The listing went up March 17th. The realtor said there were requests to see the house the very next day. WTF? I didn’t even have it clean yet or all the boxes moved to the basement. I said, not happening. Schedule them for Friday. And then I did what I could get done until Jordi came over. Thank goodness he is young and strong because the boxes alone would have killed me. He did all the running up and downstairs and unassembled the cabinet upstairs so we get it ready for bulk pick-up. He’s been our salvation through the packing thus far.
I went to bed exhausted and it still wasn’t all done. I got up early and continued with the cleaning. I finished with 15 minutes to spare before the first appointment. We have a ridiculous amount of glass and mirrors in here that takes a lot of time.
Macavity and I collapsed in the car together while Vic did a walk through with the realtor.
“Respect yourself enough to walk away from anything that no longer serves you, grows you, or makes you happy.” – Robert Tew
It’s stressful enough getting everything done but then trying to find ways to make it easier on Macavity. He hates riding in the car. I can’t say that’s unexpected, most cats react that way. But the alternative is more terrifying to me. Back in 2016 when we had the first realtor experience, she left the sliding glass door open and my cats ended up missing. Purryl and Yeatsie thankfully were only in the lower yard but Macavity was missing for hours. We fired her and withdrew the house from the market. I was so upset that he had been placed in harms way. I stressed to this realtor under no circumstances are the doors to be left open. I didn’t feel confident this would happen so I’m taking Macavity with us. Thank goodness I was still holding Macavity because we came home to the back door open. WTF? Are all realtors brought up in barns? Or without common sense?
Anyway, Friday and Saturday there were showings and now there’s an open house scheduled for this weekend. Macavity did better on Saturday in the car then he did on Friday. Hopefully, this weekend he will as well.
Selling a house during a Covid pandemic, adds another dimension to the picture. I’m faced with wiping all the surfaces once we’re back in the house to minimize the virus risks. I don’t feel comfortable not doing it. So clean before I leave and then clean again once I’m home. Lucky me.
“Welcome to my nightmare.” comes to mind.
We did get the first round of vaccine and the second round is scheduled but Macavity doesn’t have that luxury. He is already compromised with his heart condition so I can’t take any chances.
Yesterday, we worked on finishing the basement floor with interlocking mats. I was surprised what a difference it made, the concrete was freezing. It looks good compared to when we got the house, the previous owner had a blue rug that didn’t match anything down there and there wasn’t even a pad under it which we discovered after the water line broke. We had to pull everything because it got moldy.
“I used to feel like this home was my anchor in a storm, but leaving it… is it saving us from drowning. The taxes alone are staggering, add in the home owners fees on top of the mortgage there’s no way we can survive here. This house has been the gift that kept giving. We’ve had so many repair nightmares. I’m not sad to see it go, but I’m sad at what is involved to get to the next stage in our life. I can’t imagine doing this more than once in a lifetime but people do.
seriously, give me a dang break sincerity, yours is clearly fake you….. promised to be there said you really care…. I don’t need this headache or heartache
I’ve been working on Olyvia’s birthday present while I’m laid up. She’s a huge fan of Monster’s Inc. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve worked on toys. I used to make crocheted toys all the time when my children were younger. John had a blue and white rabbit, Chris had a dragon and Amanda had Humpty Dumpty that I had done when they were born. There were other crocheted toys over the years. I don’t know why I stopped.
Last year a friend asked if I could make him Finn from Adventure Time. It was actually an easy pattern and I enjoyed it. Then he asked about Forky from Toy Story, so I did Forky.
I asked my daughter if Olyvia would like Woody and Jesse from Toy Story. She said, Olyvia would but she would really love Mike Wazowski and Sully. Her favorite movie is Monster’s Inc. So I did Mike and I’m working on Sully.
