The Official End of Summer

 I brought in the geraniums today. 

No, I don't remember what colors are here. The one at the back has buds so I'll know when it blooms. 

I adore geraniums because they are incredibly sturdy plants. They come in such a wide variety of colors, too. 

This pink one has been coming in and going out for at least five years; probably longer because I can't exactly remember when I got it. It's quite leggy and is in desperate need of a pruning. I'm going to let it get acclimated to being inside and then I will slowly trim the bracts in half. 

Growing up, my dad's father had this red geranium which was six FEET across. It sat in the window seat in his living room, which was a south window. He covered the windows with white gauzy curtains so the light was diffused. That had to help the geranium deal with direct summer sun. It was too big to haul in and out. He just left it there and would water it twice a week. 

After he died, my aunts took cuttings and it was tossed out. I can't imagine a geranium would last a long time but we didn't have a place for something that big or I think mom would have claimed it. 

So, summer is officially over. We have two more 70 degree days and then it tanks and I will have to wear layers. I was ready to bring the geraniums inside. The morning and most of the afternoon was rainy so they got a good soaking before coming inside. In this dumpster fire of a year, they are a nice reminder that there is beauty if you look. 

Beverage:  water

Deb

Flying

Bits and pieces of the house are undergoing transformation. I don't have a lot of time to do things and, lately, my stamina has been suspect, so I look for small projects which accomplish a couple of goals. 1) They make a section of the house whimsical or more enchanting and 2) They help me continue on the long journey of tidying up. Last month, I did another small corner.

This is the end of the hallway. To the right is the back bedroom. To the left is my bedroom. On the wall to the right are photo collage frames containing a wide variety of photos of my life; both family, alive and deceased, and friends, alive and deceased. Above the chair is framed The Simpson's "Wanted" poster from TV Guide from the two part "Who Shot Mr. Burns" episodes of 1995. Below that is a plaque which reads, "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for you are crunchy and good with ketchup." The chair was owned by my mother's father. His third wife did the needlepoint chair seat. It is very worn and I think, some day, I'll have the seat recovered. In my fantasy life, I actually do the needlepoint for the seat but reality usually points out that I don't know how to needlepoint.

On the left used to be a drawing of a sunflower. I did it years and years ago, when life wasn't sunny. It was to remind me to turn and follow the sun; follow the light; be open to the light. For the last few years, that's felt rather 'new agey' to me and I've wanted to replace the piece, but didn't know what to put there. So, this corner was ripe for a minor redo.

In the winter, I ordered a poster which featured the cover images of the Cedar Rapids Gazette's coverage of the Iowa Hawkeyes 12-0 Big Ten football season last year. I got a frame for it and took it to the office, intending to put it up on the wall next to the Fantasia poster for which I did a frame make over.

It's a big poster.

Fantasia is the only thing I want on this wall. The Hawkeye poster would go on the right wall, above the bookcase. The more I looked at the poster, as it leaned against the wall, the more I realized I didn't like it over the bookcase. I moved it to the wall where the large Hawkeye wall decal is.

But I wound up not liking it here either because it's big. The other side of the pass-through window doesn't have enough space unless I want to hide the poster behind the office door. I never close my office door. I have no reason to close it. The poster came home. Maybe I can...wait...it can go on the wall in that spot where I'm removing the drawing. That's what's up against the wall on the left, in the top photo, the framed poster.

The best thing I did to this corner involved some stuffed animals.

I got the little orange bird, named "Pepe", and the black and red dragons back when I went to BlizzCon last year. Dragons feature in World of Warcraft extensively. These represent baby dragons, called "whelplings".

Essentially, the stuffed animals just sit around. I don't do anything with them, other than move them because where they are sitting is in my way. Blizzard released the green dragon in April and, well, there are some things one simply must have. That means I have to move all four of them around when I need the spot where they were sitting. Such a pain. Then, I had a singular idea. They are flying creatures. What if I had them fly?

I bought some neon bright variegated yarn and crocheted a thread for each dragon, Pepe, and Figment, a dragon I got from Walt Disney World back in 1990. I bought cup hooks and screwed those into the ceiling. The thread was looped around each character and then tied to the cup hook in the ceiling. Viola. Instant flying bird and dragons.

Now, the plaster ceiling holds the cup hooks, but I was surprised they didn't screw in as tightly as I would prefer. Right now, nothing's fallen, but I kind of expect one of these guys to wind up on the floor if we have a really windy day and the windows are open. At that point, I'll have to evaluate this arrangement and consider how else to anchor them.

The poster went up on the wall. You can see the hanger to the left in the above photo.

I'm very pleased with the overall result. The drawing wasn't applicable to me anymore and these items reflect who I am.

Beverage:  LaCroix raspberry seltzer

Deb

Doesn't Make Me Happy

Back in 2012, I started the process to use up the cologne I have accumulated over the years. First was the small cologne saturated squares Avon used to give out. Next came the small one inch glass tubes with cologne in them. I'm now up to the small jars of cologne. I lined them all up; there were 10 small bottles; and started with the fragrance at the left end. It was a bottle of 5th Avenue. I have no idea where I got it. I wore that, pretty much exclusively, when I wore cologne. This started in July of 2013 and I just finished it last week. Admittedly, I don't wear cologne every day, but that still is a long time.

In that time the "line" on the dresser had been smushed together so I formed it up again and Clinique's "Happy" came up next.

I had 3 small spray bottle samples of it. I figured I'd just lump all three bottle together and wear this until I was out of it. The sprayer on the first bottle would not work so I dumped it into a give away bag. They can deal with it. I grabbed the next bottle. I didn't like the smell. I thought perhaps it was the fact that I was so used to 5th Avenue that the change was startling. I would give Happy a week to grow on me.

Nope. I couldn't do it. I really didn't like the smell. It's too spicy for me. It did not make me happy. So, I dumped these two bottles in the give away bag and grabbed the next one in line.

I like this one much better. Ironically, checking the Clinique web site, they don't make it anymore. When I mentioned this to a friend, she said there is a lot of money to be made in discontinued fragrances. I should put this on eBay. I admit to thinking about it and, if a reader of this blog makes me a decent offer, I would sell it to you. But I don't have time to do a whole eBay selling research and learn session. So, it's just going to get worn.

