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.

Whew!

It's been one heck of a month.

The complex where I live decided it needed to replace the four overhead decks of my unit because of decay...let's face it...old age.  The demolition and remodeling was supposed to start months ago but unknown delays put the whole project off until August.

The first day a rather burly guy drug a four foot by four foot hunk of particle board and screwed it into the outer side of my screen door's jams and announced it would not be removed until the project was completed.  Okay, I could live with that...I didn't like it much...very inconvenient, but went through two remodeling jobs on my 'used to be' home and was used to what remodeling involved.

The first part of the remodeling was removing the concrete floors of the decks.  That required a lot of jack-hammering, and WAS A VERY NOISY MORNING.

Next came (uh-oh) unexpected water damage under my patio wall siding. Well, nobody expected that! Gross! The wall behind the siding of my patio was black with dry-rot, and could be flaked away with a fingernail.  They removed the plywood, and the insulation, and found the two-by-fours below needed to be removed as well. They actually went down to my next door neighbor's drywall...and almost sawed through it.  That was an amazing day.

Then a few days later they started to remove the rotted wooden, pressure treated, beam on the outer side of the deck above, that hunk of lumber was huge...I don't know the size.  Anyhoo, I'm sitting at my desk working and this thundering piece of rotted wood came crashing down. Fortunately the guy working below had just seconds before walked out of harm's way.  I went to my screen door I can't open and announced "Well that was pretty scary."  The construction workers agreed. Had that lumber hit anyone it would have been ug-ly.

The remodeling moved down the building.  When they finally got back to my end, we were in the midst of a heat wave, temperatures in the high nineties. They spread clear plastic over the ground and all the plants...including my wonderful vegetables.  The plastic cooked them, and the workers stomped them to death.  Poor, poor plants.

Rumors started to spread...when was the work going to be done? Was the work going to be done? How long were we not going to be able use our doors?

Little by little things got done, after the workers left each day I would go out, sneak under the yellow caution tape and water what remained of my plants, hoping by morning any evidence of my indiscretion would have evaporated away.

Then, Friday I came home from a luncheon engagement and found the particle board blocking my screen door was gone and a letter from management was attached to my door knob.  The letter announced that "the completion of deck replacements and some siding repair" was "almost finished." I was a happy camper.

However, and, coming back to rumors.  We began to speculate when the job would actually be finished.  You see, painting still needs to be done with regard to that dang siding that needed repair. Word went around that the contractors that rebuilt the decks, will not be the contractors who will be doing the painting.  Hmmmmmmm!  So, although I now have access to my screen door and patio, I don't think I can actually use the patio until the 'the repair is finished up' or until the painting is done. Hmmmmmmm!

So, here's what I've done. I re-attached Zorro's 50' leash to my new support corner post, so he can lie in the sun, and put one of my patio chairs out there so I can keep watch over him while he snoozes and stays out of trouble.  It's not perfect...but it will do for the time being.

Also, there are a few things I've learned out of all of this, One...plastic will cook and/or burn plants. Two...a fallen cross beam can and/or will kill somebody.  Three...plant your vegetables in movable containers not in the ground.  Four...every remodeling job will have unexpected problems...a person either learns to live with them and/or....well...a person learns to live with them.  I know. I know walkin' through life...stuff happens....and generally speaking it's one grand adventure.

I'll keep you posted what happens next.

In search of the perfect peach

At our last happy hour it seemed no matter what the topic of conversation, the talk always came back to food.  Our favorites of course; which we subdivided into all the courses especially of an evening meal.

As the event wound down the topic of conversation came around to trees, which came around to fruit, which came around to food, and we mentioned which fruit was our personal favorite.  The peach came up a few times.

At this point I happened to mention I once wrote a “How-to” article about finding the perfect peach and said I should probably write about that for my blog sometime.

Today I had a little free time and I looked for and (believe it or not) actually found the article.  I wrote this as part of a course I took with The Institute of Children’s Literature. Hence, my ‘how to’ find the perfect peach.

                          In Search of the Perfect Peach

One’s quest for a perfect peach should start with a walk some afternoon in late August, with four o’clock being the peak time for you search to conclude.  While strolling by a nearby orchard, you will find the trees revealing an abundance of fruit, waiting for harvest.

Under ideal conditions your peach will be warmed by the summer sun.  Don’t hurry!  Spend a little time walking around the trees. Look for a peach that’s full and round, one that’s about 11 to 13 inches in circumference.

In color, it should be a delicate mingle of orange and pink, with a dark, warm, brownish-red bottom and a lighter yellow-orange top where the cheeks are attached to the branch on a squat brownish-black stem.

A ripe peach will not have to be pulled from the tree; it will fall from the branch as you cup your hands under it.  Care must be taken not to squash the fruit as its flesh will be slightly soft to the touch.

Do not wash the fruit!  Chances are the latest summer rain showered your peach with the “just Right” amount of moisture to make it acceptable for eating plucked directly from the tree.

Gently rub the fruit between your hands, just to feel its warmth and to enjoy the softness of the furry blanket nature has provided for it while it grew.

Now, hold the peach to your nose and inhale deeply. Savor the delicate aroma which will be sweet and flower like, yet pleasantly fruity.

Your peach can be eaten skin and all.  Although, there are some who find the skin uninviting due to the fact is covered with a soft, delicate fuzz; others, (myself included) find that too an enjoyable part of a perfect peach.  The skin adds to the uniqueness of the fruit and should be devoured.

A ripe peach will taste sweet, yet tangy.  The meat is soft and easy to chew, with nectar in every bite.  Like good wine, it pleases the palate.  The savory yellow juice will seep through your fingers and begin to run down your hand.  If the peach is plump enough you will have the pleasure of having the luscious syrup run all the way to your elbow.

As you devour your peach you will find as you near the center, the pulp has become a rich, robust red and the flavor turns slightly tart.  At the very center, the pulp is firmly clasped to the stone.  It clings as a result of the stone having deep, natural ridges.

With a little effort, the pulp can be removed from the stone.  The stone, or pit as it is sometimes called, will be on average an inch in length and shaped oblong.  It resembles a miniature football, being a rich, dark brown in color; however, with its unique ridges it also appears brain-like.

After allowing the stone to dry for a few days, the perfect peach will reveal one final, pleasant surprise.  This surprise requires slightly more effort than removing the pulp and you might sustain a few scraped knuckles; but you’ll find the fun outweighs the effort.

There is no greater pleasure than revealing this surprise to a group of children gathered round on a warm, sunny sidewalk.  While holding the stone firmly on its edge and scraping end to end on the concrete the stone will gradually wear away.  Eventually you will hit a chamber in the stone, inside is a semi-hard, off white seed. Pry the seed from the chamber.  Although the seed appears nut-like in texture it is not recommended to be eaten.  It is bitter to the taste, could make you ill, and should be discarded.

For it is the stone itself that contains the surprise; once the seed is removed you will discover you have created a miniature, sturdy, water-tight canoe; which will dance and bob about when placed in a bowl of water.  Children will marvel at your creativity and someday themselves perpetuate this ritual for another group of fascinated children.

Finally your quest is complete; you’ve unraveled the mysteries of and found there is little waste to one of nature’s miracles.  But even more, you’ve had the rare opportunity to discover the perfect peach.

Ya wanna' know...

...the best job I ever had?

It's being a grandparent.  Easy-peasy.

Not just because I get to spend fun time with my grandkids and the old joke...'When I'm done I can send them home'.  But because they are each unique, interesting, funny, quick, easy and....well I could probably go on for quite some time.

Let's see how many grandchildren do I have?  Two plus three, plus three, plus seven I think that adds up to fifteen.  What made this relatively easy is we are a blended family and children add up very quickly.  As for great grandchildren (yes, they are arriving) I've some of them, too. So far there are three plus three plus one.  Please don't ask me to tell you how old they are and when their birthdays are...I don't remember ages, and as for birth-dates I rely on facebook and my date calendar to remind me of those.

