Buddy

          It was evening and time to feed the cats. Not that our cats don’t have access to a bowl of dry kibble all day, just that I open a can of the good stuff for them almost every night. I divide one can between the four cats so there’s not a lot for any one of them, but it’s a treat they seem to enjoy. If they haven’t come in, I’ll go out and call them.

          “TIGER! SPITFIRE! BLACKIE!” I cup my hands around my mouth and yell. If they hear me, they know what it means and they will come. Sugar, our outside cat, is the same way. If she’s not right there and she hears me call, she’ll come.

          Speaking of Sugar, and not to interrupt the story I was telling you, but speaking of Sugar, we brought her in for the winter. She’s getting old and Mike worries about her getting sick, so she spends the winter in the cat condo. The first day in the house, beautiful Raini sat and watched her. It looks a little messy but the throw rug is to catch the litter when I scoop her box. Raini rolled all over it when I first put it down. Silly girl.

          So, it was evening and time to feed the cats. They weren’t in the house so after I portioned the food into their own separate bowls, I went out and called for them.

“Someone just went past the porch,” Mike saw in the monitor from his recliner.

          “Are you going to go see who it is?” I was busy making my nightly bowl of air-popped popcorn with parmesan cheese.

          Mike put the footrest down, got up, and went out.

          “Peg! Come here! Bring your camera,” he bellowed.

          I thought maybe one of the cats had brought a present in. I grabbed my camera and went out. At first, I didn’t see anything. “What?”

          “Right there.”

          I looked at Mike and followed the direction of his nod.

          “It’s a possum!” As we watched, this poor creature drug himself under the BBQ grill, looking for a place to hide. “He’s been hit by a car.” I could see wounds on both sides of his rear end.

          “Should I get the gun?” Mike offered.

          “NO! I’m going to take care of him! Sugar’s in the house and the cat room is empty. I’ll put him in there.”

          At this point Mike had had enough and went back to his TV program.

          It was hard watching him drag himself. I went inside. “Where are those thick leather gloves?” I asked Mike.

          “On the golf cart.”

          I got the gloves and when I went back out, Buddy (which is what I call all the critters who don’t have names) had made his way from the grill to the corner of the house, following a well-worn critter path.

          “C’mon Buddy, you can do it!” I cheered him on, sweeping my hand and taking a step in the direction of the cat room — like he’s gonna follow me, right!

          He hissed at me then put his head down and played dead. I thought he might actually be dying.

          Mike came out. “How is he?”

          “Not so good. I think he’s almost dead.”

          I watched his chest rise and fall a few times and went in the house. I finished making my popcorn and couldn’t stand it anymore. I went back out to see if Buddy was dead yet. He wasn’t. In fact, he was almost to the cat room door, which I’d opened for him. I squatted down and cooed to him. He hissed at me. I pulled my fingers back into the glove and stroked his head with the empty glove fingers. He hissed. Then he got quiet. Playing possum again, I suspected. I picked him up, he didn’t object, and carried him the rest of the way into the cat room. I shut the door and closed the pet door so he couldn’t get out and nothing else could come in. I left him to get cat food and water. Then I left him for a couple of hours.

          “I’m gonna check my critter and see if he’s dead,” I told Mike when I got up from my recliner.

          “If he’s dead, get rid of him. He’ll stink the place up.”

          Don’t I know it! But, “Okay,” was all I said.

          To my surprise, Buddy was up and eating. “I don’t think he’d eat if he was dying,” I told Mike. Eating is half of it. He needs to be eliminating, too.

          The next morning, when I went out to check on Buddy, to see if he’d made it through the night, I couldn’t find him. He was nowhere in sight. I started moving the old cat bedding around and didn’t find him. He hadn’t climbed into Sugar’s bed. Maybe he’s under the shelf, I thought. I didn’t want to get down on the floor and look under. I thought it might be just as easy to move the old rug and pillow that were on the wire shelf. I pulled the pillow off and there was Buddy. All curled into a ball and sleeping peacefully. I was surprised he’d pulled himself up on the shelf.

          He slept all day, as possums are mostly nocturnal. I gave him fresh food and water and left him.

          The next morning, I could see a lot of the food had been eaten, there was a wet spot and possum poo on the floor. Both ends are working. Maybe he’ll live. I lifted the pillow and the spot he’d slept in the day before was empty. I went on the hunt again and this time I found him curled up in the blanket that stops the draft coming in under the door.

          “Hey, Buddy, how’re ya doin’ today?” I asked lifting the blanket.

          “Hisssssss,” he said.

          I gave him more cat food, fresh water, a hardboiled egg, a piece of cooked chicken breast, a carrot, and a leftover Tequita.

