This and that

It's a gorgeous Fall morning, the trees are all trimmed, the logs or at least the ones we decided to keep are back on the wood pile, and all is good with the world--at least in my world.  For some others, not so much.  I found out yesterday that a friend from high school took his life and I am so sad for his family and for him.  No one knows why and may never understand why but the wreckage left behind is permanent.  I woke up at 1:30AM this morning thinking about him, his family, and saying my prayers for them all.  Suicide is never a  solution--a rather permanent fix for a sometimes temporary problem, but then...I've never been suicidal.  I don't know how that feels, so while I'm thinking rationally, a suicidal person is not.  For someone in that much emotional pain, it may be the ONLY solution.  God bless him.

Today, I have a hankering to get some of those white pumpkins...and maybe some of the blue ones for inside.  I may even go the fake-o route since there's just nothing worse than  rotted pumpkin squish.  Not sure if they have fake-o's of the cool blue ones, but I know they have the white ones.  More on that later.  Additional research is required.
                                                                    

The other day I realized that Sis is NOT 14, as I thought.  She's more like 11!  I did the math several times and then verified her age with the Vet's chart, and low and behold, Sis just pulled a Benjamin Button.  She really is 11.  Holy cow...lots more time to love on this old gal and for that I am grateful.  While Santos trimmed trees yesterday, Sis was plopped into our big farmhouse kitchen sink and was treated to a spa (torture) day.  I heard her yip at one point and inquired "what happened?" only to be told "she won't open her mouth so I can brush her teeth".   Uh, oh.  While I was snickering, her dad was attempting to pry apart her jaws.  That never has a happy ending for Sis but I sure get a great laugh.  Those two locked into battle is just you-tube worthy.

I'm going to try a new balsamic chicken recipe in the crock pot either today or tomorrow.  It's a recipe from a blog I read so if it's good, I'll report back and give the recipe to any who might be interested.  Gotta get my cook on!

Mother

                                                                      

Thought this was just hilarious.  'Nuf said.  Happy weekend.

Mom and dogs

                                                                        

One of my favorite pictures of mom, and her dog, whatever it's name was.  This was taken at Four Acres, mom's home at White Rock lake.  All of mom's family on her dad's side were HUGE dog people.  Especially her dad and his sister.  That sure explains a lot since everyone in my family is dog crazy.  I never saw a dog that did not like my mother.  She could make your own dog love her, more than you.  Trust me on this. 

Wiggles, my man dog, worshiped her and would wedge in his rear end, to sit next to her on the couch while she watched TV.  Her Pugs, especially her rescued one, Mugsy, would growl and try to snap at him.  He simply stayed right where he was.  Mug would finally figure out he wasn't budging, and would go sit on the other side of mom.  Mom loved every second of it.  She knew her power over pups. 

If it was late afternoon and she was eating popcorn or those fun size Snickers, everybody got a bite.  Man...she could turn your own dog against you. :)))

Last night's wrap up

                                                                 

It's only fitting that we discuss Nashville's season opener last night.  Whoa.  Did everyone look different to you?  I think they used a soft filter for the shots from the past, and then forgot to take it back off.  It was just different, I guess.  Gunnar now has a wimpy mustache, they finally fixed the color of that huge bale of hay on Scarlet's head, thank you, Lord, and even Reyna looked different-- even though she was supposed to look all coma-ish.  Freckles??  Those were new and I liked them.  They also must have sent Scarlett to a diction coach because I noticed her annoying nasal hillbilly twang was gone.  Another big old high five for that.  I was ready to kill her by the end of last season.

But I knew I was home when old Juliette started her phony "let's all pray for my idol, Reyna" and all the "thousand points of light" tribute.  Yee haw!!  Here comes all her badassery and double dealing, quickly spinning to her empathetic side, being there for Reyna's oldest daughter, Maddie. Then whiplash back to badass when Maddie tells Juliette who her real real father is.  You can just see Juliette filing that away for use later.  Woo hoo!!!  Now, see....that's TV. 

It does not appear that Gunnar has gained any intelligence over the summer.  Burning Scarlett's sofa was a real  genius move considering he now has nothing to sit on.  Never mind it's significance...dude...can you not just throw a sheet over it for the time being?  It did look like a lot of fun, though, until the fire department showed up.

