Friday, August 30, 2013

Stool Replacement Found!

Padre found a weeding stool replacement!
J. modeled all the things it can do for me......
Help you stand up from the kneeling/ weeding position....
You can sit on it so you can prune or whatever...
It is the perfect ottoman.


The sides can be removed so that it is a mini stool which helps both of us pull clothes out of the washer. It is surprisingly deep!

Way to go Padre! He found the best stool replacement. Sadly it hasn't been used to weed once.
Maybe next year! We might need TWO. One for outside and inside.
I believe he found it at Town and Country Gardens.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

New Editor

For f
J. read some of my posts .
Actually I made him to see what what happened the other
night and  learn about my  yellow sac spider research.
J: "Mom, aww. That is really cute of you to say.... Did you know ya made a mistake in some sentences?"
ME: Oh, I know. Sorta. I have told my readers I am too pressed to edit.
 He offered to edit for me!
Isn't that nice of him?
He hasn't started yet. Because it's still summer- I think.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

The Yellow Sac Spider Chronicles

Readers, this is my most informative post of all time.
 I am suffering from arachnophobia as a result.
This tiny spider is at the heart of all our bite woes.
I am pretty sure.
They are small.
They are fast.
They are  aggressive.
They are hard to see.
And one came down from the ceiling in front of me one evening (they are nocturnal)
as I was trying to walk for 3 minutes, trying to work off an M&M  on the tread mill.

(Tony DiTerlizzi- Spiderwick Chronicles)
Several members of my family have been after or during being in the garden.
My neighbor was in her garden and got bitten on the foot.
Her foot would not fit in her shoe within a short amount of time.
(this is me posting before I did any research. Very benign. Not frightened.
Naive; despite being bitten recently from just standing in the garden to take a pic for you for this blog......I am re-evaluating A LOT of things right now.)
(Pic courtesy of University of Nebraska-Lincoln.)
These guys normally hang out at garden parties, but they come in when it starts to get cold. 
That's what I love about Idaho, it cools off at night and you can open your window, with your screen protecting you, and feel a nice breeze while you sleep.
(Folks, I caught one spider that was smaller than one that made me have a heart attack- or at least raised my heart rate. I squished this small one with t.p.- then I went to take its picture.
I had sprayed it with some nasty combination of oils meant for the gut that is part of Madre's essential oils collection.
I am NOT making this up. This is for a book, or something.
Because I squished it AGAIN, Readers.

(Tony again from the spider book...)
It is now in a bag, soaked with oil for an earth friendly demise and is
S-T-I-L-L       A-L-I-V-e!
He played dead. He looked squished .
Once in a Zip-Lock and ignored, he stretched out his limbs or whatever they are.
And moved around.
I moved around.
He stopped.
Post Intermission. Feel free to start vacuuming. Or recover from fainting.
Or so I wanted to think, really there are a number of bugs/insects that squeeze into that tight little box in the screen on your window.

(Tenth Year Anni for Tony's illustrated book- I am gonna go to jail for copyright violations.
There is probably less clutter allowed there.)
A lot of bites are being blamed on the brown recluse.
But some study done on a PDF file by Utah State said this guy was the culprit.
And apparently they do love to race through leaves and plants quite quickly to find their prey.
Because they are so small 15mm they slip under a long sleeved shirt and be offended when they can't find the exit so they bite you several times before escaping.
There is also a black insect that I am waiting for a Biologist/Scientist connection
out at the Nuclear Plant
to get back with venom, species information.
Because that is the only one that has been caught.
Good luck catching this one.
If you are from Idaho and Utah these guys and gals are putting up a little flesh colored sac
behind your picture frames, in the dark recesses of your closet or even right out there in the open on your ceiling or in a corner, as if to mock you that they have been hidden in plain view from you!

