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Let Me Count the Ways…

13 Jun

Just about a year ago, my friend Kay and I started to build a dollhouse. She had offered the use of her dining room table, but we needed to raise the first floor by an inch and a half, and since I have all the power tools here, the project ended up on my dining room table, instead.

We worked at it pretty steadily, but as Kay said, “there’s more to this than I expected”, and it took me longer than I had figured it would. Then we had our Christmas Open House here, so I moved it from the dining room to the back room, and it sat on top of the dryer for months, getting shoved first one way and then another as we turned dials and pushed buttons.  Out of sight, out of mind, although I did continue to purchase little odds and ends to go into the house, and “borrowed” other items from some of my finished stores and shops.

Last week, we discovered – oh, horrors – that we needed to get this baby finished by the 16th!

In truth, all that needs to be done is to finish thatching the roof,  connecting the lights, and doing a bit of landscaping. However, even that little bit of work can cause more glitches than the average person can imagine. If you’ve ever worked on a dollhouse, you can understand – I had sandwiched the thatching for one of the porch roofs (there are three) between two narrow strips of wood. First, I glued this sandwich onto the roof with the raw wood on top instead of the painted piece. In order to make sure the thatch stayed put, I had smeared glue all over the porch roof, which made it even more interesting. Carefully removed that, and then glued the bloody thatch to the bottom edge of the roof instead of the top.  At this point, The Squire decided to take the dog for a walk. Coward. Now that I have fixed that but can’t get the porch roof to stay on the building. I may have to resort to hot glue, which is an anathema to Serious Miniaturists, but needs must.

I ran most of the wiring down through the fireplace, but The Squire and I could not get the wiring for the two lamps in the upstairs to go down the chimney. In fussing with it, I managed to snap the chimney off the roof. We finally ended up drilling a hole through the wall, coming out next to the fireplace, and then tucking it behind the half-timbering. Blessedly, I already had both a power strip and a transformer that work. Whew!

At this point, most of the lights are working, and I’ve started on the thatching on the main part of the house. Tomorrow and Monday should see the landscaping and last minute stuff done.

I most sincerely hope!

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Moving Day

11 Jun

In an effort to keep the raccoons from eating the bird seed, and the male fox from eating the squirrels, we have begun feeding both sets of critters out by the woods, instead of feeding the ring-tailed beasts on the carport and the “red coats” in the back forty.  In addition to filling the birdfeeders, we still put peanuts and seed in a 5 foot length of PVC pipe outside the den window so the squirrels can get them and the blue jays can’t.

This morning when I went out to feed the “house pets” the pipe was missing.

I looked in the front yard, and The Squire walked along the stream to see if the raccoon had dragged it up the hill. Nada. The pipe is far too narrow for the raccoons to get into, so whatever went on last night must have been very interesting.

A shame we missed the show.

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Just When You Thought it Was Safe…

10 Jun

When I went out to feed the fish – and the turtles – neither The Squire nor the dog were interested in going with me.

Normally the vibration of my feet on the patio around the pond will bring the turtles to the water’s edge, but neither of them were there, so I just started casting my bread upon the waters, so to speak. Suddenly one of the turtles came zooming up to wall, and totally ignoring the bread I was tossing in front of it, climbed completely out of the water and was literally chasing me around the patio, trying to get fed. I managed to find one little lilac twig, but he (she?) bit that in half on the second go-round. When I turned around to locate another, stouter, twig, the turtle must have suddenly realized he was not in his element, and made a mad dash for the pond.

Let me tell you, there are few things that will get one’s attention more quickly than being barefoot in the company of a hungry snapping turtle.  Someplace around here I have a very old photo of me feeding a turtle with a twig, while both Blazer and Pepper hide behind my skirts. I’ll have to dig it out and post it.

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Luceo Non Uro

7 Jun

Today’s Gospel was about Jesus being accused of casting out demons by Satan. Fr. M pointed out that Satan was originally one of the archangels – Lucifer, Bringer of Light. And thereby hangs a tale.

crestThe Squire is a McKenzie on his mother’s side, and used to have a T-shirt with the clan crest and motto. One work day at church a teen-aged girl wandered up and asked him with the Latin words meant.

“Well”, he said, pointing to the first word, “you’ve heard of old time matches being called Lucifers, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“And Non means No.”

Sure.

“And everybody knows what Uro means.”

