GLADOLI AND BLAH, BLAH, BLAH

At some point in time, I purchased Gladioli bulbs. Like so many of the bulbs I’ve purchased over the years, they didn’t last for very long. I never knew if the squirrels got them, they rotted in the ground or just what happened. In any case, apparently one orange glad decided to hang in there and has done so for years and years. I believe it’s divided itself a number of times and this year it sent up four flower stalks. Perhaps I should give it some attention or move it to a new location…nah, it’s good.

Last week I noted a post on Facebook about joining a book club…sort of. I told the person to count me in and she messaged me the information I needed. I went out and bought one book by a favorite author, wrapped and mailed it to the one name and address provided by my friend.

Then, I posted my message on Facebook about joining this book club. I have lots of friends who read, so I really thought I’d get a big response. Wrong!!! Just one person responded and that was to question audio or e-books. I responded to her, but she didn’t get back to me. So, now, I have no one to provide with my friend’s name so she’ll get a book in the mail.

I’m actually disappointed by the lack of response to my Facebook post. I figured with all of us being stuck at home, we’re probably all reading a lot more than normal…I know I have been lately. Oh well, it’s not really high on the list of my problems these days.

I went to the dentist today (Thursday) to have my teeth cleaned. I had thought I would walk there, but another friend told me about her boss being in the sun before an appointment. When her boss went in, her forehead registered a higher than accepted temperature, so they would let her keep her appointment, even though she explained she’d been in the sun. I figured that could happen to me, so I drove the two minutes down the street. Once again, I had a good report…no cavities, no need for a crown replacement, no need for nuthin…come back in six months for another cleaning.

It’s becoming harder and harder to come up with something to write about. I don’t want to post a long-winded whine every single day, but lately it seems like I could potentially whine every single minute my brain is awake. A long long time ago when I was going to have to get up and do something I absolutely hated doing, I thought as I lay there in bed in the dark that being dead would be a good thing because I’d never have to get up…and, that’s probably about the only good thing about death.

I finally finished watching all 11 seasons of HEARTLAND. Apparently, there are seasons 12 and 13 out there, but they haven’t come to Netflix quite yet. I’m rather sad to have left this ranch and family for the time being. It was a pleasure to visit them for a few hours each night and their problems and difficulties were so fairly simple. Plus, the scenery and horses were so gorgeous I couldn’t even begin to describe it in a way that would provide the kind of credit deserved.

Well, I feel like I’m just sitting here blathering on about absolutely nothing and wasting your time. Perhaps between today (Friday) and tomorrow (Saturday), I’ll think of something that will catch and keep your worthy attention.

CLIVIA AND YOUNGER MEN?

My clivia is blooming. I’ve included two photos. One shows a close up of the individual flower that makes up the whole blooming ball. I have four of these plants in the house and all originated from the first one I obtained. I don’t remember who provided my start, but besides the ones I’ve grown for myself, I’ve given other plants to friends and family. The only reason I have four now is that I was unable to rehome three of them. These plants are relatively easy to grow. You really don’t have to do much of anything besides provide some water now and again and fertilizer.  

You would think since one of the four is blooming, the other three would be doing so as well, but they have given no indication of producing a bloom. One of the other three is busy producing additional starts. If I take it out of its pot, by the looks of things, I’d be able to repot it and two babies. I’m not sure if I’m going to do that. I’ve never just left the clivia to its own devices when it comes to making babies…maybe it’s time.

Plants have always been a huge part of my life and they’ve always had a place in my home. I’m trying to remember if I’ve written about the plants of my life in a previous blog post, but you know what, I cannot remember. For that matter, today’s post is #213 which means I only have 152 left to complete the year of daily postings I said I would do on January 1^st. Honestly, does it seem possible that there’s so few days left in 2020. Seriously, I’ll be more than happy to say farewell to this year and embark on a new one, but only if there’s some absolutely, positively hopeful sign that all our lives can return to normal (whatever that is) in 2021.