Shoot I'm lucky to remember all their names.

I've been on field trips, shopping trips, vacations, sleep-overs and eating out excursions.  I've bought school supplies, DVD's, clothes, presents and food, lots, and lots, and lots of foooooood.  I've been to museums, malls and craft supply stores.  There have been picnics, parties and times we've just hung out.

We play games, rent movies and sometimes we're just plain silly.  Of late we play miniature golf on my patio and hide and seek with my Oregon Duck and Beaver.  One granddaughter helps me clean house; and a grandson who helps out with my 'land' and plants. I tell ya' there is no end in sight.

Before I moved to my new place, when the seven grandkids showed up we took turns on where and what we would have for lunch.  The two favorites were a taco place and a pizza place.  Now, with a lot of the young-ins' grown eating out does not cost as much as it used to. Still there are a few burger places close by and there is also pizza that magically shows up at my door from time to time.  Mostly though, now we like the sit down, waiter /waitress places to eat.

I think what I like the most about being a grand parent is that all these kids keep me young, laughing and full of fun.  I love surprising them by saying something colorful or slightly naughty just to keep them on their toes and get that Grandmaaaaa response.  Oh, and they teach me stuff, lots of stuff. I'm learning about their professions, their families, their educations, their plans and dreams for the future. They have principles, know politics, can discuss current events and have concerns about the future not just the United States but the World. They are wonderful, each and every one.

But, and here's the best part, when at the end of the day I get tired...well, heavens to Betsy...look at that...the clock says it's time for a certain somebody, or somebodies to go home.  HERE COMES MOM. I don't have to bathe anybody...well, except for me, get anybody ready for bed...well, except for me or have to think about getting up in the morning and getting somebody ready for school.  I'm telling ya, if you're not a grandparent yet when that time comes, you're gonna' love it.

It's the best job I ever had.

This is July?

Last summer July came in sweltering.  I was still in my old place and had fans going 'around the clock'.  I had wet hand towels on my forehead and stomach every time I sat or lie down; and wore as few pieces of clothing as possible so I would not get arrested when I walked outside.  That's the thing about heat, once you are naked, you're naked. However, in the cold you can bundle up and bundle up until all you can do is roll yourself around the house like one of those big exercise balls.

This July (so far) is just the opposite.  There have been morning clouds and a chill in the air.  I even considered putting on my 'thermals' this morning.  Now, ain't that just redickullous?  I confess I like this July better.  The older I get the less I like the extremes in temperatures and I tend to envy everyone who has winter and summer homes.  If I could have my druthers I would travel to somewhere 'tropical' every six or so months.  I envision seeing myself wintering in places like Hawaii, Australia or perhaps some exotic Pacific Island where I can munch local fruit and eat lots of fish.  Then in the summer I would return to home base and grow my own vegetables, sip Jim Beam on my patio and watch the world go by.

Yep, my muu-muus would really get a work out.  And, speaking of them I wore one to Happy Hour last Friday, unfortunately, I discovered I'm going to have to wear a slip under them because, the fabric 'stuck' to the back of my legs every time I stood up...which was a bit embarrassing.  It sure was comfortable though and that made up for those 'uncomfortable' moments, guess it's true sometimes you have to make adjustments when trying something new.  Shoot, I wear dresses and skirts so infrequently I'm lucky I discovered I still own a slip.  I actually found two, one white and one black. Hmmm, I wonder how old they are?

But, I digress.

This morning when I first awoke the sky was blue and sunny; I decided to do my morning devotions and Bible study on the patio.  As I sat, the sun disappeared and clouds rolled in, lots and lots of clouds.  The temperature dropped. Dang it!  It got so chilly I had to go back into the house.  What the heck is going on?  Stupid weather. Or, maybe it's me.  I keep expecting summer to be summer, winter to be winter and all the other parts of the year to be what they are also supposed to be.  Instead it seems each year gets more and more peculiar.  I suspect it all has something to do with Global Warming.  There, I actually said those dreaded words.  And, yes I do believe in Global Warming. Have you recently checked the rate at which the ice is melting at both poles?  Poor polar bears, poor, poor polar bears....and penguins, too.  If I get discombobulated with the weather fluctuations, imagine how the animals must feel.  Geeze.

Now, here's the thing.  When I first sat down to write it was my intention to be flowery and poetic about July, but it appears my fingers have run a-muck and have gone in the whole other direction. And, that is how it goes when an Old Woman Rambles. Let me try again.

July is gentle breezes, butterfly wings, bbq dinners, long twilight evenings July is........
......
......
I've not a clue.

Class Reunions

I have a cousin who writes a weekly column for her local paper.  This week she wrote about a friend who came back into town with her husband to attend his class reunion.  She, (the out of town-er) and my cousin got of group of their classmates together and went to lunch. While chatting they decided since their classmates were...were... 'passing-on' perhaps they should have an unscheduled reunion of their own. I guess whether they will or not was left up in the air.

My cousin mentioned in her article that their high school was no longer in existence so really "all they have left" is indeed their memories, (and hopefully their yearbooks, although today I think they are called annuals).

Anyhoooo, that got me to thinking that my old high school is also no longer a school.  I've forgotten what occupies the space today; I think it is some kind of office complex.  Here's what I do know. When the remodeling took place somebody from one of the graduating classes managed to get their hands on one of the teacher's classroom door and drug it home.  From what I understand she hung on to it until the year of her class reunion and then (of all things) she took the door along. Everyone was told to put their name on a slip of paper, there would be a door prize. As the evening progressed there was quite a bit of conversation about the door and the teacher to whom the door belonged and at the end of the evening there was a random drawing for the door prize and the prize was (of course)..the door. The winner became known as the  'keeper of the door' until the next reunion.

The number on the door is 210, and it's heavy oak.  It belonged to teacher Miss Sue Green, she was invited to the reunion to attend the 'keeper or the door' presentation.  According to the newspaper article, "Green expressed surprise to learn that the door from her class room was preserved."  The article goes on to say..."We told her that it was because all her students liked her so much and respected the things she did for us."  Apparently Miss Green "... gazed at us, and gave us a look that we'd seen many times. That look said...'oh, sure you did'."

However. Miss Green was indeed a teacher over and above other teachers.  She spoke softly but with great authority and she had the respect of each and every student.  She would stand outside her 150 pound oak door between every change of class, and never shut it until every student was no longer in the hall and where he/she was supposed to be when a new class began.  There was never misbehavior with Miss Green looking on.  My sister was the first in my family to have her as a teacher, I followed the next year, the first thing she asked was if I was Nancy's sister.  Uh-oh I thought, I've got some mighty big shoes to fill. Eventually the rest of my siblings attended one of her World Cultures Classes as well.  She taught for almost 50 years, had I not left my hometown my children probably would have attended her class as well.

Funny how life is, after I graduated I sent her a card and note every Christmas, and she responded in kind every year until I learned from a classmate she had passed away.  I'm sure she had a lot of students who did the same.  As the newspaper article ends, David Lester who had 'won the door' stated he was honored to keep the door because it represented more than just a door prize.  "It's amazing that it takes a person so long to appreciate what a teacher like Miss Green has done for her students.  I just wish we could have realized that fact when we were going to school."

If I had won that door, I'm not sure I would have given it up...I just hope the class that has the door is continuing the tradition and does so for as long as possible; but eventually I hope it is returned to the new high school with the door prize story attached and it is preserved for generations to come.  I think it would be a great honor for the school to be the final 'keeper of the door'.

Father's Day

Yesterday my Facebook age was loaded with all kinds of well wishes for all kinds of fathers, new ones, middle-aged ones and grandfather ones. They were all lovely and heart felt, I felt good for all those dads.

Later in the day one of my sisters called with an observation about our dad.  And, she asked a very profound question...what would I write about dad on Facebook? That got us to talking about dad and what we could remember about him.  Honestly, at first it didn't seem like much.

