We are lucky enough to have a lovely rental property that sits behind the first hole of a golf course. It is quite nice not to have other homes behind us and we have a great view up the fairway for this hole. The only time it is irritating is some mornings when the groundskeepers come riding down to their shack which is also behind the first hole and they are quite noisy as they get out their machines. But for the most part it is peaceful and quiet and great. We see deer cross the fairway sometimes and there's always some magpies and crows flying around down there.
Living here we have come to realize what a strange breed is the golfer and especially the British golfer. It is not a sport that anyone in my family has ever taken up as a hobby or sport or vocation or love. But the golfers that play the course behind us must be the most avid and determined and also frustrated golfers in the world. They are out there every single day. No matter the weather, no matter the date, no matter the time, we see golfers on the course. The only times we have not seen golfers pursuing their passion have been the three times when the course has been covered in snow. And quite frankly, we were a bit surprised that there weren't golfers in the snow. I figured there would be colored golf balls by now so they could be tracked. But snow means no golfers.
Until this week! Surrey has taken some heavy rainfall this week and parts of Surrey have gone swimming involuntarily. Our own garden is a mixture of swamp and muck but at least not underwater like some of my friends. The first day after the big storm that dumped water on Surrey this week, I was home all day and not once did I see a golfer out on the course. I didn't think much about it but then we kept having rain and more rain and more rain and now for three days there have been no golfers. I imagine that it is so wet and muddy that the course has been closed because the golf cleats could probably tear up the grounds pretty badly. There is a sand trap near our first hole and right now, it is a water feature.
So the golf course is empty and I rather miss the golfers. They come in all sizes and shapes and all manner of odd golf clothes and bring everything from golf carts to remote controlled golf bags that roll across the course by themselves. And as we have seen golfers in heavy rains and heavy winds, still out there whacking the ball, I believe that the course has been closed by the owners and that there would be golfers there in spite of all the wet and soggy conditions, were they allowed. Hopefully we'll see some in the next few days.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Disappearing Fish
We have a very nice pond in our back garden. And we have 6 fish in there and looking very nice as well. We had learned our first winter here that when it gets cold, the fish tend to sink down to the bottom of the pond and hibernate. So we don't have to feed them and don't have to worry about them. Our first year though, I did worry that they might not be getting enough air when the pond froze and I was right. When spring came and the pond thawed, all of the fish came to the top gasping for air and they all died. So we replaced them with the 6 we have now and next winter, I made sure to poke holes in the ice with this lovely golf club I had found thrown into the bushes behind our house.
Everyone told me that herons come and eat your fish. I haven't seen a heron yet anywhere around our house and garden but people kept telling me I would lose my fish to a heron. About mid Oct, I finally decided to heed the warnings and put a net over the pond to keep any potential heron from stealing my fish and also to keep the leaves from falling into the water. I left one end, about a foot wide, of the pond open because the neighborhood cats and foxes and badgers and squirrels all drink out of the pond. There are water lily pads in the pond so I figured the fish could stay under the water lilies and out of danger or they would deserve to get eaten.
Wow, talk about locking the barn door or tempting fate! Our pond developed a leak and we were having to fill it, even after all the rain. So our landlord came over to replace it and punched a huge hole in the lining to drain it. I was standing by with two nets to catch my fish. Pond is getting lower and lower in water level and so far I have only gotten one fish in my net. Finally, the pond is almost empty and there are no more fish in there at all. I go downstairs under the deck where the water is draining and there is one fish lying in the puddle there. that's 2 of 6 and that was all! someone, some cat, some heron, some fox, some squirrel, or some badger has come and eaten my fish, four of them. OMG. my net was too little too late.
Once we get in the new pond liner and fill up the pond again, I am going to put the net over the pond right away. I am still going to leave a hole for the wild critters and the neighborhood cats and hopefully these two fish have learned their lessons as to what can happen to their friends when they swim to the end of the pond. yea, right. maybe I'll make spring with two fish and maybe not.
Everyone told me that herons come and eat your fish. I haven't seen a heron yet anywhere around our house and garden but people kept telling me I would lose my fish to a heron. About mid Oct, I finally decided to heed the warnings and put a net over the pond to keep any potential heron from stealing my fish and also to keep the leaves from falling into the water. I left one end, about a foot wide, of the pond open because the neighborhood cats and foxes and badgers and squirrels all drink out of the pond. There are water lily pads in the pond so I figured the fish could stay under the water lilies and out of danger or they would deserve to get eaten.
Wow, talk about locking the barn door or tempting fate! Our pond developed a leak and we were having to fill it, even after all the rain. So our landlord came over to replace it and punched a huge hole in the lining to drain it. I was standing by with two nets to catch my fish. Pond is getting lower and lower in water level and so far I have only gotten one fish in my net. Finally, the pond is almost empty and there are no more fish in there at all. I go downstairs under the deck where the water is draining and there is one fish lying in the puddle there. that's 2 of 6 and that was all! someone, some cat, some heron, some fox, some squirrel, or some badger has come and eaten my fish, four of them. OMG. my net was too little too late.
Once we get in the new pond liner and fill up the pond again, I am going to put the net over the pond right away. I am still going to leave a hole for the wild critters and the neighborhood cats and hopefully these two fish have learned their lessons as to what can happen to their friends when they swim to the end of the pond. yea, right. maybe I'll make spring with two fish and maybe not.
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Slimy Rule
Normally I stick with the slimy rule for food. Anything slimy in the food category, be it veggies, fruit, meat, etc, automatically goes to the smell test, albeit rather cautiously, and then is trashed, binned, garbaged, exited from the area. This rule has worked well for us over the years and probably kept us from getting any manner of nasty food related illnesses. (YES, some foods are actually meant to be slimy but we don't like most of them, e.g. durian)
This morning, for some reason I ignored the slimy rule. My thinking was: This is a brand new package of streaky bacon, I've just gotten it out of the freezer as of yesterday, I am opening it for the first time today, why would it be slimy???? But it was. I went to the smell test as that's automatic and not even necessary of thought. It really smelled OK. Nothing rank, nothing "OMG", nothing "PHEW" so I cooked a couple of strips for myself and a couple for my husband.
