Living A Spider Free Life

So far this summer of me on my own has not been too bad; I've gotten projects crossed off my list and I've set my own schedule.  No one tells me they don't like dinner.  There are no sighs heaved when I decide to dust at 9:00 at night.

But that means there is no one here to tell me that a spider is not on me.

We all have had that unfortunate experience of walking into a spider web.  We do a frantic arm sweeping dance as we try to get the sticky stands off of ourselves.  If we are lucky enough to be with someone, we quickly ask them to look us over, check us for a spider lurking on our clothes, or worse, our hair....

But living alone means I'm doing the frantic dance with no audience except for the dogs, who just danced around too.  Apparently it's an inspiring dance move.  I double check myself, brushing off my arms and shoulders and hair....and for the next hour....or to be honest the next few days.....every breeze that tickles past makes me think I have a spider on me.

I know, I know!  I don't. I have showered and changed clothes many times.  Four days after a web encounter, that did not even have a confirmed spider inhabiting it, I think I can safely declare myself spider free.

I know all that.....but when a stray wisp of hair brushes my neck.....Spider!!  I have cut back on frantic dancing, and barely even whimper.....Maybe tomorrow will be the day I feel completely spider free.

One can only hope!

S'mores For Breakfast

In the rare sugar cereal glory days of my childhood, there was the classic Fruit Loops, Fruity Pebbles, Corn Pops, Honeycomb, but the one I desperately wish I could still eat (because I will be very honest here, I still eat those sugar cereals whenever the coupons tell me too) is S'mores.

I'm not sure how long this was available, but I remember it clearly in the hot sunshine of our Arizona years, so I was 10 or 11....mid 80's.  And thanks to Wiki, I've learned that my memory is spot on!  This was an 80's only cereal.  Similar to squares of  Golden Grahams only chocolaty, with Lucky Charm marshmallows thrown in, it holds a super fondness in my heart.

I don't actually know if it was really that good or if it is tied up in my memories of sleepovers with my aunt and uncle: my sister and I sacked out on the fold out couch, eating bowls of S'mores and dreaming about the horses we'd see at the race track, because other than the cereal, the race horses were a very exciting event in our lives.

We sat in the stands and poured over the papers, randomly picking our "winners" based on names and colors and never actually picking a winner.  And since our aunt and uncle owned some of those beautiful horses, we also got to go back into the inner workings of the track and visit horses in their stalls and lean against white slat fences and pretend we actually knew a thing or two about racing.

It was a grand time!

I often wonder if I could taste S'mores cereal now, if I'd like it as much as I remember.  I do like Golden Grahams.  But I hate Lucky Charms.  And I like my chocolate to be real chocolate (I don't even want to talk about the part of my childhood where my Mom gave us carob and told us it was chocolate....BTW carob is never going to be mistaken for chocolate!)

All I know for sure is if I ever saw a box of S'mores (not to be mistaken for the more recent version "Smorz") I'd buy a box.  Just for old times sake!

Home Improvement

I tend to start all my major do it by myself while my husband isn't here home improvement projects the same way every time:  I pick at it.  I start to peel up already peeling flooring and it just pulls right up.  Or I start to test the plaster ceiling that is separating from the lathe and it pulls down nicely.

So I go for it.  I do a big project.  I can do it.  It's easy!  Until it's not so easy.

Until the glue that holds the linoleum to the hard wood floor turns out to be stuck fast in about the middle of the floor.  Or the ceiling pulls down until the outer edges and it is still securely connected to the ceiling.

It's time to break out the scrappers, the crowbars, the tiny little picks to get every piece of the project out of the house.

All that to say, this is what my dining room looks like.

It's taking a lot longer than I thought it would!  Add the rickety ladder and my vertigo kicking in, this might replace the worst project I've ever done (previously held by my ripping up the linoleum from this same room).  This room might be cursed.

Someone's Worse Day

A while back, my sister and I happened to drive past my house as we went from one epic garage sale to another and she asked me what the giant pile of household items in front of my house was all about.  A free pile?

I did a u-turn and went back to see what she was talking about.

There on the grass by the road was a giant pile of stuff.  Not our stuff, and after a quick chat with the hubster, not stuff we knew how had come to rest on our property.  My sister and I waved goodbye and circled around the block to start shopping again, and as we rounded back, my sister said it looked like I wouldn't have to worry about dump fees or how to get rid of the junk, because someone was taking from it.  As we drove by, though, it became apparent he was not taking, but adding to it.

"Um, excuse me," I politely called to the guy.  "What are you doing?"  He preceded to tell me that he was putting his stuff there and when I pointed out that it was my house, he asked where I thought he should put his belongings and I got my husband.

Because what good are husbands if not to handle situations like an angry guy dumping all his things in our yard?

After some yelling and some more yelling, and all the neighbors pouring out of their houses to watch the goings on, the guy sat on the back of his car and cried. He'd been kicked out of his house, he had no were to go, no where to put his things, no hope.  And all the 'what the heck are you doing' questions stopped and a neighbor offered to let him store his belongings in his shed and my husband brought his truck around and they loaded it all up for him and helped him move.

It struck me again that we just never know what is going on in a persons life, and a day that seems regular to me might be someones worse day.....

Let's Talk About Dogs

I love dogs.

I know, this is no surprise to anyone who knows me!  I think dogs are just about the most wonderful things God made.  I love how cute they are when they nap on the couch.  I love how they joyfully dance around the kitchen on pancake mornings.  I love how they run out to greet me when I come home.  I love how a treat will entice them to do anything.

Except, maybe, a tiny bit less love for them when they turn into a pack of wild monsters every single day the mail man comes by.

That poor guy.  When we first got Emma, he would come inside our fence to deliver packages.  He would pet her and we would chit chat.  Then we got a second dog.  Little less chit chat.  When the third dog joined our gang, our mail man started throwing our packages into the yard and letting the pieces fall as they will.

After much thought and quit a bit of worry over Fed Ex guys getting nipped at, we changed the way our fence wraps around our house.  Instead of the race track circle the girls used to run around and around our house, now it is a decided C shape, with the newly built fence (and gates) completely cutting off their access to the front door and the side door.  They can chase each other halfway around and no further.

It was kind of funny the first time they came racing up to the newly built gate.  Their eyes puzzled, their noses sniffed it and sorted and couldn't find an answer to how to get through it, so they gave up and went back the way they came.

But even better was how much our mail man appreciates the dog safe zone!

Growing Pains

There's growing pains,
And then there are growing pains.

The slight bump of new life
The twinges and aches as parts of you move
To accommodate parts of him
Stretching, swelling, expanding
Until you think you'll pop

Yet that can't compare to
The wrenching tugs on your heart
Watching your beloved baby
Now so grown up and determined
Jumping head first
Without looking, without blinking, without pause

There's growing pains.....
And then there are growing pains.

Inspired by prompt #2 at Mama's Losin' It!

Sponge Shudders

I have a soul deep abhorrence of sponges being used for dish washing.  There is something about them that I find repellent beyond all measure.  At home, I use a wash rag for dishes.  It is changed at least once daily and washed in scorchingly hot water to sanitize it.

But a sponge?  It just sits there in all of it's stagnant glory.  I've heard it can be microwaved, but really, since the sponge I hate most is in the office break room, which one of my co-workers is going to be responsible for microwaving it?  That's right.  No one!

So I stick with my personal coffee mug and I joke about why I keep it separate from the rest of the mugs and I wash it out at the end of the day, with hot water, soap, and a surprisingly hardy paper towel, all the while that nasty sponge drips on the edge of the sink.

*Shudder*