A Day's Work - Day 29

    The picture above is part of my latest project. It's a rental house in Anderson. It's actually an apartment in a house turned into doubles. Today, I was sanding and mopping this floor, getting it ready for stain and seal tomorrow. I came home tonight with every joint, muscle, tendon and ligament on my body, aching.

    On the way home, I called Kora to tell her that I would go to Ohio with her this weekend. We're going to a birthday party for her nephew. She needed someone to tag along to help with the babies. I am a good choice for that because my grand kids love me!

   Kora told me this cute story about my grand daughter. They were in the grocery and Korinne said "I love you, mommy." And Kora says "I love you too."

And Korinne says "But what?" She's just turning 4 years old and already she ponders the deeper meaning.

Rocky End - Day 28

    This is an old house in Anderson, Indiana. I took the photo because I thought the house looked like it could have been a stunner in it's youth. I liked the color, I liked the shapes, and I especially like the mysterious stairway between the two wings.

    I wanted to submit one more rock story because, well, I like it. Here goes:

Telling Philip -

     Before I told Philip my story idea, I had to prepare him. You see, he's a critic. He'd tear up an anvil just to see what makes it heavy. And I'm kind of sensitive, especially when it come to my creativity. If someone says or even hints at "dumb" - I immediately drop it.

   In a burst of enthusiasm , I say, "Phil, I've got this idea for a book." He listens.

"This is big, really big!. This may be the one thing I've been living my whole life to do. I may even need to get extra people to help me think it through. It's that big!"

    He says "Well, tell me this, what would be your father's reaction to the idea?"

So I think a minute and say "Girl, what's the matter with you?"

Philip says "What would be Kora's reaction?"

I say "Mom! That's a great idea! Go for it!"

So then I tell him about the rock stories book. He is grinning the entire time and when I finish he says "Just one thing, when you write it - change my name."

Trouble on the Mountain - Day 27

     I was in Anderson today. Phil asked me to help get an apartment cleaned up and ready for a renter.  So I was pulling what must have been 1 million nails, tacks, and staples out of the floor. I guess who ever installed the carpet, many years ago, must have worried about the carpet flying away because that thing was stuck down!
    Phil had come to Anderson too. It was beautiful outside, so he planned to do some patching on the roof of the Lincoln Street building.
    He came by the apartment to check on me and to invite me to lunch. I dropped everything and went to lunch with him.  After lunch he brought me back to the apartment and I got back to tack pulling.
     Shortly, my phone rang. It was Philip. He asked me if I was finished the tack pulling, There was a hesitancy in his voice. "Just about." I said. I sensed that something was bad wrong.
   "Are you OK?" I asked.
    "Yeah, I'm OK. I might need your help."
    He proceeds to tell me that he had gone up on the roof to find a section of the rubber roof sheeting blown off. As he tells me this, I could hear him breathing kind of heavy. According to him, a 6 foot by 78 foot section.  "Seven or eight foot?" I asked. He clarified "78 foot."
     I immediately headed over to help. I'll finish this story up tomorrow as we were working past sun down and I am bone tired tonight.

Motown - Day 26

     Detroit; the "Motor City," Home of Motown. We came into Detroit at about 6 PM on a Thursday night. Driving down Grand Avenue, we could see the towers of the city looming ahead. The Emerald City at the end of the rainbow. Yet, something kept catching my eye; trash! Everywhere along the streets, lay, debris. It moved in the breeze with a life of it's own. Piles of garbage, scattered bits of paper, drink cups caught in fences; everywhere. All in accent to the newly built (within the last 50 years) buildings that lined the path to the city.

    It made me sad. The ride along Grand Avenue should have been uplifting. Here we were on our way into the big town and yet the trash rushed our senses.

     At about this time, my teenage son turned on the radio. The Motown sound filled our van. Angels came out of the heavens. The trash stepped back. Voices soothed us. The city took on an entirely different look.

     Before, all I'd been able to see was "Cars Hand Washed," "Girls,Girls, Girls," or just generic graffiti.  Now, I noticed churches and groups of people standing on the sidewalks; talking and laughing while their babies kicked at imaginary objects from their strollers. It was just music, yet, what a difference the sound makes.

Rock Original - Day 25

The following bit is about the original rock idea. I found this a few days ago and this story triggered a couple of other stories. I'm a little out of sequence as the Anti-Lucy story came a couple of stories later.

(1996)

   I'd like to think that it all came about as a result of inspiration but in fact these very words that your are reading right now are a direct result of desperation.  My birthday had just passed and at 43 I began to think that perhaps the great wagon of doing something great and wonderful for the world had rolled past me while I slept. It probably came through here at about two in the morning and the hum of the air conditioner just smoozed out all the outside sounds as the fateful wagon moved on in the darkness.

   I pondered these things over my morning coffee. I wanted so much to write something. Many writing experts say write what you know. Fat Chance. I know nothing! My husband has all the brains, I just follow orders. I laugh at this as it's a running joke between him and I, except that, I'm the only one aware of the joke.