I’m a klutz . I fell on September 30th lugging boxes downstairs for our trip to Maine on October 2nd. I missed the dang step. Yeah, it hurt but I didn’t think too much of it. It was sore but one expects that when you fall. It didn’t bruise so I thought I escaped the bullet. It was uncomfortable to bear weight but I figured it would go away But unfortunately, last Monday (19th) my ankle turned dark purple and the swelling was spreading up into my leg. So I made an appointment with an orthopedic. Ex-ray wasn’t conclusive enough on the ankle but they were able to determine I had a heel spur, tore my achilles and a hairline fracture of my foot. Naturally, let’s do more tests so I had the MRI done. Stay off the foot, use crutches and we’ll see you on the 28th. We discuss then if you need surgery because the MRI will tell us more about the achilles and how bad it’s torn and what’s going on with the ankle. By the way, we recommend compression knee high socks so you need to get those for your boot that you’ll be fitted for on the 28th.
If it hadn’t been a pandemic, I would’ve had the MRI the same day and this would already be done. Got to make the appointment online, wait for them to call you back do their screening and then they’ll schedule you.
Anyway to make a long story short… I’ve been hanging out in a recliner with my foot elevated putting a lot of Voltaren creme on it and crocheting. If you have any kind of pain, Voltaren works really well with the direct application to the area. Between that and taking the Diclofenac which is the pill form of Voltaren I’ve been reasonably comfortable until I do the hop to the bathroom or navigate the stairs to come down in the morning or go back up at night for bed.
Olyvia gave me a talking too about my reading. Apparently, I’m not reading enough. I just finished Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree ( excellent) and Roald Dahl’s Book of Ghost Stories. She’s read more books than me plus done her schoolwork. I took the lecture in good grace because I couldn’t simply say I’ve bee crocheting her birthday present.
A single glowing orb casted light upon my love’s dark, silken mane for it helped hide her slender neck from sight.
I fear she chose the angle to hide her fright from my rage because every word was a strain. A single glowing orb casted light
adding to my agony beholding this night. Oh the sorrow, if only there wasn’t pain for it helped hide her slender neck from sight.
Did she abandon living out of spite, just to mock our love. Is she really that vain? A sing glowing orb casted light
I will find a way to set things right for I will not be known as a cruel swain for it helped hide her slender neck from sight.
Lovers all have moments they feel contrite we mustn’t let our happy memories be slain. A single glowing orb casted light for it helped hide her slender neck from sight.
19 lines
A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa.
The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).
Today’s theme is “Monday.” Share a story, a poem, a photo, a drawing, some music, or whatever you wish to about your Monday. What do Mondays mean to you. Do you hate Mondays? Love them? Do you not care, one way or the other, about Mondays? It’s up to you. #FDDA or Fandango’s Dog Days of August.
I’ve never been a fan of Monday especially when I was working outside the home. I had lots of nicknames for the day Mundane Monday, Maniac Monday, Moving Monday, Make Me Monday…sometimes even Musical Monday or Magical Monday all of them were the result of my weekend whether I hoped it wouldn’t end, or there were just too much or too little to make me want to participate. I know its all about attitude but when you’re young and naive you don’t see yourself as having attitudes and after awhile all those Motivational Monday quotes run together.
In this stage of the game Monday is just another day, they tend to run all together now especially with COVID and being retired. They’ve simply become Montage Monday.
I’ve chosen to share a Dr. Suess style acrostic poem I wrote called Nonsense. I enjoy writing acrostics because they force your brain to think outside the box and tell a story differently in a poem. Acrostic Poetry is where the first letter of each line spells a word, usually using the same words as in the title. If you read it out loud you’ll hear the Dr. Suess’s voice creep in.
Nickel Jefferson jumps up Only the FDR dime lies flat No, no we count, count Says, says who, who Everybody at the bank Nay says Washington quarter Smiling Kennedy flips up Every Lincoln copper penny!
