Slippery Slopes

I am dealing with a new level of melancholy today. It's not the "Monday, Monday" kind of sadness, but more along the line of "If Tomorrow Never Comes".  Dealing with daily challenges is losing the satisfaction of completion, and I find myself procrastinating often. The holiday season is fast approaching.  I normally would be contemplating Christmas gifts for family and friends, making some of those special gifts and planning events.  None of that holds much promise in the midst of a pandemic. Seasonal parties and family gatherings must be limited in attendance and every precaution must be taken to prevent spread of the dreadful disease.  Prognosticators now are telling us the mask wearing will probably be a permanent condition. That doesn't bother me at all, the mindset that accompanies it, does.  I miss my masked man, at the same time I am truly glad he does not have to endure the constant concern that a weakened immune system would cause for him.  It appears Christmas will be "endured" via zoom or some other video group gathering.  That plan creates an emptiness in my heart that trembles all the way up my spine.  We may never again see the joyful, loving holiday celebrations. If all this personal stress is not enough, we suffer through constant political unrest.  A contentious presidential election flanked by all federal level ballot choices makes my email blow up daily, my phone rings constantly wanting me to participate in a poll or donate some money somewhere in dire need of financial support.  Both sides are needy and vicious. My own family cannot agree on the proper solution, so we must remain silent when in the company of one another. This afternoon a foundation repair company is coming to our rented office to determine the best way to stop the foundation of the building from sliding into that beautiful creek that runs behind us. Now there is an issue I can certainly surrender to someone else. Perhaps I can just sit back and allow the owner of our property to decide how to deal with this. I shall watch from behind my mask, needing to offer no suggestion for resolution. It makes me smile!

Autumn! It’s all about the treats.

 My great aunt M often visited for a few weeks in the summer from her home in the middle of New York. She was an avid birdwatcher, naturalist, hiker and storyteller. In WorldWar II, she served as an army nurse, returning to become a school nurse for the remainder of her working years. She loved the weeks of freedom to travel and we anxiously anticipated her visits. She taught us the value in a smile, the power of a kind word, the peace of silence. When Pappy joined our family, he loved chauffeuring her to reunions with family. He eagerly anticipated her autumn gift of fresh maple syrup! Actually, we all did.

It’s no stretch then to observe my joy when “all things pumpkin“ arrive in a flurry during Indian Summer. Nothing tickles my tastebuds though, as much as that creamy maple flavored ____ you can fill in the blank here. When I found some cookies filled with maple cream, Pappy ate the whole bag and lamented that they weren’t available year round. This morning I sweetly miss both of these people so important in forming my attitudes. My cinnamon toast made with maple butter, ginger peach tea and the smell of pumpkin custard in the oven, are the most glorious reminders of two special people forever dwelling in my heart.

Now here’s the poop!

 Living in the arid rocky hill country is my paradise. Well usually. Yes I love the sunshine, mild winters and blistering hot summers. My most recent dilemma does not relate to the weather I love, though I offer it as justification for living in a community where underground utilities create unique challenges. On a street that offers up and downhill slopes viewed through my kitchen window, drainage of household waste requires assistance. Prior to establishing this residence, we had never lived where conscious thought was even required about where the flush and drain deposits traveled.

Cursory education for new inhabitants involved discussion of the little box on the side of the house. The gadget inside would be the harbinger of malfunction, should our grinder pump fail. Each home boasts of it’s own sewage grinder-lift station to be absolutely sure our poo and dirty dishwater leaves as it should. Cautionary tales about the cost of repair or replacement left us aghast. We made sure to avoid financial disaster and paid for the upgraded “diamond” plan when obtaining our home warranty policy. Noting the red flashing light on neighbor’s control boxes left me with relief that ours continued to do its work, UNTIL my neighbor called about nine pm with news that mine was flashing! 

Drama in the days that followed tried my joyful spirit. In fact, my cranky old lady persona reflected my inability to flush toilets, run my shower, dishwasher or clothes washer. The assigned plumber arrived unexpectedly. I happily welcomed them, but alas the relationship went sour quickly! I was told a septic tank pumping specialist would need to come remove the vile liquid before diagnosis could be completed. That was the news after I made a trip to the ATM to obtain cash for this service provider requiring a cash only version of my co-payment. They drove away leaving me looking at my still flashing red light, googling “septic tank services”. A call to the warranty company was unhelpful. The claims agent told me they did not provide that service, but when completed, an additional visit from the plumber would not require an additional co-payment! Why was I not comforted With that news!!!

