December 17, 2010

 Today is a snow day--well, technically it's an after-the-snow day.  Still nasty out there even though things are warming a bit.  I can hear snow and ice melting on the air conditioner.  It's 'freaking' my dogs out.  They are still not use to the noises here.  It's been almost two weeks since we moved.  Talk about a major adjustment.  Moving is always stressful, divorce is worse--combine the two and through in looking for a job and we are all kind of freaking out.  But for right now, at this moment we are o.k.  I'm sitting here with my cheap hair color soaking into the hair and stinking while Elvis is looking at me from the bed like I have my priorities screwed up.  Maybe he's right--maybe I should just say "Screw the hair, just go back to bed".  But even on a snow day I have things I should be doing.  Our, the dogs and I, little apartment is really nothing more than a basement--in 1970's tradition and fashion--that consist of a small hallway with a pole, a 'laundry room' with an old full size washer and dryer and a pole.  It also has a monster of a water tank that has a separate 'heating system'.  I still haven't figured that one out yet.  The washer is next to a big utility sink.  Good thing because that's were it drains.  The water trickles into the washer--and I mean T-R-I-C-K-L-E--so that it takes almost one and a half hours to wash.  The dryer is a relic and though it works it is so dusty and 'mean' that I'm afraid the thing will combust if  I run it.  However, there is a little room to the side where the stairs are that lead to the main house.  In there is a make-shift clothes line that I use to dry my clothes when it's bad outside.  This is a common area and not part of my apartment and is only separated from my apartment by a tarp.  Yeah, the privacy factor here is not of major importance.  Off the laundry room is the main room which is basically a studio apartment.  You have the kitchenette along one wall-stove, sink, cabinets and roughly a yard of counter.  And there's a full size fridge but it's missing some of it's inside components like a bottom shelf and drawers.  But, hey, it works.  I also have my table there to use as an extra counter whenever that need arises.  It hasn't yet but you never know-it might.  In the middle here is my desk with computer and behind me massive marble top 'coffee' table that belongs to her--Ms. Anderson--along with the yellow crushed velvet settee and tatty brown vinyl recliner complete with duct tape.  Then in the far corner is a bed, my daughters hope chest and fully loaded bookcases--my books.  I also have a EdenPURE  space heater that works pretty good.  It heats the room sufficiently.  The bathroom is the worst though.  It's smaller than the hall but shaped like a hall.  The toilette is at one end.  A rather dark end.  When you flush you are required to hold the handle down until it empties.  Not to do so will cause other problems that I would very much want to avoid.  In the middle of the room is the sink.  This is actually fine.  The light--the only light that works--is above the sink.  So is the switch to turn it on.  Getting up in the middle of the night to pee has been an adventure.  And lastly is that awesomely wonderful stand-up shower.  I say 'stand-up' because you can NOT bend over.  There simply is no room to do that.  If you drop it, it stays there.  This is the smallest shower ever created.  The shower head barely comes out of the ceiling so the water has to hit the opposite wall before it hits you.  Plus the head needs a really good cleaning--I think anyway.  I'm not sure the rust will come off but I got some 'Lime Away' just in case.  Plus, you really can't turn around.  When you get in you stay there.  I have bruises on both my arms from trying to wash and constantly hitting the wall and door.  And now I'm thinking 'crap, I got to get in there to wash this stuff from my hair'.  This was not very well thought out.  There's only one thing for it--hold my breath and jump in.

