In Review

This has been quite a year. I sold a house and bought a house. I lost my kitty Newton. I moved to a new state! I'm still learning how directions work here. Because I swear this is a black hole where compasses go to die. I no longer have to adjust recipes for baked goods since I'm back at sea level. The son and I are having pizza tonight. We have agreed on the pizza but not on a movie to watch while eating it. I still marvel at going outside in a fleecy or light jacket in December since I'm used to this being the darkest, coldest time of year. I feel happiness creeping in and hiding in the corners, waiting for me to notice its presence and embrace it. I look forward to the stripped-down decorating that will emerge as I pack away the Christmas decorations. A bottle of champagne is calling to me. I must heed it! The best way to ring in a new year is with bubbles. Have a good one. Don't party too hard and make January first a painful beginning to 2024. Last of all, I am enjoying that today's date is 123123.

 

Merry Christmas, Mom

One of those happy times.

It's Christmas Eve. I'm remembering how much my mom loved Christmas and how December 24, 2009 was the beginning of the end for her. Climbing the stairs to my sister's apartment she didn't feel quite right. She had a difficult time with the stairs and sat down as soon as she got inside. She couldn't get comfortable and she looked very pale, she couldn't catch her breath. It turns out her hip was broken. Even though she was in remission from the multiple myeloma she had been diagnosed with three years earlier, one of the medications that made the remission happen also caused bone loss. Which probably contributed to the hip fracture. So my sis and her son spent hours of Christmas Eve into Christmas morning at the hospital while Mom was in surgery. They did a hip replacement which is standard treatment for this type of fracture and she received full anesthesia for the operation. The elderly don't do so well with anesthesia, the meds are potent and take longer to clear from their systems. I swear Mom was never quite the same after waking up. She was often angry and confused and didn't remember why she was in the hospital. Later, when she was in a nursing home it was the same. She refused to do the physical therapy so she could walk again. Four months later, when Mom took a turn for the worst and ended up in the hospital, I flew down to support my sister and because we thought it might be the end. But she rallied and was placed in another nursing home and went into hospice care. If she didn't want to do physical therapy, she didn't have to. She could have whatever she wanted to eat. I returned home to South Dakota. My sister visited Mom often and took care of things like her laundry. I am so grateful for her attentiveness and care for Mom while I could only check in from a distance. Mom died the end of May, just six weeks after I last saw her. I regret not being able to be there. I regret not having the resources to pay for a better place for her to live out her final days. I regret not having the best long-distance relationship with Mom. I can't change any of those things. I live with them as best I can and try to remember happy times with my mother. There were so many. Now that I'm only ten years younger than Mom when she died, I'm thinking I should get moving on setting down my final wishes and sharing them with my sons. Make it easier for those that I love when I leave them behind. And make the most of the time I have with them now. 

  

Happy Solstice To All!

 

Holiday Porch Pot

I have created a porch pot. It might be a Wisconsin thing. Or a South Dakota thing. The two women who inspired me to make this are South Dakota natives, but one of them now lives in Wisconsin. It feels like a Minnesota thing to me. Now it's a Washington thing. The container came from North Dakota by way of Arizona, and possibly points in between. It's a beat-up coal scuttle that I inherited from my mother. Probably the last place it was used was in my grandfather's blacksmith shop in Alamo, North Dakota in the sixties. I declare that a grand tradition of porch pot placement should be adopted everywhere! Porch pots for all! I do love this time of year.

 

Who Be Ye?

It was midafternoon. I was settled on the sofa with a cup of tea. I had my bruised left foot elevated with an ice pack soothing it. And there it was. A most annoying knock at the door. You know, that shave-and-a-haircut rat-a-tat-tat thing. I considered staying put. But got up and hobbled to the door and opened it. Ten feet or so back from the steps was a terribly cheerful young woman wearing a bright blue jacket with a logo that I couldn't quite read. She started in with her spiel while smiling broadly. I can't tell you what she said beyond a few snatches I caught. talking to your neighbors! great deals! new regulations! I wasn't really listening because my foot was aching and I was still trying to read the logo on her jacket. She paused. I think because she had asked me a question and was waiting for me to respond. I said, I really don't want to talk to anyone today. She said, okay, and turned around and left. It was some sort of Christmas miracle! If someone is at my door and I don't wish to speak with them, all I have to do is say so! I feel so much better! My foot might feel a bit better, too. And I was back on the sofa before my tea got cold. That was easy.

 

Fly!

