Dedication

We have lost a beloved family member. We cared for her at her home during her illness and have no regrets for dedicating ourselves to the task - difficult as it seemed at times.

Those who have done this sort of thing understand the small, everyday moments which mount up over time to months. One must agree to be there for the long haul.

Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to do this.

Gourmet food . . .

Tomorrow, is Saturday and we are meeting for breakfast at Deli Lane. I may have no dinner tonight just to prepare for it. I had Cheerios last night. They were the whole grain variety and so felt healthy going down. We were out of bananas, though, so I didn't get the full experience.

I need to make a run to the store, huh?

To err is . . .

This morning, I did not have the hard time accessing this account that I had yesterday. Yesterday after many tries to log in, and being refused, the Jabberwocky started.

Perhaps Google wanted me to prove I was human. I can show a different proof: it was much easier today with the number lock turned on.

Mea DumDum.

I almost could not access my account here - because, why? Blogger has decided, or Google has decided, that I must type in, correctly mind you, slanted and distorted gibberish in a language not recognizably my own. Jabberwocky, maybe.

I did not ask for this feature. I do not want this feature. And there is this which was provided by FIU Technology News and Alerts:

Google Images - A Vector for Malware.

We have identified Google Images as a vector for transmitting malware through infected image files. As such, we’ve seen an increase in malware attacks throughout the university.

The Division of Information Technology recommends that you use an alternate source for images. Other sources are Bing and Yahoo! among others.

I had previously received a notice from my Norton Internet Security that it had protected the laptop from an intrusion attempt after I downloaded some images of Morkies from Google. Oops.

Charley's dog is a Maltese/Yorkie cross and she is adorable. Morkie. I just wanted to see more dogs like her and nearly got more than I bargained for.

Thank you, Norton. Google, not so much.

Mad dogs and Englishmen . . .

At times, one can subject self to surprising conditions, unknowingly. Today, I went to a large box store, huge floor plan, illogical arrangement of items such plastic refrigerator-storage containers residing on a shelf a football-field away from Saran wrap. No logic to it, see?

I went in for one item. I came out with that one item and nothing else. Against all logic, I know.

I believe I found a reason, though. On the way home, I glanced at the car's digital temperature readout and yelled it aloud in the quiet car as I was driving along.

A 102 degree temperature at 3 p.m. explains many anomalies.

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 . . .

Life lesson . . . wild style

This morning was a mini-armageddon for wildlife. Something was on the wooden stringer on the outside of the tall, wooden gate and a Mockingbird was dive bombing it so hard the gate would rattle. Whatever it was came down the opposite side of the fence with the screaming bird chivvying it along so hard I could hear the thumps when he hit.

As the action got close to where I was standing with the three dogs on leashes, a desperate squirrel jumped over the top of the fence landing nearly at our feet. He was dumfounded and so were the dogs. Evidently the bird had done some real damage because he had a difficult time climbing the nearby palm and nearly fell off when he had to negotiate the fronds.

Only Mollie, the spaniel, tried to get to him. He was too traumatized to even chitter at her.

Bet he'll leave that bird's nest alone . . .

In continuation . . .

Perhaps the previous post was an exaggeration of sorts.

Today, I propose a riddle: What does low sodium teriyaki sauce, leftover turkey, leftover stuffing, leftover gravy, niblet corn, tomatoes in onion and green pepper, sauteed onions-celery-mushrooms with mozzarella cheese sprinkled atop amount to?

Ha! Desperation Casserole. I'll let you know if anyone dies as a result of ingestion . . .

Bye All

This is the final post for Ranger.

Big day, ahead . . .

Back up here, near my second library, I can visit the Mockingbird that entered via the chimney. He sits on the roof crest and sings when the dogs and I appear. Territory and competition probably enter into his efforts, I admit. When I whistle at him, he tries to mimic. Not quite, baby, not yet. It's not like any birdsong he ever heard.

The dogs received bathing attention from J, yesterday. Now Buttercup resembles a white toy poodle and Mollie absolutely can be identified as a short, stumpy-legged spaniel. Today, being relatively clean, their topical meds will be applied. Yes, by me, while wearing gloves because I don't need any topical meds, personally.

That I know of, anyway.

Peat and repeat . . .

It can get too early for wait staff, too. This morning at 7:30, BigEd and I were in Dennys. The waitress, order pad in hand, came over and asked if we would like something to drink before we ordered. Coffee and diet coke were our answers.

Then she looked at her blank pad and asked us if we would like something to drink before we ordered. We stared at her silently, unsure of how to respond.

The penny finally dropped and she tap danced about having just come in.

She needed that cup of coffee more than I did . . .

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.

Pound or Lb.?

The best laid plans . . . one should know better, should not one? This one moved a chuck roast from freezer to refrigerator and when it thawed, cooked it in the crock pot yesterday.

We will eat it today, instead. Yesterday was tax relief day and Mickie D had a second Big Mac for a penny.

In for a penny, in for a pound - takes on a whole new meaning doesn't it?

Regrouping . . .

Yesterday, o1 Doc, T, Bro, and I met in the Lake City Cracker Barrel for lunch. We missed Mouse who has been working so hard she was unable to come. It was fun talking of old times and catching up on current news. We went back to 01 Doc's and T's home afterward and waved at young bicyclers (they were so adorable) while watching squirrels and hummingbirds. It is so peaceful there.

Sarah is under the weather and we were not able to see her and her family. We hope she is better, today. There is something really nasty being passed around, right now. A friend of J's mother had it for two weeks and is still suffering from the accompanying cough. We hope Sarah's is more benign, departs quickly, and doesn't affect anyone else.

The only thing wrong with spending the day as we did was that the time seemed to fly. We three sibs just don't see each other often enough . . .

Fetch, electronically . . .

Last Sunday, I went out to Publix to get the tiny local paper. It was the highlight of my day.

As I am currently the sole ambulant in residence, it is not possible to leave. So the internet is my consolation prize. Our paper at home has a digital edition which is accessible at no cost if we pay for the one that is tossed on at our front porch.

Guess I'll go read the funnies, anyway.

Closer MOON

The close, full moon. The earthquake off Japan.

One wonders if there is a connection between the moon reaching perigee tonight and the geo-tidal forces that shifted Japan's coastline 13 feet closer to California. By the way, geo-tidal is a term that I made up. Google it and it does not appear. It just seems so apt.

Looking up at the moon over the roof, last night, was not a scientific study. But, it does seem larger.

It gives one the urge to howl at it . . .

Can I borrow a cup of books?

I have now attained dual citizenship - well, actually dual library membership.