I’ll end the year having completed my mission of a post a day, but it is difficult these days to think of something new to write about. The whole purpose was to record my life without John, how I’m doing as a widow, and how my life has changed because of that. Because of the pandemic, my life isn’t anything like I imagined it would be, so there’s definitely been no posts about fabulous trips after the initial February cruise. I’ve been far lonelier without John since I cannot go places or entertain. And, probably I’ve missed close human skin-to-skin contact way more than I ever expected to.

That’s not to say that before the pandemic I planned to rush out as a new widow and take up with every Tom, Dick and Harry who came my way. In fact, I only know one Tom and don’t much care for him. The only Dick and Harry I knew are up to no good with John wherever they are. So, it would have had to be men known by other names. Still, I’ve always been the kind of woman who has to know the man before jumping into a relationship…unless there’s great chemistry as there was with John. And, let’s face it, at my age, great chemistry comes out of a bottle prescribed by my doctor or brewed in a gin factory somewhere.  

I do have to admit, however, that I haven’t seen a man in person that was over 50, maybe even 35 or 40, who was the least bit attractive to me. I’ve certainly seen many many younger men with whom I’m sure I’d have great chemistry provided the horrid number of decades standing between us weren’t in the way.

And, I don’t know how many women my age can remember growing up and the way the majority of the boys/men in our lives were rather ho hum compared to the young men growing up today. I cannot remember a single boy/young man who had muscles, muscle definition, six-pack abs and could pick me up with their little finger. Nope, they were all lily-white, smooth skinned without a single muscle showing, and I might have been able to beat them at arm wrestling because I was such a tomboy.

Yes, most of the young men I see today (and okay, I’m not seeing many because I’m not going anywhere), are buff and attractive. I remember riding in a car with several friends more than ten years ago. Another car full of handsome young men pulled alongside at the light. They smiled, acted very friendly and then zoomed on their way. I said something to the effect I wish I had some of that date drug that keeps the person from remembering the night before. If I did, I’d go find myself a young man because I wouldn’t want him to remember the experience because of my age. Everyone laughed and I hope they all thought my comments were funny, but to be perfectly honest, it actually sounds like a fine idea. Yep, a fine idea, but not one that I would have the least idea how to pursue.

Now, an older man, no matter how much older, can go out and find a much younger woman and while I might personally find it disgusting, society accepts such relationships with a problem. But if I or someone my age or older were to go out and recruit one of those young and buff and handsome men, society would have a lot to say…look at what happened with poor Demi Moore. I guess the message here would be to enjoy it while you are younger and have it.

Sheesh, I have no idea where this all came from. I just began typing and apparently suffered from diarrhea of the fingers. Hopefully, no one has been scandalized or offended by my post; but, oh well, if that has happened. Reading it over, I think what I was trying to do was to point out how times and people have changed since I was very young. And, just perhaps, engage in a bit of daydreaming in the process. I have become quite lonely during this pandemic.

PINK CALLA LILY AND VACUUMS

          The flower for today is a pink calla lily. I got these from Michigan Bulb a couple of years ago and didn’t think they were going to come back this year. But, they finally did and I love the color. A neighbor has black calla lilies and I’m hoping at some point he’ll give me a start. I’m also worried about getting the next Michigan Bulb catalog because I might break down and buy more bulbs for next year. I didn’t buy any new ones for this year because I thought I’d be leaving it all behind…now, who knows.

          I’m sitting here trying to think of what I should write about as well as trying  not to scratch the latest crop of mosquito bites. Why it can’t bite me and move along, I don’t know. The bug appears to bite in one place, move a little bit and bite again. Since these are almost in my armpit, the only time I can think of when I was laying with my hands behind my head was when I went to bed last night. Perhaps I should burn a citronella candle in my bedroom???

          When I tore the muscle in my left shoulder about 18 months ago, it was lifting my wonderful Sears vacuum cleaner. After surgery, I bought a new vacuum cleaner. I went on line and did some research and bought what was supposed to be the lightest vacuum on the market. It’s a Bissell and I hate it. I know if I keep using it, I’m going to tear something in my right shoulder. I need to figure out what kind of vacuum to buy.

