For years, people have been hounding me about dropping my trusty flip-phone and get a smartphone. So far, I have resisted. The Squire has one, and it doesn’t impress me. It beeps and blips constantly. If he receives an email on the computer, his phone beeps. If the kitchen door is opened, the phone beeps. He has R2D2 living in his pocket!
While we were on vacation Eldest Daughter took us to a phone store to buy her Poppa a new phone. The pressing question was, Did I want The Squire’s old phone. I really, really didn’t, but with three pair of pleading eyes upon me, I finally agreed to take it.
I did not agree to use it.
The salesman wrote my phone number on a sticky note, but it fell off the back of the phone, so I don’t even know what it is. Doesn’t matter. I couldn’t remember it, anyway. Eldest Daughter loaded a really nifty app called Yuka, which allows you to scan the bar code of just about any food item and see its nutrional value. I took it to a meeting last week, and we had a great time playing with it. I took it to the grocery store and got a few surprises; things such as pretzels are not bad if you flick off the salt, but some “healthy” foods are anything but. I use Yuka and play solitaire on the new phone, but that’s it.
Pretty expensive toy, but that’s my opinion of smart phones, anyway.
We spent three days with Eldest Daughter, catching our breath and wandering around Charlston. It is a lovely city and we both enjoy Olde Stuff, so we had a good time. We wandered the Central Market, ate lunch at a lovely little place, and generally enjoyed ourselves. The Central Market used to be called The Slave’s Market, but that gave the wrong impression, so the city changed the name. It was originally a place for slaves to sell things they had made, such as sweet grass baskets or produce. Our guide asked us, “When was the last time you went to a farmer’s market and brought home a farmer?”
Daughter and her husband have purchased a “cabin in the woods”, so we took a ride up there and Daughter showed us around. They have about 100 acres – most of it wooded, but she has a substantial garden. Daughter, like my sister, can grow cactus in a swamp. I have The Brown Thumb of Death. One thing they have lots of is hickory trees, and we collected a gallon bag of hickory nuts to bring back to the squirrels.
From Charleston, we drove up to Asheville to visit two of The Squire’s sisters. One of them had a meeting to attend, but we took the other sister out to supper at a Mexican restaurant and had a lovely time. From there, we scooted on up to Newport, Tennessee and visited another of the Squire’s sisters – it took me several years to get them all sorted out – and stayed overnight with some old, old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Rector.
We went to the same Episcopal church in Newport that we have attended for many, many years. They made some changes during Covid, as did we all, but the one that startled us most was during Communion. When we entered the church, the Squire and I both noticed what appeared to be small spittoons on either side of the opening in the rail. Hmmm. That’s odd. When it was time for Communion, the officiant distributed the bread and one of the servers followed with a large tray filled with itty bitty cups of wine. After you had communed, you dropped your empty cup into one of these buckets as you returned to your pew. C’mon. Covid is over, folks!
And then, life got interesting. The Squire claims my driving makes him nervous. Suits me, as I am able to read or sew in the car and take advantage of long drives to catch up on various projects. We were sailing up I-81 when we suddenly hit the rumble strip! Apparently, The Squire has become mesmerized by the hum of the drive and drifted off the road. Given the speed limit on the Interstate it only took a split second for us to fly a fair distance down the bank, which was a leetle bit scary. We had just passed a sign which advised us there was a rest area a few miles ahead. I informed The Squire that I was going to drive for a while, and there’d be no snide remarks about my driving. He allowed as how, given this stunt, he was in no position to say a word.
The Squire and I left Greater Downtown Bradshaw a few days ago to go visit our eldest daughter in Charleston, SC. We stopped at a motel about 2/3 of the way down, and when I unpacked my suitcase, I discovered I had forgotten to pack several Very Important Personal items.
Although I had brought three bras, in addition to the one I was wearing, the only drawers I had were the one I had on. I’d brought my hot rollers, but not the clips to hold them in my hair. I was wearing a pair of ratty blue tennis shoes but didn’t pack any dress shoes. I’d also left the toothbrushes on the dining room table.
I HAD brought my coffee, and the motel had a microwave, but all they had was two thin plastic cups for brushing your teeth – with brushes I didn’t bring. A quick trip to Dollar General got us toothbrushes and a nice coffee mug. You do not want to deal with me when I don’t have my coffee.
Today, we went to Target, and I grabbed a package of undies and a pair of black flats. Still no clips for my rollers, but the Kid says she has a curling iron, and a couple of butterfly clips, so maybe I won’t look like a “straggle muffin”.
Let’s face it. I really need somebody to follow me around with a basket to collect all the things I lose.
The Squire and I are avid puzzle fans. Most evenings after supper we sit in front of the fireplace, eating popcorn and working on a 1,000-piece puzzle. I’m as grateful as the next person to find a couple of pieces still stuck together, but it is obvious this person simply folded the puzzle and stuffed it back into the box.
The general rule is that you put all of the edge pieces into a zip-lock and then at least try to break up the rest of the puzzle. Even giving the box a couple of good shakes will do the job.
Our church is having a Fall Festival soon, so I figured I’d better get busy making some bread for the Bake Table.
This is a recipe I have used about a hundred times – it makes a light, lovely loaf, and is incredibly tasty. Except this time. I made four loaves. Two refused to come out of the pans, and the other two simply imploded. They did fall; they collapsed. They don’t even taste good!
Ah, well. I guess the deer won’t mind, but they are obviously not fit for the Bake Table. Try again tomorrow.
To be honest, I haven’t seen a single wooly worm this fall. We haven’t had many lightening bugs, not a single butterfly or bee, and even very few ants. There aren’t many birds or squirrels, either. I don’t have to fill the feeders as often, and the peanuts last longer. To top it off, there’s not an acorn in sight.
It doesn’t make me happy. Actually, it’s pretty scary.
The Squire and I went out for breakfast after church this morning. IHOP has a special 55+ menu, and we always order the same thing – the Rise and Shine breakfast. This comes with hash browns, two eggs, fixed as you wish, either bacon or sausage, and bread.
I requested my eggs over easy, an English muffin, and turkey sausage. When the waitress turned to The Squire, he told her he’d have the same. As she turned to the kitchen, he stopped her. “Could I have my eggs scrambled? And I’d prefer bacon instead of sausage. And oh! Could I have whole wheat toast?”
After the bewildered waitress went back to place the order, I asked him what part of “I’ll have the same” was he talking about. “Different eggs, different meat selection, different bread choice. The only thing that you didn’t change was the hash browns!”
thisendoftheswamp 