Dust, Plain and Fancy

During the recovery period that followed my total knee replacement, Kim and I were inattentive to housekeeping. I couldn't stand for long periods of time, and Kim, after standing for hours at her job, spent her evenings maintaining basic home sanitation and doing all the things necessary to keep us fed. Dusting wasn't a priority. Where dust fell, we were careful not to disturb it.

The thing is, this house seems to be a dust magnet. I don't know how so much dust gets in the house. My neighbors complain of the same problem. We look around outside and see grass, green grass everywhere, no patches of bare dirt. Maybe our dust is of the educated, civilized variety that deliberately migrates to comfortable indoor quarters. I don't know, but it's a problem.

On a recent weekend, Kim and I decided it was time to do some deep cleaning. We didn't want to knock dust off tabletops and into the air, so we used vacuum cleaners--two HEPA-filtered ones with brush attachments. We carefully sucked up all that dirt and confined it in plastic bags so it couldn't escape before we disposed of it in the outside trash can. There was a lot of it--so much that we began to feel like hunters bagging prey: "Look how much I got in the living room!" We were determined, we were thorough and, afterwards, pleased but quite achy.

Two days later I sat down in our sparkling clean living room to watch television. Rays of late-afternoon sunshine beamed through the small window in the front door, and my jaw dropped open. I could not believe the galaxy of dust motes visible in those sunbeams. 

I didn't think Kim would believe it, either, so I got the camera and zoomed in on the offending particles. Is this what's in the air we're breathing in a clean house? Yuck!

As appalled as I was at all the dust, I have to admit to being fascinated by the photo of the dust. I thought all dust was grey. Click on the picture to enlarge it, then notice all the colors: pinks, blues, greens, yellows. It's almost like miniaturized confetti. Or glitter--yeah, that's it, glitter. Glitter in the air, like the Pink song.

Wish I could think of it in such positive terms when I'm trying to clean shelves and shelves of books.

The song is "Glitter in the Air," by Pink.

Click here to read the lyrics.

Thanks to maaanu90 for posting this song on YouTube.

Up, Up and Away!

One day last week Kim and I sat out on the patio for a late-afternoon chat. The sun was in our eyes, so we raised the big umbrella. For one reason or another, we went inside without closing the umbrella and didn't give it another thought before bedtime.

The next morning I opened the back door and noticed that the small clay pot Kim uses as an ashtray on the umbrella table had tipped over and spilled half a dozen cigarette butts on the concrete. I hurried to pick them up before the dogs could get them, thinking all the while that something else seemed wrong. It took a minute to realize that the umbrella was missing.

A quick look in the backyard and the side yard showed that the umbrella wasn't there. I walked the width of the house, not really thinking that the umbrella could have blown far enough to end up in the driveway, and indeed it wasn't there. I had a clear view of neighbors' yards all around, could have seen a big green umbrella if there'd been one in any of them, but there wasn't.

Kim woke up a few minutes later, and I asked her to look around outside and see if she could tell what was different. She didn't register the missing umbrella immediately, either. Once she did, she looked in all the same places I'd looked. We both laughed at the mental image of a huge umbrella floating off into space.

Kim got dressed and went out the front door to look some more. Minutes later she came in giggling and said she'd found the umbrella. I followed her out that way and didn't see any sign of it until she told me to look up.

This photo shows the green umbrella, lodged upside down in a niche of the roof between the front of my house and the rear of our rent house across the carport.












Here's where it started from:

Apparently, on an otherwise clear, calm night, there was one gust of wind that was strong enough to lift the umbrella and its weighted pole high enough to clear our rooftop. Gosh, I wish I'd seen it happen! What fun that would have been.

Ten Minutes in a Sun Shower

South Louisiana's intense summer heat often produces late afternoon rainstorms. Yesterday's heavy rain would have been no different from that of any other day except that the sun never stopped shining. There's something about that phenomenon that I find particularly appealing: no dark, gloomy clouds, no noisy thunder or scary lightning--just water and sunshine everywhere, like a festive day at a water park. A rainbow is the only thing that could have made it better.

I know I'm not the only person who imagines a magical quality to such a mixed-up weather occurrence. Online articles here and here, among others, address the folklore that has grown up around simultaneous sun and rain through the years in places all over the world. Some of the legends involve devils, witches and strange weddings. Personally, I find sun showers heavenly.

If you're so inclined, click on the following images to enlarge them, and maybe you'll feel as cool and fresh as I did while I snapped them:

5:00:27 PM - Rain falling on the leaning tree, just behind my back fence.

(Viewed from my patio, under the eaves.)

5:00:47 PM - Rain pouring off the roof of a neighbor's cabinet shop.

(Viewed from my patio.)

5:01:07 PM - A corner of my own roof (in shadow) with blue skies overhead.

(Viewed from my patio.)

5:02:55 PM - My driveway and next-door neighbor's house.

Look at all the sunlight!

(Viewed through glass door on side of the house opposite the patio.)

5:04:20 PM - Neighbor's truck (nearer front of my driveway)

in pouring rain but enough sunshine to cast shadows of tires.

(Viewed from under my carport.)

5:04:43 PM - Hard rain spattering on driveway,

shadow of basketball net support.

(Viewed from under carport.)

5:06:55 PM - Rain and sunshine both beating down on neighbor's roof.

Drops that appear larger were falling from eaves of my own roof.

(Viewed from under carport.)