I like the bottle design. Some fragrances spent as much to create a work of art for the bottle as they did for the contents. Given the two fragrances at the top, this bottle is very distinctive.

After this is gone, I have some very retro fragrances, Charlie and Jessica McClintock. Charlie has seen a resurgence of interest and you can buy it at CVS. I was rather surprised to see it when I walked through the fragrance aisle on my way to the pharmacy. "Oh wow! I wore that." My grandfather gave me a set one year for my birthday that contained a big and a little bottle. I still have the little bottle.

I got the Jessica McClintock in a bag of freebies from Carson Pirie Scott. I remember it with much fondness. It is a fragrance that I always meant to get a bigger bottle of because I liked it so well, but which I never did. So, I squirreled away the small sample bottle and here it is on top of the dresser. It used to be a very exclusive scent, sold only in "finer department stores". You can get it now at Walgreens. Nothing's rare about these two scents. I don't remember what comes after these two.

It's going to be interesting to see how quickly these are used up. I don't wear cologne on the weekend unless I'm going out. I don't wear cologne during the spring, summer and fall, if I'm out on a job site. I've had enough bees try to find the source of the floral smell that it's not worth it. I wonder if spray bottles are consumed faster than a bottle where you have to apply using your finger. I'll just be going by how long it takes to use them up.

Beverage:  English Breakfast Tea

Deb

Down to the End

When Carole was young, we were looking for something to get her interesting in collecting. A hobby is a nice thing, particularly when it captures the imagine and spurs you to become knowledgeable about it. At the time, we had a friend who was a philatelist. This struck us as a good hobby because it wouldn't take up much room. My grandfather was a philatelist and his collection contained some interesting stamps. So, we started assembling the items for this hobby.

We were told to collect only the stamps we liked. The US Postal Service has encouraged people to become stamp collectors as it spurs sales. I had a pen pal in England and she would send us interesting stamps on her letters as well as in her letters. We gradually amassed a goodly amount. I even bought stamp pages to carefully keep our stamps clean and dry.

Now that she's off on her own and has formed her own tastes. She decided she really doesn't have an interest in stamp collecting. I have a lot of collections but my tastes don't run to stamps. When she said she didn't care about them, I decided to start using these on my correspondence. I'm sure a few readers will gasp in horror, but I don't really have legendary or rare stamps. "You should have put them up on eBay." Perhaps, but I don't know how to effectively market them so I used them. Saving money on postage when I don't have much money in the first place makes sense to me.

I am now down to the last of the stamps.

I would say that 80% of the stamps I have used have been of the 33 cent variety. I have some first day issues and a sheet of Civil War stamps I feel I should sell. I don't think I'll sell the Bugs Bunny sheet. And I have a whole bunch of stamps from overseas. I'm not sure what to do with those or the binder with all the collection pages in it.

In a way, it feels sad. It's the end of a period of life. These stamps have helped me get letters and cards out when I couldn't have sent anything because of finances. As I worked through them, I realized there wasn't an emotional connection to them. They were, for me, just stamps. In the slow clean out of a home to make it more comfortable, I need to cultivate that dispassion. I maybe also need to learn how to post things for sale on eBay.

Beverage:  British Breakfast tea

Deb

I Can't Read

When faced with the stress of not knowing, there are many ways one can alleviate the wear and tear on the mind. Some people eat. Some people drink. Some people practice meditation. I discovered this weekend, for sure, what I probably knew all along this year, I stitch.

Remember at the end of last month, when the last cross-stitch was finished? I wasn't going to pick up another project until January 1st. December was about taking stock, sitting back and relaxing and NOT stitching. I have mountains of books and a smaller stack of magazines to read. I was going to read the magazines, get them recycled so the only ones on the ottoman were the current issues. I did read 5 magazines over the past 4 days. I picked up a book, started it and realized, after a time, that I'd read the 3rd page three times. My mind wasn't interested in reading. It was interested in financial doomsday scenarios. (Memo to self: Saturday afternoon PBS hours are filled with Suze Orman. Not a good thing.)

"You can skip breakfast on weekends to make the ends meet. They can't, by law, stop your utilities, so you don't have to pay them if you need the money." My mind raced on ahead of my reality. There's a great line from The Simpson's which would pop up the minute the doom and gloom voice would start in. "Shut up brain, or I'll poke you with a Q tip," says Homer Simpson. All it took was one paragraph of, "And in order to further the goal of [insert cause], we need your help" and my brain was off to the races.

In order to calm down and enjoy the weekend, I spent Saturday morning cleaning the area of the basement below the bathroom plumbing. When that was done, I wandered over to the chest of drawers where I keep my sewing patterns and crafting supplies. There are a bunch of kits in one of the drawers so I started going through them. One caught my eye. I could do this.

I discovered, as I started in on the first color, that cross-stitch is my preferred method of relaxation. It was reasonably simple to throw my energies and my brain into the x's and graphs and colors of a new project. As much as I love to read, it wasn't enough to keep me from setting down the book and pondering the future. Here, I have to look at the grid, look at the colors and then look at the fabric. I found the stress slid away. There really isn't anything I can do about the money troubles I face other than do what I can when they surface. Sitting in the recliner on a Saturday night complaining to the world won't solve them either. Putting that energy into something, that does work.

It sort of snowballs then. I turned on the TV or popped in a DvD and just stitched. I don't know who gave me this kit. It was something they had opened and prepared but never got past step 1. I think I see why.

The first flower I chose to do was the purple one. You are given two colors of purple, a light and a medium purple, no dark purple. The colored graph clearly shows dark purple as part of the design, but that's not a color in the batch you're given. In fact, it's not even listed on the color chart. There is a maroon shown but not a dark purple, where it's clearly shown on the chart.

The kit was bought at a discount. Originally $30, there is a sticker on it for $10. I'm sure that's the price the person who bought this paid. I have no idea how old this is either as I haven't seen it for sale on any of my crafting supplies sites. Whoever bought this must have tried to start this, looked at the problem and then decided it wasn't something they wanted to deal with. My late mother-in-law did some stitching so I wonder if I got it from her during one of her house cleanings.