          Again, with the research. I went on line this morning and typed in, “Best vacuum for old people?” I got a number of internet sites I could visit, so I visited the site, “The best lightweight vacuums for the elderly.” Okay, that would be moi. Turns out that now there are vacuums that weigh eight pounds or less.

The first choice on this site is for a Shark ION. It weighs 8.7 pounds is cordless and includes rechargeable batteries and the review lists five Pros, i.e.,

·       Versatility; works from floor to ceiling (I don't vacuum my ceilings).

·       Features DuoClean suitable for different floors

·       Very light in weight and compact

·       Flexible

·       Cordless

The Cons:

·       Comes with small dust cup

I can purchase it on Amazon for $339.82 with free shipping.

The Shark Rocket is the second recommendation on the list. It has seven Pros, i.e.,

·       Weight less than 8 pounds

·       Converts to a hand vac

·       Highly effective in removing pet hairs from carpets and bare floors

·       Works excellent on medium pile carpet

·       Powerful suction

·       The multi-layered filters are washable and easy to clean

·       Free replacement or refund facility.

The Cons:

·       The dust cap is relatively small

·       Not recommended for high pile carpet

The price for this vacuum is $169.95 from Amazon with free shipping.

The third vacuum is an Orek Commercial upright vacuum cleaner. It has nine Pros, i.e.,

·       Weight is only 8.2 pounds

·       Suitable for older person

·       Best for carpets &  Hard floors

·       Speedy cleaning with less effort

·       Highly effective for cleaning carpets

·       Automatic floor adjustment

·        Low maintenance and repair

·       Can deodorize the room as well with scent tab

·       Reasonably priced -- $163.55 from Amazon with free shipping.

The Cons, i.e.,

·       Is 15% louder than other vacuums (but I wear hearing aids, take them out)

·       It has no docking station for the bags

·       Not useful for cleaning long pet hairs

A Roomba price begins at $1,099.99, but has models that run $799.99, $599.99 and $349.99. Well, let me tell you that I will risk injuring my right shoulder before I pay over a thousand dollars for a vacuum cleaner, even if it does run all by itself. So, I compared the bottom three. The higher priced one has ten times the suction power of the other two. I can also clean and schedule by room with smart mapping, comes with link technology and clean base automatic dirt disposal. Don’t think I’ll be buying the $799.99 model.

Now, the $599 model has something called vSlam navigation, but the cheaper one does not. What is vSlam navigation…I don’t know. The only other difference is entire level cleaning with coverage maps. I only have one level in any case.

So, if I’m going to spend $339 for the Shark, I may as well spend $349 for a vacuum that puts itself to work and then puts itself away. Or, I could spend less and continue to vacuum myself with option #2 or #3 

Before I began this post, I called my neighbor who got a new vacuum for Christmas, one of those Roombas by I-robot. It sounds like she has the one that's listed at the $799 price. We talked vacuums and she had the Shark ION before she got the Roomba. She likes both of them and uses the Shark for her steps and other areas the Roomba doesn’t go. She also has a big dog with really long hair, so the Roomba works every single day and does a good job. She didn’t pay $799, but got it for less than $500 before Christmas when Costco or Amazon (or someone) had it on sale.

So, now, aren’t you glad you read your way all through this post so you now know so much about vacuums? I’m so sorry to have bored you with all this, but it was helpful for me to get my ducks, hmmmm, vacuums???, all in a row. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about a vacuum. I’m not vacuuming a lot because I’m not having much in the way of company, so I could quite possibly keep on using the Bissell. Or, I could purchase one of the Sharks. Or, I could just wait and see if the Roomba goes on sale again for less than $500. Or, maybe I could sell this place and just move into something really really small that could be vacuumed with a DustBuster…that’s way more my speed these days.

DAHLIAS AND MY PARENTS

          My dahlias are finally starting to bloom. This is one of my favorites and I have a couple of clumps of them. And there's a little red one photo bombing. So far, just two are blooming, but there’ll be lots more as summer continues. I’ll also add photos of the others that are just now beginning to bud.

