Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
November 29th
Insomnia again for me; never a problem for Cookie.
I got an eye exam today, and I’ll need a stronger bifocal prescription. As it is, I remove my glasses to read small print, or put on reading glasses. I am breaking down, one system at a time!
I brought Willie in from the field yesterday, as it was beginning to storm. He was in a great hurry to get in (where the grain is). For a geriatric horse he has a lot of spunk in him sometimes. I will go out tomorrow to clean him up and put on his winter blanket, as the forecast is for snow and freezing temp. (as if I can rely on a forecast here!)I’ll try to remember to take a photo or two to show him in a clean blanket. It won’t be clean for long, on the outside at least.
I’m still going through the old photos and trying to make some sort of order out of them. But I keep getting distracted by the photos themselves. Even mundane photos of the yard are remarkable because I can see how much everything has changed or grown. The pictures of my bedroom are a reminder of what it looked like before I started stuffing everything in there. Including all the tubs of photos. I just wish it felt like I was making progress, but I am afraid I am only “churning”, moving stuff from A to B, B to C, and C to A, for example. I need to harden my resolve and throw away all the old old stuff, that seems to matter : old report cards, drawings, “awards” and on and on. The question I ask myself is, will the kids want this? Will I care? If the answer is no, pitch it. I’ll never miss it.
I have almost finished the blogging for November, which is a good thing because I have run out of things to write. Even the bumper stickers…
T shirt for the day: “I am a bomb technician. If you see me running, try to keep up.”
Monday, November 28, 2011
November 28th
But the heirloom, what about the heirloom? It was a pendant, a very plain silver pendant in a circle the size of a wedding ring, with a tiny blue stone in the center. I have no idea if it was valuable, but I expect not, given the family means. It now belongs to my uncle, the last of the original family, and will be passed down to his son, I think. To me, it represents a link, an unbroken circle, that connects generation to generation. The story is that it was my grandma’s mother’s pendant; she died when Grandma was a child, and her father remarried a very strict woman. Grandma’s only physical link was through this small pendant, and I know she treasured it. I look now at all the possessions we have now, and I know no single one will ever stand out for my children. But gold and diamonds not withstanding, all of it is worth less that that plain silver pendant.
Note: it was a pendant, not a pin; I stand corrected.
Thought for the day: “Back up my hard drive? How do I put it in reverse?”
Sunday, November 27, 2011
November 27th
I’ve always enjoyed Garfield, and so I’ll borrow this for a day or two.
It is hard to be nice when you are ill a lot of the time; there are so many things to do, and these things need help to get done. It seems that unless I point out what these things are, they get ignored. How can you ignore a sink full of dirty dishes? They have to be loaded into the dishwasher, or hand washed. A garbage can is overflowing, take it out to the bin. And on and on. I hate to be a nag, and I try to be reasonable about priorities, But in the end, a lot of it doesn’t get done.
I think I am stronger, but then days like these occur, where my knees feel like I’ve
got sharp daggers in each knee, especially when I do stairs. Even on flat floor, my balance takes a few seconds to even things up. The drugs are great, except I want to fall asleep about an hour after I take one. May be time to ring up the orthopedic for more needle jabs.
I’ve got to do do something with my chemo-hair. It is very curly (LIKE A FRENCH POODLE!!) and the color is all wrong. I will try a different product on it tomorrow. After all, the worst result would be something that makes my hair fall off or has to be cut off, leaving us back at square one.
I’m falling asleep at the keyboard, and I forgot the point I was trying to make. Next time.
For the day: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
Saturday, November 26, 2011
November 26th
Bumper sticker: “THIS IS MY CLONE. I’m actually somewhere else having a much better time.”
Friday, November 25, 2011
November 25th
The last mowing of the year! Hooray!
At the beginning of the spring, all of the garden catalogs arrive, and getting outside to plant flowers, etc., just seems so great after a long messy winter. Unfortunately, the enthusiasm doesn’t last. This summer was very rainy and the grass just leaped out of the ground, the weeds sprouted and grew while my back was turned, and keeping up with everything made me want (every year) to pave the whole thing over and paint it green.
