The Blue Cooler

It's officially over. Let the weeping and wailing begin. Our pool closed (yes, it is OUR pool now) for the winter. On Saturday we spent the perfect afternoon reminiscing about how great the summer had been and how much we all love our new digs.

By the end of August swimming suits are worn out (they each have two) and will barely stay on. Little girls' blond hair turned to green straw about a month ago. Suntans are brown and deep in spite of the religious application of SPF50 and lines will still be visible when new suits are tried on next year. Swimming skills have improved and new diving tricks have been learned.


But some things just don't change. Like my blue cooler.

I picked this monstrosity up as a purchase gift a number of years ago when we were building our home. The thing has all kinds of pockets, compartments and zip-out insulated lining. But the best part is the wheels! I can fill this baby up with soda pop, ice, towels, cameras, swim toys, napkins and still have room for a large variety of treats. No matter how much the seams bulge it follows along effortlessly. Way back before Memorial Day I stocked up on fruit snacks, cheese crackers, granola bars and other goodies, enough to hopefully make it to Labor Day. Little by little the stash was reduced to practically nothing.


Each season I wonder if the blue coolers' best days have passed. For years it has faithfully accompanied me on every outing. I didn't take it last Saturday and was asked a number of times why it wasn't parked in the usual place under the sportbrella. Oh yes, even the little ones know that inside that ugly exterior are sweet goodies of all kinds.

It bears the scars of hard use. Black electrical tape holds two wheel wells in place. The telescoping handle doesn't always lock in place. The bottom plastic is worn and frayed. The telltale odor of chlorine never leaves the interior. Still, it has been thoroughly washed, inside and out, and is resting comfortably in the back of my closet, waiting to be replenished in nine months with treats to make hungry little ones and big ones smile. It will once again hold the Ziploc bag filled with chicken wraps, a bottle of Diet Coke and my blue Hawaii towel.

Until Memorial Day 2011 the distinct sounds of the blue cooler rolling up the sidewalk will be unheard. The quiet is deafening.

To see more pool fun, well, you know the drill.

$3.94 1/2
$1.96

WASPS!

Wasps. Our neighborhood is full of them.

Wait. Not that kind of W.A.S.P. Yes, our neighborhood is brimming with those as well, but this post is about the flying, hive-making, buzzing kind.

For some strange reason wasps have been attracted to our home. Before we replaced the deck furniture they were always busy coming and going underneath the chairs where there was a perfect space for a hive. The little critters also were constantly building hives in the can lights above the table. They have been evicted from both places many times, as well as under the eaves and other odd places.

So far we have managed to coexist peacefully with no stings, a kind of detente between humans and hives. The problems begin when visitors get nervous and start swinging or swatting at them.


Zeus' brother is an experienced bee handler. Last week he kindly came over and once again removed a two inch hive out of the light over the table. Within a day those determined wasps were right back starting another one. Then I had an AHA! moment: one of those hotel shower caps that I collect would be perfect to keep them out. Oh yes, it worked.... for a day. At first they were confused and just hung around waiting for the shower to be over. Soon another hive was started, this time right next to the shower cap. Sigh.


Two days ago Little Miss led me out the front door and showed me the work of art under construction in the light fixture. I had noticed a few weeks ago that the bulb was not working. Now I know that's because two huge hives are growing daily.


The wasps are fascinating to observe and Zeus and I both hate to destroy the work that they have dutifully done. Unfortunately, I also need working lights. Hopefully brother-in-law will be here soon.

$2.59

Ground Score!!

I don't know where the time goes. Oh yeah, I remember. It's been a busy, busy week with lots of time spent at this computer (not blogging) and watching it rain outside, which it is doing as I work on this long-overdue post. Lots of camera time, editing, proofing and ordering, my favorite kind of busy-ness.

This morning I managed to get out ralking for an hour before the skies started dripping again. My weekday route takes me across an intersection that is rated one of the most dangerous in our state, and that is without the constant construction work that has dragged on for over a year. This morning the area was littered with broken pieces of motorcycle, a pretty scary sight.

