Stuff I bought

I got up early today, finished the chores, dolled myself up (as much as I do, which frankly, constitutes little more than running a comb through my hair, washing my face, and slapping on moisturizer with SPF 30) and made a quick run to Target. If I don't get this over with first thing in the morning, I won't go. Any later than opening and the parking lot is full, forcing me to park in the boonies (and I don't want to walk from the boonies to the store in this heat), the store is full of bitchy moms trailed by passels of kids, and the traffic makes me irritable.

So, I went to Target...moving on...

Here's what I bought:

Do towels require explanation? The towels in the drawer are getting to be threadbare.

These containers might come in handy for Steve's lunch.

Steve's underware is full of holes, and I'm sick of it.

Colored sponges, so that we won't get confused between the handwash sponge and the sponge used to wash pet dishes. I have many times caught Steve using the sponge for pet dishes on handwash dishes, and nearly vomited. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd made the mistake when I wasn't around to freak out on  him.

I might be the last person in America still using scrunchies. I love 'em, and I won't give them up. Although, they are more and more difficult to find. I must be careful with these.

I bought this particular box of Lucky Charms because it advertises More Magic mini Charms. That sounds wonderful. I can't wait to find out. That is a Family Size box of Cocoa Pebbles for $2.54. What a deal.

This might have been the cheapest clock radio on the shelf. I think it was $11.99. Allow me to share the difference between a $30 clock radio and a $12 clock radio. Reception. I have to stand on my head, with my arms sticking out with a hanger gripped between my feet to get the radio to come in on this thing.

"Why should I spend $30 on a clock radio when I'm sure the one for $11.99 will do the trick?" Why indeed.

Later in the afternoon, I drove all the way to Nordstrom to buy a pair of FitFlops. Because they were out of size Gargantuan, I left empty handed.

After a lifetime spent drilling the full force of my weight into my heel with each step, and thusly overpronating, compounded by my billion pound gain over the last 20 years, I have developed plantar fasciitis. At first, I thought my foot was punishing me for wearing a particularly cheap pair of flip flops. I thought it would go away. Three months of hobbling tells me that it's time for more than simply favoring my foot. I've been reading, and believe that FitFlops (and a decent pair of inserts) might be the key to salvation.

Steven's sister has this, and she is such a drama queen that I always ignored her complaints. But this really is for the birds.

Gawd! I just reviewed this for mistakes and whatnot, and I am in some kind of icky mood! I think its the caffeine. I rarely drink anything containing caffeine, but I stopped at Panera for lunch today and had a Coke. I always get a wee cranky when I've had soda.

Done!

After putting it off for the last couple of months, I finally completed my FAFSA. I can't really explain why I procrastinated. But here I am, with school starting in a month, and last night at close to 11 o'clock, I finished. Whew!

Now I wait. 

To find out how much I get...or don't get. 

And then I get my loans.

And then, I pay for school!

Hooray!

Steve is away on business, so I have the car. Having the car at my disposal for the week, I planned to be all over town doing fun stuff, and running errands. I've barely left the house. In fact, I've spent the time reading and sleeping. In about two months, I will reflect on this week with envy.

Each time I'm on the verge of berating myself for my lazy ways, I cut myself some slack. I figure that with school starting in a month, I'll soon be pulled in many directions, so why not enjoy the few remaining days of quiet? Yes, enjoying the moment instead of obsessing about tomorrow. 

I've been invited to attend a meditation class. I forget when it starts, but it meets six Tuesdays in a row. Unfortunately, I've got class Tuesday night. I would love to learn to meditate. 

I didn't brush my teeth this morning. I feel concurrently gross, and like a rebel. Such seditious behavior!

Rainy Days

Rainy days are a gift. 

The house is darker in the day, requiring lamps, which makes everthing cozy. Outside is a waste, so you have the perfect excuse to remain indoors reading, napping or baking brownies (or exercising or whatever).

The rain recharges my batteries, and I love it!