However, after we got talking turns out he was a great man, husband, father and provider.  He never lifted so much at a finger to us, never raised his voice or even come close to yelling at us and was ever present.  We recalled how he would sit after dinner in the dining-nook nose buried in the evening paper, Saturday Evening Post or the Reader's Digest.  He never joined in our 'after dinner chats' but we knew, HE KNEW exactly what we were talking about.

He was a great provider, even though his salary for the time was substantial, we were barely keeping up with 'the middle class'.  We had no credit cards...everything was paid by cash.  We kids would occasionally walk our house payment out to the private party that held our 'loan'.  We never even had so much as a checking account.  We didn't have a car until (if memory serves) I was in high school.  It was a big maroon Buick if I recall.

I'm not even sure dad took all the vacations that were allotted him, and he never....I mean never...took a sick day....EVER.  Although, I do remember we did drive all the way out to Indiana to visit his sister, my Aunt Cora one year.  Mostly he worked, and continued to build onto our house.  Did I mention he built it from the ground up?

However, as most dads were from my generation, they were mostly figure heads, we weren't pals, we didn't hang out, and we didn't talk.  He didn't teach us to ride a bicycle or throw a ball.  But he built us one heck of a swing and allowed us to take a stick and put our initials in the concrete holding the posts in place.  He planted a garden every year so we had fresh vegetable all summer, and the rows of corn were great to hide in when we spent hours playing hide and seek til dusk.

My sister and I got quite melancholy talking about dad, and we both wish he had been more hands-on with us...although we both know that was not his fault.  Times have changed for the better of course, dads today change diapers, do laundry, wash dishes, coach sports teams, bring home pizza for dinner and much, much more.  I applaud and praise them.

However, now that I'm thinking about it, dad was really a fantastic guy.  He never cheated on my mom, never swore, seldom drank and worked hard...right up to the time he got Carcinoma of the Lungs.  Even to the end, he hung in.  My older sister and I were living in California at the time, and we made the journey cross country to be with family.  I remember when we finally arrived my sister and I went to the hospital to see him.  It was bad, he was in an oxygen tent and very weak, but he knew and recognized us.  We didn't stay long; he was in no condition for visitors.

We went to mom's and had dinner and were making plans to go back to the hospital when the phone rang.  It was the hospital saying dad had passed.  See what a good dad he was...he hung on until he knew we were all together...I think that's the best proof my dad was the greatest.

Happy belated Father's day.  Herbert Paul  1905-1962.

Writing exercise-unlikeable character

I went to visit Melissa yesterday; I took a present for the baby.  It had been a while since I'd seen her what with her having the baby and all. Oh, I had sooo much to tell her. But she pushed me out of the house before I had a chance to give the gift to her.

God, she angry.

She said I was egocentric.  Can you believe that?  She said without a doubt I'm the most self-centered person she had ever met.  Is it my fault I've always got sooo much going on in my life?  I thought she'd be thrilled when I told her about my new fitness and weight-loss program and mentioned she could afford to take off a few pounds herself since she had the baby.  We could share my membership and could get into shape together.

That's when she hit the ceiling, and started to cry.

I told her not to feel bad, most women have a weight problem after having a baby and that her weight gain was tiny, weenie compared to some women; she could get her figure back in 'no time'.  Now, wouldn't you think she'd been happy when I told her that?

She just kept sobbing, so I changed the subject and said I was thinking about moving downtown and had been looking into the recently constructed high rise called "The Elite on Front Street".  It would be perfect and within walking distance of my fantastic new job.  I was explaining the floor lay out, and telling about the security measures the complex had and how reasonable the rent was...when, POW, she hit me...actually slugged me right in the stomach.  She knocked the wind right out of me.

I asked her why she did that.

All she said was she didn't want to be friends anymore, that I was an
egotistical (insert expletives); which surprised me because Melissa never swears.  As she continued to push me toward the door I asked what the heck was wrong with her.

She just shook her head and said I would never understand.  Melissa said it was never about what I said, but rather what I didn't say.  Then she went on and on about how a real friend would have seen right away how upset she was, and would have asked what was wrong...but that the minute I walked in I started blabbering about me, me, me and never thinking to ask how she was, or what was new in her life or that she might have something important to say.

I laughed and told her that was because she never did have anything important to say, but there was ALWAYS something new going on in my life, and, frankly she was just an old 'stick in the mud' wife and mother.

Melissa turned ashen and looked as though she was going to slug me again, so I backed all the way to the door.  That's when she asked me to leave...she actually opened the door and pushed me out; mumbling something under her breath then loudly, slammed the door shut. I couldn't believe it she left me standing there on the porch with the baby present still in my hand.

I found out this morning through a mutual friend that Melissa's baby had died a week ago Tuesday.

Seriously, I can't believe she didn't tell me when I took the baby present over to her yesterday.

Shame on me!

For a couple of years I was quite diligent at going to the website called Lumosity and playing their mental/agility games to keep my grey matter moving forward.  When I first started my LPI (Lumosity Performance Index) was terrible, under a thousand if memory serves. My memory was terrible, my hand/eye coordination was worse, and some games I could not get 'a handle on' to save my soul.  So, for about two years I went to the site just about every day and played at least the required five games determined to get better mentally.

I gotta' tell ya' I got dang good at some of the games and by the time I had hit my two year milestone my LPI had shot up to 1188 and that I was at the 90% level for people my age group.  I occasionally let folks know how I was doing on Facebook without (I hope) sounding boastful, but wanted them to know I was increasing my mental capacity 'leaps and bounds' and they needn't worry I was ready for some kind of a home.

Then, I kind of had a financial setback and I had to start doing without 'luxuries', and felt the hundred dollar annual fee was something I couldn't afford and gave up playing when the fee came due.  I also gave up brand name TP and other essentials.  Having money to pay taxes seemed much more important.  Heck, I knew how to be frugal...I grew up in a family that was 'aces' when it came to being frugal.  And so it went, until last year and I came into a little spending money.  Whoop, whoop.

So I was quite surprised last week, when out of the blue, I got an e-mail from Lumosity.  How nice they remembered me. Was this come kind of a sign?  On a whim I went to their website and they encouraged me to play some games for free. I did. I had forgotten how much fun they were.  They even allowed me to check my scores from ever so long ago. OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYY!

My new scores were deplorable, in the almost two years I had not played my agility to play the games had plummeted almost 100 points. That was berry, berry skerry!  I worried, I fretted, I was working myself into a state; had I had a stroke?  Was there something wrong with me?  Was I OOOLLLDDD! Too old to play these games that at one time gave me so much pleasure...and how awful was it that there were some games I could not even remember how to play?

I've got to be honest...I really did get kind of scared.  I knew then and there I was going to rejoin Lumosity. And, I did. When I first started to play last week my scores were terrible...and they still are, but day by day the scores are inching upward one and two points a day.  At the end of my play Lumosity is very encouraging, telling me I was doing great and that playing every day was doing me good and...to keep at it and...to play at least three days a week. I intend to do better than that.

I'm keeping a good attitude with my daily improvement, and laugh at the stupid mistakes and errors I make.  I get to giggling pretty good sometimes, for instance one game gives you word prefixes and then gives you a time frame to build words...the prefix was phys...I could think of two words, then sat there like an idiot, giggling, as I watched the clock count down.  Shame on me.  Boy was I embarrassed and glad Muse and Frankie were already in bed and will never know that happened.

So, there you have it, I'm determined to take the mental 'mush' my grey matter is in at the moment and....start where I am, with what I have and make something of it...and not be satisfied.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

OH, MAN!

This morning I was sitting on the patio doing some studying when I began to hear mumbling in the living room.  The sounds were barely about whispers; of course I was curious and went to see what was going on.

Gasp!!!!!  Oh, the horror! I began to cough and sputter.

There was Muse standing in the center of the room surrounded by mismatched suitcases.

Me: (In great alarm.)  "Just where do you think you're going?"
Muse:  " 'I'm leaving on a Jet Plane.' " 'don't know when' " (or if) ' I'll be back again...' ", was her sing-song response.  "It seems you no long want or need me around."