This afternoon as Zeus and I were returning home from dinner I asked him to stop at the scene so I could pick up a piece of the motorcycle, or as the MoneyWalker calls it, a Ground Score. Yup, ten hours later it was still there, a large remnant of a saddlebag from a 2009 Harley-Davidson, complete with a beautiful inscribed reflector. I knew instantly that this would fit on the crossbars of my bike!


Well, what do you think? Kind of classes up the old lady wheels, eh?


$3.02

2:23 AM

My father used to call me Sleeping Beauty, not for my princess-like appearance but for my ability to slumber at the drop of a hat. I could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, anyplace. I loved to stay up late at night and sleep half of the day away. Mornings were evil, or so I thought. All that changed a few years ago when I discovered the sunrise and the quietness of the streets before commuters started their mad dashes to work.

Zeus heads to bed around nine and I am not far behind, although occasionally I will indulge in late night hours if involved in an important project. On my nightstand is the LA Times crossword puzzles or a book that slows my brain down until it is time to turn off the light.

For the last few months I have been plagued with mid-night awakenings, usually when there is some problem that needs to be solved or an issue that has not been adequately dealt with. Last night was another one of those irritating nights. The current project in my lair is Easter dresses for Little and Littlest. They were coming along nicely yesterday when I realized that those twirly girly skirt hems were just not going to hang right due to the bias of the fabric. I stopped the construction until a solution was found. At 1:45 a.m. I woke up. After 30 minutes of imagining yards of pink and blue fabrics in my mind and coming up blank on a fix I got out of bed, set up my camera and tripod and snapped this weird image. Then I went back to bed where Zeus, luckily, had not been disturbed and I eventually fell asleep.

The buzzing alarm at 6:15 a.m. was not a welcome sound this morning but I did drag myself out of bed and onto the streets for my Sunday morning ralk. It was a productive, thoughtful morning and a possible solution to the saggy bias hemline is ready to be tried. But first I will take a nap.

$3.84

Note: MoneyWalker, I have reviewed your post from a few months ago and will be seeing if any of your suggestions help. Thanks!

Additional note: The dog left last evening. After three days of her constant companionship I missed her more than I expected. But everyone, please quit trying to convince me that we need a dog. Someday, maybe....

Spring Spooning

It's a sure sign that Spring is on it's way when the crocus peeks out of the flower bed in the front yard. The yellow bulbs are just starting to bloom and will be followed by purple and a few white. Crocus doesn't seem to mind getting snowed on. They just close up and wait until it melts so they can open again.

The daffodils will be showing off in about two weeks. Just this afternoon I noticed the tulip tips have now pushed up through the dirt and bark.

Last year I planted an unusual crop and they seem to have survived the winter quite well. As you can see, my forks and spoons are gearing up for summer. Because these species are very rare in Utah they have drawn some interesting comments. Shortly after planting them late last fall my neighbor's young grandson asked her about the spoons. She explained to him that we were growing them for a party. As soon as they got big enough we would harvest and use them to eat ice cream sundaes.

In years past clear knives were planted in the pumpkin patch. They didn't do well and got lost in the large vines. A few of my forks have lost some tines and some of the spoons were broken in half when an unknowing person stepped on them. Soon these pretty white ornamental plants will be surrounded by green leaves of the perennials that hopefully are under them.

$1.06

Greenscreen is a blast!

As promised earlier, here are a few of the greenscreen photos that we did way back in November of the Eris clan. A couple of years ago I tried this technique but couldn't quite wrap my aging brain around layers.

Waterskiing on the bay

The instructions given to Eris and etc. were to come dressed in solid colors, any color except green. They brought with them swimming gear and winter hats and mittens. A trip to the DI netted the fashionable orange life vests for a dollar each. They also were instructed to bring along cooperative attitudes and a good sense of humor because we were really all shooting by the seat of our pants on this one. The kids did what they were asked and for an hour we just played around with some fun poses.

A modern family enjoying the wonders of Utah's spectacular Monument Valley.

The next step was post-processing on the computer. In a nutshell it involved magically erasing the green backdrop and superimposing the subjects onto another photo. I had gone through my archives and picked out a few possibilities but still wasn't sure what I would end up with.

Each image took about two hours to process. They are certainly not perfect, nor are they meant to be. Along the processing path I learned many techniques such as changing perspectives, transforming, layering and many other geeky things. For a week I had a blast combining old and new images to form a unique end result.