They can make 5-6 sacks, that look like a sheet covered with silk, after mating. (they are flesh little sheaths so it is hard to spot them on the ceiling.
48 eggs are in those "sacks" that hatch in spring.
And guess what! Unless you are spraying them directly, you can't kill them!! They roll up in a tight ball or use a leaf for an umbrella and laugh at us.But apparently we NEED them to get rid of other
So now what?
Oh, you just have to vacuum
 And empty out your vacuum bag so there isn't any re-infestation.
And de-clutter.
People, that is sorta part of my life- clutter.
**** I just fainted and when I came to, I had my laptop on my lap and there was a blog post in front of me about spiders....
Ahem, (clear blogging throat because I also just read that I need to EMPTY the vacuum sack daily as well or else they just crawl back out of your vacuum and left some egg sacks in your vacuum sack.) 
Whatever spiders have bitten me, my neighbors, on this side of town and the other, there is a higher amount this year.
We don't know why.
I haven't checked out the Farmer's Almanac lately
- actually ever-
so I dunno if it is from a lot of rain in the spring or the heat.
Or this is some sort of biblical pestilence.
J. was right! That Garden is Forbidden!
And because it is getting closer to fall and my room is in the basement, I am going to make sure those spider traps are on the ground close to room openings.

************************** I just passed out again!***************************.
This time, when I came to, I  was clutching the hose on the vacuum.

I may have actually had a heart attack.
I'm checking my blood pressure right now...
whew. okay. we're fine.
Before fainting, I had sprayed a spider in my window seal- yes, I randomly  looked there because this post was making me paranoid. And THERE
                                                                                      was a SPIDER.
I hopped outta bed faster than you can say Yellow and ran to get toilet paper.

 Readers, I came back and it was GONE. It had hid!

(do you know how hard it is to sprint with a cane? And locate it that quick?)
I sprayed the concoction of some disgusting oil that Madre has that contains things that supposedly were a green way of destroying a spider. I mixed it with some water. Dumped it in the vacuum bag awhile ago, SPRAYED this black spider directly and it still balled up.
that's when I grabbed the vacuum.......... (continue reading the things I wrote about before I started looking in my window corners)

Tony DiTerlizzi illustration from book:
The Spider and the Fly. by Mary Howle-something.

And apparently they are attracted to the T.V. light once all the lights have been turned off!
So traps there for sure.
(post Spider siting: I am putting a spider trap at the bottom of my vacuum and the end of the hose- if they decided to hide out in there. oh, and at the vacuum sack opening.

And calling for an appointment with a Dr.  that deals with folks afraid of spiders.I don't think the ER will admit you on the basis of fear of spiders due to blogging.
Ya know, see through body bags seem the most effective and easier than what is necessary to stay clear  the Yellow Sac Spider bite at this point.
P.S. I had a low grade fever, malaise, myalgia that seized my back and legs up after my bite. The Dr. attributed it to an allergic reaction to a med.
Utah Dr.s looked at labs said it wasn't the med.
I now know......


No immune system, people.......

Agnes, in Despicable Me, praying. Edith prayed that no bugs would crawl in their ears and lay eggs.

Readers, freak out, right here. Sleep with the LiGhts oN, a spray bottle of vinegar, oils, and garlic around your neck. Actually,

Don't sleep at all.

Only until an antibiotic for a post infection have I had a turn around of sorts.

-that was the last benign sentence before my spider google research fest and finding



during editing.

Don't I seem latti-dah-ish?
Totally unaware of what would unfold when I edited and looked online in the


the night?

Spiders can't climb between the zip and the lock of a

Zip-Lock Bag, can they?

I smell like essential oils and think I'm gonna gag.

Friday, August 23, 2013

"At Spud's"



This is one of the things that hasn't changed over the past four years- J. mowing lawns to earn money to save and


As J. has gotten older, I thought that the cute, funny sayings, that needed to be put down in a journal, would slowly peeter out. And that, for the most part, he would say grown up things that are not notable.

Then he surprised me- while playing with a toy motorcycle he stopped and told me all about how a carburator works. It was so cute I had to ask him to repeat it because I just sat and watched his face and nodded the first time.

He has changed and stayed the same all at once.
As have I.
 It seems unreal that he has only been around for ten years.
I feel like I've always known him.
How is that anyway?
Does God  put your child in your heart the minute yours starts to beat?

