Pecans, anyone?

I feel like I've been either picking pecans or shelling them for days and days... and that's exactly what I have been doing. Our trees have been filled with pecans this month, most of them huge, with easy-to-crack shells. I've been able to keep the pecan halves all in one piece as I slip them out of the shells, so it's gratifying to see a container filled with those pretty nuts. It's a mindless job... I stand at the kitchen counter and listen to the little TV as I work on the nuts. I've tried sitting down, but then I have to keep getting up as each teeny piece of the shell goes flying across the kitchen. (If I don't pick up those bits of shells right away, then our cat Sweet Pea will start playing hockey with the pieces and heaven knows where they'll end up.)

We're having our Halloween party on Friday night.... so inbetween everything else, I've been getting ready for that also. The dining room table is nearly ready, the table in the living room is all set.... the chairs are all arranged, as are the prizes and ribbons for the best costumes.  Tomorrow morning is cleaning, tomorrow afternoon is grocery shopping, tomorrow night is cooking..... and then the very last-minute things will be on Friday morning.

And then on Friday afternoon, don't bother me.... I'll be getting into costume, doing my hair, make-up, and nails, and relaxing with a book for a while so by the time the party starts, I will be as relaxed as if little elves were in the house all week taking care of everything for me.

Little elves... now that's a thought...... sort of like the 'country boy' in the "Princess Bride" movie who keeps saying "As you wish......"  (More 'flights of fancy and fantasy,' as my Aunt Edie would have said.)

"As you wish...."

Where have I been since 1973?  That's the year "The Princess Bride" was first published (written by William Goldman, who made up the name S. Morgenstern as the 'original' author who first published this story). Confused? So was I, at the beginning.

First of all, there wasn't an S. Morgenstern. "The Princess Bride" was written by William Goldman, published in 1973, and as been a "cult classic" ever since.  As I said--- where have I been?  In the film, the book's author is supposedly S. Morgenstern, which I guess William Goldman must have thought was more classic-sounding than his own name.

The other night, my friend down the road invited me and other friends on our road for a "private showing" of The Princess Bride (directed and co-produced by Rob Reiner.)  I had never seen this 1987 movie, never heard of the book.... and off I went to the big-screen private showing of this movie.

And what a movie..... true love, real hate, revenge, fighting and fencing, poison, torture.... romance and adventure and comedy... everything you expect to find in a good movie is there. And for nearly everyone else on this planet who has seen the movie so many times, the dialogue is memorized and repeated with the on-screen characters.  (I was astonished at the identities of some of the characters in this movie.)

That quote--- "As you wish..." is from one of the main characters (Westley) who says those words to Buttercup every time she asks this country boy to do a chore around her farm.  When the movie was over, I came to the conclusion that everyone who lives on a country property needs a Westley.... we could tell him what needs to be done and his answer would always be "As you wish...." (Talk about fantasy....)

The movie "The Princess Bride" is classified as a romantic comedy/adventure fantasy. Call it whatever you'd like.... it's a very good movie that everyone in the family can watch. (And very rare are those types of movies these days.)

Within half an hour of walking in the back door of my house the other night after watching the movie with my friends, I was at my computer, ordering a DVD of "The Princess Bride" and searching for a good edition of William Goldman's book on the Half.com site.  And those 1973 First Editions of "The Princess Bride"--- worth a small fortune.

"Humans of New York"

I do not have a Facebook page, but I have friends who do, and I check those pages from time to time. One person had a link to another Facebook page titled "Humans of New York."  That page is put together by a young man named Brandon Stanton.

On a night when I couldn't sleep, I was scrolling through the "Humans of NY" page... and I looked at every entry. Brandon Stanton takes photographs of people he sees on the streets of NY.... he will ask them a question or two, then publish their answers along with the photos.

Let me tell you this.... the photographs are interesting, and the stories are either heart-warming or heart-breaking. If you think you're having a bad day, just go to Facebook's "Humans of New York" page and look at the photographs and read some of the stories. Your bad day will be such a teeny-tiny bit of nothingness that you will be thanking your angels for the life that you have.

