Mysterious Messages

Messages stuffed in a coffee-shop wall...

Would you sip your latte without peeking? 

Or would you indulge in 

anonymous note-reading?

So many fold styles and paper types--

 what seem to be long messages next to 

short, single-fold memos. 

Why leave a note stuffed in the 

wall of a busy coffee shop? 

Is it like a prayer or a plea for help?

Which one is that final break-up note, 

a long-awaited proposal, 

 or the last clue in a treasure hunt?

I didn't read a single one, though the 

urge was so strong. 

Maybe next time, I'll sneak a peek ...

(Message wall at Carabello Coffee, Newport, Kentucky)

 

Umbrella Lights

Umbrella lights that blink on just as the sky turns dusky-dark blue 

- dreamy!

I wonder what the fireflies think about 

this new backyard feature ...

Give In To Wonder

What could be more lovely and ethereal than a floating lamp? 

But then, something about sending fire into the air to roam free left me chewing one nail.

At the same time, I wanted to clap with glee and maybe even give a mascot cheer.

Something must be really wrong with me - I could watch that over and over again!

The Pirate! That Bee!

I think the PARENT persona battles the CHILD within, do you? 
I certainly hope you are still aware of your child self - 

the part of you quick to gasp in wonder or excitement? 

that bit inside that leaps forward when ice cream is available? 

that overwhelming impulse to fling something...   

A long time ago around a campfire, I saw a  mostly grown person leap to her feet and dance with complete abandon. Sparked by the fast-paced worship music, she circled the fire, singing and dancing, waving her arms, and laughing aloud. In that moment, her joy and freedom, expressed without any trace of dignity or reserve, deeply moved me.  A few of the younger people in the group jumped up to join, but I remained rooted to my log seat,  filled with admiration and denied longing. 

While lighting Chinese lanterns this weekend, I read the directions aloud with extra emphasis and cautioned all involved (with my best parental voice)  about proper use of the lighter. But as the lantern filled and tugged itself from our fingertips to float through the dusk and hover just over the apple trees ... I gave in to wonder. 

A little clapping and cheering never hurt anybody!

Small Town Wall of Fame

Contributor names to an unknown cause inscribed on a small town wall.

I'm one of the oddball people who will stand and read

them until her husband manages to drag her away to more interesting attractions. 

As a former first grade teacher, I could see the handwriting style controversy 

playing out  right there on the wall!

- What does the ★ indicate? I sure would want a ★ next to my name!

It's the little things, isn't it?

- Can you find the laugh-out-loud name? 

I know I had that guy in my freshman year at NKU!

-  And the most important detail of all:

How did Megan earn her name recorded in  (near)script?

******

God also writes names, in books - see here.

(...and on His palm, on persons ... where else?)

Heirloom

Grandma had a pussy willow bush. 

She loved it because it bore one of the first signs of spring every year, 

 catkins as soft as a new kitten's fur.

Branches were cut and brought into the house, almost as a celebration.

But Grandpa hated it because it blocked his view of the barn.

Every now and then he'd cut it way back, so he could see the barn better.

Oh, and you know she hated that!

I got my bush, now more like a tree, from my dear mother-in-law 

—a rooted branch from her own.

Seems like she's always had one here or there on their property. 

And I might remember a few go-arounds about 'over trimming' hers, too.

What's with men and over trimming?

Every year, I watch its branches for a sign of spring, 

searching for those downy buds.

This year, I also spotted this random bonus item:

Bucket Work

"Suzy, you can go gather some of those walnuts in this bucket!"

Well, I wasn't in the market for a chore, but I took the bucket and went anyway,

just as my Grandma told me to. 

Grandma was always one to give us something to do. 

It bothered her to see us sitting around being unproductive. 

So she was always quick to remedy that.

***

Recently taken photo of walnuts the black walnut tree 

that stood in her backyard, now nearly fifteen years 

after her passing.

Spam and Me

It's funny how I've enjoyed the blog's spam folder lately. Or maybe it's just ODD. Yes, that's probably it.