Never fear. I, who have boxes of DMC floss also have a sewing basket full of floss bits.

This is my original sewing basket. I believe my mother's father gave this to me when I was, perhaps, 9 or 10. I use it now to keep my cross-stitching needles in the underside of the lid, which is a large pin cushion. It also contains non-DMC floss in plastic bags organized by color. I simply went through the bags to find the purple and, viola, I happened to have a dark purple of indeterminate origin that fit the bill perfectly. I have just enough of the dark purple on hand to do this project and whatever is left from this will go into these bags.

Sometimes, however, I look at these bags and think I should find something to use this stuff up. I gravitate towards DMC colors, the numbers and those kinds of charted designs and I rarely delve into this basket for floss. What would I use the basket for if it didn't contain remnants of past projects? Who knows.

So, I'm off stitching again. There is a vast wasteland on TV during the afternoon hours and I don't rightly care for the offerings in the evening, either. I want my computer back. In the meantime, I know exactly who is going to get this NEXT Christmas and I feel my stress melt away with each stitch.

Beverage:  Water

Deb

Fall Hydrangea

The hydrangea off the deck has turned fall colors. For some reason, I noticed it more this year. Maybe it's because I have to take my time climbing the deck stairs so I have time to look at it.

The leaves will start to turn now and fall off so all I'm left with in November are the branches. I really like the rusty red of the flowers. I don't remember them being this color last year, but, again, I might not have noticed.

I know blossom color on a hydrangea is controlled by the ph of the soil. I believe this one was blue when we bought it and for a couple of years after. Its real color is pink and there is one pink blossom still on the plant.

This is a bright smile when I leave the house and come home from work. It took some damage in March when it budded during our unseasonable warmth, but it recovered very nicely and is currently covered in the rusty red blossoms.

My dad's father had hydrangea bushes on his property that were 15-20 feet tall and covered with white blossoms the size of softballs. My cousins and I would yank them off the bush and throw them at each other, a snowball fight in July, if you will. They smelled so intoxicating, too. Some "grown up" would come outside and yell at us for "ruining" the plant but grandpa would follow with, "I don't care. Keep playing." I look at my small, in comparison, hydrangea and wonder if I can get it to produce blooms of that size. There's something joyous about being hit in the face with a softball size knot of flowers.

Beverage:  Dr Pepper

Deb

Would It Work Today?

There is a huge market for "vintage" items now. A couple of the blogs I follow to the right; Smile and Wave and Thompson Family-Life; are penned by women who worship vintage, thrift relentlessly to find just the right piece that I look at and think, "I remember when that was new". It's amusing, in a way, to see my childhood now held up as a pinnacle of design or color or kitsch. But then, I remember cruising antique stores for the right chair or end table. My collection of Jewel Tea china, as an example, was once something  given away in oatmeal boxes. Hence I guess our view of what's called "vintage" or "antique" varies as the years separate us from when the item was new.

Where am I going with all this? Well, today's old photograph is of the gas station where my dad worked for a time. Yes, I grew up on a farm but I really think dad never wanted to be a farmer. It was the only way of life he knew, however, and he was sort of expected to farm. His father helped my parents buy the farm where I lived my life from age 3 to age 20, when they moved into town. Grandpa spent a lot of time with us, helping with everything a working farm does. It's not an easy life. It wasn't when I spent my years pitching hay nor is it now. I think my dad would have rather been a man working in a factory than a man on a tractor.

After grandpa passed away, farming became less and less what dad wanted to do. He started looking outside the farm, with its spotty income, and took a factory job. He worked that until the factory closed and then did a number of other jobs in and around my hometown. One of them was at this gas station.

I don't have the photo in front of me where I could read what I scribbled on the back for the identifying year. This was an open house at the station. For a 3-day weekend in the summer, the station had contests and discounted items. I remember a watermelon seed spitting contest, water balloons, a jar filled with marbles to guess how many, gift certificates to local businesses and discounted food and soda pop in the mechanic bay.

I can still hear the ding when you pulled into the station and ran over the line that activated the bell. Self-service was unheard of. Oh, in a small town, you could get by with it if the station owner knew you. I can remember my dad pulling into Smitty's and pumping gas because Smitty was busy with another customer, but usually, you waited. The oil was checked. Your windshield and back window cleaned. I remember the sound of the pump bell when you hit a dollar's worth of gas. I remember when gas was a quarter a gallon and the uproar of that. And I remember these small stations.

On the left was the retail area with a small office and a restroom tucked behind it. Unlike the markets that are attached to gas stations now, dad sold candy, gum, road maps, soda and small car aids like key chains, those trees that freshen the air and tire gauges. There wasn't much room and the soda machine took up a lot of it so retail was limited. Road maps HAD to be provided. It was just expected that if you wanted a road map, you went to a gas station. Given where we lived, he had maps of Iowa, Minnesota and Wisconsin.

To the right was a mechanic's bay. This would be unthinkable nowdays, to have your mechanic at the same place where you get your gas. Dad knew quite a bit about repairing cars but he learned a lot from the guy who owned this station. I don't remember his name. They sold tires and paid one of the local farmers to come take the old tires. Occasionally, they had one or two cars awaiting parts for repairs sitting next to the station, but this guy's mantra was to finish repairing one car before taking on another because he didn't like having a bunch of "broken down" cars around his station.

These small stations are pretty much gone, only a memory. The building above still stands and the concrete islands where the pumps are in the photo were still there when I passed by a year or so ago. It was a repair shop with a lot of broken down cars surrounding it.

This gas company represents another era. Midland, Sinclair, DX, Texaco all those names of gas companies who serviced small town America are gone, gobbled up in the 1980's and 1990's.

Our lives are different. Dad opened the station at 7 a.m. Sometimes, he'd close it at 6 p.m. This station was located in a town west of Monona, named Luana. If you needed gas after 6, you had to either call up the guy who owned the station and have him open a pump for you (It was a key that turned the pumps on and off and it hung under the counter below the cash register.) or you had to drive to Monona where the Shell station was open until 9, 10 on home football or basketball nights. If the Mrs. was expecting, you'd best make sure you had gas for the drive to Waukon, Postville or Elkader because there wasn't anyone open after 10 p.m.

