I am not one for cleaning, but I have been doing it lately. The kitchen, the porch. Oh, the porch started getting cleaned and organized and then it became my center of operations and looks like a farm tool shed now, but nevermind that; it will probably get better. Yesterday and the day before I was upstairs working on the master bedroom and sitting room. Get this: I have been vacuuming by sitting on the floor sticking my wand  – and it is not magic (actually it sucks. Ack! Get off of me, you pun monster.) – under things and into narrow crevices.

I have discovered “vintage dust” but I sucked it up before I realized the potential for an ebay sale. I also found a Bush/Qualye sign stuck behind a bookcase. Okay, this was not a surprise. After the ’92 Clinton event, I pulled the sign out of my lawn in West Chester and kept it; then I moved it up here. Most of the time I don’t think about it, but I can’t truly say I was surprised to pull it out.

Years – decades – ago when I was very little, my grandmother opened up an upstairs window and heaved out a bunch of stuff. My grandfather gathered it up and took it to the tool shed. I think I am fighting a loosing battle.

Ah, icy snow and Augggghhh, a two hour delay.  Summer celebrated by boisterously dancing around the living room, chanting, “No gym, no gym, no gym.”  Exercising to exorcise the demon gym from her schedule. Okay, whatever.

Now we have a bright blue sky and lots of sun . . . for today. Tomorrow and the following days – clouds. Oh, did I forget tonight? The band concert? Uh, let me think of the word I want . . . oh, yes, the trusty ACK!

Robert is in the walking cast with the boot over it . . . and a cane which I miraculously found after an exhaustive search. He can now climb stairs. And it looks like the den will become the den once again, fireplace and all. Actually, maybe I should start a good fire to dispose of all the detritus that has accumulated in this invalid room. I could wear my pointy black hat and do my own chanting.

I went over to the nursing home this morning and left as they were settling down for lunch. I think they give them too much chicken, but some others don’t agree:

and

I looked up at the window and saw this:

Have we been tipped ourselves? Or are we belly up?

This is a mirror that used to hang in my paternal grandparents’ house. It might have been in my great-grandparents’ house. Anyway it is old and foggy . . . but wait! . . . can that be Humphrey Bogart watching the plane for Lisbon take off? Maybe I should just walk toward the mirror until I am there in Casablanca. Ah, the beginning of a beautiful friendship – Rick, Louie, and me.

Found in a drawer – Quentin kindergarten school picture

Okay, I was getting ready to take a shower and had put Estee Lauder cleansing cream on my face and then I saw my phone and had this wild idea to “reveal” myself.

Yesterday was my father’s birthday; he would have been 90. I was thinking about him off and on during the day and at one point mentioned to Der Bingle that if my father were alive and were turning 90, I would be worried about him dying. Der Bingle just dropped his head and sighed.

Yesterday I came across a stuffed moose and saw that Quentin and I had decided his name was Short Flat Moose. We wrote it on masking tape and stuck it on his butt. It was there yesterday when I turned SFM upside down, albeit yellowed and crinkled. Today I went to take his pictures and when I turned him rearward, there was no tag. I was taken aback and looked around the area. No tag. So I guess you will just have to take my word for it that he is Short Flat Moose. Of course, maybe he didn’t like his name and wants to change it. Maybe he would like “No Name on Butt Moose”.

It was a small fire, sort of a firelet. I was looking at the newspaper, searching for a Kroger ad about Holiday Season Sample Day* and one section flopped in the area of a votive candle.  A small black hole appeared and I yelled, ran to the sink and turned on the faucet. I was about to push the paper under the water when I thought, “Wait! This is the Living section; the sudoku is in it and it is Saturday and a 6-star one.” So to prevent the drenching of the puzzle, I splashed water on the fire area. The sudoku, Mother Goose & Grimm and Get Fuzzy were saved. (GF mentioned “the supreme cat” so we cut it out.)

I tore the sudoku out of the fire scene on the facing page and put it somewhere . . . . and never saw it again.

AUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

*More about this later. (The salmon cheeseball was delicious.)

Yesterday it was feet. Today I have worked my way up to knees. And the left one hurts. I walked by someone today who was remarking to a friend, “At 60, your body starts to fall apart.” Okay, that was uplifting.

Ah, I don’t want to talk about knees. I want to eat . . . a burrito. Here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, I guess I’ll have to hide in a closet to do so . . . or smother it with PB – an interesting, but not compelling, thought.