    Lately, he has had me helping him clean out this huge garage that he'd leased to scum, sucking morons, who happened to get behind in their rent, then packed up and left town in the middle of the night. Probably chasing after that wagon of fate that left me behind. Anyway, there were 240 used tires and three 55 gallon barrels of used motor oil to deal with. On top of that, everything in the building was covered with a film of grease. It was a gosh, awful, mess. In the middle of all this chaos and gunk, I felt sad. I felt that I would never actually write anything worthwhile.

     Later, I was setting at my kitchen counter thinking about my predicament and happened to notice the rocks sitting on the window sill. There are about 25 or 30  small rocks that I've gathered during various nature hikes. The colors, shapes, patterns, unique on each of them. As I looked closer, something stirred in the back of my mind. My eyes moved to a tiny rock that my friend, Ruth, gave me.

It had a gold and brown color with a spiral, wormlike formation in the center of it. As I looked at this rock, it occurred to me that perhaps this rock held the key to wonderful stories. I took the rock and put it in my sock, the pants I was wearing didn't have pockets. I left the rock there as I watched television. In the back of my mind, I began to think "What if this could work? What if I do get inspired by this thing? What if it starts talking to me? What if I end up in a mental ward, clinging to this stupid rock, like it was God or something?" I was thrilled! 

The Anti-Lucy - Day 24

   I was at work in Anderson, yesterday. I'd set about trying to find a specific file. In a box that smelled like mice had been using it for a restroom facility, I came across a file which contained several stories that I have promised to share, starting today.

    I pulled out a folder with Bud from Married With Children printed on it. Inside, I found this particular story:

  [1996]

     I was at the keyboard. I had just finished talking to my sister, Grace and the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I was electric! So, I sat at the keyboard, music played from my son's stereo. And it happened! I began to write!

     Not dry, forced junk but deep, soulful writing. The words came to my mind as if an outside force were spooning them into my brain. All Heaven and Earth could have disappeared on that morning and their disappearance would have gone unnoticed. Inspiration was mine. The rock was working!

     I wrote for what seemed to be minutes but was almost 2 hours. Suddenly,  the telephone rang. It was Philip's cousin. She and her family were coming by for dinner. She had called to make sure that was still the plan. I was so out of it that I barely could grasp what was being asked. I had to deliberately concentrate to make the correct words come out of my mouth.

     I got off the phone and tried to recapture the lost mood. No luck.  So, I go to print up these marvelous pages of thought put to paper. I highlight the words on the computer (a big mistake) - push one button and every single word disappears! Gone! Vanished! Lost forever; back to that point were all good things go when they die. I could have puked! 

   In a panic, I start pushing lots of buttons, thereby losing any chance to reclaim what was mine. This made everything worse.

     The phone rings. I answer. It was my daughter. She's in a good mood and tells me that she's had a brilliant insight!

     "Mom, you and Dad are the opposite of Lucy and Ricky!"

     So I'm thinking and say "What do I have in common with Ricky Ricardo?"

     "No, Mom, you're the anti-Lucy" she says.

     I then tell her how I, this day, lost the meaning of it all in seconds. She gives me suggestions, including:

     "Sit down and write down on paper, everything you can remember about what you wrote."

     I tell her that I have to go. My mind was shot. I was bereft.

     Later that same day, I started thinking about that phone conversation. "The Anti-Lucy? What does that mean? How would that apply to Philip and me?" Then I think about how Philip is always including me in all his "projects". I'm always working for a way to not be in his "projects"....that's anti.... "Yes, she's right! I am the Anti-Lucy!"

Philip (speaking in broken Cuban accent) - "Oh Lucy! You want to be in the show?!"

Me (Lucy)  "No, no, I don't want to be in the show! Waaaah!"

     My daughter is a genius!

 

StarGate 2012 - Day 23

    Today was an interesting day. I had every intention to get back to work on the Kickstarter Art Project that I am working on for my son's group. The frames were sitting there, waiting for my attention. I have hit a block that I want to call  "Let's question Sarah." And the questions start; "Is this something the recipient would want? Maybe this looks too, "old lady?" This is taking forever, when are you going to be finished?"

   I did what any artist worth their name would do, I took a break from the art work. I can't stand art, nagging me! Besides, I was looking for a certain file that had been placed in a box and stacked away amidst a lot of other stuff that had been placed in boxes and stacked away.  Trust me, I am trying to deal with my hording.

   I found the file that I was looking for but I also found a lot more. In a box of files, I found some stories that I had written in 1996. That's right, 16 years ago.

   I started looking through my writing. I came across a story that I will have to tell you over the next few days. I will clue you in that when I read one that concerned my daughter, I called her up, laughing, and we both ended up laughing.

   These stories started when I had the idea to carry a small rock around to use as a focus for daily stories. Stay tuned.

   In other news, I don't know if I have told any of you about what happened to me the other night. I was laying on the couch, it was getting late, and I called out to Philip - "Honey, would you carry me to bed?" I was just kidding. I had even stood up to go get ready for bed. Philip came in the living room and proceeded to pick me up in what I will just call "a bear hug." It was not pretty. My feet were about 12 inches off the ground and the human vise was doing his job of lifting me. I got scared that he might hurt himself so I said "Put me down. Ok, put me down." No sooner had those words left my mouth when we both heard a pop! It sounded through both our bodies and it felt like a twig had snapped in my rib cage. At first it was painful, then I suddenly felt great. I felt fine. At least until the next day when my left, lower ribs hurt.

