Sunday Mornings At the Diner

Sunday mornings often find me reading the paper at a local diner. I get there early so I can dally over my coffee and not feel guilty about taking up the booth for an hour or so. 


I am not alone in this Sunday morning ritual. There is one couple in particular I find my eyes wandering to. Last week I looked up to see them crossing the room. He stayed right beside her and helped her ease into a nearby booth.


"Would you like some coffee?" the waitress asks. 
"Yes, with cream," she replies.
"None for me," he says.


Then there's some hand holding and smiling going on across the table. 
Clearly they only have eyes for each other.


The coffee comes and he slides it to the center of the table.
She empties in the sugar and he pours in the cream.


It sits there between them, that steaming cup of coffee. 
Finally he takes a small sip, nods and places it back between them. 
She takes a sip, smiles and they talk while drinking the coffee.


The teamwork continues when they leave. 
She rises first and places his walker in front of him then steadies his elbow as he gets up.


They don't need a Sunday morning paper, they so completely have each other. 

Thigh Pad

Been looking for a new ribbon for my Thigh Pad.

{Remington Streamline Portable Typewriter}

Maybe I'm sliding backwards? Isn't there supposed to be a whole "smart" era going on right now? 

But I feel myself inexplicably drawn to objects that just do one thing.

No search, no apps, no music, no camera.

No software to install and then update over and over.


Remember your first computer? (Mine had a 500 mb hard drive and I thought the storage was endless?) 
But right away I added a program that made every keystroke sound like you were striking a typewriter key 
and hitting the return rang a bell because I simply couldn't get into the rhythm of typing in quiet. I missed the noise. 


So yea, maybe it's the the "steam punk" in me but objects that just do one thing are so cool. 
They're simple, no box of attachments to store or boring manuals to read. 
Simple is getting harder and harder to find.

My stand mixer can whip up icing, knead bread and make pasta. My mower bags, mulches or does side-discharge. My phone, well my phone is only a semi-smart but it can still call, text, game and play music. 

All this can make decision time pretty difficult. What to own, which to buy, how to use.

The Remington chooses for me. On those days when I am overwhelmed it lets me just write. 

It puts down words and ideas that come from me... just words at the speed of thought. 

No spell check so by golly I CAN make use of that "A" in my 5th grade spelling.

Now if I can just find that new ribbon...

Surgical Strike of Purging Unused Items!

[AKA - hauling stuff off to Goodwill]

[AKA - posting it on Craig's List]

I've come to the conclusion I either need more bins or less stuff. And after watching the 

"Hoarders; Buried Alive" marathon last weekend, I am opting for less stuff.

I watch those shows like some people watch slasher movies. Hands over my eyes moaning 

"NO, NO, NO... Don't look in the shed!"

Not that my stuff comes anywhere close to what's on the show. Plus my house isn't overrun 

by hundreds of mice/bugs/cats/etc. So why does it bother me?

Because it drives me crazy to know I have something I need and not be able to put 

my hands on it. Or decide to work on a project and the space is totally unusable.

Last year I completely tore up my basement due to plumbing problems. One thing leads 

to another and now what was once an organized, useful, fun to be in art studio morphed 

into several dozen bins of every shape and size taking up residence in half of my garage 

and a grouping of work tables and files jammed along one wall.

Argghhhh! 

Now when I watch "Hoaders" that little slip of fear creeps in that whispers, 

"Is this how they started?" 

So any bets on what I'm doing this fall? 

Yep, you guessed it. 

Sugar Rush

Growing up there was always sweet tea. We never called it that because with parents who hailed from 
The South, there was no other kind but sweet.


I loved it when my folks would have guests over. Like a good little hostess I would offer iced tea, then 
stand and watch purely for the pleasure of seeing their eyes get wide as the sugar rush enveloped them.


Take that Nebraska!


Never made sweet tea before you say? Well here's how:


Sweet Tea (makes 2 quarts)
1.
Fill small saucepan 1/2 full of water and bring to a boil.
2.
Remove from burner and immediately drop in 6 regular (3 family) sized tea bags.
   (Never boil tea, it gets bitter) Set aside to steep for five minutes.
3.
Fill your pitcher 1/4 full of cold water.
Add 3/4 sugar, then add the hot tea. (Adding hot tea directly to sugar can make it taste scorched) 
Stir to dissolve sugar then finish filling pitcher with cold water.
4.
Enjoy over ice.

Gasp... Hand Wash Only??

Are you kidding me?


I'm of the school of thought that you toss it in the washer and hope for the best. 
If it doesn't make it through, it wasn't meant to be.


So imagine my horror when I noted my new summer top said hand wash only. 
OMG, it's cotton for goodness sake.


So I tossed it in and hoped for the best. 


I pulled out a wad of cloth two sizes smaller and a handful of beads. 


Are you kidding me?

So mom... Happy Mother's Day, late :-)

So mom... do you think she should have said that 'cause I really don't 
think she should have said that...


Sheesh mom... did you see that hat? I expected her to lift off any moment...


You're right mom... you can never have too much banana cake or 
coke on ice...


Mom rides shotgun when I'm tooling around town. And I'm talking about the "stylin" mom, the "girlfriend" mom you bounce ideas off, the one in a photo from 1940 striding arm-in-arm down the street with her girlfriends, her quirky smile in full bloom, ready to reek havoc on the unsuspecting.


It's usually when I'm deep in thought that she makes a point of speaking up. 
I nod, I smile, I pretend to agree.


I absolutely love to hear her take on things. It gives my life perspective.


You know Kris... if that woman would just stand straight and swing her hips a little she'd look five years younger and ten pounds lighter by the time she reaches the mall door...


You know Kris... every woman has an arsenal. It's not her looks it's her wits. And honey, they can be lethal if need be.


Mom died a few years ago. But she is with me every single day. So when you see that lady next to you at the stoplight who is laughing like crazy or talking to herself. Don't get nervous, it's just me and my mom, ready to reek havoc on the unsuspecting.

Crowd control

So it's Sunday morning and I'm going to get ahead of it today. 


I'm out mowing at 9am (earliest respectable time to do it, right?). Then on to a little gardening when I determine that the rabbits have just about rendered my Hostas nonexistent. 


No problem, I bought some stuff last fall that the garden center guy PROMISED would repel the  critters. 
I just never got around to using it.


I spray the hostas, day lilies, columbine... heck I spray just about every emerging plant I can find. 
And being on the roll that I am I decide to go get some more flowers to plant. 


The place is packed!! 
But as I walk among the bedding plants I notice no one is crowding me. 
In fact are people actually steering clear of me? 
(maybe this would be a good time to mention my allergies have been acting up and I can't smell a thing?)


Lesson learned...
Just why is that rabbit repellent so effective? The main ingredient is Fox urine you say? 
Yes, that awful urine/poop fragrance IS coming from the overspray on my shoes.


Enough said.