I've remarked to Ray that I think I might like our new neighbor across the street, Ellen. Within the past week, I've watched her hang out in her driveway with a guy who stores his motorcycle and his lawn-maintenance equipment in her garage. She tried driving one of the big-ass mowers he uses, although not the sit -and - spin type, but a verrra verrra large walk-behind model. Heh. I like women who are secure enough to like motorized things. The joke around our house is that all the power tools are my territory, as Ray never got comfy with them. I sincerely hope Emily will be enough like me to transcend the social convention, as well.
When I came home tonight, Ellen was in our yard, chatting with Ray. She'd been attracted by what she thought was rhubarb, yet regrettably was a hosta, Sum and Substance, to be exact. I asked if she liked lettuce, she said yes, and what was up with the absence thereof at the place where I work. I don't know, I said, since there's no shortage at our house! I then led her out back. Nope, no lettuce shortage here! I asked her what kinds she liked. Anything but iceberg, she said. I pulled a tray out from the greenhouse and loaded it with one of this and another of that, chatting as I went about the varieties. I started to rip them off at the stem, so she could eat them right away, but she asked me, could she plant these? Of course, so into the tray they went intact. I included some arugula. She said she didn't want to take all my treasures. Good lord, I have a ton of these "treasures"! When I last saw Ellen, she was crossing the street with the tray. How sweet is this?
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oxymoron67 reminded me of times my family went on vacation trips which were anything but the soothing, relaxing times one would hope for. I don't know why, but one in particular stands out. My mother had a friend from her nursing-student days, Flora, who had, with her husband, a daughter. By the time of the The setting was the shore of some small lake in I-think Vermont. I think the cottage belonged to Flora and her husband John. I seem to recall the cottage had probably begun life as a garage, so the entire front wall at the ground level opened up like a door, revealing many screens covering the opening and one such screen which operated as a door.
Present at the time were Flora, her husband, their daughter and son-in-law, my parents, my sister and me. Flora was a really nice woman, but OMG, she was flaky, folks, and so were all the members of her family. The SIL either built or repaired cuckoo clocks, with the result that at any given hour of the day or night, his charges were vocalizing throughout the small space. The family cat was well fed on fresh, raw chicken livers, which might have been delightful except that evidently no one checked to make sure Kitty wasn't fed something a little past its prime. As the days went by the cat avoided food poisoning successfully, but we humans were subjected to an increasing stench of rotting entrails. Never a good thing to perfume your vacation home with. I remember finally caving one day and throwing the damn stuff out in the (thankfully frequently-emptied) kitchen garbage. Phew. I don't think anyone else noticed except my sister, who was greatly relieved.
The other problem I had during this vacation had to do with that sister, Karin, whose suitcase I was using. As luck, or absence thereof, would have it, my period arrived while we were there. I'd thought to bring napkins, of course. I hadn't thought to bring steelclad boxes to store the used ones in. For what it's worth, in those primitive days, no one talked about tampons and at any rate, I'm sure the plumbing at this abode was not tolerant of such things anyway. Towards the end of the visit, my sister discovered I was stashing my used, well-wrapped napkins in her suitcase, and was outraged.
Focusing all her older-sister wrath on me, she asked why I did such a disgusting thing to her sacred Samsonite.
Well, I said, I noticed the family dog (there was one of those too) ate the one I put in the bathroom wastebasket.
Any more questions?
Meanwhile, here are the plants inside the greenhouse:
Great colors, but they're not as big as the ones which were, until recently, down in the basement( Read more... )
Except that today, it did that while I had Photoshop open, in the process of adding some new pics from my camera, and now the darn program starts to open, gives me an error message, then closes. I can see the pictures I downloaded through Windows Explorer, I just can't do anything with them. Poop. I'm guessing I'll have to reinstall Photoshop, and rebuild all the galleries I had. Poopity poop poop poop.
On the bright side, there's plenty of work to do outside. It's a lovely sunny day, far warmer than they said it would likely be, and I have lots of good stuff to read once I'm ready. I'm going to give my fingernails one more coat of polish (not for vanity's sake - they're less likely to break if I do) and go outside to play. The garbage guys finally picked up the six bukkits of lawn stuff from last week, so I have that many more places to accumulate the crap I pick up.
Also, I had a lovely conversation with Emily this morning. She got her first paycheck today, w00t! w00t! She's developing a bit more empathy for me, now that she knows what it's like to work for hours on your feet. I've asked for the day off when she is due to have her wisdom teeth taken out, so I'll be available to drive her and care for her.
