Grandson David worked a full shift on the holiday and came home to eat his warmed bison burger, prepared earlier by Uncle John $pencer. We had been longing for S’mores, a common campfire dessert made with Graham crackers, milk chocolate candy squares, and marshmallows. David’s mom had left the extra fixings from our July 4th celebration. The grill was long since cold, so David and I roasted marshmallows over a candle before assembling our S’mores. They tasted good, although they would have been better among laughing relatives.
Marshmallow over the flame
Sadie is always ready to party, but when all is quiet in the house, she curls up to sleep. I found her in the living room. The pillow just happened to be at just the right angle for her head. Sweet dreams, Sadie.
September 4, 2000 On Labor Day John and I went out to eat in the middle of the day. I knew we couldn’t go far, because John was slated for the late shift at Borders. We both wished to avoid the tourist crowds in Port Jeff, and neither of us wanted to spend a mint on lunch. We ended up at a diner. It was surprisingly busy, with people constantly coming and going. You know the old game of “what’s wrong with this picture” where you look at a drawing and pick out an incongruous item? It dawned on me that I was looking at one of those. In a booth close to us were three Chinese people. Now I know they have to eat like all normal humans, but I can’t remember ever seeing any Chinese people in a diner before. I hope they enjoyed their hearty meal as much as we did.
My dad and I laughed about Labor Day being a holiday where half the people work extra hard serving those who have the day off. John fit in the first category, I in the second. I began the day with newspaper in bed. Forget having breakfast in bed. That’s nasty! I can’t abide crumbs in bed, and that’s what breakfast is all about. No, I’d take a newspaper any day. I showered, dressed, fetched the paper from the road and lolled on the bed reading it and working the crossword puzzle. What a way to start the day! Of course, it helps that it was Monday, and I can usually work the easiest puzzle of the week with a pen. I finished reading a book, streamlined the start-up routine of the computer, went out to eat with John and resumed reading. Meanwhile, John was serving stressed-out people at Borders. The day was stacked against book sellers. First, it was Monday which is Senior Citizen’s day. Checking proof of age adds to the check out procedure. Second, it was an overcast day. Bad weather seems to herd people into the store in droves. Third, it was a holiday and fourth, it was the day before teachers return to school. John was working the late shift, so he dealt with teachers whining that the books they wanted were sold out. He felt free to criticize them, because all the teachers we know are much more organized than that.
Grampy (brother-in-law Thom’s dad) wrote about their Labor Day:
“About Labor Day. While others take a holiday, we just keep doing what we do every day during the year. Wake up, get up, wash up, eat up, dress up, try to think what day it is and then get our get up and go started. Then it’s time for a break. And when you don’t do anything it is very hard to take a break.”
Few things are more delicious than taking a Sunday afternoon nap. We huddled in our jackets at outdoor church, ate a wonderful lunch at Fatz, and enjoyed the mountain scenery on the way home. Surely there was no better way to digest it all than to sleep for half an hour. I woke refreshed and turned off the alarm with 10 seconds before it would have rung. With eyes shut, I savored the moment.
I had the feeling I wasn’t alone. John was at his computer in the next room, and grandson David and son John $pencer were somewhere in the house. If they had come in my open door, they would have either tiptoed out or spoken to me. I didn’t hear anything and didn’t see anything, but I felt a presence. I moved an inch or so and found Sadie lying against me, as still as could be. What a surprise! I didn’t think she could get up on the bed. We had changed the mattress and springs to taller ones, and a topper added a few more inches. Evidently I slept through her great leap and her walking on the bed. It was marvelous that she didn’t nudge me or try to wake me up. From the hall, David saw the dog and came in. Sadie decided it was play time and tried to lick every inch of my arm. That got me up quickly! David saw Sadie jump off the bed, turn around, and take a standing leap back on it. I’ll never be alone for a nap again unless I shut the door.
Outdoor church looked like this a few weeks ago. Today there were more jackets being worn.
A week ago, we brought home apple fritters and left them on the kitchen counter. That evening grandson David saw tiny ants on the box. Not only were they on the box, they were IN the box, crawling all over those lovely fritters. This time I was determined the ants were not going to feast on our treat. I filled a shallow bowl with water, stood a tall glass in the middle, added a plastic container to support the box, and put the fresh fritters on top. I knew the ants would not be able to swim to the glass and get in the box.
Fritter moat
David snickered when he saw the fritter tower. Son John $pencer saw us eating breakfast and asked, “Are you eating the Critter Fritters?”
Yes, we ate those ant-free fritters and enjoyed every bite.
The title should be How to Bathe a Dog, but that would turn off people who have/will never own a dog. Son John $pencer spoke of giving Sadie a bath, and I wondered why he didn’t dread it. He said, “It’s easy. I put peanut butter on the wall.”
Sadie rolled in something smelly in our yard, making her socially unacceptable. I asked to observe the cleaning routine. $ smeared peanut butter on the tub wall before whistling for Sadie, and she trotted in eagerly. She didn’t struggle a bit as he lifted her into the tub. If she noticed when he rubbed in the dog shampoo and rinsed her off, she never let on.
I presume the trick is to know how quickly your dog will clean the wall. Of course, it would also be good to know whether the pet likes peanut butter. If you have used the p-butter method, please let me know if it worked for you. If you had a disaster, I will consider removing this post for the good of mankind and best friends.
This is the story of how a vitamin box became a waste basket. When it is time to gather the trash to take to the collection center, we swoop around the house emptying waste baskets. I line two with supermarket bags, one in the bedroom and one in the master bathroom. The photo, with Sadie as background, shows one basket properly lined.
