Wednesday, July 27, 2016


The only patio I have these days is off the front of my house, near the driveway. This is  because the one out back is overgrown. The front one is devoid of character, antiseptic and gives you a front row seat into the lives of everybody around the neighborhood. You see them come and go. I really do not find it a peaceful place where I can unwind and relax, much less read a book,  because we are on display out there too. But it is all I have to work with, so I reluctantly sit there. For a while now, I have wanted to put a canopy or umbrella over the small table we have out there to block out the sun during the hottest part of the afternoon. My husband was not on board with this, so I let it go. But when my best friend showed me hers on Skype, I was smitten. It was charming. The perfect setting to read or drink a glass of tea or lemonade. So I was determined to make my patio more hospitable too. After looking around at the local garden shops and superstores I zeroed in on one umbrella I liked, really liked. 

But the trouble was it was too expensive. And it was too large and heavy to accommodate our small area. So once again, I let my dream go and stopped trying to make this front patio a cozy retreat... because it just isn’t going to be. End of story. Then I found myself shopping in a Kmart that was going out of business. There in a bin were some patio umbrellas for under $29.  All had been opened and rummaged through and missing parts. But I found one similar to the expensive one I had been looking at elsewhere, sitting at the  bottom of the bin,  still sealed.  It was lightweight and designed for smaller spaces. I grabbed it and brought it home. 

Then, I sprung the discovery on my husband. He was not thrilled one way or another that I had found something. But he opted to set it up for me that night. Suffice to say I was tickled pink by the prospect of having it put in place. 

He took the stand

Then the umbrella

And put them together.

Then sat down to admire his accomplishment.

 It turned out to be the perfect fit. 

I was duly impressed.

Now I’m ready to rumble.
or READ.

Monday, July 18, 2016


see you again soon...
Don't do anything I wouldn't do
while I'm gone. 

Check out my
for a new post 

Monday, July 11, 2016


Our refrigerator is about 12 years old. We got it because it is small and fits in the tiny space available for it in our kitchen. We LOVED the color BLACK... and we searched high and low, to find a refrigerator that was... because it wasn't trending then... even though all our other appliances were that color. Throughout the years...our fridge has served us well... holding casserole dishes, assorted meats, vegetables, fruits and condiments, not to mention our favorite beverages. But the other day, a drawer in the bottom of the refrigerator began acting suspicious. When my husband pulled on it, it responded like it had been glued shut.  He fiddled with it and it eventually opened. He got what he needed and forgot about it. ENTER me a day or two later. Having never notified me of the situation he encountered, it once again reared it’s ugly head. Problems have a tendency to do that if you IGNORE them. I was having a craving for the Rainier cherries so I went to pull the drawer out to get them and my hand slipped. Besides getting it sprained, when I tugged, the front of the drawer cracked and pulled right off in my hand.  

(click on photo to enlarge)

Suddenly I was DRAWERLESS. Quite a spectacle indeed. Then my hubby told me his story. Since the damage was done,  we went online looking for a replacement. It took a while to match part numbers to the right model fridge, but we did and placed an order. It cost $75. OUCH. Three days later the drawer arrived. And my husband gleefully installed it happy to solve a problem so quickly. He proudly showed me his work with the following caveat… because the refrigerator is so old, he told me… the new drawer doesn’t EXACTLY match the old one.  Me being anal about such things… went into the kitchen to see it.

I’m curious WHAT YOU THINK? Should I be thrilled... or upset at what our $75 bought. 

PS) I posted this story at 3 AM but it did not appear in the feed until late this afternoon. Almost 10 hours later? What's up with that BLOGGER?. 

Tuesday, July 5, 2016


 My hands were so-ooo bad the other night...
I was beside myself.
I just could not sleep, or get comfortable.
Irritable, frustrated, 
I sat here and cried buckets of tears.
Silently asking WHY this is
happening to me...
for the millionth time.
I finally found some comfort
under the spigot in the kitchen...
running warm water over my fingertips
and hands. It soothed them...
And it took the edge off. 
(I have found COLD 
on the other hand,
makes the situation worse.
Hands BURN and tingle more.)

Test after test are forthcoming.
Conclusions have yet to be reached
by those who are supposed to know
by now... something, anything.
So I play a waiting game. 

One waiting room after another.
Sandwiched between the duties 
of being wife, mom, grandma, 
daughter, blogger.
Getting impatient.
No relief for my weary soul…
But I forge ahead
Because that’s what you do.
You keep fighting
when something knocks
you down.
And eventually... answers come-
Whether you want to hear them or not.
I do a little daydreaming 

Wishing I was ANYWHERE else.

Saturday, July 2, 2016


"Fireworks had for her a direct and magical appeal. Their attraction was more complex than that of any other form of art. They had pattern and sequence, colour and sound, brilliance and mobility; they had suspense, surprise, and a faint hint of danger; above all, they had the supreme quality of transience, which puts the keenest edge on beauty and makes it touch some spring in the heart which more enduring excellences cannot reach." (Jan Struther, Mrs. Miniver, 1930s )

"The daylight always fails too soon—except when there are going to be fireworks; and then the sun dawdles intolerably on the threshold like a tedious guest." 
(Jan Struther,  1930s )


"America celebrates her independence every July 4,  
with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, 
the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness."
Erma Bombeck