Sunday, August 25, 2013
Sun is bright, air is crisp and it is going to be a nice day. Had to water the flowers yesterday. Rain has been scarce lately. There's a bit of fog over the river today. It seems the entire hill across the valley has disappeared. Another Pleasant Valley Sunday.
Ate what was probably the last of the blueberries on the bush yesterday. Sad about that. It's nice to have
a constant source of blueberries for a few weeks. Freezing them is never the same. And putting fresh ones in a Cool Whip container in the fridge is never a good idea. I thought we had plenty of Wool Whip but we don't. We have berries that I forgot about that don't look so good now.
I'm reading the late Tim Russert's book about his father. I always liked Russert. I miss him a lot on Meet the Press. He was fair, intelligent and did his homework. And he could break things down to simple terms. You never got the feeling he was talking down to you. I rarely watch the show now. Politics isn't as fun anymore. Now it's just constant partisan bickering and games and no real work that actually helps people.
And news sucks too. The line between infotainment and news is gone now. It's all infotainment. I still watch the evening news to keep up on the world. I want to know the latest world crisis, anything new in science and health care, perhaps a nice human interest story and that's it. The 24 hour news cycle, with it's breathless urgency, has disappointed too often. Selling too much sizzle and not enough steak for me.
Am I depressed? No. Far better to be outside in the garden, or working on the latest house project. Today
it's the kitchen. Mellow Yellow. Oh, not really.... it's Sunrise Yellow or something like that. But to me, Mellow Yellow. Because Saffron's made about me.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
In my hurry to get the laundry downstairs I stepped on Sweet Pea's paw. She was pretty upset with me for a good half hour. Scurried under the bed. Meowed at me in a snit every time I went toward her.
But now it's eight hours later. She is sitting right next to me on top of my desk, climbing on the keyboard wanting to be petted, and oh, it's almost suppertime. Moral of the story: Never stay mad at the person who feeds you.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Sunday again. It's claw cutting time around here and right now I'm losing. Sweet Pea has 6 out of 10 done, (I do only the front paws)and Sambo stands at 4 out of 10. Coco was done weeks ago. You can do anything to that cat. I hold her like a baby, kiss her stomach, hold up her front paws and dance with her.... she is sweet. The other two are terrors to work with.
Sitting outside with mom yesterday talking about Egypt. "Here we are sitting outside in the sun, comfortable, enjoying the day and then there's all that trouble over in Egypt. What's wrong with those people? Why are they killing each other?"
The images on TV are hard to see. And just as hard to explain to my 82 year old mother. Sigh. Well, they
have kind of like a civil war going on even though they had an election. The people they elected didn't do what they wanted to do, and now supporters of the government are fighting the people who are against the government. It's a mess. We don't really support either one but hope they can figure it out. A shame that so much killing and violence is occurring. Now even museums and antiquities are being destroyed. What a waste.
A lot of hawks around this year. The crows hate them. I'm leery of them and keep close eye on the cats. The chipmunk that was here all summer is missing. I hate to think of him as some hawk's dinner, but it's possible.
The tomatoes...Ponderosa Pinks, are finally getting ripe. I don't eat tomatoes, I just grow them, but these ones are pretty exceptional. It's to the point where mom is keeping track of who gets how many, making sure there are plenty left for her. Low acid, sweet and low seeds. And they are huge.
Debating on a new door. 500 bucks, plus you have to stain it yourself. Cheaper ones look cheap. I know, it's just a door after all, but the original wooden door is expanding in the humidity and people can't get outside and have to go around front. This won't be a problem in the fall and winter....so perhaps it is a good time to procrastinate.
Perhaps another day sitting in the sun, cutting the cats claws one at a time, and pondering about why we have it so good here and people are killing each other in Egypt. Taking pictures of butterflies.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
I'm back! It's taken a little longer than I had anticipated but I'm here. I missed you all. Summer is flying by at an alarming rate. It's already time for the Perseids meteor shower. Now you can "listen" to the meteors, courtesy of Spaceweather radio. When you head outside to look for shooting stars, put your earbuds in and plug into into the internet and there you go. Personally I would prefer some kind of trippy music. The kind they play in places where you get massage or Reiki. But it's a cool thing.
In other news, lately I've found myself returning again and again online to Andy Warhol's grave. Usually a graveyard livecam would be pretty dull. What could you see in a graveyard? But someone tied balloons to the grave for his birthday and they flutter around, so you are aware it is a live cam and not a still shot. Also, I've seen people come to visit. They sometimes put things on the grave, or take pictures. One idiot was on a cell phone and mugging for the camera so I suspect he was more interested in having his friends "see" him at the grave on their computers than showing respect for Warhol.
Which brings me to my feelings on this whole thing. I feel sorry for the families of the other dead people around him. I wonder how they feel knowing that the eternal resting place of their loved one is monitored 24/7 on the internet? Also, how would Andy view this? Is this parade of visitors better than no visitors at all? Does this all matter anyway because he is dead? Is it a tribute to his life or an invasion of his death?
You can turn up the volume and "listen" too. I hear birds mostly. And the muffled voices of the gawkers and picture takers and occasional car motor noises. Then the sounds of silence. Peace.