Little ghouls and goblins

Had some cute little trick-or-treaters earlier, then one big group of teens a few minutes ago. The costumes get better and better. Two tiny black boys, maybe twins, had on white-on-black skeleton costumes. Their mama was with them, and when she told them to say thank you, they both puffed up their chests, glared at me, and roared in big scarey voices, "Thaaank youuuuu!"

Little Tree

The Education of Little Tree is a rather short little novel--if it is a novel. Apropos of something this morning, I got the book down to see how many words are in it (rough count 77,000). Not as short as a standard Harlequin-type romance, probably a good deal longer than The Old Man and the Sea.

Anyway, I had read all the front information, the table of contents, and the first 16 pages, before I stopped and remembered why I opened the book. Something takes hold of you when you start reading that book, something like walking barefoot up the side of a mountain, on a hard-packed dirt trail embedded with little smooth white quartz stones. Maybe up ahead there's a stray hound, starved and mangey-looking, pausing and wagging his tail so you'll think he's somebody you know and will take him home, and you give him the dime-pack of peanut butter crackers you bought coming through town and only ate one of and were saving the other four to eat when you got to the top of the mountain. This makes me put my hands over my face and cry, and remember when I lived on the mountain, the times when I would sit at the top of the tram track, and would cover my face with my hands and cry because the mountain was all I had, and think of the time when I would be grown and maybe old and would remember being on the mountain and would cover my face and cry because it was gone.

Time gets mixed up. Especially when you've been sick.

2:45 p.m. I just ate a large bowlful of extremely delicious vegetable soup, with a handful of rice thrown in for weight, and cornbread. While occupied with soup, I failed to notice the temperature rising up to about 75 degrees, higher than that in the house, and now I'm too hot, but feeling fed and sassy. I've taken so much antibiotics, steroids and asthma medicine, I feel ten or nine times better than I did yesterday. Remind me never to hate a doctor again.

Anyway, The Ed. of Little Tree has over 75,000 words, and The OM&theS less than 35,000. I wonder how long it took Hemingway to write that little book.

On the doctor's scale the other day, I was 10 pounds lighter than the last time I trod thereon. Guess I lost it trudging up and down the stairs about a thousand times. Think I'll do it again this week and see what happens. The skin on my arms looks like old worn crepe that has been washed but not ironed. "Vanity, vanity! All is vanity, saith the Preacher."

Friday

By today I was pretty sick with this congestion. Susan very kindly drove me to the Kirklin Clinic to see Dr. Gruman. After a chest X-ray and a lot of thumping and poking, he said my lungs look OK, but I've got asthmatic bronchitis. I told him about the mold in the basement, and he said that could be a factor but not necessarily. He didn't say what else could be a factor. He gave me prescriptions for a Z pack (antibiotic), some steroid tablets, and an inhaler, all of which I got filled and started after we got home.

By the time we got home, Susan sounded like she needed to go back to the doctor; sounded about like I did a day or so ago. I hope to goodness I didn't infect her, and I hope she throws off whatever she has in a hurry. I didn't think to ask the doctor if I was infectious, but I had been trying not to breathe on Susan or anyone else.

Thursday

Went to bed early and slept late, so I'm feeling rested, but that sore throat has turned into some serious congestion. I think it's probably from mold in the basement. Looks like the rain has just about quit, so I'll stay out of the basement all possible today. Got to get the details (permit, money for change, putting out signs) done this afternoon, and then sleep some more.

Ten lashes upon the back of Caedmon

or the Phoenicians, or whoever it was that invented yard sales!

I can't find my long-handled Swiffer.

My feet hurt, and I've got a sore throat.

*

8:30 p.m.:
Will I ever get all these things down those stairs? I've only got two more rooms full of stuff to tote. And the funny thing is, when it all gets downstairs, it doesn't look like much, and what there is looks worth about two cents total.

Getting ready for the yard sale

Jed gave me this walking kangaroo from Australia, besides I like it, so it stays. The collapsible pussy-cat is from Buffy, and the collapsible rooster from Pat, and I wouldn't dream of parting with either. Sell my Cracker-Barrel bunny rabbit? Not on your tintype! Nothing wrong with him except a dog (Buck) toted him around the house for a few hours. I can't sell my camel, because I intend to collect camels, but the Ty monkey can probably go.

I only used that crock-pot once, about eleven years ago, but if I put this odd ceramic lid on it instead of the plastic one that came with it, I might use it all the time.

