I love my neighborhood. We've lived here 27 years. Many right around us have lived here longer than we have. It gives me a nice feeling of stability. But there is a house almost across our street that was rented to a big loud woman in her 40's and her elderly mother several months ago and the stability is cracking.
There is such an excess of activity there, compared to any other house on the street. Almost 24 hours a day, cars come and go, in and out. Sometimes there are 4-6 cars parked in the yard and in the street. For the most part they belong to Guatemalan men, which I wouldn't mind if they could drive. Someone trying to get out of that driveway backed into our truck twice this year, and since we couldn't prove which person did it, no one else's insurance was going to cover any repair. The police said Guatemalan's don't carry insurance anyway.
Three weeks ago, a Guatemalan driving a car hit a parked vehicle a couple blocks away and kept going. Since he took out his own right front fender and wheel he couldn't go very fast and police located and followed him where? right across the street. We watched as he was arrested. It seemed the woman who rents the house was protecting him, though I couldn't be sure. She was obviously telling the police what they could or couldn't do with his wrecked car.
For the last week I have been wakened, or couldn't fall asleep due to fighting, yelling, laughing or music through my bedroom window, though of course I don't mind the last two.
Four nights ago, 6 teens, 5 girls and a boy were fooling around up and down the street. Their home base was the rental across the street. I was nervous only because graffiti has been spray painted on cars and buildings right around us. My next door neighbor just finished repainting his garage door which sported such nice things as a penis and testicles, the word "C-NT" and bold initials. So I kept half an eye on the kids. One had a large slurpy drink. She was standing by my rose bush and suddenly heaved the drink out into the street. My husband went out and made her pick it up. She argued "I'm not a litterer", but she picked it up.
Two nights ago I heard glass breaking and heard the big lady yelling and cussing. "you're so stupid and retarded 'cause you can't even talk English, you motherf---ing son of a b-tch! I have to put up with your sh-t!". On and on. She picked up three big pieces of glass in her front yard, threw in in the trash then stomped into the house. She grabbed hold of the door and threw it back so hard I wouldn't have been surprised if the whole front of the house just fell away. I heard more yelling from inside, slamming, more yelling then it quieted down.
Last night I was wakened around midnight by glass breaking. Then more glass breaking. She was back outside screaming into a cell phone "Your ass is going back to Guatemala. I've called the police. Yes, just get ready, you're going back, you Motherf---er. You stupid Motherf---er. Then I saw a police cruiser driving around hunting for whoever she was yelling at. The next time I looked out the police were there and by now "Juan" was laying on the curb passed out. I wasn't sure if she hadn't killed him. A policeman was trying to coax him awake. "Juan, wake up. Come on, wake up".
And now unbelievably, this woman had changed. She's all sweet. "Get up Juan, get up and go to bed. We need you to sit up so I can get you up to bed. And to the police, "Someone gave him beer, he's been drinking all day". And later to the neighbor "you should see my house. He broke both upstairs closet doors and my front door." He threw two plates my mother gave me" I'm like, WHAT?! What happened to your threats, to pressing charges, to kicking him out, to getting rid of him? I shook my head and I laid back down, thing's quieted outside.
I woke to more glass breaking, then more, and more of her screaming obscenities. The dogs in the neighborhood were barking. My dog was crying. My cat was running up and down the stairs meowing. I looked out the window again. Seems Juan had heaved trash bags into the street and there were scattered broken bottles. Fat neighbor was calling the police again, "He's tearing up my whole front yard, tell them to come again." Juan was behind a tree sobbing. BooHooHoo, and talking, but I couldn't understand him. She was ripping him another new one. She walked far enough from her front door that he had an opportunity to bolt, ran into the house, slammed the front door and locked HER out. She's screaming obscenities and walking in circles in the front. I went back to bed; it was 1:20 am.
I personally think this woman is her own worst problem. The activities she allows in her home, (with a sick elderly mother living there!) that is where the problem is. She blamed that someone gave "Juan" beer to drink all day, but it happened in her house, the evidence of bottles was laying in the street. Actually there were many bags of bottles. I don't know when she'll learn, but I hope it doesn't continue on my street.
I'm sending big woman's landlord a copy of what I've written here. I hope she stops over and inspects the house, and asks big lady to move away. I hope I get new neighbors.
