when my family is feeling down
when it’s rainy and cold outside
when we don’t know how to act
when the world is broken
when we want to sleep
when the wind blows
we eat a
pot of
soup
Vegetable Soup Nonet
A Moment
they took my breath away, this moment
when Kona jumped up in Dad’s lap
to show him she understands
her master isn’t well
his gentle hand of
reassurance ~
I’m going
to be
fine.
Piddling
we piddled together through the mart
antiques, novelties, glove sizers
didn’t buy a single thing
except lunch — (we bought that)
fly in her water
didn’t keep it
sent it back
ordered
wine
How I Beat the Heat
Hallmark’s Christmas in July movies
high velocity fan, full blast
pretending there’s a blizzard
piping hot black coffee
wrapped in sofa throw
Schnoodles piled high
all of us
beating
heat
The older I get, the less I can endure the extreme heat and humidity. Give me a blizzard to handle the scorching heat! I’ve found that a good snowy Hallmark Christmas in July movie with love instead of hate, free from the problems of the world, is my ticket to a better day! Raising a mug to you – Cheers! Stay cool!
Fitz’s CUPS
We learned a couple of years ago that our more-Schnauzery-miniature-Schnoodle, Fitz, has Chronic Ulcerative Paradental Stomatitis (CUPS), a painful condition in which the plaque builds up on his teeth and causes painful mouth ulcers. We knew something was wrong when my sweet lap dog who was never anywhere else took to the underbed and began whining odd-sounding noises. It prompted a vet visit, which turned up the diagnosis.
We have to have his teeth cleaned regularly, and with each cleaning we have had to return for extractions to alleviate his condition by removing teeth. He’s down to practically goat status, and after eleven teeth the first time, 8 teeth the second time, and now a projected additional 8 teeth, I’m inclined to go ahead with extracting all of them and resort to soft foods just to end his pain once and for all and give him some quality days in his senior years. There’ll be enough other aging crap to suffer, so this will put the skids on one condition.
This is the downside of rescuing a dog in poor health (Fitz came to us with a severely broken leg, among other things), but it’s also the upside. I ask myself: if not us, then who?
We may not be able to love every needed rescue and save them all, but we can make a difference for this one.
And that matters. If you’re teetering on the verge of rescuing an aging dog, do it! Even though an aging dog sometimes costs a small fortune, the return is love as they gaze into your eyes and wish they could talk to tell you how much they appreciate all you do for them – – – and what’s more valuable than that?
our dog has few top teeth in his mouth
now after a cleaning we learn
he needs more tooth extractions
we need a Go Fund Me
to afford Fitzie
but there is no
price on love…..
he’s our
boy
Sunday Morning Donuts Nonet
they like their mini donut breakfasts
it’s what happens on Sundays here
pre First-Baptist-of-You-Tube
sitting at their dad’s feet
waiting on a bite
patient Schnoodles
best-behavied
time of
all
In Places Loved Nonet
today I loaded my car with books
first editions, autographed names
I’m holding on no longer
to these inked hostages ~
those sentiments are
not mine; nor those
memories ~
I’ve let
go
of
housing
what should live
in places loved
where their worth is not
measured in value of
possible return or in
collectors’ satisfaction but
in what’s inside ~ their words and message
Thread Nonet and Craft Room Dreams
I’ve been cleaning out my sewing notions that I’ve collected over the years. When Mom died, I inherited many of her notions and her magical Bernina sewing machine. Mom sewed all the way through high school, making most of her formal gowns (and mine, later). She made us matching dresses when I was young enough to still think that was cool, on the before side of life for being able to appreciate those sweet memories. When I was nine or ten, I made my first pair of bright green Terry cloth shorts, crying in frustration at having to rip seams and all less than perfect stitches in between, and I’m certain that the thread spool that witnessed my fits is among these in the picture. I’m also fairly certain that my crying fits of sewing are the deciding factor that I’m a 1 on the enneagram and not a 3 or 5.
My goal today is to cut my supply of thread by at least half, keeping variations of the shades that I will use for rag quilting and mending and hemming clothes. As I look at this photo, one thing stands out to me that I may not have seen if I hadn’t organized by color. Mom wore bright pinks, reds, and bright blues – and to see this photo is to see her in all her handiwork right here on my kitchen counter. She’s urging me to take some lovely photos of the spools and then share the rest with others who sew so that others can squeeze more life out of items that would otherwise end up in a landfill.
On, now, to buttons, rick rack, and other notions. I’m thinking of converting our office into a sewing room……I much prefer being creative to paying bills and sorting paperwork that piles up and has nowhere to live.
Thinking………..
Inherited Thread Nonet
a bit of useless information:
I own one hundred sixty four
spools and seven empty spools
sorted by ROY G BIV
rainbow color groups
I should never
need to buy
more new
thread…….
Common Threads 