'Humans of NY' goes to Pakistan

I know I've mentioned the "Humans of New York" web-site here... but I have to repeat myself and talk about it again.

Brandon Stanton, the photographer/mastermind behind HONY, has traveled to Pakistan and is there now. As a result, all of his current postings on that site are now coming from that country. I check this site twice a day to keep up with the posts, and the new ones from Pakistan are both heart-breaking and inspiring.

Check out Humans of New York on Facebook when you get a minute.  We are very lucky to live in this country of ours, even with its disappointments and foibles.  As someone once told me years ago: "I'd rather be a lamp-post in the United States than a prince in another country."

"Mockingbird"

After reading "Go Set a Watchman" last week, I started re-reading my favorite chapters of "To Kill a Mockingbird."

I've come to peace with "Watchman," now just taking it for what it was in the first place... the very beginning, the teeny-tiny minuscule embryo of "Mockingbird."  I wish the publishers and marketing people had not ever called "Go Set a Watchman" the sequel of "To Kill a Mockingbird."  It was definitely not, I repeat not a sequel.... if only just for the fact that it had been written long before "Mockingbird."

After re-reading my favorite parts of To Kill a Mockingbird, I was unable to start reading another book. Which happens every single time I've read 'Mockingbird,' since that very first reading about a year after it was originally published.

So I picked up my treasured 40th Anniversary Edition of To Kill a Mockingbird and started from the very beginning... and I've been reading it, and reading it, re-reading a lot of the chapters, and just soaking it all in, as if I've never read it before. And this happens each time I've read 'Mockingbird.'  Each re-reading is like the first time.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Millions of thanks to Harper Lee for giving us "To Kill a Mockingbird."

Another month flying by...

.... and July will be over in a heartbeat. Friends here have already begun to ask me if we're hosting a Halloween party this year, and I told them we would.  There's already been talk of costumes, and planning has begun for the costume contest. Such pressure.... to find a First Place costume prize worthy of such long-range planning.

Handyman R is still hard at work in the flowerbeds.... trimming and weeding and mulching, all in this blessed heat. It was 102 yesterday, and probably near or over that today, and as I type, he's out there working. One of the tea ladies told me yesterday that I'm spoiling the handymen who come here because I'm always bringing them cold water and iced tea.  (As if I should let them work outside in the heat without having cold water or tea?)  "Let them bring their own.... I'm not their mama," said G.  Well, I'm  not their mama either, but the thought of them falling face-down into the mulch is not what I want happening out there on our property. So if that's 'spoiling' them, I'm guilty as charged.

Plans are being made for a moving-away party for our friend across the road who has sold her house.... she's moving up near Austin, to be closer to her daughter and grandchildren.  By the time Labor Day rolls around, the new people will have moved into her house over there and we'll all get to meet them. I'll be inviting the wife to the Wednesday tea parties.... and both of them to the Halloween and Christmas parties.  We're all hoping that S can take time to drive down from Austin for some of the tea parties, and join us for the holiday parties. I'm sure the husbands here are hoping for the same.... S is the best baker around, so the dessert bar has been raised very high over these past years.

And there's a very small house down the road which has new people in it now, and I've just gone down there to say hello and invite that wife to the tea parties.  So we'll have a couple of new faces at the dining room table when our Waldorf Wednesdays resume in mid-August.  Hopefully, by then, the temperatures will have cooled down to the mid-90s instead of these 100+ days we've been having lately.

All the world's a stage...

.... at least in this little town.

My husband and I drove into our downtown area this weekend to see a play at our little community theater. 'Little' being the operative word, since the theater holds about 125 people for each performance.

During the summer, the theater has a drama camp for children, and our friends' two granddaughters have been going to the classes while they're here visiting their grandparents. These are the same two little girls who have come to our tea parties when they're visiting from the east coast, so of course we had to go see them on stage.

Cute, cute, cute.... all the kids were cute, but our eyes were mainly on J and C as they sang and danced their way from one end of the stage to the other.  All of the kids seemed to be having a great time, and I have to say that the play was very well orchestrated and choreographed, with lots of thought going into both the children's roles and the adult parts.