 

Little Bits of Christmas Have Arrived

 

After

As in, this is the after photo of the PreCogs, mutants who can see into the future in the movie Minority Report. Agatha and the twins were trapped and hooked up to machines while they babbled incomprehensibly about upcoming crimes so that they could be stopped before they happened. I won't get into the moral inequities of imprisoning people to take advantage of their unique abilities to serve mankind. I only wish to linger on their apparent calm and happiness in a quiet, safe, and comfortable place where they can live out their lives free of their past life. Because that's how I feel after moving here. I have a quiet, safe, and comfortable home after a difficult and painful existence for the past five years. My PTSD has calmed to a manageable state and the panic attacks have subsided. This after is so much better than the before. I'm home. 

Hello, Tigercat

This adorable little scoundrel broke into the crawlspace under the house. The son managed to lure her out with some bits of turkey. I'm wondering if she chose us and might perhaps be interviewing us to serve as her house staff. But first we will see if she has a family that loves her and is missing her.

Happy Cactus

 South window plus water equals a happy bloomer.

Lost and Found Dept

I am directionally impaired. This is not a good handicap to have. When I bought my Outback, I was delighted to find that a direction readout was on the rearview mirror. At last! A directional aid that will prevent me from getting lost! It hasn't quite worked out that way. But it does help me get back to where I was and take, usually the opposite, the correct turn. In Colorado it was easy. The mountains are west. Wherever you are, the Rocky Mountains indicate which way is west. Out here, it's less clear. I can't seem to get my bearings! Maybe it's because Interstate 5 runs mostly east/west across the north side of town.Then it more or less takes a sharp turn south on the western side of town. Then there's all the water making it so that you can't get there from here. At least not in anything resembling a straight line. The thing is, I have lived most of my life out on the Great Plains. Where you can see things from a great distance. Makes it obvious. I like things to be obvious. Then this poem was featured on The Writer's Almanac a few days ago. It describes perfectly how I feel about directions and my wavering ability to go in the correct one. Aside from that, at least there's Google maps on my phone. And I still swear by this.

 
 

Electric Spaghetti

What a lovely sight! The north wall in my somewhat organized garage. Hanging on the wall is my extension cord collection. One accumulates an unnatural number of extension cords while living in a house constructed in the 1950s. Which is what I moved out of eight months ago. Looks like colorful spaghetti. I have only had to use one or two while setting up the lamps and various appliances here since there is an outlet every couple of feet. Some of which are unused! The bar cabinet has a small lamp on it only because I felt I should plug something into the outlet behind it. I expect I'll use a few more when putting up the Christmas decorations in a few weeks. The switched ones hanging on the corner of the shelf unit are particularly useful for holiday decorating. Until then, my extension cord collection waits patiently for a task. Drop on by if you need a couple. I doubt I will need this many ever again.

   

Well, Hello

How is it that one third of November has already elapsed? And I have fallen off the blogging wagon for over a week. This post shall serve as evidence that I have survived the falling back into standard time. In other news, I have completed watching Shameless. So many things still running around in my head regarding that series. Like, at some point later on in the series, past the halfway mark, there began to be far less graphic sex and fewer instances of the characters smoking. Given that this originally aired on Showtime, all the naked stuff and smoking anything are allowed. So did the actors complain? Or did Showtime wish to show better standards of behavior? I have no idea. Though in the next to last episode, there is a quite graphic scene of shooting heroin. Needles don't bother me but I seriously cringed. Now that it's over, I sort of feel like I have a life again. Binging a series does remove one from the normal passage of time. Also, after refusing to jump on the Wordle bandwagon for months, a few days ago I played. Now I'm hooked. I wish I could go back to the beginning! I missed so many five letter words! Not that anyone might be interested, but I have just gotten bangs again after the second time in the last few years successfully growing them out. This must be something I do to entertain myself. As soon as Michael Stipe has finished losing his religion, I'm shutting things down and getting ready for bed.

Happy Halloween!

 

Which Question?

 Witch question, of course.