5:08:10 PM - Closeup of rain spatter in deep puddle.

(Viewed from dry spot under carport.)

5:08:39 PM - Rainwater pooling at uncovered end of carport

where mop had been put out to dry.

(Viewed from covered part of carport, but enough

water flowed through there to get my shoes wet.)

5:09:01 PM - From bottom to top: edge of front yard, 

peak of the hilly driveway, woods across the road--and rain.

(Viewed from carport.)

5:09:59 - Walked through the house in wet shoes and

stepped out the backdoor again to take one more shot

of the bright blue sky. It was still raining, but the camera

couldn't capture it against this beautiful background.

(Viewed from patio.)

Um...What Was I Thinking About? It Wasn't Birds, Was It?

My home office area is set up in a corner of the den where two windows meet and allow sunlight to pour in and brighten the room. I enjoy looking out those windows while I'm pondering a blog post idea, deciding the best way to structure a sentence, or editing photos to share. (I pay bills in the same spot, but that process doesn't involve much restorative window gazing.)

Lately, for some reason, sparrow-sized birds have been flying up and attaching themselves to the window screens. They'll hang there for a moment then hop across to a different spot on the screen or maybe fly away altogether, only to return a few minutes later. Sometimes more than one bird will land on the screen, one right after the other. Most of them eventually move upward toward the corner of the roof and out of my line of vision. I don't know why. I've looked twice and can't detect any sign of a nest up there.

The birds scratching on the screen sound very much like mice inside a wall, so the first time I heard that scratching I was relieved to look up and see a bird. Actually, because they are backlighted by the glaring sun, I see only their dark silhouettes--black, bird-shaped blobs. I can't identify what kind of birds they are.

As much as I like our fine feathered friends in general, about the only thing I can say for certain about these particular ones is they sure have a way of knocking an idea right out of my head.

Sink (Sank, Sunk)

Remember the days when your bathroom sink stopper was a rubber plug? How simple was that? As long as you didn't lose it, it performed perfectly every time.

My 1970s-era sink plumbing came equipped with a chrome, disk-shaped stopper that was raised or lowered by means of a lever behind the faucet. The disk came off years ago, leaving a little X-shaped plastic gadget sticking out of the drain just far enough to keep an old-fashioned plug from fitting into it. It wasn't a big deal; we quickly got used to not filling that sink.

On Tuesday things got trickier: Kim lifted the lever while she was cleaning the faucet, and the entire stopper assembly fell apart.

The rod that had held the little plastic thingamajig up in the mouth of the drain fell down into the pipe. Since those parts had originally been situated in the drainpipe on purpose, we weren't too worried about it and turned on the faucet to see if water would flow around them in their new position. In fact, the water flowed more freely than ever. As we stood there congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in a close call, water flowed down the drain, past the broken parts, through a brand-new hole in the side of the pipe, and onto everything in the cabinet below. The good news was that it happened early in the morning on a stormy day, so we had no problem finding a plumber who was happy to have an indoor job.

It had been a while since I'd squatted down to look into the back corners of the cabinet under the sink. When Kim pulled everything out of there, I was surprised to discover how many bottles of bathroom chemicals I own. Turns out I'm rich in terms of basin, tub and tile cleaners, mildew removers, glass cleaners, and toilet cleaners. There are multiple partial bottles and new unopened bottles, some in the same brands, some in different brands to be used for the same purposes, each one claiming to be more powerful than the others, each toxic in its own way. These are the types of items I pick up at the grocery store because I can't remember if I need them or not. I spot them on the shelf and know they aren't on my list, but they won't spoil, so I buy them to be safe instead of sorry. After our inconvenient inventory, I know I can safely bypass the bathroom cleaner aisle for at least six months, maybe even a year.

The plumber pointed out that the shelves all those products have been sitting on were built after the plumbing was installed, and they were built to last. Whoever made them was a fine craftsman. He sawed out intricate slots to fit perfectly around the piping, then installed the boards with enough nails or screws to keep them in place long after the roof caves in and the walls fall down. He did not, evidently, consider the possibility of future plumbing problems. When the plumber was unable to maneuver the curvy pipes out of the custom-fitted shelves, the choice was to cut and replace the pipes or break out the shelves. The shelves prevailed. Shelves 1, Pipes 0.

The new $205 sink stopper is very shiny. So far it's worked every time we've tried it.

Louisiana Ice

After yesterday's sub-freezing temperatures and "frozen precipitation," I stepped out onto the patio first thing this morning to take a picture of these tiny icicles hanging from the patio table:

I was back inside, taking my coat off, when Kim called, "Mom, I think you need to bring your camera out again and take a look at the back of the house." So I did. I've lived in this house nearly seventeen years, and it's the first time I've ever seen anything like this:

They looked ever bigger when I stood right under them:

Frankly, I was impressed. Lucy, however, couldn't have cared less.

Bright Sprig of Hopefulness

This was the view that greeted me when I stepped out onto the patio about seven-thirty yesterday morning:

Look at that sun, low in the sky, touching up the frosted lawns, adding golden highlights to cover the gray. See how it brightened my neighbor's garden shed...

 ...and her old oak tree that sits next to my driveway?

The sunlight felt like nourishment at the breast of Mother Nature, and the temperature rose into the mid-sixties. What a blessing.