          I don’t know about you, but dahlias fascinate me, mainly because there are so many shapes, sizes and colors. I wouldn’t mind having a lot more than what I already have, but I’m not sure where I’d put them unless I dug up all the lilies and I cannot do that.

          Sunday was my mother’s birthday. Her name was Ella (no middle initial) and she would have been 99 years old. I didn’t write about her on Sunday, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t think about her or my dad, Art. He was born on July 12^th in 1923, and they would have celebrated their 72^nd anniversary on July 23^rd if they’d both been alive. Once I was old enough to earn my own money or save money, July was a financial hardship when it came to purchasing cards and/or gifts. I guess you could say I’ve thought of them the entire month and it would have been wonderful to go shopping for that special card/gift for each of them.

          When I think of them together, I don’t believe I’ve ever really known another couple, older, my age or younger who were actually a couple like my parents. They seemed to be on the same page in just about every situation and when daddy needed support, mom provided and vice-versa. I do so wish they could have lived on together rather than having dad go and then mom wait for those 20 long years to pass until she could join him.

          When we lived in Idaho, daddy “brought home the bacon,” and momma “cooked it up in the frying pan.” I cannot imagine how daddy could have gone so far beneath the ground in that silver mine and stay sane. I cannot imagine how my mom must have felt when that dreaded whistle blew signaling a cave-in. Thankfully, daddy was never involved in one, but I’m sure mom didn’t rest easy until he either called or came home.

          When I thought of daddy calling, it brought to mind the telephone we had in our house in Idaho. It was on the wall and you talked into the front of the phone and held the receiver up to your ear. The cord wasn’t very long, so you kinda had to stay right there…probably why there were never many long conversations. It was also on a party line. I think, but am not sure, there was someone located elsewhere that answered and connected the various phone calls. Your phone had a distinctive ring and you had to listen for it. If it rang differently, then it was for someone else on the party line. There were rude people who listened in to other folks’ conversations. I wasn’t old enough then to be able to do that, but it sounds like fun now…sort of like the slumber parties of my youth where we’d call places and ask if they had “Prince Albert in a can?” and then tell them to let him out.

          Mom and dad came to Seattle to visit family during the summer of 1953. Mom came back alone, sold the house (just the house, the mine owned the land), packed us up and got us moved to Seattle to one of dad’s relative’s homes. It was both exciting and terrifying, but a great example of mom supporting dad’s choice and assuming the responsibility for getting us there while he worked at his new job.

          Once we were all in Seattle, my parents had to find us a house. I don’t remember too much about that, only that I began fourth grade at West Woodland Elementary School which was a partner school to WPZoo when I worked there. I had to transfer to B.F. Day when we moved into our new house. It was located in Fremont, consisted of three city lots and a two-story house and cost my parents an even $5,000…can you imagine??? They’d both be amazed at what that property is worth today.

          Some old woman had lived in the house and done a lot of repairs and stuff herself. She wasn’t very good, so my dad had to step in and fix whatever needed fixing. But she had planted a lot of great stuff. We had grapes (tried to make wine as a kid, but didn’t work), gooseberries (they were yummy, but these worms always appeared and ate them faster than I could), a peach, plum, pear and cherry tree (mom cut down the cherry tree…I always thought she was afraid I’d try to climb out my bedroom window and down, but maybe not), and boysenberries. I’ve never thought about it, but now I’m wondering why there wasn’t an apple tree.

Mom & Dad, 1959

          While mom was back in Idaho packing us up, or possibly before, daddy was injured at the canning factory. I don’t recall the injury…something with his hand maybe…but he couldn’t go to work for a spell. That meant no money coming in and there were no organizations back then that helped families like mine when there was a need. I actually remember daddy crying at the dinner table because he was unable to provide for us.

