I wondered from afar if the rock would be smooth enough to paint and draw a design to go along with my other kindness rocks around the house.
As I got closer, I noticed it glistened.
As I leaned it to pick it up, I realized with a sense of total panic that it was not a rock!
My next thought: if a woman panic-screams and her husband is mowing the yard with ear plugs in, did the woman really scream.
As I regained a sense of sanity, I noticed the hole beside him/her and wondered if he/she wintered there. My next thought was I’m sitting in front of the screen door where he has spent hours just hanging around……and then I looked again….
And he was gone….and I screamed….and the husband heard me…but he didn’t seem terribly concerned….it must have sounded similar to the spider in the bathtub scream.
I know he didn’t go far….the frog….husband continues mowing…..
EDIT: and so we get on with life…the hero says he has no idea where the frog is.
If it weren’t raining for day number 40 of 40 days and 40 nights, I possibly would be in a better mood. Even though we have had a few days….and I mean VERY FEW days…. without rain since our unseasonably cold days, I fear that little scream that has been bouncing around inside my head will somehow escape and scare the birds away from the feeders quicker than my shadow passing in front of the window. *rolling eyes
On a brighter note, yesterday I had a kind nurse poke a needle in my shoulder….my second COVID vaccine. I was mildly concerned that this one might result in flu like symptoms but thankfully I just couldn’t lift my left arm to remove my sweatshirt and I went to bed early because I was either very tired or just felt foggy. I was having some difficulty in comprehending what I was reading.
After a family IMessage with the daughters this morning I think I was just tired last night because it was quietly inferred that apparently my level of comprehension often wanes. Like watching the movie, Frozen, that we watched while visiting our Iowa family a few months ago. Now I find out that I must have missed the point that the parents died in the beginning which would actually be the premise for all of the other sadness, evil and pain of the children’s movie…..I have to admit I was just into it for the music anyway!
So ending this on a grateful note, we need rain to begin the growing season…yay….birds are cute, loud and chirpy, music soothes my soul and I’m now vaccinated and feel the darkness lifting….Namaste
You know those moments when something someone has said to you in the past comes back….repeating like you are seated side by side, say, in a movie theater and she whispers…you guys should move down here we hardly ever get snow…..and honestly I have bragged to my northern friends that…oh ya, we are always 10 or more degrees warmer in the winter…you had a foot deep snow storm?…oh goodness, that’s usually what we get in a whole season….. it didn’t seem wrong…I gave 58 years to Iowa….it kind of seemed like it was ok…the way it’s okay to complain about the spouse but if anyone else does it….
Ok…so I am a little red faced and very apologetic about my bluster after this polar vortex experience these last two weeks. But, seriously, friends around the country are sharing pictures… it’s a nightmare….and now many states can’t keep the power on because ……. the elves went to sleep while feeding the wood burner? Trump, the pandemic and now the polar vortex. Ruler across the fingers apparently we need, yet, another start over lesson.
We left the snow blower in Iowa….so…When the doorbell camera caught an elf on my sidewalk with the leaf blower this morning, I felt a sense of pride that I married a genius! My very own Macgyver.
This too shall pass or so I keep repeating it! Stay warm and safe!
The title being in all caps is the reality of the disturbance in my head…I steal the term, disturbance, after hearing it used by a tv weather guy. Talking about the Canadian air mass sitting over the region for two weeks….”cold temperatures and smaller “disturbances” equals more chance for snow.
Seriously…disturbance? from the news media who normally has us hugging ourselves tightly while they scream shelter in place, lock your doors you are all going to die as our mental health experiences nervous breakdowns through the pandemic and the Trump administration.
It’s cold here. It’s Iowa Cold. Thankfully this morning when I got out of bed in my more than irritable mood, I realized I was feeling the same way I did for 55+ winters in Iowa. Mentally combining that with quarantining a year in the house….my CABIN FEVER is now in overdrive. There are seriously only a certain number of Words with Friends…actually strangers….games you can play in a day so I learned how to play backgammon. But it’s just not the same as what I had dreamed it would be…sitting in a pub in Grantchester playing the Vicar over a round of pints.
