Slim Pickin's

           It’s another week of slim pickin’s around here so this one may not be too long.    

          I spent the week working on a two-sided sign for Miss Rosie. I found the cutest chicken for Valentine’s Day and Miss Rosie loves chickens. I actually laid out three buckaroos to buy the image when I could’ve just as easily copied it for free.

          “Why would you do that?” you ask.

          Whoever drew the picture did so with the intent to sell it, and if I make money on it, it’s only fair they get their share.

          I had so much fun painting this.

          It has a lot of pink in it and Miss Rosie isn’t crazy about pink but it’s Valentine’s so what are ya gonna do!

          I changed the pink glasses to green because green is Miss Rosie’s favorite color, and I made some of the flowers purple.

          I was going to put something on the other side for St. Patrick’s Day. I found the cutest little mouse, but Miss Rosie thought something for spring would be more useful.

          I couldn’t find anything I liked so I decided to design my own SPRING board. I’ve got tons of clipart and spent hours going through it until I found something I liked. Then I spent more hours trying to lay it out on my computer. I wanted to overlap flowers but found out I don’t really have the software to do that. What I ended up doing was printing everything out individually and laying them on the board. Sometimes I had to go back and resize them. And I couldn’t see how to overlap without getting a confusion of lines from my transfers. I thought I’d start here and go back and add more if I needed to.

          It’s nice to have help.

          Tiger helped.

          And all my peeps helped, too.

          I posted a picture online and asked for opinions. Almost everyone thought it needed something in the upper right corner and maybe a crocus in the lower right corner.

          “I don’t know, Miss Rosie,” I told her on our morning love call. “My peeps aren’t crazy about your SPRING board. Maybe you won’t like it either.”

          “Do you like it?” she asked.

          “Sure.”

          “Well, don’t pay any attention to them, then,” she advised. “You and I are the only ones who count.”

          Then I had to fess up. “There were some positive comments, too. ‘It’s perfect the way it is,’ was one, and, ‘I’d be proud to hang it on my porch,’ was another. But you know how it goes, we tend to focus on the negative.”

          After I hung up, I picked up my coffee, sat back in my desk chair, and contemplated the sign. They all were right. My little grasshopper looked a little lonely up there.

          I went searching for a butterfly and found one. Actually, I found more than one but settled on this blue one. I transferred it to the board and hated it.

          I erased it and went for this Monarch butterfly instead.

          The crocus were easy.

          I got my spray can of protectant out and was looking at the sign while I was shaking it.

          It needs another butterfly, I thought. I put the can down, got the sign back up on the table and but the blue butterfly on again, just in a different spot this time.

          Spraying the semi-gloss clear coat on top brings out all the colors and makes it shine. I was very happy with the additions to the board. It was just what it needed and I thanked my peeps for their help, “...but if she hates it, I’m blamin’ all y’all!” I told them.

          “How did she like it?” you wanna know.

          I think she likes it. Both sides. “But if you don’t, I can sell it and make you a different one,” I told her.

          “You’re not selling my sign!” she said.

          I’ve picked up another commission. One of my peeps wants the chicken, minus the XOXO, flowers yellow, and the sign to say WELCOME.

          And I’ve got another one lined up after that one, but it’s one I’ve been given the elements for and I have to design.

          Sigh. We already know I’m not good at designing.

          “Practice makes perfect,” my beautiful West Virginia gal points out.           

          While we’re talking about painting, I belong to a rock painting club. I’m not interested in painting rocks, per se, but I love to see the talent some of these artists have. They make these cute and beautiful works of art then hide them for people to find.

          On the back of the rock is a note asking them to go to the website and post the rock they found.

It was interesting to follow the conversation that came up one day when one of the members posted a picture of the box of rocks they’d just gotten in the mail.

          “I’m so STINKIN EXCITED!!!!” she posted.

          Some people asked about the cost and she said it was about $30 with free shipping from Amazon.

          Other people wondered why you’d buy rocks when you could go pick them up for free.

          “It’s illegal to take rocks from the creeks and lakes here in the UK,” was a response.

          Someone else said all the rocks were buried under three feet of snow.

          Another person said she buys all her rocks because she can’t get this kind of rock where she lives.

          And let me show you one more picture that came up in my Facebook feed.

          “Comfort food made easy with a few new kitchen comforts,” it says. I guess their idea of a kitchen is like my kitchen with half of it turned craft area, but seriously, food? None of the items displayed had anything to do with food. 

