There are times when someone starts talking and just keeps going; I know the analogy is often made to a dam bursting. Sometimes the dam holds. I don’t think that is the case here. I don’t believe there was any pressure on my “dam” and I don’t think the “water” level was especially low.

There was nothing dramatic; I just took a natural break because I didn’t feel like saying anything. Actually, I didn’t deliberately take the break; it just happened. Other things happened and I could write about them now, but it’s all everyday this and that, and although that may be what I normally write about, I don’t have any urge to catch up on the ordinary.

I did go to Fairborn; I did go to City Barbeque; we had a power outage with half the apartment; I watched a movie on my ipad; I had to get air in the tires when I drove home and, oh, I need to replace a headlight. That wasn’t catching up – that was listing. Anyone who knows the slightest thing about AmeliaJake knows that catching up is a drawn-out story with asides and outright digression and, possibly, elaboration. Just so we are clear.

This leaves me with no real content, and, as I have said before, that has not stopped me from typing. Drivel is often therapeutic for the writer – blasted boring for the reader, though, I’ll give you that.

Oh, I do have one topic that has brought a chuckle from me: we went to Home Depot and Meijers and I was curious to look at the seasonal offerings. I would not say I walked into a mystical area of Christmas fantasy and magic, but it sure as Hell was interesting. I took lots of pictures and sent most to LZP and I intend to show them here – later today, after I have moved them from my phone.

Let me pique your curiosity by mentioning the acrylic pink ballerina pig lawn ornament. Yes, even I was taken aback, and I knew the visions of a Dickens’ Christmas were fading fast with the continued increase in the number of generations following mine. I just didn’t how close the shark was to being jumped.

Yesterday was beautiful and driving back was a pleasure; it was a chilly day of warm earth tones – the beige and tan of harvested fields, the stands of woodlots, not yet nothing but sticks, but decorated with the occasional unfallen leave and a brilliant blue sky showing through were foliage used to be. Because of the unseasonably good weather, the GPS still took me on the back roads of flat Northern Ohio – the type of lonely, narrow roads where you can drive right down the middle to put equal pressure on your tires.

It was the type of rural flatness where you really have to look for intersections with even smaller county roads. These roads don’t have fancy suburban names; they usually mark the villages and townships and/or homesteads that link together. I know when I come to Liberty-Union Road, I am getting close to Hwy 30 with its four lanes and median strip. In Ohio, the speed limit on 30 is 70 mph; in Indiana, it drops to 60/65. I am always prepared for this and don’t even bother looking for police cruises – I just slow down. Lots of people pass me pushing 75 plus and I usually then pass them sitting on the shoulder with lights flashing behind them. It helps to be in the know, especially now that some of the troopers have cars That blend right in and little road twists and hillocks that make for surprise sightings.

I am now going to relax with a foldover and a drink and then return to my night’s sleep. I really wouldn’t have to; I fell asleep early in the evening and feel quite rested, but down pillows and comforters are as inviting as an epic poetic siren. I wonder if it is a coincidence that “home” makes up the most of Homer.

I really wasted today, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t just vegetate, but there was a pattern of letting chores push me – and I was pretty selective about which chores I pushed back. Most of them just rolled over me like a tsunami.

I did some reading, but it was a novel and I’ve read so many well-written novels that I doubt it added too much to my language ability or understanding of any relationship. I may have learned a few things about silk that I didn’t know, but I didn’t retain the exact knowledge. What happened is that if I want to talk about silk, I have an overall idea of what I have to study up on it.

On top of everything else with this reading thing, I wasn’t pleased with the decisions the protagonist made; I found myself growing irritable and entertaining this underlying thought: “Are you crazy? Are you really that incredibly crazy?” Oh, well, I don’t suppose I have room to talk.

At evening came on, I scanned through the news page and read the article about George H. W. Bush’s new book, or rather one based on interviews with him. It was refreshing. But, then, drat it all, I clicked on a video by Dr. Gupta on following an Alzheimer patient who had been an assistant professor of dentistry at Harvard. It turned out to be a series of short videos. You know what? I’ve had times when my train of thought just went right out of my mind, leaving not a trace. That was enough to start a hypochondriac panic attack, which I kept at bay until I woke up after dozing off. Don’t Alzheimer patients doze off? ACK!!!!!

So how many numbers can I remember in row? What was the name of the guy who wrote such and such poem, and, for Heaven’s Sake, what was the title of the poem. So what am I remembering? One line? What was my phone number in West Chester? Panic time.

