My Phone Thinks I’m an Idiot

I’m fairly certain my phone thinks I am an idiot. It didn’t come right out and say so, but it definitely implied it.

We spend a lot of time together, my phone and me. Having a phone in 2020 is a lot like having a toddler. If you don’t know where it is, you have to find it before something terrible happens like you get a text, or a notification that it’s going to be a bad weather day, or someone goes crazy on your Amazon account. Or, in the case of a toddler, they have locked themselves in the house and figured out how to turn on the stove while climbing a ladder and holding scissors. (more…)

Musings of My Thinker

My LiveTrends Thinker Living Air Plant is not handling the pandemic well. He lives on my kitchen window ledge. Usually he looks toward the kitchen. I think he likes observing and thinking about people. He’s been hanging around for over a year now and in that time, he has asked nothing of me except for a little mist of water once a week or so. That’s the kind of plant/decoration I can handle! Plus, I think he’s cute. (more…)

March – In Like a Lion and Out Like a Tasmanian Devil

Whatever happened to March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb? The entire month has been more like watching the Tasmanian Devil (from Bugs Bunny fame) spinning around wreaking havoc on everyone he meets.

Free download | Looney Tunes Taz , Tasmanian devil Marvin the ...

Art credit: pngguru.com

And speaking of March – is Martha Stewart prophetic? I don’t think so, but she was right on for the March issue with the headline – “Happy at Home.” I don’t think everyone was happy about it though.

Her April issue, “Sweet Spring,” may have some points. In particular, “The Best Natural Makeup,” which I don’t feel the need to read.

That’s already trending. I don’t know anyone who has worn makeup for weeks. I’m saving money on that and hair products. Natural ain’t always pretty, but who cares? I’m not going anywhere. How about you? I may actually read my magazines!

I am missing my humans right now. Missing hugs from my grandchildren. Thinking about my friends who live alone. Missing normal. Knowing that we’re going to get through this and praying a lot. And I’m thinking about you who read my blog. Thanks, and God bless you!

It’s Springtime – Be Careful Out There

Busy bee on orange blossom. I wish you could smell this!

Bob goes to work. I stay home. I have no need to justify myself to my husband regarding what I do all day. It’s simply not necessary. He is an amazing man and the most supportive life partner (we’ll be married 45 years in August) I could have ever dreamed of having. Even my (imaginary) list of how many days I cook or what I prepare for dinner, which counts as cooking, is really only a joke. Okay, mostly a joke. Cooking isn’t my favorite. (Can we order pizza tonight, Bob?)

But after a particularly “grueling” week (read – I went outside), I decided to give him a list of the injuries I had inflicted on myself in the past seven days. I mean, you don’t get these kinds of boo-boos without exerting yourself.

  1. I burned my finger on the oven rack while cooking dinner. Yes, it was only a first-degree burn, but it hurt. A little. Bob was kind enough not to give me the third degree or rake me over the coals about it. He’s like that.
  2. I got another injury while pruning my roses. One of those nasty thorns ripped my finger. You could almost see the tear. I put a Band-Aid on it to bring attention to my suffering and possibly secure a dose of sympathy or an invitation to go out for dinner from Bob, I mean to keep it from snagging on things. (This was also risky since I’m sensitive to adhesive. I could have broken out, but I didn’t.)
  3. My hands went numb after I cut back a few too many hedges, including my roses. When we played pinochle later that night, I had difficulty holding the cards. This was weird even for me and lasted a day or so, but I have recovered. No Band-Aids were needed. I should note that I only worked around an hour, so this was more pitiful than anything else.
  4. I jammed my knee. This was not work-related. This was more stupid-related. I attempted to walk to our hot tub in the dark in order to soak my weary self after working in the yard. I walked smack into the metal edge of a stool. Since I could trace this back to working in the yard, I will count it.

After I lamented my injury-laden week to Bob, I said, “Just in case you wonder what I do around here all day. I’m active; you can’t get injuries without doing stuff.”

He replied, “Actually you can. They’re called bed sores.”

I’m not sure if he was implying anything here, but thankfully, my pride was not wounded.

Happy Spring! My azaleas are in bloom.

Onward and Outward

We may not all be in the same place. We may not all believe the same thing. But every now and then we all need to be reminded to look up.

This was demonstrated to me as I watched the Super Bowl last Sunday. As the cameras panned the audience, some people were on their phones. I wonder if I would have been numbered among those folks if I had shelled out a few grand to see the game live. Watching at home we have the ability to rewind to what we miss, but in real time, we need to stay focused or we’ll miss a lot.

How has living in a rewindable world changed the way we live? (more…)

Growing Old Gracefully

When the class with the above title was announced at our church and the teacher is everybody’s favorite older woman, Shirley, I signed up. I’ve never been a particularly graceful person, so I thought, hey, maybe I can do this aging thing gracefully. You know, finish well, not trip over the finish line, stick the landing.

