My-oh-my!

            My-oh-me-oh-my-oh! What a week! What a week!

I have so many things I want to tell you about this week. I just finished editing photos and it’s time to post already! What do I do? what do I do?

“You could start by not repeating yourself,” you say.

I know, right! It’s just a stall tactic. I’m trying to figure out where to start! Then I’m thinking, do I want to do a short little somethin’-somethin’ so they’re not disappointed when they go looking for my weekly blog? I’ve got lots of road pictures. Or do I just post late? Should I ask my peeps what they’d prefer? I know! I’ll ask my dearly loved and much-adored big sister! No, no. That won’t work. She’s probably driving.

“People can talk on the phone while they’re driving,” you say.

And I know that. I don’t really like it, though. If something happened while you were driving and talking to me, I’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.

After sitting here contemplating my conundrum, and getting a brain strain, I’ve decided to take the pressure off and erase my deadline. It’ll get done when it gets done.

It’s feast or famine around here. I either have nothing to talk about or I’ve got too much to talk about. Last week I finished early because I didn’t have much. But as it turned out, it was a good thing. Our church was having a cookie exchange/white elephant gift exchange on Sunday. I’d forgotten about it until I went to church that morning. And because I didn’t have a letter blog to finish, like I normally do on a Sunday afternoon, I was free to bake cookies.

Everyone is supposed to make their favorite cookie and we set the table with all the cookies. Then we sample them. Hopefully, at the end of the night, there’s some of your favorite left so you can take some home with you. We encourage people to come even if they can’t, don’t want to, or don’t have time to bake cookies. We always, always, always, have plenty.

I made three different things — to start.

“Peg!”

I might be an over-achiever when it comes to baking, but I wasn’t the only one who made extra. The ladies in my church like to bake.

I made chocolate chip cookies, coffee cake, and Dream Bars.

“Coffee cake isn’t cookies,” you say.

I know, right! It doesn’t have to be all cookies and I know a couple of people who like my coffee cake.

I had the Dream Bars baked and cooling, waiting to be cut into squares. I was baking cookies and had wait time. I decided I’d prep the coffee cake so when the cookies were done all I had to do was mix the batter, pour it in the pan, put the crumb topping on top, and pop it in the oven. It’s a simple recipe. I put all the dry ingredients in a bowl. In my measuring cup, I put the wet ingredients. Milk, oil, egg, and vanilla.

I was scooping cookies from the baking sheet onto a wire cooling rack and glanced at the cup of wet ingredients. Sitting right on top was a gold-ringed bubble.

“Peg, you’re weird!” you say.

I know, right. But I love bubbles. At least I love to paint bubbles — not that I’ve done it a lot. I’d like to do it more. So when I see a pretty bubble, I have to study it. And the rule is, what I see, you get to see, too.

I had the coffee cake in the oven and a few minutes before my timer was set to go off, I checked the coffee cake. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and I’m confronted with a cake that erupted into mountains and all the topping rolled off creating butter, sugar, and cinnamon-filled canyons.

Ay-yi-yi! This had never happened to me before!

I had a container of leftover topping in my freezer. I grabbed it out and sprinkled it over the naked mountians and let it bake for a few more minutes.

          “How was it?” I know you wanna know.

          Honestly, only a few pieces were eaten at the cookie exchange and no one said anything about it. I warmed a piece up. It was good, but those canyons sure were sweet!

          So! I made chocolate chip cookies, Dream Bars, and a coffee cake.

          “There’s no chocolate!” came unbidden into my mind’s eye.

          Granted, it was during our pie contest, but a chocolate lover loves chocolate.

          I remember once, a long time ago, I made a pretty good brownie cookie. I had time. I got up and dug my plastic tub of recipes out. I seem to remember that the recipe was in a little booklet given away by one of the chocolate makers. I was looking for that when I came across a page I’d torn from a 1994 magazine.