What is happening today for me. I’m mulling over lots of things like what I want to sell to reduce the clutter before our move. A lifetime of stuff, guilty as charged because when I left my old house I didn’t downsize very much I simply took it with me which unfortunately is now biting me in the butt as I look around. We combined two households into one and now it’s got to go to reduce the cost of move. So another m word comes into play must go or sell.
Thinking of another m word, memory. Back when I was married to my first husband we didn’t have a lot of money for furniture. So we had bought two Adirondack chairs that we sat in at night outside in the yard because we didn’t own a television so our entertainment was cribbage around a fire in the yard. If it was rainy, we’d sit at the kitchen table. Once the nights started getting cooler we lugged our chairs inside for the winter. They became our living room furniture. You make the best of what you have. I remember how excited we were when we bought our 19 inch black and white television the chairs ended up being inside more than out. We ended up getting inside and out Adirondack chairs because they cost a lot less than a living set. We saved up and bought the living set, we eventually owned for 20 years.
Which reminds me of a song from those old days by William DeVaughn, Be Thankful for What You Got. I’ve come a long way from those days but reality is certainly reminding me that Gratitude will only get me so far. I’ve got to get rid of these material excesses and move on. Will I really re-read all of these books? Stop mulling girl and Make it Happen.
Culinary addition should be meatloaf Monday to stay with the m theme but I’m craving Mexican so I’m going with enchiladas… I have lots of freshly picked banana peppers to add some heat. Mexican Monday, yummy!
Garden:
I picked a colander full of tomatoes and peppers so the tropical storm doesn’t damage them. I was pleasantly surprised to find cucumbers ready to pick so I grabbed them too.
Cancer toolkit additions today:
Quinoa is anti-inflammatory.
Radishes are also anti-inflammatory and improve digestion but did you know the sulfur goes right to the liver and gall bladder increasing the flow of bile to aid in detoxifying treatments. I’m all for getting toxic crap out.
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.” – Ambrose Redmoon
In my virtual travel blog on WDC, we’re now in Sydney Australia. I’ll be posting that in a separate entry.
Guess my Monday isn’t as mundane as I originally thought when I set down to write this post. I didn’t dwell on the letter c or let the rescheduling of my primary care doctor’s appointment become the focus of this entry. Life is what it is. Magical ❤
“Once cancer happens it changes the way you live for the rest of your life.” – Hayley Mills
Do you ever think about the things you’re grateful for? I made a mental list this morning while lying in bed with my boys, Macavity and Yeatsie and my hubby. It’s not very often that Macavity lets Yeatise join us on the bed. He’s a stinker.
I’m grateful:
for a house to clean because I have a place to live.
for laundry to do because I have clothes to wear
for dirty dishes because I had food to eat
for the crumbs on the floor because we enjoyed our food together
for toilets to clean because we’re blessed with indoor plumbing.
for a phone because I can talk with my family and friends whenever.
for the cat hair floating in the air because I have fur babies to snuggle.
for aches and pains because I’m reminded I worked hard today.
for the music that fills my world with memories, and joy.
for today, because opportunity awaits. I’m walking a path of my own choosing and no one’s approval is needed.
Which reminds me of a song I hadn’t heard in some time. I was looking for Fabares’s song Picnic and this song followed after in the youtube feed. I chuckled because I too thought I’d sing and dance forever as I lived my life as I chose. Blissful ignorance.
Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And think of all the great things we would do
Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I’d see you in the tavern
We’d smile at one another and we’d say
Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely woman really me
Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
la la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we’re older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same
Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
La la la la La la la la la la
Then we get a reality check. Work takes up more time than there are hours on the clock especially in today’s world where so much is being done virtually. Employers want you working every breathing second. There’s no such thing as a 9-5 schedule. The only escape is too shut the electronics off but as soon as you turn them back on… the to-do list grows.