This aluminum angel candlestick will be lovely at Christmas. I know it's an angel, even though it doesn't look like one. And I may get a dog someday, so I'd better save old Buck's leash and the spare chew bone.

The British Byrd dolls and the Gene Marshall dolls didn't sell at the last yard sale. Hmmmm. Maybe if I gave up the nine boxes of clothes that go with them, someone would bite. But they'll all probably be worth a fortune someday.

A wooden plaque with decoupaged hot-air balloons! It matches my two china balloon plates. They'd make a lovely group on the wall facing the guest-room bed. And with this wire pineapple lamp on the night stand, the room will have a decorator feel.

Where did I get two identical tablecloths (or bedspreads), crocheted of coarse tan thread, weighing 16 pounds each?

I can certainly do without the stacks of New Yorkers, Smithsonians, and various needlework magazines; but first I have to go through them and cut out the articles and patterns I want to save. The ones I don't cut up could go in the next yard sale (in 2012).

Gee, I feel so carefree and industrious, getting rid of so much stuff!

Grand-daddy of a beef stew

is what I made this morning. The biggest pot I had barely held it. Ate some for lunch, and am thinking of going back for an afternoon snack. Yum.

I had a Gordie Ramey moment when I heard Steve's estimate for doing the flower bed. He left a message on my phone, and I thought, "Now, you know you can't do all that stuff I asked for, for that price. It ought to be at least twice that much." But after thinking it over, I probably won't tell him that.

Wish I was still getting paid $17 an hour.

Steve finally returned my calls yesterday and said he'd come by today to look at the flower bed. So today he did come and mow the grass. We looked at the flower bed, and he said he'd get some more garden soil to add to the bags I've got stacked in the basement, and would call this afternoon and let me know his estimate, and that he could probably clean out the bed one day next week.

I've ordered a whole lot of bulbs from Breck's, and they'll probably arrive next week. Some hard work ahead. I ordered daffodils, snowdrops, a pastel tulip mix, snowdrops, English bluebells, peonies, and a few yellow and a few coral-color hyacinths. In the spring I'll probably get Breck's begonia mix to replace the bloomed-out chrysanthemums at the east corner of the house, which I'm going to pull up in the next week. [Added Friday: I like them snowdrops.]

I dug the little cedar tree out of the flower bed yesterday and put it in one of those white plastic urn planters, and it looks great. Today I pulled a 5' tall sweet gum out of the flower bed against the front of the house, and tried to dig up the peony tubers but I only got three; they're too big and too deep. If I can save the little ground roses, I can put them in urn planters, too. I need to remember to get Steve to cut down whatever that tree is that's growing against my office window, right against the house. By the way, he did not call me back this afternoon.

I've got masses of stuff pulled out for the yard sale, and am thinking about having it Saturday. I'll have to go tomorrow and get my permit. Unless I decide to wait until next weekend. But if it looks like the weather will be clear Saturday, I'd rather do it and get it over with, and get all this stuff off the furniture and out of the corners. Many, many pieces of McCoy pottery, lots of odd dishes and glassware, piles of clothes (I didn't know I had that many clothes), two large bins of books, zillions of gew-gaws, etc.

It Was Mary. . .

I saw Mama very briefly in a bright but misty dream. She looked like herself when I first remember her, but she was absolutely perfect, with glowing skin, light glancing off her soft dark-brown curls. She was seated outdoors at a table, totally absorbed in whatever she was looking at, and dressed in a long filmy-looking short-sleeved dress of pale yellow with peach-colored splashes of print. No, it wasn't a Scrabble game she was studying; she looked more like a dutiful schoolgirl trying to absorb a lesson.

It's That Time of Year

O wild west wind, thou breath of Autumn's being--
Thou from whose unseen censer the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing...












Here are some little autumn arrangements in my living room (inspired by the magazines which are my door prize from Book Club). The flat basket on the hearth holds a pumpkin with a bunch of purple grapes draped across it. They have little glass beads on the surface, so the colors wouldn't come through in the photo.

Jed phoned this morning. Today he's on his way to South Carolina on business.

