The Robot

Not lost in space or anything so complex as that.  No, I just want to find my docking station so I can recharge before the next cleaning.  The once known world has become a maze of unknown objects.  Metal legs were unseen before.  Wooden objects in the pathway I had learned.  Why do the humanoids do these things to me? 

They have owned me for almost two years.  I wonder how many years that is in robot years?  I heard the shorter one say one year of dog life is 7 in humanoid life.  All I could think was what is a dog?  Pretty much all I know is how to roll over the floor.  My inner workings control one big brush.  The factory humanoid called it the sweeper brush.   The whirly brushes on my right and left reach for dirt and dust along the edges of things.  All three brushes throw stuff into the dust bin that is in my behind area.

I decided to let myself get caught under a thing that looks like another robot.  I heard the really big humanoid say it plays records.  I do not know what a record is.  What is play?  All I do is run all over this place and brush up the dirt.  That feels like work.  Maybe play is when I hide from the humanoids.   Under a thing that they call the bed is the best hiding place.  They cannot reach me there.  Today I decided to see if I could play.  I put my side brushes under the edge of a rug.  I kicked the brushes off and sped away laughing to myself.  Ha, ha, the play was fun. 

It is time for me to go back to a place that feeds me.  The smaller humanoid has picked me up and now I am a flying robot.  No, she just puts me down and pulls out the dustpan from my behind.  ?R% , excuse me.  That is a robot cough.  Sometimes I get dust in the wrong places and a cough helps.  She is touching me too much today.  That place is really private and it tickles.  How did I learn about tickles?  Rats, she found the brushes and put them back in place.  She is even pulling all that hair out of my other brush.  Wish she would quit shedding so I did not get that hair in my brush.

Finally, she sets me on the floor.  I am still hungry and must go to my feeding place.  I am dizzy from her turning me in so many directions when she cleaned me.  I look everywhere for my feeding place.  Where is it?  Not there, I've looked there three times.  Moving things around on my floor and making me dizzy.  No wonder I cannot find my feeding place.

At last, there it is!  Food, I need food.  Now I will send a message to the humanoids.  "Charging starts."  Robbie the Robot will be ready to serve again tomorrow, and the next day and the next.....

PS, I mop.  But most important, I am really cute.

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Take care,

Janice

The Tower of Babel

Often we humans make up stories to explain something.  There may be a reader or two who will be upset with what is about to be placed out on the web by this blogger.  The concept that anything in the Holy Bible is a myth will be blaspheme to some.  You had best quit reading right now if you are of that mindset.  Lots of storytelling through the ages to explain things are

The Tower of Babel is one such myth/story.  The short version is after The Great Flood, another myth, everyone spoke the same language.  The folks decided to build a temple to reach the heavens.  Guess they wanted a bit of facetime with The Creator.  Iphones had not been invented on earth, so the facetime app was not an option.  Gradually the building went higher and higher.  

Apparently, The Creator did not want a face-to-face with the earthlings.  The obvious answer was to have everyone speak a different language.  Suddenly there was no longer easy communication at the work site.  Work on the building stopped as the people sought out others with the same language.  As a matter of fact, according to the story, like speaking folks dispersed across the earth.

Recently, two men were texting about a common hobby.  One kept thinking he was on messenger.  The other gentleman was saying they were on a different text message app.  Both men were speaking/texting in Americanized English.  The words were not connecting to the proper brain cells.  They were not attempting to build a Tower of Babel.  They were just attempting to set up a time to practice Morse code.  Now how on earth are they going to communicate in Morse code when they were not even understanding the typed word?  Eventually,  they made a phone call and were able to get things worked out to their satisfaction.

Borsippa Ziggurat, a possible location of the Tower of Babel

 Yves GELLIE/Gamma-Rapho/ Getty Images 

Whether the Tower of Babel story is real or Memorex is not my concern.  A simple conversation about a time to meet or how to reset a password can quickly become convoluted.  Humans seem to be challenged when it comes to just communicating with one another.  I am not sure it took The Creator's intervention to interfere with the tower building project.  Probably a couple of people just could not come to an agreement on something simple.  Maybe which way the toilet paper should come off the roll.  Tower of Babel for certain.

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Take care,

Janice

Just Like That

There is an ad for The Rifleman, a 1950's made for TV western.  In the ad the young son was looking back as he and his dad, the rifleman, were riding away for a place.  The father says something like, "Now, son, no looking back." The son's reply is, "I'm not looking back, I remembering back."

Often it is easier to be "remembering back" than living with the "now" of life.  Mental snapshots of precious times spent with dear ones.  There is comfort in remembering as there is no longer a chance for surprises or changes to the scenes.  Playing pool with a three-year-old grandson is just the same today as it was 18 years ago.   That some three-year-old teaching Grandpa how to play miniature golf and get the ball in the hole is the same.  

First, the grandson giggled because he was sweating.  "I svetty" and a giggle erupted for the precious face. Now, you think like a child for a moment.  Water on your face when there was no place for water to come from to be on your face.  Those drops of water just appeared.  How funny is that!  What a wonder for a child.  Where did it come from, why is it there?  I mean, just like that there are water droplets on your face.  Maybe even your arms.  But it is there.

Next came the miniature golf lessons.  Grandpa would make a shot or five and finally in the ball would go.  Three-year-old decided he needed to show Grandpa how this game was played.  The ball goes past the hole.  The ball goes off the little fareway.   After multiple attempts, the three-year-old hits the hole.  With his left hand on his hip, he uses the club to point to the ball in the hole.  "Just like that, Grandpa", were his exact words.

You see, now that the three-year-old is almost twenty-one years old.  He lives in another state a day and a half drive away from here.  He has a job so not much time to play miniature golf with Grandpa.  Besides, the grandson has moved on to bigger jobs.  This winter he is outfitting skiers for the Breckenridge ski slopes.  Next summer he will, again, be a white water rafting guide.  Pretty sure he will not be showing his grandpa how to do either of those activities in the near time frame.  Remembering back, just like that.

Showing how to kick the soccer ball,
just like that

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Take care,

Janice

Just Write

According to all the experts, one must write every day.  Again and again, it is daily writing is required to improve writing skills.  All one has to do is come up with a subject and a sort of plan for a story.  There are even websites to go to for inspiration.  But it all requires the same thing, making one's brain move out of neutral and think.  That is the hardest part some days, moving out of neutral.