 He still  has a handful of quot -ables every day that I forget to write down.

He still sees something he wants and has to

                            his money to

buy it.

 What this has to do with Potatoes, will come soon.... Actually it doesn't have anything to do with what I am talking about except that he said something that I needed to blog. Or else.

One of the biggest changes has come in his sports venue. I know.
Why do kids have to throw their parents for loops all the time?

Readers, I don't know if you will recall this throughout my posts, but J. was/is a sports fanatic. He was throwing things since day one. Which gave me and his dad some laughs. Naturally he gravitated toward basketball, football, baseball. I've bought baseball helmets, imitation football helmets. He bought a BMX helmet that he used to race a couple times and only recently used it after waiting four years for his dream to come true.

 And that was to ride a dirt bike.



                                                 In the begining he loved: 

Like a wheel, he came back, full circl to doing what he has always loved.
And what we used to do together. When I was well. When I still had my ORANGE

I will never forget the feeling of letting go of on the bike; of letting  J. go..... !

exhileration. amazement. awe. accomplishment.
It was as if I was trying my own invention. my own experiment
out for the first time



Think Eddison.
Alexander Graham Bell
so on and so forth!
J. had padded around on a bike with the shanks taken off and learned
After going clear down town on a metal seated, red bike that seemed a foot tall,
he could not wait to ride a real one.
He did it the same day we took that ride and sat outside of Great Harvest Bread eating a big chunk
of their warm, wheat bread with the cinnamon crust and a thick layer of butter spread atop of it.
I was So. Tired.
I So wanted someone to help me parent at that moment.
Had Padre not come and picked us up, I would have
 (Still not to the potato part of this post- hang on folks! I have to go into great detail about my suffering while indulging my child in action sports:

Hours were spent sitting in my a sweltering car, or in a patch of shade in the dead heat while J. rolled over cement,  made into concussion begging shapes, on his bike.
Unless you showed up really early in the a.m. , you were there with a group of teenagers and then somes, that rarely let a kid roll in.

J. finally the decision to not hang with that crowd:
 "They swear a lot mom. So that you can't hear. But I do. "

Well, I heard it and knew it was worse where he sat on his seat and waited for the other kids whose pants were at half mast to roll in and out of the bowls and was getting worried.

 It was looking like I had to load his bike, helmet, knee and elbow guards into the back of my van, Mary, for the last time.

Thank goodness.

 It was sad to see him miss out on a talent because the crowd that did that sport wasn't the best influence.

(He did get some great advice and learned new skills from some of those guys and I appreciate it.)

Football came. We lived, slept, ate, dated, football. And basketball.

 New parents listen up! And be warned! I had NO idea he'd decide to NOT play his favorite sport this year. When he told me for the hundreth time that he was NOT going to play,
 I was flabbergasted.

I mean I'd only thrown the ball to him a zillion times before he even became a "grader". There were so many times when I was on the verge of dehydration and passing out but still tossing a ball to a blond little boy.
 Over. And. Over.

Ten different colored,
different sized,
different degrees of inflation worth of footballs
lying around the house.
Some are most likely out in the knee high weeds in the garden.
Padre is really having a hard time with this one. The weeds. Not the football thing.

Can I just say:"Come again?"

And we are almost to the potato thing!

J: "I  am starting to like doing such and soot this year."

ME: hoobiddy wha?

ME AGAIN:I'm sorry, the ear infection I have had made it hard to understand what you just said, for a second I thought you said you weren't going to play football." 

J: "I am not going to play football this year. And it isn't because of blee blah blue. Or blah dee, dee."

(I asked him OvEr and oVer in random places, and times. Just. 2. make. sure.)
Because I didn't want him not playing because I started doing my hair differently or something.

Me ONCE MORE: Yes, but such and much sport is like my second child because of all the time, money, effort, time, and did I say Money, invested in it with you. What am I supposed to do? Put it up for adoption now because you like to mountain bike, hike, and ride dirt bikes??