It always tickles me when people come to get horse manure for their garden. It is rarely in demand in the fall, which is when it should be applied, just top dressed and let it rot through the winter, then come springtime, till it under. But no, everyone wants it in the spring when the gardening bug bites, and they always take the top-most part of the pile, when the really good pure stuff, no oat or corn seeds in it, is down under the top-most layer, but you gotta dig for it. The very best of it is way at the back edge, against a big rock basin where it has been curing for 10 or so years, since the last guy with a backhoe came and took every bit of it. There it looks like black earth, all composted and rich.
One of our neighbors came by while we were outside and commented on the two nice little pine trees we have in the flower bed right next to the house. I didn’t let on that they are artificial, because everything we plant in there dies, it either gets flooded out when the gutters overflow after a hard rain, or dies from lack of water when we forget to water them. These two artificial ones look very real even close up, and I look forward to admiring them for a long while. And also won’t worry that they will get too big, like a couple of (live Christmas trees) evergreen trees we planted many years ago at what seemed like a good distance from the house, but which are now 40 feet tall and 20 feet across at the bottom, right against the house now. Of course, we have lived here for 31 years, and things do grow well, where we have used some of that good manure ourselves over the years…
Refrigerator magnet of the day: “Many people have eaten my cooking and gone on to live normal lives.”
Thursday, November 24, 2011
November 24th
When I was a teenager I always got stuck with the dish washing afterwards. No electric dish washer, just people powered. It drastically effected my enjoyment of the meal, knowing that I would be elbow deep in hot suds in a manner of minutes. The dishes were “the good ones” and heaven help you if you broke one. There were tons of pots and pans, an entire sink-full of silverware (also the good stuff), and large platters and bowls and such. It all had to be hand-dried and put away right away because there wasn’t anyplace to stack it once it was clean. Usually someone else helped with that part of it. For me, the worst part was the way my hands felt after being in water all that time, all prune-y and raw. Even now I wear rubber gloves whenever I wash things by hand, I just can’t stand the way my hands feel otherwise. But I also missed out on some good conversation around the table after the meal, when everyone was sipping a coffee and letting dinner settle. I’d give a lot to have that part back again, all that family is gone now, one by one.
The cats of course are severely bent out of shape because they were banished to a bedroom starting in the afternoon. It is impossible to keep them off the dinner table at the best of times, and once it is set for dinner, eternal vigilance is necessary. Now they are out and looking for handouts, as soon as they smelled the turkey. Poor souls, it’s tuna tonight.
Tomorrow starts the mad Christmas shopping frenzy. You couldn’t pay me to go shopping on Black Friday. The advertising circulars were twice the size of the actual newspaper today, and I’m sure will be tomorrow too. But I don’t see anything in them that I can’t live without, thanks. And I hate crowds, and avarice is never pretty, and being rude seems to be the way to behave. I think I’m getting old.
Time for a little nap I think.
Note for the front door: “Ring bell and run. Dog needs exercise.”
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
November 23rd
The NaBloPoMo prompt for today is, What piece of music changed your life forever? And I would have to say, Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. I was in high school chorus and we performed this at Christmas time to a very full audience. (There were nearly 200 of us in the combined choir.) My parents didn’t come; my friend and her mother drove us to the concert. Up until that time I had considered myself a pretty hot vocalist; in addition to the women’s chorus and mixed chorus, I sang in the church choir, and I could read a piece of music (a regular hymn, I mean) in the alto part and sing it right without hearing it first. I played classical guitar fairly well, and some bluegrass too, though my calluses were not tough enough to play a long time.
But that night at the recital, finally hearing all the voices at once singing this incomparably beautiful piece of music, I realized I would never be anything but a dilettante in music, because I lacked the discipline and single-minded drive to be excellent. And even now, when I hear the Hallelujah Chorus, it brings a lump to my throat, and I remember how all our voices soared in the big auditorium, and how I never again felt that way about music and performing.