    Last fall I fell while taking a hike and hurt my ribs. When I went to the doctor, I found out that I did not have broken ribs but the doctor told me that usually it's hard to break ribs. What usually happens is the lining is bruised and that is what is hurting.

   I was thinking about this today at the cabinet store. An older couple came in and bought 4 / 42 inch vanity bases. I was hurting but we had to get these cabinets loaded. So I was pulling and helping lift the cabinets into his van. I thought "This is gonna kill me!" But after they left I actually felt a little better. And it made me think of the story that, writer, Ann Lamott told about when she had her tonsils out. Her throat was in such pain. She kept telling the doctor that she needed more pain medicine. He refused to give her more pain pills. He told her that she needed to swallow her food even though she was in pain. The only way to it is through it. So now, instead of guarding my side, I am trying to stretch out the injured side. I think it's helping.

    So stay tuned for "Rock Stories - the series" beginning tomorrow.

New Day - Day 22

     It's been a good day!  The weather was sunny. Actually, it's been a mild winter here in Indiana. We haven't had more than a couple of inches of snow all winter long, at least not yet.

     You've probably noticed by now that I use a lot of nature scenes in this blog. The truth is, I love trees. Members of my family call me a "tree hugger." I assume that mantle gladly. I find more peace and serenity in the forest than anywhere else on Earth.
    I got to work this morning and talked at length with my best friend, Ruth. She is going through some worrisome stuff this winter. Yet, she has the best attitude. She inspires me to be a better person.
    I also did a lot of running around for Philip. He wanted me to check on a rental of his in Anderson. The young couple living there have moved out and he wanted me to check the condition of the unit. He also asked me to take a deposit by the bank; fifteen minutes before the bank closed, I am rushing across town to get that deposit made because that is when I remembered that I was suppose to make the deposit. Then he called me to take a key to a tenant who needed access to another area of their building.
    I had to take the key to the tenant's workplace, which was a nail salon. I walk in there and immediately regretted that I hadn't donned my has mat suit. The place was reeking of nail polish - or acetone fumes. I could have stripped a car in that shop. Then I noticed her school aged daughter sitting in one of the salon chairs. The girl must have been 8 years old. And I was freaking out. I told the lady that she needed to have better ventilation but she concentrated more on asking me if I knew anyone who could install shades in their shop. I thought to myself "It's gonna be shades for all of you if you don't get this place aired out!"

Steaming! - Day 21

    Hello again.  After I wrote that entry last night about the Kennedy assasination, I had trouble sleeping. I guess a lot of memories started floating around concerning that time in my life. Little details like the fact that after school that fateful day, my Dad had us girls (me and my 2 younger sisters), and my  older brother, gather firewood off the mountainside. We were throwing cut firewood down the mountainside and discussing the day's events.

    Anyway, not to get stuck in the past, today I was working on an art project. I go through this love - hate - love - hate thing with this art project. I want to chuck the whole thing and start over! What is the matter with me?

    I'll tell you what's the matter with me... I'm uptight! Yeah, you heard me. I am so up tight that it's a wonder I can even pass gas.

    I look at beautiful art on the internet and I think, "I can do that!" Yet when the rubber hits the road....I am lacking.

    You realize that this is just me cavetching about stuff. It really has nothing to do with what will get done. I will persist and get things done. I will do that! I just want to find something thrilling to make. Come on muse, get with the plan!  

Hello Love - Day 20

    I was thinking about my grandma Stevens today. To me she was awesome and I hope I can be as good as or better grandmother than her. She had great interest in doing things.

    The memory that I seem to be stuck on today was when she use to go black berry picking. She'd set out first thing in the morning and she would take any of us, who wanted to go, with her.

     She would be dressed from her head to her feet in anti-chigger / anti-snake gear; straw hat, long sleeve shirt, overalls, rubber boots.

     Off we'd go down the road and up the hill side, through a thicket of briars and into the berries. When the season was young, and we'd hit the patch, not a lot of berries would hit the pail. We'd be busy eating them. Fortunately, we had several places that we'd harvest from, so eventually, we'd get a decent haul of berries and head home.

     As I was thinking about this today, I remembered the summers when my  sisters and I would go on our own and pick blackberries to sale; mostly to our sweet aunts. We sold blackberries, returned drink bottles, and did chores to earn money to take on our trips to my sister, JoAnne's house.

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  I finished writing the above entry, and closed the laptop; finished for the day with 20 minutes to spare. Then, I started watching Charlie Rose. He had a round table of historians talking about U.S. presidents, as this is President's Day. And suddenly I remembered that my daughter and I started talking today about President Kennedy's death. I was ten years old and his murder scars me to this day. I choked up as I talked to my daughter. It's still hard to talk about it.

    I was in the 5th grade. We had come back from lunch and maybe even a short recess. I want to say it was around 1 o'clock. My teacher entered the room. She was such a beautiful woman; young, blond hair and such a good person to us. As she walked to the front of the class, she started to cry. This shocked me and upsets me, even now. And then she told us that the president had been shot and killed. There was a gasp among all us kids, except for one boy, whose name I will not mention here because he is a man now and may feel badly about his poor behavior at that time, anyway, he did give a "yay". We all looked at him immediately and I think the teacher scolded him - not harshly but more that he should show respect.

