Jibber-jabber

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Hello, hello, hello!
Can you believe it?
Can you believe it has been a whole week since I’ve talked to you!
Signs of spring are popping up all over the place here in the middle of the country.

The daffies are bursting forth and it’s still February!

The weather is going to be nice again this coming week and I bet you we will have flowers in a day or two.
Oh I can’t wait! I love the daffies and this is a wild bunch.
Does anyone know if I can dig up the bulbs anytime of the year? If not, when do you dig the bulbs?

I worked with my glass for a little bit this past week. I made a red butterfly for Sharon, my sister-by-another-mother.

I also got an order from Chuck and Doris, one of our Saturday morning Golden Corral friends. Doris wants a set of chimes like I showed you two weeks ago. The ones with sixteen paddles and thirty-two diamonds. I am glad for a little bit of paying work.
Now, since I brought up Chuck and Doris, I told you a few weeks ago that for the past fifteen years they have had a standing Saturday morning breakfast date. Well, I was wrong. When they came to pick out the glass for their chimes, Chuck mentioned that they have been having their Saturday morning breakfast date for forty years!

I just wanted to set the record straight.

>>>>><<<<<

The last time I wrote, I showed you a collage of pictures my cousin Shannon sent me. In all fairness, I offered the photos to anyone who wanted them.
“What if several people want them?” you ask.
Already thought of that. I figured I could scan them into my computer and send an electronic copy of whichever photos they wanted or I could scan and print them if they wanted a printed a copy. My printer does a pretty decent job.
However, only one person expressed any interest.
It tickles me.
I send these letters out to a lot of people. Fifty-seven to be exact.  Family…friends…people who have expressed an interest in reading me, plus my blog is public. No one ever asks me to stop sending these to their inbox or mailbox.
“Peg, I am too busy to read your jibber-jabber,” you could say.
Actually, now that I think about it, I have had one person tell me, “If you send me one a month that would be enough.”
LOL.
Since my letters often build on previous letters I didn’t think they would stand alone, so I just stopped sending them to him.
One gal told me this. “I don’t read your letters -- but I save them! I have a whole file with your letters in them and if I ever get laid up in the hospital or something, I’ll read them.”
LOL.
Whatever.
It doesn’t cost me anything on the email so I just leave the mailing lists alone. The only time I ever delete anyone from either list is if their emails or letters start coming back to me as undeliverable.
And yes, that has happened a few times.
Our friend Tom, who lived on the other side of the mountain from us in Pennsylvania, his letters started coming back to me. Tom had been paralyzed in a tractor accident and several years ago, when we were at our Mountain Home, we went to visit Tom and Carol.
“I can’t tell you how much your letters mean to Tom,” Carol told me. “He looks forward to them every week.”
That was about six months into our friendship and it was this one comment that kept me sending my letters to Tom for three or four more years after that.
Never once did they call or write me.
I would still be sending them to him today but about a year ago, with the new 911 addressing system, my letters were no longer deliverable as addressed. I hoped for a while that I would be missed and get a phone call or letter with the new address on it, but it never happened and Tom has faded from our memory banks.
“The point, Peg. Get to the point,” you say.
Okay.
The point is this.
I don’t know who reads my ‘jibber-jabber’. There are people on my list that I haven’t heard from in years and years! I don’t know if they are still getting my letters. I don’t know if they read my letters.
Paul, one of my younger and very handsome brothers, was the only person to say he was interested in the photos. “But I don’t need the frame,” he emailed me.
And it tickled me because I hadn’t known that Paul even read my jibber-jabber.
This photo is from the collage that Shannon sent and it’s a young Paul with a baby Farley, who is now a grown man with a baby of his own.

That reminds me…
Three times in the last two days, I have declared myself the family jabber-mouth. Not blabber-mouth because I won’t say things that are told to me in confidence and I try never to make anyone (but me) look bad.
I’m just long winded.

<<<<<>>>>>

I am so proud of my kids. Despite my shortcomings and failings as a parent, they turned out pretty well.
After Kat died, Christopher, the oldest, called me a few times, then I didn’t hear from him again.
Well, I guess he thinks it’s my turn to call him, I thought.
I called.
No answer.
I left a message.
A week or so passes and I call again and leave another message - again, and again, and again this happens as the weeks passed into months and the months passed by.
This past week I called and just as expected, no answer.
I left a message -
Just calling to say I love you and hope things are well.
- hung up and dismissed it from my mind. It doesn’t do to dwell on what you cannot change.
Surprise!
Chris returned my call. We chatted for a little while but not long because he was on break at work. He is well. The family is well. He is working overtime to support his family. He’s been at this job for nine years now.
Kevin, the youngest of the family, had a birthday this past week. I hadn’t planned on doing anything more for him because Mike and I had taken him and Kandyce to dinner to celebrate both their birthdays and that was really all we were going to do.
Monday, Mike and I went grocery shopping and I scored a good deal on a two pack of whole, fresh chicken and a nice pot roast.
Monday, I pulled all the photos from the collage that Shannon sent me in preparation of sending them to Paul.
Monday, I was wondering what I was going to do with the now empty photo frame.
And it came to me. Kevin’s birthday.
Last year I had set up a triple photo frame collection for Kevin’s birthday and he really seemed to like it. (These are three separate frames even though I have them all standing together and they look like one.) I had Kandyce help me select the photos so I was confident that at least one person in the family would like them.

