Is Hindsight Really 20\20?

When we remember things with a skewed sense of reality…

Here is the thought that got me considering hindsight, and I’m not talking about the butt end of a roast or anything else of that sort. This year is in fact 2020, so why not think upon all of it’s various connotations.

Recently my mother started the whole sibling group on a “remember when” game and the focus was the earliest snow in our state. The consideration was in September, but now we are already into October. Snow is expected for our area within the week. The northern part of the state had snow and ice this week.

What each one remembers is truly based on the strength of that persons memory. I do not remeber any snow earlier than October 31st within the first year of our marriage. Then just a few years ago we had snow that landed the bean crop in disarray. That snow was earlier than Halloween, but the exact date just does not stick in my head. Lots of people lost cattle during that snow.

When considering the whole vision thing (20\20) is really about how well one can see on things put in front of the eyes. This has nothing to do with the foresight of whether to plant corn or beans for the best harvest value. If one sees best at close up or and distance we have names for that kind of vision. Well, in life experiences, some people are truly better at foresight, while others are good and hindsight. I will try to explain later.

Even more skewed in my mind is the memories that I have of our families first home in the northern part of the state. I vaguely remember running under the old metal table from the late sixties. I was so short and so young, it was a great spot to hide from my sisters. Funny how I do not remember the moment that stopped my under the table “cross country” home runs!

And answers that we were seeking are no longer questions to be asked. We can see clearly now. Hindsight brings us clear vision and the view is nearly 20\20. Is this the thought that we will have some years down the road? A few years from now we will look back. Right now we simply try to look forward and all that we see is the moment. The difficulties of the day seem insurmountable.

Foresight tells me that this is the plague that is taking away our history. So many elderly people are being lost to this virus. This disease seems to be taking the people that gave us our history. They are the ones of our past. The gray haired populous is considered at risk in this pandemic world that we live in. But hindsight is telling me they are not the only ones at risk of this disease. Some younger people suffer and just this week the world news exploded with the news of a 38 year old dieing in flight because of the virus.

We all have so many opionions about everything, and yet there is still only one breath between all of us and the future. The next breath could be our last. We never know.

But here’s a look at the past few weeks here in my neighborhood.

Our outdoor living space is complete. We made a 2×4 slat bench to add to the collection. The recitation bench along the east wall of the house came from our old grain shed in Iowa. The place that we lived had three delapitating buildings: the grain shed, a small animal barn and a garage. The garage was the first thing to go. After the spring snow melted and we discovered it was full of the trash from the previous occupants, we lit a match to the whole lot. Of course the fact that the propane tank was less than ten feet from the building was quite a frightful thought. The grain shed and the basement held a number of pieces of furniture that still grace my home today.

The swing is an old crib remodel. Haha. The crib was the one that Gavin’s dad and siblings all slept in when pre-toddlers. Today it would not fit the safety regulations as the bars are too distant in measurement. It makes an amazing back porch nap zone.

The focus of all the pets attention is the deck box. It contains their food. We have had to discard of a few wild critters in the past as raccoons can figure out how to lift the lid and help themselves. Thank goodness for the new addition to the family. Eva has kept them away since her arrival.

The slat bench has wood that came from the top of the barn. All the pieces were well over fifty years old and rough cut lumber. We spent quite some time getting each piece to the correct measurement. The staining of the top pieces made the construction of the slat bench really pop. It is a pretty good nap zone also. However, these cooler temps are not the best for such things. The finish is an old oil based recipe from Aussie Timber care. It has kept my benches and other outdoor pieces in tip top shape.

This mosaic crochet afghan is now complete. It does not have a new home yet. Because I was born in the spring, I prefer bright and bold colors more than fall. I have a perpetual spring in my greenhouse and could bore you with my pictures of flowers.

The pattern on the blanket is “What comes around, goes around.” The square spirals were really quite fun to crochet. The border and the separation lines are a simple steppe pattern. I think they kind of look like “z’s” and that makes it a good sleeper’s warmer! While I thoroughly enjoyed the process of crocheting the afghan, the colors just did not thrill me. So if there’s a friend of mine in love with it, they better holler quick. Otherwise my sister will find a home for the burnt orange delight.