November 12, 2010

  Take chicken and place in a big pot (once it's cut up) and cover with water, salt, pepper and cut up sage.  Cook until chicken is almost off bones, adding liquid in smallish amounts as needed.  Remove chicken from pot and allow to cool (so that when you remove it from the bones you don't burn your fingers--this is VERY important--I can not stress this enough!).  In the pot with the chicken stock put chopped onion, celery, carrot and fresh garlic.  How much of these things is up to you--I like a lot so I use a lot including the garlic.  Cook over medium heat until the carrots just start to become tender.  At this point add fresh sage, thyme and a sprig of rosemary.  Continue cooking.  While all of this is going on you should have managed to get that chicken off the bone.  Discard bones, grissel and skin.  Return chicken back to the pot and cook until all veg is fork tender but NOT mush.  About six to eight minutes before everything is done add your egg noodles.  Cook until just tender.  Remove from heat and add a quarter stick of butter.  Taste.  Add salt and pepper (if needed).  And that's my chicken soup. 
  Yes, I can make chicken soup.  Very good chicken soup.  I don't usually like chicken and rarely ever eat--until now.  But being broke and unemployed will make you look at the 'chickens' in your life in a whole new light.  Turns out there's a lot of things I can do with chicken that I actually like!   And now that my EBT card has finally arrived  (foodstamps) I will find out how many other 'creative' ways I can cook that bird.  And to think I use to have one as a pet.

October 4, 2010

  Divorce is never an easy thing.  It really is like a tearing of the flesh.  You spend so much time and put so much of yourself into another person then for whatever reason it suddenly isn't enough anymore.  Well, at least that's what it always seems like when starts to fall apart.   The truth is we get so distracted with life that we don't always 'see' or understand what our partner may be missing in their lives no matter how much they try to tell us.  We do, however, become painfully aware of what we are missing.  In fact, we become so side-tracked or obsessed with our own 'need' that we simply refuse to see our partners 'need'.  We just want our 'need' filled.  A lot of people turn to other means of filling that void--some with alcohol or drugs, some with gambling or compulsive shopping.  Others might use sex or have affairs.  Which was the case in my first marriage.  After that ended, I promised myself and God that I would never resort to that again and I haven't.  Odd, I haven't even wanted to.  Honestly, it only fills you with shame and self-loathing.  And if you end up marrying the person whom you had the affair with (I know, it rarely ever happens but it does happen) you pay for it every day of your life.  Even if nothing is ever said there is that constant reminder from the person you are with--that lack of trust and respect.  The cost is always too much.  And for my affair the price was extremely high indeed. In that atmosphere neither of you can really be happy. 
  But I don't regret having married again.  I actually did, and still do, love my second husband.  Though I don't think I was ever 'in love'.  I know after some time this parting my be the best thing for both of us but right now it just feels like a big gaping wound.  And I know in the days and weeks to come we will probably both end up acting like real asses but right now I just feel like my heart and lungs have been ripped out of my chest.  And I'm sure God will help me build a new life, one that He has planed for me, but right now I'm watching mine ride down the road in a bright red pick-up truck.

July 29, 2010

Death is not the end; it is the intermission.

"For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it

may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?"

~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Requiescat

Strew on her roses, roses and never a spray of yew!

In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too!

Her mirth the world required: She bathed it in smiles of glee.

But her heart was tired, tired, and now they let her be.

Her life was turning, turning, in mazes of heat and sound.

But for peace her soul was yearning, and now peace laps her round.

Her cabin'd, ample spirit, it flutter'd and fail'd for breath.

To-night it doth inherit the vasty hall of death.

  ~Matthew Arnold

"...One by one they were all becoming shades.  Better to pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.  He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live."

  ~James Joyce, The Dead; The Dubliners

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead men naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.

 ~Dylan Thomas, And Death Shall Have No Domion, first stanza

"...Now that she was gone he understood how lonely her life must have been, sitting night after night alone in that room.  His life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory--if anyone remembered him."

"He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears.  He began to doubt the reality of what his memory told him.  He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away.  He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear.  He waited for some minutes, listening.  He could hear nothing:  the night was perfectly silent.  He listened again: perfectly silent.  He felt that he was alone."

   ~James Joyce, A Painful Case, The Dubliners

Safe in Their Alabaster Chambers--

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers--

Untouched by Morning

And untouched by Noon--

Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection--

Rafter of satin,

And Roof of stone.