I'd show you a picture of our view at seven-thirty this morning, but taking photos in the rain would have ruined my camera. Yes, it's gray and drizzly again, but yesterday's sunshine was enough to feed my spirit for at least another day or two.

The good thing about rain is that the dogs don't like it much. They go outside when they have to, finish their business quickly, and come right back inside. When it isn't raining, they do their business then race around the backyard, their feet sinking into the swampy ground, kicking up mud onto their legs and underbellies. Levi even got mud on his face yesterday afternoon, probably kicked up there while he was chasing Gimpy.

That mud gets tracked in, of course, gets shaken off their coats and slung onto open doors. I was looking at the back doorway yesterday, thinking all the parts of it need to be scrubbed, when I spotted another living thing that's trying to grow and, like me, needs sunshine to thrive:

Bless its little heart. I question its judgment but have to admire its boldness. Wish us both luck, okay?

A Year of Broken Things

There are only 24 days left in December, three-and-a-half weeks until the year ends and we get to wipe the slate clean, right? I hope the only thing that breaks between now and the stroke of midnight that signifies the beginning of 2014 is the spell that seems to have been cast over my household in 2013.

I've spent a huge chunk of my meager savings this year on things that have broken down and needed to be repaired or replaced. In February I told you about our broken sewer line. In July we had to replace the roof. Also in July my cell phone lost its texting capabilities. In mid-November the microwave oven met its demise, and days later I had to ante up for some car repairs. Earlier this week the dryer broke down. I ended up having to replace it. Actually, the story of the repairmen who came out to look at the dryer is a rather nice one, and I'll write about in a day or two when I have more time.

In the meantime, it's Saturday, and I'd like to dedicate this week's Saturday Song Selection to my 40-year-old house (with special emphasis on its wiring, plumbing and climate-control systems); to my appliances (large and small); to all the electronic things I managed to live without just fine before I got them and learned to love them; and to my eight-year-old automobile that I've only driven 42,000 miles and expect to drive for the rest of my life. May your parts be strong and your lives be long.

"When you try your best but you don't succeed,

When you get what you want but not what you need.

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep,

Stuck in reverse,

"And the tears come streaming down your face,

When you lose something you can't replace,

When you love someone but it goes to waste,

Could it be worse?

"Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones,

And I will try to fix you." *

* The song is "Fix You" by Coldplay.

Thanks to TheNewCitizen for posting the video and lyrics on YouTube.

Odds and Ends and Those Darn Dogs

This time last week the temperature was beginning to drop. Sunday afternoon I pulled the electric blanket out of the closet and rigged up its wiring behind the headboard and under the bed to take the chill off the sheets before bedtime. I also set the thermostat so the central heat would come on if the temperature dropped too low in the night. Which it did.

For two nights in a row the temperature hit the freezing level. I kept the heat on in the house all day and dressed in sweats and thick socks. The third night the heat didn't come on, and I kicked off the covers because the room was too warm. The next afternoon I slid the switch from heat back to air conditioning, and the A/C has been on ever since. Yesterday I wore shorts and sandals to play ball outside with the dogs.

I picture the weather gods as geeky guys in a control room, pushing buttons, turning dials, and laughing so hard their sides hurt. Cut it out, you guys. It's not funny.

**********

My microwave oven died. Well, I suppose that's not technically true; it had irreversible turntable failure, so I euthanized it. It was eight years old and getting quite rusty where condensation had accumulated under the turntable, a sure sign that death was imminent. The decision to put it to rest came about because the turntable stopped turning altogether. The cooking function still worked, but I convinced myself that the little turntable motor, straining to turn and unable to do so, was a fire hazard. The fact that I'm spoiled and lazy didn't have anything to do with it.

Remember when microwave ovens were new to us and we had to manually turn the dish of food several times during the cooking process to evenly distribute the heat? It wasn't a big deal then, but it sure seems like a lot of trouble now, don't you think?

Anyway, Kim and I both checked microwave oven reviews online, then we went shopping and picked out one that was on the list she'd made. It looks and functions very much like the last one (different brand), but the inside is operating-room clean, and I'll be a lot more careful about wiping condensation out of this one. Long may it nuke.

**********

I was on the phone with my sister a couple of weeks ago when I had to interrupt our conversation to holler at Gimpy, who had suddenly decided to dig a hole under the gardenia bush. He's a fast digger, so the hole grew to about four inches deep by the time he understood why I was yelling at him. Apparently that hole is the perfect size to meet his needs.

Levi and Gimpy take play breaks under that bush all the time. Now, when they lie there, Gimpy positions himself so he can drape his front paws over the side of the hole. (This is Louisiana, folks. Think swampland. Any holes we dig are mudholes.) Not only does Gimpy get his paws muddy, he drops the tennis ball into the hole and bats it around like he's kneading dough until it's covered with a thick coating of smelly mud.

When they've rested enough, Levi is the one who sticks his mouth into the mud to pick up the ball and bring it back to me to throw. My reaction? To use a local phrase, "Ain't no way!" I make them wait while I go inside to get a paper towel, then make sure they're watching while I use the towel to pick up the ball and throw the whole mess in the garbage.

I wonder how many balls we'll dispose of before they make the connection that the mudball is a game ender.

"Before" and "after" tennis balls.

**********

At the center right of the photo above you can see the wicker basket (formerly a dog bed) that holds the dogs' toys. We keep it up out of their reach so we can monitor which toys they're playing with and not leave them unattended with anything that might present a choking hazard. When the dogs show an interest in the toy basket, we set it on the floor and let them choose. The boys, Levi, Gimpy and Oliver, like to empty it out, one item at a time. Lucy doesn't show much interest in it.

