Face Masks

My Miss Rosie is a fashion plate. She coordinates colors from her earrings down to her shoes.

I got to thinking about face masks. Miss Rosie is thankful for the pretty masks I’ve made her and hasn’t asked me to make her very many. I’m sure it’s not that she wouldn’t love one to match each of her outfits, it just wouldn’t be polite.

Someone who isn’t shy about asking her big sister for something is my beautiful sister Phyllis. “Those face masks you’re making are soooo cute!” she gushed. “I’d love to have one.”

See what I mean? Politeness dictates that you not be greedy.

“How abut Jim and Rachel,” I asked after her partner and daughter. “Would they like one?” Then inspiration hit. “My masks are reversible — I could make one side all the same so you guys could go ‘twining’!”

Some people like that stuff, some don’t.

Phyllis was agreeable. “Sure, if you want to.”

We got onto a discussion about favorite colors and secretly, I was pleased. Who doesn’t like knowing something they’ve created is wanted by someone else?

With the holidays coming, I got to thinking, I could make holiday themed masks!

A shopping trip was on our agenda this week. Mike needed a bag or two of concrete and a few two by fours for his patio project.

“Can I pop into Walmart and get some holiday material?” I asked.

“I was just going to run down to Laceyville Lumber and get the stuff.”

I was disappointed — but only for a second. Bribery. That’s what I’d try. And not just any form of bribery either, food bribery. “If we go up to Lowe’s in Sayre we can stop and get Whoppers.” Burger King has Whoppers at two for six bucks. It’s a cheap lunch in terms of money but not so cheap in terms of the waistline. Those things, though yummy, are about a million calories each.  

“Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a second!” Now I was backpedaling. “I didn’t mean right now. I meant this afternoon and we’d have Whoppers for supper.”

A Whopper, cut in half, was too tempting for Mike and he didn’t want to wait till supper.

“Why not now?” he wanted to know.

“I have an appointment to meet with Pastor Rick at three.”

Mike looked at the clock. It was ten thirty. “If we get around and leave now, we can be back in time.”

“We could. The only problem is I’d planned on making cinnamon bread to take to him along with the face masks for the church. I thought we’d go after that.”

As long as Mike was willing to take me shopping, I thought I’d better take him up on it before he reconsidered. Besides, I could reschedule my appointment with Pastor.

We went shopping.

The house that was damaged in the flood a couple of years ago is finally getting torn down.

“I wonder why they’re doing it that way,” I mused. Mike had been past it a couple of days earlier and told me they were tearing it down. Somehow, I’d envisioned them using a bulldozer or maybe a backhoe. “Do you think they’re going to try to repurpose some of it?”

 Questions like that are simply rhetorical. I don’t expect him to have the answer.

 We came to signs declaring ONE LANE ROAD AHEAD. The last time we were up this way we passed similar signs in the very same area, then an accident.

“Do you think it’s another accident?” I asked.

“Nah,” Mike said. “Remember the last time we were up here they were setting up to do some road work?”

I thought he was probably right. After all, what are the chances?

We were creeping along then stopped in a place where Mike could see farther ahead then I could. “I can see flashing lights up ahead.” He paused, then, “There’s an ambulance coming this way.”

I gasped. “It is another accident!”

A second or two later the ambulance passed us. No lights flashing, not speeding.

I couldn’t see anything except the fat old butt of the Ontario truck ahead of us.

I shoved my camera at Mike. “Here! Take a picture so I can see.”

“Okay but you really can’t see very much.” He snapped it and handed the camera back to me.

I zoomed in, but he was right. I couldn’t see much. 

Then our lane started moving. Other than being in the ditch and the hood being up, I didn’t see any damage. The air bags weren’t deployed either. I wonder if the lady standing there holding the baby was the driver.

We got the things Mike needed from Lowe’s then he dropped me at the door of Walmart. I headed for the sewing section and couldn’t find any holiday material. I wandered the aisles for a little while then gave it up. I was heading out of the section when an employee asked if she could help me.

“I was looking for some holiday material. Have you gotten any in yet?” I was pretty thorough in my search and totally expected her to say no.

“Yeah,” she said setting her price gun down on the counter. “What we have left is right here.” She guided me to an endcap I’d walked past at least twice. “It’s going pretty fast, even Christmas!”

          I didn’t have a lot of choice in patterns and that was way okay with me. I didn’t miss what I didn’t know was there. What was left was one pattern Halloween, one Thanksgiving, and two Christmas. I didn’t have a hard time choosing between the two because one was black and white and the other color. Guess which one I picked.

          Back out in the Jeep Mike says, “Look at that guy’s mask.”

          “Who’s?” I asked looking around.

          “That guy delivering.”

          I looked. “What about it?”

          “It’s colorful,” Mike said.

          It was. It was buff style and reminded me of the Italian flag with it’s bold red, white, and green stripes.

