Sprinkles

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Chicken Pot Pie

On a whim, I made chicken pot pie for lunch today. Not exactly a whim of my own, mind you, since I really don't eat chicken much anymore. My husband happened to mention the recipe, as in "Remember when we went to Savannah, and I had that chicken pot pie at The Lady & Sons restaurant? And didn't we buy a copy of Paula Deen's cookbook? And isn't the recipe for her chicken pot pie in that cookbook?"

I got the cookbook down from its perch.... and of course the recipe was in there. Now, did I have all of the ingredients? Or at least nearly all of the ingredients, because I didn't want to go to Kroger for just one or two things.

Paula's recipe called for a can of condensed Cream of Celery soup, and a can of Cheddar Cheese soup. Well, I had a can of Cream of Mushroom, and I had cheddar cheese in the fridge. (Close enough, in my book.) I had an onion, frozen peas, fresh carrots. I had everything I needed to make a two-crust pastry (according to Paula's recipe) but I also had frozen (rolled) pie dough in the freezer, a la Pillsbury. (Again-- close enough, and much easier.)

In Paula Deen's cookbook, she gives you the ingredients for the pie pastry, but when my husband ordered the pot pie at The Lady & Sons, that dish was covered with strips of puff-pastry dough, and I've seen Paula use frozen puff-pastry dough on other baked dishes on her cooking show. The Pillsbury pie dough would be fine, but I know the puff-pastry would've been better, and I've made a note of that on my grocery list for the next time.

Anyway..... back to the pie. I used one can of Cream of Mushroom soup, added half a cup of milk to that, then added about 3/4 cup of grated cheddar cheese. Let that all get good and hot, and I added about 1/4 cup of sauted/diced onion. Into that, I stirred in about a cup of cooked frozen peas, and a cup of cooked thin carrot sticks.

While all that was going on, I cooked a good-sized chicken breast in my favorite cast iron pan (love this pan!). When that was done, I cut the chicken into cubes and stirred that into the soup/cheese/vegetable mixture.

I used a deep-dish pie pan, lined just the center of the pan with half of the Pillsbury pie dough, then poured in the chicken/vegetable mixture. I cut the other half of the pie dough into strips, and did a lattice design on top of the chicken pot pie. Brushed that lattice with egg yolk, and into the oven it went..... 350 degrees for 35 minutes. While that was baking, I made myself a big salad, but left a small spot on the plate for just a spoonful of the chicken pot pie.

Well, Paula would've been proud. That pie browned up perfectly, the sauce thickened and was all nice and bubbly inbetween the pastry strips, and best of all-- it was delicious. My husband was pleasantly surprised.... I know he gets anxious when I change a recipe around. When he cooks, he follows a printed recipe to a "T," never changing an ingredient, practically counting the grains if a recipe calls for a pinch of something. As a result, his dishes come out perfectly, but they're very time-consuming..... between checking the pantry shelves, driving to Kroger for the missing ingredients, driving home, unpacking the sacks, then finally getting to the recipe.... wears me out, I swear.

Life is just too short for that, in my opinion. Recipes are a guideline.... follow them if you must, and if you have all the ingredients. But if you don't, then just make do with what you have. It's not the worst thing in the world if a recipe doesn't turn out cookbook-picture-perfect.... and my favorite kitchen saying is "Well, it won't be my last meal." (To which, my husband has often replied: "Well, how can you be sure about that?)

This afternoon's chicken pot pie turned out extremely well..... so well that my husband said it would be a good pot-luck dinner party recipe. Can't get any higher praise than that. So.... to paraphrase Paula Deen: "Best wishes for best dishes.... from my poorly-stocked pantry to yours!"

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

"Pick your own price...."

Now I've heard it all..... I was looking through the yard sales ads in today's paper, and two separate ads caught my eye.

One of them read: "Multi-family garage sale. Zillions of items. Pick your own price.... everything must go."

The other one was: "Come early for the best deals. Drinks and snacks will be provided."


Now.... if we weren't going to the cottage, I'd be at both of those yard sales. Pick your own price. Well, what if everyone offers ten cents or fifty cents for every item--- are they going to sell "zillions of items" at such low prices? And if they do, are the items even worth that much? (When it comes to garage sales, there's not always "truth in advertising.")

As for the other one.... Usually, the best deals are at the end of the yard sale, when people want to close up their garages and get out of the heat.... but the "best deals" aren't always on the best stuff, because we all know that the best things are the first to sell. I loved the line about drinks and snacks.... I'm wondering if they think that will be an incentive to get more people out on a hot morning when the temperature hits 98 degrees before 7:30 a.m.

True yard-salers don't need that kind of incentive. We're out there, rain or shine, high temperatures or low, hunting and searching for just that perfect thing. And even if we're not looking for anything specific, we still enjoy the hunt, because the "perfect thing" might be at the next yard sale, hiding under a pink velvet Barbie pillow.

I hadn't realized how much I had missed going to yard sales till I started back with them. I stopped going about two years ago, after my husband's mom passed away. We were just overwhelmed with stuff here..... our stuff that was already here, and her stuff that we had shipped here. I went through this house without mercy, rearranging furniture, bringing my wicker pieces out to the screen-porch to make room for my mother-in-law's antiques. I sold and traded decorative porcelain and glass that I had bought at yard sales, to make room for her truly vintage pieces.

Everything was just fine, all comfy-cozy, with just a little sense of Victorian-era carefully-controlled clutter. But I vowed not to go to yard sales, because I knew that if I did go, I'd just be bringing more stuff into the house. And, according to my rule--- one thing in, one thing out ---- well, that rule wouldn't work because I was at the point that I didn't want to part with anything that was already here.

Then along came the lake cottage. All my wicker furniture came out of the porch and went to the lake. Again, I went through this house without mercy, taking decorative items, kitchen items, anything cottage-worthy..... it all went up to the lake. But how do you furnish a weekend cottage without breaking the bank? Yard sales!

So back I went..... getting up before dawn, leaving the house as the sun was rising, list in my hand for the local yard sales. And the cottage is filling up with treasures, all casual, certainly eclectic, definitely cottage-y. Yard-salers who I hadn't seen for a couple of years welcomed me back, saying they thought I had moved away. Funny that I never saw those people around town--- we just saw one another at the early-morning yard sales. We recognized each other's cars, and we'd roll down our windows to tell each other "There's a great sale over on Peach Haven," or "Don't bother with Nassau Bay--- they're selling junk, and it isn't even good junk."

When we're up at the cottage, I find that I miss the Saturday morning sales here. I have gone to a few yard sales at the lake, though, and found some nearly-new kitchen items that are up at the cottage. We're still looking for a sofa for the cottage.... we've found a bunch at the stores, but they're either the wrong color or the wrong fabric, or the price is way too high. Sooner or later, I know I'll find the perfect one at a moving sale. And I hope we find it at a yard sale up near the lake, so we don't have to worry about getting it from here to there.

I'm waiting for that ad: "Casual, comfy, neutral-color sofa, barely used... must sell.... name your own price. Drinks and snacks included."

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

"The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop"

That's the title of a wonderful little book I found during our trip to Maine. We were in a town called Searsport, and the name of the shop was Left Bank Books. The bookshop was originally the town's bank, and the original woodwork was all intact, as was the vault (which the shop owner used for storage).

I remember this bookshop more than any of the others that we stopped in, because it was just so charming.... not too small, not too large-- just the perfect size, with cushy chairs in the corners by the windows, so you could page through the books comfortably before you bought them.

This was also the bookshop where I heard the jingle of another woman's charm bracelet. She was on one side of a book-rack, I was on the other. We were both wearing silver bracelets filled with silver charms, and as we looked through the books and selected volumes from the rack, our charm bracelets jingled with happy sounds. We both looked up at the same time, our heads peeking over the top of the rack. I held up my left arm and moved it so the charms would sing, and she did the same. We both laughed, and she told me that she never travels without her charm bracelet because it "sounds like home."

But... back to "The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop," by Lewis Buzbee. If you love books, you have got to read this one. It isn't fiction... it's a memoir, the author giving you the history of his love of books and bookshops. There are lines in this book that I can identify with--- how he feels a "loss" when he has to return great books to his local library; searching for hours in a bookstore for a certain volume even though he has "a tower" of books in his bedroom, waiting to be read.

I'm not finished with this book yet..... in fact, I haven't even gotten to the third chapter yet. I bought it at that little bookshop in Searsport, Maine, and put it on my own tower of "books waiting to be read." I picked it up last night, after finishing two other books that were on that same tower. This author loves, loves, loves books. And if he isn't reading a book, then he's in a bookshop, searching for yet another book.

Wonderful story, for those of us who love books. This book has made me remember my very first trip to a library in New York, where I got my first library card. I was astounded, at the time, that the card allowed me to take out books, read them, bring them back, and get still more books. I spent more time reading that first summer... so much time that my mother told me to "Go outside and do something!" (So I took my books outside to read. Wasn't that doing something?)

