DD&S

           I spent a good part of this week Decluttering, Dusting, and Sweeping the house. DD&S. Not my favorite way to spend time but it was necessary. When we moved in, we thought it was a good idea to unbox the stuff we had in storage and as a result the house became claustrophobically cluttered. Unfortunately, my solution is only a temporary fix. I boxed everything back up and put it back out in storage. I’ll have a yard sale one day or it’ll be there when I die and the kids can have a sale or get a dumpster.

>>>*<<<

          We had another round of that winter white stuff! It started Sunday aftermorning, as my best girl Joanie calls the afternoon. She cracks me up.

          A couple of hours later we had this much!

When I went out to do my evening chores in the cat room, I discovered this guy. I’m sure he was just seeking shelter from the storm and the cats didn’t seem to mind his presence so I didn’t turn him away either. I figured he’d be gone in the morning. I see he’s got a banged-up nose. I don’t know what happened to him.

By Monday morning we had a good eight inches in my backyard.

Mike was out before the sun, snowblowing the driveway. I think he’s crazy to get out there so early, but whatever. He’s doing it so I guess he can do it how and when he wants to.

          This snow was worse than the 22 inches we had a few weeks ago because this snow was heavy! Really heavy! Branches came down, whole trees came down, and a lot of people had no electricity. Beautiful Joanie was without power for almost 24 hours!

          I made myself a cup o’joe, settled in front of my ‘puter, and discovered my internet was down. There’d be no morning love note to my peeps this morning.

          “Peg, why not use your phone?” you wanna know.

          A lot of people don’t have computers anymore and do everything on their phone. But that wouldn’t be me. I have a very small data package on my phone and I didn’t want to have to pay for extra. I’d practice patience and wait until they repaired the lines and the internet was back up.

          When it was light enough to take a picture, I did just that. Smudge followed me out the door and I was surprised when he went out into the snow.

          Since we just did a ride-about, making pictures on a snowy day, I didn’t want to do a repeat performance. I didn’t think the pictures would be enough different to make it worth my while. Instead, I thought to do a walk-about.

          I’ll look for different or unusual things to show them, I thought, and snapped a picture of the light pole. 

It was still a little dark to go picture making but by the time I fed the cats in the cat room, it was starting to get light enough.

           And I say cats, plural, because I’m used to having Callie and Sugar and sometimes Mr. Mister in the cat room in the mornings. But this morning it was just a cat. One cat. Callie was the only one there.

And ole Mr. Possum was still with us. He lifted his head and watched as I went about feeding and getting fresh water but other than that, I didn’t seem to bother him much.

          My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it was that handsome husband of mine.

          “Peg, would you do me a favor?”

          “What?”

          “Get some pliers from the toolbox and bring ‘em down to me?”

          “Sure. Where ya at?”

          “Down by the mailbox.”

          And there Mike sat, waiting for me.

          “What’s wrong?” I asked.

          “I’ve got a steel band wrapped around the auger,” he answered.

          I gave Mike the pliers and took pictures while he worked.

I turned my camera down the road, first, in one direction…

           … then the other.

           “Peg, this isn’t working. You know what I need?”

          “What?”

          “The little pointed pry bar.”

          “I’ll go get it.” And back up to the house I traipsed.

          And this is where Mike had gotten himself in trouble. He was making my path out to the burn barrel, cut it too close to the scrap metal pile, picked up those steel bands and didn’t know it till he’d gotten down to the mailbox.

          I spent some time looking over the selection of pry bars and none of them had a point on them. I picked out the skinniest one then thought maybe a different pair of pliers would work better. I took them down and Mike set to work again, trying to get the bands out. He pulled, he pried, but couldn’t get them to come unwound.

          “Maybe tin snips?” I suggested.

          “Yeah, but get the straight ones,” Mike said. “I think they have a yellow handle.”

          Back up to the house I went, out into the garage. Pulling open the drawer labeled TIN SNIPS I’m confronted with three yellow handles. So what do I do? I pick the prettiest yellow handled ones. Then I thought side cutters might work better so I got in that drawer and picked out a pair of those too.

          Taking the tools back down to where Mike waited, I handed him the snips. He undid the latch and as soon as they opened, exclaimed, “These aren’t straight ones!”

          “They’re not?” I acted innocent. I never checked to see if they were angle cut or straight cut. He said yellow handle, I gave him yellow handle.