These places were also hang-outs for the men of the town. Yeah, you could go to the Corner Tap, but people generally frowned on that. So, if there wasn't a car needing repair, men would gather in the empty bay, drink coffee or soda and shoot the breeze. On a Saturday afternoon in the summer, it wasn't unusual to see 8-10 guys just sitting around talking about the crops or fishing or hunting or the Cubs or the Twins. You certainly don't see that in the larger cities anymore. I wonder if they do it still in small towns.

And I wonder, would people frequent a place like this if someone decided to try to resurrect it or has the time passed where this would be profitable? Full-service gas pumping with the amenities. I know my grandmother refused to go to a self-service station. She went to the same guy for decades. His son took over when he became too old to run the business. I remember she was distraught when the son had to close the station because he couldn't compete with the self-serve that opened up the street.

I don't remember when dad left this place or if he helped close it down. The relocation of highway 18 was a contributing factor. The traffic didn't go through Luana anymore so you didn't get people deciding to stop on the spur of the moment. Would they drive out of their way now for a chance at nostalgia? Would they pay 10 cents more per gallon to have a pump boy, for lack of a better description, come pump their gas, wash their windshields and check their oil? I have read that margins are razor thin for those who franchise a gas station with a convenience store. Could you make the ends meet if you provided car repairs with your gas pumping or do you need to offer beer, soda, a deli, aspirin, newspapers, chips and day old pizza?

Vintage or nostalgia? We thought we were cutting edge at the time. Is there a market for this kind of experience?

Beverage:  African Rooibos tea

Deb

Ready for the Year

I decided, with all this incredibly mild, warm even, weather, the geraniums I overwinter could be moved to the deck now, in spite of my misgivings that this is merely March and not the end of April when they would be more safe from the weather. I have three geraniums I overwinter, a pink, a salmon-colored ivy-leaf and a white one. At least, I think it's white. I can never remember until it blooms and then I say, "Oh yeah."

All I did was stick them where they could get sun and water them every other week, or less, depending upon when I remembered. They get a good clean out come spring, with removal of dead leaves and flowers. The pink one, which is the oldest and biggest, was the most in need of a cleaning. I also prune any dead branches. Right around mid-May, I will trim them back, cutting the height by a third to force them to branch out. I think the pink one is 5-6 years old now. My grandfather had a geranium that was 3' wide by 4' tall. It sat in his south living room window. He never moved it as the planter was too heavy. He simply pruned it back in the spring, removed dead leaves and flowers and watered it. It was the 'benign neglect' form of plant care. I forget how old he said it was.

I'm hoping I can find the cash to add to the geraniums this year. These three desperately need a repotting, but that's not going to happen until the hand problem eases. The twisting of the wrists as I do something like repotting is just too painful at the moment. I'd love to add a red and a deeper pink to the colors. I had this beautiful dark purple ivy-leaf branching geranium for a couple years, but those are quite delicate and 'benign neglect' doesn't work well with them. I'd like a few more flowers in pots this year, too, but so much will depend upon the state of finances as well as the state of hands.

I need to be out on the deck more this year, enjoying life outside and not be inside. The girls won't come out and leave the deck. In fact, they will come out for about 30 minutes and then go inside whether I do or not. Gotta love indoor cats.

I want to create a space again, as I used to, where being outside was being surrounded by color. That makes me happy. That gives me joy. I've started. Small steps to making this happen.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

It Makes a Good Blog Post

With the nice weather outside, I am inspired to make nice inside. Litter boxes cleaned and litter removed from the house. Floors in the bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen have been mostly swept. Man, that's a lot of dust. Dishes are very nearly done and then the kitchen counter and stove will be wiped down. The kitchen table, long a repository for piles, has been cleared off, partially. Those two boxes taken to recycling. I dusted. That means moving things. That means, where once something was, it's now clear.

She's sitting on the organ that once belonged to my grandfather. He was a decent player. Mom made sure we all took piano lessons, something I'm rather grateful for. Playing this organ is not like playing piano, however, and I never could get the hang of it. I can't bear, right now, to part with it, though, since it was Grandpa Al's. So, things sit on top of it. I moved them to dust. Dusting is an activity I don't do every week so what I was doing required investigation and when a spot opened up on the top of the organ...

Beverage:  African Rooibos tea

Deb

The Things We Find

Over the weekend, while doing some uploading to the guild web site and burning CD's, I took a moment to clean off the top of my computer desk and clean the space around it. It was one of those acts that you know you should do at some point, but it's so low on the priority list as to be nowhere near the immediate 'gotta do'. Cleaning became an act of spontaneity. I should dust off the back of the desk, but I'll settle for cleaned off and organized right now.

There are two bins on the floor next to the desk. One is for office supplies. One is for, well look at that. Here are my stamps and ink pads. I was looking for them to stamp the front of Christmas cards but, in December, couldn't remember where I'd put them. On the floor next to the desk is not the most memorable place, but I don't have another place that's an intuitive place to put the bin, so right now, it will stay where it is.

In the course of cleaning, I stumbled across a few things. Confetti. Four packages of confetti. I went through a confetti phase where it was the thing to add to cards. I have (clockwise from upper left) stars; ghosts, pumpkins and black cats; balloons; and small cats.

I'm not sure what to do with this stuff. I wouldn't dream of sticking it in cards now. I know how I would feel if I opened a card and confetti fell out. I'm not even sure why I bought these in the first place. I probably had a reason. For now, I stuck the packages in a drawer. Maybe one of my readers wants them.

The next item I know why I bought it. In 2006, I went to Colonial Williamsburg. My clan had their annual meeting there. I had never been to this location and a clan meeting was a good way to see Williamsburg. It was a fun time, very interesting. I came back with some decent souvenirs, one of which is to the left.

Carole used to collect key chains. They are easy to store and inexpensive to obtain. She also played the flute and, while this is a fife player, it's reminiscent of the flute. It was a couple bucks in one of the stores. I was going to give it to her in her Christmas stocking.