Another clue - it was exactly the same type of streaky bacon that I had cooked two days before but it didn't crisp up and get brown nicely. Still, no matter how many times I get British streaky bacon, it does something different in my pan almost every time so I ignored that warning as well.
Plated our breakfasts (notice how nicely I referred to putting our food on the plates?) and set them on the table. In a few minutes, hubby comes downstairs ready for breakfast and ready for work. By now, I was deep into a Sudoku puzzle and it took me a few minutes to look up and speak to him. By then, he had already taken a big bite of the bacon and had moved on to toast. I told him it had been slimy and he goes "thanks for warning me!" But as he didn't say anything else, I took a bite of mine too and swallowed it down.
In a few minutes, I noticed he was looking rather grim and concentrating rather fiercely on whatever was in his mouth. So I asked "what's up" and he replies, "this bacon has a really weird taste. You should have stuck to the slimy rule." Oh great, just great. Now we both are waiting for our stomachs to explode today and I have to say that I think mine just did. gulp. I am NEVER ignoring the slimy rule again!!! NEVER, EVER. Slimy is bad, slimy is evil, slimy is - opps, gotta run.
This morning, for some reason I ignored the slimy rule. My thinking was: This is a brand new package of streaky bacon, I've just gotten it out of the freezer as of yesterday, I am opening it for the first time today, why would it be slimy???? But it was. I went to the smell test as that's automatic and not even necessary of thought. It really smelled OK. Nothing rank, nothing "OMG", nothing "PHEW" so I cooked a couple of strips for myself and a couple for my husband.
Another clue - it was exactly the same type of streaky bacon that I had cooked two days before but it didn't crisp up and get brown nicely. Still, no matter how many times I get British streaky bacon, it does something different in my pan almost every time so I ignored that warning as well.
Plated our breakfasts (notice how nicely I referred to putting our food on the plates?) and set them on the table. In a few minutes, hubby comes downstairs ready for breakfast and ready for work. By now, I was deep into a Sudoku puzzle and it took me a few minutes to look up and speak to him. By then, he had already taken a big bite of the bacon and had moved on to toast. I told him it had been slimy and he goes "thanks for warning me!" But as he didn't say anything else, I took a bite of mine too and swallowed it down.
In a few minutes, I noticed he was looking rather grim and concentrating rather fiercely on whatever was in his mouth. So I asked "what's up" and he replies, "this bacon has a really weird taste. You should have stuck to the slimy rule." Oh great, just great. Now we both are waiting for our stomachs to explode today and I have to say that I think mine just did. gulp. I am NEVER ignoring the slimy rule again!!! NEVER, EVER. Slimy is bad, slimy is evil, slimy is - opps, gotta run.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Multi-lingual
It seems to be fairly common knowledge that people of my generation from the United States, and a bit younger, usually only speak one language, English. When I was in school, it was fairly rare to travel the world and just really uncommon for anyone to do much more, language wise, than take what was required to get a diploma. I believe that it has changed somewhat since then but it's still more common than not that U.S. citizens will only have one language good and solid under their belt. (I'm thinking that for some of the much younger generation, I'm not even sure they have English down pat as a language!)
I've tried at various times to learn different languages, mainly Spanish, but have failed miserably in that I don't practice, I don't study, and I just don't have a good ear for it either. I've tried Mandarin Chinese, French, German, and Korean at different times of my life. and while I might have a very minuscule vocabulary in each of them, I cannot say that I can speak, read, or write any of them. So it can be embarrassing when I meet people and they are speaking 3 or 4 or 7 or 8 different languages and I'm going "one". So as a kind of joke, I decided to claim more languages and I proudly list them out for people when asked.
Now I say I speak, write, read and understand 6 languages and they are: American, British, Canadian, eh, Australian, New Zealand, and finally Singaporean, la. This gets a very good laugh among my audience. But this week I have been vindicated in that they really are separate languages!!! How, you may ask. Well, we just bought a new computer for me. My old one was dying a very slow and painful death. (It does feel better today because it knows its days are numbered). My husband was working hard last night to get the new computer up and running and asked me whether I wanted British or American language on it! See - right there an indication that they are two languages. Since we are living in England, I said British.
My husband gets busy and is attempting to transfer my files and programs from the old computer to the new computer when he runs into a very large and big and unexpected snag! The new computer can't talk to the old computer and vice versa because they don't speak the same language! OMG. how very, very droll. All these years of declaring that I speak 6 languages and I suddenly find out that for computers, it is true and I am totally right! My new computer could not understand what my old computer was telling it. Sooo, he had to go back to the beginning and download a language program and change my new computer to American so that it can understand the old computer.
HA! all you smug people who snickered at me for not knowing more than one language when you knew 2 or 3, I knew 6 all along and now I have been vindicated. Thank you Google and Microsoft and Chrome and Internet Explorer and all the rest. Let me thank you in all six languages, Thanks, Thank you eh, Cheers, Thanks, Ta, Thank you la la.
I've tried at various times to learn different languages, mainly Spanish, but have failed miserably in that I don't practice, I don't study, and I just don't have a good ear for it either. I've tried Mandarin Chinese, French, German, and Korean at different times of my life. and while I might have a very minuscule vocabulary in each of them, I cannot say that I can speak, read, or write any of them. So it can be embarrassing when I meet people and they are speaking 3 or 4 or 7 or 8 different languages and I'm going "one". So as a kind of joke, I decided to claim more languages and I proudly list them out for people when asked.
Now I say I speak, write, read and understand 6 languages and they are: American, British, Canadian, eh, Australian, New Zealand, and finally Singaporean, la. This gets a very good laugh among my audience. But this week I have been vindicated in that they really are separate languages!!! How, you may ask. Well, we just bought a new computer for me. My old one was dying a very slow and painful death. (It does feel better today because it knows its days are numbered). My husband was working hard last night to get the new computer up and running and asked me whether I wanted British or American language on it! See - right there an indication that they are two languages. Since we are living in England, I said British.