The other morning the boys had taken all the toys out of the basket and were playing happily with one thing, then another. Kim and I were nearby, working on our separate computers at opposite ends of the den, when we heard a loud crunching sound. We glanced at each other, simultaneously asked, "What was that?" and got up to look.

It was Lucy. She was lying comfortably in the empty toy basket on the floor between us, eating the sides of it. How convenient!

Beside the Still Waters

See these pots drying on my kitchen counter? They were freshly scrubbed, but not because I'd cooked in them.

Yesterday morning as I sat here at the computer reading other people's blogs, my next-door neighbor called. "Is your water pressure low?" she asked. I had no idea, but I went to check on it while she waited and reported back to her that yes, it was low. Not much more than a trickle, in fact. She said she'd call the water company, then call me back.

Knowing I badly needed a shower before heading off to the writing class, I dug out my three largest pots, set them one by one in the bathtub, and slowly filled them all with water. I had bottled water to drink, so I figured I'd use two pots for bathing and save one for flushing. I'd make do if I had to.

It took a while for my neighbor to make contact with a human at the water company, but once she did, she called again and told me that someone had accidentally cut a main water line about a mile from here. The woman at the water company had told her, "They're working on it, but we don't know how long it will take to fix it."

I hung up the phone and headed to the bathtub while my potted water was still warm. I turned on the shower, mostly out of curiosity, and discovered there was enough water trickling out of it to wet down my body so I could soap it up and enough to rinse the soap off if I was very, very patient. I took a chance and shampooed my hair, but there wasn't enough water pressure coming from the shower nozzle to get a clean rinse, so I dipped a big plastic glass into my largest pot, many times, and poured it over my head until my hair was squeaky clean.

I've been reading lots of historical fiction lately in which characters struggled every single day to carry water from the nearest creek. That was their only option. Nowhere in any of those books was it written that even one of those characters felt as virtuous as I did yesterday about bathing in a small amount of water. I felt like a hardy pioneer woman.

If I'd had a mule and a wagon, I might have tried to get to class that way.

The Day the Music Died

Okay, the title of this post is an overstatement, but I did sort of feel like that yesterday while I boxed up records and cassette tapes to donate--or maybe to sell; I haven't decided yet. Whatever their final destination, they all hold precious memories, and it's hard to let go of things like that. I had to remind myself again and again that the memories are in the songs themselves, not in the recorded media, and the songs will not be lost to me.

I counted as I boxed and came up with 175 singles, all of which were accumulated between late 1970 and sometime in the mid-80s. All of the 45 rpm records I'd bought before 1970, a stack about the same size as this one, were given to a neighbor when we moved from Texas to Florida and didn't have room for them in the small utility trailer we towed behind our station wagon.

Here's a small sample of the 45s:

The albums we owned did make it into the trailer for that Florida trip, so some of the 105 albums I boxed up yesterday predate 1970. Only a handful of them were purchased after 1980.

By the time my husband and I separated in mid-1980, we'd been buying cassette tapes instead of vinyl albums for a while. When we divorced, I got all the albums and he got all the tapes, a decision based once again on which medium would take up less space in the moving trailer. I continued buying tapes on my own, even bought them for several years after everyone else had switched to CDs. Being compact in size, all but a few of the tapes made it into this photo:

I did get with the times eventually and now have a nice-sized stack of CDs. I'm keeping those for now, even though I've uploaded all the best tunes from the CDs to my computer. There, they're stored alongside hundreds of iTunes selections that include many of the songs from the singles, albums, and tapes I'm finally ready to give up. The best part is that all the digital tunes don't take up even an inch of space in my house. Isn't technology amazing?

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This week's Saturday Song Selection is from the tape at the upper right-hand corner of the cassette-tape photo above (you can click on it to enlarge it). This one reminds me of a time when I was between relationships. I wasn't at all unhappy, but I wasn't yet resigned to singlehood status, either. I fully expected to fall in love again before too long; that's the way it had always happened before. I'd listen to music while I busied myself around the apartment, and this song always made me imagine that the kind of man who would bring me a broken arrow and a bottle of rain might be very much to my liking. I guess I'll never know for sure; I never met a man like that. I stopped looking years and years ago.

The song is "Broken Arrow," written and performed by Robbie Robertson.
Thanks to TheUnderground5150 for posting this beautiful video on YouTube.
Click here to read the lyrics.

It's an ordinary day, except...

...it's an especially gorgeous one! This is the view that greeted me when I let the dogs out just before seven this morning:

The early morning sunlight made everything in its path sparkle and was accompanied by the coolest outdoor temperature I've felt in months. After days of unrelenting heat, broken for mere hours at a time by drenching rainstorms, a day like today is a welcome reminder that fall will come, eventually, to Southeast Louisiana. 

The good weather convinced me to eat lunch outside again today, the first time in several weeks I've enjoyed what was an important part of my daily routine until a few weeks ago. I'd almost forgotten what a pleasure it is to sit out there with my finger-food lunch on the table at my left, a book in my lap, and two happy dogs dropping their tennis ball near my right hand at least twice a page.