 

          I okokokokokokokokokokokokokokokokok could hardly wait to get started on the face masks for Phyllis.

LOL!

Tiger. He’d been laying on my desk when he decided to leave, taking a shortcut across my keyboard. I’d been about to rework that sentence and had just dropped the curser between I and could when he decided to add his two cents worth.

“What were you going to say, Peg?” you ask.

I hadn’t worked it out yet but I was thinking about adding something in there to the effect that since I had new material to work with, I was excited to get started. But okokokokokokokokokokokokokokokokok Tiger, we’ll leave it like it is.

Phyllis only asked for one mask and I volunteered one for each of them. Won’t she be surprised when she opens her package and finds three masks for each of them?

I put the dog pattern on the back of Halloween and Thanksgiving reverses with Christmas. 

Then they’ll each have an everyday one. It’s like having six masks in three!

So! Besides being reversible, the masks all have a nose wire, double layer filter in the middle, and are washable, reusable.

Do you think she’ll like them?

 Mike has been working hard on the kitchen patio and has all of the stones laid. Sometimes he begs me to help him but I steadfastly refuse.

“Peg! Why’re you so mean to that man!” you wanna know. “You always tell us what a good husband he is!”

He is but it doesn’t have anything to do with meanness. Mike can do the work by himself but just doesn’t want to.

He moans and he groans and he says his back hurts.

“Take lots of breaks!” I tell him.

“But it’ll go faster if you help,” he continues.

“Exactly!” I say and disappear.

I don’t care if he works on it for twenty minutes or a few hours a day. I don’t care if it takes a week or a month or three to finish. Once it’s done it’s back to the recliner for Mike. He’s not interested in making bird houses or anything else for that matter. I’ve been after him for a long time to get a hobby, something he can do by himself.

I watched one day as he carefully funneled sand between the cracks in the stones. I thought about it and thought about it and finally couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just dump the sand out and work it between the stones with the broom?”

Why don’t you do it then? I heard him say in my head and quickly added, “But hey! If that’s the way you wanna do it, it’s way okay with me!”

Once the sand was down, Mike sprayed it with water...

...and worked it around with a broom. 

He didn’t pester me to help so I sat with him for a while.

When Mike sat down to rest his back, ole Mr. Smudge came to inspect his work. I guess I shouldn’t call Smudge old. At four he’s in the prime of his life.

  

It was while we were sitting there visiting that this wasp lands beside me on my caterpillar house.

This is a Potter Wasp and she’s got some kind of caterpillar that she’s gonna take back to her burrow and entomb with one of her eggs. Once the egg hatches, it’ll have its first meal sitting right there waiting for it.

Mike wanted to pour a concrete bumper on top of the stones and against the house. I did help him do that because it would’ve been much too hard for him to do on his own. You can see part of it on the lower left of the photo. We only poured two bags of concrete and have more to do.

“What’s it for?” you ask.

Mike thinks it will help keep mice and cold winter winds from working their way into the kitchen. I don’t argue when he wants to do things he thinks will improve the house.

I really really love the patio. Especially knowing how hard it was for Mike to do on his own and how much pain it caused him to build it.

“It’s something you can be proud of,” I told him.

“I hate it,” he says.

“Why!?”

“I’m not a stone man. It’s not level and some of the stones rock.”

“I don’t care. It’s beautiful! And way better than it was!”

I went out on the patio one morning and there Tiger was with a mouse!

Did he catch a mouse? I wondered. Or did Spitfire bring it in?

I looked all around for Spitfire and he wasn’t anywhere in sight. I concluded that Tiger had gotten it and was so proud of him! But now I’m not so sure. I supposed it’s possible that Spitfire brought it in and left it. A fact that was confirmed Saturday night when I went out and found a mouse on my stoop and no cat in sight.

Spitfire.

He’s such a good hunter. There are lots of time I won’t see him but I’ll see evidence of his kills on the patio. Blood spots, poop sacs. It seems like whatever he catches in the night he’ll bring and devour on the patio. Picking up poop sacs and tossing them over the fence so Itsy doesn’t get them are such a lovely way to start the day, don’cha think?

Speaking of Tiger…

He loves to play. Of course he does. He’s very much still a kitten even though he’s getting bigger every day. Smudge is the only one that’ll play with him. I’ve never seen him try to play with Macchiato but he does interact with him. I’ve seen Tiger walk beside him with their sides touching. I’ve seen them share the food bowl. I’ve never seen him be anything other than respectful with Macchiato.

Spitfire discourages play with a solid thump and hiss.

So Smudge is the only one left and he will play with Tiger. It’s just that sometimes Tiger doesn’t know when to quit and Smudge’ll go outside to get away from him.

I suspected Tiger was trying to play with Mr. Mister but this is the first I was able to catch them at it.  

Tiger stalking through the Glads, then pouncing.