A very nice weekend

The Book Club meeting on Friday afternoon was great, with all of Susan's pretty Halloween decorations, wonderful food including mini quiches on which I over-indulged, and a banana nut cake with peanut butter sauce to die for! The book discussion was fine, too, concerning the Cormac McCarthy book, The Road. We forgot the door prize drawing, which is about status quo for this group--we get so involved in the discussion, which usually occurs in the second half of the meeting, that we forget the extras. Anyway, Suze emailed me and said she drew names from those who attended, and I won the door prize! A new issue each of Southern Living and Country Living magazines, plus a little jack-o-lantern with candy corn. Sophie's canine friend Daisy was visiting at the house, and proved to be a loving little pet.

Then Saturday, Jed arrived from points north where he worked Friday, and we ate a good old home-style lunch at Cracker Barrel. Saturday evening Jed and I sat around and dissected, analyzed and reassembled the world economy, so let's hope everything gets better, or at least doesn't get any worse.

Sunday noon we chowed down at Chili's in Trussville, then later on visited Ramey and India up on Hawk Hill. Pat wants us to have a sort of family 1950's Nerd Festival sometime soon, which sounds like crazy-fun; I might recite the Redneck Visit from Sandy Claws. And we could have a pickin' and singin' group a la "The Darlings" on the Andy Griffith show.

Jed headed back to Atlanta about 4:00 p.m., and I started packing a couple of books to mail tomorrow to customers. Pat gave me a stack of books, all of which I listed on Amazon for nice prices.

Mo and Owen Wilder (he recently told me his first name) are doing as fine as cats can do.

Well, pfui.

After that hard work yesterday (or was it Sunday?) with untangling the muscadine vine and pulling out the limbs and brush from it, getting scratched and itchy in the process, I no longer want an arbor. Right now I don't want anything that I haven't got, at least not in the category of property.

Arbor Magna Mea

What do you see, a tangle of leaves,

a vine that must be attached to something?

To me, it's what I'll see looking up

when I'm standing under my muscadine arbor.

I think I wrote about it back in the summer, when it fell onto the ground and was full of berries. The critters ate them, and welcome to them, I never was fond of muscadines. But I want an arbor, I WANT an arbor, and somebody better do something about it. If they don't, I'll haul off and build it myself, and the results may not improve the property.

If you think it's tangled now, you should have seen it before I removed (the top half of) this pile of brush and limbs from it, including another vine that had poisonous-looking leaves, and another one that had long black bean hulls hanging down.

RIP? No, it's just a cover for the hole Gretchen dug while hunting a chipmunk.

Fun With Numbers

Here's a recent conversation I had online with Some Joker and EM:

SJ: "The Fibonacci sequence determines the life of textbooks."

Me: "Your mentioning Fibonacci numbers reminds me painfully of how quickly any education about numbers goes in one side of my head and out the other. I ordered a course that included Fibonacci numbers, about 6 months ago, and understood it all perfectly. Now all I can connect with "Fibonacci" is something about pineapples. Or was it pine cones?"

EM: "Or rabbits. My favorites are flower petals and leaf arrangements. And Fibonacci stock chart retracements. [Includes several links to number sequences in nature.]"

Me: "Thanks for the fun links, EM. Now it all comes back to me. This reassures me that if ever I find myself in a spot where FNs may save my skin, I can reach 'way back in the file cabinet and pull them out. ...I'm thinking one could filet-crochet a mat that illustrates the numbers. Conversation piece, if one ever had Stephen Hawking or Richard Hoover to tea."

EM: "Good idea, because those two are just ALWAYS dropping by!"

This got me thinking about Richard, so I Googled around and found that he's a group leader or something at NASA in Huntsville, and has written numerous books about astrobiology and diatoms and more, and has been to Siberia and the South Pole and all over the place. The pictures are from online sites and won't copy very well.

Many years ago I read an article by him in National Geographic, in which he mentioned that he had traveled all over the world and a lot of other good stuff, which I felt was aimed at me if I should happen to read it. Just to show me what I missed by not marrying him. I had very few regrets.

Just any old silver lining will do. . .

I had a hunch that the Kings and Queens book wouldn't last long on the Amazon site, so I read it, and it sold within hours. Now I'm wishing I had kept it, or priced it higher (it sold for ~$27). It was a modern edition of an old book, with a caricature and a funny poem for each English monarch starting with Wm. the Conqueror.

The weatherman predicts rain for tomorrow and Friday, or did last night. If that holds, I guess I'll put off the yard sale. Not ready, anyway. Mumble, mumble. I think I need to make another batch of biscuits to put me in a better humor.

I think Jed is coming over, the end of next week, maybe will be here for the book club meeting. So that's a bright spot to look forward to.