          “No.”

          “Oh. I guess I need a lesson in how to tell them apart.” I still wasn’t going to confess my guilt.

          Mike managed to get the angle snips in between the blades and cut enough to start freeing up the straps. Then he had to get in there with his hands and unwind the rest.

          “I’m gonna need your help to get this through the ditch when I go back up to the house. Will you stick around?”

          “Sure.”

I had half a toolbox of tools hauled down there by this time and my arms were loaded with tools. If I was gonna help Mike wrestle the snowblower across the ditch at the end of the driveway, I’d need both my hands.

          Where can I put them down? I wondered and looked back up the driveway. Everything was covered in snow!

       I know there’s a big rock right about here. I swept away some of the snow and started plopping the tools down. I didn’t set them down; I didn’t throw them down either. Sorta between a set and a toss. A setoss? Anyway, the last two I setossed on top of the others decided to go for a ride and slid right down into the snow, burying themselves.

          Did I have my gloves?

          NO!

          There was no help for it. I had to dig in the snow with my bare hands and rescue them.

          Mike finished the mailbox and headed for the house. I was ready and tried to help him push the snowblower through the ditch but it wouldn’t go. Mike revved up the speed and it walked itself up and out.

          So much for that.

          I gathered up the ice-cold tools and carried ‘em back to the house.

          After we warmed up a bit, and Mike rested his back, we went back out. Mike to put the finishing touches on the driveway and me to make pictures for you.

           I was paying attention to tracks and saw cat trails. I knew at least one set was from Mr. Mister making his way around to the kitchen patio, which is where he generally likes to have his breakfast.

I wondered if Sugar hadn’t gotten caught out in the storm and decided to hole up in the upper barn. Other than that, I didn’t see any deer or rabbit tracks. Then I saw this trail.

          I bet it goes to the barn, I thought and let my eyes follow it as I got closer to the barn. Only, the tracks didn’t go to the barn. They dead-ended at the light pole.

          Oy!

          The ‘tracks’ were made from snow falling from the overhead wires!

           My Bittersweet is completely buried. That’s what I thought. As I kept walking along, I saw a few bright red berries sticking up out of the snow.

          We lost a few branches from our pine trees and my Elderberry bush became a casualty of the heavy white stuff. You bend or you break.

           Mid-morning, I started to get messages on my phone.

          Are you okay? I’m worried about you! Was the general theme. I guess if you get a message from me every day and every day and every day for months and months and months, if you all of a sudden don’t get one, it would be cause for worry.

          I answered with as little explanation as I could. Internet down. Small data package on my phone.

          With the internet down, my window on the world, and those I love, was closed and the shades were drawn tight. I felt a little lost; a little isolated. And I needed something to do. I decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies for my freezer. It would help warm the house and make it smell good to boot. Besides, it makes it handy when you want a little somethin’ somethin’ to just grab a couple out of the freezer.

While searching for the Toll House recipe I came across a different one I’d saved. We must’ve liked it or I wouldn’t’ve saved the recipe, I thought and decided to make those.

Once they were done, I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to two. Lamar’ll be walking up to get Charlie’s mail for him soon. I’ll call and he can stop by and pick up some cookies.

Charlie is the neighbor between the Kipps and us. He’s in his mid-nineties and lives by himself. Lamar takes his mail in for him thereby keeping an eye on him. He’s a good man, that Lamar Kipp is.

I called and I kept calling. All I got was a busy signal. “I bet the Kipp’s phone is down,” I told Mike.

Internet down, still needing something to do, I decided to bag up a dozen or so cookies and walk ‘em down to the Kipps.

“I’m going to take cookies down to the Kipps,” I told Mike. “Then I might walk farther down the road and make pictures. But I’ll be back. I’ve got my phone with me if you need me.”

Wagon wheels at Sally’s house, right across the road from us.

Despite the snow, there wasn’t any wind and I was quite comfortable in my layers.

I get this close, or maybe I should say this far, from the Kipps house and can barely see the edge of their porch when I hear Tux start to bark. Can he see me? I wondered.

          I delivered the cookies along with this message. “This isn’t the Toll House recipe I usually use, it’s a different one. You’ll have to let me know which one you like better.”

          I expected they’d try the cookies and call me later but Lamar surprised me, pulled open the ziplock bag, handed Miss Rosie a cookie and took one for himself.