Where was Lamar, Deacon's AA sponsor...the big old African American guy?  I love him because he always reminds me of T. D. Jakes, (The Potters House) here in Dallas.  And as for Deacon claiming he was driving, I thought they'd angst us a whole lot longer on that, and I'm sooo glad they didn't.  I DID NOT want to have to worry about Deacon for another week, and you know what's coming, don't you?  Yeah...that smart lady attorney with the rockin' bod.  They could have cast a dumpy older gal or just some guy, but they didn't, now did they, so buckle up.  It could get even more interesting.

Now, I don't think for a second Deacon and Reyna aren't destined to be together because. well....they just ARE, but suffice it to say, not for quite awhile.  That wouldn't be any fun.  And speaking of no fun.....Teddy. (head bang, head bang, head bang)  And his crazy no longer pregnant GF?  Hilarious but totally superfluous.

Frankly, I don't know what I expected last night, but I love that it appears they are going after Reyna's dad, in the death of her mother.  Jeeze...sure took 'um long enough didn't it?  She's been dead forever, and wouldn't it just be a hoot to see Reyna's slimy old father in an orange jumpsuit and ankle chains?  Makes me laugh just thinking about it.  He's a mean old cuss, isn't he?  He'll worm out, but it will be fun to watch anyway.

Avery's guitar playing and the music last night, was just a killer.  The duet with Gunnar and Scarlett  at the Bluebird was beyond beautiful.  All and all, a fun 60 minutes.

That's it for last night.  Don't forget to watch Scandal tonight.  I can hardly wait!

Mary's story

Mary called me late yesterday afternoon after the tree man left and asked if I could come talk to her.  I said "Sure" so off Sis and I went.  Clearly distraught, she said I need you to listen to this story, I nodded, and she began.  Seems she got a phone call from her grandson at A&M saying he was "in trouble" and asked if she could help him.  He and a friend had been pulled over in the friend's car and the Po-Po's found drugs in the friends car.

Now for the good part: "Grandma (he doesn't call her that), I need you to wire cash to the bail bonds man" to the tune of $2,500, and "Don't tell my parents or I'll hear about this for the rest of my life".  Mary said "OK".  After thinking about it, she called her oldest and asked him "Do I keep the secret from your brother or do I tell?"  He was adamant that "You call my brother right now!" and she did.  Her younger son listened to the story, said "Mom, let me call you right back".  Meanwhile he talked to people in his office, and then called his son and asked him"Where are you?"  The son said "Dad...I'm walking to class.  Why?"

Mary said the voice didn't really sound like her grandson but she was in such a flap that when she told him that, he said he "had a cold".  Scam alert.  Mary was ALMOST out $2,500 until she asked someone else for help and checked out her reality. No doubt the address of where to send the money is offshore somewhere out of the US.

Of all the jackassery, this just beats all.  I hope there's a flammin' hot rotisserie in hell waiting for that guy.  By the time Mary had finished her story, she looked like an old pinata.  She was just flummoxed.  I suggested that her family might consider establishing a code word that they all know for just these types of situations.  If someone doesn't or can't give you the code word, hang up. 

She thought she was a dumb old lady and I told her quite the contrary!!  Any of us could have been frightened by something like that and that she did great.  I gave her a big hug and told her she got an A+ in wisdom and to call me if she got scared.  

Honestly....doesn't that just beat all??               

Is it soup yet?

One of my most favorite people in the world will be dropping by here this afternoon after work to assess his trees.  Our tree man owns our trees--no one else is allowed to touch them except him.  We love him and trust him completely.  There are a few dead limbs up way high in the squirrel zone and our trees simply need a trim to keep them at their best.  Because they are enormous, sometimes it takes him two weekends or week day afternoons.  Other times just one.  What he cuts always ends up in either our fireplace or my fire pit, so I think of it as recycling.

After my walk this morning a la jacket, I've decided to make a big pot of soup for dinner.  Yes, it will be 95 degrees by then but I am merely getting ready for Fall here, and pretending I'm in Colorado where this morning in Crested Butte it was 36 degrees.  Oh, yeah, baby....that's what I'm talking about.  Hell, I make make several pots of soup today because I can.  My freezer's looking lonely so if not today, tomorrow.
                                                                 

 I did not watch the Emmy's last night and the reality is, most of the nominated shows I don't watch anyway.  I figure I can get a wrap up and see what everybody wore today without all the boring stuff. I'd rather read anyway and speaking of that, I started a new book, Golden Boy, over the weekend and it's a mind blower.  It's about an intersex (hermaphrodite) boy(?) living in England and it's a page turner to say the least.  Will let you know what I think if I finish it today.  (Note:  I am carrying my Nook everywhere with me, except the shower.)

