Third Monday in May

Lottie took advantage of the showery day to take a few yard pictures.  Spring is my yard's best season, and cloudy is the best light for taking photographs.  My phone camera needs all the help it can get.  Traditionally, every year someone steals one of my flowerpots just before Mother's Day (Yo, thanks for raising me to be a petty criminal, Ma!)  This pot, which is cracked in half, has only been stolen once but the thief put it down a few feet away, probably because it would be tacky to give the old lady a broken pot of stolen flowers.  I do live on the edge of the 'hood, but even crooks have some scruples.

If you are wondering what to plant near your house, do not choose upright rosemary or escallonia.  If you are wondering what to plant a quarter mile from your house, select those.  They are brutally strong and grow three feet a year; I constantly slash them back.  The barberries are much more civilized and only need a little trim, which is handy because THORNS!  They're pretty though and go nicely with the Japanese maple which fades to green by summer, and also gets pretty crispy on top; it's a little too sunny there. 

This spring my dear stepmom moved out of the house she shared with my dad, who passed away five years ago.  I brought home the old pump, which provided water to the old ranch house in southern Utah where Dad was raised.  I'd like to pound a couple of long stakes through the bolt-holes so nobody can steal it, in case next Mother's Day rolls around and my local criminals think Ma might enjoy having a rusty old pump.

The new fishpond is hidden behind the fern.  So far, so good; She and Him are doing fine still alive.  

Sunday we went out to the farm to have dinner with Granny Fran (Lillie's boyfriend's grandmother) where those colorful (and tasty) happy eggs come from.  I must have looked like a soft touch because the chickens all followed me around.  We ate the first few ripe apricots on the tree and I shared a couple with my new girlfriends. 

Look at this super glamorous chicken!  He can sing, loud but not well.  He fanned out his brilliant tailfeathers like a Vegas showgirl  an NBC logo but we weren't fast enough with the camera and he wouldn't do it again.  

Today everybody's picnics got rained out. I just stayed inside with a pot of tea and the final season of The West Wing, which feels vaguely patriotic.  I'm also reading The Greatest Generation (which is rather an easy read, but I recommend it).  It makes me think about my old dad, a decorated lieutenant who served in the Phillipines in WWII, but like so many soldiers, never talked much about the war.  

Happy Memorial Day to you all, and thank you again for your service, Dad.

Wet things, dry things, and windy places

For a while I've had my eye out for a big glazed urn, with no drain hole, that costs almost nothing.

Like this only about $250 cheaper.

There is an electrical outlet on my front porch, and I wanted to put a little fishpond there.  I had hoped to find one a bit larger (this one is three gallons), but I picked it up at Winco for $6.95, which is about as much as I wanted to spend.  If a bigger one comes along, I'll upgrade.   I put some pretty rocks, a small filter, a plant in a jar, water, and three little 14 cent feeder fish into the pot.

You can see the polka-dot fish in the center; the gray camo fish is just a bit lower in the frame, left of the big leaf.
I'm calling them She and Him unless Lillie decides on better names.

The first night, the fish designated as mine leapt OUT of the water like a certain fictional little clownfish, except he went over the rim and landed on the hard dry concrete.  Perhaps he had watched Finding Nemo and believed he could somehow make it all the way to the ocean; if he had checked with me I could have told him that Disney movies seldom mimic real life.  I buried him under the annuals planted on Chase's grave--together they can make the flowers bloom...

In other news...

Here is my first yellow cherry tomato!  It is currently the size of a green pea, but I have high hopes for handfuls of delicious tomatoes to come...

Meanwhile...

I confess that I was a member of the coconut oil worship club.  I loved everything about it and I smeared it generously on anything I came across.  It smells divine and made my skin feel so soft and velvety.  We were in love.

But then something peculiar happened.

First my lower legs got very dry and itchy.  Next, my arms, and then my lower back and thighs, grew drier and rougher. My hands were parched and ashy. Boy, I thought, middle-aged skin is a drag!  Lucky for me I have all this coconut oil!  I'd slather it on, and go to bed creamy and wake up crunchy.  

