Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: June 2026

Things are broken around here. Maybe not broken broken but not working the way they should.

Do you remember the expensive five-tier artist cart Mike bought for me? About a month ago I got the cart. The box was damaged, the cart was lightly damaged, and they sent me two tops and no bottom.

I contacted the company and they issued an order for the correct bottom piece and would compensate me twenty dollars for the damage. “From the photos, it looks like the issue should not affect the normal use,” they said.

The screw that was torn from the bracket during shipping was in the bottom of the box. Before I agreed to anything I put the screw back in and made sure it would tighten. It did. I wasn’t happy with the dent in the wood but for twenty bucks, I could live with it. I agreed to the terms.

After waiting eleven days, I finally got the new bottom only to discover it was milled wrong. The sides simply would not seat flush to the bottom.

I contacted the company again and sent photos.

They apologized and suggested that, “...slight deformation can happen during transportation or because of temperature changes,” and, “Would you mind trying once more by applying a bit more force while gently wiggling the part left and right as you insert it? In many cases this helps pieces fit properly.”

Like I didn’t already try everything I could to make it fit, right? I even got Mike to try. But —just in case— I tried again. “Despite all the wiggling and gentle pounding on it, it just won’t seat,” I told them.

Phoenix Art Supply apologized again and acknowledged how frustrating it must be for me. “Would it be possible to find a local carpenter or woodworker to repair the affected part?” they asked. “We would be happy to cover the repair cost.”

You know, this upset me. Mike paid a lot of money for this cart, I accepted their first offer for the damage without quibbling, was very patient and waited for the replacement part, which turned out to also be wrong, and now they wanted me fix their mistake?

“I’ll tell you what,” I told them. “You take the cart back and give me my money back.”

The next day they issued me a refund, minus the twenty-dollar settlement.

They never sent a shipping label for me to return the cart so I assume they don’t want it back. In a way, that’s good. I would’ve used two rolls of boxing tape to put their shipping box back together, but I totally would’ve done it.

“Let’s wait a couple of days and see if it was an oversight,” Mike said.

We waited a couple of days, then Mike went to work. He used the Dremel and a half hour of his time to make all four of the slots bigger.

We put the cart together and I can use it.

So can Tiger.

I’d no sooner pushed it to my side of the table than he decided it was a good place for a nap.

“He needs a towel,” this soft-hearted man I’m married to said.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s perfectly happy to lay on my desk without one.”

Mike went and got a towel for Tiger.

“How’s Tiger doing?” you wanna know.

And that’s something else that’s broken around here. He’s not broken broken and he is on the mend. I’m giving him pain meds twice a day and he seems to be adjusting to life with three legs. He goes where he wants, as evidenced by this photo. We came home from a shopping trip to find him laying in the sun in front of the lower barn door.

The two pet exits from the house both dump into the dog run. The only way Tiger or any of the cats can get out is to go over the fence, either by climbing the chain link or using the ‘bridge.’ Two logs, one on each side, teepee-style over the fence. I’d just as soon he wasn’t climbing with his ruptured ACL and torn meniscus but short of kenneling him I don’t have a say in the matter.

It’s not the first time I’ve caught him on the other side of the fence, either. He likes to check the perimeter and mark the spots that need to be re-marked then plop down and soak up the warm summer sun.

I finished Bentley this week. I was at my desk/painting station adding details and finishing touches and thoroughly enjoying myself and wondered, Why did I put this off for so long?

I did, you know. I found a myriad of other things to do rather than finish Bentley.

One of those “other things” was out in the yard. It was a beautiful day, too beautiful to sit inside and paint anyway, I justified.

I had some flowers I’ve sorely neglected. I bought them weeks ago and never got around to putting them into pots. I decided this was the day to take care of them. But first, I made a cup of coffee, took it and a bottle of water out to the patio, sat down, and called my beautiful little sister.

“The neighbor stopped by and told me she nominated me for the prettiest yard,” Phyllis told me.

“I’m not a bit surprised,” I told her. “You’re always out there doing something.”

“I was surprised. It doesn’t look all that great to me.”

Isn’t that always the way? We are our own worst critics.

“Then I started looking at all the other yards in the neighborhood and they were plain-Jane,” Phyllis said.

I hope whatever the prize is that she wins it.

After we chattered away for a while and my coffee was gone, I got up and repotted those flowers. They looked really sad. I guess I should’ve watered them once in a while. “They’ll live or they won’t,” I told my morning peeps the next day.

Still putting off Bentley, I played with the dogs. I was tossing Raini’s ball up onto the roof for her when I heard some birds making a heck of a racket.

Must be a cat, I thought. Maybe too close to a fledgling. I think robins typically fledge this time of year. I went over and leaned across the fence. Who do you think was laying there?

Tiger.

On my side of the fence sat my poor, neglected rose bush. But Phyllis inspired me. So I grabbed my scissors and cut away the tall grasses crowding the roses. They were too big and too tough to pull and I didn’t want to disturb the roots of the rose bush anyway.

And if those other things didn’t take me long enough I’d say, “It’s too late in the day to start it now.”

Why did I put it off for so long?! I wondered.

It may surprise you to know that an answer to that simply rhetorical question popped into my head.

