Author: Rene

With the year of the purse out of here, apparently my second honoree found its end this week. Both satchels lost handles, too. What does that say?

Apparently I’ll have to get a better grip on things around here! On to the next victim. I mean, purse.

The potential of a tulip blooming went downhill this spring. These culprits have been enjoying the buffet and obviously our meadow. Glimmers of red beauty seemed faint. However…

These two little guys surfaced after five years of being accidentally transplanted. How do I know this? I was manicuring the yard, preparing for a fall wedding five years ago when I filled a hole with some dirt from the “outback.” Eons ago I had planted bulbs there to no avail since I didn’t water them. I’m talking YEARS ago. Anyhoo…that dirt apparently harbored old bulbs which took five years to properly mature under the former tree across the driveway. (Now an ungainly shrub which my spouse always wants to axe but which we must keep and nurture properly. It has two little tulip bulbs hiding there.)

This is all to say, “Hope Springs Eternal.” What a perfect week for these two little friends to appear.

Spring has given us the most beautiful ornamental pear tree blossoms! They were at the height of glory yesterday – and I predict “snow” to follow. The minute the wind wields its wonders (my English teacher would sigh at the use of alliteration there) – a blanket of white will be on my porch and driveway. Such a small price to pay for this sight.

Here’s hoping the cold stuff only falls in its softer form henceforth.

The comic strip “Blondie” is sometimes a little outdated, and doesn’t always offer a chuckle, but I got a kick out of this thought. Someone could jump on the idea and offer us all a glimmer of hope?

Apologies to all for using Young and Marshall’s thoughts on a glorious spring day.

She comes from out of town,
But things don’t settle down.
Soon we’re on a tear,
shopping everywhere.

We find some crafts to do,
Have “spa nights”, yes that’s true.
Still working in the morn,
Though feeling tired and worn.

Time together goes so fast,
We cram the fun in to make it last.
Until we meet again…
”When” is beyond my ken.

Since my world is going “pink” I happened to wonder why my pinking shears are thus named? I know such-named scissors will scallop the edge of fabric, but why “pinking.” So I made a detour down the rabbit hole.

Carnations, aka Dianthus, have similar edges to what a pair of pinking shears produces. Since one of these flowers is pink in color, the creation of the implement was called a pinking shears, and the verb “pink” came into the lexicon. (Brief summary) Prior to this sewing item a mallet and punch would create holes or decorative hems. I like to think that Eliza P. Welch and Louise Austin were both women who patented designs for the pinking iron and shears, but I don’t want to assume. My guess is they were both seamstresses though and saw the need for something to “cut down” the time it took to keep edges from fraying.

And so I continue to sew my projects and pink my world for sheer delight. And write bad puns.

Truly I do not get out enough.

This morning’s adventure took me dress shopping with a friend who has wedding needs as the MOTB. Approximately 7,000 steps later we had some success. I simply marveled at the fashions and colors of spring, vowing to peruse the confines of my closet before I purchase something similar to what I already own. (It has happened in the past.)

However, I did wonder who in the world was trying to pull the wool over our eyes on this style – the skirt, not the shirt. Although the shirt also leaves something to be desired.

That just looks like it got stuck in the agitation of the washing machine and then frayed by the dryer. Perhaps that was how this creation came to be? I will just use this as a cautionary tale the next time I throw my ankle-length denim skirt in the machine.

The restaurants you knew and loved? They might be closed…and not just on a Monday. Permanently.

Perhaps we don’t dine out enough but in the past week two different attempts to dine out were thwarted by the permanent closure of the restaurants. Fortunately we actually checked to see if they were open. Apparently we can’t just pick up and go out like we used to, counting on the ability to get a seat at a restaurant. And if you do, there’s no guarantee the wait staff showed for their shift!

The good news is that we do know how to cook and can forage for our meals around here. In spite of that we are venturing out into new territory – Felix’s place!

Since Mother Nature offers no guarantees either I’m dragging out the winter parka and heated gloves for the evening drive through snow and freezing temps. We’d stay home for dinner, but of course, no one planned anything. We needed to double check the fridge.

When I returned from playing bridge today I decided it was time to polish my black leathers. We do have shoe polish! It’s leftover from days of yore and obviously not used anymore.

When I was a kid it was a Saturday job to polish my dad’s shoes. I remember the waxy stuff, and then the polish that came out of the tube like a bingo marker. I didn’t enjoy that task much, but it was something “nice you can do for your father.” I guess my mom didn’t enjoy it either? Anyway, we have the waxy stuff – Kiwi shoe polish purchased eons ago for 85 cents. What is the story there? Naming, cost, and by the way, can be used as a stain for unfinished wood. (I read the back of the container.)

The bonus to my efforts was finding a dusty plastic bag in the polish basket, which of course, I opened. My husband had stashed a beautiful shirt he bought for me and forgot to give me one Christmas. Along with shinier shoes I now have something new to wear. It was rather nice to shop in the closet!

If you knew this song which I sang in college you’d understand why it’s probably politically incorrect to now be sung by a white chorus, regardless of the fact that it was appreciated. It was a great gospel song, and it came to mind today as it has many times. Those songs were sung for a reason.

Mostly they imitate life. You’ve got to up down, turn around, pick a bale a day. Don’t we?

What’s so weird is that I think I could sing all four parts, though not in the proper register. We learned songs and sat through each section rehearsing ad nauseam until we knew the parts. Thus, I can sing every part of the “Hallelujah Chorus” and enter at the appropriate moment, though not in the previously referred to proper register.

Anyway, some days feel like you’re doing the same thing over and over and over and over. You are. Yet, you look for the things that make that same day special? Ooh! Like this song that just came on. “Strangers in the Night.” How I do love a good Sinatra song.