We've gone to other productions in that little theater these past few years, and after yesterday's show, I told my husband that we really should make it a point to see all of the plays there. If the town's residents don't support the local theater, they may not be able to continue, so it's worth the price of two tickets to help them stay afloat.

The two young off-off-off-off-way-off-Broadway stars stopped at our house yesterday after their performance. I had books for them to look through that I'd been collecting for them since their last visit. Both of the girls love to read, and it just makes me smile to watch them picking out their books.  My husband and I had stopped at the store to get them some colorfully decorated cupcakes, so while they were reading their books last night, they could have a Broadway-worthy dessert to go along with the stories.

"This Property Protected by Fire Ants"

And that just about says it all for the entire state of Texas.  I found that warning sign on someone's Pinterest board which had all things Texas pinned on it.  Being that our handyman has been cleaning up the flowerbeds around the house, and trimming all the palm trees, he's been finding many fire ant mounds, all of which get sprayed to within an inch of their creepy crawling lives. Both 'Raid' and 'Hot Shot' have no mercy when it comes to fire ants. And wasps. And spiders.

Speaking of creepy crawling things.... one of tea ladies yesterday must have picked up a scorpion somewhere between her house and mine, because she wasn't in my kitchen for ten seconds yesterday when she swatted something in her hair and screamed out "Something's on me!!"  (Such faith S had in me, not to scream and run the other way....)

She put her head down and asked me to have a look-see... was anything on her?  In her hair?  On her back?  She said she felt a sting on her hand, and when we both looked, one of her fingers was already turning bright red.  "Scorpion sting! I knew it!!" she told me.  Once again, we fluffed up her hair, looking for anything crawling around..... nothing.  Then I turned on the bright ceiling light in the kitchen and looked all over the floor..... and there it was, a scorpion.... she must have swatted it out of her hair and it hit the wall and fell to the floor.  (Such faith S had in me,  not to scream and run the other way....)   I took out the Swiffer mop-thing and smashed the scorpion.  We both looked at one another and cringed and then put on happy faces when the other ladies started coming in the back door.

After the tea party was over yesterday afternoon, I went outside to water the flowers around the fountain and make sure the birds had enough fresh water.... as I went to grab the hose, a huge cricket jumped up on my blouse.  Not an itty-bitty little cricket, but an enormous brown one, large enough to have a top hat and cane and button-down shoes and singing in a Disney movie........... so of course I screamed.  But my husband was upstairs and I knew he didn't hear me, and all the tea ladies were gone.......... so I had to swat that cricket away and off of my blouse, which I did..... then I stood there and cursed all the wildlife and insect life in this entire county, especially those on our own property.

About "Go Set a Watchman...."

My cousin F and I were discussing "Go Set a Watchman" via eMail yesterday....  she hasn't yet read that book, but F's favorite novel of all time is "To Kill a Mockingbird," and we have talked about that story a lot lately.   We both agree:  What could possibly be better than 'Mockingbird'?!

F asked me to tell her about "Watchman," so I did.... and her opinion, after listening to the critics, and reading the articles, and then hearing my take on Harper Lee's 'new' book, was this:  If nothing else comes of "Go Set a Watchman," what we all have now, in glorious hardcover, is the very beginning, the basic embryo, of "To Kill a Mockingbird."

Which makes sense, being that "Go Set a Watchman" was sent to the publishers by Harper Lee and it was returned to her, with the suggestion that she re-write the entire story with Jem and Scout being much younger, and Dill sharing their summer adventures.  What followed was two years of re-writing and editing, and what eventually was published was the classic "To Kill a Mockingbird."

As my cousin F said.... "If there hadn't been Go Set a Watchman, then we wouldn't ever have had To Kill a Mockingbird."

My friend returned my 40th anniversary edition of 'Mockingbird'  yesterday, and I gave her 'Watchman' to read. I didn't say a word to her about the story.... just told her that we'd discuss it after she had read it.  When she left with 'Watchman,' I sat down with To Kill a Mockingbird and re-read some of my favorite chapters.