Authors Connection:
Last night in our Sunday night short story discussion about Dahl’s Parson’s Pleasure. The story reminded me of my grandfather Jonah. He disliked parsons immensely. As far as he was concerned religious men were evil, it didn’t matter what their faith as because they would steal every cent a man made. In Parson’s Pleasure the man dressed as a parson to get into people’s homes so he could see what furniture they owned because he sold antiques. He didn’t disclose that part. He conned them as cheaply as he could of their heirlooms. The con game backfired in the end because in the story he wove with the three man at the farmhouse about a buffet was that the only valuable part was the feet. He got them to accept his offer and was on his way to get his car. He was chuckling to himself about all the money he was going to make on this priceless heirloom. What he didn’t account for was the farmer’s helpfulness. The farmer decided to make it easier for him to transport the piece by cutting the legs off because that’s the section of the furniture the parson really valued. The rest he chopped into firewood so it would be easier for him to transport since the parson indicated the poor quality of the buffet meant it was better used for firewood. The con man got what he deserved.
My grandfather would have laughed his ass off reading this amusing story from 1958. We were talking about Dahl’s work being in Esquire and Playboy when I shared my experience with Playboy. ( I have it written in a word document just haven’t pieced it in my vignettes yet but I’ll give you a quick summation.)
My grandfather lived in a primitive camp in Vermont. His water came from a spring above the camp on the hill. He ran pvc pipe down to a trough in the kitchen where it filled continuously and drained into a sink. He had trout living in the trough to keep it clean of algae. He put a toilet inside for nighttime use only because it was a bit of a trek to the outhouse. There wasn’t running water so it involved filling a bucket to empty to clear the waste matter that went initially back into the ground until my father put a septic tank in for him. My grandfather complained that it was a waste of money because he always did his number two business at work everyday. Like I said it was a primitive existence.
In the summer, we ( my siblings and me) stayed with my grandfather. We always used the outhouse because Grandpa made it quite clear the inside facility was for nighttime use only. We swam everyday so bathing wasn’t a priority but when it was we heated water on a stove and curtained the kitchen off so we could do the essentials by the huge sink and trough.
My grandfather lived alone all of my life and had some peculiarities that initially, I didn’t notice. The summer I became aware of them was just before I turned ten. A lot had happened to me prior to going to stay with him in the summer that I’m not going into at this time.
My grandfather never painted his walls, they were covered from ceiling to floor with Playboy centerfolds in the four rooms that made his home. I was very aware of the women’s exposed naked bodies. When my grandfather had left for work I got out our coloring supplies and encouraged my siblings to help me dress all the naked women. We covered every exposed breast, butt or vagina. We’re were so proud of our decorative clothing.
My grandfather on the other hand was furious. He ripped the pictures off the wall, cursing up a storm. My siblings and I quickly disappeared to the tent where we slept at night with some snacks because it didn’t look like dinner was an option.
Needless to say, we stayed out of his sight as much as possible to avoid another outburst.
It was an uncomfortable month until my mother arrived at the end of August to take us back to Connecticut. Sadly, we were grounded for destroying our grandfather’s art collection.
Art in one person’s eye can be devastating to another. For me at 10 years old, all it signified was a girl’s body didn’t really belong to her. Everything was about making boys happy regardless of how humiliating and painful it was. I was cursed to be a girl.
Thankfully, when arrived the next summer there were only pictures hanging in his bedroom. My mother promised we wouldn’t enter his personal space.
Sadly, my grandfather wasn’t one of the people that would say they read Playboy for the stories from authors like Dahl, Oates, Kerouac, Atwood, Le Guin, Fleming and Bradbury. His interest was sheer exploitation of the women.
“The occupational hazard of being a Playboy Bunny is the aching facial muscles brought on by obligatory smiles.” ― Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch
Culinary:
I’m going to enjoy something light for dinner this evening. We have some potato salad left and I think with that I’m going to toss a tossed salad together to go with it with some homemade biscuits. Hmm… rosemary, oregano and chives fresh picked added to some butter. Now, we’re talking., yummy.
Let’s add a couple more things to our cancer tool kit while we’re on the topic of food.