My husband gets busy and is attempting to transfer my files and programs from the old computer to the new computer when he runs into a very large and big and unexpected snag! The new computer can't talk to the old computer and vice versa because they don't speak the same language! OMG. how very, very droll. All these years of declaring that I speak 6 languages and I suddenly find out that for computers, it is true and I am totally right! My new computer could not understand what my old computer was telling it. Sooo, he had to go back to the beginning and download a language program and change my new computer to American so that it can understand the old computer.
HA! all you smug people who snickered at me for not knowing more than one language when you knew 2 or 3, I knew 6 all along and now I have been vindicated. Thank you Google and Microsoft and Chrome and Internet Explorer and all the rest. Let me thank you in all six languages, Thanks, Thank you eh, Cheers, Thanks, Ta, Thank you la la.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Great Spaghetti Mystery
Our rental house has a couple of pull out pantries in the kitchen. They are quite nice and pull out to reveal 5 shelves each of the kitchen goodies that we use fairly regularly. Such things as ketchup and mustard, tuna packs, soups, various pastas, cereals, canned goods and you get the idea. When closed, the pantries are flush with the walls. The kitchen has been outfitted like most British kitchen so that everything looks like it is the same type of cabinet with doors and handles and such (including the refrigerator and freezer which really confused me when first looking at ads for houses, thinking there were no refrigerators in the kitchens). Anyway, I digress.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Eulogy to my friend - CS
Most of my friends are ex-pats. Several reasons: (1) shared experiences (and all ex-pats know this feeling that when you start to explain anything to a non-ex-pat, their eyes glaze over because they can't comprehend the lifestyle) (2) I don't make friends easily because I'm fairly shy but being an ex-pat in a small community situation (like when we lived in row houses in Okpo, Korea) means you have to get to know the people in the same community and (3) I find it much easier to keep in touch with people via email, facebook, letters, holiday cards, etc. I consider some of my ex-pat friends to be my best friends because of the experiences we have shared and the hardships/fun/trials and tribulations on moving, living in a country that doesn't speak English, trying to find "proper" food, etc. And often I don't see these friends for years at a time because our husbands move onto different projects and our paths don't cross. But I miss them and keep in touch, sometimes sporadically, but if our husbands come back together on a project, we pick up our friendships exactly where we left it. CS was such a person, a wonderful friend but we haven't seen each other in years as our husbands have been on different projects.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Venting Inside
Ha ha, bet you thought this was going to be a blog about ranting and raving and venting all your feelings inside. Wrong. It's about weather and winter and how it's getting colder and the days are getting shorter and when the sun goes down, it starts getting pretty chilly in the house. We learned this trick a long time ago to help put some heat in the house and also some moisture as it gets pretty dry. Once we are fairly sure the warm days are gone, we pull the dryer vent hose into the house, block up the hole that it goes through to the outside, put one hose (as in panty hose) over the end to catch all the dryer lint, and voila! Every time we use the dryer now, we have additional heat entering the house and also some moisture. And by using dryer sheets, we get a nice lavender or citrus smell through the house as well.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Evil Lurking - Gnomes in Danger
You would think that if a back garden is full of wonderful nuts and suet and mealworms and such, that the squirrels and magpies and wood pigeons would be happy. Plus the stray cats that wander through the garden. There's always some cat food or fox food out for them and the foxes and badgers. I feed everything that wanders through my house or garden, two feet or four or wings. I try to keep them all happy so that (1) my cats can see them from the windows and enjoy the spectacle, (2) I like to watch them all, and (3) if they are full, maybe they won't eat each other!
My fish pond provides water for almost all the animals. I have seen cats, squirrels, pigeons, jays, crows, starlings, and foxes drink from it. Most of them are quite content to not bother the fish who I think have gotten smart enough to hide under the lily pads when there are shadows lurking above. Around my pond I have a number of garden gnomes. They aren't super special gnomes (my two antique gnomes live close to the house so they don't get knocked over), but just your average gnomes with a few of them holding solar lights. There is a ledge around my pond and none of the gnomes are standing on the ledge but are all slightly back from the ledge and on the deck itself.
Apparently this is not a safe place no matter how far back I put the gnomes. For several days I have seen a vague red shape at the bottom of the pond but the water isn't quite clear enough most days so I couldn't tell what it was. Today I suddenly realized, as I counted my gnomes, that it was one of the solar gnomes, sitting on the bottom of the pond, doing an impression of a frogman with a lantern! Shades of evil squirrels or pigeons or cats or whatever. Some four footed creature has knocked a gnome into the pond again! This happens ever so often which is why the gnomes are moving slowly away from the pond each time I fish one out again. Dang it because it was a solar gnome too and his lantern will probably never light again. Those little four footed demons who, for some inexplicable reason, must hate sharing the pond space with inanimate objects that smile at them. The only way to get one into the pond it so nudge it forward until it touches the ledge and then push hard to get it to topple over and into the pond. And for some amazing reason, the gnomes always land on their feet so they are standing in the pond beneath the surface waiting for rescue. Poor gnomes. This one took several days to rescue.
But I am generous in nature and spirit and will not punish my four footed freeloaders because they still are fun to watch. I'd just really like to catch one in action to see who is pushing the gnomes into the pond and how exactly they are doing it. There is some evil lurking in the back garden.
My fish pond provides water for almost all the animals. I have seen cats, squirrels, pigeons, jays, crows, starlings, and foxes drink from it. Most of them are quite content to not bother the fish who I think have gotten smart enough to hide under the lily pads when there are shadows lurking above. Around my pond I have a number of garden gnomes. They aren't super special gnomes (my two antique gnomes live close to the house so they don't get knocked over), but just your average gnomes with a few of them holding solar lights. There is a ledge around my pond and none of the gnomes are standing on the ledge but are all slightly back from the ledge and on the deck itself.