          We did make a foray into the wild not-so-blue yonder this week. It was snowing when we pulled out of the garage.     

We drove out of the snow as we came down the mountain but it was still overcast.

          Flags blowing on the bridge in Towanda and view from the bridge.

          A pole painted like a giant pencil.

          “I think that was a skull sitting on that post,” I told Mike as we drove in to Wysox. “Remind me to get a picture when we’re heading back out.”

          I got the picture and when I look at it on the computer it looks like a baby doll’s head. 

          I saw a hawk perched on a branch and got my camera up in time for that one. Birds against the sky seldom come out good for me but it doesn’t stop me from trying — and sharing them with you.

          I saw a second one just before we crossed the Rainbow bridge to head back up our mountain.

          I knew when I took it I was going to have a tough time spotting him, but I can’t find a hint of him anywhere! I’m thinking he’s behind a tree. 

          Halfway up, the trees were dusted with snow.  

          Like I said, slim pickin’s this week.

          Remember, y’all are in my heart.

          Let’s call this one done!

I Don't Mind

          I don’t mind when there’s a quiet week in the Luby household.

          I don’t mind at all.

          Until Saturday rolls around and I don’t have anything to talk about, that is!

          “That’s hard to believe!” you say.

          I know, right! Even with nothing to say I can still fill up three or four pages at least!

          “Your love note is a good start to a blog. Some week you ought to just collect 7 days of love notes to us and blog it for the week.” That was a suggestion, a very good suggestion, by my beautiful friend Jody.

          I love my morning Love Club! Eight siblings, one cousin, one niece, one son, two nephews, an ex-daughter-in-law (whom I’ve always loved), and nine friends are the current members. I like hearing from them every morning. Not all of them write back every morning and that’s okay, but there is a select group that do write every day. The rest touch bases with me from time to time when they have something to say.

          My morning love notes consist of whatever’s on my mind and sometimes I do use them when I write my letter blog as a way to remember what happened during the week. But not everything that’s in my morning love notes makes it into my letter blog. Most of it’s useless jibber-jabber like, “I had a hard time sleeping last night,” or “I had a hard time rolling out of my nice warm nest this morning.” Sometimes I talk about what I’m cooking for the day or what craft I’m working on or what errand we have to run.

          I got the sweetest note from my beautiful cousin Lorraine. She was the only one who had anything to say about this subject.

“WOW!!!! 25 years of letter writing!! That's incredible!! What a meaningful, rich legacy you’ve created! With words and photos, you've allowed us to peek through the window of your daily life! I love and appreciate you!”

Sometimes, when our words and lives intersect, I weave you into the tapestry of my life’s story, like I did just now with Lorraine’s comment.

I’m happy and proud to leave this legacy for my offspring or anyone who wants to know what the life of a mid-to-old age, middle-class American woman looked like. That is providing my words survive long after I’m gone. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. I would’ve loved to have had something like this from my grandmother or great-grandmother.

“They were too busy living to write a diary,” is what Momma said to me.

My morning peeps are also writing their stories when they respond to my love note. The sad part is often I’m the only one who gets to read it.

The exception to that is the note to my siblings and cousin Lorraine. We are all on one email note so we all get to see what the others say.

My handsome brother David. When he talks about all the food he’s gonna cook that day, my mind sees a refrigerator packed to spilling out with leftovers. At least it would be if I cooked that amount of food! But he’s such a great cook and he never fails to leave my mouth watering after I’ve read one of his notes.

This morning David talked about bleach getting old and not working anymore. I was today-years-old when I learned that bleach can get old and not work.

My beautiful sister Phyllis is in the middle of a home repair and remodel and shares pictures with us. She’s another talented cook in our family but she’s also a fabulous handyman — handylady? — handyperson? — too! One thing she’s done that I wish I’d’ve shared with you was when her dog chewed the corners of her table and benches and Phyllis fixed them good as new! She’s one smart and ingenious lady.

Beautiful, beautiful Lorraine. She and her handsome husband moved to Boquete, Panama last year and she shares pictures and stories of her life there.

I always enjoy and look forward to them. Right now, we’re embroiled in a story about a cat. Lorraine’s neighbor Gabi moved two miles away and her cat Bandito keeps coming back to the old house.

My oldest, much-adored and dearly loved sister Patti loves to rub it in when her Arizona temperatures are nice and warm and it’s cold and snowy here in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

Sometimes our love for each other gets a little competitive.

