I do the same thing every morning. If it’s a shower day, I shower. Dress. Take Bondi outside to do her “bidness,” wipe her little cootchie (or I’ll get a wet spot on my shirt!), put her in her kennel where she’ll sleep for a few more hours.
Before Bondi got hurt, I didn’t do that part. Nonetheless, it has worked its way into my routine.
I’ll turn on the TV in the kitchen for the morning news. Sometimes I listen, sometimes it’s just on.
Then it’s on to the cats. If Spitfire’s in the house he’ll loudly demand his breakfast — RIGHT! NOW! I show him who’s boss! I don’t hurry. I just go about my routine. I put a little water in the microwave to warm. I retrieve the cat food dishes from the floor, and this part can be a little tricky. Loudmouth is sitting on the very edge of his feeding station (a butcher block that stands at the end of the counter) and besides his incessant demanding, he’ll swipe at me if I get too close. I set the dishes at the end of the counter, on the other side of the microwave. Then I go for Sugar’s food dish.
Sugar’s an old gal. She’s perfectly happy to sleep the days away in her condo and have a servant bring her food, water, and carry away her litter.
Raini is paying close attention to me at this point. Sugar never eats all of her food and I set the remnants on the floor for her. She does a good job cleaning out the dish.
I skirt the claws reaching to grab my arm as I round the butcher block and head to the pantry for the canned cat food. On the way past the fridge I open the door to see if there’s a half can left from yesterday. If there is, I take it out. If there’s not, I need two cans from the boxes that sit on the floor.
Boxes. Plural. I have two boxes of canned cat food. Shreds for the inside cats, pâté for Hatch. Don’t ask me why. It’s just the way I do it. I carry them back to where I work, where the cat food dishes are waiting, and the microwave is now announcing the one-minute water is ready.
I take the hot water out and set it nearby.
Right above the microwave is where Mike’s cup lives. I open the cupboard, take the cup, fill it with water, drop a tea bag in, pop it in the microwave, and set it for two minutes.
Every morning. My routine never varies much.
Until this morning.
I draw the water for Mike’s morning cup of green tea, set it in front of the canister that holds his tea bags, and instead of getting a tea bag, I pick up my jar of coffee and drop a spoonful of crystals into his cup of tea water. They float in cold water.
Aye-yi-yi!
I’ve done this before, but not often.
I dumped it and start again.
Now I’m back on track.
Sometimes the other two cats are here, sometimes they’re not, and sometimes they wander in while I’m making them breakfast. Tiger lounges on the table like he’s the king holding court. Blackie jumps onto a chair so he can take his place next to him. Sometimes Tiger lets him, sometimes he’s feeling a little mean and swats him back to the floor.
Nothing like a little drama in the morning.
I open the drawer under the microwave and get the can opener.
“Don’t the cans have pull tabs to open them?” you say.
Yes. Yes, they do. Using the pull tabs leaves a lip and a sharp edge that cuts my rubber spatula and no matter how hard I try, there’s always cat food left under the lip, and it’s too expensive to waste. I use the can opener.
I portion the shreds between Spitfire, who’s still yelling at me, Tiger, Blackie, and Sugar. I always give Spitfire the lion’s share for two reasons. One, because he’s older and seems to need it more, and the other reason is because Tiger, Blackie, and Sugar never seem to eat all the food I do give them. Sometimes Tiger won’t even touch his.
I guess he doesn’t like the flavor.
Too bad, so sad. There’s always dry food available to them.
Once I have as much scraped out as I can, I dump a little hot water from the cup to the can and run it around with my spatula. There’s no use to wash it down the drain where it does no one any good. I’ll add a little of the dregs to each of the dishes and stir, under the advice of the vet. It gives them more moisture and prevents crystals forming in their urinary tracts.
Then I turn to Hatch’s bowl. Somewhere along the line I’ve put about a cup of dry food in his bowl. If I haven’t already done so, I’ll do it now. Then whatever’s left from rinsing out the cat food can, I’ll dump in his bowl, add the half can of leftover food along with more hot water and mix it a little. This gives him a warm, soupy mixture. He never complains.
Empty cans get a final rinse and set on the sideboard to drain before being tossed into the recycle bag. I don’t need rotting cat food to stink up my house.
At this point I’ve listened to Spitfire complain long enough and give him his dish of food. He tucks in and quiets down. Tiger and Blackie, who wait more patiently, get theirs.