          Again, mom provided dad with support and found a job at Kress’ Dimestore in downtown Seattle. I have no idea how much she made, if she made enough to pay all the bills or what, but there was food on the table, the lights were on and we were all together. And remember, this was a time when moms didn’t work outside the home. I didn’t much like the fact she had a job and no longer had the time to make all those yummy cakes and pies she’d made in Idaho.

          Eventually daddy healed up and went out looking for work. I don’t know if it wasn’t a good time to be looking for a job, but he finally found one cleaning up the Albertson’s bakery on Magnolia. It worked out well for him because he went from washing those huge mixing bowls to filling them, to baking what came out and decorating some beautiful cakes…he did our wedding cake. From that point on, we always had a “fancy” birthday cake as opposed to homemade. And, eventually that clean-up man became a bakery manager.

Dad & AJ, 1974

          I’ve never known for sure if mom needed, as in have to, keep working for the paycheck. I believe it was probably the case because once Grandma moved to California, mom would talk to me about their money problems…having to rob Paul to pay Peter was a favorite phrase for her. I also don’t know if mom and dad had the same discussions or if it was a case where mom didn’t want to worry dad, so she talked to me instead. Whatever the case, I’ve worried about money my entire life; and even now, I’m oh so very careful “just in case.” I don’t ever want to rob Peter to pay Paul.

          Birthdays and holidays, and even some regular days, were almost always pretty good. There was lots of laughter from both mom and dad and when I look at some of the old photos, I can actually remember the occasion and what we were doing and/or receiving. I always knew I was loved, felt I was loved and in return, loved them both so very much. Today I wish I had way more photos than I actually do. Today, and actually on 7/12, 7/23 and 7/26, I do so wish mom and dad had both been available. I’m sure my hugs would have been a comfort to them, but their hugs would have meant the absolute world to me. Still, I was blessed…am blessed.

Mom, Moi, Dad, 1963

Mom & Dad, 1973

ANYONE KNOW? AND MARIJUANA

          I have no idea what this plant could be. I first saw it growing and blooming in front of the Starbucks store where Phinney curves to become Greenwood. It was much bigger than the one I now have. And, I don’t know if it wasn’t taken care of, if it was yanked out after blooming as a weed, or what, but it was never there again and that was years and years ago.

          This plant has leaves that look a bit like wide grass or gladiolus leaves. The one I found was being sold by a vendor at maybe the Lavender Festival and was blooming then…that’s how I realized what it was. Back home, I planted it, but it never did very well and never bloomed. A couple of times I seriously considered yanking it up, but just left it alone. This year, my patience was rewarded with three stalks of these blooms. I’m going to wait a bit and then see if I can start more from the seeds on the stalks.

          The last couple of days have been painful. I cannot think of anything I did that would have resulted in my joints being sore/painful, but they certainly have been. I know yesterday, my left shoulder didn’t like stretching up to pick the topmost peas, but it was sore before that. Stretching up and picking just made it sorer.

          I took an Aleve yesterday morning and again last night. Didn’t do much to really help. I took another one this morning and did my PT which did seem to help, but my joints, from my toes to my cervical vertebrae are still sore. I do have some stronger drugs, but really don’t want to go down that path.

          There were some boxes of stuff for the garage sale that son Thor dropped off and I did move them around to make the garage less messy. Some of them were heavy, but why would that make my hips hurt. I haven’t taken a walk for going on two weeks now…could that make me sore all over??? I wouldn’t think so, but perhaps my body is trying to tell me something.

          The only other thing I’ve done that isn’t usual for me is to eat a marijuana candy. I’ve had them forever and just decided Friday night that I’d be wild and crazy and get high. Of course, the fact I took it not long before bed didn’t really give me much of an opportunity to be wild or crazy. It was the following morning when I woke up all sore and uncomfortable. Could that mean I was wild and crazy in my sleep? I certainly don’t recall waking up and doing anything that could have left me so uncomfortable. And, I don’t think those things go bad…do they???

          I’m certainly glad marijuana didn’t make me sore back in the day if that's what did make me sore. I didn’t drink at all then because drinking and smoking always made me sick…the throwing up kind of sick. I did like getting high though and have many many pleasant memories of life and what I did during those times. I certainly wouldn’t go back and change anything.