          Rosie took a bite. “They’re crunchier.”

          “They are that. This recipe has less butter and more oil.”

          “If you want my honest opinion,” Miss Rosie says, “I like the other ones better.”

          Rosie, I always want your honest opinion.

          From there I walked across the bridge, taking a picture of our pretty little creek.

I didn’t go much farther before I turned around and headed for home. Before I got there my phone rings. Checking the caller ID, it says Momma. I never got around to changing the label on my oldest and much-adored sister’s house phone. And frankly, I probably never will. I don’t mind these little reminders of a wise and wonderful woman I loved very much.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Hello!” came Patti’s beautiful sing-song voice. I knew why she was calling but I thought I’d let her ask. “Is everything okay?”

“Yep. We had eight inches of heavy snow and it knocked out our internet.”

“I knew something was going on when we didn’t hear from you this morning. You’re always the first one up.”

It helps that Pennsylvania is two hours ahead of Arizona.  

“How cold is it?” she wanted to know.

“It’s about thirty degrees.”

“Oh. That’s too cold.” I could hear the shiver in her voice.

“Actually, it’s not bad. I’m outside right now. There’s no wind and the sun’s shining. I’m quite comfortable in my layers,” I told my desert lovin’ sister.

          Throughout the day, I periodically checked the cat room for Sugar’s return. When she still hadn’t shown up by the time I did the evening chores, I started to worry aloud. “Maybe she got hit by a car or became a meal for a fox,” I told Mike as I prepared my heart for another loss. 2020 was a hard year for the Luby’s. We lost Jerry, one of the feral cats I fed, Molly, Ginger, Anon, and Itsy.

          Throughout the day, I kept checking for my internet to come back up too. It didn’t. With no internet, and no internet TV, nothing to watch on the channels we do get with our antenna, we turned in early. Around three in the morning I woke up. I pulled the iPad from the headboard shelf and checked to see if the internet was back up yet.

          “Peg!” you exclaim.

          I know, right! That’s bad. But that’s what I did and I was glad to see it was back on. I was once again connected to the outside world and my peeps. In the morning I caught up on all the chatter I’d missed the day before.

          “Peggy's internet is out. 8 inches of heavy wet snow,” Patti informed my siblings when they wondered what happened to me.

          “I bet it’s cold too,” my handsome brother David replied to her.

          And I had to smile. The desert lovers always say it’s hot but… “it’s a dry heat.” Well, guess what I told David. “It was 30 but it was a warm 30.”

          “Peg, anything below 70 is cold and 30 is cold, cold, too cold for me!”

          One thing is for sure. You can’t have snow without cold and I love the snow.

          When it was time for me to feed the cats, I was delighted and relieved to see that Sugar had made it home. I picked her up and welcomed her, checked her over, and found nothing wrong with her — and Mr. Possum was still with us too! He pooped on the floor and changed corners, but he was still in residence.

          Long about this time in my week I worked on my memorial glass to our little lost grandson Austin. All the pieces were cut, ground, foiled, and I was soldering it when I heard a crack.

          Dangnabbit!

          Well, I can recut the piece, I thought, turned the heat up on my soldering iron, and started to ‘melt’ the broken leg out. That’s when I remembered I didn’t have any more of that glass. In fact, I’d had a square left just big enough to cut the four pieces I needed for this project, then broke the belly when I cut it out. I’d gone looking through my scraps and found a matching piece big enough to cut a new belly. So, I’m almost certain I have no more of this glass.

          I’ll just keep it for myself, I thought, and cut a new baby out. I have another piece of flesh-toned glass, it just doesn’t match this one. Besides, broken pieces are all I normally keep for myself.

          Like this gnome. His hat is broken so I glued it back together. But I have another reason to show you the gnome. This week I got some new paint in the mail. It’s glass paint. It’s got something in it that helps it adhere to the glass and is even more permanent if you bake it. I couldn’t wait to try it on something so I painted a little heart on him. I’m excited to be adding this element to my glass repertoire.

>>>*<<<

          Wednesday night, when I went to do the evening chores in the cat room, I discovered Mr. Possum had died. Now I can’t help but wonder if he’d been skun by a car and maybe was hurt inside as well. It took him four days to die.

>>>*<<<

          Mike and I went for haircuts this week. I took a couple of pictures while out.