ME: And remember all the plays you told me about
and how I had to buy all those mouth guards that you boil and were hot and you'd mess them up and I'd have to buy another one so we got it all right??

And how you begged for a helmet and wore that blamable, oversized Skyline helmet, even up to the table?

And how you asked me get you jerseys to wear over shoulder pads just to toss one of the footballs around?? 

And how I sat through sun, rain, cold, snow  and wind,watching you?


 (I am about to cry as I post this and wondering why it is taking so long get to the cute thing he says about potatoes.)


J: "I will  still be wearing  a helmet!"

 (said helmet- this one will be hard to say good-bye to as well. thank goodness it barely fits after
of waiting to ride a 100.
I was under the impression he would just be running a 100 on a track....
If someone sees my boy will you notify me?
Try looking where there is concrete, dirt, elevation, and sky.
Oh, wait.
He's here!
Because there was a young boy who asked me some questions before he fell asleep that were just like my son's "Jadenisms"
And he isn't "breaking up" with football, he's just dating other sports.
So I don't have to send all the different balls in this house to D.I. (Deseret Industries is a thrift store opereated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
Okay,Reader, here comes the POTATO PART!
J: "Why are the Chinese so smart?" 
Me: "uhh, hmm. I think that they have "Tiger" moms. Which means they go to school all day, do homework while they eat and practice the piano in their sleep. They are really focused, a dedicated and proud  people in academics. Their parents are known for expecting excellence and I think they are just hard wired mathmatically"
J:" So how do I pick the right job and get the job?"
I must have really empasized the importance of work, skills, and apparently economics becaue this came outta left field:
ME: You just continue on sharpening your skills. Like on the mountain in Jackson Hole when you went on those steep, trails with the funky names, over and over; you got better. Same with jobs and learning. You build on what you know, you get better at it, and become really good at navigating through life.
J: "So what job do I look for and how do I GET it? Do they give it to me?"
ME: No, no. You apply- which is a fancy and formal way of asking them if you can show them all the skills that you have accrued over so many years of going to bed early and gettiing up early and working.
Already you have some stellar work history- collecting cans, mowing lawns. You can work on a farm as you get older; build some character. Work during spud harvest while in Jr. High and what not.
J: "What am I gonna do at "Spud's" again?" zzzzzzzz (soft snoring, and deep breathing.)
Me to sleeping boy- I have potato connections.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Garden Stool Replacement

(Produce from the 2008 SEED SAVERS gardening calendar. Since I haven't produced anything in my garden, photo by Rosalind Creasy)

This is a post that I have worked on bit by bit and now just feels like I need to publish to get out of my que line on the computer. Here it is, Readers. Enjoy. I didn't edit, so I hope it's good.

As you know long time Readers know and you new Readers did not know, , I sat on an old bathroom stool to weed my garden.

,Back when I could weed...

Isn't this heavenly???

This was the best gardening year since moving back home, making Padre tear up the grass in the back yard, and lucking out with the year's best lilac season.

Karma, my dear friend who recently passed, had HUGE lilac bushes lining the whole west side of her Shelley property.
When it was up for sale, I recall J. on my hip and walking through her yard saying:


over and over. But there weren't any words that could replace the awe I felt when I stepped into her backyard. I wanted it to be my back yard!! But fate had other plans.

Madre just came in and showed me her second round of bites due to helping Padre in the garden.
Despite him spraying yesterday....

Readers and gardeners of Idaho, Beware!
Biting Bugs are lurking in our lovely spreads!

Back to editing a post in the makes for a loooong time:
However, my stool is really, really rusty due to the harsh Idaho weather; a replacement is needed.

If I am going to be a gardener next year or any year to come.
. So I googled something like

 "garden stool"

and the first reference was the above wagon looking device minus a handle.  A person would lost a lot of ground in order to make rows that big to roll it down.
Actually, I was first led down a path of what must have been indoor ornamental stools covered in elephants, or in the shape of an elephant that you might find as stylish India vacation relic.
These "garden stools" were over a hundred dollars and didn't look like they were supposed to hold over 100 pounds.