          This morning, Sunday morning, I checked on Buddy. There was some cat food left as well as the carrot, which he didn’t even try. Everything else was gone and he had eliminated on the floor again. I didn’t have to look too hard for him because his tail was sticking out of the door-draft blanket.

          I picked it up and said good morning to him but he only repeated yesterday’s response. “Hisssssss.” I put the blanket back over him and left.

          I know some of you are scratching your heads. “Why in the world would she want to save a stinky old possum!? They’re nasty, rabies-carriers, and a dime a dozen!”

          Actually, possums can’t carry rabies. And to answer your question, I can’t think of a single critter that I wouldn’t help if I could. I just don’t have it in me to turn a suffering critter away. When he’s recovered enough, I’ll open the door and let him go back to his life.         

          Speaking of critters...

          Mike was in the shower and starts yelling for me.

          “WHAT?!” I'm yelling even before I get to the bathroom door.

          “Get him! Or I’m going to kill him!”

          The shower door slid open and this poor water-drenched spider sat there looking forlornly up at me.

          This guy was huge! Much too big to be washed down the drain. That’s probably why Mike called me instead of doing just that. I cupped him in my hands and took him outside.

          I spent a very happy week painting. I finished and mailed the Dushore train station off to its new owner.

          I did some quick watercolors in my sketchbook. I don’t know if everyone wants to see my practice paintings, but some of you have asked to see them. These are them.

          The Aurora Borealis was visible here in northeast Pennsylvania for one night this week. I missed it but my best girl Joanie didn’t. She got some really nice shots of it. I was inspired to try and paint it.

          This is Joanie’s photo.

          This is my painting of it.

          Tiger helped. Here he’s sitting on my reference photo of the train station. Like that’s a help, right?

          The next day he came back to get a drink of my paint water.

          “That’s a cute water holder!” you say.

          I know, right! I think of Joanie every time I fill it with water. She gave it to me. Of course, it had a plant in it when she gave it to me, which I managed to kill. So now it’s repurposed and I get to use it all the time.

          I painted jellyfish for my editor and friend, Jenn. She loved them when I showed them in my practice book. Now she has one she can frame.

          I made an ink of Amazing Grace in anticipation of a thank you gift. It’s mostly leftover printer ink but because there’s no white in printer ink, I used thinned acrylic paint for the church.

          Right now, I have a commissioned dog portrait on my table. I’ve only gotten as far as the background. Which reminds me. You know something? The photo I was given shows this American Bull Dog sitting in the kitchen. You can see the cabinets behind him and the tiled floor. I did a quick search online for dog portraits just to get an idea of backgrounds. I saw some I liked but here’s the thing. If I put in the suggestion of cabinets and the suggestion of a tile floor, you will know this is your dog in your house. Not some generic dog with a generic background. That’s just how I feel about it. Is my thinking, my feelings flawed? Would you rather have a prettied-up background or something that identifies it as being really yours?

          Mike bought new lug nut covers for his truck. The old ones were rusted. Now that they’re on the truck he’s not sure he likes them.

          “I’m surprised you bought them at all,” I told him. Not that he bought new covers but that he bought this design. Hard rock style definitely gives off a badass vibe. They scream "Don't mess with this truck"—like a metal concert on wheels. But it’s hardly Mike’s style.

          We were coming back from taking our recycling down to the Boy Scouts recycling site and I got a little niggle that said, You better be ready to take an eagle picture. I’ve never seen an eagle on this road before but I’ve learned to listen to that little voice inside me. Out loud I said, “I better be ready to take a picture of an eagle if I see one.” I picked up my camera with the long lens and put it my lap. “And if I see one, you have to stop.”

          Halfway home, way back in a field, I see a giant bird perched in a tree.

“There’s an eagle!” I exclaimed. He was so far away that I wasn’t sure if it was an eagle or not but I took his picture anyway. I know it’s not a great picture, my old camera doesn’t focus well, which is why I got a new one, but I do think this is a juvenile Bald Eagle.

          I took pictures on my way to my Tuesday night Bible study course. I love how the setting sun highlights the trees. The photo really doesn’t portray the beauty of it.

          The sun lit up the side of the church as I came out of the canopy of trees that lined the lane.

          I stood in the parking lot and took tons of setting sun photos.

          Mike had an appointment in Sayre to have his eyes checked. He’s fine but considering an eyelid tuck to improve his vision. I took road pictures. No surprise there, right?

          “Look! They’re remodeling Burger King.” We’d been discussing where to have lunch and this place was mentioned. I guess it’s off the table now.

          I laughed at the sign. Not Open. Yeah. We figured that out.

                   I don’t remember where we ate. Probably McDonald’s. We eat there a lot. They give me free food and discounts because I use the app, so we can eat pretty cheap there. But later in the week we did try a new-to-us pizza place.  

