The Shoe Hasn't Dropped Yet

Day 3 of vacation still finds me enjoying a rare stretch of relative peace and tranquility. My first chore was to get the groceries purchased for our Saturday quasi-Thanksgiving meal. That is usually not a peaceful nor tranquil activity, but right off the bat I snagged a parking space close to HEB's door. The store was crowded, but not unbearable yet. I was back at home by 10AM, with all necessary items purchased and the rest of the day to indulge my fancies.

So, I headed to Smithville to check out my favorite antique stores. Along the way I ran into our old neighbor from downtown Bastrop and shared family news. It's funny - we always got along just fine when we lived next to each other, but we weren't the type of folks who were in and out of each other's houses. We would have brief chats when we were both out in the yard and we knew that we were each available to the other for emergencies. The odd thing is how much I miss the security of knowing there is someone within hearing distance who will come running if called. I'm friendly with my new neighbors, but there are stretches of weeks when we don't see each other or speak. I love the quiet space around me now, but there is something to be said for close neighbors who stay put for decades.

I found nothing to spend my money on in Smithville (well, I bought a tiny vase for a dollhouse), so I decided to head back home by way of FM 2571, through Upton. That gave me the opportunity for another Find a Grave mission at the Youngs School House Cemetery. As I finished up, I decided to explore a country road named Farris Lane and see where it went.

Turns out that it takes you out to Highway 304, which I didn't recognize right away and ended up going the wrong way for a few miles. (But that's the joy of being semi-lost. I love figuring out where I am.) When I finally got myself oriented and headed back to Bastrop, I followed another sudden impulse and took the Watterson Road turn off. My grandmother was born in Watterson, so I figured it was time I requainted myself with that area.

I had to get my Roads of Texas mapbook out to locate the Watterson Cemetery, and I was glad I took the trouble. It sits off the main road up a short gravel lane and is a lovely little country cemetery, with huge oak trees. I don't have any family buried there (that I know of), so I had never visited before. Now I hope that someone puts in a photo request at Find a Grave so I will have an excuse to return.


I did take a picture of the gate. While my attention was on getting the best angle, I was addressed from behind by some folks who were wondering what the heck I was doing. I risked poison ivy to get close enough to visit with them. Thankfully I was wearing heavy blue jeans, because I would not have missed the opportunity to get a few more pictures. I don't get many chances these days to be this close to the bovine population.


A storm, with wind and rain and cold, moved in after I was safely back at home. The day ended with puppy snuggling and a good roast dinner.

LSW

My Moon is in the 7th House

Things are eerily working out for me this week. I'm beginning to anticipate the dreaded thump of the other shoe hitting the floor. But, I shall enjoy myself in the meantime.

Day 2 of vacation found me headed into Austin again. I had multiple stops in mind, but decided I would stop first in Bastrop and take a stab at getting the precious prescription filled locally. It usually doesn't work out for me because for some reason HEB doesn't generally have sufficient supplies to comply with my request and this is one drug they won't fill part way. I was completely blown away when they said they were able to fill it today if I could wait for 45 minutes. I, being the clever little professional caregiver I am, had my knitting bag with me and sat happily for about an hour quietly knitting. I did break once to check my blood pressure with their handy dandy blood pressure vise and was relieved to find that my blood pressure was in the normal zone - a rarity for me when I'm in HEB dealing with the pharmacy.

Skipping out of the store with the full 3 months supply of pills in my possession and a song in my heart, I headed on into Austin and made my next stop the State Capitol. My purpose was to purchase the remaining Texas Capitol Christmas ornaments that I needed to complete my collection. As I walked along the sidewalk to the front door, I thought to myself that every Texan ought to visit the Capitol once every year or so. It's an impressive place and I thoroughly enjoyed wandering along the halls to the gift shop and then wandering around the grounds on my way back to the parking garage.