Light laughs the breeze

In her Castle above them--

Babbles the Bee in a stolid Ear,

Pipe the Sweet Birds in ignorant cadence--

Ah, what sagacity perished here.

   ~Emily Dickinson,  as written in 1859

EPITAPH TO A DOG

Near this spot

Are deposited the Remains

of one

Who possessed Beauty

Without Vanity,

Strength without Insolence,

Courage without Ferocity,

And all the Virtues of Man

Without his Vices.

This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery

If inscribed over Human Ashes,

Is but a just tribute to the Memeory of

"Boatswain," a Dog

Who was born at Newdoundland,

May, 1803,

And died at Newstead Abby

Nov. 18, 1808.

{This is Lord Byron's tribute to his dog, "Boatswain," written on a monument in the garden of Newstead Abby.  There is an accompanying poem but it is a bit lengthy and emotional so I did not include it.}

"...Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland.  It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and , farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves.  It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Micheal Furey lay buried.  It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstone, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.  His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."

   ~James Joyce, The Dead, The Dubliners

All the photographs were taken at Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia,

July 2, 2010 by Katy-jean Adams (c)

July 15, 2010

 ~ for Nana

i thank You God

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

 day of life and of love and wings; and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any--lifted from the no

of all nothing--human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e.e.cummings

Happy Birthday Nana!

Miss you!

{And if Saint Francis starts to crowd you

tell him to shove over}

Feds to File Suit Over Arizona Immigration Law

I don't really do political type post but I just wondered what everyone else thought of this and is there other info by another source. Just for the record I do understand Arizona being adamant about immigration because they do take the brunt of all this. I also thought that the Federal Government had promised to so something about this during the Bush administration. What happened? I don't know but I do know if I were a citizen of one of our bordering poverty stricken countries I would be risking my life to get here. Without a doubt.



Feds to File Suit Over Arizona Immigration Law

June 27, 2010

 "There were sketches of buildings such as had never stood on the face of the earth.  They were as the first houses built by the first man born, who had never heard of others building before him. There was nothing to be said of them, except that each structure was inevitably what it had to be."

~Ayn Rand; The Fountainhead

They say I'm a little off, not quite 'there', weird--actually, they say I have bi-polar but I never let any of that change the way I think, the way I look at things, or my view of the world around me.  It is absolutely fascinating!  And one of the things I find so endlessly fascinating are structures, buildings, houses, schools, churches (but those have a special place). 

 I love wood and nails, bricks and mortar, steel, glass, concrete!

Give me arches, domes, spires, stained glass, brass and chrome!

 I don't care if it's rusted, twisted, rotted, or abandoned.  It can old or new, ornate or simple, historic or common.  Give me Gaudi or van Alen, Gehry or Wright.  Make it Greek Revival, Federalist, Mid-Century, Ultra-Modern or an Anti-bellum plantation. 

 It could be the Jefferson Monument...

 ...or the apartment building around the corner.

There is something so wonderful and emotional about a place.  It's not just the bricks and mortar but the blood, sweat and total human energy that goes into it.  The stories behind them and the feelings derived from them.  It's having something that's 'concrete' evoked emotions of awe or fear or familiarity.  Experience and memories are born from these.  And I find it all absolutely beautiful.

 Yes, I may be a little weird and had I been any good at math I would have been an architect.  But, alas, I suck at math so I can only admire other peoples work and the beauty that time has dressed it in. 

 People are a lot like buildings.  A foundation is laid down,  over a life time we are built and eventually we become what we 'have to be'.