That's it from this end.  Happy Monday.

Saturday

Busy but gorgeous morning.  Sis and I have been delivering banana bread to neighb's and while Claire's family is off some where, Mary was home.  Sis has a love-hate relationship with kids mainly because they scare her to death.  All that squawking and unexpected movements just unglue her and when I invited her to go out front while I went to Claire's, she simply wasn't buying.  Nope.  Not happening.  Of course when I asked her if she'd like "to go to Mary's", she flew off her chair, whining, squealing, and ready to tear the door off the hinges.  I guess with Sis, some people have it, some people don't.

When we go to Mary's, Sis is ALWAYS invited in, allowed to roam freely, and generally treated like royalty.  Any crumbs she finds are fair game and while I'm always worried Sis might leave a parting gift, so far she's been on her best behavior.  (Wigman used to do that sometimes when he got real excited so I always keep an eye on her, though Mary could care less.)

Mary just called to tell me she loved the banana bread and had eaten two big pieces for lunch. I had already confessed that mine had suffered a minor cave in, in the center of the loaf, and that I'd googled it to find out why.  (Apparently it happens a lot so I didn't feel so bad.)  Mary's response was that she "didn't give two hoots...just keep it coming".  She was a great cook back in the day and always loves hearing about my cooking fiascoes, of which there are many.  Cheap entertainment I guess.

She told me today that one of the reasons she doesn't want to move to an assisted living facility is because she doesn't want to sit around all day and "talk to old ladies about being old".  She said "I want to be outside working in my yard and in my own house.  And with you and Bruce next door to help me when I need it".  Oh, Lord.

Mary and Bruce, each with a pair of clippers, is like two monkeys with machine guns.  Believe me when I say it will NOT end well.   

                                               

Mom update

I found out yesterday that mom does indeed have a urinary tract infection as I suspected.  She just wasn't acting normal --whatever that looks like with dementia-- and I had requested that they run a urinalysis and a culture, if warranted.  That was on Sunday.  (Thank you to the crummy lab for taking 4 days.)  Her Hospice nurse told me she didn't think mom had one and I said "OK...let's just rule it out to be safe".  She agreed, and told me advancing dementia can look a lot like other things with all the grimacing and grunting--stuff I have zero experience with.  But I do know my mom, and all this came on way too fast not to just rule out something else. 

They started her on meds last night and when I went by to visit with her and tell her she would be feeling LOADS better soon, I could tell at first she didn't understand what I was telling her.  Note to self: too much information.  Keep it simple.  She definitely understood we were finally on the road to her feeling better and she said "fix it?" and I said "YOU BETCHA".  With that, her face transformed.  I told her I had known something was wrong--just not what, exactly.  Her eyes never left my face.  It was almost as if she'd said to me "You see me...you see I'm still in here.  Thank you."

Kinda gave me the weepies.  All I could think of was all the little old people, little kids, animals, who don't have someone to advocate for them.  It could have turned out just as easily that mom didn't have a UTI.  In fact, I'd have preferred that.  I don't need to be right here.  I just need her to be comfortable or as comfortable as I can possibly get her.  She deserves that.  We all do.

Damn...who ever said this was "parenting your parent" was right on target. 

Happy rainy Friday to all.  Enjoy, read books, watch TV, chill, cook, play with your pups, whatever.  Remember to take some time for yourself. You're worth it. 

And now for a little day brightener....

Awwwww.

Happy Birthday, Beener!!!

Twenty nine years ago, at 5:09 PM, Benjamin Francis Harris entered this world, and my life has NEVER been the same.  Never mind I felt like I already knew him, from the minute I saw his face in the delivery room mirror, I knew he had a lock on my heart.  (I watched my C-section in the mirror because I wanted to see him delivered.)  I had not gotten to see Brian delivered(C-section) and I was determined not to miss this moment with Benji.  My doctor thought I was nuts but said" if you can figure out how to do it, fine by me," so I did.  

I can still see Benji's head poking out through my...OK...I won't get graphic...and thinking he was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.  I had originally thought he was a girl because he just seemed so familiar, but this first glance immediately confirmed what he had already "telegraphed" to me a few minutes before delivery, and that was "I'm a boy".  He was wide awake, red as a beet, with the most beautiful copper penny hair I'd ever seen.  I was 100% smitten and still am to this day.  Every old crow thinks her baby's the blackest.  Guilty as charged.

