Hardly Know!

          “You keep us all in suspense with little hints throughout the week,” my beautiful West Virginia gal told me after a particularly hintful morning love note. “And I know I'm not the only one who looks forward to Sunday! I know it's a lot of work but I hope you never feel the need to stop. I love living your adventures!” — Trish

She calls them adventures when I see them as mundane — and she loves sharing my life with me! What higher praise could I ask for as a writer of non-fiction?

          And this week! Oh my gosh! I hardly know where to begin!

          I know, let’s start with a wish. I wish I could kick my own butt!

          “Why’s that, Peg?” you ask.

          If I could kick my own butt, I’d be kicking it now! Actually, that’s not true. I would’ve kicked it the day after I sent you last week’s jibber-jabber.

          I hinted in a morning love note about a particularly crazy day but when I wrote about it, it didn’t seem all that crazy to me anymore. I puzzled over that and wondered why I thought it was so crazy in the first place.

“It was crazy enough!” Linda, my beautiful Missouri gal told me.

The next day, the day after I sent out my letter blog, I had the dogs out for a run and they discovered a pile of that most delicious, delectable, hard-to-resist, mouthwatering cat poo! And that’s when it hit me! The one more thing that added to that crazy night that I didn’t have a picture of, didn’t make a note of, and so forgot all about. The whole crazy night started with the sound of a dog lapping. It woke both of us from our sleep.

I sat up and just as I reached for my headboard flashlight, Mike said, “What’s that noise?”

I turned on the light and right there, right smack in the middle of the bed between us, was Bondi lapping at a pile of liquified cat poo! I didn’t even hear her puke it up! I got up and got the mess cleaned up, the whole while doing my mommy breathing. I have no idea if it really was cat poo or not. It looked suspiciously like it, but I didn’t smell it and I didn’t wanna smell it, hence the mouth breathing.

But I suspect it was cat poo because I did chase the girls away from a pile of it in the yard that day on our morning walk-about. Two days in a row they found it. That got me to thinking about those hot snacks I’d accidently bought.

Raini wanted one when she heard the crinkle of the package opening. She recognizes that sound as something yummy to come!

“You won’t like it,” I told her.

She sat there so pretty, her tail waggin’, seeming to say, “Yes I will!”

“Okay!” I told her. “But I’m tellin’ ya! You won’t like it!” and I tossed her one.

She ate it and sat so pretty in front of me again. “See!” she said.

I gave her another one. She ate it. Then the heat started to kick in. The third one she spit out and she wouldn’t take anymore.

That lesson needed a little reinforcing because the next day, when I opened the bag for a quick snack, she asked for one. I let her smell it first and she took it and ate it, which surprised me, then she refused a second one, and every other one I offered her after that day.

Then I got that box of burned crackers. Raini was there, of course, and I offered her one. She smelled it and refused. She thinks it’s a hot one, I thought.

After Bondi puked up that cat poo, I wondered, If they won’t eat cheese crackers because of a few hot ones, maybe I can teach them not to eat cat poo by sprinkling it with hot pepper flakes.

Adding that would’ve made last week’s letter so much better and all I can do now is kick myself.

Speaking of Bondi, she is the best mouser in the houser!

I was just finishing up my letter blog Sunday late afternoon when I saw Bondi sniffing around under the buffet.

“Did you find a mouse?” I asked and got up. I got the flashlight so I could help her find it but before I could do anything she runs to the end of the buffet, behind a crock, and comes out with a mouse. She shook it hard then dropped it to check for signs of life. When it didn’t move, she let Raini have it.

“OUTSIDE!” I had to yell several times before Raini went.

Two days later we had another mouse. I was at the computer, Bondi on the seat behind me, her customary place, when she jumped down and ran to the recycle cans that live in a space where a dishwasher would normally sit. She was snuffling around the base of the two cans and tried to squeeze in between them and the cabinet.