I had to return my Nook Color to Barnes and Noble because it began to turn pages when I did not ask it to. Plus, the bottom blue menu would sometimes flicker instead of remaining static until I made a selection.

Worst of all, it began to require re-activation every time I tried to side-load books from the public library, through Adobe Digital Editions. Six activations are the limit until Adobe resets your account. This is not automatic. You have to ask them every time. Learning curve was steep, I c'n tell you.

Actually, that wasn't the worst. Barnes and Noble's records showed that my guarantee was in question. Well, we got that straightened out, finally. I really can not tell you how many hours I have spent on the telephone with tech support.

They extended the warranty for two more months, for my trouble, they said.

B&N did email a UPS label so I could send it back and I can track it but it is being send via ground. Must be on a truck somewhere between here and California. Better it than me.

The foregoing explains my need for dual membership in the library system. The library where I am now only lets you keep books for two weeks instead of 28 days, as at home. Still, books are renewable on line in both ends of the state.

Is this a wonderful country, or what?

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 . . .

New, improved . . .

We have a washing machine which is fairly new. It is a M--tag. We have had such good luck with that brand in the past. But the makers evidently have improved the product.

It was so improved that it began to add additional water after the final spin. It also began to try to beat the clothing to pieces before adding any water at all, on some cycles. This began to happen after, wait for it: the guarantee had expired.

Luckily, we had defied conventional wisdom and taken out an extended warranty. The poor thing needed a brain transplant. It had become like Data's positronic brother, Lore: evil. (Gratuitous Star Trek TNG reference.)

Now it is behaving itself. But, I don't trust it any more.

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 . . .

Just a litte question . . .

I telephoned the insurance company to ask if hurricane shutters are covered for theft under our policy. Turns out they are. It would be just our luck that the shutters are the only thing left standing in case of a repeat of an Andrew type storm.

Too strange to happen? During Andrew, our garden shed was lifted off its foundation, laid on its side against the corner of the fence and peeled open like a grape. The contents were not removed and were left in situ by a caprice of the wind. But large Seagrapes next to the shed were twisted off at the base like a wrung washcloth. Plus, the fence was undamaged.

A repeat of that experience would not be fair, anyway. No one should have to undergo that experience twice in a lifetime. Not if I were running things.

But, I'm not . . .

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 . . .

There are very few things this Christmas that follow our usual customs for the celebration of Jesus birth. We are in a different place with a different aim in view.

There are things outside that are brown and leafless, but not dead. There are brown crispy things that blew off the brown not-dead things. These crispy things are all over the neighborhood, making a mess.

I am so confused by the weather. At home, 57 degrees is miserable. Here it is a winter heat wave.

Jacket? Sweater? Coat? All of the foregoing? What to wear? Will ice crystals climb into little, jagged mountain ranges on the roof of the Camry? Will ice sheets clatter and break under the wipers?

What is wrong with the weather at this end of the state?

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 . . .

Happy Anniversary, J!

BigEd has been generous enough not to share the bug he has contracted. So far, anyway. We laid in a new supply of Purell, yesterday, and my fingernails are about to dissolve from all of the hand washing.

He is taking his antibiotic. There is some light showing at the end of his tunnel. He stayed home on Thanksgiving so as not to share with a larger group. Zeta kindly sent him a care package of really good feastings. I have to say, I helped him out with the stuffing - just a little bit.

We will finish up today with turkey and yellow rice for dinner. There is not much that yellow rice can not improve for us, leftover turkey being prime in that group.

When I was slicing the turkey breast on Thursday, I dropped a bit by accident. Mew was watching but forbore to dash in and grab it. I don't allow her in the kitchen when I am cooking. She knows she is welcome any other time. Smart kitty. So I dropped the forbidden piece in her food bowl.

It was Catsgiving, after all . . .

Up, up, and away

It's early and quiet. I plan to be at the store when it opens to pick up a few things. (Okay, pecans which I forgot to buy.) I had failed to find turkey wings at my local Publix, which is small. Zeta called me while she was shopping in the mega-Publix near her work and I asked her to look. It was so crowded she pulled her basket instead of pushing it in some places. I felt badly for asking but she cheerfully braved the crush of people and found some. Yaayy, Zeta!

The wings will be boiled with onion, celery, seasonings, and carrots to make stock for stuffing and gravy. If they are boiled until they are a tasteless bony mush, all the flavor moves into the stock. Discard those tasteless solids, though. I think even our cat would turn up her nose if I offered them.

However this is not Catsgiving, so I won't . . .

The wrong side of the crossbucks

I took the train back home. In my little(!) roomette were two chairs that faced one another and which could recline until each one was absolutely flat, touching to become a bed. The conductor pulled out (and down) the chair facing my chair and put a towel across the seat so I could use it as a footstool and still keep my shoes on. If you locked the door and pulled a curtain across it, your roomette became a private bathroom with a sink that folded down to fill and up to empty. Beneath a step which swiveled up was a commode - hidden but welcome for a long trip.

Of course, our family's usual experience held true: as in when we buy something, it goes wrong (or breaks) and is replaced with a substitute that is great. When I showed my ticket stub to the attendant who was supposed to tell me where car 9710, room 2 was located, he looked perplexed.

"We already have someone in 2," he half muttered to a fellow trainman standing next to him. He turned to me and asked if I had already had breakfast and offered to show me to the dining car while they made up a room for me.

There, I learned two things. Eating aboard a moving train is fun. But, eating while sitting on the side of the table moving backwards is not. I switched sides so as to face the direction of travel and scarfed up a hot breakfast. I was, so I was told, the person that closed the kitchen. Last to eat before lunch.

It was a strange experience to sit on the wrong side of the crossbucks at a level crossing and watch the traffic pile up while waiting for us to move. I felt like waving but settled for sipping some coffee, instead. Oh yes, there was an ever full coffee dispenser at the end of the car. I learned to get refills while the train was not moving very fast. I once found myself surfing from wall to wall down the smooth sides of the narrow corridor while trying to keep the coffee inside its lidded cup.

I did the crossword in the newspaper that was provided but it looked as if someone who was over a hundred years old had written it out. Trains tend to shake, rock, and roll. So did the handwriting. I was worried about being able to read but that was not a problem. I believe I could read while hanging by my thumbs. It's a vice.

Next time, I will bring water and more snacks. The two bottles of water in the window cup holders held maybe half a cup each. There was lunch provided but I left the dining car before dessert in sheer self preservation. The waiter stopped me and asked if I was sure I wanted to leave without dessert.

No, I wasn't, but I did anyway . . .

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.

