Draft 2021

The owner of this bed shall remain anonymous to protect the guilty They say confession is good for the soul. My soul could use a little boost, so here goes: I am not a bed-maker. To those who know me well (Hi, Mom!) this will come as no great surprise. Despite my mother's best efforts, I have never been a bed-maker. I like how a nicely-made bed looks, of course.  And I don't mind when someone else makes mine for me.  But it just isn't something that makes my daily to-do list. I've never quite understood why bed-making is considered such a virtue, though I have suffered from embarrassment a time or two when my messy mattress has been viewed by others. That's social conditioning for you. I used to make my bed as a kid, but only because I had to.  As soon as I had a little more freedom, that was one of the first things to go. One summer at my grandma's, I must have been 12 or 13, she apparently couldn't stand my messiness any longer.  Grandma asked my Aunt Ruth

I'm having a hard time getting myself going today. I stayed up late watching season 2 of Downton Abbey. Shame on me. Then Fern woke me up a 3 a.m. to let me know the food bowls were mostly empty (at least the ones she prefers) and she was about to keel over from starvation. Gus woke up for the day at 5:10, which means that's when my day started, too. He was pretty good this morning - he only opened a kitchen cupboard once, then was satisfied for a little while with the paper plate I gave him.  (You can't ruin all the paper plates at once, honey.  Only one at a time). He found part of an empty box to chew and dragged the extra refrigerator water filter out from under the sink.  It was still in its box, so I let him drag it around and chew on it while I chugged my first cup o' joe. Hey, he only rang the bell twice after he ate this morning, which meant I only had to sit outside on the top step in the freezing cold for about 10 minutes. I'll take what I can get. Add in

 Watch out  He's just waiting To jump up and scare the crap out of you!

We've regularly been walking around Gray's Lake this winter.  It's great exercise and a good way to tire out the dog. A couple weeks ago we noticed an eagle there nearly every time we walked.  Then, Michael and Melissa spotted what they thought was a nest.  The next day, Melissa and I walked there and thought we could see the white head of a bald eagle sticking up from the top of the nest.  Soon after a sign was erected noting the nest and warning people not to disturb them. The lake trail runs along the bank of the Racoon River.  The nest is completely across the river in a stand of trees on the opposite bank. Today on our walk we spied this eagle perched in a tree near its nest.  The males and females take turns sitting on the eggs, so we don't know if this was the male or the female. This photo, though still zoomed in, gives a better idea of how far away we actually were standing. And here is the other eagle sitting in the nest.  You can see it's white head stick

Gus picked up a bug - actually a parasite - from daycare last week. It cost us an extra $100 at the vet to have a stool sample checked and medications prescribed for both dogs. Now I guess I finally know what it's like to have a child in daycare.  You really are at the mercy of the other mommies and daddies to keep their kids home when they're sick. Anyway, Gus wasn't allowed to go back to daycare until his treatment was over - a total of 7 days. Actually, we could have sent him, but the vet said it would be "morally wrong." I know this because after day 3, I called and asked. So, for seven looong days, Gussie had to hang out at home with me and the old dog. He was not happy. In fact, the poor little guy was bored out of his mind. And I nearly lost mine. It's been a long time since we've had Gus home day after day without daycare.  In fact, it's been since we started taking him at 4 1/2 months old. I thought I'd go crazy those first few months; I

I've been working hard to be more mindful. This grew out of the desire to be debt-free once-and-for-all as soon as possible. We're aiming for 3 years, though I'm hoping for 2. We've budgeted the heck out of everything, accounting for every penny, and using the cash only system.  We refinanced our mortgage (saving us $600 a month!), refinanced our cars, transferred debt onto a fantastically low-rate card from our new credit union. We don't have cable and haven't had it for several years.  But I had been using Amazon Video on Demand and purchasing episodes and series right and left.  Now, if it's not in the budget, I wait for the Netflix disk.  I get one disk at a time and instant watch. I've put the cobosh on my Kindle habit.  Now I go to the library weekly and pay attention to those due dates! I've always cooked from scratch, but I've succeeded in making all our breads from scratch for the past two months.  I've made artisan bread in 5 minute

Unlike the beautiful homes in the magazines, I can't keep flower bouquets on the table.  I can't keep them on the kitchen island or the kitchen counter.  Nor can I set a bouquet on the desk, on a side table or on the coffee table. No, in my house, flower bouquets end up on the mantle, the refrigerator, or way on top of a cupboard. I think you can see why.

Yesterday. February 22,  2012. We spotted the first crocus in our yard.  In case that didn't sink in, I said flowers blooming in Iowa in February . I'm sure this isn't the first time this has ever happened, but in the 20-plus years I've lived in Iowa I don't remember another winter that's been this warm and devoid of snow. We haven't had a single below zero temperature reading all winter.  We've only had one somewhat significant snowfall and even it didn't hang around very long. Believe me, I'm not complaining. When the temperature hit 50-something earlier this week my daughter and I walked around the lake without our coats and were quite comfortable. Today it's back down to the upper 30s, but it's raining, not snowing. Spring is just around the corner.  I'm looking forward to it just as much as if we'd had a terribly cold and snowy winter. Mother Nature sure knows how to make me smile!