4/23/2014
Steak Knife Horror
I'm hunting for a 2nd carbon steel knife to buy on the internet and ran across this set, identical to a set my family used probably since the 1950's. The blade is very thin and cuts tomatoes and steak proficiently. I'd forgotten about them until now. But the picture reminded me of a story. I had been a nurse only a short time and had very little experience with the odd accidents that roll thru an emergency room. One afternoon a group of 5-6 young college students from a nearby dorm walked in and headed to the ER window to sign in. The fellow in front explained that no crime had been committed, and that he was fine, but maybe he should be checked. He said they had all been messing around and he'd accidentally been stabbed with a knife, which he then laid on the counter to show me. It was identical to one of those knives our family had used for the past 25 years. They were all nervously laughing which quelled any alarm in me. I asked where the injury was and he pulled up his shirt to reveal a tiny red mark on his abdomen. There was no blood.
We got him into a room and the ER intern poked a six inch long cotton tipped applicator (like a Q-tip only longer) into the wound. That sucker went straight in deeper and deeper and I knew then the knife had entered his abdominal cavity. Off to OR he went for exploratory surgery. I never heard the outcome, and I hoped he recovered without incident.
My Husband's Grandpa Was an Upholsterer
His name was Tom Frankhart and he raised his family
in Tiffin, OH. I found the family in the 1940 census, and it said he
was born in 1898, he would be 42 that year. He and his wife Alice
raised 8 daughters, Madelyn, Evelyn, Beatrice, Alice Jane, Patricia,
Matilda, Mary Jo, and Norma Jean. It said Tom had a 5th grade
education. He never owned a house, always rented. Alice, his wife,
died a couple months after she had finally given birth to a son, who
died at birth. Those had to be some dark days for Tom. After that, Tom
married Alice's sister, which was socially acceptable back then, and
brought 3 more girls into the mix! (By now, my MIL was married and out
of the house.)
I never knew how he became an upholsterer. Self taught? His family? I will find out, but I do know it was a lifelong career, his only help was his family. My mother in law told me she had to work very hard, she was an older daughter, to help with the large family. Really, she never looked back on her childhood with a lot of sentimentality. Her father and mother needed a lot of help to survive with all of those children, I suppose. She was a bit resentful of the responsibilities and said she never had a "childhood". And their routine was different back then. After school, she helped her mother prepare supper. If she didn't peel the potatoes thin enough her dad would make her scrape the peelings again, to add more potato to the meal. All of her sisters had to be bathed and redressed before the meal, hair braided, and dressed in fresh clothes when they came to the table. I guess that was the way things were done back then.
Tom's upholstery shop always was at 469 West Perry Street in Tiffin. My MIL said she remembers he had a job upholstering the interiors of Model T cars at first. It was an agreement he had with someone from Fostoria, OH if I recall correctly. (Recognize those towns names? Tiffin and Fostoria were known for their elegant glass, and Norma Jean worked there when she grew up) Once, one of the Model T's came back because some one said it wasn't done right. I would imagine that was an unfortunate financial blow to the family, because that story was remembered many years later.
Another job my MIL had was "tying the springs". She said she had take cloth and sew it around every upholstery spring before it was installed into the project. She hated that job. The only way I can relate to this is from a mattress commercial I've seen where they show each spring is individually covered. (Sealy, Beautyrest?) I imagine this was a monotonous job. She also had to thread big curved upholstery needles, all sizes, with a couple yards of thread on each, and set aside for him to use as he needed them
She told a story where she was "helping" in the shop, she was just little girl. Tom had finished reupholstering a sofa, and she was left alone in his shop. She saw a can of open black paint with a paint brush laying across the top. She decided to paint the sofa! Oh my gosh! When Tom returned she had paint on herself, her clothes and the sofa. Back then all paint was oil based, I can only imagine what a mess that was.
Tom was the only upholsterer in town, to my knowledge. I imagine a few of his upholstery jobs are still in use in that area. Some of his other daughters learned to upholster, but not my MIL. She probably knew the process well, but never did it. She even paid a lady later years to cover her desk chair seat and back in a big brown and black plaid. $50, and the plaid wasn't matched and was a little crooked to boot!