The following day a delightful young man came out in a big truck with a long hose to drain the 37 gallons of sewage from my tank. He apologized for collecting the “thousand gallon minimum” fee, after calling his boss to attempt to negotiate a lower cost. I appreciated the five percent senior discount, acknowledging silently that I wouldn’t want to do his job at any cost. He drained the tank, reset the pump, ran the grinder and the pump through the paces, had me flush both toilets and run copious amounts of liquid down my drains. The red light was no longer flashing and he proclaimed my grinder and pump functional. He was here less time than the lazy plumber had spent in my drive awaiting my retrieval of cash payment! 

After fretting and stewing overnight I called the warranty company with my “never mind” about sending a plumber back out. Conversations with neighbors revealed that the plumber used in their repairs had arrived, drained the tank and completed the repair or replacement without the need to recruit a septic pumper! The claims agent I reached on that call listened patiently to my tirade. Yes, the plumber should have drained the tank and included the charge for that in the bill. The huge pump truck was certainly overkill for my tank. Though not covered on it’s own merit, I might be eligible for reimbursement since it did accomplish my initial purpose. 

Positive response soothed my attitude. I had a choice. A check would be dispatched in six to eight weeks or on-line gift card of my choice could be used immediately. Being sufficiently cranky, I chose the Visa Gift card to be mailed the following day. Hardly anyone waits for a check these days, and my disgust in this event began with a service provider refusing to accept a  check!

Zoom

School is beginning everywhere, but nowhere as it was. Public schools and universities are hosted by teachers via zoom classes. Now there is a new noun or adjective. In the past zoom was used as a verb to denote moving something quickly(i.e. Cars were "zooming" by on the street). In the new context, it is a virtual meeting by internet from multiple locations. We will see multiple faces on a screen in an effort to share and learn during isolation. 

Just so you know, I find this method of meeting lacks a full experience for learning, visiting or sharing information. That could be the result of my inept technological ability, however I find grumbling on many fronts. Clearly I am not alone in my frustration.

I write this missive today in hope that months from today this period will be only a sad memory, reminding me that I was blessed to survive these weeks.

Puzzled

For years balancing my incoming to outgoing funds was a constant challenge. Ol’ Abner watched my spending by snooping through my checkbook in early years, then on line once the bank account was available for digital interaction. It was a “back of my mind” concern that I might overspend. He kept that concern front and center, exaggerating the size and frequency of my purchases.  When he was no longer able to be the watchman, I embraced the fitting of the finances into a monthly puzzle usually finding a few excess spaces available for the next months. He left me sufficiently funded to live worry free well into my old age. 

That was before this pandemic threw a wrench into every process. Now I find myself with no extra pieces, but many gaps in the puzzle to be completed. This is a terrifying circumstance for me, though I know we were often here in younger years. Today I am on my own as I search for those missing pieces and pray that they will come in time. As I look to the future, the word “normal” has no meaning. I must view this as a “new adventure” at a time in my life when I had least expected. Boring was never my pleasure, but I must pray that I am up for this level of excitement. Now, let me search for even a tiny piece of this puzzle of $$$.

Scramble and Stop...Now Go...Not!

My technological skills are gone, not old and out of date, not rusty, not tired, just GONE! For nine months I have intermittently attempted to pair my camera to my phone. The divine little gadget that made my photo uploads such a joyful experience while traveling last summer took a devious dump in the fall. Every attempt to load those photos met with resistance. I'm sure you know the script. Update software, remove software and reload, check for adequate battery power, turn devices off, now turn them on. Nine months of frustration and I asked for help. DIL met me at the office yesterday and finally figured out the problem.  "Firmware" must be updated. Sounds simple enough, but cannot be done through my phone.  I need to connect to PC with my cables.  Oh those? Hmm, where are they? Found them this morning circa 6AM. Didn't need them after all. Update can be completed via the SD card in the camera. .

Were I to possess one iota of techno skill, all would be well.  I do not, and it is NOT. Reading instructions carefully, setting up a file to save uploaded update, finding said file and attempting to move the update exe file to it, trying to run the update from whatever file it now resides, trying to move it to SD card for loading in the camera,  try again. My PC now owns four maybe five copies of the update, my poor little camera still has not seen it!