Lately, I found the cold a bit too nippy on my fingers. So I decided to remake a couple of my hat and mitten pairs. I started with my everyday set that keeps me from the frost while doing the morning rounds. Honey and I go out to greet Eva. She sleeps in the heated hut outdoors. We scoop a bowl of kibbles for the cats then head out back to do the business. Next we run to the greenhouse to check the temperature. I give Cocoa a can of oats. Then we run like mad to the house because the north wind is so bitey.

This little whimsical hat was part of my creations from last spring. It is a scrappy hat. In other words, I used some scrap chunks of yarn and made a hat that was one of a kind. So the other day after perfecting my mitten pattern on a different set, I sat down and pulled up some yarn chunks to make my “whimsy set.” Something of the Oma in me enjoys wearing such a silly little dunce hat. The ball always gets a lot of attention either from little kids (while shopping) or even from other peoples pets (they can’t take their eyes off of the ball dangling from my head). Well, with a Grandmother name like Oma, why wouldn’t I enjoy a little whimsy in my life? My favorite books were the Dr Suess and I still can’t resist buying one even if I can’t read them anymore.

People with foresight always seem to get things right. They dream forward. They plan ahead. They look to the future with hope and ideals. People with hindsight are always talking about the past, looking into history with new perspectives. Trying to discover the truth about how things really happened. Maybe even considering the latest conspiracy theory. Ahhh, now I don’t believe that’s all a blanket approach to the whole of living.

My vision into the distance has always been a little poor. Having someone else to explain exactly where the moon is has made it much easier to find. Even if I can’t see the “man on the moon” I can still imagine it. And now my closeup vision has gotten a little more challenged also. Losing the peripheral view of the world, does not mean that I don’t see what’s going on in the world around me. It just means that I run into things far more frequently than I would like. It also means that my husband has to sort my little yarn chunks into the right color coordinations. White and yellow seem to be so close in color these days.

Whether you like to look ahead and dream of the future or whether you are an avid history book reader, one thing is the same. We all breath the same air. We are all fighting for another day another breathe. Today I want to aknowledge that I believe that breathe of air comes from my Soveriegn, Invisible Source. God the Creator who breathed into that first man Adam the breathe of air,

Psalm 144:4 “Man is but a breathe of air, His days are like a passing shadow.”

These days I do not visit my grandchildren as frequently as I would like. The fear of covid probable keeps me away more than I would like to admit. Being high risk in the health area is not something that I want to frequent in this blog. So I will just say that looking to the Author of this vapor does give me meaning and purpose to make each and every visit of high value and very enjoyable. They bring me so much joy, even if it is just during a phone call with childish squeals in the back ground. Looking at each day, week, or month as a passing shadow is one thing, considering my life to be but the passing shadow is another thing entirely. For now seeing these little faces as a small token of my shadow cast into the future is almost too deep a thought for consideration.

Thanking my Creator for every breath of air. Looking to a brighter Future tomorrow.

Taking out the trash

How data banks fills up your memory stores

This past week I discovered that my google memory bank was full and needed back up. Well, before paying for memory (as if dementia has a cure) I started trying to find what was filling up the bank. I found a lot of my old garbage.

I mean really old rotten garbage. Apparently all the stuff that I had put into the trash or tried to delete from my OLD phone had been sent to my my new goggle bank, and phone. Now the notes to self in days gone past have been TRIPLED up in my new data storage. What I though was once deleted has now been stored as deleted, trashed, and created. Three times more, I’ll be spending the next two weeks trying to take out the trash in my new data base.

Thank goodness for my husband. I think I’ll let him do most of the work on his computer. Trying to clean up said trash on my tiny smart phone screen is painful. So apparently, I now have to take out the trash that I though I had take out back in 2014!

What kind of to do list from that summer could just be repeated?