Once Upon A Time

I was about ten years old when I asked, "Mom? Do you believe in soulmates?" After she answered, "I think that you can love just about anyone if you really put your mind to it." I sat quiet. My mind was blank, and I was sad. Clearly, she did not think my father her soulmate, and worse, she didn't believe in soulmates. 

I wanted her to believe so that I could believe.

About twelve years ago, I met Leif. After several months of knowing him, I came to believe that he was "the one". We weren't a couple long enough for us to transition beyond the you-are-awesome-I-am-awesome-lovey-dovey stage 1. Then, he went into the Peace Corps (be still my Liberal heart). I loved him even more.

At the time, I felt so grown-up about my unapologetically pragmatic attitude toward his leaving. I said so-long to Leif and wished him well in his work. Though, for many years after, I dreamt of his farm-boy smile and crystal blue eyes. My heart was broken, and I was not moving on.

I didn't know what to do.

Eventually, I began to date. No one compared to Leif. I was not optimistic that anyone ever would.

Then I met Steve.

At once, I was flushed and silly, and I knew that he was my second chance. He immediately began occupying the part of my heart that I didn't even realize lay dormant. I wasn't consciously waiting to serendipitously again cross paths with Leif. I wasn't consciously saving my heart for him. But I was, until I met Steve.

Once upon a time, I met the love of my life.

He was wonderful, and we were wonderful.

Then he moved away, and I moved on.

Then I got a second chance.

And I did not squander it.

You get what you believe in.

My own private vanity

Not once in my life has anyone ever complimented me on my hands. And yet, I have always thought that I had very pretty hands. I liked my long fingers and evenly shaped nails. I liked that my hands were strong without being masculine. 

All of this, I kept to myself.

While working at the computer, writing, driving...anything really, I noticed and admired my hands.

It was about four years ago that I first noticed an unmistakeable crepeiness appear. I was alarmed. I thought, "So this is what getting old looks like."

Getting old starts slow.

Then it generates momentum.

Then it is over in a flash.

I'd always wondered how people got old. People either seem young, old or older. Before now, I never noticed a "sorta old". I think that I am looking "sorta old".

My hands remained subtlety crepey for a couple of years. Just a hint of old that I alone noticed.

I vainly attempted to stave the aging by applying hand creams. Unfortunately, the creams were promptly shed when I washed my hands, or did the dishes, or washed the floors, or cleaned the bathrooms or any of the myriad activities that accelerate the aging of hands. The hands creams ultimately proved a waste of time.

I recently turned 40. And, honest-to-God, it seemed that as the clock struck midnight, the crepeiness overtook my hands entirely. I woke, took one look and thought, "It's over. I am old."

I don't feel old, I am not sad to be getting older. In fact, I feel like I am growing more into myself, feeling more satisfied with my choices than I ever have. I am thrilled to be continuing to evolve. But, I absolutely, unequivocally hate, hate, hate my hands not looking like my hands, but the hands of an old woman. The skin is beginning to sag. And now? I am starting to notice the crepeiness inching up my arms. 

I feel too young to look old, and I don't like it.

It kind of sucks.

I figured that I better get a picture of my hands before they get worse.

I wish that I taken a picture of my hands before they grew old.

Wrinkly Old Hands

Africa Hot

Last week, the part of the air conditioner that sits outside the house sounded odd. I told Steve about the noise, and he made an appointment to have a technician inspect the unit. The appointment was for Wednesday morning at 8am. At 8:15am, with no technician in sight, we called the company. They claimed the tech was running a little late. At 9am, we call the company again, and they said that the tech had a blow-out on I-4, at the Maitland exit, and had to return to the office for a spare because their policy is that their employees do not travel in company vehicles without usable spare tires.

Does all of that sound like a load of crap? It did to us. So, we told them to forget it. I wasn't home to take the call, but later in the morning, Sean (the air conditioning technician) left a message on our machine asking us to call him back, that it was very important.

We did not return Sean's call. My instinct tells me that Sean had a late night, that he is regularly late to appointments and is generally unreliable, and that because his tardiness caused his company business, he was in hot water. That is no concern of mine, and I have no intention of involving myself in that guy's life. Sorry Sean, get your head out of your ass, and you'll be a raging success.

