Dum, da duh-duh

This was another extreme temp day. I went out in the early (well, 7:15) coolth to take a car to the Mac Genius of mechanics. He is a car whisperer who knows us, the vehicles, and his business. Among other things, I asked him to check the valves on our tires as there has been a spate of cracked valves on some tires.

Want to feel like a naive infant? Have your mechanic tell you that the valves in your tires are metal and contain sensors which let you know when they are low on air. I knew this, I swear. After he said it, I even recalled what the picture of the icon looks like in the manual.

He said that kind of valve almost never fails.

There was no extra charge for the education . . .

Second, Best . . .

Many mango seasons ago, J and I bought a console stereo which, upon delivery and set-up, was discovered to be broken. The store exchanged it for another one which worked for years.

Similar experiences have happened with various other purchases: an air conditioner lost its coolant a week after installation, new television set with a lovely picture but no sound, a refrigerator would not get cold enough, the A/C on a brand new van quit while we were taking it on its first summer vacation. It began to be funny. We began to laugh about it as the circumstances were enacted again and again with a clothes dryer, coffee maker, toaster and blender.

But now, it is not so funny. The wonderful washer that we have had for two days and which cleans our clothes so well does not approve of me, personally. There is a sharp area on the underside of the door that actually grabbed my nylon robe. The robe was dangling from the base of the door in a strange manner - as if it did not want to be washed. I freed it and I now have a little cut on the tip of my thumb as a souvenir of the encounter.

I telephoned Best Buy and they are going to exchange it for another one.

What do you want to bet that the exchangee will last forever, almost?

Adventures in laundering . . .

This is Ole Faithful. It is of a venerable age and would still have a good home if it had not decided to succumb to stubbornness.

It notified us by a burning electrical odor. We had never smelled that before, in all its life. It was more likely to remove than to produce smells.

It was a Maytag when it worked. Now it is one of the largest paper weights in the world. It died (moment of silence) yesterday around mid-day.

J said it was not revive-able due to its great age. Also said that perhaps I should decide on a new one. Huh, comparison shopper is one of my middle names. So is emergency shopper.

Now, this is the unbelievable part: a Maytag, which used to live at Best Buy, is being adopted by us and will is scheduled to arrive today between noon and two. Today? Yes, the next day.

There is more goodness. The specs on the 'net site said that the new one does not have a hand wash cycle. Other cycles yes, but not that one. Except, except, when BigEd and I went to actually meet it in person, we found that it does! Same model number. I checked.

Oh, yes, someone who had rated a washer for Best Buy bragged wrote about having the delivery and installation fee waived at the register. I printed the review and showed it to the salesman. He took it to his manager. They waived my fees at the register, too.

It is ironic that, after being so pleased about the hand wash cycle, the first load is going to be a bunch of towels . . .

Unpaid pronouncement . . .

We have always liked to watch Julia Child do her cooking thing. We used to watch the live programs where kitchen accidents were incorporated into her performance with superb aplomb.

Recently, our PBS channel reran an episode in which she touched a casserole, with her finger and thumb, after she had just removed it from the oven. She said, "Oops, I forgot." and stuck the burned hand behind her back while continuing the demonstration. Occasionally it sneaked out from behind her but was quickly tucked away again. I am sure she had blisters.

Late in her life, Julia wrote My Life in France with the assistance of her husband's great-nephew: Alex Prud'Homme. (I should add it to my favorite books list.)

There is a blog which details the effort of a young woman named Julie to cook her way through Julia Child's cookbook.

The biography and the blog, together, are the basis for the new movie Julie & Julia, which I have yet to see.

How-some-ever. I have located the blog and am working my way through the archives. Reading the first few entries with the knowledge that it will eventually provide a sort of freedom for the author is fascinating.

Click on Julie/Julia Project to reach the first entry, dated August 25, 2002. Use the navigation calendar, on the right side of her page, to read additional entries. The further you read, the better it gets.

PS: Julie throws the F-word around some, on the blog. Not sure why. I try to ignore it, though. Maybe it's a New York thing and not understandable by southerners who would never . . .

Supermarket Serendipity . . .

Sabor is a Spanish word for flavor or taste. So it makes perfect sense to name a food market Sabor. The newest one is on our way home from church if I take the route down 87th Avenue toward Coral Way. Sabor is on the southwest corner of a mall that used to contain a JByrons and KMart. Also, Sabor is run by, or is a subsidiary of, Publix.

The whole, eastern, half-or-greater part of that same mall is razed to rocky ground level and fenced off. There are the beginnings of construction visible but nothing is posted to let anyone know what is being built.

I stopped at Sabor because, being new, the restrooms should be nice and clean. Correct. Being new, the selection should be varied until the management figures out what sells and what doesn't for the neighborhood. Also correct.

I may do this agan. The ice cream (sugar free) did not melt by the time I got home so I know it is not too far to carry perishables. And I even stopped afterward at a BK Steakhouse for Juniors to go, heavy onion.

It is fun to find a new foodie place where the layout is semi-familiar while actually being different. The eye seems to see more with each sweep.

Perhaps the powers-that-build are going to erect a Wal-Mart at the other end of the property. I'll just have to contain myself.

Oh, and keep going home from church that way . . .

Is there a doc in the house?

There is a new sheriff in town.

I am such a Sherlock myself (and who is Watson?) that it took me four days to tumble to the fact. The new sheriff is ol doc and you can discover for yourself by clicking on the link.

There is so much fun ahead. o1 doc is funny and wry in person and I expect the blog to be no different.

So, let's hear the sound of one hand clapping: In welcome . . .

Rainy day . . .

There is something in the air, today. Something that makes sleeping so seductive that I could almost sit upright and do it. Having better sense than to try, I succumbed to a flat-out nap attack.

Our cat suffers from that malady, too . . .

The Jeopardy category for today . . .

I had a spot on my forearm that needed to be looked at, I thought. So I made an appointment with a dermatologist for this morning. I was a new patient. Didn't have a regular dermatologist. I do have one now.

She was thorough and reassuring. It was just a benign keratosis. Age related, she said. And then she did a skin patrol. No result there, either.

This is just another fun milepost for my younger siblings to anticipate reaching, down the years . . .

Where coffee . . .

We heard the alarm at six this morning. One of us had an early eye-check appointment, which went well. The only thing not well was getting up at six. If I wake up that early and can't get to snooze again, that's one thing. Having to rise on command is quite another.

Former years of early rising formed a habit that has taken me additional years to break. I consider myself a morning person. It's just getting to be mid-morning on some days.

Mid-morning does not come at six . . .

From the twilight zone . . .

As I got older, I developed a head of hair that reacts in a strange way to salon products. De-tangler makes it lie totally flat. Root lifter takes away any body that it might have possessed. I can not persuade new-to-me hair stylists of this fact. I take along with me the product that I found works best. They use it but they also sneak in some de-tangler which defeats the purpose. Then they struggle to create an effect that does not fall over my eyes if I tilt my head down.

It takes me two shampoos to return to what passes for normal. Right now, my hair is so light and airy that I might as well be on the space station. Gravity has little effect on this result. Wisps float around when I turn my head. Hairspray slides away from it as if repelled. If it isn't floating around, it is hanging straight down or flipping sideways instead of turning under.