Here’s one: call for a haircut, water the garden, weed the flower patch, pull out meat for supper.

Here’s one best left in the trash bin: allergies a-fright, asthma out of control, order another inhaler. Uff. Life has not changed there any.

Who knows what kind of mess the pictures are in. There are probably multiple pictures in different albums. Googles face rec did that to the pictures I take of the relatives. I really don’t need a full album of my cousin’s child in multiple places. There’s how that data storage gets maxed out. Nope, still not paying.

Finding out that my data group created composting bins rather than actually trashing my old garbage was a little rough on the eyes. Especially when my husband showed me whole files in my junk mail! Oh, that made me mad enough to call the disposal company. Nawh, I’ll just let him clean up the mess. It suddenly does not make me so memory unbalanced with my old fits about him leaving the trash can so full until taking it out. I’ll take out the kitchen garbage and the compost for the rest of our married life, if he will clean up my junk mail and sweep out the data doubled storage in my phone. But the dustpan is gonna be full!

Yesterday was Father’s Day here in our country. We got together as a family and let the greats meet the newest great-grandson. Took a couple of pictures for the memory bank. Of course we have so many pictures just out there in the cloud, I wonder if the greats will ever be able to identify the occupants without the aid of some facial recognition software. Maybe I should just keep those albums of my cousin and her grandchildren.

Today I was trying to call for a haircut for the dog. The system at the dog camp just ended the call when it wanted. I wonder how their business is fairing the pandemic. Not so well, if we cannot leave a message. Maybe their data storage is full from all of the dog pictures they take each week. Haha.

My memory bank is not full. It is happily adding new ones as we enjoy the changes of the little grand kiddos. My grand daughter discovered blowing bubbles this spring. She was able to blow out her two candles on her birthday. So this Sunday, her auntie showed her what else a breath can do. Train whistle, tin whistles, and the harmonica all came out of hiding. We pulled up a video of superb mouth harp on display, and she was hooked. Her parents are thankful the mouth harp stayed at Opa and Oma’s house. Our little grandson did not seem to mind all the noise. Except when the ancient woodwind the flute came out. Our band director son-in-law took a look at it’s tarnished state, found all the pads in working order and then tuned in a scale. Little grandson cringed. The dog began to cry and little grand daughter went back to the harmonica.

Creating new memories was pretty wonderful.

This afternoon I have to visit the dentist. The work was delayed due to the world health crisis. Our family made it through the virus spread without any direct contact. I am thankful for our more distanced living arrangements out here in the Dakota Territory. There are days, it would be nice to holler a “Hello” at a neighbor, but living in the high rise apartment has no appeal to me. We have only been on a subway when visiting Boston and community bus travel goes back ten years to those days also.

Having our own vehicle comes with it’s expenses. Hubby just replaced the thermometer for the engine in our thirteen year old nice car. It’s hard to think that the price of a new vehicle exceeds the price of our motor trailer manufactured hallway. One of these days we will get this money thing figured our. Maybe we’ll grow a tree that produces greenbacks. Not.

Now that the memory bank has been flooded with a variety of new and old subjects, I would say the journal pages will close for the day.

Grab a book, open it up, then slam the covers together. There. That’s the sound entered here.

Operator error

Follies and fortunes with Honey

The follies and fortunes of owning a mixed breed dog have been part of our co-existence for three years now. It was of course my foolishness that requested a “hypo-allergenic” dog as a guide dog companion. Having no previous experience with either a poodle, or a golden retriever should have been a warning signal. Choosing this breed mix was a new challenge altogether. The misfortune of owning such a hyper energetic dog is that I do not run marathons for a living. Frisbee has become our mode of energy draining!

In this day and age of technology driven work and social lives this is one sign that we hope not to see. However in-frequently it’s message interrupts our screen this message clearly points fault. Today while blind guide training my dog the message spoke loud and clear. Operator Error was flashing a message loud and clear. Let me explain myself.