Tom was retired and the shop was gone when I came into the family. He died in 1979. His daughter Beatrice had his sewing machine, I was told. I'm not sure what Singer he used. Norma Jean got his "Sample Chair" first. This was a great idea. In the 40's he sewed dozens of sample squares together and upholstered a chair with them, so customers could better see how they would look. I now have this chair. I wish I could just go back into his shop once to see the equipment he accumulated, the fabric sample books. Aunt Bea gave me a bag of his samples once. I still have them but haven't used them. They look like fabric from the 60's and 70's.
I found this little story about Tom in someone's blog. This writer is describing his childhood memories and his father's good friends:
"Thomas S. “Tommy” Frankhart was born in 1897. He and his wife Alice eventually lived in that familiar red building at 496 West Perry St. Here he operated a well known upholstery shop. I remember this shop, and I can still see Tommy seated at that old pedal operated Singer sewing machine, which was next to a large window. As a young boy I once broke that same window with a baseball. Tommy normally had a Camel cigarette dangling from his mouth. He usually chose not to use his ash tray, opting instead to flick the butt out the front door and onto the concrete slab. We as kids saw these butts fly out the front door. We then snuck over to get them while they were still lit. He never seemed to mind when the neighborhood kids wandered in and out of the shop and roamed freely around. He occasionally stopped his work long enough to give us candy and gum. Tommy died in 1979 and his wife in 1947. "
Tom was strict and made sure his girls were raised in a way that he felt was right. My MIL told a story that when she had a "date", Tom was very keen about who, what, when, where, and how. One winter night a date brought her home and they sat longer than was respectable in his car. He was trying to give her his ring to go steady. Tom came out on the front porch and shouted "If you don't want my size 9 up your ass, you'll get moving now!" My MIL said she was so scared she jumped out of the car, and lost the ring in the snow, which wasn't found again until spring. LOL.
I never knew how he became an upholsterer. Self taught? His family? I will find out, but I do know it was a lifelong career, his only help was his family. My mother in law told me she had to work very hard, she was an older daughter, to help with the large family. Really, she never looked back on her childhood with a lot of sentimentality. Her father and mother needed a lot of help to survive with all of those children, I suppose. She was a bit resentful of the responsibilities and said she never had a "childhood". And their routine was different back then. After school, she helped her mother prepare supper. If she didn't peel the potatoes thin enough her dad would make her scrape the peelings again, to add more potato to the meal. All of her sisters had to be bathed and redressed before the meal, hair braided, and dressed in fresh clothes when they came to the table. I guess that was the way things were done back then.
Tom's upholstery shop always was at 469 West Perry Street in Tiffin. My MIL said she remembers he had a job upholstering the interiors of Model T cars at first. It was an agreement he had with someone from Fostoria, OH if I recall correctly. (Recognize those towns names? Tiffin and Fostoria were known for their elegant glass, and Norma Jean worked there when she grew up) Once, one of the Model T's came back because some one said it wasn't done right. I would imagine that was an unfortunate financial blow to the family, because that story was remembered many years later.
Another job my MIL had was "tying the springs". She said she had take cloth and sew it around every upholstery spring before it was installed into the project. She hated that job. The only way I can relate to this is from a mattress commercial I've seen where they show each spring is individually covered. (Sealy, Beautyrest?) I imagine this was a monotonous job. She also had to thread big curved upholstery needles, all sizes, with a couple yards of thread on each, and set aside for him to use as he needed them
She told a story where she was "helping" in the shop, she was just little girl. Tom had finished reupholstering a sofa, and she was left alone in his shop. She saw a can of open black paint with a paint brush laying across the top. She decided to paint the sofa! Oh my gosh! When Tom returned she had paint on herself, her clothes and the sofa. Back then all paint was oil based, I can only imagine what a mess that was.
Tom was the only upholsterer in town, to my knowledge. I imagine a few of his upholstery jobs are still in use in that area. Some of his other daughters learned to upholster, but not my MIL. She probably knew the process well, but never did it. She even paid a lady later years to cover her desk chair seat and back in a big brown and black plaid. $50, and the plaid wasn't matched and was a little crooked to boot!
Tom was retired and the shop was gone when I came into the family. He died in 1979. His daughter Beatrice had his sewing machine, I was told. I'm not sure what Singer he used. Norma Jean got his "Sample Chair" first. This was a great idea. In the 40's he sewed dozens of sample squares together and upholstered a chair with them, so customers could better see how they would look. I now have this chair. I wish I could just go back into his shop once to see the equipment he accumulated, the fabric sample books. Aunt Bea gave me a bag of his samples once. I still have them but haven't used them. They look like fabric from the 60's and 70's.