Gussie loves you!

 Are you okay, Mom? Whew. Today is one of those days. My fibromyalgia and EDS have decided to let me know that walking every day of the week last week was pushing things just a little too far. But despite the all-encompassing fatigue and body aches the exercise was worth it. I haven't been able to exercise - and by exercise I mean walking either 30 minutes on the elliptical or walking outside for at least a mile (maybe two) - this much since early September. I had been going great guns - yoga alternating with walking - and feeling great. Until early one morning in September when taking the dogs out my ankle gave way on the deck steps and down I went, full-force onto the patio.  I still have the scar on my knee from the scraping. I injured the heels of both hands, and sprained my ankle. And just like that, with one splat, my exercising came to a screeching halt. Now, the sprain wasn't a bad one, but I don't heal quickly these days, especially when I injure a joint.  I figure

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon. For me, that is. My darling husband is busy washing bottles for his home brew.  This is his first batch in years and years, so I hope it turns out. Poor guy had to do up the dishes before he could even reach the sink (I know, that doesn't really make sense, but without a photo I'm trying to give you an idea of just how many dirty dishes there actually were). Our dishwasher conked out last week and this time it wasn't because of a fur clog.  I know this because my husband removed two fur clogs in the past couple of weeks - that's how long the dishwasher has been acting up. Repair guys came yesterday - some little doohickey part isn't working properly - total repair cost?  Nearly $300.  Yep, that's 2/3 the cost of the 2 year-old dishwasher itself. I think it's time to hit the library for a dishwasher repair manual before the next breakdown happens. Granted, I do use the dishwasher a lot - often running two full loads a day, b

"Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants a tree, is more than all." -- John Greenleaf Whittier I have had an interesting relationship with trees. Perhaps this is due to my father's influence.  As a horticulturist, it seems my dad was always either planting a tree, harvesting from a tree, pruning a tree, espalier-ing a tree, or even cutting down a tree  My son jokes that whenever we move to a new house, something we've done quite a few times in the past decade or so, I set about murdering all the trees. But I learned from my dad that a tree isn't just a tree and that trees need to be properly placed, both in relation to buildings and other plantings, as well as to usage and climate. Sounds kind of snobby, but it really isn't. I'm just particular about trees. It bothers me to see a tree planted too close to a house or road, knowing that it's beauty will suffer

I love flowers. Inside, outside, in vases or beds, flowers simply make me happy. One thing I especially like about perennials is the beauty that remains once the fancy dressing of summer is discarded.  The structure of each flower is gorgeous in its own right. And the colors!  Deep, dark browns and light camel tans... pale linens and intense auburn... less flashy than the summer purples and yellows, but beautiful nonetheless. Melissa picked this bouquet last week before the snow fell.  Soon, I'll be yearning for tulips and daffodils, but until then, this bouquet sits in the kitchen.  A reminder of the garden's year-round beauty.

Found this gem while searching for a crochet hook of a certain size today: 12 Facts About Mom my Mommy is kind, Mommy is cool, She sits on the steps when we go to the pool. Mommy is sweet, Mommy's not sour, She checks the email  before her shower. Mommy is smart, Mommy is clever, She'd like to take naps forever and ever. Mommy is nice, Mommy is pretty, Mommy's adored Because she is witty. Love, Sarah And there you have my legacy in a nutshell.

It's difficult to find a seat in our house without sharing.  I almost always have some version of the above on my lap.  Taking a nap?  Elmer lies on my head, Fern on my feet, and one or two of the other guys usually spread out somewhere else on the bed.  At night, there is a similar distribution, though the players tend to be somewhat restless and often shift positions or leave and re-enter the scene multiple times. When I'm old and everyone has left home I'll likely be found most days with animals draped over, under and across me.  Not a bad fate, you know? The only problem I foresee is having no one to slide them over onto when I want to get up.

My husband keeps long hours; rising at 5 a.m., working until 6 (or later), into bed by 10.  One daily activity that keeps him cool, calm, and collected is meditation. When we first met I was suspicious of TM.  I worked as the managing editor of my college newspaper and frequently received press releases from Maharishi International University in Fairfield, Iowa, touting meditation as the route to curing all the world's ills and featuring meditators who "fly."  (This is basically a feat of athleticism - sort of a cross-legged jump a few feet into the air).  While I still hold a healthy dose of skepticism for the most radical claims of TM, what I do know is that daily meditation makes my husband feel relaxed, invigorated, and ready to face the challenges of his day. These days, however, he doesn't meditate alone.  Wally and Gus join him in this daily search for Nirvana.  The three of them snuggle up together on the couch, wrapped in homemade blankets, finding their inne