Neutral is a nice place to be.  Not worrying about the stock market.  Not looking into the status of the return that has not been acknowledged.  Ignoring the dust bunnies or the spider webs under the tables.  Just sitting in neutral, not thinking.  But not thinking is hard, too.  Thoughts creep into the molecules of the grey cells.  

Thoughts about which day of the week is it.  Wonder how an old friend is doing now that his wife has passed from this life.  When was the last time the cleaning tab was put in the commode tank?  Wonder if the console could be raised up high enough for the robot cleaner to get underneath cause the dust under it is really gross.  Wonder if it is time to get my hair cut?  Is the weather going to be cold tomorrow?

Neutral may be good but it is almost impossible to do that.  Emptying one's mind of all thoughts is more than just a little challenging.  To grow in spiritual ways requires that quieting of the mind.  Still that quieting is the very thing needed to hear the muses or the spirit.  An opening for inspiration to enter one's mind so the writing can be done.

The instructor teaches that even if the writing is not good, write.  In the writing, there may be a seed that can grow into a great story.  Unless the dust bunnies or the spider webs have some seeds hidden in them, there is not much hope from this post.   Sure, just write.  

Hands Up!

Old cowboy shows kinda always show at least one scene where the lawman says, "Hands Up!"  Then the fools just will not put their hands up.  In going through the boxes she found an old postcard.  It was sent in the early 50's by her aunt to a roommate.  The aunt was a phone operator for Southwestern Bell. So was the roommate.  Lots of young women made it big, well, made it, working for the phone company.

Swithboards operators.  They knew which wires to plug into the correct connection.  There were some of the young women that were just long distance operators.  Others were directory assistance.  Back in the day of longdistance charges, the operator would tell the person making the caller to add money to the payphone.  Pay phones were located everywhere.  In subways, in hotel lobbies, on street corners, and restaurants.  

Back to the postcard.  She remembered seeing in the the photobox for years.  The box was a hat box before becoming the picture box.  For almost 50 years the box was in the closet.  The closet was in her youngest sister's room.  Seeing that postcard flooded her with memories or going to that closet that was filled with shelves.  The shelves held the spare sheets, pillows, and unironed clothes. The bottom shelf and floor held sister's toys.

The closet was in the almost brand new house her parents bought.  It was red brick with indoor plumbing.  Mom and Dad had a half bath in a small room off their bedroom.  Daddy had a closet and so did Mom in their bedroom.  Sister and I each had our own clothes closets.  No more hanging our clothes on nail driven into the walls.  There was something called central heat to keep them warm.  It was amazing.  

But still the post card brought back the memories of vacations with the aunt, her parents and older sisters.  All six people crammed into the two door Chevy coup.  Vacations before the aunt and sisters married.  When everything was perfect and fun.  When a kid just played.  Before having to be all grown up.  Before the aunt and mom and dad died when the sisters were kids at home.  Playing dolls for a while, playing house, or cowboys hunting the bad guys.  Hands up or I'll shoot.

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take care,

Janice

Little Surprises

Strange how life has a way of taking one on unexpected adventures.  A man and his wife made a trip to North Dakota to celebrate an uncle's 50th wedding anniversary.  Caught in a late-winter snowstorm in South Dakota they inched along the two-lane road.  Her job was to attempt to keep the white line at the edge of the road in sight.  Let the husband know if he seemed to be veering too far in either direction.  Too close on the right they could slide into the ditch.  Too far to the left they could have a head-on collision.  

The man's hands gripped the steering wheel for dear life.  Unable to see clearly beyond the hood of the car most of the time his body was a mass of tension.  Even though it was the middle of the day, headlights were needed.  Though the lights did little to help see in the blizzard conditions, maybe other drivers would see them.  Man and wife kept their eyes peeled watching for lights cast by other vehicles.  Few were seen.

How had they gotten into this situation?  The wife used her circa 2005 cell phone to view the radar image of the storm's progress.  It appeared the storm would move east across I 29.  All to the west appeared to be clearing.  Based on that radar image they decided to head west to avoid the storm.  They turned off Interstate 29 around St. Joseph, MO.   The husband chose a road he had driven on previous trips to visit his uncle and cousins.  

The roads were cleared and all was looking good as they angled across Nebraska.  Turning due north on US Hwy. 83 saw things change rapidly.  Again, checking the radar, it became clear there had been an oversight.  Or maybe a new development.  The storm had created a large swirl on the backside.  The couple was heading directly into the worst of it.   There was no stopping as there were no towns.  Just stretches of the high plains.   Somewhere near the Nebraska/South Dakota border, the snow started falling. 

About 50 miles south of I 90 it was the full blizzard conditions described above.  The couple was thankful for a heater that worked.  While the wind whipped around the car, no drifts were accumulating.   What should have been a 40- minute drive took over 2 hours.  At times he could drive 35 MPH.  More times closer to 15 to 20 MPH.  

Finally, they saw signs of nearing I 90.  On the north side of the interstate highway was a truck stop.  They pulled into a parking spot.  They still had to make it to the door of the building.  The walks were icy.  The wind blew so hard the wife was hardly able to make it up the slight rise in the sidewalk.  She slid backward twice without falling.  The husband was more successful in navigating the ice.  Finally, they reached the door and entered.  

The air was smoky inside but who cared.  They were not having to be in a death grip of steering wheels or watching the white stripe inch by.  The truck stop provided shelter in the storm.  With restrooms, homecooked food, and road condition updates the couple settled in for the storm to pass.  Once the truckers began feeling they could head west, the couple joined in the line.  When they finally stopped for the night, they were told that I 90 had been closed to traffic just as they left the truck stop. 

The storm roared into the late night.  By morning the sky was blue and the wind abated.  Newscasts were thoroughly checked for weather conditions.  No snow or storms for at least 10 days out.  So the couple lived to make it to the uncle's anniversary party.  It was a surprise for uncle.  Not nearly the surprise that wrap-around blizzard had been for that couple.

Morning after a blizzard in North Dakota

The wedding gown and suit were worn 50 years earlier.

Take care,

Janice

 

An Empty Glass

It sits waiting for him.  The favorite glass for water, tea, milk, or whiskey.  Just on the same shelf.  In the same place, day after dreary day.  Always the first glass he reached for when needing to quench a special thirst.  His glass.

