Things they never tell you...

...about getting old.  Just when I think I've got all this 'stuff' memorized and under control, here comes something new to add to my list of things I intend for everybody to know before they get old.

Everybody knows babies need bibs, they help to keep their clothes neat and clean during feeding times.  Not only do babies have the tendency to spit unwanted food out of their mouths, they also slobber...a lot.  These bibs, generally have something cute written on them like "I'm grandma's favorite", or "Kiss me, I'm cute"...let's face it, they are grandma's favorite and they are always cute enough to kiss even if they happen to have mashed carrots or beets smeared across their chins.

I've recently discovered, old people need bibs, too.  Seriously, I cannot remember the last time I've not dropped some kind of food product down the front of me.
Just the other day, I down-graded one of my t-shirts to 'everyday' status.  It is one of my favorites, it has a wolf printed on the front of it.  I didn't want down grade this particular shirt, but knew it was time, because some of my 'already down-graded' shirts were ready to 'down-grade' to rags.

Anyway, at the time this down-grading occurred, I didn't even think about what the outcome of this was going to be...until I ate.  Splat...there is was, a healthy blob of salsa, just above the head and between the ears of this beautiful wolf.  I sighed, took my fork, and with the edge of it scraped off the salsa and put it into my mouth. Then, I walked across the room and grabbed a tissue to remove as much of the red stain from my shirt that I could.  It was only then I noticed, the blob, like the slime in 'Ghost Busters' had dribbled    down    the   shirt     in   a    perfect   straight     line. Dang it!  

I really don't want to become one of those 'old people' who tuck a napkin in the clothes just under their chins...that looks so tacky.  Plus, surely I'm not that old to begin with.  Maybe I just need new glasses. Maybe I need to work on the 'aim' to my mouth.   Maybe I need not put so much food on my spoon or fork. Surely this must be my fault, and can't possibly be related to age.  Sadly, it is.  I know this because yesterday I was watching some show on TV in which a group of people were gathered around a table partaking food, and to my horror, it was the 'old people', particularly men, who had gigantic white linen napkins tucked under their shirts, just under their chins, and tucked at their waists, under the belts of their pants .  I gasped and shuddered!   No, this cannot be.

And, in that exact moment I knew I needed a large, linen napkin to tuck in my shirt, just under my double triple chin when I partake food.  Nooooooooooooooo!

Then, this morning I knew I had to warn everybody...your day will come...be warned...someday your day will come when you realize no matter how careful you are, or how slowly you eat your food some will, somehow, end up on your clothing. Now, I would like to console you and say this dribbling, dropping malady happens only in the privacy of your home, but that is not the case.  Oh no, I've dribbled and dropped in the finest of restaurants in front of the finest of folks.  Here's the thing...I've found, (generally speaking) NO ONE will tell you you've got gravy, salad dressing, spaghetti sauce decorating the front of your  'goin' to a town 'meetin' clothes.  I confess, I don't inform folks myself because I think if I say something it might be more embarrassing for them to know, than for them not to know. However, on the other hand, if we are told, we can remove the object before it has time to set and permanently stain our clothes.  What does Emily Post have to say about this?

Anyway, I've come to the conclusion 'old people', like babies, need bibs and that they should have cute little sayings like "my grand kids love me" or "I'm no longer cute, but kiss me anyway".  Oh, oh, wait....they could be decorated with neckties for men, and jewelry for women and come in a variety of colors so when we leave the house no one will know it is not meant to be part of our outfits.   Yes, that's the ticket.

And, there you have it, you've been forewarned, old people spill food...down the front of them, all the time, so stock up on bibs and store them away, some day you will need them.

Good for nothing

Oh, it's going to be one of those days.  I've got giggles rattling around in my abdomen.  Seriously, I can feel them, they want to escape. I'm fighting for
control.  If I unleash them I will not accomplish one single thing today.

What has brought these giggles on is morning is what happened yesterday.  Since it has been such a lovely week I've diligently worked on preparing my front and back yards for summer.  Yes, I've got all kinds of 'crap' filling up winter's empty spaces.

