NO IDEA AND MY WORLD'S CHANGED A LOT

I have absolutely no idea of the name of this plant. Not only that, but I cannot remember from where it came, so I can’t even return to the source and inquire. Anyway, it’s the plant in which some animal decided to take a nap. I have about six inches of topsoil and then it becomes hardpan. No matter how hard I pound on a stake, it will only go so far. The weight of the branches of this plant pull the stakes over when I try to put garden wire from one stake to another, so the plants just lean out over the sidewalk and lawn. Plus the little white blossoms fall off and the dogs (and moi) carry them back into the house.

Yesterday I decided I was extremely annoyed by this plant and resolved to just yank it all out of its flowerbed. I knew I had planted dahlias in that flowerbed and amazingly, all three had returned...I just couldn't see them because they were buried. Thanks to this plant’s elimination, the dahlias can now grow and my yard waste bin was full to the brim. There are still roots in the flowerbed, so I’m sure it will return before fall or for sure next year. I’ll just try to do a better containment job then.

Today, Monday, I had to make a trip to Ballard. Decades ago, I rode my bike from Fremont through Ballard to Golden Gardens. Then, after John and I married, we lived in northwest Ballard for a few years before we bought this house. I drove through Ballard and Fremont to get to my job at the University of Washington. Later on, when I went to work at the zoo, both Fremont and Ballard were easy lunch access points, and I became quite familiar with the areas. That also included Greenwood.

I’ve now been retired nine years and must say my world has become ever so much smaller with retirement, especially when the folks I knew at the zoo either retired as well or left for another job elsewhere. Before John died, I got out far more often and went more places, mainly to get him to his doctors’ appointments. Now, the pandemic has even further decreased my range of travel. It’s amazing that I didn’t have an accident, as in rear-ending someone, because of all the changes that have taken place since my retirement, John’s death and the pandemic.

I took the freeway from 205^th to 145^th and was astonished at how much work has been accomplished on the light rail construction. Off the freeway, my eyes continued to widen at the number of places that had been removed for new construction of what are most likely condos or apartment buildings to serve the people who will move there for easy access to the light rail.

Because of traffic, I kinda decided to take a more back way to get into downtown Ballard. Again, there were places I recognized and others that had changed so much I didn’t remember them being there even though the construction looked old. In downtown Ballard, there are new apartment or condo buildings all over the place. One entire corner is empty, but I’m sure they’ll be building something there in no time.

On my way home I took Market Street, and again, so many new buildings have replaced what was there not even ten years ago. And the trees. The trees were planted long ago, but they have become huge and for entire sections of the street, you are driving in a tree tunnel. It was kinda comforting to see what I think was the very first Seattle McDonalds is still in the same place and still in business.

Talk about feeling as though I’m out of the loop. I almost felt as though I had left the familiar for the unknown, or entered an adjacent world that was sort of like mine, but not. If this pandemic continues into 2021, which appears as though it will be the case, it seems to be entirely possible there will be complete areas that I won’t recognize.

When we all had to shelter in place, I only went to the grocery store, wearing a mask and using hand sanitizer very very often. I don’t think we necessarily have to shelter in place now, so that means I can leave the house, get in my car and drive wherever I would like. Maybe that’s what I need to do one day a week? Just get in the car and pick an area I’d like to visit once again. The only problem with that is twofold. First, it’s hard to get up the energy to just go drive myself around. Secondly, how much fun would it be with just me, myself and I? True, we’re all great company, but me and myself don’t always talk to I.

While I’m grateful John isn’t alive to experience this pandemic and die as a result, it would be nice to have him here to share in those rides all about the area. I remember back in the old days, i.e., the ‘60’s and ‘70s when we’d take Sunday…or even Saturday…drives all over the northwest. Now that there’s not a lot of traffic out there and the weather is cooperating, it would be ever so much fun to hop in the car and go exploring like we used to do all those decades ago. And yes, I could. And, yes, maybe I will give it a try one of these days.

STARGAZERS AND ITCHING

          There are a lot of different kinds of lilies in my garden, both along the front drive and in the back surrounding the deck. The majority of them are just about finished. In fact, there are only two remining in the front. There are a few more left in back, but the Stargazer is just coming into its own. This one stalk has nine blossoms and as soon as I’m sure the top ones will open, I’ll cut and take it to Angie. She loves these and carried them in her bridal bouquet. 