    It was a hard time in my family too because my Mama was gone to my sister, JoAnne's house to help with my new nephew, William.  Mama just knew how to soothe, sad souls. Dad was a Republican, he didn't like President Kennedy, but he never said an unkind thing about the deceased president from that time on. He fussed a bit about the constant news coverage but he was respectful and that now, means so much to me.

   There was a lot of news coverage. They covered the actual shooting, the grassy knoll, the shooting of Oswald, the First family, the siblings of the President. Anything and anyone they could think of to cover who might be even remotely associated with President Kennedy, was covered. It was a bit much

    But I do appreciate the coverage of the president's funeral. Jackie Kennedy did this nation a great service in planning things out so beautifully. The image that stays with me to this day is the riderless horse that made it's way down the street with the funeral procession. I cried and still do when I think of that man, losing his life, in service to this country. And his children, so young and now without a Dad. And me without my Mom. I was so glad when she came home.

Sunday, Sunday - Day 19

    Sunday night is always slow for me. I use to think that Sundays depressed me. I'm not the only one who has this feeling. My daughter says she feels that way on Sundays, too. It's the end of the week. Most of the television shows are sick dramas -Without a Trace, Criminal Intent, Booth & Bones (though that's not the name of the show, it's just the main characters). All about murder or horrible treatment of the victims.

     I don't spend a lot of time on this stuff. I can't handle it; though I do watch the Closer. I love Brenda Lee Johnson. Their show doesn't concentrate so much on the murder but more on breaking the case. Love Brenda!

     Recently, I was laying awake one Sunday night and another thought came to me in terms of that uneasy feeling on Sundays. There I was, in the dark and I started to examine just what I was really feeling. Was I depressed? No. It actually felt more like some weird form of excitement. I was looking forward to Monday!

    Sunday was more like running my motor in neutral; waiting to get back to work on Monday.

    You may think it strange but I'm feeling like it's a break through.

    

My brothers - Day 18

   How come it is that I walk around with all kinds of ideas to write about during the day, yet, when it comes time to start writing, my mind's a blank?

   I grew up in a fantastic family in North Carolina. It was a large family .. and well.. it still is. With a family like mine, there's always a story.

    My parents loved each other. And maybe a good love is not an exciting story. Perhaps a troubled love makes the better story, but their's was a good love story. Dad use to chase Mom through the house threatening to tickle her feet. I still smile when I think of the two of them and their innocent flirting.

   There's my three brothers, each of them perfect in their own ways. I always looked up to my oldest brother. He had courage and chutzpa. He was and is not afraid to stand up to any situation. He played baseball when I was a kid and we would go to the games and watch him and my other brother play ball. They were giants of the local baseball team .. at least to me.

    My middle brother was a fantastic athlete. He was over 6 foot tall in his teens. He had blond hair which he wore in a crew cut, and he had china blue eyes and was built like an Adonis. He was beautiful. He would step to the plate and you could see the outfield back up, not a few steps but by yards. The infield would get nervous, moving about, making ready. They all knew it was coming. Bam! You'd hear the crack of the bat and it was all over because my brother had hit another home run. I can still see his frame stretched out, making contact with the ball, like something you'd see in a "hitting the baseball" illustration.  I treasure my childhood memories of him because he's in heaven now.

     My youngest brother is next older than me. There was nine of us kids. This brother is father earth; he loves gardening. He is all about home and his family. He's a level headed, good counselor whom I was constantly squabbling with when I was a kid; always wanting to be the boss of me. It makes me grin when I think of it.

Oops - Day 17 on Day 18

    If you have been following my 30 day - form a habit - writing challenge, you probably noticed that I didn't write yesterday. Well, it was a long day. I got up at 6 AM, and was on my way to my daughter's house by 7 AM.

   We were on a mission. She had a house load of company coming to visit for the weekend. She gave birth to my grandson back in November - via Cesarean section. She needed help.  So, we worked all day, cleaning, condensing and organizing throughout the house.

    On my way home, I stopped to pick up dinner for my husband and I at the Marsh Grocery.

    I got home at around 7 PM and just got the dinner set out when Philip pulled up in the driveway...talk about your perfect timing.

     After dinner, I put the food away, straightened up the kitchen, then went into the living room to watch television with my husband, I considered it a perfect time to write on my blog.

     I remember sitting down in the recliner, putting my feet up and turning my laptop computer on as it sat in my lap.

    I woke up at about 12:15 AM, the laptop turned off and sitting beside me in the chair, the television was turned off and my husband had gone to bed. I guess that I was just really tired but I broke my chain of writing, which really bums me out.

     However, since I am determined to see this through to the end of 30 days because I would like to be a better writer, I will slog on. This is not me offering my readers an excuse for my absence. It's a statement of intent to succeed for myself.