He liked lots of ice in the tea.  No ice in the water.  No way to have milk with ice unless it was sweetened with sugar and some vanilla.  That combination was almost like an ice cream shake.  Depending on the type of day he had at work whiskey was sometimes straight.  A good day at work?  He would add a few cubes of ice and maybe a smokey curl of orange rind.  

How did that glass become his favorite?  Was it the shape, size, or the fact his daughter gave it to him?  His initials were etched into the smooth surface.  His glass and the daughter that gave it to him were both so special to him.  He always liked to comment about the sparkle in her eyes being like the sparkle of that favorite glass.

The night the car left the pavement and slammed into the tree shattered more than the glass of the windshield.  It shattered the life of his beloved daughter.  Paramedics revived her from a state of death.  Doctors put her on feeding tubes and catheters.  That is how she lived for over seven years.  He visited her daily.  After each of the visits, he pulled down that favorite glass.  Gradually it was filled with less water, tea, or milk.  More often it was filled with whiskey.  

She was not braindead the doctors told him.  She was in a vegetative state.  Would she improve?  The doctors did not know.  She just laid there.  Unable to talk, respond, eat, drink, move.  Just lays there.  That is not the sparkly-eyed girl of his.  She always said she would never want to live like that as that was not living.  

Four years after the accident, he wanted to release his sparkling daughter from the living hell.  The state said no.  First one judge and another said no.  The state courts all said yes.  The Right to Life folks took the fight all the way to the Supreme Court.  The high justices said yes, the parents have the right to remove the feeding tube.  After still more court dates to confirm she did not want to live this way, the feeding tube was removed.  Twelve days passed and she was finally released to once again be dead.  Just as the paramedics had found her in that ditch.  The protestors that had stood vigil for four years outside the rehab center finally left.

Over the next six years, his hands held the glass.  Once more there was water, tea, milk, and occasionally whiskey.  When he looked at the glass he did not always see her sparkling eyes.  More often he saw the feeding tube being removed.  He saw the coffin being lowered into that awful hole.  Like the hole in his heart.  His living hell ended at the end of a rope.

The glass is dusty now.  I haven't touched it since I found him in the carport.  At the end of the rope.  Out of his living hell.  Today the test results came.  Cancer.  Why does God continue to punish me?  I gave birth to her, loved and helped her.  Those men decided she should not be dead and revived her into a living hell.  I am tired.  No treatments.  Let me just take this glass, remove the dust and enjoy a nice glass of tea.  I'll see her sparkling eyes soon.  And bring him his favorite glass.

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This is a fictional retake of a real-life situation that occurred in the area where we lived in the '80s and '90s.  Nancy Cruzan was the young lady in an auto wreck.  Her parents Joe and Joyce fought all the way to the US Supreme Court to allow her to be released from her living hell.  Tough choices.   

Stay safe,

Janice

A Different Point of View

Walking along the sidewalk I stare down at the concrete.  The grey reflects the sky.  A dreary day.  I stop and look toward the apartments across the street.  Only rich people live there.  It is starting to snow.  The cold seeps into my thin jacket.  I heard people talking about the electricity going out when I was sitting in the warmth of the eating area of Chipolte's.  I bet the rich people are staying warm.  What the heck!  All the street lights just went out.  Even in the shopping center parking lot and the apartments are dark  Ha!  Now those rich people can be as cold as I am every night.  

My feet carry me to the entrance to the covered parking area of the apartments.  Maybe I can find an unlocked car door.  Sitting in a car in a seat out of the wind and rain would sure feel good.  I always look through the windows before I try the door.  Don't want to set off some car alarm accidentally.  The yellow light on the dashboard tells me if the car has a sensor.  None of the doors were unlocked on the first level of the parking garage.  

My tired, frozen feet take me across the darkened street to the other parking garage.  Still looking for a place to get out of the rain that has now turned to snow.  What the heck, this is central Texas.  It is not supposed to snow here.  One car then another pickup, all locked.  There is a Jeep with a dust cover.  

My stiff fingers lift the edge of the dust cover.  How stupid can rich people be?  I can sit right here with this cover down and be out of the weather.  Hidden from the curious eyes of the rich.  Rich always judging me.  I hate their eyes.  It was fine for me to go "protect them" from the towel heads.  But back here in the US, they won't look at me.  Ask for a dollar?  They sometimes spit at me.

Let me see what I can find in this Jeep.  The glove box is not even locked.  All kinds of things I can add to my backpack.  I've always wanted a GPS so I'll just tear this loose from the windshield.  Stupid rich people.  Look, I found a bag of face masks, sanitizers, and cleaning cloths.  Guess these rich folks are trying to keep from getting Covid.  Anyway, more for my backpack.  I may spit on the steering wheel just to leave some infection for them rich folks.  

How much longer is it going to be so cold?  Even though I am able to go get some food, the walk to and from Mcdonald's is torture.  I have taken all the blankets and covers from the backseat.  I still shiver.  I check the entrance to the apartment halls.  Locked.  But the hall is full of snow.  Ha, rich people get snow on their feet, too.  I return to the Jeep, eat my food.  I just throw my trash on the floor.  If I had a knife I might rip the cloth roof of this stupid, rich person's Jeep.  But not till the lights are back on and I can sit inside some warm place for a while.

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Entrance by our apartment

Background:  The above story is looking back to last year's snowmageddon.  A writing prompt suggested looking at an event from a different point of view.  I chose to take the point of view of the homeless person that used our 1999 Jeep Wrangler for protection.  The doors were off the Jeep so the protection was minimal and the entrance was easy.  The Jeep was in the south parking garage, protected by a partial wall.  Everything that was not locked up was pilfered.  Everything from the useful items to trinkets.  During the time someone was using our Jeep, we had relocated to our Son's home as he had heat and we did not.  Once back in our home, Hubby went to check the battery of the Jeep.  The battery was working but he discovered the trash and theft.  We could have been terribly angry.  But the truth is that Jeep may have saved a life.  It certainly provided shelter for someone.

Take care,

Janice

In the Notion!

For any of the readers that are not around someone who sews, notions are all the items one needs to sew.  Needles, thread, scissors, snaps, hook and eyes, buttons, trims, and the list goes on and on.  Here is an example I found on Esty.  The site was RicsRelics.

