Dear Lowe’s,

Please stop putting appealing items on sale. You’re killing us. A person really should be able to pick up a box of light bulbs without buying a new porch light. It causes problems when the consumer then decides that the light over the garage no longer matches the light on the porch. That requires her husband to install a matching light over the garage. When said consumer sees her husband already up on a ladder she mentions that he really should go ahead and get the Christmas lights up while the weather is nice. When the husband replies that it’s too early the consumer is obligated to remind him that he will be traveling right up to Thanksgiving and this might be the last warm day. This debate invariably leads to disharmony in the home. This problem could be easily averted if you could relegate all sale items to a back corner of your store where casual shoppers would not have to encounter attractive items at appealing prices. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Miffed in Mt. Juliet

The sun spent the last hour sliding down toward the horizon and painting the sky with pink and gold as it put this day to bed. That’s the signal for me to ease into some flannel and enjoy what’s left of this weekend.  It’s been a busy one for us and I’m beyond ready for the house to get back to normal.  Living room furniture has been farmed out to various rooms and I’m tired of the jumble.  I’m crossing my fingers that the nice fellows who are coming tomorrow to put down the new floor will be prompt and efficient. I can dream, can’t I?

We decided to get out of the house today and went to see “Men Who Stare at Goats”.  I’d give it two stars out of five.  It just didn’t do it for me. It did make me curious enough to want to do a little research on Lieutenant Colonel Jim Channon. Interesting character. But the movie itself was sort of all over the place and in the end, just seemed pointless.  Maybe I just didn’t get it. On the bright side, we always hand over our Regal card when we buy our movie tickets - you don’t get any sort of discount, but you accrue points. It’s provided us with free popcorn, free tickets, and other goodies.  Today we received another free ticket - just in time for “A Christmas Carol”! Yippee!  I’d go anyway, but seeing it for free makes it that much better.  Yep, I’m just that cheap. Cheap, but not a Scrooge. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

It appears that Hurricane Ida is trying to make trouble for my folks down on the gulf.  They enjoyed a pleasantly hurricane-free summer and now this storm pops up. Somebody’s not living right. Hopefully she’ll weaken and just deliver a helping of wind and rain. You shouldn’t have to worry about hurricanes when you’re getting your Christmas decorations.

I’m subbing in the English department tomorrow. I’ll have the same freshmen that delighted me a week or so ago. Gosh, if I didn’t feel so bone weary right now I’d bake some cookies for them or something. Sorry kids. They’ll be lucky if I show up  wearing pants and with my hair brushed. I’m also booked on Tuesday, and then I think I’ll give myself a couple of days off.  I’ll need it just to get everything back in order around here. Mickey leaves Wednesday fo a client site in Kentucky, he’ll get home on Friday evening and leave again on Sunday for Sacramento. Yes, I do believe that I’ll give myself the gift of a couple of quite days at home.  I need that the way most people need vitamins. But for now I think I’ll go soak in a hot tub, then manicure what’s left of my nails after this weekend, and lose myself in a good book.  I like to pull the blinds before I get into the tub and do a little star gazing while I soak away my cares. It’s peaceful. Tomorrow will come soon enough, might as well enjoy the beauty of the night.

