Monet and Me

 

and Miro and Bruce are looking over the Red Book. It's the book that the Secretary of State sends out during state elections that explain the referenda questions to be voted on. This election there are an unprecedented 9 questions to be voted on.

The Red Book explains the pros and cons to voting for each question and helping voters to make informed choices. With 9 questions on the ballot, voting times may be longer than usual. So prepare ahead of time and Vote!.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

Sunrise

in

Autumn

The color of the day is yellow

Himself and I spent a long time struggling to get the cover on the hoop house to save the last of the tomatoes from a frost warning. Some time later as we congratulated ourselves on a job well done, a gust of wind blew the cover off.  Another project for Himself and "A" when "A" arrives.

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Talking Paper Pumpkin

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. After 48 hours, I finally got over the side-effects from the flu and Covid shots.

2. I found the coolest image in a magazine to use in my art journal.

3.  I helped Himself put the cover on the hoop house. After struggling with it, he noticed it was inside out. He said we would just leave it that way

4. Teague and I talked about our trip to Ogunquit next week.

5. I got my hair cut and my favorite stylist was in the salon.

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Meltdown

January 6, 2008

Wednesday started out as a promising day. It wasn’t snowing though it was as cold as a witch’s heart. People must have taken an extra vacation day as there was hardly any traffic on the Pike and the tollbooths weren’t backed up. I zipped through in record time and arrived at the Weebles to take them to the heart doctor appointment. The appointment they missed two weeks ago because Ma had to hem her trousers minutes before we had to leave.

Ma was in the living room and since there was time to spare, I sat down for a chat.

One of the psychics Ma sends money to, had sent her a glossy, black and white, 5” x 7” photograph. Ma displayed the picture on the wall among the pictures of the family. The Nephew had christened this woman “Auntie Rose”. Auntie Rose smiled her “You’re Stupid For Sending Me Money” smile. Ma was sitting on the settee under Auntie Rose and as I looked at the photograph, I was wondering who’s picture got taken out of the frame so Auntie Rose could be added to the wall of shame.

Ma was singing her version of the Big Bopper’s “I ain’t got nooo money, Honey.” I supposed I should have kept my mouth shut, but sometimes that’s easier said than done.

“You’d have plenty of money if you didn’t send all your money to your scammers.”

Auntie Rose smiled at me and Ma hit the roof.

I got told in no uncertain terms I had no business telling her what she could and could not do with her money. She didn’t need anybody.

I almost told her to ask Auntie Rose to take her to her appointments and shopping. I did tell her, if it wasn’t for me, she’d be out of luck, words more or less to that effect. We both simmered.

She lamented that Dad doesn’t make her lunch.

“Your not that much of an invalid that you can’t make your own lunch. Do you want him to eat it for you too? There are places for you if you can’t take care of yourself.” I fired a shot across her bow. Maybe it was an unfair shot, but I wish Ma would focus on what she still has and can do instead of woe is her.

“I’d go!”

The car’s warmed up. Let’s go! I’ll happily drive the bus, I thought.

We simmered. Apparently, Dad has been stinging Ma with if anything happens to him, the kids will put you in a home. They aren’t going to put up with you.

Dad came into her crosshairs on the ride to the office. The usual “He’s Stupid” song. We had just gotten into the lobby when he had his meltdown.

“I’m not taking this anymore!”

He tried to brush past me, but I caught him by the arm.

“Don’t be like that.” While I calmly said this I was thinking No way, Pal, I came all the way here, you're going to see the damn doctor whether you want to or not!

“I’m taking the stairs!” He pulled his arm from my grasp and pounded up the stairs while Ma and I waited for the elevator.

The doctor’s office was blessedly empty. Usually it is wall to wall weebles. Ma and Dad went to opposite corners and sat down and simmered.

The doctor was in the office, on time, and took them right away. Another miracle!

I wandered down to say hello to the med tech.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood…” I sang.