But I have a busy day tomorrow, catching up on what I let slide today and making time to worry about remembering what I’m to do. I can’t lie awake worrying now. I’m a mess, a sleepless mess and I’m not even in Seattle where I could feel sophisticated and go out an watch the ferries on Puget Sound.

Ok, I’m going to try and get a grip and close my eyes, although that gripping effort may hinder the eyelid relaxing endeavor.

I knew it, knew that I could download the Hard New York Times Sudoku and print it out, but I hadn’t done it. Then, yesterday, I did. Today I printed off another one . . . and now I have to wait until tomorrow to get another one. Gee, addictions can be real bummers.

Needing some sort of a lift, I went outside and raked more leaves. I raked them onto a tarp and pulled them to the street. I have this technique: I pull the tarp mid-way into the street and then double it back on itself so the leaves pile up on the curb/driveway. Well, during one tarping, a car – and this was almost at dusk – came up the street without running lights on, so I was at the point where I was going to double back when I saw it. Rats! I had to pull it farther and when I doubled back, the leaves dumped into the middle of the street. So I madly raked them over to the curb, trying to act nonchalant.

Then I pushed some more piles over and for my finale, rolled out the trash barrels. It was warm here today and I was covered in a sheen of sweat and infused with endorphins. I think my glasses are all smudged, though. That’s saying something for me; I have worn glasses forever and consider anyone who can’t look through Crisco a wimp.

Oh, I had on a denim skirt and didn’t feel like changing so I raked in it; I’m just so sophisticated. I’ll bet that sheen of sweat was mostly Perrier water.

I am trying to organize some important things into compact satchel type carriers that can easily go from one house to car to another house to back to car. Some things should probably just stay in the trunk of the car until needed and then returned – like the small sledge hammer, it is heavy. The pipe wrench would fit into that category as well, not to mention the small axe, and maybe the pruning saw because it wouldn’t fit in any bag too well at all.

Now the gadgets: that’s another matter. Der Bingle knows I have a penchant for gadgets and frequently sends me things from Amazon.com and when we go in a store, I gravitate toward such clever little things that I just might need sometime, but, more than likely, just crave playing with them. You have to watch temperature of some of these things – batteries and all that. On and off buttons are a concern too – jostled the wrong way in a bag and you may find a super flashlight boring a beam through the bag’s material. Then, there is the matter of the bag that suddenly starts making little motor noises.

But even if I get this all sorted out, there is the “borrowing” factor – folks have got the taking part down pat, it is bringing back part that is proving to be a problem. I have become very suspicious of anyone wanting a special screwdriver; heck, my experience with scissors is legendary and probably documented on this blog somewhere. Who else has to put “DO NOT TOUCH OR DEATH” on their scissors in magic marker? I have even drawn skulls and crossbones. Yes, this is my life.

My mind wanders. I started thinking of Pottermom scuba diving and all the equipment she has and thought if I did that activity, I would panic, hyperventilate and need to breathe into a paper bag. Ha, try that underwater. So do they have a plastic paper bag? You remember that little sledge hammer? I think now might be a good time for someone to tap in on my head.

For the next few months, we are on traditional Indiana time. So far west in the Eastern Time Zone it is ridiculous, we used to stay on Standard Time year round. Then some Bozo got the idea we should go on Daylight Savings Time in the summer. Lordy. And the now President of Purdue University, who was once Governor sort of hinted when he ran several years ago, we might regain our year round time status. My mother was always opposed to “Fast Time” – and Mitch Daniels was a hope. Later she would say, “I never would have voted for that boy if I knew he was going to join the Daylight Savings Camp.” She came to call it God Damn Time or Governor Daniels’ Time.

But, for these months, we are back on sane time. I am not even going to think of the first of March when the current bozos have decreed we again move the clocks ahead, THREE WEEKS BEFORE WE USED TO HAVE TO DO IT. Talk about upsetting your circadian cycle; well, no let’s not talk about it.

I will add, one person in this state was always on what we came to call “Mother Time.” So, take that, Governor Daniels.

I suspect that I am not in the greatest of moods today.

A couple of hours have passed and it is a fact: I am not in a good mood. The sun is shining, but I am not. In fact, I can feel my scrunched up mouth expression really showing itself.

Could it be the backyard leaves I raked into piles yesterday that are waiting to be tarped and tugged out to the street?

Two of last colorful views – for Pottermom and Quentin, of course:
Red leaves:

These leaves are actually purple.

Well, maybe you can see the purple better here, but it’s not much better.