I found this little story about Tom in someone's blog. This writer is describing his childhood memories and his father's good friends:
"Thomas S. “Tommy” Frankhart was born in 1897. He and his wife Alice eventually lived in that familiar red building at 496 West Perry St. Here he operated a well known upholstery shop. I remember this shop, and I can still see Tommy seated at that old pedal operated Singer sewing machine, which was next to a large window. As a young boy I once broke that same window with a baseball. Tommy normally had a Camel cigarette dangling from his mouth. He usually chose not to use his ash tray, opting instead to flick the butt out the front door and onto the concrete slab. We as kids saw these butts fly out the front door. We then snuck over to get them while they were still lit. He never seemed to mind when the neighborhood kids wandered in and out of the shop and roamed freely around. He occasionally stopped his work long enough to give us candy and gum. Tommy died in 1979 and his wife in 1947. "
Tom was strict and made sure his girls were raised in a way that he felt was right. My MIL told a story that when she had a "date", Tom was very keen about who, what, when, where, and how. One winter night a date brought her home and they sat longer than was respectable in his car. He was trying to give her his ring to go steady. Tom came out on the front porch and shouted "If you don't want my size 9 up your ass, you'll get moving now!" My MIL said she was so scared she jumped out of the car, and lost the ring in the snow, which wasn't found again until spring. LOL.
7/18/2013
Mooney Warther-Worlds Master Carver
I have couple memories about Mooney Warther. In the 1950's I
visited his workshop twice. Once with my Brownie troop and once with
classmates on a field trip. The first visit with the Brownies was by
far most impressionable. We stood in his workshop and listened to a
rather well rehearsed story, I'm sure told by him thousands of time by
now, about his life and carvings. He spoke very loudly, too loud really
for such a small close group, but it kept our attention. I can still
hear it easily in my head. His voice was kind of high, tenor. He told
about the steel mill he'd carved, and about the Lincoln train which
carried Lincolns body after the assassination. I loved Abraham Lincoln
and felt sorry as I looked inside that train car and saw his body laying
in it. Another thing he told was about the elephant ivory. There
was a large tusk sawn in half lengthwise, and hung on the wall with the
inside facing outward. Running down the center of the tusk was a rather
thick brown streak, all the way from the tip to the end where it had
been cut off. Mooney told us the elephant had a cavity, like a cavity
we get in our own teeth. He said when the cavity reached the root, the
elephant would go mad and run through villages, the pain almost too much
to bear. I felt so bad for that elephant.
He carved each of us a pair of pliers. I actually watched him carve mine, then he handed them to me. They were lovely, and I treasured that gift. I played with them too much and tried to "use" them to pinch something and a handle broke! I was upset with myself.
About 10 years ago, I saw pieces of uncarved elephant ivory from the Dover, OH auctioned on eBay. There was a lot of it and I regret not bidding on a piece or two. I can't remember now if it said it was Warther's, but I think it did. Now it is illegal to sell ivory in the USA.
http://www.warthers.com/Ernest_Warther.htm
He carved each of us a pair of pliers. I actually watched him carve mine, then he handed them to me. They were lovely, and I treasured that gift. I played with them too much and tried to "use" them to pinch something and a handle broke! I was upset with myself.
About 10 years ago, I saw pieces of uncarved elephant ivory from the Dover, OH auctioned on eBay. There was a lot of it and I regret not bidding on a piece or two. I can't remember now if it said it was Warther's, but I think it did. Now it is illegal to sell ivory in the USA.
http://www.warthers.com/Ernest_Warther.htm
4/08/2011
Another story Dad told-almost forgotten!
I was just reading a book review for a book by Cormac McCarthy about a person who, (turn of 20th century) takes off across the US on a quest to find her daughter. That sounds like a book I might read, and it reminded me of a story Dad told only a few times. I remember questioning him about it once wanting more details. It was the 1930's and he and a couple friends were allowed to take a vehicle and go on an adventure. He was a young teenager, and absolutely unbelievably to me, they were allowed to do this.