But, when I came back from the trip, she had decided she didn't want to store all these key chains she'd collected. While they were nice and a wonderful way of remembering where she'd been, she had too many of them and collecting these didn't interest her anymore. The keychain was set aside and set aside some more and fell into the box of office supplies. I don't need it. It will probably wind up in the give away bag unless someone out there wants it.

I found these scissors I had forgotten I had. They have a scalloped edge and I know I bought them to make cards one year. I moved them from the office bin to the crafting drawer in the wardrobe behind me. I'm not sure how much use I'll get out of them, but in the drawer, which I do use often, at least I'll see them more than in the bottom of a bin. I could, very easily, part with these. About the time I ship them off, I'll find a use for them but that's the way it goes.

Lastly, I found these items that I won't part with. These were my grandfather's. The upper left item enlarges the print in a small area. We used these in college to look at photos and text when I was on the newspaper. Back in the days of Linotype, this magnifying monocle was a necessity to check for broken letters. I used to use it when I edited a magazine and needed to proof the product before it went to print. Grandpa Al was in publicity for Allis Chalmers so he would have used it to look at photos and type for ads.

The large circular glass is also a magnifying glass. I'm not sure exactly what grandpa used it for but I can speculate. He was an avid coin and stamp collector. I do remember him using the monocle viewer to look at coins and stamps. I'm thinking he used the large magnifier for the same purpose.

It's not that I won't get rid of them because of their attachment to my grandfather. There is that. But these are useful. I don't like to do cross-stitch on anything smaller than 18 count fabric. Generally, when you go smaller, you're doing stitching over 2 squares, not just one. It's way too hard for me to see the thread count. So I stay with what I can see easily. The smaller thread counts lend themselves to more intricately detailed cross-stitched pictures. I have some I'd like to try. Having a magnifying glass handy could make the stitching process easier for me. If I combine that with the new glasses I intend to get at the end of the month, I'll look through my patterns for something reasonably easy and give it a go. I moved these to the craft drawer too where, in theory, I'll remember where they are. In practice, there will be a post come April about where did I put those.

So, I'm inspired now to move onward through the office and clean out more piles. I wish I knew how to put things up on eBay. I have things that probably others would want or could use. I've realized that stuff does not equate to happiness and my happiness would be better if I had less stuff. If you're a friend and you want any of the top three items, you know how to contact me.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

"I don't want people to think I'm a lush."

My mother and sister are giggling now. They should recognize that sentence.

If you are any kind of experimental cook, you've no doubt tried a recipe or two or three where 2 tablespoons of some alcohol was needed. Drive to the liquor store and find out said liquor comes in a 2 quart bottle. That's it. There is nothing smaller. Personally, I think there would be a decent market in making things like amaretto, hazelnut, cherry and other assorted spirits in 8 ounce bottles. I have a recipe for mahi-mahi that uses hazelnut liqueur. Fortunately, I like hazelnut liqueur, but what if you try the recipe and you wouldn't feed it to the neighborhood raccoons? You're stuck with a bottle of something you don't like.

I've mentioned my grandmother's cooking abilities in this blog before. She could whip up the most memorable dishes that took 2 hours and had 45 steps. She couldn't make chocolate chip cookies to save her soul. She was forever trying new recipes and many of them involved alcohol. Plus, she had certain drinks she preferred, although, unlike my grandfather and his rum and cokes, I can't tell you what she liked other than something that was yellow, came in a bottle with a tall neck; Galliano, or something like that.

She kept her alcohol under the kitchen sink, although a few bottles would go to the cabinet in the basement under the stairs. This way, the alcohol was at the ready if she needed it. Alcohol was on the left and cleaning supplies were on the right. Heaven help you if you put the dish detergent on the left.

In the last 5 years of her life, she began to think about her mortality and what her home said about her. Invariably, her thoughts turned to the bottles under the kitchen sink. I cannot count the number of times she would say to either my mother, my sister or me, "When I die, make sure the first thing you do is get rid of those bottles under the sink. I don't want people to think I'm a lush." We would always assure her the bottles would be removed quickly. Honestly, people might have had some negative thoughts about her for other things, but being a lush was not one of them.

I like to try new recipes and sometimes those involve alcohol. In the basement, on the top shelf of shelf unit along the west wall, are bottles of liquor. They sit, like the one in the photo, collecting dust. I've used, maybe, a half cup out of some of them and then not touched them again in years. Last winter, during the blizzard, I dug out a bottle of cinnamon schnapps and started adding a shot or two to my hot cocoa. When the schnapps was gone, long about August, and yes, I drink hot cocoa all year 'round, I brought up a bottle of white cream de cacao. There was a bottle of banana liqueur. A shot of both of those added to hot cocoa was really good.

The photo above is dark cream de cacao. You can tell how long I've had it by the layer of dust on the bottle. I had to run the top under hot water to break the crusty seal to get it open. It's still good. There's a bottle of cherry brandy down there, a couple of empty bottles and a couple bottles of wine. I really don't drink that much so it will be awhile before all of this is gone. Then, I'll be down to buying just what I'll drink.

As I savored my hot cocoa laced with chocolate liqueur, I thought about that mahi-mahi recipe. I haven't made that in years. Add a salad and fruited rice and that would be an excellent dinner. I think the recipe calls for 3 tablespoons hazelnut liqueur to go into the sauce which is poured over the fish. I'll have to buy a big bottle. Just don't think of me as a lush if you find that bottle in the basement. Add a shot to your hot cocoa. It makes the cocoa taste like a peanut butter cup.

Beverage:  Edinburgh's Finest tea

Deb

Genetics

When you get your family together, particularly if there are children younger than 3, invariably the conversation turns to "Who does x look like?" Of course we did that this weekend. My thoughts, however, turned to the larger issue of genetics and how I am alike and different from my family.

Here's the four of us with mom.

I resemble my mother. In fact, a couple of people at the open house remarked that they didn't know Sandy had a sister. "I'm her oldest daughter. She's an only child." There is no way to not feel stupid after you make a remark like that regardless of how much I said I wasn't offended. People remarked it was obvious we were related because we do look alike and, right now, I have the same gait that she does. Mom's had knee problems too although her's are because of age. She didn't fall. She's not clumsy.

