Drifting Along with the Tumbling Tumbleweeds

I have no idea why I think the title above will relate to anything I feel like writing in this post...but it is what popped into my head like a stale piece of popcorn.

NO, no wine yet. Just aging stream of conscious writing.

We are awaiting the arrival of dinner guests (the kind that bring dinner because of the new baby.) I am really tired after work today, but both hubby and I are keeping our office clothes on and stifling yawns as one member of this dinner party may play a future role in my daughter's career in one way or another. I guess I feel lightheaded like a tumbling tumbleweed. The slightest air flow will carry me away.

In addition to the above I had called my son regarding some travel plans we have in October and found the following message on my cell:

"Hi...Mom. Just got your message. Just left the doctor's office. (pause) Don't know about October...yet... (pause) I have some projects. ....will be out of town this weekend...actually out of town on Saturday. (pause) Maybe I can join you the early part of the week in October....(pause) don't know yet. I guess I should drive out to see my sister and the new baby...(pause) (mumble mumble something)...still have that stupid cold...that's why I am at the doctor's office. (Pause) Don't want to give the baby my cold....(pause) (more mumbling)...well, guess that's all. ...hope you get this message. (pause) Love ya, .... bye."

I know that I did not raise him to be so rambling (tumbling) and incoherent. As hubby responded, "Hope he communicates better than that at work!"

Thursday Thoughts #7 - Things I Have Learned Recently

I am living with (I think) Gen Y'ers. People born after the Gen X'ers? Anyway, people who are in their 30s. In the two weeks that I have been here, my daughter and SIL have had 4 dinners with guests. Lots of 30 somethings wend their way through this place. (Many with tiny people in diapers.)

Thus far I have learned these things:

• People in their 30's will politely listen to you as an 'elder' but possibly not take what you are saying too seriously.
• I was told that I must have been a Tomboy growing up. This I learned from my daughter. I thought I was pretty much a girl-girl, and I distinctly remember a green pair of hotpants, but I guess not.
• You have to be moving all the time in this household. If you stand still too long, someone hands you a kid, a dirty plate or a load of laundry.
• Although my bedroom is on the lowest floor in the basement, I must hit every single staircase at least twice during a day.
• When you take the house alarm off of instant and then set the alarm for 'away' (since you are the first to leave in the morning,) it beeps for 45 times to let you know how much time you have to depart. I make sure that purse, lunch, coffee, dry cleaning and everything else are close at hand before I set the alarm.
• Those expensive tasso coffee machines cannot be used with tall travel coffee mugs.
• All those instinctive thoughts on taking care of a baby come back pretty fast.
  
• My daughter watches the Food channel most of the day and by the time I get home, she is starving!
• I keep thinking in the back of my mind, I am still waiting to exhale.
  

This Old Life

My life is in boxes
Wrapped in white paper
Resting securely
And tucked tight away.

My life is in stasis
With memories stalling;
Fads that have faded
In the warm light of day.

My life is outdated,
Stale themes in reclusion,
Old times held suspended
Will be forgotten some day

My life was electric,
At one time in neon
Billous loud green;
It's now just today.

For all the SPECIAL people on September 9

To see who they are go here

The Good Spot

I have been so busy moving out of the apartment and packing 80% for down at the house and 20% for the next few months that I will be living in my daughter's basement. She is only 30 minutes from work...and I still have to work at the monkey house (another long story.)

There is a lesson here. Children, your parents may return! They may move in, actually, if you have a basement with a tiny bedroom, small kitchen and teeny weeny bathroom. But unlike family members who move back in with laundry, your parents will do their own laundry! They also work as free babysitters, allowing you to check your email or nurse your baby or take that well earned sitz bath at your leisure. Guess what, some of us even pay a token rent!!

As you will notice, your Daddy does the lawn, sweeps the driveway, picks up at day care and is great at BBQ.

Your mom, granny, allows small infants to throw up on her without flinching and can help with planning dinner and shopping. She is also great at playing with Thomas the Train for an hour before her head explodes. And at the age of 60, she can bend over and push a little plastic car around the park chasing her grandson as he pushes the other toddler car for quite a few laps. Of course, after a half dozen laps around the park, she looks a little hunched in the back area when she tries to stand upright. But does she complain about the pain? Never--unless you count that groan that scares the little poodle on the bike path.

Then like the good guests (hired help) that they are, they disappear on the weekends to their own place, so you are left to entertain the people of your generation who also have munchkins and talk about important things like reality TV and football.

In all honesty this little hiccup in our life has worked out far better than one would think. We are a help, we give them their space, and we contribute to costs. (Also, in another 'all honesty' hubby is having his challenges remembering to put every pen, pencil and laptop out of the reach of a toddler. He completely forgot to bring his laptop down this weekend as he had put it high on the mantel and ended up grabbing an empty backpack!)

In return, I have gotten so close to both grandchildren and fully realize how very very very rare and special this time is.

A Celestial Messenger

Aha, I think somewhere in my soul the writing angel is moving and stretching much like this little angel stretched and moved until her birthday August 16. (The same as our anniversary.) But the writing angel will have to wait. I now have some stroking and smelling and kissing and patting and humming to do with this angel. You do understand, don't you? I thought you would.

Your So Mundane

Mundaneness is taking over my spirit these days...a kind of plodding but contradictory busy mundaneness is filling every corner of my soul and sapping my elder strength. My blog entries have been what oil on the water I can corner and then send in razor thinness over the boring (to me) and flat blog ocean.

When my days and hours become like 'sand through the hourglass' it is time to take a break and restore one's soul.

Maybe the birth of the new one will inspire.

The Stars Were in Alignment

My weekend with guests was fantabulous. We are all from the same generation and four had science backgrounds and the other two (me included) were in information dissemination or information technology work. We talked grandkids -- everyone's are gorgeous --- how about that? We talked the bureaucracy of our government and how it is keeping out the good scientists but letting in more budget analysts and policy wonks...whose primary role is to perpetuate their jobs, not necessarily make the program more productive. That was a depressing part of the conversation. We never got to any movies, as we talked ourselves silly into the night.

The day was hotter than you-know-what, but we still had a lovely boat ride and saw about TEN eagles, dozens of osprey, seagulls and pelicans and even tried to catch something in a school of bluefish chasing baitfish. No luck, but still fun.

The meals that I served were also excellent if I do say so myself, and maybe this weekend I will post the recipes if anyone is interested-- Most of which I sort of made up, but they came out luscious anyway.

