MORE LIGHT IN THE DARK

          Monday of this week I went to Ace Hardware to pick up a couple of items. There were signs saying all the Christmas lights were 90% off. I took a box up and asked how much it would be…$1.50. Each box held one hundred lights and the cords were white which is the color of my fence.

          I’ve always wanted to wrap the top rail in lights but never got around to it, mainly because the lights were so expensive when the lighting season came along. I bought all the boxes they had which was seven. I called AJ to see if I needed something to protect the cords as they joined. He didn’t answer but a very nice, and handsome, young man offered his advice. So, I purchased these thingies that you put the connections in. They were more expensive than the lights…$4.99.

          I spent time running an extension cord from the deck out to the end of the fence closest to the house. Then I wound the lights around the fence rails. I’m one of those people who are unable to figure out feet and inches…and yes, I’ve heard the joke about “THIS MUCH” being six inches. Anyway, I figured I had enough to do the entire fence…wrong. When finished, the fence beside the driveway remains unlit, but the rest of the fence is very bright. I think if I’d stretched the initial strings, I might have had enough. Ah well.

          Now, all I have to do is figure out the timer so the lights come on when it gets dark and go off at the witching hour. These dark and dreary days require a lot more light, at least in my opinion.

KUMA GETS A SHOWER

          On Tuesday, after I finished putting lights on the fence, it was time for a shower. On the spur of the moment, I decided I’d put Kuma in the shower too.

          I thought I could kneel on a towel on the floor, wet him down, apply shampoo, scrub and then rinse. Wrong. There was no way he was going to stay in the shower with the door open. Good thing I’d already disrobed.

          In the shower with the door closed, I was able to get him all squeaky clean. I got out of the shower first to get the towel ready to toss over him before he could shake water all over the bathroom. Goodness, but Kuma’s a fast little bugger. I finally got a towel over him at the exit from the bathroom…good thing I’d closed that door. I dried him as much as possible and put down a dry towel for him to lay on while I took my shower.

          While I was cleaning myself, the noise Kuma was making was unbelievable. You would have thought he was being tortured in some fashion. When I got out of the shower, he was laying on the bathroom rug and the three towels I’d provided were in three separate piles around the room. All in all, it took four huge beach towels to dry my puppy.

          Then I tried to use the hair dryer on Kuma. He wouldn’t hold still for that, even on the low setting. He’s seen me use it, but he didn’t like the idea of that hot air blowing on him. I persisted and managed to get parts of him dryer than they had been.

          This was followed in a bit by some brushing. I had to laugh because Kuma has waves on the top of his back. Those waves became stand up curls and looked so very cute. I did brush him for a bit and filled the brush twice with this soft downy hair. I think it was the undercoat he’s supposed to have. There certainly weren’t any longer stiffer hairs in the mix.

          We were both exhausted by the time the brushing was finished. We curled up on the couch together, both of us smelling very clean.

I WANT...

           

NEW STUFF!!! Remember being young and thinking about all the “stuff” you’d one day have? And how about that old saying about how the one with the most toys at death wins? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.

          When I got married at the age of 20, I started married life off with most of the “stuff” my parents had. True, I didn’t own, but rented a little house. I had a washer and dryer, but no dishwasher. When we eventually bought a house, it was a house that was better in many ways from the one in which I grew up.

          Today, I’m still living in the house we bought in 1969. I still have a washer and dryer as well as a dishwasher and a wide variety of other appliances which, with the exception of the toaster, microwave and Nespresso machines are rarely used. They take up counter and cupboard space, but I do use them every now and then.

          I’ve had the same furniture for probably fifty years. True, the cushions have been replaced several times, but the furniture fits the space and continues to be comfortable. Still, I see the TV ads and wish I could have a new set of furniture. True, it probably wouldn’t be as well made as the pieces I currently own, but it would be NEW.