Lose some, win some, but which?

We have received a reply from Jarden Corporation about our deceased and un-guarantee-supported Patton fan. Via an email, we have been offered a replacement fan. It is a 20 inch fan: not exactly like the one that died the death. We don't care, at this point, whether it is a Patton clone or not. Just that, hopefully, it will be more quiet.

We have replied, again via email, to Jarden Corporation that we would be delighted with their solution to our problem. We are waiting to hear what will happen next. There was an automated reply. We should hear something more informative shortly, in say, one to two working days.

Jarden, we're anticipating your reply. Anticipation . . .

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 . . .

Time . . .

Tomorrow is the mphphth anniversary of Zeta's birth. We are celebrating this momentous event a day early. Because we can? Surely.

I cast my mind back to the actual day, remembering what I was doing before going to the hospital but after the start of labor. I was doing laundry, of all things, and reading "Auntie Mame." In fact, one of those two accompanied me when we finally decided it was time to travel toward the medical people who were becoming more important as time and labor progressed.

I read that book until things got really serious and it did help to pass the time. Dads were not allowed in attendance, then. It was a solo performance. Well, solo except for the woman in the next bed who kept moaning aye-yi-yi at intervals. I determined not to repeat her verbal performance.

In due time, Zeta decided she would make her appearance. I was told that during her debut in the nursery, she lifted her head and shoulders off the sheets, doing a little mini push-up. I didn't even know a newborn could do that.

She has stayed ahead of the curve all her life . . .

They eat snakes, too . . .

The flock was in possession of the swale in front of the house when I stepped out to see what the weather was like. One of the benefits of living in the semi-tropics? Yes, in addition to having toads try to make themselves at home inside the house.

I prefer these . . .

PS: If you know what they are, please let me know. I thought they were Cattle Egrets but they're not. Cattle Egrets don't seem to have the long curved bill. I did see a flock of these fighting over possession of a snake, a few of years ago, in our back yard. They were welcome to it.

SHRINKING, Shrinking, shrinking . . .

CVS has taken a hefty swing at consumers' wallets. There is now a cap of $40 per year for the amount of CVS Extra Bucks one can accumulate by filling prescriptions through the CVS pharmacy.

I telephoned the 800 number on the back of the CVS rewards card to ask why my quarterly Extra Bucks coupon printout was for $5.50, instead of four times that amount. Turns out we maxed out our cap limit in January.

When the Rep began to blame the rules governing controlled substances as being the reason for the change, I just held the receiver away from my ear so I would not be tempted to engage in the conversation any further. Or, perhaps, laugh at his tap-dancing routine. I was polite. I thanked him and hung up.

Because we used the Extra Bucks rewards to pay for OTC items, I had ignored a difficult parking situation and the long waits for service. No longer. I am now a free agent.

So, Walgreens, speak to me. I'm listening . . .

Been greans . . .

We had green beans for dinner. This is a big deal for me because BigEd is away for the day. He is not a fan of green beans. In fact, when I do make them, he makes a heroic effort to consume a reasonable amount. Subsequently, I feel guilty for subjecting him to the attempt.

There is revenge of a sort, however. I made too many. We have been grean leftovers . . .

Lookin' up?

Today, that brightness is back. I forget what it's called. You know, that thing that makes the morning light up?

It's back. I don't know how long it plans to visit but I am really happy to see it. So are the hibiscus and the roses.

They look happy too . . .

Lose some, lose some . . .

In 1986, we bought an 18 inch Patton Fan. We used it, off and on, until 1991 when it bit the dust. We sent it back to the Patton people. We bought a 20 inch Patton to replace it while it was gone. But the 20 inch fan moved too much air, we thought. So when the 18 inch fan was repaired and returned, we packed the 20 inch-er back in its box and stored it away.

The 18 inch fan had originally come with, believe it or not, a lifetime guarantee. The 20 inch fan came with a 10 year guarantee. I guess a lifetime was too long to think about having to deal with the same customers, over and over. At any rate, when it was sent for repair, all the Patton people wanted was the model number and date code from the motor of the 18 inch fan and they knew right away that it bore a lifetime guarantee. It was a pleasure to do business with them. They just knew what to do and they did it.

Recently, that 18 inch fan stopped working again and I called the Patton 800 number. Turns out that Patton has been bought out by the Jarden Cororation.

If we had the guarantee which came with the fan and could provide them with a copy, they would honor it for up to 25 years. And no, they didn't maintain Patton's old repair and purchase records when they took over, or so I was told.

I'm still thinking about it. So far, the score is Jarden Corporation - 1 : Ranger - zero. Because when Patton proved to be so responsive the first time we needed repair, we stopped keeping track of the Lifetime Guarantee Certificate. We can't locate it and we have looked.

That 20 inch fan sure does move a lot of air. And we do have the out-of-date, 10 year guarantee certificate on that one. Wouldn't you know?

Up?

BigEd wanted to get up early this morning, say around 7 am. He wanted to do some trimming with the alligator lopper while the day was still cool.

We have had several days when the official broadcast of the Farenheit-High Lie was one degree under 90. Our digital thermometer on the front porch begged to differ. The temperature readout in the car agreed with it. So, up early.

At BigEd's request, I set my internal alarm when I went to sleep last night. At 5:30 am, the eyelids popped open and I got up, mentally berating the early wake-up.

When I looked outside, it was raining mistily. No early yard work possible.

How sad for BigEd. Heh.

Wash your hands, after . . .

When the urge strikes to clean something, I had better act quickly before the urge passes. When the urge is to vacuum, special speed is necessary because that urge can be really fleeting, sometimes.

Today, the upright just wanted to move the surface dust around and not ingest it. The little red light which indicates that there is still dirt left to be cleaned up refused to turn green even when not down on the rug at all.

This indicates a blockage if you think about it. I mean, nothing was supposed to be passing through but air. We weren't even having plain air move through.

I won't go through the details of digging into the innards and pulling out clogged rug dandruff. The last thing to be freed was a stiff but mangled piece of black wire about 3 and a half inches long.

Who in the world would have run over a wire? It would have been hard to see, though. Might even have been me, although as the official vacuum cleaner clog-wrangler, I try to pick up those little things which can lodge in its throat.

The indicator light works with its two default colors, now. The green phase tells me that there is nothing else the vacuum can do for me right there, right now. Move on, it says.

And I have . . .

i can be or I can be: foolish . . .

Check out this post on The Coupon Goddess. Scroll down to the Healthy Choice winners' list. Scroll down further to see me make a foolish, basic grammatical error in the comments. And a bit further to see it corrected.