I'm usually much more sensible than this, but the science of oil-dissolves-oil was escaping my coconut-addled brain.  I finally made the connection and cut WAY back, switching to Aveeno or Eucerin and only a little dab of coconut oil.  

My poor skin is not ALL better, but markedly so.  I'm still quite fond of coconut oil, but I'm mostly on the wagon now.  I'm experimenting with which jobs it does best (like cleansing my face) and which tasks it needs to surrender (like keeping my hands smooth.)  We're not lovers anymore; just good friends.

As I write this, Oklahoma City and nearby towns have suffered terrible devastation from of the worst  tornado in years.  I know more bad news is coming; I hope there will be no more casualties, but the odds are bad.  If you or someone you love has been stricken, I'm so sorry.  I'm wishing you safety and strength, and a place to call home.

I may whine, but I am so grateful for everything I have. Even dry skin.

This is the way we wash the clothes, wash the clothes, wash the clothes

Didn't do it.  He swears. 

Okay well he DID do THAT, but it was a science experiment to see how big a kitten the shelf could hold
an unfortunate accident.  He swears.  

For a long time my [rebuilt] washer has leaked a little out the bottom.  I haven't had any money to replace it, so as long as I built  a levee of old towels around the edge with each load, I got by.  But suddenly it got much worse.  The levee could only absorb so much, and greasy brown water would ooze out across the laundry room floor.  It clearly wasn't going to get better, no matter how hard I wished it would.  I turned it upside down and asked e-how for help.  E-how just laughed.

Like everybody, I have to do laundry.  I confess I really like to do laundry, which is fortunate because  I will have to do it for the rest of my life.  I seriously needed a new washing machine.  

Compared to her old washing machine, this looks pretty good.

I still didn't have any money in the literal sense, but I have good credit, so the nice gentlemen at Carmona's were happy to sell me one and even installed it the next day.  I gathered up a load of marginally dirty clothes and kitchen towels.  So far, so good.  

Although basic, compared to my old washer, it looks pretty swank.  And I fixed the shelf.

If course there was a hitch.  As the lady in the Surgomatic ad realized, we live in The Future!  Good for her, less so for you and me.  All the newest technology, hand in hand with the latest social conscience,  (hindered somewhat by the notion that we need to brush our teeth using the melted ice from our nightcap because of flagrant water waste by obstinate Republicans citizens) means that we are now expected to wash a load of clothes with just one or two quarts of water. 

 Hey, I reduce, re-use and recycle.  I use cloth grocery bags. I put tennis balls in the dryer instead of brainkiller  Bounce.  I'm a good sport who cares about the planet and all, so I'm on board. 

 

I just would be much happier if the laundry got clean, and not barely damp merely wet.  The internet offers plenty of irrelevant suggestions  (like, "use recommended detergent" and "pick a better major"), and varied product reviews, some glowing and some scathing.  Apparently many consumers confuse "wet" with "clean",  but they are satisfied with their futuristic washers.  

I wanted to believe.   I did. 

Believe it or not, I used to be pretty gullible.  I once bought "washer balls" and used them instead of detergent for at least a couple of years before I realized they were a slick gimmick and our laundry got clean from sloshing around in a washer full of water and not because of magic ceramic pellets hidden inside the washer balls.  

http://www.amazon.com/Green-Wash-Ball-Laundry-Detergent/dp/B003FOCZ56

(Amazon doesn't sell the ones I had, but these are basically the same stupid thing.)

So I talked to my old pals at Carmona's, which is a locally owned appliance store that tells me the truth and beats the big box store prices with one hand tied behind its back.  They suggested using the "bulky load" setting which is code for "uses lots more water than the other settings" and now my laundry comes out clean and fresh.  The new washer generously spins out a little more water than the old one, so things dry a little faster.  I promise to use that extra two ounces of water to brush my teeth.