Thursday Musings - Day 16

     It's Thursday night. I'm parked in front of the television. It's been a long day and I just don't know if I can write for 15 minutes. So I will just sit here and wait to see if some thought comes my way.
     I feel bad about Whitney Huston's passing. It's so tragic. And I guess the thing I worry about the most is her 18 year old daughter Bobbie Christine. I heard that she had been admitted to the hospital, twice since her mother's death. I feel so bad for that kid. I found myself saying a prayer for her.
    I have been checking the Pinterest site lately. I love looking at garden ideas. I hope I'm going to be able to grow a garden this spring. I saw several new zinnias that I'd like to try growing.
     Philip has turned on a Clint Eastwood movie. OMG, I feel like I might be turning into TV Nazi. I hate Clint Eastwood movies!
     I just noticed that my son had posted on Facebook that he his stuck in LA traffic for 2 hours and maybe still waiting for another hour. This would make me worse than a Nazi.
    Good night, sport's fans.

Valentine Update - Day 15

    You see these flowers?  These flowers are planted in my back yard. They are blue bells, I think. These flowers look a lot like hyacinths, except hyacinths are clustered together like an upside down bunch of grapes. Hyacinths are the flowers that my husband brought me last Friday for Valentine's Day this past Tuesday. And before I go any further, I love hyacinths.

    He walked into the house with a big grin on his face. "I have a surprise for you." And he brought the pot of flowers from behind his back for me. The flowers had not actually opened yet. They were still in bud form but it was the thought. I loved it!

    I remember that as soon as I saw those bud clusters, I said "We won't be able to keep those in the house when they open." Hyacinths have a strong, sweet smell. He just smiled and went on with what he was thinking. And said "Maybe they'll open up by Valentine's Day. I set the flowers in the living room window.

That was last Friday.

    Around Sunday, I noticed that I had some itching starting on my upper arms. I didn't think much of it. Monday the itching had moved to my back. I started to think that maybe I was just having some winter, dry skin issues. This morning I woke up with a rash on my forearms. The upper sides of my chest were itching. I took a shower and did a little extra lathering on the itchy areas.

    Later, I was showing the rash to Philip and asked him if it looked like a rash to him or was I just being a little hyper. He concurred - rash.

    I went into the living room to put my shoes on. I sat down on the couch and as I started with my shoes, I could feel myself getting more and more irritated. And then I thought of the hyacinth. I looked around at the potted flower in the window just 3 foot from my head.  The hyacinths were in full, pink, bloom and my skin was crawling. 

   I told Philip that I thought I was having an allergic reaction to the hyacinths and that we should set the flower on our enclosed back porch. Hyacinths are spring blooming plants and can stand a lot of cool temperatures.

   He said "They'll freeze."

   I said "Let's just set it in the stairwell for now."

   He said "They need light and will die, there, in the dark."

   I said "Then, I'll take them to the cabinet store in Anderson."

   He said "I'll never get to see them, there."

   Suddenly, I realized who was getting flowers. Oh well, how many men can say they gave their sweethearts a rash for Valentine's Day?

P.S. On Valentine's Day, he actually gave me chocolates and took me out to dinner. He's a good Valentine.

Sweethearts - Day 14

     Happy Valentine's Day sport's fans.  I drug out of bed this morning in slow motion. It was gray outside with about an inch of snow on the ground. Winter really wants to get us but it's the middle of February. We are on the back end of winter. Sure we might get some foul weather but so far so good.

    I ran into a creative wall at my workshop. Last week I had such energy to finish my latest project but today, I couldn't seem to get it together.

    When I got home from work, Philip took me out to dinner. We went into Fortville, just a few miles from out house. We ate at the Fort Grille. The food was OK but their dining area is a little less than intimate. It's not a restaurant that I would chose if we had more time.

    I am beginning to believe that writing in the morning is better for me. At night I feel like I am just more dull.

    I had all kind of ideas this morning for things to tell you, but tonight, I am just thinking about getting to bed and going to sleep.

    Which reminds me, I had a dream about Brad Pitt last night. He was flirting with me in my dreams and I was just giving him the cold shoulder. My friend, Julie, was in my dream, watching what was happening and kept asking me if I was going to do "it' with Brad. Of course I said no...I think. Besides Angelina was there and she and Brad rode off in a dog sled across a rocky hillside - a sweetheart thing to do.

Let It Snow - Day 13

     According to the local weather report, snow is coming our way. It's been a mild winter and the snow that's coming our way should'nt be more than 2 inches. I can live with this forecast.

     Today started out troubling. I went to the McDonald's restaurant near my workshop. I got a chicken biscuit and a large cup of black coffee. Well, that's what I ordered. I picked up my stuff at the window and headed back to the workshop. I chewed around on the biscuit then took one drink of that black coffee and almost did a spit take!

    It had sweetener in it and when I gazed into the drink hole - it had cream too. This is not good news for a lactose intolerant person!

    I went into a mini-panic. "The day cannot start like this!"  If they had screwed up my sandwich order, I would've made the best of it, eaten the sandwich and moved on with my day. But to screw up the coffee is unforgivable!

    I loaded back into my car and drove the 4 blocks to claim my vengeance! I explained to the lady behind the counter that I had just come through the drive through, ordered black coffee and received coffee with creamer AND SWEETENER!

    She calmly took that full cup of coffee, dunk shot it, perfectly, into the trash can and poured me what I needed. The day could not start out like that for her, either.  Happy snow, sports fans!