This collection of photos and essays will also teach you not to judge anyone. No matter what you think of someone's life or the decisions they've made along the way, you really know nothing about them. At least not until you've sat with them, asked them questions, and listened to their answers... and even then, unless you have indeed taken the time to walk in their shoes a bit, you still wouldn't know what it was like to have lived their life.

Brandon Stanton has had a book published, called "Humans of New York," and also a second book titled "Little People" (his pictures of children).  I was so enthralled by the "HONY" Facebook page that I bought the book on the Half.com site.

Makes me wonder if Brandon Stanton will go to other cities and states with the same goal in mind.... to take pictures of interesting people and ask them questions about their lives.

The link to the HONY Facebook page is   https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork  --- I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

Over the weekend....

The Ken doll contractor continues to work on the gazebo... he has such a little bit left to do, which would have been finished on Saturday except for the fact that he was constantly on his cell phone. We're not paying him by the hour, so what he does out there with his phone is his own business, but I wish he would just put his mind to his work and finish up already. One would think he'd want to be done with this job, get paid, and be off to the next job site.

We had a fox on the porch last night, munching on Meow Mix that I'd left there for the orange cat. The only reason I knew the fox was outside was because Sweet Pea (our indoor cat with amazingly sensitive ears) jumped up from his blanket and ran to the back door. I switched on the porch light and all I could see was a brown blur streaking down the porch steps. That fox ran off the porch as silently as he had come up... I looked at the cat food dish and it was empty, except for the 'slobber' that was all over the sides of the bowl.  That orange cat will just have to eat his dinner before it gets near to the fox's dinner time.

We drove up to College Station yesterday.... went to the Halloween costume shop to look around... there were more hideous costumes in that store than I've ever seen in one place at one time. Whatever happened to "Happy Halloween?!"  We love Halloween, and we always celebrate it with a party, but honestly, if I had a house filled with people in fake-blood-soaked costumes and swords through their hearts, I think I would have nightmares till Christmas.

College Station has a Half Price Bookstore, so we stopped in there for a look-see... and within twenty minutes, I was holding ten books. (As if I don't already have more than enough to read.)  They must have recently culled through their shelves in that store because their Clearance shelves were chock-full of great books, all for three dollars or less. (How could I not buy some books?)  Before going up to the register, I looked through the 10 books that I was holding, put four of them back, and bought six.  No matter how much time you have to read, there will never be enough time to read all that you'd like to read.

On the drive back from College Station, we saw a small black dog walking along the side of the road. Both my husband and I saw the dog at the same time, and we reacted instinctively, as if it had been our own dog. My husband drove the car behind the dog and pulled off to the shoulder... I got out of the car and started calling "Here puppy... here puppy..."  My husband slowly drove the car in front of the dog and he got out to speak to people who were in front of the nearest house there.

Meanwhile, "puppy" heard me calling him and turned around to look at me.  I bent down towards the grass (not even looking for fire ant mounds) and I put my arms out towards that little dog and kept saying "Here puppy... here puppy...."   And that cute little dog turned his puppy-self around and came running to me as if I were his lost mama.... he got about ten inches in front of my feet and flopped over on his back so I could rub his belly.

Such a cute little fluffy dog, sort of Lhasa Apso-ish, all black with a bit of white on his chest. (Nearly identical to a little dog named Champion that I had about 25 years ago.)  While my husband was talking to the people near the house, the emotional side of my brain was thinking "This is your dog!" and the rational side of my brain was screaming "This is NOT your dog!"

The little dog followed me towards that house as if he'd been walking with me for years. The woman there didn't own the dog, but her neighbor down the road did... but didn't care about the dog and wasn't taking care of him. "That dog is out in that road half the day and sooner or later he's going to get hit. Take the dog if you want him... he looks like he's already claimed y'all."  I looked at my husband and he had that look on his face...... the look that says "This is NOT our dog and we can't take him."

Well, of course he was right... it was not our dog. I told that to the woman... "We can't steal someone's dog."   "Well, you'd be taking care of the dog... you wouldn't have stopped y'all's car if you didn't care... and I'll never breathe a word to that neighbor... you'd be doing that dog a favor."