***************************************
Change of subject: I had another cancer treatment today, and it went very smoothly, no reactions and back home by 11:30, where I sacked out for two hours. I feel pretty good now, and the pies for tomorrow are baking and sending me mad for a taste. You know, cake you can taste, and I do, when you shave off the very top of one of the layers to make it perfectly flat and then dab on a bit of icing, yum. But there is no way to sneak a sample of pie, you just have to wait for dessert time to roll around, by which point you are so sated on the rest of the meal, pie is nice but not a terrific encore. But I will struggle along as best I can, eating some of everything including pie, and then I will need another two hour nap to recover, I am sure.
Hope all of you have a good holiday and time to spend with family and friends near and far. And if Thanksgiving is not a holiday for you, I hope you fix an extraordinary meal just the same, Thanksgiving making a wonderful excuse to overindulge this one day.
Thought for the day: “My mind works like lightning. One brilliant flash and it’s gone.”
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
November 22nd
Got that sorted for now.I have an appointment next week to have my eyes checked, I’ve been reading the paper by peering over the top of them.I hope my cataracts have not worsened.
EEK! there is only 4 minutes to midnight to get this in on the 22nd. I have found a poem I want to share, It is
*****************************************************************************
The Woman I will be.
I shall wear diamonds and a wide brimmed hat with ribbons and flowers on it.
And I shall spend my social security on white wine and carrots.
And sit in the alley of my barn and listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the dappled mare across the moon struck meadow
If old bones will allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod,
As I walk them past the gardens to the barn
And show, instead, the flowers growing there
In stalls fresh-lined with straw.
I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair as if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to all who look down on me,
Those who have not yet found the peace in being free
To love a horse as a friend,
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With nuzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the Woman I will be when I am old.
Author unknown
Until tomorrow
Monday, November 21, 2011
November 21st
This is a story told about two families back around the first part of 1900, as told by an elderly relation to one of my cousins.
“My grandfather was Peter H-, and he had a younger brother named Luther, and Luther married a woman named Minnie; and back in those days it was customary when a couple married — poor families– they would borrow furniture from relatives until they could establish their own — buy their own furniture and what have you, so Luther borrowed a bedstead from my grandfather, his brother, and he had already borrowed $50 from him to get married. Everything went alright for a short time, and they lived neighbors; and Luther asked my granddaddy about tending some tobacco on my granddaddy’s land, right close to Luther’s house. And my granddaddy says, “Well, that’s all right, Luther, but you’ll have to put a fence around it, because I’m going to pasture that field.” And Luther said, “All right.” But Luther neglected to put a fence around it, and went ahead and set his tobacco out, and my granddaddy’s cows got up there and got to walking around in these young tobacco plants, and Luther sicced his dogs onto my granddaddy’s cows, and the dogs ran the cows down to Granddaddy’s house, and my granddaddy walked out with his shotgun and buckshot both his dogs. Luther heard the shots, he wasn’t too far, about half or a quarter of a mile, and so he went down there, and was upset about my granddaddy shooting at his dogs. Now grandaddy would always *sniffle* when he got offended or got excited, and he says, *snff*,*snff*, *snff*, if you don’t like it, he says, “I’ve got the same thing for you!” And Luther took his dogs and went back home. Well, the next day, Luther had come by in a wagon, and set the bedstead over the yard fence and went to Dawson Springs and rented a house or an apartment or something in Dawson Springs. And a short time later, about a month or so later, they went to a restaurant — my granddaddy went went to a restaurant in Dawson Springs — and as he went in one door, Luther came in the other. So they both went to the same table, sat down, and one of them, I don’t know which, but one of them, ordered two plates (back in those days, you just ordered a plate lunch, you had no choice of what went on it) — one of them ordered two plates, and the other ordered two coffees, and they sat there and ate, and drank their coffee, and each got up and paid for what they had ordered, and went out separate doors and never did speak to each other. But Luther, a short time after that, he and Minnie went to Arkansas, and they were gone about 20 years, or maybe a little more, to Arkansas. In the meantime, my granddaddy went ahead and put a fence around that tobacco, and tended it, and sold the tobacco. And according to his bookkeeping, after he paid himself for his work, he considered that Luther still owed him $9 of the $50 he had borrowed from him.”