Indoors today I'm doing laundry, experimenting as always to determine which order of washing the various loads is the best one to keep lint off my dark clothes. Since I'm not always successful at that--and maybe you aren't, either--here's a tip: a T-shirt-size length of contact paper stuck firmly against one side of a garment and then the other does the best and quickest job of lint removal I've ever seen.

Also, I'm still emptying drawers for Kim's upcoming move, and today it was time to buckle down and figure out new places to keep the gift-wrapping materials I've been storing in the room that will soon be her bedroom. I have a tall plastic container that holds rolls of gift-wrap paper, and I think that the whole container will fit into a long, built-in bin in the den. Rolls that are too long for that can go on the top shelf of my washer-dryer closet, along with plastic boxes of ribbons and bows. Gift bags and a rainbow assortment of tissue papers have been placed in zippered plastic bags and will now live in the living room in an end-table basket that's been empty until now. (Now, if I can just remember where everything is when I need it. I may have to do a keyword search for this post from time to time.)

Writing this mundane post in the scraps of time between chores and other activities has taken nearly all afternoon. The only good thing about that is that the laundry's all done now, so I can report that the order of today's loads was an effective one: hairy dog towels first, followed by human towels, sheets, light clothes, then dark ones. My good black pants came relatively lint free from the dryer.

The season premiere of Grey's Anatomy is on tonight. If I hadn't forgotten to put chicken in the crock pot earlier today, supper would be almost ready and the last hours of the day would be as nearly perfect as the rest of them have been. Maybe I'll take a short drive and see if anybody showed up for work at the burger place. It doesn't take a lot to make me happy. 

I Don't Care What You Think; I'm Keeping This

I am exhausted. In the best possible way. The household purge continues and today I reached a point where I could actually begin to move some furniture. Mostly that consisted of relocating four loaded bookcases from the den to my bedroom, which I accomplished with the aid of my old, grimy Moving Men furniture sliders. If I hadn't thoroughly reorganized the utility closet earlier in the week, I wouldn't even have known where to find that battered box of sliders, so yay for serendipity!

Before moving the bookcases, I took everything out of the cabinets below the built-in, non-movable bookcases, eliminated what I could, and reorganized the rest. Those three cabinets were full of office and art supplies. Two of them still are, but one now holds the few games I'm keeping and eight or ten unopened jigsaw puzzles. I found a like-new leather day planner in there and thought how useful that would be for one of the young women in the family--and then I realized that everything I used to do with the day planner, they all do now on their smart phones. I discovered enough manila envelopes in a wide range of sizes that I'll probably never have to buy one again. The same goes for sticky notes and index cards. There were four plastic shoeboxes, each containing an assortment of crayons, colored pencils, markers and chalk. One day after the big move is complete, I'll sort them all out by type. For now I'm keeping all of them.

I found stuff when I moved the bookcases, too:  mostly rolls of a dust-and-dog-hair mixture that had accumulated under them, neither visible nor reachable from the front. Also under a bookcase were the stiff, leathery, well-preserved remains of a five-lined skink. Those bookcases sat next to the backdoor, so the skink probably darted in when the door was open and sought shelter in the nearest dark space. I wonder if the dryness of the dust and dog hair mummified it.

Tabletops and counters are still covered with items to be given away or donated to thrift shops. A visitor would be justifiably horrified at the mess, but I'm beginning to see beyond it now, to imagine how it will look when all those things are gone from here and we have a functional, comfortable home again. Working towards that goal has been good for me, both mentally and physically. It's amazing what the right motivation can do to get a woman off her backside.

********

I could have reclaimed space in my home much faster if I'd taken a hint from the title of this week's Saturday Song Selection, but three lines of the lyrics sum up the reason why I'm sorting through everything carefully and hanging on to more than I need:

"No matter what you think about it

You just won't be able to do without it

Take a tip from one who's tried."

Of course, the song is about love--not decorative items stored in a spare-bedroom closet--but we all hear what we want to hear, don't we?

The song is "I Threw It All Away" by Bob Dylan.

Click here to read the lyrics.

Thanks to 3vignano for posting this video on YouTube.

Grammy's Giveaway

What a week! I've been emptying out closets, drawers and cabinets, piling the contents on tabletops and kitchen counters, sorting what to keep, what to donate, what to throw away. If I were doing this on a TV show, there'd be a "what to sell" pile, too, but I have neither the time nor the energy to hold a garage sale right now, and posting stuff on craigslist would involve strangers coming to my home. (Ooh! Scary!) One thing I do know: when the time comes for my daughter to move in with me, there'll be room for her. She's going through a similar process in her present home, sorting out what to bring with her and what to put into a rented storage unit for the time being.

Over the weekend I set up a private Facebook message for my kids and grandkids (promptly dubbed "Grammy's Giveaway" by my granddaughter) where I've been posting photos of anything I think might be of interest to one of them. The first one who claims an item gets it; what isn't claimed before my next trip to Goodwill will go there with me and never come back. It's been kind of fun.