She nodded again, although it was obvious she hadn’t a clue.

He ran his finger around the belt on the crest.  “It just means ‘Don’t pee in the fire’.”

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Rude Awakening

6 Jun

We had a Fish Fry at church this evening, and I had offered to take some of the load off the cook by making gluten-free dishes for several folks at church who have celiac disease.

I woke up this morning to the sound of people screaming, as I backed my car into a large shelf full of expensive knick-knacks. We had arrived at the dinner only to realize I had left the food at home. I excused myself and rushed out to the car, which was inexplicably parked in someone’s living room, and in my rush to leave, hit a valuable étagère.

Obviously, all a dream. The screaming I heard was that blasted Eddie telling me he was starving. I staggered out of bed at an ungodly hour, scared up some breakfast, and made up the mac and cheese, and got the ingredients together for the cornbread, and went back to finish my sleep. Both food items went into the oven at 3:30, and we arrived at church at 4:00 on the dot.

The Fish Fry went very well, but we had one minor kerfuffle.

Many, many years ago, before The Squire and I were even dating, never mind married, somebody broke into my apartment, jumped me from behind, beat me up (yes, that’s a euphemism), and tried to smother me with a pillow.  To this day it is worth your life to touch me on the back or squeeze my neck if I do not know you are there. Even after forty years of marriage, if I have my back to the door, The Squire will speak to me before he approaches me. It’s safer that way.  If we’re at a concert or a museum, I expect to be jostled and I can handle that, but some poor unsuspecting fellow – a friend and frequent visitor to our parish – walked behind me tonight and gave my shoulders a playful squeeze. I went off like a bottle rocket, and scared the fellow across the table – I think he believed I was choking or something, but when The Squire didn’t move, he decided to wait and see what happened. Poor Frank was dreadfully upset, but we managed to get explanations and apologies out of the way, and all’s well that ends well.

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Schroedinger’s Dog

31 May

About a week ago, I spotted a small shiny green thing in the grass. Blazer’s current rabies tag. This was attached to his collar by one of those double rings that causes so many broken finger nails and lost tempers. How did he get it off the collar?

Good question.

When I went to put it back on, I discovered he had also lost his previous rabies tag and his license. Those were both on the S hooks. We kept them all on the collar because they jingle-jangle-jingle when he runs. I’ve waved the metal detector around along the path he traces with his tie-out rope, with no luck. Mind you, we have slightly over two acres, and he could have lost it anywhere within that radius, or in one of the spots where he likes to roll when he and The Squire go out for the mail. You have no idea how many bits and pieces of metal can be scattered over the amount of ground we have to cover. I swing the detector and The Squire checks out the beeps. Paper clips in the front yard? Belt buckles, two keys on a chain, a watch, and more rusty nuts, bolts, and nails than I can count.

I have to contact Baltimore county and see if there’s a way to get a new license. (I mean, there must be.) The county only issues one tag, and then every May 1st, you send them your VISA number and they send you a certificate via email, saying the license has been renewed.

The question, of course, is how on earth he managed to remove THREE tags with no visible damage to the collar.

Very mysterious.

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Carma

27 May

Eldest Daughter treated me to the last two days in Ocean City. We walked the boardwalk (also known as Wal-Mart East), dined at a lovely tea shop, and watched somebody get just exactly what he deserved.

On the way home, we fetched up behind a little old lady doing 40 in a 50 mile zone. Maddening, but bearable. After several minutes, the car in front of us reached a spot in the road where it was possible to pass, and did so. Apparently, the little old lady realized she was blocking traffic (there were fifteen cars piled up behind her), and pulled onto the shoulder.  At the same time, a black BMW pulled out and passed the car behind us, and us, on a double solid line, and kept on going as if he’d just put a down payment on the road.

About five miles up the road, we passed a Delaware State Trouper and a black BMW on the side of the road. “Where’s the fire, bub?”

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Memorial Duh’ay

26 May
Sunday afternoon I went to Jackie Lawson’s site, selected a lovely Memorial Day card, scrolled through my address list, and checked off everyone on my list who served in the Armed Forces. I also had to add a new friend, Blue Prairie, which I typed separately, and hit the Send button.
I only received notification that Blue had gotten her card, but none of the others. Odd. When I checked my Card History list, none of my friends were on the list. I had forgotten to click the “Add selected recipients” button on my address list.
Duh.
So, to Ken, Leslie, Scrunge, Genie, Kit, Cliff, Milton, Richard, Bob, Fr. Al, as well as Matthew and Jayson, thank you for your service! And next year, I’ll push the right buttons.