But you know what? There's always something waiting for me in the spam folder, and I really like that.  

This is what happens when you turn off the word verification. 

At first I was annoyed by all that spam. 

But like most annoying things, it can be funny --- if you choose to see it that way. 

And now Spam and me, we're just like that. 

At least MOST of the time. But we'll come back to that.

Here's a Spam sample for you:

- Hi there, just wanted to mention, I enjoyed this blog post. It was funny. Keep on posting! 

Check out my blog :: ottawa airport shuttle service 

This one was fun - it actually sounds like someone may have read the post. 

Until that subtle plug for shuttle service gives it away.

- jordan 8 retro sale I unquestionably like your website, I can a you man as a remainder a friend jordan retro 13 ? Looking saucy to your befall my website thumbjordan 6 retro sale 

I like the 'looking saucy' part of that one, but for the most part, and this is just the way of Spam  - it makes no sense at all. It's endearing don't you think? And somehow very...European.

- Keep this going please, great job! Also see my webpage: rainbow titanium ring 

Who knows when you might want a titanium ring, after all? 

The next four years might demand one, after all. Great idea, Spam!

But this one threw me for a loop:

- ceгtainly likе youг website hoωeѵег you have tο tеst the ѕpеlling on quite а few of уour poѕts. Α numbеr of them aгe rife with spеlling problems anԁ I in finding it very botheгsome tο inform thе realіtу on thе otheг hand Ι ωill surely come baсk agaіn. Feel free to surf my website

Criticizing my spelling???

Spam! That really hurt!

It's still hurting!

Even if it might be true...

Hot Pigs

(more Conner Prairie odds and ends)

 

The pigs seemed so content, just dozing in the warm, pluffy mud.

The smell of happy, hot pigs (and not in a bacon-y way) 

was pretty shocking to our fancified noses.

I tried to power through the stench, but ended up covering my nose too.

I don't think the pigs noticed or were offended at all.

This does look painful, though. 

No wonder they want to just lay in some mud.

I felt a sympathetic shudder - do you?

Sluggard

I've taken up some bad summertime habits.

Our dear dog is mirroring my bad habits. 

They all involve lolling / sprawling / draping. Of myself. Anywhere.

I got lazy over the summer. 

This involved reading tall piles of books and making unintentionally generous  donations to the local library. 

And there definitely was "a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest..."

The baseboards are accusing, the garden is begging, and projects are languishing. 

The demands of school (of all kinds) are looming large, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand straight up. 

Does that ever happen to you?

The Summer Celebration of the Slothful is almost over! 

Sunlit Pink

I'm not so much a pink girl. 

Not such a surprise with all men in this house, right? 

Pink is not my favorite color in clothes, although my husband likes me in pink, so I do have a couple of pink pieces of clothing. 

Pink paint on walls - no way, no how is that gonna happen. 

But it's hard to avoid pink in the garden. 

I got this hydrangea as a gift, and even though it was pink, it had such a fun name - the Blushing Bride. It starts out white, then matures to a sweet pink blush. In past years, she  has blushed blue, and I've re-named her as the Frigid Bride.

But this year --- it's all the way blush-y pink. 

I'm dealing pretty well with it, for a NOT PINK kinda girl.

And well, pink back-lit with golden spring sunshine - who can resist that?

Randoms:

- Happy First Day of Summer!

- We had friends out for dinner last night. They are older than us by about 15 years, I guess, so they speak with the voice of experience on so many levels. Saints in the church since their youth, they've been through much hardship and they love to tell of the faithfulness of the Lord on the path of life. We're thankful that He brings us companions to make the journey rich. 

- Today I get to enjoy the Day After Guests today! No cleaning, since it was all done yesterday in preparation for the friends. Truly, I love that 'all done' feeling. Maybe that's how people feel after the cleaning lady leaves? Well, I guess it's not exactly the same... 

It does last for more than fifteen minutes, too, now that the kids are older. 