My Word for the year is “nurture”. Not feeling it today…Not a whole lot of positive going on right now….my benevolence has frozen over!
I was looking in the mirror in the bathroom a few minutes ago and noticed my developing marionette lines on my lower face. I decided to try some Ayurvedic formula wrinkle serum that my oldest daughter passed down to me. It was more like…hey Mom, I have this wrinkle serum that causes my face to itch, do you want to try it?
Even though I have no illusions that any ointment, serum or lotions are actually going to prevent wrinkles from forming, I said yes. Full disclosure…I know what is causing the thin skin on my forearms and the new developing wrinkles on my face.
1. No sunscreen
2. My age
3 no sunscreen
I actually laughed out loud as I looked to my right and sitting on the edge of the tub was a bottle of great smelling exfoliating, salt (feels like sand) that my younger daughter bought but wasn’t thrilled with. Hey Mom, do you want this exfoliating grit. (Not her real words). And the visit the time before, she sent me home with some lavender moisturizing oil…Hey Mom…..
Which took me back to the Life Cereal commercial from the 70’s…one of the longest continuously running commercial campaigns ever aired.
….and there you have it. Changes needed to be made when my life became reruns of TV commercials…so I got the Britbox and Acorn TV apps and now I speak with a British accent…..how much I love the term, Wanker, at a later time.
In the back of my mind, I’ve always known that if I ever became first lady or CIA, my code name would be: Pink Flamingo!
I have flamingo chimes thanks to my friend, Sue. I also have 3 metal pink flamingos in flower beds in the yard right now, as well as totes of the plastic ones which does include Christmas pink flamingos. My next door neighbor also likes them and has a little square in her side yard (my side) where her pink flamingos live along with pink flower pots. One Christmas she started decorating the yard with them and so I bought Christmas flamingos and set them up so they looked like they were headed to her yard. She and I may be the only two on the street who felt giddy about it.
Years ago my late night dispatch partner and I did crafts when 911 lulled. I taught her to crochet and she taught me to embroider. I have embroidered dish towels put away which will last many generations. I pulled out my embroidery hoops etc the other day and then sat with them because I had no idea what I would embroider or on what. I laughed thinking about his face if I started embroidering his underwear #notgoingtohappen But instead…I found this beginning/children’s punch embroidery kit during a late night excursion on Amazon. It came today.
Goovi has made her home on this planet in our dining pod because it was the only place I could find enough clearance for the runway aka her “driveway” to reach home. She needs 6 feet because quite frankly she is a horrible driver.
I had this really good idea when she first came to us via an Amazon van, that she begin work at 4 am. I didn’t think I would need to supervise her …. and that was my fault because I was thinking in human….the language of my people. Goovi is not capable of finding her way over hill and dale without getting into trouble and just giving up and shutting down when she feels trapped? For instance…the temporary coaster under the fridge foot. Consequently now before bed, I must lock the doors, turn off the lights AND place a chair in front of the refrigerator.
Which is really not any more irritating than our morning ritual of searching the house for her…or having to step over her in the hallway as we leave our bedroom. It’s like having another cat.
This morning He reports that he followed her and timed her once he heard the suction cease and she turned on her pink light indicating she was finished for the day and navigating back to her bed. It took her 15 minutes and she made it before her battery completely drained. I guess I should not expect more from her considering her Black Friday price so I’m attempting gratitude and appreciation for the help she does provide….there I go getting soft….it’s really her job!!!
Because I have nothing urgent to do several hours a day….and I define urgency as drinking too much water in one sitting…I find myself on Facebook….and by “on Facebook”, I mean watching Facebook videos about hair. If we don’t choose wisely, the algorithm insanity states that if we click on one interesting idea that pops up on Facebook, the topic or associated topics become our social media life whether we choose it or not.