There are frogs, a raccoon, Tommy-knockers on shepherd crooked wrought iron 3' poles, rusted art, artificial ferns and flowers, and an artistic blown glass globe on a copper base that I call "the big blue marble".  It's the artificial flowers that have me giggling.

I've got containers upon containers of artificial flowers in my garage.  Seriously, they go from concrete floor to the bottom of my overhead shelf.  There are some boxed on top of the refrigerator, some free standing boxes, and a couple of shelves to hold the 'leftovers'.

In particular, I was looking for some rose bushes.  I knew they were somewhere, I just could not remember where.  So, I started rummaging around.  I un-taped boxes, took the lids off every single plastic container I had neatly labeled "summer", and could not find the rose bushes anywhere.  I knew for sure there were at least three of them, two red and one yellow.  Where the heck were they?  All this rooting around was good for something, it gave me time to better organize my "summer crap", but nowhere, absolutely nowhere were the rose bushes.  Did I throw them away?  No, I never, ever throw anything away....ask anybody!

My frustration grew.  I wanted to scream.  (Uh oh...was that almost an audible giggle? Oh, this is not good.)  Nuts, here it comes.

So, I was talking with a friend, and was telling her my tale of woe, and we got sidetracked about how our memories were failing us...and how could we possibly be so old...(eighty is three years away)!  OMG!  She assured me I would find my roses, somewhere, some day, and that she was looking for some missing items herself..she was hopeful she would come across her missing doily eventually.  (Possibly when she drags out her Christmas decorations this year.)

Anyway, when we hang up I go back to searching.  Damn rose bushes.  I don't really need them, the yards look tacky enough without them...but now...IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING...I WANT THOSE DAMN BUSHES.  I have the empty flower pots to put them in, and will not be happy until they are filled with red and yellow rose bushes.

There is one place left to look.  It is a cardboard box I've turned into a storage cabinet.  The box originally held a kitchen chair, one of four I ordered on-line several years ago.  It's very sturdy, I cut a door into one side of it, and put a hook on the door and the eye on the side of the box in order to hold it shut (thank you duct tape). Within the box I store large bouquets of seasonal artificial flowers that sit on my hearth as the months and seasons change.  I'm almost 100% sure my rose bushes are not stored here, but this cabinet is my last hope.

I begin rummaging through the white plastic bags. Nope, that autumn, no, that spring, shoot, that's Christmas. There are only two bags left...The first holds summer flowers, but the bushes are not in this bag. I'm filled with despair.  I pull open the last bag, and there...almost at the very bottom is a rose bush...then another, another and another.  Two red and two yellow.  Wow, these bushes are much larger than I remember.  Holy cow!

On one hand I'm a very happy camper, love, I love, love these flowers.  There's a joy deep down in my heart.

I shake them and 'fluuuf''them out.  Beautiful!  Then it hits me.

My flower pots, are much, much too small.  Well I'll be damn.

Giggle, giggle, giggle.  All that time, all that effort, all that frustration...was good for nothing....giggle, giggle, giggle.

Where did it go?

I'm talking about yesterday.  Seriously, where did it go?

It didn't seem like it was moving at a rapid rate, yet, before I knew it it was almost midnight and I was sitting at my computer, exhausted.  I was trying to be creative with images of marigolds, but kept making mistakes, so I said to nobody in particular...."I think I'm too tired to be doing this, I should probably go to bed."

And, so I did.  Unfortunately by now I'm too exhausted to fall asleep.

I look back over the day's events.  It was not that I was particularly busy, or physical, sure I got ready for Bible study, and I kind of spruced up my outdoor seating areas, because I knew we would want to sit outdoors for that, but this morning I can't think of one other single thing that could have made me sooo exhausted.

Then, I remembered it was not something physical that made me tired.  (And, yes, I'm going to grumble a little here)...I have to get this off my chest so I can move on.

There is a neighbor who has a little 'yappy' dog.  And every time somebody, anybody walks past this neighbor's house this dog goes ballistic.  Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap.

