Blog Archives

Where did my brain go?

 

     My brain went on a vacation.  However, it did leave several voice mails for me.

     Message 1:  “Um, hello?  Geez, I hate voicemail.  Anyway, this is your brain.  I’m going on vacation.  I hear that Hawaii doesn’t have snow.”

     Message 2:  “It’s me again.  You know.  Your brain?  I just wanted to let you know I forgot to put coffee on the grocery list, you might want to do that.”

     Message 3:  “Just arrived in Honolulu.  It’s a balmy 71.  I hear it’s supposed to hit 81 this afternoon.  Enjoy the snow.  Neener neener neener.”

     I threw my cell phone against the wall.  If my brain wants to be nasty about it, I won’t listen to my voicemail.

     I received a strange E-mail.  “This is your brain in Hawaii.  It’s sunny and warm.  Did the next snow storm hit yet?” 

     There were pictures too.  My brain sitting on the beach sipping on a Mai Tai.  (It had better make sure it showers off all that sand.  There’s nothing worse than sand in the crevices.)  My brain at a luau doing the hula.  (Don’t ask it isn’t pretty.)  Then there’s the picture of my brain at the pineapple farm.  (Great, I’m allergic to pineapple so now I’ll be itchy.)

     I hate my brain.

Finally decided on a paint color for the kitchen…

 

     I’ve wanted to paint the kitchen forever.  I’ve waffled over this repeatedly.  One after another, paint sample cards have hung on the wall above the cabinets where I can see them from my desk.  Some were too dark, others too light, then one day a few months ago, G gave me a couple of cards she’d brought home for her own use and had used to choose her colors. 

     I narrowed my choices down to two colors.  Behr paint’s Delicious Melon and Luminary both extremely close but it was the darker of the two that seems to work best.  Luminary was my choice.  It draws on the floor tile color, it’s light enough to be cheerful, and it has a nice warmth to it. 

     This will be my spring project.  Once I can open the windows I’ll go buy the paint.  Painting anything in this house takes on a comedic shape.  Two Bull Terriers, a ladder, drop cloth, paint rollers, and fresh paint are disasters waiting to happen.  It’s good thing the wall color will be similar to the floor.

     That sounds weird, similar to the floor.  I’m telling you it will look nice.  The cabinets are a medium stain on birch and the counter top is forest green.  The floor is a pale peach tone with small accent tiles of green.  The back splash is white.  The paint will make the cabinets pop and it will brighten an ugly paneled kitchen.  When I do it this spring, I’ll post before and after pictures.

     We are not responsible for the paneling it was here when we moved in.  I’d tear it down but then that would mean hiring someone in to put up dry wall and take down the nasty drop ceiling.  We can’t afford that.

Time to trim the toenails

 

     Tonight I noticed that both of the pups sound like tap dancers when they walk.  Tomorrow I’ll have to get sneaky and begin the process of trimming their claws.  Patty is very good about letting us trim her claws.  Gavin, on the other hand, is not.  Trimming Gavin’s claws is a long, slow process.

     Patty will stay on her back on the couch and remain as still as a seat cushion while I snip away at her claws.  On occasion, she will pull a paw back but she does so without any conviction. 

     We have to sneak up on Gavin to do his.  Most of the time, I manage to snip a claw or two when he’s snoozing with me on my chair.  It only works if he is on his back, then he’s fairly easy pickings.  I never can trim more than two at a time though.  By the second snip of the clippers, 65 pounds of white dog rockets from the chair.  He has his limits and I’d better have a cookie ready or I won’t get him in that position again.

     You can almost see Patty rolling her eyes at him.

Blame Delaney

 

  A couple of years ago, my hard drive crashed.  (I’m so glad I back up my books daily.)  I had a program on the old hard drive that did some of the things that Fotosketcher does.  I lost it.  It was no where to be found.  I’d used it to do the portrait of Gavin that I use as my avatar.  I’d done a gorgeous portrait of my neighbor’s daughter in a water color effect. 

    I tried many photo programs but hadn’t found one that did the things I wanted.  Then Delaney did a post on Fotosketcher.

     I have a new addiction.  I blame Delaney.  Yes, it’s all her fault.  She tempted me to try it and now I am completely addicted.

     I love Fotosketcher!  I’ve played with it so often that I think most of my best photos have copies in water color, oil, pencil, and whatever else I can tweak it into doing.  I’m driving DH crazy.  Yep, I tell him it’s all Delaney’s fault.

     Today I was guilty of addicting someone else to the program. 

     I wonder if I can find a chapter of Fotosketcher addicts anonymous.

How to be a writer

 

     Write a paragraph.  Delete what you’ve written.  Write some more.  Two paragraphs, three, maybe a whole page.  Read them, scream, delete and rewrite them.

     Bang head on desk.  Get some sudden inspiration and write six pages.  Spell and grammar check them.  Read them and feel a thrill that they make sense.

     Write a paragraph.  Delete what you’ve written.  Dig deep inside you.  Find additional inspiration and write five or six more pages. 

     Life interrupts.

     Write a paragraph.  Bang head on desk…

Fampridine approved by FDA

 

     On Jan. 22, 2010,  the FDA  approved  Fampridine (dalfampridine) under the name of Ampyra.  “Ampyra will be manufactured under licenses from Elan of Dublin, Ireland, and distributed by Acorda Therapeutics Inc. of Hawthorne, N.Y.   AMPYRA Expected to be Available by Prescription in March 2010.”

