END IT TO BEGIN

 This might have been called the never ending month. I think this is really the final day of July. I don’t think I planned it this way, but July has always lasted 31 days. Each sunrise to sunset, often overlapping moon rise to moon setting  perfectly synchronized to complete a 31 day month. Tomorrow begins in the middle of tonight in perfect order to begin a new month of 31 days, it will be August. I choose to put aside concerns over nesting squirrels, where they were not welcomed. On the third attempt to prevent them from nesting and thriving in the ceiling of our playhouse, I agreed they must eradicated instead of relocated. I have visited the two thousand square foot playhouse behind my personal living space every day this month. No sounds from scampering chattering squirrels, no evidence of new nests. Later today I will authorize completion of the agreed payment to make them gone for a full year! Guarantees are like that; they are not forever!

MATTER

 There will come a time when nothing said seems to be heard or matters if coming from my mouth. Perhaps it is time to face irrelevance of the old girl’s opinions. Oh wait! I have joined the elderly girl stage. Somehow I thought a wide array of experiences might be of value. In fact I have been told often that a comment or observation, offered in casual friendly conversation, was offensive to someone I barely knew. I do believe words matter, especially in the presence of small children. I sometimes bring self deprecating descriptions into light conversation. I must learn to remain silent in a group, or keep my thoughts to myself. Wisdom is not a skill necessarily noticed with age. 

My mother pointed out as she approached her maturity “If I don’t mind, you can’t make it matter”!

I suppose what really matters is attitude. Mine is hard to hide!

Older,

 Personal Struggles (it’s technical, AI robot) 

Aging at its best is not easy, but has presented many unanticipated challenges. I have spent days attempting to add to this blog, finding the simple font I like, still not accomplished. It will happen unexpectedly one day I’m sure. Pray that I don’t delete yet another post as I search for an easy reading for my aging eyes.

Arthritic hands have brought difficulty for handwritten journaling. Constant tapping on a device and my painful finger joints are diagnosed by my physician as “Trigger Finger”!  I must remember not to mention that malady while searching through passcodes stored on a device, while at my bank. 

All appointments stored on devices with how many calendars???? This old human can only be in one place at a time. I really do appreciate the offer to send me an alert when it is necessary to leave for an on-time arrival. Yesterday, a confirmed appointment some how managed to send me on my way with an alert to leave soon from home at the time that I should have been arriving. I will retain the hand written card with time and date clearly written to verify the time to arrive. 

I have oft been told this is the ways things must be done, now. People my grandchildren’s age find it simpler in all actions. Perhaps that might explain how a few have managed to brand me as incapable and suffering self inflicted dementia. 

Dreading

 My mother would have marked  ninety-nine years  of life today. Wildflowers always bring joyful memories of her favorite season. Knowing her diagnosis would end her days quickly, she set her family and friends thinking a completely different way. She had always feared a death in a fiery car crash, with the consequences and loose ends left for her surviving family. She had the answer to that question … “How will my life end”! She became the queen holding court in her last days.  Her brother  and his sweet wife welcomed all she wished to see as they visited to love and reminisce with her. She allowed us to participate in her final party, and a party it became! Always I will be so grateful to my Aunt and Uncle for giving her such special times with so many. Yes, she was born 99 years ago today. The wildflowers remind me that she lived a life I can still celebrate!

SPARKLE when you can

 Many years ago I pierced my ears using an ice cube to deaden the lobes. Punching the needle through my frozen earlobes into a cork left me wondering if my brain had been uncorked. Surprisingly, no infection followed and for several months I sported a variety of studs in my ears. A sensitivity to something in bejeweled fobs caused an infection and I eventually gave up and let the piercings close. A couple of additional attempts to succeed finally ended in frustration a couple of decades ago. 

New metals with less propensity to irritate sensitive skin as well as an adolescent desire to sport fashionable adornment landed me in a local salon to have them pierced professionally. No corks or ice, no clothespins, and no detours between entrance and exit portals.

It will require six weeks of healing,turning, and regular cleaning. Then I will be able to wear light weight simple studs for a few months. My goal is to progress to small dangle ear fobs, but I wonder if those lovely sparkly hoops will ever comfortably dangle  on either side of my face. I’ll let you know.

New

I have been revived. New visions evolve daily for me.  I have determined it is time to re-enter adolescence. There is a lightness within my heart that I never found through my efforts last year. Last week’s visitors noticed something new in me. It was a lovely revelation. I indulge today in a newfound sense of  hope, choosing to irresponsibly move forward. Fear of being judged by others holds no concern, I’m doing a “new thing” here. Yes, that is Biblical. From the wilderness in my frail mind, Wild Wayne the wonder boy, steps up over and over pointing out a powerful goodness in me, the youthful joy coming back to life. 