Here is proof that I am an urban farmer with a vegetable garden in my backyard.  I have lavender (it smells nice, which is balm for the soul), my venerable old thyme plant, basil from Trader Joe's, marigolds because why not, and one yellow cherry tomato plant (note the blossoms--this could be the year!)  I am not a terribly successful vegetable gardener; but every year I plant something, just in case Dad should look down from Heaven and take pity on me, buying my produce at the farmers' market.

Haha, that's rich! You can't burn anything in the fireplace anymore.  I just dumped it on top of your dirty laundry.

Time Warp Tuesday? Okay, I'll bite.

Did someone say prom season?  

Almost forty years ago, I made this baby blue dress for my junior prom. 

 I moved away to attend college.  

I got married and had three children.

 I got divorced.

I moved back to my hometown.  

I bought a house five blocks from my high school.

Time flies.

Heaven's bathroom faucet drips all the time

Chase

1996-2013

And once again, thank you, everybody.  It's all good now.

Waiting

My pots always look the prettiest about a month after I plant them--the flowers have started to grow and bloom, but they're not raggedy or snail-chewed yet.  I love my yard in spring.

This is the tall wall in my entryway (one corner of my living room--you can see down the hall in this shot).  I've had a few things hanging there during the decade since we built it but aside from one mirror or another, nothing I sincerely loved looking at from the couches across the room.  Here's what's up there, clockwise from my old clock (har!): two framed pieces of pink coral or seaweed or some weird fungus, found at Goodwill. I'm debating painting the frames yellow or gray.  Next is a painting (by Lillian) of bubbles rising in deep water; a page from an old medical reference book (larger, below); an old photo of my mother Ruth and her sister Julianna skating at their home in Yosemite as young girls (larger, below); a calendar page by a local artist; my favorite dancing skeleton; an old print of California poppies; a painting (by Lillian) made from an anonymous vintage slide (I like to think it represents either my mother and aunt, or else me and my best friend Dr L); and a Goodwill mirror which is just a placeholder for some African safari photos which will eventually appear here (and there) when we finally get them printed.  The mirror in the center is from Ross--my mother-in-law's lovely antique one shifted to Lillian's room.

Here's the anatomical drawing I cut out of an old medical encyclopedia given to me by a doctor I once worked for.  There are so many cool images, it was hard to pick my favorite.  I love how graceful this one is; I imagine a serene woman gazing out her window at the horizon.  What did she think about all those decades, closed up in a book?

  

This is a tighter view of Mom and her sister, about 1932. Mom had polio as a little girl and had to learn to walk again; so it is neat to see her skating.  My great-grandfather went to work for the National Parks after WWI and the Topp family lived for a few years in Yosemite.  I love this picture. 

Here's another one I put together from a painted oak Goodwill frame.  It's headed for Lillian's room.  This page shows a "roentgenogram" (an X-ray for you twenty-first century types) of a hand overlaid with the American Sign Language symbol for love.  It's atypically the left hand because Lillian is a lefty (she signs.)  I borrowed the idea from this blog, but I had been tossing around the notion for a while.  I have a few other pages bookmarked to frame, too.

This one is in Lillian's room. For forty years I've saved this little scrap of kitty print wrapping paper from  Cost Plus, but it's old frame kept falling apart.  I stuck it in a free frame Sam found.  I stained the frame and spray painted the old mat white.    

Carson had to spend some time sitting in the naughty corner
because he tried too hard to help me and broke something.  Again.

We went out to dinner recently to celebrate Lillian's boyfriend's promotion and I wanted to prove that I do occasionally paint my face and wear street clothes like a productive member of society.  It's rare these days, but I can do it.