          While I couldn’t stand to pick and bring into my own house because the odor is overwhelming, they do make my entire deck smell lovely. Having enough room for the perfumey smell to spread out, I do like it then. I think I have a few more Stargazers to go, but they haven’t begun to open yet. I just thought that perhaps I should buy a few more bulbs and plant them in the front so the vague wonderful smell would come into my bedroom next summer.

          I have something going on that is driving me absolutely nuts…itching. I’ve always had dry skin and have always used lotion, at least since the winter I drew blood scratching my tummy. Lately, it seems like there isn’t a square inch of my body that doesn’t itch at some point or other. I use the lotion I’ve always used, and even tried a different one or none. I purchased new hypoallergenic laundry detergent and wool dryer balls in case I’ve developed a sensitivity to the ones I'd been using.

          I’ve also reviewed the various vitamins and supplements I take and eliminated ones that could possibly have begun to cause this reaction. I’m just about to the point where I’m ready to eliminate every single pill from my regimen except for the prescription ones which I do need to take each day. I guess I need to send another email to my doctor and tell her what I’ve done so far isn’t working to reduce the itch.

          Of course, I don’t have long acrylic fingernails anymore, but my short and sharp ones are perfect for scratching. Sometimes, scratching the itch is just short of orgasmic. Other times, it actually hurts and when I look in the mirror, there are definite red marks from scratching. I use an anti-itch cream on those, but just sitting here typing, I want to stop and use my fingers to scratch the back top of my shoulder.

          If that isn’t bad enough, apparently my 52-year immunity to mosquitos has worn off. Eating lunch on the deck on Thursday, I was bitten, probably by the same mosquito, numerous times on the outside of my right leg just below the knee. Initially, I thought it was just a red mark from having my left leg rest on my right. But, no, it was definitely bites and I’m afraid I scratched and scratched. Today, the red splotches, the size of an egg, are still there, but the swelling has gone down and they don’t itch.

          The very same day, at some point, another mosquito decided to feast on my right arm. I ended up with four different bites in different places from my forearm to my shoulder. I don’t know when that happened and I cannot hear the mosquito whining around me because I’m hard of hearing. And don’t try to tell me the reason for the bug attraction is that I’ve become sweeter in my mature years…it ain’t so.

          It serves me right I guess for feeling so superior all those years everyone else got bitten and they left me alone. Even when my immunity began to wear off and I got a bite or two during the summer, I liked it because it was so fun to scratch the itch. Well, not any more.

          ^&*)^&*^&^#$@#$@!, just found the reason for the should itch…another mosquito bite. Maryanne told me about a product which I think is called After-bite which will take the bug itch away. I guess rather than waiting until tomorrow to do my errands, I’ll have to get to the drugstore today and purchase some of that stuff. I tell you, if this pandemic doesn’t drive me right round the bend, this itching may just do the trick. If there’s news about a naked woman running down the middle of the street screaming, “SCRATCH ME, PLEASE SCRATCH ME.”, you’ll know her identity without looking for a name.

          Well, enough whining about my itching problem. I’d best begin getting myself together for the day. The doggies and I didn’t have any snuggle time yesterday morning, so we had some extra this morning before breakfast. And, no, my doggies do not have fleas, so that’s not what’s bugging me…pun intended. So, it’s now late morning and my Sunday morning chores haven’t even begun. Hope you had a pleasant Sunday yourself.

FUSCHIAS, AUNTIE LOLA AND UNCLE IKE

          Fuschias are absolutely beautiful and my very most favorite is the one my Great Aunt Lola gave me a start for just about 50 years ago. I planted it in the back corner of my flowerbed and every year it comes back and blossoms beautifully. It always makes me think of her and her husband, Great Uncle Ike. They were probably my most favorite relatives of all time.

          Auntie Lola also gave me a pampas grass, but I moved it one too many times and it finally said enough, laid down and died. That, or John or one of the boys did something to it because they were the ones that had to move it. The last time before it died, they said, this is it, not doing it again. I’ve thought about buying another one, but it wouldn’t be the same at all.

