Index August 2018 and September 2018

Index September 2018 and August 2018

	AUGUST 2018
August 1, 2018	“I am not allowed to ask that question.”
August 2, 2018	Wisp of a memory of a checkerboard wood bowl
August 3, 2018	Funny thing, I do the same thing.
August 4, 2018	The context of a word – oligarch
August 5, 2018	Puddle walking
August 6, 2018	Hacks is now the word for tips and tricks?
August 8, 2018	Status, bit of this and that
August 9, 2018	Uncertainty, Stress, Change?
August 10, 2018	You know you are a gardener when . . .
August 21, 2018	Writer’s project for August
August 22, 2018	Lost and Found in Two Acts
August 23, 2018	Re-shrub or no shrubs at all
August 24, 2018	By product of removing shrubs – potential end table
August 25, 2018	First section of planting new front foundation
August 26, 2018	Not as I do, but as I say
August 27, 2018	Nomenclature, or what is in a name
August 28, 2018	Re-landscaping foundation without shrubs
August 29, 2018	The grocery bag trick – revisited
August 30, 2018	Revisiting Kondo’s tidying book
August 31, 2018	Fast tip/trick – sort of a slight of hand & Index September 2018
September 2, 2018	The newest project – cement ramp into shed
September 3, 2018	Finished the ramp and started on the brick pavers
September 8, 2018	Bit of this and that, on pause, and then cute
September 18, 2018	Kudzu eradication started September 11, 2018
September 19, 2018	A funny moment
September 20, 2018	September’s Writing Group assignment
September 21, 2018	Aftermath of Hurricane Florence
September 22, 2018	Electronic subscription? Mistake or . . . .
September 23, 2018	“I have actually been writing in my mind my whole life.”
September 24, 2018	I took some flak from yesterday’s blog
September 25, 2018	Side dish – just some pondering thoughts
September 26, 2018	The delight of late summer roses
September 27, 2018	Another miscommunication – HUH?
September 28, 2018	Was it coincidence or heaven-sent?
September 29, 2018	Is sleep important?
September 30, 2018	New cleaning tips – I am currently trying

September 30, 2018 – New cleaning tips -  I am currently trying

Sinks:

         When I was a teenager, I read Cosmopolitan magazine.  I remember a romance article where the heroine hand washed her cashmere sweater in order to get her filthy bathroom sink clean.  The narrative of that sad woman upset with her love life deciding to wash her filthy sink before washing her cashmere sweater made a lasting impression on me. She actually shared more about her dirty bathroom sink than about her falling apart love life.

         Since those teenage days, I equate a dirty bathroom sink with a sad love life.  I’ve even commented mentally to myself in a jesting way when my bathroom sink looks grimy – time to hand wash a few sweaters and scrutinize my love life. [Yes, I do hand wash sweaters still.]

         I am retired and I am in my bathroom more often than when I was working. [Reason of course, I was in my work place bathroom during the hours 8 to 5].  Now, I am gardening and have to come and scrub up from the dirt and mud on my hands.  My bathroom sink is catching such heavy traffic these last few years of retirement.

         One morning I scrubbed the bathroom sink after I brushed my teeth and admired the gleaming faucets and sparkling bowel.  Three hours later, after I’d made a couple of bathroom trips, [You know, too much morning coffee], and I was washing the mud off my hands I noticed the sink faucet was covered in water spots and soapy hand residue splashes.  I wasn’t happy.  I’d just cleaned the darn sink that morning. Clean can’t last three hours?

         I thought I must be doing something wrong.  I obviously don’t know how to wash my hands if just washing my hands turns my bathroom sink into a pig sty in a matter of hours.  As I am washing my hands, I am staring at these hard water spots mixed with soap.  I rinse my hands, and turn off the faucet.  There it is – therein lies the problem.  My hands are wet and drip, drip, dripped all over the faucet I am turning off.

         I thought, what if I don’t turn the water off with wet hands, but instead grab a hand towel and wipe my hands first and then turn off the faucet.  I create no new drops that way.

         Maybe I’d fallen onto an idea to keep the bathroom sink clean.  I grabbed a stack of face cloths, stacked them near the sink.  I scrubbed the sink down until it glistened back at me.