          I read through the Touchdown Chocolate Bars. I had everything and they sounded easy. I had doubts when it said to mix an egg into the crumb mixture and pat into the pan but I did it the way it said to. I skipped the nuts because at least two of the gals at church have nut allergies and I wanted to make sure there were things there they could have.

          I didn’t have any before the party, but one of the gals said they were the best brownies she ever had.

          I just smiled.

          They are good and I’m going to make them again — next time with walnuts.

          Five minutes before I have to leave the house, I remembered about the white elephant gift exchange. You’re supposed to bring something you already own. I know I’ve got some floating candle holders here that I got from Hallmark decades ago and never took from the box. I went looking for those but couldn’t find them. I went without a gift.

          After everyone had a chance at the cookie table, Mary, Pastor Jay’s wife, walked around with a basket of numbers. She held the basket out to me.

“I’m not playing,” I told her.

She was surprised.

Everyone drew a number. Whoever drew number one got to choose the first gift and open it in front of everyone. Number two could open a new gift or “steal” the gift from number one. Then number one gets to open a new gift. It keeps going on like that. The more people who open a gift ahead of you, the better your chances are of “stealing” something you really liked.

          When Luke opened his gift, we all laughed. He’d opened a fabulous set of women’s cosmetics. Lucky for Luke, one of the gals “stole” this gift and he got to open something else.

          One of the young girls came up to me before she left with her family.

          “You didn’t get anything?” she asked.

          Frankly, I was surprised she noticed. “No. I didn’t play.”

          “Here,” she said, and held out her gift. “You can have these.”

          I think my heart melted into a puddle at my feet right then and there.

          In the box were a set of four crystal candle holders from Sears. “Oh, honey. They’re beautiful! Doesn’t your mom want them?”

          “No, she won’t use them.”

          I accepted the gift with many thanks.

          I’m not likely to use them either. At least not for the intended purpose.

          “What are you going to do with them?” you ask.

          You’ll just have to stay tuned to find out.

          It was such a fun, fun night!

          “Peg! You’re repeating yourself again!” you say.

          I know, right! I can’t help it. We have such a good church family and it was fun!

          Next, in my file of photos, is the brag board I finished this week.

          Look what I did. I got my sleeve in the black paint when I was trying to get a better angle on one of the letters.

          I was horrified! I tried to wipe it off with my rag, but it was already dry. Would I have to sand it off and start again? Would white paint cover it? First and easiest thing to try was a baby wet wipe. I buy them just for painting. There’s stuff in them that helps clean the paint off my palette and erases wet paint bloopers off my board. And boy oh boy! Was this ever a big blooper! I’d used a semi-gloss on the board and the wet wipe, along with a lot of elbow grease, took all the black bloopers off without hurting the white. I was so relieved. When all was said and done, you couldn’t even tell I’d done what I done.

          I have another brag board to do, but I slipped in a fast and easy project. I saw something on the internet about turning old CDs into a holder for playing cards. Who doesn’t have a stack of old CDs and DVDs lying around? I dug out some old computer programs that won’t work on new computers. Miss Rosie has little hands. When playing Quiddler, and the count gets to ten, it’s difficult for her to hold that many cards. Christmas is coming and I know I’m not going to have enough time to make her what I want to make her. I told her it’s going to be late and she’s okay with that. I’m guessing the girls will be home for Christmas and they like to play Quiddler so I thought I could make this for her as a little pre-Christmas gift.

          The gal on the video used a rotary cutter to cut the material. Guess who just bought a rotary cutter and hasn’t had a chance to use it yet?

          “You?” you guess.

          That’s a good guess — and the correct answer, too.

          I’m going along, trying to follow my circle pattern, cutting through what was probably too many layers of material at once, sawing back and forth, got a little too exuberant, and got my finger. That thing is sharp!

          These cardholders are super cute and they work really well. You can rearrange your cards and they all stay in place.

I had a helper. 