          The same thought process applies to the dishes and pots and pans in the cupboard. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with any of it except I’ve had it forever. The pots and pans are Belgique or cast iron. The dishes are Fiesta ware and, knock wood, not a single piece is broken or chipped. I just don’t like the colors any longer…the new neon-colored collections are gorgeous.

          I remember the excitement of gathering up all my possessions. We didn’t buy the furniture all at once. We had to buy what we could afford when we could afford it. The same applies to the cookware…a piece at a time as a birthday or Christmas present. The Fiesta ware I did buy all at once…the place settings anyway, but the add on pieces like the butter dish, salt and pepper shakers, etc., were gifted or purchased on the as I can afford it plan.

          Then there’s the stuff in the closet. I really shouldn’t have to buy another piece of clothing in my life…okay maybe some new underwear at some point. All the other clothing is perfectly and fits, more or less. There’s even garments in there I haven’t put on in several years, but I keep them because I might go on another cruise or some fun vacation. Probably won’t happen and if it did, surely I could afford to buy some new items for whatever the trip might be. Still, I miss those shopping trips I used to take a couple of times a month before I retired. I’d shop the sales and the marked down sections and was elated every single time I found something I really liked that was cheap, cheap, cheap. I don’t even do that any more.

The fact of the matter is I have absolutely everything I need to last me the remainder of my life. I’d just like to have new “stuff,” but it’s not a necessity. The opinions of me, myself and I are that we don’t need anything. All we really want is the elation that would be brought on by getting the NEW.  How about you, dear reader. Do you want new stuff too?

THE CUCKOO SINGS AGAIN

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          John’s grandparents were married in the early 1900s and one of their wedding gifts was a cuckoo clock. John inherited the clock from his father. When it came to our house, it smelled so badly of cigarette smoke John relegated it to the garage for a while to air out. Then, it came inside and we had to accustom ourselves to the “noise” this clock makes.

          On each quarter hour, a little quail comes out a little door and chirps/chimes. First for the quarter hour, then the half hour followed by the three-quarter hour and finally, the hour. At the hour, it is immediately followed by the cuckoo who comes out his door and cuckoos and chimes however many hours it is right then.

          At some point at least several decades ago, a friend of John’s who had attended the clock repair school at Northgate State took the clock and did whatever repair was needed at that time plus, he cleaned the entire outside. We had no idea the grape decorations were shiny gold nor that the numerals and hands were made of bone and an off-white color. It was amazing really.      

          Jump ahead another decade or more and the clock needed another repair. I searched around and found someone, but John wasn’t going to let just “anybody” have his clock. The repairman had to come to our house. Enter a young man from Uzbekistan. His name is David and he was suitably impressed with John’s clock and John was suitably impressed with him. David took the clock away and returned it a couple of weeks later all fixed and ready to chirp/chime/cuckoo again.

          I don’t remember how long it was after that a young boy was caught trying to hang from the chains on the clock. His mother used to come to our house and cut the entire family’s hair. John wasn’t here when it happened. He’d had his haircut and gone off to his Lion’s Club meeting. AJ caught the boy. Initially, John didn’t seem especially upset, but he was never one to actually show his feelings. He wrote this kid’s mother a letter and she hasn’t been in touch with us since.

          It was David to the rescue. He was appalled by what had happened, but was able to make the proper repairs. This repair was followed by another one when  John tried to correct the time by pushing on one of the bone hands and broke it. David could not find a replacement so he carefully repaired the hand and gave strict instructions about NOT EVER touching the hands like that again.

          Each night and morning, John would pull the chains and wind the clock. It is supposed to be a one-day clock where you only pull the chains once; however, I think the clock needs to hang in a higher location for that to happen. When John died, I attempted to keep the clock going. At some point in time, I didn’t wind it and the pinecone weights ended up on the floor and the clock stopped. I wound it and tried to get it back to the correct time without success. So, for most of the time John has been gone, the clock has been silent.

          Not only do I miss John, but I missed the sound of that clock. I decided in December I would figure out how to get it to tell the correct time without touching the hands. I think I was well on my way by Christmas day. When I left for brunch, I had not wound the clock. When I came home, the pinecone weights were all on the floor and the center chain had disappeared up into the inside of the clock.