And this is why this post is titled "Waiting."  Poor old Chase, who one week ago had a very debilitating stroke, is still alive.  We seriously believed he would die within hours, or maybe days, but he hasn't succumbed yet.  After much soul-searching we elected to feed and water him with a syringe because he can't eat, but he can stretch, purr, and lift his head just a bit. We laid Chase in the warm sun coming in the window this morning.  Lottie seems to know he is not normal and won't lick or cuddle with him.  Dr L said that some cats surprisingly recover from strokes, even ones who are at death's door as he was, and by nourishing him we buy some time to see if he may do just that.  The real heartache is, of course, that if time passes and he never regains use of his body, we're again faced with the difficult decision to put him down. And we will do it.  There is a grave ready outside, but filling it back in felt like a jinx.    On top of all this,  it's been an gruesome week nationally, with the unbelievable Boston marathon bombings and subsequent death of one and capture of the other killer, and the terrible fertilizer plant explosion in Texas.  I admit I wish Chase had passed peacefully away last weekend so I didn't have to make the decision, but here we are.  

Also today we went to the farmers market and bought snap peas, artichoke and sun dried tomato dip, and heavenly fried samosas. At about forty carbs for each golden morsel --I only get fifty per day on this damn carb-restricting eating plan--  I only ate one, but it was the best thing I ever tasted in my life.  (The sugar is for tea; we stopped at the flour mill. This will last a long time.)

All things considered, I hope your weekend is shaping up to be a nice one.  

Saint Peter waits for the cat

Chase, last week.  

Our old cat Chase is seventeen and pretty creaky.  He seems to be mostly blind and deaf, and is very thin, but has remained his essentially cheerful and healthy self since we brought him home from a friend's barn all those long years ago.  Last night though, I think he had a stroke.  He had been cuddled near me on the couch until I got up to go to bed, and when he jumped off the couch he just crumpled to the floor, unable to walk.  His front legs didn't work and he couldn't hold up his head.

And I thought, well, I guess we're here.

I made him a little nest on my bed with several towels (because when animals die they usually pee, which I learned after having several sick pets euthanized.)  I was ready for him to die during the night.

Chase and Lottie, last night

But he didn't die.  I woke up in the wee hours to find him cuddled with his other half, Lottie.  He hadn't really moved much.  I couldn't go back to sleep so I got the laptop and browsed away the night.

Chase loves Sam best

My son Sam is in town from Chicago to be in a friend's wedding, and Lillie is attending another friend's wedding as well.  I tried to think of a way to keep from telling them, but I couldn't.

He's very frugal and watches the sales

All day, Chase has lain in his towel nest, his bony chest imperceptibly rising and falling.  I keep warming up his little rice sock and tucking it under his frail, useless legs.  He doesn't open his eyes now; he just stretches his back legs and squirms a little, and then subsides again.  He's peed a bit.

A year or two ago

Once Sam had a hamster that died on my watch while they were all out of town for Christmas with their dad (good job, Punkin), but I can't remember any other pet dying at home.  My first childhood cat, Scrapper, excused herself, at about eighteen years old,  to politely die alone somewhere; and one or two pets disappeared or were hit by cars. (This was in the olden days when all pets wandered at will.) My poor mom got to usher an old dog to heaven while I was away at college.

He actually likes this

I have had four cats euthanized because they were too sick to go on living.  (Those seem like pretty terrible odds but we're talking about half a century of well loved family pets, most of which had long happy lives.) It's undeniably hard, but it's different this time.  Chase is dying of old age.  He will not recover.  It's sort of creepy, but I have a different opinion about dying these days.  Our pets will ultimately die; whether we are prepared or not, whether we do everything in our power to prevent it, or nothing at all.  We are all definitely going to die.

Carson is fascinated by Chase's faucet skills.  

So yes, it's kind of scary.  Death looks terrifying because we are afraid of it, but in reality, most of the time it looks a lot like life.   Except quieter, and more peaceful.  Unlike dead people, dead cats appear to be sleeping.  They don't turn color, or at least not so you'd notice.

Owning the afghan

I made a plan for when Chase finally stops breathing.  I told Lillie we could bury him in the yard, if we could manage to dig a deep enough hole in the hard dirt.  I set the hose to drip on a pretty spot between some nice shady trees.  I picked out an old towel to wrap him in.  I think about Lottie and wonder if she will look for her old friend.  I hope she and Carson (whom she currently loathes) will make peace.