My youngest grandson after achieving new heights. Looks like he stuck the landing.

Not that I feel old, I typically don’t. That is probably aided by the fact that my mom, who is 91, lives with us, so I am the youngest person in the house. She has demonstrated aging gracefully and has also let me in on some of the challenges of aging. This class combined with my mom’s fine example would be beneficial.

Last Wednesday, for the first of the three sessions, Shirley covered, or I should say taught us about, our aging bodies. (The next two sessions will cover spirit and soul, as we are made up of three parts.) I am a woman in her sixties, so I am painfully (no pun intended, I just can’t help myself) aware that there is something of a decaying nature going on. That is verified in 2 Corinthians 4:16 – “though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.”

Eyesight starts going south around age 40. Some of my joints let me know when the weather is changing. And worst of all Alexa (our Echo) has begun to get confused by my commands to her. I have wondered if I’m slurring my words, but I’m also working on the theory that our Alexa is getting old, too. Perhaps Amazon wants me to upgrade her and they built that into her system. But I digress. People were designed to age, but we are also charged with stewarding the body that God has given us. In other words, we aren’t supposed to aid the deterioration that’s going on in our bodies, we are supposed to care for and strengthen them.

I don’t know about you, but I need reminders to do the things which I am supposed to do. The Bible does repeat itself a lot. I think that is because we tend to forget or become distracted. God knows that’s how we operate, so I’m thankful for the repetition.

Three days before that first class, I started feeling a twinge of pain on the lower lid of my left eye. The twinge became a pang. The pang became a pain. By the Wednesday meeting I had a sty the size of Rhode Island. And it was an angry sty – the kind that could scare small children, but I went to the meeting anyway. There would be no small children to frighten at that meeting.

By Thursday I had officially named the sty Rhode Eyeland. I figured if my entire body represented the 48 contiguous states, then my left eye was probably that size. When I saw the ophthalmologist on Friday, he said it was the largest he had seen in quite some time and added that it was “a dandy.” I told him I figured I’d go big or go home. Of course, when you have a sty the size of Rhode Island, you tend to want to stay home.

Dena (my daughter) and I caught up with each other on the phone on Friday afternoon. I had already sent her a picture of my eye when it was at its worst because she’s into gross things like that. In case you know Dena, you will understand why I made her give me her most excellent promise not to share that picture with anyone. To the best of my knowledge, she’s been true to her word.

She is also an encourager. She told me she was proud of me for going to, what she calls, the aging class.

Two things come to mind here:

  1. It’s kind of weird but okay I guess that she tells me she’s proud of me. I thought that was my job to be proud of her and her brothers, and I am, but whatever…
  2. I didn’t really care for the name Aging Class, but again, whatever…

I told her that one of the great things about being older is that you can go out looking like I did and it’s okay (except for frightening small children). Also, if I were to go anywhere with Rhode Eyeland, the aging class was the place to go. We don’t tend to major on that kind of thing. We have much bigger fish to fry than an eye with a sty.

Image result for free picture of a pig sty

I had to include a picture of a sty for you. This one’s not nearly as messy as the one on my eye, which is doing much better with drops from the doctor. Photo Credit: freepik.com

Martha Stewart and Me

I enjoy both Southern Living and Martha Stewart Living magazines – that is when I actually sit down to read them. I was so proud of myself for taking the time to read my October magazines, looking for a recipe or household idea I could make my own. I was almost finished Southern Living when the mailman delivered my November magazines. This makes me a little crazy. How can time fly by so quickly that it’s time to read about November? Shoot, there were still 12 days left in October!

I set the new issues aside and committed to finishing up October before November 1 (my idea of goal setting). I even tried a new recipe from Southern Living. Here’s a picture of it. It’s beefy squash and pasta (or something like that). It had collard greens in it – that should have been a clue. Anyway, I cooked it and it looked just like the picture in the magazine.

I know there must be some collard green fans out there, but why is a mystery to me. Controversial cooking tip: avoid cooking them with ground beef.

The butternut squash was the star of the show. The greens were the horrible ending, which lingered through the night. Bitter endings are the worst. I threw the recipe away so I wouldn’t make that mistake again. It was a glorified hamburger helper.

But this post is more about Martha Stewart’s fine publication. I don’t relate to it as easily as I do Southern Living. SL has a down-home feel. Martha Stewart Living has an uppity, uptown feel, even though her uptown is her home in the Hamptons or her home in Maine or her other home in Maine. Still, I know there is much to be learned from Martha, and honestly, I do admire her.

But I can only go so far with her.

I live by my calendar. I keep one on the wall and one on my phone, which literally keeps me going in the right direction. Page 2 of Martha’s magazine gives us her calendar. Its subtitle is “Gentle reminders, helpful tips, and important dates.”

There are few similarities. Of course, I live in Orlando and she lives in one of the above three locations, so yeah. I get it. Plus, she’s Martha Stewart.

Thing(s) we have in common: Get flu shot.

