It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

In my eternal quest to find a pair of shoes that can do double duty as a comfortable, yet stylish walking shoe, (Ha!) I was treated to a new shopping experience. A friend, who’s Pinterest name is “Pistina,” touted the joys of her cute new Skechers. Another friend, whose Pinterest name is “Pan,” also loves her Skechers. Thus, I had to go to the Skechers store with “Pistina.” I wanted to experience the euphoric feeling that comes from a new pair of miracle shoes.

So…I went without socks, thus I had to wear that little 1/8 of a nylon sock as I searched for the perfect fit. Alas…no luck. The only pair I liked was unavailable. No new shoe joy.

We left and shopped some more, then went to lunch. After lunch we shopped some more! Upon exiting my vehicle I glanced at my feet. I was still wearing the blip of a nylon sock on both feet, which now only covered the top of my toes and looked incredibly STUPID with my current cute shoes. While I able to properly laugh at myself, I also realized I had treated the general public to my fashion faux pas for a good two hours. Sorry, kids. It’s probably a genetic flaw.

The morning started out rather uniquely here at the castle. Two of my husband’s friends arrived late last night in anticipation of their early morning departure on a motorcycle extravaganza. The four of us were about to enjoy breakfast when the Xfinity guy showed up on time (!) to update our outmoded equipment. My son rose from slumber, the fourth compatriot on the journey arrived, and the dog was underfoot for all of it. Brief version.

There is always a “rider’s meeting,” before embarkation begins. The voices get gruff, the riding gear is donned, and cheerful banter is discontinued. This is serious. It’s truly like preparation for battle, viewed from the estrogen-side of life.

The most notable part? How calm and quiet it was when the men exited. I wonder if the mistress of the castles of yore felt the same drop in testosterone? And did they contemplate painting the “drawing room” while the master was away? Or did they call up the local spa and spend a day being pampered? They probably didn’t fire up the chainsaw to chop down a dead tree! Well, I won’t do that either, because I need that testosterone to get that stupid chainsaw started.

I never had one. Nor did I have Chatty Cathy, Creepy Crawlers, Shrinky Dinks, or Spirograph. However, I had the Lin-O-Printer!

Oh my! This Gutenberg-style publishing machine was amazing! It had a drum on its red frame, and my sister and I would attach plastic forms to create mimeograph-style fun. We made fake money, driver’s licenses, library cards, and even printed a small newspaper. Our projects took forever to accomplish as we had to attach each letter individually, ink up the drum, and turn it to print our masterpieces one by one. Hours of fun. Best baby-sitter ever.

Apparently Santa Claus knew I wasn’t going to be a Master Chef, but possibly would write something one day? How insightful that guy is!

Critical error….going to Target in the afternoon right before the launch of a new school year! One would be tempted to think the alert regards the number of frazzled moms toting youngsters as they fulfill digital supply lists. (No paper copies anymore.) However, that is not the problem.

The issue – I just want to buy school supplies all over again! Who doesn’t? The promise of organizing a year with a spanking new pencil case, “Trapper Keeper,” (which I never had) colored pens and Sharpies, cheerfully-colored Composition notebooks, (which never get used) and folders in every color of the rainbow, all of these beckon to me annually. I’ve tried to get my “fix” by donating school supplies when there is a drive somewhere. However it really is more fun to have the child in tow selecting the supplies which will obviously guarantee a successful year. Obviously! Maybe those school supply drives should provide a child to make the experience more fulfilling?

I’ll just be satisfied with my new package of Bic crystal pens in cool colors like purple, lime green, turquoise, pink…and continue to donate to the supply drives sans the child.

Fireflies. Moon rise. Picnic supplies. Butterflies. Contented sighs. Burgers and fries. Shaded eyes. Sapphire skies. Bittersweet goodbyes.

True story. I was being a slug – playing my game of Scrabble before retiring for the evening. This auto-play-the-computer game can be addicting. I justify my participation as a means to keep tabs on my command of the language. However, it is a game which unjustly judges words.

The computer chose the ever-popular word, “Geepound,” resulting in the coveted triple word score. Geepound? I had to look it up. However, it only gives the definition as, “another name for slug.” Which kind of slug? Me? The mollusk? The blank coin? With that in mind, I decided to make “noob.” My son helped me with the spelling and definition of “noob” when the crossword puzzle presented me with that clue. It is verified on dictionary.com. Additionally, it’s advisable to use a new word soon after learning it so as to imprint it on the brain.

The computer denied my word choice! Even more debilitating, I had five “o” letters to get off the rack. Ooh…….this fickle computer has ruffled my feathers.

You know how little things can just get your feathers ruffled? Okay, neither do I. However, I was a bit dismayed to find my old-fashioned Sunday morning newspaper (which I can physically touch) unavailable. Once again. The second Sunday in a row where I was forced to live without the NYT and LA Times puzzles-of-the-week. (The news is already old, but the puzzles aren’t!)

Fortunately, my dear husband printed copies from our electronic subscription, but it’s not the same. It requires intensified reading glasses to finish, and the paper on which I write isn’t as great as newsprint. Alas, I called ‘Customer Service,’ ready to feign ruffled feathers and use my superb acting skills. (Really. I used to be an actress.)

I had the best time on the phone with the woman in charge of complaints. When she asked how she could help, I was tempted to give her a laundry list of household tasks I needed finishing, but instead I just briefly told her I knew my problem wasn’t her fault, but I sure wished it could be resolved. We talked about kids, how to keep them responsible, how summers are difficult when we all get a little lazier, how it would be nice if things just ran the way they were supposed to. We were laughing at the end of the call, and I received a credit for the paper.

What a delightful, small adversity to announce the week!

This morning arrived on little cat feet, sparking memories of low-lying fog in the fields back home. (Well – any place that actually has an abundance of humidity!) Early morning fog always feels like a nice way to ease into a day, and it also makes me think of Carl Sandburg’s poem, which leads me to ponder tenth grade English class.

That class was a mash-up of seniors, juniors, and sophomores either fulfilling a requirement or truly hoping for inspiration in the greatest study possible – the English language! My teacher hated me. The class was boring. However, I persisted in writing and churned out great poetic works, hoping to share the stage with the likes of Sandburg. I offer a gem for your amusement In the “Haiku of the Day.”

Alas! My heart swells to stroll the grounds of this time-honored dwelling.

The beautiful bindweed, with its gentle white flower choking off the lawn and shrubs, a charming tribute to Nature displaying her little jewels. Peeling paint from the spring hailstorms brings an allure of its own, reminding one of centuries of damsels and gentleman who have courted on this porch, flecks of white paint showering them like rose petals. The rains, which have brought heaving concrete and failing brick to the ground, merely add to the quaintness, while the faded stables with their share of “horse power” beckon the inhabitants to come and ride!

My chateau would fair well in stodgy old Europe. Alas. We continue to battle the insurance adjuster as we listen to the noise of highway traffic, reminded of where we actually live. And yet, we would not switch to another era.

Sometimes you really need your spouse around for those critical moments in life. This morning held one of those opportunities for him to shine.

I found myself struggling, albeit briefly, at 6:30 a.m. this morning. The NYT crossword had three clues catering to my husband’s knowledge and he was unavailable for pestering. The answers were “fanbelt,” “Snead,” and “Andy.” The clues were “engine part,” “golfer who did something spectacular which I cannot remember right now,” and “Toy Story toy.” That last one was too easy, but it pumped my ego and would have done the same for my spouse.

Yes, spousal support is required for difficult duties. I look forward to passing on the grocery shopping as soon he returns to our cave. And I sincerely hope a crossword puzzle is the most trying part of life this week!