Ah, it wouldn't be me if it were perfect, now would it?

I seldom win anything. Almost never. This comes under the heading of the almost section.

How kind!

Red Alert!

Big Ed took out the trash this evening. He came back in and said that he had just seen another toad hop inside the house. He scooped up a fascinated Mew and said that he would shut her in another room while I got the toad out.

Not being the official toad wrangler, I, personally, put the cat in another room and asked J to help Big Ed find the intruder and evict it. By the time I came back from imprisoning the indignant cat, they were ushering a toad outside with a broom and laughing about it.

This was a more kind fate than the last one met up with. If I meet it face to face, it's in real trouble.

Time mngmt. . .

Back a few posts ago, Zeta mentioned in the comments that she was going back to Whale Wars. I had never seen even one episode. I checked the Comcast ON DEMAND section and found several episodes including the one where the whaling ship is boarded by one of the Sea Shepherds' crew.

I watched them all, in order, and was fascinated by the whole situation. The next episode to be broadcast on the network was the season finale which wrapped up the loose ends left dangling by previous story lines.

So, thank you Zeta for your timely tip. I caught up on the whole season in two days of watching. Yes, I ran my own marathon of Whale Wars and enjoyed the suspense which was, in this case, of short duration.

That's the way to do it, no?

One more, at least . . .

I thought, after learning of author Dick Francis passing away last February, that I would never hear of, say, or write about his newest book being out. Every word he ever wrote had been devoured by 01 Doc (I believe) and by me.

His wife had been his researcher/enabler before her death and his son took up the role she had played. Except, Felix got his name on the cover under Dad's.

Here it is: the new Dick Francis/Felix Francis book is out. It was in process at the time of Dick Francis's passing away. A copy of that book, Crossfire, is in transit to the branch library near us.

Sad as it was to hear of the author's death, his works live on. He still speaks.

Where were you?

We are within a where-were-you on 9/11 moment, hour, day. This is a time to conjure into focus the actions of those others who injured us beyond telling. Who changed our conception of living in an impregnable fortress protected by oceans on both sides and icy distances to the North. Our underbelly to the South, we viewed with some unease. We used to be armored in complacency for the most part.

I was on my way to work when the first plane struck the first tower. I was watching television, there, when the second one hit.

I telephoned home to ask if the news was on. Yes, it was. We were all moving into our new reality with live coverage and one breathless comment at a time.

If time dulls the effect of that morning, if it passes from living memory, we can always be reminded.

The events were rebroadcast, with the same real-time correlation, on television this morning.

Now, I remember. Again.

Money? Save? You there?

There are a couple of additions to the list of blogs, over to the left, under daily checkups. They are both extremely helpful in my search for the perfect shopping experience using coupons.

The CouponMom is a coupon-focused professional, I would say. The Coupon Goddess is also of professional caliber but also blogs about family and experiences in the most entertaining way. She posts videos in which she showcases deals which is most useful.

The perfect coupon shopping experience would be one in which items are buy one, get one free, and for which I would use two store coupons and two manufacturer's coupons. It would amount to getting the items free or nearly so, and spending a pittance to do this. (It would help if our local stores doubled coupons but they don't) The most I have been able to achieve is 25 to 30 percent off the total at, say, Publix. This percentage does not happen every week, either, but I am getting better at it. Brand loyalty is slowly going out the window as I try other brands which are on sale and for which I have, ta-daa, coupons.


It's fun, too. We used to be hunter-gatherers as a people, no? Well, what's the difference between hunting ducks/gathering berries and hunting coupons/saving bucks? Not a whole lot except the coupon hunter doesn't have to wade in the mud and can sit in A/C while doing it. Coupons weigh less than ducks and I'd like to meet the shopper who can trade a duck in on a computer at BJ's or Best Buy.

There is some finesse involved in holding out for the sale and the opportunity to save money on top of the sale price. I have learned much from the internet about these matters.

It is not rocket surgery or brain science, I promise.

Slow going, huh?

Ol Doc and I were discussing plumbing woes and I mentioned that I had started pouring boiling water down the tub drains in both bathrooms. Why? To keep 'em flowing and to discourage any little tree rootlets which might have invaded the drains. I have to admit that the drains flow better since I started doing this - and they are 51 year old drains in the oldest part of the house. She said I might want to post it on my blog. So I have.

We were also discussing clearing blockages in commodes and I told her that buckets of water poured into the bowls work better if they are hot water from the tap instead of cold tap water. I saw this tip in Good Housekeeping magazine. True, too.

Of course, if the blockage is made of toys or something similar, fuh-ged aboudit.

Watch it . . .

I really need to have coffee first thing. This morning, I had a roast to get going in the crockpot. Actually two of them, a small pork and a small beef to slow cook together with chicken stock, onions, mushrooms, and spices. I almost forgot to add the tapioca which thickens the sauce. Duh.

And then? Then I pulled down my coffee cup, tore open a package of Splenda and dumped the Splenda into the cat's enpty water bowl which I had previously set aside on the counter after washing and drying it with paper towels.

Oops. Dump the Splenda, re-rinse the bowl, dry it, and set aside. Again.

On the second try, the Splenda made it into my cup. I slid the slow cooker aside on the counter and poured the coffee. Delish.

But, I had slid the slow cooker into a pair of rubber gloves which were set out to dry on the countertop. I pulled one glove away from the hot cooker and the second one resisted but finally came unstuck without tearing or leaving residue behind.

After the second cup of coffee, I am sure I will be fine. Unless the sound of the teeming rain sends me to sleep here at the laptop.

Which it may . . .

Little mango factory . . .

Today, we received a letter from the power company to say that crews will be in our area to trim trees near power lines. When we had the mango tree in the back yard, it grew near the electrical feed to the house. We asked that the branches be trimmed. No one responded. This was years ago. During a sustained high wind, the tree blew over in such a direction as to fall away from the electrical lines and straddle the fence without damaging it. It was kind to us.

When my brother and his wife gave us a baby mango this year, he and J planted it in the side yard away from the lines.

Of course, the power company crews are going to trim trees now. If the tree that blew over was equal to a post-grad student, our new one is still in kindergarten but going into first grade. Growing well. Putting on weight and height, it is.

The power company better not touch our new baby . . .

Calling all fans 'cept the cat . . .

Everyone in our house, with the possible exception of Mew, is looking forward to seven p.m., when the next-to-last pre-season game for the Dolphins begins. I except Mew because she objects, occasionally, to raging cheers from the onlookers.

She makes her objections known by leaping off her pedestal (yes, she has one) and making her way to another, more quiet, room. Just because it is pre-season does not signify that there will not be cheering.