Mike’s tea is done. I pull it from the microwave, set it aside, and put a cup of water in for my coffee. Poke three and the microwave starts. Three minutes. It’ll be done before I’m ready to sit down with it.
I pick up the two remaining bowls of cat food. One gets dropped off for Sugar, the other goes out to Hatch.
I push the cat room door open and hold it with my foot. Before I go in I reach into the bag of dry food that sits outside the door and get a scoop of kibble for his dish. I never put the bag inside the cat room or the wild things that visit in the night would have it empty in a week — or less!
Sometimes Hatch is waiting for me.
If he is I greet him with a cheery, “Good morning, Hatch!”
I swap bowls, picking up yesterday’s empty and replacing it with today’s full one.
Sometimes he wants me to pet him. I can tell because he purrs as he winds himself around my leg. If I pet him and he deems it not long enough, he’ll swat my foot.
Sometimes Hatch doesn’t want me to touch him and he sits just inside the door and won’t come close.
Most times he just tucks into his breakfast.
Sometimes I pet him.
Sometimes I don’t.
When Hatch isn’t waiting for me I open the outside door, surprising the deer feeding there, and yell, “HATCH!” Wait a second and repeat, “HATCH!” If he’s near and hears me, he comes trotting around the side of the building like he knows his name.
Once Hatch is taken care of for the day, it’s back into the house I go. In the pantry is a thirty-gallon trash can where I keep sunflower seeds out of reach of the mice and bears. Not that I have bears in the pantry, mind you, but I did lose a bucket of sunflower seeds to a bear one year when I used to leave it on the patio.
I get a scoop of seeds and head for the kitchen patio. Opening the door can be tricky. Every time I go out, someone thinks it’s time to play ball. Raini barrels past me. I’ve learned to rattle the handle and wait. She’ll dash out the pet door thereby saving me from being bowled over.
Raini is smart though. When Tiger scratches at the door to come in, all I have to do is announce, “I’m letting kitty in!” Raini doesn’t move from her bed.
The birds are usually up and their morning songs bring a smile to this old, wrinkled face.
Raini finds a ball in the yard, brings it, and drops it at my feet.
Fill a feeder, toss the ball. Fill the other feeder, toss the ball. Stand there for another minute or two tossing the ball.
Now my thoughts are turning to one of the most important parts of my day.
I go back in, deposit the birdseed containers back in the bin, put the lid back on (sometimes I forget to do that, too), and head to the computer to tap out a morning love note.
The microwave beeps.
I stood there puzzled. For the life of me I could not remember what I had in the microwave! I opened the door and there was my coffee cup, the water hot and ready for a spoon of crystals.
Heavens to Murgatroyd!
Coffee!
And I had forgotten!
I know forgetting is a part of getting older but I forgot two things on the same morning! Putting coffee in the tea water I chalk up to distraction. But my first cup of coffee for the day? How could I!
Now I’m worried!
I really don’t want to get dementia. Then again, I bet no one does.
I got my new set of expensive Schmincke watercolors this week. They came wrapped. I had to unwrap each one and put ‘em back in the tin.
Is a half pan a half pan, the world around? I wondered. Just for kicks and grins, I got one of my other pans of paint and compared the size.
It looks to me like the outside is the same size. The inside? Judge for yourself.
“Have you used it yet?” you wanna know.
I have started a commissioned piece and I’m not as thrilled with this expensive paint as I had hoped I’d be. Maybe there’s a learning curve. Maybe I should’ve done a practice piece or two. I don’t know. But I’ll stick with it for a time because the light fastness is better in the expensive paints. Although my set of Phoenix watercolors rates almost as well as these do.
Speaking of art...
We were at the traffic light waiting to cross the Veterans Bridge to Wysox when I see these paintings propped up in a storefront. I don’t know anything more about it than that.
We had gone to Walmart after Bondi’s laser treatment to pick up triple flavor kabob treats for the dogs, a few grocery items, and lunch for us. Mike waited in the car with the pups while I did the shopping.
Oh! Here’s a tip for you. Don’t leave the shopping list in the car! I did and I wasn’t going back out for it. When Mike waits in the car, he drops me off at the door then finds a place to wait. I didn’t know where the car would be. Besides, I thought I could remember everything.
“Why didn’t you call Mike and have him read you the list?” you ask.
That’s a great idea — except my shopping list is on my phone — in the car!