For the past month Honey and I have been training independently on guide dog behavior. Most days we work together-that’s a joke. The independence that I mention is without the aid of a certified guide dog therapist or trainer. Together, I have learned that she still backs away whenever the harness comes out. High value treats help some. Together, we have been learning the words or commands associated with the use of the harness. Together, we are learning some completely new skills.


Yeah, you knew that one was coming. Because of her her hyper energy and sensitive nature, communication between the operator and the wearer has been rather botched. For starters, we have had three years without the use of the tool. The harness acquired less than a month ago is new to Honey. Most guide dogs get the harness fitted at full growth spurt completed. Approximately one and a half years.

Day One had my sensitive hyper bee jumping kangaroo style every time the handle found contact with anything. She has always gotten more agitated every time we get ready to go somewhere. We would try to put her in a stay mode, and it never worked. The more I move around, the more she moves around. Getting ready to go anywhere, meant there is a sixty pound banana following you. We were sure to run into her frequently in the search for shoes, coat, hat, purse, backpack or anything else needed for the “going.” Needless to say, it has taken her three weeks to learn STATUE. Learning that the harness handle bumps into chairs, doors, walls or other items if she does not stand still, took a little bit of patience. So week three has arrived and Honey now stands still in statue after the harness is on. Yep, she’s smart. (Three weeks seemed like a long time to me.)

Okay, next lesson.

With the harness on our roles are completely reversed. She is no longer a sixty pound banana behind me. Now, I am the drag weight in the tractor pull. Wherever she goes, I follow. This is hard to do. TRUST. That’s not very easy to do when this jumping jelly bean has broken my nose in the past. Her excitement has to be toned down somehow. So the other day while going for a walk, I actually followed her. Into the ditch we trailed the scent she had just discovered. However, because free-time is not while she is on the harness, it did the kangaroo hop that she does when she is excited and does not know what is next. “Oh, no, where are we? What are we doing here? What happened to the road we were walking on? Why do feel like sliding down a slippery slope into the abyss? Where’s the road? Where is my walk?” It worked. She got us back on the road and towing the white line on the edge.

On to the blind guide training and the operator erro. So today we took the harness for a five minute waltz. Just the the green house and a few other frequented places on the acreage. At first I said, “Go to…”. Each time I began with that phrasing she turned to go for a walk. Ergh. My frustration was setting in. Doing this trust thing is not going very well, I told myself. Try again. “Find…”. YAY! We have success.

Finding OUR way

Find is her favorite game. We have spend many rainy days playing find tug, or find car, or find ball, or find cookie. I show her the toy we are using, ask her to sit-stay or place. Then I go throughout the house pretending to hide the item until I choose a spot. Sometimes I continue pretend for more than the actual placing of said object. Then I return to Honey and praise her for stay and say FIND.

So, operator error flashing, I began to ask my harnessed guide dog to “find” various places around the acreage. Wahlah! We had success. Apparently GO means a walk, or the car, or go with. Communication to a dog has always been a challenge for this family. We had a little dog for ten years that refused to COME. But if you said “Go” follwed by your own name, he came right to you. Somehow in the training years come meant bad things to the little furball. I hope it does not take me ten years to figure out this girl.


141: Cobwebs and mudpies

The last two months have been full. Full of many things that seem so inappropriate for this journal. I have struggled with writing. Un-writing much of what I have put into type. Then leaving my written words for weeks on end. I wondered if perhaps I have truly hit the brick wall of writters block. Perhaps I just do not have any thing worth sharing.

How can I share without revealing the turmoil that exists in my mind and in my heart? How can I tell the goings on without hurting people’s feelings? There is so much of the family happenings in the last two months that would be something like an “enquirer’s” edition that I simply have not written anything.

We gathered to celebrate milestones in the last two months several times. They were both happy celebrations and treading in deep waters for me. So much of the experiences were good, I did not want to cast any shadows upon the joy. But beneath ever bright light lies some dark shadows that are cast by those standing within the light.

While on earth, we cannot avoid the shadows. But hiding in the shadows is not good either. So I am trying to get out of the dark corners and observe the light.