Holy smokes, have we had a busy day!  I survived, and even enjoyed, the classes that I had today. Seriously, I used every trick I know to stay ahead of them, but we didn’t have a single problem all day.  I called Mickey as I left the school parking lot and he sounded really happy to hear from me. Too happy. Should have been a huge red flag.  He said, “Come on home, I’m taking you out to dinner!”  I was bone tired from being snored out of bed and then spending the day training monkeys touching the future.  The thought of someone else serving me dinner was very appealing. But there was a catch.  Mickey added, “Then we can go to Lowe’s….” Much to my surprise he had already emptied the living room of all furniture while I was at work. He was chomping at the bit to get started on our weekend project of stripping carpet and prepping floors and painting baseboards.  So that’s what we did.   After a delicious dinner at Fulin’s we loaded up a cart at Lowe’s and headed home. We’re a good team. We decide who’s doing what and get busy.  We worked in silence for a while, but when I started singing old negro spirituals, Mickey made a dash for the radio. I didn’t get any further than “Comin’ fo’ to carry me hommmmme” before I was drowned out by 70’s tunes.   I can take a hint.  So we kept pulling, slicing, and generally getting things down to the bare bones. Mickey had harder jobs than I did, but he actually knew what he was doing and I was just following orders.  We passed the time happily enough…..I tried to make a game out of coming up with swear words that weren’t actually swear words. Shouting “Orville Redenbacher!” when you hurt yourself definitely provides some relief.  We were also thrilled to discover an area where our contractor didn’t scrimp - carpet tacks and staples. Apparently the bulk of the cost of our home was spent on those two items.  Anyway, the hours passed and bit by bit we made excellent progress.  When we’d swept the last corner and all evidence of carpet had been removed, we agreed to stop for the night.  I showed Mickey a developing blister on my palm and said in my best Scarlet O’Hara voice, “As God is my witness, I’ll never strip carpet again!”  He hardly cracked a smile. I handed him two Ibuprofen and told him to hit the shower and meet me in the bedroom for a cold drink.  We’re living like squatters in the bedroom for the next couple of days because the living room is just a cave right now.  I suppose we could go hang out upstairs in the bonus room, but I’m afraid we’d see new projects to start.  I’ve been itching to paint it for a while. Stop the madness! No more home improvement!  I’ve reached that age where if someone hands me a wad of cash and gives me the choice between a boob job or hardwood floors, I immediately choose the floors. Let’s face it, these days the floors get a lot more traffic. Still, you have to know when to say when.  Tomorrow we’ll paint the quarter round that the installers will use and we’ll touch up our baseboards so everything is shiny and new.  Sunday will be a day of rest and healing, and Monday the floor guys will arrive. I can’t wait.  I’m working on Monday and I’m crossing my fingers that it’s all finished when I come home.  Then we can move everything back to where it belongs and life here at the hacienda will get back to what we call normal.  I’m ready. So very,very ready.  Come on Monday.

That’s what they’ll be saying about me tomorrow as my body is carted away. I have a very bad feeling about Friday. Two different teachers asked me who I’d be subbing for tomorrow and when I told them I saw expressions of fear and then pity.  What have I signed on for??  I haven’t subbed for this particular teacher before but I know her to be a very capable and talented professional.  Could her classes really be that bad?  Let me just say that I don’t scare easily.  I worked several years with ‘at risk” elementary students before deciding that was just too pleasant and I should move up to the high school level where they’re smarter and have better aim.  Prior to my tenure in education I worked in the airline industry. That’s right, I love abuse.  Pour it on me, I can shrug it off.  But when teachers that have decades of experience make “that” face when I mention a class, it gives me pause.  I may not sleep tonight.  I’ll lay in bed rehearsing my best kind but firm retorts.  No,no - I’ll just treat the scene like I would an aircraft.  I’ll spot my emergency exits and be prepared for anything from a hijacking to a sudden loss of pressure. There’s an appropriate response for everything.  I’m in charge. They just need know that.  I think I’ll walk in and fan out a bouquet of pink disciplinary slips and ask, “Who wants to be first?”   Then I’ll smile.  That ought to confuse them.  I’m positive that I can make it a good day.  And if things get too dicey an imaginary oxygen mask will drop from the panel overhead and I’ll remember to just breathe.  The bell always rings and they always leave.  Good or bad, nothing lasts forever.  I think I’ll make it my mission tomorrow to make sure that every kid leaves the class with a smile.  It shouldn’t be that hard on a Friday. My usual farewell to each class is, “Have a good day, hope something wonderful happens to you!” It earns a few eye rolls, but it’s interesting to see the wheels turn in their heads too. It means something different to each one of them.  It may mean passing a test, talking to someone they have a crush on, or just getting through the day in one piece.  It seems to plant a seed of anticipation and maybe they’ll actually look for something wonderful…..or maybe it’s all in my mind.  Either way, in the last few minutes I’ve gone from prepping for battle to wanting to paint their world with rainbows. And that’s pretty wonderful. I ain’t scared.

I ran to Kroger after work to pick up plain yogurt for Clementine. I read somewhere that a curly toe can be a sign of a riboflavin deficiency and to add dairy products to your chicken’s diet. Never one to scoff at a home remedy I brought home the yogurt and the girls seem to love it. I just gave them a little scoop and mixed a bit of Layena in lest they think I was trying to pull a fast one.  Anyway, I was in Kroger paying for my Dannon poultry medication and a beautiful woman (brownie points, Leesa) stopped by and said, “By the way, I don’t like the new background on your blog. It’s too busy. It’s distracting.”   Since I assume that I have less than a dozen readers I feel it’s in my best interest to keep them happy and hang on to every last one. Is this background easier on the eyes? I wanted something that celebrated autumn and the wonderful colors and made me think of tumbling leaves.  Apparently what I liked was giving other people migraines.  I suppose it really would have looked better as a throw pillow and not a background for a web page.  Oh well, live and learn.  I’ll keep looking for one that makes my heart skip a beat, but for now this simple prairie look will do.  Better?

