doing the nines



Everything goes better with Coke – but not necessarily when playing Mexican Train



– you routinely leave a heating pad plugged in and under your pillow when you make the bed.

– people under thirty start calling you “honey” at the bank

– you can’t remember how many barbecue grills you’ve had and thrown away

– your shoes are so old they crack, fall apart and leave a trail of rubber chips

The truth is, I don’t really remember lines from movies the way I sometimes pretend to do. I remember one quote from “Star Wars”, “the Force be with you”, or at least I think that was said there. I remember several things I loved from “Princess Bride” but I can’t quote them exactly, something about a peanut, and something about the RUS’s. I remember the shrubbery in “Monte Python’s Holy Grail” and the blood spurting hand (which I’ve tried to forget and can’t). “UHF” is responsible for my love of enterociters (spelling?).  Lastly, I remember laughing till my sides hurt during “Three Amigos” but I’ve watched it since and couldn’t quite relive the experience. I sort of remember being sick and having a fever while watching it the first time and that may have accounted for it seeming so funny. That’s it. That’s all.

I do enjoy a good movie and can get caught up in a thought provoking plot, if it’s not too weird and unbelievable and if the characters are compelling and I do have an emotional memory of how I was affected by most movies. I rarely choose to watch a movie a second time (exception – Princess Bride). I guess I just don’t want to clog my neuron pathways with most movie content when I have trouble remembering my own life that I’m actually living. And then there’s the actors … I put them in the same boat with sports figures. They simply get paid too much for what they do, even when they do it well. If they’re a high salaried actor it should be part of their job to go feed starving people in Africa with a lot of their money. It’s ridiculous, and no wonder so many of them end up getting disillusioned with life in general. That being said, you must be aware that this is an opinion and you are entitled to feel differently. 

All week I’ve been looking about for something significant to write, but I’ve actually been too busy thinking and reading to put something together.  It’s times like this that I need to drum up some resolve to make myself write. That’s what people who are real writers do – they just make themselves write. When does something ever grab you by the neck and scream “I’m significant! Write about me!”?  Almost never.

There were some different events this week that kept me on my toes (why do people say that?). For one, my work schedule was unusual. Normally I work 4 day shifts of 5-6 hours each for a total of 20 -24 hours.  This week I worked Monday day shift, Monday night shift, Thursday day shift and Thursday night shift for a total of 30 hours.  I don’t like working nights but there were some good things about it this week, namely being able to go home at 7 am instead of staying to do a double.  Both days, Tuesday and Friday, I was able to go home, get a nap and carry on fairly well after my short night sleeps. It was like getting a bonus day off.  When working nights, there might or might not be a chance to sleep – it’s hard to predict how things will go – but, if it does get boring I don’t have to fight to stay awake.  Sleeping is allowed if possible.

Today after breakfast I crawled in bed (it felt so good) and slept until Dennis turned off the TV and went to work. The quiet woke me up. I started thinking about my newest project in the oneacrewoods and got a sudden burst of energy which made it impossible to go back to sleep. It’s remarkable how being motivated can banish sluggishness.

Yesterday I followed up on a sale bulletin and bought some blackberry plants, thorn less ones.  We’d been discussing where to put them, but when you only have one or two sunny spots you pretty much know where they have to go.  They also need support so the fence was the logical location. However the fence was already inhabited by two large bougainvillea bushes which had been there for a loooong time. They were given to me by a good friend when we first moved to Florida and I had nursed them through several bad seasons. In a way I had bonded with the thorny rascals.  Upon deeper consideration, I realized that they had been growing on the fence for at least 10 years and had never turned red and flowery like they’re supposed to. They grow branches 7 or 8 feet long in as little as a month and have barbs up to an inch long which are horribly sharp.  Every time I trimmed then or mowed around them I came away bleeding.  All in all, what about these plants would I miss? I spent all morning cutting, sawing and chopping them out of the ground and off the fence.  I was going to take a picture of the blood streaming down my forearm, for the blog, but one thing led to another and I didn’t. Tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain all day, the blackberry plants are going in. I will take a picture.

Many things this week were just nice and ordinary. However I find significance in that – that ordinary is enjoyable, even comforting.  I am blessed with a home I love, a job I enjoy, many meaningful things to do and interesting people to do them with. All for now because I’m saving some things for tomorrow when I make myself write again.