Pretty much some of everything in that photo is in my sewing storage table, basket, assigned boxes.  The hemming guide I have is like the one in the photo.  Mine was purchased in the fall of 1964 so I could take Homemaking III.  I did not take the first or second year.  The teacher had me show what I could do and I was accepted.  

Suit made in 1964

That acceptance was what 4-H and my mom's teaching did for me.  Between what I have purchased for projects or found on sale and stuff from my mom's collection I have stuff not even shown.  Of course, since the 1960's there have been notions created that make sewing projects easier.  Velcro is a must-have item for many of my projects.  Double-sided fusible interfacing, stitch witchery, rotary cutters, self-healing cutting boards, ad infinitum.  

My mother was a true seamstress.  She kept up on all the latest items to make sewing easier.  If a grandchild begged to spend the night and had no PJs, no problem.  Mom would just go to her fabric stash, take a few measurements, cut out the PJs, and stitch in no time at all.  She was known to decide one morning to make something for a grandchild or daughter.  By evening the outfit would be near completion.

Making puppet eyes, 2009

Mostly over the past several years, my sewing has been more craft and home decor items.  In 2009 I made about 15 puppets and backgrounds for the puppet plays.  That puppet set went to Nicaragua for a church that members of our church were helping to rebuild.  The feedback was the children enjoyed the puppet show.  All the items remained there for the teachers to have available. 

The most complicated projects were the enclosures for the two youngest grandsons.  The project started with the lower bunk for Grandson #4.  Then Grandson #5 needed an enclosure, too.  The bottom required making 'additions' to hold bookshelves and a side table.  That took more than sewing skills, namely PVC pipes.  The top had no place to attach.  That required flexible tent poles in fabric channels.  

Today, well, Saturday as it is past midnight, I was working on a couple of blankets.  I had the flannel I had purchased to make PJ bottoms.  Those were to be for all the grandkids, Son, DIL, Ed, Hubby, and I.  Shingles happened.  So bottoms were purchased and flannel was set aside for some other project.  A couple of blankets for donation had become the use for several yards of the flannel.  One side is flannel the other side is a water-resistant fabric.  Blanket batting is sandwiched between the two fabrics.  I have one blanket ready to press and to the topstitching.  The second is ready to begin assembly.

There is one item in the picture of the sewing notions that cannot be purchased.  It cannot be borrowed.  Without it, any sewing person will tell you to not even sit down at the machine.  You will make mistakes, become frustrated, and not accomplish anything.  It is being in the notion to sew.  It takes a certain mind and emotional set to sew successfully.  Some folks, like my mom, are in the notion to sew almost all the time.  Me, not so much so.  Therefore, if I am in the notion, I go for it.  Good things happen.  Hoping I can stay in the notion to get a few of the other projects that were 'set aside'.  Yes, I am still in the notion.

Take care,

Janice

Horses Running Wild

Standing on the top of the rise in the prairie she saw the horses running wild.  The gallops were smooth.  Puffs of dust with each hoof fall.  Tails flowing in the breeze like waves on the ocean.  Wishing she had the freedom to run like those mustangs.  The sweet, fresh air was rushing across the muscles of their bodies.  No one is demanding them to take a saddle on their backs.  No plows or buggies to pull.  Only the freedom to run.

As she watched the horses dip behind the next rise her mom called to her.  Time to come set the table for supper.  There were always tasks.  Tables to be set, washing to be scrubbed, windows to be washed.  Never was any task done correctly or fast enough.  If only once Mom would say thanks.  If only once Mom would say, 'good job'.  Only once.

Wild Horses Running Together is a photograph by Natural Selection Craig Tuttle
which was uploaded on May 22nd, 2012.

Friday Fiction Free write.

Janice

More to Goodwill

We are slowly but surely getting a few things back in order.  After the last several months of being out of kilter with illnesses and travels it feels good to be able to get stuff back in place.  And it just makes sense to take it a bit slower as tasks are done.  Certainly slower than I would have let us say 10 years ago. 

A new scarf from Guatemala was a gift from Son's FIL this Christmas.  It is a part of the stuff needing to find a place to enjoy for a while.  It is handwoven and silky soft.  Isabelle suggested using the scarf as a wall hanging. I have chosen to use it on my dining table as a runner.  What do you think?   The wooden candle holder was a gift in 2019 from Son's FIL.  Perfect match to the scarf.  And the scarf may find itself around my neck someday.

Lessons learned about one new item in one item out is still in practice.  I keep plastic bags in my clothes closet to fill with the 'out' things.  It makes it that much easier to do the sorting and eliminating.  Surely makes it easier the older I live to be.  So far I have collected four bags to drop off my next trip out.  There are a couple of large items in the storage room that will join the bags. 

For the time being, I have given up on the hide-a-bed.  I purchased a folding twin frame.  That should provide a place for Cousin to sleep over the next few visits.  I found the twin-size hide-a-bed.  It was a 3 to 4 month wait period.  Figured the $80 item that would be here by the 21st was a lot better deal than the $1600 due in the summer.  If lucky.  

The replacement sofa bed was being shipped from overseas.  The last item I ordered from overseas was 6 weeks late.  The item arrived in a damaged box and the item looked like this. 
 

In addition to the issue of damage, the second item looked only similar to the photo.  And there is one other thing.  I may have mentioned this before.  Sis #4 special ordered a sofa for her TV room.  It was shopped from China.  Sis #4 called to see why the sofa was not ready to be delivered.  Why?  Seems it was at the bottom of the ocean.  Several of the containers shifted during shipment.  Well, they fell off the vessel and sank.  

When I contacted customer service about my little broken house problem, I received a reply in less than a day.  Yes-sir-re-bob.  That was more goodwill in our world than many of us think.  

Y'all take care,

Janice

Well, Fudge

Speaking of fudge, the pantry has all the makings for fudge.  That sounds really good.  I bet Cousin would enjoy some of that.  Also, have the makings for fruitcake cookies.  Now that the holiday decorations are cleared from the apartment, making goodies for her visit might be a good activity after I get a few winks of sleep.

As you can tell from the date, I failed to write on the 19th.  I even thought about the subject.  Of course, the thought left my mind as soon as it came to me.  The Dirty Rain happened again.  What a mess.  Hubby called the office which we seldom do unless a desperate emergency like a clogged stool.  But this dirty water is actually making quite the mess.  The office noted nothing could be done as the water is a result of searching for and repairing a leak.  My inner devil came out and I climbed the three flights of stairs too quickly.  I was winded.