June 24,2010

 I am not a fashionista. Not from a lack of trying--more from a lack of money.  My style these days is more a loose comfortable skirt and a feminine t-shirt.  Even though I consider myself a girly girl (I really do love to mess around with clothes, shoes, jewelry, oh my!) I actually have to put money out on other things (lights, rent, gas, food-you know, bills).  I also don't have the time to devote to really enjoying fashion as it should be enjoyed because of other things--God, family, the future and work.  So I was kind of surprised when I got an invitation to join a fashion and style blogsite.  I went back through all my blogs and it was just as I suspected--not a single blog entry about fashion.  So, maybe they were thinking of my Avon blog--but no, that can't be.   I only have one entry because I realized right away that no one-and I mean NO ONE-has ever been there.  I actually asked people I know what they thought of it and they had no idea what I was talking about.  It's funny.  I have two fan pages.  And I have a mere handful-not even-of fans on these two fan pages.  (I think it's the same people).  Yet, they never know what I'm talking about when I ask them what they think of whatever I've posted.  Do you think maybe they 'hide' me?  Why would you be a 'fan' of something you're gonna end up hiding?  Because this way they can 'support' me without actually supporting me.   

 Anyway, if I were really fashion active I would have jumped at the opportunity--if indeed it were an actual thing.  There was a time, back in the day, when I was up on everything-knew all the designers and their histories, names and histories of the different styles, modelling and run way shows--I even helped to put one on.  I loved fashion.  I was excepted into the Boulder School of Design in Hotlanta, Georgia.  But, my life being the poop hole that it was, I was told point blank to get my head out of the clouds, no one was going to pay for me and if I thought I could get a grant that just showed how ignorant I was.  Ok then.  So much for my 'new' family.  However, I really did not have any real hope of doing anything with my life--other than to be some guys wife and have his kids.  And, realistically, that's all anybody else expected of my life.  Except that one teacher (my Fashion Merchandising teacher, Mrs. Gaines) who tried very hard to get me into the Boulder School of Design in Atlanta, Georgia.  She even found a way for me to get a government grant because I was in foster care.  And I admit, I did get a glimmer of hope right before I was laughed at.  So ended my love affair with fashion. 

 I never really got into the modelling thing though.  I had the body for it--I was just too short.  I was thin but very curvy and very 'hippy'.  I really looked good back in the day.  I just didn't know it.  Really, did not know this.  But I lacked two very important criteria for modelling: Confidence and Support.  In fact, I think you need these things to be successful in any aspect of life.  You need to know that you can do something and you need other people to remind you that you can do something.  But I believed that I was homely and skinny and just awkward so I always felt better behind the camera.  (The above photograph was taken in 1987 I think--I was twenty-two and the mother of one).

  Ah, well.  These days I don't really have the time to study fashion trends and designers--even though I run a company where I make and sell tote bags and clothing.  (Wearable art my ass).  And as for the body, well let's just say when I talk about back fat and muffin top I'm NOT talking about food.  I'm shorter now.  I still have the hips but now I also have the butt, the belly, and the boobs to match.  Ain't life grand!  But on the upside, getting dressed in the morning is a whole lot easier--I only have a few things that still fit.

Peaks of Otter-2009-Jimmy and My fat self.

Not a good picture!

June 22, 2010

More Doggie Wisedom

"Always guard your masters plate so you can get first dibs on 'pre-washing'."

"Always wag your tail more furiously than the other dogs when you see your master.  You will get more attention and 'special' treats."

"If you wake your master up with lots of 'kisses' they will let you go pee first."

"And finally, NEVER sleep directly at your masters feet unless you know how to fly."

                                                         ~Words of Wisdom from Elvis the Terrier

June 17, 2010

  I am not a highly political person.  You will not find me debating policy or spewing propaganda.  I live by my own doctrines, my own philosophy, my own gut.  I love my God, my family, my state (VA) and my country.  But I also love the diverse world we live in--from Canada to Brazil, from Ireland to India to China.  God created this fantastically beautiful and endlessly fascinating Earth and we have been given the privilege of being it's caretakers.  We have failed miserably.  No doubt our latest ongoing catastrophe will have far reaching effects on our planet and our lives.  I'm sure by now everyone has seen the latest scenes of the Gulf.  I thought I might post some photos that I took of Orange Beach, Alabama before all this--2006. This is what it use to look like:

When I was a kid I was always told:

"If you don't take care of what you have you will never have anything."

