That Old Black Magic

What happens at my house sure ain't white magic. And it sure seems magical, but not in a good way.

I can, and certainly will, give you multiple examples. If I didn't I wouldn't have a blog.

I have scrubbed every inch of kitchen counter. I have emptied and filled a dishwasher, washed all the "can't put in the dishwasher" dishes, fed the fish, checked the grocery list and vacated the kitchen for less than three minutes.

Upon re-entering, both sinks are full of dirty dishes. There are crumbs of unknown origin on all counter surfaces, we are out of everything and the fish looks hungry.

See what I  mean?

Oh, and get this:

I will have washed eleventy billion loads of laundry. Not nary a basket full of anything except maybe a smidgen of lint. Not one dirty sock, not one wet washcloth.

I am once again gone for less than three minutes and two baskets are running over with dirty clothes.

And don't get me started on the garbage. 

That truly is black magic.

Don't Look Now...

Well, my hair has finally grown out enough that I look like me again.

I don't know if that's good or bad, but I do know it's a relief for me.

Thank goodness we age gradually, or we couldn't take it.

Can you imagine looking twenty-five and getting up the next morning and you've taken the leap to forty? 

From forty to sixty?

Sixty to eighty?

We couldn't take it. I mean, if a hair cut does  me in, I can't imagine  a fast forward in aging. 

It's bad enough as it is. I've noticed that I seemed to age in jumps and starts. I'll look the same for a long while, then suddenly, for about six months, I can almost see myself getting older. then it stops, (thank goodness!) for a while.

Anyway, I think I'm going to leave my  hair at this length - not as long and "poofy" as it was - but enough to actually know I have hair. 

Husband always says, as I walk out the door, "Just don't get a little ole lady hair do."

I always assure him I won't.

I have no idea what that is, but don't tell him.

Can You Speak Pelican?

It is common knowledge that I am an animal lover. And animals generally love me, too.

I often go to someone else's house, or the vet, or an animal shelter and wind up with their pet in my lap, at my feet or on my shoulder, depending on the pet. I mean, I wouldn't want an Old  English Mastiff on my shoulder.

I've heard over and over: "Sweetie never has done that before. They are always afraid/shy of/hateful about strangers. But, boy, they sure like you!"

I've had a snarling guard dog that was flinging itself against a chain link fence turn into a tail wagging puppy when they saw me. I ain't making that up.

Something you may not know is that when I dream of animals they almost always talk to me.

I'll continue when you stop snickering.

Now:

I thought this was a curious thing, and asked a few others if they had dreams like this. The answer was always no.

So, I looked it up. You know the Internet is always right, so I was somewhat comforted by the information I gleaned. I looked at several different sites and they all said basically the same thing.

Dreaming of talking animals shows insight, superior knowledge and wisdom.

How they came to that conclusion, I'll never know.

But that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Beware!

I received an advertisement in the  mail promising me a cure all for everything!

Stopped up drains! Headaches! Body pain! Spelling issues!

You name it, whatever the problem, this cured it.

Believe it or not, it wasn't the outlandish promises that turned me off as much as all the exclamation points!

Yes! It's true! So many drive me nuts!!

BUT!

When I wrote the novel, "The Year of Nine: Where the Rain Begins", I used a lot of exclamation points.

I struggled with this a great deal in the beginning, but the book is written first person by a  nine year old. And nine year olds think and talk with a lot of exclamation points. At least I did, and the ones I know presently do, too.

So I went ahead and followed my gut instinct and used exclamation points.

Although the rule is: careful with the exclamation points, they are annoying; there is an exception to every rule.

How 'bout that!

The Boy, Jesus

We saw the movie "War Room" Friday, and one of the previews of upcoming movies was "The Young Messiah".

Watching it, I figured it came from either the "lost books" of the Bible (which aren't really lost, just not recognized as Holy Scripture in the Bible of today), or the book Anne Rice wrote several years ago about Christ's childhood, based on these 'lost' books. (these books are in the Catholic Bible.)

We really know very little about his childhood, and everyone loves a good mystery. I wondered as a child what Jesus was like as a child. 

I'm sure it will be a carefully made movie, and He will be recognized as God's Son. All of it will be beautifully done, and all look like Truth. But there is a fine line when you mix Truth with what ifs and maybes. 

Be careful little eyes what you see...
oh be careful little ears what you hear...

Be well founded so fantasy doesn't get mixed up with reality.

People Are Funny

If you walk this earth for long, you will find all sorts of odd and funny behavior in your fellow man.

Yesterday, at Mother's, Other Brother and his lady friend served us supper. "Us" being Nephew, Nephew's Wife and my wonderful grands,(nephew and niece) their children, Boy age four and Girl age six months, Mother, of course, Daughter and myself.

There was lots of noise, as everyone is prone to talk at the same time at our supper table. May be bad manners, but it sure is fun.
Anyway, Nephew was holding Baby Girl and trying to eat with one hand. His plan, apparently was to feed her an occasional bite of mashed potatoes while he enjoyed his meal.

Not so. We have a lot of Irish in our blood, and that means we eat a lot of potatoes. Once Baby Girl got a taste of mashed taters, she wasn't about to let her daddy forget. 

He would feed her a spoonful, she would wallow it with her lips and tongue, as babies who are just learning to eat do, then, if there wasn't another spoonful offered immediately, she pitched a holy fit. 

It was comical to watch. Poor nephew couldn't even get a fork to his mouth before the mad screaming started. As soon as he fed her a bite of potato, there was blessed silence for about six seconds. It was comical to watch.

Then today, I sent Husband to a local deli for some food to add to our supper plates. He got there as folks were getting off work with the same idea, so he said there was a small crowd waiting.

They had a new lady: middle age, stout, friendly. Husband said she didn't do eye contact, though. At some point she sneezed and he said it sounded close to the Tarzan yell. Her co-workers looked rather alarmed, not to mention the waiting customers.

She conversed about her sneezes to Husband, saying her family made fun of her about it.

Then she took a few steps, turned her broad back on customers and co-workers alike, and burst into the song by The Guess Who, "American Woman". Movements included.

Husband said everyone looked astounded, and one very young, introverted co-worker winced.

Then the lady went on about her business, whatever that was.

I bet every one of you reading this blog can recall something odd or downright funny that you have seen in the last week or so, leaving  you shaking your head, hopefully with a smile on your face.

People are funny.

Busy, Busy!

Boy, I have had a busy time!

I spoke at a book club on Thursday as their guest author. What fun! If you have never done this, put it on your bucket list. All ya gotta do is write a book and get invited to one.

I had a doctor's appointment on Friday, and afterwards we went to see "War Room". It goes to show you don't have to be a Hollywood star, or spend a billion dollars on a film to make it good. 

We ate out several times, and my kitchen is still a total wreck. Even if we are only in and out, it seems like the old kitchen just can't stay clean.

Husband picked green beans, which I cooked today. I don't think I've ever cooked anything fresh from our garden on October 3 before. 

The above made the kitchen worse, so I  unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it back up and started it. There are still dishes in the sink.

Have you noticed it's raining? No? What the heck is wrong with you??

Other Brother went to the Braves game last night. He was only slightly drowned. 

Okay, I've put it off long enough. To the kitchen I go! Charge.

Really.