Just Keep Walking

I know, I've said that before. I really fell off the walking wagon a while back and I'm making a somewhat slightly valiant attempt to get moving once again. It takes a bit of determination, and a good friend helps too, especially if they also want to get moving.

After doing far too much sitting the past month, I have managed to get out for a walk three times in the last four days. (Please do not ask about the days previous. Everyone has to start somewhere... even if it's over again.)

My sister is a great walking buddy. She's even up for a walk if she already had one. She almost hero material!

Not much going on here in the way of flowers, so I must enjoy it while I can. I planted a small garden of zinnias just off the back porch. Here's hoping they deliver, even if I do have to wait.

Kitchen Pot Pie

Those chickens make me smile. (How is that even possible?) I went down to the coop late tonight. It was dusk and the chickens had already put themselves away for the night. They were all "upstairs in bed," but they heard me come around the corner of the barn and out they came, one by one. They were more than pleased to see me put some feed in their dish and drop a few bread crumbs on the floor.

I had three grandkids today. Maybe next week we'll go on an adventure, but today it was cold, the wind relentless, and the air full of pollen. I opted to stay home and attempt to clear some of my kitchen stuff out of Mom's room and find a home for it in the cupboards. I put a lot of stuff away and have a ton of stuff left. I'm beginning to think it multiplied while I wasn't looking. Yup, I'm pretty sure.

I'm working on the blue and white dishes. Hid the mismatched stuff in a cabinet with a solid door. The Cornflower Corningware has been in my possession for years. It matches and so it goes in the glass cabinet for now. Here and there I've picked up some plates and dishes, and a cup or two, and, believe it or not, I already have 3 or 4 planters, blue and white, that are sporting greenery. Maybe one day they'll find a permanent home on a shelf or the corner of my counter.

Sugar Sandwiches

When my sisters and I were little girls, bedtime always came with a snack. Sometimes we enjoyed graham crackers or a cookie with a glass of  milk. Most often we ate ice cream which Dad bought by the half gallon from the Webster Dairy. We stirred it up in our bowls until it was soft and creamy.

On nights when ice cream was scarce, and maybe because she liked it as a child, Mom would make us "sugar sandwiches." A piece of bread was spread with soft butter, sprinkled with white sugar, and folded over. Sugar sandwiches sounded sweet, but the sugar granules crunched like sand between my teeth. Maybe my sisters liked them better than I. Eventually I asked for plain bread and butter instead. I think my mom was disappointed.

 Ice cream was the preferred bedtime snack. Apparently it was Mom and Dad's favorite too. In later years the freezer was never without a "half gallon" or two. (Does anyone actually sell half gallons anymore?) Dad's favorite flavors often included nuts; maple walnut, butter pecan.. and no matter how full she was after supper, Mom rarely turned down the offer of a dish of ice cream.

Back to Work

Tuesday. Back to work.

It was a rather nice weekend. I can't recall exactly why, but I feel ready to sit with my friend in the Memory Care unit, so something must have gone right.

I've had my coffee, but not my shower. The bathroom was occupied when I emerged from hiding this morning, and so my routine has been rearranged. This will happen sometimes. No Ladies' Prayer group this morning. Most of the women are away on some kind of outing, so not only is my Tuesday rearranged, but my week is slightly rearranged too, and that's okay.

My house is slightly upside down (okay, a little more than slightly), and that is okay too. It's getting put back together a little at a time. We can still walk safely through most of the rooms. It's only the old dining room, which my mother once occupied, that is impossible to traverse. But now that my cabinets are in, the boxes that inhabit the room will be gradually emptied and their contents slowly dispersed. In fact, some of it might happen today, if I ever get off my backside and into the shower.

Cockadoodle-doo!

We've come to the conclusion that our chicken coop houses eleven hens and one handsome rooster. I've been calling him Bubba. It's Bubba and the Biddies. He hasn't started crowing yet, but he is sprouting some pretty tail feathers and I am enjoying the process.

I have to admit, although I thought having chickens sounded like fun, I didn't expect them all to come running when I rounded the corner to feed and water them, or that I would stand outside the coop and watch as they ate or performed crazy chicken antics. Who knew I would turn into a crazy chicken lady so easily?

Our kitchen is progressing rather nicely. The counter tops arrived today and are beautiful. The Cabinet Maker is presently busy hooking up the plumbing. Before you know it there will be more cabinets in place, a working dishwasher (fancy that!), the walls will be painted, and we'll have a finished floor. Little by little, bit by bit, it's coming together. Kitchens are a process.