Daylight Comes

 I have survived the first quarter of this year, at times to my dismay! I still struggle with personal grief as I am lifted up a moment later with hope. The special blessing of an “old friend” newly offering wisdom and love has me pondering on better possibilities. A recent visit to the ancestral home of my mother has awakened a new sense of my place in today’s crazy world. Playing word blitz games with Silver Tongue, the Cousin, has taught me it’s ok to stay up all night to play silly games on my phone. I am wide awake at three in the morning indulging in a hot beverage at my kitchen table. Anticipation of a new grandchild coupled with a visit from my eldest grandchild with his wife makes me grin! 

After many months of solitude, constant visitors to my home have welcomed me back to a world of hospitality. Every guest has provided insight I would not have gained on my own. Timing and constancy have filled my heart with love and laughter. Again this feels like the home I have loved for many years. Without Ol’ Abner’s brutal honesty, I have been faced with frightening dilemmas without clear solutions. One day at a time, my guests come and go, each offering an additional level of peace in my heart.

A baby shower in the coming weekend has raised additional questions of decorum.  We are in a very different time. I have learned that “the way it has been done before” may not be appropriate for now. I struggle with personal decisions and needs, realizing new possibilities are so exciting! Wait! Did I say exciting, Why yes, yes I did! Moirés of bygone days are abandoned for tomorrow’s traditions!

Seasonal

Last week I reveled in bright sunshine,  temperatures in high seventies low eighties. This morning the outdoor thermometer registers twenty four degrees. My crankiness lives in the midst of this chill. I slogged around the house, logged in to the internet and proceeded to pay a few bills. Perhaps I might be accused of indulging in a “pity” party. It is no party! 

I wonder what this new year will bring.  Limiting activities that require many hours of my time don’t really change my outlook. Every task requires time pushing buttons to receive a robotic response that makes no sense at all. It appears I have aged out of my season of productivity!

Twenty Twenty Won?

 Only a dozen days left in this year, and quite frankly I am glad! As I hear horrors of the third variant of a pandemic, I yearn for it to truly begone! I cannot will it so, it may never end completely. I am told this last variant has less resemblance to impending lung failure than a common cold. We all know the common cold will never go away! I don’t have to like it, but in it’s commonality I can accept and manage it in the usual ways.

I choose to indulge in the joy of a scaled back holiday. In Texas Hill Country, I can still enjoy bright sunshine through my kitchen windows often. In fact, daytime temperatures have bounced from the forties to a couple of days later, climbing into sunny eighty degrees. Oh how I love that warmth! Most people still sport masks at large indoor gatherings. On my street, neighbors gather for shared dinners and cheer! One couple has led the way to host “dinner in the hood” often. We laugh and discuss events, history, hopes and dreams. I am grateful to be in the midst of these wonderful people. I am reminded of a recent sermon advising that we “love our neighbor”! What’s not to love about these neighbors!? I have truly been blessed in 2021!

I can hope 2022 brings far away family back into more personal space. For now, I will be at peace with mail, telephone and text visits.

I Should Have Seen it Coming

 I just landed smack dab into the end of the third quarter of this year. We are gradually returning to a very few privileges I always took for granted. Constant presence of a mask to put over my face as I enter a building, requesting permission to enter a friends home without wearing it, watching the calendar to determine timing of additional vaccine acceptance, hoping to add my flue shot without conflict. Now that was one long sentence! 

It feels more like I have been “sentenced” to never ending isolation. A few precautions relaxed briefly, are now accepted as an ongoing necessity. A table set for eight previously, now will only seat three or four properly distanced dining companions. A medical appointment includes a temperature check before masked entrance is permitted. I cannot say it is a bad thing to wash our hands often, but who cleans the tops of the hand sanitizer bottles positioned publicly.  I prefer to carry my own small individual bottle. 

This is our new world life. Times change but I will adapt.

2020 Hindsight

One of the worst years I can ever remember is now well behind me. I could provide a list of miseries endured, but that would be rather silly. Everyone I know can share a similarly eventful year. I am not alone in my relief that it is over...or is it! A full quarter of 2021 is crossed off the calendar. I still carry a supply of masks and disinfecting wipes at all times. People we lost far too soon are still gone. Restaurant dining is no longer common. In fact some of my favorite restaurants are gone forever. Meeting in person is still an unusual event. A visit to cheer a hospitalized friend is still taboo. 

Yes, I can see clearly now, at least from eyes without corrective lenses. Surgical removal of cataracts and astigmatism correction allows for reading fine print and street signs easily. Never bothered by bright sunlight, I now appreciate my sunglasses. Appropriately that was in the last week of 2020. Choosing to find joy in all things, and there it is!

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!