“I love your photos,” Kevin has told me more than once, but I wanted it to be the best it could be and I wanted them to hang it in their house, hence, the reason I asked Kandyce for her help.
And Kevin did like them. Maybe not as much as he liked the Dewalt Impact Driver and Drill Combo Kit with a handy carrying case that Mike got him, but he still seemed pleased.
What if I filled the now empty frame with photos of Andrew?
Yeah! 
And I could invite them for dinner and have pot roast. No cake though. I don’t have an oven to bake a cake in. I have a NuWave Oven but it won’t hold a cake pan. Well, maybe a little 8X8 pan, but that’s it.
“We could buy him one,” Mike suggested when I pitched my idea to him.
“Nah. I don’t want to do that. Maybe an apple crisp or something. He likes my apple crisp.”
Monday, I Facebooked Kandyce. (That means I sent her a message on Facebook.) Come to dinner tomorrow night? Pot roast with taters and carrots and homemade bread? 
Can’t, she messaged me back, Lion’s Club meeting. 
Do we get Andrew? I volunteered knowing he can be a little too much to handle during their meetings.
Sure! Kandyce replied.
Monday I sorted through photos of Andrew and printed up a bunch.
Tuesday I cut them apart.
Tuesday night Andrew was here. “Andrew, do you want to help me make your daddy’s birthday present?” I asked.
“Daddy’s birthday present?” he asked.
“Yes, Daddy’s birthday present.” I pulled out the empty frame and the photos I had ready and together we laid on the floor and planned out which picture would go where. Boy, if there is one thing that Andrew loves, it would be looking at photographs of himself!
Once we had gone through the photos a few times and I started to stage them in the frame, I knew I would need more time. It wasn’t going to get done this night.
Andrew had had enough of looking at his photos and went on to play with his toys while I picked up the frame and photos and put everything away. I had been hoping to have it done by the time the kids got back from the Lion’s Club meeting so I could give it to them, but that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe they will come for dinner on Thursday and I’ll bake a chicken.
Around eight-thirty Kevin and Kandyce came in for Andrew.
Andrew -- that little stinker.
Andrew smacked his daddy on the leg to get his attention. “Daddy! Daddy!”
“What buddy?” Kevin asked.
“Daddy birday present,” he said and went to where I had the frame standing and touched it.
“Andrew!” I exclaimed. He pulled his hand back. “Don’t tell!”
  He went back to his daddy’s leg. “Birday present,” Andrew said slapping Kevin’s leg again and pointing in the direction of the frame - which didn’t have any pictures in it yet.
“Andrew! Shhh! It’s a secret!” I admonished.
Kevin laughed. “He doesn’t know what that means Mom.”
“And you don’t know what he’s trying to tell you either, do you?”
“No.” Kevin shook his head but was clearly amused.
We used the distraction method and went on to visit for a while.
“Come for dinner one night and I’ll bake a chicken,” I invited Kevin and Kandyce. “Mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, maybe an apple crisp?”
“Okay, but no dessert for me,” Kandyce said. “I’m on a diet. What night?”
“How about Thursday? It’s Kevin’s birthday.” And it was set.
Wednesday I set about making the final decision on which photos I would put where. That was when I realized that despite having printed thirty-seven photos for a twenty piece frame, I didn’t have enough of the right size photos.
“Why did you print so many?” you wonder.
Well, in this peon brain of mine, I know that photos don’t always translate well when they go from the computer to the printer. I thought if I printed all the ones that I liked that I would just pick the best of them. That would help me to make a decision as to which ones to use and I had to start someplace!
Then I discovered that I needed five larger photos and five smaller photos. Well, there wasn’t any help for it now. I’d have to decide which ones to make bigger and which ones to make smaller. It was during this process that I decided that since I had to print more photos anyway I might just as well see what’s up online. So I got up and Facebook and cannibalized photos from the pages of Kevin, Kandyce and Chi-chi, Kandyce’s twin (I don’t think I’ll get in trouble for that.)
Hours and hours and hours later, when it was done, I was pleased.
Thursday, crunch day. I had to get it finished. I decided to give the glass of the picture frame a bath before I put it together. I didn’t want to break it so I took great pains to have everything set up and ready. I got the dish soap out and set it on the edge of the sink where it would be easy to reach. I set towels on the counter top to have a place to put it after I washed it. I turned on the tap to get the hot water up to the sink. I wiggled the glass free of the frame, carefully put it into the sink, squirted soap all over it and …
Doggone it!
I forgot the scrubbie. I wanted to give it a good scrub so it would be shinny and sparkly when I gave it to Kevin.
Sigh!
So much for all my planning.
Peg, I said to myself. I always call myself Peg when I talk to myself cause that’s my name you know. (An old line my dad used to say.) Peg. Be careful.
So carefully, with one hand, I held the glass steady in the sink as I used my other hand to open the lower cabinet door and dig my scrubbie out of the dishpan where it lives when not in use. I shut the door with my knee and got to work. I scrubbed one side and was careful as I turned the glass over. I was feeling proud that I was going slow with my turns and being vigilant not to smack the thin glass on the cold, hard stainless steel of my sink. Once both sides and all four edges were clean I turned on the hot water to give it a good rinse. The hotter the water, the faster it dries and the fewer spots it’ll have.
I wonder if I should scrub the frame too? I looked over to where I had left the frame and ~crack~


Doggone it! I take my attention away for one second and what do I do? I hit the glass on the nozzle of the soap dispenser! I looked at the glass and it looks like I just lost a little chip from the edge. I breathed a sigh of relief. The frame will cover that. I finished rinsing it and went to set it on the counter to dry. That’s when I saw it. That’s when I saw an inch long crack running in from the edge.