          Well, maybe I’d change the first time. John began experimenting either before or shortly after AJ was born. When AJ was several months old, John introduced me to smoking a joint. First, it really hurt my throat and I couldn’t keep from coughing. Second, I ended up in the bathroom retching into the toilet. At that point I didn’t think I’d be liking to do this ever again.

          My next memory of getting high has to do with smoking it all by myself. John was who knows where, AJ was in bed asleep and I got high. I never hear Santana’s “Oye Como Va” without the memory of laying on top of the kitchen counter and floating down the musical note river of that song jumping to the forefront of my mind. It was actually a Santana album, so there were other songs that kept me floating on that river. I’d always liked music, but never had it affect me the way it did once I began getting high.

          When John and I were separated, I became good friends with a woman who was going to the UW. For a six-month period, I got high on the way to work, went out at noon with her to get high and then again at the end of the day after AJ was tucked into bed. I still managed to do my job, take care of my son, pay my bills, keep house; basically, live a normal life that was full of light, laughter, fun, and kept the harder parts of my life safely cushioned. It was a good time.

          By the time John and I resumed our lives together, he was dealing in marijuana. Somehow, he managed to never get caught dealing to the wrong person. We had lots of company in those days who were, mainly, I think, his customers, but they were always funny, interesting, polite and easy to have around. Also they were mostly male as opposed to female.

          One day John brought AJ to the UW to have lunch with me in the cafeteria. I had some celery sticks in a baggie. AJ says a bit more loudly than we would have liked, “Look dad, dope.” John and I looked at each other. I hastened to show AJ it was celery, and from that point on, John was quite a bit more circumspect with regard to his “dope.”

          Our flirtation with marijuana kinda wound down. I know I gave it up before I became pregnant with Thor. And, after, it was just easier to remain straight, especially since the majority of our dope friends had migrated out of our lives. I find myself wondering at times what happened to some of them. We still got high now and then, depending on what was happening in our lives, but it wasn’t often. Then, John became addicted to Percocet for his pain and he gave up marijuana altogether. He had to have a drug test once a year and any indication of any other drug aside from Percocet would result in his prescription not being refilled.

          The funniest thing about this story is that when I began to clean out all John’s filing cabinets, I found a whole bunch of dope. A baggie here, a baggie there, small glassine envelopes with buds. I put them all into a box and once it appeared I’d found all there was to be found, I went through it. Most of it is probably dirt weed, loose and kinda gray looking. I poured those baggies into a half-pint jar. The ones that were more like buds and had a name on the baggie, I put aside figuring that at some point, I’d try smoking them.

          My granddaughter found all this hilarious. This is the granddaughter that bought herself a pack of smokes just because she turned 18 and could…they’re still unopened. She thought I should make her a batch of brownies. I would have been happy to except her mother…and maybe her father…would have killed me. It may now be legal, but they don’t like it.

          Anyway, it’s no longer here and has been distributed to folks I know are still getting high. If that marijuana candy is what’s responsible for how I’m feeling, perhaps I should have sent that off as well.

A BEE BUTT, BUZZING AND ITCHING

          Just look at that cute little bee butt in the middle of the squash blossom. I noticed this when I was watering and pulled out my phone and took several photos. It wasn’t exactly a nice day so I don’t know if the bee was hunkered down, she did move around, waiting for a ray of sunshine or not. Since this is a delicata squash and I love them, I’m hoping this little bee will make the plant grow a yummy squash.

          I got up this morning (Saturday), speaking of bees, with a bee in my bonnet as my grandma used to say. I tried to ignore it by watering everything, beginning the laundry, cleaning up the kitchen which hadn’t been touched since Thursday, checking my bank accounts and paying the pending bills. Still, the buzzing hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse, especially after checking my accounts and finding they’ve just about grown back to where they were before the pandemic slide.