Next up was a return to the Oakwood Cemetery Annex where I fulfilled several Find a Grave photo requests. To my surprise, just a few graves away from the ones I had come to photograph were 3 Willcoxon graves. I snagged pictures of them, too, in case they turn out to be kinfolk sometime down the research line.

Stops at Half-Price Books, Hobby Lobby, The Container Store and Whole Foods followed. My advice for the day is to never, ever, ever, stop at Whole Foods the week of Thanksgiving. I got what I went for, but I beat a hasty retreat as soon as possible. I scratched the next stop from my list, because at this point I had reached the understanding that this year I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in Christmas or Christmas shopping and especially in mingling with Christmas shoppers. What shopping I feel has to be done shall be done via the Internet or not at all. It's safer for my sanity and it's safer for the physical well being of the folks around me.

A quick swing by the office to drop a package off to a co-worker was followed by a leisurely drive down to the McDade Cemetery on another Find a Grave mission. (Now cue the Twilight Zone theme.) I had about 30 minutes left to my freedom and 2 graves to locate in a medium-sized cemetery. I pondered where best to start. I had intended to start on the western end and work my way east, but for some reason I kept rolling the car to the opposite side. I followed a second impulse to start my search in the far SE corner rather than next to where I had parked. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at that corner to discover the very graves I had come to find. Trust me, it was spooky. Though this has happened so many times that I shouldn't be so surprised.

Home again to a nice neighborhood walk with the kiddoes and another vacation day comes to a successful close.

LSW

Field Trip

Today was the first day of a week's vacation for me but, as luck would have it, it was also a day that required a trip into Austin to take Mother to the doctor. I pondered how I would keep it primarily a day of vacation and decided I would follow the doctor appointment by fulfilling two long-standing requests from distant cousins to obtain some tombstone photos at Oakwood Cemetery. I also followed a last minute impulse to take the dogs along with us and make a stab at showing them that not every trip in the car ends with a needle in the hiney.

The dogs don't particularly enjoy riding in the car, but they also don't like staying at home alone, so they were game and settled into their travel carriers in the back seat. We set off on our field trip.

We had one rocky point on the way in when I decided to swing through the Cedar Creek McDonald's for a Diet Coke. I'm not sure what their problem was, but after 10 minutes sitting in line waiting and making no progress toward the window, I did something I've never done before and cut out of line to leave after I had placed my order. No way was I going to risk arriving late to see this particular doctor, who has a pet peeve about folks who are tardy.

We arrived on time, got our prescription (which was the main reason for the trip), and then headed over to the cemetery on MLK Boulevard. If you've never driven by this cemetery, let me just say that it is one big cemetery. No way would you be able to walk this cemetery randomly to find a grave. I tried it several years ago and I ended up exhausted with sore feet and did not find what I was looking for. Since then some helpful folks have posted lists of the burials online, complete with lot numbers. I was prepared with the names and lot numbers and a map of the main cemetery and it did not take long to obtain the required photos for my Kentucky Hodge cousin.

The request from my Mobley cousin had me a little concerned, since I had not been able to locate a map of the Annex portion of the cemetery. I was a little more concerned when I discovered that the office is only open in the morning and there wasn't a soul around. But with true vacation luck, I discovered a map of the Annex on the bulletin board outside the office and was able to pinpoint where the Mobley graves were. Those pictures were secured and I ended the mission by snapping a quick photo of the Annex gate.

I noticed the graffiti on the sign as I took the picture, but it wasn't until I got home and took a closer look that I noticed the other marking on the fence post. One does wonder just what these folks are up to:

I can't say the trip was a total success where the dogs were concerned. I let them out of their carriers while we were at the cemetery and they weren't interested in smelling out the window or getting a drink from the water faucet. Coco ultimately decided to retreat back to her carrier where she felt secure. Mojo decided to ride home in Mommy's lap with his head tucked under my arm to hide his eyes from the big trucks passing by. When we took a swing through Wendy's to pick up a hamburger for Mother, Mojo did not lean out the window eagerly as Xana would have done to sniff, but instead took a dive for the back seat before the clerk could reach out and grab the cute puppy. I'm beginning to think they are hopeless candidates for travel companions.

