thebrendablog

Ordinary Is More Than Just A Word

This morning I got up and shut myself in the garden room with my pets and morning coffee, and began to sift through blog entries I've missed with all the excitement going on around here. And this is what I found from my sweet friend Nancy who is a fantastic photographer and writer in Nova Scotia. Turn up your sound and listen and watch what she has managed to create. Share it with someone you love. It transcends mere beauty:

Ordinary Miracles Video

Was that not utterly amazing???

I have several things to tell you. One is that Scooterblu's Whimsy is having a virtual baby shower for Heather (who I refer to as Cinderella. If you grew up in the sixties and recall the movie Cinderella with Leslie Anne Warren, you will recognize the resemblance to Heather in the right sidebar photo of her blog, Hopscotch And Hydrangeas.) So go see Rhonda about the baby shower, to be held on July 25th, in Heather's honor. She will be having her third child, a girl. And you have to be signed up with Rhonda by the 23rd, I believe.

Other news: I have been asked to name my toad. I have christened him "Tommy The Toad."

Other news: Yes, I am fine now that I got the medication out of my system. I thank you all for your concern and kind words.

Other news: Jan at Always Growing in Louisiana left a link today to a story that will give you pause. It is about a plant pot that explodes due to the right mixture of soil, moisture and heat:

http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=D91VQL801&show_article=1&catnum=9

Amazing...

Alex at My Quill And Pen will be having her biopsy next Wednesday. I wrote a poem for her earlier in the week. If you will, take the time to go over and wish her luck. She also started taking ballet lessons a few months ago. Alex yearned as a child to be a ballerina. But her parents never had the money for lessons. She did have a pair of ballet slippers from a garage sale that she acquired as she "danced in her head." Until this spring when she decided now was the time to learn ballet. She also blogs about learning ballet at Dreams Do Come True. It is a wonderful journey of learning pure poetic steps.

It is Friday. We are coming along on the house. They are laying diagonal tiles right now. The walls are being painted. And soon (hopefully) I will have new bathroom renovation photos for you.

Have a wonderful weekend. Below are some photos from my gardens this morning. Someone asked me earlier this week what camera I use. I actually loved Kim's photos so much at Daisy Cottage that I emailed her months ago to ask what camera she was using for her phenomenal photos. And so when my camera started acting up, I bought the same one she had. It is a Canon Powershot G9. I do not profess to be the photographer Kim is, but I love to photograph my gardens. And I am quite pleased with my purchase. Thanks, Kim!

In Nancy's theme of "Ordinary Miracles", I give you mine.

 

Toads & IV's

This is where my toad lives. Under the tall papyrus plant in a small pot of aloe vera in my backyard. He comes out at night.

Now some of you thought my toad visitor was a wee bit ugly. But I'd like you to give him another chance. Just one more close-up-and-personal look see, okay?

I think he does have some redeeming qualities. He has large dark eyes. He has texture. (We love texture in our gardens.) And he doesn't seem to like to take up much space, like most men (I mean toads) do. He doesn't have that it's-all-about-me look to him. Might be a prince!

I had a little problem yesterday afternoon. I was sitting here just typing away, and started feeling v-e-r-y tired. I have not been feeling myself for about a week. I've been trying to transition to a new medication. It has been awfully hot and humid. And I've been getting all worked up over men running in and out, leaving my one lone toilet seat up, and having to carry a dog underneath each arm whenever I venture out of the garden room.

So I laid down on the couch for a little while, the dogs tucked around me like bookends.

Earlier I had been over at Walli's to look at the paint she had brushed on the wall, trying to decide if it was the correct color for the guest room. I surveyed it and told her the peach shade was a bit bright. The guests-might-have-to-put-on-their-sunglasses-before-entering bright. She turned her head to the side in that look she has that means she isn't entirely happy with me.

I told her I wasn't feel all that well, and she had the sense to take my blood pressure with that machine she has. Said it was kind of high. Maybe I should call my doctor. I phoned my family practitioner's office. Sorry. Wednesday afternoons the doctors take off. Have to fit you in next Monday.

Okay...

After I came home, and did some typing, and laid down on the couch for awhile, I got up and started feeling a little dizzy. I decided to drive down the street to another doctor I have just to be safe. Sorry, the doctor's not in. You'll have to go to that clinic down the street across that busy intersection.

Okay...

I'm feeling a bit disoriented and light-headed. But I manage to drive down the street, across the busy intersection, and enter the clinic I wasn't even aware was there.

There are wild unattended children screaming and running the length of the place. I pause. Then go to the front window. Could someone please just check my blood pressure, I ask the tired-looking woman who ambles to the front.

She sighs. "Do you want to check in?" (She asks in that "no you really don't, do you?" tone of voice.) I tell her no. Just please check my blood pressure and I'll be off. She sighs again and tells me to sit down.

This does not bode well, I'm thinking. I sit down in the plastic chair and close my eyes to the children running amok the length of the place with this look of sheer ecstasy. Likely this look is due to the delightful state children find themselves in when there is a clear lack of parental supervision.