Doggone it!
I was mad at myself.
I dried my hands, picked up my coffee cup and leaned my backside against the sink. Opposite me, sitting atop the toaster oven and cookbook was the completed project waiting for its frame.

I sipped my coffee as I contemplated what to do.
Maybe I could put it in the least obvious corner.
Yeah, like they won’t see that. 
Get another glass? I could cut one to fit -- if I had a piece to cut it from. 
Buy a new piece?
Nah. I don’t want to do that. 
Which corner can I hide it in…
So I’m standing there, running all of this through my head when almost all of a will of it’s own, my head snaps to the left and what do I see?
There on the wall was my framed pictures.

Hey! Is that the same size? I wondered. I set my cup down and picked up the frame and compared it to the one on the wall!
Cha-ching!
They were exactly the same size. I took it off the wall, took the glass out, and the first thing I noticed was that the glass was a lot thicker. I put it in the sink and set about getting it cleaned up. I only had this picture frame because one of our tenants left it behind and there had been some boxing tape on the glass. I had never bothered to clean the residue off because I never intended to keep it. I think I thought I would give it away and I’d clean it up then but after it sat in my house, leaning against a wall for months and months, I decided to put some pictures in it and hang it in the hall where it was hardly ever seen. In other words, I really didn’t care. Now I cared. I got a knife out and scraped the glue off.
Thursday the kids came to dinner. The chicken was crispy (but not dry) and good. The potatoes were lumpy and the gravy was too thick.
Sigh!
Oh well. Sometimes you try too hard, you know what I mean. But the kids were wonderful and not only did they not complain, they complimented me.
After dinner and when the table was mostly cleared, I called Andrew. “Andrew!” He stopped his play and looked at me. “You want to give Daddy his birthday present?” I asked.
Andrew came right over to where the picture had been before, and where I had put it back after it was done -back facing out so they couldn’t see the pictures and ruin the surprise- and together we presented it to his daddy.

“Andrew, let’s give Mommy a present too,” I had taken all of the extra photos and put them in an envelope. I handed the envelope to Andrew who gave them to Kandyce.
“For me?” she exclaimed. “But it’s Daddy’s birthday!” Then she saw what it was and she was happy. “I’ll put these in an album.”
And I was glad they wouldn’t go to waste.
Kevin was pleased with the collage of Andrew and this year I had no Dewalt tools to compete with!

<<<<<>>>>>

For years and years I have bought the cheapest spices I could. I didn’t think it mattered and I’m just kind of frugal that way.

Then one day while shopping I see a brand called Wild Oats on the shelves at Wal*Mart.

They are in glass jars!
I love glass jars!
I picked up a few even though the price is three times that of the 5th Season brand.
“Wait, wait, wait,” you  say. “McCormick has had glass jars for years.”
Yeah, another brand that is expensive but the jars never tempted me into buying them. But I love the shape of these jars and I thought if I collected six or eight of them, that would be enough. That was probably less than a year ago and since then I have at least six empty cinnamon jars. It’s the spice I use the most. I use it in our breakfast cereal and I use it in the unsweetened applesauce that we have as dessert most evenings.
Two weeks ago my cinnamon was running low and I put it on the grocery list. The very next trip to Wal*Mart I went to the spice section and the cinnamon was empty.
Doggone it!
I looked and looked and looked and Mike helped me look but no matter how hard we looked there was not one single Wild Oats cinnamon jar on the shelf.
Sigh.
Okay. I resigned. I needed cinnamon. “I’ll just get a different kind this time,” I told Mike and picked up the 5th Season brand.
The Wild Oats cinnamon ran out and I opened the 5th Season cinnamon and the first time I used it I didn’t like it.
It wasn’t as good and this puzzled me.
All my life I’ve switched around on brands and never noticed much difference but there was definitely a big difference between these two brands!
Does the difference between being packaged in plastic vs. glass make a difference in flavor?
Are there different kinds of cinnamon?
Are there different quality of cinnamons?
Maybe they use a different part of the cinnamon…what? Plant? Stick? Here I’m thinking maybe there is such a thing as the better quality cinnamons use the tender, flavorful center part and the cheaper quality brands use the tough outer bark? Or maybe it’s even visa versa. Maybe the outer bark is the best to use.
Maybe the cheaper brands use what the quality brands throw away? Here I’m thinking about coffee. You can make coffee from the grounds of a pervious pot, “Just put a little fresh coffee on top,” I was told. If you have to stretch your food or budget, it’s better than nothing, but it still tastes like you used the dregs.
All of this wondering on my part just goes to show you how very little I know about cinnamon.

>>>>><<<<<

As I told you at the beginning of all this jibber-jabber, the weather has been pretty nice here in Missouri this past week. Would you like to see some photos of my walk-abouts with the girls?
Another blue bird! I had just gotten done telling you I never get to photograph these beautiful birds and here was another one!

I snapped photos as I got closer and closer to him and he didn’t let me get very close before he flew away. But he didn’t go far and I was delighted when a female joined him.

Yeah. She’s further away than he is and my camera will only focus on one or the other, so I’m not as delighted with the photo as I could have been.
The geese on the pond is my current desktop photo.

A brilliant flash of red catches my attention and a male cardinal lands on a branch.
Thank goodness for zoom.

More life bursting forth.

A redheaded woodpecker.

A cedar waxwing posed for me.

A little green grasshopper jumped across my path.

And speaking of crossing paths!
The neighbors black cat crossed the road ahead of us, then stopped to look back as Ginger and Itsy barked at him.

