Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: I Hate That!

Hate is a strong emotion. So it’s with strong emotion that I say, I hate that!

“Peg! Christians aren’t supposed to hate!”

Yes, I know. In my defense, it’s not a person I hate, not really, but it’s something they do.

“What’s that?” I know you wanna know.

Under the guise of being informative, they cause fear when there isn’t any reason to be afraid. Fearmongering is the term for that.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” you ask.

You betcha.

A post came up on my Facebook feed. One of my friends re-posted someone else’s post about the Brown Recluse spider.

I didn’t have an issue with the picture.

I didn’t have any issues with telling people to be aware of putting their hands in dark spaces — dah! Like most people aren’t instinctually afraid of putting their hands in dark spaces. But next the post says, “A person can die from its bite.”

That really got my hackles up. The Brown Recluse, or fiddleback, is common where we lived in Missouri. It’s been said that if you have them in your house, you won’t have any other kinds of spiders. In my experience, that was true.

I could see people reading this and breaking out the guns to kill these shy spiders.

According to the University of Arizona News, there is one death every five or ten years from the recluse.

Cedars Sinai says, “No deaths have been reported in the U.S. from Brown Recluse bites.”

The bite itself is painless and you only know you’ve been bitten by the effects. I was bitten once. I’m sure I wrote about it at the time. And since I woke with my face swollen, red, and tender, I assumed I’d pinched a spider between my face and the pillow. And according to the websites I checked, a mild reaction is most common.

“Stop scaring people!” I told my peep. “Death from a Brown Recluse hardly EVER happens. Don’t get me wrong, their bite is nasty, but they only bite when pinched.”

My comment stirred the pot.

Another peep jumped on. “My daughter has a huge scar on her back from a bite that sent us to the ER with a hospital stay for a few days. And my uncle almost lost a leg.”

“I know a lady who lost a hunk out of her calf. And I know the bites cause ulcers and pain but not death,” I told her.

Someone else jumped on in her defense, someone I don’t know. “Anyone bit by one of these will have serious problems. There is no such thing as a mild reaction.”

“Not true,” I replied. “I’m not going to argue with all y’all. All I’ll say is check a trusted website. Don’t rely on this one (Facebook) to get your information.”

This whole thing went back and forth several times and was getting ridiculous! I just really hate when bad information is out there and rather than research it, people just believe it. The person I didn’t know got the last word in, reiterating they’d seen it many times and there is no such thing as a mild reaction.

Whatever. I was done — stick a fork in me done!

Then the gal who originally posted it jumped back in. Her post was long but essentially, she said, “It’s not meant to scare people. People should be aware if they’ve never seen one. They’re very deadly and poisonous. If they come across one, they will know to stay away or seek emergency medical treatment if they’re bitten by one.”

I’d just gotten my hackles to lay back down but now they’re at full attention again! “They are not “very deadly!” And it’s the ones you DON’T see that bite because you pinched them between something and you. If you see them WALK AWAY! They won’t chase you just to bite you!”

To me this whole debate is superfluous. Unless you’re like me, you’re not likely to find a spider and start playing with it. Most people, most times, just step on them.

I’m not mad at my peep for re-posting this. She thought she was doing her friends and family a service. Who I was really mad at was the person who posted it in the first place.

“Peg! What did you do?”

I know! I know! I shouldn’t’ve done it. I went back to the original person who posted it and gave him a piece of my mind — but I did it privately. “You’re an ass and a fearmonger!” I told him and I told him why. This guy has twelve thousand followers and just told all of them that Brown Recluse spiders are killers.

I hate that!

Now. I’ll climb off my soapbox.

>>>*<<<

On a trip out, I saw a couple of hawks but only managed to make a picture of this one. Even then, I almost missed it!

Two pictures of the vista coming down into Wyalusing.

We were getting ready for bed one night and Raini went outside to do her stuff.

“Woof! Woof-woof-woof! WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF!” says Raini.

Our dogs set each other off. One barks, the other barks, too, even if they don’t know what they’re barking at. Bondi added her higher-pitched voice to Raini’s chorus of woofs as she ran out the pet door.

I hurry as Raini’s barks become more frantic.

“WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!” she says.

I’d almost reached the door when I thought maybe I’d better get a flashlight and had to turn back to get one.

“WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF,” says Raini.

“Barkbarkbarksnarlbarksnarl,” says Bondi all in a tizzy.

I could’ve guessed what was out there. And I’d’ve been right.

It was a little possum. And by little, I mean it wasn’t full-grown. He was just a little guy.

Bondi had to get in on the fracas. Every time Raini backed up a little, Bondi rushed in.

“RAINI!” I yelled. “GET IN YOUR KENNEL!” I had to repeat the command about three times before Raini reluctantly went to her kennel and I locked her in. Bondi, in the meantime, was keeping Little Possum Butt cornered.

Yes, that’s the pet door behind him.

Yes, I was afraid he’d come into the house. When I had Raini corralled, I put the cover on the inside of the door so he couldn’t come in. Then I went out and scooped up Bondi.

That stinker!