Apparently this is not a safe place no matter how far back I put the gnomes. For several days I have seen a vague red shape at the bottom of the pond but the water isn't quite clear enough most days so I couldn't tell what it was. Today I suddenly realized, as I counted my gnomes, that it was one of the solar gnomes, sitting on the bottom of the pond, doing an impression of a frogman with a lantern! Shades of evil squirrels or pigeons or cats or whatever. Some four footed creature has knocked a gnome into the pond again! This happens ever so often which is why the gnomes are moving slowly away from the pond each time I fish one out again. Dang it because it was a solar gnome too and his lantern will probably never light again. Those little four footed demons who, for some inexplicable reason, must hate sharing the pond space with inanimate objects that smile at them. The only way to get one into the pond it so nudge it forward until it touches the ledge and then push hard to get it to topple over and into the pond. And for some amazing reason, the gnomes always land on their feet so they are standing in the pond beneath the surface waiting for rescue. Poor gnomes. This one took several days to rescue.
But I am generous in nature and spirit and will not punish my four footed freeloaders because they still are fun to watch. I'd just really like to catch one in action to see who is pushing the gnomes into the pond and how exactly they are doing it. There is some evil lurking in the back garden.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Un-useable Toilet Paper
Hmmm, yes, it does sound like this could be a short blog about something quite nasty but in reality it isn't and a really simple explanation as to why there is toilet paper sitting in our bathroom and we can't use it - ever. We have a small window in the master bath with no curtains or shade on it. While it is small and our house overlooks the first hole of a golf course, a friend once told me "those caddies all have binoculars!" True or not, I am not taking chances. I placed a large Chinese vase in the window with sprigs of eucalyptus coming from it. As that did not take up the entire shelf of the window, I also placed our spare toilet paper rolls up there. It was easy to turn around and grab one if needs be, at the proper time.
When my daughters cat moved in with us, we discovered that he is infinitely curious and will get up on anything, anywhere, anytime, to look out a window, see what's there, or whatever else goes through a cat's mind. My daughter's cat is beautiful but for a cat, he is somewhat a bit clumsy too. So far he has knocked off and broken: a tea pot, a mug, a couple of wooden boxes, a troll from Noway, a tray, and probably more. I have taken down almost everything from my shelves and window sills, wherever he might jump and knock over something. My loft is now full of my wonderful treasures that aren't safe around him. HOWEVER, that said, it's all ok because he's a lovely cat and quite fun and entertaining to have around. Hopefully he will become more graceful as he gets older or will get jaded and not get up on so many enticing platforms (yea, right!).
Back to the bathroom. I don't want to take down the Chinese vase because of caddies with their binoculars - ha ha and it does make me feel a bit more private to know anyone out there will have a difficult time looking through that window. BUT that means the toilet paper must remain undisturbed and un-use-able sitting in the window on either side of the Chinese vase to protect it and keep the shelf fully occupied and unavailable to curious cats. So you see, quite innocent that my toilet paper is un-use-able and will sit there forever in it's pristine roll just holding the spot.
When my daughters cat moved in with us, we discovered that he is infinitely curious and will get up on anything, anywhere, anytime, to look out a window, see what's there, or whatever else goes through a cat's mind. My daughter's cat is beautiful but for a cat, he is somewhat a bit clumsy too. So far he has knocked off and broken: a tea pot, a mug, a couple of wooden boxes, a troll from Noway, a tray, and probably more. I have taken down almost everything from my shelves and window sills, wherever he might jump and knock over something. My loft is now full of my wonderful treasures that aren't safe around him. HOWEVER, that said, it's all ok because he's a lovely cat and quite fun and entertaining to have around. Hopefully he will become more graceful as he gets older or will get jaded and not get up on so many enticing platforms (yea, right!).
Back to the bathroom. I don't want to take down the Chinese vase because of caddies with their binoculars - ha ha and it does make me feel a bit more private to know anyone out there will have a difficult time looking through that window. BUT that means the toilet paper must remain undisturbed and un-use-able sitting in the window on either side of the Chinese vase to protect it and keep the shelf fully occupied and unavailable to curious cats. So you see, quite innocent that my toilet paper is un-use-able and will sit there forever in it's pristine roll just holding the spot.
Monday, October 28, 2013
WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
Stopped in at the veterinary the other day to pick up some cat food for my and my daughter's lovelies at home, the sweet furbabies that we love so much and that are adorable and loving and affectionate. The vet has this deal where if you buy 5 bags of a certain kind of cat food, any size, you get the 6th bag free, same size. So, even though it is not the favorite brand of our cats, we get the dental diet there occasionally and they love that one well enough. Had to wait as the vet assistant was helping another client with a very cute pug dog. When finished, I stepped up with my bag of cat food. She's busy typing on the computer and I figure she's finishing up with the pug dog information. Finally she turns to me and says 13.45 pounds please.
Hmmm, I want credit for my bags of cat food so I'll get my free one. So I say, "don't you want to put it on my account so I can get my free bag later?" and she says to me "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU HAVE A REPUTATION!" OMG.
Well, of course, she actually meant they know my sweet baboo, my wonderfully affectionate, loving, friendly, sit on my lap whenever possible to purr, sleep beside me at night, follow me into the bathroom whenever she can, get jealous if I pay attention to other cats Godiva. She's my cat just as much as one of the other cats is my hubby's and the third one is my daughter's. They all have their favorite human "toy".
Godiva is a Siamese and a wonderfully mixed color. All three are rescue cats, meaning we found them at an adoption center. My lovely furbaby took about 3 years before she became a true lap cat and began searching me out for petting and just to be near me. She's now 9 1/2 years old. At a young age, maybe 2, we had a bad experience with a vet in Houston who hurt Godiva in a way that she's never forgiven or forgotten. Since that time, there has been a Doctor Jeckle and Ms. Hyde transformation that comes over my sweet baboo whenever she enters a vets office, and even often when she is in the car riding to the vet's office. Everyone knows that cats can tell when they are on the way to the vet.