Shameless #2

There they are. The Gallaghers plus the neighbors two houses down. Of Shameless fame. I barely got through the first couple of episodes for all the gratuitious sex, nudity, foul language, drinking, smoking, and drug use. I felt like I needed a shower after viewing. But then I became attached to the various characters who dwell on the South Side of Chicago. I had something of a sketchy upbringing but anything that happened to me pales away to nothing compared to what Fiona, et al, have endured at the hands of their alcoholic, drug-addicted, mostly absent parents. In between shuddering over rape, incest, needle drugs, the system (educational, penal, etc), and all the poor choices made by every stinking one of them, I began to admire them for their ingenuity and survival instincts. I started to look forward to the genuine moments of affection and humanity between them. Now that I have watched over half the episodes, I find myself torn between continuing to rush forward through them or to possibly slow down since there really aren't that many left. And I hate how at the end of a series the writers and producers tend to muck things up. Either by hastily throwing together neatly tied up endings for multiple story lines or failing to answer pertinent questions about the fates of the characters. Anyway, I am enjoying the ride with these people and the dangerous, bizarre, hilarious, painful situations they get themselves into. All I know is, I have always adored Joan Cusack. Her turn as Sheila Jackson convinced me all over again just how brilliant and enigmatic an actress she is. I really must go, the next episode is cued up.   

Shameless #1

I have been binging. Netflix. Though Shameless was originally produced by Showtime. Which explains all the nakedness and swearing. I have just started Season 8 of eleven in all. Early on when a main character's name was uttered in its whole form, Francis rather than Frank, Gallagher, I had to pause for a moment. Why was this name so freakishly familiar? Why? Digging way back in the recesses of my brain I unearthed the answer. I'm talking going way back to high school, children. Francis Gallagher was the name of one of my girlfriend's boyfriends. Two of them, actually, JoAnn and Cindy. Though I can't remember who was the first to receive his affections. I do remember that Cindy gave birth to a baby that he sired. And that she remarked that Francis really shouldn't have bought a car with a white interior, him being a farmer and all. JoAnn's friend Mary referred to him as spic, though I'm pretty certain he was mostly Irish rather than Latino. He also spoke English, as in, his first language. I haven't thought about these people in years. Thank you, Shameless, for this trip down Memory Lane.

October Rant

Today, in the New York Times. 

It's the season of pumpkin flavor everything. But is pumpkin actually good for you?

For fuck's sake, people! When something is marketed using the words pumpkin spice, it does not contain even a shred of pumpkin. It contains the spices usually associated with pumpkin pie. Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, perhaps others. At least the article does go on to tout the pumpkin as something of a super food. Fiber and vitamin rich, it actually is good for you. You can even roast the seeds for a healthy snack as long as you don't go crazy with the salt. The article was good, but the blurb was a little misleading. You can eat a bucket of pumpkin spiced anything without consuming any pumpkin at all. Do eat the pumpkin, though, with or without the traditional spices. It's one of those things that is good for you that also tastes good. Rant over, move along.

  

I Learned Something Today

Take a closer look at the cute little jug of buttermilk. Right? Was anyone else aware of Bulgarian style buttermilk? Bulgarian? Really? Really! Bulgarian style buttermilk is made by supplementing or completely replacing the cream cultures. Then it is fermented at a higher temperature resulting in a thicker, more tart final product. All I know is, the scones were delicious.

It's In The Numbers

I've been doing this blogging thing for a while now. I do enjoy watching the stats for views and comments. Mostly I'm tickled that anyone reads my highly sophisticated drivel, or at least clicks over to it, and I truly love the comments. Not the spamments*, mind you, but genuine posted remarks concerning the content. Where was I? Oh, yes, the numbers. Last month they made no sense at all, as if the internet had gone mad with thousands of clicks to this location. Thousands of clicks in one day! Adding up to a grand total of 92,199 for the month of September. How is this even possible that after over sixteen years of blogging that just over 11% of all views over that time took place last month? I have no idea what this means, but it would be pretty cool if I got a dollar for each click on that tote board. For now, I guess I'll enjoy seeing that almost ninety three thousand number for a few more days. When midnight on Halloween causes the far less impressive total for October to take its place I will be a little sad to see it go. But keep clicking over to this blog! It makes me happy.

 *obviously, comments that are spam

Practical Advice

 

I Forgot Lucille

 

I truly hope it doesn't go to her head, what with getting her own post and all. This is Lucille. See if you can guess why I bestowed this name upon her. 

Only The Named Witches

In all their glory, tending to their cauldron, we have the McBroome-Shuttlecock sisters, Frigga, Grace, and Heidi.

Atop a living room bookcase we find Esmerelda. The people at Ty named her Scary witch which I found to be rather boring. Esmerelda it is.

In the front entryway is a collection of scary things. Angelica anchors this motley crew at the left. You want a closer view, don't you.

Isn't she lovely?

Drusilla is standing watch over a spooky landscape.

 

Gertie is perched on the guest bedroom windowsill. All the better to view any neighborhood children and pets she might like to turn into soup.

