It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

We had driving vacations when I was a kid. We traveled to far away destinations – like Colorado.

It was inevitable at some point that my father, hauling his four little olive plants through a summer heat wave with no air-conditioning in the car, would have to pull over and force us to walk half a mile before he’d pick us up. We’d been bickering and driving him nuts. (Of course, my baby sister was probably immune from this torturous form of parenting. She was good at causing a rift without drawing attention to herself, too.)

Oh, it wasn’t all that bad. I actually made a comic strip on one trip. I detailed the car sickness, the games, the fighting, the teasing and such. Stick people drawings, but a written history of the excursions. We made the best of it and were rewarded with a swimming pool at every hotel we graced. (Back then they were NOT heated pools either!)

It would be fun to have a video of one of those trips, just to see how we all fared in a car, sleeping on the back window or floor. To relive the meals at big restaurants, also a treat as our little town only had a bar and cafe. And of course, to see the freedom we enjoyed as we ran amok at the YMCA of the Rockies, parents assuming we were just fine when we made it home for dinner.

I am declaring my parents saints.

Imagine our surprise when we learned we have been motoring around for the past year and a half with expired tags on our RV! The greater surprise to me was that law enforcement hadn’t even noticed.

Once something expires, outside of refrigerated items, the process to reinstate is just like that for a new purchase. What a hassle this “appearing in person” business it. Thankfully my other half is taking on the job of legalizing us again.

I guess we are doing a public service? We’re just helping keep others employed in the motor vehicle department.

Once you toss the sentimental item, you are ready to continue the purge!

The cabinets in the garage are in dire need of reformation. They’re in the garage, for heaven’s sake, no one really pays attention to them until you can no longer stuff your stuff in them. It’s time to initiate “spring cleaning disaster” mode.

One thing is certain – it will be very satisfying when completed.

It’s an odd thing. There’s not much about which I’m sentimental – until it comes to tossing old paint clothes. Apparently I have an unusual attachment.

It’s a little history lesson wearing them, recalling past painting jobs, the feeling of starting fresh with a new room, the wonder of how I can be so incredibly messy. I’m kind of proud of those shirts and shorts, or in the winter, the long-sleeved tees and sweats that are pivotal for my ensembles. I would wear them in public if it were a painting emergency. At least everyone would assume I was being productive! Hmm.

Alas, a time for everything though. I tossed a shirt which memory fails to recollect when I might ever have worn it in mint condition? It’s gone as I currently launder the old stand-bys. They faithfully await the next adventure.

With over forty years of experience painting interiors and exteriors of homes – mine, my sisters and parents, friends – I have learned a thing or two and seen a thing or two.

The evolution of the paintbrush, the roller, the paint itself, the techniques for perfect lines, has all sifted through my well-practiced hands. I have painted with a fine three-bristled art brush to achieve some of my results. Detail is my “specialty.” Thus, I think I know it all.

What a lovely and delightful joy it was to discover I didn’t. Walking off the area of a room rather than measuring carefully with a tape, I estimated that one gallon should really do the trick – if the paint did as promised, which I never ever rely on. I don’t care what they say, it always takes more than the one coat offer to achieve perfection. Mid-painting I panicked and almost ordered another gallon. Prudence took over and I calmed down, trusting the paint expert at Home Depot. I had paint left over!

It truly covered in one coat, didn’t drip (nary a spot on the carpet!) and felt luxurious in its application. Of course I used the best brush and roller with the best paint, a given in the wonderful world of wall transformation.

The nursery looks beautiful. I am humbled and expect to apply this exquisite knowledge to my next project – once my neck, shoulders and arms recover.

Seeing the ads makes me consider a new sport for the games – and it can be winter or summer. Diaper changing.

Picture two infants in need of a change. You have to keep them sequestered, change the squiggling and twisting bodies one at a time as they are strapped in on the changing table, leave no gap in the diaper, and snap those tiny onesie snaps properly, aligning them so as not to have to redo them. Of course it is a timed event, judged on the perfection of the task.

It’s the only possibility I’d have of attending the Olympics.

There’s nothing like a new family of weeds sprouting upon your return from vacation to get you unmotivated to do anything! It is nice and green though. When it dries out I’ll get to this overgrown property.

Looking for one of those moms is my next plan.

We didn’t see the Aurora Borealis last night or on any of the previous evenings. We did make a half-hearted attempt though. In lieu of that site we did capture this stunning photo on our recent destination and decided it belonged as the header. (“We” being “me” decided and husband photographed.)

It’s always nice to get on the water and wonderful to return home to where the yard was watered! You know the routine – dry out and begin mowing. It’s quite possible we are finished with snow and awaiting the return of the hummingbirds.

What a pretty Monday.

Back in the days before the ever-useful “Splitwise” app, my sister and I had “the kitty.”

When we traveled we would each throw the same amount of cash into a cute little zippered bag and use it for meals, entrance fees, tips, whatever, even personal items we might like. “The kitty is buying those earrings,” was a handy justification for many purchases! It ended up being a great way to not pay individually or worry about costs. Today, we have apps that do it all for us, even if I had the most difficult time wrapping my head around it when we traveled to Rome. I was still making columns and doing simple math to which my older brain cells were accustomed.

My daughter and her husband introduced us to Splitwise. It tracks and divides and adds and totals without any use of your brain. Of course, this drove me nuts at first, but I came to trust it and appreciate its power.

Just passing along a useful little travel tip for anyone out in the world tired of subtracting and dividing.

William Blake came to mind as I sit poised to swat a pesky little bugger who is invading the breakfast hour in this lovely cabin. “Pim” and I sit opposite sides of the table with the swatter poised to deliver the death blow as “Panita” works the coffee table area.

And now I’m feeling a tad guilty for attempting to end this little life so swiftly. He is annoying though. Sigh. I shall be a happy fly today. And this little guy having survived two attempts at meeting his demise, may just live another day.

Little fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

The Fly, William Blake