“I love you more than Peggy does,” David said one morning and since my heart is full to overflowing with love for them, that means he loves us an awful lot.

Patti remarked that as families go, we have a pretty good one. We all get along and no one is estranged. She recently saw and shared a poem with us that says it all. I Love My Family So Much is the title.

 

To be a part of a family like mine

is so divine

where love is shown

hurt is shared

our love for each other is never impaired

 

we talk

we laugh

we cry

 

but we are a family

and we do it all together

for as a family

we do it all as one

 

you hurt one

you hurt all

and as a family unit

we will all stand tall

 

for we are family

a family full of strength

a family full of love

a family no one can touch

that’s why I love my family so much.

 

          In conclusion, I love my family and my friends and I’m not afraid to tell them — every morning! I also love knowing how all y’all are moving through this world. And I know that without this connection, my life would be a whole lot lonelier.

>>>*<<<

          A morning sunrise. (Like a sunrise can happen any other time of the day, right?)

          A little later that same morning I took Raini out for a walkabout. The first one since she took off on me.

          Are these mouse tunnels in the snow?  

          Raini would run a little way off and come right back to me. We got to the pond and she stood at the edge.

          I don’t know how thick the ice is and I bet Raini doesn’t either, but she decided to walk on the wild side! Isn’t that what it’s called when you do something dangerous?

          She didn’t fall in and when I turned to go back to the house, she followed. 

          I saw Raini dig through the toybox on the kitchen patio, pick out her frisbee and try to bring it in. It wouldn’t fit through the dog door. She tried and came in without it.

          I opened the door for her. “Go get your frisbee,” I told her.

          She trotted out, picked it up, and brought it in. She spent the rest of the day tossing it around and chasing it. When it landed on her dinosaur, she had fun pulling the dinosaur through the center of the frisbee.

          I laughed. “You silly girl!”

          Raini stopped and looked at me. 

          A couple of days later, Mike asked if I wanted to walk down to the pond with him. I was in dish soap bubbles up to my elbows. “No. Take Raini.”

          He called Raini and she went running. This is the first time Mike’s ever taken Raini out off leash. I had to watch. I dropped the bowl I was washing back into the dishwater, dried my hands, grabbed my camera and went to the window.

          Raini behaved the same with Mike as she does with me. She ranges a little ahead but comes right back. I saw her stop and eat something from the ground. It was either deer or rabbit poo and I don’t think it’ll hurt her. Regardless, my yard is full of it and short of keeping her in her run, I’m not likely gonna be able to stop her.

          At the pond, Mike pulled out his phone and took a picture. By then Raini had caught up to him and she went out on the ice.

          “I was afraid she’d fall in and get trapped under the ice,” Mike told me later.

          If she falls in while I’m with her and can’t get out, I’m going in after her! 

          When Mike headed back to the house, Raini came with him and came in with no problem at all. 

          One thing that worries me is what’ll happen if she hears a vehicle on the road. She does race cars when she’s in the run. If she decided to race one when she’s off leash, she might not stop till she gets to Dushore! And I worry she’ll get hit. So far, I’ve been lucky in that when I had her out, no cars passed.

          These dogs do need a job and if you don’t give them one, they’ll find one on their own. So far, Raini has several jobs. The one that never fails to tickle me is Guard of the Night-time Light Switches. Every single night Raini stops and watches that I turn off the light over my desk. You can see her head swivel as she goes from my face to my hand to the place on the wall where the switch is. Once that light is out, she races ahead to the living room, her stance proud with her tail stiff and curled over her back, ears up and attentive, she watches as I reach to outten the living room light. Raini races into the bedroom and up onto the bed where she waits for me to deposit my iPad and phone on the headboard. And I am thankful that I’ve broken her of the habit of jumping at me and nipping my hand as I turn out lights for the night.

          I told you that every time Mike comes to the kitchen, Raini races out the door and waits for him. I’ve figured out that Mike’s been using the kitchen door to go out and get the mail and she waits at the fence for him to come back. Why she doesn’t understand that he only goes out once a day to get the mail but comes out into the kitchen several times during the day is beyond me.

          But my handsome mountain man has a gentle heart and he humors her. He’ll go to the door and step out onto the patio and spend a few minutes with her.

          Raini’s job boils down to running outside whenever she thinks anyone is going out. She’s figured out when I’ll be going out to the patio. That’s just how smart she is. She knows when I get in the freezer, I’m getting bird suet and she races out the dog door to wait for me. Unfortunately, I get in the freezer for other things, too, but she’s not taking any chances and always goes out.