          The buzzing has to do with BUYING SOMETHING!!!! I want to go shopping!!! I want to go online and buy whatever I find that I feel like I really want. There’s only one big problem with this, well, maybe two. First, there is absolutely not a thing that I need…zip, zero, zilch.

Secondly, maybe thirdly, my closet is full of clothes, more than half of which I hardly ever wear. If I took all those out, the closet would be almost empty. My house is full of all kinds of stuff, most of which I thought I’d be waving farewell to at the big garage sale I thought I’d have in August…now moved to the weekend after Labor Day weekend if it happens in 2020 at all. Even then, it will be the garage stuff, not all the stuff in the house.

So, I’m itching to buy SOMETHING NEW!!! I just wish the buzzing and itching would give me a direction with regard to what I could buy. I suppose it’s actually more the wanting to go shopping than it is actually acquiring a new shirt or pot or knick-knack. And it’s not like I spent a huge amount of time shopping before the pandemic because I didn’t.

I think what I truly want is to be able to get in my car…or someone else’s…and go to the mall (is it even open???) and wander around with that someone looking at stuff and debating its positive and negative points. Going into the dressing room sounds like a lot of fun as opposed to the agony it used to be. How great to put on several new dresses, shorts, shirts, nighties or whatever and gaze at myself in the mirror. Even better would be modeling the items I liked for the someone who was with me and vice versa. To leave the mall with a bag full of new things sounds wonderful.

And, as long as I’m wishing for a day that’s not going to happen, let’s throw in a couple of drinks and lunch (or dinner, depending on how long we shop). My last in restaurant meal was John’s birthday in June and it was really kinda surreal. I didn’t recognize a single waitress/waiter at a place we went fairly regularly and spacing was such that I couldn’t really talk to anyone else who was there for a meal. Still good food in a fairly empty restaurant.

           I don’t remember any dreams from last night that would lead me to feeling like this. It’s just another usual Saturday, i.e., laundry, vacuum, change bed, change dogs’ beds, etc. And yet, I want to call someone, get in my car and go have a day that throws all caution to the wind…I always wonder how that comment came to be…and ends with my feeling wonderful, exhausted, fulfilled and content.

          But no, I won’t be throwing my caution into the wind or anywhere else, no matter how much I want to or how appealing it sounds. Chances are I’d end up with COVID and in the hospital and then the crematorium. Don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet. Besides, how many FB things have I posted/reposted telling people to “ STAY HOME AND/OR WEAR A MASK.” I’d be such a hypocrite.

          Instead, the dryer just dinged, the vacuum is quietly calling my name and all the dust bunnies and motes are hunkering down, hoping I won’t choose to pull out the dusters. Laundry is going to need folding, the bed remade, the dishwasher emptied and the peas I harvested this morning cooked for dinner. Guess it’s just going to be another day just like so many that have gone before. I need to choose to ignore the buzzing and itching for something new. I need to choose to be grateful I’m healthy and able to do all the things that need doing around my own house.

          So going to take off the hearing aids to see if the buzzing stops. Going to use some afterbite on the itches and get on with my day. Still, big sigh, it would be so wonderful to go shopping or do just about anything just for fun. Just for fun that wouldn’t endanger me or anyone else…maybe in 2021.

SORRY...

          as I’ve stated in past posts, now and then, I really don’t have anything to say today. Maybe tomorrow.

BUTTERFLY ON LILY, BOHDI AND VEGETABLES

          Look what came to visit me a couple of weeks ago. I don’t often see these butterflies in my yard. Usually I have smaller white ones that kind of come and go. It didn’t stay long, but both Maryanne and Claudia were able to see and photograph as well since we were doing our deck stay apart lunch.

          I usually have a lot of dragonflies. Until a few years ago, I didn’t realize they came in any color but blue, but then there were several red ones. I tried photographing those too, but even though they stayed perfectly still each time, apparently my camera or my hands weren’t steady enough to get a clear photo.