Home - Day 12

    Oh my goodness. I'm having a major problem with writer's block tonight. I'm drawing a blank from my brain and the 15 minutes tick away.

    The Grammy's are on television. Paul McCartney is singing about getting back home. This is kind of ironic because Phil and I were visiting our friends Jack and Julie tonight. We got to talking about my childhood home in the Blue Ridge Mountains. No matter how old I get, I still consider that place to be home to me. I guess that home can mean a lot of things. Anywhere I'm with my husband is home to me. Of course, having my children be a part of my life is also an element of home for me too.

    Home might also be that place in my mind where I can go to at anytime and in anyplace. I can go there and walk around. I can mull things over as I sit on my big, cozy couch. I can have the entire decor just as I want it. The filmy, white curtains of my mind, blow in the breeze, letting the fresh air clear my thoughts.

    When my Dad grew old, he began to talk of going home. His house was within walking distance of where he stayed with my brother. He could have gone back to the house where he lived for more than 50 years, at any time. It was the house where he and my mother made their home together and grew their family. Yet, at the end of his life, this was not his home. And he began to talk to his parents, two people who have gone to heaven decades ago. It was an unspoken truth, my dad wanted his home in Heaven.

Easy Day - Day 11

    I got up early this morning. Phil and I were planning a trip to Indianapolis. The plan was to go to a museum. Of course, he wanted to stop by and check on the work in progress at a building he owns.

    At the last minute our plans changed and we went to visit our daughter and our grandchildren. We had a lot of fun helping our grand daughter organize her toys. And holding our little 3 month old grandson never gets old. 

    This day has been rather uneventful. So I will write about a day that happened about 25 years ago.

    At that time, we were living in the mountains of east Tennessee.  We lived there in a five room house with our four kids. We also owned a herd of goats which numbered around 25.

    One spring, Philip and I were castrating the young goats. At some point a rebellious goat decides he's gonna make a run for it. He took off like a bullet! I was already aggravated because I hated that job, so having this smarty get away was out of the question. I held onto his back leg with all my might! He pulled me behind him, right into a barbed wire fence. The wire cut my eye brow but I persisted in hanging onto the goat. Phil almost freaked out when he saw the blood on my face.

   When we were finished, we went back to the house to check on the kids.By then, I had forgotten there was blood running down my face.

   My kids still talk about the trauma that caused. (And there's the timer!)

Hearing Things - Day 10

   I was sound asleep this morning. Suddenly I woke up with a "What the ... what?"The door between our bedroom and the kitchen was wide open and the television in the kitchen was blaring. And I don't say that with a naggy, complainy voice. The television was BLARING! I could have gotten up, gotten dressed in complete outdoor gear, gone outside on our porch, and still heard the morning news. It was that loud!

    Since my eyes were full of sleep, I was having a hard time seeing what was going on. I called out loudly for Philip. No response. Then I began to make out his image in the kitchen. He was sitting 30 inches from the television in his underpants and undershirt, enthralled with the news. It made me think of that old magazine advertisement for speakers, the one where the guy is sitting in an easy chair, in front of his stereo, and his hair and clothes are being blown backward by the sound. I hesitated to yell out again. As you may recall from earlier blog entries, Phil thinks I'm a TV Nazi. If you are envisioning me with a remote control in the Nazi salute position, that's not me!

    I knew that I would have to wait for the next ad to get his attention. So I waited and it seemed like forever but an advertisement finally came on and the spell was broken.

    Now what I am about to write may sound bad but I'll just say it. I feel horrible for those people who had the experience of having their cruise ship turn over. I especially feel bad for the people who lost their lives in the fiasco. But this morning when Anne Curry was shouting out the news, she told of how a huge number of passengers recently got sick on a cruise ship and the ship had to return to port. The same thing had happened on the same ship on the previous cruise. Then they cut to an actual passenger from this sick cruise. The lady says "We spent thousands of dollars on this cruise, only to be confined to our cabins, throwing up." And as I laid in bed, with the covers over my head to block out the light and sound from the kitchen, I said to myself "They must have been on the weight loss cruise." I crack myself up!

   Phil came into the bedroom, got dressed, and as he was leaving the room I told him to "SHUT ZE DOOR! TURN DOWN ZE TV!" And he quietly followed orders.

  

    P.S. These two pictures are the before and after pictures of what I thought was a bird in the bush but was actually something else entirely. One of Mother Nature's sneaky tricks! 

Lunar Chronicles - Day 9

    About a week ago, my car rolled over the 200,000 mile mark. I had anticipated this milestone, so I was a bit excited.

    When I first got my car, back in 2000, I told everyone that I was going to drive my car to the moon. Now I have passed the 200,000 mile point. Ahead lies the lunar surface.

     The moon on average is 238,857 miles from Earth. There's not an exact distance because the moon revolves around the Earth in an elliptical orbit. Sometimes it's 252,088 miles and sometimes it is 225,622 miles from Earth. Needless to say, at this point in my trip, all I can see in the windshield is creamy moonscape. I'm beginning to feel the lunar, gravitational pull. Hopefully I will land my car on a flat spot where the heavens can be forever viewed from my front seat and not down in a crater. Crater life would suck for my 2000 Corolla.