I have always loved books, and I still spend much of my time reading. When we travel, I come home with books, rather than tourist-y souvenirs. And I love used-book shops more than the newer, fancier Barnes & Noble-type stores. I have copies of classic books that have pages so well-read that they feel as soft as silk. And I do re-read my favorites, and keep them on my bookshelves in the living room. The books that I know I won't be reading again are kept by my front door, ready to give away to guests as they leave. "Please take a book.... there might be something there that's calling your name."

"The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop....." I haven't gotten to the part yet which tells why the author chose that title. So pardon me while I get back to reading.....

Monday, August 28, 2006

Afternoon Thunder

As I type this, I can hear thunder off in the distance, and every once in a while, I can see a streak of lightning. Guess we're in for a rainstorm, but right now, it's just drizzling outside.

At the first clap of thunder, Mickey Kitty ran under our bed...... AngelBoy jumped into my reading chair in the TV room.... and ShadowBaby is on my lap as I'm typing. Rusty, our outside cat, isn't troubled.... just before the first sound of thunder, he was sitting in front of his empty food dish. The world could be coming to an end, and all Rusty would care about is that his meal-time not be delayed.

ShadowBaby has gone back to being a "baby" cat since the arrival of Mickey Kitty.... which was over a year ago now. I don't think ShadowBaby was all that pleased to be giving up his status as the "baby cat" in this house. Now that Mickey Kitty holds that title, ShadowBaby continues to act like a kitten. Which is why he spends a lot of time in my lap, whether or not there's thunder.

Our young girls C and L came over for a visit on Saturday morning. C wisely waited till late morning, because she knew that I'd be out at the yard sales. Now that school has started again, both C and L are busy with classes and with Color Guard practice. Being that our own summer was busy with weekend adventures and vacation trips, we didn't get to see the girls every Saturday morning, as we had been. Sure is quiet here on a Saturday morning without them.... but when they're here, the breakfast room is filled with teenaged-girl chatter.

C and her parents will be driving to the cottage the next time we go up there. C had asked me a while back if she could invite friends to the lake, and I told her she could invite any of her friends that I had already met, but only one at a time. Her friend of choice this time will be her best friend M, who's a boy. Come to think of it, most of C's best friends are boys. The boys flock to C because she loves sports and isn't a prissy, picky-sort of girl. C and M spend hours talking on the phone, and they spend more hours playing board games.

M is the same age as C (15) and is already a gourmet cook. He watches cooking shows and home-decorating shows that feature kitchen make-overs. He's trying to decide whether he wants to be a professional chef or a kitchen designer. We've already tasted some of M's creations.... he bakes wonderful cookies and cakes, and C's mom says he can make a homemade pizza that's "to die for."

When they come up to Mayberry, M is planning to make breakfast for all of us. He has already done the grocery shopping for his breakfast treat of homemade cinnamon rolls. C tells me that M is an early riser, and will most likely wake up before dawn and he'll be in the kitchen starting his from-scratch recipe. Fine with me.... one of the "rules" of Mayberry is that anyone is welcome to cook in the kitchen.

Another rule of Mayberry is that young Miss C can't have anyone but a girl-friend sleeping in her cabin with her. So Master M will be spending the night in a sleeping bag on the floor of the game room. I imagine that both M and C will have their cell phones with them.... and if I know them as I think I do, they will be talking via their little phones till the wee hours of the morning. When C came up to the cottage the last time, she and M were talking on the phone way after midnight, M keeping C "company" as she decorated her little cabin.

The thunder is getting closer.... it has started to rain. I have to stop typing.... ShadowBaby is trying to get his head underneath my armpit, for goodness sake. And this has nothing to do with the thunder..... Mickey Kitty came into the room and saw ShadowBaby on my lap..... so ShadowBaby is being as dramatic as he can possibly be. Such a baby-cat, I swear.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Dear God... From: The Dog

The following was sent to us by our pet-sitter..... it came with cute dog photos, but I don't know how to transfer the photos from the eMail to here. Still cute, with or without the pictures.

Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another? When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story? Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the "Chrysler Beagle"?

Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog? We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?

Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember in order to be a good dog-----1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up. 2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell. 3. The diaper pail is not a cookie jar. 4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'. 5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff. 6. My head does not belong in the refrigerator. 7. I will not bite the officer's hand when he reaches in for Mom's driver's license and registration. 8. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet. 9. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying "hello". 10. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table. 11. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house ---- not after. 12. I will not throw up in the car. 13. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt. 14. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch when we have company. 15. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

And, finally, my last question... Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?

A Cat Essay

I found the following essay in a local newspaper when we were in Ellsworth, Maine. I cut it out and slipped it into a cottage decorating book that I had bought in a used book shop, then forgot all about it until this morning, when I was paging through the book. The newspaper it was printed in is called The Ellsworth American, which has the distinction of being "New England's Newspaper of The Year."

This essay was written by James Russell Wiggins..... the paper didn't give it a title, so I guess Mr. Wiggins didn't either. Titled or not, it's a wonderful essay ---


A dog is friendly, warm and nice.
But cats are made of snow and ice.
A dog who hears his master's voice
Will run toward him and rejoice.
A cat, when asked to come, will flee
And wave its tail and climb a tree.
A dog will shake with gratitude
For just a bone. A cat is rude,
And offered some espensive fare,
Will turn its nose up in the air.

A dog is crushed by just a frown;
A scolded cat will stare you down.
Dogs yearn for smiles, and love and such,
But cats don't care so very much
For man's affection, as a rule,
And they respond by looking cool.
Dogs are depressed when men are blue;
Cats sit and say, "What's wrong with you?"
Dogs lavish love on all mankind.
If all men died, cats wouldn't mind.



I don't necessarily agree with all of the above.... each of my cats will come to me when I call them, whether or not it's meal time. They know their individual names, and if I call AngelBoy, it won't be ShadowBaby who comes running. That part about dogs being crushed by a person's frown-- well, that's true. And you can scold a cat all you want and it won't make a bit of difference.

Comparing dogs and cats is like comparing apples and oranges.... too different to compare. A dog is a dog and is there to please you. A cat is a cat, and that's that.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

"Is that the best you can do?"

I lost track of how many times I asked that question at this morning's yard sales. We were up and out before 6:20 this morning, off to the yard sale that was due to start at 7:00.... we were the first ones there, and we just sat and waited, since there weren't any other sales starting that early this morning.

We didn't have long to wait....... they opened up their garage doors about five minutes after we got there. And in the garage.....my husband's eyes lit up--- a beautiful boat! -- but it wasn't for sale. Oh well..... but I did get a few kitchen things there, to add to my growing set of Corningware baking dishes for the cottage. They had some outdoor furniture there as well, but nothing we really liked.

Off to the next sale, which wasn't open yet...... I could tell my husband was tired--- he had been up and awake and working at his computer since 4:00 this morning, so I dropped him off at home and back out I went to the rest of the sales. And that's when I found the good stuff.

I had to drive back and forth to our house three times, because I couldn't fit everything into the car all at once. I bought a white wicker dresser for the guest room of the cottage, plus two white wicker end tables, and a beautiful white wicker rocking chair. (Love this wicker.... and all of this was in perfectly brand-new condition.) Each piece was marked $20.00...... and I asked the woman if she could do better on the price if I bought all the pieces...... she gave me ten dollars off, so I thought that was a good enough deal.

At another sale, I found a vintage oak two-tier "pie-crust" table....... very nice little table, with the bottom tier separated into sections to hold books. I don't know exactly where I'll use it at Mayberry, but I'm sure to find a spot for it. Probably in the game room up there, because the wood on the pie-crust table matches the wood of the game table. And heaven knows I've already got a lot of books in that cottage.

I also bought two beautiful oak counter stools for the island in the kitchen of the cottage...... very heavy, expensive stools, both for just $15.00........ they had been marked $10.00 each, but of course I had to ask if they could do better on the price. And they almost always do, so it never hurts to ask. (Except for yesterday's "fifty cents woman.")

So today's yard sales were much better than yesterday's. All that stuff I found early this morning, and I was home before 8:30. I could've driven around some more, but I learned a long time ago that the best things at the yard sales always sell at the very beginning of the sale, so there's no sense in trying to find good stuff an hour after the sale has begun.

Now the garage is getting filled up with furniture again for Mayberry. We'll ask C's dad to bring up what he can with his truck, and the little things will fit into the trunk of our car..... it will just take us a few trips to get everything from here to there, that's all. I'm thinking of renting the smallest U-Haul truck they have and just driving up there one day myself...... but I don't think my husband will be thrilled with that idea.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Fifty Cents

I was up early this morning, and out at the yard sales before 7:15.... I should have stayed in bed and under the covers. Not much out there this morning, although I did come home with a miniature chair (about 12" high) made out of rattan. I will put it on one of the side-tables at Mayberry, and it will just sit there and look cottage-y.