My niece, Christina, remarked that she hopes my sister, my mom and I never live together because we sound alike on the phone. "I would never be able to tell the three of you apart and I just know you'd figure out a way to confuse me more because of that." Who? Us?

In conversation, my mom, sister and I all have cold feet, particularly in the winter. My sister wears socks to bed almost year 'round. I'm not that bad but I do have a heating pad on the bed where my feet are in an effort to be comfortable. With three of us having cold feet, it's got to be genetic. So we wonder if other female cousins have cold feet. "Hey," Sharyn said. "Let's conduct a poll on Facebook and see." I'm actually thinking that might be an interesting thing to start a conversation with my cousins. I can't remember if my daughter has cold feet in the winter or not.

Genetics really comes into play when you have the little ones around. Witness my niece Christina and her family. These three kids couldn't look more alike if you'd custom mixed their DNA. They all have similar temperaments, too.

Think back to your primary school years. I'll bet you can remember the kids who had siblings that didn't bear any resemblance to them; the brown haired blue-eyed girls with the blond haired brown-eyed brother. I remember the twins who could pass for each other and sometimes did because teachers had difficulty telling them apart and the boy-girl twins who didn't look anything alike. When Christina's kids smile, they are the spitting image of each other. It is really neat to see.

The youngest of the next generation is kind of hard to place. Harlee Kay was born in June. Right now, she doesn't quite have features we can put with either mom or dad. What she does have are 'chipmunk cheeks'. She has the sweet disposition of Christina's kids and the bright blue eyes of the Thompson side of the family. My sister is rather irritated that no one has produced brown-eyed kids. "You better be getting on that, right now," she said. Yes, Christina and Amber rolled their eyes. Mom has the brown eyes. Dad had the blue eyes as did his father and his father before him. Gotta hand down something in the family.

Part of the weekend was devoted to going through boxes mom has stored, deciding what we wanted and what really needs to be given away. We stumbled upon a photo of Christina at age 6. She held it up, showed it to her daughter and said, "Who is this?" Makayla's eyes grew wide and she said, "That's me!" Honestly, it could have been. The resemblance was uncanny.

When Carole was 3, I found a photo of my sister at that age. They could have been sisters, the resemblance was so strong.

In an age where DNA can find a lot of things and the sci-fi stories of designing your own kids don't seem that far off, the natural progression of traits through a family is a beautiful thing to see.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Another Batch of Pancakes

I've been on a pancake kick lately.

What's the down side of this? One recipe can make a couple dozen pancakes. I have 3 for morning breakfast and then I have at least a half-dozen meals ready for me. Pancakes can go in the toaster to be warmed but I like to put a small slice of butter on the tops, drizzle them with maple syrup and nuke them for a couple minutes. The syrup and butter soak in and add their flavors to the flavors of the pancakes. It's very much a winning combination.

A couple weeks ago, I made whole wheat buttermilk pancakes. They had a divine flavor and I am down to the last 3 frozen cakes just waiting for the right meal. Yesterday, I trotted out a new recipe, Cornmeal Buttermilk Pancakes. I've mentioned before how cornmeal is a staple in my family. I have wonderful memories of staying with my dad's father overnight and his cornbread served for dinner. Grandpa called it "Johnny Cake". I have a recipe for cornbread that is called "Johnny Cake". I've never researched where that name came from but I'm willing to bet it's from at least the Civil War. Cornmeal would have been a staple of the diet back then and I used to know how to make it over a campfire.

I hauled out my skillet and made pancakes. This recipe made a lot. I have quite a few frozen for later meals.

I think I like the whole wheat ones just a bit better than these. It might have been that the whole wheat ones were cooked in butter. This recipe specified the griddle be greased with oil. Vegetable oil has the least flavor of all the oils in my cabinet so I used that. I still think it added a mild taste that distracted from the pancake. The next time I make these, I think I'll just go with buttering the griddle.

These would be really good with a syrup other than maple, but that's all I had on hand. A good butter pecan syrup would be great.

Finances aren't good as I head toward the end of the month. Having things like pancakes frozen, ready for me, means I won't be staring at the cupboards and then throwing my hands up in the air and not eating. I've done that.

Tonight, I'm trying a manicotti recipe that serves 4. If it works, I'll have meals for the next couple of days. Planning. I need to do more of that.

Beverage:  Edinburgh's Finest tea

Deb

Day 10- The first novel you remember reading

Today's book challenge post is much easier than yesterday's. I was even quite surprised that one of the books I chose is still available and I could find a photo of the cover.

My mother is a voracious reader. I don't remember a time when she didn't read. I don't have memories of her reading to me, but I do have memories of being taken to the Monona Public Library, sitting at the kids table and being allowed to page through books with incredible pictures while she went to the left, into those dark stacks and came out with two or three books that didn't have pictures. Why would you want to read something that just had words on the page? Pictures make the words come alive.

I believe mom was encouraged to read by her parents. My grandmother received, probably, 6-8 different magazines every month and read each one of them. She read the newspaper, all of it, ads and everything. I don't remember my grandfather having books around, but he was a numismatist, an antique's dealer and a philatelist, and I remember magazines devoted to those hobbies lying around. My grandfather's parents had a few books in their home.

Reading was encouraged in all of us kids. My brothers don't read as my sister and I do. My ex-husband came from a family of readers so it would be natural to hand down the love of reading and the love of books to Carole. She's a couple days ahead of me on this challenge and her answer to this theme was her father's Hardy Boys books.

As I aged, the public library became a more wondrous place. Girl Scouts was in the basement of this building, the town hall. The library was just beyond the town clerk and the mayor's office. I can smell the smell that greeted you when you scampered up the stairs, across the lobby to the large wooden doors that said "Public Library" on them. The librarians were two ladies everyone knew and they made it their business to recommend books.