          Anyway, Uncle Ikeee (we hardly ever called him just Ike) was my daddy’s father’s brother. When we first moved to Seattle, Uncle Ike and Aunt Lola owned a tavern somewhere in the south end of Seattle. They lived on Beacon Hill. I don’t think I ever went to the tavern, but I remember my first and only bike came from Uncle Ike and the tavern. Someone had left the bike behind and after it was unclaimed, he gave it to me. It was a boy’s bike, but when you desperately want your own bike, who cares about the bar in the middle…unless you fall on it and then, OUCHIE-ouch.

          Uncle Ike smoked and drank and told funny and off-color jokes. I never got the off-color ones until I grew up quite a bit. John absolutely loved that man and they got along great. I believe they sold the tavern and Uncle Ike went to work as a mechanic some place. I remember he brought home motor oil which Aunt Lola or maybe Uncle Ike would pour in a thin stream at the edge of the grass to keep the grass from invading the flowerbed. I’ve never tried that in my own garden, but it seemed to work in theirs.

          While Uncle Ike was kinda naughty, Aunt Lola was the epitome of class and breeding or at least it seemed that way to me. She had snow white hair and always wore diamond studs in her ears. She also always wore a dress and apron. Every once in a while, though, after I grew up, Auntie Lola would set me back on my heels in shock at what would come out of her mouth. You would expect it from Uncle Ike, but not Aunt Lola. Once you got over the shock, what she had to say was always applicable and very funny. I remember many dinners with lots of laughter and good food at their home.

          They never had any children, but Aunt Lola found herself pregnant as a young woman. She didn’t marry the father and chose to keep the child. She worked as a beautician and raised her daughter on her own. That must have been extremely hard back in those years. I think the daughter had grown up by the time she and Ike married, but I’m not sure.

          They both liked to garden, or at least Auntie did. Their gardens were beautiful with all different kinds of flowers and not a lot of grass. It was very pleasant to sit out back surround by all that beauty. I still remember the passion vine that grew up a trellis by the back door and their begonias were lush and gorgeous. They also had a tulip tree (magnolia?) in the front yard. I loved that tree and asked Auntie to please leave it to me in her will. Unfortunately, as they got older, that tree was pretty messy and one visit, it was simply gone…they’d had it cut down.

          Aunt Lola was the one who taught me to can. First, she told me what I needed to buy in order to make 18-20 quarts. Then, she and Ike came to our house and while John and Ike hung out, Auntie taught me how to make garlic dill pickles. I still have the recipe although I’ve copied it over several times. It says we did this in 1968 and the cost per quart was 33 cents. I’ve made at least ten quarts or more every single year since I learned how. I’ve also shared her recipe with many people and held a tutorial last summer for three of my friends. In just a few weeks, it will be time to put up this year’s jars and the cost will most likely be more than $3.00 per quart.

          She also taught me how to can green beans. For those you need a pressure cooker and I bought one although I’ve always wondered how women canned beans back in the day before pressure cookers. I went to her house to learn how to can them. I remember placing the warm jars, carefully protected so they wouldn’t break in the trunk of my car. For years, I had three or four teepees of bean vines and canned all the beans produced and that we ate during the winter. Store bought green beans never tasted as good as the ones I canned.

          Auntie and Uncle Ike also made sauerkraut. They had a huge stone container or crock in which they put the shredded cabbage and whatever else went into the process. I seem to remember them saying something about how you had to keep checking back and skimming off scum or mold or something and turning the cabbage until it was time to can it up. They’re also the only people I’ve ever known who made an actual mincemeat. I always just buy a jar and it’s mostly raisons, apples and spices. Auntie made it with venison…real meat. Either Ike went hunting or someone else in the family did so in order to provide the venison. I remember having mincemeat pie prepared by Aunt Lola and it was very good.

          It was also Auntie Lola who planned and organized the huge family picnics every single year. They were always wonderful affairs and family you may not have seen since the last picnic always showed up. As a youngster, it was great fun to play with cousins and be told how much you’d grown by the various aunts and uncles. Uncle Ike departed first and I think the last big family event planned by Auntie was his funeral and memorial. Then Aunt Lola went to California to live with her daughter and the family picnics became a thing of the past. I believe AJ was old enough to have a few memories of picnics and Aunt Lola and Uncle Ike. A cousin and I talked about keeping the faith and organizing some annual events, but we never followed through and I deeply regret that because almost all of the people from those times are no longer with us.       

