Ousting the Board...

"There's trouble in River City...." to quote that old song. When we were up at the lake, the community association for the subdivision called a meeting. We were just driving back to the lake cottage after dinner out and one of our neighbors saw us on the road and told us about the gathering. Should we or shouldn't we go? We're only weekenders, not permanent residents, but we decided to go.

Seems that the community is very unhappy with the present Board of Directors, especially the president. Coincidentally, the cottage we have at the lake was sold to us by the president of that Board. Oops. He has since moved out of state, which is one of the reasons that the residents think he should no longer be on the Board at all.

The energy in the neighbor's house was high during that meeting... lots of frustration... lots of referrals to "Robert's Rules of Order." They're trying to do everything by the book, but very few of them really know what to do. My husband stood up quite a few times to make some comments and suggestions, and while he was speaking, you could hear a pin drop. He's an excellent speaker, and I'm sure some of the residents were hoping that he would say he'd be happy to serve either on the Interim Board or on the new Board of Directors.

He didn't say that, however.... it's not his style. If he did choose to run for that Board, he will do lots of research prior to throwing his hat into the ring. But we'll see.... he could still change his mind. They're having two other meetings, one in July and one in August, and I think my husband plans to be at both of those. (I told my husband that our house is big enough to hold two presidents.)


I delivered more pajamas to the shelter up near the lake house. This time, I also had bundles of children's clothing-- 126 pieces, to be exact, all bought by young Miss C, who is doing her best to keep the children in this lake shelter clothed in the very best she can afford to buy them. The lady at the shelter was truly amazed at all the bags of clothing and pajamas that I brought to them this time. As soon as they see my car pull up in front of the shelter, they open up the doors and come out to help me get the packages out of the trunk.

I went into all of the antique shops up near the lake this time..... and I've decided that the only shop worth browsing through is the biggest consignment store there. All of the smaller ones just have too few items with too high prices... their inventory never seems to change. The largest store has nearly 75 dealers, with reasonable prices, and constantly-changing inventory. I found another wicker chair this time....... I always seem to find chairs, or they just find me. I can't bring chairs up with us when we drive to the lake, because the back seat is now filled with Gracie and two cat carriers for AngelBoy and ShadowBaby. Mickey Kitty is still so small that I can hold his carrier on my lap for the entire drive.

The weather has been extra hot, extra humid..... doesn't make for good-hair days, that's for sure. My foot is still bothering me, and I'm very mindful of how I walk on it, especially going down stairs and curbs. Never thought I'd see the day when I'd actually be looking forward to a doctor's appointment.

"Age is catching up to her..."

That's what I heard on the phone this morning from my cousin L, who goes to my Aunt Dolly's house from time to time..... to look in on her, stay with her for a while, bring her to doctors' appointments. L keeps her company for days or weeks at a time, just so Aunt Dolly won't be in that big house all by herself all of the time.

Speaking of that big house, she may not be in it for very much longer. My cousin S is going to get Aunt Dolly and drive her down to where he lives in Florida. The neighborhood where my aunt lives hasn't been "safe" for a good long while, and now it's just getting out of control. My aunt's neighbor has been robbed three times in the past month alone. Only by the grace of the angels has my aunt and her home been spared. That house was built in 1922 by my grandfather, and it's been the family home ever since.

My cousin S in Florida wants my aunt to sell it, of course..... he's been wanting her to do that for at least ten years, but my aunt has always resisted. This is my home! That's what she says to anyone who suggests that she sell that big house.

I called there today to say hello to her, and my cousin L was there with my aunt, while workmen were in the house installing yet another alarm system. This is the second one, both of which were installed at the insistence of my cousin S in Florida. Surely, even S must know that no alarm system in the world is going to keep someone out of where they want to go... it just may delay them for a little while.

My cousin L seems to think that my aunt really knows in her heart now that she has to leave that house. I didn't get a chance to talk to my aunt this morning, because she was busy watching the workmen installing the alarm, and they were giving her lessons on how to use it. My Aunt Dolly just celebrated her 94th birthday.... she's as independent as when she was in her thirties and forties, and she still can't believe she's in her 90s now.

But her body knows..... and the doctors say that all the years have taken their toll. What a sad thing to hear.

Cloudy Monday

Gray skies today, with the threat of rain the entire day. I drove to League City and to Webster this morning, delivering pajamas and books to two children's agencies. At both places, I just missed a pouring rainstorm by minutes. My poor little car got soaked, but the pajamas (and me) stayed nice and dry.

Speaking of pajamas... the local library is still collecting pajamas for the Houston Chapter, and will continue to do so until mid-August when their summer story-times end. And they've included information on the Houston Chapter in their latest issue of their newsletter, so now all of their patrons will know about the Pajama Box that's been in the Children's Dept. since the beginning of this month.

I just had an eMail today from one of the Shell Oil offices in downtown Houston... they will be hosting a Pajama Drive for the entire month of July, so I'm hoping that they'll collect a lot of pajamas. I'm also hoping that the other local oil companies will follow suit and host their own events to collect pajamas.

I mailed out three letters today to local retailers, asking if they'd like to send me a gift-card so I can go to their stores and use the cards to buy pajamas. Marshalls had sent me a gift-card at the beginning of May, and I sent them a letter too, asking if they'd like to send another card. Doesn't hurt to ask. The worst they can say is no.

The NY office is sending me three boxes of pajamas, in all sizes for both boys and girls. They know that the summer months can be slow for collecting, and they had received over 10,000 pajamas up there from a manufacturer, so they're spreading the pajama-wealth among their Chapters. That's what I need here.... a kindly, generous pajama manufacturer who would be willing to supply the Houston Chapter with an on-going stream of pajamas. (The number of pajamas collected and distributed through our Chapter, as of today, is now up to 954.)


