Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: A Hard One

This week’s letter blog is a hard one for me to write.

“Why’s that, Peg?” you ask.

We lost one of our favorite cats a couple of days ago. Do I lead with the news that makes me sad, or do I end with the sadness?

Let’s just rip the band aid off and take care of it now.

Smudge and his little sister were abandoned by their mother when they were probably a month old. She brought them into our garage and left them. I waited for a couple of days for her to feed them and when she didn’t, and we couldn’t take the crying anymore, we bottle fed them.

The Kipps helped.

In fact, it was Miss Rosie who named them both.

“She has Cleopatra eyes. That’s the way my eyeliner looks sometimes,” Miss Rosie said making a swooping motion from the corner of her eye out into space. And she was Cleo.

Smudge.

He got his name because he was always shoving his nose into the butts of other cats and always had a ‘smudge’ of something on his nose.

“Smudge sounds a lot better than Shit Face,” which is what I’d suggested.

Cleo and her cousin Feisty, both girls, disappeared shortly after we’d had them fixed. We were left with just the boys from two different litters.

For all the difficulties Smudge faced in the beginning of his life, no mother and very tiny for his age, he turned out to be twelve pounds of happiness in our lives.

Not so long ago I was telling you how he was sleeping on my pillow on my head. “He’s a pillow hog,” I complained. But I never made him move. Actions speak louder than words.

Since Mister Mr. disappeared, we weren’t keeping Smudge on a leash anymore and he was free to come and go as he pleased.

Thursday night, Mike called the cats in before we went to bed. Spitfire came in. Tiger came in. Smudge did not and that was unusual. He always came when he was called.

Friday afternoon we found him in the ditch beside the road. He’d been run over.

Mike is both sad and angry, in equally big parts. Smudge was his favorite cat. “I bet someone ran him over on purpose.”

I don’t want to think that any of our neighbors could be that mean, but I know there are cat haters out there. “We always knew something like this could happen,” I told Mike. “We’ve both seen Smudge cross the road and sooner or later, their luck runs out. Besides, sometimes animals dart in front of you and there isn’t anything you can do about it.”

All afternoon Bondi waited outside. She paced the fence, staring off into the yard. I believe she was waiting for Smudge to come home.

I probably didn’t tell you how close Smudge and Bondi were becoming. It used to be Tiger that would play with her but that ended a month ago or so. Tiger will play with her sometimes, but mostly he growls at her and gets away as fast as he can. It was Smudge who stepped in and played with Bondi the most these days.

Later that evening, Mike and I discussed whether or not to keep our two remaining cats in the house. I say two, Spitfire and Tiger, but technically, there’s three. Since Macchiato never goes anyplace, I wasn’t counting him.

“I’m tired of losing cats to the road,” I said and in my mind’s heart, I imagined how sad I would feel to lose Tiger. “Maybe we should keep them in.”

“Whatever you wanna do,” Mike agreed.

Well, that lasted about twelve hours. Tiger was so mad at not being let outside that he sat in front of the door and growled his displeasure. I don’t think it would be very much fun to live with an angry, unhappy cat.

Smudge was born in July of 2016, that makes him five years old. We’ll miss him.

The sun rises and a new day starts, whether we want it to or not.

We ran an errand over in Towanda. I took a few more pictures of the school kids Halloween paintings before they’re gone.

We had a sky full of big billowing clouds.

As I predicted last time, the exercise studio walls are done, and the mill roof is not.

Last time, I told you Mike missed the last step on the ladder and fell. He still wasn’t feeling up to snuff. We managed to get seven more sheets of roofing put up before the wind started gusting and Mike called a halt. The rest of the week was cold and miserable. But it’s supposed to be nice next week and we’ll get the last three sheets put up.

Speaking of my last letter…

I print my letter for the Kipps. Depending on the weather and my level of energy, I sometimes walk it down to their house. Both Bondi and I can use the exercise.

Last Sunday evening, I put on my coat and boots, hooked Bondi up to her harness and leash, took my eleven-page letter, and headed off for the Kipps. Oh! And my camera. I didn’t forget that. I get down to the end of the driveway and guess who’s following us?

Tiger!

Bondi and I turned around and went back to the house. Tiger followed. When I got to the patio I had too much stuff in my hands to juggle. I set my letter down, picked Tiger up, opened the door and took him inside.

“Tiger was following us so I brought him back,” I told Mike as I dropped him in his lap.

“What was that?” Mike asked, reaching out taking him.

“What was what?”

“Something just went flying past the door.”

I turned around just in time to see a page of my letter taking sail. “My letter!”

Outside, I start picking up the pages before the wind could scatter them further. One page was almost in the water puddle. Whew! I still held Bondi’s leash in one hand and I was putting the pages back in order when she got to the end and yanked. The pages went flying again! This time one of them did end up in the water puddle!

Sigh.

I picked ‘em all up and checked to see how wet they were. Not bad, I thought. I think Rosie and Lamar can still read it. I didn’t even attempt to put them in order again, just headed off to make my delivery.

Bondi and I had a nice walk, enjoying the colors, slight breeze, and clouds scuttling across the sky. That’s what I was doing. Bondi, on the other hand, was sniffing the road and roadside for delectable (and in my opinion unappetizing) edibles.

I told my Miss Rosie and Lamar the story of the flying pages and they laughed.

“If you can’t read it, let me know and I’ll reprint it,” I told them and headed for home.

Speaking of my Miss Rosie! I have to tell on her — but it’s a good tell.