Speaking of injuries to my hand, Raini and I went for the same ball at the same time. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. Her tooth skidded down my thumbnail and pierced the skin next to it. Boo-boos next to nails seem to hurt worse than boo-boos anyplace else, at least in my experience.

“Put turpentine on it,” Momma said. “It’ll keep it from getting sore.”

These days, since Momma is walking with our Lord, I only hear her in my head. She was such a wise and loving mother. I miss her.

I put turpentine on it — and it has to be pure gum spirits, not the fake stuff. It felt warm on my boo-boo. And guess what? My thumb isn’t sore. I’m not telling you to use it, and you shouldn’t use it on deep wounds, but it does work.

Carol, the gal at the stained-glass shop in Vestal, New York, had a stack of tole art books she wanted to give me. Unfortunately, she had just taken them from her car and put them in her garage.

“Let me know when you’re coming back up and I’ll bring them back to the shop,” she said.

 We had forgotten a few things on our last trip to Sam’s Club, so we decided we’d do that on Thursday. I called Carol and told her we’d be up.

“I had a feeling you were going to be up, so I put them in my car already,” she said.

Thursday dawned with a light snow shower. This is Raini’s second winter and she seems indifferent to the cold white stuff.

I took Raini out looking for snow pictures, just in case my desert-loving friends miss the stuff. I took pictures of the winter flowers with their white caps on. Okay! Okay! Weeds. They’re weeds! And some are trees and branches. But this time of year, that’s pretty much all that’s out there.

Raini, ever mindful of where I’m at, stops and turns to see if I’m coming.

Heelers are such smart and amazing dogs. You don’t have to train them to stay with you. They just do it by instinct. Now, that’s not to say she wouldn’t chase a deer or rabbit if one ran from her, she would. But she wouldn’t go too far before she’d come back to me. I just have to be careful she doesn’t dash across the road.

We got ready and left for Vestal. Can you say road pictures?

The glass shop doesn’t open until noon so we did our Sam’s Club shopping first, and first on the agenda, since someone was hungry — me! I was hungry! — we had our hot dogs and shared a slice of pizza.

I was down to the last couple of bites of my hot dog when this handsome young man came up to our table.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” I said and waited. I had no idea what to expect. Was he going to ask for money? That’s an easy no since we seldom carry cash. He had a paper in his hands. Was he going to ask us to buy something? Another easy no since we don’t live in the area.

After a couple of minutes, which is a very long time when you’re waiting for someone to say something, he said, “Would you like to read my story?”

He held out a sheaf of papers to me. The first page was three-quarters full of hand-printed words written in pencil. The edges curled like he’d been carrying it with him for a long time.

“Sure!” I said and took the papers.

The young man went back to his seat across from us where another young man sat waiting.

I wiped mustard and relish from my hands and read the story.

It didn’t take me long to read and the young man was back to collect his pages.

“Very good!” I gushed. I don’t know why my opinion should matter to him but I could tell it did. “You did a good job describing your scenes and I want to read more!”

“Thank you,” he said and went back to his table.

About this time a gal comes up to the table and starts talking to the boys. I heard, but wasn’t really listening.

I sprinkled red pepper flakes and parmesan cheese on my half of pizza and went to town. I couldn’t stop thinking about this young man who was brave enough to face rejection and criticism by asking a complete stranger to read his story.

“I’m going to ask if I can put them in my letter blog,” I told Mike.

I was so anxious to finish eating and talk with them before they left that I almost choked on all that drippy, cheesy yumminess.

I wonder if Mike knows how to do the Heimlich Maneuver?

I made myself slow down and finish eating, wiped my hands, and took my camera from my bag. I went over and sat beside the kid who asked me to read his story. “Hi,” I said to the pretty lady. “I blog and was wondering if I could write about you guys this week?”

“What do you blog about?” Mikki asked.

A question I’m always asked when I tell someone I blog. “Whatever happens to me during the week. Where we go, what we do, who we see?”