A good cup of coffee, a quiet house, over an hour of reading and reflection with an awareness of sharing it with God, a good (mentally stimulating) two hour breakfast and walk with a special girlfriend, a leisurely finish on the lawnmower touring the oneacrewoods.  If nothing else goes right from here on out, it will still have been a great day. 

One full day of rain on the oneacrewoods has made it this luminescent shade of green – the color that is responsible for making green my favorite color.  Our oak trees make this spacious canopy over the center of our back yard that is like a huge room with sunlight dapples all over the floor.  To go back and forth, viewing it from all angles, seeing it’s freshly cut path behind me with all it’s glowing green-ness is like getting recharged and refreshed for me.  And since everything was still damp there was no dust! I’m still flesh colored and recognizable.  Today I’ll have to find some other way to get dirty.

From now on all names in my blog will be changed to protect the innocent, namely me. No one will be mentioned by name unless I am pretty sure I will not be sued by them for any reason.  Names can be downright dangerous. Take, for instance, the name that appeared on an email this week in the ” from” space: Esi. It bears some resemblance to one of my daughter’s names and I deliberated long and hard before deleting it without opening.  And I think it was the right choice.   I should have debated long and hard about clicking a webaddress of one of my blog viewers… from Russia, it turns out. That was totally the wrong choice.  And if you (you know who you are) really do read this, GET OFF MY BLOG.  So if you family members and family-like members who read this regularly (bless you) don’t recognize my life or the people in it anymore, I can send you a list of aliases by email. Hey,  I don’t even recognize my life with all these strangers in it. My mom said I could write about her by name but I never call her by her name – she’s Mom!

And then there was Norbert, the Verizon CSR who graciously gave me 150 bonus minutes on my phone plan because I was running short.  Norbert?  I just wasn’t expecting that name at all, especially from someone so polite and proper (I’m thinking India).  By the way Norbert, the 150 minutes haven’t showed up on my account yet.  I know who you are. I’ve got your name and there can’t be that many of you…

Another intrusion from the big, scary internet world – I now know about “backscatter” and “bounces” since someone has appropriated my name and email address for their spam.  These really unintelligible messages come back to me when they can’t be delivered to their recipients.  There are only four of them so far but I can expect more.

Lastly, every once in a while, a family name that only my closest people use on me crops up. For example, a few minutes ago local cousin-once-removed Janice (fictitious name) sent me a fb message and called me Sherb. I just have to say it made me smile and felt pretty good.



My daughter got off to pick blackberries

 I am age 61.  I have a horse that I hardly ever see or ride.  He lives in Gainesville with my daughter who takes very good care of him.  She loves horses and is almost a veterinarian. She is half my age with relatively no limitations compared to me.  One of our goals on this last weekend spent together was to ride our horses and I am happy to say that me, my daughter and her good friend, we did it.

It was a beautiful day with a comfortable cloud cover and a nice breeze. We rode and rode and rode because it was so pleasant.  My daughter picked berries and fed us. We did a little gallop and I didn’t fall off.  We rode some more.  We had to cross a big field so we galloped some more. My horse put his head down as he started to run because he was so happy but I didn’t fall off.  We rode for hours before we decided to go home and then it seemed good to go home a little faster.  We galloped across the field again. Once more my horse did his funny little thing with his head, and I almost fell off, but I didn’t.  As he was galloping and I was hanging on some birds flew up out of the grass and made my horse go a lot faster and a bit sideways. I didn’t fall off then either.  My horse likes doing whatever his friend horses do.  We came to a big log (it was a very big log) across the trail in the woods and my daughter’s horse wanted to go fast over the log.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to go fast over the log but my horse did, so we went.  I didn’t fall off but I don’t know why.  My horse knew it was my first jump so he stayed under me.  He’s such a good horse.   We finally got home after our wonder ful ride. We were hot and thirsty.  When I got off my horse my legs were frozen in an upside down U shape.  They really hurt except in the places where they were numb. I had to walk kind of funny but I got my horse in his stall and took off his saddle. All of a sudden I knew if I didn’t sit down I was going to fall off my own feet! Every time I tried to stand up my head felt tingly and it started to get dark so I sat on the floor for quite a long time. My daughter brought me some orange juice and gave my horse a bath for me.  He was happy because we went on a ride. I went to the house and took a long nap. I am 61 and I have a horse.