I think, the summer between 3rd and 4th grade is when I made the transition to non-illustrated chapter books. We went to the library and the librarian suggested I start reading Nancy Drew. She said the beauty of these books was that there were more of them in this series, meaning Nancy and her friends, these characters I could get to know, would have more adventures. Well, okay, I'll give it a try.

I don't know if I read The Secret of the Old Clock first. That is the first one in the series. I do know that once I started reading these, I was hooked.

At the time I was reading them, new books were showing up in the library every 6-10 weeks. I wasn't the only 4th grader reading Nancy Drew and 3 of us would, before Girl Scouts, go to the library to see if a new book was in. We had read all the others so a new one was a treasure. But, we did have arguments over who had checked out the last new book so whose "turn" it was to check the newest book out first.

That's when the librarian stepped in and said she would start a list. She would keep tabs on who checked out the book first and rotate it between the three of us. It was a good system. If one of us came in and found the newest book on the shelf but it wasn't our "turn" to check it out, she would call and find out if we were going to come in soon or could she let someone else check it out. I think this lasted a year before we moved on to other books.

In the back of my mind, there is the idea that there was a series I read before Nancy Drew, but Nancy Drew is the chapter book I remember most clearly.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Something Borrowed

Here I am putting the necklace my grandfather gave me around my daughter's neck. You know the old saw, "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and a silver six pence in her shoe."

I looked up where the saying originated and most links said it's Victorian England in history.


Each item in this poem represents a good-luck token for the bride. If she carries all of them on her wedding day, her marriage will be happy. "Something old" symbolizes continuity with the bride's family and the past. "Something new" means optimism and hope for the bride's new life ahead. "Something borrowed" is usually an item from a happily married friend or family member, whose good fortune in marriage is supposed to carry over to the new bride. The borrowed item also reminds the bride that she can depend on her friends and family. 

As for the colorful item, blue has been connected to weddings for centuries. In ancient Rome, brides wore blue to symbolize love, modesty, and fidelity. Christianity has long dressed the Virgin Mary in blue, so purity was associated with the color. Before the late 19th century, blue was a popular color for wedding gowns, as evidenced in proverbs like, "Marry in blue, lover be true." 

And finally, a silver sixpence in the bride's shoe represents wealth and financial security. It may date back to a Scottish custom of a groom putting a silver coin under his foot for good luck. For optimum fortune, the sixpence should be in the left shoe. These days, a dime or a copper penny is sometimes substituted, and many companies sell keepsake sixpences for weddings. 

I don't know what she carried that was blue, if there was anything at all. The borrowed and old would be the necklace and the new would be the dress. 

We had one final photo and the bridesmaids and my daughter headed off to the church. It was time for those of us left at the farm to get ready. 


Beverage:  Huckleberry tea


Deb

It's Friday. Time to See What We Forgot.

Friday, May 20th dawned crystal clear. The Comfort Inn had the one building you see to the left, and another building, called the "Executive Wing", where mom and I stayed. To the right, off the photo, was a defunct restaurant called "Wings".

We got our free breakfast and set out to find the farm. The directions we had were how to get from the hotel to the church and from the church to the farm, not from the hotel to the farm. But, hey, I have a vague idea of where it is. Let's go for a drive.

After 40 minutes, we returned to the parking lot of the Safeway grocery store and called Carole for directions. We had traveled through some beautiful country but in the wrong direction. We'd have wound up in western Virginia had I not turned around and gone back. It was the kind of country, however, where I could leisurely drive, just seeing the homes and farms, some of which, it was obvious, had been there at and probably before the Civil War.

With directions in hand, we found the farm easily. The tent for the reception was up. Tables and chairs were under it. It was beginning to look like there was an event happening here.

We moved some of the tables and chairs out of the way so the guys could build a dance floor. The kids could have rented one but David's dad said he could build one with materials he had on hand. It was, actually, a pretty good "floor" for being sections of plywood nailed to a frame. It helps to have crafty people around who can say, "Hmmm. I can do that."

We jumped into putting the finishing touches on reception items. As Carole and David are very much into photography, they had a disposable camera on every table for guests to take informal photos. They also had one of their collection of old cameras on each table with instructions on how it was to be used.

The camera at the very bottom, thin and going vertically in the photo, is my grandfather, Alfred's, camera. I do not remember him ever using it. My mother had it in her stuff and, when Carole and David passed through Iowa last year, she gave it to Carole. Yes, you can get film still that works in these old cameras. David has some film that gave an expiration date of 1953 on it. They like using "expired" film because of the effects you can get. Grandpa Al's camera was on our table. It took me a couple photographs to understand exactly how it worked but I used up the roll they had in it. I'm curious to see what the photos look like.

We worked together, bridesmaids, parents, David and Carole, friends and other relatives, to get the tent and the house reception ready. I neglected to take photos of the table decorations as we fixed those. Each table was identified by a state where the kids had lived or had some attachment to. People were organized via a connection to a state. In my case, I was at the "Iowa" table. There was a bread basket, the camera with instructions, a place holder with the state name and a collection of photos taken in that state, a scattering of silk flowers in white and green and 3 small plastic bottles of bubbles. We organized everything into bags and, on Saturday put the bags and cameras on the proper tables. The caterer then set everything out as they set up.

With all the hands, there was plenty of time to sit around and chat on Kitty and David's wide front porch. I got a lot of cross-stitching done on Friday, jumping up when I was needed. There was a minor problem with the dress which was fixed. The dance floor came together and in spite of what seemed like chaos, it appeared we were, in fact, going to have a wedding the next day and it was going to go off without a hitch.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Something Borrowed

My pearls.

Now, I don't know if these are real. My mother's father gave these to me because "every girl should have pearls". I honestly don't remember when. It seems like I've always had them. I'm thinking I was about 6 years-old. Maybe my mom, who reads the blog, remembers. And did my sister get a set? It might have been the year she was born. These have passed into what might be considered "antique" status, I've had them so long.

This is the original clasp and stringing. I just don't find an occasion where I need to wear pearls.

Carole is going to wear them for her "blessing of the vows" ceremony. I am honored and I know my grandfather would be, too.

Beverage:  hot cocoa

Deb

Remember When?