          “How did you like it?” you wanna know.

          I wasn’t impressed. The crust was thin, which I like, they had lots of toppings, which I also like, but most of the time it didn’t seem like there was any sauce on it. I love a good, well-seasoned pizza sauce. Without it, the whole thing was kind of bland.

          More road pictures.

          When we get home, there’s a certain little dog that starts digging in the grocery bags looking for a new toy. When her search turns up no toy in the open-top bags, she jumps on the freezer bag to see if it squeaks. Sometimes she nails it just right and it does!

“Okay, okay!” I say and unzipped the bag.

Bondi digs around until she finds it, then pulls the card of five little squeakies out. Usually, we cut one off and give it to her and put the rest away. I was multitasking at the time, as a lot of women tend to do. I was on the phone while putting the groceries away, so I let Bondi have all five squeakies. Last time I did that, she pulled one off and played with it. By the time I turned my attention back to her, she had all five off the card. That stinker. I let her keep one and put the rest away. The next time we come home from shopping, we’ll slip one in the bag for her to find.

          With that, let’s call this one done!

Not So Much

           There’s not so much for me to talk about this week, not so many pictures to show you. That can be a good thing and a welcome relief from the pressure of my self-imposed writing deadline, which, in and of itself, is normally manageable. However, my church tends to plan things for the weekends when the working people aren’t working, and I always try to make something for these events. If it happens once in a while, I don’t stress about it. But we’ve been doing a video series on Sunday nights, so that’s every Sunday I need to stop writing, whether I’m done or not, and cook or bake something.

          “Peg, do you really have to make something?” you ask.

          I suppose I don’t have to, but I’ve been doing it for so long that some people would be disappointed if I didn’t bring something. Besides, I like to do it.

          It’s when two events happen on the same weekend that it really puts a hinky in my writing schedule and such is the case this weekend. Hence, that’s why it’s a good thing this week that I don’t have much jibber-jabber.

          “Besides your Sunday night video, what else is going on?” you ask.

          Tonight, Saturday night, is the talent show at church. People can showcase their talents or even show off their hobbies or crafting abilities.

          “Are you going to show your stuff?” you wanna know.

          Nope. Not this year. Last year I talked about my devotion to you, writing a weekly letter for so many years, stained glass work, tin flower making, wire and bead work, book box making, painting porch signs, and photography. Wow. That’s a lot, I know. So, the only things I’ve really added to my extensive repertoire this year is fairy houses and watercolors, and I haven’t got any of them to show.

          Speaking of watercolors...

          I wanted to share something with you last week, but didn’t.

“Why didn’t you?” you wanna know.

I had a lot of ground to cover last time and was worried my letter blog would already be too long without the added information. So, since this week is much less busy, let’s go back and talk about it.

Do you remember me showing you two practice pieces I did from photos? I was going to show you the photo reference along with my interpretation.

          Here’s the hayfield. I’m not happy with the clouds but it was a flip-the-page-and-move-on type of thing for me. I didn’t try to fix them.

          Here’s the fence. 

          “It doesn’t look much like the picture,” you say.

          I know, right! That’s what Mike said!

          “Your fence is a lot shorter.”

          “I wanted to get the tree in,” I told him.

          “You don’t have as many pickets in your fence and they’re farther apart.”

          Yeah, there’s that too, and one of the reasons I wasn’t going to show it. But I wanted to tell you something else about this one.

          “What’s that?” you ask.

          This is the first time I used a masking fluid. It’s a rubber latex liquid you put on your paper to preserve white areas so you don’t have to worry about painting around them. I wanted my pickets to stay whiteish so I took this opportunity to try the drawing gum.

          I tore my paper when I rubbed it off. I don’t know if my paper wasn’t as dry as it should’ve been or if there was some other issue. At this point you can throw your masterpiece away, paint over the area, or embrace the mistake. The paper under the torn area is different, so it holds the paint different. The area of the fence you can barely tell I tore the paper but you can really see it on the tree trunk. That’s the embrace part. If I hadn’t’ve told you, you’d just think it was a flaw in the bark itself and was meant to be there.

          Hmmm. “Thirsty?” I asked Tiger.

          It’s a good thing the paints are non-toxic.

          My new-found love of watercolors has me questioning myself.

          I went through a phase lasting a few months where I was trying to educate myself on watercolor techniques and all I ended up doing was making myself depressed because it made me painfully aware of how little I really knew about painting.

          “Stop watching videos and just paint,” was the sage advice from oldest and much-adored sister.

          That’s when I picked up my brush and finished the watercolor of Scout.

          Susan was pleased and sent me a picture of it framed. What a difference framing makes!