Prince Harry visited and the guests loved him and his gentle ways. My daughter's pending child did not interrupt the weekend, and we even celebrated my husband's birthday on Sunday with a breakfast sitting outside at a restaurant overlooking a finger of the bay.

If this is a preview of retirement, I am so looking forward and not backward.

Waning Moon and Deer Talk

We are once again moving more 'stuff' into the house and arrived late. We headed out to dinner once we got here and then returned in the dark to be greeted by two deer (one a fawn) on the side of the road. When we got into the front yard, another deer at the side of the woods carefully and with confidence moved away from us in stops and starts staring at us as if he was trying to communicate. I decided to take the opportunity to talk to him and proceeded to explain that he was welcome in the yard, but it would be greatly appreciated if he restricted his diet to the wild food and not our planted ornamentals and vegetables. I don't know if he understood the English, but I am going to work on deer language.

I woke up at four this morning, perhaps eager and nervous to get my house cleaned and menus planned for company, or just my usual insomnia due to stress at work, but sitting outside on the deck and looking at the stars I entered the zen time zone. Far away from the land of deadlines and people needs and artificiality. Slipping into the quiet black velvet of the forest just as it is sighing itself awake, I have noticed that down here there is a showtime...somewhat predictable, but always mesmerizing. The frogs sing rhythmically to put me to sleep at night, they drift off and then the crickets are in full song in the early morning before the sun breaks the horizon.

This world goes on like this and wanes with the seasons and the moon. Even though everything is the same when I get here each weekend, it is all very different.

Calling all movie buffs--HELP

I am having my first real house guests down at the new house this weekend! Yay! Hurrah! EEEEK. (Yes, I did have daughter, son, son-in-law and son-in-laws folks last Christmas, but that doesn't count.) The people we have invited are old friends that we see so rarely. I am going to tell you a little bit about them (you get a peak) and then I am going to ask for some help. But you must respond before Thursday at 3:00 as I will be on my way down to the house. One couple we have worked with over the decades and after our car pool broke up we have not had chance to see them. They are Chinese American. He is a very traditional Asian husband and she is very perfect. She is sweet and diplomatic and smart---the kind of person you would like to be president of the United states. The second couple we have known for a long, long time but we rarely get together because everyone's lives are crazy. He is retired after being a leader in an office in the FDA and we met when he and his wife were graduate students with my husband. She is a lovely but also very smart chemist from Thailand who has lived in this country and raised her family here after meeting him in graduate school in Hawaii. OK, enough info. Now my stupid but important question, which you are totally not expecting. Has anyone seen the movie, "The Good German?" We have it from Netflix and I am thinking of showing it the night we are all together after we have talked each other out and are tired from spending the day on the boat. Is there anything that we would be embarrassed by? God am I so OLD asking this question, but I really don't want to see something like this with my good old-fart friends. Anyone? Anyone??

The Best Restaurant in the Area

Some days were are very very rich. Take this dinner we had down at the house just before we left to come back to the city.

THE MENU

Fresh croaker and fresh white perch stuffed with garlic, butter, onions and freshly picked sage leaves, salt and pepper and grilled in foil over the BBQ.

Box mix macaroni and cheese (we have a case of this stuff!)

A salad of freshly picked tomatoes--lemon boy and tangerine; a freshly picked cucumber, all topped with avocado, freshly picked basil and a topping of olive oil and vinegar.

All washed down with lemonade.

Yum.

PS--Yes, Croakers do"croak" but I try not to think about that when I am thinking of eating them.

Gutter cleaning and other dangers

Why installing gutters makes me depressed. No, it is NOT the cost.

We had gutter covers installed on the gutters of our new house over the weekend. We had been debating long and hard about what type of gutter protection we could use. We are in the middle of the woods and the trees constantly shed their branches and leaves like dandruff. The more famous brands like Gutter Guard which are the more substantial come with fees in the thousands of dollars which is like $15-25 a foot...this is just the cap not the installation of the gutter. We clearly saw this as a ripoff. So, we looked around for a gutter cleaning service to get their take on this.

My husband interviewed a number of folks and decided on a very nice young man who ran his own business. He was about 35-40 and quite nice in looks and personality. He explained that these permanent gutter guards still need to have gutter cleaning as wasps nests and small soot and seeds do get under the cap. They are harder to clean because of the substantial cap. I did some research on the internet and found the same information.

Therefore, we decided to go along with some snap-in screens that can be cleaned without removal or easily removed if major cleaning is required. Hubby is not doing this installation because there are parts of our roof that are THREE STORIES high due to the way the hill falls on one side.

The young man got busy cleaning the gutters which were full of stuff having not been cleaned since late last fall. My daughter was visiting and the young man saw her huge belly and they started talking about kids. He has four. Both my husband and I immediately thought about the dangers involved in this job where he has to move about on the roof and lean over or climb up large ladders. We asked about insurance for injury or accident. He said that he had a million dollars insurance for his customers (us): in case a ladder falls on us, I guess. But when he looked into insurance for himself it was almost $700 a month and he said he just couldn't afford that.

My heart stopped in my chest and I felt that I couldn't breathe well and after visions of my recent viewing of the movie Sicko flashed through my head I felt very very very depressed. I do not handle the vulnerabilities of nice hard-working people very well. I had to go inside and hide and I was depressed the rest of the day.

Thursday Thoughts #6--All About the News

1. There was a news special this week called "Hotties on the Hill." Yeah, it was all about the beautiful people that work in the Capital. Does anyone besides me find this really annoying, irritating and just plan STUPID!! I was guessing that there would be no one over 35 on the list, and while they didn't give ages, I was pretty much right. Clearly being sexy in politics can have its disadvantages if history proves anything to anyone who follows history. Most of those interviewed thought it was a 'career move' to be selected. Maybe I am just jealous because I was never placed on a 'hottie' list.

2. There was also a news item on vandalism of Hummers (the car - not the guy who sits behind you in church) in some local neighborhoods. Several vehicles were all but destroyed by what appeared to be metal bats (the sports equipment not some robotic air mammal). Theoretically these acts were linked to environmental passions. This was deduced by some graffiti scratched on the side of the car. I don't think breaking the law is going to win any points with those of us who really think the environment needs help.

3. The weather service keeps predicting major storms...never happening in my area. Must be REALLY localized stuff they have been talking about for days and days. My poor lawn is not even gasping anymore. It is just lying down and dying.

4. My television station has a blog site that asks you to vote for which news item you want to see. When did the decision on the news become a popularity contest voted on by the type of people that would vote on news stories? You're right, the voter is that guy who sits on his porch in the same T-shirt every afternoon watching the world go by and I am not interested in any news he is interested in. Or perhaps it is that high school student who wants more information on P.H. (I am not referring to the student's paper on battery acid, urine and drain cleaner.)