Jumping off Coit Tower. This is actually six processed images combined into one.

I'm ready to experiment with this technology again. If you have any ideas or you want to play just let me know. I'm ready.More photos at the Shooting blog.

$.85

No panic

Finally, it's a little warmer. Today it got warm enough to dump snow. Only about four or five inches at our house, but then we are in the valley. Benches got about double that amount. It is beautiful. And quiet. And light.

Tomorrow I will get a good start on my shopping. For weeks I've listened as others have bragged (yes, that would be you, Athena) that their gifts have all been dutifully purchased. For some reason I haven't been phased at all by the approaching holidays, almost like I'm denying that they are coming. There is a stack of flannel waiting for transformation into the beloved pajama pants and the day has been set aside for this to happen. A few gift certificates have been purchased but that's about it.

Perhaps the fact that I'm not worried should in itself cause panic.

$000.000

(No, that is not our house on the left, or the right.)

The Landing Pad

They go by many names. My mother called hers The Junk Drawer. It was in a corner by the telephone and everything under the sun was there. Except for a pen that worked, a telephone book, the right kind or size of screwdriver that you needed right now or a paper clip. I'm sure you have one in your kitchen as well.

In my house I call it the Landing Pad. Everything just kind of lands there. It is in the corner of the kitchen island, the first place to set things down when coming in the house. My keys and cell phone are stored there. The rubber bands off of the newspaper are corralled in a dish to be recycled to the carrier. Reading glasses, pens and pencils are there.

Unfortunately, over time lots of other items find their way into the drawer, sometimes because the doorbell rang and I want to clear the junk off the island. But more often than that, I just plain don't know what to do with an item so I shove it in there, out of sight and soon forgotten. Until the drawer won't close anymore.

Today I cleaned out the Landing Pad. Here are a few things that were hiding in there:

Eight (yes, 8) eyeglass cases plus five reading glasses.
Three old cell phones (the girls will be delighted!).
A mass of jumbled up ear buds, probably three sets.
Various road finds (2 golf balls, man's watch, jewelry bits, car wash tokens, etc).
Six road find tools that went in my tool box.
Unidentifiable single keys (I think I know what the #48 fits).
Motel room key from a Fairfield Inn somewhere.
Stack of Great Harvest cards, probably enough for three loaves of bread.
A strange piece to my camera. Binged it and found that it is a filter holder for the flash unit.
Cough drops to last a year and five tubes of lip gloss.
A torn dollar bill that Zeus offered to take to the bank. No, it goes in with the rest of the pieces. Lots of bits of paper that went into the recycling bin.

Now it looks like this. It won't stay that way for long.

$4.06 plus a Sony Memory Stick.

Numi Tea Garden

So how cool is THIS!!!

And THIS!!!

For the last two years while Zeus and I have been making our twice-yearly pilgrimages to the Bay area I have seen from the freeway a building with an advertisement for the Numi Tea Garden. Today we finally made it a point to go in and see what it was all about. We had a delightful lunch of Spanikopita and Olive Tapenade and tea in the garden and then picked up a few souvenirs to take home. I'm not a hot tea drinker so was particularly pleased to find that they also have cold, bottled tea. It was really goooood! Now I just have to find out if there are any suppliers here in the land of UT. Doubtful.

The flight home was a bit longer than planned. Gave up my seat so a family could all get on the same flight. No, I wasn't just being nice. I was well compensated by the airlines for traveling from Oakland to SLC via Portland. It really wasn't bad. I spent the last leg of the trip watching Arrested Development on my laptop.

It was hard to leave Zeus behind in Berkeley, especially considering that today is his birthday. If you get a chance you might want to send him some extra good wishes! Love ya, hon!

$.06

PO

I'm pissed. And I need to get this off my chest.

First of all, msdegadeambtsmacoeputfpac. Notbscfcwzwutfc. Owihsomatkmofcftw. Bwhtetshfcwaaststfwssgalsthrbd. Asdwtb. Ahthmdfmmwwutbbfals.BS.

And then to top it all off, tifhwbittwamdhtttiaoot. Lllll. Taalllll. Ihtsilfcgdohaapihhfm.