I set Bondi down in the house, turned to lock the door, and shut off the light. I knew the possum would leave when he felt safe. I let Raini out of her kennel and headed for the bedroom when I heard, “Barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark!” coming from outside.

That little stinker went lickety-split through the dining room, bedroom, into the closet, and out the cat door, ran around to the kitchen patio, and took up her station again.

I put the cover over that door and went out to get Bondi for the second time.

“What if the dogs have to pee in the middle of the night?” Mike asked.

“I guess I’ll have a puddle to clean up.”

Sometime in the middle of the night, one of the cats scratched at the cover of the cat door in the closet and Raini let me know.

Little Possum Butt was gone in the morning and hopefully, he’ll think twice about crossing the fence again. I’m actually a little surprised Raini didn’t try to kill it. Then again, maybe she did. I noticed a tuft of fur on his back that looked like she may have grabbed him there, but I didn’t see any blood, just spit on the concrete.

Speaking of Raini...

We had such a beautiful day that I took her for a walkabout. She got in the pond.

I know Miss Rosie’s seen Red-winged Blackbirds days before but this is the first one I’ve seen.

And I heard the Robins are back but I haven’t seen any of those. A Bluebird flew in front of our car as we were slowing to pull into the driveway, so I knew they were back.

“I heard a peeper!” beautiful Jody told me. “Just one. He’s a lonely guy.” And we laughed.

I put my fancy-schmancy cowboy boot birdhouse out. The birds won’t waste any time finding nesting sites and getting ready for a new batch of youngins and I wanted to have it waiting for them. I hope I get a tenant.

Raini was wet from being in the pond and it was so nice out that I wasn’t ready to go back in the house.

“Where’s your ball?” I ask as we near the gate.

“Arr-rar-ra,” Raini answers. That means, “I’ll get it Mom.”

Raini’s waiting at the gate for me to let her back in, then she dashes off and comes back with her ball.

Her orange one is lost again. She’s been playing with the one Miss Rosie got for her.

We played for a while.

Mike’s doctor orders a CT scan every year to make sure his cancer or the blood clots have not returned. He told us they’ll do that every year for five years, then if he’s clear he won’t have to do them as often.

There was a car stopped on the Rainbow Bridge. Mike slowed. The gal walked in front of us and picked up a critter from the side of the road. I don’t know if she hit it and came back for it, or if she saw it get hit, or just saw it there and thought it was still alive, but it looked pretty limp in her hands as she carried it back to her car.

“What was it?” you wanna know.

I’m not sure. I think it might’ve been a rabbit but it could’ve been a cat.

You see this!

“See what?” you query.

See this whole section of brand-spankin’ new guide rail? This is where people would park to walk up and photograph the eagles. I heard someone say that someone cut trees so they could see the nest better. I guess that was a no-no.

The rest of the trip I took pictures of houses. I know some of you like that kind of stuff.

The library.

The Jail Museum.

On a trip to Dushore, Mike took the back roads.

We took in an afternoon matinee with the Kipps. We went to the theater in Tunkhannock to see the movie Ordinary Angels.

“You better have tissues,” a lady in the lobby advised.

I didn’t have any tissues but I saw a box on the counter behind the lady who sold us our tickets.

“May I have a tissue please?” I asked. “I heard I’ll need it for Ordinary Angels.”

“Sure,” she said and turned to snag one from the top of the pop-up tissue box.

“It’s either that or I’ll have to use my sleeve,” I joked-not-joked. I’d totally use a sleeve if I had to.

“Oh, don’t do that,” she said.

“It’s either that or let it run down my face.”

She gave me a tissue — just one tissue— and I thanked her for it.

The movie was good. I heard a lot of hitching and sniffling throughout the whole theater and I was right there with them. It made me cry, too. I was glad for my single tissue.

Go see it, if you have the chance, or maybe you’ll get it on your streaming service.

“I found an alley that’s a shortcut to the parking lot,” Lamar told us. He usually drops us off near the front so Miss Rosie and her bad knee don’t have as far to walk. “There’s statues painted on the doors.”

“Cool!” I say. “I’m going with you when you go to get the car.” Mike stayed with Miss Rosie so he could escort her.

I took pictures of the doors, then turned to shoot the alleyway.

>>>*<<<

Mike went for a haircut. When he came back, he said, “Peg, grab your camera. I want to show you something.”

“What?” I wanted to know before I committed to going.

“A waterfall. I’ll drop you off and go turn around and pick you up.”

“Drop me off?”

“Yeah. And if a car comes, step over the guide rail, just don’t fall in the river.”

That told me a lot about where it was.

We took the girls with us. We’re trying to get Raini used to be in the car.

“Where’s it at?” Mike mused aloud.

“There it is!” I pointed. “I can see the water splashing on the rocks.”

There weren’t any cars behind us so Mike stopped and I got out. The trees make it difficult to get a good shot.

>>>*<<<

I asked you last time if you thought I should take some courses in basic watercolor or keep on doing what I’m doing. I only had one person answer that question and that was that beautiful, feisty, redheaded neighbor of mine. “Keep doing what you’re doing,” Miss Rosie said. “You’re doing fine. In fact, I’m a little jealous of your talent.”