The day ended with a unexpected gift. My Kentucky cousin, for whom I had made the cemetery trip, had sent me an email with scans of the marriage license and bond for my ggg-grandfather Hodge. I had heretofore only managed to uncover the registry entry for the marriage and now I have the documents, complete with his signature and the signature of his father-in-law, my gggg-grandfather Reese.

Vacation day 1 successful.

LSW

Gee, Mom

Mojo: You think she's ever going to come to bed?

Coco: She's gone back to check her email again.

Mojo: I'm so tired.

Coco: Maybe if we look pitiful she'll feel guilty and come on.

LSW

My Dogs Are Tired

I'm not talking about my feet; my puppy dogs are tired. The subtle shift in the weather to fall has made evening walks desirable again. We buckled up the leashes and headed out to see what has been happening over on the next street this summer.

To walk a block in this neighborhood takes about 15 minutes, not counting momentary stops to sniff and poop. We walked hard and when we got back, two happy little dogs hit their bed under my desk and didn't say a word for a couple of hours.

And it only took once to establish a new routine. The next evening they met me at the door saying, "Let's go!".

LSW

Shaking Things Up

Naturally I couldn't stand not having my new chaise where I could use it, so today I've been rearranging the family room so it could be moved in. After I bathe two dirty little dogs here in a little bit, I plan to stretch out and enjoy myself for an hour or two.

The heathen cats have been mesmerized by the shifting of their environment. They have clambered over everything that has been moved, checking each piece of furniture or knick knack. They have been frustrated that something may move multiple times before it comes to a final rest, so just as they think they know where everything is, Mom throws them another curve.

I decided to reactivate a little fountain temporarily and that really got their attention.

I'm sure by the end of the day all of the rocks will be lying in the floor. I would not wish my so called helpers on my worst enemy. They are beginning to think Mom has rechristened them "Stop that!" and "Get down from there".

If they knew I am planning to order in a supply of Soft Paws, they would probably be packing their little bags.

Dog baths, Mom bath, good book, amaretto and Sprite, chaise.

LSW

Early Christmas

It never fails that I always end up buying myself something big this time of year. When cool weather hits and I start thinking about the need to plan for Christmas, I start getting out and seeing things I didn't know I needed until I saw them.

I'm working up to a massive redo of the family room and when a local furniture store started a going out of business sale, I decided to take a look and see if there was anything that might give me some ideas. Two weeks ago I stopped by for a quick look and a certain flowered easy chair screamed at me from clear across a crowded room. I really wasn't ready to puchase furniture just yet, but I kept thinking about that chair. Last Wednesday I stopped for a second look and it was still calling my name from across the room. So I splurged. Today it came home and settled itself in my study with a satisfied grunt. Home at last.

The animals are not quite sure what to make of it. To make things more interesting, as I was paying for the chair, a chaise lounge winked at me. I've always wanted a chaise lounge in my bedroom and this one had been marked down to half price. What was I to do?

Now the bad thing is that there is no way the chaise will fit into my bedroom as it currently stands. One day I may have room for it, but until then it will have to live in the family room. It is so comfy that I anticipate many naps and pleasant evenings of tv watching. It's big enough to hold me and two little dogs and let us all stretch out. (No picture; it's draped in a large blanket to discourage cat vandalism until they get used to having it around.)

Today was the semi-annual fundraising meeting of the McDade Cemetery Association. Aunt Bill, cousin Lisa and I were able to attend for the first time and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Nothing like a small community potluck for the opportunity to eat some good, old-fashioned home cooking. (Diet? What diet?)

After the meal was a white elephant auction and I brought home two new plants, which I can't bring into the house because of the cat vandals. I'm beginning to wonder just who is in charge around here.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

LSW

Rambling Off the Beaten Path

The odd day working at home helps keep me from completely going berzerk. Today I cut through a bunch of little odd jobs that have been hanging over my head - like oil changes and financial paper filing and cat throttling. Well, the last is a joke. Sort of.