     DH has an appointment in February and is definitely going to talk to his neurologist about this. 

     Which brings me to another subject.  The neurologist has moved.  They sent us convoluted directions to the new office which made it sound as though it was a great deal further away.  I spent hours–stupid dial up–trying to locate the office.  Once I did locate it, I looked at it in a bird’s eye view and said, “duh!”  It’s very simple to get there from here and I even know a great short cut.

Garbled messages

 

     Our answering machine is doing its level best to die.  It’s not as though it gets a lot of use, but today it proved it is on the way out.  When a person’s voice sounds worse than Donald Duck’s it’s time to get a new answering machine.  A doctor’s secretary left a message and I think I understood one word in four.  It’s a good thing DH heard the message earlier and had already called them back.

     We use the standard message that comes with the machine.  There have been times where I was tempted to put some not so very nice messages on there.  ‘If you’re trying to sell me something I don’t want or need, hang up.’  ‘If you’ve at one time or another screwed us over, kiss my a$$.’  ‘If you are a credit card company trying to get us to try your card at a new low rate, up yours, we don’t want it.’  Those are the more tame ones I would’ve recorded.

     What is the out-going message on your machine?  Is it the machine standard one or have you recorded a ‘special’ message?

Something I miss having around

 

     I grew up with a piano in the house.  We took lessons but none of us was what you’d call a musical prodigy.  I remember all the piano teachers both the good ones and the bad.  Scales?  Yes, I can still play them.  One of the teachers had insisted on hours of practicing scales.

     However, there was one person in our house who could play beautifully, if you could catch her at it.  That person was my grandmother.  You truly had to sneak up on her to hear her play the piano because she’d never play when she thought anyone was home.  That woman could play like a dream.  I remember many a time hiding on the stairs, practically holding my breath to make sure she didn’t know I was there, and listening to her play.

     I miss having a piano and maybe one day I’ll buy one.  There’s always some old piano for sale in the newspaper at a cheap price.  I already know where I’d put a small one.  All my old sheet music and lesson books are stashed in a bookcase.

The pups are mud bugs and some very bad poetry

 

     Holy cow is our yard a muddy mess and it’s not even spring yet.  All day Gavin and Patty blissfully played in the mud each time they went out.  When they came in, they looked like two mud wrestlers.  Patty took great joy in paw painting Dear Hubby’s jeans and shirt.  Gavin preferred to paw paint me.  They are mud bugs.

     My laundry basket runneth over.  Yea, though they run rampant through the yard and gardens, they fear no mud puddle.  For they know they can track a goodly supply of muck onto the kitchen floor.  Surely Mom’s wrath will follow, or at least, a toweling at the door.  Dad sits by in a muddle, paw printed from toe to neck.  Both dogs make a leap for his lap, oh no.  He yells, “What the heck?” 

     There’s mud on the walls three feet above the dogs.  How it got there, they aren’t telling.  I can’t blame them, because Dad was yelling.  Muddy paws wiped all day and the mop and bucket have gone astray. 

     Two exhausted dogs sleep.  Snores from crates emanate.  DH is off to bed and I am left to ruminate.

It must be January because I’m getting the gardening bug

 

     It never fails once we get that tiny warm spell, that miniscule thaw out in January; I begin to think of gardening.  I scan online seed catalogues.  I dig through catalogues I get in the mail.  I plan and dream of where things will go in the spring.

     I’m on a constant search for perennials.  I hunt for anything in a black flower because I love the way the black accents make all the other colors pop. 

     I blame my father and my Aunt J. for this.  They got me started.  They caused my addiction to gardening. 

     My father always planted tomatoes and a few other vegetables each year.  I often helped him dig around in the garden.  When I visited my Aunt J on a more regular basis, she moved my interest to perennials because she and my Uncle H had a garden shop.  Aunt J caused my full blown addiction when they went out of business and she insisted I load my van with plants on several trips.

     I still have most of those perennials in my garden.  Some of which I’ve split over the years and given to G for her gardens.  Now G and I spend the spring haunting garden shops and loading our gardens with new discoveries.

Warm enough today

 

     The filters thawed at last.  (Although, which you will see shortly, not without a minor mishap.)  I was able to back wash them and add fresh water to the pond.  The Koi are happy and it was warm enough to have three bullfrogs hanging out in the water this evening.  I do wish this weather would continue, but it’s January and it’ll never happen.

     Early this morning DH managed to catch that I’d left the filter on rinse yesterday instead of remembering to put it back on filter.  (Things like this happen when I try to multitask too much.)  Yesterday the still frozen filters weren’t even trickling so there was no water loss until today when they began to thaw.  Fortunately, DH caught my mistake before the water level went down more than an inch.  However, scrambling to correct that and get the hose in the pond to add water exhausted him.

     The filters are functioning.  The waterfall is falling.  The fountains are working…all is right in the garden.  We’ll wait for spring to find the leaks in the waterfall.  For now all we can do is try to keep everything operating as best as we can.

Special announcement

My cousin Carol, up in Boston, now has some of her art work hanging in the Dewey Library.   I’m so proud of her!