To say that he's been fun is an understatement.  With Benji, there's just always some kind of hilarity going on.  Ask Andrea.  She knows.  I've never quite figured out if he makes things funny or if funny stuff just happens to him.  The things that have happened to him (or things he's chosen to do) are just priceless.  Turkish bath?  Chase and catch a donkey for $$?  Drag a burning effigy behind your car?  I'll stop there because some I can print, others not so much.  His friends know loads more and what I don't know, I don't need to know.
                                                   
Happy Birthday to my baby boy, Benji!  

P. S.  Brian's birthday is in November.  So is Andrea's.  :)))

Pecans

Hi, everybody.  My name is Caroline and I am a stalker.  Specifically a pecan stalker and it starts every year around this time.  I start scoping out all the pecan trees in my neighborhood and I stalk them.  I swing by on my walks to see if they are dropping their booty yet.  Some actually are, but I think that's squirrel influenced AND drought related (?).  Not sure.  They still have on their green, hard as hell shell covers, but I'm watchin'....and I'm waitin'.....because soon I'm gonna make the squirrels fight me for them. 

Not sure why I love cracking pecans but I just do.  There's something so relaxing about being outside and doing something worthwhile, that does not involve yard work or make you sweat.  That's really the best part.  The no sweating.  Sis can sit beside me on the driveway or in the backyard, sunning herself, and suddenly, all is right in the world, and Syria and the rest of the world fade to black.  It's just me, Sis, and the out of doors.  Nature.  And pecan cracking.

I will say sometimes it makes my fingers/fingernails a little sore but that's when I ask my assistant to join me.  He can do the cracking and I can do the picking.  We can also solve the worlds problems while we work, so that's another benefit.  We'll yik and yak about all sorts of things and before you know it, we've got an entire freezer zip lock bag of fresh pecans.  Now, that's livin', folks. 

Ode to Sis

My favorite things about my dog, Sis.  That's what I want to discuss this morning.

1)  I love the fur between her pads.   When she's asleep, I like to tweak it with my fingernails and watch her twitch.
2)  I love the silky soft fur on the sides of her face.  I like to rub my cheeks against hers and smell her dog smell.
3)  I love the puppy softness of her tummy and the way it feels when she's standing, licking egg off my plate.
4)  I love her ears.  I like to flip them back a la pirate or make her a German Fraulein. 
5)  I love that her ears reach a peak of "ripeness" (smell) right before they become too houndy
6)  I love that she's so damn smart.  She knows I get her and vice versa, so it's like having a very best friend in a dog suit.
7)  I love/hate that she can be so stubborn.  Its hilarious, and at the same time, I want to kill her.
8)  I love that she's so girly but snores and barks in her sleep.
9)  I love that she can get her needs met so easily--especially with men.
10)  I love that she's growing old gracefully.  She doesn't care that she's not as young as she once was and she's never worried about how she looks.
11)  I love that she knows exactly what she wants and if you don't know, she'll patiently show you.  Just follow her lead.
12)  I love that she's a hound, loves old nasty burrito wrappers she finds in the alley, rolls in dog poo occasionally, and hates squirrels as much as I do.
13)  I love the "paint brush" tip at the end of her tail and the swirls on either side of her behind.
14)  I love that she's so funny.  Her facial expressions are the bomb and she knows she's funny.
15)  I love that she's honest about her fears. 
16)  I love all the "knobs" on her.  She has fatty tumors (lipomas) all over her and I pretend like they're door bells and ring them, gently.
17)  I love that I can tell when she's lying. 
18) I love that she gives more love than she could ever take. 
 
I love that my love for her is endless....she's my Sis.        

Shopping? NOOOO!

I'm in danger.  Serious danger.  In a desire to pick something up that I needed, I went to North Park.  I know.  Bad idea.  But I went anyway.  I browsed in two stores, before becoming overwhelmed with the desire to run screaming to my car.  I HATE SHOPPING.  Any kind of girl clothes shopping for me and I've got an immediate hate on.  (Except jewelry-- and even then I'll only look in two places before I'm done.)  I'd much rather let my fingers do the walking and, further, I don't want to try on all that stuff.  I think my woman card is perilously close to be yanked.                     

 I guess it's time I faced reality.  I'm not a good "gatherer".  Remember that book that said men were hunters (single focused) and women were gatherers (multi-focused)?  I simply do not want to gather stuff.  Especially stuff that's 1) tight or uncomfortable 2) hot  3) hard to put together 4) strung all over creation 5) looks like poo 6)" we're out of your size"  7) will need to be altered for me to ever wear it  8) = paid for twice.  Damn...what part of that sounds like fun? 