My loving kitty turns into a Tasmanian Devil, a cornered badger, a captive wolverine, a fighting rooster with spurs, or in other words, she gets as defensive and mean and nasty as she possibly can. Now, my kitty will NOT bite me or my daughter or my husband IF (and that's a big IF) she knows it's our hand there holding on to her and IF she's not scared and in pain. Once she got her foot caught in a rattan chair and fell off so she was hanging and screaming and struggling to get free. My daughter rescued her but got bit accidentally in the action. In that instance, I think Godiva would have bit anything close to her. But many times, I have been to the vet and held her while they take her temperature or give her a shot and she will be struggling and hissing and growling for all she's worth and trying to bite but will stop when she sees it's my hand holding her.
That said, it's extremely hard to hold her when she's struggling. she's an expert at wriggling free, even out of the neck scruff which almost always will immobilize a cat. Not her. She's so furry that it's hard to get a scruff on her. So usually it's me holding her and an assistant also trying to hold her and the poor vet trying to do something necessary because my baby is sick and everyone trying to avoid getting bit or scratched..
Once we had to take her to the emergency vet late at night. I got her out of the cage and this new vet was very afraid that she would bite me so she said "I have trained people who can hold her". As I really hate being a part of causing pain to my kitty, I said sure so we put her back in her cage and the vet took her into the back part of the surgery and we went out to the waiting room to - well, wait! Ten minutes later, we hadn't heard anything when the door opens the the vet steps out and says, "We can't get her out of the cage!". so I had to go back in the room, dump her out of the cage again, and hold her while the vet checked her and gave her a shot. So much for trained personnel.
On a different vet visit, the vet was really trying hard to listen to her chest and lungs and take her temperature. Godiva was screaming and howling and hissing for all she was worth. When I finally walked out of the treatment room, every single person in the waiting room was staring at me with expressions of horror and shock on their faces. I know they thought we were torturing her and killing her in that room. Even the dogs were sitting there quietly and quivering as if they were definitely afraid to go into the torture chamber next.
So you see, Godiva has quite the reputation and since I am the one that always takes her to the vet, apparently I am easily recognizable now as the "devil's owner". At the end of the day though, I got credit for purchasing my bag of cat food which Godiva will eat with great pleasure and after another bag or two, I'll get a free bag. That's all I wanted.
Hmmm, I want credit for my bags of cat food so I'll get my free one. So I say, "don't you want to put it on my account so I can get my free bag later?" and she says to me "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU HAVE A REPUTATION!" OMG.
Well, of course, she actually meant they know my sweet baboo, my wonderfully affectionate, loving, friendly, sit on my lap whenever possible to purr, sleep beside me at night, follow me into the bathroom whenever she can, get jealous if I pay attention to other cats Godiva. She's my cat just as much as one of the other cats is my hubby's and the third one is my daughter's. They all have their favorite human "toy".
Godiva is a Siamese and a wonderfully mixed color. All three are rescue cats, meaning we found them at an adoption center. My lovely furbaby took about 3 years before she became a true lap cat and began searching me out for petting and just to be near me. She's now 9 1/2 years old. At a young age, maybe 2, we had a bad experience with a vet in Houston who hurt Godiva in a way that she's never forgiven or forgotten. Since that time, there has been a Doctor Jeckle and Ms. Hyde transformation that comes over my sweet baboo whenever she enters a vets office, and even often when she is in the car riding to the vet's office. Everyone knows that cats can tell when they are on the way to the vet.
My loving kitty turns into a Tasmanian Devil, a cornered badger, a captive wolverine, a fighting rooster with spurs, or in other words, she gets as defensive and mean and nasty as she possibly can. Now, my kitty will NOT bite me or my daughter or my husband IF (and that's a big IF) she knows it's our hand there holding on to her and IF she's not scared and in pain. Once she got her foot caught in a rattan chair and fell off so she was hanging and screaming and struggling to get free. My daughter rescued her but got bit accidentally in the action. In that instance, I think Godiva would have bit anything close to her. But many times, I have been to the vet and held her while they take her temperature or give her a shot and she will be struggling and hissing and growling for all she's worth and trying to bite but will stop when she sees it's my hand holding her.
That said, it's extremely hard to hold her when she's struggling. she's an expert at wriggling free, even out of the neck scruff which almost always will immobilize a cat. Not her. She's so furry that it's hard to get a scruff on her. So usually it's me holding her and an assistant also trying to hold her and the poor vet trying to do something necessary because my baby is sick and everyone trying to avoid getting bit or scratched..
Once we had to take her to the emergency vet late at night. I got her out of the cage and this new vet was very afraid that she would bite me so she said "I have trained people who can hold her". As I really hate being a part of causing pain to my kitty, I said sure so we put her back in her cage and the vet took her into the back part of the surgery and we went out to the waiting room to - well, wait! Ten minutes later, we hadn't heard anything when the door opens the the vet steps out and says, "We can't get her out of the cage!". so I had to go back in the room, dump her out of the cage again, and hold her while the vet checked her and gave her a shot. So much for trained personnel.
On a different vet visit, the vet was really trying hard to listen to her chest and lungs and take her temperature. Godiva was screaming and howling and hissing for all she was worth. When I finally walked out of the treatment room, every single person in the waiting room was staring at me with expressions of horror and shock on their faces. I know they thought we were torturing her and killing her in that room. Even the dogs were sitting there quietly and quivering as if they were definitely afraid to go into the torture chamber next.
So you see, Godiva has quite the reputation and since I am the one that always takes her to the vet, apparently I am easily recognizable now as the "devil's owner". At the end of the day though, I got credit for purchasing my bag of cat food which Godiva will eat with great pleasure and after another bag or two, I'll get a free bag. That's all I wanted.