There was one yard sale this morning that gave me my story for the day.... the woman giving the sale was inside her open garage, while her stuff was sitting out on her driveway, piled up haphazardly all over the concrete... stuff that should have been boxed up for the trash, for the most part. While I was looking at everything, I heard the woman saying over the phone: "I've had a slew of people come by but I haven't sold much... they all want everything for fifty cents, I swear....."

I couldn't resist....... I picked up a basket that looked like it would be comfortable for one of the cats... a simple basket with handles that weren't perfect.... but I figured AngelBoy would curl up in there on the porch and settle in for a nap. I didn't need the basket, but it was the one thing there that I would've bought if the woman was reasonable about the price. I went over to the woman and asked her the price of the basket. She asked me what I would like to give her for it.

As I said-- I couldn't resist. "Fifty cents," is what I told her. She looked me square in the eye and asked me if I was kidding. I told her I wasn't kidding, that I just wanted to put it on my porch for my cats. She told me it was a perfectly good basket and she couldn't take less than five dollars for it. I told her that I didn't want to pay that much for a basket that would sit on my porch for my cat would take a nap in, and besides, the handles of the basket weren't all that sturdy. "Well, if I can't get five dollars for it, then I'll just keep it," is what she told me.

Keep it she did, because I left without it. I imagine that the next time she got on her phone with her friend, she was probably complaining that she didn't sell a thing all morning. Well.... no wonder.....

Tomorrow is another day.... more yard sales out there, so I will try again. One of the better ads for tomorrow says that it's a "multi-family moving sale with too many unique items to list." I hope there's truth in that advertising, because the sale starts at 7:00 tomorrow morning, and I'll be up before dawn to get ready for it.

Garage sale people know that a 7:00 starting time means to get there by 6:15....... so I'll be out of here before the sun rises.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Surprise Dinner

We went out for dinner tonight, to Babbo Bruno's. Our friend and favorite waitress K was working tonight, and training a new girl. The owner is still planning to move into a larger restaurant on the first of the new year, so they're hiring and training new servers now.

We had a great dinner, as usual (salmon for my husband, shrimp and crab on top of salad for me).... and when the check came, K had written a note on it which read: "This one's on us!" What?! We called her over to the table and she told us that our dinner tonight was a gift from her and her mom. What?!

K told us that both she and her mom have enjoyed all of our parties, and all the party-gifts and holiday gifts we've given them, and they wanted to thank us for our generosity and friendship. Both my husband and I were just overwhelmed.... and we made sure to give K a nice tip as we were leaving. She is such a sweet girl, and she fusses over us every time we go there.

When we got home, I called her mom to thank her, and she said the same thing that K did... that they both truly enjoyed being invited to join the Charades group, that they enjoyed all the party "goodie-bags," and they truly appreciate having us as friends.

Talk about good karma...... as I said, we were just very surprised and overwhelmed.


And, speaking of being overwhelmed..... that's what I've been with AngelBoy lately. I swear, for a prissy, independent cat, he has certainly been very "needy" lately. He keeps following me around the house all day, except for his nap time. And when I leave the house, I will find his favorite red & white checked ribbon-toy left underneath my chair or near whichever door I walked out of. My husband tells me that when I leave the house, AngelBoy walks around here meowing for me.

I think AngelBoy is just happy to have us home. It's been a busy summer.... between the trips to the Hill Country, then to Savannah, then up to Maine.... and then back and forth to Mayberry to set up the cottage..... AngelBoy just likes it better, I think, when all of his little birdies are home in his nest.

It should be interesting to see how AngelBoy (and the other cats) take to their new screen-porch up at Mayberry. I'm hoping that they will all be so happy to be with us up there that they will forgive us for the car ride that they'll have to cope with to get there.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

The Mall

I hate, hate, hate going to shopping malls. The parking lots are always too big, and all that white-hot concrete facing up at you when the temperature is 100 degrees or over makes for a broiling walk from your car to the mall's entrance. The floors of mostly every mall I've ever been in has been made of granite, marble, or some other harder-than-hard surface. Not easy to walk on, and maybe that's what they had in mind when they designed the malls--- the hard marble floors going around the mall might keep you inside all the stores for a longer time.

The only shopping mall I've been in that I have truly loved (and enjoyed shopping in) was a Victorian-styled shopping plaza in Sydney, Australia. Located on George Street in Sydney, this shopping "mall" was called The Queen Victoria Building. It was constructed in 1898, and was originally used for the produce markets for the city of Sydney. The building's interior was updated in the 1930s, and then it was fully renovated in 1986. The result is a spectacularly beautiful "mall" which gives you a very unique shopping experience. We had gone to Sydney because my husband had a business conference there. While he was busy with his meetings, I took a taxi to The Queen Victoria and walked from one end to the other, from the bottom level to the top. I had lunch in one of the cafes and it felt like I was in another world, which of course, I was. I don't remember buying all that much... I was more enthralled with the beauty of the building than I was with the merchandise.

Underneath this ornately domed architectural masterpiece of a building sits at least 200 small shops, surrounded by wood floors, stained glass windows, carpeted hallways, and an extremely large vintage clock hanging down in the center of the four-story atrium. The signs for each of the shops are ornate within reason, not screaming-out with neon colors and bright lights. I don't remember the Queen Victoria Building being overly loud with screaming kids and adults yelling after them. Even the little cafes were somewhat quiet, with a low murmur of voices instead of high-pitched noise.

Whenever I find myself in a super-busy American shopping mall, I remember that beautiful building in Sydney and I try and conjure all of that up in my mind and block out the blessedly crazy mall I'm in at the moment.

Like last night.... I went to our local mall here, searching for a bathing suit to bring to Hawaii. I figured if I didn't get out for a suit soon, I'd be finding precious little on the racks. Last night seemed to be the perfect time, and off I went at dinner-time, hoping to find a less-than-crowded mall.

My timing was perfect. While everyone was either driving home from work or eating dinner, I was trying on bathing suits. Not my favorite thing in the world to do. I went into Foley's first, for the simple reason that I parked outside their door at the mall. I don't know if they're still calling it Foley's anymore, since they were recently bought out by Macy's. I didn't even bother to look at the signs, to see if they had been changed.

I went straight to the bathing suits, and found about a dozen to take into the dressing room. Not a soul in the dressing room but me, and that was just fine also. I tried on all of the suits... this one was too large, that one too tight, that one too revealing, that one too busy, the other one too plain. The last one I tried on was a black one-piece, with a gathered piece of fabric criss-crossed at the waist and a gold design across the top near the straps. It fit just fine, and looked fine, and the fabric was soft and comfortable. But I stood there in front of the mirror and in my mind, all I saw was a black one-piece bathing suit. And I thought of all the middle-aged women on all the beaches I've ever been on.... all of them wearing a black one-piece bathing suit.

Give unto me a blessed break. I am 54 years old. I guess I'm a middle-aged woman. One question: just when did that happen?

I bought the bathing suit. I didn't even go further into the mall to Dillard's, to see if they had anything better or different. The black one-piece at Foley's was $86.00, marked down to $48.00, and then further discounted to $24.00..... for less than twenty-five dollars, I wasn't going to try on any more bathing suits and find a middle-aged woman looking back at me in the mirror of another dressing room.

I left Foley's after paying for the bathing suit and walked to the Coldwater Creek store. They were arranging their new Fall clothes. I had coupons for that store... $90.00 worth of coupons that had been sitting in my purse all summer, and due to expire at the end of September. Far be it from me to let good coupons get tossed into the trash. I bought a beautiful long skirt which floats nearly to my ankles, with lots of different colors and ribbons and sparkles running through the soft fabric. When I tried it on, standing there in my high-heeled sandals and that gorgeous skirt, I thought of my Aunt Dolly's recent comment to me: "That husband of yours is turning you into a gypsy." Indeed, that skirt looked like a gypsy's skirt.... romantic and flamboyant and colorful and intensely happy. Plus, when I looked into the mirror wearing that skirt, I didn't see a middle-aged woman, I saw me: romantic, flamboyant, colorful, and intensely happy.

I bought the skirt. Plus two tops, a pair of beige capris, and a pair of beige slacks..... and used my ninety-dollars-worth of coupons to get a very nice discount on the final price. I felt much better about buying all of those clothes than I did about finding a great bargain on the black bathing suit. And the thought has crossed my mind that I should just wear the colorful gypsy skirt and my sandals on the beaches of Hawaii, instead of that black bathing suit. I might look ridiculous, but at least I won't feel like a middle-aged woman.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Cottage on a Shoestring

I was talking on the phone this morning with my friend A, who lives in Pennsylvania. (Hello, A!) She told me that she has been enjoying the stories here about the cottage, and she really loves reading about the "treasures" we've found for Mayberry.

When we were thinking of investing in a little lake cottage, I knew that we could furnish it without spending a lot of money. Except for the mattresses (bought new at a discount mattress store) I was certain that I could find mostly everything else at local yard sales, moving sales, resale and consignment stores, and antique stores. (Lots of bargains at the small antique shops, contrary to popular belief.)