I've been spraying the plants I have which the deer like to eat, with the Liquid Fence I keep on hand for that purpose. Smells like rotten eggs, but it dries and is unnoticeable, and it really works. I probably should have started spraying sooner, because now I notice growth quickly, and that's clued me in that those plants were most likely growing all along, but were getting eaten so swiftly, I couldn't tell.
I'm a foodie, and a bit of a snob about my ingredients. For a while now, I've been cooking only whole chickens, lately from a farm in Ovid NY. Best-tasting chicken I've ever had. But I'm a bit tired lately, what with everything I'm trying to do, and I caved and bought a big-ass package of boneless skinless chicken breasts yesterday. I need to not guilt-trip myself about such purchases more often. An occasional package of such convenience items will not automatically lead to dinners of powdered mac-and-cheese, Lunchables, and frozen corn dogs. I work hard enough, dammit, and will undoubtedly do something creative and yes, healthy with those chicken breasts. I also - Ee gads - bought two packs of hot dogs yesterday, and canned baked beans. I can't remember when we last ate hot dogs. Anyhoo, we like Zwiegles, made in Rochester, and those two packs of six each (beef and pork) ran me nine bucks. I almost had a heart attack over the price, but like I say, I don't do that often and we'll enjoy the leftovers.
In another week or so, we should be able to afford the last few items I need to build the enclosure for my veggies out back. When Ray and I were discussing it this morning, I realized I hadn't been on the same page with him about our finances, but I am now. There really isn't that much rush. I can keep things growing in the basement and in the greenhouse, and even on the metal shelf units I have out back, until the enclosure is ready. It's all good, and I appreciate so much how Ray keeps everything going around here. I made sure I mentioned that he took an additional five hundred dollar bill for repairs on my truck this month with good grace. Meanwhile, we'll eat in the greenhouse tonight, I bet. It's that kind of day, and it feels pretty luxurious.
Evidently. A bus driver saw an individual with something that looked like a rifle sticking out of a backpack. It was discovered that this was an umbrella.
This might seem funny or overreacting, but after recent events at other campuses, I'm happy.
While I was working, it occurred to me that today would be a good day to repair the landscape light out front which was not working. A new bulb hadn't done any good. When I looked more closely, one of the conductors to the fixture was cut. Very neatly. Don't know how it happened, but I knew how to fix it. Brought it indoors, located a butt connector of the proper gauge, cut and stripped the ends of a piece of lampcord to substitute for the cut-off piece, crimped the connector on the remaining stump inside the stem of the fixture, likewise the end of the new piece, and voila, it's working again. I'm theorizing that when the deer have come at night to raid our birdfeeders, one of them stepped on the connection and cut the line with her hoof. Wouldn't surprise me. They're big ladies, and they do this move sometimes that's like jumping forward on their two front feet when they're startled.
I think I'll have a bit of lunch, groom the orange faux-fur comforter which is hanging in the greenhouse a bit, then go do cardio at the gym, and finish off the afternoon (assuming the weather holds) climbing a ladder to whup back our wisteria, as I did our neighbor's a week or so ago. It's the kind of plant that, if you don't get a running start on trimming it, will happily take over a major portion of your yard in one growing season. I know I'll lose some blooms by doing it now, but I'll save myself a lot of grief later.
Two compliments from coworkers Thursday. One of my fellow pricing team members, in particular the one whose job is hanging all of the bazillion tags I compare to reports and sort by aisle, remarked to me that he thought I did a really great job with those tags. He mentioned that the little specific notes I write to him help him a lot. I know what he means. We have stuff all over the place, like Asian sauces at the registers, and little displays in the midst of the dairy department of grocery items and cookware and produce. It's hard to keep track of where everything is.
Later that same day, I set my register light to flash, so as to get some change. Not just one but two coordinators showed up at my side, to ask what I needed. I was a teeny bit startled, then one of them laughed and said, look how we fall all over each other to get here. Anything for Eleanor! D'awwww....
I'm really tired of coughing and blowing my nose. I've resorted to sudafed for this damn post-nasal drip. I hate to use that sort of thing, but the natural stuff wasn't cutting it. Now, I feel much better, the drip and cough have stopped, but I sound like Tallulah Bankhead, not that anyone knows who she was these days...Or Marlene Dietrich. "Falling in love, again!"