Or loud groans, if called for . . .

Open or closed . . .

Someone I know, mentioning no names, is trying to set up a network between two nearby dwelling places. I have to wonder how this is going. Well, I hope.

I don't like being a pest about asking. But still, is there hope? Can the speech across the airways via telephone be duplicated via written word through computer media?

My grandmother would not believe it. Telephones were hardwired and lines were shared, called party lines, in her day. A private line? Why, when the party line could provide so much information to fellow users, intended or not.

The old telephone party line was similar to an unsecured network is in the present day: open to anyone who picked up a connected telephone handset and listened. Except that now, unsecured networks can be open to anyone who cares to park close by, log in, and look around. There is not a click to alert the user that someone else is "on the line."

Password protection. It's all good.

Do as I say and not . . .

Words to snack by, heard today from a nurse practitioner:

Hard and fast rule: No carbs should be eaten in the evening, after dinner. Especially no potato chips or potatoes or bread. (Ah-HAA)

Oatmeal, made with water and not milk is a good thing for breakfast. It really does lower cholesterol. Sweeten with Splenda, she recommended.

If a snack becomes absolutely necessary after dinner, try an apple with peanut butter. Or (again) oatmeal. Anything that hits a protein button instead of a carb button is a better snack. A ham and cheese sandwich or a couple of hot dogs are not snacks. They are a meal. (Dang)

These are things I often don't do, myself, (she said) but I'm supposed to.

I especially liked the honesty of her last statement . . .

Feeling cross?

Our newspapers had accumulated while we were gone. We had a bunch of crosswords that needed to be scanned and enlarged somewhat so that we each had our own easy-to-read copy. Yesterday, we completed them and it almost felt like homework. We should have spaced them out a bit instead of grabbing the next one as soon as the previous one was filled in.

Today's crossword felt like a breeze after the puzzle marathon. We have discussed that our newspaper may be using a less expensive source for puzzles. We always complete them, now, and the current puzzles do not have quotations that have to be completed over a two or three row span like the old one used to.

I'm not sure whether I miss that aspect or not . . .

U-what?

We still can not get U-verse at our house. I just checked again. No, we can not have it sayeth the site. Would we like to be notfied if that situation changes so that we can? Have it?

I clicked yes and added the information required of us. We are the have-nots of our county. If you are following Big Brother 12, you are aware of how sad it is to be a have-not.

I like the ATT service for my phone. It lets me talk to just about anyone I need to. But, evidently, our small enclave is not important enough in the ATT scheme of things to warrant U-verse service.

I know. I should just keep checking and hope for a surprise. Hello, my dear Comcast. We are still joined at the hip.

From the recliner . . .

We're baa-ack. Thank Heaven. Tennessee in three days means three days in the car, heaving it along the road by sheer will. Well, the engine helped.

It was a sad trip. We were, however, glad to see J's brother and his wife. She is now in the hospital with a broken leg and finger. This occurred as a result of a fall which happened two hours after (we thought) we left them safely at their home.

They have an adorable little dog (designer dog: cross between Bichon Frise and Poodle) which loves to chase its toy rabbit if you will just please throw it one more time. And one more, ad infinitum. That wee dog has a lot more energy than I do.

Especially now, when our 10 year old cat has more energy than I do. It takes us about a week to get back to normal.

Whatever normal is . . .

Clouds are melting . . .

Rain coming down steadily. I need to go out for errands. I wish our pharmacy had a drive up window. Publix, too, while I am wishing. And the library.

I may save gas and not go . . .

Cash or . . .

When you buy gas, do you pay at the pump with a debit or credit card? Perhaps you should consider going inside and standing in line to pay.

Consumer Advocate Clark Howard advises that all gas pumps use a standardized key and that some of these keys have fallen into the hands of people who open the pumps and install a magnetic device inside which copies credit/debit cards exactly.

Not the outcome one would wish . . .

How far from the tree?

The world of the Apple computer user is not a familiar one to us. Considering that we learned to use a PC back when a graphical user interface was a vague notion somewhere in the ether, it's no wonder. Back then, everything came with a mandatory power cord. When we spoke of a portable computer, we meant taking the CPU or monitor in for repairs.

Now we have laptops, albeit of that same PC variety. I have looked into the battery compartments of them just to be sure I could find the locations. There they were, batteries all snugged in!

I recently read a post wherein the writer had discussed the switch from PC to one of the MacBooks. That awakened a battery-replacement curiosity. How do they do it?

Turns out, the user doesn't. Apple must, itself, change the defunct battery out. It can take a day if you take it to the Apple store after making an appointment. Or, if an Apple store is not conveniently at hand and the user has to send it to Apple, the turnaround time is estimated to be four days.

Data backup had better be current and although it is not mentioned on the Apple site, I would wager it would be possible to lose all of the customization and add ons, too.

This may not seem like a deal-breaker. But this situation, plus the cost of an Apple, are for me. (The learning curve has nothing to do with it, y'understand.)

I prefer to bite my own apples - not have the Apple bite me . . .

O course, this has nothing to do with the iPad or iPhone. I would gladly put up with the battery-inconvenience for either of these little gems.

My Step-cat

Yesterday, I was BodyGuard's only source of companionship. He met me at the door and announced that he needed some special attention - which he got, right away. When I made his food, he showed me where to put it by leading me to the utility room and watching to be sure I followed him with it.

He needed his real people, though. He told me that, too. We are both happy that they are back.

Li'l window on the world . . .

During the recent family's visit, an iPad came to stay temporarily with us. It ran on a foreign-to-us operating system, and though I assured its owner that it could access our network, I wasn't absolutely positive about it.

Imagine my relief when, after providing the iPad owner with a password, his iPad spoke to our network, shook hands, and moved in. Not only that, it remembered the way in and could access the 'net whenever it was asked to do that.

One of the best features about the iPad was the pictures that resided on it. Wonderful resolution and detail plus all the fun of the touchscreen: enlarging and minimizing, scrolling and changing orientation by tilting the screen sideways.

Of course, BigEd disappeared into the chess program and played, uh, forever.

It was like having a new baby to pass around. Its feet never touched the ground . . .

Ankle high?

This is Roaring Creek in North Carolina. When the picture was taken it could have been renamed wading creek. Inches of water skated over the rocks. I liked the dappled effect and tried to capture it. Not happening, except in the foreground. That far distant patch of sun made me want to wade up that far to see it.

That was not happening, either . . .

Intruder alert . . .