And with that, we shall call this one done!

This And That

Sunday, February 21, 2016

It has been another quiet week in this household.

I spent part of the week working on the next chapter of The Great RV Adventure. On this leg of the trip we arrive in Minnesota and it’s the last time I saw Kat.

I’ve been dragging my feet. I’m not really sure why although the writer in me can come up with a few scenarios.

Could it be because it has been ten months and a lifetime ago since I made this trip with Patti’s friend Lori and my mom and I am losing the details?

Could it be because had I known it would be the last time I would ever get to see Kat on this side of heaven that it might have been different? I would have held her a little longer, kissed her a little more?

Whatever the reason I found myself just sitting and staring at her photo and remembering that day, trying to recall every detail and I am a little sad. A little sad because she didn’t stay very long and so there isn’t that much to remember.

After spending twenty minutes doing nothing but staring at Kat’s beautiful face, I decided to let my Facebook friends and family in on what was happening with me. I posted this picture of Kat. I’m trying to write the next part of the RV story and find myself just sitting and staring at this photo, I wrote.

I got the usual sympathy comments but let everyone know I wasn’t looking for sympathy. No I’m sorry’s. We are all sorry.

“What were you looking for then Peg?” you ask.

I don’t know. I’m just not ready to let her be forgotten yet. My favorite comment came after my No I’m sorry’s comment. “It is a beautiful picture to look at,” my friend Linda wrote. She is a good friend.

We are getting on down this road of grief and healing.

My RV story has taken me to the doorway of Kat’s visit and now I just need to step through and get this leg of the journey done.

So!

I have been working on the RV story, one sentence, one picture, one memory at a time.

<<<<<>>>>>

I had been meaning to get over and visit with Miss Helen for over a week now but between our two busy schedules I couldn’t manage it until Friday.

We talked for a couple of hours and I thought Miss Helen looked so pretty in her silky, rose-covered sitting robe. Our conversation revolved around theology and family and yes, Miss Helen looks a little sad. She is going to Kansas City to spend her birthday and Easter with her daughter and by the time she returns, Mike and I may be gone to Pennsylvania for the summer.

Once I left Miss Helen’s, I went to see my favorite Jersey Boy.

I had arrived just in time to accompany him to Happy Hour where they serve drinks and cotton candy. The theme for this week’s party was the 50’s and they had put headbands on some of the residents and the director was dressed in a poodle skirt and Mary Janes.

Mr. B likes to show off my photos and as I took photos of different people, he would call them over to see.

“You take good pictures,” one lady - the niece of another resident -said. “Would you take photos at my friend’s wedding?”

“No,” I told her. “Weddings are important and I wouldn’t want to mess it up. She needs to hire someone who does that kind of thing.”

“She just wants someone to take a few photos,” she said and I heard, she doesn’t want to pay for a photographer.

“You know what? When my kids got married they just put a whole bunch of disposable cameras around on the tables and let the guests take pictures. At the end they collected all the cameras.” Kevin and Kandyce also hired a professional photographer too, but I didn’t say that.

“That’s a great idea! I’ll have to tell her,” she paused and tried one more time. “You won’t do it? You won’t take her wedding pictures?”

“No,” I said unapologetically and in a voice that made it final.

I turned back to Mr. B. Although I don’t photograph hands very often I think they are fascinating and tell a story. I’d gotten Miss Helen’s hands earlier and decided to pose Mr. B’s and this is that.

Looking at the photos, I think Miss Helen’s relaxed hand is definitely a better shot than Mr. B’s posed ones. “Mr. B! Look at you!” I said snapping a couple of photos and pointing out the bruising on his hands and arms.

“I know, geeze,” he said scrubbing at his face with his hand. “If I don’t have this thing on,” and he felt around his waist for a gait belt. I had seen one on him on a previous visit. “…oh I don’t have it on. If I don’t have it on the girls just grab me anywhere.”

Yeah. It doesn’t take much to rip and bruise the thin skin of our elderly. So I always offer my hand or arm and let them hold onto me, then I won’t bruise them. Of course that won’t work if they are falling, but still, I want you all to remember this-

Don’t grab their arms if you are just aiding them. Give them your hand or arm and let them hold onto you!

>>>>><<<<<

My beautiful cousin Shannon found this collage of my family when she was going through her mother’s things and it arrived in my mail box this past week. Well, technically it wasn’t in my box. My post office box is way too small for that. The notice to pick up a package was in the box and Mike went to the counter and retrieved it.

I’d never seen a five dollar stamp before and this had three of them on there- plus a little!

I don’t think there are any photographs in here that we haven’t seen before but if there is anything that anyone wants, let me know.

Shannon also sent me the memorial cards for Aunt B. I will mail one to anyone who wants one, just let me know.

And dear sweet Shannon, who knows how much I love nature, sent me her mother’s wildflower guide book. Thank you Shannon. You are so kind and thoughtful and I am proud to call you family.

<<<<<>>>>>

Let’s end this week with photos from my walk-abouts with the girls.

A junco.

Ginger, with her little tongue hanging out, after snuffling in a pile of dried leaves.

I walked down the old schoolhouse road again a couple of times this past week and photographed it every time I went past it.

An old pull tab beer can.

The ducks heard us long before I got to the edge of the little pond in the woods.

Ginger saying hello to someone’s kitty cat.

It’s all water under the bridge…well maybe it’s water coming through a culvert.

An old fence post.

The daffies are coming up!

I saw a butterfly! My first of the year.

