Not Exactly Turkey, But I Give Thanks

Grilled cheese, apple and masala chai - YUM!

We didn't have a Thanksgiving dinner today. We've postponed it until Sunday. Nature (flooded basement), a rough day at work (preparing for an audit)on Wednesday, and a few other things got in the way.

Grandson had another emergency trip to the hospital yesterday afternoon that took up most of the evening. (He's okay. Another black-out, this time while riding his bicycle.)

All the things Daughter and I had planned to do yesterday in preparation for dinner today would have kept us up all night - most of it, at least - and we all were physically and emotionally drained by the time I dropped them off at their apartment. So, we agreed we would enjoy the day more if we put the festivities (such as they are) off until the weekend. (As it turns out, their next door neighbors invited them over for dinner, which was nice.)

Still, this being a day of giving thanks, of recognizing the blessings we have, I offer thanks for the following:

• 
  
  family and friends (my child and her child, my sisters and brothers; friends here and in blogland).


• 
  
  my home, including the spiders and crickets (not the silverfish, though).


• 
  
  my job, the fact that I have one, when so many people are struggling to find work, which saddens me for them and their families. I need to find another part-time job, and I'm looking. I am hopeful one will come along soon.


• 
  
  local food banks, which help me put food on the table, so that I don't have to choose between eating and having the medicines I need to stay alive.

There are many more things for which I am grateful, but this is long enough.

My dinner today (shown above) was a grilled cheese sandwich, which tasted better than all the others I've ever had, and I've had some very good ones in the past. Being mindful makes all the difference.

Almost forgot: I'm still here, the greatest blessing of all. Wonder of wonders.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

At 2:30 AM, the rumbling thrum of the sump pump woke me from a not-so-deep sleep. It was cycling on as frequently as when the hurricanes passed through a couple of months ago.

In my half asleep state, I stumbled downstairs to make sure there was nothing on the basement floor that would be damaged by rising rainwater, then trudged back up to peek outside to see how things looked - besides wet, I mean.

You know how earthworms crawl out of the soil during heavy downpours, seeking drier ground? I counted a dozen of them on the concrete pad at the bottom of the steps. That's a lot of worms in one spot, but the one that alarmed me was the one trying to climb the trunk of the dogwood outside the back door.

This is not a good sign.

The only thing to do is make a nice cuppa, then go back to bed. It's supposed to rain steadily like this for another twelve or so hours.

I hope the worms find higher ground and make it through the night. I'd offer them some tea, but that's probably the last thing they'd want right now.

'Night, y'all.

Collector, or Hoarder?

I mentioned to Daughter last week that I planned to attack the house before it attacks me.

"I want to sort and box up my collections," I began, but didn't get far.

"Mom, you aren't a collector. You're a hoarder."

Uh, well, no I'm not. I can still walk from one room to the next without falling over stacks of stuff, and the things I 'collect' are useful and used. Plus, there are no dead bodies under piles of clothes (unless you count spiders, maybe), and I don't collect cats or dogs or any other animal (unless you count spiders and crickets, which come in uninvited; I do not collect or hoard them.)

I have almost 300 books, on various subjects and lots of fiction, but they are neatly put away on bookshelves or in boxes in the attic. (Where there are many, too many silverfish, but I don't collect them, either.)

Many of my belongings, that are not in boxes, collect dust, but that's on them. I don't collect dust. For one thing, I don't sit still in one place long enough to collect dust.

I do have a plastic bin for junk mail, although I wouldn't call that a collection, either. When the junk reaches the top, I put it out in the trash. The bin might be a little overdue for dumping - okay, maybe a LOT overdue - but I'll take care of that this evening.

When I cleaned the downstairs powder room (where do we get the names for these things?), I discovered I own five hairbrushes, so one could argue they are a collection. Maybe that many brushes, when I haven't much hair to brush right now, constitutes a hoard, but I threw three of them out. Besides, I didn't know I had that many brushes, so that didn't count.

One thing I do collect - not hoard, mind you, just collect - is rocks and odd shells and other natural objects. I have a few jars and boxes of them, enough to fill an overnight bag, perhaps. Not a Pullman case, though.

When I tried to tell Daughter that my various collections do not mean I'm a hoarder, she asked me if I thought I would have all my beads, buttons and other jewelry making supplies off the dining room table in time for Thanksgiving, or were we going to have to use TV trays?

We can't use the TV trays, I said.

"Why not?"

All my paints, brushes and canvases are on them right now.

(Pic above is a small representation of my natural objects collections, found under all the other stuff when I cleared off my desk this afternoon. I found the container under the kitchen sink. Rather, it found my foot when I opened the cabinet door and it fell out, followed by a landslide of cleaning supplies...which I also do not collect. Or use all that frequently, either, it would seem. )

More Coins

Iceland's eyrir

1939 Reichs mark obverse

Morocco 50 centimes obverse

Morocco face

1901 US Indian head (Liberty) penny in advertising case, from Ohio

Coin of the Realms

I've been on a cleaning jag, a serious one. Over the last several months, while the Octopus was visiting, I let everything go to hell in half a dozen hand baskets. That's what happens when depression takes a choke hold on my psyche; I quit caring about looking after things, myself included. Fortunately, Octopus has retreated far enough into its lair that I am caring again.

Found a small leather pouch left behind in Ex-B's dresser. It contained a bunch of old coins, some US, but most are from other countries. The oldest coin is an 1865 US Indian head (Liberty) penny; the most recent, from 1970s Germany.

Coins tell a great deal of history about their countries of origin. For instance, one of the German coins, a 500 mark dated 1923, is made of aluminum and reminds me of pre-1970s New Orleans Mardi Gras coins we used to catch when I was a kid. These were minted during the recession years following the end of WWI. I recall Ex-B said he was told that was a time when people carried their money in wheel barrows to go shopping. Can you imagine? (Sure hope the current world's economies don't reach that point!)

By 1936-1939, the German economy had improved to the point that the von Hindenburg 5 Reichs mark (shown below), a hefty german silver piece (silver+nickel, I believe), indicated a much wealthier nation. A 1969 2 Deutsche mark, struck in celebration of the Bundes Republik Deutschland's 20th anniversary, is headed back toward lighter weight, and has a yellowish cast to the metal. It's about half the weight of the Reichs mark.

The Danish 5 kroner is the largest coin (3.5 cm), though not the heaviest (5 mark has that distinction) and Iceland's 1 eyrir (1.6 cm) is the smallest, and still heavier than the 1923 mark.

The 1924 50 centimes coin is from French Morocco, made of copper and brass, it looks like. Lots of 'stuff' on the coin, very busy.

I was thinking I might sell the coins, but none has any value to speak of, plus I like them too much to sell them. Don't get me wrong, I would part with them if the value was high enough to outweigh sentimentality.

Some are more worn than others, with some older ones in better condition than more recent coins. These all are works of art, including the Nazi era coins. Too bad I still associate the atrocities of Hitler's regime with anything bearing the swastika. On second thought, that's actually a good thing.

There are more coins than I could load with this post. Among my favorites are the Edward and the George coins from the Empire. One can see the resemblence of the three kings to each other. Handsome men, all.

For Lucy.

Bangs, circa 1954

My second grade school picture. Haircut by my Mom.

Most recent cut

I had asked for what we used to call, back in the 1950s, a pixie cut. My hairdresser, a student at the local 'beauty' school and all of 19 years old, asked me to describe it. I told her wispy bangs and short on sides and back. I believe she did as best she could, given my poor descriptions. Besides, the cut was inexpensive, which I needed it to be, and it's only hair - it will grow back out. Someday. Maybe. I hope.