Family, nothing like it.
Bumper sticker for the day: “Instant human. Just add coffee.”
Sunday, November 20, 2011
November 20th
This is my dining room, at one end, where all the plants are clustered. Other than this one spot, I can’t get anything elsewhere to live, much less flourish.
I am stuck for anything to say tonight, so this will have to do as a place holder. I promise to do better tomorrow.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
November 19th
I remember Mom telling us that our aunt had lost part of her roof, and I pictured that as a whole chunk of roof open to the sky, you could look straight up and see the rain; but of course what it really was, a bunch of the shingles and the roofing paper were blown off, so the rain got in. I was terribly disappointed when we went to her house and it still apparently had a roof that was just fine.
There were several hurricanes over the years and I think their stories just got folded into the Donna storm, when I was 9 years old. But being out in the eye, that I remember like it just happened. Memory is a strange thing, isn’t it?
This is Donna.
Bumper sticker of the day: “Remove backing and adhere to any smooth surface.”
Friday, November 18, 2011
November 18th
Thinking of classes, I remember when I was a senior in high school, the English classes assigned a project about an author, you had to do research, make notes on index cards (which had to be turned in too) and write a paper about him/her. There was a list of authors to pick from, and I picked H.G. Wells. My friend Susan picked John Donne, don’t ask me why (that’s a joke, he of the “Ask not for whom the bell tolls?”, OK, not much of a joke anyway) and we did the research together at the Miami-Dade Junior College library. No encyclopedias. When it came time to turn the papers in, Susan gave me hers to type (she couldn’t type at all, and I almost could). But when I read it, it was awful! Incomplete sentences, one sentence as an entire paragraph, misspellings, etc. So, I changed it. I knew as much about her paper as my own, from helping her at the library. I smoothed it out, phrased it better, but it was still her work, I felt. Her mother called me and thanked me for the editing I did. She got an A from her teacher; I got a C. My teacher didn’t like science fiction, I think. I complained, and so she sent my essay to another teacher (Susan’s teacher, in fact) but the grade came back as a B, which I had to take. Like there was any doubt that another teacher would overrule mine. One of those growing up footnotes in life.
H.G. Wells
Bumper sticker for the day: “I do whatever my Rice Krispies tell me to.”
Thursday, November 17, 2011
November 17th
One of the NaBloPoMo prompts earlier this week was about recounting a traumatic event. One this week involves facing a fear. This story is about both. When I was a teenager my sister and I were alone at home and we were baking cookies. When they were in the gas oven, we began cleaning up the kitchen. I went out the back door with a bag of trash; just inside the glass door, on the right, was the stove. I was looking at the edge of the stove when it went BOOM and flames shot out around the oven door and blew the door off the stove. I heard my sister scream, but I couldn’t bear to go in by the back door, and so I raced around to the front door to find her there, screaming. Neighbors came from all over to the house, and one brave man raced in, pulled the stove away from the wall and shut the gas off at the back of the stove. When everything calmed down, we went inside to call Mom at work. Her first question was, was the kitchen clean when everyone went in? Which maybe wasn’t the response I expected. Anyway, the rest of that day neither of us would walk past the kitchen to go to the bedrooms or the bathroom, for fear of being trapped in the back of the house. Over the next several weeks the fear only got worse. I slept in the living room on the couch. And in the end, Mom and Dad bought an electric stove and replaced the old gas one. What had happened, was that the old stove did not light the oven automatically, you had to strike a match and hold it to the hole in the bottom on the oven. We did that, but apparently the flame blew out, the oven filled with gas which ignited when the gas reached the pilot lights on the stove burners. Stoves aren’t made like that anymore, you can see why. But the recollection of that fear, the gut twisting breathless bracing I had to do to walk into the kitchen before the stove was replaced, stuck with me for many months. When people complain about how shoddy modern-day things are made, I think of the gas stove, and I know that some old things change for the better.