- There were no takers for the hydrangea bouquets, but last night they found a purpose! The dinner friends volunteer at the local hospice every week, and mentioned that they would be stopping at Krogers to pick up their unsold flowers. They arrange them for the patients who don't receive any flowers and as a blessing for the nurses. The friends took the huge vaseful of blooms that were on the table - light blues, dark blues and purples - to use at the hospice today! We're hoping they return to cut flowers for the hospice every week. Is that cool or what? I'm so glad someone will be enjoying all that BLUE BEAUTY.

- I dragged the watering hose around the yard this morning early after MWH left for work at 7. I didn't bother to change out of my pajama pants, since WHO would see me so early anyway? It's awkward, the way I have to keep both pants legs pulled up to the knees (so they don't drag the ground and get all wet with dew) while dragging the long, heavy, loooonnnngggg hose. It's definitely an upper body work out, all done while holding your pants legs up with one hand. 

Are you getting a feeling for the awkwardness??? 

So did my neighbor. I think she was more embarrassed for me than I was. But her dog enjoyed it, barking and snarling at me for the first time ever. 

I didn't think I looked THAT bad in my PJs...

Shoe Poo

So, I've finally been lured out to the gardens to see what is coming back to life out there. Recently, my mother-in-law and I 'toured' her gardens to peer at the ground in hopeful expectation - it was fun!

But there are sometimes prices to pay for pleasure, as we all know. This one really stunk - somewhere along the way, my leather slide had gained a fresh clump of shoe poo. Just one shoe, but My Youngest and I knew it was there without a doubt as soon as the car's (our nice car - the one my husband drives...) heating system started blowing the floor air up into our faces. Yeesh! It was awful. We were desperate to make it stop!

And so. I needed gas to get to the high school to pick up my big boys. This little squeegie station has all the paper towels you can use. All you need to wipe shoe poo off your favorite leather shoes. But as it turned out, those towels do not get the poo out of the cracks... I really did try to make the towels work.

I felt a collective imaginary gasp from the men in my life, past and present, as I considered the squeegee in its well. Should I pollute the windshield washing fluid with dog poo just to get my shoe clean and odor free? What would you have done???

As it turned out, this is the PERFECT tool for cleaning dog poo from shoe cracks! Especially that sharpish rubber side. Thankfully, no men, no one was around, and I could clean my shoe without much fear of reprimand. I was afraid that the store clerk might run out and chastise me in horrified tones for contaminating the sacred squeegee, but I drove away in peace --- and smelling like cleaner, not poo.

Sure do hope it wasn't your husband who tried to use that exact squeegee station after I drove away! I'm hoping the poo had enough time to settle to the bottom of the well. Although I've noticed that men usually swish the poo-cleaning-tool around right before they mistakenly use it as a squeegee...

Maybe he should smell it first?

Lizard Surprise!

In preparation for a school project, I took this picture down from the dining room wall.

Rabbit Trail: It's one of the few special things I was given when my grandpa died in '06. It's in my childhood memories, having always hung on the dining room wall in my grandparents' home on a dairy farm in central KY. My grandma rarely changed the decor - too much farm work waiting, too many meals to cook and serve, too many muddy boot-prints to clean up.

When it was lifted away from the wall, this fell out:

These plastic animals originate from the 90s when my boys loved their 'animal box' (small storage box chock full of plastic/rubber/resin animals). Those days are over, of course, but our young nephew, who visits occasionally, asks for the box right away! Plastic animals will travel, and so there is a tiny plastic Rottweiler residing in one of the wells of the treadmill; there's aneensy, weensy salamander near the floorlamp in the living room; another dog (I'm sorry to tell you it's a pooping dog) squatting on the windowsill behind the curtain at the top of the stairs. And apparently, someone* helped this lizard find a place to live behind the picture frame. I wasn't even startled when it dropped at my feet. Random Items Hidden Out In The Open are a defining characteristic of our home. The only one that spooks me a little bit when it catches my eye is the small turtle who peeks out from the canned foods shelf in the basement.

* not my dear little nephew, who is much too short to have played this trick...