         The rest of the day when I washed my hands, I left the water running, grabbed a face cloth, wiped my hands and then used the face cloth to turn off the water.  No hard water droplets left on the chrome faucet.  It wasn’t the action of the washing of my hands, it was the turning off the tap with wet hands that was creating all this water spot and spatter mess.

         I continued this for the next few days and noticed I don’t have to scrub down my sink very often.  The wet face cloths are tossed in the laundry basket and I grab a fresh one each time. 

         Yes – I am on to something.  It has been two months now and I am still grabbing a freshly laundered face cloth to dry my hands before I turn off the faucet. I turn the faucet off with the face cloth, then toss it in the laundry.  Cheaper than paper towels – I solved that little problem. My bathroom sink now looks presentable all the time.

         Then, I assessed the kitchen sink.  I splash that sink as well.  I took a dishtowel and rolled it up like a sausage and tucked it behind the faucet along the back of the sink.  I notice less mess to clean up and every few days I whisk it away and put in a fresh dish towel.  Yes, bathroom and kitchen sinks now looking better.

Shower stall:

         After my hamstring pull got better, I could get down on all fours and caught up on scrubbing my glass shower stall doors and fiberglass enclosure again. It had gotten short shrift when I had a bum leg.  [I actually think cleaning is exercise – even though doctors say it is not.]

I got it sparkling clean with using full strength Castile soap on one of those magic erasers making small circular motions all up and down and around.  Then I rinsed it clean and wiped it dry. 

On the glass shower doors, after I got the hard water spots off, I took baby oil and wiped them down and buffed them.  I found that technique in one of those “clean everything” books.  It works wonderful – give it a try.

My shower stall is not one smooth landscape and I’ve tried using a squeegee in the past and never seem to get enough of the water off and am left with hard water spots as the squeegee doesn’t get into the lips and edges.

Just a few days later after my robust shower cleaning, I noticed when the late afternoon sun came glinting in that bathroom – the shower looked awful.  Those darn hard water spots back again. The shower doors looked fine, it was the shower walls that looked like I hadn’t cleaned them in weeks – when I’d just cleaned them a day or two before.

Oh sure, I’ve tried that after shower spray and I don’t see how it keeps anything clean – it sort of sticks to the hard water spots and then you still have to scrub.  I consider that spray just like spraying hair spray on your head and the residue falling on your bathroom floor.  You have to scrub it up.  That is the reason I don’t use hairspray – I don’t want to scrub it off the floor. [Also, I don’t like the way it feels on my hair anyway.]

I had a pale yellow tiled bathroom in Kansas once and I used a bath towel to wipe it down after each use, but all that did was increase my laundry.

A few days later, I was well enough to give my car a serious scrub down and spray wax treatment.  In doing so, I use an Absorba chamois.  It is a synthetic chamois, and I wipe the water off the car by section, wring it out and continue.  It dries the car, gives is a nice shine, and then I proceed to the spray wax treatment.

Why am I not using a chamois to dry my shower after each use?  That won’t fill my laundry with excess bath towels.

I’ve been doing that now for about a month and guess what – I don’t have to scrub the heck out of my shower stalls to get those hard water stains off. 

It took me a little bit of time to get the technique down.  I now have it broken up into sections on how much I wipe down before the chamois is wet and starts to leave water spots.  I then wring it out and continue.  I leave the chamois on the inside of the shower door to dry. 

Yes, it takes a little time, but I have it down to 78 seconds. I count a loud.  I work from the top to the bottom, I do the floor next to last and then finally do the doors.

I think I finally got a handle on a few more housekeeping issues.  Give them a try, see if they work for you, too.

        

September 29, 2018 – Is sleep important?

         “I find that when you have a real interest in life and a curious life, that sleep is not the most important thing.” – Martha Stewart

         There are times I don’t sleep and I turn out the light and re-wind the day wondering how all the time slipped so quickly through my fingers like sand.  Today, I had a nice surprise, a long visit with a dear friend.  A thirty-year plus  friend – you don’t have many of those in your life time. 

         Friends with that sort of vintage are just about as rare as antiques.  I can’t tell you how much catching up we did.  We went from one topic to another as easily as rain pattering the pavement.  One idea made us think of another idea and as she drove to the next county for lunch, our mutual talk and thoughts meandered just like the country back roads we traveled.