Lemons and limes are antimicrobial as well as being anti-inflammatory. I don’t know about you but I love drinking water with either slices of lemon or lime on a hot day. I happen to have both in my fridge.
“When life gives you lemons, say cool, what else you got?” ― Carmen in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
I think on that note I’m going to make myself a glass with lemon and read for awhile. I haven’t finished the exercises in Le Guin’s Steering the Craft and I need to refresh my mind and get them done. Write… write… and write some more.
As I posted the blog title, I wondered why I was capitalizing the l in letter still, I had already changed the c to lowercase putting it in its proper place because I refuse to give the c-word priority in my life.
“Action expresses priorities.” ― Mahatma Gandhi
Once this is all said and done I’m changing my title to the Letter-P. Aren’t the words beginning with P much more practical skills set to have.
“Persistence. Perfection. Patience. Power. Prioritize your passion. It keeps you sane.”
― Criss Jami
Poetry:
My day began with black coffee followed by me writing a limerick responding to Elaine Chilton’s prompt screech. Facebook shared a picture as I was pondering of a turtle I snapped a picture of creeping away from the noise created by screeching child on the beach at Barnegat Bay. Timing is everything, the perfect picture for the limerick. Serendipity at its best. 🙂
Two mornings in a row my first writing attempts have been poems. I’m very pleased with both of them. I’m going to share the limerick in my writing group but the cancer poem I’m not because I don’t want the dynamics of our group discussion changed.
Short Stories:
On Sunday nights, my writing group, although it sounds and feels awkward to refer to them as my. We’re all so different, we write different genres, like different music basically march to different drums except for our love of the writing craft.
Sunday nights on zoom, we discuss a different short story each week. This week was Chance by Alice Munro. I enjoyed the way the story meandered from present to past and back, fantasy to reality with the occasional wave breaking as Jane Alison would say. The initial indication that the story wasn’t going to be a sweep me off my feet romance was the protagonist’s name Juliet and in the second paragraph out on movie date with her friend that shares intimate details of her own relationship and she confesses a similar issue.. That detail was also reinforced with the mention of Shakespeare later on.
Once our protagonist is on the train heading unannounced to her paramour’s location she is approached by a total stranger while reading who is seeking a chum. It immediately raised the feminine cry in me, why do men always assume because you’re alone you must have company. Added to the presumption was placed an expected need of her, to be his chum. People make the assumption women will be nicer than men when interrupted. She quickly departed to another location to avoid any further engagement. Unfortunately later on she learns the man who wanted a chum committed suicide using the train they were riding on. So now she has a self-imposed guilt burden all because of her desire to be left alone. The author’s demonstrated for every action is a reaction vice versa. Was it fate or karma? If that’s not enough stress she has the awkwardness of her period when the train isn’t moving and she can’t clear the toilet water of her blood but also a recall of the man’s blood sprayed on the train. In her mind it would be no more foul or frightful than her own menstrual blood. Keeping in mind the story’s time frame was in 1965 when discussion of women’s cycles was taboo.
Juliet discussed what happened with Eric Porteous about the man’s death and he tells her initially that she may want to be careful in the future but when she calls him out on his dismissal of her guilt. He tells her that things will happen in her life that will actually make this moment minor in the grand scheme.
We later learn this is memory of her first meeting with her paramour who she decides she will go to see at his home. So we have meandered a bit before we arrive at the final destination where she discovers not only has his ill wife passed but he’s intimate with another woman or at least that’s what the woman who cleans for Eric discloses. Instead of fleeing she stays and instead of him sending her on her way they settle into an arrangement that meets their needs or does it.
This was my first time reading Alice Munro’s work. I enjoyed the story immensely and will definitely be reading more of her work because I enjoyed how she inspired me to think about a woman’s life in general. I remembered the fear I had initially getting my period and then being told women were cursed that’s why we had periods. The embarrassment of the huge pads showing at the time and having to sneak to buy tampons. Then I recalled my first job and discovering I was hired at the same time as a man but he was receiving higher wages than me even though we both had identical jobs and identical dates of hire. The damn system at the time wasn’t fair. Unfortunately, there are still many examples still happening. Our conversation in the group wandered off topic a bit with each of sharing similar incidences.
