Putting down roots?

We decided to wait until after Thanksgiving to go back to the temporary place.  Makes sense because we can then spend time with family.  Plus it will be easier to kindle a fire under the carcass of a bird that didn't get a presidential pardon in my own oven.  

Memo:  Have to buy celery before it's picked over.  Plus onions.  

Ahhh, I thought I had everything, but I don't. One more foray, at least.  

Our local Winn Dixie, (the one in the huge building where the X-tra used to be years ago) is slowly being transformed into a WD Marketplace.  I am using it as a place to explore because they keep moving things around and closing off various areas of the place for construction.  

However, WD being so near to Publix means good managers' specials in both stores as they compete for the grocery budget. 

Need all the help we can get, don't we?

I have bathed in the Kool Aid ...

Didn't just drink the Kool Aid.  I dove in.  

The previous phone was an old Motorola Razr.  Dumb as a box of rocks.  Up in the mountains, up on the top of one?  No signal.  Not even text messages.  Luckily we don't live where there are mountains and so the Motorola motorolled along when we returned home from that mountain.    

Then it began to drop calls.  I mentioned, several times, that I might need a new phone.  There were discussions to that effect behind the Motorola's  back, so to speak.

Then, Apple rolled out its new flavor of Kool Aid and it was tempting.  Even J mentioned that I needed to get a replacement for my old standby.

Three days ago, I made an appointment and came home with the internet in a relatively heavy white box with a silver logo on the end.  The logo told the world that I have caved.  Given in.  Gone over to the smart side.

Two things especially got to me.  There is a built in compass (real, virtual, compass) and there is  an app that reads audiobooks to me.  


I suppose I am happy with it.  However, the old one never sassed me.  I asked the assistant on the new phone if this were going to be a good day.  

"No," she said, "I don't think it will be." 

She was right, too.  It rained this evening.

Beneficiary . . .

I have to thank 01 Doc for a Force Flex bag of books. I have difficulty hoisting it and there is an aura of birthday plus Christmas that still clings to it. Wearing an Energizer LED headlamp, I can read in the dark and not disturb anyone who snores in the same room. Strangely, our consumption of triple A batteries has increased in direct proportion to my nocturnal reading habits.

It is a de-light-ful (heh) situation.

Cease, no, WAIT . . .

Dog training must be hardwired into my being. The third (temporary) member of our pack has started accepting a tiny treat after hearing Tammy-come and then stepping forward to accept a miniscule morsel.

Her owner (he bought her but he has yet to become her master) had told me she won't accept treats from the hand. He has to scatter a couple around his house so she can get them at her leisure if he offers her any.

I had the three dogs sitting in a semicircle in front of me and only responding to each one's individual name when I called it. Tammie's owner was impressed.

She will now "hush" when pointed to and given the command. She is even beginning to WAIT at the door as the other two dogs do. Tammie's owner is even beginning to remember to say WAIT, himself.

Will wonders never . . .

Bye All

This is the final post for Ranger.

Blessings . . .

Mother's Day started ahead of time, for me. The postman has delivered cards bearing wishes for the special day plus Starbucks and Barnes & Noble gift cards.

My kids really know what makes me grin.

Happy Mother's Day to every woman who has borne the lifetime of responsibility for another little human being. Way to go.

Guilt?

I may have lured that Mockingbird too far down the chimney. Outdoors, I like to try to get Mockingbirds to whistle the two-tone call that our mother used to use to summon us: whee-whoo, whee-whoo. It is so cute when they try to repeat it and especially when they get it right and incorporate it into their repertoire.

The bird in question still sits on top of the chimney and sings. We hear him clearly. I used to sit near the fireplace and tried to teach him to whistle the call. He may have tried to reach that rival bird and fallen down to the point where flying back became impossible.

I promise that I will only whistle at Mockingbirds outdoors, from now on. Fool me once . . .

Up, up, up, really . . .

This morning we woke to bird song from the fireplace in the living room. This was shortly before full daylight. The song was so varied and beautiful that it had to be a Mockingbird. It was just too pitiful, his singing desperately in the dark.

Somehow, by himself, that brave bird climbed the chain curtain of the fire guard and fluttered over the top of the glass fire doors. He was loose in the living room and terrified of the interested dogs. He fluttered like a moth against the cathedral ceiling until finally he came to rest, clinging to the brick of the fireplace.