Mikki smiled and her face just lit the room. “Sure!”

“I bet you didn’t know you were talking to a blogger, did you?” I said to Edward.

His face lit up and he was so excited! “I want to be a writer! Can you help me get published?”

“I like to write too!” Everett said.

I had to laugh a little, “Honey, I can’t even get myself published!” Not that I try. I don’t write these weekly letter blogs for any other reason than to bring sunshine, laughter, and love into the lives of my family and friends.

“What do you do?” I asked Mikki.

“I’m a direct service professional for a nonprofit organization,” she said. “I’ve been working with the boys part-time since this summer. I see them twice a week. They’re autistic twins who are the sweetest boys you’ll ever meet!”

“I can tell they’re sweet,” I said.

“Yeah, and she was an English teacher. She’s helping us to write stories,” Edward said.

“She’s doing a great job!” I said.

“One likes murder mysteries and the other likes horror stories,” Mikki said.

The boys told me who their favorite authors were but the only name I recognized was that of the King of Horror, Stephen King.

 “You were a teacher?” I asked.

“I worked in education for 16 years but got tired of the bureaucracy. This is the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had because I get to work with great kids every day!”

I wish I spent more time talking with people and getting their stories. 

>>>>>>>>*<<<<<<<<<

“Peg, why’s your letter blog late this week?”

I’m so glad you asked!

Part of the reason is that my friend Julia has more than a hundred panes of 24” x 32” heavy glass she wants to get rid of and I love glass.

“What are you going to do with it?” Mike asked.

“We could frame them in and use them to frame in part of the kitchen patio,” I said but didn’t really mean. I like my open patio. “I could use them like a canvas and paint on them.” I thought of my friend Jody who made a cute little greenhouse out of reclaimed windows. “We could make a little greenhouse. I don’t know. Half the time we never know what we’re going to do with stuff when we get it.”

Mike is a good husband and seldom denies me anything.

Julia gave me her address for the GPS and can you say road pictures!

“Look! Yard art!” I said to Mike.

It wasn’t though. It was someone’s trash heap. I scoped it out as we went past to see if anything interesting was there. Not that Mike would let me take anything home if I did spy something.

Our GPS would’ve taken us past Julia’s farm except Eagle Eye Mike saw her address on the mailbox. 

Julia came out of the house followed by her father.

“This is Hugh,” she introduced.

The glass was up on the hillside where it’s sat for a couple of decades. 

“My brother brought it home from his work,” Julia said. “And it’s time to get rid of it.”

We started loading it and some of the glass was stuck so tightly together we couldn’t get it apart. Plus, it had black marks in or on it and some kind of coating that was flaking off. I got the impression the glass was part of a machine of some kind.

“I thought it was clear class,” I told Mike. “I’m not sure I want it.”

We went back down to the house. Julia apologized. “I didn’t know it wasn’t all clear.”

“If it cleans up, I may come back for more,” I told her.

We were standing in the driveway talking and I looked up.

“What is that on the chimney?” I asked.

“What’s it look like?” Julia coyly asked.

“Chains,” I answered.

“That’s what it is. It’s Dad’s answer to cleaning the chimney.”

She showed us the pulley system that Hugh designed to operate it. “We don’t burn wood anymore so we don’t use it.”

I thought that was a pretty clever idea.

Mike and Hugh were talking between themselves when Julia said to me, “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”

 I followed her down to the barn.

“Look what the wind did! It wasn’t even that windy out and the door was closed and locked,” she told me.

“Huh,” was all I could say as I snapped a photo.

“The only thing we can think is because the other door was open a little, the wind funneled through.”

I walked up to where I could see the other open door.

“Look! The lock is still hanging there.”

Mike joined us and started asking a lot of questions.

“The barn was built in 1861,” Julia said. “We don’t know when the house was built.”

I walked into the opening and was surprised to see a wall of windows.