    My husband's truck is headed for the moon too. I can see him in my rear view mirror. Wouldn't it be romantic if we landed side by side? Parked together, forever viewing the universe. Ah, such a magical, romantic place is the moon.

    As the number 200,000 was getting ready to come up, I drove my car to the park in Pendleton. I wanted to get a good picture of the 199,999. It had started snowing and there was a beautiful bunch of ducks cavorting in the pond in the park. Just a common, everyday, Earth scene.

    I imagine that anyone watching me sit there snapping flash pictures inside my car, must have thought - "weirdo!" But it's like they say, "The heart wants what it wants."

   It's not as easy as you think to get a picture of the odometer and also get a picture of the world outside your windshield, all in one picture, and have it make sense. So I probably shot off a dozen flash photos in my car. Yeah, I might be a weirdo.

    Satisfied, I headed for home. I could barely tear my eyes away from the odometer. I wanted to see the moment when everything changed. And of course, why not get the 200,000 on record? I was driving down Old Pendleton Pike with my camera at the ready.

    Sometimes I wonder how I am even able to walk and chew gum. I had it in my mind that when the 200,000 came up that each individual number would roll around - like in the old cars - and slowly 200,000 would be revealed to me. Instead, when the number hit, it just hit. What a huge disappointment! I wanted rolling numbers, I wanted clicking, I wanted dramatics. Instead, I get a big number with little fanfare.

    And you probably notice that my check engine light is on. When the 200,000 rolled up, I decided that I'm not gonna worry about that anymore. We're in the moon's gravitational pull. It's all over but the landing!

Learning Stuff - Day 8

      Hello, sports fans! It's about 10 minutes before my cabinet store closes. The timer has started and soft music plays in the background. I am ready to write.

  This process of writing everyday for fifteen minutes is starting to teach me something. I think I use to know it but now appreciate it more than ever. That thing is how much writing depends on editing. A person would almost think that you just start writing what you are thinking.  Well, that maybe true for getting ideas jotted down but you have to go back and erase a little.

   Imagine writing a story as going on a journey. The thoughts flow out. You're moving down the wooded path. You drop a few descriptions of the things that are about you, maybe you even offer up some feelings you're having on this journey. It's all good until you go back and read "I was walking along the road, the one I started on in the first chapter, with the palm trees that have nothing to do with this story about the desert." Cumbersome. 

   My husband thinks I could dictate my writing into a tape recorder and just transcribe it later. Writing is a little more artful than that. Using a brain to choose words, helps with the process.  

    A quiet spot, a regular time, unhurriedness, mindfulness are some of the things I am encountering on this 30 day habit former. (There's the timer)

  I will add that part of the fifteen minutes was used up wrestling with this blogger program, so.... sorry.

Workshop Days - Day 7

     I've set the timer. Fifteen minutes digit away on the side table. It's almost 9:30 PM and I'm tired. I think I've had a good day. Two men came into the cabinet shop that I manage and actually bought stuff.

     I forgot my laptop charger cord at home. When I got to the cabinet store this morning, I had just enough power left to do my basic surfing. So I turned the thing off and organized in the office across the hall.

     There's a ton of personal items stored over there, waiting for me to decide whether to donate or organize a yard sale. I did a google search "Is it worth the effort to have a yard sale?" The majority, around 75% said it wasn't worth the effort. My oldest son says "Have a yard sale."  This weighs heavy on my mind.

    I moved a lot of the items that are on their way out of my world, into a separate room. I can decide at a later time. Right now I just want this stuff organized. It's taking up too much of my time and thought. I'm actually blogging about this stuff.

    An art project that I'm working on, consisting of six pieces, is moving along slowly. I had a picture of one of the objects to share tonight but accidentally erased it. Oops! 

     The lovely ladies pictured above are dolls that I made about 5 years ago for my sisters. Their dresses are made from shirts that belonged to our Dad. I made and gave these dolls to my sisters the Christmas following our Dad's passing.

   The timer beeps and I bid you Good Night. 

Hot Stuff! - Day 6

     Yesterday, I was sitting in my living room trying to think of something to write. The room was quiet, the sun was at my back, and hot coffee on the coffee table. In a little while, my husband, Philip, came into the living room. He'd just finished eating breakfast. He asked if he could turn on the television. I didn't have a problem with that because he likes to watch the Sunday morning news shows and I was one paragraph away from being finished.

     He turned on the television and found that all his news shows had been preempted for local Super Bowl coverage. So he started watching that.

    He calls me a "tv Nazi" because he thinks I boss him around when he's watching tv; "turn it down, change the channel, you're not going to watch that, are you?" Stuff like that. So, Sunday morning, instead of telling him that the tv was blaring, I just got up and went to the kitchen.

    I was almost finished with my writing for the day. In about ten minutes Philip came into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets, while he was doing that huffing sound that my sister calls "air brakes." So I asked him "What are you looking for?"

     "Where's the food processor?" he asked.

     "It's in the cabinet over the coffee maker." I said. (eye shot - one foot from his head - second shelf- to the right - where he'd already looked).

     He drug out the food processor and set it down among the dirty, breakfast dishes. Then he drug out these dirty, wet, cream colored, horseradish roots from a bucket of water he had sitting in the floor.

     "Honey, aren't you going to clear some space to work?" I asked. As I moved my laptop away from the roots.

