Get Ready, Get Set--

Tomorrow I plan to start a new writing project. I was hoping to finish cleaning today, but it's not going to happen. I hope to spend the next few months being a real writer, so today I'm going to rest and store up some energy.

Yesterday I read Noah's Wife, by T.K. Thorne, on Kindle. Good book.

Gotta Get Busy!

Well, I slept late, because I spent hours last night trying to go to sleep. Last time I looked at the clock, it was 3:30 a.m. That seldom happens to me; I usually go to sleep any time I get prone or close my eyes sitting straight up. I think the dawn was coming up like thunder when I finally passed out.

I've got more than my fair share of things to do today, not counting getting on with cleaning and straightening up the house. The Exchange Club truck will come by in a few days; last time they called me, I asked what they need besides clothing, and the lady said they take furniture and any household items. So that means two chairs and a bunch of other stuff don't have to live in the basement.

I've sold an afghan (on eBay) that I made a long time ago. It's a pretty thing and contains about 50 different crochet patterns, but it's 'way too big and has always just taken up a lot of space. It measures about 72" x 60". Looking at it makes me want to crochet something. But if I do any sewing, I have two quilts to finish and some summer pajamas to finish making.

Yesterday evening I made soup, all that my biggest pot would hold. I ate one bowlful and froze six servings, and that was all of it. Everyone, including me, needs a great big soup pot. But all the real soup pots I remember seeing look like they're made of aluminum. I don't use aluminum cookware. When I worked at the Alzheimer's Disease Center, I followed a study that seemed to show that aluminum contributes to causing AD. Dr. H., who was director of the Center, wouldn't touch aluminum, let alone eat out of it.

Steve is outside cutting the grass. The weeds, rather. But the grass is coming along, too.

Poem for Sunday

Moving Day on Oak Mountain

With my big sharp claws
I will scratch out a hole
like the chipmunk's,
and dig myself in so deep
no one can find me.
I will stay here forever.

By JRC on August 21, 2001

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What brought that on? I guess it was the thing about the Tent. Or my Irish love of the land. Or thinking about Chief Seattle's letter to the President.

Stretching the Deadline

I'm almost ready to take a shower in my newly cleaned-up bathroom. And I really need one. I am almost totally wo' out! I've been bathing in the tub--the shower head in the front bath is so close to the ceiling, it rains on the top of my head, no matter how I adjust it. And with my sore foot, it's harder than you'd think, getting out of that little narrow tub.

Anyhow, I've got to get out this afternoon and hunt up packing materials, a great big box in which to ship that little chair, and something to mail a large hard-back book in.

Since it took three days to clean the bathroom ceiling-to-floor, it looks like spring cleaning may last until about the first of May. I'm just not as swift as I used to be, for some reason(s).

I've about decided to take all the stuff that won't fit into a closet or a bookshelf down to the basement, and as soon as the project is done, to have a yard sale, and put everything that's left-over on the curb for trash pickup. I've counted eight pillows--I mean bed pillows. Since there are only two beds, I think I can live without such excess. And space is precious, less than 2,000 square feet, and only three inadequate closets.


Isn't that ridiculous? I'm only one relatively small person. I ought to be able to live and do well in a tent. Sometimes I wish I had a tent, and a spot of land over by the Grind-Rock Spring...

Day Two

Day 2 isn't going so well. I got a lot done yesterday, but today I spilled Clorox all over the bathroom floor, which ought to make cleaning easier, but you know Ms. Klutz here.

This is some wallpaper I've been thinking of slapping up on the bathroom walls, but I know I'd make a mess, and it would take me a month to do it. There's enough to paper the room twice, I think.

The top photo shows the color better; it's more of a yellowish green, but not as yellowish as the photo.

The Importance of Being Earnest

This time I mean it: Spring cleaning starts today and ends at midnight on March 31st. I've already started, with the remotest room in the house--my bathroom. Scrub, scrub; paint, paint; decorate, decorate. There!
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Not really. That's the way it used to look, and will again.

Wisdom from Cooper's "The Pathfinder"...

"...there is no more certain way of arriving at any particular notion, than by undertaking to defend it; and among the most obstinate of our opinions may be classed those which are derived from discussions in which we affect to search for truth, while in reality we are only fortifying prejudice."

I quote this to myself, as much as to others.

It had to happen sooner or later.

I grow old, I grow old,
I...wear the bottom of my trousers rolled... (T.S. Eliot)
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Now I know what he meant. The older I get, the shorter I get. Capri pants get to be ankle pants. Bermuda shorts become crops. And watching myself hop around town on my sore foot makes me sincerely repent the embarrassment I felt at being seen with my mother in her walking-stick days. My punishment is looking in the mirror and seeing her face and her poor crooked back.
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But most of the time, I don't give a hoot.

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Today I sold the little Eames era chair.

Erin Go Bragh!

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Tomorrow's the big day for the Irish, but I'm celebrating today because I haven't been able to get anything useful done. Some days are like that: The hurrier I go, the behinder I get. Anyway, cheers to everyone with a drop of green blood!
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Tomorrow's supposed to be a big day for me, too, in terms of getting all these half-finished chores and jobs done. I've got books and eBay stuff to mail, some of them late. Wurra, wurra...
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Jed, if you see this, just bring me one Aubrey book next time you come over. If you bring two, I'll gulp them both down and get indigestion of the brain.

3-Book Sale!

A nice lady ordered three books from me today. Unfortunately for me, I'll only clear about $15. But it'll be 3 fewer books to take up space.

Today I watched the movie "Mr. Brooks" on TV. See there--K. Costner can play a very un-nice guy. I loved William Hurt as his ego. If they would just do something about Demi Moore's hair, she would be a lot better-looking. A wig or something. Whoopie Goldberg has better hair. But I guess it's too late now, DM's getting too old to change, like the rest of us.

Patrick O'Brian's The Mauritius Command was a bit of a disappointment. I'm glad Aubrey wound up as just a post captain at the end. This book rather obnubilates the series (one of Maturin's words; for a Spanish-Irishman, he has an amazing English vocabulary).
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I forgot--yesterday I signed up for Free Kindle Online. Hard to believe: the hand-held device is so expensive, but you get the same thing online free, if I understand what I read.

More signs of spring

Last summer Steve soaked the area at the end of the flower bed with weed poison, and said it would also kill any flowers that were planted there. So I was pleasantly surprised yesterday to see little crocuses in several spots pushing through the dead grass and leaves. I planted them several years ago. The bulbs must have sunk too far down for the poison to hit them. It did get the poison ivy and nettles, thank goodness.

The old tulips have put up healthy-looking plants in that flower bed. They did the same thing last year, but they didn't bloom.

Yesterday I also called Dr. Gruman's office and made an appointment for my annual checkup. It's for the afternoon of April 7th. I'm making a list of things to complain about, prescriptions to change, and so forth.

Speed reading go blah!

I've got to quit reading so fast, and so much. Sometimes I have gone for months without reading a book. But I just finished H.M.S. Surprise this morning, and now I'm nearly halfway through At Play in the Fields of the Lord. There are things more important than pursuing "the ghosts in books," so said Walt Whitman. Things like brushing down the cobwebs around the deck door, scrubbing the basement stairs, getting rid of a lot more junk. Making several important phone calls, like one to get an appointment with my honorable physician, because my foot hurts; the only shoes I can walk normally in are my cowboy boot/mules.
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The book club plans to meet tomorrow at the library, not to discuss a book but to eat, drink and watch a movie about Irishmen, because St. Patrick's day is next week. I think I'll take some soft drinks and some of those little croissants with chicken salad inside. Or chicken liver pate, if I get ambitious enough this evening to cook.

Rain, rain, go a-...rain, rain...