See how annoying that is, now multiply that by many times a day.  Now, during the day there are times I can kind of block it out, because I'm concentrating on a chore, but, when the day winds down, and I simply want to relax with some television time...there it is......

Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, etc, etc, etc.

It's in the mid-80's, I enjoy having my house open with a lovely 'almost summer', breeze flowing through my bay window.  It's evening, families are walking with children and dogs.  They should, most of the time the weather is crappy, and we try to take advantage of every outdoor minute with which we are blessed.  This is a wonderful time of year.

Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, etc, etc, etc.

I'm trying to stay calm.  Okay, I know there are other rooms in my house where I could enjoy my evening television where the dog's yapping will not be as loud and annoying...and I certainly could do that...and in the end I probably will.  But, for the moment (for me) that's not the point.

I've taught Zorro it is not appropriate to be annoying out of doors, and will not allow him to bark unnecessarily.  He will bound along the fence with great curiosity, but does not bark.

....and so the day's yapping begins, it is 8:20 AM.  I'm in my office...mid point in my house...windows open....yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap.


When he is outside in he backyard, and barks to come in, I get to the door as quickly as possible to bring him in because I don't want him to be an annoyance to my neighbors, that is simply being courteous.  My next door neighbor is less that 20 feet away, I owe it to them to have peace and quiet.  When Zorro makes his last run for the day I stand on the stoop, or just inside the door so when he's done there is no need for barking.  I think my neighbor with the yapping dog owes us the same respect.

Sigh.

Yes, I know, I could, (like Birdlady) make a big stink over this, make neighbors choose sides, get everybody up in arms.  Instead, I called my sister, and complained. Dang that felt good.  Eventually (as dusk fell), the yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yapping stopped.  Sweet relief.

So, here's the thing.  Remember how when I forgave Birdlady for breaking my heart, and made amends I felt so much better.  I think I'm going to have to (eventually) 'letthisgo'.  Frankly, the lovely days of late spring, summer and early fall are few, this annoyance is temporary as well.  I am going to come to grips with this...in time...in due time...I swear I will.

However, there are times I would like to walk to the neighbor's house, and yank out the yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yapping dog's voice box.

So, in retrospect, I can see my exhaustion yesterday was not physical in nature.  It was however, an emotionally, mentally, exasperatingly, difficult day.

...and here we go again...8:45....yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. 

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Living together, man and beast.

I think I may have mentioned the chick-a-dees have returned to my condo this year, and over the last week I've been watching mom and dad work from dawn to dusk bringing food to the baby/babies.  There is something special about watching nature at work.  I spend hours at it.

However, nature often throws curve balls I don't see coming.  

When I first put the bird house out for the year, the first prospective tenant's were a pair of house finches.  I watched them a whole day trying to figure out how to get through the condo doorway.  They could not, for you see they are just an isty-bitsy too big.  They eventually gave up and flew away.

Very soon there after I saw the chick-a-dees checking out the 'pad'.   They left and I didn't see them again for several days.  I've heard birds will sometimes start a couple of nests over the mating season, and I thought perhaps the chick-a-dees found a more suitable abode and my house would remain empty this year.

When I caught them bringing moss and downy stuff to the house I knew I had 'lucked out' again, and Zorro and I began to use the back way out of the house in order to reach the front so as not to disturb the little bird family.  When I found them bringing food, I was ecstatic.

Then, yesterday came the fly in the ointment.  The finches came back.  They hovered about on the gutter, the phone lines, the down spout and the roof of the birdhouse.  There was no doubt about it...they were being bullies, very persistent bullies.  I could hear the chick-a-dees chattering close by, but they would not come to the house as long as the finches were there.  

I was not a happy camper.  So, I abandoned most of my activities and took over the job of sentinel.  Every  time I saw the finches I would go to the door, pull back the sheer and if necessary tap on the storm door glass.  They would fly away, but for quite some time they would return and harass the chick-a-dees.

My persistence was stronger than theirs and by late afternoon they gave up and flew away.