I think I’ve written about blue huckleberries before. There was family back in Spokane, on Auntie Lola’s side of the family I think. Every year they’d go over there in time to pick huckleberries. When Auntie became too old to clamber around, the younger family members would cut off branches and she’d sit and pick them clean. Then, she’d can the huckleberries when she got back home. At each and every annual picnic, Auntie would bring two huckleberry pies and I would hover around until I made sure I was going to get at least one slice. It’s my all-time favorite kind of pie.

You know I believe it’s unfortunate that so many of us do not hold annual events for all our family members. Families are no longer giant sized with lots and lots of relatives. The majority of families these days have one or two children as opposed to the half-dozen to a dozen that many families had in the days of my grandparents. In a lot of ways, I feel we cheated our own children and grandchildren when it comes to those kinds of experiences. Perhaps times were easier and slower back then? As we moved into the latter part of the last century and the first part of this one, it seems to me that life began to move faster and faster. It seemed/seems we’re all so busy and dashing about so fast there’s no time to plan for or organize a huge family events. It seems like we’re lucky to get together for birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. And, now, with the pandemic, we may be missing those as well.

I like to look at my fuschia or dill pickle recipe and think of Aunt Lola and Uncle Ike. In turn, that brings back memories of other relatives from those annual events; and I feel the richness of those remembrances and how those relatives and experiences added so much to my child and young-adulthood. I’m exceedingly grateful the older I become for those who went before me and shared and taught me so very much.

BLEEDING HEART AND OOPS, NOTHING READY

        Today’s flower is the Bleeding Heart, but it’s not because my heart is bleeding. I also have a white bleeding heart, but its blossoms were done when I began taking photos. As a matter of fact, my own personal heart is in great shape both physically and emotionally…aren’t you just so happy to know that.

          Yesterday, Friday, Claudia and Maryanne and I all ordered from Panera and had lunch on my deck. As always it was a wonderful time talking and laughing and complaining about how our lifestyles are now so small and uncertain. Maryanne and her husband are going to Port Angeles on Sunday for a few days; and while I admire their willingness to get out there in the world, I’m not sure I have enough courage to take that kind of chance…I’d sure like to though.

          Anyway, I didn’t get anything written yesterday and couldn’t do it first thing this morning, even to post a sentence about being sorry I’ve nothing to post. AJ and Haley were due at 9:00 am to load up her truck with stuff for the dump and AJ’s with metal and wood for recycling. We all just keep shaking our heads at how and why John saved so much SHIT!!!

          So, it’s now way later than my usual posting time, but I did get it in today so it counts toward my goal of a post every single day. Hopefully, I’ll come up with something funny and/or happy and/or interesting for tomorrow.  Hope y’all are having a great day.

JERUSALEM SAGE AND MEMORIES

Jerusalem Sage is the plant of the day. I don’t remember where it came from, but I’ve handed off starts to other people. It’s become a rather large clump just south of my water feature although it was much bigger before I trimmed it back and gave away starts. 

I looked it up to make sure I had the name right because I was calling it Jewish Sage. Since I’d looked it up, I decided to read about it and found out that I should leave the tall flower stems with their seeds because they provide food for birds in the fall and winter. I didn’t know that and have been cutting them off once the flowers are finished. I also wonder if those seeds will germinate on their own in other places and become a problem.

Wednesday I was so fortunate. Not only did I get to see Arayli and Xander, but I also got an almost immediate dog grooming appointment for Karma and Kaizer at Hippie Hounds in Shoreline. I wasn’t sure they were even back open. I’d called PetSmart and the first opening they had was July 19^th. My doggies needed to go NOW and I do very much prefer Hippie Hounds. So glad I left HH a message for a call back. And, the doggies are now soft and silky and smell good.

While I was waiting for the doggies to be washed and waxed, I ran a couple of errands and then found a shady spot on a nearby street to wait for the “they’re done” phone call. I have to admit I kinda waited for a police car to show up and ask what I was doing, but didn't happen. I have a friend, Ernie, who lives nearby, but I figured he wouldn’t be happy if I just popped in, so I amused myself for an hour with my Hidden City game on the I-pad and then continued to read the latest Martin Walker mystery. I love his Bruno books and only wish a person exactly like Bruno existed so I could kidnap and keep him forever just so he’d cook and garden for me.