This stained glass beauty is Jezebel. She's not all grown up yet, just a little witch in training. 

The Goddess Feels Marginally Bloggish Today

Having been under the weather for a few days has made me feel less than bloggish. If bloggish hasn't been a word prior to now, I declare bloggish a word. If a person is not feeling bloggish, they won't be likely to blog. So there. I haven't felt bloggish so I have not blogged. The language continues to evolve. Please further this evolution by putting bloggish into your repertoire of often used words. Thank you.

 

Romeo & Juliet

The opening of Mark Knopfler's Romeo & Juliet is running through my head. Just the guitar in a never-ending loop. Most of the time a song stuck in your brain is seriously annoying. Not this, it's hypnotic and soulful. As far as perseveration goes, this I'll take.

Working On It

 

Point of View

 

Another Halloween Past

I believe this was 1973. In the kitchen of the horrible little trailer house located in Trailer City, one of the finer neighborhoods in Grafton, North Dakota. Note the rip in the filthy vinyl chair seat just under the edge of the table. It seems we carved pumpkins that year. Martine's socks and my hat appear to be leftovers from the 4th of July. I remember someone commenting that I didn't need a mask. The pink gingham top with denim trim I sewed all by myself! Little in this photo looks familiar to me. We had moved from Williston in the spring, first to another horrible little trailer house in Langdon, North Dakota, where our father was living. Mom dumped us off with him and left. We were more or less on our own there for about a month. That's when mom returned to move us into this trailer, she had found a job with a law firm and had rented this trailer. Soon after this image was captured we moved to a different trailer mobile home park in a better part of town. It was much nicer, and mom had scraped the funds together to buy it. When we moved to Brookings, South Dakota in 1977, that mobile home was hitched to a truck and moved along with us. Meaning that this move was different in that we were able to bring all of our possessions with us. Before things had been whittled down to what would fit in our car, maybe with a small U-Haul trailer in tow. We moved to Brookings purportedly because our parents were getting back together. But that's a different story for another time.

Halloween 2013

It's the McBroome-Shuttlecock sisters in their Halloween best ten years ago. Do you see the theme? I am the cow, Pam is the saucy milkmaid, and Martine is the barn kittycat. I was carrying tiny Milky Way candy bars in my udder and tossed them to unsuspecting people out on the street. So very much fun!

Enough Already!

The new refrigerator arrived on September 15th. Very nice, French doors, bottom freezer with icemaker. But the sliding top  bin in the freezer was stuck and would not move. Appliance people were dispatched and the problem was remedied. Then the dishwasher decided to go on the blink. It was very nice of the GE people to reset the warranty on it to the date I closed on the house since it had been purchased months before that. Again, appliance person was scheduled and the dishwasher was fixed. A few days later, the internet was out for several hours but was restored by the end of the afternoon. Okay, I thought, that's three and we're done with things failing for a while! Yesterday the garage door refused to close. So I had to reach up and pull it down myself. That's four! I really don't want to have to call the Genie people to see if it is still under warranty. Meh.

 

Shiny

The son and I are watching Firefly. If you have not seen it, get your hands on the  entire series and binge. Aside from having the most ridiculously good-looking cast    ever, this Joss Wheden created show is cleverly written and visually beautiful. Given the state of technology for television twenty years ago, it has remarkable special effects. Tomorrow night we will be taking in the bonus material and Monday we will cap things off with Serenity, the film that continues the saga of Captain Reynolds and his cohorts.

When They Were Tiny

Awwww. Baby Newton and Einstein. For the first time since 2005 my home is without a cat for Halloween month. I am so accustomed to having lived with kitties that I swear I still catch sight of feline-like movement out of the corner of my eye. Then upon realizing there is not a cat in the house, I feel a bit sad for a moment. I have promised myself that when I have been here for a year that I can start thinking about adopting a couple of kitties. Not a minute sooner! Crazy cat lady time will be here soon enough.  

Elgin, Illinois

See it? Above the fireplace! It's my Ditlef print! I have a history with this print that goes back to a time before I was born. If you want to know the story you can find it here. If not, just enjoy this photo that I swiped from a real estate listing. The house is kinda cool, the exterior looks like a castle. For the sake of any potential buyers, I do hope the plumbing and electrical have been updated from castle times.