It is so annoying. Next time I need a trim, I will make the stylist swear that she will not try to de-tangle me.

I am not exaggerating. Much . . .

She must use a pocket watch . . .

We are now doing Mew's mouth irrigation three times a week. We moved it to mornings instead of evenings so we could get it over with, for the day. That way, she doesn't have all day to dread the procedure. Believe me, she knows when the appointed day arrives. She keeps her calendar with more regularity than we do our own.

Routine is paramount with her. One could set a watch by her eleven a.m. morning nap.

Funny thing. After a week or so, she adjusts to the time change when we move away from standard time or back to standard.

I am sure that, for a while there, she thinks our watches are broken . . .

Too hot to title

The temperatures here makes one believe the global warming warnings. Perhaps everyone could take a deep breath and blow some cooler air in our southerly direction? If you are in the triple digits, never mind.

Yesterday, a lady at the library came out of her office and said it was cold back there. I invited her to step outside and warm up. I told her that our exterior house thermometer (in the shade) and our car's thermometer agreed at 97 degrees F.

And to think I was complaining about rainy days . . .

Not cold fired . . .

* *Happy (Extended) Birthday Mark* *

Tomorrow evening, we shall gather. No, not at the river. J and I will try again for a coal fired pizza. Last time, BigEd went but J was below weather level and I stayed behind with 'im.

This is Marks's choice of venue as he is the birthday person.

I expect to enjoy it, too. We all have to do our share . . .

Used breaker panel, cheap

The electrcian just left. Doesn't that sound ominous?

Our circuit breaker panel is a mere 33 years old. It has given its all and requires replacing. We do have restored service until the ominous appearance is necessary, again, for the full face-lift.

We started life here with a fuse box in the good ole days. Moving up to circuit breakers felt so modern, 33 years ago . . .

Parlez vous?

Evidently, it is not wise to ride a stationary bike while watching the Tour de France peleton horsing their bikes up a ten to twelve percent grade. They were in the Alps. Climbing. Accelerating.

I helped. Found myself pedaling faster in sympathy. Only remembered to slow down during commercial breaks.

Today, I pay. Taking Advil and using mineral ice on a hip. Today, it is annoying.

But, for a while there, I was on a roll . . .

Never satisfied . . .

Being a dinosaur, I do not use RSS feeds. I may be the last remaining person on the planet who prefers to surf to my virtual destinations and see for myself whether someone has recently posted.

I use twitter in a limited fashion. I have an account on facebook but seldom check it. I prefer a good book to good television (there's always the DVR, anyway).

But, there is one piece of technology for which I long. For which I wish avidly. It is U-verse from ATT.

We currently have Comcast Cable. With our one Comcast DVR, we can record two things at once. But, while recording, we can not watch a third program unless it is a previously made DVR recording. We can't watch something from the ON DEMAND list while making any recordings at all.

U-verse allows four (not two) things to be recorded at the same time. The best feature is that anyone can watch any recording from any other set in the house, manipulating the recording as one pleases with pause, rewind, or fast forward. This is done without regard for whether someone else is doing the same things to the same recorded program.

Eventually U-verse is coming to our neighborhood.

Please AT&T, I would like it sooner than that . . .

Take me out . . .

The attendees of the professonal baseball game had a wonderful time. The stadium, I was told, was immaculate. The grass looked as if it had been combed. They got a deal on the tickets which included food and programs. All that was extra to the experience of being at the game. Being there. Roaring with the rest of the crowd.

The seats stayed crowded until the 6th inning.

Now, we had looked up the weather on line before they left for the trek to the stadium. But the seer into the future did not depict the blowing clouds of rain that dumped on the field (and caused a fan retreat into the corridors) during that inning. The rain delay lasted so long that J arrived home just after it abated enough to allow play to resume.

We watched the rest of the game on television. It went to 12 innings. We lost by one point.

There was an article in this morning's paper. A new minority owner of the team had been given a personal tour of the facility before the game started. No wonder the place looked so good.

They were ready for inspection . . .

Off we go . . .

Happy Birthday

Adam

Today is the "synonym for the first man's" birthday. So, a celebratory group of guys are going to a professional baseball game. My assignment, should I wish to accept it, is to search the faces in the stands to try to identify them, during the TV broadcast.

I will.

Briefly . . .

Who said organizing was easy . . .

We had to move the computer desk temporarily. It was in the path of an air conditioner repair person.

In moving the long-standing accumulation, I winnowed through it and made some discoveries. The reading glasses (which I used only to read miniscule [4-6 point] type or blue-on-white lettering) were found. I didn't miss them much but was annoyed with myself over misplacing them. They had dropped between the side of the desk and the printer table.

I finally threw out the last cardboard container of stuff from when I retired. I haven't yet thrown out the CD which contains the procedures I originated while I was working. It has a sentimental value which has something to do with nostalgia. Haven't quite figured out why. When I do, I will probably cut 'er up and discard the pieces.

The surface of the desk should be easier to keep free from dust now that the laptop and docking station are the major occupants. Well, except for the pen holder (an old empty square candle jar), several boxes which were folded using mad Origami techniques (holding business cards, whiteout, staple remover, and a Creative Zen with earbuds. I don't have speakers yet, so there are Delta Airline earphones attached to the docking station. The cord is short but at least I can hear sound with 'em.

Various cables snake over the backside of the desk from the docking station, too. Scotch tape dispenser and stapler. Then there are the router and DSL modem with their cables. And occasionally, the cat, who is independent of cables.

Actually, I guess dusting isn't as easy as I thought . . .

Smart as a crock pot . . .

I have been sleepy for most of this day. I got up at 7:45 this morning and that is practically sleeping until noon. Tomorrow I would like to do it again so I can put the crock pot on early. Ribs are thawing in the refrigerator and should be ready to slow cook tomorrow.

This slow cooker that Rival sent when my old one cracked is such a nice size. You think that, being the size it is and also smart, I can get it to go grocery shopping?

Someone should . . .

Best of wishes !*!*!*!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

STEVE

Today is his actual date of birth but the official celebration will happen on the eleventh, which is this Saturday. Today seems strange, almost like ignoring the fact that he was ever born.

We will make up for this on Saturday. I sent him a text message earlier today wishing him a happy day.

May it last all year long . . .

Oh, the little guys . . .

I should have taken a camera to church. My two grand-nephews had grown so much that when I saw the younger of the two, I thought he was his older brother. I really needed that camera.

We went to lunch nearby afterward and I sat with the two boys who told me about some of the events they had met with over the holiday: spectacular fireworks, Ice Age 3, swimming. They are such delightful little personalities that we just picked up where we left off from the last time we saw one another.

Yes, I was happy to see my niece (their mother) and their father. We had a nice visit, too.

But, oh those boys . . .

At least it wasn't a 'gator

* * * Happy Fourth of July * * *

Yesterday, on the third, we suffered an invasion. When I opened the side door, a small toad hopped past my feet and came inside, sure of its welcome. It was so wrong. It went under the freezer and we could not find it, thereafter. Believe me, we looked.