Seriously, Bruno is the police person for this little town in France. He knows everyone in the area and has the best friends. He horseback rides every morning with Balzac, his basset hound dog. Then his travels about are accompanied by good eats, coffee, bakery goods and wines. At other times, he and Balzac look for truffles beneath the oak trees he planted, plus he has a garden to which he goes often for produce which he then uses in the meals he prepares. And Bruno always has the proper wine for each course. I just love the idea of slapping some duck fat into a cast iron pan followed by whatever his recipe calls for. Seriously, Martin Walker’s wife is a chef and she vets each of the recipes in the books. In fact, there is apparently a book of recipes based on the mysteries. People have also contacted Martin Walker for tour guidance of the area, so he’s also published a tour book.

This is a wonderful series of about 12 or 13 books now. I’ve never looked at the recipe book or the tour book, but perhaps when this pandemic is over and I could travel to France I’ll use his tour book for planning purposes. As for the recipes, I’m not sure I have any idea as to where I could obtain goose fat, plus cooking for only one person, I’d most likely have to have whatever recipe I made multiple times.

On Thursday, my walking partner Kathy and I ordered from Ono Poke in Edmonds. Kathy picked it up and brought it to my deck. I had spicy salmon and she had spicy ahi. I made a lemon ice box pie Wednesday night and we had that for dessert. I sent a little less than half the pie home with her for her husband and son. Some of the things we discussed while enjoying the food and the company.

I have two photos of me in front of the house in Gem, Idaho. In those photos, I’m holding an Aunt Jemima doll. Kathy said she had one as well when she was little but it had a different name. I don’t know what happened to the one I had…if it weren’t for the photos, I wouldn’t even know I’d had one. Amazing how something that would be considered hugely racist today was just run of the mill in the late forties and fifties.

We also talked about having the same kind of moon experience. I remember my folks taking me to a drive-in movie and watching the moon from the car window as my dad drove us back up the canyon. I wondered why the moon was able to stay right beside me the entire way. Kathy’s family was driving from Illinois to Michigan and her mother made a bed in the back of the station wagon for her and her older brother. She remembers wondering how the moon was able to stay with them as well.

There was a totally white cat named Snowball. I remember my mother giving her a bath so she’d stay soft, white and pretty. According to my mother, we’d play hide-and-seek. I’d go hide and Snowball would come find me. Kathy said she does that now with her cat Cokey. One evening we came home after dark and Snowball wasn’t anywhere to be found. Living in the woods like that, she quite possibly became someone’s dinner. I waited for days for her to return, but she never did.

I also remembered an Idaho kid named Teddy. A bunch of the boys had made wooden swords for fighting. Somehow Teddy ended up having a very pointed sword enter his chest and barely miss his heart. There was a really big discussion throughout Gem among the parents about no more pointed swords or anything else that might cause an injury. I didn’t have one because I was a girl and played with dolls and paper dolls.

It snowed a lot in Idaho in the winter. I remember my mother dressing me in a snowsuit that made me almost as wide as I was tall. It was so I could go up the street to the post office. Everything was solid white, the snow was coming down and how I managed to get there and back without ending up lost in the snowfall, I have no idea. I don’t remember being frightened, but I can’t imagine a parent allowing something like that these days. I also remember going out the front door just in my flats and losing my shoes in a snowdrift. Daddy wasn't happy rummaging around out there to find them.

There was also a little store up around the corner I think; or it could have been clear up in Burke. It was a real treat to be able to go in with a nickel or dime and buy a bunch of candy. That’s why I think the store may have been up around the corner because I could have walked there. And helicopter parents hadn’t even been thought up then. I could disappear for hours to my cousins, up in the woods, down to the rock slide; just about anywhere within walking distance. Never once did my mother ever appear to be concerned or upset when I came home.

Living in Idaho really was a pretty perfect time in my life. Mom was a housewife and between her and Grandma, they baked every single day. Mom made the best cinnamon rolls and even made donuts. During spring, summer and fall, they canned a wide variety of foods and jams. I remember having a slice of pie or cake for breakfast a lot of times probably as a reward for eating my oatmeal. I didn’t have a clue about Leave it to Beaver back then; and while my mother didn’t clean wearing pearls and daddy didn’t drive home in a suit and tie, it was as close to living that television show as I ever came.