I have this horrid thought: what if the last thing I see on this earth are these children running around like chickens with their heads cut off, buzzing past me like insects? What if the last thing I hear are their shrill voices screaming in glee?

After several very loud minutes, I get back up and venture over to the glass enclosure that locks me out here with these children.

I ask if she might could see her way to letting me wait in another room. A nice quiet one. She sighs, and leads me down the hall. Now I'm sighing in relief. I don't feel so good. I sit on another plastic chair and she shuts the door behind her.

I wait. And wait some more. Suddenly I get very, very thirsty. I get this horrid thought: how long would it be before they remember me if I happen to fall to the floor? How long will it be before she tells someone who has medical knowledge that I'm even in here?

I get up and start toward the door. The door that I swear has moved a few feet while I've been sitting there. I open it, feeling a little unsteady altogether, and ask if it would be too much trouble for someone to bring me a drink of water.

As luck would have it, a nurse is strolling past with her little clipboard underneath her arm. She takes one look at me and asks if I can make it to the bed in back on my own, or should she get the wheelchair. I have some degree of dignity left. I tell her no, I'm fine. I walk toward the white bed that I swear wasn't that far down the hall when she first pointed it out to me.

Before I know it, they have sticky pads hooked up to my chest. (Soooo glad I shaved my legs this morning! And washed my hair.) I am suddenly hooked up to monitors. I hear, "Just a little stick..." I feel a pin prick, and see that a needle-that-isn't-the-kind-I-favor-which-is-the-sewing-variety is being plunged into my vein. And an IV line is being hooked into that. My blood pressure is normally about 90 over 70. Today it is 160 over something or other.

I feel this cool fluid enter my body. Pure nirvana! I envision those photos of drug addicts with rubber tubing tied about their arm and heroin working its way into their system. The beatific, I'm-in-heaven look on their faces.

I wonder to myself: when was it I last drank some fluids? Running around checking on this and that in the bathroom and trying to make sure no one leaves the gate open so the dogs don't run out. Listening to contractors getting upset and pointing the accusatory finger at other contractors who-didn't-do-their-job adequately.

Was it noon when I ate? I had those leftovers I swiped from Walli's last night in the fridge. I know I drank some juice or tea with it. Now what time is it?

Suddenly Walli pulls back the curtain daintily and enters in full I-always-put-my-makeup-on-before-I-leave-the-house mode. You know, the kind that makes women like me who run out in shorts and T-shirts (buy hey, I shaved my legs!) look bad in comparison? She stands behind the doctor, as he's telling me I likely just had a bad reaction to the new drug. And if I feel like that again, I should go to a real emergency room. Now where am I? Oh, this is a clinic. One that lets children run amok in the waiting room.

Walli, I know you. Were you rolling your eyes behind that doctor's back where I couldn't see you? Were you cocking your head to the side in that way you have that means I-really-don't-know-why-I-put-up-with-you?

Now Walli, don't get mad. I know you bail me out of a lot of messes. Like last week when I put the dogs in the dog crates and placed the doors on backwards and accidentally locked them inside. And you had to calm me down and take tools to clip holes in the crates to let them out. I know you fix me nice veggie sandwiches and piping hot salmon croquettes with cornbread. I know I'm a pain in the ass, and not everybody has your cool head and reserved attitude and will put up with me.

But I just wonder: what will happen if one day there is a real emergency, and you don't have your face on yet?

They unhook me, and I'm at the front signing paperwork. Walli pauses in the hall. She has managed to find an administrative-looking sort in a cubicle or something. She goes into honey-I-bet-you-can-help-me-with-a-question about a medical dilemma another friend has been having with the network.

I am at the front door. I open it. Oops, that would be the closet. I open the other one and smell freedom. I look back at her. Should I interrupt their conversation?

Nah, I can drive home just fine. Those fluids were literally a shot in the arm for me!

Later in a phone conversation I get the "Hello!" (You know, the "HELLO" that means someone is very unhappy with you?)

"Now how on earth could you just walk out without telling me? What were you thinking when you..."

You get the drift.

I'll lay low for a few days. Maybe I'll hide here in the toad abode in the dark where Walli can't find me when she decides to come after me with her broom...

Walli's Yard And Squawking Mockingbirds

I have been wandering around Ken and Walli's yard this early Wednesday morning taking photos of her garden. (No, I don't ask permission. We walk into one another's houses without preamble. So the yards are non-negotiable!)

Recently-retired-from-teaching neighbor Leanne walks quickly by me on her early morning walk. (Hey, she's been able to lose a-l-o-t of weight walking. And kept it off! Boy, do I need to find time to get out there with her!) We get a few words of morning cheer in between her quick strides. I am busy snapping away, backing into the street to get shots. I'm sure Walli and Ken are having their morning coffee and reading the daily newspaper. So I shall not bother them.