Besties

And I wonder how much longer he will float, like a wispy little cloud, between this world and the next.

Almost  famous.  He thought for sure cat-breading would take off.

Lottie as hospice nurse

Don't bet the farm

Today my prom date, and his sweet wife, took me out to a post-prom lunch.  Thirty-eight years later.

Anybody who likes to rhapsodize about the good old days, be my guest, they're all yours.  

But if you want an advertisement for the wonders of modern medicine, look no further.

I suppose I'm a realist; I don't believe in miracles or foreordination.  

Better than brothers: J & J

But I know for sure that every day is a gift.  

Every single day.

Bring it on home

Achoo

Ahh, Spring!  Daylight saving time.  We've had the windows open during the day here.   I sneeze a little; soon I will sneeze a lot.  I apologize to everyone who lives where there is still ice and snow, really I do.  I don't make the weather.  

Here is an accurate diagram of Lillian's car, Pearl.  Pearl is old.  Pearl was my mother's car while Mom still drove, but she never went anywhere and thus Pearl doesn't have too many miles, which is probably the only reason why she hasn't completely fallen apart.  She has had some of her major organs replaced and needs new tires (the old ones have mostly disintegrated, as anyone who has tried to get too many summers out of a favorite swimsuit will attest). 

So my point here is that last Saturday I dragged Lillie out for a walk around the neighborhood and we made it about one block when we had to stop and dig through a box on the curb marked "Free!"  We scored a hand-crank ice cream maker, a framed needlepoint picture which matches my room, and a set of VHS tapes of the original three Star Wars movies.  We turned around and took those home.  I made her go back out, though, as two blocks round trip does not equal a walk.  

We made it two more blocks this time, and came upon some people piling junk in their driveway.  While this is not unusual around here, we took a chance and asked if a crap yard sale was in the offing.   The senior junk-piler said he had just cleaned out a storage unit and would probably have a sale pretty soon.  Both Lillie and I had spied a likely looking desk and offered $20 on the spot.  He agreed and we sprinted home to get Pearl, who is petite but has a large hatchback and can carry things like furniture.

Pearl is a helpy helper 

Lillie was so excited about the desk, and so tickled to have found it, that when she tried to hand the guy the twenty he waved her hand away.  He told two shirtless dudes who were hanging around to take the drawers out and wedge it into Pearl's behind, and we slowly drove the two blocks home.

Secretarial skillz, I has those

The funny thing is this one is the runty twin of a big old desk that has been in my mother's house since before I was born.  One top drawer folds out into a secretary's return (I'm sorry if you are too young to know what that is; ask your mother.)  The other side has slanted dividers (for typing paper, of course.)  One bottom drawer is extra deep for file folders.  

I bet your parents have one of these

It is solid wood, dove-tailed and sturdy.  It has some surface damage like water rings and minor scratches, but essentially it's great.  Especially at Free-Ninety-Nine!  Lillie has already started to sand it; the plan is Minwax Poly-Shades to darken it just a bit and make a nice hard finish. As soon as it's done, we'll show you how it looks!  If you look beyond the desk you can see the little mid-century tiered end table Lillie picked up at a crap driveway sale last weekend--it should look sly with a new finish.  Five dollah!

Pillows, I has them

Meanwhile, back inside the house, I made these pillows out of some cotton twill I found on deep discount at JoAnn (which is moving across town and clearing everything out.)  I put zippers in but didn't make liners--just stuffed them with polyfill from three ugly old  pillows (I don't why I have so many icky pillows.)  They came out really soft and bouncy!  Lillie took the two plum velveteen ones, which match her duvet.  Win/win.  These have just a hint of zebra, if zebras came in watermelon flavor.  

There are some changes coming around here.  Bit by bit.

I'll hold this down for you because I am a helpful helper

Close-up to avoid the junk piled on the floor