    "It's such a mess in here, blah, blah blah...."

     I closed my laptop, got up, and washed the dishes. I admit I was flinging a few spoons into the sink. I was just minutes from being finished and now I am stopping to do dishes - a few spoons got flung.

     Here's the thing. We'd invited our son and daughter in law over to watch the Super Bowl, so tearing the kitchen apart to process horseradish seemed impractical.

    I left the kitchen and was only gone for just a few minutes before Philip called me back in there. "I can't get this processor to work." I moved the handle around to the switch side, everything clicked into position and he was set to go.

    Five minutes later he called me in to ask me why the liquid was running all over the counter. He had filled the Cuisinart full of roots and water/vinegar and hit the "go" button. And it went - all over the counter!

     After cleaning everything up, twenty or thirty minutes passed. Philip came into the living room with tears streaming down his face. The horseradish fumes had started burning his eyes. I suggested he use some eye wash.

    "I'll be alright" he said as he wiped his eyes with a towel.

     The same thing happened about two more times and I suggested that it would be good if he had goggles to protect his eyes. He was a bit doubtful but I went to the garage and found his prescription goggles in a bucket in the wood shed.

    He washed the goggles and started wearing them. It worked. He was able to finish processing the pile of horseradish roots - at least as long as the food processor held up. He did quiz me quite sternly as to whether we had any more sandwich bags.

     "Yes, they're on top of the refrigerator." (One foot away from his head - 2 inches above eye level - in the bright blue box - to the left.)

    At the end of the day, we had a life time supply of processed horseradish and a food processor with a burnt out motor. The second Cuisinart that Philip has demolished in our married life together.

Big Money - day 5

     I slept late this morning and woke up with a foggy head. The minutes are ticking away and I am at a loss for something to write. The weather outside (always a good go to) matches my thinking; foggy and damp. There, how was that? 

      It is Super Bowl Sunday - yippee! - not a sports fan. Truthfully, I would rather be playing sports than watching sports. Though the idea of some of those huge football players heading my way for the tackle, would probably cause me to reconsider this stance. 

     This morning, on television, the local reporter was talking to local volunteers for the Super Bowl. "Have you seen any celebrities? "Oh, we saw so and so at the Super Bowl Village. Last night we saw so and so at the concert at __________ (fill in the blank)."  And "We're not allowed to ask for autographs." All this tires me. They obviously have nothing prepared for television this morning so they drag out some local folks, one who brought her poodle to have it's picture taken in front of the big Super Bowl numbers in front of the Memorial.  This all reminds me of a report they gave on Friday night. All week long, the local news people have been hyping the Super Bowl Village and all the free activities that are taking place around the city. Zip line, zip line, zip line! Friday night the newscasters were in a panic as they reported that the fire Marshall had closed down or was taking actions toward a concert where people were being crushed or almost crushed. People were actually shoving each other over a free concert. "Packed like sardines" is how some described it. And the image of a woman, middle aged, with a white sweater draped over her arm and a pouty frown on her face will probably remain with me for months to come.

Making spring plans - day 4

    I woke up early. It must have been around 6 AM. I have a lot on my mind. Now I am upstairs, the timer is set for 15 minutes and steaming coffee sits to the side to urge me on.

     It's been a mild winter. Usually in February, there's still snow on the ground from the beginning of January. This winter has just been wet and gray. Yet, with the mild temperatures feeling like early spring, I start to think about gardening.

     Though I have planted a few things in our landscape beds, it has been a couple of years since I grew an official flower garden. I think I have the bug to plant one this year. However, it is still early enough to change my mind.

   Another thing that has been occupying my mind is the web site, Pinterest. Months ago, I announced on Facebook that I am totally addicted to the Internet. I spoke of how I check my email, Facebook page, a couple of news sites, Boingboing, and 43folders many times throughout the day - a bad habit. Then I signed up for Pinterest. I have now gone from being a simple addict to shooting straight into the veins with one click of the mouse. Pinterest lets you tag interesting things you come across on the web and that article, picture, video is saved into what looks like a scrapbook.... a beautiful, thrilling, Internet scrapbook. It also shares other pinteresters scrapbooks. So if you are saving, for instance, garden ideas, you can also tap into garden ideas that thousands are saving. It is MIND BLOWING!  And I am just now getting familiar with the site. Who knows where this ends?

    Years ago, when we lived in Tennessee, we use to watch Dr. Who (the Tom Baker? era). Our whole family liked the series. Oh, you could tell that the monsters were actors in weird costumes (there's the 15 minute timer) but I think that made it more fun; not so serious. Anyway, there's a scene in one episode where Doctor Who lands in this cloud like place. A multitude of darkly dressed monks sit in tiny cubicles, their angel of death hoodies covering their faces as they work away at their computers. They are responsible for keeping time synced up. Well, it has been a while since I saw that show but that image of millions of monks at their stations, keeping time straightened out, comes to me sometimes when I'm on the Internet. Hooking up with Pinterest has moved me into the dark monks chair. All I need is the hoodie!

P.S. Now that I think of it, maybe the time keepers were just really old men without hoodies but definitely in monk robes. I like my first memory of them better - I'm sticking with the hoodies.