We are a close neighborhood. It is much like my "beloved blogging neighborhood." (Friendly, peaceful and harmonious for the most part!) And I cherish my little spot on the corner of the cul-de-sac, as well as the blogging community.

Today marks one week into the bathroom remodel. My pets are suffering from there's-strange-people-in-my-space-all-day syndrome. Last night after everyone had left for the day, big Clyde the cat happily sucked on my left earlobe like an infant as I lay on the floor doing my back stretching exercises. You need not tell him he is nearly ten years old. He will always be a baby in need of comfort. But he has not done this (the infantile sucking) in a long time. I know he is traumatized from trying to skitter down the hall to his litter box in between men walking down said hall with heavy marble and such. Poor baby.

Yesterday two men slowly and daintily (if men can be dainty) walked in the large piece that will be the bottom of the shower. Only to discover the plumber was "off" one inch on the drain. Oh well. The joys of remodeling.

That's why I hired Cherie of Granite Girls. I do not like to get in the middle of things I have no knowledge whatsoever about. When they come in and ask me, - "where is the something-or-other for the shower?" - I tell them to call her. Not my jurisdiction, fellas.   

Cherie tells me probably 90% of clients do not think to offer snacks and drinks to the workmen. Hmm. Well, I believe in being kind to people, even if you don't know their name. I take a big tray of treats and cold sodas to them about twice per day. And it's not like I'm a great host or anything. (I don't think in my 51 years I have ever held an actual party!) It's just common courtesy. I know it must be difficult to go out for nourishment when you have masks on and paint all over you.

So here it is 8:30 a.m., and not a peep have I heard. I suppose they're all waiting until the plumber makes it back to start trying to refigure that drain hole. I shall stick to what I know and love, which is keeping the pets out of harm's way and writing to all of you. And then reading all of you!

If it seems as though I am writing in "fits and starts"...I am. Abigail the Yorkie has had her Lasix medication and every few minutes she whines and out we go to potty. Oh, the joys of motherhood!

When every few minutes I have to run outside, I hear the whir of machinery across the street and down one house. They are having their kitchen remodeled. They will be moving to a new home in a just-being-built assisted-living neighborhood. But are having their 1980's kitchen remodeled so it will be easier to sell when their's is finally built in a year or so. (Now that poor woman is more scattered than I am, and older, so we'll see what shape she's in when the remodel is finished! I have a feeling a doctor's visit will be in order.)

You know, so many of you juggle motherhood (whether it be children, pets or grandchildren), a full-time job outside the home, (sometimes two), keeping up with your blogs, gardens, homes, etc. Now I know all about mult-tasking. And I'm an energetic sort. But how on earth do you get it all done!

I am stupified by this. I cannot conceive of managing all that and still being sane. I do heartily admire your strength in doing the juggling act! You're made of tougher stuff than I am!

Well, it's almost 9:30. They're usually milling about by now. Cherie and I have spoken awhile ago about the mix-ups between all the contractors while she was in Dallas picking up granite tops yesterday. (Why don't they teach men communication skills in high school? It should be right up there with history and math. One hand never seems to know what the other is doing.) She told me she has had to change schedules four times since 7 a.m. I don't envy her job either.

Oh, I just hope to get to sleep in my bed again soon. The dogs and I are sleeping on the couch in the garden room. Because Abi and I have asthma. And Abi is having a rather tough time of it due to all the dust involved in remodeling. Every muscle in my body aches, it seems.

I've no idea where Walli picked up this creature from the Blue Lagoon. But if anyone is curious, I shall ask her.

What should have taken me less than 30 minutes to write; this disjointed post today, may have been confusing. I apologize. I just came back inside from another "Abi pee break". And every time I go outside, I get nosedived by a squawking mockingbird. (Why are mockingbirds so aggressive and loud?)I'm assuming it has a nearby nest. But it has invaded my yard big time and sooner or later, I'm afraid we will collide.

Have a wonderful Wednesday all!

 

Just Because

This Monday morning, by mere happenstance, I came across a blog that gave me more than pause...

I was so touched, so moved, that I went outside to my favorite and most beloved place on earth: my gardens. Where I went about the chore of cleaning the pond while I wept.

It reminded me of a post I wrote last week, in which I brought up the "not so pretty" things that stop us in our tracks. For those of you who will, I ask you to go visit this strong, gifted, amazing woman who has been dealt a bad hand. The blog is called My Quill And Pen.

I had a delightfully amusing post all planned for today. But this entry I have decided to share with you instead.

Upon coming back inside, after standing in my gardens taking in the beauty of it all, I sat down and wrote this:

____________________________________________________________

Just Because

Just because you live...in a pretty little house

With pretty little pictures on the wall

Just because you joke...when you really want to cry

And no one really gets the drift at all

Just because the sun comes up...and it makes you smile

And makes the whole wide world a better place

Just because you love...and open up your arms

That big smile may mean nothing on their face

Just because you want it...it may not come your way

Nor is it always even meant to be

Because you see...sometimes there just is not

An open gate that means that you are free

Just because you have...money for nice things

And the pantry is most always filled with food

You have to look close...at someone you may love

And know they'll never change their attitude

So if you think that just because...there are always flowers in the vase

Please look closer at it all...because it's not just a pretty place.