Most of the kitchen items for Mayberry came right out of my kitchen here. Extra dishes, bowls, glassware, cooking items. I found an entire set of flatware at our friend J's antique shop, which didn't cost me anything because I traded two vintage beaded purses for the silverware set. Our friends L and S gave us their old set of pots and pans, because they had just bought a new set for their kitchen. That "old" set they gave us for the cottage looks great and cooks perfectly fine.

Our neighbor ML had given us her "old" upholstered club chair with a matching ottoman, which is now the most comfortable reading spot in the living room of Mayberry. ML also gave me an antique writing desk, which now holds the guest book, also in the cottage living room.

The vintage wicker furniture that's at Mayberry came right out of our screen-porch here, and I replaced it with some of the outdoor furniture that I had in the yard. The wicker chairs look much better in the living room of the cottage than they did on the screen-porch here. I'm sure my cats miss the large wicker chairs here on their porch, but they're sleeping just fine on the smaller cushions of the lawn-furniture-turned-porch-furniture.

I found so many odds and ends for the cottage at the yard sales... brass lamps, small end tables, decorative nautical items, pictures and mirrors for the walls, the list is just endless.... and the cost for everything was very minimal. Yard sale prices for all of it. And even the few things that we've found so far at the antique shops up in town by the lake--- the kitchen table and chairs, the mirror for the living room... all were more than reasonably priced because we bought from antique dealers who had marked down their inventory for quick sales.

The most we spent, so far, was for the three major appliances-- the fridge, the washer, and the dryer. Even at that, we went to Lowe's and found a marked-down discontinued washing machine (less than $200), and a fridge without an ice-maker and all those other bells & whistles (for less than $500). We had to buy a gas dryer because the cottage doesn't have the hook-up for an electric one, but I bought a bottom-of-the-line gas dryer for less than $350. My original plan was to just buy the fridge and wait for the washer/dryer, but when we found them at good prices, I thought that would be the easy way to go, rather than bringing back the dirty laundry to do here, then having to bring it back up to the cottage with us.

The key with taking care of two houses is to keep organized, keep lists, and keep everything neat. It's much easier to keep a neat house clean than to clean up a messy house, as my Aunt Dolly would say. Maybe that's why I'm so neat...... I heard Aunt Dolly saying that for all the years of my New York life.

I've already been to the dollar store this week, to find things on my list that we needed for Mayberry--- rubber spatulas for the kitchen, coffee mugs, paper napkins, a water dish for Gracie that I can keep on the back porch. The stuff is already packed and ready to go and hidden in a corner of my sitting room. No last-minute packing frenzy here.

There are more yard sales this week, so I'll be going to those, and hopefully finding more treasures for Mayberry. That's been a lot of fun..... not knowing what we'll find from week to week. And I've been keeping my promise--- the cottage is casual and lake-y, not fussy and frilly. Sort of shabby-chic, with more emphasis on the shabby, not the chic.

Along Came a Spider......

Our realtor had warned us about the "lake spiders." Not one or two, but seemingly dozens of spiders will have spun their webs between our visits to Mayberry. Especially on the eaves of the boathouse.... I guess the spiders like lake-front webs. (Location, location, location...)

I've taken to keeping one broom by the front door of the cottage, one by the back door, and one in the boathouse. Three brooms... no waiting.... a "weapon" near at hand to brush away the webs. Our friend Frankie always believed that a spider web shouldn't be disturbed as long as you could get yourself around it. Frankie took that to an extreme. I can still remember watching her as she contorted her body underneath and around a massive spider web that was near her trash cans. To see her folding herself underneath that web, rather than just taking a broom and brushing it away, was a sight to behold.

When I asked Frankie why she just didn't destroy the webs, she looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. She reminded me that the spider webs catch mosquitoes, which were a bigger nuisance than the spiders. Unless a spider constructed a web near her front door, she just left it alone. And even then, she would try to re-locate the web, rather than use a broom to dismantle it altogether. Frankie did teach me to admire and respect the design of spider webs, especially when the sun hits them. They truly are magical works of art, as Frankie once told me. Still, if you walk into one of them, the first word that comes out our your mouth isn't "Magical!"

There's a certain spider very common to Texas........ I can't remember the name of it, but it's brown in color, with a long body shaped like a violin. Those spiders are extremely dangerous, and if you're allergic to their bites, they can be deadly. Tree spiders? Something like that... I just can't recall right now, but I am sure about the violin-shaped body. I haven't seen one since we've been here, but then, nor have I been looking for one.

I've learned (the hard way) that I am allergic to fire-ant bites. Just one tiny bite on one of my toes, and half of my foot will swell up and turn red. Those tiny ants pack one heck of a bite... the bites will blister and the top of it will be hard, like a wart. And the itch... never-ending. Our new neighbor G (at the lake) told us to keep Neosporin in our First Aid kit. We bought a tube at Wal-Mart, and it does indeed take away the itch as soon as the cream soaks into your skin.

We should ask G if the lake spiders will bite. There are lots of red-winged wasps up there, and I've already used two cans of wasp spray on old nests that were near the porches. Another annoying flying-thing at the lake is the "dirt-dauber." It looks like a wasp, but it's all black and doesn't have a stinger, so it can't hurt you. All it does is go back and forth from the dirt to its nest, each time adding a tiny bit more dirt to its home. Hence, the name dirt-dauber. I don't know what the real name is for that insect, but that's what everyone calls them here. (Sounds like the makings of a country song--- "Dirt..... sweet dirt..... a little daub'll do ya.....")

Monday, August 21, 2006

Gators Happen...

While we were up at Mayberry this time, we saw one of our more eccentric lake neighbors. I don't know how long B and his wife have lived at the lake, but they sure seem to be quite comfy and secure with the local wildlife.

Alligators are to Texas as the Statue of Liberty is to New York --- a given. Gators like shallow water, and some parts of the lake are shallow this year, waiting for a heavy deluge up in Dallas so the Trinity River Authority won't be having to supply water from the lake. The depth of the water at our bulkhead is 14 feet. At normal levels, the lake will add six additional feet to that depth around our bulkhead.

I don't think 14 feet is exactly shallow, but that's on our side of the larger part of the cove. Across the cove, on the really shallow side in the smaller coves, the water is just two or three-feet deep. Ah... perfect for alligators. And there's one gator (at least one) in that shallow cove. Our next-door neighbor G thinks there are three different alligators.... one that's eight feet long, another about five feet long, and a little one measuring about three feet. I don't know who got close enough to take measurements, but I will take her word for it--- and stay out of the water till the 14-feet depth on our side of the cove rises to its 21-feet depth.... which will increase the depth on all sides of every cove near our property. The alligators will then find more shallow water, up near the ends of the cove, far away from our part of the lake.

Our neighbor B, however, across the cove, isn't afraid of alligators, and he's told us just that, the first time he met my husband up there. He says that the gators won't bother you unless they're mating or taking care of their babies. Our neighbor G says that the gators will also "bother" you if they're hungry, and she figures that B has been lucky that he hasn't been swimming in his cove when the gator is looking for lunch.

Not only was B swimming in his shallow cove while we were up there last week, but he set up a beach umbrella in the water and he was floating around in an inner-tube underneath the umbrella's shade. Straw hat on his head, beer can in one hand, the other hand propelling him around the shady part of the water underneath his bright blue umbrella. "Dang fool," said our neighbor G. Indeed. He was wearing bright orange bathing trunks, which I would guess could be easily seen underneath the water.

We figured that B had rigged up a long piece of plastic pipe, because we saw that sticking up out of the shallow water of his cove. Into that pipe went his bright blue umbrella. Then out came both B and his wife, both in straw hats, he floating with his butt in the inner-tube, and she floating on a blue plastic raft. And there came the alligator. Down the middle of B's shallow side of the cove. The gator's head was above the water, and judging by the size of the rest of his body visible just below the surface, I would guess the rest of him could've easily measured five feet in length.

Both B and his wife saw the gator and pointed to him, but neither one of them got out of the water. B just paddled in place underneath the umbrella's shade and sipped his beer. His wife adjusted her hat and sunglasses and just got more comfy on her little raft, her feet dangling in the water. I watched all of this from my porch. I could've gone into the cottage to get the cell phone, just in case I had to dial 911 in a hurry, but I just didn't want to take my eyes off of the drama unfolding on the lake.

Of course, the gator submerged himself, and try and I might, I just couldn't see which direction he was swimming. Back up into someone else's shallow cove on the opposite side? Or was he heading straight towards the bright blue umbrella? B and his wife kept their places, neither one of them making a move towards their bulkhead. They stayed there for at least another hour, and I guess the alligator wasn't looking for lunch that day. Of course, B is probably going to tell the neighbors exactly what happened, and will again tell everyone that we don't have to be afraid of the gators in the lake.