We feared fatal results should the cat find it because, in passing, it looked like a miniature Bufo marinus (or Cane Toad) which exudes poison when frightened. Mew can be pretty frightening in predator mode. So we locked her away (with sustenance and sandbox) and watched some television.

J jumped up with his shoe in hand and attacked the rug at the baseboard. Bringing him paper towels and windex was my job. He had seen the culprit hopping across the rug. I had missed it completely. Mew is safe, now.

I can't say as much for the toad . . .

Let there be (flash) light . . .

Zeta was saying the other day that she's going to start stocking up on hurricane supplies. I have already started: two tuna pouches. Does that count?

We use more AA batteries than one would think. Between the digital camera which eats them like candy and remotes getting weak, ours don't last long enough to age in the giant package from the big box store. But D cells? That's a different story. We have some that are two years old. They are old enough to toddle around and order their own happy meals.

As soon as the beams of the flashlights turn faint, I pop in new D's in an effort to use them up. Perhaps I should just let them leave the nest on their own . . .

Oh Frabjous Day . . .

How does a one-day turnaround on A/C repair sound? Sounded well to the ear. Appeared most favorable to the eye. Felt like the Winter of Our disContent had arrived.

It was indeed the fan motor. Scott Appliances had one in stock. It was installed at their location and returned to our location in one afternoon. They are the most efficient (family run) appliance business.

Ahhhh, A/C in the semi-tropics. Artificial breezes. Canned air.

How did the older pioneers not melt?

The necessary coolth . . .

Yesterday, I had a duh - AHA experience. Our A/C is making an intermittet noise. A screeching, if you will. Fan? Motor? Intermittent?

If it's not making the noise all the time, how can a repair person (Oh, how very PC) tell what is wrong? So we waited. Then realization struck. While the screeching made itself audible, I switched the unit to "Fan Only." Screeching kept right on happening.

Calling the lucky repairman this morning with our pinpoint diagnosis. Heh . . .

Oo-oo-oh, it's magic . . .

Mew has always been absolutely sure that if she could just get both front paws on the knob, any door would magically open for her. Here she is seen, after finally achieving her fondest objective, peering at the upper corner of the door to watch for the first widening of the seam.

Mew remained here, hopefully, for some time before uttering a bitter cry and giving up. She finally realized.

She doesn't know the magic words . . .

Here today . .

Occasionally, a house-fly gets, inside. And on those occasions, I can usually swat the intruder using a diversionary technique. When the intended prey lights, I hold the deadly swatter in my right hand and stick my left out to the side (or up, depending). Then, I wiggle the fingers of the left hand like the legs (in my imagination, anyway) of a web-challenged spider.

See, I know that flies have much faster reaction time than I do. But, they don't divide their attention very well. My technique forces them to try and while they are trying, the deadly right hand acts.

Usually. This morning, Mew was staring intently at a dining chair's back. When I asked her what she was doing, she glanced quickly at me and then resumed her stare. Moving closer, I could see a fly that had been elusive since yesterday. Grabbing the swatter from its hook, I went into my act. Between my twitching fingers and Mew's twitching whiskers, it was truly distracted.

It took two of us to hunt this one down. Cooperation between the species . . .

Sunday, Fathers, celebrations . . .

We had a special time on Father's Day. J and I met Zeta and M plus their kids and kids' spouses at the Rockfish Grill. E's parents came also. Zeta and M got there early and had the tables re-arranged so that we could all sit together.

Afterward, we all went back to the house where the most desserts were. That was Zeta and M, again. She had made little spice cakes and brownies. There was 6 carb cheesecake for those who wished to go that route. Ice cream? Oh, yes. Several varieties both leaded and unleaded. Plus fresh ground and brewed Starbucks.

Dinner at home. later, was practically non-existent that evening: snacks and grazing for the most part.

You could tell everyone was having a wonderful time by the noise level.

No ice-breaking necessary.

We keeping you up?

There have been many attempts to take a picture of Mew during a yawn. Her whole head seems to split in half and the fur on the back of her neck climbs toward her ears at the height of the operation.

Our camera is a Fujifilm that has to think for a while after you press the button to tell it there is a picture it might want to take. She usually gets her mouth shut before the shutter decides to operate.

This time, the stars were in alignment. Now, I have to try this from the side. It only took me nine years to come up with this one.

Plenty of time . . .

How hot is it . . .

Umm-kay, this is not August. This is June, all right? So, what's going on?

I went out to the car about 3 p.m. and the interior was way too hot. I touched the window control and had to use a crumpled paper towel to hold it down and open the windows because I couldn't bear to touch it. I needed a potholder. At first, the A/C blew air straight from the Negev via the Sahara.

I glanced at the car's thermometer readout and it said 97°. Whoa, where did that come from?

When I returned home, the first thing I told J was that it was so hot, outside. He said that after I left, he looked at the readout from the front porch thermometer. It read 101°. When I got home, it had dropped to 98°.

Practically a cool wave . . .

Gasseous . . .

I can remember when gas was twenty-nine cents a gallon. Dad would drive up to the pump and tell the attendant that we needed 10 gallons.

And the attendant would clean all of the car's windows while the pump was working. Then check the oil and water levels. Then say, "How about the tires? You want 'em checked this time?"

Be still my heart . . .

All sorts of do's . . .

To do:

Feed Cat: She slept in this morning. Wanted much brushing before food.

Buy Gas: Yikes. $2.53 a gallon at BJ's

Visit Library: Free. Thank heaven that free is also so much fun.

Pick up prescription: It was ready, too.

Do Crossword: I resent that the answer to the clue "bookish" was nerdy. I told BigEd that I don't consider myself nerdy. He laughed and laughed.

Remind someone pick up his cleaning: No names. It has been a week.

Decide what to have for dinner: Fish. And?

I haven't done it yet but I need to call for an appointment to get the locks scissored. I am dreading the locks. (Heh.) Last time, it was layered up the back. Wouldn't turn under naturally but wanted to wave in an independent manner. I hope to wave goodbye to layers. Have I let it grow out enough?

Probably not . . . I may be (snicker) locked into layers.

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not . . .

Where?

We might as well not even have a cat, right now. I believe this because right now, thunder has rolled. Mew rolled with it - into another dimension possibly. She is invisible at the moment and crouched under the dining room table.

Lightning can't see her when she is invisible. The fact that I see her? Irrelevant.

Rewards for having fun . . .

I stopped by the library to pick up a long-awaited hold, this morning. While there, I learned there will be a summer reading program for adults, beginning this month. This time will include prizes like tote bags, water bottles, etc. What fun.

Who needs incentive to read, thougn? It's like being rewarded for having a birthday.

Oh, wait, we do that, too . . .

Not this time?

It would be unfair to adopt a young puppy now and then go on vacation for two or three weeks in August. Wouldn't it?

I can't envision taking a young one along (or rather, I can and it is not pretty) plus I don't think it would be wise to interrupt its training/upbringing at such a young age, for three whole weeks, by boarding it with our vet. It would be costly, too.

I am talking myself out of going to visit a six weeks old terrier mix which was posted on Freecycle. I did email the owner to see a picture and, like all six week pups, it is the cutest thing. Socialized too, because her children help her take care of it, she wrote.

Doggone it . . .