“What’s that, Peg?” I know you’re curious to know.

When I left the piece, it was because I was at a point where I didn’t know what to do next so I wasn’t anxious to get back to it.

Then the day came when I decided I needed to finish it one way or the other. It’ll turn out good or it’ll be a mess and I’ll throw it away, I thought.

I have commissions stacking up behind it. Luckily none of them are time-sensitive because I don’t work very fast.

Once my mind was made up, I picked up the brush, figured out one thing to do, then another and another and this is what I painted.

The first one is what it looks like scanned into my computer and closer to what it really looks like.

The second one shows Bentley next to my painting, under my desk light, just so you can see how he looks. How did I do?

“I don’t like it.” Mike is ever honest with me and I appreciate that.

I tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that he didn’t like but he didn’t really know.

That brings to mind something my cousin once told me. “I can’t tell you what I like but I know what I don't like when I see it.”

In the end I shrugged it off. You’re going to find as many people who don’t like something as you’ll find people who do.

“Your brother likes it,” I told Mike later. His brother is the one who commissioned me to paint it. I shoved my phone in front of his face. “This is the picture I sent him.”

Mike looked. “What did you do to it?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see it.”

I went out to my desk, picked up Bentley, and took it in to where Mike was sitting at his desk. He compared the picture I sent Cork with the painting itself. “That’s pretty close,” he said. And now he likes it. The only thing I can figure is the light over my desk must make it look different.

Anyway, Bentley’s done. Except I’ll wax him before I send him off.

I’ll be excited to start my next commission. It’ll be something like I’ve never done before.

“What is it?” you wanna know.

I’m not going to tell you. You’ll just have to wait and see.

But speaking of painting...

I did a couple more in my practice book, even though I said I was tired of practicing. I don’t even mind the dirty book pages. Gives it character, don’cha think?

Something else that’s broken is me! I’m not broken broken but I’ve found something my body absolutely does not like and revolted to.

“What’s that?” you ask.

Sugar-free drink enhancers. Actually, it’s the sugar-free sugar itself that makes me sick.

Mike’s been drinking the Great Value brand of clear Strawberry Watermelon for months, every since his PA told him to drink more water.

“You should try it,” he said.

I did and I found it too sweet. “I don’t have any problem drinking water,” I told him.

But obviously I do. I like water, it’s what I grew up on, but I definitely prefer to drink my coffee instead. I’ll make a concerted effort to drink three of my water bottles a day. That’s sixty-six ounces of plain, non-caffeinated water. For a while I’ll achieve that goal but eventually I slip back into just coffee.

Last week I decided to try his drink enhancer again. I kept sipping at it until I started to like it. That’s how I got used to drinking diet Coke — and smoking. Remember smoking? That bad habit that was socially acceptable in the 50s and 60s — when people kept fancy cigarette boxes on the coffee table and offered you one the minute you walked in the door. You’d cough and hack and really hated it when you first picked it up but eventually you came around to not only liking it but wanting it.

It was that way with this drink enhancer. By the second or third day I was drinking all three bottles, sixty-six ounces, before the middle of the afternoon — and wanted more! It was making me feel full. Oh, wait a minute. I guess what I was really feeling was bloated. I didn’t especially care. Feeling full helped me to not eat as much.

Then I thought, if three bottles is good, four bottles would be even better. Right?

By Sunday, only three, maybe four days later, we were in church when I started to suffer some terrible dizzy spells. I took my glasses off and fanned myself. It seemed to help but they continued on and off all day long. By the afternoon I was feeling sick to my stomach as well.

The next day I woke up feeling fine. I attended to my morning routine, which now included drinking a bottle of strawberry-watermelon flavored water while my coffee cooled. I’d only consumed about half the bottle when I was hit with a dizzy spell.

Can it be the drink enhancer? I wondered.

I did a search and as it turns out it can absolutely have that effect on some people. Not Mike. He’s been drinking it for months. Some days he only drinks two bottles, some days he drinks four, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

What can I drink instead? I wondered. A quick search suggested half a tablespoon lemon with two teaspoons of real sugar in twenty-two ounces of water. That’s barely flavored and barely sweet, but I did it for a day. I didn’t want to drink it but I made myself. Then I decided it was more trouble than it was worth and went back to plain water.

Guess what happened?

“You stopped drinking it again?” you answer.

Yep. You guys know me so well.

Just today I decided to try a tablespoon lemon or lime juice and a tablespoon of sugar. We’re getting closer to something I could learn to like. I’ll just keep sipping away it and if it gets me to drink more water, I’ll put up with the hassle of mixing it.

Funny how that works. Something I’d do in a heartbeat for someone else, I won’t do for myself. People are weird.

Let’s end with random photos from the week.

Our newly repaired bridge.

The yellow coloring of this tree stuck out like a sore thumb.

Then I noticed at least two more trees with the same golden hue.

“What are they?” I know you wanna know.

I think they’re Honey Locust trees, but maybe you knew that.

I thought the eagle’s nest was empty when we drove past. On the way home I saw a chick standing on the rim of the nest, but I didn’t get a picture. On the computer I think I see him just behind the front branch. See him peeking out? It appears there’s only one chick.