Shopping for Calendars or If You Knew Susie

After three days of rain, we are delighted to see the sun again. Well, John may not be as this means he's back in the trench. I am definitely delighted.

One rainy afternoon last week, I decided to go shopping for calendars. Several of you had suggested the new S*usan B*ranch calendar. I'm highly suggestible.

Every year about this time, a discount calendar outlet leases a storefront at the local mall. Sure enough, I found it and had myself a good time browsing through the Lang section. I found S*usan's calendar right away.

Heart & Home/Heart of the Home

At the register, I found a disconsolate man with his head down in his hands and not paying a lick of attention to the store. He rang up my purchase, had trouble giving me my change, and seemed generally confused. I asked about the price of the calendars as I was very pleased with the total. He couldn't tell me. I said it would be on the slip and not to worry. He bagged the items and off I went. I was two steps from Penney's when I thought something isn't right here. Sure enough. He had not charged me for Susan's Calendar.

I briefly considered not returning. *gasp* You'll be happy to know that the good angel on my right shoulder won that battle and I found myself back at the register with the confused man who was about to become even more confused dragging me along for the ride.

Me: I think there's a mistake.

He: I'm not paid to make a mistake.

Me: Well, I'm sure that's true, but I have two calendars and only paid for one and I'd hate to take advantage of my friend Susan.

He: You know Susie?!

Me: Ahhh, well, you could say that. (I mean I do visit her blog.)

He: I know her, too. We're very good friends. She just loves the beach!

Me: Yes, I guess she does, living on the coast and all.

He: She has a beautiful home.

Me: Yes, I think so, too.

He: I spent last weekend with her.

Me: Really? I thought she was on the West Coast.

He: No, she was right in Cape Elizabeth.

Me: (The light now dawning.) Noooo, she is traveling by train back to Cape Cod. (I should have said "Martha's Vineyard.")

He: She is?! She didn't tell me anything about that!

Me: I don't think we're talking about the same Susan.

He: You're not talking about the owner of the store?

Me: She used to own a store. (I am just having fun with him now.)

He: No, she still owns the store. This one.

Me: (Laughing by now) Oh we're definitely not talking about the same Susan. I'm talking about S*usan B*ranch, the one who designed this calendar.

He: (Obviously disappointed) Oh. Well I'm not usually here. I'm a pharmacist. I don't know anything about this store.

Me: (Very surprised at his second point and not at all surprised at his third)

He rang up my purchase, had trouble giving me my change, and seemed generally and genuinely  confused.

Gosh, I hope I never run into him at the pharmacy.

A fun day to you!

Meeting the Great

"...there is no (great-) grandfather who does not adore his grandson." ~Victor Hugo

John met his fifth great-grandchild yesterday. It was love at first sight.

The baby's grandmother, John's daughter, brought her father a gift. It was a picture of his great-grandparents back in Sweden.

What a nice link through the generations...

I've been trying an experiment this week. I have only commented at blogs when one commented here. It has been less than satisfactory for the following reasons. 1. Sometimes bloggers don't link their blogs to their profiles 2. Sometimes I have been unable to comment no matter what I do — some crazy bug working its way through blogger or something. 3. What if another blogger is doing my same experiment? = | 4. I am missing some of my favorite bloggers' posts. 

Oh what's a gal to do? I know: Do whatever makes you feel lovely. Well, I haven't felt lovely since 1966. Now what? Any suggestions?

.

Autumn in My Neighborhood

Yesterday afternoon I took a little walk around my neighborhood. The color of the scarlet sumacs along the main road beckoned me. Sumacs are a shrubby little tree not worth a whole lot; however, in autumn, they garner attention. They once had a noble purpose. Their fronds were boiled in buttermilk creating the most incredible red paint. It was inexpensive and durable and nearly every New England farmer painted his barn with the stuff.

1. Sumac along the river's edge (It's hard to tell, but that space between the sumac and the trees on the other side is the river.)

2. I thought this sumac branch looked like red hot chile peppers

3. This was the view that first beckoned

4. Some blush on the backyard forsythia bush

5. Lunch...focaccia bread with fresh tomato slices, onion, green pepper, and cheese (Yes, we are still on our eating plan.)

6. Trees in the forest behind our house

7. Even the ditch was pretty

8. Oh that nasty turkey vulture is getting too close

9. Too much of a close-up?

10. Looking toward our house

11. Looking toward the town square

12. What is he doing?

13. Digging a big hole

14. Looking across the river to the old mill

15. More sumac

16. Another toward the old mill view

Hope that you have far lovelier views!

Edited to Add @ 2:27 EST:

Sumac Frond



Who knew the stuff was also edible? I am not trying it. Nope. A very interesting video at the following source. I might try making a buttermilk paint, though. ☺

Source

P.S. To enlarge a photo: click on the photo, click on white lettering on lower left. When a new window opens and you have maximized it, click yet again and the image will be full size. Do NOT use the back arrow. Instead, use Xs on right top of page to return to the post. Hope that this helps and it should work everywhere.(Edited to Add: No longer applicable.) 

Pizza Picnic and Hole Digging

Like many of you north of the Mason-Dixon line, we enjoyed an unusual stretch of warm weather over the weekend. It was so unusually pleasant that we celebrated a birthday Pizza Picnic Style.