You want to know the worst part?   I left without getting the one thing I went to pick up, and a non-clothing item at that.   Oy, vey....

Hip Pope

It's no secret that I think Pope Francis rocks.  I sort of have a little Pope crush going.  Can't help it.  He's just so cool I would almost become Catholic but then I'm a tad too open minded (liberal) to do that very well.  His latest comment about how priests being celibate is just customary--not dogma--tells me this man really understands humans and human nature.  I mean think about it...if you are going to your priest for marriage/relationship counseling, do you want to talk to someone who is married and has that background of experience, or do you want some guy advising you who is not, and has not, EVER been married?  I personally want someone whose been in the trenches and understand where I'm coming from, and has that experience.  And if the Pope ever allows women priests, I say we vote him in as World Pope.  Here he is in a selfie with students.  I just love him.

As you all already know, my brain hops around to different topics, so hit the brakes for a sharp turn.   Yesterday while at Sam's-- fashion's Mecca--I found some replacement warm up suits for mom.  As I'm digging through and playing fashionista, it occurred to me, do you really buy more clothes for someone who is dying?  And the answer that popped into my head was "hell, yes, you do". I put mom together several of the soft hooded jackets and pants, in colors I liked, hoping she will, too, and called my sister to check out my reality.  I left her a voice mail saying I'd gotten mom some more new warm stuff, asking her "if I'd lost my mind".  She returned my call after dinner assuring me I had not lost my marbles, and that she couldn't look at some of mom's clothes anymore either. 

So, part of today's mission is to take a big old yard trash bag over, again, and weed through mom's clothes.  I'm going to have a real pitchfest.  I may even go BACK to Sam's, who knows.  I know that seems like a no brainer to some people, but sometimes dealing with this disease, my brain gets scrambled.  Since I don't know how long mom has, and the decline is slow but steady, I think that's what trips me up.  It's not like I'm buying mom this seasons couture', so case closed.  I'm off to deliver her new threads.

FOS

In the interest of doing something new this year--and something I've always wanted to do--I called ahead to Central Market to be put on the list of volunteers for Feast of Sharing in November.  This is the celebration HEB hosts every year where they serve low income and anyone else who wants to come, a free Thanksgiving meal.  I'm talkin' the whole shebang.  Right down to the pumpkin pie.  Makes you smile, doesn't it?  It sure does me.  
                                                               
Every year when I see it on TV, I kick myself for not getting my act together earlier, to volunteer.  Not so this year.  They are still looking for volunteers so if you want to come, give Central Market a call.  Later they will send you a list of jobs you can choose from and shift(s) you would like to work.  I think it will be a total blast and a fun way to be of service to the community.  As JFK said "To whom much is given, much is expected".  And the good news is, it's at Fair Park.  I can find that.  I plan to don my my most stylish tennies, my apron, and get busy doing whatever they tell me to do.  I'll report back afterwards how it goes.

And speaking of food, I just caught Sis in the Utility room licking the front of my apron from yesterday.  She licked it last night, too, after I'd finished cooking.  She came and hopped up in my lap last night while I was taking five.  I guess the PW pot pie worked for Sis, too.  Yeah...she got a little bit.  Just a taste. :)))

Dice...(head bang, head bang, head bang)

I have a genius idea.  OK...maybe just genius to me but whatever.  Why don't the food processor people invent a blade(s) that actually chop and dice?  They say the ones on the market do but we both know that's a lie.  They slice or pulverize--they do not dice.  When a true dice is called for, like yesterday, by the time I am finished, I'm a train wreck.  No, my knife skills aren't the greatest but they're OK...they get the job done.  Just not as fast as I'd like.  A machine to do it for me, in a nano second?  Price is no object.  I'm in.

I was doing the prep work yesterday for tonight's PW Chicken Pot pie.  I made the pie crust and it's in the freezer.  That's supposed to make it flakier.  It makes enough for two, so woo hoo.  I've got one for later.  I hate it when the same person (Pioneer Woman)  has two recipes for the same thing--one is an updated version--but they don't tell you that.  While you dice yourself into insanity, you finally figure out one calls for ingredients the other one does not.  And did I mention you are holding a sharp knife?  While you laugh crazily at your discovery, you decide to just do your own damn thing.  What. the. hell.

We'll see how that works out tonight.  I knew I had a busy day today hence the do ahead.  All that's left to do is thaw the pie crust for 20 minutes while I put on my cooking gear, and warm up the pot pie stuff to be pored into the crust.  I figure anytime flavors have a chance to make friends over nite in the refrigerator, that's a good thing.                                  