When I got to the part where Scout looks at the stranger standing behind the door in Jem's room, and she realizes just who it is.... and she says "Hey, Boo...."  my eyes puddled up.  I've read that story countless times over the years, and that part of the novel still gets me. Two simple little words.... and the emotion overflows with unbridled abandon.  Hey, Boo....

A note to Harper Lee, who gave us Scout and Jem and Boo, Dill and Atticus and Calpurnia.... thank you. Thank you. Thank you for letting us see the world as it was, as it is, and (most importantly) how it could really be if we all just tried to not judge people unless we can get into their skin.

Cookies, books, weeds...

.... not necessarily in that order.

This week's Waldorf Wednesday tea party was cancelled, in favor of a cookie decorating party for friend J's two granddaughters who are visiting from Virginia.  On Wednesday afternoon, seven of us were busily decorating shortbread cookies made by 'The Chocolate Gallery.'  I love that shop... the owner has a passion for her candies, cookies, and cakes, and it shows. Quality ingredients, enthusiasm for her creations, and her happiness overflows when she is sharing her techniques.  The baking and candy-making kitchens are all enclosed in glass so customers can watch the process. Now if that doesn't get you wanting to taste her chocolates, than nothing else would work.

Handyman R has been working in the flowerbeds for weeks now, and they're all looking neat and tidy and (mercifully) weed-free.  Weeds and ivy and thorny things are being pulled out one by one right down to the root... layers of newspapers and six-inches-worth of fresh mulch are going down into those beds.  R has even removed the rocks surrounding the beds and re-arranged them so the best and biggest of them are front and center.  Neighbors have called R to do work at their property as well, and needless to say, he is a happy camper.  (No happier than me.... I absolutely detest being out there and pulling up weeds.)

And the book. The Book. "Go Set a Watchman" arrived yesterday. I truly wish I hadn't read the reviews before I started reading The Book.  I can understand now, however, why this first manuscript was returned to Harper Lee with the suggestion that she re-write the story with Jem and Scout being much younger.  Nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to "To Kill a Mockingbird,"  In my opinion, it is one of the best examples of American literature. Mockingbird captures you from the first chapter and doesn't let you go till the very last page, and even after that, the book stays with you and becomes a part of who you are.

This book, "Go Set a Watchman" takes longer to hold you, but once you get to that point, you don't want to abandon the story.  One of the literary critics said that "Go Set a Watchman" didn't have any literary value whatsoever.  Well, pardon me, but I disagree.

With all of the unnecessary criticism directed towards Harper Lee since the discovery of this first manuscript, a part of me wishes that "Go Set a Watchman" had remained hidden away, for the simple reason that Harper Lee's character and talent would have never been questioned.

A quote from "Go Set a Watchman"  -- "Every man's island, Jean Louise, every man's watchman, is his conscience."

"Mockingbird"

Today's the day for "Go Set a Watchman."   I pre-ordered my copy months ago from Amazon and I'm hoping it either arrives today or within the next couple of days. Today would be preferable.

Along with millions of other Harper Lee followers, the announcement of this second novel was unimaginable. And the fact that "Watchman" was written before "To Kill a Mockingbird" was even better news.  As perfectly written as "Mockingbird" was, I can barely wait to read Lee's first story.

I've been careful to read nothing that would capture me this past week.  I don't want the memory of any other characters in my mind when I sit down to read "Go Set a Watchman."   The other night, we watched my DVD of  "To Kill a Mockingbird." Truth be told, my husband has never read the book, and has only seen a stage play of "To Kill a Mockingbird," and that was less than ten years ago in Houston.

I thought of re-reading my 40th anniversary edition of "To Kill a Mockingbird" before setting down to read "Go Set a Watchman" but I don't have to read "Mockingbird" cover to cover to refresh my memory.  All it really takes is one reading of "Mockingbird" for it to sit in your mind, stir your soul, and become part of you forever.  I think I've read "Mockingbird" at least a dozen times over the years, and I've seen the movie at least 30 times.  As I sat there watching the movie with my husband the other night, my mind was saying the dialogue seconds before the actors.  And still, after all the readings and the movie-watching, my eyes puddled up when Scout reached out for Boo's hand.

