My beautiful daughter has started her own blog. She’s decided that since her brother and I are both bloggers, she should give it a shot. It’s kind of like a family tradition. As a wife, a mom, a student, a dog owner/lover, and a combat veteran, she has much to offer. Please stop by and speak howdy!
June 16, 2010
Have you ever noticed that the folks who see Bigfoot, or spaceships, or the Loch Ness Monster, are never the folks with cameras in their cell phones? The Sasquatch never wanders anywhere near the research biologist who’s hiking through the woods with the high-rez digital camera with zoom lens. He always wanders into the rural backyard of the self-proclaimed ‘mountain man’.
Money Quote: “He had beeeeee-u-ti-ful hair”.
June 13, 2010
I almost forgot to do a Top Ten list today. I’m not really ‘back in the habit’ of blogging. Lucky I remembered, or all my hordes of fans (all three of you!) would have been devastated.
Since most of today has been dedicated to housework, I’ve chosen my least favorite chores for today’s list. Since I’m an empty-nester, I do both the inside and outside chores around here. Therefore, both are eligible for the list. I’ve not included home improvement chores like painting.
- Rolling up the garden hose. I have no problem with watering the garden, but I despise rolling up the hose when I’m done. It’s always wet and muddy and I can’t seem to get the job done without getting mud on my clothes, or my legs if I’m wearing shorts.
- Dusting. I make it a point to not have a lot of bric-a-brac crap around the house, because it’s just something else that needs to be dusted. My mother was the QUEEN of bric-a-brac. Every flat surface in her house had some cutesy/hokey ornament on it. Dusting took her all day. As for me, you could easily write your name in the dust on most of the flat surfaces in my house. Just please don’t date it.
- Cleaning the ceiling fans. This goes right along with dusting. I have ceiling fans in the living room and my bedroom. They collect dust and cat hair, and it’s impossible to clean them without getting the mess all over the floor/bed/couch.
- Cleaning the refrigerator. I habitually save leftovers, even when there’s only a tiny bit left, telling myself that I’ll use it in soup or take it for lunch or something. But I never do. So when the time comes to clean out the fridge, there’s no telling what I might find, and in what state I might find it. Sometimes, I’ll just toss the container and all. And will someone please, please tell me how the cat hair gets into the fridge? Are they cruising in there when I’m not home, looking for bounty?
- Cleaning the bathtub. I have a garden tub and a stall shower in my bathroom. I use the shower daily. I almost NEVER use the tub. I noticed the other day that there were actual COBWEBS in there. So today when I vacuumed, I just vacuumed out the tub, too. Cobwebs and dust. And a dead spider.
- Folding sheets. I’m not fond of folding ANY of the laundry, but I particularly dislike folding sheets. Especially the fitted ones – there’s no way those suckers are going to come out anything resembling square. An irregular polyhedron is the best I can do. I’ve learned to wash them, dry them, and put them back on the bed. I do this till they’re worn out, then I buy a new set.
- Collecting the trash. From the bathrooms. And the bedrooms. And the den. And the kitchen. The laundry room. Getting it all together, bagged up, and out to the car to take to the ‘convenience center’. Generally, I can get a week’s worth of garbage into one of those big black bags, which is why I don’t pay $20 a month for once a week pick up. Then I have to haul it all the way to the curb, in their special cans that they can lift with the lifter thingy on the truck, and then haul the empty can all the way back up to the house. Keep in mind that my driveway is about a quarter mile long. PITA. It’s ever so much easier to only have to take it to the car, then toss it in the compactor when I get to the center.
- Emptying the dishwasher. I hate this job so much that, since my son moved out in November, I haven’t even USED my dishwasher. It’s easier to just rinse up my couple of dishes by hand, put them in the drainboard to dry, and then use them again the next time I eat.
- Cleaning the litter box. No explanation needed. I had to have my oldest cat put to sleep last month. The other two don’t use a litter box – they prefer to go outside to do their business. So, the litter box has been officially retired. Good riddance.
- Putting away the clean laundry. I swear, I live off the top of my dresser. I’ll wash it, dry it, fold it, and carry it into the bedroom. From there, it gets piled onto the dresser and seldom, if ever, sees the inside of a drawer. I have no excuse or explanation. Just a bad habit I got into years ago, and have never been sufficiently motivated to break.
That’s it. The ten things I’m most likely to not do if I can see a way out of it.
June 12, 2010
This is a recycled post, originally from June of 2006. Once again, my glads are blooming, and I thought I’d repost this one in memory of Auntie Ann.
My gladioluses are blooming in the back yard by the door. Whenever I see “glads”, I think of Auntie Ann. She was my only “Auntie” … all the others (and there are many) are “Aunt”.