“Did you find a mouse?” I asked and got up to help her. I pulled one of the cans out and she ran in behind. There’s a space heater that lives behind the cans, waiting for his winter job of keeping our pipes from freezing, and she looked for the mouse there. I pulled it out and he wasn’t there. There’s a crack behind the cabinet and I was guessing that’s where he went. That and Bondi had her nose glued to the crack, drawing in and letting out breaths in great huffs. I got a flashlight and shone behind the cabinet and sure enough! He was there! Waaaay down at the end. But it was a box canyon. There was no way out except the way he went in. He’d have to wait until Bondi gave up before he could leave. I left the recycle cans out that night but she didn’t get him.

“Peg, what about all those cats you have?” you ask.

All three of them have spent almost all day every day this summer outside. The only time I see them is when they come in twice a day to eat the canned food I open for them.

Over the course of the next couple of days this mouse played peek-a-boo with Bondi. But his day of reckoning was coming!

Early one afternoon Bondi jumped from her seat behind me and stuck her nose under the printer cabinet. I got the flashlight and got down to look. He was there looking back at me. Lucky for me the cabinet’s on wheels. Lucky for the mouse he could scoot behind my rolltop desk. I thought to do our trick where I’d shove something down one end and chase him out the other and into the waiting maw of fate. There was only one problem with that plan.

“What’s that?” you wanna know.

There’s a baker’s rack at the other end stacked full of stuff — heavy stuff! I couldn’t move it.

I went out on the kitchen patio where I have some long narrow strips of wood stored for future projects and chose the longest one. For whatever reason, this mouse let me angle the one-inch-wide strip in behind him and herd him toward us. Step by step I slowly raked him and just when I thought Bondi could see him, she took off! That stinker! She ran around to the front of my desk, into the knee hole, and stuck her nose to the thin crack at the floor where she could smell him.

“Come here!” I called as excitedly as I could. “Bondi! Come here! He’s right here!”

Bondi came back around, the mouse panicked, scooted around the stick and was right back where we started from.

“What was Raini doing?” I know you wanna know.

Actually, not much. She was mostly just watching or following Bondi around from the crack to the front of the desk and back again. She was staying out of the way and that’s all I cared about.

Using my flashlight in one hand and mouse scraper in the other, I got it behind him again. I started pulling him out inch by inch. Bondi running back and forth. Me yelling for her to get back here. Finally, the stars aligned. Bondi was at the crack just as I got him a few inches from the end and she could see him. Raini was right behind her. One more little nudge should do it and —

He made a break for it!

And Bondi missed him.

“You let him get away!” I scolded. I’m pretty sure it was because Raini got in her way. In the tight little space Bondi couldn’t maneuver fast enough.

I moved the printer cabinet and the mouse was there. I could see his beady little eyes looking out at me. “He’s under here!” I yelled at Bondi and she came to look. Raini was feeling the excitement and jumping around, really getting in the way now. I moved the cabinet and the mouse made a mad dash for the butcher block. Bondi saw him go and snarled a warning at Raini’s shoulder — “Get out of my way!”— she nipped and took off after the mouse! I really thought he’d made good his escape. I put the flashlight away and just as I sat down at my computer desk, I see a Bondi butt high in the air, backing out from under the butcher block — I didn’t even know she could get under there! — her prize clamped firmly in her jaws. She gives it a mighty shake. I love how she kills them so quickly and doesn’t torture them like the cats do.

Bondi ran into the dining room. “Bondi! Outside!”

I only yelled once. Bondi took it outside. It always surprises me when they listen to me the first time. She stood guard over it for a few minutes then let Raini have it.

These guys, with their long hind feet, shorter front, and really long tails are Meadow Jumping Mice. And thank goodness for long tails! Raini only ate about half of him and I had that tail to pick him up by and toss over the fence.

Bondi! The Great Mouse Hunter/Killer!

Now this little cutie-patootie has a couple of titles of her own.