By that time, the dog had found a shady spot under a tree in the woman's yard.... and the little voice in my brain kept saying "You canNOT take someone's dog."   The woman told us that the little dog would eventually go home... and with any luck, he wouldn't end up under the wheel of a car out on that road.  I know she was silently pleading with me to take that dog, but I couldn't. No way. It was not my dog, no matter how much it looked like Champion.

I was not put on this planet to judge how other people take care of their pets. I can voice my opinions, but I'm not here to judge anyone's behavior other than my own.  I hope that little dog has a long and happy life, and I hope an angel drops a thunder-cloud on the head of his owner.

A Forever Dog.

The following is from a blog titled "Lucky Pup Rescue," and the words just brought tears to my eyes when I read them......


I am a Forever Dog, not an "Until Dog."
I am not an:
   "until you get bored" dog....
   "until you find a boyfriend or a girlfriend" dog...
   "until I get old" dog...
   "until you have to move" dog...
   "until you have a baby" dog...
   "until you get a new puppy" dog.

I am a Forever Dog.
If you cannot promise Forever, then I am not your dog.

Books for Fran's grand-baby girl...

I mailed some Halloween books and a little stuffed black cat up to my friend Fran's granddaughter last week.  That little girl has loved all the books I've been sending her, and for the past year or so, she has learned to recognize her name on the packages. She will see the wrapped package in the pile of mail and tell her parents "Aunt Larrie sent me this!"  Fran's son has told me that I'm the only one who mails packages to little E, but still, that little girl does know how to read and spell her name now.

Fran's son also told me that he printed out a photo of me holding baby E shortly after she was born three years ago. (Sadly, my friend Fran passed away just a few weeks before her first grand-baby was born.)  When E opens up the gifts I send her, she can look at the picture of me holding her and she really knows who sent her the presents.  I just think that's such a nice thing for Fran's son to do, and a wonderful way for little E to "get to know me" from so many miles away.  Little E laughs at the photograph of me holding her..... she was such a tiny little baby and she thinks it's so funny that she was once so very small.

Fran's granddaughter is three years old now..... when she was born, she was given Fran's name as her middle name. Fran's son eMails me pictures of his daughter every few months or so, and as that little girl has grown from a baby to a toddler, I can see expressions in her face that remind me so much of Fran.  I wish I could have made a bargain with the angels to change Fran's destiny..... she would have loved and lived for this little granddaughter of hers.

I have just one thing to say:  Don't smoke, people. And if you do smoke, then stop. You are trading away years of your life for momentary puffs of nicotine that will eventually take your breath away. Had my friend Fran known that such a beautiful little grandchild was in her future, she would have quit smoking in her 30s, rather than in her late 50s when the ravages of all those cigarettes literally did take her breath away.

Love to read?

 My husband found an article about book-lovers and those-who-love-to-read......... the link to the article is just below.....

 

http://elitedaily.com/life/culture/date-reader-readers-best-people-fall-love-scientifically-proven/662017/

According to the article, people who love to read are becoming extinct, along with people who write cards and leave voice mail. (What?! Since when did leaving a message become part of the stone age?)

I love books, I love bookstores and libraries, and I love to read. If I knew I had just a few hours to live, I think I'd tuck myself into a corner with my favorite books and just keep reading till my breath stopped. Either that, or what may be better would be to take a blank notebook and a good pen and just keep writing and writing till the very end.  

Reading books... writing stories... it's all the same to me.... I'm fascinated by words and the art of building them into wonderfully constructed sentences.

That article up there..... definitely worth reading.

 

 

The gazebo spider-web...

The roof of the gazebo now looks like a huge wooden spider web. The contractor and his helper have been busily working, hammering, measuring, sawing, and even painting. Every once in a while, the contractor/Ken doll walks away to the side of the yard and looks back at the gazebo, trying to see if his double-tier roof is in proportion.  It looks fine to me, and even if it didn't, I wouldn't say a blessed word because I'm just tickled pink to have a roof up there again.