I haven't attempted to put much of anything away yet. Kind of figured it was a losing battle if I didn't wait for the rest of the cabinetry. The hanging lights, which don't match in the photo, now do, and the present table will eventually be replaced by a counter height table/work surface.

When we first began I wasn't sure what I wanted to do or what colors I wanted, so I had some help with some of those things. Now I am having fun discovering ways to organize and decorate, and I'm finding myself perusing the aisles of Goodwill in search of blue and white dishes... And what do you know? I'd already been collecting them even before we started. I've found several pretty blue and white planters and dishes already gracing the house.

The Barn Collective

Youth and beauty, age and grace.

This old barn stands along Rt. 96 in Romulous, NY, not too far from the old Seneca Army Depot. It was the birds roosting on the edge of the roof that really caught my attention. Of course, they didn't stick around long when I pointed my camera out the window at them. The birds flew off and then something else caught my eye instead.

 I imagine this old barn was beautiful in its youth, straight and solid sides, a fresh coat of paint, and a belly full of good things. Time has taken much and left its mark, but beneath what looks sad is a grace that only time can give, wood grayed and darkened, deep, weathered furrows, and an interior echoing with the silent sound of yesteryear. Aged barn boards take decades to achieve their final beauty. They've faced scorching heat and freezing cold, weathered winds, rain, and storms. Why should it be any different with us?

Aching bones, sore joints, and bad backs. Apparently barns have them too, along with missing teeth and thinning hair. The westerly side of this old building stood up to driving winds which have left her with a swivel to her back side. The swerve reaches from top to bottom and yet she stands. Still beautiful, and now unique. A timeless treasure if only someone will stop to notice.

I can't say I'm looking forward to grooves and wrinkles, gray hair, and missing teeth. I'm already not sure about the aches and pains that sometimes plague my joints, but I do suppose that time is working in me something that couldn't be achieved without a bit of stress, strain, and discomfort. I'm not quite the same person I was 30 years ago, but in all actuality, it's a good thing. I just hope when all is said and done a bit of beauty shows up beneath the weathering. We really can't ask for much more than that, can we?

Join us for more of The Barn Collective at Tom's.

Shovels and Sandboxes

It's Friday and this afternoon I am meeting a friend for an ice cream cone lunch date. I think I'll get a baby-size twist...

Once upon a time, about 50 years ago, when children's playthings were made of metal, a little girl went out into her backyard to play in the sand. This was back in the days when parents were not thought negligent or incompetent for letting small children play outside alone. Even at 2 1/2 years of age the little girl could feel safe playing in her own yard while Mommy was inside the house, checking occasionally on the little girl's safety by looking out the back window while she worked in her kitchen.

It was a  nice sandbox, built up off the ground a bit, with seats on the side and a nice wood cover to keep out the neighborhood cats. There she was, playing in her sandbox, when along came a slightly older neighborhood girl. She might have been 4 or 5 years old, and she was alone too because back in the olden days children of 4 or 5 could roam the neighborhood and still find their way home in time for lunch. (The little boy was not there. He appeared solely for the photo op.)

The first and younger little girl would have been more than happy to share her sandbox with the slightly older child, whose name was Valerie, but Valerie was not happy with that arrangement. She was ticked off with the small child for even daring to have a sandbox when she did not, so Valerie took the metal sand shovel of the smaller child and proceeded to beat her in the head with it.

When the small girl's mother chanced to look out the window to check on her child, the child was laying face down in the dirt, which caused the mother great concern. She called out the door to the little girl who did not answer. Upon closer examination, and with great consternation,  the mother picked her small girl off the ground, and found her covered in both sand and snot. Sand, from the bucket Valerie had dumped over her head, and snot, from crying.

The mother tucked her small and sobbing, snotty faced child under her arm and carried her into the house where she took her into the bathroom to wash the sand out of her hair in the sink. In the sudsing process, the horrified mother discovered that her little girl's head was covered with multiple purple goose eggs. She would later lament, "I was so mad, I just shook!" and "It was a good thing for Valerie that she had gone home!" When subsequently asked by her mother why she had done such a thing, Valerie was said to have replied, "Because she has a sandbox and I don't."

Needless to say, the small girl in later years, had developed a bit of anxiety regarding older children. A little more than just a "healthy" respect, and she decided that Valerie was one of the ugliest names ever. (If your name is Valerie, be not afraid. She no longer despises the name nor does she fear those who own it.) And, there are days while watching her own children and grandchildren play in the sand that she is grateful small sand shovels are now made of plastic.