As for the latest on Syria, I could not be more optimistic.  Anytime we can cool our jets and back the heck off of playing "World Police", other countries have a chance to step forward, and see what they can do.  Waiting is an action.  It's smart.  It's not forcing a solution.  It's allowing other options to surface.  It gives God a chance to enter in. 

"Get 'um over here"

Yesterday right after lunch I went to visit mom.  I figured I could catch her right before her nap, and I did.  Right as I was turning into her room, I heard her talking, and let's just say it was in a rather spirited tone.  Naturally, no one was there, but her TV was on.  Not sure what she was all agitated about but boy, howdy, she was.  I sat down on the bed with her, she recognized me, and her previous conversation ended.

She was groaning off and on, so I asked her if she was in pain.  She said she wasn't, but that "she hadn't been well in awhile".  (Understatement).  Then she told me "heart attack..had one".  At this point, I am sucking my gums to keep from laughing.  Mom has not had a heart attack --or at least one I know about--and as any goofball knows, you don't laugh when somebody tells you that.  Even if it's an imaginary heart attack.  I told her how sorry I was to hear that...yada..yada...yada.  Then I told her about an incident that had occurred over the weekend.  How a certain person who was old enough to know better, had acted extremely inappropriately about something that was none of his business.  This person tried to rake me over the coals, at a party no less, and I had stopped him dead in his tracks.  (No, it wasn't Bruce.)

Mom's next response slayed me.  She told me to "get 'um over here.. I'm gonna punch 'um".  With that, I went to pieces.  She and I laughed and laughed, and then she said it AGAIN, only this time she was SERIOUS.  And pissed.  It just goes to show you.  Once a mother, always a mother.

Before I left, I looked down at one of her hands lying outside of her bed covers.  It was cold as ice, almost transparent, so I held it between mine to warm it up.  I could see almost all of the bones and blood vessels.  Once it was warmer, I tried to tuck it underneath, but she wasn't willing to do that.  I guess she needed it out in case she decides to punch somebody. 
                                                            

Sunday

Here's what I know today :

1)  I choose to go out in the world today with my heart open 
2)  I choose to love others
3)  Others are free to return that love or not, as they see fit
4)  What other people think about me is none of my business
5)  I am free to be me, whatever that looks like
6)  I am free to make my own choices and nothing is required of me
7)  The people in my life are really mirrors of me.  This affords me the opportunity to grow and change.
8)  I follow God's directions.  Nobody else's.
9)  Some people get it.  Some people don't.  I can pray for the ones that don't.
10) Sometimes lessons are hard.  I am willing to learn them anyway.

            

The Twins

                                                                             

Does anyone see the potential for a big old problem here?  Yep.  You see it, too?  It's almost happened every day this week.  I have almost grabbed the wrong container.  I can't tell you how nasty these egg whites look, for starters, but in your coffee?  Nooooo.  I watched Fred cook his egg whites the other morning and those things are just foul looking....they look like skim milk coming out of a container marked egg whites.  Eeewwww.

I can't wait until he gets over his little egg white kick. This is just.... dangerous.  For coffee anyway.

The Most Dreaded Mail

                                                                                

Oh, rats.  Somehow the court system has found me, again, and is requesting the pleasure of my company at 1PM on Nov. 12th.  Oh, ick.  I scanned the list of disqualifiers and exemptions, knowing full well I didn't have a snowballs chance in Havana of meeting any of that criteria but, hey.....give a girl some hope. As I suspected, not a chance.  Looks like I'm there and available.  I think I can handle just about anything but child abuse so I plan to do my civic duty and show up.  I'm not real sure I know what a Petit Jury really is and that's even after I googled it.  I have a feeling I'm about to find out. 

Mary, my elderly next door neighbor, called a few minutes ago and not recognizing the number, I almost didn't answer.  She was at the car place and realized she'd left her water running in the backyard "and would you please go cut it off!"  She was in such a flap that at first I had to slow her roll and find out exactly where she meant.  Mary has the most elaborate (complicated) hose and watering system I have ever encountered and even though she has a relatively new sprinkler system, I can't tell that thing has so much as spit on her yard lately.  Anywho, I found the hose in question, her yard was a tad swampy, but will absorb it all in no time.  She called again just now to be sure I'd "taken care of the crazy old lady next door".  I assured her I'd found it, and all is well.