We discussed another mutual friend, Gerry, God Rest her Soul, she is no longer with us and I couldn’t remember a phrase Gerry used often.  After a few days of thinking about it, that elusive phrase came to me this afternoon.

         “Remember that phrase Gerry used to say when we got to a subject she didn’t want to talk about?”

“Don’t go there,” is what she used to say.

         We nodded and laughed.

         “I miss her snorkel . . .” my friend replied.

         We spent the next few moments imitating her snorkel.  That brought tears to my eyes and mutual giggles.

         "I remember how she hated the smell of my coffee when we used to go out to eat and the waitress always put my coffee in front of her and her sweet tea in front of me."

         My friend mimicked Gerry’s, “Eeww” she would gasp at the coffee aroma.  We laughed again.

         “You know, I still want to pick up the phone and call her sometimes . . . then I remember . . .”

         We fell silent for a moment.

         Later, it was fun, showing her my new projects and my new crazy ideas. It is easy when you are sharing something daring and adventurous with such a friend – you get nothing but positive vibes.

         Yes, a pleasant day, with someone else driving for a change. I relished just watching the rural landscape slipping past.  I noticed the green leaves of the tall tulip trees are starting to get yellow tinged edges coordinating with the massive patches of golden rod.  Fall is inching its way here.

         So many nice memories were dusted off today, refreshing my spirit and acting like Novocain on the new number of my age. 

         I don’t feel any different than I did yesterday – just my age has changed a digit.  Maybe my chronical age will catch up with me next month or next year or never catch up with me – now that is a thought.

         What was it Mom used to say about age – Yeah,  Curiosity keeps you young.

         Sleep isn’t coming - I’ve had a full day of exhilaration-I’ll re-wind it and “Play it again Sam.” 

         Martha Stewart is right, sleep is not the most important thing.

September 28, 2018 – Was it coincidence or heaven-sent?

         I miss my Mom.  This will be a difficult birthday for me, my first since Mom died; I won’t be getting a card from my Mom ever again. There won’t be a crisp bill with “In God we Trust” on it slipped inside with a note to buy something I’d like.  It’s not the money I miss – it is her handwriting – her choice of card and the sentiment she chose.  Sure, I’ll probably get cards from other people – but not from Mom.

Last year I drove up to Massachusetts and visited her close to my birthday when I helped clean out my parents’ home getting it ready to sell. She was frail then and lived with my brother, Ken. 

"The next time you see me, I’ll be in my box,” she had said with a lilt in her voice and smiling snap of her brown eyes.  She was being honest and humorous.  She always said, “Laughter is the best medicine” so she was serving up her final goodbye with her type of “sugar to make the bitter pill go down.”

 Just seven days after I kissed her goodbye, she passed away peacefully.

The whole time I was hugging her and saying goodbye; in my mind was the thought this will be the last time I will see her alive.  But, she was the brave one who actually verbalized it for the both of us.

I miss her optimism and her bravery. I’ve spent a year now reflecting on her life and now realize she had more than her share of courage or bravery in small things that added up to a well accomplished life.

I am not sure what I would say to her if she were here other than, “I miss you terribly.”

Thinking about her “courage” I went to my bookcase and pulled out a book I read a while back entitled:  Finding your Courage – unleash your full potential and live the life you really want, by Margie Warrell. 

What better time for me to re-read it.  Mom had an abundance of courage, I need to cultivate more for the rest of my life’s journey.

When I pulled the book out of the bookcase, I opened it up to a bookmark protruding from the top.

It was a letter from my Mom folded up – three pages – all out of sequence with no envelope.  First, I noticed it was from Mom and Dad – that would make it rather old so I looked for the date.  September 28, 2008 – which was my birthday 10 years ago!  Was that a coincidence?

What do they call that - a heaven-sent message from beyond?

I then shuffled the pages, put the letter in correct order, and read it again – it transported me to a time when both my Mom and Dad were alive.

They’d gone out to dinner at The Olive Garden.  Dad has seven pieces of chicken in his entrée and Mom had the scallops and shrimp Alfredo and brought half of it home for supper the next night.  They watched the movie, “Sabrina” and stopped at a bookstore to buy the history books, Harvard and Fort Devens. [I have those books now; I brought all her local history books home last fall and have been reading them at random.]