Then I found this the above garden weeding stool with the lady apparently weeding bricks on the side of her house.

To put my search into an overall perspective, and summarize the pathetic-ness of my life, was the list of things across the bottom of the page that tells you what those who were looking for elephant stools for their garden, were also interested in. 

This one did not  hurt my feelings. But it does make me wonder how a chiropractor or my  Physical Therapist would feel with me weeding on it. They may not care, more business for them, right?
If one were to kneel, it seems the blood would rush to your head from the stool.
. Sure the handles look handy to help you stand up after having knelt, but is it worth it?
The cost was not worth the amount we get from our harvest or the amount I desire to spend, simply to comfortably pick raspberries.

Being sick, I don't need a kneel at all! If I am going to garden in the future I am going to need a "lay down and weed". Which I imagine  would be a camp rest or cot an inch off the ground, mattress pad and pillow, and some military strength  netting around  it.

A small hole, with a guantlet cord to tighten  around your wrist. (to insure those pesky black bugs that several people I know have been seeing this year) would enable you to stick your gloved hand through the netting, and weed.
Think NASA.
I am convinced something even more protective.
Like the space suits.

 (photo also from Ms. Creasy) 
Or just stay out of the garden, let it become wild and become a sanctuary for bad bug, insects, beetles, and whatever unsightly crawly doo-dad and
forget the delicious taste of home canned foods.
Before I left the "garden stool" site I glanced down and saw the other items people bought that looked at/and or purchased.

 This is what I saw:

"sloggi basic Maxi three pack High Rise Women's Briefs."

And their online model.


The majority of people looking for a gardening stool are also those that wear high rise briefs?
That really hurt my self esteem.
  However, the briefs did have 5 stars, which beat the score the tool toting four wheeler weeding seat, had by half a star.  
How hard is it to find something to sit that doesn't sink down into the soft brown earth while you weed

(same calendar)
The fact I was even on this sort of divergent google is telling about how sad it is when you are not well enough to search the Internet for something actually fun and cute. I am looking for something practical and comfortable for a possible, future endeavor.

I could buy it and look at it for inspiration.

LOOK at this! A tractor seat that swivels! I could make this if I could weld! All I would have to do is ask someone from the outer skirts of town if they minded if I took the rusting seat offf their rusting John Deere tractor. Of course I would paint it a cute color and put it on a heavy duty gardening wagon with wheelchair brakes.  
But again, look how big the rows would have to be and how tall your weeds would have to be in order to sit on this. If weeds get this high, your plants are most likely choked out.
So I am confused on where this would come in handy. And if I am going to weld/ make it myself, and have to steal a jungle gym monkey bar dealio from a local park or school, then I would definitely add some luxuries like a padded back rest, a cup holder, and some posture pedic foam padding on the seat.
No one steal my idea!

If you do please send me one.
I  haven't set foot in the garden since I took pictures out there for the raspberry blog and got biten.
Padre has lamented over the garden and I have to remind him like a broken record that I told him in the spring,  not to expect anything outta me this summer as far as gardening and watering goes.
Apparently he didn't get the memo cause he planted a garden and has shared more stories about his grandmother, who had a garden the size of our back yard, and how she didn't leave the town of Preston Idaho to see her children much due to the fact they she had to farm her garden, can her produce, wash dishes by hand, and make home-made jam.
Oh, and had to hand move the sprinklers around the grassy yard and of course the garden!

Which is a full time job.

Whether he is reminiscing about his grandparents and his visits to their tiny three bedroom home located on a street meets the grass without a curb,

 or trying to give me a guilt trip, I'm not sure.

These flashbacks of his take place at the dinner table when the blinds are pulled up and he has a panoramic view of the looks of our back yard. His eye sight is still quite good and he can see that our 'weed' garden is successful this year.


it could be that when he had his vacation this summer, he spent most of it moving the water to different places in the yard, on a two hour rotation, and has bravely battled the beetles (grubs)
that are dead set on killing his grass.