I'm sure the chick-a-dees were grateful though I can never be sure they will know I was their protector.  I simply know it's not an easy job raising a family, and if I was able to help in the smallest way, I not only could and should help, that was what I had to do.

Maybe that's why I'm come to grips with having Bobby and his/her family about.  I put Bobby outside the other day, after I knocked him/her onto the floor, and later almost stepping on him/her.  I had hopes this time outdoors would be more appealing.  But, guess what...yesterday afternoon I was in the garage looking for something (for the life of me I can't remember what) when I glanced at the garage door window and there, slowly meandering across the glass was...Bobby?  If not him, it must have been a sibling, or perhaps an extended family member. (Sigh). Should I put this Shield Bug out, or let it simply do whatever the heck it wants to do...I turned and walked away.

I have got to tell you, looking after nature is hard work...I don't know how God does it.

Well, that was unsettling!

There I was sound asleep.  Thump!!!!

Even though I was asleep, I heard it, it sounded like something hit the side of the house.  It was loud enough to bring me back to reality.  I lay there, contemplating what the heck that was.

I ponder whether I should get up and look around, or to stay as quiet as possible. What if somebody was breaking in?  Yes, maybe I should remain still, and listen for signs of movement.   And, if I hear some, then I will act.  I'll grab the dog, my cell phone and head for the bathroom and lock us in.

In the meantime, my imagination takes hold.  Has somebody thrown something at my house?  A rock perhaps.  Maybe a Molotov cocktail?  Wait, I hear no emergency vehicles, so it's not a cocktail.  There's no tinkle of breaking glass, so I know no window has been broken.

Still, is somebody slowly creeping towards my bedroom?  I stare into the darkness looking for shadows and signs of movement.

Crap...I've gotten myself into quite a state.  I'm thinking I should get up and walk around the house, just to set my mind and body at ease.  But, I don't.  Eventually I realize nothing is wrong, and I go back to sleep.

This morning I get up and walk around the house, looking out every window.  I don't know what I expect to find or see, but I would like an explanation of some sort.  There is none.

Did I imagine the whole thing?  No, I know what I heard, it was the proverbial 'thing that goes bump in the night'.  And let me tell you...THAT was a little unsettling.

Your eyes are getting heavy...

...very, very heavy.

Ahhh, sleep.  Wonderful, peaceful, refreshing sleep.

Hello....where are you?

Night before last I had a hard time falling asleep.   On those particular nights I generally watch the Early Late, Late, and Late Late shows on my bedroom TV. However, I suddenly remembered my cable company also has about 30 channels that play nothing but music, so, I says to myself, "Self, let's try one of those channels."

I started flipping through them with my remote and found one labeled "Easy Listening".  Hey, I like "Easy Listening", this could be my ticket to La La Land.  I'm a pretty happy camper.  However, there was one fly in this particular ointment.  I found the music they were instrumentalizing (yes, I know that's not a word), were all songs I knew the words to, and as a result I was singing them in my head.

YOU CANNOT FALL ASLEEP WHILE YOU ARE SINGING IN YOUR HEAD. Although I did eventually doze off.  I had forgotten to set the timer on the TV, and a couple of hours later I awoke, the music was still playing and once more the singing in my head started.  Wouldn't you think I would have turned the TV off.  Of course you would...but did I?  No.

Eventually I fell back to sleep.  Next time I woke up, I said to no one in particular.  "Well, this isn't working", and did turn the TV off.  That experience was a total bummer.

I happened to mention to my sister my failed experiment, and she concluded I had a good idea, but that perhaps I'd simply chosen the wrong kind of music.  She suggested I try "Classical".

She was right.  Classical has not words, I know nothing about it, to speak of,
and decided I would try that.  So, I did last night.  Oh, the first piece was beautiful, I could feel myself relaxing, it was (what I think is called) a piano concerto.  I was in heaven.  This was going to work.  I was surprised how long it played.  I found the tempo changed during the piece, sometimes it was quite lyrical, sometimes slightly melancholy, but all in all peaceful and relaxing.  Good stuff, good stuff.