I'm so shocked I swoon, almost fall, and then sink to my knees.

Me:  "Where's this coming from?"  I can't believe this is happening.  I find myself hugging her around her knees with what I hope is the most pitiful look I can muster.
Muse:  "May 25th."
Me: What?"
Muse:  May 25 is the last day you tried to write anything...well, except for quick blips on Facebook ...and how creative do those have to be?"

I'm having a hard time focusing, that date can't possibly be right. Surely I've written something since then.  I stand and head toward the office and my computer.

Muse:  "Don't bother to check, I know I'm right."

I don't know what to say. I'm in a state of panic. I hadn't deliberately been trying to ignore Muse and I had certainly had ideas and intended to write...where the heck had the time gone?  I realize the last week or so had been busy, but apparently in Muses mind any excuse I might use will certainly not be logical or important enough to justify I have not written something.  Yes, I had out of  town company for a long weekend, there was a holiday, and then my granddaughter came and spent the night but as far as Muse was concerned these excuses would not do; I could have, should have stayed up late at least once during that time to be creative.

"I was available at a moment's notice." Muse said with a hardy snort.

The thing was and is, there is even one more reason I seem not to have time to write, and to me this is a 'biggie'.  It's almost summer and I've no desire to be cooped up in the house...every...single...moment I can I want to be outside enjoying the birds, the warm air, the azure blue sky and the time spent with neighbors who happen to walk by.  Woe, woe, how can I get Muse to understand this?  I really, r-e-a-l-l-y fear if she leaves this time won't ever tappity tap on my window to let me know she has returned.

I can think of nothing more to do but plead for mercy and ask for a reprieve until yucky, bleak-y, cold, grey, damp, miserable weather returns.  I explain to her that as I grow older summers fly by more and more quickly and I don't want to waste one second of outdoor summer time.  It does not matter if it is early dawn and the golf course is getting its morning watering or midnight when I take the dog out for his final potty break.  "Summer is just too precious, as are you Muse, and I beg for your patience and understanding."

Muse, Frankie and I stand in silence for quite a while. Muse pondering, Frankie anticipating, me begging. Tick, tick, tick.  After what seems like hours Muse drags two of her suitcase back toward the bed room.

Me:  "Muse, I'll eventually make this up to you I promise.  Muse, thank you."
Muse:  "Yeah, yeah.......I know, I know."

I love that girl, and somehow, some way, I will gain back her trust.  I will, I promise-promise pinky swear.

I think I would like...

...to go around the world and just look at birds.

I have a friend who posts the most beautiful pictures of birds on Facebook...ever!  I've always thought the birds I've known since a child have been marvelously beautiful and have been happy with that. However, I now know there are some birds out there that I can't even begin to describe.

They are in shades of blues even Crayola can't come to design.  There are yellows of which even the sun is surely jealous.  Oh, and the reds range from creamy rose pedal to fire engine.  Then there are greens, orchids and oranges, too.  I imagine the Angels back in the day drawing up the designs for these creatures, then going to God and saying "Hey, Boss what do you think?"  Then God, working his magic deciding on the size, shape, final colors they should be and putting them exactly where in our world he thinks they will best survive.

Zap!

We have the Banded Broadbill, Black-faced Dacnis, Silver-eared Mesia, White-winged Fairy Wren, Motmot and the Laughing Thrush.  Seriously these birds live around the world and I've never seen a one of them.  I want to, thank goodness someone has, otherwise I would not even know these creatures existed.  Then think about their names...White winged Fairy Wren; Laughing Thrush; obviously somebody thought the Wren looked like a Fairy (it kind of does) and that the Thrush must make a sound like laughter, how cool is that?

Sadly I have to ponder our feathered friends we carelessly allowed to become extinct, certain pigeons, ducks, woodpeckers, quails and probably the most famous the Dodo bird.  And, what about the California Condor, at least we are making an effort to help this species survive, hopefully it is not too late. Thankfully now there are various dedicated organizations making great strides in the effort to keep species all kinds alive.  I applaud them all.

But, I digress.  The point is, I can kind of take a trip around the world to see and enjoy these feathered friends because (like my friend) I joined (liked) a group called BIRDS Community that posts pictures of birds on Facebook.  I started my trip this morning, first stop Malaysia. I got to view my very first bird, (oooooh, aaaaaa) it is the beautiful female Banded Broadbill.  I wonder where I will be tomorrow?

And, there it sat...

...on my lattice-work gate.

One day last week I was in my living room and glanced out one of the windows and saw a rather large, dark brown blob sitting on one of the posts of my lattice-work fencing closing off my patio.  "What the heck?" I thought.

I walked slowly, closer to the window and made out the shape of a rather large bird.  By now my curiosity had piqued and I walked up to the window.  There, about twenty feet away was a hawk.  He sat almost like a statue for quite a while, then began hopping about my lawn art and back again to the lattice-work post.  He made himself quite at home.  I watched in wonder, studying him closely, color, size, anything that might help me recognize what kind of hawk he was.

As I went to get one of my bird books I realized all the other birds that my neighbor feeds had become very quiet...not one single bird could be heard...'smart birdies' I think to myself.  By the time I got back to the window the hawk was sitting complacently on the post, turning its head ever alert for other bird activity...there was none.

I was glad the hawk felt so at home because it gave me the opportunity to study it quite closely.  I noticed it had bright yellow eyes, with black pupils.  Its chest was mottled white and sunny, warm tan and the tail was banded with broad dark brown stripes.  By comparing the bird with the pictures in my bird book I'm pretty sure this was a Cooper's Hawk, not just from the features, but also the size; the book stating the mature hawk is 14 to 20 inches in length.  This bird was definitely over the 14 inch size, but nowhere close to 20.  Therefore, because the coloring was so bright I figured this was probably a young male, more mature than a fledgling but by no means an adult.

As time went by I think once or twice it caught sight of me, but was not at all intimidated he simply sat or hopped about, patiently waiting for a meal...

...one finally showed up.

All the birds remained quiet, when suddenly something flew into my peripheral vision, uh-oh. That hawk flew so quickly the tiny bird hardly had a chance to land on the ground before the hawk was upon it, and flew away with lunch.  So much for the survival of the fittest and the circle of life.

Several days later I saw my neighbor who feeds the birds and told her about the hawk.  She frequently allows her cats to sun on her deck and although I'm sure the hawk was not large enough or strong enough to carry one of her kitties off, it sure could inflict some damage in an encounter. However, poor birdies...there's not much she and I can do about them.

This was a wonderful experience...well except for the lunch thingy...because I love all things nature and I'd never had the pleasure of seeing a hawk so 'up close and personal',  I'm thankful for the honor and privilege.  I can't help but wonder if the hawk will return, on one hand I would love that...on the other...poor birdie.

Something to ponder

This morning while I was reading I came across this sentence; "In an awe-inspiring way I am wonderfully made."  I found that statement to be quite profound and that got me to thinking in what way was I wonderfully made?  I had to go back to my beginning, a l-o-n-g time ago.  It was true, I was wonderfully made.  When I was born I had ten fingers and ten toes, each one had a tiny fingernail.  I've been told I had very little hair and that what I did have was blond and not easy to see. I'm sure my mother was reassured it would eventually be 'see-able'.  As I grew I was reasonably healthy, except for my tonsils which eventually had to come out, thereafter I seldom had much about which to complain.

As time moved on I found it was indeed awe-inspiring that I managed to escape any serious damage from injury I succeeded to inflicted upon myself...not that I didn't try.  Considering the flying leaps I used to take from the family swing and the bent fingers I permanently have from having mush balls bounce off the tips of my middle fingers. And, I've broken one of my little toes, have bits of gravel still embedded in my left knee from falling off a bicycle and scars from run-ins with blackberry brambles.