The cats have gotten so accustomed to hearing the hammers and the power tools that they've come out of hiding. Gatsby is still watching all the work from the porch, and if he could speak, he'd be lifting his paw to his eyes and telling the contractor "I'm watching you... I'm watching you."

Mickey is no longer hiding under the back steps... he's sleeping in the mulch of the flower bed by the back door, at times with his four paws facing the sky. When Mickey finds a shady spot, he takes full advantage of his favorite napping positions. Those power tools were going all day today and Mickey didn't even move a whisker.

Sweet Pea continues to go from one window to the next, watching the progress on the gazebo. I'm sure he can't figure out where 'his' squirrels and birds have gone.... neither of which are happy about all the work going on out there. Haven't seen a squirrel since they pounded that first nail, and the barn swallows must be hiding out in the woods during the day because when the two workmen leave in the evening, the birds all come back to their nests on the porch within fifteen minutes.

Makes me wonder if those birds are thinking that the gazebo is actually going to be a huge birdhouse-condo for them all.

Hammer, hammer, pound, pound....

That's been the noise here this morning... the Ken-doll contractor was here before eight o'clock this morning... he and his helper took out the old posts, cemented in the new ones, and now the plan is to wait till Wednesday of this week before building the new roof.

Brownie Points to the contractor for showing up before the time he promised.... and more Brownie Points to him and his helper because they kept working through a dark sky and heavy winds that kicked up in the middle of the morning. I thought for sure that we were going to get a drenching rain here, but not a drop fell........... the temperature dropped about ten degrees, the wind was very strong and the sky got awfully dark, but those two guys kept hammering and pounding.  They kept looking from the gazebo to the sky, from the sky to the gazebo, and I was silently praying in the kitchen that whatever storm was out there wouldn't pass this way until the new concrete around the posts had a chance to set.

The cats went crazy with the noise this morning... Gatsby went under the cottage at first, but then crawled up to the porch (in slow motion with his tail dragging) because he wanted to see what was going on. After watching the two workmen for a minute or so, Gatsby decided that the pounding noise was bearable so he sat there on the porch and watched their every move.

Mickey Kitty ran under the back steps and wouldn't come out... he wasn't at all interested in the work and couldn't have cared less about anything except the loud noises, which he doesn't like. He finally came out when the hammering stopped and I scooped him up and put him into the garage.

And Sweet Pea, our inside cat, kept going from window to window, trying to see everything that was happening out in the yard. The loud noises weren't so horrible in the house here, so Sweet Pea's curiosity got the best of him and he watched every bit of work around the gazebo.

Finally, finally, the work on the gazebo has begun.

Merci beaucoup!

I just looked at my readership audience and saw that I have nearly as many French followers as Americans.  As stated above: Merci beaucoup!

I also noted that readers in Brazil, Afghanistan, and Poland have been added to my audience list... welcome... and thank you all for reading!

Second chance...

My husband arranged for the Ken-doll contractor to be here on Monday morning to start work on the gazebo. Not to be confused with the Ken-doll's first arrangement to be here last Thursday. When he didn't show up, he called the next day to say "Something came up."

This second-chance decision for 'Ken' was made after my husband called the contractor who had been his second choice in this gazebo-repairing process.... that particular man had to come back here to re-measure (because he couldn't find his first measurements) and then he called the following night to ask my husband to go outside and measure yet again.  Then he told my husband that he had gone to Home Depot to get some instructions on building a roof for our gazebo....... and he said to my husband: "I think I've got it down now... if I have any problems, the guy at Home Depot said to call him any day but Tuesday or Thursday."

Give me a blessed handyman break.

So... back to the first choice... the Ken-doll.  He told my husband he would be here at eight o'clock on Monday morning. "Weather permitting, of course," he added.  If that Ken-doll is now praying for rain, I swear I will just scream.

The ladies on our road here, excited about the possibility of a Ken-doll lookalike working in our yard, have asked if it would be okay with me if they brought their lawn chairs so they could watch him working. Weather permitting, of course.