Sadie asks, “Why are you taking a photo of me behind a wastebasket?”
Son John $pencer was the one swooping that day, and it was hours later that I thought of getting replacement bags. John ties up used bags for recycling in the laundry room, so I struggled to retrieve two and put them on the kitchen counter. More hours later, I opened a box with vitamins and threw it in the bathroom basket without thinking. This made more sound than usual, alerting me to the unlined basket. Out came the box, and I tucked in a smaller box from a toothpaste sample. By bedtime the vitamin box had two more additions, a tissue and a flossing pick. It wouldn’t take long for this new little litter basket to overflow.
Valiant vitamin box aka Little Waste Basket
The next morning I looked for the bags I had put on the counter, but they were gone. I tugged two more from the tied bag, then saw the original two wadded up. John, bless his heart, must have tidied up the counter. I can see that a 24-hour time limit for replacing liners was a bit too long. Does anyone have a tip about reminding yourself to do something on opposite ends of the house when it isn’t related to what you are doing at the moment? In other words, I NEED HELP!
Son John $ and grandson David like to play Backgammon on a phone. I had them in a captive pose when they folded themselves into chairs. Not to be left out, Sadie brought a toy and enjoyed David’s divided attention.
After church and lunch, we used our annual passes to go to the grounds of Biltmore. John knew the trains were running in Antler Village and might not be available next month. I’d call this equal opportunity fun, something for everyone. The fellows liked the setting for the trains and enjoyed watching them move. I enjoyed seeing the trains running among the plantings.
I’ve heard it said that once you learn to ride a bicycle, you never forget. I hoped the same rule applied to driving a stick shift car. I learned on an old army Jeep when I was 16 years old. My grandmother quit driving and let me use her car when I was 20, and I was 57 when my brother gave me his older car. All told, I had driven a stick about five or six years. This week I was the only one in the family who could drive son John $’s car from the rental home to our house. Would I be able to do it? It would take an hour and a half, starting on steep mountain roads and ending on the interstate highway.
As anyone knows who has tried it, the tricky part is getting the vehicle to move smoothly when you start up. One foot presses lightly on the gas pedal as the other eases the clutch out. If you don’t get it right, you lurch forward as your car moves like a bucking bronco. $’s driveway was so steep that all I did was keep my foot on the brake until we got down to the road. Because of the angle, I couldn’t see the road on the right, and $ said either “Gun it!” or “Floor it!” Talk about pressure! If a car had come around that curve fast, I needed to be moving. Everything was fine. No car came, and we didn’t lurch down the road.
I didn’t expect the trouble I had. I was used to three or four forward gears, not five. Almost every time I shifted to third, I went too far and ended in fifth. Both $ and I could tell by the sound that it wasn’t right, so I’d press the clutch in as he shifted the lever with his left hand. That’s the way we made it home. One of us would suggest shifting up or down, and I’d say, “Clutch in.”
Sadie was calm, sleeping on $’s lap much of the way. She sat up and was alert when he went in a store to get cigarettes. I’m going to let Sadie rate my driving, and I expect the rating to be “Boring”.
I’ve been looking at my letters written in England 40 years ago and decided to see what was happening 20 years ago. I found one of my favorite photos of grandsons David and Nathaniel. In the year 2000, David was patiently holding the bottle for Nathaniel. These days, the roles would be reversed. Nate would be baking a cake for David.
We saw neighbor Logan (10) on his porch as we came back from our morning walk. John asked him to come over to get Sunday School activity sheets we had printed for him. He asked to stay, ran home to get permission from his parents, and thus began a whole day with our special friend. None of us knew at the time that it would last until evening.
After breakfast and David’s leaving for work, Logan went to town with us. The fellows ran an errand or so while I had my teeth cleaned. We headed for Walmart. Logan has been shopping with us before, and we let him pick out a small toy to take home. Understandably, Shawn and Bob did not want their son to be in the habit of ASKING for things. We cleared it via text that we could get him something. Shawn had said Logan was so good to her, fetching things when she had limited mobility after her hip replacement. He did whatever she asked without complaint. I felt a minor miracle like that from any child should be rewarded.
When we came home, Logan helped John in the garden, picking up leaves and limbs from John’s recent trimming job, while I prepared our main meal. We three sat down to eat, and it didn’t occur to me until then that Logan had not played with his new toy. He brought it out on the porch, and only after we ate did he ask if he could open it. I realized many children would have already opened and broken a toy in that time. What remarkable restraint and self-control! (Round of applause for Logan, please!!)
After lunch I took a photo of the fellows playing Go Fish. John said Logan had already trounced him in a game of checkers. I suspect we will win only games of chance with him from now on. For the record, I quit playing games of strategy with our grandsons many years ago.
Go Fish! in progress
When John excused himself to do paperwork, I set up soda-can targets for Logan to shoot. He hit six in a row, I think, but naturally that wasn’t when I was taking a video. I saved one short clip of the cool marksman hitting the target. Looking at it frame by frame, I could not see the bullet at all.
Logan and I played an unscramble word game until he tired of it. He picked up a shrunken balloon from another day’s play, and I remembered I had a bat for him. It was a cardboard tube that had been the center of a roll of wrapping paper. He used it to play baseball with the sorry balloon, not wishing to get a new one from the closet. John rejoined us, and we all laughed at the bat that was slowly uncurling. At the end, there was a whooshing sound as he swung at the “ball”. The impromptu rules were like baseball, but in a real ballgame, the batter wouldn’t be able to hit the ball twice in one play as Logan did. I don’t know what else we might have found to play with, but Bob came over to take Logan home. What a fun day it had been for us!
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
Mehrling Muse 