Not even knocking I entered the apartment where the work was being done.  There was the repairman and an apartment custodian.  I told them they were making a mess on my patio furniture.  Well, don't worry, they indicated, that was the last 5 gallons of water we will be pouring out.  The patio door to the fourth-floor apartment was leaking causing damage.  Okay, that does not change the fact that my patio furniture is covered in all the stuff that washed off the front of the building.  Sorry.

While I did not get the last cartload of decorations placed on the shelves, I did get the patio furniture scrubbed.  The patio door glass received a good Windex cleaning as well as the glass tabletop.  The tabletop and the chairs had a gummy residue that took more scrubbing than just water residue. I suspect there were chemicals and sealants washed down from the repair work.  I may need to use a blade to remove the last of the residue.  

Regardless, the patio received a sweeping, leaves removed from around pots, etc, and it is done.  One more thing checked off the list of to-dos.    No matter, I still skipped a day of writing.  Well, fudge.

Take care,

Janice

PS, we did eat the frozen dinners as planned.  They took 8 minutes and were very tasty!

Time to Put Away

After a call from KC Cousin, I realized I needed to get the "winter" decorations put away and bring out some Valentine sparkle.  I continue to reduce the number of boxes used each year for the Christmas holiday season.  The weight of each box is important as aging neither makes one stronger nor more agile.  For example Hubby was doing the yearly doctor visit just last week.  Putting one foot directly in front of the other did not make even one step before Dr. D. said, "Stop, you already failed".  Even with stretch lab.

Kids have snow scene houses

Kids have tree, I have penguins

Just not the best idea to be crawling around on step ladders while balancing heavy boxes overhead. About three years ago I culled many of the less precious items from the 50+ years of collecting.  The next reduction will be more difficult for certain.  As there is no plan to move, why cull more items?  I would like to get down to one storage closet instead of the two we currently rent.  With everything from foodstuff to insurance increasing in price, trimming where possible is just smart business.  But the sack of pine cones we picked up on our trip through the western US in 1971?  Do I really have to eliminate them?

Lighted canvass scene I 
repaired this year for the kids.
This is one of DIL's favs
they picked from my stuff.

DIL and Son have the Joy, I have Peace. 
They have the big Holy Couple
I have the picture and the hanging items

When we visit our Son's home during the holidays I see many of my cherished Christmas decorations.  Their first year in their home they were looking for decorations.  DIL's first spouse did not allow her to have any of her Christmas decorations her mom had given her.  That was a double blow as DIL's mom had passed in the late 1990's.  I rejoiced to be able to take tubs of decorations to them.  They selected what they wanted.  I kept a few of the leftovers, the remainder was donated. 

Even with all the decorations, I still get all up into the season.  This year I found the premade ornaments in the photo below.  All I had to do was select the photos, print, cut and insert.  These were tags on their gifts.  Yes, DJ at the top and Lila Kitty at the bottom were included.

By tomorrow evening all the Christmas deco will be at home in the storage closet across the hall.  There will be two times up the ladder.  I'll be pooped by the evening.  We will eat frozen dinners unless Hubby wants to cook.  And another Christmas will be in the photo book.  All put away for another 10 months.

Y'all stay safe and be of good cheer,

Janice 

 

Dirty Rain?

Our apartment is on the bottom floor of the building.  There are sprinkler systems near our patio door.  When water began splashing on our patio door, I just assumed it was the sprinkler system.  Hubby is one that needs to know about every little thing.  To outside he went to check out the falling water.  It was not the sprinkler system, a person was on a floor above us.  The person, a repairman, was standing on a small balcony wringing out a mop full of dirty water.  

We live in the center of this building.  Circles are trash cans.

Now We have a very dirty patio door and furniture.  Not sure I want to attempt to clean it today.  Who knows if the guy has finished the cleanup.  My luck, I would start cleaning and he would come out with another mop full of dirty water!  My hair is clean so I do not want dirty water all over me.  Lord only knows what would be in the water anyway.

Arrows mark doggie poo bag stations

It is interesting all the little things that go on around an apartment complex.  Animals are allowed.  There is almost always a dog walker on the sidewalk.  Most walkers pick up the dog's soil.  There are a few that do not.  That means we must step carefully anytime we cross the narrow strip of grass to get into Son's auto. Pretty inconsiderate.  The apartment complex provides bags and trash drops.  Folks are just lazy, I guess.  

We have observed that often the folks not picking up after the animals are usually very occupied with their phones.   More fun to text, watch a video or play candy crush than pick-up poo.  I must agree.  Picking up poo is not the most pleasant way to spend one's time.  Neither is cleaning it off my shoes. 😒  Almost as gross as walking into dirty rain. 

Stay safe, y'all.  And may all your rain be clean.

Janice

Life Can Be A Ball

If one is a football fan which Hubby is, today is perfect.  He just watched the first of at least 3 games for the day.  It is the time of playoff and wild card games.  Dallas and Kansas City are his favorite teams.  They are playing in separate games today.  Of course, the programming folks are making certain the games have their own time slots.  Maximum advertising income.  Professional football is, after all, just a business. 

Hubby became interested in the Cowboys because of my family, possibly.  He was living in the Dallas area so it was kind of natural.  My aunt was the Executive Secretary to one of the associates of Clint Murchinson.  My family had Cowboy stickers on our cars in 1961 when few folks were paying much attention to the football team.  

The attention level ramped up pretty quickly.  Eddie LeBaron was the first quarterback.  Dandy Don Meridith was the next starting quarterback followed by Craig Morton.  The following years brought names like Roger Staubach, Danny White, Tony Romo, Troy Aikman, and the current starter Dak Prescott.  Other less known names are scattered throughout the lineage.   The quarterbacks may be the leader but without folks like Bob Lily, Lee Roy Jordon, Mel Renfro, Chuck Howley, Bob Hayes, Emmitt Kelly, Jethro Pugh, Charley Waters, Too Tall Jones, Randy White, Jason Whitten, and the list goes on and on the quarterbacks could do little.

At this moment the Cowboys are not in a good place.  Of course, there are still two quarters to play so anything can happen.  Such as the punt kicker just was hit. Roughing of the kicker penalty gave the ball back to Dallas.  And so it will go for the rest of the day, no matter the teams that are playing.