One of them would be The Great Squeezer-through-the-cat-doorer.

Raini’s getting big.

I was cleaning up the dog poo from the side run when out came Bondi followed by Raini.

She barely fit. No. She didn’t fit at all! She squeezed out.

“Should we put a bigger door in?” Mike asked.

“Heck no!” I said. “It’ll give Bondi and the cats an escape when she’s too big to go through the door.”

I thought I’d get pictures of her going back in so I went out the gate and started around the house knowing the dogs would dash in the house and out the other door.

I watched over my shoulder as Bondi went through the flap. Raini had just started through when she must’ve heard the click of the camera because she backed out.

I ducked around the corner but she saw me. You can tell she’s wondering what I’m up to.

I had to go far enough to convince her I was leaving and I rushed back in time to catch her going through the door.

I laughed when I saw she had to stick her legs straight out and drag herself in.

Remember, our walls are thick. Fourteen inches here at this door. Maybe her name should be The Great Houdini. It would be easier to say than The Great Squeezer-through-the-cat-doorer.

Raini’s other name is not going to start with Great. Actually, I guess it could but there isn’t anything great about being a big chicken. Raini is afraid of all mechanical noises. The vacuum cleaner sends her to the safety of her crate or outside. Definitely into any other room than the one I’m running the sweeper in. The lawn mower sends her into the house as fast as her little legs’ll carry her. We don’t have to worry about her when we’re working because drills and saws and compressors have the same effect.

I’m working on a new project. New projects are always so exciting! When we did the front patio enclosure, we had wood scraps left over and that’s when I decided to make a porch sign.

I got my little palm sander out, plugged it in, and looked at Raini. “You’re not going to like this,” I told her. “Ready?” and I turned it on. Raini shot through the pet door in the screen so fast she took the screen with her.

After I finished with the sander and it had been off for five minutes, Raini came to check. She looked so cute peeking out at me.

“You can come out now,” I told her. “I’m done with it.”

I don’t know. Maybe being afraid of mechanical noises isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Since we put in the new puppy door, we didn’t need the one through the screen. I put the spline back in the rail, locked the door, and put the wire screen back on. Bondi’s not happy about this arrangement but she as well as all the cats use the new door.

“You made a porch sign?”

You picked up on that, did ya?

I did!

I went looking for a scrap of wood and found one in the upper barn that was the right width, about ten inches, and the right length, about thirty-five. It wasn’t cut straight across the bottom and had a hole in two of the corners. We call that character. And since it was the first one and more or less just a test piece, I didn’t care.

I was going to distress paint it but after I sanded it, I just couldn’t bear to cover up all that great patina.

I made my stencils out of vinyl on my Cricut machine and that was a job that took a couple of hours. Then, with no one particular in mind, I sat on the patio, dogs under feet, enjoying the mild summer day, and painted. When I saw how cute it was coming out, I started thinking about who I might give it to.

I finished and took it in to show Mike. “What do you think?”

He looked at it. “Yeah.” He’s never been one for lavishing me with compliments. “Where are ya gonna put it?”

There it was. That was code for, “I’d like to have that one.”

“Where ever you want to put it,” I said.

“Do you wanna take it down and show Rosie?” Mike asked.

I hadn’t even thought of that! “Yeah.”

You should’ve seen Miss Rosie’s face light up when she saw it! I didn’t have my camera ready because I wasn’t giving it to her.

“Oh Peg! That is so cute!” she said.

“Do you want one?” I asked.

Before she could answer, Mike chimes in. “NO! She has enough stuff!”

“You stay out of this!” Miss Rosie scolded. “This is between me and Peg!” Then she turned to me. “I’d love to have one.”

My turn to grin. She knows she’s free to say no and it won’t hurt my feelings — at least not much and nothing I won’t get over in two or three seconds. Then I thought of all the cute signs I could make. “Does it have to be the same or can it be different?” I asked.