Zeta and M have gifted us with a stationary bicycle. It lives in the guest/spare room and is oriented toward a television in there. That room is small. To open the day bed fully (for, say, welcome guests) it is necessary to remove the bike, temporarily.

Tomorrow, the plan is for BigEd to put the bike back where it belongs (he moved it out in the first place) and restore the guest/spare room to its gym incarnation.

Today? Early this morning? There was a Bufo Marinus beside that bike. Inside with us instead of outside where it could be as wild as it pleased. Also known as a Cane Toad, it exudes poison from glands in its head if anything attacks and bites it. I didn't plan to do that. But Mew might.

I recognized this particular toad, I thought. I had seen him (or one just like him) hopping away from our front door when I opened it to pick up the morning paper.

If he had stayed outside, he could have enjoyed a long and toadlike existence. As an invader, he became a threat. We dropped a bucket over him.

All went dark . . .

Mango factory - baa-aack!

Don't you love seeing family, who moved away from the city you live in, walk through your door? So do we.

This is my brother and his lovely wife who did just that, for us.

The bit of foliage in the foreground is the top of a Valencia Pride mango tree, courtesy of the visitors.

We should have fruit in two - three years. I can't wait and I'll bet Zeta is right beside me with that anticipation.

Yum . . .

A study in black and white . . .

Charlie is the cutest kitten. I fed him one meal on weekdays (while he was being boarded for a short time) because he eats four times a day and lunch service was not available. He learned quickly that the key in the door meant that someone with opposable thumbs was coming. Someone who could handle his small serving-spoon .

The first day, I fed him too much. His stomach looked as if he had swallowed a small baseball, so I scaled back a tad on the amount next time. His dish is small but, still outscale compared with Charlie's size. He places both of his front paws inside the bowl to eat and it is as if someone told him it is okay for cats his age to play with their food.

As a surrogate cat caretaker, I found it fun to be around a kitten like Charlie. Mew was extremely interested in my shoes when I got home. Charlie likes to rub along your shoes in greeting. He's not tall enough for ankles, yet.

Mew knew it all. I didn't get away with anything . . .

Down, take cover . . .

We were watching a marathon presentation of The Civil War yesterday evening and had just reached a reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg. As the battle progressed on the screen, our neighborhood began to chime in with fireworks outside. It sounded as if we were also under attack from all sides.

Mew came flying around the corner and down the hall as fast as she could go - all the while remaining low to the ground to avoid incoming rounds. I am sure she thought she saw tracer fire.

I'm not sure I didn't, too . . .

The Fourth and beyond . . .

A technician sat in our living room recently. It was the day that the US soccer team won by one goal. We rewound the television picture to the goal so that he could see it for himself.

We discussed the call by the judge from Mali which took a previous win from the team, leaving them with a nil-nil tie. He surprised us by telling us that, as US natives, we had to be aware how hated our country is by a lot of the world. They are jealous, he said, and want to have the lives we have or to take them from us if they can't have that life, themselves.

He told us that he, himself, is a naturalized citizen. He loves this country, he said. It allowed him to raise his family here, send his children to college, and go back to get a college degree for himself. A degree that no one can take away from him and that his children had doubted that he would get. They thought he would drop out when he discovered how difficult it would be. He proved them wrong.

He believes that there is no place in the world that would allow him to have the life he lives here.

To some, we are truly wealthy - a solid house, a roof overhead, cars, attending church, mobility if we wish it. These are merely dreams for some of the world.

Isn't it a shame that we take it so for granted? And isn't it a shame that there are those who live in this country for whom these things are also merely dreams?

If this country, in the end, turns it's face away from God, we will lose his gifts. We were founded by men who loved God. Men who referred to Him on our coinage as the One in Whom we place our trust.

We will honor the holiday, tomorrow - feast on burgers and watch fireworks after a concert on television. But, also, we will thank the Bestower of all these Blessings . . .

Bacteria to go . . .

Paying for reusable bags? Grocery store reusable bags? Pet Supermarket gave me a great reusable bag the last time I shopped there.

That is how it should be done, Publix, Winn Dixie, etc. Don't charge the customer who is willing to help you go green by toting your reusable bags back to your bricks and mortar location. Give away those reusable bags and watch the gratitude in operation.

I will take my reusable (and free) bag back to Pet Supermarket every time I go. I was amazed by the gesture and said so to the cashier. He told me that they travel well. They should travel with me when I shop elsewhere, too. We both laughed but he was speaking truly.

I will wash my bag, however. A recent study(click here) of reusable bags (which were being carried by actual, live shoppers) randomly tested them for bacterial contamination. The testing was carried out in the Los Angeles area, in San Francisco and in Tucson.

High levels of bacteria were found in all locations - high enough to be a serious health hazard. E.-coli was found, ugh.

The kicker is that 97% of those who were carrying the bags did not know that reusable bags must be washed or bleached. This action will kill nearly all bacterial accumulation in reusable bags, according to the study.

I understand that reusable bags are not made from the best materials. Some of them are more loosely woven than others. I suppose we will learn by trial and error which bags hold up to washing. I know I will wash them separately and not with anything I care about.

But, I will wash them because I do care . . .

Sparklers maybe . . .

At last, the world has cleared up. Thank goodness. I sometimes think about getting my eyes stuck in the dilated condition. So nice to have clear validation of the promise to have vision return to normal after a few hours.

Plus (and it is a plus) one eye does not have any extra fluid. I mean more than it should have normally. So I will skip next week's appointment and return next month, instead.

Not that I mind going, y' understand. It's just that, now? I don't have to. I believe the whole country will set off fireworks on Sunday to celebrate with me.

Or not . . .

It's Only a Daaaay A-waaaay!

Because of the heat and the crowds, we had planned some early shopping for home supplies. This was supposed to happen this morning. I was the only one who listened to our collective. Our consensus. Our - oh, forget it.

I agree with Annie: Tomorrow, Tomorrow.

Can you hear me, now?

We were peeling shrimp: pink ones which had been cooked in vinegar, water and crab boil. They were partially split and deveined but still with the shells on. It was messy but fun.

However. However when the phone rang, I could not get to it with cleaned-up hands before the machine took it. It was Zeta who left the message and as soon as I could clean up, I telephoned back and left a message, on the cell phone, for her.

Shortly thereafter, BigEd came into the room asking what was this? He played my message to Zeta on his phone. The automated system had informed me that the number was not available and to wait for the tone to leave a message. So I did.
After dialing the wrong person.

I haven't told Zeta yet that I left her message with someone else. I did speak with her and it just didn't come up.

I guess she will know now . . .

Happy, happy . . .