Friday, October 25, 2013
The Beer Book
My hubby has been brewing home brew (beer) since before I met him so that's got to be about 40 years now. This includes doing batches up to 5 gallons but also smaller batches as it is all for his and his friends enjoyment. no selling involved or anything like that. Just a hobby that he loves. On occasion, we've been places where's he way to busy with work and I've taken over the brewing duties so I've been brewing for around 20 years. But I'm not as good as I'm not really a beer drinker. So it's a little hard for me to taste and beer and know if it tastes like it should. My hubby is an expert and has judged many a beer contest including novelty beers to his dismay which always include something like Jalepeno beer! I prefer my ole diet coke or diet dr. pepper anytime.
When we move to a new location, new country, new town, it takes a bit to settle in and set up and find a home brew shop where he can get his supplies and such. So he is never adverse to buying beer and enjoys tasting new brews and especially micro-brews. We tend to visit brewerys whenever possible for tours and tastings. Also vineyards and winerys and also distilleries. And no, we're really not big drinkers but it's fun.
So, starting out in England a bit over 2 years ago now (OMG, we've been here that long! time is passing too quickly!), he was delighted to find a whole new cornucopia of brews to taste. Unfortunately, it took me about a year to figure out we needed to keep a record of these brews so we hit on the idea of having a beer book. People do this for wines they like - saving the labels and such and we've tried that without much success because we're not big wine drinkers but beer! Hubby drinks one a day, at least! So I became the keeper of the beer book and I soak off the labels and glue them into the book. Not as easy as it sounds as some labels refuse to be parted from their bottles and others totally dissolve and turn to mush when you try to soak them off. But I've been doing a pretty good job and so far we have around 136 different beer labels in our book which is almost full. We are going to have to go to book #2 soon. Wish I had thought to do this years ago because the beer history would be remarkable. But better now than never as just about every county in England has its own plethora of brews and sometimes even towns have their own brews specific to them. We won't ever get all the beers in England into our book but we're going to give it a good try and then keep the book going wherever we are. Bottoms up!
When we move to a new location, new country, new town, it takes a bit to settle in and set up and find a home brew shop where he can get his supplies and such. So he is never adverse to buying beer and enjoys tasting new brews and especially micro-brews. We tend to visit brewerys whenever possible for tours and tastings. Also vineyards and winerys and also distilleries. And no, we're really not big drinkers but it's fun.
So, starting out in England a bit over 2 years ago now (OMG, we've been here that long! time is passing too quickly!), he was delighted to find a whole new cornucopia of brews to taste. Unfortunately, it took me about a year to figure out we needed to keep a record of these brews so we hit on the idea of having a beer book. People do this for wines they like - saving the labels and such and we've tried that without much success because we're not big wine drinkers but beer! Hubby drinks one a day, at least! So I became the keeper of the beer book and I soak off the labels and glue them into the book. Not as easy as it sounds as some labels refuse to be parted from their bottles and others totally dissolve and turn to mush when you try to soak them off. But I've been doing a pretty good job and so far we have around 136 different beer labels in our book which is almost full. We are going to have to go to book #2 soon. Wish I had thought to do this years ago because the beer history would be remarkable. But better now than never as just about every county in England has its own plethora of brews and sometimes even towns have their own brews specific to them. We won't ever get all the beers in England into our book but we're going to give it a good try and then keep the book going wherever we are. Bottoms up!
The Rain-Hole Phenomenon Updated
As my daughter is off on her rotational assignment, it took a few days for the links and posting to reach her and I finally just had to copy it into an email as the link wouldn't work where she is. She remembered the storms and sitting on the balcony and reminded me of a few things I had forgotten. Snacks or a picnic while we were watching the storms was important. In those days, it was so much easier and cheaper to buy food that wasn't the best in nutrition but it filled your tummies and since we didn't have a lot of money, that's what we ate. Mac n cheese, crackers and squirt cheese, bologna sandwiches and chips (potato chips as in the U.S. style, not chips as in the U.K style) and such. Our main food for storm watching was crackers and squirt cheese. You could make it as you sat there or squirt some cheese into your mouth directly to be funny. It was a comfort food with the stories and the storms. I think it took us years to get over buying the squirt cheese in a can as it certainly wasn't nutritious.
She then reminded me too that her "rain-holeness" had happened much earlier than I remember as she moved to several different places well known for having a lot of rain and fog and storms and each time she moved there, a drought happened. Not usually a major drought but the rain and storms dried up and went away for the most part until she left the area, either on holiday or permanently. Gosh we need to find out how to market this!!!
Once again, she has moved to a place well known for it's rainy season which is now. We'll have to wait and see what happens but if you hear about certain parts of Africa that inexplicably aren't having their usual amounts of rain, you'll know that's where she is!
She then reminded me too that her "rain-holeness" had happened much earlier than I remember as she moved to several different places well known for having a lot of rain and fog and storms and each time she moved there, a drought happened. Not usually a major drought but the rain and storms dried up and went away for the most part until she left the area, either on holiday or permanently. Gosh we need to find out how to market this!!!
Once again, she has moved to a place well known for it's rainy season which is now. We'll have to wait and see what happens but if you hear about certain parts of Africa that inexplicably aren't having their usual amounts of rain, you'll know that's where she is!
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Bathroom Buddy
In my own house, I think it is a fairly safe bet to say I haven't been to the bathroom by myself in - oh - probably about 7 years or so. There may be the odd occasion once or twice but most of the time, heading into the bathroom means I am joined by my bathroom buddy, my Siamese cat. She's 9 1/2 years old now and about 7 years ago, I think she decided that the bathroom was a good time for her to get petted. I am still and not moving and my hands are closer to the floor so she's made it a major part of her life to join me.
In the morning, she is usually on the bed trying to wake me up anyway so as soon as I am out of the bed, she makes a beeline for the bathroom. If she is not fast enough to beat me into the bathroom and I should - heaven forbid - shut the door in her face, she makes it known that she is displeased. She scratches on the door and cries until I open it enough that she can squeeze through and come into the bathroom. Then it's purr time and rub against the legs time.