5. No, I don't think I will comment on the leaking of the latest Harry Potter book. I will leave this to anthropoligists and historians who will provide a better perspective 100 years from now.

6. OK, I admit that I am leaning towards John Edwards even though he is third on the ticket. That wife of his has faced death's door and is more honest than you or I could ever be and he loves her enough to let her take that ride. He has real values and is very intelligent and strong and has experience both in politics and negotiations. I would like to see a John Edwards/Barrack Obama ticket and I do consider myself a feminist. Feminists don't vote for women just because they are women.

7. I really think Soccer is a supercool sport (was a big fan when my son played it and my husband coached it---it is STILL soccer folks even if big bucks are not involved) and I thought it quite intriguing to watch onTV...more so than that smash and bam football. But I don't think Beckham and his exotic wife are helping...?

8. And this leaves me speechless (blog textless?).

9. On a final note my husband is currently negotiating a part-time job in Korea. He has a 50/50 chance of solidifying the project. After this news article I am thinking maybe spending part-time in Korea might be good for my health!

In Memory of Texas Highways and the Lady

I lived in Texas for a few years and was able to see what fields of bluebonnets looked like. They are breathtaking and worth a visit if you have not been in Texas during bluebonnet season. We annually covered a lot of highway space...either between Texas and Colorado or between Texas and Florida visiting relatives and showing off our children. Thus, we gained a great appreciation for beautiful highways. The photo above is of my daughter and son out in a field in Texas picking wildflowers. It is a 'faded photograph' but you can guess how lovely the flowers were if they intrigued children of that age. Lady Bird Johnson left a wonderful heritage. She was a true Southern Bluebell.

Thursday Thoughts #5

1) The absolutely best meetings take place in rooms with high ceilings and high windows where the sun hits your shoulders...like in church. Where thunder and lightning are all around but you feel safe. You feel good even if your mind is not on the task at hand.

2) Free career advice: when you are a female and 50 it is time to stop 'shadowing' the most dynamic people in the office and to stop telling them they are "Awesome." It is too late for that approach. Waaaay too late!

3) After you reach 60 there will be days when absolutely everything is going super well and you cannot keep your mind off the thought that some bad news must be just down the way...at least some of us feel this way. Optimists you need to share more (are you listening Colleen?).

4) I saw "Sicko" last night with friends. Michael Moore is getting really good a pushing peoples' buttons. Thank goodness he is funny because this is a tragic movie. You need to see it and then write your Congressional representatives to see where they stand. Most of the criticisms of the movie cannot hold a bandage.

5) I live in two places--at least for a short while longer. I can never remember which refrigerator has the Redi-Whip and this is really, really, REALLY irritating. I also have arguments with my husband about which things go in the little cooler back and forth! Do they address issues like this in marriage counseling?

6) A younger colleague who has a chip on her shoulder but looks up to me found a FEDEX envelope--unopened--on a desk in a corner of an unused cubicle. I remember how it got there. I was trying to help the team secretary juggling her duties and handed her this envelope I had been given and she threw it in the corner in frustration. I thought for sure that she would retrieve it when she calmed down. That was June 28. The Secretary has gone on a family emergency. Guess what was in the envelope...someone's official passport!

7) On another work note, two people came to me this week asking if they could use me as a reference in jobs they are applying for. Can you tell I work in a not-so-pleasant place?

8) Hubby left for Hawaii yesterday...I'm just a little jealous but also looking forward to a weekend all alone down at the house.

10) Millie commented on my new icon blog photo. I have not tweaked the picture...but I don't really look like that. It's the 20% of my face that looks alright. The rest of me looks normal.

Summer Succulence

The morning’s warm humid caress
Falls upon the child’s perfect arm.
The spicy smell of a vine’s blossoms
Halts all but our soft intake of breath.

Elegant petite red jewels
Catch the angled sunlight.
The promise of their rich sweetness
Barely lingers from yesterday’s memory.

This summer’s day gift
Will not endure beyond tomorrow
It is accepted with the reverence
And wonder that miracles deserve.

My Simple Holiday

My 4th was spent in an historic small town. If you look at the sign below you will see that these people are straightforward and honest.

A pending storm made us think the pilots would have a daisychain to untangle rather than enjoy the fireworks...but not so. Tornado watch and yet no touchdown, storm and hail warnings and we were spared!

Did I mention it was a small town? The traditional parade included a jazzercise class among other things (i.e. a Caribbean Santa Clause). Only in America can you get so funky on a holiday.

So, can you guess where I was? (Stop on over at Room Without Walls to see the cutest little fruit gobbler ever.)

The other George

Fourth of July (U.S. Independence Day) is good time to think about those with vision who helped build this country on principles, that while inconvenient for some of our leaders today, are the reason we are still around. Hubby and I took a trip to George's Washington's birthplace recently. This is not the more famous Mt. Vernon area but 80 acres set aside in Westmoreland County, Virginia. The old farmstead used to be 600 acres, and thanks to Washington's interest in surveying, the extent of the original farm, formerly belonging to his parents, is well documented. This is one of several farms owned by his family. While George grew up in a situation of reasonable wealth he was the only child that did not get a formal education, interestingly enough. There is nothing left of the original farm -- no buildings. They are still discovering where they think the original farm was located through an ongoing archaeological dig.

This building above in the distance was at one time thought to have been one of the original structures on the farm, but research indicates it is newer and was built after he died.

There is a visitor's centers and a small traditional garden in the back. Above is tobacco which was one of the primary economic crops during that time. They also grew grapes, and while we asked the volunteer which grape this was, we never could find out.

Below is cotton, another important crop for the South.

These historic places operate on a very tight budget, and if it wasn't for gracious volunteers like the woman below, they would probably be unattended acres of ground.

We walked down the hillside and along the Rappahanock River and then back up into a wildflower meadow that they had planted. It was full of butterflies and bees. The brochure also said that it was a great place for bird watching in the spring and fall and we made a mental note to return again during one of those seasons.HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY in one of the best countries in the world.

Reveling in My Genetics

The images set by television are so insidious in their effect on how we view ourselves and decide what is beautiful and what is not. Certainly in this American culture aging is not beautiful. We must plump the lines, pull up the sags, remove the spots, dye the hair, remove the protruding veins, and in general strive for Stepfordness in any way that we can afford. If you don't look good then you are not good. Of course this change is for those in their 40's (and idiots in their 30's). All the rest of us are over the hill and no amount of tweaking is going to bring us back into the mover and shaker fold.