Things we don’t have in common:

  • Pick apples and make cider
  • Move tropical plants indoors (She should have a Florida home, too. That would eliminate this chore.)
  • Have horses reshoed.
  • Prepare chicken coops for winter.
  • Today Show appearance.
  • Swap out summer linens for winter bedding (again, a Florida home is needed)
  • Speak at Horticultural Society of NY’s fall luncheon
  • QVC appearance – This is a close one. I made an appearance at CVS this month.
  • Take drone photos of fall foliage. This is my favorite.

This is a sampling of her month. Next month she has an entire day dedicated to checking and refilling the bird feeders. They must be some kind of humongous feeders. I have to refill mine every other day.

In contrast, my month had:

  • Art show meeting
  • 3 appointments for my mom
  • Furniture repairman
  • Grandsons’ football games
  • 3 church small group meetings
  • Writers group meeting
  • A weekend trip to Maine not to see Martha Stewart, though we took photos of the fall foliage (not with a drone)
  • 3 luncheons (I wasn’t receiving awards or the speaker)
  • 3 special birthdays – Happy Birthday to my son, Joe; my son-in-law Derek; and my grandson, Oliver, is turning one!

I think I like my calendar better. In fact, I know I do. But, thank you, Martha, for pointing out the need to be organized and balance work, friends, and commitments. Now that I have my November magazines and I realize that the holidays are upon us, I’ll need all the encouragement I can get. I’ll use her calendar for comic relief and to remind me to deep clean the oven on November 19 and polish the silver on November 20. (Thought I’d end this post with that little joke!)

Whatcha doing?

That’s my question of the day: What are you doing?

There are many ways to answer. Sometimes a short answer is easy – cleaning, working, etc. We can also be painfully honest with all the details, which most people really don’t want to hear, or go the other extreme and say – nothing.

Sometimes nothing is exactly what we need to do, but how do you do it? And, how do you do it well?

Maybe nothing could really mean that you’re …

recharging

resting

meditating

praying

thinking

slowing yourself down

All of these things are essential. When was the last time you took the time to do nothing? It can be very beneficial. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’m getting better and better at doing nothing. I may start teaching classes on it.

What are you doing when you say you’re doing nothing?

 

A Couple of Things Jumped Out at Me this Week

A couple of things jumped out at me this week, they were both frogs. You may remember that I hate them. They seem to know it, too.

Frog #1 – It happened while taking the garbage out in the middle of the day. This is a time that should be frog-free. I am not on the lookout for these slimy green menaces when the sun is high in the sky. That’s my time to look for snakes sunbathing or passing through the grass with only their heads in view. You have to be vigilant down here in the Sunshine State.

Then it happened. I was almost back in the safe, frog-free zone that is my home. As I opened the door, my right foot ready to cross the threshold, something jumped on my left foot. I, in return, jumped, and was grateful that I didn’t fall; but something didn’t feel right afterward. The realization that I must have pulled a muscle made me hate frogs even more. Those aggravating amphibians! On the other hand, I was encouraged because a pulled muscle meant that I do indeed still have muscles. Of course, being the non-athlete that I am, I didn’t know for sure what I did. All I knew was my leg hurt and I thought a frog was attacking me. (Later Bob would give the diagnosis of a pulled hamstring. I felt like an athlete!)

I gained my composure enough to look for the culprit to make sure he didn’t come in with me. He was nowhere to be seen. I did see a flower which had fallen off of my hibiscus on the pavement next to me. I have to assume that the frog disguised himself. No flower would cause me such pain.

Flower or frog?

Frog #2 – A few days later this guy was lying in wait while I was clearing the pool deck as we prepared for Hurricane Dorian. Bob was out-of-town. Frogs seem to sense when he’s not around. When you’re preparing for a hurricane, you have to clear anything around your house that could become a projectile. This includes a lot of stuff when you have an outdoor room. The things that hang on your outside walls do not look as attractive when they fly through the air and break windows. Everything is potentially hazardous. Anyway, I was doing my due diligence just in case the storm arrived.

Before Bob left, he removed the one thing that I didn’t want to tackle, the large space heater. Not only is it heavy, but I knew it was really dirty and gross plus potentially it could have a frog or two hiding under it. I should have had him grab the life jackets that we hang on a column for our youngest grandchildren, because that is where Frog #2 was sleeping. He didn’t appreciate me waking him up either because he scurried (too lazy to even hop) up the column right towards me. I let out one of my embarrassing screams, lurched backward and nearly fell into the pool myself. This action aggravated my aforementioned pulled hammie.

This was a Cuban frog, an invasive species that can be as big as your hand and has eaten most of our native little tree frogs. That makes them even more hated. You now understand just how dangerous frogs can be.

 

Image result for free picture of cuban frog

Photo Credit: Getty Images

Bob has assured me that a pulled hammie takes a while to heal and has advised me to avoid straining it further by staying away from any place where frogs might be hiding. I guess I’m going to Hawaii.