She laughed.

“Where is everybody?”

“I think they all went to Florida.”

Too bad I couldn’t send Ma and Dad to Florida.

“You’ll never guess what happened the last time you were here.”

“What?”

“I spun down the tubes [of blood] and when I took them out of the centrifuge they had broken! I thought of you having to make another trip back so I drove to their house to redraw the blood.”

There really are good people in the world.

From the waiting room, I could hear Ma whining to the doctor. No one does anything for her. She continued her song all the way home.

Dad was in the middle of making lunch for them. I just wanted a cup of tea.

Ma started in on Dad again.

Wham!

We jumped as Dad slammed his fist on the counter making it bounce. He grumbled and made his angry face. The one that used to put the fear of God into us as kids and set us making tracks.

“Ehhhh!”. I yelled the typical Italian retort of annoyance. I finished my cup of tea quickly and announced I had to shove off with the promise I’d return the following day for a trip to Market Basket. Apparently Ma offended Dad’s friend so my reprieve from grocery shopping had come to an end.

At home, I consulted the calendar to see if there was a full moon. Full moon is like a virus. Three days coming, three days with you, three days leaving. The full moon is still coming, but the moon was in waxing new moon phase. Which is a full moon on the dark side of the moon that we can’t see. No wonder the Weebles had a melt down. I began marking the calendar for full and new moon. Guess I'll have to risk the church roof falling in on me while I scoop some Holy Water from the baptismal fount.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

The referral and whether insurance would cover treatment at Dana-Farber was becoming a lefthand not knowing what the righthand was doing. Dana-Farber new patient in-take said no referral was needed. The medical group where my primary care physician worked denied a referral. The surgeon at Dana-Farber wanted a referral. I was told to call the insurance company and to ask for an Organizational Determination.

I spoke with the insurance company representative located in Iowa and I told her my sad, tale of woe. I told her the reason I chose Dana-Farber was because they are the only facility in the Northeastern U.S that has a program specifically geared to Ductal Carcinoma in Situ.  I could get good care in any facility across the Commonwealth, but at Dana-Farber I would benefit from their decades of research in DCIS. All they treat at Dana-Farber are cancers. Not only would I be treated medically/physical but I would be supported emotionally as well.

I was on hold off and on with the representative for over an hour as she consulted with her superior. At the end of the conversation she was very nice and said she couldn't say for certain, but she thought there would be a favorable outcome.

The funny part was I should have been worried about the cancer, the surgery, and treatments, but I was not. The back and forth from the doctor's group, insurance company, and Dana-Farber was giving me migraines.

The call for the Organizational Determination happened late Friday afternoon. I was told the answer could take 3 or so business days even though the representative said she expedited the paperwork.

I channeled my friend, Teague's oldest brother. He used to say, "Why can't everything be easy!" Only I added a language flavor modifier.

T Stands For

 

G'morning, Punkin

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s blog to find out what the rest of the T gang is up to. If you want to play, include a beverage or beverage container in your post. Don’t forget to link your blog from Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s page.

Monet and Me

 

along with Miro and Bruce are trying to decide which X-acto type blade will work better to remove ink from fine art paper. Will it be the standard metal, curved #10 blade or the curved ceramic blade?

Monet and Miro are going with the traditional metal blade. Bruce thinks the ceramic blade will work just as well, if not better. Testing is planned for later today.

What are your thoughts?

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

A new plant was discovered. Plant Net identified it as a Burning Bush

A ghost floated by.

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

The Secret of the Red Dot

The Friday Five Good Things

 

Five good things that happened this week.

1. Himself and I watched Annabelle Comes Home, the second of the Annabelle movies in The Conjuring pantheon. It was not as edge of the seat as the first Annabelle movie

2. I made crockpot baked ziti so no cooking for two days

3. After a doctor's appointment, we stopped for lunch. There was a fun Halloween decoration at the vacuum store.

4. One of the students in my class showed me a cool feature on iPhone.  The Notes app can scan a document saved to Notes. It works better than taking a photo as it does perspective and shadow corrections.

