Free Time On My Hands

I'm in one of those "while the cat's away, the mice will play" moods. My sweetie is the cat who's away and I get to be a mischievous mousie. It's what happens when he's in the field and I get bored. He's used to coming home to rearranged furniture, new pets, new wall colors, new landscaping...staying busy helps me cope with his absences.  Hey, who'm I trying to fool, it keeps me out of the fridge, the kitchen cupboards and trouble.

So I'm mulling over my choices--

Shall I remove the popcorn ceiling in our closet? Pretty easy to dump all the clothes on his unused half of the bed while I make a mess in the closet. That ceiling is so low that I inevitably knock popcorn off when I grab sweaters off the shelf, grrr. And there would be no one but me to suffer the smell of fresh paint. On the other hand, I'd have to borrow a compressor and texture sprayer.  It's not a small job.

Or I could finish painting the very large vintage desk (one of four (!) that's been taking up room in our garage for years). I can just picture it espresso black sporting brushed nickel pulls and a stained wood top. Yummy! Indian summer--not too hot, not too cold--is ideal weather for painting and refinishing. I bought the paint last year and have the drawers done, but haven't tackled the desk itself yet. Of course, stripping the finish of the top isn't going to be easy and I hate the smell and mess of stripper. And I can't find the drawer pulls of my dreams in the right size. Or at least, I haven't found them yet.

Or I could spray paint my grandma's iron bedstead ivory. I painted it sunflower gold in college--now it's chippy (and not in the good vintage way). It's an odd size, but would still fit in our guest room and has lots more storage space underneath than the beautiful maple bed in there now. I just need a creative way to replace the creaky metal springs with something to support the boxspring.

Our bedroom drapes need replacing and I've found some nice fabric possibilities. I bought new rods already although I haven't acquired any rings yet. Even at a thrifty five bucks a yard, drapes take so much fabric that it adds up quickly. And I'm reluctant to deprive my sweetie of a vote on the material choice.

If I sewed new curtains for our family room though, I'd be re-creating the current color scheme of natural linen with red trim, a combination that suits us. I really want the new curtains to have simpler lines--that is if I can bring myself to part with the old-fashioned cottage-y ruffles. Uh-oh, I can feel indecision creeping up behind me, ready to pounce, even as I'm typing about ruffles versus clean lines.

I could just complete a few projects lying around or clean the house from top to bottom, but there's just not enough scope for mischief in that.

Decisions, decisions.  Feel free to comment and let me know what you'd do first (because I think I might have time to accomplish more than one thing on my list of possibilities if I get properly motivated.)

I need to get started so my "fun" has the proper degree of impact when he returns.  I love to surprise him!

Not at all lonely,

Survivor--Lilypad

The pond motto:  Outswim...outlive...outhide.

We restocked Lilypad Pond with three goldfish for way back on Mother's Day.  Beauty combined with a taste for mosquito larvae--what could be a better present?

I chose them with some care.  I figured the white and red pinto would look really flashy as he swam around.  I loved the black picotee edges against the gold.

And the red one with the spot was lively and healthy. We released them and (as small but wise comets will) they disappeared, hopefully to grow and prosper.

 

I'm glad I took pix, but naming them might have been a mistake.

Because a month later came the regrettable episode of the garter snake with a taste for goldfish and peeper frogs who took up residence in our pond.   Said snake was re-homed as soon as I convinced my sweetie that life would be much quieter without my shrieks of snake-horror.

When we were satisfied that the garter snake had moved on permanently, we snuck another five feeder comets (both unphotographed and unnamed) into the pond where they promptly disappeared amidst the rocks. I knew they'd show up eventually, predators and the good Lord willing...

 

Success!  Warm summery water, familiarity with the pond and a lack of snakes finally brought the three survivors out from the midst of the lilies into the shallows where they browse on algae and other fishy delights.  To my delight, that little guy in front is actually one of my Mother's Day comets who somehow outwitted the garter snake. To say he's skittish is an understatement, poor traumatized fish. Maybe they're bolder because they're not so little anymore. They've never received one flake of fishfood, but our pond is apparently rich in algae and larvae and other fishly favorites. Mr. Skittish has easily quadrupled in size since May and the others are three times bigger than they were.

The sounds of the creek and waterfall are tranquil, the lilies enrich each day, but the flash of a golden fin just might be my favorite part of Lilypad Pond.



Joining the others at My Romantic Home's Show and Tell Friday.

Rita's First, and other Joys

Rita's very first, very tiny egg was such a treasure that I had to preserve it for posterity somehow. How better than a photo! They're both hers--but what a dramatic change in size over the course of a week. I snapped lots of pix, then I retreated into the kitchen and forced myself to sacrifice such cuteness for a meal.  How mundane though incredibly delicious.

Only later as I was adding the eggshells to the compost pile did I realize that if I'd blown out the contents, I could have had my egg and eaten it too! Ack!  I'll be kicking myself for quite some time over that mistake.  Can you imagine how sweet it would have been to have a little Spring nest with four miniature hens' eggs as a centerpiece?