Hair Again

When you move to a new city, it is of the utmost importance that you develop a relationship with various professionals. Plumber, HVAC guy, electrician, these are pretty basic, particularly if you are a homeowner. On a more personal note, particularly if you are a woman, maybe not now that I think about it, people of all persuasions can relate to how difficult it can be to find a hair stylist who understands your mop of curls and cowlicks and a nail salon that does a reasonably priced yet pampering pedicure. I have found neither of these as yet. I haven't seriously looked for a nail salon but definitely will sort that out in the near future. As far as the hair goes, I did get my hair cut just a couple of weeks after arriving here. It was raining and my hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun and I spied a Great Clips while waiting at a red light. So I popped in and had my shoulder-length hair lopped off so short that for the first time in perhaps decades it was not long enough for a pony tail. It has grown two to three inches since then and I find myself musing over the possibility of being that crone with a wild mane of hair cascading down my back. This idea was reinforced after watching Practical Magic last month. The aunties Frances and Jet both have admirable tresses tumbling out from under their fabulous hats. So. Letting it grow for now. 

   

A Match Made in Heaven

Or Hell. Or Purgatory. Whatever works as per your particular belief system. Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to. Where was I? Oh, yes, delightful news about a former beau. I recently learned that he got married, not sure when, but to a lovely woman who it seems is going to regularly make his dreams come true. Truth be told, he wanted me to spank him. As in, smack his bottom with my hand or some object. We all draw the line somewhere, and I did at this particular request. Just didn't interest me. I expect that she does not deign to do so, as she is employed as a prison matron. Thank you sir, or ma'am, as the case may be, may I have another. I wish them well.

The Countdown Has Begun

 

Welcome to the Witching Month

Well. Hello, it's been a while. There are numerous fleeting ideas I have had in the last few weeks that seemed to merit a blog post. But then those fleeting ideas floated right out of my head. Like how the word bonuce appears on the new shampoo bottle in the shower. I'm pretty sure they meant bounce, but you never can tell. When I attempted to google bonuce it showed the results for bounce so maybe everything is all right. And last week I was planning a number of errands and came up with a route that neatly worked in each of the stops and brought me right back home. It's really starting to feel familiar and comfortable here. Today I broke out the Halloween decorations and have been placing them here and there, seeing how they fit in this house. I love how all these old, familiar witches and black kitties and jack o'lanterns bring back memories of Octobers past. Please be amazed and impressed that I found the seasonal bric-a-brac in the still only partially organized garage. Since you asked, yes, I have been here nearly seven months. But once things are ninety percent in their proper places, the rate of organizing falls off quite abruptly. So. Thank you for coming back. I'm on this again!

 

Rabbits! Rabbits! Rabbits!

 Blue bunnies for this blue moon August.

Truly She Did

 I love this so much. She even resembles a younger me quite remarkably. I want those green slippers and the lacey bonnet on her head. Okay, I want the whole outfit. What I really want is to live in this painting. With oversize watercolor flowers. And with a wistful, perhaps slightly contrite expression upon my face. While I consider my past misbehaviors. Even as I am planning ever so many future ones. So many options, so little time.

FYC 66

I have been contemplating how it is that sixty-six has crept up on me. Snuck up? The younger son said that in six hundred years I could be the antichrist. Trust me, if I live that long such a position sounds like way more work and dedication than I want to exert. I have read that the symbolic meaning of 66 is balance and harmony. It also symbolizes peace, love, and understanding. As in, what's so funny about it. All I know is, there is a triple lemon custard cake waiting for me in the very near future. That's something to celebrate.

 

Charcuterie on the Sitooterie

 Let the birthday weekend begin!

The Good Fight

This speaks to me in volumes I cannot begin to express. It's not my story to tell, the parts of it that are mine to tell aren't easily extricated from the bigger picture. I haven't entirely won at this point, but I have begun to let my guard down. To relax a bit and believe that the worst of it is over. To embrace the happiness that I feel even though I am well aware of how quickly and easily it can be snatched out from under me. I wish you well in your own private battles. All of us experience them and often put on a brave face for the world to see. The struggle is real. Above all else, be kind.

 

4th of July Rabbits

 

Blessed Solstice

 Summer has arrived! Celebrate accordingly.

My New Favorite Word

My cousin Cory often shares new and interesting words with me. Sitooterie is the latest word and it is my current favorite. Join us in our crusade to abandon the far less interesting words such as patio, deck, porch, or lanai and refer to our outdoor socializing areas as sitooteries! Plus I enjoy the fact that there is a toot in the middle. If you ask me, the only appropriate place, aside from the bathroom, to toot is outdoors. And what better place to toot than your sitooterie!

 

Yes. This

 

Tea. Outdoors. When It's Raining.

 It's a cool, rainy morning in the Pacific Northwest.

Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits for June