I've received bonks on my head from open cupboard doors and kitchen counters from leaning over to close to said counters.  I've sprained ankles and wrists and cracked a couple of ribs from a horrible cough that would simply not go away.  Oh, and occasionally, painfully, I've pinched fingers in various objects.  I think you'll agree I've definitely not been kind to my awe-inspiring body.

However, how great is it that it is wonderfully made?  I've actually survived all of the above with very little physical evidence of the havoc I have inflicted upon myself.  I think it is fantastic my body has been made to regenerate and heal itself, and except for a little first-aid, my body has done all the work all by itself...face it...that is wonderful.  And, yes I definitely find that to be awe-inspiring, although I didn't give that the respect I should have over the years simply because it took till this morning for a simple 'awe-inspiring' sentence to call that to my attention.

I've no idea what the future holds for my awe-inspiring, wonderfully made body, I just hope I treat it better than I have in the past.  I'm going to try to be more careful in physical activities and not try to do foolish things.  I'm going to try to keep off my excess weight and be more careful about what I eat (hopefully).  I'm going to try to get more sleep, keep my mind active and set aside time for myself.

In the end I want to be able to look back and ask, "Hey body, did I do you proud?"

"Oh, and thanks for an awe-inspiring, wonderful life."

Dutch Bros

Okay, I know I've been behind on many things, and Dutch Bros has been one of those things.  I've been a fan of and visitor to Starbucks for years and years so I'm not really THAT far behind the times. And, I'd heard of Dutch Bros and have seen their little kiosks around but never had the opportunity to go to one until several weeks back. I'd been told I would not be disappointed and believe me I was not.  I had a great coffee drink, and I was told their fruit smoothies were likewise fantastic.

Yesterday my granddaughter came to spend the day and she suggested we go to McDonald's for lunch because there is a Dutch Bros kiosk halfway between McDonald's and where I live.  Her thinking was, we could eat but not drink while having lunch and then stop at Dutch Bros on the way home for some smoothies. Now...you have to consider...we were walking...wanting to go through a drive-through which in itself a very unusual thing to do.  So, there we stood next to the building while a customer in a vehicle was being served; all the while I'm hoping another vehicle would not pull in behind us. One did not.

It was finally our turn, one of the girls asked what we wanted and I said six smoothies in different flavors. She seemed astounded, but the team worked together and in a jiffy our order was complete.  I could tell she was curious as to what I was going to do with all the smoothies so I explained I was going to attempt an experiment and freeze the smoothies then use them as 'desserts'.  I also told her if it worked I would be back to do this all over again.  I think we might have been the best sale of their day.

When we got home my granddaughter and I each had a smoothie as we watch a movie.

After my granddaughter left I went to the kitchen and pulled the remaining smoothies out of the refrigerator, pried off the tops, then took a spoon and mixed the whipped cream in with the rest of the fruity part of the smoothies. Finally, I sat them in the freezer and hoped for the best.

This morning I checked the freezer and discovered the smoothies froze without the cream separating and rising to the top.  Curious I took one out and scraped a spoon across the top of it. The consistency was harder than sherbet, but still very tasty, however, I think rather than treating it as an ice cream treat I'm simply going to set the smoothie on a counter for about half an hour, and slowly drink it as it was intended. I like this idea especially with summer on the way.

Oh, Frankie just had a terrific thought...she wonders what a shot of vodka or my favorite whiskey would do for this tasty treat...hmmm...oh yes, I'm...we're...going to like this summer treat.  Thanks Dutch Bros.

Education

I hated school.  I know, that's a terrible thing to confess, and sets a bad example for all the grand-kids and great-grand-kids in my life. Most certainly I should never, ever admit this to them or any other kid I happen to come across sitting for hours at a dining-room table trying to get through the evening's homework.  But...I do...and sometimes with graphic illustrations making faces and disgusting noises.  I not only tell them I hated school, I show them my report cards that I've saved all these years that prove I was a C-D-F generally all-around lousy student.

My mother knew I hated school, but she insisted she paid taxes so that I could have a 'free' education and I was going to go to school. No, she would not allow me to play hookey and no I could not pretend to be ill. I had to go to school...."it was a law".  So, I went trudging through snow, sleet and hail (just like the postman used to do...now he has a truck) five days a week to the bus stop blocks away.  There has never a student so thrilled to get a diploma and walk out of school for the very last time than myself.

However, here's the thing.  Now that I am not 'required' to learn, I love learning.  Seldom a day goes by that I am not learning something new. I think sometimes learning, like love, is wasted on the young.  We don't really appreciate either until we are older and WISER.  So, most days I can be found my nose buried in a book, or thumbing through my 'big book' dictionary, or researching something on the wonderful Internet. I have been known to explore the universe or to look at the most tiny insect under a magnifying glass.  I often wish I had a microscope.

I enjoy taking on-line educational classes.  I've taken 13 so far, dabbling in writing, law and even beginning French.  I keep checking in with Auburn University that has numerous six week classes in a multitude of courses.  They are quite reasonable in cost which is fantastic for someone on a limited budget.  True, they are pass/no pass classes and you don't actually get 'credits' toward college degree, still they look pretty good on a resume.  And, they are fun times, fun times.

But I digress.

The point I'm trying to make is, that there is hope for any mediocre student, who dislikes a structured classroom.  Being 'self-taught' can be a brilliant way to become educated, and as you excel in the things you enjoy you will find the knowledge attained stays with you.  I've discovered as I've moved through life and my interests have changed my wanting to learn has given me knowledge in a multitude of subjects I'd have otherwise missed.  Considering the age in which we live, there are no boundaries to learning, the box we build for ourselves and wanting to stay safely inside its walls is the only thing that keeps us from further educating ourselves.

The thing is, even the youngest child expects something to 'happen' every day, and thereby learn from that 'happening'.  Happenings never stop no matter what your age so GO, EXPLORE, and ask...Who, what, when, where and why?  You will be amazed at what you will learn.

The above does not mean that you should not attend school...it is a privilege...and a diploma or GED is helpful no matter what course you chose to take in life.  You don't have to like or necessarily enjoy school...but stick with it...then get out there...and educate yourself in the things you love and enjoy.
 
Remember, start where you are, with what you have; then go make something of it. NEVER BE SATISFIED!

I'm disgusted with myself

I've been trying so hard to stay on track with my writing. No joke, I really REALLY have.  I think about it every single day.  I talk it over with Muse all the time.  Frankly, I fear she is about ready to repack her bags and take off for parts unknown, so I've got to get a handle on this.

Yesterday she grabbed me by the arm, dragged me into the office and pulled open the drawer that is filled with old and unfinished fiction I have done over the years.  Some, I did while attending writing seminars and some are from online classes or books with writing exercises in them.  Muse then suggested I start by posting some of those...hmmm...perhaps that's a good idea.

So, here I go.

The lesson was to create a beginning to a short story, so this has no end...you must imagine one for yourselves.

                                                            The Elevator

“The elevator lurched fell rapidly, and then jerked to a stomach churning stop.  Everything went black. It seemed like an eternity until the lights dimly flickered and came back on.

An older Nun in traditional habit stood in one corner hands folded under her apron and she was almost whispering.  I think she might have been praying.

A tired, weary looking young woman holding an infant knelt to hug and reassure her whimpering little boy.

A tall man in a black, hand tailored suit looked angry and annoyed.  He glanced nervously at his watch, moved his briefcase to his other hand and rolled his eyes at nothing in particular.

However, it was the boy with the half bald head and earring-ed nose that piqued my interest.  It was hard to tell if he was amused or concerned.  He took a pocket knife from his jacket pocket and began to dig at his nails.

Oh shit, I thought, ain't this a fine kettle of fish.”

(There you have it, who are these people and how long will these people be trapped in this elevator?  Where were they going?  Will someone take charge?  Will emotions boil over?  Will something bad happen?  It is up to you to fill in the blanks.)

Hey, this might be fun.

I'm bound and determined!!!

