Storage

How can little plastic cups and boxes be so heavy? While we arranged contents of shelves in the basement yesterday various "tupperware" devices tumbled out bombing us about the head and shoulders. By today, Ol Abner's patience was at it's limit as he tripped over the ever-growing pile of plastic. I refrained from reminding him that same had been unpacked by himself during the last couple of years, then stashed in places unknown...'til now. Years of home parties, fundraisers and hope for solutions (envisioned in a new gadget or place to keep miscellaneous stuff, snacks, and staples) have culminated in a formidable mountain blocking the door to the basement bathroom. Many of the items haven't been seen since "Top Gun" was showing in theaters. That would be about eight moves ago. A very wise friend told me that any box that was still packed two years after a move should just be given to charity (maybe I SHOULD have tested that theory) Strange how lids and bowls just never get packed together. Many of the pieces will have to move to a new residence soon. Today, we went to the big box store and bought two big plastic storage bins so the pile can be contained for matching, evaluating and discarding. The basement shrinks again.

Home Improvement

We closed in part of the screened porch to convert to a dining room last fall. A successful conversion in that the problem of congestion while entering through the kitchen door or the staircase from the downstairs entrances was solved. Other issues are still being handled gradually...until yesterday. The unpainted siding purchased to match the current has been allowed to age throughout the winter. It had to be caulked and trimmed, both projects that required a tall ladder or scaffold from our 2-story back side. Ol Abner took advantage of the good weather and completed the prep work during two beautiful days earlier this week. Then the painting could begin. I'm talking about two short walls meeting at a corner with one 3.0 window on the one side and two 6.0 windows on the other. Frugal man that I married was reusing plastic dropcloths as window covers to avoid overspray. Small tears and holes in the plastic were easily covered with the painters tape. When the windows were taped for painting the image of a digital TV screen with large blurred areas and only a smattering of blue pixels arranged in a random pattern of clusters. I was so proud. Progress was in sight. My two tone house was about to match again. I expected him to pull out the roller and start painting, but gadgets purchased must be used. He has one of those airless paint sprayers (in fact I think he has successfully painted the rest of this house and another with it) and planned to make quick work of the small area to be painted. The gadget didn't co-operate. Paint drooled all over the ladder, dripped on his jeans, shoes and elbows and generally went anywhere unintended. As Belle and I walked around the neighborhood his expletives (though unintelligible) could be heard between bangs and engine flutters from the air compressor. Understanding friends and neighbors wisely refrained from offering to come help him. He was just finishing as we returned from our stroll and we complemented the new look. (not his, the house) The squirrels and birds were all in hiding and I took a cue from them when he grunted and told me the airless paint sprayer had malfunctioned (paraphrased). This morning after a shower and hand scrubbing of body parts, most of the paint has faded from his body, two pair of jeans will sport green embellishments forever and he's stiff and sore all over. He told me last night that he will have to invest in more exterior paint because that siding "really soaked it up". I wonder if he will try using a roller and brush this time.

How Things Work

A surge of energy this morning hoping to make everything shiny and clean just uncovered new issues. After moving furniture out from the wall and getting every last bit of dog hair out of the crevices, we discovered the lamp between our chairs no longer produced a light. Logical solutions like changing the bulb and plugging it back in had no effect. After ruling out a blown circuit or a worn out plug, a trip to the local big box or home improvement store was required. Belle the Swell, the chocolate labrador retriever was sorely disappointed as we left just before her usual walk or ride time. She works very hard to keep us on a schedule. She eats at 5AM and 5PM, walks Ol' Abner whether he needs it or not at least twice daily, and campaigns for a ride within the city limits of our tiny town on the lake. Leaving the confines of "Dogpatch" causes howling and wailing along with loud sighs and fidgeting from the back seat. We left her standing crestfallen at the door. She accepted her treat and settled to wait. ("Stay" in her language) She will just have to understand that reading the newspaper and tv guide are higher on the urgency scale at this moment. Returning home with miscellaneous parts for lamp repair, we were met with such good cheer and delight that a stroll around the circle seemed like the natural thing to do. However, now that all the new parts have been added to the ailing lamp, it still won't produce the proper glow for reading. It might have been cheaper just to replace it. Meanwhile, Belle is already campaigning for her afternoon ride. Gadgets may not work as expected, but one Labrador Retriever consistently guides us through our day. She will be ready to eat when we return whether the lamp lights or not.

Whrrrrr......

Who would have thought the sound of a shop vac would bring such joy? After many dreary days with gray skies, bitter cold winds and temperatures in the teens and twenties, I was thrilled to hear Ol' Abner out on the screened deck clearing the winter dust from the boards. We opened the sliding door from the dining room and allowed the fresh air to dare us to hope that spring might be coming. I refuse to allow any other speculation to surface.