           Even though I’ve been down this road many times, this is the first time I’ve ever noticed this truck sitting back in the woods. Someday I may put on my boots and hike in a little closer but for now, this is all you get.

>>>*<<<

           I worked on crumpling and burning more of that huge stack of reports I told you about last time. My little buddy here loves crinkly, crunchy things and came running as soon as he heard it. Since this was like the third day in a row I’d worked on them, I wasn’t too anxious to start throwing paper balls for Tiger. There’s a lot of picking up involved in that.

There I stood, picking and crumpling pages one by one, getting into a system and rhythm. Wet finger of right hand, pick a piece from the stack, transfer to left hand, crunch against my leg, and toss in the can. All Tiger saw was the paper ball and all I felt was claws latching onto my leg. Ow!

I unlatched his claws from my leg and he dropped down to wait for me to do it again. I skipped the crunching-against-my-leg part.

Tiger was getting tired of waiting and jumped up to help himself.

Eventually my mind would wander with the monotony of the job and I’d start crunching against my leg again. Tiger was quick to remind me. I didn’t forget again after that.

          Eventually I gave in and tossed paper for Tiger. He jumped up and caught it in midair. Now this was fun for me!

         I tossed more paper trying to entice him into jumping for it.

         Then one of my pitches went awry. It landed on the stove. Before I could move to knock it down, Tiger gave a mighty leap up onto the stovetop — I’m glad it wasn’t hot — picked up the paper ball and jumped back down to the floor.

          You know what, my loves? It’s the simple things in life that bring me the most joy.

          And do you want to know what else brings me great joy?

          Gosh! Golly gee! I’ve just written myself into a pickle!

          I wanted to segue into some beautiful handmade gifts I received from my beautiful West Virginia friend saying something like, I love it when you love me enough to make something for me.

          But I don’t want to exclude those of you who aren’t crafty and buy me gifts instead. I love those too! I love when you see something and buy it for me because you think I would like it or it would make me happy — and it always does!

          Even that isn’t the whole story. I even love it when you see something and think of me and tell me so. Monarchs remind my beautiful friend Jody of me.

          Trish is a very skilled crocheter. Her stiches are neat and even and very enviable. For Christmas she sent me a beautiful crocheted wreath. A crocheted roll of toilet paper ornament with 2020 inscribed on it — because we all know 2020 was shit. A snowman spoon. Very clever. A painting to remind me spring is coming. And a snowman made from three wooden disks with a purple crocheted hat and scarf, also very clever.

          “I love it all!” I told Trish when I got them.

“The tall snowman has holes on the side for stick arms and his scarf unbuttons when you use the pumpkin side. I had a lot of fun making it. Merry Christmas!!!”

Wait. What? Holes in the side for arms? Use the pumpkin side? Much to my chagrin, I must confess. I never missed that he didn’t have arms and I didn’t look at the back side. I picked him up out of the box, carefully took off his bubble wrap coat, admired him, and set him on the shelf. I got up from my seat and went to look. Yep, there were holes in the side for arms. I flipped it over and there were indeed three pumpkins stacked on top of each other. And now I love it even more!

Thank you, my friend.

>>>*<<<

Mike had a regular scheduled appointment for his heart doctor up in Vestal, New York. He’s fine, by the way. So you know what that means don’t you?

Road pictures!

A new gas well.

          We do have some strange looking gas stations around here.

          Cool iron fence. 

>>>*<<<

          We all know the mail is running slow. Really, really slow. I got a letter that was written on the third of December, postmarked the eighth, and arrived at my house January eighth.

          One of Mike’s prescription meds is lost in the backlog at the post office too. And he needs it. With only three pills left he called his doctor.

          “Can you call a prescription in to the pharmacy for me?” he asked and of course they did.

          That meant a smaller road trip to Tunkhannock to pick that up.  

          Going through the little town of Meshoppen, you can see where a truck, coming down the snow-covered road, slid and hit the side of the historic fire department building.

          “I hope it can be repaired,” one of the guys said when the local news covered it.

          “They should tear it down and build a new one,” is what my Mike says.

          What do you think this plate is trying to say?

          Someone lost their load of lumber. I hate when that happens!

>>>*<<<

           Standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, the snow starting to slide from the porch roof. Icicles formed during the night and glinted in the morning sun.

          You’re welcome.

 

Let’s call this one done!