I had taken her some pumpkin bread on Monday and was told "I'm so glad it's Fall!  That means you'll be cooking again!" and I had to laugh.  She's exactly right, I will, and she said "she wanted to be sure her name was still on the recipient list!"  I assured her she was in the #1 spot, as she is my best taste tester and best critic, after Brian.  Read:  she'll eat anything and is nice.  Plus, walking over with Sis on my heels, to deliver something still warm, is just fun!

Happy Friday to all!! 

Was it really necessary in TEXAS?

                                                                                

Now that I know I didn't dream that my cell phone went off with an Amber alert last night and that a lot of folks had their phones go off, too, I'm rounding the corner to Pissedoffville.  It was for a little boy in Tulsa, Oklahoma who's mentally unstable dad had kidnapped him, and though I am thrilled he is safe, my phone going off like that nearly caused a heart attack.  It was like in the cartoons when someone got so scared they ran around in circles or ran through a door...that was me.  And then when the text alert disappeared from my phone this morning, I wasn't sure what happened last night.

That loud cell phone throbbing "alert" noise certainly works and I was just sure WWIII had started.  Now, as to who made that genius decision last night, I don't know but I'm betting they are regretting their itchy trigger finger this morning.  I know I sure am.

Check back later today.  I may have more to cuss and discuss. 

Early morning

                                                                          

          
This morning I got up early to walk.  It's part of my new regime and so far, I'm one for one.  Cool stuff happens in the early morning a fact lots of you no doubt know and a fact I'd forgotten.  How wonderful it is to watch the world wake up.  Everything is so fresh and beautiful.  And peaceful.  Even the sun isn't awake yet.

It's wonderfully quiet and very few cars are out yet.  Other walkers are contemplative and their good mornings are soft.  Everyone is waking up slowly, together.  Even the birds aren't talking a lot.  Lovely.

This morning as I headed down the block, I heard an occasional noise that sounded like a lady yelling.  Nothing too disturbing.  Just sort of odd.  As I was about to turn the corner, my red headed neighbor across the street, Penny, rounded the corner singing along with her ipod, at the top of her lungs.  Ear plugs in place, she was giving it everything she had and she had no idea how she sounded.  I could barely control my myself.  Hysterical giggles were on the verge of squirting out of every pore on my body and luckily, we were going in opposite directions.  You go, Penny!!  Sing it, girl!!!  Now, back to the quiet.  Please.

I used the time on my walk to contemplate my day ahead.  I asked God to guide and direct me and keep me safe.   What a soothing way to begin my day.  I highly recommend it.

NOOOO!!!

Wow...life just gets more interesting.  I've had two "firsts" in the last twenty four hours.  Sis's dad left yesterday to go out of town for a few days so as a result I was doing his deal with her after he left.  They have all these little rituals, and frankly, I'm not on board for all of them but I do try.  We walked or attempted to, until the lady across the streets laughter and yelling scared Sis, and then I had to go pick up her bad old self because she planted her paws and simply would. not. move.  Nope.  Not budging.  I tried everything.  After I carried her a little ways, she was OK.  We went her way.  Everything was her way.

Then at bedtime, against my better judgement, I put on her flashing red atomic collar, and let her go "alleying", all by herself.  Her dad let's her do this every night and thinks that because she has a flashing red collar on, she's impervious to someones front and back tires.  I say" not on your life, buddy" but so far, so good.  So, I let her go last night.  I hated every minute of it, but I let her.  So, now it's bedtime, she's lying on her bed chewing her bones, and I'm ready for bed.  Alarms on, all is good.

At some point I hear her whine but I'm asleep so I blow her off......for awhile...all is quiet.  Then she starts to howl....like she's been left in the woods, all alone, no friends, no family, no food.  All by her lonesome. Plaintive...lonely...sad...until I yell "Sis, NOOOO", twice, and then she shuts up.  What the hell, Sis.   It's 3:30AM...you're killing me here.

Cut to this morning.  Sis is all good, we do our thing, I hop in the shower and am showering along and notice I am not showering alone.  Minor freakness.  There is a small 2 inch baby geko lizard in there with me--the see through kind with the spots--and I hate those.  Do I grab the sprayer and shoot him down the drain....will he just crawl right back up?  Do I grab him and throw him in the toilet and flush him?  Whadaya doooo here?                                                

Since I hated all those options, I just showered real fast, dried off, and told him he best 1) stay in the corner and 2) not be there by the time I got dressed, and he was.  Now what?