(The yarn in this study was self spun. Not very well, I might add. The pattern is the crochet spider stitch. It seemed appropriate for the day.)

Cobwebs lurk in the corners and in the places untraveled. Crossing the yard in the early fall, the webs would grasp me frequently. But when in real life, the little strings don’t have much pull on our largess. It is the cobwebs in the mind that tend to weigh us down and drag us back to be snared in the trap.

Fighting those traps is a big job. And it has kept me busy.

One day just as the clouds rolled in the rain began to spatter the window, once again, the tears just began to roll down my face. This year has had way too many rainy and cloudly days for my liking. Being allergic to the rainy, wet, mildewey environment has made me keep my inhalers far too handy. This alone makes me want to sling mud pies and the clouds and tell the darkness to flee.

But alas! I am not Jesus. My words do not have power over the storm that rages in the clouds or in the sky. But I can use the words of Jesus to cast our the sticky matter that wants to muddle up my thoughts. Only His words of promise and love can sweep the corners clean and give me a new focus for the day.

Meanwhile, the leaves have fallen and there are fall kittens to watch out for. Three of them are the summer ones from a neighbor. The other four or five belong to Autumn, the calico cat that came last fall to our place in the vehicle’s “magic car-pet!” Of course, she would have fall kittens. Her name is Autumn. Their eyes opened last week and now they are cute. Until then, I think they look like mice or something worse.

The horse is our of grass in his yard and keeps escaping to help himself to the yard’s greenery. But no worries, he knows how and when to go back home. He puts himself away behind the electric wire just before Gavin gets home from work. And so far he has not come too close to the house.

Honey has more days at doggie camp that are on one hand to count. She gets so happy when we turn into the camp’s facility and we have not told her that she gets to go play. Perhaps this socialization will make her a better doggie. Perhaps.

My granddaughter is exerting “will” these days. The challenge is for the adults to have more will and the power of persuasion over her. Ahh, but the rest of the times are such fun as she learns new words, new ideas, new challenges.

(The above picture is the new blanket poncho displayed on the mirror in the freshly repainted and redecorated.)

Crochet kept me busy listening to books. I can’t even remember how many the Talking Book Library has read to me this last month or so. Every once and a while I insert a movie. I have some reviews to do but quite a few of them I already trashed in my draft-logue. So much for the un-writing.

The spare bedroom got a new coat of paint two weeks ago. We used the whole One Coat Covers gallon the walls. It took us four times to get the mint green covered with the vanilla scone. These color names today are way to vast. And I found out that just because they say no scent, does not mean that I can’t smell it. I wore a mask through much of the job as if just seemed the argon in the room depleated each time I opened the jug. I am just fine with the other smell.

“Hey Pickles!” -really Honey?

The most absurd

This morning’s journal might be a little off the rocker. But since my dog’s constant company is all that exists while hubby is away on a business trip, I have no one else to amuse me. And amuse me she has…

A descant of videos awaits my listening ear, whilst I discover that my dog will answer to any human voice calling out any particular name to any dog of any kind. This morning she jumped to the command of “Hey Pickles!” Needless to say we just outfitted her with a fancy bowtie that has her name clearly printed in florescent pink lettering (Honey). What I thought. Will my dog really give up her loyalty so readily.

My husband can call all kinds of names to her. He’ll go through the best sellers list of most popular dog names and she will only pop her head to his sweet call of “Honey!” But my own female voice in it’s sing song fashion can say whatever it so pleases.

Hmmm… How far should I take this? I was really only listening to some bird calls on YouTube to find that one outside that ran so true. The frontage advertisement of some lady trying to find her silly little runaway dog calling out “Hey, Pickles! Were are you?” Was all it took for my absurd mutt to run to the screen.

My loyalties are just as strong. Really. There are cookies, donuts, cakes, and dried fruit calling to me every hour of the day. Really. I hear them. The winter vibes jiggle every time I rise, reminding me that spring salad and apples are far better for the slimming. But no, my stomach answers to the grains of wheat waving me into their larder fill. Uffdah. This will never do for fitting into those summer shorts.