Mod tech . . .

Zeta taught me something, yesterday:

Did you know that you can look up doppler radar for your area, on line, at a weather site? If you have an internet enabled cell phone or laptop with you, and you are caught in a sudden summer storm, the radar display lets you know how large the bad area of the storm is and you can see whether it is moving away. Or whether you are in for more windblown drenching.

Our local television channel 4 has doppler radar available. I discovered that if you look at the time stamp for the beginning of the radar loop and at the time stamp at the end of the loop, you can almost guestimate how long it will take for that little hole in the clouds to open up over you so you can run to your car. Our radar display is about five minutes behind real time which isn't too bad.

'Course you could always stand out in the rain looking up. But, I don't recommend it. . . .

Please not . . .

Today, we had a little preview of hurricane season. For some reason, the wind came straight out of the west, causing the hard rain to tattoo our side door like a highland drum. The folded, bare mast and spars of our neighbor's boat were lifted above our hibiscus hedge, waving and oscillating as if at sea. Capsizing was not out of the question.

Smaller items were flung into the hedges and the tall palms turned inside out like broken umbrellas. I opened the front door a crack to experience it firsthand. The wind nearly took the door from my grip even though it was only opened enough to peek out. I locked it shut although I don't know what good locking it could do. It just felt safer. Silly.

We guessed the wind gusts might be between 50-60 mph and we have been through enough 'canes to be fair judges of gust speed. These were not altogether steady, though. The wind would moderate between gusts instead of hitting a steady 75 or so and howling up from there. There was no singing of the wind through the wires and chain link fences. No listening to that howl climb in height and volume as it approached. No hearing the trees crack and groan as roots gave way or branches twisted loose to fly.

I had better stop. I'm scaring myself . . .

Happy . . .

During WW II, we received a telephone call that devastated Mommas. She threw herself across the bed in the downstairs bedroom and cried like an injured child.

Dad explained that Watson had been killed when the wing came off his flying boxcar. Watson was her sister's son and Mommas had a colored portrait-style picture of him, wearing his uniform, on her dresser. He was a better looking version of a young John Wayne.

I didn't know that a flying boxcar was a cargo plane. I didn't know why he had been flying in a boxcar. I only knew what I could see: that a telephone call like that one could distort one's reality into awful, new directions.

People are living with that knowledge, today. And today, we honor those who have given all they posessed so that we may be free to keep this holiday however we wish.

God Bless them and those who love and honor them.

It isn't a big deal, but . . .

U-verse is just a speck on our horizon, I would guess. I went to see if there were two boxes on Miller as Zeta suggested. One was standing solo like the monolith in 2001, A Space Odyssey, only not so large. No little box off to the side, behind it, or in front. We have promises only, so far. At least they're talking to us about it.

Today, I go for another shot into an eye. I have become an expert in explaining that it doesn't hurt and that the most annoying thing about it is not being able to get water in the eye for two weeks. Plus the retina specialist's office is so busy that built-in waits are expected.

However, those things are a lot less annoying than not being able to see . . .

To boldly go where noONE has gone, before . . .

Today, was a Star Trek day. I want to see it again in order to take in more of the details or, at least, I need to have my own copy as soon as it is released on disk.

Will I tell you anything about it? Oh, no. Do I recommend going to see it on the big screen?

Oh, Yes . . .

Can you hear me now? No?

We had a most welcome visit from an AT&T rep to discuss U-verse. We don't know how long it will be before the service actually reaches our area but we have signed up. Installation will be at no charge, when it finally does arrive, which was a pretty good incentive to change to that different horse, midstream or not.

The kicker was that we will double our internet speed. Now I really do need some small, inexpensive, external speakers. I have to disconnect from the docking station when I want to watch something on hulu.com (or anything else with sound) because connecting the laptop to the docking station disables the internal speakers.

There's always something . . .

it's time to . . .

It is such freedom. My battery needs a new wristwatch. Or the reverse may be true.

I don't know the accurate time unless I glance up at the bedroom clocks, dining room wall clock, three clocks in the living room, three in the kitchen including oven and microwave, or the computer screen.

I guess I'm not as time-free as I thought.

We have too darn many ways to find out what time it is . . .

Follow that car . . .

When we left to visit J's mother, our grass was brown and crunchy. We were gone for six days and it did not rain a drop while we were away. At least, it didn't on our grass.

This was one of the few trips during which not a drop of rain fell on our moving vehicle. Nor on any parked ones that we could see, either.

However, we must have towed a vortex of moisture laden air behind us as we returned home. Perhaps it was lost and needed a hint. Because, last night it rained some - just enough to make the brown grass supple and give the occasional greenish blade some hope.

This morning it is spattering rain again and the ground is loving the idea of slowly taking it in.

So now we know. It must be true. If there isn't rain down here in the southern end of our state, we have to travel up there and guide it down . . .

More plans . . .

Today, our faithful transportation feels abandoned. We haven't been near it since we got home yesterday. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will climb aboard and see if it remembers the way to the supermarket.

Don't you just love planning ahead . . .

Plans . . .

The day we arrived at J's mother's home, we went to bed early because we wanted to. Well, okay, we needed to. In fact I could have put my head down any time and been gone. Thank Heaven for Starbucks.

On Mother's Day, we took J's mother and sister to a fine restaurant which gave each of the mothers a little something. It was a gift certificate usable on the next visit.

The day after Mother's Day, we had big plans. We were going to the bank and the post office.

I couldn't wait . . .

Most of the time . . .

Tomorrow we are Rock Fish Grilling for lunch with Zeta and M.

Since we are traveling on Friday, BigEd and Mew will be keeping each other company. She is pretty easy company. She mostly does this:
She is on top of the condo that J's mother brought her. She tried the various levels once each and decided she prefers the penthouse. We don't bother her while she is up there and she visibly relaxes when she jumps up.

I know, she is visibly relaxed most of the time unless she wants something . . .

How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

01 Doc asked if there would be any pictures of what I have been doing in Origami class. I will try to put some here although I am still not used to Windows Vista. Above are some boxes that I am not too ashamed to acknowledge. The top row of boxes are the examples of reverse sides of the boxes on the bottom row. The triangular ones require three sheets of paper and the square one requires four pieces. They are docking boxes meaning that the parts have to be interlocked together. That is the most difficult part, for me. Technically, I understand that these are not pure origami. I don't mind as long as they are fun to do.

The first time I attempted a triangular box at home, the paper became so weakened from being refolded and manipulated that I finally crumpled it up and started over again. You know how practice can get some people to Carnegie Hall?

It can also get you some docking boxes . . .

Go see . . .

Zeta and M are thinking of getting back to normal after the long weekend of welcoming family and guests in conjunction with the wedding and reception. We had eclectic food choices in such quantities as to be simply amazing. The one of the best parts was seeing A's face when he discovered his brother had flown in to surprise him. M the younger flies back home tonight.

Zeta has some pictures up on her site. Go check 'em out . . .

Wedding report . . .

S-the-guru has many talents including being the official wedding photographer for today's festivities. I saw many of his shots in the camera and hope to see them on line as he posts them. Perhaps Zeta will display some, also.