When I was in high school, I had a paperback edition of "Mockingbird" and many of the pages were dog-eared because I bought it in a used-book store.  In my 20s, I had an old hardcover of "Mockingbird," still with dog-eared pages because it was an ex-library copy bought at a book sale. When the 40th anniversary edition of Mockingbird was published, I bought a brand new copy from Barnes & Noble and immediately sat down to read it as soon as I got home. I've read that book three or four times since its purchase, and the dust-jacket and pages are pristine, as if it's never been read. As I type this, my beloved copy of "Mockingbird" is being read by my friend and I've told her to guard that book with her life and bring it back as soon as she reads the last page.

My only regret is that I didn't keep those two older copies of "Mockingbird."  The only thing better than having one edition of "To Kill a Mockingbird" on your library shelves is having three editions.

Unless one is made of stone, reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" changes you forever. That story stays with you and lets you look at the world and everyone in it with more tolerance and understanding.  And reading Harper Lee's novel truly does allow you to walk around in someone else's skin (a lesson everyone everywhere needs to learn). In my opinion,  "To Kill a Mockingbird" should be required reading for everyone on the planet.

I'm hoping that I will feel the same literary satisfaction after I read "Go Set a Watchman."

Handyman #3

The latest handyman (#3 since last October, and probably #103 since we've moved here) has turned out to be very well suited for taking care of this property. Handyman #3 comes from a country family... his grandfather has a cattle ranch, his family has owned property outside the city limits (if you can call the minuscule downtown area of our town a 'city') and he's not afraid to get his hands into the dirt. (Pardon me while I cringe, as I think of fire ants, scorpions, worms, snakes, spiders and such.)

This handyman has been working on our flowerbeds, taking out the useless fabric that was under the mulch, pulling up weeds and thinning out palm trees and pruning the crape myrtles.  Old newspapers have been put down on top of the soil and underneath new mulch. Not only is there virtually not a weed left in the flowerbeds that he's worked on, but I would think that the weeds in the as-yet-untouched flowerbeds are thinking of pulling up their own selves and moving out of Dodge.  Handyman #3 has shown no mercy.

As if all of the above were not enough.... handyman #3 can do electrical and plumbing work, and is also a welder.  There is a Country God after all.  With that in mind, we have shown #3 the apartment over the barn. A two-bedroom apartment, furnished, two outside balconies, a car-port, and plenty of storage space in and around the first floor laundry room of the barn.  He loved it... he told his wife about it and said she was very excited.  #3's wife hasn't been out here to see the apartment yet, but we're hoping that will happen soon, we're hoping that she loves it, and we're hoping she will embrace this country life and want to live out here so #3 can continue taking care of the property for us.

#3 has contracted work from two of our neighbors who are anxious to have him also doing work on their properties.  It hasn't been easy getting good help out here, so when good help is found, one is willing to share so the good help will want to continue coming out here to work.  So now we wait... and keep our fingers crossed.... and I'm hoping beyond all country hope that we will soon have a live-in handyman again.  Is that too much to ask of the Country Gods?

The Pinterest gods are happy.

After reading endless 'help' letters to Pinterest, and finding various tutorials on Google about problems with missing-in-action Pinterest boards, and two-hour phone calls between my husband and the very polite people at our Internet provider, the problem has been solved. (Drum-roll please.)

It seems that back in October, the Powers That Be at Pinterest decided that all web-sites listed on their members' pages must be verified, in order to prevent an influx of spam from being plastered all over the Pinterest pages of their millions of followers.  Since then, Pinterest followers have randomly lost their access if they had an un-verified web-site on their Profile. My turn for that little Pinterest surprise was three days ago.  I read the instructions on how to verify a web-site because I had this Sprinkles site posted on my Pinterest profile. However, non-techy person that I am, being able to verify this blog could have resulted in a not-so-happy ending.  And, after ten years of blog-writing and countless hours of Pinterest pinning, I didn't want an unhappy ending to either story.