No bird is more intent than a hen waiting for a treat.  She's not eagle-eyed..more like chicken-eyed? or hen-eyed?  Definitely not cock-eyed (chicken humor, I couldn't resist, sorry).

There are few things more satisfying being greeted by four eager beaks on a gorgeous summer morning.

Unless it's opening up the nest box to find four rich brown eggs.

Their coop is actually that lovely blue (an intense robins-egg blue called Cape May) inside. And that would be a vintage pillowcase with pink roses softening their nest box. And I can usually tell you which hen laid which egg, which is pretty amazing considering that most people can't tell Norma Jean from Rita from Carole from Sophia.  Us chicken mamas  know how to keep our girls happy.

Maybe I'm keeping them too happy--jumbo doesn't even begin to describe the size of this latest egg.  It's ginormous!  (I took more photos later that showed how truly large this egg was but my camera "ate" the photos.  Who says an old camera can't learn a new trick?  I hope it unlearns quickly or I'll be in the market for a replacement.)

Could you hear us oohing and aahing?  The Queen Mother suggested that it might have a double yolk too.  That would be another first--but I'm in no hurry to find out.  I want to enjoy opening the fridge and being astonished at the talent of my Bombshells for awhile longer.

Smiling,

My Guideposts -- Week34

Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit.

~W. Somerset Maugham

Waking up before dawn on a Saturday morning?  If the payoff is a field filled with glorious hot air balloons and smiles on every face you see, who needs sleep!

Excessively and happily exhilarated,


Joining Tracey and friends at Weekly Words of Wisdom.

I Know Why They Call It The Labor Day Holiday

I used to think it was a three-day holiday designed especially so we could go take a hike. We've ended up at the top of this mountain for the past couple years.

 

It takes some honest sweat to stand on the summit, but it's worth the dirty socks and aching muscles to eat lunch with a view from Virginia City to Donner Lake and beyond.

This year we hosted a very special guest at our house instead. The Rug Doctor came to rescue us from our dirty carpet on Friday.

 

Two puppies, a moribund lawn, four years of muddy springtimes, snowy winters and leafy falls, someone who manages to track dogsicles and chicken blessings inside (I'm much better at remembering to remove my shoes now)--you know, all the stuff from Everyday Life--had left a mark or two, a trail, a walking pattern and a general grubbiness that's been bothering me for way too long. 

You'd think a rug would dry quickly in ninety-four degree heat.  (I guess I might have gone over the dirtiest sections a few times too many.) 

We walked on towel paths, kept the windows open and eventually turned on the box fan.

This as empty as our house is ever going to look.

And possibly as clean as it'll ever look too.  The room arrangement leaves something to be desired if anyone wanted to actually sit on a sofa while things dried, but I heart those Rug Doctor tracks on the nice clean carpet.  If there was ONE thing that I wanted to accomplish this summer, this is it!  Twenty-four hours plus twenty-seven bucks equals a happy pogonip.  A happy but tyrannical pogonip who won't let the dogs in until they've been bathed and rudely reminds people to remove their shoes

If it was just Labor Day, we could have stopped there.  But since it was a long weekend, we had enough time to scrape, sand, caulk, prime and paint windowsills and porch railings.  And cement a post for the chickens' gate.  Along with mowing the lawn, clipping plants, harvesting our spuds and soon-to-be pickles.  And spending an afternoon in the Queen Mother's garage.

It's amazing how many tools you can use in four days when a deadline is staring you in the face!  I'm not sure whether to be excited about school beginning again or sad for the summer's end.

Hoping you had the Holiday without the Labor,

My Guideposts -- Week33

A truce to your volumes, your studies, give o'er: for books cannot teach you love's marvelous lore.

~Hafiz (14th century Persian poet)

A reminder to my teacher personna, right before I step back into our classroom,  that the most important things in life are not found between the covers of a textbook and cannot be taught by rote.



Joining Tracey for her weekly inspiring quotes get-together.

Farewell To Summer?

Just because the calendar says September it doesn't mean summer is over.  No way! Even if there is that cool nip in the air on morning walks.  We're now sleeping under blankets with the windows closed at night but that means nothing.  Right?  Right?

I'm certain it's just a blip, a temporary temperature change, and hot days are still ahead.  Even if it is getting dark earlier and earlier and I'm looking for the sunny spots when eating my morning Mini Wheats.

Please tell me the leaves on our neighbor's tree aren't really showing a hint of color.  And that stores aren't beginning to stock pumpkins and black cats.   That they baled hay in the pasture early this year.

Let me cling to my delusions just a little longer.  Please?  Just until after Labor Day (mmm, barbecued ribs and homemade ice cream).

I'm working on the necessity of saying goodbye to my wonderful summer vacation and hello to the school bell.  I think I'm almost, almost-but-not-quite ready.  I'm beginning to remember how wonderful new beginnings are, how much I love those shining enthusiastic five-year-old faces, what a delight it is to start with new gel pens and a reorganized desk space,  the fun of seeing familiar smiles in the hallways.  And a paycheck, golly!

Yes, I think one more week will do it, one more week filled with all I love most about summertime.  Then I'll be ready to turn the page and start a new adventure.

Summerly yours,