The heathen cats are systematically wrecking the house in retaliation for being shut out of the garage for the winter. I knew the plants would not stand a snowball's chance in hell of wintering inside with those two, so I opted to clear a space in the front of the garage where I could open the door and give the plants some fresh air on warm winter days. The cats are furious that their roaming territory has been cut back. So they are fighting back by tearing things up, running between my feet, chasing each other through the house and peeing on the dog beds. The odds are running about 50-50 which of us is going to win this new war.

In other news, I've hit the clothing sales and restocked for cooler weather. In the process I discovered that I am still slimming down, though not actually losing more weight. Things are still shifting around, it seems. The frustration level was high when nothing I tried on looked good on me and then it occurred to me that I might be trying on the wrong size. Sure enough, getting a size smaller fixed the problem and gave me an ego boost at the same time.

Today I found a great chair at a local furniture store and may have found my new sofa as well. That is the first sign that the living room redo has begun. Both just happen to match the new afghan I've started to knit, so I guess I'm fully attuned to my redecorating muse. (I'm guarding the new afghan against marauding cats. Wish me luck.)

My support of Jane Seymour on Dancing With the Stars was toppled last night as she became the latest to be voted out of the competition. Each season I pick out my favorite, only to have my hopes dashed along about this point of the process. Last season I stood faithfully by Billy Ray Cyrus, even though I knew it was a lost cause from the beginning. Jane actually did very well, but just could not overcome her English lady persona. The elegant dances suited her well, but she just could not produce the earthy element necessary for the Latin dances. Ah, well, I shall shift my allegiance to Marie Osmond, who will probably fall by the wayside next. Still, both of them have proved that the 40+ and 50+ folks are worthy competitors.

My latest genealogy exploits are centered on scanning ancient Elgin newspapers, looking through the personals columns for mention of my kinfolks. I have found my grandfather listed in the honor roll for spelling, my great aunt's graduation from McDade High School, my great and great-great grandmothers visits to other relatives' homes and various marriages and reports of illness. Tiny little glimpses into the past, circa 1910, 1916, and 1923, courtesy of the Elgin Historical Society which is releasing a year's worth of papers on CD as fast as they can scan them.

Life is settling back into normal patterns at last. Thank you notes have been dispatched following Daddy's memorial service, annual reviews for Mother's health care have been filed, I am once again tackling the pile of family papers, photos and memorabilia, and planning the next ancestral quest vacation. And the time has changed back to where it should be. Onward to the holiday season.

LSW

Private Burial

Way back at the first of the year, when I was beginning to explore the different routes to the new office location, it was just before the corn crop was beginning to grow. One day I tried an alternate route, turning off FM 1660 onto a little road that runs into Highway 79 a few miles east of Hutto. Not far from the turn was a historical marker noting a small family cemetery. I stopped to read the marker, but saw no sign of the cemetery itself. I assumed it had been lost to time.


Earlier this week, I followed an impulse to take this alternate route on the way home. It was the first time I had done so since the harvesting of the corn and cotton. I glanced over at the field as I drew up even to the historical marker and was surprised to see that there was a cemetery there after all. It had been blocked from view by the crops that were planted around it. It is smack dab in the center of the field, surrounded by a barbed wire fence, and looks to contain only three or four grave markers.

What do you bet that one of these days when I'm not wearing heels that I'm going to have to stop and trudge out to visit these folks? This has to be one of the smallest cemeteries I've ever run across.

Not a bad place to spend eternity - surrounded by the cycle of planting and harvest.

LSW

In the Doghouse

I am reminded of Hank William's song "Move it On Over", especially the line "move over little dog, 'cuz the big dog's movin' in".

Yesterday morning I took the wee ones in for a dental procedure each. Their teeth weren't in horrible shape, but were of some concern and I've been down the road you end up on when dental issues are ignored. I've become a believer in preventive maintenance for dog teeth.