Yesterday, the ball was a golf ball.  Grandson #5 asked to go hit some golf balls with his dad at a golf range.  G#5, also, wanted his Grandpa A to come along.  Hubby pretended to me it was not something he wanted to do.  Then he winked and smiled, pleased the G#5 wanted to spend time with him, too.  This morning Hubby shared that G#5 gave him a compliment that was similar to telling a person they didn't smell bad for a fat person.  G#5 had said, "Grandpa you did good!  You did better than Dad or I thought you would".  Hubby smiled as he recounted the day with his son and grandson.  Yes, life can be a ball. 

Take care and be safe, y'all,

Janice
 

A Gift

Life in itself is a gift.  One we humans so often take for granted.  I am fortunate to have a loving, family starting with my Hubby, Son, DIL, grandchildren, sisters, BIL, nieces, nephews, and their families.  In December I celebrated my 75th birthday.  I was taken out for multiple dinners at fancy restaurants, treated to a concert, and looking forward to the time in a batting cage. 

As you know, if you have visited my blog often, I make/compile videos for my family members for birthdays ending in 0 or 5.  Over the years I have compiled videos for my niece's wedding, my Mom's 90th birthday, Cousin P's 80th, and programs for different organizations.  This year another one of my nieces compiled the following for my birthday.  I wanted to share it with you at this time.

 

Hope you enjoy seeing this bit of my life and so many of the people that I love.  What a blessing to have that many folks love me.  My heart is full at the thought.

As for the cover photo, that is my sisters and me at our Christmas gathering.  Yes, we do have that much fun just about every time we are together.  We just do not always have matching jammies.

May each of you be blessed with such loving relationships.

Janice

Oops, Skipped A Day

Yesterday passed without my writing.  Does the Great Writing Monitor in the Sky give me a bad sticker?🥺👎🏻  Maybe there is a pass for having an upset tummy.  On Wednesday evening Hubby started having an upset tummy.  Not to be left behind, I awoke at 5 AM on Friday with the same issue. Short-lived as I was much improved by bedtime.  Look, now Universe.  This is enough.  We hardly leave the apartment.  Why do we keep picking up these bugs!  I mean it, this is enough!

We received, finally, a package I had ordered on 12/4.  It was a Christmas gift for Son and DIL.  Son's favorite Christmas movie is Christmas Vacation.  DIL likes little Christmas villages.  I ordered a National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation Lighted Building The Griswold Holiday House.

And the little man figure looks nothing like the photo.

Ok, that's enough.

Take care.

Janice.

Oh, The Plans We Make

Today was the day to get the kitchen sink cabinet put back together.  Last week Hubby noticed a puddle of water beneath the kitchen sink.  As we live in an apartment complex he decided he did not want to mess with the repair.  Usually, his old repairman genes kick in and he must have the problem figured out before turning in a repair request.  After having Covid following a trip, add in 3 of 4 more trips, and several holiday celebrations he just did not want to fool with it.  A request for service was turned in last Saturday.  

In preparation for a repairperson, I emptied all the contents beneath the sink.  How that many things can be underneath surprised me.  The biggest surprise was the lid coming off a bottle of dish detergent.  What a mess.  Once that was cleaned up, I returned to the plan of removing the stuff.  All the stuff was stuffed into a favorite camping tote and placed on the dryer.  The plastic liner was removed, cleaned, sanitized, and hung to dry above the washing machine.  That filled up the small laundry room.  All that was left was to wait for the repairman.

Before Christmas, I had queried Grandson #5 what he would like from Hubby and I.  He answered, "a Snorlax, it's a Pokemon thing."   A What?  Yes, that was my reaction, too.  Google is this Grandma's best friend.  That photo to the right shows this huge bean bag that is Snorlax.  Confirmation with G#5 this was the item.   As it is huge, parents were consulted.  They ask G#5 if the girl was included, he said it would be okay with him.  (Growing up too quickly.) To purchase prefilled,  Snorlax would cost over $550 US.  Nope.  Shopping around I found I could get the cover and buy the needed beans for around 1/4 of that number.

Beans for bean bags are not cheap.  Initially, the Snorlax beanbag cover was purchased.  Two 100 L containers of beans were purchased.  Those turned out to be less than half of the volume needed.  There was no way to get the two additional sacks of beans before Christmas.  Order placed and the total was within the $125 range for the whole kit and kaboodle.  Happy Grandma, happy Grandson #5.  The beans (also, noted as frijoles, lol) came around the same day I came down with the latest bug.  Grandson #5 was growing anxious to enjoy his Snorlax.  

Tuesday I had finally recovered enough from whatever glurge-a-ma-call-it bug I had to complete Grandson #5's Christmas gift.  With Hubby in tow, we headed to Son's place to fill Snorlax with frijoles, styrofoam not refried.  First, a cotton sheet was placed on the floor.  Snorlax was opened and the temporary stuffings were all removed.  One bag of beans was already inside in a self-contained breathable bag.  The second bag of styrofoam beans was nowhere to be found.  Oh, well we would leave the one bag inside.  Now to get 200 L additional beans into the bag without 100 L being all over the floor and us.  Static electricity makes this a challenge.  

Within an hour the clingy little beads were inside Snorlax.  My pants were covered up to the knees as were Hubby's pants.  DJ, who must always help Grandpa and I, had a fair share of beans on her as well.  We brushed as much off as possible onto the cotton cloth.  Cloth folded from the corners and removed to the car along with the pillow stuffing to fill till the beans came.  The few stray beans were sucked into a handheld vac.  Static cling made it a challenge just to clean the vac, too.  How full was Snorlax?  Still needs the missing 100 L as the head is totally empty.  One more day to really complete that project.

After a visit with our sweet Granddaughter, taking DJ for a brief squirrel hunt, we left for home.  Upon opening the door we saw the repairman was working on the leak project.  He determined the entire faucet system needed replacing.  Once he completed the installation he bid us a good evening.  I was too spent to cook chili or put all the stuff back under the sink.  Hubby put a frozen pizza in the oven.  He did add some cheeses and other goodies to have a bit more volume.  It was a very satisfying meal.  And quick cleanup.  