I have succumbed to thinking about this calling vanity. I would like to pull up the sags so that I don't look so grumpy and tired. I am much happier and perkier than I look! But I am also cheap and cannot allow myself the expense for that vanity.

My husband and I were watching a show on television and there was some comment by one of the characters regarding baldness and thinning hair. The woman in the TV show deleted the male character from her "Candidates to Date" list due to his receding hairline.

I mentioned to my husband (who is almost bald) how I like guys with hair but also find baldness very sexy...which I do. I mean picture Jean Luc Piccard with hair? Puhleeze! I like my husband's wisp of silver that barely covers the top of his little pointed head.

My husband, who has never had any sense of vanity in his life, smiled and said:
"I revel in my genetics."

And shouldn't we all.

And the b(h)eat goes on

Waves of heat fry the brain
Drops of sweat fall like rain
Pulsing in and pushing out
Mother weather shows her clout
Humid air and growing weeds
Set the party for ticks with needs
Roses bow their withered heads
Too much scorch upon the beds
Poison ivy spreads its arms
Tabor rejects with much alarm
Take sweating tea in a tall glass
This too shall eventually pass

(I know, its pretty pathetic. But my brain is fried.)

The Longest Day

I can remember a long time ago when the start of summer meant sleeping late and then moving to the hammock outside on the lawn, still in my pajamas, with the first book from the top of the pile that I brought home from the library in my hand. And then I was lost for the rest of the morning in another world until my mother's patience wore thin and she had me doing errands or ironing or cleaning.

I miss the fresh joy of youth. The kick-up-the-heels giggle at long warm days at the small town swimming pool. I miss the bookmobile that stopped at the end of the road and, like a metal wrapped present with smells of musty paper, offered adventure and travel and more laughter. I miss the energy of chasing after the ice cream truck and licking creamy hands as the ice cream in the cones melted faster than could be consumed.

Feet were always dusty and dirty no matter how much we swam or bathed. We never wore shoes. Bikes were for racing and getting a cool breeze going in your face and then hitting the top of the hill and putting your feet up on the handle bars and coasting down the long road on the other side.

If there was errand money, I could spend the afternoon in the cool darkness of the movie theater, and then after the movie ended and the credits rolled being totally disoriented emerging in the bright light and heat of the day feeling as if I had just landed on some alien planet.

Now I only notice the details of the season in passing. I spend most of my time in a climate controlled office and hear the complaints of others about the heat. Here it is the first day of summer and the crepe myrtles are starting to bloom! They used to be the late July flowers. They were what I planted for late summer color when all the other plants had wilted or dried under the intense heat. Is this global warming? Or just because I live in the micro-climate of the city. Or am I just being forgetful?

Easy to like, hard to help

Stole this blog title from an article I was reading in the local village voice this past weekend. The article I read in addtion to "Full Fathom Five's Father's Day post motivated this blog entry. It really should be posted in my Room Without Walls blog, since it is about my outdoor rooms, but, I think after reading MLF's entry, other people are also good Samaritans when it comes to helping these slow and gentle creatures--although I don't think her turtle was a box turtle.

Anyway, her husband actually stopped traffic to help a turtle off the highway on Father's Day. And in perhaps not an odd coincidence, we did the very same thing the morning of the very same day. We were leaving the house and heading up the hill just beyond a blind curve. I made hubby put on the hazards even though the road was quiet, because the teenagers sometimes take that country road like a speedway. I dashed out to pick up this small box turtle and put him gently in the grass on the side of the road where he was headed.

We have at least two resident box turtles in our land at the house. (I guess when I finally move there full time I won't keep making the above a qualifying statement.) Anyway, one is particularly lovely with the brightest yellow.

Earlier in this same weekend when I was sitting in my easy chair I came across an article about box turtles. This is what I learned: Box turtles are rare in our area. They need a "mosaic" of environments to survive---more than just woodlands. Picking up the animal can be stressful and endanger its health. If you move a box turtle too far from its path or turn it in the opposite direction, documented research shows that it can become disoriented, dehydrated and eventually die. The author did say that you can pick up a box turtle on the highway and help it go in the direction it intended.

So, we did our good deed and maybe saved this rare fellow who might have been a father. So, now you know.

For the Birdwatchers

Here is something that may be of interest to those of you who find birdwatching more than a past time. The Birdwatcher's Guide to Global Warming

Thursday Thoughts #4

1) I still can't get the image out of my mind of hitting a brick wall and facing lots of unending silence when I retire. I am so busy these days it will be hard to wind down over the next year if I decide I can afford to retire. Going from everything to nothing is kind of scary. No challenges? What will I do?

2) I am on page 27 of "blink" by Malcolm Gladwell and thus far most intrigued.

3) I watched "Babel" last night. It was enjoyable, but could have been a lot tighter and dialog could have been clearer.

4) Did you also know that 90% of toys you buy for toddlers are battery operated? So much for environmental sustainability.

5) On a good environmental note, did you know that a salmon protein recovery venture in Alaska means they want to process fish waste into usable oil products. In an article from the Alaska Journal of Commerce "Lane estimates that Taku Fisheries processed about 10 million pounds of fish annually, and given about 35 percent waste, was grinding and dumping some 3 million pounds of fish wastes annually. "
Now where in pristine Alaska were they dumping all this, I wonder?

6) Did you know that Thomas the Train stories were originated by a minister and that some of the episodes are narrated by Alec Baldwin? Yes, THAT Alec Baldwin.

7) My daughter has moved into her next house and with the help of her parents and friends is really 50% done. (She still has lots of stuff at our house...she will be taking that back sometime soon, won't she, don'cha think?)

8) I spent much of Sunday afternoon unpacking daughter's boxes. I will wager that every single person that had a wedding (no matter how long ago and no matter whether it lasted or not) has at least one kitchen item that still has the bar code on it.

9) I am moving into my daughter's house at the end of September. Apartment rent here has increased another $300. She has a basement bedroom and small extra kitchen but is about an hour from my work. Ah, yes, another challenge in my life.

Change Doesn't Always Happen Life Story #10

Look at this shirt in the photo above. It looks pretty pathetic and used doesn't it? Looks like it has quite a history---maybe it was worn when painting a few walls, washing a boat or two? It will not surprise you when I write that my husband does not throw anything away if he thinks there may still be a use for it. It may surprise you that I know the exact age of this shirt --- 35 years old this July.