Our friend Margaret told me that her backyard is full of robins but I haven’t seen any yet.

Flowers, butterflies, robins… you know spring is on the way!

And bugs. Let’s not forget bugs. The water skimmers are out.

And the frogs too, but I couldn’t get any of them.

And this is the face of pure joy after having a roll in the dried grasses by the edge of the pond (and probably there was some stinky perfume in there too).

A boatload of old motors mounted to a rail.

Ginger hanging out the window on a car ride. I’m shooting into the spotty side mirror.

And lastly, a sparrow on top of fence post is my current desktop photo.

Let’s call this one done!

Niggle

Sunday February 14, 2016



This week has passed and not all that excitingly either, let me tell you!

However, I have a few things to talk about so lets get to it!

The weather has turned cooler and I didn’t take the girls to the campground below the dam until midweek. Even though Wednesday was warmer, it was a lost glove that truly motivated me to take the girls out this day. I set a course to where I thought I had lost it and off we went.

I didn’t find it.

Since we were out and it wasn’t too cold, we went on down to the campground.

Nothing was catching my eye and as a result I only took a few pictures and didn’t get anything fabulous.

The algae held captive by a skim of frozen water was the first picture I took. 

Then, coming back out of the campground, the sun coming across the pond was another.

Those were the only two subjects I photographed.

See.

Nothing fabulous.

>>>>><<<<<

I finished a set of chimes this past week. This is one of the very first designs of wind chimes that I’ve ever made. It is made up of sixteen paddles and thirty-two diamonds. Fifty pieces of glass in all, cut and ground with ninety-seven holes drilled.

 The cutting and grinding isn’t a big deal but have you ever drilled holes in glass?

The drill bits for my Dremel cost nine dollars apiece because they are diamond tipped. I am as careful with them as I can be. I drill slow and keep my glass submerged in a water/oil bath.

I drilled a lot of holes with the bit that was in my Dremel. I worked on several projects before this one, and I drilled almost all the holes in these chimes before it gave out on me. I bet I had less than a dozen holes left to drill. But it did. It quit on me and I broke the piece I was drilling. I dug around in my boxes until I found my spare drill bit, changed bits and drilled a couple of more holes before I called it a day.

The next day Mike was watching TV and knowing how he feels about not running out of things I mentioned that I was down to my last drill bit.

Mike shut off the TV, moved the puppy dogs from his lap, put his recliner down and said. “Let’s go get you one.”

Luckily, here in Missouri, things are close. It isn’t like being at our Mountain Home where everything is fifty - a hundred miles away. Menard’s and Lowe’s are only three and four miles away.

First stop, Menard’s. It’s closest. We park, get out, and go in. We find the Dremel section and I pull the card from my old bit out of my pocket. I’d kept the paper insert from the package because I knew I’d need the number to get the same drill bit. Past experience has taught me that when you are standing in front of the bit display at the store, several bits can look the same. I wanted the same bit and bringing the card was easier than trying to remember the number. We looked and looked but they didn’t have it.

Back out to the car we go, drive another mile down the road, park, and go into Lowe’s. They had it. Yay! We picked up the last three on the shelf.

I had left my drill setup on the kitchen counter because it hadn’t been in the way and the next morning, after my chores, I decided to finish drilling the rest of the holes. I bet you I had not drilled more than four holes when the tip broke clean off the bit. Four holes! What a waste of money that bit was.

“Doggone it!” I exclaimed as I turned off my Dremel.

I was feeling grateful that Mike had taken me out and bought me some new bits. All I had to do was change it and I’d be back in business.

Right?

Yeah. That’s what I thought too.

The shank was too big to fit in my Dremel. I dug around in my boxes and found the extra collars for my Dremel but I already had the largest one in. I was out of business.

Mike and Gary, Mike’s crony and maintenance man, came inside from whatever job they had been working on, and sat down.

“Mike, the new bit won’t fit in my Dremel,” I cried.

“We got the same number didn’t we?” Mike asked.

“Yeah but the shank is bigger.”

“But if it’s the same number, it has to be the same.”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you,” and as I was talking I opened the lower cabinet door, pulled out the trash can, and there on top was the old bit. I picked it out and along with the new bit, handed them both to Mike. He compared them. “It is bigger.”

“And it won’t fit in my Dremel.”

“Let me see it,” Gary said taking his glasses off and dropping them on the table. He took the new bit, got up and tried to seat it in my Dremel. “It doesn’t fit,” he declared.

My Dremel is over twenty years old and still works great. I don’t know why they changed the size of the shanks but they did.

“Well, let’s go look at Dremel’s,” Mike said.

And that my dears is how this girl ended up with a brand new Dremel for Valentines!

<<<<<>>>>>

We have a problem.

We left our houseplant, out big schefflera, outside all summer. When the weather started to cool we brought it indoors. Since then we have had these tiny little annoying flies all over the place.

“They like moisture,” Mike observed. “They get at the corner of your eyes and your mouth.”

Well, these little critters seem to crawl far more than fly flies do.

“Fly flies?”

You know, regular flies. These guys will walk on the surface of something, like the wall or counter top and if you swat them and miss they just run and you get another shot at them. They do fly, don’t get me wrong, but they seem to prefer to be land bound more.

Every morning I make the cats a dish of wet food mixed with dry. One morning I went for the dish and see that they hadn’t finished it. When I picked it up it was loaded with these little flies. Were they feeding? I don’t know. They came crawling up out of the food and I smushed as many as I could before they took off.