Moving on.

The air conditioner when completely kaput later that day.

Florida.

June.

94 degrees in the shade.

Wonderful.

I called another company and got an appointment for Friday morning. I told them what happened with the other company, and that if I sniffed any bullsh*t, I'd tell them to take a leap the same way I'd told the other company.

The service man showed at 8am on the dot. 

Good.

His diagnosis was that we needed a new motor, and that it would cost a cool $512. We told him we'd think about it, and sent him on his way. 

Steve looked the motor up online, and the part cost $109. $400 in labor? I don't think so. Steve said that he was sure he could do it himself, only problem was that the store that sold the part locally was M-F, 8-5. 

Oh boy. We'd already been without air since Wednesday afternoon, now we'd have to wait until Monday? I was determined to tough it out, but I wasn't 100% sure that I was up to it. That first night was horrible. It was hot, hot, hot! Neither one of us could get comfortable, sweaty as all get out, sticking to our pillows. It sucked.

We were lucky to have a free-standing fan on hand, so we put that to use, and things weren't half bad. I looked like a mental patient, permanently flushed, permanently greasy face and frizzy hair sticking out in all directions. However, the experience did offer a surprising slice of nostalgia. 

Except for when company was visiting, my mom never, ever ran the air in our house when I was growing up. We had fans going in every room, all the time. We played in the pool, read, did anything that didn't add heat to the house. We lived on salads and iced tea (avoiding heating the house via the kitchen). Most things about my childhood sucked, but the absence of air conditioning returned me to a time when I had no worries, and I felt safe. I was completely caught off guard to feel at ease while standing directly in front of a fan inside a house that registered over 90 degrees. I also hadn't realized how stressed out I've been.

Indeed, Steve repaired the air conditioner, we are "back to normal", and I am grateful to have been vividly reminded of a time in my life that was truly simple.

Where Have I Been?

I started this as a way of keeping in touch with friends who don't live near. My friends weren't interested in the whole blog thing, preferring Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, etc. I didn't want to do any of those, so that was that, and this blog was abandoned. But now, Melanie has asked where went ye olde blog, and I am tentatively reviving it.

Here goes...

Well Melanie, you pretty much know how I've spent the past six months: wrapping up home improvement projects, hosting scores of company, getting ready for grad school, living in denial that I live in an animal shelter that doubles as a homestead, planning vacations that will never materialize because the pennies aren't in the bank to finance the wild adventures of which I dream. But, I remain optimistic, and feel good about my life.

Two weekends back, I thought my dog was on the brink of death, so Steve and I freaked out and took him on field trips around the area. Then, because Turner (the hound dog) improved (the result of a drastic change in diet that requires us to cook his food - and is going to be the death of me), Steve and I have mellowed...some. We have decided that we're not going to vaccinate him anymore, so that means no more doggie daycare, because [understandably] they won't accept animals that aren't vaccinated. That's that. Steve & I will not be going out of town together, unless we can bring along the hound. At Christmas, when we go to his parent's, we'll be able to bring Turner, but that's the only place we'll go together. I'm a little bummed.

This is from this morning

They quickly pump the fluid from their abdomen into their wings

Those yellow "horns" are a defensive adaptation

I am shocked that I was able to capture this bee. My garden hums with bees all day long, but they move so fast, they are hard to get on film.

The butterfly factory is cranking along. As of today, we've released 50 Monarch butterflies. There are Gulf Fritillaries and Swallowtails in the pipeline. We are on track to release 100 butterflies in total by the end of summer.

I love having a butterfly garden, but sometimes, it feels more like work and less like a fun hobby. I question if  I'm doing the right thing by helping to keep butterflies going when more and more habitat is lost daily. My yard is a lone oasis in my area, and I worry that I am releasing all of these butterflies only to starve if they leave the protection of my yard. In fact, most of my neighbors spray harmful chemicals intended to decimate the insect population in the area. 

Hopefully, I am keeping something important going until humanity annihilates itself, and the insects and animals will have the planet to themselves.