A friend at work recommended this book. It was written by two friends of hers, and it was a choice of Reese Witherspoon’s book club. When I asked her what is was about, she just smiled and said “Everybody gets what they deserve.”
And they did. I’m not going to give away the plot, but – everybody gets what they deserve. and it wasn’t until the last eight pages that it all came together.
See if your library has a copy.
Quite a few people have remarked that we have not had many butterflies, honey bees or hummingbirds this summer. The day The Squire and I cleaned the walk, a hummingbird – the first we’ve seen this season – flew up almost in my face, and then busied itself among the Cleome and Jewel Weed blossoms. I immediately came inside and made up a small batch of nectar, and had our feeder out that evening. When I hung the feeder in the dusk, I saw quite a few honey bees flitting around the flowers. We have also seen a lot more butterflies in the last week of so, including a couple of Monarchs. The weather has cooled down considerably, which might make a difference.
I’ve been only been using a half-cup of nectar at a time, as it will go bad fairly quickly when it is as hot as it’s been – upper 80s and low 90s – so it doesn’t get wasted. Tuesday evening I misjudged the distance to the hook and dropped the feeder on the ground and the plastic shattered. Aaargh! I had to search on-line for a new feeder, as this is not prime time for them. Got a very nice one at Petco – the top has an ant moat, which is a Good Thing, but I did find some huge ants on the feeder when I brought it in last night; when the breeze moves it too close to the squirrel baffle, they are able to get from there to the base of the HBF. Apparently, the regular ants are too small to swing between the baffle and the bottom of the HBF. This necessitated shuffling everything around, as we have a regular feeder, another for the finches, plus a “cage” which holds two suet blocks, all of which hang from various shepherd’s hooks. We also have a hopper-type feeder which is on a pole, but that wasn’t involved in the Great Feeder Migration.
So – at the moment, it looks as if we have two hummingbirds, tanking up for the trip south. The feeder is right outside the den window, so I can watch them while I’m on the computer. We’ll have to put the HBF out early this coming spring, and see if we can keep them around.
Whether you love Donald Trump or loathe him, this book should be required reading.
The fact of the matter is that Fred Trump should never been allowed to father children. He was a cold, cruel man, totally without empathy, and saw no value in people or things that were not worth money. He expected people to know instinctively what he wanted, and then berated them mercilessly when they failed. To him, the cruelty was the point. He enjoyed seeing people squirm – including his children. When his oldest son, Fred Jr., was not suited for Big Business, Fred was not satisfied until he had utterly broken Freddy’s spirit – and then disinherited his wife and children.
When Donald figured out he could never do anything right, he decided to do whatever he pleased, and his father admired the boy’s “killer instinct”. Fred thought Donald could do no wrong, and trusted him with large and large projects. When these didn’t work out, rather than admit his error Fred paid his son’s debts, and let Donald take all of the credit.
Nothing has changed, except bigger messes and bigger coverups.
The Squire and I went to the doctor this morning and the conversation turned to people who refuse to wear masks. The good doctor had on two; one was a filter and the other the actual mask. He knows my situation and nodded at me. “If you can do it, anybody can.” Then he laughed and told us about something that had happened a few days ago.
His staff had called him out front to help with a new patient who had absolutely refused to put on a mask. He spoke to her himself but she had become more and more belligerent, and kept insisting that she did NOT have to wear a mask. Finally, he shrugged and agreed with her.
“You’re right, Mrs. Droopsnoot, you do not have to wear a mask. And by the same token, I do not have to accept you as a patient.”
He turned to the receptionist and said, “Remove Mrs. Droopsnoot from my schedule, and do not rebook her.” He said the woman was still squawking when he closed his office door.
My endocrinologist keeps messing with my Synthroid dosage, so I have to have yet another blood test. There were several other things I needed to do in the area, so I made up an itinerary and sallied forth.
Stopped at Target and found what I needed immediately, and that was the last of things going right. Moseyed down to Bed, Bath and Beyond to spend a gift card that has been burning a hole in my wallet, and discovered that what I needed was not in stock – and probably doesn’t exist. I need a large oval tablecloth, but I went ahead and bought an oblong one; I have a round cloth that I can lay on this and use it as a pattern to cut myself an oval one. Now I need tp find somebody who has a serger to finish the cut edges.
Who know finding an oval tablecloth would be so difficult? I know they’re out there; my sister and I made Daddy a chasuble from a large oval cloth, which was long enough to come to just above his knees, back and front . Ah, well.
I intended to go to Michael’s and pick up the embroidery floss to embroider the face on a doll I want to make for a friend’s daughter, but I’d left the pattern book on the table, so that scotched that.
Off to the lab. And discovered they were closed indefinitely because of water damage. Please go to Sand Piper Circle and by the way, they are closed for lunch from noon until 1:00.