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

To all the dads, stepdads, adopted dads and dads by intent - we moms appreciate you.

Print 'em and Save . . .

We take the paper and every Sunday, there are, ta-daa, coupons which we cut out. I discovered that our stores take coupons that are available for printing on the web. The ones we print out ourselves are usually of much greater value than the ones from the newspaper. We now use both kinds.

Below is the section from our last Publix register receipt which shows our latest savings. I am not bragging y'understand, but:

Thank you, o1 Doc, for this:

I came home last evening and it was sitting on the couch in its Amazon box. It was winking at me and waving.

It is a most welcome new addition. o1 Doc is the person who told me about Stieg Larsson's first book which was The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. We both fell for the whole idea as well as the characters. So did much of the rest of the world.

Since it was my own fault for being dilatory, I was willing to wait for the library to get around to issuing a copy in my name, but now I don't have to!

It was a generous and sisterly gesture which I gratefully and sisterly appreciate. New books have an addicting smell that rivals that of the interior of a new car. I savor the unspoiled cover, the unopened pages.

Instant gratification is always nice to stumble across. This one will occupy my time for a while and, if you need me, you'll have to follow me into the pages of my new book . . .


PS: I removed my name from the reserve list at the library this afternoon. I was number 129 out of 355.

Hand me the paper(s) . . .

Today, our Sunday paper had an Office Max advertisement section. And another - and more - I counted seven complete ad sections for Office Max.

Now why, I ask you, could we not have received seven of the coupon sections, instead? That would have been more appreciated. At least we will recycle the multiples we did get.

That is not as rewarding, however . . .

GPS for shopping? Anyone?

Has anyone discovered how to map a Target? Huh? Yes?

I have mapped Publix and Winn Dixie. When I make a list, I put it in order of the aisles in the store. I only have to walk through once and can skip aisles that don't have items on my list. Very annoying when they move things around because I have to redo the master lists on the computer.

I feel like an expedition member. I guess I will have to tackle Target on my own by navigating its coastline (so to speak). Aisles don't have numbers that I can recall.

They should, though . . .

When they have to track you down . . .

Every once in a while, I enter a contest on the various web sites that I follow with Live Bookmarks. I love the Live Bookmark idea and never miss a new post since I began to use it. The downside to this is that the older posts don't demand that I go back and revisit them again. They acquire a small icon next to them, in my bookmark list, to show that I already have read them..

So when this post appeared in The Thrifty Things, I entered. Contrary to expectations, I was one of the winners. But, I never went back to check. Pam, of The Thrifty Things, had to track me down and leave a comment to tell me about it.

Wasn't that a kind thing to do?

And don't I feel like the most inept of bloggers?

We miss our coolth . . .

When the evening storm hit and the power flickered off, it came back on with a surge that stopped our main A/C from working. We reset the breaker repeatedly and reset the button on the A/C plug, as well. Nothing happened except that we became warmer as the evening progressed and dug out the small fans to place strategically.

Next morning, I reset the plug one more time before calling a repair man. The A/C decided it wanted to cooperate after all. We had a miracle cure, the kind you hope for with appliances.

Believe me, with the first sound of thunder, that A/C will be silenced until the storm passes . . .

Is knowledge power?

Newsweek Magazine maintains a presence on the web. Today, there is an article about the oil spill that leaves me sick with dread for Gulf of Mexico species and for the oceans as a whole.

Oil does not necessarily float, according to the article. It is difficult to imagine the scope of the unseen damage and the consequences to the gulf and ocean inhabitants.

We can not hide from it. We have to know.

Define destruction using just two letters . . .

I like, I like, drat, don't know what I like.

I try to be careful when I comment on the blogs of people who don't know me, personally. The Coupon Goddess is a site I like and follow regularly. I have the site in my RSS Bookmarks so as to find new posts in a timely manner and not miss knowing about the excellent deals listed there. Plus she is an interesting writer.

Melanie, who is the Coupon Goddess, did a podcast of especially good and numerous coupons and deals. Then she asked readers to comment on how well they liked the audio format.

Being the dinosaur that I am, I said that I preferred the written word (among other things). She was so gracious in her reply and put me somewhat at ease about being different from the other folks who stated opinions in the comments.

I feel rather of two minds. I do prefer the written posts as I think they make it easier to select relevant items from the contents. But, I also like the podcast because her personality (which is charming) comes across well.

Today, I believe I embody the definition of: *conflicted*. Yep, that's me . . .

Hail no . . .

We had to put the Camry into a body shop to have the bumper repaired and repainted. Plus the trunk suffered some surface damage when we were rear-ended so it was painted, too. The work was finished yesterday afternoon.

The rented Dodge Charger was returned to Enterprise. Then we brought our newly restored baby home and parked it in the driveway.

Last evening the weather went crazy. We had hailstones falling which were the diameter of a quarter. The back door to the west side of the house was drumming as if someone was playing a very bad tune on it. The hail was hitting the ground and bouncing high to land twice. I expected little dents all over or maybe a cracked window. At the very least, the new paint job would be ruined.

No damage is visible. Can't explain it. But, thank the Lord.

Earth to . . .

For some reason, I found the music from the Lincoln MKS commercial which begins with a female voice singing "Ground control to Major Tom," stuck in my head. So much so that I looked up the original lyrics and then proceeded to listen to "Space Oddity" on YouTube.

Knowing how the song ends, with Major Tom floating away into nowhere, makes it an odd choice for a commercial which is trying to persuade the public to buy the subject vehicle.

After all, it didn't end well for Major Tom . . .

A few Catku . . .

Someone tripped and fell,
Catching himself on the bed.
Mew tried the window.

If window is shut,
Can panicky cat get out?
Not in this lifetime.


Outside, a wild cat,
Shaking his tail at the fern,
Was marking his place.

Field mice running free,
Over our daily Herald,
Were grist for that cat.

Every day . . .

Today, we could have slept in. We didn't, but we could have. Today, I did such a mundane task as to call a pharmacy and use the automated system to renew a prescription.

Today, and any other day, we can barbecue 'burgers and feast on them. I can lounge in a robe, do the crossword, drink Starbucks and listen to the morning birds outside making their summer songs.

There is no gunfire. There are no rockets. We did not have to undergo training to learn how to survive another day. We are calm. We do not fear, this morning.

Thank God, first. Then thank all of the young Americans who signed up so that we can experience life this way. There will be accidents and angers in our world. The will be those who require policing. But, in general, Harms Way remains away from our shores.

We thank those who hazard all they possess so that we remain able to choose. Thank you for our Freedom.

Worth how many words . . .