“We are catching up with our fall equinox rain,” she writes. Funny, today, we had a heavy rain.

I miss her letters they were weekly treasures.  Mom basically jotted down a paragraph a day for seven days, then signed it, “Much Love, Mom & Dad” folded it and shoved it in an envelope and mailed it to me.  The next day, she would start another one. 

Her letters gave me a complete summary of their lives – week in and week out for all the years since I moved away from home – my entire married life.  How could I miss her then, when I was getting letters . . . it was almost impossible.

Later, when she could no longer hold a pen to write – I would call her almost daily.  Soon that became difficult for her. She couldn’t hear me, and I couldn’t ask much or convey much as she didn’t understand.  Just hearing her voice was always enough.  She always would end the call, “Be Good.”

I don’t know how she managed it from heaven, but the 10 year old letter eerily dated with September 28^th – seems like a celestial sign from her that I chose the right book from my bookshelf.  I think she is telling me, “Find your courage.”

“Yes, Mom, I will do just that. I miss you both. Much Love back.”

September 27, 2018 – Another miscommunication – HUH?

Back story - set up:

         In the fall and winter our church, the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church has bible study classes after the Wednesday evening Mass.  I’ve been to several in past years and this year I signed up for the new class.  I am always surprised what I do know which is reinforced and then what I learn anew. A few classes ago, I especially liked the Angels and Demons class.  I enjoyed most all of it except when we got to the demons – you can keep them – I don’t want them around me.

         The Bible and the Virgin Mary - journey through scripture is the title of the program this year.  The class usually has a DVD presentation which is filled with quality speakers, gorgeous artwork, and spiritually moving sound track. Then we review our lesson and answer the questions in a group setting and have a discussion.

It is a place for “sweets” too – we have many excellent bakers in our church and most of the time there are sweets or eats and coffee. Additionally, the workbook is filled with beautiful artwork.  There are no tests. Whew – good thing – my attention span in the evening is much reduced.  I am a morning person.

         It is a pleasant evening and I live just five minutes from church so it is “ultra” convenient for me.  It gives me the opportunity to socialize with others like myself or as I often say, “my kind”. 

[In the future I will share with you the comment by an employer after a few weeks of work saying to me, “We’ve never had anyone in this office of your kind.”  I asked, “Kind?” and he answered, “Catholic”.  One doesn’t forget about little incidents like that. I believe I will take that one to my grave.]

The miscommunication:

         I announced last week [the first week] to my husband about 6:15 p.m. as I am about to leave,

         “I am going to Church then to Catechism class.”  I call it catechism class instead of bible study out of habit.

         He looks up at the clock and asks, “You are going to get vitamins this late in the day?”

        

         This time I didn’t have a snappy comeback.  I paused with my mouth open in surprise. I tried to say it again, and he made no comment. I finally grabbed a piece of paper and wrote it out and handed it to him. 

“Ohh,” he nodded understanding. 

         On the way to the church I was saying aloud to my guardian angel in the passengers seat, “God love him, he doesn’t hear anything I say anymore!”  Then I smiled, it was sort of funny mixing up catechism with vitamins. Catechism-vitamins – do they sound alike or they are just multi syllable words and he made a wild guess?

        

         Was the TV on too loud or was he just tired? 

         All during Mass my mind is wandering back to the catechism and vitamins.  What drug store did he think I was going to that sounded like church – or didn’t he hear any of what I said except the last word?  He has mentioned occasionally that I talk too fast.  Is that the problem?

         After Mass, I mention it to a friend and she smiles knowingly.  She owns a deaf husband too.  That is why I go to the catechism class to share the ups and downs and miscommunications of life with dear friends.

Her knowing smile was the honey in my hot-tea-of-life at that moment.

September 26, 2018 – The delight of late summer roses

         I like tall flowers in my gardens so that I can cut them and bring them in to arrange into bouquets.  Having a “tall” floral garden takes more effort than the typical bedding out of edging plants that don’t need to be cut back just watered and fertilized.

         After finishing the basket weave brick patio at the back of my house this spring, I have been re-working the gardens that flank it.  I left the tall Missouri Primrose, Oenothera macrocarpa, until they faded and produced seed. [They look awful at that stage, but I was desperate for the seed and had to deal with the messy look.]