May 31, 2010

  Those who know me know I grew up in foster homes.  The first home that I remember was the Schmidts (from 15mns to 7 1/2 yrs.).  Mrs. Schmidt whom I called 'Momma Dear' came from a large family-I think there were seven kids.  The youngest I want to call Jason for some reason-I know his name started with a 'J'.  I believe it was during my fifth summer--about 1969--he came by the house late one evening.  It was always 'special' when he came by because it was so rare him being so much younger than her.  In my little girl mind I thought he was just so good looking with his long hair and his pretty blue eyes. He stayed for dinner and then he told us he had inlisted.  I had absolutely no idea what that meant.  It wasn't until sometime toward the end of summer that he returned.  His appearance was so altered that I did not reconize him.  I remember he had on a green uniform and a funny little hat.  It was a weekend day, it was hot and Wesley (my foster brother) and I were playing Monopoly on the front porch.  He came by himself.  I can still see him walking up the walk to the porch, me staring at him, he reached in his pocket and pulled out two Hershey bars handing us both one.  He reached over and gave my head a rub (the only person who ever could do that) and said, "Hey, kiddo" and walked into the house.  Wesley and I kept playing while I ate my candy bar.  Notice I said 'I ate'.  Wesley waited me out and when I was done he ate his real slow teasing me.  But half way through Momma Dear, Uncle Dick (my name for Mr. Schmidt) and her baby brother came outside.  She was trying not to cry.  In my childs mind I did not understand what was happening but I knew it was not good.  I remember the stiffness of the uniform as he bent to hung me and kiss the top of my head.  Little did I know it would be the last time any of us ever saw him. 

  The following poem I wrote in 1987 during the Gulf war.  I thought of him when I wrote it though it is a fictional account.   And it is to his memory and all those who gave their lives protecting ours that this is dedicated.

A Rose For Jason

    The day that Jason went away many tears were shed.  Momma just kept praying to herself, burying her face in her tissue.  You see Jason was the baby of the family.  Just shy of eighteen, he was called to serve his country in the war.  I remember the roses were in full bloom, bright beautiful red.  Jason had picked the prettiest one and gave it to momma.  He told her not to worry, God will take care of him.  He also told her he loved her--she could always count of that.

    It was gray with smoke and dust on the field the day Jason died.  He took a bullet in the heart; in an instant his life was gone.  Blood poured from his chest, bright crimson red.  In that moment, no one noticed; no one cared.  He was alone.  Just another one down for the count of bodies on the ground.  The life that was once my baby brother is gone now forever.

    It's been three years since momma got the news about Jason's death.  You know she greives still.  Sometimes at night when I lay awake, I can hear her crying.  I miss my brother like I've never missed anything before but I think I miss momma more.  The sparkle in her eyes has gone.  She used to sing as she did her work but now she doesn't sing at all.  She never mentions his name; she never looks at his pictires.  I remember how she used to perk-up whenever he walked into the room.  She would get a bounce in her step, her eyes would twinkle and her face would glow with love and pride that only a mother could feel.  It's not that she doesn't love us; it's just that Jason was her baby.  He was special to us all. 

    Now each summer when the rose bush is in full bloom we grown kids go out and pick just one bright, beautiful, crimson rose for Jason.

    We love you, Jason.

May 16, 2010

 More Doggie Wisedom:
     
       "Never sniff another dogs butt and growl at him when he sniffs yours."

       "Never examine your neighbors trash if he's watering his yard."

       "And always 'mark' your stuff so no one else takes it."

May 14, 2010

 Doggie Wisdom:
    "If you're hot, find some shade.  If you're thirsty, find some water.  If you're tired, sit down.  If you're scared, bark like mad.  If you're hungry, check your bowl.  If it's empty, check the other dogs bowl.  Never bite the hand that feeds you.  Or scratches your belly.  Pee on everything and you will never get lost.  Never hurry and always take time to smell the pee."