Thought for the day: “Support a cause. Stop plate tectonics.”
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
November 16 Wordless Wednesday
Christmas Cactus
Bumper Sticker for the day: “If this sticker is getting smaller, the light is probably green.”
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
November 15th
Today Raven, the black Newfy, had her 6 week checkup post surgery on her ACL at the vet. She walks with a decided limp, and her left foot toes under a lot, but at least she CAN walk. Bring her back in a month, and probably no restrictions by then. She really wants to get out of the stall (12 x 12, so it’s not a little kennel) but for now only on leash for a few minutes at a time. Two days ago she spied another dog, and tried to stand on her hind legs at the fence to bark, but no good. She doesn’t realize she can’t jump and run anymore. She is 3 years old. The other Newfy is like an overgrown puppy, despite being 3 herself, and far too rambunctious. When she gets to tearing around, she knocks us right over if we aren’t paying attention and brace ourselves.
We went out to dinner last Friday (we try to go every Friday, just to get away from the kitchen and cooking). We went to Ruby Tuesday, it’s like TGI Fridays. I had an awful seafood platter, crab cake, shrimp and lobster. Sounds good, yes? But it wasn’t. I hate that. N had a steak that was the rarest medium I’ve ever seen, basically it was warm meat, and it was sirloin not ribeye. Also, we got seated near the door, and I kept seeing people I know, which means being sociable when they walk past, and I like it better when we are more anonymous. So we won’t be going back anytime soon.
This is one of the NaBloPoMo prompts for this month. It is, “When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes?” I always knew that our house in Miami was not like the ones we saw on TV. For one thing, it was made of cinder blocks; there was no carpet, only linoleum throughout, although the bathroom was tiled everywhere. It had no stairs, no garage (only a carport) and we had beautiful outdoor plants, like gardenia, alamanda, orchid tree, avocado tree. My aunt had a “Florida room” which was basically a big living doom at the rear of the house, with big windows that looked out at the yard. No pool. I remember being very concerned about how Santa was going to come in, since we had no fireplace. But he managed.
Time for a doctor appointment. I am now officially half way through the month of November, and have posted every day (so far). Yeah me!
Thought for the day: “Follow your dreams, except the one where you’re at school in your underwear.”
Monday, November 14, 2011
November 14th
Thought for the day: “Beauty is only a light switch away…”
Sunday, November 13, 2011
November 13th
This is my sister-in-law and her son. As of last Sunday, he is a grandfather. As you might guess, the mother (his daughter) is very young, and the father? no one in the family has met him. Different worlds, different times.
I’d like to go see the baby, but it is a 7 hour drive to get to her place in KY, and we would need to stay in town, about 15 miles away, and the trip itself, I don’t think N could drive it and I don’t think I could ride that far unless I was heavily sedated. But darn, this might be my last chance to cuddle a newborn legitimately, unless my kids get cracking. Which isn’t too likely. I’ve been told that grandkids are the reward for having children; you get to indulge them as you never did your child, and when they get fussy you hand them back to the parents. Sounds good to me!
Onward…
Thought for the day: “Warning: dates in calendar are closer than they appear.”
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Blog Archive
- ▼ 2011(66)
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- November 30th – Wordless Wednesday
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Some of My Favorites
- Dina Not Really Australian
- Skippy Mom
- Hyperbole and a Half
- I wasn’t blogged yesterday
- Lucky Lady
- You Had Me at Idiot
- Squeaky Weasels
- Sweetney
- Suburban Bliss
- Stuff on My Cat
- Magazine Man
- Post Secret
- Ninja Poodles
- Mighty Girl
- Manda Juice
- Jen and Tonic
- I can’t even float in water this deep
- How U Doin’
- Fussy
- Flippy
- Dooce
About Me
- Redhead
- I am a no-longer-middle-aged lady who is a suicide survivor and, so far, a breast cancer survivor. I don’t appreciate all that I have as much as I should, but I am trying to do better at that. A troll-free zone here, please. Thank you!
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