          I’m glad she likes it. I did the best I could. Besides my practice pieces, and a couple of greeting cards, it’s only the third watercolor piece I’ve done. I hold on to the hope I’ll get better.

          “Even though the early works aren’t as good, they’re the ones that’ll be worth more money,” Miss Rosie said.

          “Yeah! Like I’ll ever be famous!” I snorted. And being famous is not even a goal of mine. I just want to make pretty things.

          Mike and I watched a movie last night set around characters in a prestigious art school in Paris. Talk about pretty things — the paintings they showed were beautiful!

          I’ll never paint anything as beautiful as those, I thought.

          I still wonder if getting an education would make me better. I’ve been watching videos again. Things like color theory and values makes my head spin! I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. So! And that’s a great big SO! I’ve decided I’m just going to paint. That’s what Grandma Moses did, right? I’ll paint what I see and hope it pleases.

          I’ve been asked to paint the train depot in Dushore for my sister. Now that I’m starting to layer the color on, I’m getting excited about it and I want you to get excited with me, too. It’s actually looking like what it’s supposed to be! That’s a good thing.

          There’s a chance I can still mess it up. If I do, we’ll call this one practice like I did with my first attempt to paint Scout, and I’ll tell you all about my mistake.

          Something else that took my time this week was finishing the book box. I actually forgot to take a picture of it after I’d sprayed its protective coat on top but it looks pretty much like this except the colors are a little brighter.

          “Peg! How could you forget?!” you wanna know.

          I know, right!

          Here’s what happened. I sprayed it, then went to exercise class. When I got home, we got around to go deliver it and in all the rush, it slipped my mind.

          “How did he like it?” you wanna know.

          He loves it. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “My wife is just gonna love this,” he said with a grin on his face. He stood up, pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a couple of bills and handed them to me.

          “Close enough,” he said.

          It was more than I’d asked for.

          While I’m on the subject of crafts, I found two dies for my Sizzix at the thrift store. I asked if they’d sell them separate from the machine because I already had a machine and they said yes. Now I have one that will make tag shapes and one for circles.

          >>>*<<<

          It’s October and the leaves are changing color and falling from the trees.

          I tried to capture a picture of the leaves floating through the air but they’re hard to see. 

          Speaking of hard to see...

          Do you know how hard it is to find and clean up dog poo in the yard when it’s full of fallen leaves. It all looks like poo!

          Mike and I were in Dushore and took a minute to visit Momma, Pop, and brother Mike.

          This is the fruit or drupe of the Dogwood tree.

          And that’s it, my loves. That’s it for the photos this week. I told you there weren’t many. But I do have one more story for you. My morning peeps already know about this because I kept them informed as the drama unfolded.

Raini woke us up before five Wednesday morning, crying.

“Peg, what’s wrong with Raini?” Mike got up first.

I was instantly awake. “I don’t know.”

I turned on the light and called, “Raini, come here.” I thought maybe she’d hurt her leg jumping off the bed but I watched as she came to me. She wasn’t limping so it wasn’t her leg but she did have her tail tucked. She jumped up on the bed. I checked her over but couldn’t find any visible injuries, although she did cry when I ran my hand down her rump. I stayed away from that area and just stroked her fur and cooed soothing words to her. Raini curled into a ball beside me, shivering and shaking. Has something happened to her hips? Should we take her to the emergency vet? I wondered. I knew there was no going back to sleep so we got up. I lifted her off the bed. She didn’t ask for me to throw her ball like she does EVERY morning before I even get to the bathroom. Raini did follow me into the kitchen and spent the morning just lying under my desk. She didn't even have it in her to chase Tiger when he came in, like she usually does. I didn’t know if I needed to be concerned or if it would pass. I asked my morning peeps for their help.

“Wait a day and see how she is tomorrow.”

“It’s better to err on the side of caution. Take her to the vet.”

Mike had a doctor appointment that morning and I stayed in the car and tried to call the vet. Yes, tried.

“If this is an emergency, press one,” the recording said. “If you’re calling to refill a prescription, press two. If you’re calling for an appointment or any other reason, press three. To hear the menu again...”

I stopped listening and pressed one. The phone rang, and rang, and, rang, and rang, and I let it ring at least ten times. No one answered.

Maybe they’ll answer the other line, I thought and called back. This time I selected option three. “Please leave your name, phone number, the name of your pet, and someone will call you back within two hours, unless it’s after three, then we’ll call you in the morning.” It was another recording.

I tried the emergency line a couple of more times with no answer before I joined Mike. I need to be his health care advocate since he doesn’t always hear or remember what the doctor tells him.

          There’s always a wait between the time the they take your vitals until the doctor comes in. I snuck out and tried the number again. It was busy.

          After Mike’s visit, which, he’s fine, I went outside to call again while he checked out and set up his next appointment. This time I got through.