We put the dogs (downer!) in the garage, opened the exterior doors and flapped towels to direct him toward the opening. He got the idea almost at once and swooped through the storm doorway and onto the front screened porch. A little test flight or two against the screens and he found the opening to the outside, then up, up, up.

That bird was a genius. He deserves to reproduce.

Slipping the bonds . . .

This morning, I was out back when I heard a jet moving toward the house full bore. He was right overhead when he started to climb almost straight up. A white puff bloomed briefly behind the plane which I imagine was the afterburner kicking in. Looked like he was reaching for orbit. It was so beautifully free that I got goose bumps.

Back on earth, I finally finished rinsing out the garbage can. Heh.

It's a crock . . .

This kitchen, where I am now, has a dishwasher. Before we came up, someone had bought some of those Cascade packets that are premeasured and ready to use. They were stored underneath the sink in the cabinet that houses the garbage disposal which no one uses.

Because there was mostly nuking and reheating done in this kitchen, in recent years, I bought a crockpot, which had looked rather lonely, from a nearby Walmart.

I made a discovery about that Cascade. Those packets are great for cleaning a crockpot that was, ahem, allowed to cook all day without a coating of Pam having been sprayed on the interior.

The stoneware liner with a Cascade packet inside its cruddy self was filled with really hot water. This dissolved the packet with some help from an overactive plastic spoon. I left it overnight but that was overkill. A couple of hours would do the job.

And you know the juice that somehow gets inside the metal shell of the cooker? That stuff that bakes itself on even if the crockpot is unplugged? A corner of a paper towel dipped in the solution will, kid you not, rub that burned-on juice right off. (Wear gloves!) Finally, rinse off the cleaned area with a damp paper towel.

No elbow grease required . . . just thought I'd share.

Why bother?

"Wait!" I say. Two furry tails hit the rug and two impatient canines conquer their eagerness to bolt through the door. This works at the back door. Front door manners coming soon, to two dogs near me.

Bark, yap, wiggle, whine. Jump up. Bother people to the utmost. They are not my dogs. I keep reminding myself of this fact but somehow they need a bit of structure and routine.

Manners, manners . . .

HELP

Today, J and I are in Orange Park: Helping

Today, Zeta, Mark, and Steve the guru, were at our house:
HELPING

BigEd is helping the helpers to help him, as he can.

For all the help given we thank you so much. We love you all for your very own selves, and not just because you are such kind and generous HELPERS!

The battery tale . . .

When the temperature outside was cruising around 25° in the northern portion of the state, the silver Camry's battery gave up the fight for existence. With Tripple A's help, I took it to Mr. Roebuck's partner and bought a new one. The facility where I waited, while it was being installed, was not heated. Not.

Everyone in there was complaining about waiting in a deep freezer. With all that hot air, one would think it would warm up the place. Again, not.

Yesterday, in warmer parts, the gold Camry's battery died, the copycat. Again Mr Roebuck's partner was consulted. The words pro rata were spoken. The replacement battery turned out to be less than half the quoted price.

Honor thy guarantee. Not a commandment - just a suggestion. Heh . . .

The sky better not fall . . .

We are in roof replacement mode. This is much more painful than contracting new car fever. It's not exactly something one can point to as innovative. Or is it?

Perhaps a new material? Top sheet? It gets hot-mopped, either way.

We are in pre-hurricane season and hoping rains will hold off - plus no freezes, either. Our young mango tree has about decided to move further south for the winter.

Me, too. And I have about as much chance of going south as that as that little tree does . . .

RV on balance . . .

Our nearby CVS seems to have suffered a sea-change during my absence. New faces staff the pharmacy. One recent afternoon, I took a prescription in and asked if I might wait for it to be filled. She told me it would be just a few minutes. It actually was just a few.

Yesterday evening (bad timing because the evening crowd was ahead of me in a long line) I went to pick up a couple of refills that had been called in. Also, an additional order was to be dropped off and kept on file until needed. Sounds simple, no?

The woman behind the counter gave me our refills and then said I should take the new order to the drop-off window.

"You won't take this?" I asked, holding the prescription out to her.