“It can be — whatever. Different or the same. I don’t care,” she answered.

          On the way home in the golf cart, I said, “Now we have to go to the upper barn and find me some more boards.”

          “What about the one laying by the dogs on your patio?” you ask.

          That’s the one I was going to use. But it was too narrow for the stencils I made.

          We didn’t even stop at the house and drop Mike’s sign off, we just went on up to the upper barn.

          “There’s that over there,” Mike pointed to the wall. There stood a cut-out for a door from when we were renovating for the house.

          “That’ll work,” I said. “It has lots of great character.  

          It was two layers of wood but the boards on one layer were too narrow for what I was going to use them for. Mike took it apart for me and cut the three good boards, the three that were the right width, in half. Now I’m all set for sign making.

          I was on the patio, using my little palm sander and 150 grit, when Mike came in from mowing and sat with me for a while. “You need coarser grit sandpaper,” he said.

          “I don’t have any,” I said.

          “I do. Why don’t you use the belt sander?”

          Mike set it up for me and showed me how to use it.

          There might be a learning curve here. With my little palm sander, I’d turn it this way and that. With the belt sander you need to go in the direction of the grain or you’ll rip a brand-spankin’-new belt in half. Don’t ask me how I found that out.

          There’s nothing like having the right tool for the job, that’s for sure! The belt sander made short work of it.

          I had it all painted and was shaking the can of sealer when Mike came out on the patio.

          “It would look better if you put a border around it,” he volunteered.

          “You think so? I’m afraid to try it on Rosie’s sign.”

          “Well, whatever.”

          He left. I put my brave on, got a sponge daubing brush, and put a black border around the edge. Mike was right! It was the finishing touch it needed.    

          I hope Miss Rosie likes it. She’s a big football fan so I thought the saying was apropos. I used the same pumpkin design because I like it.

          I am nothing if not practical. I get that from my Momma. Rather than have a sign for Fall and a sign for Halloween, I’m going to make this a double-sided sign. I’ve already got my stencils made. Next week I’ll get it finished and give it to her.

As much fun as it is to make something new, I did go back and work with my glass this week. I made a Valentine gnome, two bunny butts, two birds on a wire, and fixed Joanie’s angel chime. Now, I say I made all that stuff, and that’s true, but none of them are completed as of yet. I’m breaking the monotony of one job, like grinding or foiling, by switching to another, then back again while I wait for paint to dry.

I have to tell you something. It’s not that I don’t like making suncatchers anymore, or tin can flowers, or book boxes, I love making all those things. But it’s pointless to make something and not have anything to do with them.

“Maybe you can sell some,” you say.

I tried setting up a tent a couple of times. I sold a few pieces but nothing to write home about. Maybe, with a variety of things to offer, it would work better. Or maybe I can offer a piece or two at the local artisan shop. I just don’t know how to price things. Giving things away is a whole lot less stressful.

Anyway.

“What’s Mike been up to?” you ask.

Well, besides doing a little mowing and helping me with boards, he mixed concrete and put half a topper on his stone pillar. Four bags wasn’t enough to do the whole job so he got more concrete this week. He mixed it right in the bucket of his tractor and lifted it up to where he just had to scoop it out and spread it around.

Something else Mike’s been worrying about is our septic system. A few years ago we had Crawford’s come out and put a mouse down the pipes to find our tanks. Evidently, we have two. One comes from our house and the other from where an old mobile home used to sit. We marked the spots with a big flat stone.

Now Mike has decided to dig them up and see if the tanks need to be pumped.

“Why don’t you wait and see if we have a problem?” I asked.

“If you wait until the tanks are full and it runs out into your drain field, it’ll ruin your drain field,” Mike said.

One tank Mike found right away. He used the tractor to lift the lid.

“Can you see anything?” I asked.

“It looks okay. It’s not full,” Mike said and walked around the hole. “I can see the inlet pipe and it’s dry.”