Best thing for me to do was to take my blog-site off my main Pinterest page.  My husband was able to access that page with computer magic... by-passing the router somehow, connecting and re-connecting wires from the main modem to my laptop, and voila!  There was my Pinterest page, just as I had left it three days ago. I quickly got into my Profile page, deleted the Sprinkles web-site, and again, voila!  There was my Pinterest page, safe and sound.

Wires were dis-connected and my laptop was re-connected as usual, and I searched my Favorites file, found my Pinterest page, clicked on that, and lo and behold... there it was as if the last three days never happened.  Happy day.

And yes, if that's my complaint of the last three days, to have 'lost' my access to Pinterest, then yes, my life is indeed blessed. Which it is, and I know it. There are more important things going on in the world... just listen to the news for ten minutes and it's all right there.

In this little corner of the the country bubble, life is once again more Pinteresting than it was before.

Un-Pinterested

Woe is me. Woe is my Pinterest page. I must have displeased the computer gods and they took away my Pinterest page. Took it away from my computer, but not from the computers of my friends.

I have no idea what happened. All I know is that I can no longer access my Pinterest page from my laptop. And it's getting me a little bit nuts.  I thought it was just my computer, but I can't get to my Pinterest page via my husband's computer either. And, computer wiz that he is, if he can't get my Pinterest page on his machine, then there is definitely something wrong.

Being that friend J accessed my Pinterest page right here in front of my own eyes via her iPhone, then there must be something wrong with the Powers That Be who provide our Internet service. A pox on them... a curse on their heads... for taking away my Pinterest page. And why would anyone want to do such a thing in the first place? And how is it that the Internet provider here managed to let me have access to everything else on my computer except my Pinterest page.

As my friend J was scrolling through my Pinterest page this afternoon on her iPhone, she said "Do you realize you have 100 boards?"  and  "Did you know that you have over 10,000 pins?"

Well, of course I know. And I miss them all.  I resisted the urge to remind J that she was the one who practically talked me into joining Pinterest in the first place.  It was all downhill from there.... once you get interested in Pinterest, there's just no turning back.

Until the computer gods come like thieves in the night and take away whatever software is in your laptop that allows you access to Pinterest.... and they toss that software right into the Twilight Zone when you least expect it.

I sit here wondering if Pinterest misses me....

July 4th in Round Top

We drove into Round Top this morning for their annual 4th of July parade.... this was their 165th consecutive year of this holiday parade.  165 years of celebrating Independence Day in a town whose population is less than 100. Amazing.

The parade had decorated floats from local business owners, the bank, the post office, vintage cars and trucks and tractors, and a team of high-stepping horses that just took your breath away.  Before the parade began, there was a prayer, and the Pledge of Allegiance, and a mother/daughter duo sang 'The Star Spangled Banner' with beautiful voices that brought a tear to everyone's eyes.  The Mayor of Round Top was there, along with a Texas state senator, and a retired military man who is a history buff and a brilliant speaker... everyone listened to them all with rapt attention, not merely with politeness but with careful understanding.

The riders on nearly all of the floats tossed out candy, beaded necklaces, and small gifts to the crowd, mainly for the children, who were right up front with paper sacks and plastic buckets to hold their 4th of July treats. My husband and I were underneath the awning of a local cafe, in the shade, enjoying the cool breeze from the trees in the main square, and watching every minute of that parade. Directly across from us, on the other side of the street, were two small children between the ages of five and seven... a little boy and a little girl.

The two children caught my attention as soon as the parade began because they would hold hands as they watched the floats going by, and then they would separate to gather up the candy and toss it into their buckets. The little girl's bucket was bright red plastic, the little boy held a new bucket of silver metal. After catching their candy treats, the little boy and the little girl would rush towards one another, compare the candy and gifts they had in their buckets, and then quickly trade with one another so their buckets would be filled with an equal amount of goodies.

As soon as they traded their 'loot,' the two kids held hands again, watching the next float going by, then just as before.... their hands would come apart, they would gather up their goodies, quickly trade, and just as quickly hold hands again to wait till the next float or vehicle passed by. It was a very poignant and heart-warming display of friendship.