It went so well, today. V was a lovely bride and A was funny and proud. His brother flew in as a surprise and when A saw that his brother had come, his face was a study in surprised delight. I knew he would be there and it was so difficult not to blurt out a teletale comment before hand.

We ate and ate at the reception. It was similar to the loaves and fishes in one way: lots left over. A had requested Mommas's broccoli casserole, especially. This time, I pounded Ritz crackers for the topping, which I seldom do and which is faithful to Mommas' version. They seemed to like it. They were surprised to hear that it was handed down from my mother. S said that it is now an old family recipe, for sure.

There was an eclectic selection of food, something for everyone. We had such a good time and so did everyone else. I may eat again tomorrow, or maybe not.

At any rate, early to bed sounds about right . . .

Tomorrow, tomorrow . . .

Tomorrow is the special day. There will be a wedding and a reception to celebrate. A and V will join their lives together. Family and friends will join their voices in celebratory toasts. Zeta and M will host the reception. They have been making preparations for weeks.

I hope the alterations to my suit will be ready this afternoon, as promised.

Nothing like doing things ahead of time . . .

A flight of . . . cranes

We have family members visiting from upstate: the capital to be exact. They arrived last night and we were so happy to have them here. We knew they had endured a long day of travel and still we kept them awake until after 1 a.m.. No one wanted to be the one to call it quits and retire. Finally, J said that they had to get some rest, so we let them do that.

Today, while they were out seeing other family members, I went to Origami class at the library. I had spent the whole week practicing three-part, triangular boxes and today we made star boxes and cranes, instead.

I have gotten fairly adept at the triangular boxes I had practiced: don't even need to consult the diagrams any more.


Today, we reverted to cranes. We need to practice the cranes, we were told. My crane's legs made him appear physically challeged. Actually handicapped to be uncorrect and explicit. The legs transform into a tail and head with some reverse folding. After I finished, he looked mentally challenged, as well.

Then we blew them up which means we inflated the little body. It didn't require the use of ordinance . . . although that might have been kinder.

This is the last time it gets its way . . .

The literature that accompanied the laptop trumpeted that it came with "Wireless N" technology. S-the-Guru explained that meant not "Wireless G." Hoot. Woot.

"What does that mean?" was our next question. Stronger, farther reaching wireless connection, explained S-the-Guru.

Since the two workstations are set up at diametrically opposite ends of the house, and since the signal has to penetrate what used to be the outside wall of the house, and mostly because the laptop wanted to try the new system, we went with Wireless N. This was a hard decision because Zeta and M offered us the use of a router they are not using. Free is as good as it gets. But the laptop had pleaded for the N and we are humoring it.

But this is the last time, no matter how hard it begs . . .

My eyes! My eyes!

It's not our electrical service or our telephone or DSL that is non-operational. It is the Comcast Cable service and our baseball team has an afternoon game, today. The outage is large which includes at least one node of circa 200 homes. Maybe more than one node is affected but the customer service reps don't really know. The really strange thing is that out of all the channels available to us on a usual day, only one has a picture at present.

This volunteer is the sole channel that shows Bambi and his relatives being brought down by sniper-scoped-appearing rifles borne by whispering trophy seekers. This is not my least favorite channel. It is a channel I would never watch.

Ironic, isn't it . . .

Terminal Cracks . . .

It is sad when something you like, something that works well, gets cracked. Our Rival Smart Crock Pot insert fits that profile exactly - including the cracks. No one knows how this happened. It just did. Sad, no? We have two crock pots and the other one is older, smaller, and also dumber.

I discovered the condition of the insert early in March. I telephoned the maker of our injured appliance after looking on line to see if there was a replacement insert and it appeared to be out of stock. After looking for himself, the customer service rep told me that the insert was unavailable at that time. (I knew this) It should be available for ordering in about 3 weeks, he said.

I put a note on the calendar to try again and forgot about it until today. I had saved the serial number of the crock pot and the serial number of the insert from the previous call. This might shorten the process, one would think. But, no. My call was placed on what appeared to be terminal hold.

When the person came back to the other end of the line, she apologized profusely. Not for the length of the hold, mind you, but for the fact that the replacement for my crock pot insert is no longer manufactured. She also apologized for my not having been told this when I called back in March. She did not know why it had happened but she had an idea how to remedy the matter.

She is having a whole new appliance sent instead of just the insert. Would I mind that the insert is a half-quart larger than the broken one? Uh, no I wouldn't mind.

It ships in 7-10 working days and a tracking number will be emailed to me.

I told the young woman that I found the whole thing a generous response to my problem. She seemed happy about that.

I know I am . . .

Flying . . .

S-the-Guru has grown up and got himself married while I wasn't looking. Yes I was there through most of that process. But, when he came over to work with our router setup, he was so competent and sure. I really don't like the word mature. It sounds a bit stodgy and staid to my ear. But he is mature now and is living proof that mature can be a dynamic status. He seems to enjoy where he is at this point in his life and I am so happy for him.

I was struck by how he has changed since he was the little guy I used to take to Tropical Elementary in the mornings. Or, later, watch while he orchestrated his Eagle Scout project and achieved that rank.

All eagles were fledglings once. Zeta and M did a good job. It is satisfying to see how an eagle can soar when the wings are spread and the wind comes . . .

The age of miracles . . .

This evening, after doing a long stretch at work, S-the-computer-guru came to our rescue. He not only made our wireless network impenetrable, he freed the PC from its slavery to hardwiring. With the purchase of a printserver, the printer can be wireless, too. I asked him what kind of printserver to buy. He specified a cheap one. He also told me that if we replace our printer, it should be capable of bluetooth.

I learned so much from him today.

I really do thank E for sparing him to do all this. They have evening plans for dinner and a movie with friends. I hope they have a wonderful time. They both deserve it.

Right now, BigEd and I are both surfing the 'net. Independently. At the same time. It's a miracle, I tell you.

Thanks fly out to Zeta, too, for facilitating changes to our plans when I called on her unexpectedly. Today was less convenient for S and for E than yesterday would have been. But he came anyway.

Bless 'em both . . .

Listen, just listen . . .

I have been living under a rock, one would think. Over the past few days, I have caught brief references to a Scots singer named Susan Boyle. This evening's news aired just a brief phrase from the performance that made her famous at her initial Britain's Got Talent appearance.

You Tube offers the entire performance including the skeptical expressions of the judges before she began to sing.

When she ended, I was in tears. What a voice. I surely do want to hear more from her.

As I said, under a rock . . .

The cavalry cometh . . .

Our computer guru, S, called me this afternoon and volunteered to come over and look at the router config. Don't uninstall the software from the laptop, he advised. Frankly, that really means don't mess it up any further until I get there.

But he is much too nice to say that . . .

Neat . . .

Today, I got my car back from the Zeta and M auto detailing service. They did such a wonderful job on it and even added windshield washer fluid, which was low. The gas tank was topped up over-full, too.

All in all, their customer service ethic is superb.

Thank you so much, Zeta and M.

Oops . . .

The new laptop may have been done a disservice when first I installed the wireless router using it instead of the PC. The laptop was hooked up to the docking station so it was connected via an ethernet cable.