5. We got Covid and Flu shots and as a reward we stopped at Grafton Pizza to get gyros

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Cooking with Gas

“So, how did your Christmas visit with the Weebles go?”

The Brother smiled at me, a gleam in his eye. “You want a story? Have I got a blog for you.” He regaled us with a tale while we ate dinner in the dining room.

The Brother had told Dad he would drop by after dinner on Christmas Day. When they arrived Dad was bustling around with dinner preparations. Mind, The Brother had emphatically told The Weebles he wouldn’t have dinner there, but would stop by with coffee after dinner.

Dad had told me on Christmas Eve, The Brother and his family were coming for dinner. I tried to tell him otherwise.

The Weebles are not equipped to handle dinner for more than two people. The wall oven in the kitchen only broils. The bake element no longer works. The door to the oven must remain closed or completely open when broiling the hinge has given way and if one is not careful the entire door falls off. They have a cook top and a small toaster oven which is sufficient to handle dinner for two.

The basement to the Weeble house has a complete kitchen, as well as a bathroom, laundry room, and family room. This remodel was one of Dad’s projects when he was in a this old house phase. The bathroom/laundry area was never finished though the fixtures work. This had more to do with tax assessment than Dad not completing projects.

The stove in the downstairs kitchen is an ancient, white General Electric box. Its appeal to the 1950’s housewife was storage for broiling and baking pans and takes up more than half the oven. If the oven was a gas model, the oven would be only large enough to fit one’s head.

“Where was Ma?”

“She was busy in the kitchen cutting a table pad for the kitchen table,” said the Sister-In-Law.

Typical of Ma at this stage. She had known about The Brother’s visit for three days, but for some OPD reason had waited until their arrival to cut and sew the padding. At least no doctor’s appointment would be missed because she was busy with her project.

Dad went downstairs to check on the chicken leaving The Brother and his family to their own amusement in the living room. Five, ten, fifteen minutes ticked by and no sign of Dad.

The Brother and The Nephew went downstairs to see what was keeping him.

“There he was,” said The Brother, “He had two sticks in his hand.”

“Sticks?”

“Yeah, he looked like this,” said The Nephew. “He was sitting in a chair in front of the oven.” The Nephew pushed his chair back, perched his glasses on the tip of his nose and hunched over in a fair imitation of his grandfather.

“At first, I thought Grandpa was using the sticks to pull the oven racks out, but then there was a blue spark and a whiff of ozone, and the sticks were charred and getting smaller.”

The element to the oven consists of a thin, coiled wire. Over the years, the wire has become brittle, but if the ends are twisted together the circuit will be complete and the oven will heat.

The Brother mimed holding two sticks and then writhed as if electrocuted while emitting an electrical BZZZZT. We roared in appreciation of his antics.

The story took on the images of a horror classic.

Dr. Frankendad was downstairs in his basement laboratory. His monster chicken was trussed and secured to the examination table.

Frankendad threw the switch. The machinery hummed to life. The electricity in the Jacob’s Ladder climbed to the top of the apparatus.

"Okay," he muttered to himself, "we're going to take it up a notch."

Dr. Frankendad opened his arms in benediction as the machines whined to an earsplitting pitch.

“Give my chicken a golden brown skin!”

There was a blue spark over the body of the pale chicken monster. A flash of blue lightning and the acrid scent of ozone, and the chicken monster skin was roasted to extra crispy perfection.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

 

I had been advised to think about having genetic testing done because of the history of breast cancer in the family and other forms of cancer. I gave information as best I could from fragments of things I remembered about aunts and uncles. I messaged my cousin to talk about his mother (my mother's sister), his sister (they both succumbed to breast cancer) I also found out his daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer the year before!

From the bits and piece of this information, a family tree was constructed.