“Hey Pickles!” Is going to be my new battle cry as I try to obey this exercise routine and find myself with more energy and a faster reaction pace. Perhaps my dog really did teach me something absurd and weird today.

Empty vessels

Before part II

Getting ready to get ready is not my forte. Cleaning out a work space to make it my own sometimes requires help. Or maybe, when it comes to cleaning anything that might break, I need lots of help. So we emptied the room and then it has been my Monday morning chore to put back only those things which are necessary.

While cleaning out the library of it’s stores of stuff, we found a whole stash of vases. Each one of these vessels actually held some treasure. Some were candles, some little what-nots, some flower petals, some dried rose buds, and ribbons. What treasures! Except for the inconvenience of actually remembering where all of those things came from. After time goes by, we amazed ourselves at the lack of actual treasure the items had become.

Empty vessels are meant to be filled, right?

Empty. That’s how my days have felt for so long now, that having a purpose of sorts makes me wonder many things. For instance, why do we keep these things past their time of remembrance? Why do we keep flowers past life? The empty pursuit of holding on to the things of the memory appals me when I have to throw away the dusty sneezy dead stuff inside. I have decided not to keep dead flowers around anymore. Or even plastic ones that collect dust. Too much to clean.

Vessels and books filled the shelves. It was amazing how many boxes, containers, plastic totes, and jars that I found. Most of them we threw away. I even found some small jars. My mother-in-me told me not to throw them away. Myself-in-me finally won. Keeping things “just because” had overwhelmed the library shelves. I could not even clean the room because of them. Let alone find the book that I had been looking for these last few months. (Found it.)

Imagining that book covers were once empty vessels until someone organized all those words was fun. I tried to imagine which vessel in the room would best exemplify the book “Little Women.” There was a little music box filled with hair clips, favorite rocks, and other goodies. All the years my children were home seemed summed up in that little box and the book. Though we are in a different era, my girls are so much of who I am. The book titles all tell a story of who we are and who we have become.

There is a saying that comes to mind frequently: Who we are depends partly on the people we spend time with, the books we read, and the beliefs that we hold. I am who I am because of my children and all these books in this library.

I do not know what the book After will look like. I do not know if it will one day be on someone’s bookshelf, telling the story of who they are. It is yet an empty vessel waiting for the words to be organized.

And so on and so forth

Jibber, jabber

“Iyee, iyee, yiy, aah, aahh, da, daiyee, aahh.” And that is how our little nine month old sings, or says Ee Iy Ee Iy Ooh. Or whatever it is she says. The joy we have while with her, drove Grumpah Opa to drive to her church last Sunday to surprise them all. And Lunch afterwards was fun too. Watching her push the protective hands away as she stands up to toys or sofa cushions is also a joy. She is trying to do it herself. Independence and ability is driving her want to move and grow. What a joy! (We no longer share her image with the world, for her security safety and well being.) This is our little grand-daughter’s attempt at all fours this week.

And so it is Friday once again. There really isn’t anything to write about. Some people talk about nothing longer than I can. But really, they usually repeat the same old stories. Jibber, jabber of a nine month old is pleasant, but the “and so on and so forth” of other conversations can be well, pleasantly ended.

It’s super cold again. Above the little black Fleece kitty sits on an old gate pole to warm himself. At times he seems a more pleasing option than the female that takes up our residence. Sometimes, choices are not always ours.

And so on with the cold. Vague remembrances come to mind of forecasts for a mild winter. With the frigid temperatures that we have had, this is not mild. While we have not had the several feet of snow that others experienced, there is still enough white stuff hear to qualify for “not that mild” in my book.

Facts are the best things to settle on. For me the thought process seems to be hard as the ice in the heated pet dish outside. So here are some facts.

Honey had a haircut.

