Author: Rene

This lovely gem came at the appropriate time. I plead guilty.

My recent book titles involve stealthy animals. “The Shadow of the Lynx,” a love story by Victoria Holt which I began on my last visit here. “The Panther,” espionage at its best from the master, Nelson DeMille. Both are older publications which never made it earlier to my book lair.

Actually, “The Shadow of the Lynx” has been on the bookshelf in “The Game Room” for at least 15 years. The bookcases in there were always filled with past reads, books acquired at auctions, and historical books or encyclopedias. My family has pilfered from there for various reasons: need a new read, need a book slim enough to support a wobbly table leg, need a book with a red cover, need that title for a gag gift, need that set for decor purposes.

Since I just finished “Lynx” and will be closing “Panther” soon, it’s time to go back on the hunt for a new older read. I’ll be curious to know which title I choose this time? Lion? Tiger? Bear? Oh my!

Yesterday we watched a video stream on Facebook where a baker crafted an entire cake to look like a jar of Jif peanut butter. It was a perfect replica, down to the UPC code and ingredients listed. It was entirely edible, which is quite amazing, and probably a good five hours worth of meticulous work. Maybe more?

And that was my question, “But, why?”

It was really just one of those days of odd news. A man in Lincoln went before the city council to passionately plea for a name change to boneless chicken wings. He had a compelling argument, since they really aren’t wings at all. This lie is apparently bothering him a great deal. I did think, “But, why?” Then I considered, this could be his entry into politics. This could be his attempt to take our minds off of greater issues. This could be for the mere sport of it.

This could all be for fun!

Maybe we should do something that innocuous today? Something just for fun? I’m going for the donut, friends.

My friend comes across the yard to view the new deck, and she’s wearing a breezy cute new sundress ala Target. Of course, I’m in my breezy smock ala the Kroger Grocery. It’s just been too hot and too casual in our neck of the woods for much of anything in the line of haute couture.

Then, my sister sends me this:

Turns out we’re on the cutting edge of fashion – and only a few more days to acceptably wear white ala “subjective rule of fashion.”

When the dryer dings and you think, “It’s time for a donut,” you may have a bigger problem than wrinkled clothes. And when a friend mentions that very predicament and you can’t get the word, “donut,” out of your head, then you, yourself, really have a problem!

Years ago there was a dive-of-a-donut shop my sister and her kids shared with me when I visited. Once inside, the north wall was plastered with coffee mugs from the “regulars.” I have no idea if the mugs were ever washed? The place wreaked of smoke, too, because we hadn’t regulated that aspect of health yet. Regardless of the dumpy interior, cigarette-infused air, and cracked floor tiles, we all looked forward to the donut shop and their homemade delights.

I think the closest donut is currently 30 miles away. It shall remain safe from consumption and I shall go and exercise another option!

Perhaps if you work backwards, you can devise an answer? How many people are re-shingling the roof, and for how many days will they be working? How many of those days will you be having pancakes with said number of “shinglers”? Take the serving amount times the number of days and “shinglers” and add extra in case a visitor arrives during the process. As for the canoe losing a wheel, it would have gone faster than 2 mph without it, so no worries.

Sometimes the solution is not so difficult.

Driving across I-80 and the two-lane roads, everything radiated sunshine yellow. The ditches were adorned with wild daisies, sunflowers, goldenrod, a yellow delphinium-like flower. The bean fields were turning. The roads were framed with the gold striping of the lanes.

I told myself I’d turn the radio volume on when Coldplay’s song, “Yellow,” was playing. It was on twice in my last foray to the Midwest, and it’s usually on at some point during the day. However, I forgot to check the radio stations, making it 257 miles or more before I realized I hadn’t turned up the volume on the radio at all! I proceeded to enjoy the quiet for the last 246 miles, never hearing, “Yellow,” just visually enjoying it.

Normally, yellow seems like a riotous color. Today, it was calming and comforting. Just beautiful all by itself.

While making masks, I found pipe cleaners to use for the little nose piece. They were all various colors – way too many to use for my purpose – unless I was sewing for a small nation.

So, I started thinking that we should try to emulate pipe cleaners. They come in various colors like we do. They can be very useful in many situations other than for cleaning out your pipe. (Try explaining why you need a pipe cleaner to your kid while you are telling them not to smoke?) Pipe cleaners are also flexible, bending to their needs.

Since a lot of recent plans have changed, I am committed to being a pipe cleaner – or “fuzzy stick” as they are now renamed with a politically correct moniker. Just bending rather than being bent, right?

Here are two more photos from the “Little Shop.” The first is part of my grandmother’s replanted hydrangea, which my mother ignores as it blossoms and overruns the backyard. I can’t grow hydrangeas. This one is about due for its annual pruning.

Compare these “zinnias from seed” with my wimpy already-grown marigolds.

My mother’s Boston fern is gargantuan. It is beyond anything you could ever purchase at a fern supply institution. (Nursery) The fact that it was her mother’s, now passed down to her, and next to me, is a lovely thing. (Okay…maybe to another sib?) I am honored to prune it when I am visiting. At the same time, I think, “This is truly larger than life. It could eat me?”

Thus, I dedicate this missive to my son, who assisted in the production of “Little Shop of Horrors,” a musical which has never been my favorite, yet I am scrambling to find a theme. A giant blood-thirsty plant? Well, I think I get it. The writers/authors/lyricists had their own mother’s plants to tend.

This fern is absolutely deserving of the entire room it occupies..

When the kids were young we instituted the “Penny Patrol” one summer. All of the coins we found on the ground went in a jar, and then at the end of summer we bought ice cream. We probably collected a whopping 79 cents, enough to pay the tax on the outing.

So while purchasing groceries yesterday, the announcement about a national coin shortage came over the speaker system. All shoppers were asked to use a credit card. That’s when I thought, “I should probably reinstitute Penny Patrol for the nation!” Seriously – we live in a city with one U.S. Mint and we are short on coins? It seems absurd. However, I could start collecting coins for our country – that is something I could do.

Ironically, last summer we sold my father’s coin collection. Who knew we should have held on for another year?