So, we have these flies and we are killing them left and right and it’s driving Mike crazy. But swatting them when we saw them was working, albeit slowly and the population seemed to be decreasing. I wasn’t seeing as many.

Then there was an influx and we had a bunch again.

“What can we do to get rid of them?” Mike asked.

“I guess we could buy something to kill them,” I said. So it was a trip to Menard’s for an insecticide to kill bugs in houseplants.

We sprayed the plant but that didn’t help the current hatchlings. We continued to swat them as we saw them.

They were obnoxious!

You would sit down to dinner and a couple of them little buggers would help themselves to your plate!

But with persistence they were getting fewer and fewer.

Then we didn’t see any for awhile and could almost forget about them.

Then all of sudden they were all over the place again! I’m guessing we had another batch hatch out.

“I think I need to dump the soil and put new soil in,” I told Mike. In the meantime, what about a fly trap. Would a fly trap even work with these guys? A fly trap works because they try to escape out the top and miss the hole in the bottom that they entered through, and they die. Wait. Maybe it’s bees I’m thinking about. But these guys crawl around a lot and I can see them crawling up and out the hole. Still, I had to try it, right?

My best girl Linda gave me a beautiful glass fly (or bee) trap and I knew right where it was. In the garage with other things put in storage.

They like moisture, Mike said. So I put some plain water in the trap and kept an eye on it. No flies.

The image of the exodus from the cat food dish kept coming to my mind. Was it because it was wet or was it because it was food? Water by itself wasn’t working. I did not catch one single little fly. I decided to up the ante.

“You put some cat food in the trap?” you guess.

Well, you might think that but it wouldn’t be so. Here’s the thing. We go through way more cat food in this house than dog food. Our little girls don’t eat much dog food and it might be because of treats and me always saving them something from my plate every meal, but regardless, a ten pound bag -- or maybe it’s only seven pounds -- of dog food will last months. On the other hand we go through a sixteen - eighteen pound bag of cat food in three weeks to a month (we feed the feral cats). So when I came to the conclusion that I needed a little bait in the water what did I do?

I put a little dog food in the water.

Every day I looked in the trap but didn’t catch a thing. I sorta stopped looking but not to be ignored, I started to smell something.

What is that smell! I wondered one day and looked all around but the only thing I could see was my fly trap. I bet it’s that, I thought. But did I do something about it? No! I got busy and didn’t think of it for another day or so.

Again, I was working in the area of where the trap was hanging and smell something. Something bad. I’ve got to get rid of that, I think and not putting it off any longer, I snatch it from its hook, uncorked it and dumped it.

Well, if I thought it smelled bad before, uncapping and dumping and running water in it and stirring it all up served only to release all the putrid nastiness into the air. I about gagged -- and I know how to breathe through my mouth!

My only regret?

“That you tried?” you guess.

No. My only regret is that I did it right before supper. I had to apologize to Mike. My timing sucks sometimes.

“How often can I use that spray?” Mike asked.

“I think once a week,” I answered.

He had only done it once in the past month so he put it on his Things To Do List and now does it weekly.

Come spring I’ll probably give the scheffleras new soil anyway.

>>>>><<<<<

Andrew.

What can I say about this little guy except he owns my heart.

Mike and I had been at Menard’s this past week…

“Menard’s! Again Peg!” you say.

Yeah. It’s kind of a cool store, but we had gone in for something and ended up finding a kid’s activity rug in the clearance aisle.

“Should we get that for Andrew?” Mike asked.

“Sure,” I said and we left with it.

Later, I texted Kevin and asked if they were going out for wing night Tuesday night and maybe we could have Andrew. Pop-pop bought him a gift.

“Andrew’s sick,” he texted back.

He was better by Friday.

Friday, in case you didn’t know, was a holiday for the state employees. Andrew’s mom is a state employee and so is Krystin, her twin.

“Krystin and I want to go shopping Friday,” Kandyce told Kevin.

“Mom and Mike wanted to keep Andrew, do you want me to see if they’ll watch him for you?”

“Yes, please,” Kandyce says in a voice like an angel.

And Andrew came to spend some time with us.

“Look what Pop-pop bought for you!” I told Andrew as I pulled the rolled up rug out from under the RV where it had been stowed.

“Mine?” he asked.

“Yep!”

He fumbled with the plastic stretch wrap that kept it rolled up but I knew he’d never get it open. “Mimi help me, please,” Andrew says.

“Okay,” and I sat on the floor, pulled my pocket knife out and cut the binding. Together we got it unrolled.

“Racetrack!” Andrew exclaims with pure joy and went to pull out his toy box.

“Bye Andrew,” Kandyce says once he was happily entertained.

“Bye Mommy,” Andrew says.

“I love you!”

“I love you Mommy,” Andrew replied as he pulled out race cars and cows and pigs and his favorite crane and he played as I took pictures. 

It was getting towards lunch -and naptime- and I wanted Andrew to eat a bite before he laid down.

“Andrew, are you hungry?” I asked him.

I expected him to say no, but he said yes.

“You want a hot dog?”

“No.”

I opened the fridge and saw the Jell-O I had made the day before. “You want some Jell-O?”

I expected a no, not knowing if he even knew what Jell-O was but was surprised when he said yes.

“You do?”

“Yes, please,” he said again.

He got his little plate and got up to the table as I sat opposite him and I spooned a piece onto his plate. I thought he would pick it up with his fingers (I made the Jell-O a little stiffer by reducing the water) but he picked up the plate and ate the Jell-O. 

“More please,” he said and I gave him another piece.