_________________________________________________________

May the sun shine brightly on all of you, my dear friends, on this mid-summer day.

Life Is A Spider Web

I know it is hard to see, but this is the spider web I found stretched across my garden pond this gorgeous Sunday morning.

On Friday morning, I got up and went about my pet chores and such as I always do. (After all that I treat myself to my morning cup of coffee!) I had given Abigail her medication. One of her morning pills is Lasix. It is for her heart and makes her urinate quite frequently for the next two or more hours.

And so I had her in my arms to get past the remodeling mess when a plumbing contractor stopped me in the living room to ask me a question. It seems to be a long-winded question. As I am standing there nodding, I feel this warm liquid spreading down my legs. Down into my shoes with the $30 shoe inserts my podiastrist insisted I buy. Nodding...nodding. Answering questions. Drip, drip...drip.

Finally the contractor handed me his cell phone and said I was to talk to the head Granite Girl, Cherie. I take his phone and (I think I shouted) say (without even the typical hello): "I have dog pee in my shoes!"

There was a moment of silence. I think everyone working in the house heard me. You could have heard a pin drop. Then Cherie goes on as if nothing odd has just happened and relates that I am to go pick out faucets. I tell her I am not mobile for the next two hours, as that is how long the dog will be peeing.

Now I'm sure she doesn't typically get a client like me who shouts such things into the phone. And I'm sure the plumbing contractor is not accustomed to middle-aged (Is 51 past middle-aged???) women screaming such things into his cell phone.

But ladies, I had pee in my shoes! And $30 shoe sole inserts to boot!

That plumbing contractor would not meet my gaze the rest of the day.

Doesn't he pee too?

It's not as though I can simply put this dog outside and let her pee for two hours and then let her safely back in. My vet has told me that I must accompany her whenever she goes outside, as she is not to get to the point where she is panting. Due to her heart problem. And I live in East Texas. It is hot and humid.

I cannot tell you how many times I have sat in this very desk chair with this dog splayed across my lap typing or talking to all of you via our blogs, and felt my lap fill with warm liquid. That is why I now have a leather chair instead of a fabric one!

Well, she's at me again. So I must run take her out. You see, it is only 10:21 a.m. I have probably an hour to go yet. And then I too have to pee. I'm sorry if you find me somewhat indelicate. I've had my morning coffee. And please comment and inform me differently if you are not human and don't at times have to pee yourself. 

Remodeling & Menopause Does Not Mix

I promised myself I would share this ridiculous story of what I mistakenly did on Thursday. It has been a hectic week. Thursday was a mere day two of the bathroom renovation. Do you remember when I said the thought of remodeling sets my teeth on edge? I get a bit frenzied with all these people stomping through my house and leaving my lone toilet seat up, etc.

I had decided to go out and run a few errands. Of course I have to worry about the dogs with the workers milling about and going in and out. So instead of just shutting them in the garden room, I decided to put them in the dog crates I'd brought out of storage for that very purpose. Because one of the men could always open the garden room door to speak to me, and let them out.

So I am hungry, and a bit hurried. I shove their yapping selves, one to a huge crate, in. Now I'm thinking as I attach the hard plastic doors to the crates: Hmmm. They make this a bit difficult. Funny...

And as I'm about to go out the back door, I have a thought. Well, Mom, you really should give them a bone to chew. So I get a bone for each one and I can't get the doors to the crates open. I am puzzled, admittedly. Hungry and puzzled does not bode well for me.

Guess what I did? I l put the doors on backwards and locked the dogs in the crates!

I quickly move from puzzled to completely beside myself. I cannot get those doors off. I try the sides. Nope. The back. Nope. I call Walli who lives behind me. She is fixing herself a sandwich. I tell her to drop it and run. I have a real problem.

I meet the poor woman at the back door. She quickly sees that we have a "predicament." I am wondering aloud if we should call the fire department. She says no, that would upset all the neighbors and give someone a heart attack. Gosh, Walli, I'm about to have a heart attack! Well, she says, we may have to put the big crates into the Pathfinder and take them to the fire department if we cannot come up with a solution.

She tells me to go find some tools. I fetch the heavy toolkit that is holding up the large print that stands against the bare wall of the exercise room. Remember the hole in the wall behind the bathtub story? Well, that room is next on the renovation list. For now, the big framed print keeps the pet babies from going into the dark hole that seems to be the innards of my house.

Walli saves the day! She wrangles around with tools and manages to snip a piece of the hard plastic doors off enough to pry her fingers inside and flip the switch that I unwittingly closed. The yapping dogs are freed.

I must have aged five years in that dreaded event.