I ran the list in my head, chicken tenders for Mike, a hot dog for me. I stopped at the deli and got lunch out of the way first. I have my priorities straight, don’cha know. A bag of baby carrots. Yogurt for my starter to make a fresh batch of homemade yogurt. Milk. Cat food, both dry and canned. Glucosamine Chondroitin and Tylenol PM for Mike. Laundry pods.
“I thought you used homemade laundry soap,” you say.
Most of the time I do. Right now I’m washing things for the church rummage sale and the Gain Flings have a long-lasting scent that will let everyone know things were freshly laundered.
I checked out, went out, and stood in front of the store for moment. Then I spotted Mike and headed his way. After the bags were loaded I checked what I bought against the list. I came out with everything but the kabobs! OY!
Mike drove to the back of the parking lot and parked in a tiny patch of shade while we ate lunch.
An empty plastic bag danced its way across the road.
“That’s why they outlaw those,” I said and tipped my chin in the direction of the bag.
Mike had been watching the action so he knew what I was talking about. “Yep.”
I almost always take my own shopping bags in with me. After I empty the bags at home, I put them back in the car.
“I’d forget them in the car,” you say.
You only have to go back for them a couple of times before you remember to take them in with you.
I saw a license plate I’ve never seen before.
“Where’s it from?” you wanna know.
It’s a Choctaw Nation tribal plate.
Across the top it says CHAHTA SIA HOKE! AI says it translates to “I am Choctaw!” Chahta means Choctaw, Sia is I am, and Hoke is an emphatic ending similar to indeed or truly. So the whole phrase means, “I am Choctaw, truly.”
You probably see your share of them out west but here in our beautiful state of Pennsylvania, it’s the first I’ve ever seen.
Speaking of seeing...
I saw a hawk atop a pole. By the time I got my camera up, he’d launched himself.
And the same for this Blue Heron. He was in our creek but by the time I’d gotten the camera up, he’d taken flight.
There’s a small business in Wyalusing that deals in pallet re-sales. They’re transitioning from home goods to food. Shannon, the gal managing the place, is getting rid of stuff that doesn’t or didn’t sell. One of those things was a ton of whiteboards.
It’s kinda funny.
“What is?” you ask.
Just this week I was thinking about using the projector I bought to transfer an image to my watercolor paper. I got to looking around and there isn’t any wall space for me to be able to do that. Then these come up on Facebook. “Free!” It said. “All sizes. Come and get them.” That would be the perfect thing for me.
“On the way home can we stop and get one?” I asked Mike.
By then they were all gone. “I posted that Monday and they were all gone in a few hours,” Shannon said. We were there Thursday.
I was on my way out when she sees one leaning against the wall. “You can have that one. I don’t know why they didn’t take it unless it’s because the others were glass.”
It was bigger than what I would’ve chosen if I’d’ve had a choice.
And it wouldn’t fit in the car.
We went home, put the perishables in the fridge, got out Big Red, and went back for it.
It’s big.
“Where are you going to put that?!”
I don’t know just yet. But it was free! I’m thinking I can stand it at one end of the utility room and put my projector at the other end.
Something that wasn’t free and was, as a matter of fact, expensive, are the parts to turn a section of fence into a gate. Two hinges, and you have to buy the bolts separately, and a latch was over forty bucks! Where have I been?! I was thinking ten or fifteen would cover it.
Mike had to get down on the ground to put the bottom hinge on and nothing is ever easy for the Do-It-Again Luby’s. We bought the wrong size hinges. It’s too far to take them back and we wanted to do the job now, not next week.
“I’ll just cut one of the connectors we took off in half and put that in,” Mr. Make-It-Work said.
Mike was right. Other than having to get up and cut them, it worked beautifully to make the too-big hinges fit.
We still have to figure out a way to make the latch work because the other end doesn’t have the same kind of fence or post. We used a piece of wire to keep it closed until we can get back to it.
Hinges make it so much easier to bring his riding mower in when he mows the dog run for me.
Speaking of our fence and making things work...
Here’s that handsome Spitfire coming across the bridge we made for the cats. Two logs stood tee-pee style, one on each side. Our cats have claws and no problem climbing the bridge. Of course, if you have a Blue Heeler nipping at your tail, you don’t need a bridge. You can practically clear the fence in a single bound!