You don't even need a garden to appreciate a gardening stool.
Like reaching for something that is located high up in your cupboard.
See, you can't go wrong with a good stool.

however, I could purchase the perfect, non-sinking gardening stool as the


spot on the hearth, where my back pack  was a reminder of how much fun I had back packing and that I could do it again!


more like boo-whoo.


Training Bras

Training Bras don't come with any instructions.  I don't know why they even call them that if they don't include some sort of head's up to the wearer.

They should.
Especially if you are in "training" before you get the Official Training in 5th grade.
"The Video"
far outshines the fact that 5th grade is
Amercan History
and you learn a bunch of songs that other 5thers do, and sing them at the HS to your parents.
And you are backed up by HS bands, I think.
Back to bras.
I was horrified when Madre told me it was time to stop wearing my
comfortable, cotton camisole undershirts that had cut little rosebuds with small greenery on them.
They were like being wrapped in a blanket, securely enveloped from all of the atrocities at
elementary school.
But it came time that they weren't covering enough and Madre informed me that I would need a bra.
I busted into tears. Those undershirts were like close family to me.
And I loved when I would get a new, plastic covered package from Kmart.
One day Madre dragged me
  into Penney's section past bras that looked like headgear for the chest with all of their wires and what not.
my face burning red, vowed NEVER to wear one of those...
That's where "training" in the moniker training bra must have come from, a way to slowly get used to the inevitable;
where you get used to the idea of giving up your comfy camisole for the restrictive devices.
The attendant for the bra deparment probably wondered what was going on as I bawled in the dressing room.
Readers, this was before Britney Spears and wearing nothing was popular in elementary.
And before nail art took your mind off of puberty.
Eventaully through tears I must have decided on the most comfortable padded bra because I started wearing one.
However, I was
horrified to wear anything that would give the allusion to anyone in the class that I had bra straps over my shoulders now.
It was bad enough that I had to wear glasses, headgear for my buck teeth, and now hit puberty before we even knew about fractions.
Or at least before I had grasped the fraction dealio. 
All of these memories have come flooding back as J. is to enter his
"The Video" year of elementary.
We have discussed the birds and bees but it is more like the Ostrich Bird and Killer Yellow Jacket Bees conversation now that we are in a post Britney Spears era.

J. is trying to stuff every bit of adventure into summer before this tortuous year begins.
I guess I should notify Padre of the ensueing video that he will have to go to with J. I think Madre is going to have to give him the Big Bird and Wasp discussion before this takes place.
Oh, I got over my training bra. After wearing it 24 -7 for the first little while Madre let me know it was ok to take off at night.
I am so used to the headgear around my bust that I even carry a card telling me and anyone who steals my purse my exact size.
So glad I have elementary school out of the way. Maybe I should start making instructions for my own line of training bras that will let you know all about acne, boys, how to stay away from cell phone disasters, mood swings, tampons, and so on and yes, take them off at night, forth.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Snap Dragons and Susan Branch