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Beats Me

25 May

For reasons which escape me completely, I decided to clean and straighten one side of the bathroom closet today. On either side of the door is a space about two feet deep, with five shelves. One side is strictly towels, with a large plastic tub of medical supplies – gauze, ointments, tape, etc. – on the top shelf, and my laundry stuff on the floor.

The other side, however, is an absolute mare’s nest. Cosmetics, hair curlers, pet grooming supplies, hand lotion, you name it, and it’s probably on the right hand side of the closet. Dill Because of my thyroid problems, I have very thin hair, and what I do have retains some of its original natural curl, so in my natural state, I rather resemble the character Dill, from the comic strip Cul de Sac. (My nose is smaller, though.)

I wear wigs. Always. I found four hairbrushes in the closet. Four.  Nobody needs four hair brushes. I’m too frugal, thrifty – OK, OK – cheap to drop them in the recycling bin, but there is a very limited number of places to dispose of a used hair brush.

And the make up! One day a year, I go to the spa and have myself made boo-ful for the annual Equitable Trust reunion. Every once in a while I may smear a dab of foundation over my red nose, but I seldom even wear lipstick. Sunscreen and olive oil are pretty much the extent of my makeup kit. (Olive oil is the best moisturizer in the world. Sinks in and is never greasy.) I found a pump bottle of foundation I think I purchased in Tennessee when our friend’s daughter got married, and enough skin-firming lotions that I could take my place on Mount Rushmore.

And the soap scraps.  When you live through The Depression, and in my grandparents’ case, two World Wars, saving and scrimping is deeply ingrained, but sometimes I think my mother carried it too far. I have a quart-sized plastic bag full of soap scraps and the little bars you get at motels. When I was a kid, I can remember my mom putting the tail-end of a bar of soap into a saucer and adding just enough water to soften the bottom of the soap. Then she would press and mold that scrap onto the top of a fresh bar, to make sure every last bit got used.  Later in life, she folded the four corners of a wash cloth into the center, sewed the seams, and had a terry cloth bag into which to put the pieces of soap.  After the first four or five usings, it gets gunky and slimy. That never bothered my mom, but it gives me the creeps. However, I still can’t stand to toss out the soap scraps. I think I read someplace that you could melt them down and make new bars.

Then there are the hair curlers. A full set of hot rollers, plus another twenty or so rollers from where the heating unit has died. And metal clips to put in your hair so it looks as if you have a marcel wave. Want to guess how old those are?

A bottle of Vicks Vap-o-Rub so old the address doesn’t even have a two-digit postal code, never mind a five-digit zip code, and several prescription bottles (empty!) from Read’s, a Baltimore-based drugstore, which has been out of business since 1983. The first lunch-counter sit-in in America was at the Read’s on Howard Street in 1955.

Y’know, I really ought to talk to somebody about this problem. The Maryland Historical Society, maybe?

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Indigo Buntings and Outwitting Ants

23 May

This handsome fellow has been hanging around our feeder for several days, but it has taken us a few tries to get a decent shot. This is a male indigo bunting – the female is all brown and could easily be mistaken for a wren, except that the tail is straight, not upright. She’s probably been around, but we haven’t noticed.

indigo bunting 2People (scientists) keep saying animals are color-blind, but that doesn’t explain why the females are always much more drab and often invisible.

hummingbird feeder  If you’ve been following my blog for very long, you know we have been plagued by ants inside the house. Anybody who feeds hummingbirds has probably watched in frustration while the bloody buggers climb up the post and drink the nectar you put out for the hummingbirds. Well, I think I have it solved.

I found a spray can top with an “inner circle” and punched a hole in the center, and strung a wire loop through the hole, long enough to reach beyond the top of the plastic lid. I filled the outer ring with water and a few drops of liquid dishwashing detergent. Not much, just a drop or two. When the ants crawl up the pole and down the wire loop, they cannot get past the water barrier. The soap breaks the surface tension of the water, and the ants drown. Be careful that the rim of the lid doesn’t touch the wire at any spot, or the ants will bypass your little trap. Some hot glue, blue tack, or even used chewing gum placed either inside or outside the cup will help keep it upright.

And there you are. An ant-proof hummingbird feeder.

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