My dad was allowed to drive when he was 13 or 14, probably about the time his feet reached the pedals. According to him, he didn't have to get a license, and there was no age limit in 1933. Now it could be that his parents were unaware, or uninformed re: laws, but he started driving back then. My grandpa owned a model T.; it had to be cranked to start it. In fact, once on a bitter cold day that frozen crank wouldn't turn, so they tied a rope from their plow horse to the crank and had the horse walk away from the car to to force the crank to break the ice bond loose. It did more than that, he said the horse tipped the whole car over on its' side (heh, heh, I love these old stories).
Anyway, back to his big trip, he said they just drove from town to town and explored. Of course they didn't have any money to speak of, and he said they found odd jobs to earn enough to keep going. He said one place they dug some ditches. To me that sounds like they were gone more than a few days. I don't know, but I suppose they slept in or around their car. They spent the night in one town, wish I knew the name, and on that night there was a murder. Since these kids were the only strangers in the town they were rounded up and questioned. He said they were put in a jail for a short while. Somehow they got out of that predicament; his words: "they believed us, I guess".
When I later questioned him, he said they were supposed to drive to my Aunt Leah's in Salem, OH. I really suspect that was the story they told Grandma, and that they really just wanted an adventure, with some eventual lavishing upon by my great aunt when they finally arrived there. I remember her as a sweet lady. Like that side of the family she was very tall, probably almost six feet tall.
So, that's the little story he told, and how I wish, like so many other moments, I'd have found out more.
My dad was allowed to drive when he was 13 or 14, probably about the time his feet reached the pedals. According to him, he didn't have to get a license, and there was no age limit in 1933. Now it could be that his parents were unaware, or uninformed re: laws, but he started driving back then. My grandpa owned a model T.; it had to be cranked to start it. In fact, once on a bitter cold day that frozen crank wouldn't turn, so they tied a rope from their plow horse to the crank and had the horse walk away from the car to to force the crank to break the ice bond loose. It did more than that, he said the horse tipped the whole car over on its' side (heh, heh, I love these old stories).
Anyway, back to his big trip, he said they just drove from town to town and explored. Of course they didn't have any money to speak of, and he said they found odd jobs to earn enough to keep going. He said one place they dug some ditches. To me that sounds like they were gone more than a few days. I don't know, but I suppose they slept in or around their car. They spent the night in one town, wish I knew the name, and on that night there was a murder. Since these kids were the only strangers in the town they were rounded up and questioned. He said they were put in a jail for a short while. Somehow they got out of that predicament; his words: "they believed us, I guess".
When I later questioned him, he said they were supposed to drive to my Aunt Leah's in Salem, OH. I really suspect that was the story they told Grandma, and that they really just wanted an adventure, with some eventual lavishing upon by my great aunt when they finally arrived there. I remember her as a sweet lady. Like that side of the family she was very tall, probably almost six feet tall.
So, that's the little story he told, and how I wish, like so many other moments, I'd have found out more.
3/07/2010
1st Robins of Spring-3/7/10
This siting made my day. I make a little game every February, trying to spot a Robin, but this year, since all the snow and ice, we still have a sea of white in our yard. I've worried because I know they want to come back to Ohio, but there isn't much to eat; they are bug, berry and worm eaters, not seed eaters, and there's nothing for them to eat yet, at least not in my yard.
But with temperatures in the 40's last week and lots of sun, there is finally the sound of water trickling everywhere with plenty of melting. I spotted two Robins in the field on Bluebell Drive as I headed to Walmart at 4:30 this afternoon.
I celebrated by buying packets of flower and vegetable seeds and looking at lawn furniture while in the store.
I just read that Robins are one of the first birds to sing in the spring, so I looked up a source to hear their song. I'm sure I've heard that in the last few days. You'll recognize it too:
http://www.learner.org/jnorth/sounds/RobinSong_LangElliott.mp3
But with temperatures in the 40's last week and lots of sun, there is finally the sound of water trickling everywhere with plenty of melting. I spotted two Robins in the field on Bluebell Drive as I headed to Walmart at 4:30 this afternoon.
I celebrated by buying packets of flower and vegetable seeds and looking at lawn furniture while in the store.
I just read that Robins are one of the first birds to sing in the spring, so I looked up a source to hear their song. I'm sure I've heard that in the last few days. You'll recognize it too:
http://www.learner.org/jnorth/sounds/RobinSong_LangElliott.mp3
1/02/2010
Pickled Pigs Feet
Mom reminisced often about how much she loved pickled pigs feet as a child. She said she gnawed at them and they lasted a long time. Oddly, as good as she made them sound, I don't remember them ever being in our home, or watching her eat one. I kept waiting, I wanted to experience the taste. I've never had the nerve to buy them on my own.