Well, I’m worried sick about Clementine. Yesterday I went out to the hen house right before they went to bed and I noticed that one of Clemmie’s toes seemed to be bent backwards. She was walking on it.  She didn’t seem to mind, but it sure bothered me.  I scattered a little corn to get her to walk toward me and she did just fine.  All night long I was searching the internet to find out what you’re supposed to do for a chicken with a broken toe.  I can’t let it just stay that way because she has to be able to scratch and roost.  And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how she could have broken her toe.  Further research led me to “Curly Toe” and “Crooked Toe”…both conditions that a chicken can get, caused by everything from vitamin deficiencies to improper incubation.  One can lead to paralysis and the other just means that she’ll have a hard time meeting men. I’m out of my mind trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with my sweet girl.  I refuse to believe the worst. I’m sure it’s something that I can help her with and make all better.  Who wants to hold my hen while I apply a tiny splint to her toe?  I checked on her this morning and the toe actually looked better. Just the tip was curled under. That gave me hope and when I saw her strolling around and doing her morning exercises I felt even better.  I let the girls out to scratch a bit and enjoy the great outdoors.  I heard Boxcar Willie meow from the trees and so I told him to meet me on the deck for some kibble and a belly scratch.  I gave him his morning love and then shooed the girls back into the coop and locked up. That’s when I noticed that Clementine’s toe was bent all the way under again!  I find this terribly upsetting and I want it fixed and I want it fixed NOW.  The good thing is that she doesn’t appear to be in any pain. Maybe I just have a chicken with hammer toe?  I’m scheduled to work a half day today and a full day tomorrow, but maybe I’ll swing by the feed store after school and pick their brains a bit.  They know an awful lot about chickens.  Maybe they’ll have a little corrective shoe for my darlin’ Clementine. Poor baby.

You all know about my unwavering love for Dean Martin. My sweet sister sent me a sympathy card when he passed away because she understood. He’s part of the reason I believe in ghosts, I’m still hoping he’ll haunt me.  Anyway, Dino ( he lets me call him Dino when we’re alone) is keeping me company in the kitchen while I make chicken tacos.  The sun is sinking lower in the sky and turning Farmer Layne’s field a brilliant orange.  It’s beautiful.  While the late Mr. Martin serenades me I’m shredding chicken, gazing out my kitchen window and thinking about how lucky I am. I’m filthy rich in every way that matters. Like Dino says, “Ain’t that a kick in the head?”…..go ahead and click the link and sing along. You’ll feel better about everything.

Just read a nice email from Mom, she shared their news and even mentioned how nice the picture of my mums was.  I zipped a note back and told her that I’m quite pleased with the mums as well, especially since they were from the clearance table at Lowe’s and I paid for them in blood. Literally.  There’s a reason I don’t ride bikes, hang glide, or ride burros into the Grand Canyon.  I’m clumsy.  I walk into walls, trip over lint, and will always, always find a way to fall off of, out of, or over something.  The day that I went to Lowe’s in search of mums was just an ordinary October day. Middle of the day in the middle of the week. I strolled into the garden center and cased the joint for the biggest pot at the lowest price.  I spied a table of orphans, mums not quite up to muster, but not yet dead.  I took a closer look at the leaves and stalks and deemed them salvageable, and at just $3.00 a pot I felt like I’d hit the mother lode. There were buds, but no blooms, so I wasn’t certain what color I’d get - but figured for that price I’d roll the dice and work with it.  I grabbed four. With a pot in each hand and two more hugged up to my chest (who needs a cart?) I practically skipped to the register.  Now, who thinks to look down for a garden hose in a garden center? I didn’t.  My right foot caught in a hose that was stretched across an aisle and I began what is now known as The Chrysanthemum Dance.  All I needed was cartoon sound effects.  My main concern was saving the mums and I think I did a triple axle and a double toe loop before going down like a sack of hammers.  Two pots went flying and two stayed with me. I don’t know if anyone saw me, certainly no one rushed to help me up. So I got up, picked up the two mums that I hadn’t destroyed and limped to the register to pay.  The twenty-something guy at the register chirped, “How are you today?” and I wanted to say “Injured” but I figured I was leaving mum fatalities for him to clean up so I smiled and said “just fine”.  When I got to the car I pulled up the leg of my jeans and there it was….a skinned knee.  I’m forty-six years old and still falling and skinning my knees. I should definitely start saving for one of those I’ve Fallen and Can’t Get Up necklaces.  I didn’t mention anything to Mickey when I got home - just washed my knee, dabbed on a little Bag Balm, and set the mums on the steps. I think that they were so grateful to me for saving their lives that they’ve bloomed their little hearts out for me. I’m sure of it.