And then there's this: Tsaihhdsiony. Tbliehid. Mbfitvshaifcoomoo.

And finally, Twitbcbaihtwaiaw. Fwfitmmwtp. Mha.

Now did I miss anything? Oh yeah. It's 6:15 AM and still pitch black dark outside. And isfctidwtgoar. Bmassbtihtgoaatgtpwihatntatolemmwdmfbs.

Rant over. Buddhizing commencing.

If you are reading this post you can rest assured that it is not about you. And don't ask because chances are even I cannot decipher what all of those letters that I just pounded out on my keyboard represent. But I feel #%&%$(@!& better after having said it all.

$.91

One more: Wwfscwotsfgc?

Snap, Crackle and Pop

At the age of six I fractured my arm while roller skating. That stinky, heavy plaster cast adorned my forearm for most of the summer. I remember the pain when it happened and my parents doubting that it was broken because the only time it hurt was when pressure was applied in certain ways. In fact, it was three days before they finally took me to the pediatrician who diagnosed a green stick break. The only other memory I have of it is the sensation of my arm floating away when that weighs-a-ton cast was sawed off my arm.

At the age of 23 a ski lift chair violently collided with my tailbone when I didn't get out of the way fast enough. Oh, that one hurt. Hurt bad. The fourteen hour ride a few days later to California sitting with one cheek propped on a pillow was very unpleasant. To this day bicycle riding is out of the question due to the unfortunate angle of that broken bone.

My mother tells me that I'm the only one of her children that had a broken bone. My daughters and grandchildren, well, not so lucky. Athena hasn't ever sported a cast but Eris won't even try to count the number of braces, crutches and casts that she has worn over the years.

I am the proud grandmother of five plus all of my extras. In the past 10 months five of them have fractured a bone. I have watched and taken photos as the same amused physician has put arm casts on three of them. Bubba's broken collarbone required a bra-like contraption around his shoulders. Jubee is the only one who has managed to remain in one piece but she has been warned.

If you would like to see the latest click here.

$1.20 plus a golf ball and a wrench

Public Service Announcement

This afternoon I went to pick Little up from her new school. The parking/pickup situation at this particular school is horrendous so I knew to park down the street quite a ways and walk to get her. It was garbage day so unretrieved cans were all over driveways and curbside, making it even more difficult to navigate.

Got back to the car and found a yellow piece of paper under my wiper blade. Hmmm, an advertisement? A note from a long-lost friend? A freakish wind that lifted up the wiper and deposited the paper? None of the above. It was a damn parking ticket! The car in front of me also had the same little greeting decorating it's windshield.

Whipped out the trusty camera and took a photo. See for yourselves.

Okay, yes, I wasn't hugging the curb. If you look at my wheels and all the scratches and gouges on them you can see that in the past I have been known to hug those curbs quite closely. But who knew that there was an actual statute in that fair city that stipulates in inches where a car must be parked?

I've asked no fewer than 15 people since I was gifted with this paper and not one of them (even the family legal expert, for hell sakes) knew the official definition of proper inches. The answers I got ranged from six to thirty six.

Yes, I will obediently appear next week at the city offices with a contrite expression and plead guilty to the letter of the law. My question is this, if no one knows the statute exists what good does it do? And also, wouldn't a WARNING have been just as effective as a $20 citation?

Perhaps it would have, but now you all know how close you are required to be. And make sure that you carry that twelve inch ruler. If you don't have one be sure to kneel down next to your wheel in the gutter. The distance between your elbow and the crook of your thumb is approximately one foot.

We now return to your regularly scheduled internet surfing.

$.83

The Ultimate Hug

My waking thought this morning was again about hugging. (I miss Zeus.)

The ultimate (and cutest) hug that could possibly occur would be between the Duchess and Muriel.



Love you both!

(Note of explanation: These two ladies are both 7.5 months pregnant! The photo is Mrs. Dub and Eris in 2002, six babies ago!)

Arms length away

Ten yards: I see someone come towards me whom I genuinely love and care about. I am excited to see this person. From a distance of ten yards I am in total control of my emotions.

Nine yards: Still fine, a smile on my face.

Eight yards: Still smiling, trying to come up with something witty to say.

Seven yards: Nothing witty coming to mind, better just stick with "it's wonderful to see you".