          “I don’t have anything today,” the gal said. “If you call in the morning, I can see if I can get you in.”

“I tried this morning but you didn’t answer the phone.”

“I was on the line with another emergency call,” she explained.

I’m thinking they keep a spot or two in the day for emergency calls and they’d already filled that day’s spot.

“Raini’s in pain and you can’t see her?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any spots left. I can let you know if we have a cancelation or you can call back in the morning.”

           “But she’s hurting today,” I reiterated.

          “I’m sorry. I can give you the numbers for other emergency vet clinics,” she said and started to list clinics that were hours away. I took this time to collect my cool. I was so frustrated and it was so tempting to unload on her. “Do you want one of them?”

“No. I’ll call in the morning,” I said more calmly than I felt.

Raini seemed better when we got home. She got up and came to the door, but didn’t jump up — like she usually does, and she didn’t try to body block me — also like she usually does. I thought she was better, even if she did mostly just lay around all afternoon.

Toward late afternoon, Mike said, “Why don’t you call and make the appointment for tomorrow?”

Yeah! I think. Grab the spot before someone else does.

          “Can you get Raini in tomorrow,” I asked.

          “You’ll have to call in the morning,” she said.

          “What’s going to change between tonight and tomorrow?” I wanted to know.

          “Someone could cancel.”

          “You mean you can only see her if someone cancels?”

          “That’s right.”

          WHAT GOOD IS IT TO HAVE AN EMERGENCY NUMBER IF YOU CAN’T SEE MY DOG IN AN EMERGENCY! I screamed in my head. Outwardly I said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

          “Call another vet,” Mike said.

          The other vet in Wysox was out of the office until Monday. I Google vets in Tunkhannock and called one.

          “We can see her tomorrow,” Karen said.

          I had to pay the cost of the visit up front because I was a new customer, but I was happy to do that.

          That evening, when it was recliner time, Raini got up from her bed in the kennel and cried. She took a step out of the kennel and cried. She took one more step, cried, and sat down. I didn’t think she’d go one step farther. I took her bowl of treats in to the living room and turned back just in time to see her creep back to her bed in the kennel. I had to coax her out and in trying to help, touched her rump. She cried. I lifted her mostly by her front half and carried her to the recliner. Raini ate her treats but not as enthusiastically as she usually does. I scratched her back as she lay beside me and a couple of times she tried to roll over and cried. At bedtime, several hours later, I put the footrest part way down for her and she got down without a whimper. She almost pranced her way to the door, went out through the flap, and didn't cry. She brought her ball in and dropped it at my feet.

“No. Let’s go to bed.”

The only thing that was different was I’d given her a low dose aspirin around four. It seemed to help so I gave her another one before bed thinking it would keep the pain at bay.

The next morning, she was acting like her old self. She even ate breakfast, which she hadn’t done the day before. I just don't understand what happened. We still kept the vet appointment.

The new vet is awesome. Just the fact that they got me in the next day seemed like a small miracle to me. Raini has anaplasmosis, a tick-borne disease. She doesn't have lyme and they think the sudden onset and cessation of pain is likely caused by that. She'll be on doxycycline for a month. He checked her spine and joints and didn't find anything wrong. She was due for rabies and lepto. They gave her those shots as well as the lyme vaccine. She’ll go back in three weeks and we’re switching all our critters over. They’re more expensive than the old vet but they have four vets, instead of one, and usually get you in within a day or two of your call, not three months later. So, I'll pay it.

“How’s Raini today,” you wanna know.

She hasn’t had any more episodes of pain and seems fine. 

Let’s call this one done! 

 

Love-Hate

           This week has been all about creating. I've been working on practice watercolors in my sketchbook. It's called practice for a reason. I can see areas in each piece that I'd like to improve or change. The best part is, knowing I don't have to show these to anyone takes a lot of pressure off. It allows me to experiment and have fun with the process.

          All of these were done with tutorials. There are two ladies I follow that I really like. She says, “Make a half circle.”

          I make a half circle.

          Most of the time they tell you to use whatever colors you want but I usually use whatever color they’re using.

          I love doing tutorials because you end up with something recognizable and I always learn something. I like this, I don’t like that. Paint is too wet or paint is too dry. It even gives me practice fixing or trying to fix mistakes — which, by the way, I don’t do a lot of in my practice book. Mostly because its better not to make the mistake in the first place. So unless it really bugs me, I’ll just flip the page and not look at it anymore. But I have to tell you that I’m in love with watercolors like I’ve never loved any other paint medium.

          I have to tell you something else, too.

          I have a burning desire to make my own art.