Auntie Ann was my godmother. To me, she was always old … she was my grandmother’s best friend for more than 80 years, but no blood relation to me. She had no grandchildren (her only child being a bachelor), but she had many, many godchildren, and she loved us all.
Auntie Ann always had time to play. Her husband, my Uncle Bill, was a housepainter and wallpaperer, and she and I used to spend hours on end going through his old and outdated wallpaper sample books, making pinwheels and cutting out pictures of flowers or cowboys and gluing them onto paper to make “mosaics”.
Auntie Ann could sew anything. She made me dresses all the years I was growing up; I still remember one in particular. It was made from “dotted swiss” fabric, white with little tiny raised red polka-dots. It had puffy sleeves and a full skirt, and a bright red sash belt that tied in a big bow in the back. I was about 7 years old when she made it, and I wore it until it was so short that my teacher wouldn’t let me wear it to school any more. I loved that dress. My Barbie Doll had one just like it that Auntie Ann made from the leftover fabric.
On Thursdays my grandmother, my mother, and Auntie Ann would get together at one another’s house (they took turns). They would have lunch, and “do” each other’s hair. Sometimes it was just a wash and set, other times it was perms or color, but it was ritual — every Thursday, except on Thanksgiving or if Christmas fell on Thursday, and then they would do it on Wednesday or Friday. When I was very little, before I started school, I would be included in the day. Grandma always made me rice pudding when it was her week, and Auntie Ann always had blueberries to put in the fruit salad. When Grandpa retired and he and Grandma moved to Florida, Auntie Ann would always make sure to have blueberries AND rice pudding if I was coming to visit. She never forgot. I think of Auntie Ann whenever I eat blueberries, too. They’re still one of my favorites.
Auntie Ann’s birthday was the day before mine, so we always celebrated together. On my fourth birthday, Auntie Ann and Uncle Bill gave me a card with a clockface on it that said something to the effect of “It’s Time for Your Birthday!”. The hands on the clock moved, and Uncle Bill sat me on his lap in his recliner and taught me how to tell time with that card. Then he walked with me to the corner drugstore and bought me a watch for my birthday, he said “because any four-year-old that can tell time ought to have her own watch”. I had that watch until I was 16, when I left it by the pool at a hotel in Jacksonville, FL on the way to visit my grandparents in St. Petersburg. By the time I realized I’d left it, we were back on the road and about 2 hours away. I was heartbroken.
Auntie Ann collected stamps and coins. She tried very hard to help me develop an interest, but I just wasn’t into it. All her coins and stamps were stored in this magical closet in her dining room. I call it magical, because it’s where she stored her games, and the little blue china tea set that I was allowed to play with when I visited. It was real glass, and I was allowed to have my sandwich on the blue plate, and drink my “tea” (mostly milk) from the blue cups. I still have one of the cups, on a display shelf in my kitchen. My ex-husband threw the rest of the set away as “junk” many years ago … I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven him for that.
Also in the magical closet there was a game called “Tri-Ominios”. Auntie Ann was the only person I ever knew who had a Tri-Ominos game. We would play almost every time I went to visit. We also played checkers, dominoes, and Parcheesi. Like I said, Auntie Ann always had time to play.
Oh yeah, the gladioluses. To the best of my knowledge, Auntie Ann never had a job outside the home. But she and Uncle Bill owned a couple acres of land in the next town, and they planted it all in gladioluses. They spent weeks on end every year lifting and separating the bulbs, and replanting them. They sold the flowers to florists and funeral homes. And always there were glads in her house.
Auntie Ann died in her sleep in 1982. She was 93. Uncle Bill did likewise a week later. He was 97. She got to hold my son when he was a baby; my daughter wasn’t born until 1984. I miss them both, but my memories of them will live on forever.
June 11, 2010
I made roast chicken and fettuccine Alfredo for dinner, and poured myself the last glass from a bottle of Merlot to go with it. Then I proceeded to knock the glass over into my lap, all over the plate and the table, not to mention the floor. I”m such a klutz. Khaki pants with red wine stains. Light brown leather shoes with red wine stains. And I didn’t even get a sip – like I said, it was the last glass. Oh well. At least there was more chicken and pasta. And chocolate ice cream for dessert. I didn’t take a picture, so here’s the June pic of my grandson, instead (Sorry, Laura. I know he’s just a baby, but I think he’s perfect.)
My daughter has turned into a decent photographer. Here’s a couple more that she took that are NOT of my grandson.
(Arachnophobic Alert: Spiders ahead. Proceed with Caution)
I’m not sure why this one is so small, but if I try to make it larger it gets all pixellated and looks really crappy.
I told her today that she’s discovered a hidden talent for bug and reptile photography. Who knew?
June 10, 2010
Sometimes, I read stuff and I just have to wonder “What in the hell were they thinking?”