“I just did a load of laundry. It shouldn’t be dry.”

“Go up to the house and run some water and flush a toilet,” Mike said.

I did and when I came back down, the inlet pipe was still dry. Our two tanks must not be connected like we thought they might be.

Mike started digging for the other one but ran out of steam before he found it.

“The ground is so hard and rocky, I’m going to use the backhoe,” he said. “Will you watch and make sure I don’t hit something?”

Like I’m going to be able to stop him? By the time I see he’s hit a pipe, it’ll be too late. But I went along to take pictures.

Mike dug and dug and dug and there’s no tank at the spot we had marked.

“Let’s call Crawford’s back out and run another mouse down,” Mike suggested.

Butch and his magic wand came out later that day. Butch is standing right where his little electronic mouse stopped and you can see the dirt pile where Mike had been digging. We’d missed the tank by eight feet.

Mike started digging with a shovel and hit concrete when he expected to. The only problem was he couldn’t find the edge of the tank or a lid.

“I’m going to get the tractor and skim off the top,” Mike said.

I sat and watched as pass after pass exposed more concrete.

“This isn’t a tank,” Mike said. “It’s more like poured concrete, but it’s rough like it gets when it’s not finished and exposed to the elements.”

We didn’t find the edge and Mike was afraid to dig more.

“Cut a hole in the concrete and see what’s under,” his friend Vernon suggested, but Mike doesn’t want to do that.

“I guess we’ll wait until we have a problem then figure it out,” Mike said.

>>>*<<<

Sometimes, in the low light of early morning or evening, I’ll look out the kitchen door and think someone’s standing there. Then I remember it’s just my Velvetleaf. It’s about five-feet tall, the flowers are blooming and turning into its unusual thick, round button-like seed pods.

This wildflower/plant/weed has many names including American Jute, Butter Print, Swamp Chinese Lantern, and Button Weed.

It's got so many uses I could fill two pages.

In herbal medicine they used many parts of this plant to treat things like dysentery, fevers, ulcers, and it’s even supposed to help heal cataracts. I didn’t think there was any cure for cataracts. I might’ve given it a try if I’d’ve known that before I had my cataracts removed.

The article I’m reading on Health Benefits Times dot com goes on to say that the bark is astringent and diuretic and an effective pain killer.

It softens the skin and heals cuts and bruises. It has sanitizing properties, helping in keeping things clean and hygienic, but it was a bullet point so I don’t know which part of the plant was used for this.

The only part they say you can eat are the seeds.

Besides rope, the fiber is also used for making paper, coarse cloth, for fishing nets, and caulking boats. In a pinch, the soft leaves can be used as a toilet paper.

It’s a source of semi-wet oil which is used in making soaps and polish.

Each plant produces 700 to 17,000 seeds.

Seeds can remain viable in soil for over 50 years.

There! More than you ever wanted to know, I’m sure.

>>>*<<<

Guess what time of year it is?

Wyoming County Fair time, that’s what! 

I always think about the time we brought Momma. It was like one of the best times I ever had at the fair. Mostly because we did things other than just eat food, which is about all Mike and I go for now.

Momma had such a good time and I wrote a whole story about it that’s still on my blog site, although it might have lots of mistakes in it because it was before I had an editor. If this isn’t a link you should be able to copy and paste it and it’ll get you there if you’re interested.

https://lifentimessofme.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-wyoming-county-fair-day-with-momma.html

This year we had an extra incentive to go to the fair, not that we needed one. We’d’ve gone anyway.

Our electric co-op offered all active members twenty dollars off their bill and twenty-five dollars in food vouchers for registering for the annual meeting.

This beautiful lady right here is our cousin Stacey. She works for our electric company.

We got our credit and vouchers and wandered off to find our favorite food. Italian sausage for Mike, pierogies and ice cream for me — not at the same time.

