Tag Archives: The Squire

One More Time

15 Aug

Yesterday, we attended a funeral for an old and very dear friend. The Squire had known Herb from his early days at Equitable Trust, and was pleasantly surprised to see him when he started coming to church with me. Herb’s wife died in January, and he had just given up. He’d had several strokes, and his sons had decided that enough was enough. He was 86.

Herb had served in the Army during the Korean War, and one of his grandsons – and his wife – are also in the Army, so the funeral was what I’d call semi-military. The coffin was brought into the church covered with the American flag, Taps was played, and the grandchildren and another officer folded the flag and handed it to the two sons. The coffin was then covered with a pall and the service went on from there.

When my dad died, I didn’t know all this good stuff was available from the VFW or wherever, and we had some poor soul from the local high school playing Anchors Aweigh on a clarinet – in the rain.

Herb was to be cremated, so there was no internment; Fr. Matthew played Amazing Grace on the bagpipes as the coffin was carried back to the hearse, and then we all went into the hall for a meal.

I have mentioned before that it is worth your life to grab me from behind, and also that my best friend’s husband has been after me for years to leave The Squire and marry him. I have promised that I would do so when he stopped smoking and when I grow up. He’s done his part, but there’s no hope of the latter. Obviously a red-hot romance.

During the dinner, The Boyfriend stumbled and instinctively reached for the closest available solid object, which just happened to be me. I screamed, and we both ended up on the floor. Several people came dashing over to help us – there was absolutely no harm done to either of us – but BFF just raised her eyebrows and suggested if we were going to carry on that way we ought to at least get a room.

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Whose Ancestor is THAT?

10 Aug

As I’ve mentioned before, The Squire has been deeply involved with his family tree, tracing parts of it back as far as the 800s. Obviously, there are other people out there also looking for the same ancestors, and it is possible to search for a name and gets hints about folks who might be related to you.

You have to be careful. The amount of misinformation is appalling – children born three years after their mother died, couples married before one of them was born, and such. People just copy what another researcher had written down, without even checking to see if it is accurate.

What has really surprised both of us are the portraits people put up to represent their forbearers.  The Squire has been working on this long enough that he now recognizes when a picture is out of place. My knowledge of historical dress helps track down correct time period, and sometimes even the picture involved.  One was the famous Portrait of a Young Lady, done by Botticelli, which was about 100 years out of whack. Another was a portrait from the time of Henrietta Maria (after whom the state of Maryland is NOT named) used to depict a woman born in 1700. Henrietta Maria died in 1669! The absolute worst was a lady from the time of Henry VIII, represented by a painting – by John Singer Sargent! If people are going to ‘snag” portraits, they really ought to check the clothing styles, and the dates.

If you are going to the trouble to trace your family history, don’t throw the entire tree into question by using obviously fake stuff. People will question everything you have out there.

And that’s the truth!

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Here We Go Again!

8 Aug

I have written before about the fact that The Squire sets the a/c at “Arctic” while I prefer it a tad warmer. The unit in our bedroom has an actual thermostat, which I set at 70 at night, and then back up to 75 during the day, when nobody is in there.

Last night, I popped into the TV room to say good night, and just about turned into an icicle standing in the doorway. The Squire was watching TV, bare chested, with a blanket over his legs, which hurt when they get cold. (Do you see something odd in this picture?) I went back downstairs and got him a small heating pad, and while I was at it, grabbed a room thermometer, which I laid on the bed in the guest room.

When I got up this morning, it registered a cozy 65!

It went down to 62 last night, and left to my own devices, I’d have opened the windows and turned on the fan.  Heating the house with the air conditioner just doesn’t make sense, folks. However, some people feel this brings too much humidity into the room, and it’s not worth the trouble.

But don’t come singing to me when the utility bill arrives!

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Something We Don’t Know?

30 Jul

The Squire has been doing a lot of genealogy work recently, and finding out all sorts of unusual bits.  He has some very interesting ancestors!

One thing he has known for years is that he is descended from the only male survivor of what is known as “the Sodom Laurel Massacre”. Sodom Laurel (No, he doesn’t know why they named it that.) was a hamlet in North Carolina. During the Civil War, a group of Confederate soldiers came through (reports vary as to whether they were Mosby’s men or McKeithley’s), rounded up every male in town and shot them, on the off chance there might be a Yankee sympathizer in the group. The Squire’s ancestor was William Bell Shelton, a then eight-year old boy who was gathering eggs, and had the good sense to climb into the hayloft and stay put. Just to see if the place still existed, he put it into Google Earth. The map spun around, and landed in Washington, D.C. At the Capitol Building.

We have since discovered that the Post Office renamed the place “Revere”.

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The Church Dog

29 Jul

When I go to knitting on Monday evenings and Wednesday mornings, I almost always take Blazer along. He has a mad crush on Miss Kathy, the secretary, who always gives him treats, and acts as Official Greeter for another group that meets on Wednesday mornings, sitting by the door and waiting for a pat on the head.

He also goes with me when I am on Altar Guild, and knows he can follow me anyplace but up onto the altar steps. He stops and flops down on the carpet, once even resting his chin on the step, and waits for me to get things done, then trots back to the sacristy while I finish up. Ah, if only he had opposable thumbs!

The last couple of times I’ve gotten ready to leave, he’s come out the door, and then flopped on the grass, refusing to move. This morning, I had to go back in for something, and he leapt to his feet, dashing back inside with me, but wouldn’t leave the front lawn. I finally had to get his leash out of the car to get him to follow me.

Mind you, this is a dog who  won’t eat until we say grace, so it’s hardly surprising. The Squire says we should just get him a white collar and rename him Deacon.

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Happy Birthday!

22 Jul

I was supposed to spend most of today at the radiologist, but they called and rescheduled for Monday, so Blazer and I went over to join the knitting group at church this morning. When I tell him we are “going to see Miss Kathy” (the secretary) he gets all “talky”, which he only does for her, and nobody else.

He hops in the car, turns sideways so I can fasten the seatbelt around him, and when we arrive he bolts for the office, sitting in front of Kathy until he gets a treat, then grabs his stuffed bear off the shelf and comes out to join the rest of us. An Al-Anon meeting is scheduled at the same time, and he gets a pat on the head from each person as they come in. This morning he followed one lady across the room because she had walked by without patting him. He takes his Official Greeter duties quite seriously.

When it is time to go, he gets Bear and returns it to the office, dropping it at Kathy’s feet and getting one more treat. A very rotten, but very sweet puppy.

Back in June, The Squire received a very generous gift card to a local High Class restaurant, so we decided today would be a very good time to use it, to celebrate my umpty-dumpth birthday. We had invited our closest friends and my brother-in-law to join us, but only George was able to make it.  We had a very pleasant time, exchanging dreadful jokes, and enjoying wonderful – if insanely overpriced – food.

Dinner was filling enough,  and dessert would have been nice, but they wanted $9 for a dish of ice cream, and $8 for bread pudding, so we passed on that. Stopped at Yogi Palace on the way home for frozen yogurt and were just as happy as if we’d paid twice as much.

Off to feed the fish and the foxes, and then, as Samuel Pepys would say, so to bed.

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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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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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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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The Atta Boy Card

5 May

I worked yesterday, and came home to find The Squire had hung up and taken down the wash, folded it and put most of it away. He had also found a recipe for a zucchini quiche, picked up the ingredients when he went to the Y to work out, and had dinner ready when I came home.

He had also cut a bouquet of lilacs and crab apple blossoms for the table.

That man got so many punches in his Atta Boy card, he’s going to need a new one. As my sister used to say, “I’m going to let him keep me.”

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