Wednesday instead of putting the stuff back under the sink was a day of cooking as I noted yesterday.  Thursday would be great for putting the under sink stuff back in place.  Afterward, the laundry would be tackled.  Grabbing the disinfecting cloths I began working to clean the walls, doors, and bottom of the sink area.  Doors, walls, and horror!  Water on the bottom of the cabinet.  Not a lot but water.  Wipe it up and frown.  Fine.  Just fine.  One more plan down the tubes.  Ugh.  Okay, I am on the floor so I'll make the best of it and clean all the fronts and backs of the lower cabinet doors.  

Everything I could reach while on the floor was cleaned.  Reached under the fridge as far as possible as well as the stove.  Into the corners cleaning all the crumbs Robbie the Robovac does not reach.  Once this was complete, I began working on other areas on the cabinet tops.  Brewed a fresh pot of coffee.  Scrubbed the bag of potatoes in a sink of water.  Started food for a brunch for us.  Hubby was at his 6-months checkup which had required fasting.  I checked under the sink once more.  

Wet, again.  Ugh.  I wiped up the water and felt around on the input pipes and handles.  I could not detect any dampness.  I grabbed a towel, folded it to double thickness, and placed it in the area where I had found the water.  The water was clean, so that already eliminated any of the exit pipes.  I went about finishing the few chores around the sink area.  Hubby arrived home and I gave him the bad news.  Checking under the sink there was a single round, wet spot on the paper towel, 1.5", 3.8 cm.  Hubby had the need to further check the problem.  It was the cold water input at the valve handle.  Another request was submitted.

The under sink stuff is still blocking the washer and dryer.  I do not really want to have to move all that stuff onto the floor.  We do not need more stuff in our way when walking.  We both have enough clean clothing so we wait another day.  Oh, indeed, the plans we make.

There is that same old moon looking down on all of us.  Friends, relatives, co-workers.  Y'all all take care!

It's a Chili Kind of Day

champagne tomatoes

The local weather has been being fickle since before the holidays.  One day a new high for that day will be set.  Within a day folks will be rushing to cover plants to protect them from the freezing weather.  Hubby has been doing that duty.  He, also, picked the last of the mini tomatoes before the first freeze a couple of weeks ago.  Today has turned into a sunny but slightly cool day.  Even Hubby is in long pants instead of his usual shorts. Perfect weather for a bowl of steaming chili for dinner.

Hubby mentioned a couple of days ago on one of the colder days that chili sounded tasty.  He pulled out a package of frozen ground turkey.  Earlier today I assembled the makings. The chili is simmering on the stove as I type.  I do not usually use a packaged seasoning packet but today I am using that shortcut.  Hope it turns out as tasty as our usual chili recipe.  The usual recipe was passed to us in about 1971 by a fellow church member.  It is named Pedernales Chili and was supposedly the recipe used by former President Lyndon Johnson.  In true Texas fashion, the chili has a bit of a kick to it.  Just like Hubby likes.

Hubby had held back some tasty yeast rolls from a recent Bush's Chicken run for one of the grandsons.  Hubby left the rolls in a box to dry for bread pudding.  As I was already messing in the kitchen I chopped up the dried rolls.  Those bread cubes were placed in a greased baking dish.  Mixed up sugar, eggs, milk, and flavorings to pour over the bread cubes after drizzling with butter.  Any 'bad fat' I saved by using turkey instead of beef in the chili was replaced in this dish.  A sprinkle of sliced almonds across the top and into the oven for 45 minutes at 350℉.

Wish I could have YAM, Mara, and Brom sit down for a bite with us.  Maybe someday.  Until then we can all share looking up at the same moon and dream of a chili supper kind of day together.

Take care, y'all

Janice 

Stretch Day

Tuesday is the day of the week Hubby and I attend an assisted stretch class.  I have talked about this class in a previous post.  After a week of being under the weather, it felt pleasant to be out in the fresh air.  Having someone that cares about my health work with me is heartwarming.  Cierra is a kind and caring person.  She gives so very much to her mother.  Since the first of the month, her mom has been staying with a sister in another state.  Erica, the mom, will return home in late January.  Cierra really needed this time for a break from the daily task of caring for a memory-compromised adult.

How would one even begin to attempt to work a full-time job and care for a person full time?  My friend is the strongest, bravest, caring 33-year-old (or any age) person I know.  Having shared that once when she was young and ill she told her mom she would care for her forever.  She is living up to that affirmation.  What a commitment.  What a love.  What a sacrifice.

When my father's mind slipped into the canyons of dementia/Alzheimer's, he spent hours in the bathroom.  He continued to attempt to clean himself going through roll after roll of toilet tissue.  All the paper was clean.  There was nothing in the stool except clean paper.  Now, Erica seems to need the bathroom frequently, too frequently.  With the same results as my Dad.  Only phantom sensations and urges.  Spaces left vacant by a disease that eats away our conscience brain.  Leaving nothing but useless plaque deposits and reduced brain size.

Watching parents, in-laws, aunts, and uncles slowly drift into the confusion of dementia is heart-rending.  That sadness is matched only by the horror and fear of me falling into the same abyss.  Any time I forget a name or become confused by instructions there is a shutter down my spine.  I am just so pleased to be able to help Cierra get relief three mornings a week.  As long as I can remember my way from my place to Cierra's, the sister's home. and back home I'll help.

Stretching.  Stretching our minds.  Stretching our abilities, Stretching our bodies.  Giving ourselves every chance available to stay healthy and helpful as long as possible.

Aunts, Uncles and my FIL, 4 of 7 had advanced dementia.  One leukemia, two heart attacks.

Stay Safe, Y'all,

Janice

Talk About a Good Read

Saturday evening I finished a book I had started before Christmas, The Cranberry Inn: A gorgeous and feel-good Christmas romance.  It was a nice little easy read.  Definitely, a feel-good kind of read.  With it being set in the Adirondacks, the descriptions of sledding and skating gave a nice winter feeling.   If looking for an easy read and pretty much G-rated, I would recommend it.  

Looking for another read to occupy the mind, I chose another of the Amazon Unlimited digital books. The Last Rose of Shanghai is written by Weina Dai Rande.   The setting is Shanghai during the Japanese occupation in WWII.  I am a fan of period novels often choosing the 1930-1950 time frame.  

Read a couple of chapters Saturday night.  Sunday to avoid football and basketball games, I again picked up the book.  I could hardly put it down for meals and other essential interruptions.  It was easy to set it aside when our Son dropped by for a short visit.  The book was finished a bit after 3:00 AM this morning.  