In the midst of a pandemic, our world has ceased as once we knew it.  Taking the camera in to a camera store for assistance is not an option.  We have few options, or I should say very different options these days. I should probably be grateful that this is my only trauma. I am healthy and know very few people who have suffered with this vile disease.  After years of enjoying life with a masked man, I now proudly wear one as the perfect fashion accessory. I miss regular interaction with groups of friends, eating in restaurants, and live church services in person. I shall survive, my camera may not!

Flo’s New Bed

The last time I posted I was contemplating a brand new task.  Daughter has become quite skilled at orchid rescue. A friend provided us each with an orchid a couple of years ago. I calmly glanced at this one from time to time, sometimes dribbling a little water on her feet. Daughter fell in love with hers and assumed the mission of finding orphans to become her siblings. I believe the orchid compound now houses 17 or 18 blooming wonders, and additional species.

She reviewed my photos of this busy little plant and concluded it might be time to re-pot. As Mother’s Day approached, the Amazon elves offered up several deposits on my front porch. I was advised to wait until all supplies were in place  Last week I jumped in. I deposited a portion of the planting medium in the new pot, lifted her up at the neck and gently shook her dangling roots loose. Not one resisted. Really! This seemed far too easy. I held my tongue just right and scooted Flo over to her new bed, lightly scooping more “soil” around her shoulders. When the stem holding two blooms and a bud, had been successfully attached with hair clips, she looked right at home.  Finally, I exhaled and added a shot glass of bloom booster poured over two ice cubes. This was Daughter’s recipe and I offered a little prayer that I had not facilitated this plant’s untimely demise.

Today is Memorial Day.  Flo’s third bud has opened and she appears to be thriving. The photo below doesn’t show her in her best light. I apologize for the bad photography. Next time I ask her to smile for the camera, I will find her an uncluttered runway.

As her first attempt at modeling, Flo is truly a work in  progress.

Not qualified as a Greenhouse

Bring on the heat! I am so ready for some sunny bright summer days. In our drought ridden arid climate, we have witnessed far too many grey cloudy days with intermittent showers. My weeds are loving it, grass is seeding and re-sprouting, trees are experiencing growth spurts. My eyes are grimly fatigued, maybe even a little moldy. I know I shouldn't complain. 'Nuff said!

Meanwhile my orchid is bursting out of her britches! Yes this binge growing has even come inside. Flo, the Phalaenopsis, has a brand new pot and saucer.  Potting medium has arrived and I have listened to daughter's advice while welcoming these contributions. She sent some rather smelly organic orchid bloom booster. I mixed up a jar of the concoction and spooned a little in to Flo's current bed. A few hours later a second blossom opened. U-Tube videos are in agreement with methods shown on the back of the potting medium bag. 

OK! I guess Flo and I are ready to make good use of another grey day in the kitchen.  I'm going in...wish me luck and survival skills for Flo.

Pandemic!

Our world is smack dab in the middle of a disastrous pandemic. I mention that just in case you are snuggled down in a quiet basement not allowing intrusion from the outside. In Texas Hill country most counties are under order to “stay at home”. My business is considered essential and all my workers carry the letter specifying same. 

My business is in the midst of a perfect storm although I must be grateful to each and everyone of my staff. A large payment due early last week was not received, and has still not arrived.  Our payor took advantage of bad news headlines and chose not to pay the debt to us. Other customers are paying rapidly, but a behemoth payment was necessary to clear expenses incurred on behalf the biggest project in progress. Eleven days post due date and I am told all hurdles have been crossed. Meanwhile my faithful employees diligently go about their necessary duties. Today marks the second week that paychecks were not dropped into their bank accounts. 

I refuse to succumb to the predictions of doom. I cannot, when I look into to the eyes of the young men at the jobsite. A precious neighbor had a supply of non-perishable foodstuff. I took it to the work area. As I left, these men all waved from an appropriate social distance with a shout of “thank you”! I know, this too, shall pass. 

Stay home, stay safe, and wash everything often, especially your hands!

Clean dishes?

I know it’s there, seldom noticed, but getting bigger daily! Such is the collection of grime around the edge of my dishwasher door. This morning I couldn’t take any more. I sprayed the filth with liquid cleaner, wiggled the grungy gasket around and wiped away the residue.  Sounds simple enough? Not exactly. A damp cloth had to be rinsed several dozen times to rid its surface of the sticky brown grease. It made me a little sick to think the shiny sparkling dishes removed from this appliance had to pass from behind this goo. 