It is now Saturday, Day Four of the master bath renovation. For two days they had the old toilet sitting in the master bedroom. Susan from Blackeyed Susan's Kitchen blog suggested I place flowers in the toilet bowl as a joke to liven the place up a bit. I told her the dogs would rip the flowers to shreds, then Bonnie the white cat would eat the rest, as she eats any green thing that comes in the door.

The toilet is now gone (thanks to Walli's husband Ken who decided he wanted it for their country place. I had told him he could have it. Didn't know he had someone help him move it until I went outside and followed the trail of water down my paths and out my gate and down the street!) Don't they drain these things first... I don't know much about remodeling and such. Oh, but I'm learning!

I have trained my dh to put the toilet seat down, lest one of the pets go for a dive. But I do not feel comfortable hounding nameless workmen about more than the front gate that must be shut to keep the dogs from running out. And I don't seem to be able to break the language barrier there either.

I take them a tray of snacks mid-morning each day. Something to be said for trying to stay on their good side. (I hope...)

The dogs and I spend our days here closed off in the garden room. Trying to stay out of their way. And you know I'm never too far from my computer.

My bathroom now has sheetrock. Otherwise it is a room with a drain that will be the middle of a shower stall eventually. Yesterday I had my house jackhammered yet again. (How on earth do these plumbers hear after engaging in such activities!) It is a shell that I hope one day will be a relaxing bathroom.

Alas, as with most remodeling projects, there have been a fair share of snafus. I'm happy I already take blood pressure medication, or I'd likely be in the hospital by now.

Oh my, does everyone think remodeling is horrendous? 

Anyway, Violet at Lady Greenthumb's Garden has tagged me. In my confused menopausal state, I seem to remember a few week ago that Cinderella from Hopscotch And Hydrangeas tagged me too. I just hope in my feebled mind that it was the same tag. Anyway, here are a few things I will admit to:

I have already linked to the people who tagged me, so I have fulfilled that requirement. Below are the rules. And here are 6 random things about me.

1. I am impatient as h**l

2. I drive too fast, walk like I'm escaping a raging fire, and eat like the plate is about to be jerked away. In other words, I'm one of those people you try to dodge in the grocery store lest you be run over.

3. I hate noise. The TV grates on my nerves. When I'm out and about I feel crazed listening to all the varied cell phone conversations coming from every conceivable direction.

4. I like to listen to talk radio, particularly NPR while driving at alarming speeds through my city. (Well, I will amend the alarming part. I have only had two traffic tickets in my life and I'm 51, so either I'm luck rides with me. Or I don't drive as fast as I think.

5. I have never played cards. I have never gone bowling. I have never been wed properly "down the aisle." And I'm on number 3. (Not likely to happen now. Oh, I've never been one for ceremonies. I was one of the few little girls who never dreamt of the beautiful white wedding dress!)

6. I'm not entirely proper. Which means I often shock people by saying what I should just keep to myself. My goodness, they likely think, a woman her age just saying whatever comes to mind... Oh, the old menopause syndrome bails me out once again. (Psst! When is it I have to give up that tired excuse?) I try not to offend. I help elderly people whenever in a store and they appear bewildered. I volunteer my time. I don't break the law. So why can't I just be myself and not have to lie at this point in my life? I never was good at social dithering. That's why I stay to myself.

Now I get to extend this to six other bloggers who will probably curse me.

1. Tina, Stitching In Texas 2. Tracie, My Petite Maison 3. Curtiss Ann, Pressing On 4. Beth, Gathering Dust 5. Joanna, Sweet Finds 6. Teresa, French Poppy.

Teresa just a few days ago sent me the gorgeous print above. I won it in a drawing, and she is the talented artist who made it. I thank you, Teresa! I shall have it framed and cherish it forever!

Antique Mall Tour: Day 2

Put your walking shoes on. We're treasure hunting!

I did not read the sign below about these old photos until just a little while  ago. It is a hoot! Pick your own ancestors...mess with your children once you're dead and gone!

"Now is that Aunt Cecilia? I never met her. Looks like mother, doesn't she?" (And Mother bought the photo at the antique mall and stuck it in the scrapbook! Sounds just like something I'm apt to do!)

There are tole trays galore at this antique mall.

Anyone for a board game tonight? I use to love playing Monopoly when I was a kid!

Another sewing machine table! And it's red! I cannot believe how many sewing machine tables I have seen at this mall in one given day.

I don't know exactly what the item below is exactly supposed to be. So I shall call it a vintage whimsical sculpture.

Anyone know of a bordello that needs lighting? Oh, what ambience!

Well, sit yourself down and take a load off. There are so many pretties on the walls and hanging from the rafters, you won't even know you stopped moving.

Okay, that's it, ladies. Hope you enjoyed your antique mall tour. If you're ever in Tyler, take a little trip downtown and bargain hunt. 

Tour Of The Tyler Antique Mall

Come on in, folks! We're fixin' to tour the Tyler antique Mall!