She has never been to the professional salon in her one and a half yearsof life. We setit up the other day when we were up at my daughter’s house. She could drive her there and go get her. Honey came back so soft and girlie smelling. The next day she kept looking at me like “What else do you know? What other secrets do you have? Thanks, mom! I feel so good!” It was definitely a sense of wonderment.

My hubby dear caught his first winter cold. Just a touch of sinus inconvenience. So I have tried to make a few meals that are still in his “keto” food range. I do think he needs to pick up a few more carbs now and again, but that’s opinionated. I also have tried to eat less on the carb side and less on the fat thing though too. Moderation and watching the waistline are the main attractions to any food plan.

The cat almost has me ready to throw her outside again. She has managed to nibble one of my plants down to a stub again after it had nearly returned to whole. Of course eating spider plant means she has a tummy ache, so she cries constantly. Very annoying for a cat. Especially when I have figured out that the only time I even like her remotely is when she is purring on my lap. I have not enjoyed playing with her, when all the rest of the time is dealing with discipline issues. More toys-HA!

Today it is once again too cold to go play outside Honey. Sorry. But the haircut worked and she will sit with me on the sofa now. Do I fee a draft? Brrr- it is so cold!

Having a soft plush live puppy is nothing like a soft plush stuffed puppy. She won’t even eat all of her food in the monring, so much for stuffed. The kitten however stuffed acts like we are starving her. She will eat anything that she smells. Good thing the lotions have lids on them.

My crochet projects are all on the slow tract. The food I fix takes days to eat. The winter drags on into the near spring. The days can be long and strenuous. Every once in awhile someone surprises me with a phone call or text. Jibber, jabber and so on and so forth.

Ecclesiastes 2:11 (paraphrase) “then I looked on all that the works of my hands and it seemed all my labor was as if grasping for the wind”. All the crochet hook has caught is like pulling wind through loops of air and the vanity of my attempts to creat a thing disappears like the seeds of the cottonwood tree in the summer breeze. Ahh, maybe next week the projects will go better. Jab, jab, jibber, and so forth.

Slippers season

Staying power

This week we spent the evenings in the recliner loveseat with our slippers on. The temperatures have reached their January postition. So why shouldn’t we take up ours. While the sitting is not winter worthy, we decided to watch “The Outsider.” It is a series created by a Canadian hand crafted log builder. I find the time relaxing. My husband choses to saw logs right with the constant buzzing that comes from the ipad.

So much for winter being a time to reconnect and feel closer together. Hubby missed all four series hours that we “watched.” Maybe it’s too much like bird watching or something. We did see a perfectly camouflaged quail though. Why a log cabin build series? Maybe knowing how one goes up the old fashioned hand-hewn way will help us in our dream cabin. Maybe.

The days though cold are predictably unfeeling. The wind does not care that the branches are bare. Fingers turn blue under the faucet. The dog does not know the meaning of below zero and my training sessions with her are limited to fifteen minutes before meal time. That makes it hard to be patient with her the rest of the hours in the day.

Staying power with my puppy has no purpose. Stay to her means two inches away. Stay when I am trying to comb her means nothing. She wants to rise up and take flight after an invisible frisbee even while I am trying to get her to relax and enjoy the combing session. I have learned much from constant attention to distraction. Sticking with some project or another involves some sort of magnetism that is stronger than the force of warmth that wants to keep me in the bed on these cold mornings. Duty calls. Honey has no sense of duty in all of the amazing sixth senses that she has. Maybe she’ll get staying power when she is old. Haha.

We are getting down to the last drops of hand soap. Ouch these poor blue digits. I hope the lack of suds and warm water to wash hands does not end up in another sinus infection. Standing at the sink to wait for the hot water to arrive certainly requires slippers or fortitude. You decide.

Along with the frigid air came the empty propane tank at the greenhouse. That makes me a bit discouraged. The last two crops have been a bit lacking and I am still looking forward to the February planting time. We may let the dome freeze off after all. Finding a home for all the geraniums might be difficult. wish I had a basement to haul them all into for a few weeks. There are eight, no maybe nine, and also six or seven other hanging planters that keep growing in spite of the lack of sunshine.

