Author: Rene

Yes, I was securing the nursery for the new arrivals. No, not chatting grandchild, hummingbirds!

I was gazing out the window when I noticed the patches – plural this year – of Indian Paintbrush, Mother Nature’s hummingbird food. Thank goodness we had caution tape remaining from last year’s parking needs in the yard. I roped off a section so that NO ONE would mow over the growth. And I’m getting rid of my third attempt at a feeder, as apparently they prefer the plants. (It’s the same problem I have with the birdbath. The sun overheats the water and the nectar in the feeder – no one wants a hot drink to slake their thirst.)

So, I’m ready for the new arrival. (And I’ll be ready for our grandchild when she arrives!)

My daughter sent me this one.

I guess we could resemble that comment. I’ve always considered expiration dates suggestions rather than hard and fast rules. (The exception being when they being to look or smell like science projects.) Right now the fridge is pretty darn empty as the grocery guy is on hiatus and I’m managing to deplete the current store of consumables in the pantry and freezer, thus avoiding the grocery aisles.

A subtle reminder – we all become our parents in some fashion. You will have expired salad dressing one day. Oh, and it’s nice to be missed, even if it’s via a condiment.

Seriously? I know I said I never have a writing utensil in my purse when I need one, so I was diligent in procuring one before I went on my mini-vacation last week. I even co-opted a pen from the hotel. I think I was supposed to have it. They offered a few in a lovely vessel, sporting the name of the hotel. Thus, I returned home last week with two pens in my satchel.

Yesterday, a mere four days later, I needed a writing utensil, supplied with ink, for the endorsement of a check I was depositing. ??? To where did the two pens I had less than a week ago flee? It is a quirk of science. I cannot keep a pen in my galaxy. I used to have one in the side pocket of my car, also. It no longer resides there. And yet….I have a stash of rainbow-colored Bic Crystal Gel pens exactly where I placed them.

No, you will not find a writing utensil in my purse. Just an empty jewelry box, paper straw, slightly used tissues, and a two-week-old shopping list. Let’s see if I can get a pen in there today. I’ll have to squeeze that goal into my active day.

When the delicate pear tree blossoms fall on the snow which arrived overnight Mid-May. That’s the definition of “snow on snow.”

As I don my boots and winter gear yet again, I do hope I have a more vibrant day than yesterday, where the zenith was my desperate attempt to mix things up a bit. I exited a store going through the entrance, causing the woman taking count and directing traffic to chastise me. At least I gave her a purpose for a brief moment, so I didn’t feel too plucky.

Today? Oh, I’ll finish another sewing project, chat with the dog, and plan my next get-away. Still livin’ large!

Children everywhere rejoiced as the weather was not particularly pleasant yesterday. No yard work for Mother’s Day! No pine needle raking, patio furniture moving, mowing, weeding, tree trimming or deck cleaning. (We know how to have fun!) In fact, with snow predicted, probably nothing until next weekend.

Oh, we could have done it all anyway, as it wasn’t raining and wasn’t that chilly until later in the day. However, I was treated to breakfast and a winning game of Scrabble with my family. A perfect substitution. The yard will wait.

Saturday mornings were meant for cartoons – until your parents kicked you outside to get some fresh air and exercise. That’s what this meme jogged in my memory. Thanks to my daughter, I am laughing to myself at this truism. (Disclaimer: I didn’t have to kick her off but rather her brother. And look where it got me? A son with a Masters in Engineering and my personal tech support!)

It’s the new term for my morning wakefulness – “Marine Fog.” Just a little hazy, but burning off by around 10 am and shining brightly after that.

My mother used to call upstairs on school mornings, “Up, up, up, up!” I assumed the four nods were to the four of us kids, and I assumed her cheerfulness was meant to give us some spark. I was always a slow-waker. Coffee must have been discovered solely for the purpose of jolting some of us into the day.

So, no, I am not in the saltwater spa with the champagne or the coffee. I am at the kitchen table, with that insidious “to-do” list creeping into my thoughts. It might have to wait one more day as my brain begins to jostle to wakefulness and the horizon becomes a little more focused.

“Are you in the saltwater spa with the champagne now?”

Who doesn’t want that question? Well, we apparently paid for the saltwater spa with the champagne and didn’t know until we called the front desk to request a sangria beverage. Oops. They wanted to know if we were in the saltwater spa with the champagne. How lovely to have such an interesting surprise! I love that question. I think I’ll save it for another day! Little things.

So, after our deep breathing yesterday, we should be grateful for the minute things. Like a sunset. Daily surprise.

It’s always good to have a new view, whether you are just taking a deep breath and seeing things in a fresh light, or hopping on a plane and heading to the Coast. There is a perverse pleasure in leaving home on a rainy, snowy day and arriving with this view in your backyard and the ocean in the front.

Breathe deeply, wherever you are.

My brother traveled 30 minutes to my parents’ home yesterday. He was doing his trustee business, stopped by our house, and on a “whim” operated the sprinkler system. You might know where this is going, but follow me anyway.

Everything went well until the end of the trial zones. Fountain of water. Major repair. My brother is in his business attire, as he was doing bank and Village duties on the house. He has no tools. He has no supplies. He calls the CO-OP. They have no parts. They ask if he knows “Alvie.” My brother turns to the neighbor who has come over to assist – and by the way – has always come over to assist. “Do you know Alvie?”

Well, everyone knows Alvie, and basically my brother called Alvie, who was over one hundred miles away and couldn’t assist, but did have the parts. He directed my brother to his land, his shed, his parts, and his tools. Just told him to go and use them all. This was a faster solution than my brother going to his home and returning, so my sibling did just that.

When all was repaired and finished, my brother returned the tools and approached Alvie’s wife to offer her cash for the parts. She refused. He insisted. She said no. She and her husband loved our mother and were happy to assist. “And besides, your sister always helped out with the choir.”

Well, yes, I did help with the choir when I was there. I’ve played the piano and organ and just “showed up” when I visited Mom on a weekend. My daughter and son would also play for Christmas Masses when we were there. Just a thing we did. I loved providing musical assistance at my baptismal parish. The piano I played was the one my grandfather donated. I just thought the whole “circle of life” thing was holy.

Anyway, it was a heart-warming story my brother relayed to my sister and I yesterday. It made me miss that kind of family you experience in a small town. But what I wonder is, “Who is Alvie?”