This shirt entered our lives in 1972 when we were living in Palau, Micronesia. It is a shirt made by my own hand. There are no shirt stores on Palau, or at least there were not any stores like that when we lived there. I was quite the little homemaker back then and for hubby's birthday and in anticipation of a potential trip back to the states in the fall, I made him a couple of shirts. I French seamed them if you notice that kind of thing. It still fits, if you note that kind of thing. It is stained but not falling apart.

I must have been a pretty good seamstress for it to have held up this long. I know that I can't sew that well today. Also, they made better quality thread back then. My husband is sweet to hang on to it this long. I am pretty sure that I don't have any clothes of my own from way back when...nor could I get into them. I think I weighed 105 at 5'5"!

Hanging on

I had another one of those awful days at the office. People coming to complain about stuff I have no control over. Other people defending their reason for not being able to do something that was technologically doable ten years ago. Finally someone concerned about public information I sent out that they didn't think should be public, although by law it is. And, of course, the 15th response to some budget defense for a budget that doesn't happen for at least three more years!

I need to retire. I am too old to get caught up in this carnival of agonies. Some days, and thankfully not every day, I HATE my job.

So I am going to do something about it! I am getting my boss to approve a shorter workweek, and my boss is amenable, being a short-timer. It will be at some financial cost , but I am so stressed that I think it will be worth it. It will also mean I have less clout with other staff, but I am tired of fighting battles.

I am asking the retiremnet people to crunch the numbers and if they are not too painful I am going to trade time for money. Anyone else done this?

After a day like today I will have several sleepless nights before I get back to normal.

Johnny Depp and My Grandson

What does Johnny Depp have to do with my grandson? Well, pay attention and I will draw the lines.

Hubby has been on travel for quite a while and so, like the typical person I am, I spend a lot of time channel surfing when he is gone. I can watch 15 minutes of something and then jump to something else for a short time and then onward to the next batch of schlock. Once in a while I do find something that I watch to the end. But without hubby, who approaches everything very linearly (I don't think that is a word.), I don't have to stay on one channel. Linear...lines?...yes, I am getting to drawing them, patience.

I was hanging ten with the remote when I came across the biography of Johnny Depp. He is one of the most interesting actors around these days as well as sexy in a very odd but acid-taking-intellectual way. I had to stop and watch the interview and the biographer's comments. While watching there is always this little voice in the back of my head that keeps saying "He's just BS-ing everyone. He isn't really like that."

As I watched I told myself (with hubby gone I talk lots to myself---even out loud many times), "He never steps out of character from interview to interview, so maybe he is true blue."

Then he said the following (which due to my age and memory skills I clearly paraphrase.)

"It all about family. I mean hanging out with them. If it is a 12-hour-day of Barbie, than so it is. That is what it is all about."

See, he IS BS-ing! I just spent an 8-hour day keeping my grandson out of trouble while his parents packed up their house for the upcoming move. We did 1 hour of trains, 2 hours of push the cart around the park/playground, 5 minutes of swinging, 1 hour of trains, 30 minutes of hide-and-seek, 30 minutes of attempted lunching, 30 minutes of watching High-5 on TV and 1 additional hour of wandering from room to room and finally a drive in which he fell asleep. The return from the car in 20 minutes meant he was still sleeping in my arms as I sat down on the sofa and parents assured me he had to stay there in my arms. So there was another 2 hours of napping--which in spite of my tone here really is heaven on earth.

Now, please try to counter my argument.

1) No child that I know does 12 hours of ANYTHING unless there are medical problems.
2) No parent or grandparent could remain sane if the child did 12 of hours of anything.
3) 2 hours of any activity while fun quickly becomes enough for any adult with a brain!

I want a video of Johnny Depp playing Barbie with his child for 12 hours on YouTube.

Some Pathogenic Thoughts

This may be a little graphic for some of you. Those of you who have reached that time in your life where nothing shocks may get a chuckle.

At our house we have been doing lots of 'brush clearing.' This is now a national cultural thing with the examples set by our illustrious leader, and my husband and I are eager to be the true patriots and try our skill. (Actually we have been doing this for years in many countries and states and probably considered ourselves somewhat the experts.)

You may remember my recent photo showing all the red lines on my sexy legs from the wild roses but not showing the poison ivy's wrath that appeared a few days later. I don't think our illustrious leader gets that down and dirty, because he never seems to have any scars or weepy sores to show off.

Anyway, since my hubby is partially retired he gets to play in the jungle (forest) more than I. I was able to wangle a working-from-the-house day today and was focusing on a nasty database entry at about 7:00 in the morning when hubby shuffled out of the bedroom scratching his you-know-what and looking around surprised the sun had come up already.

He started the conversation (after "Good morning.") with "I think I have a little problem."

"What?" I asked not taking my eyes from my laptop screen.

"I found a tick down here." He was pointing to that nether region which is so venerated by the male of our species.

Me: "Oh?" Now realizing I was going to have to take a work-break.

"Yeah. I got it out, but I think there is another one down in the same area. Can you take a look?"

"Can I get my camera? This would be great for my blog!"

"No." he groaned. Then he hit his head on the lower wall groaning again while he lay down on his back on the floor and assumed the position. The reason he hit his head is that men don't usually get to assume 'the position.' There he was with his pants down and his legs spread eagle and his hand on one of the two orbs pulling it aside. Sure enough there was something brown and round and small next to some red skin. It didn't look like it had legs or a head, though, but at my age, I can't see anything smaller than a pea.

"Do we have a magnifying glass down here at the house?" I asked.

He pointed to the paperweight on top of the desk where I had recently been working. I don't have the right computer to resize---so photo will be high res. How apropos is this crab, don't you think?

Well, to make a long story longer, I actually still had trouble pulling the little brown dot away from the skin and eventually realized it was a skin tag...amazing the pain a spouse will let you inflict when he thinks you know what you are doing.

Later at lunch I went out to weed the beds for about ten minutes and when I came back inside found that I had a number of bites on my legs. I mused out loud..."Great, now I will get both Lymes disease and West Nile virus. They will never be able to diagnose how I died."

Hubby smirked..."Maybe we could get Dr. House to help."

For those of you who do not watch TV this is an egocentric, genius, pathological doctor who solves the most ridiculous medical cases each week, usually after he inflicts lots of pain on the patient while belittling his attractive interns.

(My scenario would be, after he removes about three organs he would solve my diagnosis.)