I've called the foot specialist, and made an appointment. This is so unlike me.... to be researching and "gathering information" (to use my husband's term) about doctors and this foot condition. Bunions. What a word. What an old-sounding word. No wonder Miss C was giggling every time we said that word last night at her house.

My appointment is for next week. An initial consultation and examination, and he will probably take x-rays next week as well. I've asked my husband to come to the appointment with me... he will remember more than I will, because I'm already nervous about all of this and if I continue to be nervous, whatever the doctor tells me will go in one ear and out the other because all I'll be thinking about is the surgery part. Surgery. I've never had any sort of surgery before. Which is why I'm nervous.

We'll see what happens. I will make the decision after I see the doctor. I have to say that I'm leaning towards getting the operation done. Not just on the right foot that's been bothering me, but on the other as well, as soon as I can after the first foot is done. Having this operation means taking it easy for eight weeks, while I go back and forth to the medical office for the therapy. Eight weeks. There goes the rest of the summer, so I figure I may as well take care of both feet now so I don't have to look forward to doing this again next summer (which is what C's mom is doing).

Eight weeks. I will have to ask Miss C to drive me to the shelters when I deliver the pajamas, which I know she will be more than happy to do. I will hate that most of all-- not being able to drive.

One day at a time. One foot at a time. One bunion at a time. Give me a blessed break.

Warning: These shoes may be hazardous to your feet.

That's the label that I think should be attached to every pair of high-heels that are purchased by twenty- and thirty-something-yr-old women: "Warning: These cute heels will look wonderful on your thirty-year-old feet, but they will start bunions growing which will pop out when you're over fifty."

Or, to paraphrase that new book by Nora Ephron.... "I feel bad about my feet." (Her title was "I feel bad about my neck.") And that's how I'm feeling this week-- bad about my foot, which has been hurting since we were up at the lake and I used that blessed wheelbarrow to move so much of that blessed dirt that was delivered and dumped onto our driveway up there. My right foot hasn't been the same since, and the little bunion which was at the side of that foot now seems bigger and more swollen. Not a good thing.

We spoke to a couple of friends...... my friend A in Pearland, who is a retired nurse, and told me not to think about surgery........ our friend J, a retired doctor, whose motto has always been "avoid surgery at all costs." I spoke to our friend K, who suggested I buy some good European walking shoes at a store downtown. We went to that web-site....... only two pairs out of the hundred that they offer caught my eye as being something that I would wear.

Then tonight we went over to young Miss C's house..... her dad helped my husband fix something on his car, and I was inside talking to C's mom and telling her about my right foot and how it's been bothering me since the dirt. Seems that L (C's mom) has already seen a local specialist and has scheduled her own bunion surgery for the end of July. She went to this doctor on the recommendation from two of her friends who have already had the surgery..... on both feet--- not at the same time. The doctor will only do one foot at a time, and he requires months of time inbetween each foot.

L gave me the name and number of the specialist..... I plan to call him and at least go and get looked at, and have x-rays taken, and see what he has to say. I've been reading about bunions on the Internet, and I already know that they won't go away, but will get worse over the years. Indeed, what started out as such a small little bump on my right foot about five years ago has only gotten a little bit bigger over these years. And genetics has a lot to do with this as well..... my mother has bunions, as do most of my aunts. I don't think either of my grandmothers had them, but they both wore those black "nun shoes" for most of their lives so their feet were never subjected to cruel and unusual punishment. The Internet also said that 88% of women will develop bunions. Why? Wearing shoes that are too narrow, or too high.

High-heels aren't the main cause of bunions, but they surely don't help your feet. And the higher the heel, the more pressure you're putting on your toes when you walk. And the more you walk, the more pressure. The more pressure, the more prone you are to developing a bunion. (Young Miss C couldn't stop giggling every time we said that word.)

I've already gone through all of the shoes in my closet. I took out all my highest heels and put them in a donation box for one of the charities. The information on the Internet said that the most important thing to consider when choosing shoes is that the "toe box" of the shoe be wide enough so your toes aren't squished together. I've never worn uncomfortable shoes, and I especially take care to get really comfy high heels...... but still..... if I get this surgery done, I don't want to have shoes in my closet that have heels higher than two inches. I don't want to have surgery twice, that's for sure-- not twice on one foot. I'm thinking that if I get my right foot done, then I would get the left foot done as well, after the right foot is all healed and back to normal.

When I think back to my working days, and all those high heels I wore-- all day long, walking up and down the stairs of the library.... walking back and forth to the coffee shop at lunch time.... in high heels from morning till night without giving it a thought. And my heels back then were all over two inches.

Oh well. I still have pretty shoes in my closet, and I can still wear them. Two-inch heels just have to be the new limit for me. I'll have to make up my mind about the surgery after I see the specialist. And I probably won't even make a decision on that until after C's mom has the operation done on her foot.

L said that they do the surgery on a Friday morning, then you go home in the late afternoon. They tell you to stay in bed for the weekend, with your foot elevated, only getting out of bed to use the bathroom or walk into the kitchen for something to eat. Other than those few minutes a day, you're supposed to just stay in bed and keep your foot up. Limited walking after that, with visits to the doctor's office for therapy two or three times a week for at least six weeks.

Can I stay still for that long a time?

Weekend stuff...

We had dinner last night with young Miss C and her parents...... L made a baked dish with macaroni, shrimp and feta cheese, and I brought the salad. Huge bowl of salad with lots of vegetables and nuts and seeds and cheese. When we got there, C was sorting through a box of old photographs, mostly of herself and her parents when they lived in Massachusetts. She was very little then, about three or four, but she remembers that old New England-style house as if she had just walked out of it yesterday.