                                                                                                  ~Elvis, the Terrior

May 3, 2010

 On Wednesday, April 21 Miss Fretwell aged 73 died.  She had graduated from Farmville High and Stratford College (in Danville) somewhere in the middle of the last century.  She had worked for the State Disability Dept. in Richmond, went to the local Methodist Church, was on the seniors bowling team, the Farmville Lions club and was one of the Daughters of the American Revolution.  Well, that's what the paper read anyway.  It also reported that she was survived by a sister and two nieces.  That friends could come view the deceased that very same night and she would be buried the next day.  What it did not say was that she had a stroke, fell into a coma and her sister (who had to travel all the way up from Georgia) pulled the plug.  That her part time gardener, Earl, had been with her when it happened.  And thank God because she lived alone.  She never married and never had any children.  The paper doesn't say whether she ever had a great love or lover.  What kind of girl she may have been, what kind of things she had done as a young woman.  Did she ever want children?  Did she even like them?  Other than bowling, what did she like to do?  The paper never tells these things.
  It also didn't mention that she was always neatly dressed, perfectly coiffed, and very well groomed even when she was working outside.  I only really knew her as a neighbor-even though I lived two blocks down and one block over.  She always stopped to comment on how cute the dogs were or how pretty my hair looked today.  She was the one who told me about the $500 dollar fine that Longwood would impose if they caught the dogs pooping on the field before they ever put the signs up.  She was kind-hearted but would most certainly tell you what she thought.  She did not mince words.  She was very honest and yet there was something about her you just couldn't help but like-or maybe you just felt a little sorry for her.  She could be a bit stubborn and very oppinionated  but if you had to do battle with some unsavory faction such as the electric company or the town offices she was the one to go to.  She was a staunch Republican-a John McCain supporter.  I know this because I got my McCain sign from her-though I'm not really a Republican I did not have the heart to tell her-or the nerve!  You see the papers never really tell you about the person or their relations leaving those of us who bother to read it wondering about the people we don't know.  Or maybe it's just me wondering. 
 So to the memory of Miss Fretwell and all the Miss Fretwells out there Bon Voyage!  I will remember you. 

 Miss Fretwell died Wednesday, April 21, 2010.  Her house went on the market Friday, April 23, 2010.

April 27, 2010

I haven't a lot to say tonight.  On the way home-right around the corner in fact-the boys and I saw a squirral.  It was trying to cross the road.  I say trying because from right under it's front arms and down he was partially flattened.  He could not move anything below his arms.  I knew immediately what happened-a car.  That poor thing was trying so despartly to get across the road.  An elderly couple had stopped their car when they saw us and allowed it to cross.  She asked if maybe she should run over it again (not that she did it in the first place) and I thought that it might actually be more human to do that.  I know that sounds so harsh but it was suffering so much.  But once she got to the corner I guess she changed her mind because she stopped for a moment and then kept going.  I took the boys home-they were trying to get it-and told my husband.  His view was to 'let nature take care of it' and 'let one of the (neighborhood) cats get it'.  Sick!  I went back out and it had managed to get about five feet up a tree into the crook of it and laid there.  I didn't know what to do so I just prayed that God would make it's death swift.   I remember when I was a kid-about twelve or so-I had one die in my hands from the same thing.  I thought of that when I saw him lain across the crook of that tree.  I know God loves all His creatures.  I'm sure I sound like a sap but it was heartwrenching-at least to me.