Here's a list of the items posted so far:

• Barstool, wrought iron with beige, microfiber seat. Bought about two years ago at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Seat is 29.5" high--a tad too tall for my use. 
• Crosley record, radio, CD player, rarely used. It all works, but the quality is only about two degrees above a P.O.S.
•  Big stack of 45 rpm singles, mostly from '70s and '80s. I loved them all but haven't played the records in years. Still listen to a lot of the songs on iTunes. Big stack of albums, mostly from the same era. Don't care for the music? I once saw one of the "Trading Spaces" decorators line an entire wall with records.
• Resistance chair and Smooth Rider Exercise Cycle for Resistance Chair: I bought these a few years back when the arthritis in my knees was so bad I could barely walk. Didn't use it but about three times then and don't use it now. I still really like the idea of it, though--for someone with more self-discipline than I have.
• Sharp Z-57 Compact Copier. Anybody need a small-office copier with a big footprint? Bought it so I could make legal-size copies; don't need to do that anymore. Old but still works fine and parts (toner cartridges and drum) are still available. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Bissell Spotlifter Powerbrush -- Kim gave this to me when she got a big floor model carpet steam cleaner, which I liked so much that I bought a big one just like it.
• Large afghans made by either my mother or my grandmother (I've never been sure) have been stored in a drawer in zippered plastic bags for years. Specify which one(s) you want. MULTI-STRIPE: Lots and lots of different colors. RED, WHITE & BLUE: Red, white, blue and...um...a very pale pink. (Do you think maybe she couldn't see very well?) LAVENDAR, GREEN & WHITE: This is the prettiest one, in my opinion. I like these colors together. FOUND A NEW HOME!

• Games:  Backgammon, Pictionary, Password, Code Sudoku, Scruples, Scrabble, Outburst, Ouija Board.
• Oreck XL hand-vac with shoulder strap, perfect for upholstery or auto vacuuming. Comes complete with four brushes, two extenders and a couple of extra bags. I got this as a bonus when I bought the big Oreck (after I saw it lift a bowling ball on TV), didn't really need this small one so used it only once or twice.
• Audio cassette storage boxes: Two nice-looking stackable boxes that can be repurposed and used to store craft items, office supplies, nails and screws...I don't know...matchbox cars? Cassette boxes (and I can provide those if needed) can be inserted to partition the boxes into smaller spaces. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Task Force 12" Mitre Box with 14" Saw: I remember buying this--needed it urgently for some project--but I can't remember why I needed it and I haven't needed it again.
• Pile o' Wires -- almost didn't even list this, but, as they say, one (wo)man's trash is another man's treasure. There are electrical wires (old-style extension cords with no ground), telephone wires, plus TV cable wires and a couple of computer cables.
• Black-Widow Spider Halloween Costume -- Elastic on sides makes it one-size-fits-all. (Black pants, hoody, and "hand socks" NOT included.)
• Strait-Line kit containing laser level, stud finder and sonic laser tape. These are nice tools, but I don't expect to do much more redecorating, and I'm content to hang pictures the old-fashioned way (or using simple techniques I've learned on Pinterest).
• Three ring binders: 1" stiff back (salmon colored); three 1/2" flexible backs; pocket inserts; multiple sets of dividers. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Broken watches -- I'm thinking they might be used some way in a craft project, e.g., attached to a picture frame for newborn's first photo, with hands set to time of birth. Or worn all together as a fashion statement. My first thought was to place tiny portraits under the glass, but I don't know how you'd get the darn things open.
• Hanging/folding makeup kit (plastic) -- never used. Also good for holding craft supplies, coupons, hair bows, scarves, belts, tights/hosiery, etc. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Five-quart plastic jug with spigot. Very narrow, takes up little space in refrigerator. Has a very, very slight leak. When I used it in my refrigerator, I kept a folded paper towel right under the spigot and that took care of it. Great to fill with Kool-Aid, etc., for use outdoors by small kids. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Beer or soda can dispensers -- plastic-coated wire. Three of them. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• "Bread Buddy" -- Used to use it, but I eat bread so infrequently that I now have to keep it in the freezer. Put loaf of bread in container, pull wrapper back over sides to slide bag toward opening, then snap lid over bag.
• Vintage Premium Saltine Crackers Tin - from 1978, has a few very tiny dings, which is not bad when you consider it's been part of five major moves.
• Carter's Onesie (size 3-6) months, plus matching hooded bath towel -- still has tags. I bought this for Keaton (who recently turned 10), but he outgrew them before I got around to packaging them to mail. Put them in the back of my closet, still in the plastic shopping bag, and forgot about them through Presley, Cohen, Henley, Owen and Olivia. They're perfectly fine--just not gift-worthy, because they'll need to be washed after all that time.
• Christmas mugs -- good for hot chocolate or, when filled with candy canes and wrapped in a bow, a cheap spare gift. (That's how I got both of them.)
• Ceramic Campbell's soup mug
• Stackable food storage containers (incomplete set, but mostly there). Base sits on shelf, lazy susan part pulls out and turns so you can pick out what you need. Frankly, the idea of these is better than the reality of them, because the lids are hard to put on and take off. Hm. It just occurred to me that the containers could be discarded and the pull-out lazy susan might be handy for storing spices, canned goods, etc. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Tupperware ring mold for Jello OR shrimp (not Jello AND shrimp). FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Five-piece set of Mickey Mouse Chinese mini-pliers (my assumption only). Have no idea where or when I acquired these. The package has never been opened, though it appears that I did my best to try to get it open. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• Caulking gun and caulk, bought about a year ago because I need a line of caulk at the base of my bathtub. (Still do.) Apparently, I'm either too weak or too stupid to use this properly, so I gave up. FOUND A NEW HOME!
• VuPoint 35mm slide & negative converter - Converts your old slides and negatives to digital images. This was a Christmas gift I requested and very much appreciated a few years ago; however, I switched from PC to Mac and it is no longer compatible with my equipment. The box says it's for Windows XP and Windows Vista, latest versions of Windows at the time I got it. Don't know if it's compatible with Windows 7 and 8, but if you have lots of old negatives, it might be worth checking it out.
• Astrology Kit - Quoting the box: "Everything you need to cast horoscopes for yourself, your family & friends."
• The Ken Brown Calligraphy Kit - Lots of fun, but watch out for that India ink.
• Six brushed-stainless cabinet knobs, 1-1/2" diameter. Mount them several inches apart on a nice narrow board to hang ball caps, etc. Cabinet knobs would also be pretty if they were mounted on a pretty board in two (or three) rows, with small, framed photos hanging from the knobs by cords. Also, five stainless hinges. Any "outside-the-box" ideas for using these?
• Double-switch wall plate, off-white antiqued with gold, fleur-de-lis at top and bottom.

