Actually, this was written and published yesterday; it just didn’t “take”

I am phone now in LaGrange County pretty much for the purpose of being here. I can’t mow because it is raining on and off today, but that’s okay. The grass will be mowed sometime.

The mosquitoes are going to be bad this year; we’ve had other years like that. I drove the oil-burning Volvo up here because of the window on the Buick, dontchaknow. Unfortunately, the guy is coming to fix that tomorrow afternoon so we will have to be back by then. Actually, I don’t really mean unfortunately; I’m just thinking that the timing could have been better, but it’s better than a sharp stick in the tire.

It’s really Cameron’s Volvo and this little week of Grandma in driver’s may spur him on to get his license. We had it out on I-69 this morning and I think the engine appreciated it. Cameron May have been more worried–like maybe the engine might go KABOOM. Well, that’s why I got this sturdy old Volvo body for him.

It is becoming very dark in the west and that grass is just going to be encouraged to grow more. I’m not arguing with Mother Nature; I am just glad for the metal roof over my head.

Ack. It is getting very dark and ominous here . . . And it is RAINING. Gosh darn, that grass is lush.

Property taxes have been paid on the LaGrange House, painful, but necessary. What makes it a pain in the neck, besides coughing up the chunk of money, is the fact that this one smallish piece of property is cut up into seven parcels. It’s not a big deal, but if I miss one, I don’t want it to be the one that the house is on . . . but, then I would probably notice the much lower cash outflow.

I was afraid there would be a long line, but it appears few are as tight-fisted with tax money as I am. A couple of Amish fellows ambled in, along with about three other people but I didn’t have to wait a bit. They had three windows: Checks, Checks and Cash, and Checks and Credit Cards. They were picky about it – one Amishman was told he couldn’t pay “here”. The staff has been beefed up for the past week and while I watched the clerk tally up my bill, I also looked over her shoulder to a lady cha-chinging one check after another into the county’s account.

There’s nothing noteworthy about that and I don’t know why I mentioned it, unless I was just fascinated to see tax dollars going off to work – and they weren’t whistling.

Okay, fellow former snow shovellers, yesterday we mowed the dandelion-infested overgrown yard, trailing 200 feet of cord behind us. Going around trees is so much fun . . . And then the dog biting at the wheels. Hey, I haven’t run over a Wubba in I don’t know how long. The yard was overgrown because when I went out to mow a week ago, a wheel fell off.

I sweat through my underwear, didn’t realize it and then sat inside wondering why I felt chilled. The day was okay – I was a little less so, not thinking really wisely. I read a book, rather than showering, which would have warmed me up and, gee, made me less smelly. The book was okay, just a 99 cent baby written a long time ago and revived for epublishing. I imagine the author could have edited the TV and movie references to some time later than the “70’s, but, hey, maybe it’s his estate that is publishing it. Yes, it made me feel old, but if the truth requires sensible shoes, so be it.

I mentioned dandelions; I have been going on about them for years. I understand that they have many uses and, yes, yellow is cheerful, but it’s become a tradition and that means I must at least refer to the rants of the past.

THE BOY

THE BOY AND DOG

THE BOND

Yesterday, Shane and I went up to the LaGrange House and we mowed, for the first time this season. He herded me on the mower, barking when I paused to move an obstacle or just determine what area I was going to attack next. He would nip at the tires. He also did not trust me to do the job without his supervision; he refused to go and lay down lie down and just watch. (See, I was so rattled I myself made one of my pet peeve goofs.)

We felt like we had achieved something when we finished what we were going to do that day. I put the mower in the shed and walked up beside the car to the deck and out of the corner of my eye, I saw this: my front passenger window.

I had not mowed anywhere near the car. I don’t know where the zapping came from, but I was certainly zapped, or is that smited?

I am up although it is still dark out, and I am awake – up to a point. I am contemplating peanut butter, and maybe a couple of aspirin for morning stiffness. About 16 years ago, I used to get up in the summer at 4 am in order to go swimming at the YMCA by 4:30. We were on Standard Time all year round then and it would get light around five. The Y had not yet been remodeled and the front wall of the pool area contained very large east-facing windows; I really enjoyed watching the dawn.

I am thinking about that this morning because if it were then, I would be in water. As it is, I am thinking about stretching out and doing the “sofa float” and wondering how much water would get in a yawning mouth.

One thing about that summer, though . . . I was very CLEAN and my scent was Eau de Chlorine.

Emotions, justified or not. Attitudes, positive or negative. It’s all human nature, but when it’s less than attractive, we, the ones sporting the emotions and attitudes, are often given to cutting ourselves a little slack by referring to human nature.

I’ve been sitting here, staring at the photo in the post below and re-reading the left sidebar. I know I have come to this site complaining about this and that and feeling low and sorry for myself.

Well, I’m ashamed of that. My name is Jody – four letters. I am 65 years old. That little girl over there in the picture – the one with the be-scarfed Queen Elizabeth over the shoulder look – well her name is Jody – four letters. She was attacked by a disease when she was less than two years old and had so much taken away over the next 24. But not her spirit. Her dad wrote about that.

I remember him telling about her sitting in a baby seat next to another baby in a similar seat. The other one was grousing and Jody, Jody was just smiling and beaming away. I can still hear his voice saying, “My kid . . .”

Two Jody people – only this one writing does not have a fatal gene that destroys nerve tissue. It prompts me to say, “Jesus, I’ll never feel sorry for myself again.”

Of course, I will. Human nature, dontcha know. But I won’t be proud of it.

Iowa, 2014. Photograph by LZP
“Miss Jody’s Tree”

Not the PC kind, the glass things in walls . . . those windows. Yes, I washed just a few; it was traumatic. Then I came in and wandered into another part of the house and looked out a window and my inner essence went auuugggghhhhhhh – because this house has lots of windows and all of them need washing.

One might think I am in a bad mood this morning; well, not really. Although while typing that I remembered the line from Next of Kin – the one that was vaguely: This ain’t bad, but it’s coming.

It is overcast and chilly out . . . and Monday. The grass is very green and getting taller and maybe I might go out and mow it, but I think it is going to rain, and that would be water coming down on me and my electric mower.

I have already had one water/electric incident today: Someone left a 52 oz size Icee glass on the table with about two inches of melted Icee in it. When I went to pick it up, my phone slipped from my fingers and fell in. We will see how well this Otter Box works. Perhaps you heard my screams; they were not unlike those uttered when hungry Summer waited for her frozen pizza to cook and then when the timer went off, she realized she hadn’t turned the oven on.

I did come here yesterday, but as I stared at the blank post form, it came to me that I had no worthy “moos” to document – not that that has stopped me before. Yesterday, however, it did; I think it was a one-time thing.

Der Bingle introduced me to a new method of peanut butter eating; you take a tortilla, warm it in the microwave, spread some PB on it and roll it up. It is quite chewy and satisfying. Although I owe much to the foldover, I do appreciate this new trick, and no, I am not going to do any “old dog” reference. Oh, dear, that didn’t work out.