Neither Mojo nor Coco likes car travel, to begin with. They shook and panted the entire 17 miles to Elgin, but that was nothing compared with the horror they felt when they realized where they had arrived. And then Mommy handed them over and left.

Sometime between then and 3:45 when I picked them up, a good bit of something foul hit the proverbial fan. They were still a little drunk when I picked them up, but they were all for leaving that vile place. So we staggered out to the car and settled in for another 17 miles of shake and pant.

It was when we got home and they knew they were back in safe territory that I was informed in no uncertain terms that I had fallen from grace. If I tried to touch them, they groaned. If I left them alone, they sat huddled in abject misery and looked daggers at me. I tried picking them up and the groans amplified. I finally resorted to putting them in bed with Mother and they settled down for long naps with the one person in the house they were still speaking to.

These are little dogs who never miss a meal, but they were too upset to eat when suppertime came. They were perfectly willing for me to carry them up the stairs to bed, but as soon as they were settled in bed I was warned off with growls and more groans. It was some performance, let me tell you, and I felt properly chastised.

This morning their world had realigned on its axis and they were a little more congenial. They consented to eat some of my breakfast and let me pet them a little (without groaning). But then, when it came time for me to leave for work, I saw Mojo give me that "If you loved me, you'd stay home" look. I'll probably be paying for that transgression this evening.

In a bit of good news from yesteday, Mojo is down 6 ounces. Doesn't sound like much, but at least we are headed in the right direction. Coco, however, eating the same diet for the same amount of time, has increased a small bit. Not sure what to do about that.

LSW

Call of the Earth

All those generations of farmers in my ancestry gives me an appreciation for a freshly tilled field. I was tempted today to take off my shoes and feel the dirt between my toes. Black dirt as far as the eye could see.

LSW

Gone to the Dogs

Ok, it's been awhile since I've bragged on my kids. Time to catch up.

We have an armadillo that comes around during the night and leaves the neighbor's yard pocked with holes. Mojo finds them fascinating.

Ah, the enjoyment of the first fall cool spell. One must frolic in the soft grass.

And when Mommy wants you to look at the camera and pose, you must of course turn your backs and present your best side.

Finest dogs in Texas.

LSW

Memories 35 Years Old

We will start this little walk down memory lane with a picture taken inside the First Baptist Church of Smiley, Texas, while we were preparing for my father's memorial service last Saturday. This is the church of my childhood. It has been recently refurbished with carpeting, a new ceiling and new lights, but the basic elements are just as they were back in 1964 when we moved to Smiley from Victoria.

I was told that the Hammond organ on the front right is seldom used anymore. It was the instrument of choice back when I was a regular musician for the church. If there was only one musician available for a service, it was accepted that the one musician would play the organ. Let's just say that I put in plenty of time on both instruments during my 7 or so years as church musician in Smiley.

I'm always a little amazed when I experience physical memory. That is, your body remembers actions that you have not consciously thought of for many years. For instance, I really don't know what my password is to my office computer. My fingers know it, but if I try to consciously recall it, I have no idea what it is. If I think too hard about it, my fingers will even give up.

After the service, when most folks had departed, I could not resist going in and sitting at the organ for a few minutes. Without thinking, I opened the bench and reached inside to where my fingers knew the key would be waiting. I automatically folded the lid back and flipped the switches in the correct order to begin the warm up. These were all actions I have not performed in more than 35 years, but my fingers knew exactly what they were doing. I set the stops and the tone settings and played a couple of songs. It was like I had been playing it regularly for all those years.

The organ was donated to the church in 1949 by Mrs. O. R. Culpepper in memory of her husband. Mrs. Culpepper was a very old lady when I knew her and died shortly after we moved away. She was one of those sweet little ladies you sometimes have the fortune to count as a friend. She liked me and I liked her. She would pay me out of her pocket to work part-time in the Smiley Public Library during summers, a job I would have been happy to do for free.