Yes I am!  I'm bound and determined today is the day I am going to devote to filing.  This is something I should have done months ago.  You know what I'm talking about, the binding up of 2015 files as I prepared the necessary papers for tax purposes.  Some of those files I simply threw away at that time; while others (the ones some say you should save for 7 years...some forever) I carefully stapled together and placed in a manila folder to be filed...someday.  Well, that folder is still on my desk, along with an additional white and green folder marked H & R Block which also now needs to be filed.

A few days ago I WAS going to file everything in these folders; I even moved them across the room to the file boxes they were going to go into. They laid there all day, as I got sidetracked updating my 2016 monthly personal budget. It seems I had neglected this chore so long that the pile of weekly receipts had grown so high it had flopped over. Since I was devoting the day to filing this seemed like the easier part of that activity. It was easily accomplished. I was encouraged to move along, right?

Not so much!  It seems one thing led to another...the dog needed to go out.  The phone needed to be answered, the mail needed to be retrieved, etc, etc. Swish, the day was done.  Around 11 PM I finally got back to the office to turn off the computer and there....exactly where I had left them in the morning were the files I intended to file.  I picked them up and put them back on the desk.  They have been there ever since.

That's why I have devoted today to filing; I AM going to file all those files.  I don't care how boring and uninteresting this job is, today is the day, I am going to file those files. I'm getting ready right now.  Really! Seriously! Absolutely!

Maybe?????

Gemme a"C",

gemme a "R", gemee a "A-N-K-Y!!! Cranky, cranky, yessiree...that would be...little ole' meee!!!!!

I don't know, maybe I just got out of bed on the wrong side.  No, I know that's not true because I was cranky last night, too. I snapped at everybody.  I was growling around the place like nobody's business. Frankie told me to "Take a pill." She then grabbed Muse took her to their room and slammed the door.

Poor Zorro then had to bare the wrath of my 'snit'.  Oh, he was such a pest, up and down off the sofa wanting to go out...in and out, in and out.  Grrr, that got so frustrating and time consuming. I've no idea what his problem was but I felt I could not ignore his pleading in case he would have an indoor accident.  Finally at bedtime, as he began our bedtime snuggle, chatty, pet-a-thon I apologized profusely.

I did eventually 'take a pill', turned out the light and immediately fell asleep.  And, a good night's sleep it was.

Now you would think after having a wonderful slumber I would have awakened this morning bright eyed and bushy tailed.  Sigh.  Sadly that did not happen, for some unexplained reason I was still very, very cranky. Frankie and Muse refuse to be in the same room with me, while Zorro is afraid to peek his head out from under his sofa blanket. Surprisingly, CC seems to be the only one who understands my mood. She curled up on my chest and began to purr.  She actually looked me in the eye.  She even gave me kisses, not only on my cheek...but my lips.

Gasp!

You don't suppose she thinks I'm going over to her side?  Cats are so, so...oh my...aloof, standoffish, detached, uninterested, uncaring, self-centered, egotistical, CRANKY. At the moment she is the only one to have any interest in me whatsoever.  Whoa buddy, that's kind of scary.

Wait a minute!  I just have to get a grip, shake those grey clouds out of my grey matter and move on. What I need is to get one of those perky little songs stuck in my head.  Perhaps one like "Put on a Happy Face"....yep that's the ticket, 'I'm gonna spread sunshine all over the place and put on a happy face'. 'Gemme' a "H" gemme a "A", gemme' "P-P-Y"! Happy, happy yessiree, that is what I'm gonna' beeeee!

That's all from Ramblings......................................have a nice day!

Where the heck...

...did last week go?

I've come to the conclusion I am probably the best time waster in the whole wide world.  Seriously, I looked around the place this morning and can't remember a single thing I did; nor find one thing of significance accomplished. Seriously.  That made me terribly embarrassed.

I confess I have made the excuse that the weather (some days) was too lovely to be indoors and that soaking up natural vitamin D was important, that should not excuse I wasted a lot of time sitting on my 'keester' nose buried in a book doing nothing. Instead I should have been working in my Zazzle Store, I should have been making 'thinking of you' cards to send to my friends, I should have been cooking nourishing meals for my quirky family, I should have changed my bed linens.  Did I do any of those things?  Those things would have been memorable.

It was not until this morning I realized just how un-memorable the week had been until I finally got around to checking what was new on Facebook and in my e-mail.  I was shocked to find I had ignored both badly, all week.  Even worse, when I checked my blog I could not believe my last entry was dated April 19th. I was shocked.  How can that be?  It was at point I tried to figure out where the week went, and what the heck I had done...I mean the actual "look, see what I did" kind of things.

Monday...that day is so far in the past and so foggy it might as well not have happened.
Tuesday...well, it least it was not as foggy.
Wednesday...at least I can remember parts of it.  Two of my grand-kids spent the day here: they did some garden shopping and garden tending most of the day.  I bought some soil and we filled in an ankle twisting sidewalk hazard.  My grandson also bought 8 good sized planters and filled them with better grade soil so I can seed-plant veggies for the summer.  He also bought some starts of tomato and zucchini squash plants, too.  (I know I know, I should have only bought one of the zucchini's, but what if the one I bought died...I would have none.) (As it is, it appears all three are going to survive so come August I am going to be desperate to give squash away.  Get ready I will be leaving them on your doorstep.)  I then ordered pizza for lunch and sent the kiddos back to the store to buy some ornamental shrubs while we waited for the lunch delivery.  The ornamental shrubs are going to be lovely.  I ordered six white plastic urns for them to sit in.

Thursday...I decided no one was coming back to pressure wash around my unit so put all my patio things back where they belonged.  That took quite a while because I kind of pressure washed it myself using the 'jet' setting on my hose nozzle.  I also un-buried an exposed cable my grandson had temporarily buried under some bark dust so I would not trip over it and fall.  It seems as though FINALLY somebody is going to professionally take care of this hazard.  I am confident to say this because I saw guys in yellow vests using spray paint to point out where utilities are buried, and where the new cable is supposed to go. However, when the physical work will be done is still rather vague. Oh, and I ordered lots and lots of vegetable and flower seeds for the planters my grandson bought and some rhubarb and horseradish starts, too.

Friday...I woke to find my ornamental shrubs lying on their sides; the wind had blown them over.  I also discovered the rain had washed away some of the soil from my hazardous sidewalk corner. I was able to salvage most of soil, sweeping it back into the corner.  Then I spent most of the day resetting my shrubs upright as the wind kept knocking them over...and also stomping the new soil more tightly into the sidewalk corner. Originally I was going to buy a 24"x 24" concrete block for in the corner then changed my mind; I'm thinking perhaps the concrete block might have been a better fix...indeed, which is still an option.

Saturday...I actually DO REMEMBER yesterday.  The day started by going to my granddaughter's volley-ball game.  As when she was playing soccer, this was the first volley-ball game I had ever attended. Hmmm, is it actually a game, or is it a match?  Anyway, I found it interesting, fun and fast moving.  I'm kind of glad she finally made up her mind to play.  I can see this is a sport, if you are really interested in learning and becoming good at, you definitely should learn young.  I could see their main shortcoming was trying not to be afraid of the ball as it hurled in their direction.  It took me back to high school and the few times I played the game, I was terrified when that ball zoomed toward me.  I could also tell some of these 4/5th graders had the skill to be really good at volley-ball, and by the time they hit high school they will be good enough to play on their school's team.

After the game, the same quartet as last time headed north and to Ikea...yes...I did say Ikea.  We had to make a few returns and a few new purchases.  My granddaughter and I went one way, my daughter and grandson another...did we ever meet up again...NO.  We looked for them, they looked for us.  I hate to say it but after the third loop around all the departments I was pooped and this time it was me looking for a place to sit. Unfortunately, the place is built like a bomb shelter and we had no phone service so could not reach each other.  My granddaughter checked her facility map and discovered there should be phones by the entrance/exit and we headed there. There were no land-line phones (of course), but at least I finally got reception...unfortunately my daughter didn't. After the fourth try I finally got through. Now the only one missing was my granddaughter who went looking for her mom one more time. Remembering the rule of thumb, "If you are lost stay where you are.", I did exactly that so at least those that were LOST knew how to FIND me.