So I’d kept my Lowe’s story to myself (with the exception of my sister, another clumsy non-bike rider) until the boys came home for Halloween.  I’d convinced them to run to the store with me and as we passed Lowe’s I told them that I’d left some blood on the floor there.  We laughed about my stumble and I thought it was over, but the whole ride home was filled with “Remember the time you fell at Books a Million?”…..”Remember the time you fell into the hot tub at that hotel?”…and so on. It was eye opening.  After thinking about my long history of mishaps I’ve come to a conclusion. I’m not clumsy, I’m just overly sensitive to gravity.  It’s a rare condition, most probably affecting those with noble blood, like hemophilia or a weak chin. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I made an attempt at buttermilk-orange-brown sugar-type muffins this morning. They’re promising, but not perfect.  The recipe needs tweaking and when it’s right, I’ll share it.  Here are the basics though - start by creaming butter and sugar (necessary evils) and adding the usual suspects….eggs,flour, buttermilk, baking soda.  Then take two medium oranges and zest those suckers bald.  Set the bald fellows aside, you’ll need them later.  Stir the zest into the batter and fill your muffin wells about half full. Don’t give in to the temptation to fill them to the top. While your muffins bake, cut the oranges in half and squeeze the living daylights out of them.  This should yield about a half cup of juice. Mix that with a cup of loosely packed brown sugar to make a grainy glaze. Now you see where this is going. Are you with me?  When you pull the muffins out of the oven and they’re still good and warm, spoon the glaze over the muffins tops.  I served these to Mickey with scrambled eggs and turkey bacon.  What was the point of the turkey bacon?  The damage is done.  Now I have nine muffins still sitting on the counter, anyone want to come over for coffee?

Look at those mums just showin’ off and braggin’ about how purty they are!

Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

~George Eliot

It’s been the sort of autumn day that makes you want to sing out loud. The weather is perfect - sunshine, a light breeze, and leaves of so many colors swirling to the ground that it looks like someone tipped up a jewelry box and dumped it out. Have I mentioned how much I love the colors of autumn? I do. My front porch mums were in full bloom for Halloween and they’re a sight to behold.  I hope they welcome folks to our door right through Thanksgiving.

I spent a good portion of my morning out at Coop de Ville.  I raked a bit and let the girls out to roam and scratch.  I came in to make lunch and enjoy quality time with the mister.  Now he’s back in his office putting out fires and I’ve got a fat chicken slow roasting in the oven.  With the body cavity stuffed full of onion, garlic and celery the aroma will seep under his door soon and he’ll want to know what’s cooking. Who needs perfume? I know what men like to smell. Animals roasting.

We have a big weekend ahead. Mickey made an executive decision to have new floors installed.  Yep, we picked out our wood and the crew will be here Monday to do the work.  When we first received the estimate I told Mickey that it was too much and made me nauseous.  I felt we could get it lower.  Turns out that they’ll knock a bunch off if you’re willing to do the prep work…..like pulling up existing carpet, moving all of the furniture,etc. I also felt it was ridiculous for Lowe’s to charge us a delivery fee for the wood since we’re already paying an installation fee.  So Mickey talked to the guy and they dropped the $65 fee for that. The moral of the story is that if you’re willing to pick apart your estimate and throw your back out moving stuff, you can get the price into the range that doesn’t make you throw up.  Barely.  It will all be worth it when it’s over. Once we get the carpet up we’ll paint our baseboards which need touching up (if you ram them too often with a vacuum cleaner and/or scrub them too hard ,they tell on you).  So lots of good will come from this weekend and we’ll be better for it.  And Mickey will be happy because if there’s anything he loves more than a project it’s managing a project.  I’m just day labor.  Maybe I’ll hang a sign around my neck that reads “Will work for popcorn”.  Boy, I’m cheap.  This is his baby and I’ll do what he tells me to do.  He didn’t ask any questions or argue with what I wanted for the bedroom, in fact he bent over backwards to please me - so I’ll pull carpet, heave furniture, scrub, and paint like nobody’s business this weekend. And I’ll smile while I do it. I promise.

November 2, 2009

It doesn’t take much more than a beautiful moon to send me into an Oregon Trail daydream and thoughts of waltzing on the prairie.  Here’s a pretty tune called Georgianna Moon Waltz.  Put on your bonnet and take a spin around the room.