TOMATOES, HANDWRITING AND GRANDKIDS

          Don’t you just love fresh tomatoes right off your tomato plant. I don’t know how many years I’ve been growing tomatoes, but it’s many many. In the last decade or so, I’ve bought my starter plants at Swanson’s Nursery in Ballard. They seem to have a very wide stock with signs that provide the information I need about the plants I decide to purchase. This year, Swanson’s was visit by appointment only. My friend Claudia and I usually go together, but this year we had separate appointments.

          I always try to purchase two “Tumbling Toms” for my hanging baskets. This year, even before the end of June I had about six ripe tomatoes that went right into my salad. I think I’ve a few more yellow ones that are ready. This year, I expect my tomato harvest to exceed previous years because the pots are in the driveway on the asphalt which should keep them warm and happy, provided I make sure I water on a daily basis. I’ll just have to wait and see.

          This morning I was preparing Arayli’s birthday card. She’s going to Alderwood Mall with her mom and aunt. I’m going to drive up there and hand over the card with some money to aid in her shopping. When I was writing a note in the card about how I would miss our annual sushi and shopping trip together, I realized once again just how terrible my handwriting has become. I noticed John’s handwriting had become almost illegible over the last few years. I’m now wondering if failing handwriting is another sign of old age???

          Instead of thinking that, however, I’ve decided that the reason for the bad writing is because I rarely write anything anymore, and maybe that was John’s problem too. My bills get paid via computer, I don’t have to jot down any phone messages, and all my correspondence is done via the computer and a keyboard. So, perhaps it’s the lack of practice that’s making my writing so ugly and poor.

          Do any of you remember learning to write in grade school? I learned in the elementary school in Idaho and I didn’t go to kindergarten because they didn’t have one. There wasn’t any day care or preschool way back then either. Anyway, I remember it was called the “Palmer” method of handwriting. You were to keep your pencil (or pen) on the paper on the ruled line and write the entire word before lifting your pencil  from the paper. My handwriting was never as beautiful or well rounded as that of some people I knew then. When receiving “sympathy” cards after John died from the older folks in our lives, some of those people (usually women) had absolutely gorgeous writing, even after so many many years.

          So, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t pick up some ruled paper and spend a few minutes a day practicing my handwriting. I’m wondering if it would help or at least make it look as though it hadn’t been written by some old lady with palsy. Probably not, because I’d rather play the game on my I-pad, write for this blog, read a book or watch TV.

          As long as I’m typing about handwriting, how about printing. My handwriting over time became a mix of printing and writing. There are some people who have excellent printing. The words on the page are straight, the letters the same size and it almost looks as though it could have been done by a machine. How did they learn to do that? There was never a “Palmer” method of printing, at least as far as I can remember.

          Then there are people who have mastered the art of calligraphy. Every year, I receive a Christmas card from someone who has an assistant that prints out every single address using calligraphy. Again, the address lines are perfectly straight and the letters all the same size. It’s actually a piece of art in my opinion. I once bought a calligraphy set which I’d forgotten about until Haley and I found it in a box in the garage attic (so that’s where it went). I tried way back then, but either didn’t have the eye or the patience to practice until I became an artist in calligraphy. And even if the ink hadn’t dried up in that old set, I’m not interested in trying again.

          Back home from Alderwood. Arayli and Xander have both grown so much in the last four-plus months. I’m not sure I would have recognized Xander with his boy haircut, wearing a mask and sunglasses. The desire to sweep them both into my arms and hug them until our ribs were almost cracking was so strong, but we all maintained our distances. I really should have used my phone and taken some photos...now I think of it, damnit it anyway. Arayli was pleased with her card and gift, and I asked her to please send me photos of her purchases since I cannot be there to see for myself.

           Next month is Xander’s sixth birthday, so I’ll get to see them all again…so looking forward to that....maybe I'll remember to take pictures. And, even while I’m not expecting anything much to change, perhaps then I can give them both HUGE hugs. Anyway, seeing them mask-to-mask made me happy rather than sad.

ALSTROEMERIA, GRANDDAUGHTERS AND FEAR

          A previous boss very kindly gave me an Alstroemeria start many years ago and I’ve tried everything imaginable to eliminate it from my garden once I realized just how invasive it is. I planted it in one area and it began to take over that spot. Then, the roots tunneled beneath the sidewalk to where the majority of my lilies and dahlias reside. I even found it in the far corner of my yard, but managed to eliminate it from that spot, a spot I really don’t care much about.