The split pea soup filled the house with it’s vegetable aroma yesterday. That makes the house smell emptier today. Except for the lotion on my fingers and the coffee in my cup, the lack of some warm vapors tantalizing my nostrils makes me wonder why the dog has to go searching for such awful smells sometimes. But a dog does not cook up some delightful stew when they feel like it. Proof that evolution is a sham once again.

Crocheting through the recent book reads passes the time for me. January is a great time to get caught up on the book list. And pick up and unfinished project. December had no time for such pleasure reading. From the Baker’s Secret to Doctor Zivago, my reading material has been so widely different that sometimes my head spins. The favorite so far was Being a Dog: Smell. It opened my eyes to what little we actually pay attention to in regard to our senses.

I feel the frigid water at the sink far to frequently.

I smell the coffee in my cup getting weaker with it’s decaffeinated grounds.

I feel the messy fur of my dog hunting for outdoors she brings in with her.

I taste the parsley from the greenhouse in my bowl of split pea soup.

I hear the cat howl after I tread on her softly once again.

I see that time has past once more into another weekend.

Just like that my mug of goodness is now cold. I ran outside with this finished shawl to get the sky in the background. There is nothing like a warm shawl to fight of the bite of cold. Maybe I should make a mug warmer. Back to the microwave with my coffee cup. Will this deep freeze never open its doors to sunshine again. Maybe in February. For now the cold wind and the distant sun will have to wear a shawl to warm up!

Day One

My low carb, good fat, something green live-it!

Day one

So my dear has decided to go on a diet. I hate that word. I prefer Liveo-it! Doesn’t that sound happier? He decided that it was time to get to a goal physique…

Well, that means I have to help. Or perhaps that I get to help.

First of all thaere is the 68 pages meal plan and recipe guide to read. Bother the reading, I’ll just make stuff up as I go. It can’t be that hard to modify my cooking knowledge, can it? Really, I’, the one that made all of our “favorites” through the years. If I could learn how to stretch the budget to feed a family on all those cheap carbs, then certainly I can teach us to eat those herbs and greens from the greenhouse and get rid of the bread fat in my mid-body region.

So since we have those greeh things growing in the greenhouse, maybe we should eat them everyday. How about every meal? So let’s gave my Live-w! A name…

“Low carbohydrates, good fats, something gree daily live-its!”

And that is way too long, so it is m ‘low carb good fat something green’ live-it!’ Diet. Doesn’t that sound tasty, long, confusing, and wonderful. Eating that something green daily will be the easy part. Finding the good fats rather than the bad ones, might be more challenging, but the hardest will be the low carbohydrates. My favorite breakfast is cereal. It’s fast, you know, break-fast. I take the word quite literal.

Day Two

Well, I blew it big time!

Breakfast at my daughter’s was oatmeal. There isn’t a single grain in the entire grocery list that my dear paid for. So I blew it. Lunch was a little better. I drank my swiss chard and carrot smoothie and ate a cup of gumbo, which was mostly meat and tomato sauce with some hot spices. But then it all fell apart again when she made oatmeal chocolate chips cookies that just jumped right into my mouth. It was so tempting. I entered right into the sinful thing, twice. Supper was best.

We learned how to trade out the potato for more greens. Broccoli, asparagus, and steak made it very good. At least I feel like we won on the diet for that meal. Day two has some success.

I wonder how day three will go?

Quite badly as a matter of fact. We haven’t gotten any of the groceries on the 68 page kito diet.

And then there is the grocery list for the plan. Thank goodness I do not have to go get the groceries.

Breakfast was cereal, lunch was a sugar flavor added yogurt. Afternoon snack was a bagel with cream cheese, and supper is beef stew with bread pudding, cheese and crackers. The only thing on the kito grocery list is cheese, beef and eggs. All those carbs. Well, no wonder that extra weight is hugging my middle so much that it won’t let go!

Here goes for day four!

I’ll probably live it whether I keep the die it or not!