That's where I stopped Sunday night, but there's more to be listed as soon as I clear a spot on the table for picture taking. 

I spent yesterday getting the "taken" items cleaned up and ready for delivery, including washing and drying every single one of those damned stackable food storage containers, then moved on to washing, drying and reorganizing the food storage containers I plan to keep, the ones that have been stacked so precariously in the cabinet that one false move can cause them to tumble out. Now I wish I could think of a crafty use for the umpteen extra lids I discovered.

I also discovered two more broken watches--the total is up to six now--so I'm now thinking I'll keep those and use them in a project like one of these someday. Besides, they don't take up very much space.

Yesterday I uncovered a box of more than a hundred 3.5" floppy disks, some of them (and I wasn't always sure which) containing confidential information of the kind I would shred if it were printed on paper. So, while I watched TV last night, I sat with that box next to me on the sofa and a plastic shopping bag in my lap. One by one, I put each diskette into the shopping bag (to catch any flying pieces), cracked it open like a nut, and removed the thin magnetic disk that stores the data. Every so often I'd stop and use scissors to cut a stack of those filmy magnetic disks into pieces. Now I feel comfortable in disposing of them, but I've learned that this kind of electronic refuse isn't safe to toss into trash that might end up in a landfill. The same applies to cassette tapes, videotapes, CDs of obsolete software and expired batteries, all of which I have plenty. Finding a disposal site will be another big undertaking. Oh, well.

I'm just now realizing that I already covered a lot of these topics in another post just six days ago, which tells me that the "thin magnetic disk that stores the data" in my brain isn't functioning as it should, possibly due to overload. That being the case, I'll stop writing for now and get back to the physical activity of purging and reorganizing to make room for Kim (FOUND A NEW HOME!).

Creating Elbow Room

Due to a recent series of events centered around the end of a relationship, I'm going to have some new housemates by the end of October. My older daughter, Kim, and her two dogs, Oliver and Lucy, are coming to stay for a while. In the meantime, Kim and I both need to figure out how to eliminate a lot of "stuff" from our households so we won't be stepping over it all once they move in.

As many clothes, books, and other items as I've donated or thrown away in the past couple of years, there are still too many things here that I don't need. Somehow, when one has empty drawers, shelves, closets, or floor space, items seem to drift in from all directions until everything is full again. As long as the space doesn't feel too crowded, keeping unnecessary stuff doesn't seem to be a problem. Now, all of a sudden, space is at a premium.

Over the next few weeks I'll be purging with a critical eye toward making room, getting rid of a lot of things I've kept just because I could. Things like this set of fine china my father bought me in 1965:

Thanksgiving Day Table Setting - 1978

Those were the "good" dishes, the ones reserved for Thanksgiving and other special meals back when life was a more formal affair than it is nowadays. The days before automatic dishwashers. All these dishes have a thin rim of silver around the edges, silver that will erode rapidly in a dishwasher. It's been at least twenty years--possibly thirty--since I've used them, yet they're stacked and lined up neatly, along with coordinated serving bowls and glassware, taking up one whole set of cabinet shelves. I can no longer afford to be sentimental about them. It's time for them to go to someone who'll appreciate them enough to wash them by hand.

There's a bulky copy machine I bought in 1997 when I was thinking about starting my own home-based business. It's old but it functions perfectly. I use it about once a month and don't need to use it then. Any copying needs I have these days can be handled quite capably by the three-in-one printer/scanner/copier on my desk.

There are boxes of games I no longer play because more interesting games are available online. There's a shoe-drying-rack attachment for my dryer that I've never used. On the same shelf is a fabric softener dispenser, also unused because I prefer dryer sheets. There's an unopened box of legal-sized hanging files I'll never need again, three boxes (in three different locations) of assorted wires and cables, and attachments for a vacuum cleaner I no longer own. There are non-functioning and/or obsolete electronic appliances I can't get rid of until the next annual electronics recycling day. I have tons of vinyl records, cassette tapes, and VHS tapes. A nearly finished quilt top (made by a great aunt) and three crocheted afghans (made by either my mother or my grandmother) sit in zippered plastic bags inside a drawer, where I see them only when I can't remember what's in that drawer and open it to find out. There are so many things taking up so much space, and that has to change. Now.

There are other useless things, of course, that I'm not ready to give up. One example is a round tin box full of assorted buttons I've saved over the years. My grandmother kept a button box very much like this one, and I spent hours, as a child, rearranging the colors and stringing them together with a needle and thread. There's something magical about a button box, and some kid, someday, will like mine very much.