As a parent I probably would not want to clean up after an unnecessary mess. As a grandmother, I don’t care. I have him a few hours and send him home. Still, I don’t do his parents any service when I let him get away with bad manners. “You’re getting it all over your face!”

Andrew agreed. He bobbed his head up and down, said, “Yeah. More please.”

What could I do? I gave him more. He chased his Jell-O around the plate and when he got to the edge I yelled at him. “HEY! Don’t eat the plate!” 

He couldn’t contain his laughter. Even a three-year-old knows you can’t eat the plate.

“More please,” he said setting his plate down.

We played this game for a round or three then I told him we had to stop. He was making a mess and I didn’t need Jell-O stains on my carpet. Andrew got down, found his bag of dishes and came back with a fork, spoon and knife, which he named for me as he set them down. He’s so smart.

After his Jell-O and milk it was time for a nap. “After your nap we can play in the water,” I told him hoping to transition into naptime easier. And it seemed to work. He was open to a nap.

“You want to lay on the bed?” I asked.

“No,” he shook his head.

“The couch?”

“No.”

“Where?” I asked and he pointed to Pop-pops seat where he had napped last time. “Okay.”
Andrew climbed up into the seat, turned around and sat down. I don’t know that he needed a little toy to hold until he fell asleep but I remember the last time he sat and held a little plastic lizard or something and rolled it around in his fingers until he went to sleep. I went out to his toy box and picked out several little animals.

“Andrew, do you want one of these?” I asked coming back in the RV.

“Yes please.”

I held them out and he took them all.

Okay. I sat down in front of my computer.

“See my pictures,” Andrew said pointing to the computer.

“You want to see pictures of you?” I asked.

“Yes please.”

I turned the computer towards Andrew and opened a file I keep with photos of just Andrew. He watched, with a big smile on his face, as I scrolled through them.

“Who’s that?” I asked when we got to a photo of Andrew at eighteen months.

“Andrew,” he answered and that surprised me. He usually says me.

We got to the end of the file. “That’s all now, take your nap.”

Andrew played quietly with his toys until he dropped one.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

“Well get it,” I told him.

He climbed down, got the critter and climbed back into his seat. After about the third time I told him he had to leave it on the floor and he didn’t fuss. Five minutes later he was laying down and then sleeping.

He is almost always so good for us.

I sat working in front of my computer while Andrew napped - fitfully. He kept stretching and turning and I was afraid he’d fall off. After about forty-five minutes I tried to move him but he wasn’t having any of it. He was awake and wouldn’t lay back down.

“You want to play in the water?” I asked

“Yes,” he says and we got him set him up with toys and water.

“Bubbles or no bubbles?” I asked.

“No bubbles,” he always knows his own mind. He played happily for a while then he started to get wild, flinging water all over the place as his toys crashed and roared and attacked each other.

“Andrew stop. You’re making a mess.”

He stopped splashing and after a bit he asked for bubbles. 

I got the dish soap out, squirted some in and swished the water to make bubbles. He thought that was fun.

Andrew only played for about thirty-five, forty minutes then says, “I’m done playing in the water.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he says brushing his hands together.

“Okay put your toys on the towel and pull the plug.”

Andrew did as I asked then we dried him and got his shirt back on then I set to work drying the counters -top and fronts - and put the step stool away. I sat down at the table and wondered what Andrew would get into now.

Andrew took the kitchen towel from the hook and reached up on the counter and got one of his toys. He dried it and looked around trying to decide what to do with it. You could see his little mind working. Finally he found a spot on the floor that suited him and he dropped it then he reached up for another toy, dried it, dropped it and got another. Andrew dried all of the toys he had been playing in the sink with and had them all piled in one spot on the floor. Luckily it was on the concrete and not the rug because I noticed a big puddle forming around them. 

“…gummy bears?” I only caught the last two words of what Andrew asked me but that was all I needed.

“You want your gummy bears?”

The little head bobs up and down, “Yes please.”

“You know where they are,” I told him.

“You get them for me Mimi?”

“No, you get them.”

Andrew walked over to the bay door of the RV. “Here?” he asked pointing.

“No, the next one.”

And that confused him because there were bays on both sides of the one he had pointed to.

“This way,” I said as he started for the wrong door.

He came my way and pointed at the right door. “This one?”

“Yep.”

Andrew opened the door that held a stash of his favorite candies. He picked out some Gummy Bears and Twizzlers and got up to the table. He ate the bears first.

“You want some milk?”

“Yes, please.”

I got his baby mug out of the cupboard and poured his milk. Andrew drank two glasses before he slowed down. As I sat there watching I spy his Twizzler laying there.

“Andrew did you know you could drink your milk through your Twizzler like a straw?”

“Hmm?”

I picked up the Twizzler and showed him the hole. “See?” And I dropped it into his milk. 

Putting the candy in his milk seemed like a scandalous idea to Andrew but one that absolutely delighted him.

Andrews milk mug with the Twizzler straw is my current desktop photo. 

Three-thirty rolls around and we were still playing with the Twizzler straw and milk when Andrew’s daddy came for him. All day long Andrew was asking me to take pictures of him and now that I asked for a picture with his daddy, he didn’t want to do it! 

Yeah, he can be a stinker too.

>>>>><<<<<

Niggle.

Isn’t that a great word. It’s kind of a cross between a nag and a wiggle, don’t you think?

Niggle has several meanings. It can mean to criticize in a petty way. It can mean to be preoccupied with details. It can also mean something that is a source of worry or irritation in a small way over a long period of time and that is how I am going to use it today.

I have a niggle.

