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.