And then there are these pictures:

Part of my pile at the edge of the street and driveway

Part of the pile by the curving sidewalk next to the driveway

This makes them look smaller and you can’t see the ones just in the street beyond the curb, but, really, it’s a lot.

Yes it was a lot of raking, but I felt connected to my mother and father and grandparents who worked very hard and had the same idea expressed by Lauren Bacall in a blog interview:

She leans forward and pokes a finger in my chest. “Remember what Bogie and my mother both used to say: ‘Character is the most important thing. All that matters is character!’”

A couple of days ago I posted two pictures of the warm and glowing color on one of my trees. The day I did so, the leaves that were on the ground were dry and light and would have been easy to rake. I did not do so and that night it rained; it rained yesterday as well and the ground looks mucky now.

We had some wind yesterday evening and this morning, more of the trees are again the winter sticks that insist on remaining that way until usually late April or early May. It can get depressing; and, in fact, it’s depressing right now because the leaves that fell off those sticks are now on top of the wet ones that were there before.

It is in the 30’s. Gee, a real vacation resort here. However, when I checked the forecast I found out that the wind I see moving my bushes is expected to last all day and right now the sky is blue. It is blowing out of the WSW. Trying to rake to the east would be counter-productive and raking to the west would only help put more leaves in neighboring yards. So I am waiting to see what happens. It is supposed to be a strong wind. And, by gosh, I think I already feel uplifted – amazing, no?

Having achieved this state, I am delaying walking into the kitchen where I know people have left stuff that needs to be cleaned up and into the laundry room where clothes are waiting. Perhaps if I opened the windows, the mess would all just blow away in that WSW wind. Of course, having identifiably clothes and dishes and so forth splatting against neighboring houses could incur retribution – and with Halloween right around the corner, it could be chalked up to hooligan activity. There are times it is best to think things through.

Today is the Grand Opening of the newly-remodeled Kroger store in town; there are streamers on the parking lots lights and pennants at the very top of each pole. Of course, they are dancing in the wind. However, they have mounted this tiny little Grand Opening sign; odd, but then it’s their business . . . literally. I am guessing that they will be trying to attract shoppers with bargain prices and I’m betting that if they are encouraging lots of people to come, they won’t be crowding the aisles with samples. I think companies will want Sample Day (of the Holiday Season Kind) to not be overshadowed bargain-hunters overruning the tables they set up in the aisles.

It makes sense: sample day is to entice people to spend a little extra for that that special touch for a meal or to introduce a new snack or holiday-themed item of the eggnog category. I may be wrong, but since I am on a diet, I don’t have much riding on my analysis. Now, if Quentin were here, we would make a fun time of Sample Day and I certainly would not want to miss it. Comparing impressions of what tastes good and plotting strategic multiple passes of the best booths.

Now, we are not the type of people who take advantage of such things, but we like to pretend that we are espionage experts, snarfing up important information hidden in crab meat concoctions. And, more often than not, we would buy what was being offered for out taste buds to sample. It is such a minor thing, I suppose, but I dearly miss those times of light-hearted sly moves and laughter.

And I miss going to the store with my parents, who would never, ever consider entering a business in anything other than very presentable dress, who would be very polite to all the workers and, especially Daddy – strike up a conversation with anyone from a sample lady to a fellow mopping up a spill. I wish I were more like them, and I wonder why I wish that instead of actually trying to be that way. Am I so got up in my selfish concerns that I can’t put a bit of effort into treating the daily things of life with some respect?

This is a time of an overwhelming sense of loss for me and I’d like to let that wind I mentioned carry off some feelings and emotions and just get in step with the ending of A Christmas Carol and have some good will and keep the holidays well.

Instead of packing things away, I want to be digging into boxes and pulling out decorations for fall and Thanksgiving and Christmas traditional items and the warmth of memories that reach across the years and build with each season. I’d like to imagine someone pulling out something decades from now and saying, “My grandmother always loved this little Santa – she said it was on her tree when her grandmother was alive.” Or to put out a tree stand cover and point out the fact it was made over weeks of time at the LaGrange House. Sequins, embroidery, gold braid making reindeer and sleighs and Santa’s – all coming together on the big oak table that had been her grandfather’s.

Well, I’m supposed to have some creativity so maybe I should actually show a little of it. I should start by making a huge batch of pixie dust to throw on the Scrooges I encounter – and I guess I could sprinkle some on myself as well.

I think if I could be granted one wish, it would be to have those around me open to being in good spirits – no humbugers.

For Pottermom and Quentin: