Letters

Dear Honest/Nice/Beloved Lady at Michael's,

Thank you for turning in my wallet today when you found it in the shopping cart. You restored/strengthened my confidence in the human race.

Grateful Airhead

Dear Monk,

Even though you are no longer making new episodes, I just ran into a re-run of you on TV. Even though I didn't watch you faithfully, I kinda miss your quirky self. You remind me of a very exaggerated me. I can relate just enough to make me laugh. And hyper-ventilate a little.

An Anxious Fan

Dear Garbage Man,

You came just a little too early this morning. I was in the process of depositing all of the debris from the big storm earlier in the week into the black barrel when you showed up. I put out what I had finished. I continued cleaning up and nearly filled the barrel again. Realizing you hadn't come to the houses across the street, I rolled it over there and in a few minutes you picked up my garbage again. That is what I call getting my taxpayer's money's worth. Much obliged.

Citizen Clod

Dear Vogue Pattern,

You are kind of making me crazy. I approached you with confidence, but you are not nice. Who on earth designed you, anyway? An overachiever with way too much creative energy who was trying too hard, that's who. Seriously. Get a grip. Be normal.

Frustrated

Dear Pumpkin on My Porch,

Your twinkling goodness pretty much makes my Halloween.

Forever Yours

Dear Valley Fever,

We've had quite a ride, you and I. It is time to be done. Take your scars, pack your little fungi, and get out of town. K? K. I want me back.

Clodhopper

Underwear for the House

I hate buying underwear for my house. You know, those items that nobody really sees, but they sustain and support the workings of the house. Things like appliances, roofs, water heaters, hoses, sprinkler repair parts, mattresses, plumbing, electrical, lawnmowers, trimmers, printers, computers, air conditioners, etc. etc. The list is endless. Endless, I tell you.

Today my washer died. RIP washer. You have washed about a million thousand bazillion loads for me over the last 12 years. Your almond colored goodness doesn't owe me a single penny. And yet, you are underwear. Now dead underwear. And you failed me. And I had to go buy more underwear tonight.

We had to replace your helpmate (dryer) several months ago. At least you can go to laundry heaven and be together. And my underwear will at least match again! It's been bugging me, a white dryer and an almond washer. Bugging. Hardcore. But that's how much I hate buying underwear. I waited till you made that unearthly noise this morning so as to avoid buying more underwear than I absolutely needed.

You served me well, you little almond beauty. If my new underwear serves me as well as you did, I'll be almost 70 when I have to toddle down to the store and buy more.

Now THAT is a horrid thought.

Just Sayin'

A few random facts about the last several weeks:

I love when family visits. I have a really hard time washing the finger prints off the french doors when they are gone. It is like a little part of them is still here.

Eric is married. Is this possible? Apparently it is, because...he is! I feel so blessed to have such a son and that he chose such a wife! Here's to happily ever after!

After a 34 year break from academia, I entered the arena to finish the degree I started many.many.moons.ago. I shared this information with very few people as I was terrified I would not succeed. I never was a good test taker, and let's just say I haven't improved much, and that my *forgetter* is much healthier than my *rememberer*. BUT......I got an A, I got an A, I got an A!

It mystifies me why I still care about grades. Seriously, am I headed for grad school? Are my parents going to get mad if I don't get a good grade? Um, no. I just need to pass. Could someone remind me of this when I'm stressing about the next one?

Speaking of stress, the most stressful section of my class was the section on stress management.
Is there something wrong with this picture (or this one-credit-hour, way-too-much-work class?)

I loved conference. So much. Can't wait to re-listen and re-read. I needed it.

We were sitting in the rocking chairs on the porch tonight and it was that perfect temperature where you can't even feel the air. So peaceful. There were two huge bumblebees in the flowers in front of us. One black and one yellow. They didn't seem to like each other, and the yellow one liked the snapdragons and the black one liked the petunias. Is this odd? I want to know why.

I love eating on the patio.