Then, the second piece started...I think with oboes, or maybe tubas...anyway, the music was mysterious, unsettling.  Other instruments joined in.  Hmmm?  This was not pretty, nor was it anywhere near relaxing.  It got more and more eerie.  I began to see creatures creeping out of a dark forest.  The wind began to blow.
Drums thundered, symbols crackled forth lightening.

Oh, brother!

I grab my remote and begin to surf the other music channels.  Good golly, Miss Molly.  There were channels just for kids, rock and roll, rap, alternative (whatever the heck that is), the 70's, 80's, 90's, country...well that would make me melancholy and probably cry.  I scrolled through religious channels, salsa, Mexican, rhythm and blues, and on and on and on.  Suddenly, THERE IT WAS!  The absolute, perfect channel.

It was labeled "Soundscapes".  I allowed the first song to envelop me.  There were violins, cellos, flutes and things.  It was as though the music was wrapping me in a magical blanket.  Honest to gosh...it was instrumental perfection.  I stayed on the channel, the second and third selections were equally enjoyable. And before I knew it, I was asleep.  Next time I opened my eyes it was almost seven this morning.

I'm hoping I've solved my sleepless night quandary.  I like the idea of drifting off in slumber to the sound of birds chirping, rain falling, babbling brooks and all.....that......jazzz.....zzzzzz.......zzzzzzzz.............zzz..z..z...

It's one of those days.

The dreaded writer's block has struck again.  I hate when that happens.  I can't think of a darn thing to write about, don't even have a clever quip, snappy poem or childhood memory.

Oh wait, I do...I was talking with my sister yesterday afternoon and we got to talking about 'olden times' and the telephone we had in our house while we were kids.  It was big, black, had a rotary dial and sat on its own special table, next to my dad's chair.

We were taught it was a privilege to use the phone and were never allowed to abuse that privilege.  Thing was, we were on a party line, and we were actually sharing the phone service with other families in the neighborhood.  Mom said, if someone was using the line we were to quickly, quietly hang up, and wait for the line to become free so we could make our call.  Patience was definitely a requirement.

Here's the thing.  One of the families on the line had five teenage girls.  They were always on the line...I'm talking ALWAYS.  Even though we were taught to keep our calls short and sweet, which we always did, waiting for the open line was very difficult.  Grrrrr, how my sister and I wanted to tell those girls off, in language I'm sure my mother didn't know we knew.  But, we obeyed the family rules for many a year, and eventually we were rewarded with a private line...thank you phone company.  You have to remember, that even though we now could pick up the phone any time we wanted and get a dial tone, family rules still applied.  We had to keep our calls short and sweet, and at a minimum.  Incoming calls were the same, and all our friends knew we could not dilly-dally with idle chatter.  Using the phone was still a privilege.

Now this got me to thinking, at how quickly telephone service has advanced. Our big, black, bulky style with short cord, and hand held receiver was at the time 'state of the art, top of the line'.  Then came streamlined styles, smaller and you had a choice of colors.  By the 70's the first wireless phones came into being, they were as big as our black one, but shaped so you could hold it clumsily in your hand, however, you were somewhat restrained because it only worked if you were within x number of feet of its home base.  Then, something marvelous happened, the age of computer chips, integrated circuits, semiconductor devices, opening the door to new electronics and the phones of today; which are not just phones but links to the Internet and the world at large.

We can choose family plans, framily plans, and skype.  We can have phones that wrap around our ears and are hand free.  Some fit in our pockets and purses.  They're flat and fit in the palm of our hands, and you speak into them without having to hold them to your ear.  Land lines are becoming obsolete, as we can 'bundle' television, phone and Internet in package deals through cable and satellite.  I have to ask myself, what's next, what's next and wonder what Alexander Graham Bell would say if he could see exactly what direction his invention took?  Do we live in amazing times, or what?

Well, I guess for a woman who seemed to be at a loss for words, I've been rambling 'pretty good' wouldn't you say?