 

April 16, 2010

  Wow!  Eighty-one degrees and it's not quite noon.  Big mistake walking back in the 'Greens' today.  I thought poor Elvis was going to die.  The poor little dog barely made it home-every spot of shade we came across he had to lay in, tongue lolling out, and refused to move.  But since I'm the human and should have realized how hot it was getting before we went so far I had no choice but to stay right there beside him.  Everytime he stopped I thought for sure I'd have to carry him home-but then he'd find the energy to make to the next patch of shade.  We did this all the way down 4th Ave. ext. -about a 1/4 mile- which is a long way when your legs aren't even a foot high!  Funny thing though, as soon as he caught a glimpse of the house he ran-pulling me and Fuggo- until he hit that porch.  It was so chilly yesterday and the day before that I really did not think it was going to be this warm today.  Guess I should have listened to John Bernier last night.  I know better now.  

  Sitting there on the edge of someone's yard under the shade of a very big tree- the tree was no where near the edge of the yard but the shadow was- taking one of Elvis' breaks, I thought about the ocean and going to Kiptopeke State Park.   Kiptopeke is right on the edge of the Delmarva Penninsula on the bay.  There are two beaches there-one for humans and one for dogs.  You know where we were-the doggie beach!  The dogs had the time of their lives out there.  We stayed on that beach all day-well 'daddy' went fishing off the pier.  Fuggo chased a crab into the water-funniest thing.  He had never seen a crab before.  He kept looking at it, looking at me. Then back to the crab.  Then back to me.  It was as if he were trying to say, "Momma, look at this funny thing.  What the hell is it?  Momma, check it out!"   I wished I had had my camara then.  But the best was watching Elvis trying to fight the waves.  Every wave that came in he had to grawl and bite at.  Then the wave would go out and he'd chase it.  Wave would come back in and there would be running then growling and biting.  People thought I was a little nuts because I was laughing so hard.  Eventually, he got use to them and actually enjoyed getting in the water.  (This struck me as odd since he hates a bath).  Fuggo never really took to the water but he was mesmerized by everything on the beach. 

   Sitting there in that man's yard under the shade of his tree this morning had me wishing I could take them back there.  But living off unemployment (and what meager bit I get from my shop) doesn't really allow for vacation.   Oh, well, I have faith.  I know things will turn around if we just keep trying.  In the meantime, I think I will make some iced tea and chill out with my 'boys'.  After all, it's Friday.  The weekend can come a bit early.  Enjoy!

April 12, 2010

  It's a lovely evening and perfect for a walk which is what we just did-the boys and I.  It's funny though the things that go through your head when your walking.  I noticed that everyone else was outside too. We walked over to First Ave. as we usually do.  The guy down the road in the house that looks like Mt. Vernon was still working on his yard-the back this time.  As we walked I realized almost everyone had mowed their lawn just recently-I say almost everyone since me and two other people haven't.  The family who is trying to sell their house-for almost nine months now-were all out in the front yard.  The eldest daughter and a friend were cleaning out the car they had pulled all the way into the yard-mom was on the porch reading-dad and the two boys were playing catch-even the cat was sitting in the yard licking herself.  I noticed all this but what went through my head was " How on earth do they managed to keep so many people in that tiny yard?"   We walked on past 'The Duck Lady's' house-so called because she owns a duck-I noticed that she-like me- needed to get the grass cut.  'The Duck Lady' is an elderly woman who lives alone in her little albeit nice bungalow with her two cats and the duck.  When the murders took place she was right up there in the middle of all the 'gore mungers', smoking her Marlboro reds and  filling us in on all the 'gossip'. It's reassuring to know that I'm in such good company.  Then of course we walk by the 'Murder House'-shiver.  I can't look at the place anymore without thinking about that punk with a hammer-and then I have flashes of the old comedian Gallahger with his stupid watermelon and sledge hammer.  We walk on past.  Now the field-hey they need to cut the grass too.  Alright!  Longwood University needs to cut  its grass-cool!  There are dandilions growing all over it!  And some girl running through the middle of it.  Oh, no, a sudden flash of an old Massengil comercial ran through my head.  Or was it Summers Eve?  I don't know-lets move on.  Around the far end and half way home.  Then a sudden tug on the leash and I stop-Elvis is taking a poop.  Great!  I hope no one sees him since I did not think to bring a poop bag.  O.k. done and let's go.  Another yank on the leash-Fuggo is taking a poop!  I swear these are the poopingest dogs I've ever had.  Now I kinda pick up the pace a bit.  Alright- about to cross the street on the stretch home.  A mini van drives by slowly and some doofy looking guy is waving his arm off so I wave back.  Do I know this guy?  Don't think so.  Then I realize I'm standing there with two dogs just smelling a fire hydrant-talk about looking doofy.  So I yank the leash this time.  Home boys, let's go home!  But apparently some other dog had been down the same sidewalk and peed on everything.  My two dogs had to stop every foot to smell some other dogs pee!  Then I had a rather disturbing thought.  People are a lot like dogs.  We may not literally smell someones pee but we go around smelling each other all the time.  Not only that but we always have our noses in someone elses business or up someones butt (in a manner of speaking).  So I can't be too brisk with them if they stop to smell the pee.  Finally, we are almost home.  We actually got past Buddie's house without him seeing us.  Coming up on the lilacs now.  Oh, they smell so sweet.  Suddenly I'm five again and in my nanna's bedroom just off Monument Avenue.  She always smelled of lilac or Jergen's lotion-the original cherry almond one.  I do miss my nanna-I really do.  Around the corner now and home.  The sun is almost set-the sky has a lingering strip of pink and lavender.  The plants on my front porch look like arms reaching out to welcome us home.  Goodnight.