You are here, downtown Tyler. I didn't even figure out this was here until about a month ago. They've been open since the first of the year. Where was I? I want you to look what I was missing! Some darned good buys, that's what!

How about this little antique grocery cart?

This little section below has scads of numbers and letters in all forms.

Is this colorful enough for you?

I've got to go back and check the price tag on this red corner cabinet. Isn't it sweet?

The woman with this booth is obviously "romantically inclined." Pink and white abound.

Mosaic heaven!

I love this lamp! But I passed on it for now. I know those feathers wouldn't last long with Bonnie the white cat in the house! Before I know it, she'd have this poor chicken plucked!

How about that chandelier? If I hadn't gotten rid of that never-to-be-used glass punch bowl and cups, just look what I could have made with it?

A cute trunk with a mural painted on the side.

You know how I love sewing machine tables! I already bought one old beat upper from here. But this one is in a class all by itself. I talked to the lady who built this. On top underneath the glass is lace and all kinds of pretties!

   

Are you tuckered out yet? Let's go get some iced tea down the street and come back later.

I'll post more goodies from this tour tomorrow! Rest yourself up now!

Dog Kerchief Gloom

Abigail: We go see Susan the dog groomer every other week. We get bathed and clipped. And once in awhile, Susan ties a little kerchief around our necks. We hate the kerchiefs, and immediately try to chew them off. Our Mom has told Susan not to waste her kerchiefs on us, because we usually tear them off and rip them to shreds before we even get home. But for some reason, today Susan put one on us anyway. And we are already home and Susan must have tied a good knot, because obviously here we are. We are sad, because we haven't been able to get our kerchiefs off yet. Please feel our pain...

Poor Charlie cannot even look at the camera, he is so upset with his having to wear the dreaded kerchief.



Please feel our indignity and outrage...



Abi: Help! I can't get this thing off!



Charlie: Neither can I!

Abi: I'm scratching at it, but I just can't get it untied!



Charlie: I shall have to curl up in shame in the crates Mom got out because the bathroom renovation is beginning.



Mom: Well, everybody just calm down. After I took these photos, I helped the poor furbabies out. I untied the kerchiefs and dispensed of them. Susan tries so hard to accessorize them, especially around holidays. And she just can't convince them how sweet they look with a little glam!

Something To Remember

We bloggers tend to write about the good stuff. The meaningful anniversaries, the wondrous events in our lives. But sometimes, we are like the tree above. Barren in our loneliness, ensconced in our grief, or otherwise filled with sadness. Sometimes we are going through things that are difficult. And it is quite often these times when we can help others the most.

I am not a font of wisdom, certainly. Far, far from it. But when people take the time to write to me, it is usually not to address the funny events I often write about. It is about the experiences that have been filled with nostalgia, uncertainty, or heartache. Because it touched upon something that they too are going through.

So I hope it is not presumptuous of me to say this. To all of the wonderful and talented bloggers out there; whether you write about gardening, art, crafts, decorating, or whatever it mostly pertains to: please keep this thought in mind. Remember that all of us are human. And most of us who would be reading this post in the first place, (readers and bloggers alike) are typically other women. And as such, I think it is good that we sometimes address our own life experiences. That in so doing we might reach out and touch someone else who may be going through that very thing.

And who might feel so much better, just knowing they are not alone in their struggle. Whatever it may be.

Cute Critter In The Garden

I've been complaining for months now that I haven't seen a frog in my garden. Well, I don't know much about frogs and toads. And exactly what constitutes what. But look at this cute little critter! I spied it in the small aloe pot I just started a few weeks ago!

I'm outside with the dogs this morning, and see that some transplants are looking rather haggard and droopy. So I get the hose, figuring I'll give them a dose before the East Texas heat sets in for the day.

I'm watering away. And suddenly I see this "blink" out of the corner of my eye. Now I love my garden, as everyone knows, but when I see something "blinking," I get a little gun-shy and feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to salute. I turn around and there it is in all its amphibious glory. Why this tiny little pot, I ask any of you who know much about these things?

I'm not fond of scaly skin myself. But isn't he/she a cutie pie?

I was afraid Abi and Charlie were going to "spy" the cute little critter too. So I quickly turned off the hose and steered them into the house, promising treats. I didn't want to see scaly skin flying about the yard.

I just now went back out again. (Abi goes out quite often in the morning after her Lasix pill. She has a heart condition at the ripe old age of not quite two years old!) And said critter was gone. Made me a little sad.

I guess this old standby will have to do. He's been guarding over the garden for some time. And he's cute enough. Even without the blinking eyes.

 

I know one of you knowledgable-about-such-things smarty pants is going to set me straight on the difference between a frog and a toad. So I keep the dictionary right by the computer. I'll give her a look myself.

Frog: 1.any of various smooth-skinned web-footed largely aquatic tailless agile leaping amphibians. Compare toad. 2. the triangular elastic horny pad in the middle of the sole of the foot of a horse. 3. a loop attached to a belt to hold a weapon or tool. (And it goes on and on! Who knew?)