Another time she knows I’ll be going out is when she hears me crack an egg. She’s so funny. The scrap bin is outside the kitchen door and I will be throwing shells out, but sometimes I’ll set the shells aside and toss them later. Raini waits a few minutes before she gives up and comes in but she watches. She knows those shells are going out. Even if I’m just heading to get a utensil out of the drawer, or a bowl off the shelf, if it’s the direction of the door, she’s gone. I’ll get my spoon or my bowl and glance around the corner and see those beautiful eyes looking in at me.

          I don’t know which of the dogs is dominant and which is submissive because I’ve seen both of them in both roles. Sometimes Raini stands overtop of Bondi and makes her submit and other times she submits, like in these pictures I took yesterday.

          I’ve seen Bondi submit but I’ve also seen her stand her ground when it’s something she really wants, like a bone.

          We don’t have as many spats as we used to have. They tend to just leave each other alone until the bone is abandoned then they go in and take it. 

          This week, I finished a commissioned snowman board. I really think my trees suck but don’t know any other way to make them.

          “Put ornaments on them,” my handsome son suggested.

          That is such a great idea and would go a long way to improving the looks of the tree, or at least give you something else to focus on, but that would make it too Christmassy and thus narrow the time frame you could use it. This way you could have it out all winter. 

          I have to tell you one more story.

          I’m reading another Bosch novel.

          Bosch went to the house to give a death notification. The wife made coffee and Bosch took a sip before speaking. The next page she hands him his coffee. I had to laugh.

I really didn’t expect to find any mistakes in a professional novel such as this one.

 Let’s call this one done!

         

Happy 2023!

 

          Happy New Year!

I started writing a weekly letter in 1998, twenty-five years ago.

Twenty-five! Two five! That’s a long time and I can’t believe all y’all aren’t tired of me yet!

In 2022, last year, I wrote you sixty times. With fifty-two weeks in a year, I blessed you with an extra eight letter blogs. I only missed one week and that was near Christmastime in order to bake.

Have I ever had a perfect year?

I don’t know.

My blog site only lists fifty-nine entries for 2022 and that’s because I took down the story of my cousin’s death. It upset one of his grandsons.

Six hundred sixty-one pages. My average letter blog length was eleven pages.

The average views, or how many times it was opened on the internet was forty times per week. Although, I have to tell you, one of my blogs alone received 256 views. I didn’t count that one in my total since it was an anomaly and it was on the post I removed.

So there you have it!

Would you be surprised to know that I’ve read over thirty books this year?

Would it surprise you to know that I started 2022 reading Where The Crawdads Sing, borrowed and read it again in mid-March, saw the movie, and I’m closing the year out by reading it for a third time?

Although I know how it ends, I’m still enjoying it. And I do prefer the book over the movie; it’s much richer.

Another book that I read and liked last year was A Man Called Ove. That book has been made in to a movie called A Man Called Otto. Tom Hanks bought the rights, stars in it, and it’s coming to my area in mid-January.

“Why did they change the name?” you wanna know.

I know, right! I wanted to know, too. So I Googled it. Ove is Swedish and they changed it to Otto to reflect its American setting.

>>>*<<<

Our week started with an icy, a very icy, driveway. A sheet of ice as a matter of fact. Mike was worried we’d slide into one of his stone pillars or maybe slide right out into the middle of the road but he took it slow and careful, keeping one tire in the snow, and we made it out for church (and back in) with no mishaps.

These guys keep their hunting gear on the front porch. All I could think was, “I’d hate to have to shimmy into those cold things.”

Our pretty little creek on Sunday.

We didn’t need to go out again until Tuesday. Then the creek looked like this! 

I had my last eye appointment on Tuesday, so it was an early morning trip to Wilkes-Barre.

“Do you wanna stop and get breakfast at McDonald’s?” Mike asked me or maybe it was me that asked Mike. After being together for twenty-eight years we’re kinda the same person anymore.

I’m always up for breakfast out. “Sure!”

Our pretty Susquehanna.

All the lights on the bull haulers' trucks.

“Even when I was driving truck, the bull haulers always put extra lights on their trailers,” Mike said. “Some other guys did it too but I never wanted extra lights on mine. I thought it just called the cops' attention to you.”

If you knew how fast Mike drove in his day, you’d wonder how he managed to not kill himself.

Speaking of trucks, we spent a few minutes discussing what the name of the company on this one was.