          Determined to make the cuckoo sing again, I called David over the New Year’s holiday. I wasn’t sure he would remember me or John, but he remembered John very well and how much he loved that clock. Last Thursday, I took the clock in to David and he (amazingly) fixed it while I waited. I’d never seen the inside and when David took the back off, I was astounded at all the gears and connections and stuff I couldn’t begin to identify that reside inside. David told me several times as he worked that he was so sorry John had passed and that he remembered how much John loved his clock…perhaps those memories were why David didn’t charge me for the fixes, i.e., bringing the chain back out and setting the time.

          When David was finished, he gave me strict instructions and made me promise I would have my son (the intended recipient of the clock when I’m gone) come and mount it back in its place. In addition, he made me write down the order of tasks we were to perform to bring the clock back on line. I’m including those here so AJ can look back and find the instructions should they be required.

1.     Gently place the clock on the wall and make sure it is level.

2.    Carefully place each weight on a chain.

3.    Add the pendulum.

4.    Wait until the time shown by the hands on the clock and then push the pendulum.

David also said we should never pull the weights up flush with the bottom of the clock. We should always leave a couple of inches (even with the bottom of the leaf decoration) of chain when winding.

AJ was here yesterday and he/we carefully followed David’s instructions. We laughed about the last time AJ did this when John was alive. John kept giving AJ direction and fussing at AJ while he was trying to connect the top piece. Ah, those memories are so great. AJ left well before it was time to push the pendulum, but I set the alarm clock so I’d be sure to make that push. I also put up post-it notes that say, CLOCK, to remind me to pull those chains until it becomes a habit.

At 4:00 pm, I pushed the pendulum and the ticking began. The quail did its business each quarter hour and at 5:00 pm, the cuckoo made his entrance and sang away. Since then, the clock’s noise has brought me joy and comfort. John hasn’t returned, but the sound of his clock has…I’m so grateful.

SOMEONE ASKED...

 

how to keep Kuma from jumping. We haven’t yet covered that in class, but here’s what I’m doing in an effort to control Kuma’s enthusiastic visitor greetings.

          I make Kuma wait until the visitor has entered by holding on to his collar. Once the visitor is inside, I tell the visitor to hold their hand(s) palm down while saying, “OFF” in a firm voice.

          Then I try to follow up by saying “SIT” and offering a treat.

          I’m also using this to train Kuma to keep his paws off the kitchen counters. He wants to know exactly what I’m doing up there and whether or not it involves food.

          I gently push his back legs back which causes him to drop to all fours. I do this while saying “OFF.” I follow this with “SIT” and once he does, I give him a treat.

          Let me also say I have treats all over the house so I can reward him for good behavior. I wish I had a place by the couch where he couldn’t reach the treats so we could work on him looking out the window and barking at whatever moves out there. Not loud barks but annoying all the same. Every single coat I own has treats in one pocket and a poop bag in the other just in case. Kuma likes to utilize the neighbor’s lawn when we are playing fetch and I always clean up after him…the only neighborly thing to do.

          Hope this helps you “Anonymous” with whatever you are trying to do with your doggie.

PERIPHERY OR EDGE

It’s amazing how I think I know the meaning of a word only to look it up and find while I thought it perfectly described what I was trying to say, that wasn’t the case.  

When I blogged about how depressed I was last September, I used the word periphery. When I looked up periphery just now, the first meaning is the perimeter of a circle or other closed curve. There are three additional meanings; however, none of them actually fit what I was trying to say, at least as I understand the meanings.

The other word would perhaps be edge, but again, when I look it up, it says, under the second edge listing, “1. a: to give an edge to b: to be on an edge of.” The “b” meaning was what I wanted as in, I’m living on the edge of the lives of family and friends.

I’ve pondered periphery since I used it months ago. When I was young and growing up, I was the center of so much. I was the eldest child, the first girl, and think I felt as though the world more or less revolved around me, my siblings notwithstanding.