If you haven’t read Alice Munro, I recommend you do.
Dinner at the Crains tonight:
I’ve been sharing culinary tools for you about fighting cancer. Tonight’s dinner is from the Cancer Fighting Cookbook, with the recipe Stir-fried Baby Bok Choy with Shiitake Mushrooms. I know when I was younger I was intimidated making Asian fare because I was clueless on how to prepare it since it wasn’t a typical dish in my family. The recipe is very precise on the preparation for those still inexperienced. I’m going to serve it with poached salmon. Asian vegetables are loaded with healthy phytochemicals. This particular recipe the author, Rebecca Katz assures has two power houses of phytochemicals bok choy and the shiitake mushrooms. Bok choy and mushrooms are anti-inflammatory. Bok choy is also anti-bacterial. Both are good things.
Continuing on our helpful list is:
Barley is anti-flammatory. Lignan one of barley’s phytochemicals binds with estrogen receptors and is said to help women with estrgoen related breast cancer. The high fiber content of barley aids in our digestion and bowel function which we all need.
Basil is a digestive aid, anti-flammatory, anti-microbial. It has two flavonoids that protect human cells from radiation and free radical damage. I’ve used basil to flavor salads, prepared dishes for years but I also found it very helpful when I’ve had a sore throat or irritated mouth. I chew on the raw leaves. If you would rather not chew it simply add the basil leaves to boiling water and let it steep before straining and drinking.
Song of the Day:
Black by Pearl Jam feels appropriate for the clouds hanging over us. I know there’s a light in the tunnel, we just haven’t found the right switch yet but I know we will because together Vic and I have the greatest gift ever, love. We may need some help but we will get there. We’ll find the path back to what’s beautiful even though right it now seems impossible.
“Life is messy. Grit and grace come at us fast, side by side. Sometimes the grit becomes overwhelming and diminishes our spirit. What’s good seems lost and gone forever. ” ~ Sharon E. Rainey
“I take a walk outside, I’m surrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear
Oh and twisted thoughts that spin ’round my head
I’m spinning, oh I’m spinning, how quick the sun can drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything
All the pictures have all…” Pearl Jam
“Success is not final; failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts. It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.”
I’ve been working on poetry forms again. The focus I find is helping me rethink my word usage in my book. Writers are guilty of using extra verbiage that doesn’t add to the story.
I decided to give a Fib aka Fibonacci for short a try because of its rigid structure.
In mathematics, the Fibonacci numbers are the numbers in the following integer sequence, called the Fibonacci sequence, and characterized by the fact that every number after the first two is the sum of the two preceding. Fib is an experimental Western poetry form, bearing similarities to haiku, but based on the Fibonacci sequence. That is, the typical fib and one version of the contemporary Western haiku both follow a strict structure. The typical fib is a six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 – with as many syllables per line as the line’s corresponding place in the Fibonacci sequence; the specific form of contemporary Western haiku uses three (or fewer) lines of no more than 17 syllables in total. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follows the Fibonacci sequence.
Barriers Aside
I
need
freedom
to take steps.
A bold move beyond
the usual path love follows.
I want no boundaries, no rules to confine my heart.
I wonder if you are the one to join me on this elusive passion-filled journey.
” A novel can be set in motion by an incident, a character, a location, a mood, by anything at all Sometimes the stimulus can be an idea, which will rapidly clothe itself in a character.” Cynthia Ozick
The inciting incident happens in the first act.
The inciting incident happens to the protagonist.
The protagonist is usually passive at this juncture; the inciting incident is generally set in motion by someone or something else (a letter, a visit, an encounter)
I have a possible explanation
lyncrain 