“Is that Bettzway?” Mike asked.

I took a picture and zoomed in. “I think that symbol’s supposed to be an A like better way — Bettaway.”

I was surprised when we pulled into the McDonald’s drive thru. “They put bars across the window!” I exclaimed.

“That’s to keep people from climbing in,” Mike said.

Stopped at a light in Tunkhannock, I look out my window and see how pretty they painted the door frame.

I took a picture for you. 

Then I see it on the computer and realize there’s a whole lotta stuff to look at besides the door frame.

Saw this in lots of places along the road.

Turkeys scratching through the cow poo the farmer spread on his field. I’m sure they found a banquet of undigested seeds. Probably not a lot in the way of bugs though.

Crossing the Susquehanna into Wilkes-Barre and we are almost to my doctor’s office.

“What did you have done?” you ask.

I had the YAG procedure done on my other eye. I talked about that a couple of weeks ago.

For the rest of that day everything was blurry in that eye and my eye bothered me a little. Judging from past experience I knew it would be better the next morning.

After my appointment we went to Sam’s Club for a little shopping and a lunch of hotdog and a shared slice of pizza.

It’s twenty-three degrees out and this guy is dressed for summer! I was cold just looking at him!

Mike doesn’t wear a jacket either but he wears a heavy long-sleeve shirt over his everyday button-down and he keeps a jacket in the back of the car in case he does need it.

I knew another guy who hardly ever wore a winter coat. Bob Johnson. He was a guy I worked with a hundred years ago. Granted, he didn’t dress in shorts and short-sleeves in the winter either.

“Why don’t you wear a coat?” I asked him once.

“I can get from the house to the car and from the car into here without one,” was what he said.

And I confess, I go out without my coat, too. But not when I'm shopping! To go out and fill the bird feeders, I don’t put a coat on. To dump the cat litter into the weeds, I don’t need a coat for that either. No matter how cold it is!

This empty and dying house sticking out over the water is one I’ve shown you before.

I’m not sure what Mike was thinking about, maybe that guy with no coat on, but he asked, “Wouldn’t it be terrible if we got stranded out in this cold?”

Without missing a beat, and knowing Mike’s jacket was in the backseat, I said, “I’ve got two jackets. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

I shocked myself and had to laugh. Quick-witted I am not — normally. “That sounds like something you’d say!” I said. I guess we’ve been together a long time.

We’d gone ten-fifteen minutes up the road towards home, to a town called Dallas when Mike says, “Uh-oh.”

“What?” I asked.

He held his hand out to me and wagged his fingers. I wasn’t catching on.

“What!”

“I lost my wedding ring.”

This time when I looked at his hand, I could see the indentation where his ring had been.

We’d only been to two places. The eye doctor and Sam’s Club. “Where do you think you lost it?”

“I think when I washed my hands at Sam’s Club. They have those hands-in hand dryers and with the noise, I didn’t hear it slip off.”

I didn’t have much hope that we’d ever see it again but nonetheless, I called Sam’s Club. “My husband thinks he lost his wedding ring in the restroom. Did anyone turn a ring in?”

“Someone did turn a ring in,” the gal said and for the second time in not so many minutes, I was shocked. “It’s silver with a braid in the middle.”

“That would be it,” I told her. “We’ll be right back to pick it up. Thank you!”

So we went back.

At the service desk, Mike asked if they had his ring. The gal got on her talkie and found out where his ring was.

“It’s down at the checkouts,” she said.

Not knowing who he was looking for, he wandered that way. The gal was expecting someone and Mike looked lost, so she started waving at him. He went over. “Do you have my ring?” he asked.

“What’s it look like?” she asked.

Mike described it to her and even showed the empty indent on his ring finger.

She handed it over. “Does this get you out of trouble with your wife?” she asked.

“Yep,” Mike said.

I honestly didn’t think he’d ever see his ring again. “Don’t you wish you could thank the guy that turned it in?” I said.

And speaking of my handsome mountain man, I love this shot of him. It reminds me of the Praying Man print Momma had hanging in the kitchen when I was growing up. I don’t necessarily think it looks like that, it just reminds me of it.

“Is he praying?” you ask.

Nope. He’s clipping his fingernails over the trashcan while Tiger looks on.

>>>*<<<

I made ham and bean soup this week. I don’t remember my mom ever making ham and bean soup but she sure did make a good hearty beef stew!