What made the partnership of those two children even more special and loving was that the little girl was a white child, the little boy was a black child. I sit here typing this and I would bet my life on the belief that those two children are such good friends because they see more sameness between them than differences.  It is my firm belief that children are not born with racial distinction controlling their life choices. That characteristic is a learned trait, and not one that at all fosters kindness and respect.

Adults need to watch the little children such as those two little friends at today's small-town parade... the young ones whose innocence and kindness and faithfulness are not yet clouded by the angry outbursts and judgmental opinions of those who have lost the ability to look at people as just what they are..... people.

We all share just this one planet. It's not as large as you all seem to think. We need to get along. We need to share. We need to love one another and be kind. Be kind. Be. Kind.

There are days...

... when I'd like to put on my city clothes and a pair of high heels and just walk back to Clear Lake, no matter how long it takes. Actually, I would imagine that high heels wouldn't exactly be the best choice of shoes for a one-hundred-mile trek.

Every house has problems. Every piece of property needs maintenance. It just seems to me that living in a 100-yr-old house on 23 acres out in the middle of these hills has something going on with it every day. Every blessed day. It just wears you down and wears you out. If it isn't the house, it's the property. If it isn't the property, it's the wildlife. If the wildlife on your own property is quiet and content, then you're hearing the screams of baby goats from the neighbor's property as they prepare to take their last breath and become dinner. That alone just kills my heart.

Today's adventure... the air-conditioning system on the first floor decided to do its own thing yesterday. (Translation: the unit just didn't want to let off cool air... it seemed to be quite satisfied with the warm air.) Not good, especially when the outside temperature is over 90 degrees and just aching to hit that 100-degree mark. And really not good, considering that these air-conditioning systems are just two years old.

We called the air-conditioning company and they said they'd be out here this morning, which they were. Wonder of wonders.  The problem, said the a/c guy, was that there was trouble in the breaker-box.  After he checked that, he told us the problem was in one of the electrical lines going underneath the house, and he suggested we get an electrician out here.

Fine. Off he went.  As luck would have it, handyman #3 happened to be here working outside in the yard. This particular handyman has a license for plumbing and electrical work. My husband asked him if he would look at the breaker-box and also check underneath the house.... which he did... and he also re-checked the outside air-conditioning unit. His opinion was directly opposite of the tech guy from the air-conditioning company.

Fine. Now we're waiting for the tech guy to come back out here from town. We had called and asked for the son of that company's owner, but he's not in the office this afternoon.  As I type, the air-conditioning unit for the first floor is working again. We have no idea why. Nor do we have any idea how long it will remain in working order.

Fine. Fine. Fine. (Translation: So not fine.)

Sometimes I wonder if this house is out to get us. Have we not been good to it? Have we not taken care of it? Did it like the previous owners better than us? Or perhaps it wants its original owners of 100+ years ago?

Fine. There are days, like today, when I would gladly put a 'For Sale' sign out by the mailbox and hope that someone drives by and immediately falls in love with this big old house without even walking in the front door. As I did, six years ago.

Living in Clear Lake was a breeze. We had maintenance issues with that house also at times, but all I had to do was make one phone call, and out would come a man in a truck filled with tools and the problem would be identified and quickly (and properly) fixed. I wrote out a check, and off he went. And everything was indeed fine.

That doesn't always happen out here.  When you're lucky enough for repairmen to show up when they say they will, they don't always know what they're doing. And if you're really lucky, the know-nothings will tell you to call someone else. And then you hope that the second company shows up and knows more than the first company.

It's all just very frustrating. And I know that I sound ridiculous at times, because I'm fully aware that there are people out there living without air-conditioning, and living without the means to pay for any sort of repairs to their homes. My frustration is not with country comforts, but with the lack of city convenience. And I've been learning that you can't have both out here in the hills. Pick one. (Guess which one I would pick.)

Since we've been out here, I've been living with the blinding misconception that country living was peacefully serene and blissfully content. Silly me. It is anything but.... unless you like dealing with inept and inefficient repairmen, endless visits from wildlife and insects,  and you like the sounds of baby animals as they're either carted off to market or butchered in their own backyard.

I've said it before. I will say it again. Living out here is hurting my heart.