Cute as a button, that kid, when she was a baby and a little girl. And she's still cute as a button. There isn't a person we know who has met that child and not realized there's something very special about her. I can see now, as she's growing up and now driving her own car, that she's sort of confused a little bit about abandoning all the little-girl things and exchanging them for bigger-girl things. There's still so much of a kid in Miss C, and I hope she can find a way to keep that happy carefree feeling as she matures into the young lady that she's becoming.


We went to yard sales yesterday and today-- my husband and I. He decided that he wanted to go with me, so he could look for tools and boat things. Honestly, if anyone had told me that he would be looking for tools, I never would have believed it. He found a couple of things for the sailboat.... two bumper-type things to keep the boat from bumping into the boat dock when it's tied up there. I found a pretty white wicker bookshelf that I can use in our bedroom up at the cottage. I never did buy dressers for our bedroom there.... we really don't need them, being that the walk-in closet is so big, complete with shelves for folded clothes. Between the tables and chairs and bookcases in that bedroom, the room looks just fine and I doubt I will buy a dresser. Unless, of course, I happen to see one at a yard sale or in one of the antique shops for a great price.


Tonight we were at our around-the-corner neighbors' house.... V invited us over so we could see the video-tape her husband made when she was on a local morning television show. V teaches at one of the downtown universities, and they asked her to speak about the literacy (or lack of) in this city of ours. Apparently, Houston was in 55th place out of 70 cities, when "tested" for literacy. V made it clear that she couldn't vouch for that placement...... she made the point that a lot of people may not be buying books from Barnes & Noble and Borders because of the used-book stores and resale shops. V brought some of her own books to the morning show, two of which are books that I had given to her-- "Midnight in The Garden of Good and Evil," and "Life is So Good." She especially wanted me to see the video tape because she held up those books to the camera during her interview.

Before we went over to V and S's house, my husband jokingly asked if V was going to serve popcorn during the video. Which, of course, gave me the idea to make some popcorn and bring it over there. I did just that, and put the hot bag of popcorn into a little shopping bag that I decorated for V's new "star status." I cut out a star shape, used my little stick-on Scrabble letters to spell out V's name, and then I had a cut-out that said "Hello Broadway, Goodbye El Paso." We're not in El Paso, but that's the closest city that I could find in my hat-box filled with crafts odds and ends. V was tickled pink with the popcorn and the bag.... and I know she'll be saving that star with her name on it.


AngelBoy is out on the screen-porch, and has been there since early yesterday, or was it the night before? I haven't let him out in the yard, being that he had found his way into our neighbor's yard the other day. Of course, AngelBoy being AngelBoy, he let me know how displeased he was with my new "no-more-backyard-rule." That blue-eyed cat found a corner in the living room this afternoon that he thought would be a better spot to pee in than his litter box........ I caught him in the act, but the act was completed, and when I scolded him, he just looked at me with those kitty-blue eyes of his. Well, out into the porch he went after that, and that's where he's been, and that's just where he's going to stay. No more letting him inside for just a few minutes like I did today, if that's what he's going to do.

There is just no trusting that cat.... and the older he gets, the more distrusting of him I am. I scrubbed the rug, sprayed it with all kinds of cleaners, and it seems to be fine, being that he didn't make much of a puddle at all. But still.... that cat just breaks my heart when he does that. To look at him, and see how gorgeous he is, all blue-eyed and fluffy and cat-book perfect, you'd never think that he could be so ornery. I've said it before and I will say it again-- he's a hard cat to love. But he's our cat. Or my cat, as my husband will tell me, and as with a child, I love him and accept him, faults and all. However..... I can love him and accept him and keep him on the screen-porch all at the same time.

"You won't get that on the other side of the fence!"

AngelBoy was on the other side of the fence today in our neighbor V's backyard. I had put bricks in front of the hole in that fence just a couple of weeks ago, when he squeezed himself through it to see what was on the other side. Somehow, something, between then and now, had managed to gnaw its way through the fence-- not only one new hole, but two. And there went AngelBoy, squeezing himself through the hole again and finding himself in V's yard.

Thankfully, I noticed him missing very quickly this time, and went over to V's yard to look for him. And there was my blue-eyed cat, sniffing around in V's flowerbeds. No one was home at V's, so I let myself into her yard and told her about it later. We don't know what's been chewing at the bottom of the fence. A raccoon? Possum? Her dog?

So now there are three holes in the fence that's between our yards..... and I've put large bricks in front of all three holes. Of course, now I'm afraid to let AngelBoy out in the yard, because if there's another hole out there, he's sure to find it. And if he gets into V's yard and her big dog is out there, he may not take too kindly to a blue-eyed fluffy prissy cat sniffing around in his yard. Plus, V told me that there's a big hole between her yard and the yard behind hers, and if AngelBoy finds that hole, he'll be on the next street instead of in the next yard. When I told that to my husband, I know that he was thinking he'd like to draw AngelBoy a map so he could find his way more easily to the next street. But he didn't say that out loud.

I know that AngelBoy is a problem...... he's such a high-maintenance cat, very prissy, very picky, very cat-like..... so different from ShadowBaby and Mickey Kitty, who act more like puppies than cats. AngelBoy's attitude makes him hard to love, but he's my cat and I'm responsible for his little blue-eyed life, and I don't want to find him run over by a car in the street, which is what would happen if he got out into the road. There isn't a street-smart bone in his fluffy, prissy body.