Six yards: The other someone is smiling, probably also trying to think of a clever greeting.

Five yards: Uh oh, they are getting closer...

Four yards: What the... the arms are going up, one higher than the other... I know what this means...

Three yards: Still advancing, no doubt about what is ahead in three, two, one second..... Sweat beads up. Can I run??

Two yards: No getting out of it now.

One yard: (resignation) Which arm do I put up? Opposing arms? One arm? Two arms? Oh......

Contact: Okay, I'm locked in the embrace, how long do I stay? One-one thousand... Two-one-thousand... Three-one thousand... Pats on the back... It's all so confusing....

Release.



There is a word for the scenario I just described. Hugaphobia. Go ahead, click on the link.

Yes, I have it. Some people fear spiders, arachnophobia (they don't even phase me) while others might fear flying in airplanes, aerophobia (I have this a little). We all have our little quirks.

My family was not of the hugging variety. Our personal space was just that, personal (except when I helped myself to older sister's clothes). Nor were we the kissing and gushing variety. Physical closeness was rare, and when it did happen it often felt awkward, mostly because it was unfamiliar to all of us. Athena and Eris were also raised that way (along with the OCD tendencies (I don't claim those)). They also suffer from hugaphobia.

Two people have helped me to partially recover from this malady. Seven years ago Amy came to live with us and she was a definite hugger. I gradually learned to let her into my space and accept the physical touching. Shortly after that the Duchess became part of our lives. Now there is an unabashed hugger!

Slowly, and with baby steps I have worked on this phobia. I no longer break into a sweat and count the seconds until release. I am still learning that it is okay to let people into my personal space, briefly. And sometimes I surprise myself by initiating this behavior!

$.81


Second thoughts: Those of you who grew up in the same culture as I did will remember the church Stake Dances. There were always strong admonitions of "arm's length apart". Could those warnings have contributed to my personal space issues? Just sayin'....

Sunday services

Church was fabulous today. Zeus and I had a great time.

Sorry the rest of you missed it.

$.47

Here lies Numi

A few days ago I spent some time in our city cemetery. This is a place that I rarely visit. My personal feelings about graveyards aside, there was something there that I had to see for myself. Recently my mother had expressed an odd mixture of surprise and confusion after visiting her brother's final resting place. The designer of his headstone had a farm scene engraved on it, complete with a barn and cows.

My uncle was a successful, wealthy man. In spite of this, his life was one long tragedy. However, he often expressed his love for Bessy the cow and the country homestead where he grew up. The headstone made perfect sense to me and I commend his family for what I consider to be very appropriate under the circumstances.

As I wandered around the cemetery trying to locate the grave I read some of the epitaphs and looked at dates. What struck me was the number of people who had died at a young age. As I get older the number of "young age" gets higher. That is a sobering thought. I am close to making a commitment as to what is to be done should I become traxified tomorrow. There is a small space reserved for me but I'm not sure that's where I want to go.

But back to the artwork. I saw the grave of a trap shooter, complete with gun, ammo and a clay pigeon. An eleven year old boy had various sports designs engraved. There were dirt bike riders, skiers, books and military insignia. Many contained scriptures, temples or comforting thoughts.

It made me wonder what would represent my life. Music notes? A piano? A pile of neatly folded fabric? Maybe a camera? A pile of coins? Computer? Surely there would be a some reference to grandchildren?

So what would be on your headstone?

$2.01

Did I deserve it?

Last night, 1:30 AM, Zeus and I were sleeping soundly when we were rudely awakened by a crashing sound somewhere in the house. After quickly looking around the house I turned on the light in our closet to find that the upper rod bracket that holds all of Zeus' neatly starched and pressed shirts had broken. There was a two foot pile of shirts, ties, belts and other items piled on the floor. It took about ten minutes to move the shirts into another part of the room and (hopefully) stack them so that they wouldn't wrinkle. Then the unpleasant task of going back to sleep started which took another 20 minutes and some crossword puzzle frustration.