I have something that has been bothering me for a while now, actually since Thanksgiving.

I made a mistake.

I could fix said mistake…and never did.

It’s been bothering me…

…wiggling away at the back of mind.

“What is it Peg? What did you do now?” I hear you ask.

Well, the last time we went camping with Mike’s brother Cork and sister-in-law Pam they made us breakfast. They had a NuWave cook top and cooked the breakfast potatoes right outside on the picnic table. “We never fry anything inside the RV,” Pam told us.

Mike and I thought that was a pretty good idea and we bought a NuWave cook top on a buy-one-get-one-free offer. We like our cook tops, we use our cook tops nearly everyday these days.

Then Mike saw an infomercial for the NuWave oven. Buy-one-get-one-free plus get three free gifts! What a deal - what a deal!

The day came and two boxes arrived at our door. Excitedly, like a kid at Christmas, we open the biggest box first. And just like Christmas it had free gifts inside. The Party Mixer, the Twister Blender, and the carrying cases for the NuWaves were in there. In the bottom of the box was one of the ovens. I pulled it out of the box and set it aside. In the other, smaller box was the other NuWave oven.

I opened one of the oven boxes and pulled the oven from the box. I fit the pieces together and flipped through the cookbook.

“Let’s not open the other one until we need it,” Mike suggested.

“’Kay,” I say dropping the ‘o’ in okay. And it was fine by me, I doubt I’ll ever need more than one at a time anyway.

“Maybe we could gift it to Kandyce at Christmas time,” I suggested. I always think about our kids.

I started picking stuff up, cleaning stuff up and find the packing sheet. 1ST BLACK NUWAVE PRO PLUS EXTENDER RING KIT it said - $154.80 - check.

BOGO BLACK NUWAVE OVEN PRO PLUS ERK - $34.95 - check. Free (in this case) does not mean free. You have to pay extra shipping.

NUWAVE OVEN CARRYING CASE - $29.94... I read out loud.

“I didn’t order the cases,” Mike said.

FREE TWISTER - $0 - check.

PARTY MIXER -$0 - check.

FREE GIFT: SUPREME PIZZA KIT -$0 …

“Hey! We didn’t get the pizza kit!” I say to Mike.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I went through everything again; all the paper and packing material and boxes. “Nope, it’s not here. I guess I have to call them.”

The next day I get on the phone and the operator was very nice to me. “If you didn’t order the carrying cases you have to send them back and I’ll credit your account,” I was told.

Well, we’re probably not going to do that. Frankly, I thought they would take the charge off. Mike says he didn’t order them, he didn’t order them, but we had them and it wasn’t worth the hassle to return them.

“I didn’t get the pizza kit,” I told her.

“Did you open all the boxes?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I said yes and I hadn’t. Technically I think that’s called a lie but we all know that I’m special. I would never lie. I hadn’t opened the other NuWave box but I didn’t have to. It was exactly like the first, therefore it contained the same thing, right?

I said yes.

I heard clicking as in keys of a keyboard. “I’m sorry for your inconvenience, I’ll get that right out to you.”

And sometime later I got my free pizza kit.

We use it. We use it every week to make pizza for Sunday dinner because someone is too busy writing to make anything else.

Thanksgiving came.

We live in a grouse. Do you know that? We have a sink and a fridge but no stove. Thanksgiving this year would be courtesy of NuWave. And I needed two. One for turkey, one for stuffing.

I pulled the second NuWave box from storage, opened it and what do I find?

Yeah.

I was ashamed and embarrassed.

Their packing is so proficient that a box without the pizza kit inside looks exactly like a box with a pizza kit inside.

They didn’t screw up. They had sent me everything I was entitled to, everything we had paid for.

And it has been bothering me. Niggling away at the back of mind.

You gotta fix this Peg. You gotta make it right.

Who cares! They’re a big company! They won’t miss it, I justify. Besides it was an honest mistake! I didn’t do it on purpose!


You still gotta fix this Peg. You gotta make it right.
I’ve not been sleeping well.

Friday morning I did it. Regardless of the consequences, I needed to make this right. I got on the website and got the email address. I contacted the company.

Hi there! I wrote. I should call you but I find it easier to write, especially when I have a confession to make. Okay? Here goes… When we ordered the NuWave ovens, we got all the free gifts except the pizza kit. I called and your operator asked if I had opened everything. I lied. I didn’t mean to, it’s just that I only opened one oven box and I thought both boxes were the same (they looked the same to me) and I only needed one oven and wanted to keep the other in storage until I needed it. Long after you sent me the replacement pizza kit… I needed to use my second oven…I opened the box…and there was the pizza kit. I’m so sorry. Do you want me to send the pizza kit back to you?

It was Friday. I didn’t expect to hear anything back from the company until Monday at the earliest. But Friday afternoon it was there. Ashley, a rep of the company thanked me, then said I may keep the extra pizza kit but asked for the information so she may put a notation on the account.

Whew! I felt better.

It’s not that I wanted an extra pizza kit, I didn’t, and if she had asked for it back or for us to pay for it, I would have done it.

Put a notation on the account, she said. I know what that means.

I worked for a company at one time - and not for very long, but I pulled orders. When an order that I had pulled had been delivered to the receiving company they checked the order. If I had sent the wrong motor or the wrong amount, my company had to make it right. They did that by telling the other company they could keep any overages as long as they reported it. Then it came back to me, the employee, and went on my record and went against (or for) raises.

Confession - and restitution - is good for the soul.

And with that we will call this one done.

>>>>><<<<<