So there I was in V's yard today, looking at AngelBoy at the other end of the yard under V's nandina bushes. Those blue eyes of his just stared at me as I told him "Do you like being on this side of the fence more than you like being on your own side of the fence? Do you think you're going to get tiny cut-up pieces of oranges and melon on this side of the fence? Do you think you're going to get brushed every day on this side of the fence?" He just looked at me. I walked over to that cat and picked him up and brought him into our screen-porch, and then I went out in the yard and started carrying bricks to cover up the new holes in the fence. I haven't let AngelBoy out into the yard since, and I don't know if I will let him out tomorrow. Or the next day, or the next.......

Trade Days at the lake...

While we were up at the lake cottage last week, we went to Trade Days, which is a monthly flea-market gathering of vendors. I expected a good old Texas flea market filled with antiques and interesting booths of odds and ends. We had gone to Trade Days once before up there, but it was held during a cold snap in one of the "winter" months... not many sellers, very few buyers.

So we thought we'd try it again, being that the weather is at its normal hot peak. Trade Days lasts for three days, from Friday through Sunday. We went on a Friday, thinking we'd beat the crowds and get the first look-see at all the vendors' booths. Not only did we beat the crowds-- there were no crowds. We found out that most of the dealers don't set up their tables and booths till late on Friday, when they've finished with their regular Monday to Friday jobs.

I had come prepared for that market, bringing sneakers in the car with us so I could change from my good shoes for walking around the fields of grass. I think it took us all of thirty minutes to see all that was there, and what was there wasn't much at all. Not unless you're into homemade pickles and beef jerky and goat's milk, which was what three of the vendors were offering. I declined to taste all three, but thanked the dealers kindly for their offers. They did have two booths filled with antique items, but the prices were as high as those in an antique shop. If I'm going to pay those kinds of prices, then I want to be browsing comfortably in an air-conditioned store in my good shoes, not walking around a hot pasture in sneakers.

We were just about to leave the Trade Days grounds and what do we see? A vendor selling puppies. Tiny Maltese, Papillions, Pomeranians, and Dachshunds. Of course, I fell in love with the cute little white balls of fluffy Maltese puppies. There were three of them, two males and a female, none of which cost more than $550. My cousin R bought a Maltese puppy last year, for nearly $1500 up in NY.... so those Texas Maltese puppies were a steal.

Thankfully, the three Maltese puppies were all sleeping, so I didn't get to pick them up. Once you pick a puppy up and it cuddles into your shoulder, you own it-- paw, collar and wee-wee pad. I could tell that my husband was holding his breath as he watched me looking at the puppies and asking the breeder how old they were (10 weeks) and did they have AKC papers (Yes indeedy!) and had they been weaned (Of course, little lady... I don't rightly sell puppies that ain't been weaned from their mama.)

I looked at the sleeping puppies, and I thought of our Gracie, who will be 11 years old this year. I know that Gracie is a one-dog dog..... she doesn't want another dog in the house, and she has proven that over the years. Then I thought of our three cats........ especially AngelBoy, who would be the first to show his displeasure if another pet is brought into this house. Then I thought of me..... and I remembered all the puppy training I went through with Gracie...... waking up in the middle of the night when she cried, sometimes two or three times during the night. Did I want to go through that again? But look at how tiny and how cute these fluffy white puppies are! Did I want yet more work with another pet in this house to feed, to brush, to bring to the vet, to worry about, to train, to lose sleep over........

I walked away from the dog breeder's booth. And all the way back to the car, I said out loud We don't need another puppy..... we don't need another puppy..... we don't need another puppy.... we don't need another puppy.

Now, of course, I'm glad I walked away. They were certainly cute, and I hope they all found good homes. I told my husband that I don't ever want to go back to that field again to walk around Trade Days. The next day, as I walked around one of the local shops, I found a cute little puppy toy in bright, bright pink..... I bought it for my cousin's Maltese (her name is Pinkie) and I mailed it up to her.

More about pajamas...

As of today, the number of pajamas collected is 738. The number of books is still at 417... for the main reason that the staff at Half Price Books has been so busy lately. I went into the store yesterday and found eye-high piles of boxes from one end of the store to the other. It seems that everyone in this area has been cleaning out their bookshelves and bringing them all to Half Price Books.

What a concept for a store, when you think about it...... the two people who started Half Price Books had just a teeny store space filled with their own gently-read books to sell. Once they advertised that they were buying used books, their bookstore concept took off and now they've got stores upon stores, and then some. Great place to sell books and buy books.

I delivered more pajamas today to one of the children's agencies in League City, but I will have to go back tomorrow. They need more pajama sets for girls...... the ones that I brought them two weeks ago are all gone, except for three of the smallest sizes. Nice to see empty pajama bins when I go there, but I wish I could fill them up faster with all the sizes that they need.

The girl from Whataburger called me this morning..... her company wants to do a promotion of some sort with our Houston Chapter, which would be so great. They would take care of the advertising and promoting..... we will come up with a concept, decide on a date, and hopefully end up with lots of pajama sets. "Whataburger" is a hamburger chain..... sort of like the White Castle of Texas..... very popular, a very well-known and recognizable name. I've spoken to this area's Director of Marketing more than a few times, always over the phone, but I will get to meet her next month...... we finally were able to set a date so we could take face-to-face rather than over the cell-phone lines.

Our friend L is having a Pajama Party at her house tonight..... her usual group of "Bunco" girlfriends which meet once a month. L set the theme as a Pajama Party, with all the ladies coming to her house in pajamas, and bringing pajamas for the Pajama Program kids. Hopefully, I will have a basket filled with pajamas tomorrow..... and I hope most of them are the teenaged sizes, which are always the least that I've collected.

More about "Middlesex"

I'm nearly finished reading this latest Oprah Book Club selection....... with less than 60 pages to go, I find myself reading slower, to make the book last longer. As always, with such a great book, trying to read another book right afterwards will be difficult.