7/05/2009
Honeybees
I spent a lovely afternoon at Lowes this past Friday. My list was short:
wood-
frame
bed
toluene
I got sidetracked in flooring, ceramic tile, sweepers, doors, etc. I also love paint departments and all those free color chips. Sometimes I stand and flip through the giant hanging rugs, but skipped it this time. Anyway, I saw what I wanted to see and saved the plant department for last. I looked at what was left of their trees. Then came the perennials, and what made me stop cold was a huge table full of a variety of Salvia with tall purple flowering spears. There were hundreds of honeybees on them. There were so many there was a low drone of buzzing. I did not see bees on any other plants. But they were sure loving that Salvia.
Just this year I've seen a couple on clover in our yard and was pretty excited, since I'd thought they were about gone in the area. Maybe they weren't the same type of bee from years ago, but they looked the same. I hope the bees are coming back.
wood-
frame
bed
toluene
I got sidetracked in flooring, ceramic tile, sweepers, doors, etc. I also love paint departments and all those free color chips. Sometimes I stand and flip through the giant hanging rugs, but skipped it this time. Anyway, I saw what I wanted to see and saved the plant department for last. I looked at what was left of their trees. Then came the perennials, and what made me stop cold was a huge table full of a variety of Salvia with tall purple flowering spears. There were hundreds of honeybees on them. There were so many there was a low drone of buzzing. I did not see bees on any other plants. But they were sure loving that Salvia.
Just this year I've seen a couple on clover in our yard and was pretty excited, since I'd thought they were about gone in the area. Maybe they weren't the same type of bee from years ago, but they looked the same. I hope the bees are coming back.
6/21/2009
D-Clutter
I've been watching HGTV this week, while painting our bedroom. This painting job has been postponed because I couldn't face moving 4 dressers, a king size bed, and emptying corners and closet. I left the TV on as I worked, and watched HGTV, mostly those shows with decorators "staging" houses so they would sell quicker. So I get their message, they think clutter is bad. The bedroom was a living example of clutter, and I have to admit my magpie personality-verging on hoarder, sometimes gets the best of me. Now it feels nice walking into my Sand Yellow bedroom, so clean, calm, almost empty. New carpet in place. I'll not be taking a lot of the stuff back in there (she said bravely), so it will stay nice looking (uncluttered) for awhile.
I'm sitting at my desk looking at all my personal items that have turned into clutter. Each item here is needed almost every day, or is so precious to me, that I won't de-clutter this area to any significant degree. Top shelf are family antiques and gifts from students, and friends. There is a story for each item. A picture of Johnny Depp taped to the wall was from a student. An Obama sticker. The top shelf has some antiques from Mom and a picture of my dad holding Brian. I love that shelf. 2nd shelf, more of the same plus some practical items I use frequently. Stapler, reference books. Well, I could put the "Yoga 101 Workout for Beginners" DVD away. I bought it before Christmas and haven't even watched it yet.
Desk area: My favorite place in the house. A little TV sits to the left of my monitor. There's usually a little bowl of kitty food for Danny to eat when she comes to visit me. My vitamins and calcium plus D are beside the TV so I'll remember to take them sometimes. A bottle of Gold Bond lotion, dental floss, TV remote. Personal mail and Things That Need Taken Care Of sit there too.
To my right is a swivel magnifying lamp. I've found if I keep it on, for some reason the glare of the monitor doesn't tire my eyes so quickly. Beside the light I stuck a little clip on fan which goes on if I have a hot flash. There's a jewelers loupe 'cause my eyes are weak, tweezers, nail clippers, a comb for my cats and dog.
But back to the bedroom. I papered the ceiling, the hall and down the stairway. It is an embossed design made to look like a tin ceiling. I think it's kind of tacky but it covered a world of woes up there. The paint is on, a coat of primer and two coats of "one coat" paint. http://www.myperfectcolor.com/Match-of-Walmart-93212-Yellow-Sand-p/mpc0085145.htm
Soon a new bed will be delivered, which I'm kind of nervous about. After reading all the reviews on the internet I'm not sure there is a decent durable mattress made anymore. I have laid on mattresses all over town, with strange men watching and inviting me to lay on my side and stomach, wiggle around and take my time. I didn't like that experience at all. At Andres Furniture I laid on a bed that cost $5999.99! If you are ever there I highly recommend trying it out. So, the bedroom is about finished. Maybe I'll post a picture after the bed arrives, and before the clutter sneaks back in. Guaranteed, this house will never be ready for HGTV, and that was never my goal. I just really love fresh paint.