The only Two Snap Dragons in our yard...
There were no flowers planted this year.
Can you believe that?
In fact, Padre sprayed the garden trying to take out my sunflowers!
(and the weeds and grass.)
But I know he had it out for my flowers because he'd look out the window and ask whether I was growing a vegetable garden or a flower garden.
The vegetables are there to throw him for a loop.
My REAL agenda was flowers!  
One year a lone sunflower rose up. From then on, they were welcome in my garden.
And eventually, 
Those sunflowers are what made this garden!
Well, the good news is that they are hearty and prevailed. Just like the brave little snapdragons above.
They were in a bad location though- right by where all of Padre's hoses meet by the valve.
I had to turn on the hose a hand full of times out front and that is when I noticed the snapdragons. So instead of watering hanging baskets full of beautiful foliage, I've been assigned to keep grass from dying.
During this automatic sprinkler endeavor, I felt a twinge of inspiration come from those flowers that pushed through despite Padre's efforts to kill weeds. They got caught in the cross fire and have just now bloomed for me.
When I saw the first sunflower bloom, I said: "Oh!" outloud.  
"They must be a little sign, a message for me to perservere"
I concluded inside myself.
And I couldnt't help but feel smug that they came through loud and proud despite my inability to tend to them because I've been in a place where the sun doesn't shine- disease, etc.
One almost can forget how wonderful the littlest things are. So when you are able to see it after a storm, you feel like you've witnessed a miracle..
I mean, Padre put down a pesticide that killed off everything. And there are a million weeds.
All those sticks Jaden had to pick up back when the tree suffered some broken branches, and then we took off some more so that the sun could hit our garden, well it paved the way for a great harvest.
Despite me being able to help it along. Don't I have a good garden?
I know it has missed me!  But in time I know I will be back in it.
I left that Snapdragon to remind me each time I saw it, to keep pushing.
Then the other day, when J. mowed,
 he whipped one of Padre's many hoses, in such a way that it broke the snap dragon.
Oh, No! I thought Maybe another sign??
PS, I am not superstitious.
 my Grandmother tripped on her hose and broke her hip. She had been tending to her beautiful rose garden or one of her always perfect hanging baskets.
She has been very ill for a long time and suffers from Parkinson's disease. A dear, admired woman in my Church had it and when she got to the point where she didn't remember me- when I used to see her every month, we had been in the Mission Training Center together while she prepared to serve with her husband; 
It was hard to watch her descend into the forgetfulness at a time when she and her sweetheart could  have time together.
I have not been able to get over to see my grandmother much. On occasion a doctor's visit was nearby and I would visit to eat a piece of homemade bread, spread with a generous amount of butter and her homemade raspberry jam.
(See where Padre gets off on how precious raspberries are? And how neighbors covet us because of them. Yeh, right. They just buy Smuckers. )
When I visited her, Grandma and I would  sit in La-Z-Boy chairs in the living room, and take a nap.
Doesn't that sound like the best way to spend an afternoon?
Once I slept on their pristine comfy carpet floor, cause Great Papa was in his chair.
He asked which one of us was the invalid when we both got to the point that our mouths hung open and we started off into dreamland.
He is a very funny man. (say this with Spanish accent).
So I  grabbed a miniature vase of Madre's that is shaped like an iron.
Cause my wonderful, perfect iron died recently.
How could it? It was indestructible!
Okay, moving on to some positiveness and the progression of summer.
I was sitting with J. on the porch swing and realized we are into the hottest part of summer.
What people call the dog days of summer.
"we are gonna need rocking chairs, lemonade, and a good book."
I informed him as the sprinkler made its rotation and we sat looking at it in a deep trance-like state.
I couldn't think of what book. And needed a nap. Then guess what happened.
Madre walked into my room with a package.
Lately I have had the worst kind of luck with mail. For the most part it has been anyway.
But the package was from a friend.
I KNEW exactly what it was. And who sent it.
Since you don't- here it is:
I was so happy.
Susan is one of my favorite authors, artists, bloggers, gardeners, person.
And it all began with stickers.... she made the sweetest ones that trickle down my pages.
I couldn't believe it!
AND it was signed by Susan herself. Oh!
Because of my health,
I could only look at a few pages  before a nap was needed. So I just let it nap beside me.
Then It started to rain so I haven't been able to get the lemonade and rocker out.
I've started into the book and must admit it is romatic. Can't lie.
And I love it will be mine and belong to my bookcase.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