          You guys have given me great practice in taking photos and I’ve taken some really nice photos over the years. Now I look at my photos and my fingers itch to try and paint them. These next two PRACTICE pieces were painted using photos as inspiration. They don’t look exactly like the photos because like my friend Susan says, “If I wanted a photo, I’d take a photo.”

                                                                        >>>*<<<

          I have a love-hate relationship with my Cricut cutting machine. When it works, it’s great. When it doesn’t, then it’s a huge pile of frustration.

One of the websites I follow has been offering fall clipart for several weeks now. The images are so pretty.

Another website I follow offered fall themed digital papers this week — and I loved them, too. That’s when it hit me. That’s when I was inspired to combine the fall digital papers with the fall clipart to make some fall greeting cards! I mean really, I had to!

          I spent an afternoon sifting through files, trying to decide which images and which digital papers I wanted to use. Then I printed a bunch of papers. For the images, I decided to use my Cricut. It has a function where it will print, then cut out an image. And that’s what I wanted to do. It would save so much time over hand cutting — and it would be so much neater.

          Famous last words, right?

I didn’t have a plan other than I knew I didn’t want to spend days making cards. I’d make one design and copy it for however many cards I decide to make. I just jumped in with both feet and let the chips fall where they may.  

          The first thing I had to do was upload the images to the Cricut software. Sizing them would be a little trial and error since I wasn’t exactly sure how big I wanted them. Some elements I knew I wanted to use on all the cards, so I’d print multiples. The images could all be different depending on who I was giving it to, so I’d only print and cut one.

          When I had all the images uploaded and saved to mats to print and cut, I got the Cricut out. I sent the job to the printer, loaded the cardstock into the Cricut machine, and my troubles began. It was making a whole bunch of little cuts, like it was cutting pixels instead of the whole image and it made a couple of holes in the paper before I stopped it.

          Well! I thought. I guess I’ll be cutting these out by hand!

          I spent the next couple of hours printing and trying to cut. One time it was cutting the image, but it didn’t match up to where the image was printed on the paper, cutting through them rather than around them.

          I rebooted the software.

          I rebooted the Cricut.

          Then I thought to check the memory on my computer and it’s almost full. That’s likely what’s causing my problems. I spent the next long time, hour, maybe more, moving photos to the external storage device. Then removing unused programs. That gave me a little more memory. Rather than use the print then cut function, I just cut simple shapes from the Cricut software and the Cricut did okay with that. I didn’t try the print then cut feature anymore because by this time, I’d had enough. Enough time and aggravation trying to get the machine to work and enough images already printed that I’d have to cut out by hand.

          I’m thinking I need to take my computer to the computer doctor and let him clean it up. Either that or use the internal software already on my computer to set it back to factory. That’s a problem for another day. All in all, I spent three days making fall cards.

          During this whole card making process, I got to thinking about all the times I passed up shape-making hand-held punches. I didn’t need them, didn’t know I’d ever need or want them, so I didn’t buy them. I still don’t need them. After all, my Cricut is supposed to be able to make them for me, but it sure would’ve made my life easier if I had a punch that would punch out hearts or stars. I got on Facebook Marketplace looking for some and found a hand operated machine called Sizzix that has different dies with it. The lady was asking forty but would take thirty.

          “Mike, how about a road trip to Hughesville?” I asked.

          “What for?”

          I explained what I wanted and all he said was, “Let’s go.” He really is a good husband and indulges my need to create.

          So! Road trip! How about road pictures?

Hughesville is about an hour away and the GPS took us right to her house. She professed to not knowing anything about the Sizzix. “I’m selling it for a friend.”

I didn’t know much about them except they cut shapes. It looked like it was in good shape and had a bunch of dies with it. We paid her and headed for home.

          To get back to the main street, Mike turned up an alleyway.  

What do you think these blue and red things are used for?

          The first thing I did when we got home was play with my new machine — and boy did I get an education!

          Did you know that this machine, besides cutting shapes, can cut letters?

          Yeah. I didn’t know, either! It makes sense that it can cut anything there’s a die for and what I got was a whole set of letters, numbers, and a few symbols, like dollar sign, comma, ampersand, etc. It also came with colored cardstock, a slide cutter with an extra blade, scissors that cut a pattern, and a couple of other templates used in cardmaking. What I didn’t get was what I really wanted. Shapes.

          “So, we wasted our money?” Mike asked.

          “Not necessarily. I can use the letters to spell out stuff like HAPPY BIRTHDAY when I’m making cards and maybe I’ll find some of the dies that I really wanted.”

          Mike got on the computer and looked around for some. They’re out there, but I don’t want to pay that much for them.

          “Let’s wait and see if I can find them at a yard sale sometime.”

          But in the back of my mind, I’m tumbling over things I can use to make homemade dies!