Making Do with What You Have

I have always been addicted to flowers. I love planting bloomers and I love putting out those plants that provide something I can cut to bring inside to keep the outdoors alive. With new shrubs that are too small to trim away blooms (rhododendrons, roses, etc.) at the new house, I have very few plants that I can cut. Those few the deer are helping to prune. So I planted a few perennial sunny happy daisies. Each plant different and blooms about two weeks apart. These were the first to bloom thus far, and yes, I cut most to bring inside and then had to pad the whole display with ornamental grasses and wild grass seed heads to keep it less anemic. It was the best I could do for our weekend eating.

Check out the Room Without Walls for more fun spring stuff.

Leaves of Grass Books

I promised Sonia at Leaves of Grass that I would post my books. They are a little sparse compared to her other friends photos, but I have given away about a dozen boxes of books--mostly paperbacks--to a church run store recently after my move. The professional books are still in boxes...and...

This post also neglects to show the piles of books on each side of our bed...to ugly to photograph.
Now I have space to fill the shelves with new books!

Kinnikinnick for Mothers

The name sounds like a dance or a bird call or a rhythmic clicking of tongue and tooth when pronounced. Perhaps a dance done by Indians in Latin America using bamboo poles? According to the National Wildlife Federation the definition is not so romantic. It is an Indian word for many tobacco substitutes. The species name Arctostaphylos uva-ursi is broken out to mean "arctos=bear" and "staphyle=grape," and in Latin uva is "a bunch of grapes" and I am guessing that ursi also has something to do with bear--- thus the common name bear berry.

As a small child growing up in Colorado this little bush was everywhere in the lower mountains. I remember how strange its name sounded when my mother joyfully pointed it out each spring. I remember how much my mother loved the appearance of the little pink flowers hanging like gentle bells. I just recently learned that it is a cotoneaster...which I should have grasped if I had any observational skills.

At any rate, it was one of my mother's favorite plants. She always went for the quiet underdogs over the showy botanical specimens. My mother was a prickly and darkly mooded person in some ways, and that is why I don't write about her much. We had our lack of meeting of the minds as I grew up, and I really think the fault was mostly hers. I say that without anger or recrimination because I know the fault is mostly mine for many other things. Among her children I was the showy specimen, more attractive and louder than the others and moving boldly into others spaces like some crazy spreading wildflower with too strong a fragrance. This was just me and I couldn't change my personality for anyone. Therefore, mother favored my other sister who was the quieter one and certainly the more generous in spirit. Like the kinnikinnick both were the sturdy ones while I became emotionally vested and overwrought in stuff of little consequence. And yet, both have passed on, one certainly way before her gentle time.

Therefore, when selecting plants for my landscaping I came across this shrub and felt that I needed to purchase two for the bed by the front door, as homage to that woman who, in her own way, made me what I am today ---whatever that is.

And also I must remember the other important mother in my life...my daughter. And above is an image I created just for her that "madonna of all things small." (Hard to believe she is 6 months pregnant with that figure!)

I am off on another adventure with my daughter and son-in-law and husband, so may not be posting unless hubby has access with his laptop. BUT I wish all the mothers strength, love and understanding and command that all the kiddos be there for mom even though she is a pain in the butt sometimes!

What Goes Around Comes Around

I got my questions from Maya's Granny, the deepest of thinkers in Alaska.

Here are my questions to answer:

1. Name one thing that you wanted to be when you grew up that you didn't become, but that has shown up in other ways in your life. Tell us about it.

I wanted to be an actress--loved the melodrama and was convinced I could really act. I even minored in drama in college. This skill shows up ALL THE TIME in my life. Timing of ones lines is, of course, everything.

2. What one thing would you change about yourself if you could?

I would be more mellow and more wise in the grand scheme of things. I tend to dwell on stuff that isn't all that important. If I could fly up high and get some perspective I would be a better person.

3. What is the most important thing to find in a friend?

Loyalty. Through thick and thin and even when you screw up.

4. Tell us about one thing you did before you were six years old that is in some way typical of you still.

I got my fingers pinched in a door when saying goodbye to an Uncle as I was leaning forward. My mother thought she saw it and I fought back the tears and pretended that I had not gotten hurt. I tend to hide my vulnerabilities to this day.

5. If you could grant three wishes, who would you grant them to?

Boy this is a hard one! Off the top of my head I was going to grant the President of the U.S. the wish--as a generic ruler here--not really thinking of my good 'friend' Bush. But clearly re-thinking this decision in that I cannot crawl inside the heart or mind of a future president. So, I am going to cheat and grant one wish to three different people:

My son.
My youngest brother.
A random young soldier in Iraq.

OK: Your turn readers. (I will be on travel this weekend...so be patient if I don't get back right away! Also, remember, I can be ruthless.)

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

While They Were Sleeping

It is now 6:30 in the morning and I have been up for half an hour. I was awakened by the intermittent rushing noise outside, which I, at first, thought was a distant motor boat out in the bay with its sound carried by the wind. Instead I discovered it was the sound of the newly green trees waving their open flags in the first rays of the sun as gusts of wind pushed them down in arching bows.

The daughter, her husband, Xman and hubby are all still snuggled away in their beds missing the beauty of this morning. Yesterday's gentle soaking rains have cleansed the air of all softness. The morning sun is sharp, the leaves are kelly green, the bark and branches are crisp in the shadows and the sky is scattered with leftover racing clouds still dressed in their early morning gray and pink and lavender nightgowns.

Even the birds are dashing to the feeders instead of gliding.

My 6-month pregnant daughter now waddles down the stairs in blurry-eyed search of a cup of milk for Xman. I offer her coffee, but she is not ready and will return to bed and snuggle with Xman while he gets his early morning sustenance.

All are missing this magic time. This is my sustenance.

(Go here http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=849146694200968214&hl=en to see why these mornings are precious...thanks to Robert Brady for the resource.)

Lonely Afternoon Adventures-Life Story #9

It had started out as a typical afternoon on one of the remote islands of the South Pacific. It was a relatively calm day with coconut fronds waving gently at intervals and with moderate temperatures. My husband and I had headed out on the laboratory boat with another scientist to survey some wild oyster beds. The morning went fairly fast and we collected enough data to stop for an early lunch at the edge of the mangroves. I was eating my tuna salad sandwich and gazing over the stern of the boat watching an archer fish with fascination as he skulked in the shadows waiting for a meal from an unwary insect.

The water in this area was shallow, only two feet deep, dropping gently to about four feet toward the open ocean before reaching the boat channel. Brushing bread crumbs from my swimsuit, I stepped around the outboard and holding the top of the motor housing slipped over the back of the boat for a cooling swim after lunch. Hubby and the colleague decided to motor to the other side of the mangrove peninsula to the mouth of a river in search of some innocuous biological event that I have since forgotten.