Awhile after we had moved to Smiley, Mrs. Culpepper approached my father and told him that she had had a dedication plaque made for the organ several years before and wondered what he thought about her having it mounted on the organ. It was a dark metal, like aged bronze, and tastefully unobtrusive. He told her to go ahead.

If you've ever been a member of a small country church, you can probably guess what happened next. The family that had donated the pulpit immediately had a plaque engraved to be mounted on it. It was metal, but hardly unobtrusive. Large, shiny brass and they had it mounted it on the front of the pulpit where it could hardly be missed. There was no way to tell them they couldn't put it there, since a precedent had been set.

Sooo, someone went and bought an artificial plant to place in front of it to block the glare. (Let the war begin.)

Nothing happened for a few weeks, but then one Sunday morning we all arrived to find that some mysterious visitor had slipped into the church and cut the plant off at mid-height. (Those were the days when it was not necessary to lock the church day or night). There was a lot of speculation over who had felt moved to perform such a thing and I was questioned as a material witness, since I spent a good portion of my free time over in the church practicing the piano or the organ. Everyone knew that if I heard someone come in, I generally slipped quietly back into my father's office and out the side door. That particular day I had not been around to see the culprit arrive and so was fortunately not required to testify against one of the church members.

You know, if I had a dollar for every song I ever played in that church auditorium, I would be set for retirement. To return to that auditorium after so many years was familiar, yet strange. Home is where your heart, and your memories, live.

LSW

Geekiness

Most of the time I'm a normal adult, but there are moments when I revert back to cave-dwelling programmer status. Sitting in a dark room, wandering around the Internet with only the light of the monitor breaking the gloom.

I can participate in conversations with people who wear black-rimmed glasses and pocket protectors and who are obsessed with the various incarnations of Star Trek. I only watched the first series, but that's enough for me to fake it.

Another sign of my geekiness? I monitor a website devoted to the release of old tv shows on dvd, and I regularly buy season sets of old tv shows on dvd.

In my defense, you have to admit that today's tv offerings are the pits. There are about four current shows I make a point to watch during the week and the rest of the time I'm generally watching old movies or TVLand or restlessly cycling through the channels with the remote. Or, I'm hauling out one of my sets of old shows and spending the week with an old friend.

At the risk of ruining my reputation, I will admit to having the following in my collection:

Two seasons of The Wild, Wild West (soon to be the complete 3 seasons)
Two seasons of House
The complete 3 seasons of I Spy
The complete 3 seasons of Greatest American Hero
The complete 4 seasons of Starsky & Hutch
The complete 5 seasons of Quantum Leap (my all time favorite)
Six seasons of X-Files (I stop there; the last two seasons were awful.)
The complete 6 seasons of Northern Exposure
The complete 6 seasons plus reunion movies of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
The complete 11 seasons of M*A*S*H
The complete Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
The complete BBC series Keeping Up Appearances, Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served? & The Persuaders
The complete PBS series of Sherlock Holmes
One season each of Here Come the Brides, Lost, Riptide, Night Court, Murphy Brown, Make Room for Daddy, Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Doc, Picket Fences & All Creatures Great and Small

It may make me a geek, but at least I know I will always have something good to watch instead of the awful reality dreck that is the current rage. And no commercials.

I won't even go into the movies I own, but I will tell you that one of my friends has asked to be named in my will to inherit my video collection.

And I do not own a pocket protector.

LSW

Come and Take It

As you drive from Nixon to Gonzales, you pass through the little crossroads of Cost, Texas.

Any true Texan historian driving this route should stop and pay homage to the events commemorated by the marker that sits beside the road. It was the start of Texas history.

When this event occurred, my great, great, great-grandparents Lentz were in residence on a league of land in Bastrop County, obtained by a Mexican land grant through the colonization efforts of Stephen F. Austin.

It's my history, too.