Wish me luck, please. And focus, too; wish me that. I'm going to need a lot of both in the coming weeks.

True Colors

One-a-Day Redux
Day Twenty-Six:  Color

One of the first things discussed in the painting class I took earlier this year is what a drastic difference there is between the color of a shady patch of grass and that same grass with the sun shining on it. One would think that would have been obvious, but I'd never given it a conscious thought. I wish it had been pointed out to me before I picked out paint colors for my house.

When I bought this house, most of its walls were covered with wood paneling. Replacing the paneling with drywall was beyond my budget, so painting the paneling seemed to be the next best option to brighten up the place. I knew from the outset that I wanted the walls to be the neutral gray-green color of Spanish moss, so I went from store to store collecting paint samples in that color range. All of them were close, but I couldn't decide which one was exactly right.

My daughter solved the problem for me when I was talking about paint colors while we were riding in the car. She abruptly pulled into someone's driveway, got out and yanked a big handful of moss from a nearby low-hanging branch. Now I had something real to compare the swatches to.

That afternoon I sat in my den, moss in one hand, swatches in the other, and chose the nearest color. The next day I took it to the home-improvement store and asked them to mix paint in that shade. Several gallons of it. That night we painted primer over the paneling, and the next day we applied the custom-color paint. Once the fresh paint dried, the room was still quite dark. Not as dark as the paneling had made it, but certainly not as light and airy as I'd expected.

The problem, I now understand, is that I'd sat indoors--in the shade--with the moss and the color swatches. I picked the color of shady moss. Compare the wall color to the shady parts of the moss in this composite photo, and you'll see what I'm talking about:

If I'd made the selection outside in the sunshine, I would have come much closer to the lighter color I'd expected. Lesson learned.

When it comes time to repaint, maybe I'll try again for the moss-in-sunshine color. In the meantime, I've learned to love and live with the darker shade. It still gives the house the outdoorsy feel I like; it just happens to be outdoors in the woods.

While I've been writing this, it's occurred to me that this light-and-shadows rule can apply to people as well as to paint colors. I think most of us put our bright, sunny sides out there so others see those first. Only people who know us well or observe us very closely ever get a glimpse of our darker, shadowy natures. Lord knows that would explain a few situations in which I've made worse decisions than wall paint color.

Potpourri (which I once pronounced paht-POOR-ee)

So, let's see: I've already told you about getting a new roof, lining up new auto and homeowner insurance policies, and replacing a cell phone. I don't think I've mentioned that my refrigerator stopped cooling in the middle of all this or that I read on the Internet how to fix it, and the second thing I tried worked. I don't think I've mentioned that a light on my dashboard says "service engine soon," which I plan to do after everything else settles down. If the light read "service engine now," it would have a higher priority. I know I haven't mentioned that my older daughter broke up with her boyfriend and thought she was going to have to find a new place to live almost immediately. I wouldn't say anything about that now, except she already posted about it on Facebook, so all of her friends already know what's going on. I haven't written anything about the verdict in the George Zimmerman trial; even though I didn't agree with it, I didn't have time to explain why. Unless William and Kate's royal infant arrives while I'm typing this, I won't mention him or her, either.

Instead, I'll write about the little things I've been doing to maintain my sanity. It's now been over a year since I posted about undertaking an old-windows project. Two weeks after that post, my brother-in-law hung the old windows on my wall, where they've remained empty ever since, waiting for me to display matted photos in them. Last week I finally did that:

I ended up repainting the window frames after the pictures were firmly in place, thanks to emailed advice from my favorite interior designer, my stepsister, who explained to me how to give the fresh black paint an aged look:

While I was in printing, painting, and framing mode, I replaced two store-bought botanical prints on the focus wall of my living room with my own botanical photos (both of which I'd altered with the watercolor filter in PhotoShop Elements). People always used to ask me if the old prints were mine. (Holly asked most recently). Now, if anyone asks again, I can answer affirmatively.

I should have taken a "before" picture but didn't think of it. Here's an "after" shot, along with two close-ups:

I still take photographs almost every day. Awhile back I showed you photos of a Mississippi Kite that had been hanging around the neighborhood. A pair of these birds have been spending a great deal of time at the top of my neighbor's tree, and I now have more Kite photos than anyone could possibly need. I simply can't help myself when they perch up there and make their pretty selves so available to the camera's lens. Here's an example of a frequent pose:

And here's a not-so-frequent one, taken while the tree swayed yesterday following a thunderstorm:

The dogs and I took a long nap during that particular thunderstorm poured and woke to find it had rained enough to flood the back end of the yard:

We've had hard rains almost every day recently, and I'm expecting another one any minute. This was the pretty promise of rain about eight o'clock this morning:

The rainy weather and the big curly dogs that like to roll in wet grass have reminded me that it's time for Levi and Gimpy to get their quarterly haircuts. I managed to give Levi his on Friday, but Gimpy wanted no part of it. I'll have a second go-around at him in a day or two.

Gimpy (left) and a newly-shorn Levi.

I've distracted myself every evening with reality TV and wrapped up each day with a Kindle book at bedtime. These simple activities, these ordinary things, help me hang on to a sense of normalcy in the same way that the Kite pictured above holds on to its skinny, wobbly branch. Sometimes the best thing one can do is just hold on until the storm passes and the wind stops blowing.

The winds around here seem to be dying down, but I won't let go just yet.