Random Ramblings....Demented Mind

Ok, let's see, what day is it now? I'm having a serious problem remembering the date. I'm still fairly good on the day of the week. The problem is my cell phone. Have you ever experienced the enigma where you look at your watch and, when you look away, you promptly forget what time it is. So you look again, and the same thing happens? That's what I do with my cell phone and the date. At least I think that's the problem...or dementia.

As I'm sitting here typing, I'm again reminded of my lust for a laptop. I want to be able to write in front of the T.V., or on the deck, or at the little coffee shop in town. Wouldn't that be cool? To take my laptop to the coffee shop, order my latte (with skim milk), and sit at a table in the back and "work". How incredibly artistic does that sound? The only thing better would be on Friday afternoon's, after the lunch crowd (or lunch trickle, it's not a large town) I would get an outside table at one of my two favorite bars, order wine, and "work on my novel". Very Ernest Hemingway! I wouldn't wear a white linen suit or a hat, though. But, still...

Looking out of my window, well, not exactly looking out, but over at my window, I see that some of the ivy we have covering the outside wall is actually growing in through the window frame in two places. I should cut that. But, I'm not going to because it really looks quite nice. I know I'm compromising the structural integrity of the whole building, but, did I mention it looks nice. The ivy stays. I just have to make sure it doesn't try to root on the window sill. That just causes a mess. And the whole house can fall down, but I don't want permanent root tracks on my window sill.

I made chocolate chip cookies yesterday. I really like to bake. I like the whole experience of baking. Measuring, mixing, making the cookies the same size, filling the cupcake papers, kneading the bread, icing the cake. It makes me feel very domestic and maternal. I am domestic and maternal, but there aren't too many daily situations that make you feel that way. Nope, changing diapers doesn't do it. Nor does cleaning the toilets. And, taking care of the litter box is just demeaning!

Ok, I'm puzzled. About a lot of things, actually. But, right now I'm thinking of the term "dog gone", as in, "That is so dog gone funny!", or "I'm so dog gone happy!". If the dog is gone, that's not funny or happy or applicable to anything really. I found out where the term "dog days of summer" derives. The constellation Sirius, with the dog star being in prominent position during the months of June, July, August....blah, blah, blah. But, that doesn't help me with "dog gone". Dog gone it! Larger really likes the term "tough beans". And, when you think about it (or say it out loud) it is funny.

I didn't do any lawn care today. Instead, I washed the laundry room floor, down on my hands and knees, with a scrub brush and a bucket of water. That takes me back. Remember the days before "Swiffer"?

One day, I noticed that there were a lot of small, leafy, branches under our nut tree (I don't know what kind of nuts they are, they aren't edible, they aren't acorns). We hadn't had any storms or strong winds and I was a bit puzzled. The other night when Tall One and I were sitting out on the deck, we got the answer. We watched two squirrels building a nest. They would gnaw off a small branch and then carry it to the designated construction site. Occasionally, they dropped one.

And, I don't think I told you about the daring duckling rescue. One evening, at the beginning of summer, or end of spring, I noticed a family in our yard. Our yard isn't along the road, you have to walk back our driveway a short distance. They did not look familiar, like visiting family or near neighbors. The father (I'm assuming he was the father, he was the man with a woman and a small child) was standing on the fringe of our property, pointing excitedly into the drainage field. I went out on the deck to tell them to leave - not really, I wanted to see what was going on. There, marching across the grass and heading into the new development was a mommy duck followed by her dozen little, fluffy, baby ducks. They were so cute - and loud! What a ruckus. Everyone peeping and little webbed legs pumping to keep up. Mom was quacking out a cadence to rival the best coxswain. And, then I saw it - she was waddling directly over the storm grate! And, don't those cute, fluffy fellows follow right along. And - you know this is coming - one of them fell in!
I didn't know ducks could wail, but this little guy was shrieking his lungs out. And, Mommy was fairly frantic. And, the other little ducklings were all, like, running around bumping into each other and Mom, and I was, like, "Tall One, ducks, grate, hurry!", and running across the field. (The family-in-our-yard was no help, long gone. I don't know who they were or from where they came or to where they went.) Tall One and I tried to find something to put through the very small openings of the metal grate that baby duck could use as a ramp, but nothing from the construction sites was working. Tall One was on his way back to the house to see what he could find, when maternal instinct took over and I LIFTED THE GRATE!. I am very strong. Tall One came back and we removed the grate completely and put a board into the drain and baby duck waddled free. What a reunion! Legs churning, useless wing buds straight out to each side, peeping double-time he joined his brothers and sisters and, I'm assuming much relieved and grateful, Mom, who had watched our efforts not too far off. I think she waved her thanks, as they resumed their march to find water suitable for swimming. Or a McDonald's.

And, now I don't remember why I needed to know the date....