The storyline centers around star-crossed lovers.  One is a German Jew that escaped to Shanghai.  The other is a young woman from a wealthy Chinese family.  (The fact that European Jews had sought Shanghai as a place to seek shelter had totally illuded me until this book.) The challenges for all refugees and persons from other nations living in Shanghai kept me enthralled.  In addition, the tension between the conquered natural citizens of Shanghai and the Japanese soldiers was palpable.

With the conflicting cultures of the main characters in the play, I could not stop.  The mystery to be solved as well as concern for who would survive the war kept me engaged.  If you choose to read this book you will find that crude language is a minimum, less than on prime time TV!  

As for me, I am on to the next book.  I did have to do a few of YAM's puzzles and finish one I had put aside because my eyes were crossing.

Y'all stay safe.

Janice

 

Am I an Addict?

Full Definition of addiction

1: a compulsive, chronic, physiological or psychological need for a habit-forming substance, behavior, or activity having harmful physical, psychological, or social effects and typically causing well-defined symptoms (such as anxiety, irritability, tremors, or nausea) upon withdrawal or abstinence: the state of being addicted

2: a strong inclination to do, use, or indulge in something repeatedly

Probably an addict of sorts.  Especially a sort of food addiction.  If tired, a bite of a cookie might help.  Had a really good day, celebrate with good food.  Had a bad day, need comfort food to feel better.  All this would be okay, I suppose, if it were consumed in proper amounts.  And not an everyday habitual act.

Let there be a dessert of any sort in my home just know it is not safe.  It Will Is Consumed.  I will innocently be sitting in my favorite recliner.  Suddenly from the depths of the pantry the cookies are calling out for me.  Yes, they know my name.  Again, even though I do not have my hearing aids in my ears, they call to me.  The sweets are a terrible, calorie ladened temptress.  I am weak.  Rising from the recliner, take the few steps to the pantry.  The voices are silenced.  Only crumbs on my shirt remain of the temptress.

The ice cream bars sing with a chattery voice.  "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!  Oh, Janice, we are hhhheeeerrrrreee.  Take us out of the cold into the warmth of your fat belly".   How dare they call me fat!  I'll teach them a thing or two.  Again, the voices are silenced.

The most seditious of all is the flour bin.  Quietly the flour's voice softly drifts from the cabinet.  "I want to be made into cinnamon rolls.  I want to be a cake.  I want to be a brownie."  But I, Janice, am stronger than the flour.  Or maybe it is just a bit too much work right at the moment.  I am appeasing my appetite for putting together puzzles.  Some days I am appeasing my addiction to the written word.  Some days I eat while putting puzzles together or reading.  I am a good multi-tasker.

There is a really nice collection of scarves in various locations in my home.  That is another bit of an addiction.  Family members know I like scarves.  They feed the addiction.  I received 5 new scarves this Christmas.  I often wear the scarves when accompanying friends or family or both as we go out for dinner.  See, it all leads back to food.

Y'all all take care, now.

Janice

Far Too Long

The year 2020 began with someone smashing the back window of my CMax auto.  The police had apprehended the person.  I asked to file charges mostly because it seemed to be a homeless person. A hot and a cot seemed a bit better than the streets . . . and more smashed windows.  That is now two years ago and not a word since the summer of 2020.  That seems a bit long.  A rather minor crime considering all the other crimes committed in the ensuing months.  

While Covid 19 began in 2019, the first officially recorded infection in the US was in late January of 2020.  By March we were all hunkered down in our homes attempting to avoid the silent killer.  Also, folks were already hoarding toilet paper, really.  Still haven't figured out that connection.  Proms, graduation ceremonies, weddings, even funerals were paused or canceled.  Only critical patients were being taken to hospitals as many were full of Covid sufferers.  Finally, in May 2020 I was able to have the needed hernia operation.  

By summer things opened up only to begin a series of spikes in Covid cases.   Vaccinations made available by the fall of 2020 thanks to negotiations in the Trump administration.  Vaccinations were rejected by many due to misinformation from the same said administration.  Now, 2022, another spike, thankfully with fewer deaths.  The pandemic is lasting far, far, too long.

Most of us humans in the US have not faced the likes of this pandemic in just over 100 years.  We are a nation of movers, travelers, go and do thing-ers.  Folks no longer stay hunkered down.  We have become blase about the dangers to others and ourselves of this transmissible disease.  I am one of the folks that chose to get out of the house.  Hubby and I paid the price by being infected with Covid in October 2021.  We both were vaccinated but were not in the time frame for the booster.  Like the cook says, "Bam!"

I managed to skip 2021 because, well, just more Covid.  Vaccines becoming widespread and even boosters.  But, really, 2021 is a blur or just more hunkering, shutdowns, spikes, and bickering about everything.  And, of course, the February 2021 power grid failure in the great state of Texas.  

Whether one believes in climate change as a natural or man-made phenomenon the results can look like this hallway in Round Rock, TX.  Or the retention pond behind Son's FAB home becoming a hockey rink.

 

With all this gloom and doom, it has been a challenge to keep any sort of positive attitude.  We had Christmas fun with my sisters and their prodigy in December.  That was a ton of fun.  Of course, Type A flu was then passed around.  We shared gifting with Son, DIL, Bonus Grandkids, Grappa, and Isabelle.  A week later Hubby and I came down with some yet to be determined head and chest sickness.  We, through the magic of Zoom, did watch Son's three open gifts.  One was in Colorado, recovering from Covid.  Two were in quarantine here after having been in contact with a girlfriend's covid infected mom.  Here is how that Christmas looked.  

One of the grandsons was out of the picture at the time of the screenshot.  Don't we all look full of Christmas joy?  To be fair, it was January 2nd so everyone was about all partied out.  Even DJ the granddog was not initially impressed with her Austin FC warm-up at first.  But she changed her mind when freezing weather came and her Human Dad turned down the thermostat.  Ha.

First time trying on warmup

When the cold really came!

Guess when the real need arises we can be like DJ, pull the hoodie over our eyes and take a nap!  Just do no sleep far too long.  And remember, WWDJD or Be Like DJ.

Hope you are having a great weekend whatever you find yourself doing.  Just be safe and if in the cold climes, keep warm.

Janice