T Stands for Outback Pal

 

I didn't intend to make this outing a T Day post. I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon and would be teaching the first calligraphy class of the Wednesday night classes. Himself suggested after the appointment, we stop for a late lunch at The Outback as it was just down the street from the doctor's office. Then I could get ready for class and not worry about having dinner.

Whenever I eat out at a restaurant, I usually push half of the food aside to take home. I had sirloin steak with coconut shrimp, asparagus, and a baked sweet potato. For my beverage, I had a Blackberry Refresher which is sparkling soda over blackberries, cranberry juice and lime.

We also put in a take-out order for the Eldest so while waiting for that and the check, Himself saw a video on the point of sale unit at another table 

picture from the Outback website

with a Koala bear floating in a beverage. I couldn't quite see and the unit on our table wasn't activated. When the waitress returned, I asked if the drink was alcoholic. She said it was, but it could be made non-alcoholic. I didn't really want another beverage, I just wanted the cute Koala. She said, for an extra dollar, she would get me one. I asked for a blue one.

The Koala bear is actually shaped like a rubber ducky. He's the new desk companion and his name is Bruce.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s blog to find out what the rest of the T gang is up to. If you want to play, include a beverage or beverage container in your post. Don’t forget to link your blog from Bleubeard and Elizabeth’s page.

Monet, Miro, and Me

 

are amazed by the Dawn Platinum Plus Powerwash. It started with me doing a demonstration in class on how to clean the Pilot Parallel Pen and how to refill the cartridge with better quality ink. I probably should have worn gloves, but I didn't. Not really a big deal until soap didn't take that much ink off my hands, and I was meeting a friend to go out to lunch the following day. When I got home, I grabbed the Dawn Powerwash. I figured if Dawn removes oil spills from baby ducks, it might take the ink off my hands. A generous spritz and I waited a minute and voilà. Pretty much all the ink washed off. Just a shadow remained on my left thumb. Huzzah! It was a miracle and I shared my news with the calligraphy classes.

On Thursday, I received an email from "N" of the Wednesday night Scribes. Shared with her permission.

"Subject Dawn Dish Soap is my lord and savior

So...I need to tell you a quick story. 

We were given our official culinary uniforms today. Crisp, white chef coats and caps. I put a purple gel ink pen in the slot next to my thermometer on the shoulder pocket of my coat during lab today and then threw all of my lab coats in the wash when I got home to rinse the sizing out of them. And I blasted those garments with the santize setting cause sizing is awful and annoying. I know you're probably groaning because you know what happened. 

Purple pen ink. All over my crisp, white chef coats and caps. At 8 pm, with one day of class left in the week. *sigh* 

So i'm frantically asking the google what I should do and I doordash 91% isopropyl alcohol. Cut to me in the kitchen, blotting furiously at the ink stains with alcohol, choking on fumes and the ink is going nowhere.

[editor's comment: "N" is in culinary school. The uniforms must be kept pristine at all times. If the uniform is not whiter than white, the student is marked down and maybe even reprimanded in public.]

 "N" continues: "So I stop and I think, "WWCJD?" (What Would C.J. Do?) "

[editor's comment: CJ would have been speaking in tongues (aka swearing) and panicking.]

"N" continues: "And I remembered, Dawn Dish Soap.

I slathered the stains in Dawn and scrubbed with my nail brush and the ink is lifting!!!! I move garment to garment and when I'm done, I go back to the first garment and, miracles of miracles, the stains are even lighter, if not gone. So I did a final hit with oxi clean, threw them in the wash for a 15 minute cycle and...the stains are gone. (Except for 2 tiny spots where the ink was REALLY dark, but now they're barely noticeable.)

In conclusion, we should start a religion with Dawn Dish Soap as our God."