A trial version of "Net Magic" came on the disk and I installed it, too. But, but, but, but, after switching the computers so that the PC was running the router and was hooked up to the ethernet cable, the laptop could not see the new network. Blind, it was, and pitiful.

During the laptop's install, it asked if I wanted to replace an existing router, I selected not to do that. So, hopefully, if I uninstall the new software from the laptop, the original Wireless N software that came with it will emerge glistening and shiny. One can hope. Otherwise, it will be either up to our own personal guru or the Geek Squad. It came with a Geek Squad setup system in the first place.

The router is lighted up and trying to be useful. But, not.

Details at eleven, or sometime . . .

Day past . . .

I have been collected like a parcel and conveyed to various places. First I conveyed my-own-self to Zeta's where she and I immersed ourselves in ribbons and wire. We had such a good time playing with color and textures. We even made an excursion to Michael's for more good stuff.

We sat near the back patio doors where two of Zeta's kitties were fascinated by what we were doing: trailing ribbon and empty ribbon spools rolling across the floor kept them entertained for hours. They were so exhausted by the activities they watched that they curled up like black and white commas on the mat and drifted to sleep.

Later, BigEd picked me up and, on the way home, we went by a new-to-us Chinese restaurant. BigEd went inside and asked for a menu.

We all decided to let the oriental establishment do our cooking that evening. BigEd went back to the place and brought home some Chicken Chow Mein, Moo Goo Gai Pan and Honey Garlic Chicken. It was delicious but contained more salt than I expected. It took a fair quantity of water to slake the thirst resulting from that deliciousness. I shall have to abstain, for a while.

But the day was so satisfying and productive. And the time? It had zipped and fled away from us.

It's a good day when that happens . . .

Dot and carry, dot and carry . . .

Yesterday, a barefoot fool went looking for something in our spare room which contains a bicycle among other oddments. This fool, standing by the side of the contraption, tried to get closer to it. The fool lifted two toenails: one all the way and one just a bit.

Today the doctor laid bare the toe with the most damage and cut back the nail of the second one.

No sandals for me at the wedding. They will be lucky if I don't wear one shoe and one bedroom slipper . . .

Message from the dash . . .

Our youngest vehicle is going to the doctor mechanic tomorrow. It is not feeling well. It runs fine but has told me it needs attention.

"Maint req" is the exact phrase it used to inform me of its malaise. I know it is a little overdue for an oil change, timewise. Mileagewise, it is a little premature in its thinking. We don't drive it enough to make its mileage fit the mechanical timeline for maintenance.

What's the phrase? Driven by a little old lady in Pasadena? Except for the little and the Pasadena references, that is somewhat accurate.

Tomorrow the car will have to get up early to be first at the mechanic's door. I wish it were old enough to go by itself . . .

Aahhhh . . .

Please read the small, really small, print at the bottom of yesterday's post . . . about this size, or even smaller. Way down at the bottom just above the comments..

Snip, aaggghhh

I did go to get my hair cut this morning. My hairdresser was using an electric razor to "clean up" the back of my neck and she jumped when another patron dropped a hand mirror which smashed back into its little molecules, practically.

My hairdresser had shaved a crooked streak an inch and a half up the back of my head when she jumped. The only way she could fix it was to cut my hair really short. She was so sorry and kept apologizing. What could I say? It was not done on purpose.

To make reparation, she did not charge me and gave me a card for free services next time.

Yeah right, like there will ever be a next time . . .




Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and april fool!

Hey-ya, hey, hey

Today, the errands saved for the afternoon would much better have been done earlier in the day. Spring? This is summer weather: near nine-ty de-grees and so huumid!

I just returned from the pharmacy. It was either a round trip to pick up one item, or an hour and a half wait. I should have waited. The car was not as cool as the pharmacy.

Tomorrow, I put my remaining hair in the hands of a new hairdresser. Why is that so scary? It's only hair and will grow back if I don't like it.

I will describe the results, however, even if the new one is an Apache and I get scalped . . .

Bonus book-time . . .

Trekked back to the doctor today. I was out of muscle relaxers (he had given me samples of them) and I could tell the difference in mobility this morning.

I was in the waiting room for over two hours. This is unusual for a Tuesday and when they called me in, several people apologized, including the doctor. Fortunately for me, waiting time is bonus book-time.

He asked how I was doing and I told the truth. In the a.m., I am 90 years old. I get younger as I move around. I was much younger than 90 when I still had muscle relaxers to take at bedtime.

He asked me if I wanted another shot in the joint. Want? Probably not. Need? Not even.

So, I have more gratis relaxers and time to heal. Conservative treatment is his preference, and just coincidentally, I agree.

I even went to the pharmacy and stood in line to pick up prescriptions for other family members.

Right now one experience of standing in line, per day, is my limit.

Why be masochistic?

Now we know . .

BigEd made a run to BJ's and took my (well, J's and mine really) car instead of his own. Our own trunk is not being used as a storage bunker. BigEd's is: bike rack, extra cables, extra jack, extra vehicular fluids, junk stuff like that.

We got a call from him to say that the key wouldn't turn and the steering wheel was jammed. Or the steering wheel would move very little.

J and I looked all over for the keys to BigEd's car and finally telephoned him for instructions. He instructed us to look in all of the places we had already looked. When I finally found them by accident and not according to instructions, I telephoned BigEd to say that help was on the way. If we couldn't get the key to turn, we would call AAA, I told him.

When I arrived, I pulled into a parking space next to the disabled vehicle. As I did so, a Tripple A locksmith van came around the corner and stopped in front of us. BigEd had used initiative. It took the gentleman about two minutes after receiving our electronic cry for help to find us.

He manipulated the wheel to the right using both hands, held it there and tapped-then-turned the key. It started right up. BigEd had been doing everything except tap the key.

Now we know . . .

Typical, just typical . . .

We bought some plain yogurt for Mew. She likes stolen whipped cream products (the only way to get them is for her to steal from us) so I thought she would be okay with the yogurt. Bluegrass Mama said her own cat loved it . . .

I let her smell it and put a little on her plate. She refused to even try it. So, I put a little smear of it on top of her forepaw to see if the taste would persuade her. She licked it, shook the forepaw, shivered her back fur, and walked away.

Each time she lifted a paw to take a step, including the rear paws, she shook the whole leg hard and shivered her fur.

The only thing she didn't try to do was bury it. I guess I will have to eat it myself.

Current report on goood . . .

Yesterday, I received two shots plus muscle relaxers to go home with. The doctor is my favorite professional at the moment. Thursday, I go back for more shots. Goood shots. Muscle relaxers also goood.

I have to pick up some yogurt for Mew, per Bluegrass Mama. Thanks BGM.

Close call . . .

Scary event: the Clickfree backup drive would not upload our backed-up data (with years of pictures) onto the new hard drive. I asked the tech if they had a duplex cord, one of which came with the Clickfree. They had said not to bring any cables in because they might get lost.

I offered to bring my cables to him and he reluctantly said okay. They had hooked the Oneclick up to an external power device to get more power to it. . . but they would try my cables.

Heh, that worked. I can pick it up tomorrow, new hard drive and router card installed. If I can't get the wireless router to speak to both computers, there is always S-the-Guru. One way or another, this is a good thing.