LSW

Grand Old Lady

Today I had an opportunity to take a small side trip while passing through Gonzales to visit a beautiful house that I have coveted for over 30 years. I was pleased to see that she has been taken care of and still remains a beauty to behold.

I had the chance to go inside once when there was an estate sale about to take place. I can remember standing on the 1st level of the circular corner and thinking what a fabulous place that would be to place a baby grand piano.

Back when I knew her, the house was painted an olive green. I was prepared to see her decaying body when I followed my impulse to detour down the street where she lives. I was relieved to see her wearing a new coat of bright yellow and looking every bit as grand as I remembered her.

I still covet that house. Long may she stand.

LSW

Just About Done

Very little cotton remains in the fields right now. Most has been processed into the huge bales as shown here. You can once again see for miles across the empty fields where just a few weeks ago you were hemmed in on both sides of the road by corn or cotton. Can winter be far behind?

Been very busy this past week. Hope next week things slow down considerably and I can get back to my idle observations.

Good news, the cold is just about gone. Bad news, little brother found it.

LSW

Act of Stupidity

I had a wee bit of a problem with the laundry I did yesterday. (A certain cat got into the basket of clean clothes and did something she should not have.) Fortunately I had processed most of the clothes through the drier at that point, but I decided to make another quick trip to the laundromat for two more loads this afternoon so I could start off the week with everything clean and dry.

Great honk! What you do not ever, ever want to do is go to the laundromat on a Sunday afternoon. Unless you are working on a sociology research project, for heaven's sake do not go to the laundromat on a Sunday afternoon. Every kind of person you could ever expect to meet in your entire lifetime is at the laundromat on Sunday afternoon.

Just don't do it. Stupid, stupid idea I had. Geez.

LSW

Things You Should Not Be Required to Put Up With

So, I was at the laundromat this morning. Arrived at 7:15 a.m. (No, the sewer connection still hasn't been made. Yes, I'm still doing laundry at the laundromat. I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, OK???)

As I am emptying my washed clothes into the clothes baskets for transport home to dry, I became aware of a Spanish chatter going on at the end of the aisle of washers. I did not pay much attention to it. That is, until one of the ladies broke away and charged toward me with a purposeful step.

7:45 a.m. in the laundromat and the Jehovah Witnesses have arrived. Recognizing the Watchtower pamphlet she clutched in her hand, I went on the offensive. "I'm not interested," I declared. Something in my face must have told her that it would really not be a good idea to ignore what I had said. Maybe it was my red nose. Maybe it was my bleary eyes. Maybe it was the crazed look I get when I'm in the laundromat.

"I respect your wishes," she said, "have a nice day."

I'm starting the bloody day in the laundromat with the Jehovah Witness ladies. Things could only get better after that.

LSW

That Devil Cold Bug

Just a quick check in to let you know that I'm still kicking, 'tho feebly. This cold has been particularly nasty, settling in my ears and refusing to leave. I hear everything, but it's like my head is wrapped in thick cloth. About once every 3-4 hours, everything turns loose in my head and I briefly clear up, only to start immediately stopping up again.

This bug had better move out soon, because it is playing havoc with my diet will power. My taste buds are dulled and the only things that sound good are things that are not on my diet. When you feel as bad as I have been feeling, you really don't care to deny yourself what sounds like it might make you feel better. So far I haven't lost any ground, but little cheats lead to big cheats and the next thing you know you're in trouble.

I missed a day's work on Monday, which threw my whole internal schedule out of whack and I realized yesterday when I got to work that it was Wednesday and I had failed to stop in Bastrop for my chiropractic adjustment before I left town. I do so hate to have to call the doctor's office and apologize for missing an appointment.

My evenings have been very short. I think up something quick and fast for supper, get Mother settled in bed, clean the kitchen (sort of) and head upstairs for bed. I feel like I've lost a whole week somewhere.

I warned you I've been sick. This has been running through my head for almost a week. Three Stooges Teach the Alphabet.

Enough already. Cold, cold, go away.

LSW