I decided I definitely could not commit murder (toilet flush) first thing in the morning so I grabbed him, all wiggly and squirmy, and ran to the front door.  Almost barfing, I yanked it open, put him on the fern on the front porch, and slammed the front door.  Then I ran to wash my hands.

Eeewww, reptiles. If tomorrow morning starts like this, I'm getting back in bed.  Period.

Today is just ahhh

Women continue to amaze me with their strength and perseverance and now I can add one more name to that ever growing list: Diana Nyad.  Egads what a role model for us to follow.  Setting a goal and against all odds, not stopping until it's done.  And those odds were pretty scary ones: sharks, jellyfish, cramps, dehydration, and physical pressures beyond that which most of us could tolerate.  Add to that her age of 64, and I'm even more impressed.  Damn, women are the nuts.

Now on to what's shakin': with two loaves of pumpkin bread in the oven, I have a few minutes to take five before I whip out Mr. Ironing board and commence flattening pieces of clothing.  I already have a pile to go to the cleaners for them to do, that are just way beyond my endurance (tolerance).  Sis is on her chair in the den snoozing so all is right in the world or at least it seems that way.

As I was making the pumpkin bread batter I was thinking how smells, sounds--sense memories--are so deeply buried until we see, hear, feel, or smell something that pulls them out of the depths of our brain.  Cinnamon is always Fall for me.  Lavender is an ahhhh smell that takes me to Lake Austin Resort.  The smell and sounds of the lakes in the Hill Country are always Camp Longhorn for me and in fact, one night walking back to my room, I flashed back to when I was a counselor at Longhorn walking through the camp at night.  I thought about things, people, places, and foods--always foods--that I hadn't thought about in almost 40 years, that were part of my Longhorn years.  The sounds of the cicadas, the lapping of the water against the shore or the dock, the lizard on the path, and the familiar smell was pure Hill Country.  I don't know any other way to describe it.  The lakes there just smell different than here.  The plants are different, the water's different, and most delicious of all are those rolling hills with all the different trees. No wonder it smells different.  And the water....it sounds different to me too.  There's a softness, a gentleness, that I don't experience in the lakes around Dallas.

Another smell I remembered was the smell of Johnson's baby cream that came in the little white jar.  It smells just like J and J baby powder but was for dry or irritated tail feathers (diaper rash) or whatever else ailed you.  I loved that stuff because of the smell.   Anybody besides me old enough to remember the smell of Sweetheart soap?  I remember the smell from a Bluebird project we did once at a friends house.  I had never smelled it before since mom had never bought that soap brand, but I loved it.  I was hooked at the first sniff.

And speaking of smells.....I think my pumpkin bread is ready.  Uummmm. Toasted with a little butter is to die for.

Quiet Sunday

Goooood, Lord...  I am just back from a Sam's run and a drop off to mom, and it's hotter than seven shades of hell outside.  Sis has just come in post squirrel hunt and is flopped on the kitchen floor in an attempt to cool down that hot black suit of hers.  In fact, it's too damn hot for clothes, period.  Dog or otherwise.

I always have fun at Sam's.  It's a sickness I have.  I love the people watching, looking at all the stuff, and even though some of their food is grrrrrrrrross, there's a lot of other things that are exactly what I need when I need it.  And did I mention the little kids?   Two little sisters were attempting to decide on their Halloween costumes and all I could do was laugh.  Dang...it's only September first.

 Since it's pretty much one stop shopping, it was my go-to this afternoon for Neutrogena Rainbath for mom in the girnormous pump container.   We keep it in her shower and it lasts her for quite awhile given that she's so tiny and the container is such a monster.  She has used it for as long as I can remember and I found out that sometimes her Hospice lady shampoos her hair with it too (?) on days she's not having her hair done.  I'm not sure if it's supposed to be used for shampoo but I can guarantee you mom has had a LOT WORSE things put on her hair than this, and so who cares.  I sure don't.  She's clean and fresh.  That's all I care about.

She also needed some new soft shirts and little cardi's  for Fall (see how trendy my style vocab is) and I struck gold in the soft and cheapo department.  Mom would probably have croaked earlier in her life to be styling a la Sam's but these days she just wants to be comfortable.  The shirts and cardi's I found are soft as a baby's blanket and even though I already know the laundry at the Plaza will torture them, I. don't. care.  The laundry tortures EVERYTHING so I'll just toss them out when she looks all bag lady and get more.  Done and done.

I'm feeling nappish right about now so I may just indulge myself and go crawl in my cool fresh bed.  Happy napping.