In my office, she likes to sit on my lap until my legs are numb and my arms are tired of typing over her and I kick her off. Then she'll sit in the extra chair. If I get up to go to the bathroom, she's up and coming with me. In fact, about the only time I can get some bathroom time to myself is if she is busy eating. That is much more important than bathroom quality time but that is the only thing more important.
Usually she is fine to wander around the bathroom and come over for some petting and some tummy rubs but on occasion, it's apparently necessary for her to sit on my lap. that's what laps are for, yes? and I do have a warm body so winter times, she's into the bathroom with me and demanding some extra lap time. This also occurs should I have been gone for awhile, on a holiday or something, then she feels the need, I think, to reconnect and make sure the bathroom is still her place to share with me. Should one of the other cats come along into the bathroom, she gets upset and hisses at them or shoves open the door and leaves in a huff. I'm left sitting there in disgrace.
Don't mind having a bathroom buddy. Kind of cute and clever that she likes to be with me that much. And of course I talk to her so when I am heading to the bathroom and she just looks at me, I'll ask if she's coming along and wait for her. She has me well trained.
In the morning, she is usually on the bed trying to wake me up anyway so as soon as I am out of the bed, she makes a beeline for the bathroom. If she is not fast enough to beat me into the bathroom and I should - heaven forbid - shut the door in her face, she makes it known that she is displeased. She scratches on the door and cries until I open it enough that she can squeeze through and come into the bathroom. Then it's purr time and rub against the legs time.
In my office, she likes to sit on my lap until my legs are numb and my arms are tired of typing over her and I kick her off. Then she'll sit in the extra chair. If I get up to go to the bathroom, she's up and coming with me. In fact, about the only time I can get some bathroom time to myself is if she is busy eating. That is much more important than bathroom quality time but that is the only thing more important.
Usually she is fine to wander around the bathroom and come over for some petting and some tummy rubs but on occasion, it's apparently necessary for her to sit on my lap. that's what laps are for, yes? and I do have a warm body so winter times, she's into the bathroom with me and demanding some extra lap time. This also occurs should I have been gone for awhile, on a holiday or something, then she feels the need, I think, to reconnect and make sure the bathroom is still her place to share with me. Should one of the other cats come along into the bathroom, she gets upset and hisses at them or shoves open the door and leaves in a huff. I'm left sitting there in disgrace.
Don't mind having a bathroom buddy. Kind of cute and clever that she likes to be with me that much. And of course I talk to her so when I am heading to the bathroom and she just looks at me, I'll ask if she's coming along and wait for her. She has me well trained.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Rain-Hole Phenomenon
Way back when, really years ago, when I was a single mom and my daughter was a cute little toddler, she was afraid of thunder and lightening storms, horribly afraid. I didn't want this to affect her in any way later in life. We were living in Houston, Texas at the time and there were plenty of thunder and lightening and rainstorms, practically every week some months. We also lived on a second floor apartment that looked out onto a bayou where we could see the water rise during a really heavy downpour. This apartment had a small protected balcony and I had a wading pool on it for her enjoyment. So, in my incredible mother wisdom that I certain had at the time (meaning I was lucky to have a clue about anything those days), I figured we'd go outside and sit in the rain and storms and watch the lightening and hear the thunder and I'd tell her stories about it and possibly she would lose her fear of the noise and light and rain and all. So we did. We'd take a snack, sit on a blanket, hold the umbrella over the two of us if the rain was blowing or just over our feet if it was just raining steadily down, and I'd make up stories about thunder and lightening and rain. Can't even remember a single story but I think I was rather verbose back then. Nothing mythical like Thor or Zeus or anything, just stupid little things that a toddler would find funny and amusing.
Well, I am here to tell you now that this worked wonderfully. Worked way above my expectations. Worked so well that she has become a connoisseur of thunder and lightening rainstorms and dearly loves them. She likes best to be curled up inside so she can watch and listen to them. Gets really irritated if she has to be inside with no windows and cannot see the rain at least. Opens windows no matter what the temperature to hear the rain better. Some day I am sure she will buy a house with a tin roof to enhance this as well.
Now, years later, she is a wonderful adult and still loves a good rainstorm but for some reason, they evade her! We've moved around quite a bit as has she and she's ended up in some locations where it just doesn't rain very much. Usually, she manages to leave those locations before too long. However, we've come to realize that she is a "rain-hole phenomenon"! This means that where she is, it will likely not rain! Last year when she lived in Houston again for awhile, the site of the beginning of her love for storms, the place where the rain and humidity stay high constantly, Houston had a drought. She was there about a year, and hardly any rain at all. Once she left, the drought broke! She was back for awhile this year during their rainy season and no rain again until the day after she left!
And we are living in England, right? Damp, dreary, wet, raining, dripping and such? Right? NOPE! She visits us every other month when she is on her rotational time off her job. Rain can be predicted for the first week of her visit and disappear from everyone's radar screen the minute her plane touches down at Heathrow. Rain pops up in Surrey (our county) and will be showing hard rain everywhere in Surrey except for a bright and sunny hole over our community! Rain scheduled for the entire week always shows a hole over us. No rain for us and yet it can be pouring down rain less than 2 miles away. She can move from our house to the neighboring town 5 miles away where she goes to the gym and it will rain at home while she is gone then rain in the neighboring town when she has returned home. She is like the Charlie Brown character "Pig Pen" only while he had dirt attracted to him like a magnet, she repeals rain like a negatively charged particle. You have no idea how much this really "pisses" her off since she loves rain so much.
We would really like to find out what causes her to have a "rain-hole" over her location. We could rent her out to countries that are inundated during the monsoons. We'd make a fortune having her sit in a city and keep the rain away when someplace has reached their saturation limit or are well over their needed amount. Unfortunately, no idea why this is and if it's a permanent phenomenon or not. So to my friends, when you know my daughter is visiting, you can plan all your outdoor activities in relative safety, knowing that they will not be rained out. When she is gone, "here comes da rain".