3X Thursday

Summer was made for picnics, and picnics were made for hotdogs. Or... maybe hotdogs were made for picnics.... Yeah, something like that. Anyway, those hotdogs are likely to show up in a picnic somewhere this summer, so...




1. Do you like hotdogs? (It's okay to like them, really it is.) And if you do, what kind are your favorite?

2. How do you "dress" your dog? Ketchup? Mustard? The works?

3. What do you eat along with your hotdog? Or are they a meal in and of themselves?

Tales from the Hen House

Number Seven loves the "chicky-chickies" and asks to see them every day he is here. I've never seen a child so enthralled with a bunch of silly birds.

One of my "hens" has me a bit confused as "she" is looking so different from the others. They say the comb is not necessarily a reliable way to sex a bird, but this one is completely different from the others in regard to the comb and wattles. The feet and legs too appear larger than the other birds. I'm watching the tail feathers to see if they start getting fancy. Barred Plymouth Rock roosters are supposed to be lighter in color than the hens so that part isn't different... And it hasn't started crowing yet.

It appeared as though I had a new "chicken" hanging out with us on Monday. He thinks he wants to be in there but I'm fairly certain those biddies could change that cat's mind in a hurry.

 Yesterday we fed the chickens the last of our picnic watermelon. They loved it! Ate the little white seeds first and then completely devoured the fruit. There wasn't a speck of red left when I went back to collect the rinds.

They're also enjoying their tire dust bath, although it appears they are running out of dust. I haven't actually witnessed them using it, but the dust round about the tire tells me someone has been stirring up the dirt. Guess it's time to dump another bucketful in there. Maybe the grandkids will help me out with that tomorrow.

I have to smile at this little guy when he gets down there in the coop. He really wanted to climb up the hill to see what was on the inside of the hen house, but his momma said it was not for babies.

First a Party and Then Back to Work

It's a quiet morning. The sounds around me are the quiet, settled kind, a bird chirping outside, the tick of the wall clock, and a the low growl of a fan running in the upstairs bedroom. I can hardly believe we're all the way back around to Tuesday again. It's my long day of the week. Soon I'll be out the door...

Yesterday was a busy one. We cleaned the house, as much as is possible in the midst of kitchen renovation, set up the back porch, and had a picnic. Our friend Don came with his wife. He's been a longtime friend struggling with multiple health issues and had hoped to see our kids on his visit. He was not disappointed. We had six out of seven, plus seven grandchildren. I think it was a nice day even if it did go by in a blur. ha ha!

Our Minnesota son is in the hospital. He had a rough day Saturday and ended up at Urgent Care on Sunday morning thanks to the encouragement of my favorite daughter in law. Turns out he had a partially collapsed lung. The doctors inserted a tube to release the air that had collected around the outer area of the effected lung and are now looking into why this happened. It's hard to be seventeen hours away from your child, even a grown up one,when they are hurting. I am grateful to have Michele on the other end loving and taking care of that firstborn boy of mine. She is my hero today.

Remembering the Fallen

Today a repeat post from three years ago...

Friday, May 24, 2013

It's Memorial Day weekend, a day to remember those men and women who paid the ultimate price while serving our country. Memorial Day is often confused with Veteran's Day, which is meant to honor all who serve and have served, whether they died or lived to return home again. I will admit I have often melded the two days of remembrance into one, neglecting to specifically remember the fallen. Perhaps that is because my personal circle is too small. I know many who have served, but none who died while serving our country.

Packed away in an old box in the corner of my closet is a stack of old photographs. Some are curled and faded from the years. In one box is a photograph of an old woman sitting by a white marble cross in a graveyard full of marble crosses. I recognize her face from another photo and know her to be my father's Great Aunt Hattie. Other than the fact that she was my great grandfather's older sister, I knew little of this woman. Her photos led me to believe she was a rather unhappy individual. I'd never seen a photo of her smiling, only the sad cemetery photo and two others of her squinting into the sun while standing by her brother. (He wasn't smiling either, but I knew him to be happy. I have other pictures of him.)

A month or so ago, I learned the story behind the cemetery full of crosses and the sad woman seated amongst them. Aunt Hattie Shafer Willis was a Gold Star Mother of World War I. Her son, Sergeant  George M. Willis, was killed in action during a battle in farway France.

