Posted tagged ‘deck weather’

“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”

June 10, 2017

Summer has arrived. Today is already a lovely day with lots of sun giving lots of heat. It will be in the low 70’s here. This room is still dark and cool as the sun hasn’t yet worked its way around the house. I went out earlier and needed to turn on the car’s AC as Gracie was with me. I left it on when I stopped. She threw up all of yesterday’s food so I was hoping to find something to entice her. I bought a frozen dog treat but she didn’t want it. I gave it to the dog in the next car, and he licked every bit of it. I know she is hungry as she keeps checking her dish,  but I can’t find anything she wants. The lady whose dog ate the frozen treat suggested tuna dog treats. I came home and checked the recipe on-line. I just have to go and buy the tuna. I’ll try anything.

It is a noisy Saturday. I can hear lawn mowers from all over the neighborhood, no kids though. I wonder where they are. I’m guessing baseball and t-ball.

A warm, summer Saturday is about the best of all days. It invites us outside to enjoy the weather. It is a day meant for sitting on the deck to enjoy the warmth tempered by a slight breeze. Inside the house can stay dusty, and the laundry can wait a day or two or even more. I know that from experience.

My deck is still closed. The furniture covers got soaked the other night so yesterday I emptied the water caught in the folds. The deck floor is covered with leaves and debris from that last storm. My factotum, Skip, is coming Monday. I have a long list for him to do. He has to clean out the shower as it is filled with the gnawed pieces of pinecones. I still see the spawn of Satan around that shower. He is in for a rude awakening.

The exterminator came back yesterday to plug the mouse holes around the foundation. He figured by now the mice would have moved to a more exalted place, and the cellar does have a peculiar odor. I’m thinking dead mice or decomp as they call it on TV.

I still have flowers to buy before Skip comes, at least the deck flowers. I always think flower shopping is about the best of all shopping sprees. I just can’t help myself and always load the cart. Flowers are intoxicating.

“When a child is locked in the bathroom with water running and he says he’s doing nothing but the dog is barking, call 911. ”

June 4, 2015

May was the dry month with barely any rain. June, though still young, is the cold month. The temperature has dipped to the 40’s at night and only the 50’s during the day. Sunday is predicted to have a high of 70˚. I can hardly wait. I’m thinking a book, some crackers and cheese, a cold drink and my deck.

Eat your vegetables. Sit up straight. Wash your hands. Wipe your feet. Take your coat off the chair and hang it in the closet. Put your schoolbag away. Change into play clothes. Brush your teeth. Do your homework. Don’t sit so close to the TV or you’ll go blind. Leave your sisters alone. Don’t slam the door. Go outside and play. Don’t stand looking with the refrigerator door open. No cookies before dinner. Get your feet off the table. Get ready for bed.

When I was a kid, life was an endless chain of commands. My mother said the same things every day, and most days she’d tempt us by asking, “How many times to I have to tell you?” I really wanted to answer her but I never did. I was learning discretion, and I also knew I’d have been sent to my room until at least college. The truth was I just didn’t hear her. It was blah, blah, blah to me. Every kid figures out at an early age how to ignore parents, especially those repetitive commands which blur together and lose meaning. We’d move back from the TV then move right back to where we were as soon as my mother left the room. The back door always slammed. What self-respecting kid is going to stand there and close it gently? Little sisters were to be picked on. It was a universal rule. If I didn’t stand looking into the refrigerator, how would I know what was there? What kid ever wants to get ready for bed? Vegetables? Clean hands?

My mother would yell, “Are you listening to me?” I’d nod or say yes despite having no idea what in the heck she’d said. I figured the truth, no, would have been the totally wrong answer. It would have made my mother madder, and I’d have been accused of being a smart aleck which wasn’t really far off the mark.

I learned early on shading the truth is sometimes the best response.