Author: Rene

Summertime. The neighbor’s above-ground pool was the scene of lots of laughter and games yesterday afternoon. “Marco Polo” and “Lifeguard” were a couple of games I could detect. If you closed your eyes, you could smell the chlorine and feel the warm pavement as you lay shivering from the cold water of the city pool.

Additionally, after a lovely ladies’ lunch where we reminisced about childhood games, I couldn’t help but wonder at entertainment we kids played non-stop – “Guard the Belgium.”

I’m not sure where we got that name, because it really was just “Kick the Can” in another form. I figure it came from the Belgian Guard and we just improperly absconded the name. (Although, how would we even have known anything about the Belgian Guard as ten-year olds? I don’t think we were exceptionally bright?)

Such fun! Nightfall brought the neighborhood together to run and hide and chase and seek. My favorite spots were on the roof of the playhouse, lying flat, or in the gutter of the street where absolutely no one looked – and thankfully no one parked! I kept those places safe by departing from them when everyone was in the front yard. Youthful cunning and treachery to entertain us in the dark.

Hot muggy nights and screams of delight. That’s where I’m traveling today.

• No need for a ladder. I’m tall enough to paint the top of that window without dribbling on myself.
• No need for a drop cloth. I won’t drip on the carpet.
• No need for a wet rag. I won’t get wall paint on my pretty new trim.
• No need for a box cutter. I won’t have to cut paint out of the carpet.
• No need for my readers. I’ll paint a fine line perfectly without them.

It’s true. I never did say any of those things. I just thought them. I should have stuck to more menial tasks rather than trying to finish a month’s old project. Thus, we shall move to the mundane task of cleaning the trash cans once they are emptied.

We shall also thank those who work in waste management as it’s trash day, and I have contributed greatly to the need for a pick-up this week. Always recycle!

today we rechagre batteries…my key bored died and I don’t hunt and peck well…cheerios!

With our newly cleaned keyboards, many are wondering, where do we go now? What will this recently proclaimed “maven of cleaning” give us in her wisdom? What piddly thing can we find to clean on this beautiful cool morning which was recently drenched with rain? (Vinegar worked well on the piano keys.)

We are staying away from dusting. I have found that to be a hazardous duty dating back to my pre-teen years. Although we didn’t have a lot of Knick knacks to dust in our home, I managed to break most of them. Along the way I did a cartwheel in the dining room and broke a piece off of the chandelier. (Just so you know that karma exists, my son threw a ball in the house and broke a piece off of my glass chandelier. That should make you smile, Mom.)

Paper day. There is a stack of shredding that needs to happen, and a box of filing I should be doing, and it seems like a fairly innocuous task. Let’s keep it safe out there. Carry on!

Play along with me. Yesterday we washed our masks, today we aim to clean all of our keyboards. Boys and girls, “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” (The strain of basic cleaning is getting to me, folks – I’m going deeper!)

All of this is nonsense, quite frankly. I have a drywall repair guy coming today, so you already know everything in every corner of every room will have dust on it, regardless of the small scope of the project. My keyboards will not notice my attempts at all.

However, the keys on the piano are sticky. Since we know they are plastic and not ivory, I have been contemplating how best to restore them. It feels like a vinegar rub is in order. (The Tipsy Trio is on holiday anyway, so I can get a little maintenance done there.)

Yes…after keyboards, what can we clean tomorrow? Soliciting advice from fellow travelers who are dealing with boredom.

Yes…that is the designation for Mondays when the laundry begins. We do have a routine of sorts now, which varies so differently from pre-C. (Not)

Masks come to mind as I am now making some for the wedding party – and attempting to land on a style which works for all. We have about twelve masks here, all fitting differently, so each of us tends to the one that actually stays on easily. That will be my challenge. Wish me well as the shipment of elastic arrived yesterday and I have no reason to be a slug today.

While we’re on the subject of children’s interpretations – well we were there a day or two ago – I also recall a song I had playing in the car one sunny afternoon. It was on a little audiotape of children’s songs. “Jesus Loves the Little Children” was the classic we were listening to for probably the hundredth time.

One of the verses towards the end of the tune is “Jesus died for all the children.” Obviously my five-year old son was deep in philosophical thought with this song, because he piped up, “Mom? Why did Jesus diaper all the children?”

I replied, “Oh, I wish he had. I wish he had.”

Happy Sunday!

The door was swinging back and forth yesterday all day. It began with the electrician installing outlets on the back deck. (That is my fault. Apparently I have an addiction to outlets – the more the merrier in my book. And what am I really going to plug in back there other than the Christmas lights? We do not know, but we can find something now that we have the capacity!) Anyway, he arrived early and began work, when lo and behold! The window installer showed up a day early with his crew to begin “finishing” the installation of windows. Of course, at nearly 100 degrees, we had the air conditioning on, so we cooled a good portion of The Great Outdoors, too.

Progress is good and I’m hoping the home improvement train keeps running on schedule. The weak link will be the interior painter we hire. (Me.) Estimated time of arrival: wedding day.

My daughter was about three when she sat on the counter of the kitchen at my mother-in-law’s cabin. They were baking together and it was adorable. My MIL says to my girl, “Now we add a little flour.” My daughter turns around and picks a flower from the vase and throws it in.

I was reminded of that homophone mix-up last night as I sang for a Mass filled with young people. It was our church’s Rite of Initiation Mass, and these people were receiving their Confirmation and First Holy Communion sacraments. Along each “family-reserved” aisle, the child had created a small banner with his or her name and artwork. My beautiful child had also done this many years ago, which made me smile.

As we walked into the church and found our daughter’s banner back in the day, it had a headless stick figure on it. Not the pretty flowers, or the beautiful chalices, halos, crosses with which some kids had graced their banners. A stick figure without a head. I queried my child and got the literal answer.

“Mom, it’s the BODY of Christ!”

That still makes me smile.

It isn’t summer until you have a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Of course, I’ve waited to have one until I had decent tomatoes, the key ingredient. It’s been a craving since my return from the motherland where the tomatoes were not quite ready for cultivation.

My gems were purchased in the grocery, but they were as good as I’m going to get. I successfully grew tomatoes and other veggies for about five years. It was then that those ever-patient thistles reared their ugly heads. They loved the upturned soil, the winds sending their seeds aloft, and they became the most watered patch in the state.

The thistle flower is really pretty, and Scotland is wise to make it the national flower, thus eliminating the need to eliminate the seed. However, they are not an equal opportunity plant in the garden. Thus, no more homegrown tomatoes in that plot. But dreams for a new spot to till invaded my thoughts as I bit into that sandwich yesterday.

The next sign of summer – Palisade peaches and cobbler!

Why is food always on your mind when you’re trying to watch your weight? Perhaps I shall think of thistles instead and marvel at their beauty even as a noxious weed. And book an adventure to Scotland.