         When I cut back the Missouri Primrose, I also took out the 20 year old blueberry bush that had seen better days, along with the poison ivy that had intertwined into a Chrysanthemum. [I had enough cuttings of that Chrysanthemum and it is doing well elsewhere in my gardens.]  I yanked it and half a wheelbarrow of mint.  That smelled grand while I was clearing the garden.

         To complete the garden clean up so that I could re-plant with some spring bulbs and continue the zig-zag Siberian Iris design, I cut the roses back. [Rose varieties that have been around for decades.] I have three, and remember the names of two of them, the third name escapes me at the moment. They are Queen Elizabeth which is pink and Mr. Lincoln which is red.  Both are fragrant.

         My husband always is shocked when I cut them severely back and by severely back I mean within 8 to 12 inches from the ground.  I took all the fallen dead leaves from around the bushes away and watered them heavily for the next few days.  Then, lucky for me – nature took its course and we received more than ample rainfall.

         Still thinking about the layout of the garden, I glance at it when I walk the dog or sit out.  In a matter of only a few weeks up shot fresh growth with buds galore! Beautiful blooms followed.  Always a delight!  We have fine weather here in the Carolinas way into fall and some years I think I have better late summer and fall roses than the spring flush of blooms.

         I haven’t always been this fortunate with roses – but these old timer varieties seem to be happy in this location and I have managed to keep them in good shape for almost 15 years. 

         The point of this blog is – roses like to be cut back in order to put out fresh growth.  So, if you want to keep the color in your landscape to enjoy do so, but after they bloom, you need to cut the faded blooms the correct way in order to get more.  [Not severely to the ground every time – but below I note a wonderful website that walks you through the pruning aspects.]

         That is why every time my husband complains, “You are cutting all the roses.” I reply, “That is what they are for – to be cut and brought in up-close and personal.” 

         What he doesn’t comprehend is that I am cutting them to encourage more growth to get more blooms.

         If you haven’t planted any roses in your landscape, now is the time to think about it and research it.  There are so many varieties to choose from.  But, research you must do as roses require ample care or you will only be disappointed.

Some gardeners have much luck with roses, while others don’t.  But, if you don’t try – you will never know – now will you?

Helpful websites to get you started on your research journey:

http://www.aces.edu/pubs/docs/A/ANR-0157/ANR-0157.pdf

https://homeguides.sfgate.com/trim-rose-bushes-back-five-leaves-65767.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose

P.S.  If anyone knows the old wives tale – you need ___ number of roses to get a bloom – please advise me.  I once had a rose culture book that discussed how many leave were necessary for a rose to produce a bloom and I used to toss that number around when people came to my rose garden at Trojan Lane.  The number has escaped me, but I do remember reading it in a horticulture book on roses.   Thanks in advance if you know and email it to me. [Send it through the comment section.]

September 25, 2018 – Side dish – just some pondering thoughts

         Recently I came across a phrase: “side dish”.  The first time was an article about a Mom and her teenage daughter who was beginning to date – not seriously and when asked, the daughter said, “He is only a side dish”.  Later on after college, when she brought a fella home to meet her parents, the Mom knew he wasn’t a side dish but the main dish even before the daughter mentioned it. I found the article “amusing” as I’d not heard the phrase before.

         But, today in the Dear Abby column I noticed:

         “If it’s an affair, you will be his side dish and unable to form a meaningful relationship. . . .”

         So, I checked the Urban Dictionary – seems I am checking that more often now since I guess I actually do live under a rock . . . and found that it has a profoundly “sexual” meaning – as in ‘mistress’.

         But, what surprised me more about the two different written articles for the public was the naiveté of the first writer and the down and dirty understanding of the second writer.

         So, here is my quandary as a writer.  Did the first author make a faux pas, and the second writer, as a national syndicated columnist, just have more experience.

         Did the first writer get scathing emails that she used the wrong phrase?

         Will I get scathing emails when I make such a faux pas?

         But, then again, when I searched further, I find there is an additional phrase, “sidedish boyfriend” which is basically an escort that isn’t sexual or even emotional.

         So, I am honestly back to square one. From my understanding it is a case of what sex is the friend – in order to figure out if it is a sidedish that is ‘sexually active’ or a sidedish that is just an ‘escort’.

         I am going to crawl back under my rock now.