>>>*<<<

          My morning peeps have already seen my progress on my newest commission. The guy asked for a cross. Then, a few weeks later, asked for an open book. It’s for his wife for Christmas.

          “I’ve never done an open book before,” I told him. “But I can try.”

          “How about a cross sitting on an open book?” Mike suggested.

          And this is my attempt at an open book. It’s meant to have lots of character, aka, ragged edges, and I’m gonna try to make it look old and antiquey when I paint it. The cross is one of my molds so it’s pretty much perfect — at least until I paint it!

>>>*<<<

          Mike and I decided to go out for lunch and we decided to go to a local place for a salad and slice of pizza. The restaurant opened at 11 and it was, like, a quarter after when we walked in. They did not have even one pizza out of the oven.

          “We have cheese and pepperoni coming out in a few,” she said.

          I turned to Mike. “You wanna go someplace else?”

          “Yeah. Let’s go to the Ram Zone and try one of their pizzas. They’re supposed to be really good.”

          We went in and found a table. This gal came to take our drink order. She had a sparkly personality and you knew right away that you were gonna love her.

          Becky left and came back with our drinks. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”

          We were sitting right in front of the air conditioner and it was blowing on us. “You wanna move to another table?” I asked.

          “Yeah. Let’s go up there,” Mike answered and nodded to a booth farther away from the blowing, cold air.

          Becky was going past with food for another table.

          “We moved,” Mike said. “It was cold over there.”

          “I figured,” Becky said over her shoulder.

          “It’s probably not the first time it’s happened,” I told Mike.

          When she came back for our order, Mike asked, “Can we get a pizza?”

          “No. We don’t have pizza on the menu anymore,” Becky said.

          “Do you have a pizza night?” I asked thinking it might be a special sometimes.

          “No. We don’t do them at all anymore. I wish they’d bring ‘em back because so many people are asking for ‘em,”

          Mike got the pulled pork BBQ and I got a mushroom Swiss melt. Mike was sad. His BBQ was just okay but my burger was really good.

          Becky picked up Mike’s unused straw from the table we vacated earlier, then laid the ketchup on its side. “I wonder why she did that,” Mike mused.

          When we had a chance to ask her, she said, “I do that so I remember I haven’t wiped the table yet.”

          “How clever!” I exclaimed. That would’ve been a helpful hack to know back when I waitressed a hundred years ago.

          “What’s your last name?” I asked thinking she reminded me of someone.

          Becky hesitated and her eyes went up and to the left. “Ferris,” she finally answered.

          “Why did you have to think about it?” I asked, puzzled.

          “Ferris is my married name.”

          So, it’s new to her, I thought. “Did you recently get married?”

          “Pffft! No! Married twenty years!”

          Now I’m curious. “What was your maiden name?”

          “Woodruff,” she said.

          I’m going to guess that she hesitated because she had to decide if I was asking about her family name or married name. I’ve been asked several times in my life who my parents were.

          Becky was — is just such a beautiful lady! I bet all of her customers love her.

>>>*<<< 

          All y’all know that I make mistakes and I don’t mind telling on myself. Look what I did.

          “What are those?” you ask.

          Those, my dears, are the food cups for my bird cage. I washed them and you can’t put food in wet cups. No matter how dry I think I get them, I always end up with food stuck to spots I’d missed. I put the oven on its lowest heat and put the cups in to dry. I use the oven to dry stuff all the time!

          Hmmm. I didn’t think the oven would get hot enough to melt the thick plastic. Obviously, I was wrong. Maybe the plastic they use has a low melting point and it’s not my fault at all! Yeah! Let’s go with that one! I had no choice but to use them anyway. They still held food. I could still hook them in place on the side of the bird cage. I just couldn’t put the covers back on them.

          Mike, that dear, sweet, long-suffering man of mine, ordered a new set.

          That’s not my only blunder this week either.

          I got a notice from my insurance company that my claim was approved.

          I didn’t file a claim, I thought and went to the website. There was a claim filed for two prescriptions and I don’t take any prescription drugs. I didn’t recognize the names of the drugs and, of course, they have them listed by the prescription name and not common name. What the heck is Fluz-own — that’s how I said it in my head. The other one I didn’t even try to say in my head. I looked to see who prescribed them and it was Gil. A hacker name if I ever heard one.

          “You’d better call,” Mike said.

          So, I did. The lady I talked to was getting me so frustrated! She verified my information twice. I’m thinking she was having computer trouble or something. Then she wanted to know my email.

          “Wait a minute. You just sent me an email saying you approved my claim so you have my email,” I said.

          “It’s not on here,” she said. “Do you want me to put it on here?”

          “You already have it.... Wait a minute. Am I even talking to my insurance company?” I questioned.

          “Yes. You are.”

          “Then let’s get to the reason I called. You pulled up my account. You should be looking at the same thing I am. I didn’t file a claim.”