As I was returning our cart the cart corral, a young woman was just started toward the store, she asked me if it was a madhouse in there.  I told her yes, I could tell by her face she didn't really want to go in, but she told me she had promised her two daughters and young child already nestled in a stroller an outing, so she had no choice to proceed. I wished her luck!!!

Gluttons for punishment that we are we headed to the mall.  That's right I said 'MALL'.  It too was a madhouse.  Again, I hate to say this, by now I was even more pooped.  Well, actually what I said was, "Smart is the woman who stops shopping just before she drops."  We had a good laugh over that.  We finally headed home. It was a great afternoon.

There you have it my week in a nut shell.  I've come to the conclusion it isn't so much the fact I didn't do anything the first part of the week...I simply can't recall whatever the heck those things were. I guess I can chalk that up to old age.  If...I say 'if'...I write more frequently perhaps I will not be subject to old age block.  I can only hope, I can only hope.

Bits of this and that.

Brooom, broooom, clunk, clunk

Yesterday was very interesting.  You just never know what's going to happen around here.  Each day is a new adventure.  Early in the morning the golf course lawn mower was doing its thing, which is always fun to watch.  The mower consists of a farmer's tractor with a humongous mower attached that flings the mowed grass into the air. Fascinating!  I watched the driver meticulously moving the mower up and down the first fairway and then went out of sight and then come close to mow the area between the first tee and the putting green.

Uh-oh, the motor of the tractor started to sound peculiar.  I think to myself 'this isn't good'.  The machine managed to get to the front of my patio and D-I-E-D.  He got it going but it died again and again.  I guess he must have called somebody because within a few minutes one of the other workers showed up in a golf cart/repair cart...at least the guy had tools. They set to work.  Puttt, putttt, clunk. Puttt, puttt, clunk. Time after time they would get the tractor moving, only to have it die. The farthest it would go was about the length of a football field.

So it went for a couple of hours I think.  Finally they got it going well enough to get it off the course and to where the machine goes 'nite-nite' each day.  I went about my business of yard work thanks to the wonderful, beautiful, warm weather.  I had just finished and was getting ready to water my plants when I heard the sound of a motor, lo, around the corner of my building appeared the tractor with mower attached.  I smiled at the operator, waved and gave him a big thumbs up.  He grinned and gave a thumbs up back.

By the way, there has been no word as to when anyone will come back to finish pressure washing our building. Personally I don't think anybody is going to.  However, I won't put all my patio furniture back until Saturday, since the last day for the washing is supposed to be Friday.  I do have two chairs sitting out there but if work does begin on our building I can hurriedly fold them up and out of the way.

At the moment I'm working hard to get chores done this morning so I can sit out and enjoy what is turning out to be another glorious spring day.  I hear tomorrow it is going to be much cooler and cloudy so I must, as farmers say "Make hay while the sun shines."  Not that I will be outdoors working by any means; I did that yesterday.

I was surprised this morning to see some swallows swooping and diving around the golf course, it was silly of me to think they would not show up.  What better place to find insects, lots and lots of insects. Living so close to a school when I lived in Portland every year I watched the swallows make their homes all along the building where the roof overhung the side of the building.  The swallows would dive bomb us as we walked through the grass stirring up the bugs as we went.  It was amazing how close they could come yet never make physical contact with us. They are amazing creatures.

Millie and Maynard do not come back as frequently these days. I guess their family has grown and is gone so they are free to roam until next mating season.  I wish them well for the summer but hope I will see them again (if) they choose to winter here at the course.

So, dear friends that's about it for today; all I've got is just bits of this and that.  I simply cannot contain myself any longer.  I've got to go enjoy the out of doors, "Come on Zorro...let's go for a walk."

So...

Frankie and I are sitting on the patio, I'm almost done with my philosophical book while Frankie is reading some sort of 'Girly' magazine. She harrumphs to get my attention.

I look up from my book as she is pulling her glasses down to the tip of her nose. My mind immediate gets that "Warning, warning Will Robinson" signal because I have no idea what's coming next.

Frankie: "So," she asks, "What would it take to make you 'date-able'?"
Me:  "To be forty years younger I guess and maybe a new wardrobe, perhaps millions of dollars."

Frankie is laughing so hard she rolls out of her patio chair onto the indoor/outdoor carpeting.  When she finally catches her breath she says, "Well, I didn't expect that for an answer."

Me:  "Why not?"
Frankie: Well, the survey says things that make a woman 'date-able' are things like being demure, kind, and use good English, avoiding slang. Apparently it's also important to be a good listener.  You should have interesting hobbies, be up on current events, and also be physically active; belonging to a fitness center is a big plus."

I'm mortified, I had no idea what the dumb survey wanted as answers. I think I possess most of those qualities...well...except for the belonging to a fitness center stuff.  Still, My answers were true. Especially the part about having millions of dollars...what guy wouldn't date a board 'er broad no matter how old she was if she had millions in the bank.

Frankie:  "You want to re-think your answers?"
Me:  "No."
Frankie:  "Could you 'splain"?

Me:  "First I don't feel I need to defend myself because I spoke the truth. If I DID want to be 'date-able' I WOULD need a whole new wardrobe as mine consists mostly of sweats, slacks, sweaters and long sleeve tops. (No guy wants to look at Old Woman's arm wobble.)  And, if I did have millions of dollars in the bank do you really think I would spend them on a man...I think not.

Frankie opens her mouth to speak...

Me:  (Holding up a finger for silence.)  "Buppp, buppp, buppp. I would however be spending my millions on myself and family, oh, and of course you, Muse, CC and Zorro.  I might even have a Lear Jet ready to lease on a moment's notice to carry myself and others on long weekend jaunts hither and yon if wanting to go hither and yon was what we wanted to do.  And, as for going back forty years in my life.  I don't think so.  My life's been pretty darn good and I see no need for a 'do over'.

Frankie remains unusually silent.

Me:  "Besides Frankie, if I went back forty years there would be no you, there would be no Muse, there would be no us."

Frankie was suddenly eager to close the magazine and change the topic of conversation.  "So what's for dinner?"

I swear I saw her wipe a tear from her eye.

Okay, I confess.

Yes, I have a confession to make.  I've never fully escaped from my Henry David Thoreau phase.  I think I've mentioned that phase of my life a few times here in my blog.  Years ago (and for several years) I read some of his works and I decided I wanted to emulate him.  I bought stenographers tablets to take notes, pencils to draw illustrations and eventually; as this project grew I began to add specimens of things I discovered in my neighborhood.

When I first started this project was kind of like being in kindergarten, very 'finger paint' and 'block printing', but by the time I finished years later I had six Steno Notebooks filled with information, artwork and specimens of the marvelous things I discovered in my front/back yards and surrounding neighborhood.  I also had four of the largest binders I could purchase filled with flower, plant and insect specimens all of which bulged at the seams by the time this project was completed.

I dissected flowers and pine cones, studied the life spans of some insects as they went from pupa to adulthood.  Just about every day I looked at things through what I hoped would have been Thoreau's eyes.  I think he once wrote something along the line of 'Most of us see only what we look at, and miss a great deal, to truly see you must perceive that at which you are looking.'  For instance, we look at a Queen Anne's Lace flower and see that it is large, round and creamy white.  But if you take the time to perceive you will see a Queen Anne's Lace flower is flat topped, umbrella like and made up of tiny, lacy clusters of white flowers with one tiny purple flower in the center.  It smells of carrot, which of course, the plant is known to be.  If you follow the flower through its life cycle your will find as it matures the flower browns and curls up into a tight ball so that come August it has a bountiful amount of seeds that will easily propagate the next spring.