At the tone, the time will be twelve-ten. Bong.
I gave up and came on home.
The Squire had to work on the tractor yesterday afternoon, so he blew all the peanut shells of the carport to have a clean place to lay down. While he was hard at work I decided to use the blower to remove the peanut shells from the walk in front of the den and up toward the driveway from the front door.
I nearly lost my footing going up the walk; the constant water from the spring had caused algae to grow on the concrete, and it was slicker than greased glass. I turned on the hose and got the push broom, but I really didn’t make much headway. I had a little bit of old dish soap – some cheap stuff I had gotten at the dollar store – under the sink, so I squirted that over the walk and had at it again with the broom and the hose.
What a monster I created! Only a little bit of soap – no more than I use in a dishpan – and I had suds up to my knees! The Squire came out and used the broom while I squirted, and between us we managed to get the entire walkway pretty well cleaned up. We even moved the welcome mats and cleaned under those, while we were at it.
And in a week it will probably be as bad as it was before we started.
Well, not quite, but it seems that way. Not only are we pretty much still in lockdown, but our Internet and power have been sporadic all week.
Monday, a couple of fellows in a Comcast truck came by and said they needed to work on the pole in the middle of the yard. No problem. They were out there for a while, and shortly after they left we discovered we had no Internet – which means we had no TV, phone, or computers. I called Comcast on Tuesday and after being on hold for fifteen minutes (Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be told – repeatedly – that I could always file a trouble report online when I am calling from a cellphone?) I finally got a young man who insisted I had to give him our Comcast account number. I looked in the file cabinet, but no joy there. I did ask why he couldn’t just find it via our phone number or address, but he said he’d lose his job, so I didn’t push. He offered to call back in an hour, by which time I hoped The Squire would be home to find the paperwork.
By the time The Squire got home it was past the hour, so he called Comcast himself. Sure enough, when the person who answered verified the account – by the bloody phone number! – she said she’d send somebody out right away. Within a half an hour, we had somebody here who checked the line and told us he would call for a crew. As it turned out, this was the same crew who had been out here in mid-July when somebody had slammed into the pole. They had to call the Flagger Force to set out cones and direct traffic, plus bringing out the cherry-pickers. As one of the crew said, “This road is as bad as the Interstate.”
Soooo – today I saw a man walking down the drive and sent The Squire out to intercept him. Neither of us were dressed to entertain guests, but he could pull on a pair of pants more quickly than I could get dressed. Back in July, the crew had bolted a piece on the side of the broken pole, but this had been a temporary measure. The pole needed to be removed and replaced, and once more, we were without power! More Flagger Force and traffic cones. (At this rate, we’ll be able to claim them as dependents on our taxes. ) Frankly, I wonder what the neighbors think, with the utility company out here three times in less than a month.
This time it was about three hours. To be honest, being without lights isn’t bad, and I can still use the gas stove, but not having the A/C was murder. I had a discussion with some friends about doing without indoor plumbing or air conditioning, and having done without both, I’d rather have the A/C. Although, to to honest, there’s only so much Poo-Pourri can do when flushing means a trip to the pond for a bucket of water!
By the way, the Comcast folder was on the shelf; The Squire had pulled it out to look at something one day last week and hadn’t put it back.
I had a rather exotic upbringing, and among my other “interesting quirks” we always use linen napkins in our house. Part of this is habit, but we think paper products are wasteful; if costs nothing to throw a napkin into the wash along with the tea towels and dish clothes, so we try to limit our use of paper napkins and towels. Over the years I’ve fallen heir to several sets of napkins that folks figured I could use, even if nobody else would have them.
As part of my “Let’s Pretend We’re Moving” games I cleaned out the bottom the the Leaning Tower of Bradshaw (see July 9th’s post) yesterday, sorting, tossing, and saving. I do NOT understand how I can manage to misplace napkins! At one point somebody gave me two sets of polyester napkins – one four piece, and the other six. I have never used them; polyester is a form of plastic and plastic is not very absorbent. I now have three napkins in one set and five in the other. These blessed things have never been out of the corner cupboard! Where can they have gone? I bought a dozen lovely linen napkins, all hand embroidered, and for a while I only had eleven of them. Now I can’t find any. Recently a lady donated a dozen lovely napkins to our church for a White Elephant sale and they were handed to me. We’ve used them, but they were fringed, rather than hemmed, and fraying mightily. As we’ve used them, I’ve run zig-zag stitching around all seven? of them. Where the dickens are the rest?
And, no, they are not buried on my ironing board. I checked. Aaargh!
You know it was bound to happen. With all of the radiation and gene splicing the lot we were bound to have all sorts of off animals – and people – pop up.
Exhibit A
The Ten Foot Chicken! (Actually, it’s a plover. A Piping Plover, to be exact.)
thisendoftheswamp 