Well, I am here to tell you now that this worked wonderfully. Worked way above my expectations. Worked so well that she has become a connoisseur of thunder and lightening rainstorms and dearly loves them. She likes best to be curled up inside so she can watch and listen to them. Gets really irritated if she has to be inside with no windows and cannot see the rain at least. Opens windows no matter what the temperature to hear the rain better. Some day I am sure she will buy a house with a tin roof to enhance this as well.
Now, years later, she is a wonderful adult and still loves a good rainstorm but for some reason, they evade her! We've moved around quite a bit as has she and she's ended up in some locations where it just doesn't rain very much. Usually, she manages to leave those locations before too long. However, we've come to realize that she is a "rain-hole phenomenon"! This means that where she is, it will likely not rain! Last year when she lived in Houston again for awhile, the site of the beginning of her love for storms, the place where the rain and humidity stay high constantly, Houston had a drought. She was there about a year, and hardly any rain at all. Once she left, the drought broke! She was back for awhile this year during their rainy season and no rain again until the day after she left!
And we are living in England, right? Damp, dreary, wet, raining, dripping and such? Right? NOPE! She visits us every other month when she is on her rotational time off her job. Rain can be predicted for the first week of her visit and disappear from everyone's radar screen the minute her plane touches down at Heathrow. Rain pops up in Surrey (our county) and will be showing hard rain everywhere in Surrey except for a bright and sunny hole over our community! Rain scheduled for the entire week always shows a hole over us. No rain for us and yet it can be pouring down rain less than 2 miles away. She can move from our house to the neighboring town 5 miles away where she goes to the gym and it will rain at home while she is gone then rain in the neighboring town when she has returned home. She is like the Charlie Brown character "Pig Pen" only while he had dirt attracted to him like a magnet, she repeals rain like a negatively charged particle. You have no idea how much this really "pisses" her off since she loves rain so much.
We would really like to find out what causes her to have a "rain-hole" over her location. We could rent her out to countries that are inundated during the monsoons. We'd make a fortune having her sit in a city and keep the rain away when someplace has reached their saturation limit or are well over their needed amount. Unfortunately, no idea why this is and if it's a permanent phenomenon or not. So to my friends, when you know my daughter is visiting, you can plan all your outdoor activities in relative safety, knowing that they will not be rained out. When she is gone, "here comes da rain".
Monday, October 21, 2013
Empty Nest - Once Again
Really shouldn't have the Empty Nest Syndrome, especially when you realize that my daughter is 40 years old and we have all been moving in and out of each other's lives and residences since she first left for university way back in '91! That was really hard because she and I had been through some very tough times before we met my current husband. I was a single mother for years, didn't have any money, was homeless a couple of times - sort of but for the grace of good friends, and yada, yada, yada.
So we have gone back and forth with her moving back to live with us at various times, after school, between jobs, before school and such. And we have moved into her house between overseas assignments, during rotational shifts, and yada, yada, yada. While it is not easy for two grown women who are both very strong minded to live together in a space that can get smaller every day, we make it work and I personally love to have her close. I try hard not to be so much "mom" these days but more "friend" and she tries also equally hard or maybe even harder to not be so much "daughter" but also more "friend". And I would like to think that we are best friends and I think she agrees. Gets a bit crowded in the kitchen when everybody is home and trying to fix their own dinner but we make it work.
Now she has a rotational job where she works 28 days on and then has 28 days off. Since we are living in England and the choices were rather meager for her to retain a place in Houston plus she needed someone to care for her cat, she comes and stays with us during her 28 days off. I get a 28 day wonderful break from cleaning cat boxes, she gets to see her cat and also gets to spend some time living in another country. But then the 28 days comes to an end and off she goes back to her job and her 28 days working and I am left bereft and feeling quite sad that my daughter has left the homestead yet again and I have an "empty nest". Odd that it's never gotten easier, even knowing I will see her again in 28 days. Odd that every time she leaves, I feel a wrench and a tug on my heart strings and have to slam the door shut as she pulls away so she won't see me crying. Odd that it has never gotten any easier to send her out into the big, bad, wide world and hope that all goes well for her this time and nothing bad happens to her.
I really thought it would get easier as time went by. When it became apparent several years ago that we were "yo-yo" parents as well as her being a "yo-yo" daughter, I thought the elastic would weaken and maybe even break but it never has. I hate it just as much now as I did that first weekend when we dropped her off at school. So once again, empty nest for a month. Better find stuff to do to keep me busy.
So we have gone back and forth with her moving back to live with us at various times, after school, between jobs, before school and such. And we have moved into her house between overseas assignments, during rotational shifts, and yada, yada, yada. While it is not easy for two grown women who are both very strong minded to live together in a space that can get smaller every day, we make it work and I personally love to have her close. I try hard not to be so much "mom" these days but more "friend" and she tries also equally hard or maybe even harder to not be so much "daughter" but also more "friend". And I would like to think that we are best friends and I think she agrees. Gets a bit crowded in the kitchen when everybody is home and trying to fix their own dinner but we make it work.
Now she has a rotational job where she works 28 days on and then has 28 days off. Since we are living in England and the choices were rather meager for her to retain a place in Houston plus she needed someone to care for her cat, she comes and stays with us during her 28 days off. I get a 28 day wonderful break from cleaning cat boxes, she gets to see her cat and also gets to spend some time living in another country. But then the 28 days comes to an end and off she goes back to her job and her 28 days working and I am left bereft and feeling quite sad that my daughter has left the homestead yet again and I have an "empty nest". Odd that it's never gotten easier, even knowing I will see her again in 28 days. Odd that every time she leaves, I feel a wrench and a tug on my heart strings and have to slam the door shut as she pulls away so she won't see me crying. Odd that it has never gotten any easier to send her out into the big, bad, wide world and hope that all goes well for her this time and nothing bad happens to her.
I really thought it would get easier as time went by. When it became apparent several years ago that we were "yo-yo" parents as well as her being a "yo-yo" daughter, I thought the elastic would weaken and maybe even break but it never has. I hate it just as much now as I did that first weekend when we dropped her off at school. So once again, empty nest for a month. Better find stuff to do to keep me busy.
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