Once the sound of the outboard had disappeared behind the mangroves, I realized how quiet it was with just the sound of my hands in the water and the insects on the island. Other than the boat just a short distance away, I could imagine I was the only person on the planet. I poked in the soft sand with my toes and watched the sea birds in the distance and listened to the lapping of the gentle waves against the mangrove roots. I was concentrating on retrieving a terebra that I had unearthed with my big toe when I thought I saw the shadow of something on the surface of the water beside me. I looked up but only saw the gently rippled gray surface of the water. I looked down at the sand again, replacing the mollusk and slowly worked my way toward the open ocean until the water came to just below my shoulders for a complete cool down. As I looked toward the horizon I once again caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly, being all alone became somewhat unsettling. I started scanning the waters around me and in a few minutes a gray dorsal fin broke the surface about ten feet away and swam a foot toward me and then moved away disappearing beneath the surface.

I was guessing by the size of the fin that it was a small gray reef shark, maybe just over two feet in length, surveying the area. In less than a minute, he returned. Initially, I was fascinated by this typical behavior when he started circling me ever so slowly. The concentric circles made by the dorsal fin that broke the surface of the water were about six feet away and getting closer. I wasn't afraid of such a small shark until I remembered he also wasn't afraid of me. He was a “teenager” out for an experimental event. I had felt the sandpaper skin of a shark with my hands not that long ago and realized if he swiped me it would hurt and possibly draw blood, not a good event in shark country.

The boat was too far away to hear my call and the prevailing breeze would have pulled my voice away anyway. I also was too embarrassed to admit I needed help against such a little guy. I moved carefully, walking backwards toward the mangroves, and scanning the surface of the water around me as I did so. There was no place for me to get out of the water and the water wasn't shallow enough to prevent the shark from swimming directly at me. I decided to throw caution to the wind (avoiding thinking about water snakes or crocodiles among the tangled tree roots—both of which existed in these parts) and stepped up to carefully balance on the larger arching mangrove roots as I leaned against the trees. Leaves and blunt branches poked my head and shoulders as I squatted in precarious balance. After about ten minutes of this yoga experience the shark became bored and left the area.

As I sat balancing awkwardly on the roots in my bare feet I began to survey the mangrove jungle and did not realize I was in store for a second adventure of the day. Behind me I heard a weak squawking noise that I must have missed earlier in my mild panic to eliminate the shark bait. I couldn't see where the sound was coming from over my shoulder, and so, gently entered the water and walked behind the first section of mangroves to another sandy space behind the first patch of trees. About a foot above my head I saw the cause of the noise. A small blue heron had become caught in the mangrove branches. His head was caught in the fork of a branch and while he flapped and squawked ever so weakly, his position and weight had trapped him. His outspread wing was the only thing keeping him from hanging himself.

Wary of his long and sharp bill, I realized that I was going to be responsible for his rescue. I tried to balance on the roots but couldn't get high enough to grasp him safely…safely for him and for me. The eye that stared at me was still clear but his movements were very weak. He must have been there for hours. I watched a few minutes more trying to think of some way to lift him from the branch. I was starting to panic for him. I called to my husband. My call was lost in the great expense of water. I walked around the trees and to the front of the island and putting my hands to my mouth called, hooted, and whistled toward the mouth of the river.

It seemed that a lot of time passed, but eventually I heard the outboard and soon I saw the boat approaching. My husband could see I was trying to convey some emergency, and when he kicked off the engine, I explained the plight of 'my' heron. After I lifted myself aboard we poled our way to the back of the mangrove and were able to get close enough standing on the side of the boat to reach and eventually release the bird. Actually, my husband did most of the gentle pulling and lifting while I provided encouragement. We placed the bird carefully, with hands on bill, on a tree root and he paused getting his balance. Like the shark, he too left us shortly for another clump of mangroves and the pursuit of another meal. I didn't mention the little shark adventure until after we got back home.

I Won, Well, Sorta

I started a fight with about a thousand wild roses and a few hundred honeysuckle vines and just a dozen or so large grape vines that were trying to bring down my tulip, dogwood and oak trees. In spite of the picture above, I have won the first battle. Yes, I know, there are many more to come. I will know in a day or two if the poison ivy got in a few swipes. Only one little tick and a beautiful lizard after all that tromping through the woods. We were wary of copperheads, but didn't disturb any from wherever they were hiding. Gee, I make my yard sound like a dangerous jungle!

We also moved the pile of rocks and pile of bricks that the builders had left behind to a less obvious place. That move disturbed a few dozen beetles.

Above is the first bloom on the lovely clematis that I planted near the front door. It is so fulfilling to start to see the plants come out of dormancy and open their blossoms.

My weekends are so full trying to get the yard in order that I have little time to think of problems at work or otherwise. I guess this is a good thing. It is kind of a scary thing also, because I am afraid that when I retire the sudden lull will be like hitting a brick wall. I better have something lined up. Any ideas?

Referral to Me

Click on the link to Room Without Walls on the right side of this blog for a new post on my other blog.

Two Sunny Questions

A quiz at the Room Without Walls.

Taking a deep breath

Life has been a little crazy recently. Nothing bad, but I am still doing two jobs at work and both of them have become a little more demanding. I am trying hard to please everyone and come home at the end of each day exhausted. No room for photos, poetry, or thinking about my little guy. Next week is even crazier, but I am taking Friday off and that is when I am going to regroup.

Life is so weird. I was getting depressed at work because I didn't feel I was being used effectively. Now I am being drained of every minute of the day, every idea in my brain cell, and given every bit of paperwork that I can handle.

I am such a little bureaucrat. I actually used a bunch of acronyms in a meeting the other day, and I didn't throw up! Only a few more months of this idiocy. Can you believe I work in a Federal office that STILL doesn't have a firm budget. Also as a Federal office we are required to get everything spent by June when we do get it.

It won't even begin to talk about the mess with Congressional earmarks.

