeze meanders through the branches of the trees.

I wish I was a poet.

Oh...a falling leaf, it's yellow...I suspect it grew tired of 'hanging on'.

Shadows are longer as the sun has already sauntered southward.

I'm savoring every warm, comfortable, relaxing second today has to offer.

Birds cheep.  They, too, know it's September.

Spider webs abound.

Roses wane.

I wish I was a poet. 

The Mighty Oak

This summer I asked my gardener to cut the oak tree in my front yard down to the ground.  He did.  He also told me some week he would bring a drill, put holes in the remains of the stump and pour salt down the holes. Supposedly, that will to prevent 'suckers' from growing around the base of the stump.

He keeps forgetting to bring the drill and the salt.

As a result, 'suckers' are growing all around the outside edge of the stump.  He has whacked them off once, but new ones have replaced them.  They are beautiful.  The leaves remind me of precious jewels in their color, a turquoise green blending into gorgeous geranium red and orange that inches outward to a hint of cherry pink at the outer edge.  It makes me sorry that I simply didn't 'top' the tree instead of such a drastic thing as having it totally removed.

This is what I so enjoy about nature, its desire to replenish itself.  This wonderful oak wants desperately to survive, and if it were not for the power lines directly overhead I would allow that to happen.  However, it is easy to see that within a certain number of years I would have to face the dilemma of either topping the 'sucker' branches or having them cut back to ground level again.  What to do, what to do? On the other hand, we've a lot, I'm talking a lot of squirrels in my neighborhood, and since my old oak was finally producing acorns, a lot of acorns, the squirrels have been busy lunching on them, and burying them all around my yard.  Guess what? Yep, this spring a new batch of oak trees sprung up all around my yard.

There are two in particular I've been keeping a close eye upon, both in my back yard.  If they make it through the winter I have hope I might...just might...be able to transplant them to places where they can thrive and grow for a hundred years in perfect harmony with their surrounding environment.

However, I don't know what to do with the oak 'suckers' in the front yard.  I know that for at least 5 years I could keep them pruned and under control below the power lines, but (sadly) and eventually they would meet the same fate as the 'mother tree'.  Oh, if only my gardener had finished the job in the first place I would not be in such a tizzy.  It's quite distasteful for me to have anything of nature die.  Remember Bobby, my winter house guest?

I guess eventually I'm going to have to make a permanent decision about the oak 'suckers', but I think I'll wait till spring, maybe Mother Nature's winter will make the decision for me.

I found this poem on line this morning, and it touched my heart.  I'm hoping Johnny Ray Ryder Jr. is okay with my spreading his lovely words around the world.

Sorry about that!

It's been crazy, I've been crazed.  Frankie wants to leave home.  Even Zorro and CC seem to sense Old Woman is about to go over the edge.  Excuse me, I've got to gain control.   It seems I either want to go into a fit of giggles, or bawl my eyes out.

I'm sick of being a home owner.  Maintenance, up-keep, repairs. There is always something, ALWAYS.

Saturday my clothes washer blew its pump and I have been spending the weekend washing clothes by hand. I'm surprised how easy it is to do.  And, believe it or not, (since I don't seem to have done laundry in a former life) I decided I had better research the best way to go about it.  Yes, folks, the Internet has web sites that will tell you how to do laundry by hand.

Surprisingly, I grew up in the era where women stockings came in two pieces, (not attached to each other) they each had a seam that ran up the back of each one, and these 'delicates' had to be washed by hand in the bathroom sink.  So, I was pretty sure I remembered how to do that and could be in control of my current situation. Amazingly I discovered I had indeed not forgotten how to wash clothes by hand.  

However, dealing with rather large pieces of clothing is very tricky.  The first load I pretty much 'sloshed' all over the kitchen sink counter...and...of course the floor. Thank goodness for paper towels...yes, I used paper towels to sop up the mess...I didn't want to make myself a separate load of cloth rags to wash.  

I quickly got the hang on exactly how much water I needed to fill the sink, and exactly how many pieces of clothes to add so that the water ended up about an inch and a half from the rim of the sink.  

At first I take each piece of clothing and dunk it up and down in and out of the water several times. (According to the Internet instructions) this dislodges the dirt. Then I allow the clothes to soak, depending on when I remembered the clothes were there they soaked anywhere for 20 minutes to 2 to 3 hours.  

The hardest part of this chore and the messiest, is squeezing the excess water out of each piece of clothing after the soapy wash and rinse water drain out.  The water eventually runs down my arms to my elbows. I gotta' tell ya' all that wringing made my hands hurt like heck after the first day,  And, here's a l-o-o-o-o-o-t of squeezing required doing laundry this way.  I thought about using my rolling pin to get rid of the excess water, but decided that might be a bad idea.  With my luck all that rolling in the bottom of my sink would surely break the seal around the drain, and water will leak under my sink so that not only will I have a repair bill from the appliance company, but a plumber, too.

So, squeeze I do, every single piece of clothing...not just once, but after each cycle.  By the time my machine is fixed (which could take a month, maybe more) I will be able to wrestle bears and alligators.  Grrrrrrrr, where do I sign up.

This is pretty much how my weekend went.  Load after load of laundry.  I can't remember how many I've done so far, but I can tell you I'm down to my last two (I was hoping I could cram the clothes in as one big load, but that's a 'no go' this morning.)  As a result one load is soaking in the sink as I write, while the last one sits on my kitchen step stool.  Oh, happy day, happy day.

Here's the thing.  I've decided until my machine is repaired, I'm going to continue doing a load of clothes a day.  When I put new clothes on in the morning, the ones from the day before will go directly into my kitchen sink.  I know this breaks a cardinal rule of laundry protocol, however, for the time being whites and colors will be washed together, they'll just have to get used to it..  Because I'm pretty sure I can live with that.

However, I'm sick, sick, sick of all this home owner junk.  I've got to start working on a plan to get into an affordable Independent Living Facility.  I like the idea of somebody taking care of me for a change.  I've been checking some places out.  There has got to be one out there in my price range.  What's nice is I can take Frankie, and pets are allowed.  Does that sound lovely, or what?