"They prefer them at the drop-off window." She answered and left it dangling from my fingers.

Fuming, I asked BigEd to make the drop off and went to Publix to shop.

So far, there have been offsetting, good and not-so-good, experiences at the CVS pharmacy counter. The balance is about even.

One would think that the balance arm of a customer service scale would be tilted in favor of the customer. Would not one?

This morning, BigEd's car was left at RV Auto to have brakes done. Roly just telephoned to say that it does not need front brakes, only rear ones, and it should be finished before 10 a.m. He will call me when it is ready.

See, CVS? That's how it's done!

Check out has a new meaning . . .

I have to tell you about my newest favorite device. Since I am commuting between the southern and mid-northern ends of the state, my visits to the library are curtailed. I can not, in good conscience, check out and take library books with me as I travel. Too cumbersome, in any case.

I have a Nook Color, as I may have mentioned once or five times. Electronic books from the library travel well and expire rather than having to be returned.

I received a gift card to Barnes and Noble for Christmas. Happy doesn't begin to describe my reading condition, right now. I have discovered Lisa Scottoline's books and am in the process of soldiering through the list - gratis through the library.

I recently told 01 Doc that I had finally been able to side-load library books from the laptop to the Nook without calling for tech support. It isn't complicated, just scary having to delete a couple of files that sound important. Those files get re-created every time you download, so it isn't as drastic as it seemed that first time.

And, you want to hear another plus? The operating system on the Nook Color upgraded itself and I didn't even know it had.

The little dickens . . .

News from the front . . .

Home for a bit. This has been an extraordinary last quarter of 2010/first month of 2011. We celebrated Christmas in our hearts but without much outward display.

New Years Eve was not observed by our staying up to see the new year in. We probably went to bed by 9 p.m. On New Years day, Zeta and Mark along with Steve-the-computer-guru plus his wife, Elissa, came to see their Grand/Great-Grandmom. They were a breath of fresh air straight to the heart instead of the lungs.

The following day, Zeta and Mark came back to see us before embarking on the long trip back home. This was especially good of them because they both had to be at work the next day - no matter how tiring the trip would prove to be.

I am back at the homestead to get the eyes treated and to see BigEd through his operation. If J's mother did not have such a devoted friend in Mrs. Whittaker, it would have been impossible, almost, to come home. She takes care of the personal attendance that was my job. Helen comes over to do the PT that I was doing, also. Between the two of them plus J who is feeding, responding to requests for assistance, and pushing fluids, I feel relieved about the care J's mom is getting.

We find out on Monday what the details will be for BigEd's coming surgery. Until he is back on his feet, the Orange Park contingent will have to soldier on without my presence.

I wish I were twins . . .

My name's not Grace - for a reason . . .

J's mother has a wooden walkway from the back entry of her house to the mother of all garden/storage sheds out back. This was because at the age of 88, she wanted to be sure she had a stable surface underfoot when she went out there.

A few days ago, J had transported some glass blocks out to the storage area in the shed and was, uh, storing them there. I went out to see the shed. It still fascinates me to have that monster available. One might house refugees in less space. I followed the walkway out, stepped up the ramp to the little landing at the shed's doorway and tripped off the edge of the platform and down onto two large but empty boxes he had thrown there temporarily.

The boxes broke my fall nicely and I had my usual involuntary reaction when viewing or taking part in a pratfall. I lay there giggling. I still grin when I think of the grace displayed.

The heating pad is taking care of the sore shoulder nicely, thank you . . .

Arrival, yay!

Jarden Corporation sent us the 18" Patton fan. It arrived yesterday afternoon. Unlike our previous fans, we had to assemble the base. Or rather, J did. It is working fine and I want to say a huge

THANK YOU

to the customer service department at Jarden Corporation. They do care about their customers.

Not a bucket list item, but still . . .

Today I achieved one goal that has eluded me.

First you have to be aware that CVS has ICaps vitamins on sale for buy one/get one half price.

After the half off discount, I used $5 Extra-Bucks-off-a-$25-purchase; $2 Extra Bucks; and two (count 'em, two) $2 manufacturer's coupons for ICaps which were printed from the internet.

Bottom line? $40 worth of eye vitamins cost $18.98.

I finally made a profit with coupons . . .