          Neighbor Dave pulled into my driveway this morning while I was watering my vegetable containers. He was coming back from taking his German Shepherd Bohdi for a swim class or swim therapy. Bohdi and I are great friends, but in the middle of giving him some pets, he suddenly barked…almost scared the pants off me. When I told him to sit, he laid down in the back of the Explorer…he’s too big to be able to sit. He’s the biggest GSD (as his owner refers to him) I have ever seen with the longest hair. Bohdi is a different kind of GSD that doesn’t have the undercoat most GSDs have, just this long looooooooooooooong fur. He’s also the most handsome GSD I’ve ever seen as well. I stole this photo from Dave and wish I had one of Bohdi's face...gorgeous eyes and BIG sharp teeth.

          Unfortunately, Bohdi’s tale was a sad one before he found his forever home. Whoever got him as a puppy didn’t care for him very well for the first couple years of his life. When he was rescued, he’d lost most of his fur, had skin problems and a whole bunch of other stuff that was wrong. In addition, he had never been socialized, so everyone and everything was a threat. His rescue person worked with him for I don’t know how long before my neighbors took him in. The rescue person said she knew Bohdi had found his forever home when he took to both Kim and Dave as soon as he walked in the door. His rescue person also made a video that shows Bohdi as she got him and how he developed after that. As Dave said, it starts out really sad, but ends happy.

          I knew they were getting Bohdi, so when I found out he’d come home, I dashed up there and stuck my hand right into his kennel to pet him. I had no idea he could have taken my hand off with his big mouth and teeth, but I guess he liked me because we’ve gotten along ever since. I’ve even gone to the house when Dave and Kim are running late and let him out to do his bidness. He obeys my commands as well (maybe almost) as he does Dave’s. I always took him dog cookies though too, so maybe that helped.

          Both Dave and Kim have worked hard with Bohdi to get him more socialized and friendly to other people and dogs. My walking partner Kathy was bitten by another dog last year and she’s hesitant around Bohdi, so, of course, he picks up on that and barks and challenges her. He gets in trouble and is reprimanded for his actions, but I think he likes to play the intimidation game with Kathy.

          This is the fourth GSD Dave and Kim have had. Dave always takes the dog for a walk and would come here when John was alive. John would provide the dogs (ours and Dave’s) with a cookie…or two or three…while the guys chatted and yukked it up. Dave walks Bohdi and he says he checks my vegetable pots every day, but I never hear either one of them. One of the previous GSDs always used to come to our porch when he got a chance to run away. I remember we had a horrible lightening storm and somehow the GSD was able to get out. He was terrified and made a beeline for my porch. We dried him off and kept him until he was rescued by his family.

          Anyway, Dave and I talked vegetables. He said his tomatoes flower, but then nothing really happens. I’ve had a number of cherry tomatoes off my hanging pots, and there’s a bunch of green ones developing in the bigger pots. Also, my zucchini has finally decided to produce. I’ve used one and given another one away. I have a few more that are almost ready…or maybe beyond ready…to be plucked from the vine. And, the peas have grown and I’ve already harvested more than enough for one meal and it’s time to do it again.

          Dave’s brother Ken is the real gardener among us, but he told Dave his tomato crop isn’t doing well either and that it’s because we haven’t had enough hot days. I agree with Ken’s opinion and think my success is due only to the black asphalt on which the tomato pots sit. Come Monday, it will be time to fertilize everything again, so hopefully the coming hot days will make everything grow better.

          The Danish and delicata squash aren’t doing much and the pumpkin plants have vined, but I’m not sure any of the punkins resulting from the blooms will be viable because of the weather. When I bought the punkin plants, I thought it would be so fun to grow them and then have Xander come and help me make jack-o-lanterns, but now, that isn’t likely no matter how big the punkins get.

          My Thai basil and Italian basil really seem to like this weather though. They are growing very well. Every time they begin to try to set flowers, I pluck the flower and a couple of the leaves and put them in my salads…pretty yummy. Still, even though I had a difficult time getting to sleep on Monday when it was hot, I’m ready, more than ready really, for summer to show up. So, enough with the onshore flow, the drifting clouds and the sporadic drizzle…let’s have summer NOW!!!