There's an entire story-within-the story in "Middlesex," one that I haven't commented on in my last entry here. It makes for fascinating reading, and gives the reader a good lesson on tolerance, non-judgment, and simply adhering to the rule live and let live because life is just too darn short. So I am not judging the main character of this book. I choose to celebrate her instead...... she shows more courage, more bravery, more strength of character than half the people I've met in my life.

Wonderful book. Hard to put down. And it will be sad when the story comes to an end.

"Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides

Bless Oprah, she has done it again. "Middlesex" is the title of the book she chose for her Book Club a couple of weeks ago. With over 500 pages, it is her summer reading selection. If you're a sometime reader, than 500-plus pages can be intimidating. If you're an all-the-time reader, then you don't concern yourself with page numbers.

But getting back to the book....... wonderful, fabulous, one of the best Oprah book selections yet. Everything good about reading is in this story, and it's why I love to read. There is so much history tossed into this novel that the story is more powerful than I can possibly describe. And I don't want to describe it because I don't want to give anything away. The book is filled with Greeks, Turks, fires, families, boats crossing the Atlantic heading towards Ellis Island.... then more Greeks, more Turks, more with fires and families, and then this book gives you such a complete understanding about the city of Detroit. The good, the bad, the ugly, and everything inbetween.

"Middlesex" was given the Pulitzer Prize. Read this book. Just read it.

On the dock of the lake...

For a man who didn't have a "real" toolbox before this past Christmas, my husband has made countless trips to the Lowe's up near our lake cottage. His toolbox (my Christmas gift to him this past year to which I added just basic repair tools) has now over-flowed with major construction tools. He's been repairing some boards on the fishing pier that's attached to our boathouse up there.

We've found out (first-hand) that winds coming across the lake from the northwest are the most severe. The waves coming up over our bulkhead looked as if they belonged in Galveston, and I'm not exaggerating. We were watching those waves from the kitchen windows as they pounded up against and over the steel bulkhead surrounding our property.

And are you all aware that tools do not float when they fall into a lake? However, there is a solution for that: you buy heavy magnets, put them into knee-highs, tie a knot at the top of the knee-highs and attach them to a length of rope. Into the lake goes the rope, and (hopefully) out comes your hammer or wrench when the magnet comes into contact with the metal tools. This is a proven fact.... my husband proved it twice during the course of the work on the boatdock.

Getting back to the waves..... As the waves went back into the lake, they took with them the dirt that had been newly-shoveled around the perimeter of the bulkhead. I can personally attest that at least a zillion shovelfuls of dirt had just been put there...... by myself and our yard-man, who came to help me with the dirt while my husband worked on the boards and pilings of the fishing pier.

My husband had ordered eight yards of dirt. Our yard-man said the huge pile of dirt left in our driveway looked to be more like ten yards. "Guess they liked y'all... they gave y'all extra dirt." By the time that dirt was taken from our driveway to all the bare spots around the bulkhead (washed out from winter storms), there was still about two-yards-worth of dirt left in the driveway.

That two-yards-worth is still in the driveway, and for all I care, our yard-man can shovel it into the flowerbeds, or pack it down around the bulkhead (for the third time), or he can just shovel it all right smack into the lake, since that seems to be where it's going to eventually end up anyway.

I have told my husband that I am finished doing "man's work." I have shoveled all the dirt I intend to shovel in this lifetime. I was even out on the fishing pier helping my husband with the boards and pilings and planks and bolts.... and holding power tools. Have you any idea how much your arm shakes as you're holding a power-drill? The shaking goes from the tips of your fingers right up to your eyebrows. I swear, when I finished holding the drill and walked off the dock and back to the firm grass, I put both hands up to my ears to make sure my earrings were still attached to my ears (and they're pierced!).

To make matters worse, while I was holding that blessed power-drill, I was standing on the fishing pier, which is held in place by pilings that are sitting over water that is at least twenty feet deep. (Not a good place for me, since I'm afraid of water that's over my head.) To make matters worse, as I pressed the trigger of the power-drill, my husband was in the water, holding onto the extension rod for the power-drill, which was set into the piling (underwater), so he could get the drill-bit through the old piling and into the new one. I kept hoping that a lone spark didn't find its way to the either the drill, my husband, myself, or all of the metal tools that were surrounding us on that dock.

When all this work was done, which in reality took me less than half an hour, but seemed like three life-times, I told my husband to take a good look at me. I told him I was done. Done. Finished. Retired. I am no longer doing a man's work. No longer doing a MAN'S WORK. I am typing it and re-typing it here so it gets imprinted onto my brain.

The last few times we've been up to the lake, I've broken nails and chipped polished and developed blisters on my thumbs from the wheelbarrow handles. All of that, for someone who never did anything that would break a nail. I lost track of that rule up at the lake cottage somehow, for the simple reason that I knew if I didn't help out, then he'd be doing all of that work himself. (I can hear my husband's mom whispering in my ear-- So what's wrong with that?)

My husband is proud of the work he's done on that fishing dock, and rightly so. It looks amazing, with new boards perfectly set and bolted into place. I was proud of all the dirt that I moved from the driveway to the bulkhead, and again, rightly so. Never thought I could move that dirt-filled wheelbarrow, but I managed to do it, not once or twice or even twenty times, but at least eighty-seven times (which is when I lost count).

But I am done. DONE. D. O. N. E. To prove that, I have put a coat of clear nail-hardening polish on my fingernails. As soon as my nails get a little bit longer, I will add the color polish. And then I will go back to one of my favorite rules that a woman has in her vocabulary--- "I can't possibly do that.... it might break a nail."

"You've been flocked!"