During the first World War, a flag with a gold star identified families who had lost soldiers. Grieving women were “Gold Star” mothers and widows. Between 1930 and 1933, the United States government took 6,654 Gold Star pilgrims to visit their sons’ and husbands’ graves in American cemeteries in Belgium, England, and France...
In the 1930s, when mothers had heroic stature in the eyes of the nation, the government took thousands of them on trips across the ocean to visit cemeteries in Europe. (http://www.pilgrimageofremembrance.com/)

I was blessed to find a smiling photo of Aunt Hattie on her own memorial web page. I see a familiarity in her face now, a little bit of my own grandma looking back at me, and maybe a little bit of my dad who looked so much like Hattie's father, Garrett Shafer. I have a renewed respect and understanding for this woman. This Memorial Day I take my hat off to all the moms and dads out there who have watched their sons and daughters march off to war, never knowing if and when they will return.

Thank you, Aunt Hattie, for being one of those Gold Star Mothers. And thank you, Uncle George, for giving your life to preserve our freedom.

(And thank you, Ondra and Lisa, for sharing your great grandma's story with me.)

And, in addition to the story, a copy of the postcard George gave his mother just prior to shipping out. He was killed that same year.

This is what I think about the Flag and it is one of the principle reasons I am ready to fight today. Have no fear but what we do for God is with us forever.

                                                                  George.

The Barn Collective

I did not find any California barns on my vacation. I'm sure there are plenty of them, but they were not were I was and so I have no photos of them. I do, however, have several more New York barns in my collection.

Oops...

I arrived a tad early to work on Wednesday morning to find an absence of parking spaces. I did the best I could and parked in the yellow lines that mark the triangular edge of the smaller lot. Some days we park wherever the car will fit. Since I had ten minutes I took a few to call my sister. I also took a minute to pull out my camera and snap a photo of the crying reptilian tree staring at me through the passenger window. (Enlarge him if you can. He's really quite amusing.)

I finally gathered my things together and headed inside for the afternoon. I found my friend listening to the music therapist play the piano, helped her with her lunch, and stayed in her room while she took her nap. Wednesday is my short day. My relief came at 4:30 pm. We chatted a little, I gathered up my things, signed out, and headed for the door.

Out of habit, while on my way down the sidewalk toward my vehicle, I reached into my pocket for the car key. It wasn't there. I checked my other pocket. Not there either. I hadn't worn a coat or sweater and never put my key into my backpack. Several scenarios raced through my mind. Did I leave the key in the van? If so, did I lock the doors like every other day? If so, who would I call? We don't have roadside assistance anymore. I decided it was a good thing it was early and I have a cell phone.

When I reached the parking lot and looked into my van, I could see the ring from my key dangling from the ignition. "Oh, great," I thought, "I'm going to be locked out." I pulled the door handle and found, to my utter amazement, that not only had I been absent minded enough to leave the key, but I'd forgotten to lock the doors as well. And my van was still there. (Thank you, Lord.)

So, my dear Wanda, you are not losing it alone. I'm right there with ya!

It's A Boy!

As much as I like little girls, I think little boys are fun too. Can you ever have too many grandsons?

He'll be here around the end of October.

Coffee and A Swamp Walk

I go to bed tired at night, but then toss and turn, and turn and toss. I wake up multiple times and by the time morning arrives, I am at least as tired as when I climbed into bed 8 hours earlier. Must be something to do with hormones, middle age, and a restless mind, although I know my mind wants to rest. Good thing for coffee...

I took my grandkids out this morning. We went to find Tinker Nature Center and the Fairy Houses in the woods.

I didn't bother to count the tiny dwellings. I was having a hard enough time keeping track of small children while snapping pictures.

We followed the trail past all the Fairy Dwellings and on into the swamp where a few friendly frogs reside. Have you ever tried to keep small boys (or girls) out of the swamp? I almost felt bad telling them to stay on the trail. Look at all that great space to adventure in!

We not only found Fairy houses and frogs, but squirrels, geese, a few snails, and some pretty red birds. I looked for the herd of deer that live in the park, but they were hiding today.

To Work or Not to Work, That is the Question

Months ago I decided I did not want to sit out another summer inside. I gave my boss plenty of notice and waited out the time. Two weeks ago the new companion came to "shadow" me and meet our friend. She was scheduled to start this week.


I knew from my visit with the new employee that her chance of staying for the long haul were slim to none. She was already saying, "I don't know how long I'll last." Well, she didn't even begin. So after my lovely California vacation, I am back to sitting with my friend. It's not so bad, really, and it gives me a few dollars in my bank account. Besides, I don't have another job yet and this keeps me out of the Cabinet Maker's way while he works on the kitchen. And I don't have to train for anything new. Yet.