I’ve had very long hair, very short hair and hair of various colors and hues. I started coloring my hair when I was 16… I loved playing with my hair…styling it, coloring it, streaking it, sun-in hair lighteners. I’ve been nearly black, chocolate, purple and one unfortunate, very bright apple red/Sunkist orange before a vacation. I thought about being a hair professionally in the 70’s but didn’t take geometry so figured I would suck at angles.
Because I recently was hooked on a 30 minute video of a stylist cutting an older woman’s hair, I’ve been inundated with videos of stylists and hair and hair color and all of the latest toys for anyone with hair. This morning, I watched a stylist comb and part and ponytail and then form a HUGE bun on top of a women’s head. Before this morning I had no idea working hair into a huge bun was even possible. I’m just letting you know as a caution, if you see this video pop up now that I’ve mentioned it, do NOT click on it.
The thought has occurred to me that I wonder if there really was a Repunzel who let down her golden hair..betraying her beloved which caused his fall and blindness. And seriously, from hair we got peeping Toms as “Tom” apparently broke the rules and watched Lady Godiva ride naked through the streets… But most of all now I want to know why and how Godiva chocolate gots it’s name but there is no way I’m going to google it or click on any chocolate cooking videos because I do not need to be inundated with chocolate. I have enough problems!
Taking the white clothes out of the dryer today, there were two pairs of socks. One ankle pair that belonged to me and a pair of mid calf, thick, robust socks that belonged to him. I sighed realizing cold weather has arrived. For him, anyway. I will continue to wear my Offos flip flops until we have snow. Of course, this year I won’t be going anywhere because of flu/COVID season so perhaps flip flops will see me through until spring.
For as long as I’ve been aware of the washing machine and dryer, I’ve been aware of the urban legends of what happens to 1 out of every so-many pairs of socks. Nothing disappears in the act of doing laundry like socks…I maintain that we can continue to complain as we try to mate socks or we can just reach blindly into the dryer and just mate them as they come out. Where is it written that the person who does laundry must be the responsible adult.
Which brings me to sock manufacturers. Why do they mess with us. Why do they insist on a black logo one year, perhaps a blue one another year. I have several pair of black, gray and white design socks and each one identical EXCEPT each pair has a different color of stripe around the ankle. WHY WHY WHY. Is this really necessary? Socks are stuffed in shoes…and worn during the same season that long pants cover the rest of them. Why make this complicated?
Until next time when we will discuss why food that misses the mouth is only attracted to white shirts!
Well here we are at 1:49 am on a Sunday morning…the nerd and his sister woke me again. I visit with these two often in the middle of the night. I’m not really sure what she looks like but he is wearing a too tight white shirt with a black tie and as we have become acquainted when my eyes fly open in the middle of the night, I swear if he stood up it would be Sheldon from Big Bang. It seems the nerd is always silently enunciating words to me which feels like he’s trying to explain something and it appears he is sitting in a Hy Vee parking lot. As I made my way to the bathroom this morning, I freaked myself out with the thought…oh dear God what if they are my spirit guides that I’ve been curious about?
Thus I’m wide awake now writing words.
I sleep in our day bed 2 nights a week in my office/craft room because I get up at 4:15 to prepare for my job. No need to wake Him and the cats at 4:15 am “preparing” which means I roll out, turn on the keurig, half turn and click on the computer and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Since starting this job with the early morning routine, often I find myself waking up with a start once to several times a night. Anxiety I’m guessing….and the nerd and his sister are usually my first vision.
Across from my bed in the office is one of those huge round clocks from a couple decades ago…night before last I jumped out of bed because in the dark room, the hands on the clock were on 6:00…I overslept. While the nerd and his sister didn’t appear, I’m positive he was there snickering when I realized it was really only 11:30 pm as I passed by the microwave clock … I had been asleep 3 hours.
So now I will open my book and read a couple/three paragraphs until my eyes get heavy and I gratefully nod off. It works nearly every night. I’m hoping that addressing the Nerd in a nocturnal blog strips him of the joy of waking me in the middle of the night for nothing more than a few seconds of silent demonstrative blabber….wonder what he is really trying to tell me?