“It used to be a chicken house. Then Dad added this part on using wood from the property that he milled himself.”

I walked a little farther in and saw this. I snapped a picture and went back out to where Julia and Mike stood talking.

“You’ve got a cross in the window,” I told her.

“I do?”

“Yup. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

As we stood talking, I noticed an old blue door propped up against the side of the barn.

“Cool door,” I remarked.

“You like it?” she asked.

“I do.”

“You can have it.”

It didn’t take me long to haul it out. That’s when I saw the other side was yellow. “It’s sunshine yellow on the other side.”

“My mom painted it. She liked bright colors. It was the door to the basement.”

“Maybe you want to keep it then.”

“No. My mom didn’t even like me.”

This declaration astounded Mike, but not me. I’ve read enough stories over my lifetime to know that not every woman is maternal.

I took more pictures on the way home.

Of all the hay, in all the fields, this was the only stack steaming. Is it fermenting?

          I’d like to say there were miles of this old broken-down fencing but that might be hyperbole.

         “What’s hyper-boil mean?” you ask.

          It’s pronounced “hy" + "PUR" + "buh" + "lee".

          My beautiful Miss Rosie has the best definition. She says, “It’s an exaggeration for the sake of emphasis.”

          There was a lot of it. I glimpsed old, rusted vehicles behind some but wasn’t able to get a shot. Maybe the next time we go that way I can get it.  

>>>>>>*<<<<<

          My clothes dryer decided to die on me. It still tumbled, it just wouldn’t heat up. It really picked a bad time to go out — like there’s ever a good time.

          Mike got one bit of good luck. He ordered the last three kitchen cabinets that we needed to complete the kitchen. It was free delivery, until he tried to get it free. The offer was only good on some things. When I told him the dryer had gone out, he got online and added a dryer to his order. That was free so they brought the cabinets along free, too.

          That was the good luck.

          Installing it was another matter.

          Dryers don’t come with power cords. Mike took the cord off the old dryer. This one had the cord on the bottom whereas our old one had it toward the top. It’s hard for Mike to get down, especially when it was in such close quarters.

“Do we have something we can put it on?” he asked.

I looked around and found a small bucket. I used a piece of heavy-duty bubble wrap that came with the dryer to cushion the front and keep the bucket from marking up the door. Then we leaned the dryer over on it.

Mike and I wrestled the heavy electric cord into submission, bending the wires around so they would reach where they needed to go.

He was just tightening the last connection when I noticed he hadn’t put it through the hole.

Ay-yi-yi!

We couldn’t put the cover over it. We had to take the wires off and do it again.

Wait! What’s our nickname?

“The Do-it-again Lubys?” you say.

Yep. And that’s not the worst of it. When we finished and set the dryer up, there was a dent in the door.

“I thought you put something under it?” Mike said.

“I did!”

“They use thin metal,” Mike surmised. “I can order a new door.”

“No! It doesn’t bother me and you can’t see it from your recliner!”

Do I wish we wouldn’t’ve dented the door? Sure. We both wish that. But ultimately, it’s just cosmetic. The dryer works just fine with a dent in the door and I can’t see spending the money for that. Especially since this has already been a financially draining month with new cabinets, expensive dental work, and then the new dryer. Why, oh why can’t this stuff spread itself out through the year!

 One more thing happened this week that I want to tell you about.

“What’s that?” you ask.

I discovered AI, artificial intelligence. There’s a program you type in what you want and it’ll make a picture for you.

“Miss Rosie likes chickens,” I told my morning peeps. “AI doesn’t always get it right. My Christmas chicken has three legs!”

“They breed that one for people who like drumsticks,” Miss Rosie said when I told her about it.

My beautiful Joanie is a beachy kinda gal. I asked AI to make a beach Santa for me. “Wearing sunglasses and swim trunks,” I told it.

Do you think it got it right? 

Hopefully, the last two pictures made you chuckle.

Let’s call this one done! 

Done!