I'm still a city-girl at heart, I guess, because I still believe that wild animals are just that-- wild. And if you're not afraid of them, then the least you can do is respect them, especially when you're in their territory. And letting your orange-bathing-trunk-covered butt float around in an inner-tube not twenty feet away from an alligator is as disrespectful as one can get.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Gracie Goes to Mayberry

We took our dog Gracie with us this weekend, up to Mayberry Cottage at the lake. She was just fine in the car.... she always loves a car ride, unless it ends up at the vet's office. When we got to the cottage, she followed us to the backyard of the property, which is lake-front. I swear, Gracie pranced on the grass as if she were in a park. She followed my husband from one end of the property to the other, then we took her into the house and she followed him in and out of all the rooms.

I think she was a little confused, because she didn't settle down for a while. She wouldn't let us out of her sight-- mainly my husband. She followed him all over, every minute. We decided it wouldn't be smart for both of us to take off and leave her in the house while we did some grocery shopping and errands, so my husband went into town to the Wal-Mart and Lowe's, and I stayed home with Gracie and unpacked everything that I had brought up there this time.

The trunk of the car was jam-packed with all my latest yard-sale treasures, and we even had the black walnut game table in the back seat with Gracie. I brought up as much as we could fit into that car, and happily spent a couple of hours unpacking the bags and boxes. I still have two yard-sale finds to bring up there--- a large wicker chair and a wooden rocking chair, but I'll ask our friend S to bring them up in his truck the next time he goes up there with us.

Anyway, by the time we settled in for the night on our first day at Mayberry, Gracie was just fine. I guess when she saw us sitting down for dinner in the kitchen there, then getting ready for bed later on that night, she must have realized in her little doggy-mind that she was at a "home away from home."

Our young friend C and her mom drove up on Saturday morning, spent the night there, and went home this morning. C's dad is away working this week, but S will come up the next time with us. Young Miss C spent a few hours unpacking her own boxes and decorating her cabin. We all stayed out till she was done, then she called us in for a first visit. Her cabin is filled with dolphins, from one end to the other. Dolphins and sea-shells, and a fishing net draped in one corner. Until we find her the bunk-beds that she wants, we have an air-mattress there for her to sleep on, and she spent her first night in there on Saturday night. And... right inside the door of her cabin, C has a little bookcase with her very own guest book on top of it. I had found the bookcase for her at a yard sale, and I bought her the guest book as a "new cabin" gift because I know how much she loves our guest book here. Of course, as we left her cabin, we all happily signed her guest book.

I swear, that girl was bouncing on her toes every minute she was at Mayberry. She fished with my husband from our dock, they raced battery-powered boats, and we all watched the sunsets. As a special treat for us, my husband bought huge fresh lobsters at the Wal-Mart grocery, and he boiled them up for dinner on Saturday night. Delicious... boiled lobster, tossed salad, with fresh tomatoes and peppers from Mayberry's garden.

Speaking of delicious.... when we got home today, there was a package waiting for me from my friend F in NY. She sent me two cookbooks from Andy Griffith's and Aunt Bee's "Mayberry".... what a surprise--- Mayberry cookbooks for Mayberry Cottage. How perfect is that?! I will be bringing them up to the cottage the next time we go, and we will be cooking at least one recipe from the cookbooks each time we're up there. A new tradition has begun.

While we were up there this time, I drove into town and stopped at one of the antique stores. That's another "tradition" now... looking around one antique store each time we're up there, and hopefully finding treasures for the cottage. Last time we were up there, we bought a kitchen table, a bit larger and more sturdy than the small one we had found at a local yard sale. (That first table is now a card table for the game room up there.) The other day, I tried another antique shop and found a vintage mirror for the living room..... marked down to just $22.00. Great old mirror from the 1930s, with some fading to the glass, some nicks and chips around the wood frame, but a lake-y, casual look to it, with lots of history behind it, I'm sure. I hung it up on the wall over the small sideboard that's in the living room, and the mirror looks as if it was just meant to be there.

Everything is just slowly falling into place up at Mayberry. Most of the fun is finding things for the cottage, a piece at a time. It was easy to go there this time because we didn't have to pack clothes.... not even a toothbrush. Everything we need up there is already there. A little grocery shopping when we get there, and we're all set. And if we don't feel like cooking, then we can always go into town to one of the restaurants.... but we'd have to eat early because we don't want to miss out on the sunsets. I also stopped at two local yard sales on my way to the antique shop--- I bought a nearly-new toaster oven for the cottage, and a brand new box of Dominoes.

The most amazing part of Mayberry is the sunsets... sitting out on our back porch, which overlooks our park-like backyard, which overlooks the lake. We keep wanting to pinch ourselves when we're up there.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Mickey Doesn't Know How Small He Is.

Mickey Kitty..... our youngest cat....... he was a year old this past July, and he is still kitten-sized. I haven't weighed him lately, but I would guess he's under eight pounds. Either he's a very slow-growing cat, or he was the runt of the litter and he's going to stay small. To watch him run after AngelBoy and ShadowBaby, you would think he's a lion. Or maybe that's it-- Mickey Kitty thinks he is a lion. King of his jungle, lord of the manor.

In a cat's age, I guess Mickey is a teenager now. And he is into everything he sees. Shoe boxes and shopping bags, purses and dresser drawers, closets and cabinets. If you leave it open and accessible, Mickey will be the first one to explore.

Mickey is also giving AngelBoy some competition with my shoes. AngelBoy loves shoes, and more importantly, he loves shoes in open boxes-- which is how the shoes are in my closet. On any given day, AngelBoy will walk into my closet for a nap. He's too fluffy and too big to curl up in a shoe box, so what he does is lay down next to his favorite shoe-of-the-day, and put either his head or his paws into that particular shoe box.

Along comes Mickey Kitty, who is small enough to curl up in a shoe box, right on top of the shoes. More often than not, Mickey will want the exact pair of shoes that AngelBoy has chosen for his napping spot. From my closet, I will hear a "meee---ooowwww" from Mickey Kitty. Then I will hear a softer "meeeeeewwww" from AngelBoy. No one can sound sadder and more hopeless than AngelBoy... he's an actor at heart.

I usually let the two of them settle their own differences, unless the meows get nasty-sounding. As in "If you don't get your paws away from those leopard sandals, I will take your whiskers and tie them to the shoe-laces of those sneakers." --- when I hear a meow that sounds something like that, I will get them both of the closet and shut the door tightly.

It's funny to me that the smallest cat in this house is the one without fear. Mickey will jump higher and run faster than the older cats. Sometimes he runs so fast across the tile floors in the kitchen and breakfast room that his back legs start sliding and the only way he stops is when he goes head-first into the wall or a door. If I didn't know better, I would swear that those are the times that AngelBoy gets a satisfied smirk on his little blue-eyed face.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Walk This Way...

I started walking again the other night.... after dark, so it's not so blessedly hot. My husband and I had begun walking around the track at the local high school, but we got out of that habit when we started going up to Mayberry.... and now school has started again, so the track is always filled with students.

I've found that I just can't stop exercising. I've been in the exercise mode for so many years now that when I stop, my body just sits back and works against me. "No exercise this week? Well, fine..... but just wait till you try and zip up those pink capris that you love so much!"

Without a doubt, I have to exercise, and walking --- walking fast --- is the best thing to do. As best as I can measure, I'm speed-walking about two miles every night, and I will slowly work that up to three or more miles. If I were walking any faster, I'd be jogging. By the time I come into the front door after my walk, I'm dripping wet from head to toe. (Another reason to speed-walk after dark--- no ones sees you sweat.)

I used to take Gracie with me when I walked for exercise, but she's getting older now and I don't want to rush her along so I can walk faster. She goes for a long walk with my husband every morning, but he's not walking fast... he's strolling around the park with Gracie and handing out dog biscuits to all the dogs he sees along the way. It's more of a social stroll for both of them, rather than a work-out.

But this body of mine needs the work-out... and needs to eat salad, salad, salad. "The Big Salad," as Elaine (of Seinfeld) would call it. When I make a salad, I put everything in there.... at least three or four kinds of lettuce, carrots, chopped up eggs, chopped nuts, tomatoes, sliced peppers, dried raisins and dates and cranberries, green peas, chunks of tuna or salmon, sunflower seeds, grated cheese.... and whatever else I have on hand. (Excluding chocolate chips, of course.) Top that off with a bit of balsamic vinegar and you've got a meal fit for a capri-queen who's trying to maintain a size 8. And it is a meal.... lots of crunch, and takes time to eat, so you can't rush through it. I also know all the restaurants that have great salads on their menu... we even found two restaurants up near the cottage with delicious salads.

When I was in my 30s, I was happily maintaining a size 6, and sometimes a size 4 would fit, depending on the clothing. Since I've passed the Big 5-0, the size 6 has slowly made its way to a size 8. And that's as far as I want to go. I absolutely refuse to get back into the double-digits and reach for size 10s. No way... no blessed way. I've worked too long and too hard to stay in shape. This shape.