Grown up, I married and believed implicitly I was my husband’s only focal point. I became a mother and was the center of my children’s lives for a long time. I was always surrounded by family and friends in each of these life stages.

The children grew up and left home, so once again I was my husband’s center even though I might have been willing to step aside. Being the focal point when you’re both in love is one thing, being older with serious illness issues is another. But we did say, “…for better or for worse….”

Over time after John’s death is when I began to see myself on the edge of relationships with family and friends. Initially, many kept in touch to make sure I was doing okay; and being the independent bitch I am, I, of course, assured them I was doing just fine. As time passed, however, for one reason or another, my presence in the lives of some people became fairly unimportant, or at least that’s how it seemed.

I realize my family members and my friends have lives of their own that require their time and attention. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I know that any one of them would attend me if I only asked. I just hate to ask.

          Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not complaining. I’m just attempting to understand how and why the idea of being on the edge, or periphery if you will was never actually addressed or thought about during my younger years, at least by me. Now that I’ve aged to where my mom and grandma were in their lives, I do wish I’d understood this idea of being on the edge or periphery of lives and made a much better attempt to bring them closer.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU CLEAN???

How often do you move your refrigerator and stove to clean behind each? According to some article about how to take care of your house, you should move each one once a year. Hah!!!

In December, more or less stuck at home by the weather and having been annoyed by the greasy fingerprints on the cupboard doors for a very long time, I decided I’d give the kitchen a thorough clean. Let me tell you I did not accomplish what needed to be done in a single day. As a matter of fact, I still have one section of cupboards and the stove front to go.

I began with the east side of the kitchen. For some cupboards, I removed the contents, gave away what I knew I’d never ever use again, cleaned and replaced what I was keeping. I washed the outside of the cupboards, upper and lower.

Then it was time to tackle the fridge. It seemed like I had just cleaned it last week, but when I realized just how long it had been…could it have really been over two years? True, I do keep track of what’s in there and toss what’s bad, but I guess I hadn’t removed, cleaned and replaced anything since I went through it in 2020, tossing the huge ketchup and mustard bottles as well as the horseradish and weird mustard John preferred.

Funny story here. I’ve never liked ketchup except when it’s on a Dick’s cheeseburger. John knew that early on, but for almost 53 years, he always offered me the ketchup. I made the mistake of telling Haley that and now she is the one who offers me that condiment even though I don’t like the stuff. She thinks its funny just like her grandfather did. I guess I don’t understand their senses of humor.

Okay, back to the fridge. OMG, what a mess beneath that appliance. The dirt and cobwebs, the dropped stuff that had slid beneath it. It was a good thing I’d already eaten breakfast because it was enough to make me lose my appetite. Still, when I slid the fridge back into place, I knew there were sparkles beneath. Then it was remove everything and clean. Just how do those vegetable drawers get so nasty?

The stove resides on the west side of the kitchen. It hasn’t been moved since it was installed in 2011. One of the reasons I wanted to move it was because it appeared Kuma had lost a toy…or two…or three…beneath it. I didn’t want to move it and am not sure I would have been able to, but after the oven was cleaned (magically), I removed the drawer from the bottom.

Do you use that drawer for anything? Mine holds cookie sheets and cooling racks. It also held a ton of crumbs and other detritus…again, very nasty. Not only was the drawer nasty, but the floor beneath the drawer was…I have no words; however, if I lived where cockroaches roamed free, I would have had some visitors, I’m sure. Besides the cobwebs, dirt, crumbs, lost pills, etc., I also found not one or two, but four things Kuma had lost beneath the stove. I also found a couple that had to have belonged to Kaizer or Karma.

So, I’ve begun (almost since I still need to do the cupboards and stove as mentioned above) the new year with a clean kitchen that holds appliances that have been cleaned inside and out. Since I don’t do this very often, it just might be the last time I ever look beneath the stove or fridge…that would be just fine with me.