Homage to the Salt of the Earth

Who was this man, the salt of the earth?
The foundation of each day for me and others?
His day was never filled with fire or passion.
His day was always the same.
His day was one foot in front of the other.
His day was being there, without complaint and without recognition.
His day was meeting his responsibilities without expectations other than Friday's paycheck.
Other's were smarter and richer, and yet, he was without greed or envy.
He left each morning before the sun came up with that black lunchbox packed by Mom and in his gray worn work clothes.
Sunday fried chicken, the baseball game, his sons on the floor reading the Sunday Post, this was his happy reward.
I remember his quirky smile when we discussed the concept of celebrity.
He would cross the street for a friend but never for a famous idiot.
I remember his uncomfortable smile if we talked of God.
He dropped out of school in the sixth grade and became a man at 12 to save his parents' farm
With his final soldier's paycheck, he paid off that mortgage.
He had faced the War and survived keeping all the ugly memories to himself.
He raised five children and saw them all go to college with money made by hard labor.
He always felt intimidated by those with formal education.
Yet his children who were all well-educated knew they never could be as smart as he.
He was part of that great generation who went quietly into that good night.
That great generation that only asked for a roof and a meal and a healthy family.
That great generation whose sacrifices we cannot even imagine.
He knew good from bad and right from wrong by feeling in his gut.
I will never meet his stature, he raised the bar very high.
I can only hope to hang on to his values, to pass them on as best I can, in this crazy world.

Bird Brained

This little fellow (a titmouse) showed up on a regular basis over the weekend. He (she?) would stop at the deck chair and look at his/her reflection in the deck door windows. I was able to stand next to the window to photograph without bird dismay.

Eventually he/she hopped to the door handle to admire the reflection. There was much cheeping and panting and heavy breathing, so I think it was in love with its image.

Eventually this led to much flapping of the wings as the bird tried to attack-mate-meet with the image it saw. It would fly up and down the window pane tapping with claws and beak until either my husband or I attempted behavioral managment and chased it away. I even threw out some frozen peas that had hit the kitchen floor to see if I could bribe it.

Without fail it would come back and the process would start all over again.

Here I swear he is watching the TV on the wall!!
(For more birds go to the Room Without Walls.

A Dance of Love

Robert Brady, Claude at Blogging in Paris, and Chancy have all written recently about the pollen or yellow desert dust or air born stuff and in some cases the resultant allergies. Their posts brought a recent but slightly different image and experience to my mind.

Twice in the past few years while hiking I have experienced what to me was a special and marvelous event. It was unexpected, quiet, and very subtle; and had I been looking the wrong way, I would have missed it. I probably had missed it many other times in my life. The first time I saw this natural phenomena was on a hike in the Colorado Rockies. We had just crossed a ridge and somewhat out of breath had paused just below the crest to look down into the next valley of firs and pines and junipers. It was a quiet spring day except for the call of the jays and the occasional spring breeze that touched the evergreen branches.

I was staring at the tops of dozens of elegant pine trees. Then just below their tops, and without warning, a puff of yellow dust covering yards of space flew from one tree drifting like tiny sparks of life down the valley and across the other trees. Less then one second later the next tree released its pollen and so on down through the valley just like a wave of golden phosphorescence. The magic was in the timing and the silence. It was clandestine and confidential as if I was observing the lovemaking between the trees, which in a sense, I was.

I observed this same phenomena when I was in the desert in Arizona recently. We were hiking back into the valley and paused to gaze back at the trail while standing under an Arizona pine tree. Then just above my head the pine tree released a golden shower across the area. The thing I noticed this time was there was no breeze, no air movement that I could feel although clearly the air was moving above my head. I touched the pine branch above my head to see if I could release more pollen and nothing, not one little spore, was released.

I did some research on the process and the science indicates that there is "no explosive dehiscence" in the process. Maybe not, but they "talk" to each other in some way. It is some dance of love that we cannot understand and it is sacred when you see it.

Sick of Being Sick

I came down with a sore throat two Sundays ago after spending the two days before holding hands with my favorite little guy who was running a temperature and had a runny nose. He shares everything! I was down at the new house and didn't have any mouth wash or vitamin C for the sore throat so spent the afternoon gargling with rum--really--probably not the best approach.

I nursed a little temperature and upper congestion early in the week, and then feeling better, went to work last week for two and a half days, then totally lost my voice at the end of the week and stayed home once again. I pushed myself over the next weekend, because I really wasn't feeling all that sick, just not sleeping well at nights due to coughing.

I had to go to work this week as two new 'head' people have come on board and I am doing work for one in an Acting position and had to debrief him and the other is a new supportive person to my other program, so felt I had to be there. I was also asked by my boss to coordinate a new project that may be like pushing jello uphill since no one seems to have a vision for how this project will contribute in any way to our colleagues and 'customers' needs but everyone wants their name on it so that they get visibility. I am trying to bring some semblance of reality to this...but may end up producing something flashy and useless as my illness has compromised my energy and diplomacy. I have been pushing and pushing at work and now feel I need to reboot.

Soooooo, today I am calling the Doctor after having another rough night, and while intellectually knowing he probably can't do anything, at least I hope to rule out bronchitus or pneumonia. Maybe he can give me drugs. I have caught two -- maybe three -- illnesses this year that seem to be due to my love of a grandchild who is building his immune system the hard way. This reminds me of the first two autumns that I taught in the public school system. I was sick on and off for weeks as I caught each child's germs.

Lived-In Look

The Painting Contractor Chickie may appreciate these photos. I have the wallpaper guy in all week putting up wallpaper in the front formal room---we really are using it as a quiet room rather than a formal room as we are the farthest thing from being 'formal' folk. Anyway, I did pick a wine and gold abstract design and the room did take on a plumish color after we painted it ourselves. I was surprised, but I think that I will like it. I do not have any furniture for this room so will have to find something that goes with plum wine? At least if people spill their drinks, it will blend. Hubby painted the trim on the bay window and deserves an award for that work.

And below the wallpaper guy has taken on the dangerous job of completing the kitchen. (I really like him and his work style, by the way.) Thank goodness we put up the pictures already so that he could just rehang them! It also is a strange wallpaper. I bought it because it was a faux finish pattern...but it ended up looking like a birch bark canoe I am thinking. Oh well. And, yes, we are going to re-paint the living room to better coordinate. The great butter yellow just doesn't go so probably something called "bagel". Wallpaper guy has agree to paint the high harder walls and we will paint the easier stuff. I have to put up the two samples this weekend and decide.

As you can see from the photo below of the master bedroom, we are really getting settled in now and developing that lived in look. I had to make curtains for the masterbath as I was tired of feeling strange walking around in the nude even though no one within miles can see in and no one would look twice if they did! I was going to sew the curtains and then got lazy and just used the iron-on tape and they came out pretty good, even if they do look a little cheapo!

The two framed harp shells are from something I did in Indonesia when I was working in batik. The colors don't really go anywhere in the house, but the frames were so nice and matched and so we decided to put them up in the masterbath. Yes, they ARE too far apart, but between my cold and the difficulty of hanging stuff at the end of a long day, we just decided to live with it!

For what we did outside go to the "Room Without Walls" blog.