Do you remember when I got all those strawberries a while back? It was a deal something like buy two get three free. I turned all of it into pie filling with sugar-free Jell-O using Miss Rosie’s recipe. I used some of it right away and put about five cups in a bowl and tossed it into the freezer. With Lamar needing special attention at this time, I know Miss Rosie isn’t able to keep up with making them desserts, so I got the bowl of strawberry pie filling out and thawed it.
“It’s watery!” I told AI.
“Gently heat it, but don’t boil it,” Copilot advised. “It will reactivate the Jell-O.”
What did I have to lose? Nothing!
I blind baked my pie crust according to the package directions. And I didn’t have to put beans or rice or anything in the shell. I just had to poke it full of holes. It works. Crust cooled, strawberry filling cooled, I combined the two and chilled overnight.
It worked!
Copilot isn’t always right but it was right this time.
This wildflower is Bouncing Bet or Soapwort. The leaves and roots make a mild soap that’s been used for centuries.
The name “Bouncing Bet” supposedly refers to a cheerful washerwoman (“Bet”) who used the plant for laundry. It was brought to America by European settlers specifically for washing textiles. If you shake a jar of water with crushed leaves, it foams like dish soap — kids used to play with it as “nature’s bubbles.”
I pushed away from my desk, got up, and stretched. “I THINK I’M DONE!” I announce loudly so Mike, who’s watching TV in the other room, can hear me. I walk halfway into the living room. “Unless something else happens between today and tomorrow when I post it!” Then I added, “I’m going to take the dogs out for a while.”
And something did happen!
Something big!
Something unexpected!
But definitely something happy!
I took the dogs out for a little sunshine and a ball tossing session. It was hot and I didn’t want Raini to get overheated, so I wouldn’t play long. I’d only played for a few minutes when I hear the birds making a ruckus behind me.
There must be a cat close to the nest, I thought and it was the perfect excuse to stop tossing the ball.
I walked over to the fence, my arms resting along the top rail, and I looked for the cat. I couldn’t see one but I could spot the bird. She, or he, sat on a branch nearby, a bug in its mouth, chirping loudly.
I watched as she, we’ll call it a she but she could be a he since both parents feed the young, she flitted from branch to branch before getting up the nerve to land close to her nest.
Surprise!
She landed on the toe of the boot! I wasn’t one hundred percent sure her nest was inside until she hopped up to the opening, leaned in, and gave it to the crying babies inside. Her nest is inside the boot birdhouse my oldest and much-adored sister made for me! This is the first time I knew for sure that someone has taken up residence here.
And guess what?
I didn’t have my camera.
Raini had given up trying to get me to play ball while I watched the birds and found a spot in the yard to have a rub. Bondi was laying in the taller grass by the fence line, soaking up the sunshine. I made eye contact with her. “I’ll be right back!” I told her. “Stay. I’ll be right back,” I repeated. Most of the time the dogs will wait if I’m just making a fast trip into the house and today was no exception. Bondi waited, but I guess Raini didn’t think I meant her because she followed me.
The nice thing about putting my cameras down in the same spot every time is it enables me to find them quickly. I grabbed up the camera with the big lens and went back to my station at the fence. I knew the wrens would make many trips feeding the babies so I waited for one of them to show up. It didn’t take long. This one must be the male because he was too afraid to take his bug to the babies. He just hopped around the trees and bushes but wouldn’t go in. The chicks could hear him and cried for the food.
I can tell from the picture that he’s caught a Robber Fly.
Did you know that wrens are devoted to raising their young? They’ll make hundreds of trips in a day and keep it up for nearly two weeks. I smiled when I thought of all the bugs that won’t be able to “bug” me!
Mama came back and didn’t hesitate to go to the babies. She dropped off the bug, picked up a poop sack, and flew away to drop it away from the nest. How awesome nature is to make it easy for the parents to keep the nest clean and odor free.
Eventually he came to the toe of the boot, with a bee in his beak now, looked at me, flew behind the boot to the rooftop, hopped down and peeked under the roof, then went to the door and fed a baby.
Even after the young wrens fledge, the parents keep feeding them for another week or two. They’re intentional about what they bring, too — always insects, never seeds — because baby wrens need protein to build feathers, bones, and muscle at the incredible pace nature demands. Since it’s almost August, I’m pretty sure this is their second brood of the season. For such small birds, they put in an enormous amount of love and labor.
Someone else who puts an enormous amount of love and labor into something is me! Every week when I sit down to have a visit with you.
Let’s call this one done!
Done!