My beautiful daughter-in-law sent me a recipe for potato soup. “Kevin said I should send you this recipe. He thought you might like it. I made it tonight. He's on his second bowl,” Kandyce told me.

If Kevin likes it, it must be good! It used to be that he thought his Pap-pap’s potato soup was the best in the world — and maybe he still does. He can still believe that and like this one, too.

“I’m going to make it tomorrow,” I told Kandyce. “Do you have any tips for me?”

“Nope. I just followed the recipe. It was perfect.”

The next day I set about to make it. I’d bought the frozen diced hash browns and guess what? The brand I bought came in a 32-ounce bag. Two ounces isn’t going to make much difference, I thought and decided I’d use ‘em anyway. My bacon bits came in a two-and-a-half-ounce bag. Again, it wouldn’t make a lot of difference. I went for the chicken broth and discovered I didn’t have what I thought I had! All I had was a third of a box leftover from a previous recipe that I’d frozen. I didn't have a spare in the pantry. What I did have was chicken breast in the freezer. I’d just make my own broth! It was chicken and noodles for lunch that day. I’d make the soup the next.

I’m still dieting. I’ve been faithful to record almost everything I eat. I might let a Starlight Mint or two slip through the cracks, that’s the almost, and that’s about it.

Recipe in hand, I record the total number of calories from the packages. This recipe didn’t give serving size so I guesstimated a cup and a half for me, two cups for Mike. (Yes, I measured it out.) I added all of the bacon bits to the recipe and didn’t leave any out to sprinkle on top. Plus, I omitted the cheddar cheese, thereby saving 440 calories. I portioned it up and counted how many cups I’d made. If you’re interested (and even if you’re not), it has 244 calories per one cup without cheddar. 366 is about right for me to have for lunch.

Mike is losing weight and I’ve lost twelve pounds in my first month and I’m motivated now more than ever to keep going.

This recipe is the absolute bomb!

“I think this is the best potato soup I’ve ever had,” Mike said. He never had my dad’s.

I took a cup down to the Kipps for their tasting pleasure. It was still warm. I hadn’t been home very long when Miss Rosie called me.

“I can’t have some of the stuff that’s in there,” she told me (and I knew that, that’s why I only took a cup), “but I told Lamar I’d take just a spoonful. Then I took another and another and another! It was so good, I couldn’t stop!”

Miss Rosie doesn’t have a crock pot, and she doesn’t want one, but wanted the recipe. I bet you could make it on the stovetop if you wanted to. The crockpot just makes it easy for people who go to work every day.

Thank you for sharing this recipe with us, Kandyce.

Bondi continues to make me smile.

Mike was working on the floor in the exercise studio and sat back to take a break. Bondi took the opportunity to get some lovin’.

Another day, we were working on an awning for over the studio door.

“Go get some metal screws,” Mike said with a 'please' in his voice.

I went out to the golf cart and brought in my apron full of screws. My gloves were in there, too, one in each pocket. Bondi dropped her toy and sniffed around the apron, finding my gloves. She drug one out and shook it to pieces as she ran out of the room. Failing to get me to run after her, she came back for the other one. Then she came back for the apron. By the time she was done, and by the time we were ready for them, she had the screws dumped out.

Construction work isn’t Bondi’s only interest. She helps with the laundry, too. I took a basket full of clothes from the bathroom to the laundry room. I dumped it and was headed back to put the basket away when I passed Bondi in the hallway. I didn’t think anything of it until I came back to start a load and she raced past me dragging one of my brassieres — that’s what Momma called them.

I had to smile. She didn’t see me dump the clothes but she must’ve figured out that’s what I’d done — and nothing makes me chase her faster than when she’s got one of my good bras.

“Come back here you little thief!” I say with love and laughter in my voice.

She stops long enough for me to catch up, then she takes off again.

Bras aren’t the only thing she’ll snatch. Socks and underwear work for her, too. She hasn’t torn anything up, and I’m not taking any chances with my bras, but sometimes I let her drag my socks off. With no one chasing her, she soon loses interest. It’s just a game to her.

Once I got my bra back, I tossed it in the washer with all the other small items of apparel. The only thing left in the basket were towels and she wasn’t interested in those. I suspect they’re too big for her to handle.

On a walk with Bondi, I see the township has marked the road just past our mailbox. I suspect they’re going to put a culvert in.

The people who bought the place down the hill from us have been complaining about the water washing out their driveway. I don’t know if a culvert here will do much good. If you go down the road a few more feet, there’s a virtual waterfall coming off the hill — and it runs away from where this is marked. But, they didn’t ask me.

I was only going to walk as far as the Robinsons' barn. I got there and decided to walk to the Kimmies' cabin. I got there and decided I’d go up to a phone pole. I got there and thought, What the heck. I’ll just go to the top of the hill. And because I did, you get to see this picture!

The temps dropped and we had frost! It was so heavy it looked like snow!

When it warmed up a little, I took Bondi on a picture making tour around the place.

With the exercise studio done and waiting on carpet, and with the weather not being conducive to finishing the roof, I was able to spend a little time crafting this week, something I’ve sorely missed.

I had a lopsided circle of copper left over from when I was making things for my beautiful Missouri gal, Linda, and decided to do something with that. I pinched it into an oval, and made flowers for it.

I had it in my head that I’d bead the two flowers and add a flower garden in a spray at the top.

I made flowers and painted them. I wanted them shiny so I dipped ‘em in polyurethane — which was supposed to dry clear! I hate them and even though they’re not in the trash yet, I have no doubt that’s where they’ll end up. They’re hideous!