So it will be speed-walking after dark.... and salads for lunch and for dinner. The 50s are so cruel.

SteinMart....

I went to Marshall's bright and early this morning, to return the three skirts that I bought there yesterday. I found more skirts, which I tried on after I took care of the returns, but I didn't buy them, even though I thought they looked okay. The thing about those "cute little skirts," as my sister calls them, is that they're cute.... and I'm not trying to look cute at my age. I'm trying to dress appropriately, without looking like someone's mother.

My sister can get away with looking cute...... she looks like she's still in her late 20s, even though she's in her mid-40s. At my best, when the cats don't wake me up in the middle of the night, I can pass for being in my mid-40s, even though I'm nearly to the magic number of 55. (Jeez.... what a number. How did that happen?) So...... cute clothes are just that--- too cute for me now, because they'll make me look older, not younger.

I shall stick with capris for the summer, and forget about the cute little skirts. So off to SteinMart I went, searching for capris without any sort of beading, sequins, embroidery, or embellishments of any kind. SteinMart is the embellishment-capital of the southeast Texas shopping market. I found one pair of black capris.... didn't need black ones, but I bought them anyway, for the simple reason that when I do need black ones, I won't be able to find them. What I was looking for were white capris.... plain old white cotton. Couldn't find one pair, unless of course I wanted a pair with purple bugle-beads spiraling up the left leg in a fleur-de-lis pattern.

SteinMart also has thousands of tops...... blouses, sweaters, shells, button-down, short-sleeves, half-sleeves, long-sleeves, no-sleeves, in every color of the rainbow and every combination thereof. I don't think I've ever gone into SteinMart and not walked out with at least one top. I found a pretty green one today, with just a tiny bit of beading around the scoop-necked collar. I bought that, since of course the green will go with the black capris, and will also go with the white capris, should I ever find them.

When I got home from SteinMart, I remembered that I had put a pair of white capris into the box I keep for donations to the local charities. Those white capris were put into that box because the metal zipper got so washed-out and worn-out from the washing machine that it was getting hard to zip up and down without breaking a nail. I figured I would just replace the white capris, rather than take them to the local seamstress and have her put on a new zipper. (I can do buttons and hems, but I can't do zippers.)

Silly me.... I thought that finding a new pair of white capris would be easier than having a new zipper put on. So there I was this afternoon, looking through my own donation box for those white capris. And there they were... carefully wrapped in a white plastic bag.... one very nice pair of white cotton capris, absolutely fine except for the broken zipper. They are no longer in the donation box.... I will be taking them to the seamstress for a new zipper (nylon, not metal) and I will stop my search for white capris. But I know I'll find them at some point-- when I'm not looking for them, of course.

I spoke to my cousin R yesterday morning.... the same cousin who visited me last year and spent most of her three days here in SteinMart. She has found a SteinMart up on Long Island, but she says that the prices up there are more expensive than those down here. "Well.... all the more reason to get yourself on a plane and come down and visist again," said I. She shopped so much in the SteinMart here last year that she got to know half of the sales-clerks by name. I asked her what she was looking for in SteinMart.... "White slacks or white capris," said she. (Must be something in the air...)

Monday, August 14, 2006

Summer Clothes......

At this time of the year, you would think that the local stores would still be selling summer clothes. The temperature outside is either right up to or over 100 degrees every day, and it will be like that till at least the end of September, and probably right on into October. Usually, when the kids here go trick-or-treating for Halloween, they're wearing shorts underneath their costumes.

So why is it, every mid-August or so, I can walk into a store here and see not only heavy sweaters for the "cooler" months (when the temperatures dip way down into the 60s and 70s) but I can also find Halloween decorations.

And that's exactly what I found yesterday when I went into SteinMart, and today when I went into Marshall's: heavy sweaters and Halloween pumpkins and witches. Give unto me a blessed break. (As Lawrence Sanders' Archy McNally character would say.)

I didn't look around the women's section of SteinMart yesterday...... my husband and I ran in there so he could get new slippers and new shorts. Being that he doesn't like shopping much, I tend not to shop for myself when we're together in a store. When he's on a shopping roll, I try not to do anything that will distract him. He's the kind of shopper who goes in the store for exactly what he wants and doesn't browse much, especially in clothing stores. "Get in there, get what you need, and get out." -- that's his shopping mantra. (As opposed to mine, which is "Get in there, look around, try things on, look around some more, try on more clothes, look around again in case you missed anything the first two times, then look around the clearance section to see if there's anything you need that you hadn't thought of to buy.")

I drove to Marshall's today, to see what I could find in summer skirts. My sister put this little bug in my ear-- "Don't keep buying capris for the summer.... get those long cotton skirts and cotton tops and you'll be more in style." (Heaven forbid I not be in style.)

Cotton skirts were on my list today....... and I think I tried on more than a dozen in Marshall's. I came home with three of them, but (as sometimes happens) when I got them home and tried them on in front of my own full-length mirror, I didn't like them. So all three are going back. They looked okay in the store, but looked ridiculous in my own dressing room mirror. I swear, there must be something in those store mirrors that makes everything look good.

I did find a pair of capris, though, and I'm keeping those because they looked just fine in my own mirror. They're the color of canteloupe (the inside, not the outside of the melon). My sister wouldn't approve of these, however... she'd be telling me that my aim in life shouldn't be to look like a piece of fruit.

I also have to find a bathing suit. I have suits here, but nothing that I would care to take to Hawaii. If I go to Hawaii, that is. The jury is still out on that one. The thought of flying over the Pacific Ocean is bothering me. I hate the way the world is changing. I hate that certain people in this world are changing the way we think about things. My husband isn't worried. He never worries, because he says that I worry enough for both of us. (My theory on his carefree state of mind is that Presbyterians don't worry.... Italians-- now we know how to worry.)

My husband was searching the Internet on the Hawaiian islands. He asked me if I wanted to take a helicopter ride around Hawaii. Is he kidding? After I got sea-sick on the whale-watching boat in Maine? Does he think I'd do any better in a little glass dome thousands of feet up in the air and looking down into the top of a volcano?

Give unto me.....

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Easy Rider...

That's what I'm going to be saying from now on.... "Go easy, rider.... take it easy."

My husband picked up his motorcycle yesterday. He had gotten his motorcycle license about six months ago, but didn't run out and buy a new bike. He kept looking for a good used one, and after months of searching, one found him. Someone where he works was selling a very good used one, and that's the one he bought.

Another co-worker rode it home for him, because my husband didn't want to take it right out into traffic after not having been on a motorcycle since the day he got his license. The co-worker is a "seasoned rider," as he calls himself, and he pronounced the bike to be a fine machine. "It's a classic," he said..... "a fine classic bike that rides perfectly."

Since yesterday afternoon, my husband has been riding the motorcycle all over the subdivision. Young Miss C's dad came over last night to have a look (and also to drive it). S used to have his own motorcycle, but C's mom made him sell it years ago. Of course, now that my husband has gone out and bought a bike, S is getting the itch to have his own motorcycle again. Both my husband and I have predicted that S will buy a bike for himself within the next six months or so.

Before my husband bought this bike, I told him that I wouldn't be riding on the back of it. I have ridden on the back of a motorcycle.... years ago.... and I don't want to do it again. If I wanted to be riding a motorcycle, then I'd go to the community college and take the course that teaches you how to drive one. I'd rather be the driver of a motorcycle than a passenger. But I can't see that happening either. I'm perfectly happy in my little car.... and a lot safer, in my humble opinion.

Hopefully, my husband will follow all the rules of the motorcycle safety course that he took.... and, also hopefully, everyone else on the road will be driving just as carefully.

Another Truck?

If I don't stop going to yard sales here, we will need to rent another truck to get all of this stuff up to Mayberry Cottage. But that's the fun of this...... I had planned to furnish the cottage for very little money-- taking extra things from the house here, and finding the rest at yard sales, estate sales, resale shops and consignment stores.

Yesterday's treasure was the carved black walnut game table. My husband says it looks like it came off of a pirate ship, so we're calling it the "pirate's table." Wonderful find, that was.

Today's yard sales were just as good...... I came home with yet another wicker chair, this one with a matching wicker ottoman. Also found a wrought-iron plant stand, which I will use to hold towels in the guest bathroom. Another sale had a maple two-tier table that I can put on the screen-porch for the cats.... only cost a few dollars and I know they'll want something high on the porch so they can get a better view of the lake and all the birds and ducks there.

Another great find today was a sturdy wood rocking chair, for just fifteen dollars. It's painted a very pale, pale yellow, perfect for either the screen-porch, or one of the outside porches. Or it may also look cute in a corner of the kitchen.... that kitchen is so big up there that extra chairs in the corners around the table would look just fine.

Chair cushions... brand new cushions at yet another sale... cushions for either indoor or outdoor chairs, for just two dollars each. I know we'll be getting more outside furniture (at future yard sales) so I bought four cushions. Two dollars for each one is even cheaper than seven dollars each at Wal-Mart, so those were a bargain as well.