I have addressed the Christmas cards for all the cards I currently have. I need to go to the store and get another box. I thought I had it counted out correctly but I'm short. My October dream of making my own cards didn't get done. I'll get to it but I'm using up some old cards I've had for a few years.

Also being used up in this are old stamps. We used to save some, when Carole was little, because my ex had a friend who collected stamps. He had a rather large collection, all identified and mounted. A stamp collection, as collections goes, doesn't take up that much room. My grandfather collected stamps and coins. I remember going to visit him and he'd have his collections out because he'd just found a stamp or a coin he'd been searching for. We were allowed to look but not touch.

Now that Carole's on her own, I asked about the stamp collection. She's not interested in it so I've been using the stamps to mail what correspondence I do as well as the bills I don't pay online. Most of our collection is from when stamps were between 30 and 36 cents. That means I have to get a sheet or two of 1, 2 and 10 cent stamps.

The stamps on the left required licking. You remember that, right? Stick out your tongue and apply moisture using that appendage. You mouth would dry out in December between licking stamps and licking the back of the card envelope. I realized that all stamps today are peel and stick. You can't find current denominations of the lick and stick variety. I'm not going to decry this. It's an advancement that is most welcome. I remember when the first peel and stick stamps were introduced and how some people said that was a travesty. Now, I don't think we'd have it any other way.

Beverage:  Gingerbread tea

Deb

And the prediction is...?

I took the garbage and recycling out yesterday after coming home from work. I found this, a woolly bear caterpillar, on the ground. Yes, he (or is it a she? How does one 'sex' caterpillars or does one?) is curled into a ball, but you can see that roughly half of him is brown and the other half is black.

Woolly bears are the larva of Isabella Tiger moth. At this time of year, when you see them, they are in the process of moving to a sheltered location to spin their cocoons to wait out the winter before become the moth in the spring. They can, very often, be almost everywhere. Folklore developed over the centuries giving these little guys the ability to predict the severity of the winter weather. This isn't altogether untrue because the more of them you see and the more they are moving, it means they know cold weather is coming and they are taking shelter for the winter.

Growing up, my grandfather always said the size of the black area indicated the severity of the winter. The more black there was, the harder the winter. Some folks say the number of segments of each color (There are 13 total.) indicate how long the harsh weather will last as opposed to the mild weather.

Some folks say the thickness of the hairs on the worm's body indicate winter severity. Thick hairs equal harsh while thin hairs equal mild. And others said that if the woolly bear is traveling north, it will be a mild winter. If he's traveling south, batten down the hatches. There's nothing to say what happens if you see him curled in a ball. Did he just give up?

So, in looking at this little guy, my forecast for winter is that we'll get snow and cold and then, about April, we will get rain as the temperatures warm up. How's that for precise science? The Old Farmer's Almanac gives the winter forecast for my region, #6, thus:

Winter will be colder than normal, with the coldest periods in late December, mid- and late January, and mid- and late February. Snowfall and precipitation will be near or slightly above normal in New York and below normal elsewhere. The snowiest periods will be in mid-December, January, and mid-February.

According to Esther Lutz, East Central Illinois Master Naturalist, woolly bears have an accuracy rate of 80-85%. (The rest of her article on these little guys is very interesting.) I think that's pretty good, for a bug.

Beverage: Water

Deb

Fresh off the wire!

July sets 85-year Illinois record as coolest

CHAMPAIGN -- Last month was Illinois' coldest July since 1924.

Preliminary data gathered by researchers at the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign shows the average temperature last month was 70.4 degrees. That's 5.3 degrees below normal.

Climatologist Jim Angel says the previous record, set 85 years ago, was 71.5 degrees.
Angel says most parts of the state haven't had any days with temperatures in the 90s. Usually there are at least five days that hot.

Researchers say the cooldown resulted in lower energy demand and poor growing conditions for some farmers.

Meanwhile, statewide precipitation was 1.1 inches above normal in July, at 4.9 inches.

-- Associated Press

Well, duh. Although the above flowers in my mini prairie planting are the best they have looked in 3 years, I ran the furnace twice, count it, 2 times in July to take the chill and damp out of the house. There is a rumor that August will be hot, in about 2 weeks, just as kids go back to school.

I come from an age where air conditioning was advertised on the front of restaurants. Not every place had it and those that did had a small unit in the back that dripped water down the front, usually the right, corner. The air that came out was icy, icy cold, like being dropped onto an Arctic iceflow in your shorts and a tee shirt.

Generally, you didn't want to sit at the table adjacent to the AC unit. When it kicked on, there was a fine spray of water released in the front. Now days, we would be very up in arms over what germs would be in that spray. I remember my mother not being real thrilled with it either. In the winter, those units weren't removed because they were built into the wall. The back side was supposed to be covered to protect the unit from the elements, but many weren't. So, in the summer, when they ran, the water drip would be rusty as well as semi-stagnant from sitting inside the unit.

My prairie plants have enjoyed the weather and benefited from being mowed with the first mowing of the year. Rattlesnake master, purple coneflower, black-eyed Susan and shasta daisy make up the corner plot. Queen Anne's Lace, a European import, is also in the plot but it adds some elegance so I'll leave it, for now. I'd like to enlarge the plot and add some other prairie-style plants but I have no energy for digging. Where's a high-school student when you need one?

The only side effect of the damper and cooler than normal weather is an abundance of the rain-water mosquito. West Nile Virus has been in the area for 5 years now. That mosquito prefers hot conditions to breed and there has been nothing hot about July. I think I have killed 3 or 4 mosquitos inside but you go outside at dusk and they will carry you off. Budget cuts have forced communities to scale back their spraying. That's good for the butterflies as the spray got to some of them in spite of the switch to a less butterfly toxic mosquito killer.

I'm rather looking forward to some hot, steamy weather. I'm rather fond of four distinct seasons and July was sort of like late April misplaced. I still have not taken down the top on the Jeep yet as I want to take it down when there are more than 1.5 days in a row slated to be nice. This "potential for rain every other day" business is nuts. As my grandfather used to say in the 1960's, "Must be those danged Russians controlling our weather."

Beverage: I'm out! Time to get lunch anyway.

Deb