Mr. Mister isn’t playing so much as I heard Tiger cry out and run away. He couldn’t’ve been hurt too bad because he kept going back.

Eventually Mr. had enough and left the yard.

 I haven’t been out much to take pictures this week. I’ve been busy making masks.

Oh! That reminds me! I did make cinnamon bread and took it to Pastor along with two dozen masks in varying sizes for the church.

I just thought I’d put that in there as a closer in case you were wondering.

 The asters are getting prettier by the day!

Asters are like a lot of other things. There are all different kinds. Bushy, Showy, Smooth, New England, New York, to name a few. I’d really have to study it to find the exact kind these are.

But I’m pretty sure these are Calico Asters.

 I’d gone out fairly early to get some fresh milkweed leaves for my one remaining caterpillar and found these dew-covered asters growing in the milkweed patch. And, once again, I like both these pictures so you get to see two.

I wasn’t looking for caterpillars and didn’t expect to find any either since the milkweed is almost gone.

 But guess what I did find.

Two more caterpillars!

This one is about the same size as the one in my butterfly house.

And this guy looks big enough to pupate.

I know it’s hard to judge size by my photos so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

 There I was, walking among the milkweed, when I look up and see Mr. Mister watching from the sidelines.

And that reminds me of something else I’d forgotten to tell you.

Mr. Mister and Jerry are two really feral toms. Just showing up one day and never having belonged to any of us.

I say that but I don’t really know that. For many many years our cats were having kittens and they’d just disappear. I supposed they could’ve been kittens from litters past.

Mr. Mister used to whomp on Jerry pretty good sometimes but that’s just the way of two fully functioning toms. And Mr. being the younger, more virile, always seemed to get the best of Jerry.

Well, Jerry’s gone. We don’t know how, and not exactly when either. He’s not been seen since mid-June. It was weeks before either the Robinsons or I missed him. We each assumed he was at the other’s house.

 I had two butterflies born this week. First a female...

 ...then a male on the same day. See his wing spots? The black spots in the middle of his back wing? That’s how you can tell the difference.

I took them out to the flowers to finish drying and the next time I'd looked, they were gone.

It’s not quite fall yet but the leaves are starting to change and fall. This is the first one to appear in my letter blog this season but I bet it won’t be the last. As the season progresses, the colors will get better and better, and I won’t be able to resist taking pictures for you.

 The milkweed pods are starting to open and the seeds taking flight.

 Something really weird happened the other day.

Mike opened his laptop and did updates, which he hadn’t done in a while. He uses my computer a lot since it’s always open and conveniently located.

“Peg,” he calls. “Come and see this picture.”

I hate that! Mike used to do it all the time. Want me to come and look at the picture that came up on the screen when he turned his computer on or ‘woke’ it up. It was a different picture every time so sometimes he’d make me come look several times in any given day. At first, I really enjoyed all the beautiful photographs that came up on the screen but eventually I tired of it.

“No!” I’d say. “I don’t want to!”

“But it’s a pretty picture. I know you’ll like it,” he’d say.

And my heart would soften. I know he only wanted to share something with me that he thought I’d like, so I’d go look.

“Uh-huh,” I’d say and force myself to add, “Very pretty,” or, “Beautiful,” before walking away.

This isn’t something that computers always did. And I didn’t have a computer that did it until I got this one. The pictures are always very pretty.

I don’t know how I got him out of the habit of asking me to come and look but I’m guessing I finally flat-out refused. I was really surprised when he asked me to come and look at it the other day.

“Why?” I grumbled. “It’s not like I took the picture or anything.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe you did.”

I was puzzled. Maybe it just looks like a picture I could have taken. Momma used to tell me all the time that professional photographers didn’t have anything on me. But she loved me. Still does, but now she loves me from heaven.

I got up from my computer and went to look.

Surprise!

“It is my picture!” I exclaimed. “In fact, it’s the very same picture I have as my desktop photo. How did you get it on your computer?”

“I don’t know,” Mike said. “I did an update and when it rebooted, it came up.”

I don’t know much about syncing and file sharing between computers and I don’t know why this is the first time it’s happened. I don’t know what’s changed or who changed it.

 We could really really use some rain. Our pretty little creek is really really low. That’s really really a lot of really reallys!

“I see rocks I haven’t seen in a long time,” Miss Rosie told me.

 Despite the dry spell, our pond still has water in it. That’s very unusual. I could say it’s really really unusual but I figured you’d had your fill of really reallys already. Our pond’s normally dried up by this time of year. I don’t suppose the leaks have sealed themselves.

 I haven’t taken any sunrise or sunset pictures in a while. Sunday morning, I took this one. The moon is high in the sky. Well, it’s high in my picture sky anyway.

Okay. Truth time. I’ve been jibber-jabbering because much like nature abhors a vacuum, I abhor a blank page.

Nonetheless, let’s call this one done!