The Mowers

(girl fashionably making most of rainy day)
Along with blogging,
Brainstorming good entrepreneurial business ideas is one of my hobbies.
Trying to think of creative ways to make money is behind the brainstorming.
It must come from my genetic code. In my early years I remember an aunt pushing the idea to sell Popsicles at the 4th of July parade. We would only have to figure how to keep the ice cream from melting while pulling the boxes of refreshment in a red wagon down the poop laden streets of historic down town.
(lots of horses in these parades)
The ideas kept trickling in my brain since then. Hence, J's can recycling job, so on and so forth. 
Speaking of fourths,
One 4th, not too long ago, I made a huge effort to get down to an area on the parade route located by the Y, which sits atop the first swimming pool I ever laid eyes on. Horrible memory. For another post
Anyway, this day was on one of the coldest days in Idaho 4th of July history. Or at least my parade going history here.
I found myself trying to keep my dress from flying up in the wind and in my mind I was berating myself for not getting J. out there with a wagon full of hot chocolate.
I had it all worked out except for how he would keep the water from burning him and customers.
Dang, we would have made a haul that year. Oh, well. Subsequently it was also a year where my kid did something that he had to be "punished" for. So after seeing the horses and BMX riders pass us by and then some government employees in topless Le Sabre vehicles, I had to make the decision no parent wants to do.
Spanking was off the table. So I had to walk him back to the car, early. Him crying and begging for a second chance.
I wish I would've spanked him to make a good show for the relatives present and so he could have finished off the parade. But you know how important consistency is in childrearing.
Yeh, right my rear.
Note to any of you" newbie parents" out there- Pick your battles. And don't listen to what the book says. Especially the one about them sleeping on their own right when you leave the hospital
Follow your gut and your heart. Don't be ashamed of it You know your kid And you get the op to screw him or her up by virtue of being their parent and choosing If you choose badly, they can go to counseling.
Not a big deal.
I wish I would've just shrugged when he had a tantrum moment, commented on how evil children are and stayed. With my foot upon the child of course. It Would've saved me folding the chairs back up after all the effort of getting to the spot and trudging through the parade goers as a kid cried at my feet and tried to tug at my skirt that was wrapped around my face. (due to the wind)
That I could handle.
The heart break you give your kid. Well, I guess it is for the professionals with PhDs, bystanders, and J. to judge.
Where was I? Oh, money!
You'd have thought working for a brokerage firm would have landed me in the perfect position to invest all that money from my Kool-Aid Stand ideas. Actually, I took the job to be down the street from my doctors... I sorta fell into having to become a broker and it hasn't had one single effect on being broke at all.
(it helps to be healthy in these business ventures.)
However, working there was not a total waste. I did receive some sort of
Gone Fishin' Award. (I mean gone workin')
Which was an award the firm gave to those who brought in assets, etc. The paper I received had a boat sitting on a lake with a fishing pole in the water. No human present.
And a sign hung on the boat that read: Gone Workin'.
Meaning: That human was actually working to get more money for said firm.
While those that owned the firm were on a yacht somewhere fishing.
So, I have had to pass this important gene on to J. so that he can have some hobbies and instead of fishing, be working.
One day some time ago I told him that he could accrue several more lawns to mow the older he could grow. He was six or something.
I tried to come up with some clever names like: Mom and Me Mowing. But I imagined him when he was in his teens and having to deal with this sort of decal on a truck he drove and he might be embarrassed.
In all his glorious, child like wisdom he came up with the perfect name....
The Mowers.
Isn't that brilliant? I glowed with utter satisfaction and quickly tried to reward him with a piece of paper award, so he could show future employers so as to help him get a job.
I know that something like that will be a huge resume builder.
Oh, and I also had it ingrained in me about saving money. Which really is a good thing.
Oh, by the way.
Going to a movie like out to Edward's Theater, is excruciatingly painful.
I can not think of a bigger way to watch your money burn.
However, I was given tickets and even had received a gift card to go there over three years ago.
One evening, the stars aligned and I was well enough to go.
J. and I had the best time.
I of course waited for a decent movie to come along. Yes, it took several years. But one came,
We went.
and we laughed.
It was well worth it.
I mean, I didn't have to pay for it. So that right there put the worth into most of it, but taking the time and pushing myself was so worth it.
I recall looking over at him through my 3-D glasses, which were placed over my regular glasses, at him giggling so hard while wearing his 3-D glasses over his regular glasses, and just smiling. Because his giggling had the other theater people giggling.
All of it over yellow, capsule medication looking animation. (what made him giggle)
And I couldn't help but wonder how come I didn't think of the idea of un cognisant little pills running around first.
Oh, well. Maybe next year's 4th of July will be cold and then J. and I will rule the world!
Because right now my blogging hobby has not brought in one cent.
Which really takes the pressure off.

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