This is how the ride looked to me when we weren’t galloping



My daughter took this picture and said my horse was posing but he was really peeing.



I do love surprises. Everything I like, I like even better when it’s a surprise. Last Friday, waiting for my passengers to gather for the trip up to Gainesville, I noticed a couple text messages from my brother Gary. He was actually in Tampa inquiring whether we could get together the next day. My weekend away was already keeping me from a couple fun things happening at home and this would have been the third “not to miss” thing that I would be missing.  Fortunately we figured out a way to get together for supper since that was about the time we were planning to go through Tampa. Gary’s friend Gus dropped him off at the restaurant where we were waiting and we had a short visit over a good meal.  We had another vet student along with us, Kevin, and he was kind enough to take this picture of us as we blocked traffic out in the parking lot afterwards.

Is it a rule that a good day at work must be followed by a bad day?

Is it a rule that bad days at work must occur after nights with four or less hours of sleep?

Is it a rule that favorite friends only beg for babysitting on weekends that you plan to be out of town?

I could go on, but there are better pastimes than caring about these things that seem to happen together as if there were a rule, which I’m sure there is not.  I could, for instance, wonder about other people’s lives.  I wonder how fascinating it is to make maps and be called mapmaker. I wonder if there will ever be another “moment of well-being”. I wonder what Cambodia is like in the summer. I wonder how much longer the sick neighbor next door will live. I wonder if my parents feel cared for. I wonder if Wisconsin is going to have a beautiful summer. I wonder if Peruvian Mary is going to make it to work tomorrow. I wonder if the tennis coach is going to rent our condo.

Oh yes, being a landlady is one of my duties, since Dennis doesn’t feel free to follow up on things during the day. And it always gets more interesting, to put it kindly, when a renter is moving out and another has to be found.  We are in that situation now and I have been getting on average three calls a week inquiring about our condo.  Almost two weeks ago, sitting in Saturday night church, I got a text asking for info and giving a short description of a family with one son and a cat needing a home in August.  Most of the time I don’t get texts from strangers who don’t even know if I text or not.  This guy had good written English which impressed me, so I started the dialogue. He wanted to see it right away so on Sunday I showed it.  I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet someone named Attila.  And wouldn’t you know, he was from Hungary. Yes. But he musn’t know what we call him.

He is drop dead handsome, thirtyish, and a tennis pro with a job.  He liked the condo, the best thing going for it being that it is right next to the tennis court – looks out on it, in fact. I spent all last week researching the flooring hurdle.  They feel they need hard flooring instead of carpet because of his wife’s allergies, but on the third floor of a building there are rules (RULES) about what kinds of floors you can have based on how loud they are.  They’ve seen it a second time and I’ve met the wife. She pretty much matches the husband in her female way, and she also seemed to approve.  I’m not 100% sure because they speak Hungarian most of the time.  I’m awaiting their final decision based on getting their son in a good school nearby.  I did a fb search on his name and there he was with a tennis racket doing a splendid backhand.  He has his own tennis academy and a three year work visa.  Hopefully our search for a good tenant will be over.

All for now. I need a nap.

There are lots of things that don’t happen every day. Last weekend the thing that didn’t happen was our trip to Gainesville.  The plan started last Monday when I realized that Julie would be out of school, that I would probably have the weekend off, that Dennis had no plans, and that I had no committments to sing in church at that point. It was a good opportunity to go up and check on things at the little farm – we hadn’t been there for quite a while.  On Friday Julie texted that we might not want to spend the gas money coming up since she was scheduled for her first externship at a town about 50 miles away. We would probably be able to get together during the week. And suddenly it seemed like a relief to have a reason not to go. 

Honestly I think that God planned a mini-vacation for me. I rested, did some very satisfying sorting/cleaning projects, and spent happy hours outside in the oneacrewoods with my plants and the sunshine and fresh air. I didn’t go anywhere the whole weekend, except to show the condo one more time.  My house is such a beautiful place to be. I really should spend more time here. Hey, look at the beans first picking, and my pineapple farm….  I have about a dozen pineapples this year to share with the fruit rats and raccoons. 

So this pretty special weekend was sandwiched in between saying goodby to Irene and Bob on Friday (they are probably back in Kenosha now),  and having dinner with Julie on Sunday night as she made her way over to Zolfo Springs.