          This year, I decided I’d just let it go and it’s gone, believe me. I have two huge clumps in two different areas and I’m sure it’s going to try to creep even further into places I do not want it. I love the color, but the stems aren’t very strong and it ends up laying down on other plants. The wonderful man who gifted me this plant eventually had his yard professionally turned into a Japanese garden which contains none of this plant…lucky guy.

          Well, my Wednesdays with Haley have come to an end. She has a job which requires her presence eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. When she called to tell me, she said she could come on Saturday or Sunday, so we’ll see how that goes, and at least we accomplished probably 98% of the needed work.

A friend of her fathers works for a construction company and last year they hired Haley to spend early mornings watering the new landscaping at the newly built homes. This year, the development they have or are building is adjacent a hill with lots of trees. To make the area even more forest-like, as well as stabilize the hill I’m assuming, the company has planted lots of plants. I think Haley said it’s something like five acres, so she’s going to get her exercise pulling hoses around and going up and down that hill.

          Today is also my other granddaughter’s 12^th birthday. This will be the first birthday I’ve missed since she joined the family at the age of about three. I plan to call Thor’s phone and ask for her so I can sing the birthday song. I’m also debating about putting a card with a check in the mail or actually driving to Snohomish to drop off the card with real money…most 12-year-olds don’t have a bank account. I wouldn’t get out of the car or go into the house, but I could at least blow kisses and see her open the card. As I’m typing this, I’m still debating with myself.

          Finally, what’s really at the top of my mind since I watched the first 20 minutes of Good Morning America is FEAR. Yes, I don’t go many places or associate with folks who aren’t taking this pandemic seriously. Yes, I always wear a mask. Yes, I keep hand sanitizer in my pocket ALL the time and use it ALL the time. Still, watching the reports this morning about how this is still the first wave and how many other states and people are falling ill with the virus terrifies me.

          It also makes me quite angry at the people who won’t participate in wearing a mask. They are extremely stupid, and hopefully, this is Mother Nature’s way of eliminating Darwin-challenged people from the gene pool. Unfortunately, the virus doesn’t pick and choose who to inhabit, so the gene pool is also losing some very good people. Seriously, I don’t have a Ph.D. or any kind of college degree, but you don’t have to in order to understand just how grim the pandemic statistics actually are.

          If that isn’t enough horrible news, then you have the reports of shootings and killings and protests. I don’t have a problem with people protesting peacefully, but why does anyone have to bring a gun to or drive through people at what is supposed to be a peaceful protest. It seems as though the world is becoming even more divided, ugly and forbidding. Is this the kind of world in which my life will end eventually???

          How hard is it for anyone to understand that if you treat people the way you’d like to be treated at all times, all of us would be so much better off. At my job, when I was a supervisor, that’s exactly how I treated my staff and how I wanted my supervisors to treat me. When I was complimented on a project one of my people had accomplished, I suggested the person saying nice things to me say them to the person who actually did the work. Then, I also shared what that person had to say about the job, just in case they didn’t follow through. I believe I had a happy staff and they always met my expectations.

          A perfect example of this was someone retiring. After the send-off, my boss was talking to me about the event and I said I was extremely happy that person had left because I didn’t like her/him one bit. My boss was surprised to hear my comment because I had never provided a negative indication about my feelings for that staff member. My response was that I was the supervisor and my personal feelings had nothing to do with the way I needed to treat that employee. I was just glad I’d never have to deal with her/him again.

          Perhaps my viewpoint is too simplistic. Perhaps people can’t deal with their envy, greed, negativity, or whatever it is that causes them to act in a way that is so hurtful, divisive and irresponsible. I, of course, haven’t said anything about or alluded to the IDIOT in the White House. He is the prime and premier example of what people shouldn’t do or say to each other. If the President of the United States can be that way, it only serves to encourage others to be like that.

          In any case, I’m not feeling particularly hopeful about the next few years of my life. It’s a good thing I do like me, myself and I because it’s entirely possible that may be the only real companionship in my future. Today, I’m feeling frightened and sad. Tomorrow’s post will, hopefully, be more uplifting.