April 5, 2010

 No 'House' tonight!  Rotton!  Well, a least there's 'Mystery Diagnoses'.  I'm a big fan of the medical shows.  It's been a long hot day.  The hubby and I did yard work-'bout time.   Everything he has hurts including his hips-this he couldn't understand.  I told him it's because he hadn't work in seven/eight months.  Since he hasn't really done anything he hasn't used those muscles.  He's gonna really be hurting tommorrow.  Poor man, he's all scratched up-he got stuck in some briers trying to cut them down. (Now, Katy, stop laughing.  It wasn't funny.)  Oh, it's gonna really hurt when he tries to go to bed.  I do feel kinda bad for him-he did work today.  I did too but I did not do all climbing up into bushes and trees and briers patches.  I started cleaning up the flower beds and potted some plants.  All pretty boring but had to be done.

  The boys and I got caught in the rain-no, I take that back-we got caught in the hail.  We started to run but since we were two and a half blocks away it was kinda pointless.  Hail kinda stings when it bounces off bare flesh.  The dogs didn't seem to impressed with it either.   Well, at least it wasn't big hail. 

  I bought those two big containers of greeting cards in this evening.  I've got a card carousel I bought a couple of years ago when I was actually making and selling the things.  But the cards I'm talking about are the ones I got from Prof. Kelly's house.  Well, I say I got.  Jimmy really bid on them.  I would never have thought twice about them.  But since I have them now I thought it was time to look through them.  She saved what looks to be a couple of hundred dollars worth of cards.  For every occasion.  Handmade cards on recycled paper.  Fancy cards with special envelopes.  Boxes of cards.  Funny cards, pretty cards, cards with prints on them.  Some from companies that are no longer in business.  Some dating back to the 50's.  There are cards for everything under the sun.  Not just the normal things-weddings, birthday, graduation, Christmas-but for things like Boss' day and Make-a-Wish day.  I think there may even be a crazy cat day card.  It's just awesome-in a really weird sort of way.  I have never in my life seen anything remotely like this.  There is even an old box of 'Bridge' napkins from the 50's.  Does anybody still play 'Bridge'?  Do you think trying to sell some of this stuff-the old stuff at least-would be wrong or, I don't know, sleezy?  I wonder if anyone would actually buy it.  I don't know but it's still sitting in my living room floor.  I better get in there and clean it up-it's getting kinda late now.  Plus he should be back in a few minutes.  I can't think when he's around.  God bless and take care.