It rained and thundered for about 24 hours, and now it's just raining. I find it hard to do anything but sleep when it's raining and thundering, but not really storming.

When I went downstairs to start the car--Surprise! The basement's as dry as a bone. Wonders never cease, unless you're expecting one.

Last spring, I swore off trying to make a vegetable garden. "But was I sober when I swore?" Yesterday on TV, I saw a guy make a vegetable garden in less than 3 minutes: wooden frame set on concrete, plastic sheet in the bottom, layer of newspaper on the plastic, soil and compost on the newspaper, plants 2" deep, scatter soil over seeds, water lightly, done! Yeah.

It's about to SPRING!

Spring, that is. Today has been glorious, sunshiny, warm but not too. My little hyacinths are coming up along the front walk, and these tiny blue flowers are all over the place. The camera didn't get the color right--they're as blue as the sky!
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I've done so many loads of laundry today, I've lost count. People shouldn't have so many clothes, linens, rags... I did also throw away a few things, but there are still too many.
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I received two more of the Patrick O'Brian books from son Jed today. So you know what I'll be doing this week.

Soup du jour

This is all that's left of the big pot of soup I made yesterday, after I ate like a hog and gave some to Ramey and India. It's a poor imitation of McAlister's tortilla soup, but it's pretty good, lacks the flavor of the roasted jalapenos and cilantro and stuff that I didn't have on hand. I put just about everything else I had on hand into it, including a package of potato flakes and a package of four-cheese sauce mix, to thicken it. Mo insisted he wanted some. I said, "It's got pepper in it, Mo," and he said, "But it smells so goooood!" Which was right.

I had to take the bowl away from him, for fear it would make him throw up. Which it did.

Last night Ramey and I scanned some photos of Uncle Cobb, Paw Paw and GMR to send to Cobb's great-granddaughter. I emailed them to Pat this morning, and she's going to send them on to--I think the granddaughter's name is Susan. Good name. After our Susan was born, I was jealous, wishing they had named me Susan after Maw Maw instead of Sara after Granny. But as I grew, I came to like all my names OK. Especially after learning that Paw Paw had wanted to name me Willie Christine.

I picked our Susan's middle name, Elaine; I had probably been reading about the Lady of

Shalott. When Pat was born, I wanted to name her Stephanie. Banty (Millard) Isbell wanted to name her Patricia Kay, but Mama didn't like Kay all that much (and wouldn't even talk about Stephanie), so she settled for Patricia Ann, which is prettier but not as euphonious.

I wish we could have a National Ramey Family Reunion, and see who-all would turn up.

More about Cicero than I wanted to know

This book was published in the UK under the title of Lustrum. It changes the way I thought about Rome. Especially my suppressed admiration for Julius Caesar. Gah!
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Cicero was born January 3, 106 B.C. Lawyer, statesman, philosopher. Also a typical Capricorn. Murdered in December 43 B.C.

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At least he outlived Caesar. It was left for Marc Antony to have him killed.

I don't think I want to read the third book in the trilogy, which isn't published yet.

My final impression is that Augustus (Octavian) was probably the best thing that could have happened to Rome at that period. "Best" only in the sense of the least of many evils. It was all a bloody mess.

Master and Commander, and Post Captain

The article on mules actually tied in with the Jack Aubrey books, as Dr. Maturin rode a mule over the Spanish landscapes. Other animals also figure into some of the stories, particularly a bear. Some of Maturin's preposterous schemes and scheming make me wonder if he valued Capt. Aubrey more as a close friend, or more as an object of fun. Of course, they loved each other like brothers; I guess it's just that Stephen had a spark of the devil in him, which in Jack Aubrey was altogether missing. Except when it came to warfare.

Aubrey thought nothing of chopping off heads and running swords through men in battle. Yet when a robber accosted him in the dark, Aubrey accidentally injured the man seriously as he knocked him down, then picked him up and toted him home for Maturin to patch up.