Author: Rene

Leave it to me to find a carpet showroom that has been open a week, with my cohort in tow and us being the third customers to cross the threshold.

Who knew my friend and I would be held hostage by the owner, eager to relay his successful sales story? To be fair, he was out retrieving cream for his coffee when we arrived. His lovely sales associate, new to the job, was eager to help us. “Pristina” was patient and kind, and when the owner arrived, we both exclaimed, “Did you bring enough coffee for us?”

He had a Keurig, made each of us our choice of roasted blend, offered cream, and was quite lovely. It just took a long time to get out from under the history of carpet and the business. At least I’m finally looking for the replacement options in the pet-and-child loved flooring of our home. That friendly business experience has spurred me forward.

To infinity and beyond!

Last night I took on the sewing of a new cushion cover for my kitchen bench. I thought I’d go all fancy and use piping to edge it neatly.

I spent the first two hours cutting, pinning, and sewing piping. I spent the third hour ripping it all apart. Then, I was so mad I decided to try it again!!!! I even googled tips and tricks and couldn’t figure out what I’m doing wrong. After failed attempt number two, I had to quit due to the lowered night time temperature in the house and in the interest of my sanity.

The bright side? I had the opportunity to lie awake considering options and reworking the project in my head for hours. I “arose” to the challenge this morning, determined to make this stupid thing work.

Third time’s a charm.

I am the best at dragging my feet when it comes to changing out a long-held and loved piece of furniture for a newer model.

And how does this musing come about? My beautiful daughter was sitting on the sofa last night gazing at my decor, trying to understand the wonder of it all.

My coffee table is a handy piano bench, acquired in my youth by my father when I first moved out of the house. One side table is a “major award” silver platter atop a garage-sale find tripod. A second table is hand-crafted by my father-in-law, and the last acquisition is a terrible piece from the 50’s which belongs in a museum. (That would actually be the round side table I felt the need to abscond from the parents for my granddaughter’s toy chest. I just like it.) My family room is really family remnants. We won’t touch the sofa conversation, as I’ve been ruminating about that for years.

We all know that remnants are what hold us together.

I don’t anticipate a big change in the near future.

November 8th – and I slept with the window open!

Not only did I steal a moment of a cool, crisp night pre-winter, but I heard the coyote party, something that’s been missing for the last couple of years. It probably means we will have rabbits proliferating the ‘hood by Christmas, but their cries and screams are somehow comforting.

The sun dawns on a new day, free of political ads. That that of my time is too large to excuse!

Remember the joy of the cereal box? It had immense possibility the moment it arrived on your morning table, that rare morning when your mother did not make you eat a hot breakfast with protein.

Oh, I’m sure you remember the Bobby Sherman record I wrote about, cutting it off the back of the box and playing it? Making words out of the Alpha-Bits cereal as you consumed it? We weren’t staring at a tablet, phone, or even television. All we had was some cardboard for morning entertainment.

Well look what popped up in our pantry? This isn’t even a name brand cereal! It was just a heart-warming moment, and a puzzle for my moment of happiness.

My aunt’s funeral was beautiful, touching, reverent, fitting. Following every Mass and graveside service in the village is the luncheon served in the school gymnasium by the ladies’ Altar Society.

My mom’s funeral was the first to reinstate the luncheon during covid, a proud tribute to her ability to bring people together. What’s so interesting and probably shocking to anyone who has never witnessed the meal, is the swiftness in restoring the gym to its former glory.

The priest prays over the meal and family, we form two lines, at least one hundred or more go through the self-serve tables. People eat, catch up with others, pay tribute to the family, and begin to leave approximately 60 minutes later. And then – out come the carts – and the family of the deceased begins stacking chairs and tables! It is speedy, efficient, and well-orchestrated. The gym is now ready for school activities. It has been this way for decades.

There is no sense in changing what works!

If your cute little dog had to choose, which treat would he pick?

We returned from our family get-together and changed into less formal attire. That is when I noticed the torn Reese’s Cup papers on my guest bed. Two chocolate treats for a little eight pound dog. Hm.

I neglected to inform my brother of the evidence last night, figuring I would divulge that knowledge if the dog died. This morning the remnants of a third chocolate cup were found, so I spilled the beans. That’s when we learned the little thief had jumped on the counter many times, choosing the butter dish on the last foray.

Stick of butter or chocolate? The wiser choice was made. And who could fault this cutie?

Oh…and a friendly reminder….

My brother has an arcade in his basement. Last night the claw machine held the attention of three little cousins, enjoying themselves tremendously! They each got to take home a stuffed animal which I’m sure their parents appreciated.

It’s a family event again, and we were graced by my uncle’s presence with his son and his family. We heard stories never known and those long-forgotten. It was special to be at my brother’s house which has become the “home base” for many family members scattered throughout the country. It’s the perfect house on a lake with entertainment for all.

Looking forward to seeing more cousins this weekend!

As I struggled with the fitted sheet on the bed, I imagined as I often do, a possible better system.

The problem is that my solution includes Velcro fasteners which get all wonky in the agitation cycle, as well as collect lots of hair from wherever they magically find it. Additionally, the words, “side,” and “top,” would be emblazoned on the sheet itself in bold color, not on a little tag in a corner on the underside. Or maybe it could be a shrink-wrap kind of solution where the sheet magically conforms as you put the blow-dryer to it? Or the box spring and fitted wonder could be magnetized? Forget the Velcro idea!

It’s always one of the least enjoyable aspects of washing the bed linens, which is why my daughter made me chuckle with this missive she sent yesterday.

It seemed appropriate following Halloween. I’m glad I don’t have a duvet.

There is something therapeutic in washing dishes by hand rather than sticking them in the dishwasher.

My earliest memories of being part of the ”big girls,” aka my aunts, was of helping them wash and dry dishes after family meals, pre-automation. My Aunt Annette always washed by hand, even when homes became supplied with dishwashers. She enjoyed that task. She relished talking to those who helped her, basked in the sisterhood of a shared goal, and definitely passed that appreciation to me.

As I washed my gold-rimmed china from Sunday evening’s dinner, I thought of Annette, who made a simple and necessary job a joy. I can still hear her laugh and see her smile. She will forever inspire me to scrub those pots and pans properly – and to be liberal in using a dry dish towel when necessary! Thank you, Auntie.