First, though, I will transfer copies of the pictures to the laptop. And I might try an online storage facility, as well. Anyone have any suggestions about which to use?

Further adventures . . .

Yep, I'm stiff as a pillar of salt after the fall yesterday. Mineral Ice was my best friend last night and thank goodness for it.

No black eye, though. Fortunately.

Mew is on antibiotic, by mouth for a sneezing bout. Liquid. She is such a good kitty when we must insult her dignity with such goings on.

One could not prove it by her behavior at the Vet's office. She can be heard all through the offices, shouting feline imprecations and threatening dire consequences. Often, our Vet does minor procedures in front of us because she behaves, then. Our Vet was not there yesterday and BigEd, who took her in, saw the doctor on duty. (We were both supposed to take her but I was sitting at home with ice stuck to various locations.)

We aways take along two towels and a plastic bag when she has to visit the Vet's office. We always need a clean towel for her carrier-liner for the trip home. And we need a plastic bag to transport the used one home for sanitizing.

I can't explain to her that the technicians in the back room are not actually trying to kill her. However, she trusts us and doesn't try to kill them if we are present while they take her temp or give her shots.

Goooood kitty . . .

What goeth before a fall?

How silly. Me: carrying an empty plastic cat carrier, by its handle, through the kitchen. Catching a foot on something and falling with the carrier sliding across the floor, still in my grip. Bouncing off a knee, hip and part of the left eyebrow bone. Icing the brow to prevent a black eye. Icing the knee. Forgetting to ice the hip until later. Doing that now.

I still bounce well, but . . .

Tomorrow, you can probably call me gimpy.

Where's the hand lotion?

Here today, the humidity is 58% which makes for dry skin, crunchy grass, and no cloud cover. Our humidity easily can climb into the 90's. Humid saturation of 100% is not uncommon. Often in such weather, no rain will fall to relieve anyone who has to venture outside. Or work outside. One can get as wet as a fish in such an environment and yet be parched for water.

Yesterday was one of our two allowable weekdays to irrigate. J opened the taps, so to speak, and today there is a haze of green over the brown underfoot. So it's not as dead as it looked.

Our tap water is safe to drink yet tastes of chemicals. Occasionally it is treated with an overabundance of chlorine to ensure its safety. There are announcements before that is done so that the populace does not panic at the smell.

Small wonder that we buy bottled water, although when the humidity climbs, it feels as if one should be able to breathe deeply and take in half a glassful at a time.

The way it is now? So dry? Visitors love it . . .

Less than we were . . .

We received a call yesterday to inform us that J's sister had lost her husband to his battle with cancer. He passed away at home and peacefully. Of course J's sister knew this was going to happen in the near future but she is devastated by the loss of a husband and friend of over 50 years. But, as she said, he's in a better place, now.

He had such a wonderful sense of humor. Members of any gathering could find themselves laughing helplessly when he was on a roll. People loved him and will miss him terribly.

Recently, when we visited J's mom and sisters, we all ate lunch together. It was cold, but we gathered outside the restaurant talking still, laughing, and reluctant to leave. We knew how sick he was and were amazed at how well he looked. He joked that people told him how great he looked when he felt at his worst. He thought it was funny.

We are fewer now, and less than we were.

Please pray for his friends and family . . .

Tomorrow? Not!!!!

We had an errand day, today. As in many to run. I did rediscover the joys of early visits to various vendors. No line at the pharmacy. Easy parking at the university's loading dock where J and I made a delivery of software for an ailing computer. Sailing down Sunset Drive, riding the wave of green lights for the most part.

We did zip past Starbucks without stopping. My bad. I did forget to return books to the public library and have to go this evening. But that's not a chore;

It's an opportunity . . .

Where are we?

Right after the time change, Blogger changed the menu strip at the top of my home page. Now I have to remember to click on "new post" instead of "sign in" if I am already logged on.

Used to be, a click on sign in (if one already was signed in) would take the screen to a different page where there were selections such as: create a new post or edit an old post, among other choices.

Now the place where sign in used to be has been replaced by sign out. Unless one hasn't signed in yet when I suppose it will read sign in. Toggle switch-like.

It's just too much on top of springing forward . . .

Is your spring sprung?

We have reset the wall clocks, alarm clocks, microwave, oven clock, coffeemaker clock, and watches. We were unable to reset our internal clocks, mindsets, personal views of time, and the cat.

There are some things that are absolutely beyond modern technology . . .

Catlike economy

Now the dire economic situation is beginning to affect our pets. The cat's food which we buy from the veterinarian's office no longer comes in plastic containers. It comes in bags, now, with the same weight content as the old plastic jugs.

As the jugs had a twist-off lid, they protected the dry contents from moisture and insects. The new and improved bags, even though made of multi-ply media, won't do the same job. Cheaper, though.

Thank heaven I saved the last empty jug. I'll just decant the bag into it and Mew won't know the difference.

I hope . . .

Whose indoor voice?

Saturdays, our little branch library has fully scheduled computer time as the kids come in for homework, help, and such research as is possible for a young 'un. Saturday, lately, is also the scheduled time for our Origami class which I have to admit is better attended than the book discussion group was.

The kids make children-ly noise, some of them, with the occasional meltdown and removal from the premises by an embarrassed parent. But two Saturdays ago, a parent came to our table and asked us to lower the volume. Her daughters, she said, were complaining that it was difficult to concentrate with the noise we were making.

Were we making a din? Consensus led to our using the verbal dimmer switch. And last week we kept shushing ourselves.

Maybe we should take it outside . . .

A day late and a brain cell short . . .

Yesterday was the second day in the month of March. That should have triggered something in the memory as 01 Doc and T were married on that day. If Susan had not posted a loving wish for them, I would still be off in never-land, totally unaware. So, with love I wish them a:

HAPPY BELATED ANNIVERSARY!

And thanks, Susan.

New toy, my preciousssss

FIU still has the PC. This is being done on a Toshiba laptop with Vista instead of XP. I am used to XP and do not know how steep the learning curve will be. However, I am doing this intuitively. How bad can it be? Heh.

I really do need to go to the Toshiba site and do some reading. I know this. It's just that I have been without an electronic surfboard for a while. Haven't hooked up the scanner or printer, yet. Don't care. Having too much fun,

Need to go splash a bit. Now . . .

Second home . . .

Best Buy has a Toshiba laptop on (a really good) sale. I text-messaged the specs to S-the-guru and he said it would run rings around that PC which is in for repair. I go to see if they have any of them left, after leaving the library.

I feel as if they should set up a cot for me here, somewhere in the book stacks . . .

Message in a bottle

Yesterday, I telephoned FIU to see if our computer had been looked at, yet. They replied: Monday, probably, maybe. They take them in order that they come in. I knew that. Really I did.

So Monday, I will not hope for too much.

I did find out that I can copy and enlarge our crosswords at the library. This is convenient because I had an origami class there, today. I made an inflate-able frog. I will not tell you where we had to blow into it to inflate it.

From the library, with love . . .

Commission, as in out of

I still love the internet. I just don't love my computer right now. it is in for repair. It has betrayed my trust. Luckily, I didn't trust it too much, I have backup!

This is from a library computer and this message will not be repeated. Probably.