Missing Things and People/

I wrote about our trip to the Glendale Galleria and how my camera battery died, but I didn't tell you about Wand's missing sweater. She wore it home and it was on the bed when I opened my suitcase to find a fresh camera battery, but when she went to find it later, it came up missing. Feeling a bit emotional because it was the third item to go missing in as many days, I heard her tell Don and she actually sounded teary. "It was on the bed when I opened my suitcase," I told her. And then I thought about my own navy blue sweater and shirt, the only clothing items in that particular suitcase... I am embarrassed to admit my apparent kleptomania, but Wanda found it a comic relief to her previous concern that perhaps she was losing more than her sweater...

On Friday Wanda took me to a Monrovia where we perused and antique store and had lunch on the sidewalk outside a little bistro. We ordered gigantic lattes and
then, wouldn't you know it? My camera sent up the "change battery pack" sign again. Luckily, I listened to my own advice and had a freshly charged battery back in the car. I ran back to get it while Wanda ordered us a bit of lunch. She had egg salad in romaine boats and I chose the Monte Christo sandwich and a small bowl of fruit. Everything was oh, so yummy! Rather than eat it all in one sitting, we each ate half and took the rest home to enjoy later. I finished my Monte Christo sandwich on
Saturday morning before we headed out to the airport. It was the perfect breakfast for traveling.

Saturday came all too soon and we suddenly found ourselves back on the freeway headed toward the airport.I am pleased to report that I did not arrive at home with any items that did not belong in my suitcase, although I was chosen for a pat-down upon going through security. This has happened before and I am entirely unsure as to what kind of threat this middle aged white American woman could possibly pose. Perhaps I have a kind face and they are really just looking for a random American who will not give them grief. Who knows? (One of my bags was "randomly" chosen to be searched on the way... I'm just glad they didn't decide to open my bottle of maple syrup and spill it all over my clothes. Been there done that, only it was green chile salsa.)

A California Post

An airplane can make California feel almost close enough to visit on a regular basis...

It was a busy week. I boarded a plane and set out for the west coast last Monday morning. My first stop was Baltimore, Maryland so I literally flew from sea to shining sea, from Atlantic to Pacific (Gee, the traffic is terrific...). I tried my best to sleep on the five hour cross country flight and I did catch my mouth hanging open a time or two, so I must have fallen asleep here and there. Ha ha!

I arrived in California a little after 11 am Pacific Coast Time. I'd already been up for 8 hours (if I'd managed to get any sleep at all at home) and we had the whole day ahead of us. I can't even remember what we did that day... maybe nothing, but I do remember taking a much needed nap and eating some very yummy pulled pork and cole slaw for supper.

On Tuesday Wanda and I set out in search of an AT&T store because my prepaid phone had failed to renew for the month. That will happen when one gets a new debit card... We checked out some thrift stores and decided Savers is way too pricey for used items. The thrift store we visited with Don on Wednesday was my favorite. I didn't buy much but it was a great place to wander about looking even if the aisles were full of shoppers. After our thrifty adventure, we went to In-N-Out Burger for lunch.I like In-N-Out Burger.

On Thursday Don and Wanda took me to the Glendale Galleria. We didn't spend any time inside the mall, but headed instead to the little park with a pond surrounded by smaller shops and stores. It was a wonderful little place to wander about with a camera.

The Cheese- cake Factory was on the agenda, so when lunchtime arrived we headed over there and found a quiet booth to enjoy some food and dessert. I took a cute photo of Don and Wanda after which my camera informed me to "Change the battery pack." Unfortunately, I'd left the backup battery pack at home in my suitcase.

Not all was lost. I eventually remember my Nook which was tucked away in my backpack. I couldn't manage to get online with it at the apartment, but was successful in the galleria Barnes and Nobel. I took a few photos of lunch and then uploaded them to my Facebook after our meal when we made a return trip to the giant bookstore. One massive piece of cheesecake was shared by the three of us. Oh, yummy! I decided my Nook works pretty good for taking photos in a pinch.

Don and Wanda have learned how to beat the Los Angeles freeway traffic, so after our meal and a trip to the top of the parking garage elevator for a bird's eye view of the area, we headed back to the car and on home again.Don told me that was LA back on the hill in the distance. It was a bit hazy that day and a little hard to see but pretty just the same. And again, not too bad a picture considering it was taken with my Nook.