My hands ache, my knees are bruised and my back and neck may be in permanent strain. The white shiny edge of my dishwasher door interior is cleaned. Appliance literature promises a “sealed door” to prevent leakage. Now how did all that residue manage to deposit into the space under and around the seal. Note to self: wipe the edge of the door before unloading clean dishes. There. That should solve the problem. We’ll see. (Actually it’s the things we don’t see that haunt my early morning hours until I’m wide awake)

Ain’t No Sunshine

Barely a month ago I posted plans for a busy social schedule intermingled with active work. Oh how the world has changed. With a background in healthcare, family members with suppressed immunity, and my grandmother’s common sense, I practice germophobic-like safety routinely. Co-vid 19 has brought us all to attention. Our vulnerable population can lose a life from the nasty persistent bug. Panic takes on many different looks. Some feel the need to overbuy necessities, depriving others to access. Seeking medical advice has kept our medical professionals in overtime, hyper-vigilant citizens are mingling while social distancing. 

Meanwhile I crave a day of sunshine for which Central Texas is known at this season. Again this morning I see overcast skies on a cool morning. Rainfall has begun. It appears my sunshine will not come today.

My kind of Winter

Central Texas in February!  Sunshine brought temperatures to the mid seventies peaking at eighty for a moment. Home was my sunny refuge on this President’s Day. A morning meeting with others on the journey through grief, several hours at the office wading through volumes of paperwork preparing for tomorrow, and I walked into my well windowed kitchen to that view of bright sunshine over the lake. 

I will be out early tomorrow, fielding calls from Miss Kitty, delivering tax documents and applying for certifications. First though, I must meet with our website developer to be sure my companies are active and positive in cyberspace. 

I look forward to a visit beginning in a couple of days. My lovely British outlaw will arrive in the wee hours Thursday. Son will pick her up and daughter in law will finish her commitment before she meets them here.  Her mom will stay with me for most of the coming week. We are hoping a relocation to Texas will be in her future. May we share more of this glorious sunshine with her.

Proper Preparation

It is pre-dawn at the beginning of a busy winter day. Yesterday, I arrived home late and went to bed early. Early awakening  is the result. My mind spins with the tasks before me and I prepare with my fresh cup of caffeine. It is trash day so I will be sure the bins are deposited at the street side as I leave.

I must arrive early at my office to respond to an inquiry from a state agency, prepare documents for another state agency's certification, check with my bank about delayed paperwork on a vehicle, and leave the office by ten to attend a class to sharpen another skill. Yes, my plan this year is to "learn".

I am learning that I am truly blessed with my good health. Even as I uncover unbelievable shortfalls in some, others circle around and prop me up with encouragement and assistance. I see friends and family suffering from serious health and emotional crisis and offer up fervent prayers for their healing. In the artificially lighted morning, reality is dawning. I shall make my list and check it twice. My presence will be fully active in the present moments, they are a gift from God! I will not fret over yesterday, nor will I concern myself for tomorrow.

I look forward to the predicted sunshine to light my way soon.

Signal

When a wife expects something from her mate, it often comes as a simple request in person, by phone or text. For years I Iamented that Ol’ Abner was very astute when reading my needs, rather his version of my needs. I wished for better light in a dim room and came home to find a large window ready for installation. He had sledge hammered his way through the outer wall and let in the light.  A few months later he brought in a giant projection TV that only that wall would hold, so the lovely window was behind a closed drape with 78” screen in front of it. I was planning a super bowl party! Thereafter, I learned to carefully state my wish.  He generally managed to make it happen anyway.

Our son seems to have adapted to the little signals with a rapid response. I was sitting in his office one afternoon. His phone dinged and he glanced down with a laugh saying “gotta go now”. The simple photo on the screen showed steam being released from the Insta-pot. He understood her message. Dinner was ready! He shut down his work and left for home!

Incident Report

When she was rather young, my sister changed the lives of eight other people. She threw a rock at a little boy. Same little boy returned fire. Hers missed, his did not! I am not certain if the wound was visible, but her loud wailing as she raced into the house convinced our dad that the “unwarranted attack” had damaged her badly. 

New residents in the neighborhood, we had not yet met any of our neighbors, but lil’ sis knew exactly where the varmint lived! Daddy took her by the hand, marched out the backdoor and crossed the alley to the pink house on the corner behind us. When confronted by his mother, the somber young man admitted to the heinous act. In a shaky explanation, he explained that she tossed the rock to him, so he sent it back.