As I said....... if this keeps up, we'll be needing another truck, and my husband really doesn't want to do that. We will get these things up to the cottage a little at a time, each weekend we go up there. And I can always ask young Miss C's dad or mom to bring up the larger chairs for us.... they both drive trucks. I got them home from the yard sales by sticking them into the trunk of the car and just keeping the trunk open, but we can't drive up to the lake that way. All in good time....... it will all get up there.

Friday, August 11, 2006

A Yard Sale Morning

Back to yard-saling, looking for things to bring up to Mayberry. My husband and I were out of the house before 7:30 this morning. Before we got to the first yard sale on my list, we found signs on corner posts, with arrows pointing in the direction of the sales.

At the very first sale, we found a very old (certainly antique) carved wood table. Sort of a game table, I would imagine, since the top lifts up to reveal four separate compartments. It even has the original key which locks the top of the table.... key is in great shape, and the lock still works.

This table has got to be one of the most ornately carved pieces of furniture I've ever seen. The man selling it said it was made in Switzerland, but there's no way of us proving that unless we happen to find something with similar carving. There are faces carved into the corners of this table... one on each corner of the top, one on each corner of the bottom, plus one on each side.... total of ten faces in all. They look like the face of Neptune or Zeus, in my opinion.

The wood is very dark..... sort of a black walnut wood. My husband thinks it's too dark for the cottage, but of course I think it's perfect. We both agree that the table has a lot of character, and it cost us just $20.00........ and isn't this why we're getting up so early and getting to these yard sales--- to find interesting pieces of furniture for Mayberry that doesn't cost a blessed fortune?

I know one thing for sure..... there is no place in this house for this table. Since we moved everything "extra" we had up to the cottage, this house is nice and neat and un-cluttered now. If my husband wants to keep this carved table here, then that's fine--- but that also means that we have to take away one table from here and bring it up to Mayberry. Rule #1 around here once again applies: "One thing in, one thing out."

There was also a little bonus item inside the top of this carved table...... a woman's head/bust carved out of wood. It doesn't belong to the table... the wood is different (lighter) and the style is more Victorian, not Gothic-rustic (which is how this table strikes me). I will bring the carved woman up to the cottage and use her somewhere as an accent. It looks like those carved women that are attached to the front of sailing ships, only this one is much smaller, just about 12 inches high.

I also found a little white wicker doll basket. I will take that up to Mayberry and put it on the screen porch for the cats. Knowing my prissy AngelBoy, he will stake his claim on this wicker basket. Somehow, AngelBoy seems to know what to cuddle up in to give him the maximum amount of "cute."

Again?????

I just don't understand why on this blessed earth some people take joy in destruction. Killing people you don't know, for no reason. (As if there could be a viable reason to kill people you do know?)

Ten planes headed for the United States. Not one or two or four, but ten. Such a statement of hatred. The diligence of the authorities over in London are to be commended. It makes me wonder if such diligence and awareness is being carried out within our own country.

As soon as I heard that news yesterday, I told my husband that my sister would be calling me last night to discuss the latest airline problems. My sister rarely gets on a plane. I could count the number of her plane flights on one hand. She just hates to fly, hates to give up control to a pilot and his machine. And to give up control to the possibility of terrorists with a personal death-wish? Well, that's just not going to happen, as far as my sister is concerned.

Sure enough, right after dinner-time last night, our phone rang and it was my sister.... telling me the latest headlines from CNN and asking me if I would be getting on a plane anytime soon. "You can't bring a lipstick with you on the plane! And not even a cell phone or a camera!"

My husband has two conferences coming up before the end of this year.... one in Hawaii, and one in Philadelphia. I had planned on flying with him to Hawaii (who wouldn't) but I wasn't going to go to Philadelphia. I had hesitations about Hawaii, simply because of the long after-midnight flight over the Pacific Ocean. But then I thought that if I didn't go to Hawaii with his this time, there might not be another chance.

Plane reservations can always be cancelled. I will wait to make the decision whether or not to cancel my ticket to Hawaii, and see what happens with this latest threat of terrorism.

I don't know what it's going to take to stop all of this. Close all of our borders and not let anyone else in? Tell all the people here who originally came from terrorism-prone countries that they have to go home? I have a feeling that this kind of terror will just never stop. It may lie dormant for a while, but sooner or later, some power-crazed group will want to make yet another statement.

Give unto us all a blessed break.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

"Secret to a Long and Happy Life"

Our good friend Bill sent me the following story (written by Michael Gartner). I've already forwarded it to good friends who I know will appreciate it, and I'm going to reprint the entire thing here so I can save it to read again and again. Wonderful reading.......



Since the dawn of time, mankind has sought the answer to this question: 'What is the secret of a long life?' Little did I know that all these years, my wise father had the answer.

My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car. He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet. "In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "To drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it." At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: "Oh, bull----!" she said. "He hit a horse." "Well," my father said, "there was that, too."

And I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars - the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street had a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down had a black 1941 Ford - but we had none. My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.

My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that. But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first. But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.

It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car. Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother. So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying once.

For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps - though they seldom left the city limits - and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work. Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage. (Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)

He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home. If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."

After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. (In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multi-millionaire on third base scored.") If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out - and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream.

As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?" "I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre. "No left turns," he said. "What?" I asked. "No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic. As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn." "What?" I said again. "No left turns," he said. "Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights."

"You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support. "No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works." But then she added: "Except when your father loses count." I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing. "Loses count?" I asked. "Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again." I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked. "No," he said. "If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week."

My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90. She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102. They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom - the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)

He continued to walk daily - he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising - and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died. One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news. A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer." "You're probably right," I said. "Why would you say that?" he countered, somewhat irritated. "Because you're 102 years old," I said. "Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.

That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night. He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said: "I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet." An hour or so later, he spoke his last words: "I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have." A short time later he died.

I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long. I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life. Or, because he quit taking left turns.

(Michael Gartner has been editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing.)

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Back to Reality.....

Grocery shopping today..... the first I've done since before our trip to Maine. Although, we did go to the Wal-Mart up near the lake for groceries for Mayberry. But that doesn't count since it was so much fun.

Actually, today's visit to Kroger wasn't that bad because our young Miss C was with me. She called here this morning, to ask if she could spend some time with me today. This is her last day of summer vacation..... school re-opens tomorrow. (And, according to Miss C: "That just sucks!") Indeed.

So off we went to Kroger, while my husband and C's dad went to look at a boat for sale. We bought lots of groceries, but they passed on the boat. C was great in the store.... she found things for me to bring up to Mayberry-- ketchup and mustard (how could she have a BBQ without those?), and she found cookies in the shapes of seashells. We found items for a First Aid kit for the cottage... things for scrapes and bug-bites, and fire-ant bites.

I've already packed up everything we need to bring to Mayberry.... I guess I'll always have a bag or two (or three or six) filled with stuff to bring up with us. We both left clothes up there, and I've just packed up a make-up kit to leave up there, rather than having to carry that stuff back and forth. Miss C will leave some clothes up there as well....... especially her favorite pink sweatshirt that is positively coming apart at the seams. It's as soft as a kitten, and she loves that old thing..... both me and her mom cringe when she puts it on here. But at Mayberry, anything goes....... and we've decided that's the perfect place for that poor pink sweatshirt. My thirteen-year-old Key West sweater is already up there at the cottage..... too old to wear here, but perfectly fine and fitting for the lake.

We also drove into League City for haircuts today... way overdue for me. I should've gotten a trim as soon as we got back from Maine but I was just too busy packing to take the time. While we were down there, I poked around at J's antique shop and (of course) found some things to take to the cottage. Vintage tole-painted tinware that I can use to hold umbrellas, and a beautiful old handpainted plate to use as a spoon-rest. I was looking for a covered sugar bowl with a vintage shape and design, but couldn't find one that I liked. I did find a wonderful old creamer, so I got that..... the sugar bowl won't match, but that's the fun of antique/resale shopping.

Speaking of old things..... when I went to C's house to pick her up for grocery shopping, she was jumping up and down at the door as soon as I got there. She wanted me to come into her room so I could see the chair she found for her desk. "A garage sale find," she called it. And indeed it was...... a very old wooden chair-- so old that it has a round seat, so old that the wood is as soft as leather. Best part--- they gave it to her for free. "Free! Free!" She was so happy and so proud of that chair. Now she's on the look-out for another one...... then she'll decide which to take up to Mayberry for her cabin, and which to leave at home for her desk.

I've said it before, and I will say it again..... this child will be the keeper of the memories for us. She treasures old things, she's very sentimental, and very aware of things that are either handmade or one-of-a-kind. Most of all, she knows that things that are new and perfect aren't always the best treasures.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Home Again, Once Again

For the past six days, we've been at Mayberry Cottage, setting up house for the most part and enjoying the lake for the other part. It was touch-and-go that very first day..... we got there to find that the electricity and water hadn't been transferred from the seller's name to ours, so we spent that first night in a local motel after un-loading as much of the U-Haul truck as we could. Had the cottage been air-conditioned (thank you for electricity, Mr. Edison), we would have been able to finish, but we just couldn't take another breath without cool air and cold water.