Through my Thoreau years I learned that nature is filled with the unusual, the unique, and the surprising yes, from the microscopic to the gigantic Redwood NATURE IS AMAZING. Thoreau came flooding back to me this morning as Zorro and I were walking to my mailbox. I found myself actually seeing the magnificent colors of the Rhododendrons, fiery red, baby blanket pink, and amethyst purple.  I thought of him as I examined seedlings of pines, maples, flowering cherries and fir trees as each one tempted me to uproot and transplant them into pots.  I marveled at the dandelions inching up through cracks in the pavement their sunny yellow flowers smiling up at me.

Yes, I confess, I go a little bonkers when it comes to nature.  I simply can't help myself and I have to thank Thoreau for being such a wonderful teacher, because without his knowledge and love of nature I would still be walking through life looking but not really seeing.

Thanks Henry David.

What...a...mess

I may have mentioned the complex I live in sent a notice to all of us stating they were going to "preform necessary cleaning of our property".  I was told by longtime residents this meant pressure washing of the gutters and buildings as well as cleaning of the roofs.  I didn't (don't) have a problem with that.  I was also told that our building has always been the first to get done and we could once again make our patios livable.  Right!!!!!

Well, our building did not get done first, and I had everything from my patios stored in corners of my apartment.  Finally on Wednesday they began work on our building.  What a mess!  They started with the upper parking lot and buildings which meant a lot of the debris they washed off (up there) splashed over the edge of the wall and down, down, down to my lower level.  Yuck.  Taking the dog out meant I had to avoid certain areas so we would not get drenched.

Late morning they began working the lower level.  I could hear a funny noise and I peeked out to find a guy using a very large kind of 'wet/washer' on the sidewalk.  You know the kind of commercial floor wash/polishers they use in office buildings, this machine was like that, only larger and it spewed soapy water e-v-e-r-y w-h-e-r-e.  During this process they also washed my front/back patio. Thank goodness I took their heed and removed everything, that machine made the concrete look almost newly poured.

At some point someone was also on the roof, and suddenly an avalanche of old oak leaves fell to the ground...shoot, I thought I was done with those.

Finally in the afternoon they got around to pressure washing the front/back of the building.  They did a terrific job except now I'm going to have to wash the windows and wipe down the screen doors because of all the water streaks left behind.  However, by the end of the day I was also able to remove the patio furniture from my dining area and make things right on the front/back patio.

I was optimistic they would do the back/front yesterday, but the inclement weather brought the cleanup to a halt.  At the same time that dang inclement weather also brought with it wind that in turn had me picking up oak leaves off the sidewalk and patio all-day-long.  That's life I guess.

Today I'm hoping they will come back and finish up the building.  I'm eager to get my patio furniture out of my living room and back where it belongs as I'm eager to enjoy leisure hours out of doors. Especially since the weather is supposed to turn and the temperatures gradually inch back up into the high 70's and low 80's.  I can see me now with book, libation and contented pup soaking up the fresh air and sounds of spring, and that's the good life.

Needless to say this has been a topsy-turvy week, a very wet, soggy topsy-turvy week.  I just want my normal back, I like normal.

Here Ducky, Ducky, Ducky

Poor, poor ducks and geese.  They seem to be so confused.  They're not the only ones.  Let's face it; the high '70's and low 80's of a week or so ago spoiled us.  We became complacent that summer had arrived.  Shoot, I was running around in shorts and tee shirts drinking libations on my patio until dusk.  It was marvelous.

The ducks and geese had all but disappeared from the golf course and I even saw a couple of grey squirrels scampering about stealing leftover birdseed from my neighbors feeding stations. It was good to see them and I was looking forward to having them pay me visits on a regular basis.

Then...brrr...the weather changed.  I'm starting seeing more and more ducks on the fairway.  Millie and Maynard started coming back for snacks morning and evening along with two males that I think might have been children/siblings of theirs because they all were getting along great.  Just a while ago I found Millie having lunch, I tried to capture a picture of her...instead I frightened her away.  Oh, I've begun calling the young Drakes, Mister Bachelor and Mister Unattached.  Sometimes the bachelors come alone, sometimes with Millie and Maynard.

This morning has been quite cool, rainy and blustery very, very blustery.  So much so the geese have returned joining the ducks on the fairway.  Not just a few, but bunches, some coming quite close to my patio.  They seem to be taking turns sauntering up and down the straight away, nibbling here and there.  Although at the moment since the sun is temporarily out, they seem to have settled down for a siesta. Mostly I think they are confused, I'm sure they should be thinking about moving northward to their breeding grounds, but maybe some internal mechanism is telling them it's going to be a La Nina summer and to stick around where there is lots of food, shade and water.  As a result they might show up any time a day (week) like today is predicted.

However, since this is my first spring here, perhaps this is not really an unusual occurrence. Whether it is or isn't I'm simply going to enjoy their company and learning what I can about them. Plus I'm pleased they feel comfortable enough to come so close that I almost reach out and touch them.

Of course Millie, Maynard, Messrs. Bachelor and Unattached are much more social and interactive.  I think I could, with a bit of patience, get them to take food right out of my hand and I do hope they hang out here year round.  By the way, I've found they are not particularly fond of oat seeds and I don't intend to buy any more of those, but as for the corn...well, "Here, Ducky, Ducky....Ducky."

I wish I could say I'm sorry...

...but I can't.

Nope, no apology.

But don't feel too badly.  You are not the only thing I've neglected this week.  I've neglected just about everything.  After month and months of blah, icky weather this week has been absolutely fabulous and I refuse to spend time indoors.  I've been OUTSIDE as much as I possibly can. Zorro and I have been walking hither and yon allowing me to pluck seedlings of all varieties (I was sure this habit would not follow me from my old place of residence) dragging them home and putting them in pots with the hope they will take root becoming part of the family.

Sometimes I just sit on my patio and enjoy my view, sooner or later some golfers set off or a neighbor saunters by for a 'Hey, how are ya?' Plus this week the sparrows are trying to decide which nest they want to use this year. They keep trying to get into my box, but the opening has been too small for them. Yesterday I decided to make the opening bigger, I tried using a steak knife to saw the opening bigger but that didn't work.  So, I opened my tool box and withdrew a flat head screwdriver and my hammer and set to work chiseling the hole.  As I worked a neighbor rounded the corner of the building, she told me her dog was wondering what the noise was all about and came to inspect.  I thought it was pretty clever she blamed the curiosity on the dog.

Also, I'm continuing to read my book, remember the philosophical one? I somewhat agree with some of the stuff she says however; some of her thoughts are...are...shoot, I can't even think of a word that would accurately apply.  It is interesting to see her mind at work.

Although I usually have my weekly libation on Friday evening I have to confess with the sun waning but its heat still as comfortable as a blanket I have been having a libation more frequently.  Especially fruit flavored brandy over ice, these drinks are not only delicious but very, v-e-r-y relaxing as well.  A perfect way to end a perfect day.

Yes, my days have been filled with the best do-nothingness ever.

Oh, there have been a few exceptions of something-ness-es like this morning as we walked along the path to the upper parking lot. There, half way up the hill I found a knife buried in the ground all the way up to the shaft.  I contemplated removing it when the angel on my shoulder whispered..."Leave it where it is."  She realizes I watch w-a-a-a-y too many true story crime shows pointing out that I don't want my finger prints on it, that the blade might be covered in blood and turning it in to the office could definitely include me in a crime...if indeed one had occurred.  I walked on, and walked back using the other side of the street. Humm, deee, dummm.  I know nothing, I see nothing.  But, I bet if I thought about it I could write a story; although angel is telling me, "No, no you can't."

And, so has gone this glorious week.  It's hard to say what kind of a summer we will eventually have. Maybe I will be fortunate enough to have months and months of this kind of glory.  However, I've lived here long enough to know some years we barely have summer at all.  I'll take each day as it comes along savoring each second.  As I say I wish I could say I'm sorry for neglecting you this week, but I can't...I absolutely, positively can't.

What is so rare as a day in June, 'er April
Then, if ever, come perfect days.