Two parents, embarrassed by their offspring, reintroduced themselves trying not to laugh. My knowledge is vague about  the rest of the first encounter that led to a special friendship between two families.

I will share more experiences that still make me giggle another day, but my parents divorced several years later, we moved and lost touch. Now lil sis has been in touch with all three of the boys, visited in person with her antagonist and tracked down his two siblings. She has planned a lunch reunion next week and ordered my appearance!

Evolving

My chosen word for 2020 is “learn”. At this time it is not going as planned. I have learned that plans change. Coveted skills may not be the ones necessary for me. I have been reading a couple of Bible studies on gifts and fruits of the spirit. This morning I awoke to a dreary fog filled view through my kitchen window, never a good sign in my day.

Pondering the gifts given to me by my creator, to be used to spread “goodness”, I pretty much came up empty. I easily find the “fruits” in my daily life. They are the direct correlation between faith and gratitude. “Gifts” are more elusive for my aging brain. I do not claim the commonly known gifts of song or prophecy or speaking in tongues. Confusion ensued and muddled my thoughts until a friend, offered an observation of gifts she sees in me, but suggested that it isn’t necessary to identify my gifts. I learned that answers aren’t always evident, but moreover, not always necessary!

With that thought, I looked up and saw bright sunshine in a beautiful blue sky from that same kitchen window! I am learning...and I didn’t enroll in a single class!

I choose not to participate

Cedar fever! It is real. Strangely enough, the plant we call Mountain Cedar is actually a prolific species of juniper causing all the sneezing, coughing,  headachy, eye watery misery. I suffered with it the first New Year’s Eve we were in Texas hill country, but over the years symptoms have abated. I think my indulgence in local honey has helped or perhaps I simply developed a tolerance. 

It’s quite a spectacle when the dark colored evergreens begin their aggressive season of bloom. The berries explode in a flurry, emitting a fog of pollen. Newcomers often call the fire department reporting a fire on the hillside.

I’m told the best way to avoid symptoms is avoidance of the outdoor air. Now that is a plan I cannot abide. With temperatures in the mid seventies and a sunny beautiful day, I am so glad my body no longer fights this battle. 

Purity

A purchase of an iron stunned my instincts recently. The instructions advised that “never, ever should distilled” water be used in my expensive new steam producing, raise itself, hot iron. Visions of an iron loaded with impure water collecting filth to spew out on my new white (always a white one) shirt, when the steam function was activated! I was confused and discussed at length with dancing girl. Of course she suggested we research and get to the bottom, before accepting blindly, of this newfound theory!

Our research revealed that water traveling across metal will either deposit minerals on the surface or extract minerals from within the metals. Over time, fissures in the surface will cause cracking and lead to leaks if the pure water is pulling from the lining meant to contain it. Revelation! Now we understand why her iron, having never been exposed to tap water but “pampered with pure distilled water”, has now sprung a growing leak!

My morning musings have now applied the rather trivial observation above, to my inner thoughts about a belief system guided by my faith. To prevent the spitting or spewing that might occur if tap water is overly hard, I read that good quality bottled “drinking” water should be used. In other words absolute puritanical thoughts may generate more harm than good for my spirit. Let me decant that, allowing air to infuse this thought to lighten its impact. 

I will not avoid those with whom I do not agree philosophically. If bad behavior is offensive to me, I will not adapt to it by joining in the action, but love the actor. Jesus came to save the world from SIN, not from sinners! This world does not require that I am distilled. I need a few minerals to smooth my abrasive spirit and nurture my path!

Can I see clearly now?

Vision! I am working to view my plan for the new year. Other than my own mind, decluttering will need to be postponed. "F" words are my focus! I have heard that absurd obscenity sprinkled through so many conversations that my ears feel fried in dirty pig fat! These are MY words:
     Faith
     Family
     Finance
     Friendship
     Fun
Other words with same First letter come to mind, but I am not talking about aphorisms blurted out as expletives. I want words that inspire, positive words! I will not allow my mind to be filled with the clutter that brings Frustration. If my Faith can be encouraged to Flourish, my clarity of Focus will be evident. My Family can Freely interact where love abides. My Finances will Flow as my labor is Fruitful. My Friendships will Fill my heart with joy. The result of Fortunate choices will be Fun.

I AM learning.