          “Here’s one for Flu-zone...”

          As soon as she said it, I knew what it was, and I bet you do, too! I’d gotten my flu and COVID shots. That’s what the claim was for.

          “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I did get those shots! I thought someone hacked into my account and filed a false claim.”

          She was very understanding and assured me it was just fine that I’d called.

          “You can’t be too careful these days,” my Miss Rosie said when I told her.

          Now, speaking of the Kipps...

          I love the Kipps, you know that. But I had to sit them down and have a heart-to-heart talk with them.

          “What’s going on?” I know you wanna know.

          I was making a new recipe. It’s called Marry Me Snack Mix. The recipe is fairly straightforward and I’d gotten all the stuff I needed to make it, but when I set about making it, the salt in the recipe was not listed in the directions.

          I’ll call Miss Rosie, she’ll know, I thought. I called, or rather, I tried to call. I kept getting a message that it wasn’t in service. Actually, I don’t remember the exact words from the message, whether it was that or the call couldn’t be completed, I don’t know. All I know is I wanted to talk to Rosie and I couldn’t! I tried for half an hour before I gave up and messaged her daughter, Jenn. “Do you know if their phone is out?” I asked.

          “I don’t know. Let me try,” Jenn said.

          She tried and she couldn’t get them either.

          I tried both Rosie’s and Lamar’s cell phones thinking if their landline was out, they’d turn their cell phones on. They didn’t. It went straight to voicemail.

          Well, luckily, I have a sister who’s a genius in the kitchen so I called her.

          “The recipe calls for me to melt the butter, sugar, and corn syrup in a pan. Then I boil for one minute, take it off the heat and add the vanilla and baking soda. No where does it tell me what to do with the salt,” I told Phyllis.

          Phyllis pulled up the recipe and looked for herself. “You’re right. It doesn’t say what to do with it. I think I’d put it with the butter and sugars in the pan.”

          So that’s what I did.

          The next day I had a talk with the Kipps. “Do they charge you when your cell phone is on?” I asked.

          “No. It’s the same every month no matter how much we use it,” Lamar said.

          “Then why don’t you leave your phone on when you’re home?” I wanted to know.

          Lamar thought for a second. “I turn it on when I leave but when I’m home I turn it off because we have the landline.”

          “But if your landline goes out, how can I get a hold of you?” I wanted to know. “Rosie, I needed you and I couldn’t get you!” I cried like my life depended on it. I was being overly dramatic. If I had really needed to talk to either of the Kipps, I would’ve jumped in the car or on the golf cart and gone down there.

          “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “What did you need me for?”

          I described my plight with the salt and what I did.

          “I agree with your sister. Put it in the stuff on the stove.”

          “I asked AI (artificial intelligence) afterward,” I told Miss Rosie, “And he said it goes in with the vanilla and baking soda. I told him, ‘Uh-oh. I already put it in with the butter and sugar.’ AI said it would be okay, and it was.”

          “I think the issue with the cell phone is Lamar forgets to charge it,” Miss Rosie said. “But honestly, we would rather people could get a hold of us at any time.”

          “Just put the charger there by your chair and when you sit down, plug it in. It just takes getting in the habit.”

          The next day, when I made my morning love call to that feisty redheaded neighbor of mine, Miss Rosie said, “When Lamar turned on his cell phone, he got a message from the provider that our phone was out and they would fix it as soon as they could.”

          Ha! Vindication!

          By the way, it's a really good snack mix.

          I want to end this time with the remaining photos in my file.

          I think we’ve been behind this motorcyclist before. He wears a backpack and passes in no passing zones. Maybe he loves the thrill of being a rebel. Maybe he’s always running late. I just hope he’s careful, even if what he’s doing is illegal. 

          Out of the corner of my eye, I caught an image of strange, skeletal birds sitting on the wires. When I turned to fully look. They’re wire separators.      

          Lastly, out by one of the posts that supports the kitchen awning, I see a mound of dirt pushing up. I puzzle over it but don’t investigate.

          A few days later the round caps of fungi appear.

          Then a few more days pass and they’re fully open and huge!

          I don’t know enough about mushrooms to know if they’re edible, so I took a photo and asked AI.     

“The mushrooms in your photo appear to belong to the genus Macrolepiota, a parasol mushroom known for its large size and distinctive cap patterns. The light brown caps with darker centers and white edges are characteristic of this genus. However, accurately identifying mushrooms can be tricky without more details, such as the gills underneath the cap or the habitat where they were found. It's important to be cautious, as there are some lookalikes that can be toxic.”

Well, then. I guess I’ll pass.

Something I will never pass on is reminding you how important you are to me. You’re all in my heart.

Let’s call this one done.