B-day to youuuu . . .

Happy Birthday to T in Lake Ci-T.

Go-onn. Figa dout.

T is also still counting decades on fingers. No toes for him either.

Hope he has a superb birth-day, -week, -month, -year.

Us, too . . .

More, more, more . . .

Today, we used up the last of 2008's hurricane supplies. I had forgotten about the cans of chicken and turkey in the pantry. They were behind several taller items. That's my excuse, anyway.

When the cans were opened and the liquid pressed out, the odor produced a siren call for Mew. The fluid from water-pack, canned chicken is the only human food she is allowed to beg for. She knows it is hers. Entitlement, today thy name is cat.

I told her to up-up-up and she sat up with her front paws out for balance and waited.

After she finished her canned-chicken water, she looked like she had swallowed a ball.

We are living with a chicken-water-monster.

Weather cat . . .

Generally, one or another of us is at home. Mew is used to that status. According to her view, at least one of us should be in the house so that if she wishes to rub by an opportune ankle, she can find it immediately.

Yesterday, the worst happened. We all went out for lunch during the same time that there was the possibility of showers in our vicinity. We did not encounter more than sprinkles. Evidently, however, there was thunder within the acute hearing range of a lone cat. When we looked for her upon coming back, we found her in her safest place.

A back nook of BigEd's closet . . .

What Valentine's day means in terms of chocolate, flowers and jewelry . . .

The hibiscus and the some of the roses bloomed especially in honor of Valentine's day. Russell Stover sugar free has paid me a visit in honor of Valentine's day. (Thank you BigEd.)

The day before Valentine's day means that we have entered that part of the year when J is older than I am.

And, did you get taken to a jewelry store? Me neither. Must be the state of the economy . . .

Last minute early preparations . . .

J is entering a new decade today. Not saying how many. We are still counting them on fingers - not using toes, yet.

I was so pleased that the gift shopping was done early. Well, early for me equals last week. BigEd and I went together to do it and we even got the festive packaging during the same trip. Late last evening I had a brainstorm and realized we did not have B-day cards.

So this morning, verrrry early, I went and got them. Our nearest supermarket carries Hallmark and the selection wasn't too limited.

Now, if we can just get them signed before J wakes up . . .

What a long arm can bring in . . .

Our study hall, in high school (way back in time), was a huge double or triple sized classroom with row on rank of desks. After we well-behaved and respectful students (the foregoing is subject to edit by time and memory) had completed our take-home assignments, we still had to be silent and let others work. This was a fine theory which was backed up by the possibility of detention after school at the pleasure of the teacher who was our guardian for the period.

Then, as now, I had a boredom threshold that required me to carry around a book that I could crack open and dive into for the duration. Any duration. It was a dire situation to finish a book and still have half of study hall left to endure.

I was situated in a fine place in the hall. I was on the right side, outermost row as one faced the front. This put me within a long arm's reach of a bookshelf mounted along the wall which also bore the pencil sharpener. And one afternoon, after enduring as much as five minutes of having finished my library book, I reached out my relatively long arm and hooked the closest book I could reach. It was bound in dry and cracking leather with a gold imprint on the spine that was almost worn away from handling.

Carefully avoiding the eye of the teacher up front who might have seen me, I opened Rudyard Kipling's "Soldiers Three." That half hour was the most fleeting I could recall. When the bell rang to end this last class of the day, I kept on reading. After a few minutes, I took my treasure to the front desk and asked if the books along the wall were available to be taken home.

Yes, I was told, they belonged to the teacher and were put there to be read by students who wanted to do exactly that. One at a time could be taken. Only one.

She had Under the Deodars, Plain Tales from the Hills, Wee Willie Winkie, The Jungle Books, Stalky and Co. and more. Most of Kipling's works were on the shelf along that wall and I read them during the semester. I fell in love with the English schoolboy, the English fighting man, the English officer, and the law of the pack. I wished to have named our black cat Bagheera instead of Midnight.

I hated the woman in Baa Baa Black Sheep. I learned years later that the events in that tale were based on some of Kipling's own childhood experiences when his parents sent him back to England at the age of six.

It was a semester of revelations. I believe I learned as much from that chance encounter with Mr. Kipling as from my Physics textbook.

I know it was more fun . . .

Win some, win some . . .

Today, I revisited a fact that I had forgotten. The NY Times best seller list is the source of our local library's website list of best sellers.

Sometimes, as today, a book appears on the Times' list before the library list updates. I know this one will be in high demand. Enjoying Bernard Cornwell's books is not a solitary pastime.

Today, Agincourt which is the latest entry in Cornwell's Saxon series popped up on the Times' list and my name popped up shortly thereafter as number six on the library's reserve list.

Score!

Sunbathing taken to new level . . .

It must be true that to find the most comfy spot in the house, join the cat. Since the winter weather started to find its feet and stand up to be counted, Mew has taken to sunbathing at the south-facing, back patio doors. She gets between the curtains and the glass to bake.

When she has soaked up more BTUs than are probably safe, she joins us poor souls who are too dim to understand the joys of the sunbath . She trudges toward us, drunk with heat and the need to sleep it off, throwing herself down on her cooler side. She turns into a puddle of fur with some legs and a limp tail.

She revives slowly if we are talking or doing anything she finds entertaining. Sometimes she seeks the perfect spot near the edge of the back drapes and lets the radiated heat soothe her to sleep. There is less drama to this method and, being a cat, she seems to prefer the searing bake of sun through glass.

I wish we humans had her ability to turn into a boneless puddle. What a stress reliever . . .

More tile than a bathroom . . .

Our Comcast digital signal didn't like the freezing weather either. I couldn't sleep Wednesday night and got up to watch television. The picture was tiling so badly that I finally called and made an appointment for a tech to come see it/ fix it, in the afternoon.

Nearly 3 a.m., when I went to sleep, it was still acting up. When I woke up, it was fine so I canceled the visit from the tech. As the afternoon chilled, occasional tiling flirted with the picture again. The sound tended to come and go, briefly.

Today it is warmer and the pix and sound are fine again. Like ourselves, Comcast is a hothouse flower . . .

Squeak, squeak . . .

The university from which I retired, and which allowed me to retain my email privileges, has come through again, with banners flying.

They are migrating to a new email platform. When I contacted them some months ago about how to comply with their new rules, they discovered that I was no longer in the computer system. My info was archaic (I could have told them that) and had not been migrated to a newly established system. I no longer had an ID number. I didn't seem to exist, for them.

I did, however, still have contacts within the University. Powerful contacts, evidently. Because I now am in the computer system, I have been issued an ID number, and feel a valid community member again.

I also received an email, today, addressed to retirees of the institution, which sets forth ex-act-ly how to move to the new email system along with the date parameters for getting it done.

I am a squeaky wheel. I gots da grease . . .

The snack bowl . . .

Yes. We did. Watch yesterday. The Bowl was indeed Super.

After it was over, I told J that if we had a more personal interest in the game, if our home team had played, we would have felt completely wrung out. As it was, I seemed inclined to help on each play, no matter who had the ball.

Yes, the Steelers deserved to win. And yes, the Cardinals soared like eagles. I loved them both after it was over . . .