Toad: 1. any of numerous anuran (?) amphibians (esp. family Bufonidae) that as compared with the related frogs are generally more terrestrial in habit though returning to water to lay eggs...yada, yada,yada. 2. a contemptible person or thing.

Sounds like a lot of double-talk to me. Except for the last sentence. I've met a few of those in my time!

The Garden At Night

"Her angel's face. As the great eye of heaven shined bright. And made a sunshine in the shady place." - Edmund Spenser

I so love the magical place that is the garden at night.

Infinite possibilities lurks behind every bush, nook and cranny.

Art has features I don't always notice in the day time.

I think about the next season. What I might plant next year.

Then I sit out in the courtyard after my little stroll through the yard. Listening to the night sounds. Wondering what the next day will bring.

Ever mindful of what this means to me. The peace and tranquility it brings to my life. Thankful for my little space that gives me such joy.

It's "Bean" One Of Those Days

I'm taking one of those silly opportunities to show off my Hyacinth Bean vine. I've never planted it before. It's one of those I ordered from Renee's Heirloom Seeds last winter. Before I started planting, I told myself, this year I'm going to record everything I plant in the gardens. Of course, life intervened, and I, sadly, did not. Now I'm surprised by all that's blooming. But it's a nice sort of surprise.

The rest of the day was not.

It started okay. We finalized the deal to renovate the two 1980s bathrooms last night. One, of course, sits naked after the mishap when the underground hot water pipe burst, and I had to have my floor jackhammered. This was months ago. Still reeling from several calamitous events right in a row, we let three rooms sit in their back-to-concrete glory. Awaiting bids and money to start renovating the damage after it flooded the back part of our house.

The Granite Girls are going to be busy at our place for awhile. I'll post more on them later. This morning they brought various contractors into my bathroom to discuss what to do. Just the thought sets my teeth on edge. For when you start remodeling, you're apt to find more things that need urgent fixing. This I've learned the cold-hard-cash-way.

My neighbor Walli was kind enough to fix me a nice fresh cucumber, avocado and chicken sandwich for lunch. Why is it stuff just tastes better at someone else's house? Anyway, it was delicious. She's a more creative master of the kitchen than I'll ever be.

Then the Vacuum Hospital (yes, that's what it's called) phoned to say my vacuum cleaner had been serviced and was ready for pick up. (I probably tore it up vacuuming concrete floors...) They were going to be closed for the holiday, they told me. I said I'd be right over. It's not a mile down the street from me.

Of course, these two pitched a royal fit.

"Mom's getting ready to go out! Let's moan and groan and yip and cry and make her feel guilty enough to take us!"

And so, thinking I would just be gone a short time, I allowed them to go. I left the car running in front of the tiny vacuum shop, ran to the door not six feet away, and thrust my claim ticket at the guy. I told him I had the dogs in the car, and I couldn't take my eye off them. Of course I left the car going for the air conditioning. But I know these dogs have figured out how to roll the windows down, so I have to be on the alert. He tells me to go on out and stay with them. He'll bring the vacuum, run my debit card, and bring it out for me to sign. I've never met the man. But he seemed nice enough and it was mighty kind of him. I raced back to the car.

Did I mention that this vacuum happens to be the Dyson Animal? Ha-ha! Double entendre! I'm being cute.

I sign the slip and go back home. At about three minutes after 5 p.m., I decide to empty my purse and put my things in the new one I picked up yesterday while out shopping. I'm not a big purse buyer, but this one happened to catch my eye. 

As I'm organizing what few things I carry around, I notice: Oh my! My debit card is missing! Yeah, you got it. I was in such a hurry with those silly dogs that I either left it with the guy or dropped it on the pavement. My heart begins the typical I-did-something-stupid-and-careless race.

I phone the Vacuum Hospital. The phone rings and rings to no avail. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat imagining how I'm going to get through the next few days wondering just who has my precious debit card in his hand. Of course, the man might have it tucked away in a good spot for me to come back and get it. But then, why didn't he call me? And then of course there's the chance some ne'er-do-well has scooped it up with merriment. And gone into the Walmart next door to the vacuum shop for a shopping spree. My fears mount.

At about 5:15, I give up on anyone answering the phone. I figure there's not going to be anyone still there if I rush over. So I reluctantly call my bank to cancel the card. Of course you can't do anything simply these days. My bank is just over a block away, but the bank itself is closed. And I won't be put through to them anyway. I'll get someone from who knows where. (It's one of those national outfits.) Finally, after frantically punching numbers and wondering where the old days went when computers didn't tell you what to do, I finally get a human being.

I tell her about my predicament. She looks up my account after I verify that I am who I say I am, wasting more precious minutes. And tells me there's been no activity since I left the vacuum shop. I breathe a sigh of relief. And cancel the card.

As I sit ruminating over the silliness of the day, I realize that, yes, the tail is wagging the dog. I let these mutts run all over me. I am putty in their paws. I was a rather strict mom with my adult daughters. But the dogs slobber all over me. They've got my number.