The fam is not so fond of my picture taking after all these years. The grands are hopping all over the place and so they're not so easy to catch either. It is what it is and I leave it at that. Perhaps by Thanksgiving...

Hole digging. Now that's a lot of fun. The driveway needed to be cut open and the blocks are waiting to be put back for the winter. Next year perhaps a new driveway...I hope!

Pavement Cutting

My Digging Accomplishments Before Quitting

John's As of Twenty Minutes Ago

I'm not going back to digging today for I have learned a valuable lesson: I am just in his way.

Gosh, my topics are truly uninspired. I really want to share something way more exciting to me, but I must wait until another October birthday has passed.

Enjoy your day...

The Majestic Monarch

Not only did my neighbor bless me with her photos of P*atrick D*empsey (see yesterday's post if you missed them), she also favored me with a fresh-from-his-cocoon monarch butterfly. Apparently, I'm the only one in the neighborhood with flowers left. She said that monarchs prefer to dry out on a flower where they can get some nourishment.

I spent a delightful afternoon watching the process loving every minute.

I'm told that those two black dots on either side of his back signify that he is a male monarch. (Don't quote me, though.)

In the end, he caught a stiff breeze to the rooftop where I am certain it was much too hot for his wittle toes because he soon headed due east landing in the pine tree. There he looked like a rusty leaf and that was the last I saw of him.

 

In other news, I'm so enjoying your photographs of autumn. Keep them coming! Things are beginning to color up here, though it'll not be the best foliage season we've enjoyed.

John and I are going to dig a trench today to run our wiring underground. That should be fun! Don't worry, I'm premedicating.

This, That, and the Other

First things first: Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian readers!

I have such warm and happy memories of celebrating Thanksgiving Canadian style at the lake in New Brunswick. Wonderful meals prepared on the woodstove with the cottage windows so fogged that we couldn't see out and family gathered all around the table topped with old linoleum that my grandfather built to host a crowd. Yes, I see them all there yet.

In my mind's eye, I can picture you all gathered round your own tables, perhaps even singing the Doxology, and giving God all thanks and praise. Enjoy the turkey, the squash, the pies, the joys!

Yesterday was such an interesting day for me; although, it became a bit disappointing.

It began with not one, but (pardon the pun) two "butt calls." Very early. Before seven. I was in a deep sleep. When I answered the phone, I could hear my daughter climbing up and down the stairs to her house, but she didn't respond to my hellos. I called her back. She didn't answer. Another strange call with mumbling voices... I can't be the only one getting these kinds of calls. Frustrating!

Anway, my daughter participated in the Patrick Dempsey Challenge yesterday riding the 50 mile portion, which he himself rode. They were scheduled to pass by John's place here in town and my daughter estimated that they'd be there around 11:00 am. I told her that I'd be there by 10:30 am and she thought that would be good. After a bit, I decided to be there at 10:00 am and boy was I ever glad because the bikers were already coming down the hill. Now I had a thank-you sign and my tripod, but I didn't have time to set up either one.

They didn't travel in one big pack, but had spread themselves out singly or in pairs. I grabbed my camera and just hoped that I hadn't missed her already.

So there I was standing at the end of John's driveway, waving or saying hello or saying thank you as the bikers went past. I was there for about an hour when one of the bikers yelled that Patrick himself was "ten behind." I didn't know if that meant that he was ten bikers behind or ten minutes behind. I didn't really care so much about a picture of him as I did about a picture of my daughter.

Finally, I saw her coming! Here she comes!!

And there she goes! I heard her say, "That's my mom." as she rode by. "That's my girl," I said to myself with my face just beaming.

I watched a few more bikers; they had thinned considerably so at just after 11 am, I returned home.

Later, when I was sure she would have finished her run, I called to see how she had fared. She said, "Where were you?"

What?WHAT? I was there; I have pictures! I have pictures of you!

"No, Mom, no you don't. There was no one there. If you had been there, I would've stopped."

Turns out that her chain broke and she was delayed. She didn't pass John's driveway until 11:30. I have no idea who the gal is in the photo above, but she is not my own. What kind of a mother doesn't recognize her own daughter? What kind of a mother hears someone say that's my mom? A fruitcake that's who!

I failed to mention that I also thought I saw Mr. Dempsey. He was taking a swig of water and when he finished, he winked at me and said, "G'morning."

Yeah, right. Didn't happen because he was behind my daughter having been delayed at a gathering of folks further down the road who wanted his autograph and picture. Like my neighbor next door who told me all about it and who was kind enough to send me the photos and to say that I had permission to use them. Thank you, Dani!

 This was when she was telling me all about it in the yard.

This was the acutal photo Dani sent me of herself with P. Dempsey

This is the photo Dani took Saturday night.

Gee, I hope that this helps my daughter feel better about not seeing me at the end of the drive. She missed out on getting any pictures with Patrick herself. She's going to do better next year. The good news is that this event has raised nearly over a million dollars for cancer research. Thank you, Mr. Dempsey, and a big thank you and God bless you to all who participated.

Gotta use my sign somehow!

If you arrived at the end of this convoluted post, thank you for reading. Now do have a wonderful Columbus Day!