We locked up the truck that day and went to the local electric company offices....... as we were filling out paperwork, the mail lady came by and there was the application that I had sent in last week. (Just how many days does it take for a letter to go one hundred miles?)

The next morning, the electricity was on, the water was running... and all was right in the world of Mayberry. Out came the rest of the stuff from the truck and I started to unpack. It was like Christmas.... I'd forgotten just what I had packed in all of those boxes. I was determined to get everything unpacked and in place within two days, and I did just that. Dishes were in the cabinets, clothes in the closets, pictures hung up on the walls, furniture placed in the rooms. We still need more furniture here and there, but it all looks comfy, cozy, and home-y.

We bought new mattresses in a local store up there, and had those delivered. Ditto for the fridge, washer, and dryer, so those are all in place and running. We browsed through the local antique shops and found a bigger and more sturdy table and chairs for the kitchen, so the little yard-sale kitchen set that we had bought here is now in the "game room" of the cottage.... we can use it for cards and puzzles.

Our young friend C couldn't come up to the lake this past weekend because she had band practice at the high school, but her parents drove up and they were there for Saturday and Sunday with us. We all had a great time.... catching some catfish (which we tossed back into the lake), going to Wal-Mart and Lowe's (my endless list of things for the cottage), and we went to two restaurants up there..... one for dinner, one for lunch. We enjoyed the serenity of the lake, and watched a spectacular sunset on Saturday night. Then the four of played cards till well after midnight.

The next time they drive to the lake, C will come up with them and she'll be busy with her own unpacking.... all her boxes are there inside her little cabin, waiting for her. And Mayberry is waiting for us also..... as are the egrets, ducks, beavers, and did we mention the alligators? Our lake neighbors told us that there are three alligators in the shallow part of the coves. No lie.... we saw them with our own eyes as they floated along on the water. The neighbors tells us that as the lake gets back to full depth, the alligators will find more shallow water. The water's depth in our part of the lake goes from 14 feet to 23 feet...... not shallow in my book, but "shallow" in the alligator's mind.

Mayberry feels like home already...... the cottage is quiet at night, the lake scenery changes every hour, with different birds and ducks always flying and landing and fishing for their own meals. The people of the lake area are plain old country folks, friendly and neighborly, and the ones we met were happy to see us.

The lady who lives next door to our cottage reminds me of our dear Miss Frankie. She hugged both of us, called us each "baby" (as Frankie used to do), and has a ready smile and a good sense of humor. The locals call her the "fisher lady," since she knows so much about fishing the lake up there. And she loves to read, loves going to the library and the bookshop in town. (Just like Frankie, I swear.)

Next time we go to the cottage, we won't have so much work to do. Now that everything is all set up and running, all that's left is to just enjoy everything. (And, of course, take some drives to the lake antique shops and see what treasures are there for the cottage.)

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Movers R Us.....

Or should I say "Movers We Aren't." I have a new-found respect for moving men. What a lot of hard work....... halfway through packing our U-Haul truck late this afternoon, I was wishing we had just hired a moving company.

And just who put all that stuff in my sitting room and in our garage anyway? As we were taking everything out of the house and out of the garage, I was amazed at the collection of things from the yard sales, moving sales, and the resale shops around here. Moving sales...... now I know why so many people have moving sales-- they don't want to move all that stuff from one place to another.

We didn't rent the truck till 5:00 this afternoon, and then we went to the local Chinese restaurant for a quick dinner. I haven't gone grocery shopping since we got back from Maine, and our fridge is painfully empty. I told my husband that the only thing worse than an empty fridge is not having a fridge at all. (We'll have to buy a refrigerator when we get up to the lake house, and then I'll have to get some groceries to put into it.) That's the priority list-- shopping for the fridge and the beds.

Just a few more things to put into the truck tomorrow morning...... some of the bigger things, which may take more time than we think. Our neighbor ML across the street gave us a comfy club chair and ottoman, so that was added to our collection of furniture. Then as we were packing the truck, ML walked across the street and asked if I wanted one more thing-- an antique writing desk, very small.... perfect to put by the front door of the cottage, to hold the guest book. So that's on the truck as well now.

We still have to get the outdoor furniture up into the truck...... round wrought-iron table and four chairs. And the four wooden chairs that go with the kitchen table. And, speaking of chairs.... I mistakenly packed AngelBoy's favorite white wicker chair. He came into my sitting room tonight (after it was all neat and clean and back to its normal state)...... poor little cat went to the spot where I've always kept that little chair for him-- and it wasn't there. He sat in the spot where the chair should've been and just looked up at me with those kitty-blue eyes of his.

"I packed your chair, AngelBoy! Mommy packed your chair on the truck!" Okay, guilty as charged. I had told my husband that everything on that side of my sitting room had to go into the truck, and he carried it all out there.... and I put that cat-sized chair into the truck along with my people-sized wicker chairs. How stupid is that? For the life of me, I don't know if AngelBoy's little chair is buried underneath other things, or (hopefully) it's sitting on top of a pile and I can easily get it out of the truck tomorrow morning.

I really thought we'd have plenty of extra room in that truck...... and I've been packing the truck like a puzzle..... fitting smaller boxes into small spaces, larger boxes into big spaces, trying to fill up every little spot with something and hoping that nothing will shift during the drive. I've put glass shelves into the trunk of the car, as well as the mirrors and lamps. So the car will be filled as well.... my husband will be driving the truck.... I'll be following in the car. Should be easy to follow a U-Haul truck. Unless, of course, there are thirty-seven other U-Hauls headed up to the lake at the same time.

Maine Postcards

I was looking over all the postcards I bought during our trip to Maine. That's what I do instead of taking pictures...... I buy a postcard-view of every place we go. Almost all of my Maine postcards are of the lighthouses we saw. I still can't believe we saw 20 lighthouses. From start to finish during that trip, my husband put 1500 miles on the rental car. And nearly all of those miles were on Route 1, which is a two-lane highway way up there.

Looking back on the trip, it was fun, but also exhausting. Too many miles, too many days, and being in a different town for each night's stay wasn't the easiest way to travel. We got to see more than we would have if we had just stayed in one place, of course, but the living-out-of-a-suitcase method is what tires you out. If we did ever go back there, I'd want to stay in just one place for five or six days. We missed out on looking through so many great antique shops, but we were limited as to what we could buy..... when you're flying on a plane with two small carry-on pieces of luggage, you have to be selective.

Our young friend C called here at 8:00 yesterday morning...... she's so happy to have us home that she was wanting to spend some time with us before she goes back to school next week. I had errands to do yesterday...... so I told her if she'd like to come with me for my "boring errands," she was welcome to join me. She did just that, and didn't find the errands boring at all. I swear, that child finds fun in every blessed thing, which is an inspiration.

After the errands, we went to the local Thai restaurant for lunch. Young Miss C, who can use chopsticks like a pro, used her fork instead for the meal... she decided to save the chopsticks for the cottage. She is as excited about the cottage as we are, and has two boxes of stuff all packed up for her little cabin at the lake.

We're going to rent a U-Haul truck today and start packing it up. I can't wait to get all of these boxes and chairs out of my sitting room. I feel like I'm typing in a storage closet when I'm in here now... everything is behind me and the clutter is more than I can take. I will be very happy to have my pretty room back again. Not to mention the garage.... half of the garage has been filled with boxes and furniture for Mayberry...... it's a challenge getting my car into the garage and opening up the door without bumping up against a box.

I'm hoping that all the utilities will be turned on and ready to go when we get up to the cottage. I've mailed in all the applications to the utility companies up there. Such a small town... when I gave them the address of the property over the phone, each person on the phone told me the former owner's name before looking up the location. They've assured me that everything will be set to go tomorrow morning. (Is that real time or Texas time? "If it doesn't get done today, it might get done tomorrow.... and if not tomorrow, then next week could be soon enough." )

On the priority list for shopping up there...... a fridge, a bed for us, a bed for the guest room, bunk beds for C's cabin. If I can find a washer/dryer in the same store as the fridge (and get a good deal on all three) then I'll just buy them all and have them delivered at the same time. I'm also hoping to look around the consignment and resale shops up there and find a nice sofa for the living room. The town has just one furniture store, but I'd rather not pay brand-new prices unless we can't find something suitable anywhere else.

Another adventure........ which isn't a bad thing. Adventures keep life interesting. (Unless, of course, the adventure involves a boat in the middle of the ocean. Been there, done that, and I choose never to do it again.)

I sent my piano teacher an eMail yesterday. She's out of town herself now, but when she comes back, she'll find the following message: "We're home from Maine, and getting ready to go to Mayberry. There's a strange piece of furniture in my living room here: very big, lots of wood, pretty black and white things on the front. Oh yes..... that's my piano."