Momma didn’t like pierogies cooked this way. She only wanted hers fried. I like them that way too but I like it this way just as well. They’re very tender and swim in butter and onions.

We ran into a very handsome couple from our church. Annette and Pork were standing in the shade of a tent while Pork caught his breath.

“Why don’t you rent a scooter?” I asked. “It’s not expensive and you’ll enjoy yourself so much more.”

Pork is like my mom. She didn’t want to give in to her frailties. She was afraid that once given in to, there was no going back and it would be forever.  

“Mike even gets a scooter sometimes,” I told him. “His back can’t take a lot of walking so it depends on how long we plan to stay.” Pork was leaning against the tent pole, gasping for breath, but stubborn all the same.

“I would like to go up and see the animals,” he mused.

“I’ll go with Annette and we’ll bring you back a scooter,” I said.

I guess the more he thought about it, the better it sounded because after a while he said, “Okay. You can get me a scooter.”

On the way to the scooter rental place, Annette thanked me. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”

Husbands never do.

Pork and Annette went on their way to see what they could find to eat and I went to the ice cream place. Loch’s makes their own maple syrup and nut sauce. Serve it over ice cream, in a waffle bowl, with whipped cream and a cherry on top and you have a Deluxe.

I was standing in line when Annette and Pork cruise past and this is a much happier Pork, let me tell you.

I got my ice cream deluxe and went to find a seat. With an empty bench in the shade in my sights, I inadvertently tipped my bowl and sprinkled/dribbled/poured, melted ice cream and nut sauce all down my front, including shirt, capris, and camera.

Sigh.

“Everything’s better with ice cream on it,” a lady said, trying to make me feel better when I showed her what I’d done.

I’m not so sure that applies to electronic equipment.

“Let’s go see if Jon Robinson’s brother’s here this year,” Mike said.

Walking into the building where Jim usually sets up his woodwork is this wagon full of skeletons.

“Stand in front of it for perspective,” I commanded my handsome mountain man.

Mike is a good husband and obeyed.

Walking through the kids' projects, I really liked the scarecrows. Actually, I didn’t know that’s what they were but I heard another lady call them that.  

And that was all we did at the fair this year.

Monday, tomorrow, is the last day and seniors get in free so if it’s not raining too hard, we’ll probably go for more sausage and pierogies. I might skip the ice cream this time — then again, I might not!

Mike took the screen out of our front door, something he’s been wanting to do since the enclosure was done.

I’ll tell you what! What a pain that was! Mike had to lay down and use a screwdriver to lift the rollers while I tried to wiggle it off the track.

“We should just ask Patti to come back,” I said of my oldest, most beautifulest, much-adoredest sister. It was a joke as I remembered when we had Momma’s memorial and Patti, not knowing the screen was shut, walked into and popped it out, easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy. She didn’t fall, she didn’t get hurt (other than her pride maybe) and the screen wasn’t hurt either.

“You think she’d be mad if I wrote that?” I asked Mike.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Later, Mike had both doors open. “Now Patti won’t have any trouble getting through.”

If she gets upset because I told this on her, I’m blaming it all on Mike.

>>>*<<<

This is Smartweed, also known as nature’s pepper. 

You may have seen it before but never noticed the tiny little beautiful flowers on it.

There are several varieties of Smartweed and it’s in the buckwheat family.

In folk medicine, the leaf can be used in a tea for heart ailments, kidney stones, stomachaches, inflammation, sore throat, and as a diuretic.

Leaf tea also used as a foot soak for pain in legs and feet.

The whole plant made into a poultice is used for general pain, poison ivy rash, and as an insect repellent.

Edible parts are the leaves, seeds (in some varieties), and young shoots, which can be eaten raw or cooked.

There are only a few more photos in the file this week but I don’t want to start another page. Besides, it’s time to wrap up for tonight and get it posted. We’ll see if they make it into the next edition of Peggy’s Jibber-Jabber!

Let’s call this one done!