Needless to say, I was relieved at 5:45 AM when I awoke to the sound of a downpour, a good excuse for no ralking and to go back to sleep. At 6:25 AM Zeus woke me again to tell me that it was no longer raining hard and if I put on a windbreaker it should be a nice morning. Ten minutes later I was in the car headed south for my usual hot spot when I had to turn on the windshield wipers, FULL SPEED! Zeus must have been expecting the cell phone call that I made to him because his first words were "I'm sorry, it wasn't doing this when I woke you".

The ralking was mostly running this morning, partly to keep warm. By the time I got home two hours later I was soaked through my lined windbreaker and my shoes were sloshing with each step. Wet clothing is hanging out to dry all over the garage and bathroom.

On the positive side, the roads were void of cars and the smell of rain was wonderful. Also, the numismatising was good. The weird find this morning was at a 7-11. Two quarters, a dime and a nickel, all stacked neatly on a sidewalk right in front of a Highway Patrol car in the parking lot.

Now I need to get that closet rod repaired. Zeus told me this morning that he is going to pare down the number of shirts that go back in the closet. That means a trip to the DI tomorrow! Yippee!

$4.13 1/2

A question for Sharyn...

Littlest Ms. is entertaining, to say the least. Eris has started her summer session of school so we now have regularly scheduled Grandma Tuesdays again. Yay!!!

Yesterday afternoon after nap time (Zeus even joined us for the siesta) we were getting ready to go to a soccer game when I heard a loud "EWWWW" coming from our bedroom. Eris had found Littlest sitting on the floor like this.

I am going to assume that she was practicing a new yoga pose.

So Sharyn, can you do this one?

$1.20

Come on in, the door's open!

I like doors. Whenever we travel Zeus knows that I am going to find my way to an old church or cathedral. The doors on these places are usually very interesting and often have ornate handles. The door handle below is on a very heavy door at the Mission San Juan Bautista in California. The mission is over 300 years old. After posting this photo I'm not so sure that the handle is that old. I just noticed that the screws are way too new. (Geez, now I'm disappointed.) But the door itself was cool...

The "door" below has given me chuckle for over a year. I drive past it often on a windy road into town. For most of last summer it was just the fence posts and the gate. Sometime last fall they added the bricks. I'm hoping the homeowners applied for some Stimulus Funding so they can add the rest of the fence. It reminds me of the new wall between Mexico and Arizona. Homeland Security at it's finest. (Sorry, I just broke my own "no politics" rule.)

I found this last door at a location in an older part of our city. I suppose it is there for guests to knock on before they are welcomed into the carport to sit on the loveseat and have a drink at the round bar table. And in case you can't see it, the sign above the door says "No Trespassing".

$.52

Traveling Trash Bins

About two years ago on my Sunday morning ralk I did a double take when passing a car parked adjacent to a nearby MacDonald's. In fact, I had to go back twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things. The car was a Subaru, probably about eight or nine years old. When I tell you that this car was totally filled with garbage, except for the driver's seat, I am not exaggerating.

About two months ago I saw a different car parked in the lot but with the same amount of trash. Room only for a driver. The passenger seat floor was covered with used McDonald's coffee cups right up onto the seat. This time I had my camera so I snapped a few photos, hoping that the owner of the car wouldn't see me and come running out to make sure I wasn't disturbing his treasures. It was raining and cloudy so the photos aren't the best but you can still see what I'm talking about.

This morning I was hoping to get a few more photos for this post but the car wasn't there. On a hunch I wandered past another fairly new sedan and I'll be darned if this one wasn't filled to the brim, front and back, with everything under the sun. I'm now figuring the the owner either buys a new car when the old one fills up or waits to clean them all out at one time. With the amount of stuff in the car I don't believe that he lives in it. Another puzzling thing is that on the outside these vehicles are all in good shape, no rust or dents.

My curiosity was now getting the best of me. I went into McDs and looked around for someone who looked like they might belong to these three rolling trash cans. Inside the restaurant was a group of senior citizens, all men, enjoying their cups of senior coffee, a bargain at $.27 per cup. They were engaged in deep conversation so I went back to my car, got the camera and took some more photos.

I have never been one to keep a tidy car. In fact, anyone who gets in my car usually hears an apology before they even open the door.

Tomorrow is spring cleaning day for the Accord. I don't want to find a rude stranger taking photos of it.

$1.40 and a tire iron (someone is going to be mad one day)