I still don't like cats.

I do, however, really kind of like lizards. They are sort of my backyard buddies. But I don't touch them. Ick.

I want to work a puzzle. I was going to this afternoon but alas, I cooked dinner. Apparently the need to feed was more pressing.

I screamed out loud the other day when I walked into a room and the cardboard cutout we got of Ryan for the wedding was staring at me. To say I was startled is, well, an understatement.

I soaked my fingers in bleach the morning of Eric's wedding. Hahahah. True statement.

I have 738 hairs on my head. If one of them isn't doing its job, I'm having a bad hair day. Is it really true that every hair of our head will be restored? I do hope so, I really do.

My computer turns itself off every little while. Annoying, but true. I think I shall publish before I lose this priceless gem.

Spring Has Sprung

Last week this adorable child
had a *sleep-over*
at Granny's house.
We spent some time out
on the swings and running around
in the lush, green grass.
We discovered
that Spring has Sprung!

We found that popcorn is indeed
popping on the apple tree!

Eve learned that these are
petunias...and that soon
{if Mr. Sunshine ever lingers long enough}
they will be covered with many
more blossoms. She also
learned how to
deadhead.
She learned how the dead
blooms look only a little different
than the blooms that
are getting ready
to unfold.

She learned that pansies
have faces and evoke
special memories of
*my* grandparents
...and my mom.


She thinks that snapdragons
have silly names.
{She should hear Maggie, our
GPS navigator voice, pronounce
snapdragon. She says it
snap drag on with
great emphasis on
the "on." We know this
because there is a
street in Colorado Springs
named Snapdragon. Isn't that
a lovely street name?}

And she learned that my personal
favorite pot at the moment
would have to be
these violas.
Spring personified.

Love you Eve.
Thanks for playing
in my garden.

Love,
Granny

The Corduroy Couch

Long, long ago
we purchased a velvet,
striped couch. Our
very.first.couch.
It was approximately
1980-ish and
we had lived in our
house for a couple
of years. {We bought
a piano first, and it was alone in
our living room for quite some time.}

This couch graced our living
room for many a year.
We also bought two of
these hogs to go with it.


{You know you are jealous.}

One of them still resides
in this house. {Hate to admit it,
but it is true...the rocker is very loved.}

This couch has seen
a lot of things
over the years.
It has lived in
two states, had babies
lurping on it, little kids losing
legos in it, teenagers
losing their keys
in it, and probably
every kind of candy has
found its way between
the cushions.

The corduroy couch {as it has
affectionately been named} has
been in Dixon Suite #5
for quite some time and
has had various and sundry
"owners." The poor
thing has been mended by
hand a time or two, but
recently the thread
decided it was tired of holding
things together, and just gave up.
The poor, threadbare fabric
is not far behind.


Personally, I've been ready for
*quite some time*
to show the corduroy
couch the door,
but when suggested,
a barrage of dissent
echoes throughout the house.

One particular girl
wants her shot at having the
corduroy couch in
her room.

So, this week I dutifully
unzipped the cushion covers, removed
the cushions, and put the sewing machine
through her paces and
MENDED
the corduroy couch.



You know, it doesn't look so
bad when it is all
cleaned up!
The big question now is....
Why DID I wait so long????????????

Mr. Frog

So.ho.ho.ho
we have a new
"rubber chicken."
You know, the
one we hide in silly places
to make people
in the family
*laugh.*

***

Well, it isn't really a chicken
any more, you see.
{The
chicken died a smelly
death a few
months ago.}
It is a {rubber} frog.
Um, yes,
a frog.

It has been found in several
places around the
house already...in
my Christmas stocking,
Mark's suitcase,
Holly's makeup bag,
under pillows,
in shoes, etc.

But today, Holly had
the winning
{so far}
hiding spot for
Mr. Frog. I laughed
seriously sooooo
hard.



Who knew opening
the fridge could
be so much
fun?

Welcome to the family,
Mr. Frog.
You made my day.