I agree "N". Dawn Dish Soap is, indeed, miraculous and will be included on the materials list. Henceforth, you shall be known as the Patron Saint of Dawn Dish Soap. "N" and Dawn, ora pro nobis.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Lots of images this week. Himself outdid himself with the decorations. So in backwards order:

Petunia has a dragon guardian all lit up

Ink on the crescent moon with Jack O'Lantern buddies. All lit up

Lit Jack O'Lanterns lining the front walk. Himself named it Jack LaLane. IYKYK

Look at the outside temperature on October 2. Twenty degrees above average!

Harvest decorations on the arbor

Ink's birthday flag

Daytime Ink on the crescent moon

Jack O'Lanterns standing guard on Jack LaLane

The leaves suddenly burst into color and just like that, they were on the ground.

The wooly caterpillar is predicting a mild Winter! Yes!

How does your garden grow? 

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

12Oct1974 "The Troubadour Song" - Tommy & Dick Smothers (The Carol Burnett Show)

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. With the Nor'easter predicted I'm so glad the Eldest had the  weekend off.

2. We survived the Nor'easter. I don't think it was as bad as predicted in my area.

3. The kitties didn't freak out when the groomer came to clip nails.

4. Looks like Blogger has finally updated the blog roll again

5. A warmish day so Teague and I headed to Dairy Queen for lunch which included a mini Blizzard for a last hurrah for Summer weather.

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

   In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

The Caged Bird Sings

Dad’s side of the story.

A week of snow was over. I hadn’t heard from the Weebles. Wasn’t sure if no news was good news, but I was worried about the threat to lock Dad out in the snow.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. How’ya doin?” I was relieved to hear his voice.

“The usual.”

“Did you go singing yesterday?”

“Of course.”

“Did she lock you out of the house?”

“Yes.”

I laughed. Ma was always as good as her word.

“What happened?”

“I went singing. When I got home she had all the doors locked.”

“How did you get in?”

“Well, I was in the garage, looking for some tools to take the door [inside door from garage that leads to a small porch off the kitchen] off its hinges, but I didn’t have the right tools. I do now, though!”

I didn’t want to tell Dad how ridiculously easy it was to break into the house. Himself used to help me all the time when I was a kid and either lost or forgot my house key. One didn’t need to remove the door hinges, and the only tool needed was a screwdriver.

Dad was amazingly calm, and he laughed as he related the details. I expected him to be singing arias in tongues about Ma.

“So, how did you get in?”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have the right tools so I was just about to walk over to Stop and Shop and get something to eat and @#$@#$ her!”

I didn’t mean to laugh.

“She must have heard me banging around in the garage,” Dad continued. “And she unlocked the screen door.”

He didn’t relate whether there were more fireworks, and I thought it prudent not to ask. I was just relieved to hear he wasn't in the hospital with a severe case of hypothermia or frostbite.

“Well, I just wanted to check to see if things are ok.”

“I appreciate it. Listen, I’m not going to tell her you called.”

“Ok.” Just Dad’s little way of tit for tat.

Ma’s side of the story

Ma called to chat. Dad must have gone out and she was lonely or ticked at him, or both.

Curiosity got the better of me.

“Did he go singing?”

“You know him.”

“Did you lock him out of the house like you said you would.”

“Of course!”

Like I said, Ma's as good as her word. With Dad out of the house, she doesn't have control over him.

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Jackie Gleason’s show The Honeymooners is still going strong and Ma and Dad have the lead roles.

“What happened?”

“He was in the garage yelling and banging around.”

I had the image of the Flintstones with Fred locked out of the house after he tried to toss the sabertooth cat out for the night. Wilma! And Fred pounding on the door.

I lost some of the details and caught her explanation, the crux to the matter.

“Well, he goes out of the house and he leaves me for hours all alone. I’m afraid to be alone now if something happens, I have no help.”

Six or seven years ago now, Ma had a stroke while she was home alone. Dad had gone singing. Ma had gone outside to sweep leaves from the back walk when it happened. She sat outside on the ground for two hours until one of the kids coming home from school happened to hear Ma’s call for help.