That was the sign in front of the local library up at the lake. Not only was that sign put out in front of the library's front door, but about twenty-five plastic pink flamingos were stuck into the garden around the library itself. Hence the meaning of you've been flocked!

The local garden club at the lake does that to businesses who have pretty gardens..... the pink flamingos were a nice kitsch-y touch, to say the least, and you could see people smiling (us included) as they walked down the path to the library's door.

Gorgeous weather up at the lake.... nice and sunny, bright and hot, with breezes blowing in the afternoons. The cats are so used to the lake cottage now, which is a good thing. They spent most of the days out on the porch, and the nights in the laundry room. Thankfully, the laundry room up at the lake is a large one, twice the size of the one here at home, so three cats can get quite comfy there.

Young Miss C and her mom drove up on Saturday morning and spent the night. C wants to spend more time up in her cabin, but she's taking an extra Spanish class during the month of June so she doesn't have to take it when school starts again in August. For the entire month of June, she'll be in school from Monday through Thursday of each week.

My husband took the sailboat out the day before C and her mom got there. It wasn't as pleasant as he thought it would be. There's no way to really be comfortable on the trampoline of that sailboat, and (of course) if you don't have enough wind to get where you need to be, then you're going to be stuck. So he was both uncomfortable and stuck on Friday afternoon.

He got a tow from one of the powerboats on the lake, and they brought the sailboat back to the boat ramp for him. I was watching from our back porch and I was wondering why he just didn't have the other boat tow him to our own boat dock. Silly me.... when I asked him that, he told me that he wasn't going to take that boat out again. Instead--- he's selling it for a different boat.

And what's that old saying--- the two happiest days in a man's life are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells the boat. The catamaran is now tucked away in our garage, soon to be giving some other guy one of the happiest days of his life.

One more surprise for us on Saturday night...... we had been outside on the property for most of the day when C and her mom were there with us, and when we all came inside late at night, we didn't think the house was as cool as it should have been. We just chalked that up to us being outside in the heat for too long, and we all got ready for bed.

By ten o'clock that night, after C was in her cabin and her mom had gone into the guest room, my husband realized that the air-conditioning vents were blowing out warm air instead of cold. Not a good thing, especially when the outside temperature is in the high 90s.

I looked through the local phone book and found three air-conditioning companies that said they had 24-hour service. The first two asked me to leave a message, which I didn't. The third number had a real person answering the phone. Not only a real person, but a real air-conditioning repairman who told us he'd be there in twenty minutes. (Out in the country? I can't even get that service in Clear Lake.)

Lo and behold, he was there in half an hour and quickly found the problem. Our air-conditioning unit needed a new part (which he had in his truck) and it needed to be topped-off with that liquid-stuff. Both of which he happily did, charging us nothing more than he would've charged had he come during the daylight hours, rather than eleven o'clock at night. I was never more happy to write out a check, and I even gave him a cash tip which surprised the heck out of him. (People don't tip workers down here like they do up north in NY.)

C's mom slept through the entire air-conditioning episode, and C herself was up and awake in her cabin, hammering nails into the ceiling so she could hang up her latest decorations--- plastic lights in the shapes of parrots and palm trees. Her cabin looks like you could host a party in there with three-seconds notice.

I delivered more pajamas last week to the shelter up near the lake, and when C and her mom came to the cottage, they had two shopping bags filled with C's old clothes for me to bring to the shelter the next time I go. I'm smiling when I say old clothes, because the clothes in those shopping bags are so gently worn that they look new. C has just grown so much these past six months that she had to go through her entire wardrobe to see what still fit. She's been the teeniest girl ever since I've known her, and has seemed to have filled out in the last year or so.

Hard to believe that she's 16 now, for goodness sake. And she's driving.... she got her license last week, after having her learner's permit since her 15th birthday. Today was the first day that she drove on her own in the car. And where was she going? To her summer school class. Before we know it, C is going to be getting into the car and driving herself up to the lake.

"Shoo, cat! Shoo!!"

I spoke to our next-door neighbor V this afternoon, and that's what she told me she was telling AngelBoy when she found him in her yard a few nights ago. She didn't realize it was AngelBoy when she was saying "Shoo, cat... Shoo!"-- but she said as soon as she saw those blue eyes of his, she knew who it was and she also knew why he wasn't taking her seriously.

I told V that AngelBoy must have been looking at her and thinking "Shoo? You're telling me to shoo?! Do you realize you're talking to my mama's little AngelBoy here?"

(The only reason that V was saying Shoo! to a cat in the first place is because her husband has insisted (time and again) that she not adopt/bring home/find/feed any more cats, dogs, raccoons, possums, squirrels, birds, etc.)

V said that as she kept telling AngelBoy to shoo, he was just sitting here in front of her and he kept staring at her without blinking, like a blue-eyed cat statue. I told V that I'm surprised he even let her pick him up so she could carry him back to our yard. AngelBoy doesn't let anyone but me pick him up, and even with me, it's only for less than a minute's time. V said that AngelBoy didn't even squirm a bit in her arms as she carried him from her yard to our front door, then from our front door to our back screen-porch. (I still don't know why we didn't hear the doorbell that night... the television must have been louder than usual, and Gracie must have been in a dead sleep.)


I bought some pajamas today, but they're not from me. I bought boys' pajamas in my dad's name, as his Father's Day gift; and I also bought girls' pajamas in my Aunt Dolly's name, as her birthday gift. Both my dad and my aunt made me promise not to send them anything..... not for Father's Day, not for my aunt's birthday. They both insisted "I don't need a thing!" So I kept my promise of not sending them anything, but I bought pajamas for Houston's kids instead, with the money I would have spent on their gifts. Hmmm.... this could be the start of an interesting trend.