Charlie's not worried. He's a chow hound. Weighs ten sturdy pounds and doesn't miss a meal. By the way, that's Kashi cereal there on the right. Yes, my dogs like Kashi cereal, and I give them a little each day. There's only one flavor they like, though.

Here's Princess Abi. Tell me how on earth you can say "no" to those eyes?

So the moral of the story is: If only I'd left them at home. Taken my time and gone into the Vacuum Hospital. Done my business in a normal fashion. I likely wouldn't have been careless enough to leave my debit card...somewhere.

If I wasn't such easy pickins', poor Clyde wouldn't be sitting on the other side of the gate, wondering if he dares to dart past these Yorkies to get inside and to his food bowl. (I also wouldn't have chicken wire strapped to my gate if they hadn't figured how to get through the slats.)

Poor Clyde. There was a day when he ran the house. But he made the mistake, back when I first got the dogs that have yet to hit their second birthday, to run from them. Now they chase him, yapping with glee. And he hasn't figured out that, if he'd just stop and scratch them with his mighty claws, they'd back off and leave him alone. Bonnie, on the other hand, sits fat and happy and tells them where to go when. And they listen.

So I'll have to go into the bank on Saturday morning and order a new debit card. Feeling foolish all the way. And sometime next week, they'll come in and start jackhammering the place again. Or whatever they do to take out a bathtub and all that surrounds it. I'll be walking around for who knows how long with a dog underneath each arm to keep the dogs away from the workers and out of danger's way. But hey, I'm getting a new bathroom soon!

Yeah, I know. I lost the upper hand. If I ever had it to start with. I don't take two steps without turning around and catching myself before I stumble over a dog that's right behind me. Nosing at my heels as I go about my day.

And I don't want to hear about the book I should buy to learn how to be a master with my dogs. It's already on the bookshelf, most likely. Read, and neatly put away. 

Cutie From Etsy

Is this not the cutest little set of pincushions you've ever seen! Beth from Beths Bagz made this and I ordered it last week. Beth has the sweetest blog. That's how I met her. Then I saw that she made things for Etsy. And if you haven't shopped Etsy, you haven't shopped. It is all handmade items. These women are so imaginative!

And Beth, I was so delighted with the way it was packaged. I was like a child at Christmas opening this delightful box. And so impressed that you added little extras along with my order!

Anyway, I have this set of pincushions (and it came with the plate in those little cupcake papers) next to my computer so I can just stare at it!

It's wonderful that there is a place like Etsy for people to sell their handmade creations. You can't imagine what all you can find.

On to the garden...

Sedum Autumn Joy is about to bloom.

My neighbor shared this with me, and I planted it in a somewhat shady spot. I love the deep purple leaves shaped like triangles.

I don't know what I'm going to do if this Elephant's Ear in the pond gets any bigger! I've tied the stalks to keep it from falling over. I suppose I'll have repot it. It's looking like the jolly green giant of the pond!

The crepe myrtle trees have glorious blooms right now.

I just love the shape of the leaves on this geranium. It comes back year after year. And I don't over-winter it inside either.

 

We're all concerned about the people affected by these storms and fires of late. I was reading Newsweek last night. And yes, it says global warming is the cause of this year's extreme weather. It seems downpours have increased so much that "100 year storms" now strike some areas every 15 years!

It said that "only in this decade have "attribution" studies managed to finger greenhouse gases as the chief cause of the rising mercury, rather than a hotter sun or cyclical changes. The last two produce a different pattern of climate change than man-made warming does."

Scary news. One clue, it seems, is that global warming has caused the jet stream to shift north. A lot of technical information. But the bottom line is not to blame Mother Nature.

Contrast In The Garden

Have you tried mirrors in the garden? (Please excuse the sneakers I had on.)

In fact, we're getting ready to remodel the bathrooms. And I'm scheming on how I can manage to get those huge 1980s mirrors off the walls and out to the garden without breaking them!

You can't beat good old sweet potato vine against most anything. But this one goes particularly well with plants in the shade of chartreuse. It always amazes me that the sweet potato vine above starts out green and then turns this deep shade of purple.

Dusty Miller is another good one. It grows and grows. Keep it clipped back, and you will be rewarded with beautiful silver foliage which shines in the moonlight for quite awhile. And it gives any pot or garden lovely contrast. These sedums just set it off. I don't let mine get leggy. Root power is wasted.

Sago palm with succulents and sedum. Oh, and see the marbles in the Sago palm pot? Helps keep the moisture in on hot days, and looks good to boot. Just layer it on top of the potting soil.

I love passing by this trio of plants on my way to the mailbox. This pot full of color just makes me smile.

And another tip, if you're wondering what that pole-looking thing is in the far right pot, that's a solar light. I place them in pots throughout the garden to light up my paths at night.

And for those of you interested, guess what's now in a bookstore near you?

Yep, and I can't wait to thumb through it!