5/30/2009
Sherry's Garden
This was the 3th time I'd attempted to visit a new friend's
garden. We became acquaintances a couple years ago and from time to time Sherry
would invite me to see what she'd done at her house. I like her a lot. She is
very humble, but every once in awhile she says something that makes me think
this is a person worth knowing. Like mentioning off-hand "I have a lot of
friends who are artists". Or, "I just finished enclosing my porch
room, and I love the floor we chose". And mentioning that she's related to
my speech professor from college, whom I liked very much. That she went to Italy and
washed her clothes in the hotel room and hung them out the window to dry. I
just plain like her.
So this morning I went to visit her garden. I took my camera because she told me about an intriguing Clematis vine that has bell-shaped blue blooms. As I walked through her house to the back, I saw she did have a lot of artist friends. The walls were covered with work. Important looking pottery and glass caught my eye. Creative touches everywhere inspired me, or to be more accurate, made me wish I tried harder in my own house.
I was at a loss for words when I walked on to her patio. I was still speechless for words though I was Oooing and Ahhhing when she handed me a generous cup of espresso. The first sip was a jolt as I hadn't expected espresso, and it was delicious.
She has raised flower beds throughout her yard, and their borders undulate in and out past the bricked patio. It is cool and lush. Roses, Lavender, Clematis, Lilac, Azalea, Hydrangea, Rhododendron, Columbine, varieties of fern, mature Wisteria, blue and white Spider Wort are the names I can think of, but there was much more. She also has a huge freeform iron sculpture, and tall cast planters holding pink daisies from South Africa. There is no direction to look that something is not growing.
Toward the back of the yard her husband and daughter were working in a nice size vegetable garden. They have a large drum composter behind their garage, and beside it, a 50 gallon? rain water collector they just installed. That really intrigued me. It is half full already, and comes with a spigot attached. They say rain water is the best for your plants; I think it's a good investment.
There are benches and garden chairs positioned here and there. Interesting art pieces, statues, and sculptures, and Green man faces added points of focus. I took two pictures and wouldn't you know it, my camera said 'battery exhausted'. Sherry said she'd let me know when her Wisteria blooms. I've not seen any since I was 12, so I look forward to that and I'd also like a better look at the art in her house, too.
So this morning I went to visit her garden. I took my camera because she told me about an intriguing Clematis vine that has bell-shaped blue blooms. As I walked through her house to the back, I saw she did have a lot of artist friends. The walls were covered with work. Important looking pottery and glass caught my eye. Creative touches everywhere inspired me, or to be more accurate, made me wish I tried harder in my own house.
I was at a loss for words when I walked on to her patio. I was still speechless for words though I was Oooing and Ahhhing when she handed me a generous cup of espresso. The first sip was a jolt as I hadn't expected espresso, and it was delicious.
She has raised flower beds throughout her yard, and their borders undulate in and out past the bricked patio. It is cool and lush. Roses, Lavender, Clematis, Lilac, Azalea, Hydrangea, Rhododendron, Columbine, varieties of fern, mature Wisteria, blue and white Spider Wort are the names I can think of, but there was much more. She also has a huge freeform iron sculpture, and tall cast planters holding pink daisies from South Africa. There is no direction to look that something is not growing.
Toward the back of the yard her husband and daughter were working in a nice size vegetable garden. They have a large drum composter behind their garage, and beside it, a 50 gallon? rain water collector they just installed. That really intrigued me. It is half full already, and comes with a spigot attached. They say rain water is the best for your plants; I think it's a good investment.
There are benches and garden chairs positioned here and there. Interesting art pieces, statues, and sculptures, and Green man faces added points of focus. I took two pictures and wouldn't you know it, my camera said 'battery exhausted'. Sherry said she'd let me know when her Wisteria blooms. I've not seen any since I was 12, so I look forward to that and I'd also like a better look at the art in her house, too.
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