My friend A was in Clear Lake this morning after her tennis lesson, and she stopped by our house with half a dozen pajama boxer-shorts for boys..... great items from the Old Navy store. I didn't realize she'd be here in the morning, and I had left to get some errands done, so I missed seeing her. My husband was up on a ladder in the front of the house, painting those two new boards he put up. I wonder if A was surprised to see the new handyman around here. For all the years she lived on this block, I doubt very much that she had ever seen my husband up on a ladder with tools in his hands.

Monday, Monday....

Every time I write Monday on anything, that old song by "The Mamas & Papas" goes through my head.....

Today was a busy Monday. I delivered pajamas and books to two local children's shelters, and I swear, it just breaks my heart at times. One of the shelters, right here in the middle of an affluent community, is hidden on a road that you wouldn't know about unless you were given specific directions, which I was. The property surrounding this particular shelter is closed in with wrought-iron gates, and the front door is kept locked at all times. You have to ring a buzzer and then speak into a little box to tell them who you are and why you're there. If they're not expecting you, then you might not even get in. All of these precautions are for the children, of course, being that they come from abusive homes. Mostly all the kids in there are being hidden because their mothers have run away from their out-of-control husbands.

So there I was, with pajamas and books, and the director was just so grateful, and telling me how much the children are enjoying the books and pajamas. The kids can't get over the fact that everything they've received from the Pajama Program has been brand new. The kids are used to hand-me-downs and donated clothing....... anything new is a luxury. I swear, if that fact alone doesn't make a person stop for a minute and count their blessings, then nothing will.

The pajama/book numbers continue to rise..... 665 pajama sets, 417 books-- as of today.


I spoke to my dad yesterday...... I called him up to say hello and see how he was doing. "I'm doing okay for an old man," was his answer. For some reason, he got to talking about Christmas, and asked me if my husband was still "buying the biggest tree he could get." I told him that he was, and daddy asked me if I had a picture of last year's tree. I told him that I did, but after the phone call when I looked through the Christmas photos, the only printed picture that I had is of our tree from two years ago, which was 14-feet tall. All the other Christmas pictures are being held hostage inside my husband's computer. Rather than asking my husband to print out Christmas photos, I figured I'd just send my dad the photo that I had..... he really won't know if the picture is from last year or two years ago, so what's the difference anyway.

And this photo (that I mailed to him this morning) has my husband and I standing in front of that huge tree, along with Gracie and the cats. My husband used photo-shop magic to have it look as if Gracie was pulling the cats in a sleigh. He had taken pictures of each cat individually, then put their photos into an actual wooden sleigh that I had. Then he "painted" a red ribbon leading from Gracie to the front of the sleigh..... what a great photo. When daddy sees that, he's going to laugh out loud.


Summer is here with a vengeance. Hot, hot, hot...... bright sun..... balmy breezes. And I'm not complaining. This past winter was cold here, way too cold, so I don't care how high the temperature gets from now till October.

I have created a monster... a tool monster....... my husband has been working on those two rotten boards near the front porch of our house for the past couple of days. What looked like a simple job turned into a bigger job, being that you never know what's going to be behind the wood when it's taken off. The new boards are up now, and all that's left to the job is some sanding, priming, and painting. And my husband has been to the hardware store just about every day for the last few days. That tool-box that I gave him last Christmas has turned him into a handyman.... a real honest-to-goodness handyman. So much so that my husband asked me to make him a list of any and all things around the house that need attention and/or repair. We were eating dinner when he told me that tonight, and he's lucky that it's rather difficult to choke while eating salad.

Sunday Shopping

While the cat's away, the mouse goes shopping.

My husband and our next-door neighbor B went to see a flying display of model airplanes. Not the usual run-of-the-mill slow-flying model airplanes that you can buy in Wal-Mart, but huge replica built-to-scale planes worth thousands of dollars. The guys drove two hours to get to the airfield specifically built for these "pilots" and their expensive toys.

There were 75 pilots and planes there today, and come September, there will be about 300, so my husband and B are planning to go back for the bigger flying show. My husband brought the camera with him, and he took great photos-- I had no idea the planes were so big and detailed, and very well-cared-for. Meticulously painted and polished. The owners of those flying machines have special trailers built for their planes, so they can take them apart and store them safely for traveling. There were three crashes today, and my husband took a photo of a smashed-up plane sticking up out of a trash bin. That must have hurt... to have to toss away a plane worth over ten thousand dollars. Ouch.

I went pajama-shopping today..... to Marshalls first, with the $50 gift-card that they sent me for the Pajama Program. I found boys' pajama-shorts for $3.99 each, so I bought a dozen of those (decorated with the Superman logo, SpongeBob, and basketballs/footballs... so there went the gift-card. Then I did my usual run-through of the clearance racks, and found teenaged girls' pajamas for $7.00, so I bought those. Then I found a few toddler ones for $3.00 each, and I bought those as well. (How could I leave them there at that price?) I am having the best time shopping for these pajamas. Makes me wish I could see the face of each and every child who picks out their pajama set.

Next stop was Target, for another one of their plastic bins.... I'm thinking positively that someone else will want to put a Pajama Box into their store/office/whatever for collecting pajamas. So just in case, I wanted to have an extra covered plastic bin. I also went looking for steak knives. The ones I've had for more than 25 years are now up at the lake cottage. The wooden handles are faded, but they're still as sharp as they were when I first got them so many years ago. My husband misses those knives, and isn't thrilled with the ones I had bought to replace them. I found a set of 12 wood-handled steak knives at Target, and these are nicely made and super-sharp. I made my husband a steak for dinner tonight, so he could test them out, and they're perfect.