Soup is just the thing for these cold winter days and ham and bean calls for a few carrots and a half-stalk of celery. So I had to buy both.

“Peg, don’t you eat carrots and celery?” you wanna know.

We do eat carrots, but the baby carrots. And celery? Not my favorite. Smear it with cream cheese or peanut butter and it’s edible.

It’s just downright silly to buy a whole bunch of celery when all you need is half a stalk.

“Do you know what I’m going to do with the rest of the celery?” I asked Mike.

“Wait until it wilts and throw it away?” He was half right.

“NO! I usually wait until it’s rotten before I throw it away! But I’m going to freeze it this time. The carrots, too! Then, when we make soup again, we won’t have to buy ‘em.”

I took all the leftover celery, cleaned it, cut the long stalks in half, and was working on the carrots while the water for blanching came to a boil.

I should make a carrot cake, I thought. I don’t think I’ve made a carrot cake since our youngest and very handsome son got married in ’09!

This is Kevin with his beautiful wife Kandyce, taken on this New Year’s Eve. Aren’t they a handsome couple‽

I took two of the carrots, grated them, and had more than the recipe called for. Too bad, I thought. It’s all going in anyway. Who needs grated carrot hanging around?

I blanched the celery and carrot halves for three minutes, dumped them in ice water, laid them out on a cookie sheet, and froze ‘em. The next day I put them in a freezer bag. Next time I need a half a celery stalk, all I have to do is pull it out of the freezer.

It seems like, for as long in the tooth as I am, that I would’ve come up with this sooner.

This recipe is an orange carrot cake. It has mandarin oranges in it. It also calls for orange peel which I never have and always leave out. But this time, since making lemon cookies, I do have lemon peel.

I called Miss Rosie. “They’re both citrus, do you think I can substitute the lemon peel for orange?” I asked.

“I think you probably could but I’ve got some. Let me see,” and I could hear her shuffling stuff around. “Yep. I can send Lamar up with it if you like.”
          I hated to drag him out in the cold for that. “Well, here’s the thing. I wouldn’t have it for the next time I make it so it might be nice to know if the substitution works.”

“I’ve got two so I’ll just give you one. How’s that?” Miss Rosie said.

“Well alright then! And while I’ve got you on the phone, I’ve got another question for ya,” I said.

“What?” she said.

“I don’t have any cream cheese to make the frosting but I’ve got a can of cream cheese frosting. Should I use it or just leave it off?” I asked.

“I like cream cheese frosting. I say use it,” she answered.

It wasn’t long until the driveway beeper went off and the dogs started barking. Tux and Lamar came up the driveway.

I teased him. “So when Rosie says go, you go?” I asked. That would never work in my house.

Lamar laughed. “Pretty much.”

Then we had a discussion on carrot cakes. “I’m guessing, since carrot cake isn’t one of Miss Rosie’s favorites, that she never makes it for you.”

I think he agreed to that statement and went on to say, “Most times when you order it in a restaurant, it’s so dry you wished you’d never ‘ve ordered it.”

Knowing I sometimes end up with dry baked goods, I replied, “I hope I don’t dry mine out.”

“I’m sure yours’ll be good.” Lamar had much more confidence in me than I did!

I made the cake, dished out a container for the Kipps, three for the freezer, and ate a piece.

And the canned cream cheese frosting was just as awful as I remembered it being.

I’d’ve been happier with no frosting as to have that stuff on it. However, the dogs don’t seem to mind it.

 “Why did you buy it if you hate it?” you wanna know.

And that’s a very good question. One I have a very good answer for. I didn’t know I was going to hate it when I bought it and I’d bought two cans at the time. But now they’re gone and I won’t ever buy it again!

That evening I got a special call from one very handsome neighbor. “That is some excellent carrot cake!” Lamar said.

He’s not wrong. The cake itself was moist and delicious. Only the frosting was bad, and I can scrape that off.

  >>>*<<<

Wednesday morning, I was up before the sun. I was working on my morning love note when I got up to get another cup of coffee and see the most beautiful sunrise. I sure am glad I didn’t miss this one.

That night, I saw the eastern sky was lit with pinks from the setting sun. I went out front to see if we were going to have a pretty sunset and this is all there was to see.

Raini followed me out onto the patio and had a good time barking at the deer grazing under the pear trees. Did they pay any attention to her?

NO! Not one bit! 

Two nights later, I take the girls out for a last pee call and there, big as day, was a brand spankin’ new gas rig on my horizon. 

Let’s call this one done!