Patchwork

The sum of my experiences leading to this day could best be described as a sort of crazy quilt. Events planned often lead to unexpected consequences or rewards. My very last paycheck arrived in the mail today. Probably the last one I will ever receive. From this time on, my endeavers will either be volunteer or non-productive. This last round of employment was actually one I didn't plan to even begin. Ol' Abner had a bout with cancer and began circulating rumors of his impending demise. Strangely enough, I had a call from my most recent employer the day after his diagnosis. Insurance, good health insurance, was my new unexpected need. Should he die sooner than later, I would be left bereft of his company sponsored insurance plan. Mind you, it isn't the best of coverage with its huge deductible and relatively high premiums, but without a living retiree to sponsor me, I would even lose that. He is a disabled veteran with service connected disablity so all his ailments are treated by the big healthcare system from the government. Having resigned from my job in Amarillo, TX because it was just too far to commute to the house in the Ozarks, the call to let me know about an opening in the Springfield, MO office (only a two hour commute) had unexpectedly moved that last paycheck out from sometime back in 2005 until today. I planned to be a teacher, majored in elementary education and never taught a day. Discovered that parents had less than reasonable expectations for those being paid to educate their children...that was in the early seventies...today's teachers deserve combat pay. It just seemed better to follow my nose and work where the jobs appeared and somehow they always came, whether I was looking or not. Volunteer work with children was much better suited to my somewhat free spirit. If they weren't nice, I sent them home. If their parents aggravated me, they weren't invited to return. Before giving birth to my own children, I could generally count on one of my friends to loan me a couple of theirs if I wanted to see a Disney movie or play in the park or some other less than grown up activity (I loved climbing trees back then). When my own urchins came along the best way to keep a view of them was through ongoing interaction with their peers. Meanwhile I sometimes needed to supplement the family income. I always enjoyed the job interview process. It was a fun way to learn about a company and just what they produced. Usually after couple of those and I had a job offer. I really would like to have just been a professional applicant, but there seemed to be little demand for that. Healthcare billing and collection was the paying work I followed for many years as Ol' Abners career moved us from city to city. Daughter and Son had needs that often influenced my choice to work for pay or not. Moving to Midland TX in the oil boom of the late eighties funneled me into a sales job and I found that to be a good fit for my curious nature. Eventually, sales experience landed me in a job for a major telecom company selling yellow page advertising. Now how is all this relevant? The realization that no more paychecks will be forthcoming means I will need free entertainment. Having observed blogging from a distance, I enlisted the aid of Daughter to set up a sort of diary/blog. She took me an extra step into Facebook and I don't have to explain that several adults who should still be carefree children are turning up on my wall. Wow...stich another section of the crazy quilt!

Just as I Feared

After setting up my first post and signing out, I wrote the post for this morning last night. When I previewed it a couple of typos and misspellings "glared" at me, but I couldn't find a way to correct them. I somehow posted anyway, and lost all ability to edit. I understand my youngest granddaughter had no problem blogging so I WILL master this. Just a little later. As Mammy used to say "Aging ain't for sissies".

We must travel to the state capital today to get hearing aids and new glasses for Ol' Abner. That would be his mythical name. As a child I spent early years in the Arkansas hills before the financial blessings of the Lone Star State lured us to the Texas panhandle. The Sunday comics featured the ongoing antics of Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae and I followed them closely through the pages, then a movie and a high school stage play. While my other half was a little more industrious in his professional life than the "mattress tester" career of Li'l Abner, I relate to Daisy (same name as my favorite flower) as his strongest advocate and protector of his sanity. These days he could qualify as a "sleepin' chair tester" though. Age tends to slow us down in every way and it's actually rather nice. My very own "Mammy" (dubbed so by her first granddaughter) wore a painted shirt with something to the effect that it is okay not to be able to see, hear, or chew, but "I sure do miss my mind!" I do wonder what it will be like for him to always hear what I say the first time. At times I am sure he ignores me, and other conversations end with the appearance of complete agreement from him only to be met by total denial of any knowledge when the time comes for action. Glasses, however are another story altogether. No less than two dozen pair have just gone away in the last year. Some are in his pocket, then they are not. Others fall out as he leans out of the boat to retrieve something from the lake or river, some may have been burned with leaves in the "holler" behind our home here in "Dogpatch". Every trip involves at least one pair lost and some just cannot be discribed other than missing.

What was I thinking?

Thought it might be fun to capture my momentary wisps of conscious thought where they could be reviewed after departure. The only problem with that bit of genius lies in the nature of said thoughts. Whether I am very old or very young lies in the mind of my audience, and most days I can argue either direction. A blog requires a certain ability to recall such silly things like passwords and pathways, items I usually view as unnecessary obstacles. Inability to recall the thoughts generated less than a moment ago could be the beginning of dementia...or the sign of mind that is growing. The jury is still out. Posting today may be the only time I will find my way in.