On the way home, I went into Barnes & Noble, looking for a book titled "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier," by Ishmael Beah. I saw the author of this book on the CBS Sunday Morning show as I was getting ready to go out earlier today. The story of this young man, who was forced to be a soldier when he was just a 12-yr-old boy in Sierra Leone, was just so heartfelt and moving, and today, he holds no bitterness, no hatred. I wanted to read his whole story, and I figured that Barnes & Noble would have the book, and they did.

That store (Barnes & Noble) was packed to the gills when I stopped in. A mile-long line at the registers, people reading books in the chairs, on the windowsills, sitting on the floor.... and the children's room of the store was surely over the limit for the number of kids it should hold. But what a nice thing to see..... children sprawled on the floors with books opened up, either quietly reading or turning pages to look at the pictures. What a great place that is... my only complaint is that they keep the air-conditioning at sub-zero temperatures. I'd gladly stay longer whenever I go there, but as soon as the tips of my fingers start to freeze, then I know it's time to leave. (Hard to turn pages with frost-bitten fingers.)

Jerry Seinfeld

It's nearly one o'clock in the morning as I type, and I'm wide awake. We went downtown to Jones Hall tonight, to see Jerry Seinfeld. Not an empty seat in that theatre..... and before he came out on stage, we listened to Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York." What a treat that was, and you could just feel the excitement there.

Our only complaint was that another comedian came out before Jerry. He was only on stage for about 20 minutes, but that was 18 minutes too long. We didn't come to see him (I've already forgotten his name)... we came to see and hear Seinfeld. (My apologies to the other comedian.)

Once Seinfeld came out on stage, the show was fabulous.... filled from beginning to end with his own brand of NY humor. I miss his show on TV...... we get the reruns, of course, but everyone is just frozen in time there, not going on to new things. So much new material that Seinfeld could have incorporated into the half-hour show with George and Elaine and Kramer.

This is the second time we've seen Seinfeld on stage..... both times in downtown Houston. Next time we buy tickets, my husband is going to try and find out if there's an opening act.

We were comparing the NYC theatre district with downtown Houston's theatre area..... everyone here just goes to their cars and drives home. In NYC, there are restaurants to go to no matter what time of the day or night it is....... and most people aren't just getting into their cars-- they're trying to get a taxi, or walking to the train, or just walking around. No one is walking in Houston.... everyone is driving. We got out of the theatre at 11:00 and I only saw two restaurants open during the drive home.

Frank Sinatra may be singing "New York, New York" in downtown Houston, but this isn't NY. If Seinfeld wanted a meal after his performance tonight, he probably had to call Room Service and ask first if the kitchen was still open. (I have a feeling it was, but only for Jerry.)

Under the fence....

We found out how AngelBoy got into our neighbor's yard last night...... there's a cat-sized hole at the bottom of the fence, just big enough for AngelBoy to squeeze through. Even with all his fluffy hair, AngelBoy is a small cat and able to get into very small spaces. ShadowBaby couldn't have fit through the same spot, or V would've had two of my cats in her yard last night.

That hole in the fence must have been there for a while, and only just discovered by AngelBoy since the landscapers moved so many of the large plants from the backyard flowerbeds to the front. For all I know, he may have ventured into V's yard before last night and found his way back before I realzied he had gone "visiting." We used some heavy garden bricks to stack up against the hole in the fence this morning. When other more important chores get done, we'll fix the boards on that fence.

We're still laughing about all of that...... how V looked so ghost-like in our driveway, with her long white nightgown blowing about in the breeze. So funny now, but we were a bit taken aback last night. I don't know what would have happened to AngelBoy if V hadn't seen him in her backyard and brought him back to us. With all of his prissy way, that cat is an innocent as far as the street is concerned, and he could have gotten out through her yard. He doesn't know to stay away from cars, and he probably thinks that every dog he sees will let him cuddle up next to him like our Gracie does. That alone would have been the end of him.

Anyway, the fence mystery is solved and taken care of, for now. When my husband saw the hole in the fence, he jokingly said we should make the hole bigger so AngelBoy doesn't have to squeeze himself through it. Needless to say, he isn't a fan of AngelBoy's prissy-cat attitudes. Neither am I, but I just have a little more patience with that blue-eyed cat.

I went to run some errands today....... and found a surprise at the local Library.... people have begun to put pajamas into the Pajama Box there, so that was nice to see. I also brought some little goodie-bags to the girls in the Children's Dept. of the library, since they're promoting the Pajama Box to all of their story-hour moms for me.

I also stopped into J's antique shop... no pajama sets in that box there, so I asked J to tell more people about it, and gave him some of my business cards to hand out to his customers and dealers. While I was there, I found a wonderful old Indian statue that I knew would look great up at the lake cottage. The four-foot-tall Indian is now standing in my sitting room. Wonderful details on him..... very vintage, lots of character.... I will find a special spot for him up there.

When I came home, I found an eMail from one of the volunteers in downtown Houston who had been collecting pajamas for me. She organized a Pajama Day at her office.... everyone came to work in their pajamas last Friday...... and they collected 50 pajama sets. The volunteer offered to deliver them to one of our shelters, so she will take care of that next week. That was so nice to hear...... I've gotten so many eMail and telephone offers to collect and deliver, but not everyone follows through. This wonderful girl did, and the employees all had a great time.

My husband was busy for part of yesterday and all of today, replacing two rotten boards up over the front porch of the house. What seemed like a small job turned into a big job, but isn't that always how it goes? For the life of me, I don't know why he wants to do the work himself, when it's so easy to call someone in and have it done. But he's got a tool-box now (what was I thinking last Christmas?) and it seems that there's no job too big or too small for him.