“Still, you shouldn’t lock him out of the house.”

I could see her shrug an I don’t care.

I’ll have to remember to play the hole card next time. If you lock Dad out of the house, and something happens to you, how will he get in to help you? How will the rescue people get in? Maybe I should leave a screwdriver under the front mat.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

After meeting with the surgeon at Dana-Faber Cancer Institute in Boston, I was supposed to meet with the surgical oncologist. She wasn't available so arrangements were made the following day to meet with her over Zoom so I didn't have to make the trip into Boston again.

She told me radiation treatment after the surgery may not be needed, but that decision would be made based on the lumpectomy pathology report. If radiation was required it would be done Monday through Friday for however many days of treatment. I asked if I could have the treatments at the Milford Campus so I didn't have to commute to Boston for several days or live in a hotel close to Dana-Farber. What a relief to hear, yes, that can be arranged.

T Stands for Patrick's Irish Pub

 

Our last night in Weirs Beach we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Patrick's Irish Pub in Gilford, New Hampshire. This fun leprechaun greets diners as they enter the restaurant. 

Since it was Saturday night the place was hopping. A young man was singing Irish tunes in the bar. The crowd loved it as they were clapping in time to the music. We were given our choice of eating in the bar or in the quieter dining room. We chose the dining room. 

There were lots of choices on the menu. I decided to go with a special of lobster crabcakes with cottage fries and Coleslaw. Teague isn't really a crustacean fan, but she wanted to try something different so she ordered the same. 

We both decided that the lobster crabcakes were amazing and a good choice. I see I forgot to take a picture of my unsweetened ice tea with lemon. You'll have to content yourself with looking at the water mugs behind the leprechaun in the first photo.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet

 

and Miro decided to pose along side Pinky and Clyde. I am submitting this piece to the Worcester Art Museum's Art of the Macabre art show and needed to test to see that it would remain upright.

The piece was actually done as part of the homework for the 26 Seeds masterclass I took with Reggie Ezell in 2017.

When the original call for entries came out, I was busy with classes and didn't have time to do something brand-new. Then the Education Department extended the deadline for entries. I remembered this piece and decided to give it a new life. 

On a trip to the Dollar Store, I had purchased a doll for a Halloween decoration. Himself and I went back because I remembered there was a pink doll and an orange doll. They would make perfect heraldic supporters. 

There wasn't time to have the piece properly framed. I had a white mat and cut some chipboard for the backing. Standing up, the edges were rough so I covered the edges with Washi tape decorated with spider webs.  The dolls are attached to the piece by min-bulldog clips under their ghost sheets. The dolls, spider, and the ghosts from Pacman fame (right to left: Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde) all got a makeover with googly eyes.

The text is from a Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go

bump in the night

Good Lord deliver us

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Waxing Gibbous Moon and cloud

Sunset the night before the Nor'easter. I thought because of the saying Red sky in the morning sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight, this storm would fizzle out. 

Gusty winds blowing the Fall decorations didn't bother the goldfinch having a snack at the feeder. It's 4 pm Saturday as I write this. The storm was supposed to be furious at this hour. It isn't. I am not complaining. I wish the weather dudes wouldn't hype the storms.

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Pinwheel Gift Wrap

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. Calli and Quill left me a gift.

2. I enjoyed an outing at the Dollar Store and Ocean State Job Lots. Himself knows the best places for a date.

3. A retired colleague surprised me in the museum lobby. She's taking a watercolor class. We'll be making arrangements to go out for coffee

4.  I thought I lost my sunglasses at the museum. I filled out a form for lost and found. At home, I found the sunglasses in the pocket of a different jacket I wore the week before and forgot about. I  felt so stupid when I told my friend at the security desk I found my glasses. She said join the club as she thought she had lost her phone.

5. Another trip to the Dollar Store with an idea for displaying an entry in the museum's Art of the Macabre show

How was your week?