I thanked her for that, but what Miss Rosie doesn’t realize is that she’s a talented artist, too. Our talents are just different, that’s all.

This week I did a practice painting from one of my photos. The flowers were supposed to be white but white in watercolors isn’t like white in acrylic paints. They have white but it doesn’t work well and most watercolor artists don’t fool with it. White, in watercolor, is the absence of paint so the white paper shows through. My paper is yellow with age so I painted my flowers blue.

I discovered that they make something called masking fluid for watercolors. It’s a rubber or latex fluid you lay on your paper and let dry, then you paint over it. When the paint is dry, you peel off the masking fluid.

Now, I could afford a bottle of masking fluid if I wanted one. The problem with masking fluid is it ruins your brushes.

I wonder if there’s a homemade kind, I thought and Googled it.

I found a gal that used stick deodorant for masking fluid. She shaves a little off, melts it over a candle, and brushes it on. She did a bunch of samples on the YouTube video I was watching and it seemed to work well.

“Get a new one,” she advised. “Don’t use one that you’ve been using.”

Well, I don’t have a new one. I used the one I’ve been using. It was practice and I couldn’t fathom what difference it would make anyway. I guess I’d find out. I made a bunch of dots and swirls, let it dry, painted swatches, then scraped the deodorant off with a knife. It really worked pretty well. I used the practice page to practice a couple of flowers. I can’t see that the used deodorant made any difference but I did notice that I scraped a little too energetically and rubbed up some of the paper.

Now, you know me. I can’t let well enough alone.

If deodorant works, would wax work?

I melted some candle wax and tried that. You can’t see it very well in my book because I used light colors, but here it is on a scrap of paper I do masterpieces on. Just kidding. There’s no masterpieces going on around here. Wax on the left, deodorant on the right. There’s a trick to applying it. You have to lay it on and not brush it in. Anyway, it was a fun playtime and it didn’t ruin my brushes.

Something else I did was make time to watch a tutorial on watercolor landscapes. It was two hours long! Between all the running we did and the video, that’s probably why I didn’t get much else done. However, it was informative.

“Don’t outline everything,” he said. “Have some lost edges.”

Uh-oh. I glanced over to where my practice book lay open to the orange flowers. Yeah. I outlined ‘em. But that’s because my edges were lost!

A little later I’m cleaning up some of my emails. I get a lot from Pinterest. They’re always sending me things they think I’ll like and I do like looking at them. I found this one.

“Don’t outline,” he says. I realized not outlining, having lost edges, is just his style and there are lots of styles.

My baby finches are doing well. Mom and Dad are still feeding them but pretty soon I’ll need to separate the boys and the girls. I don’t need, nor do I want, fifty million birds to take care of. The only way I’d have more is if all the babies are the same sex. It’s better not to have one bird in a cage by himself because they’re social birds.

They will soon be feeding themselves and getting their adult colors. That’s when I’ll be able to sex them.

“Peg’s new birdcage is coming FedEx today,” Mike told Miss Rosie on our morning love call. “And she has another surprise coming in the mail today that she doesn’t know about.”

“Another tool so you can have her old one?” Miss Rosie asked what I was thinking.

“I like tools,” I said.

“No. Something else,” Mike said.

The birdcage came and we put it together. True to our name, the Do-it-again Lubys, we had to take some parts off and put them back on the right way.

When the mail came, Mike presented me with a new watercolor set.

It’s got a hundred paints, brushes, pencils, a sharpener, an eraser, sponges, and a tablet of watercolor paper.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it! And I can’t wait to play with it!”

I’m pretty sure I told you this before, but let me tell you again. Mike isn’t one to buy gifts he picks out on his own. He really wants the giftee to have what they want, not what he thinks they want, just in case he’s wrong.

Mike gave me another gift shortly after he gave me the paints.

“You’re a good artist,” he said.

Mike seldom compliments and I was blown away.

>>>*<<<

I love oyster crackers. I’m perfectly happy to eat them plain but recently I got hooked on Ranch flavored oyster crackers. They’re easy to make and I’ve been making them. Then I found a recipe for Salted Toffee Caramel flavored oyster crackers. They were okay. Other people I’ve shared them with like them better than I do so I think I’ll only make those to take for get-togethers. Now I found one for Everything Bagel oyster crackers! I love Everything Bagel seasoning so I thought they’d be good. I bought the Walmart brand and I really liked that the jar had a slip sleeve on rather than stickers.

I made the crackers and all the seasoning fell off.

I’m not sure what I did wrong. I didn’t exactly follow the recipe but I don’t think the changes I made should’ve affected it. I didn’t use all butter, I used part canola oil and I baked it at a lower temperature for a little longer.

“They’re really good in soup,” Miss Rosie said. We always share food with each other.

She sent that handsome Lamar and even more handsome Tux up with a piece of strawberry pie for me. Miss Rosie makes the best strawberry pie! I think I got the better end of that deal!