This is an experience. It struck a nerve with many folks who commented on the web site.

Go, see, experience. It is a photography contest and the subject is Coming Home.

If you want to know what I think of the site click on the link, above, and read comment #272. Never mind, the comment evaporated.

But, I bet the pictures will get your attention first . . .

Where?

I received a care package from ol Doc today. An item that I brought with me to her house remained behind when we drove away. It was on our packing list but not checked off. That list only works if used properly.

Guess I didn't . . .

Free is . . .

Free is good, right? Perhaps.

Our Sunday paper came enclosed in a plastic bag that also contained two small size boxes of Trix and Chex cereal. Trix is for kids, the commercials say.

I have news for you. Chex (the one to appeal to adults) had twice the amount of various sugars/carbohydrates that the Trix had. Plus they wasted all those plastic bags, boxes, and coupons which were enclosed. The cereals were so full of *natural* and *other* sugars that I would not even donate them.

Circular file and recycle bin, all the way . . .

Equitable results . . .

I can not figure how they did it but the new printer arrived today: one day after I was told to expect one. The box has a FedEx label on it so I know they dropped it off. Does HP make time machines? Is that how it was done?

We went to Rockfish Grill for lunch and then adjourned back to Zeta and M's house. Mother's day celebrations were still ongoing there. I have such a lovely family. I need to tell them so more often.

I love you guys. You are my peeps.

Effort equity . . .

Less than a guarantee ago, we acquired a printer from HP. The Amazon reviews said it was noisy but fast and printed well. It was also on sale. That last attribute was a major decider.

We set it up and found that it was noisy but fast and printed well. Huh.

We have also gotten to know HP tech support really well. Over time, the printer has suffered three instances of Carriage Jam: the carriage that holds the ink cartridges stays on the right hand side of the printer and will not move. Each incident prompted a log on to tech support for an on line chat.

Twice, they walked me through procedures to get it working again. I finally wrote the serial and model numbers on an envelope and stuck it under the printer for easy access.

During the third jam, the carriage became adamant that moving was not an option. It was stuck on the right side and happy about it. We were not.

During a follow-up telephone call, an HP hardware supervisor inquired whether we would accept an electronic gift card usable on the HP site. The e-card was generous enough to allow an upgrade.

(This e-card-option was finally offered after I declined to submit a credit card number over the phone as *collateral* for having a replacement printer shipped to us and returning ours to them prepaid.)

This process was a two-day marathon of on-line-chats and phone calls.

Today, I go to the retina specialist for a shot in the eye. In comparison, it will be just a pleasant interlude . . .

Talk to the twig . . .

Our Crape Myrtles, which lose their leaves over winter, have now decided that the free water falling from the skies is good enough to slurp up and make leaves out of. I don't have to worry about running over the one in the front of BigEd's window when I drive the car over there to load or unload at the front door. It is not a nearly invisible, dead looking, mess of twigs when some greenery decorates it.

Someone should explain to it that, even though leaves make it much more visible, an actual bloom would be even better.

It never listens to me, anyway . . .

Unsolicited testimonial . . .

We did get some rain during the night. I heard sound of tires on a wet road and peeked out front to see what that looked like. We chose our visiting time well except for one thing. May is a Love Bug season in the central part of the state.

We encountered them sparsely at first but finally they sounded like a heavy rain peppering the windshield. Their bodies bounced off the glass leaving smears of stuff I don't even want to think about. After miles of this treatment there was little of the windshield that was clear. We pulled into a service plaza and I asked J what he thought about using the wipers with fluid on the mess.

With a positive reply from him, I tried it. Unbelievable. We have been filling the washer fluid reservoir with Rain-X windshield washer fluid for a while now. That stuff cleaned the glass like magic after a couple/three squirts and running the wipers on fast.

When we got out of the car, we saw the front bumper was covered with black insect bodies that looked like a thick, fuzzy fur coat. The Rain-X had kept the insects' actual bodies from adhering to the windshield.

We don't own any stock in the company. Maybe we should . . .

Trouble-what?

We haven't had issues with our internet connection for so long that it has been taken for granted that it will work. This evening I woke the laptop from its nap and discovered that it was networked but not attached to the 'net.

Troubleshot (troubleshooted?) and discovered that the network is fine. Access to outside is not. Whoa, now.

Next, I turned to AT&T's automated telephone system which reminded me that a modem power-down and computer reboot fixes most problems. I feel so silly because the automated system knows what it is talking about.

We're baaa-ack . . .

Into the fast lane . . .

It seemed that dipping a peanut butter snack bar into a jar of peanut butter and biting off the end with the blob would be a good idea. Strangely, it ruined the taste of the snack bar. It was crunchy peanut butter so maybe that was the problem.

We have pecans. Lovely ones to make pies with, eat from the shell and sprinkle on sugar-free ice cream. I need the recipe for the pie, though. It is still at S-the-guru's house enclosed inside the backed up data from the defunct hard drive. Shouldda printed a hard copy, yes. Did not expect that crash nor that I would need the recipe so soon.

01 Doc was my recipe source for the original recipe. Perhaps she might leave copy in the comments, or in an email, or on her newly speedy web site? Congrats on the, (did I say newly speedy?) zip line to the web.

As of today, dial-up is soooo eighties . . .

How was your . . .

It is extremely rare that we travel and don't encounter any rain. Our bounce along the state was a dry run. Heh. I wish we could have seen everyone in one swing around, but barring a reunion, that is probably not going to happen.

This state is just too long from top to bottom. The sttreeetttcchh to reach from end to end is getting harder to perform.

That is the whining part. The elating part was getting to see sisters, a mother, nieces, nephews, and one sister's husband who was extremely generous with lots of home grown and hand gathered pecans from extremely tall trees. Those define the taste of pecans for us.

We also patronized some establishments around the state, okay: Wal-Mart, Publix, Golden Corral (overeating-yes), Asia (really good oriental food), Sweet Tomatoes (everyone but me loves that place but I do tolerate it), Cracker Barrel (home cooking served to instead of by), KFC (grilled except for one place that only offered fried), Mickie D (coffee just off the interstate exits seems to be provided by the golden arches ubiquitously.)

You think we ate our way around? Followed our taste buds urgings? Yes, probably we did.

But in a dry manner.

Thanks to BigEd, Mew did not starve either while we were away.

There is faithful and then there is un-

Sshhhh! I don't want Mew to get wind of this but I fed someone else's cats today. One of them was so happy to see me that he brushed hard against my ankle as I was making his food.

The way that Mew inspected that ankle when I got home? I think she already knows.