Author: Toni L Arends

I’ve lost track of time in pretty much the way I lose track of my cell phone and other things that are not permanently attached to my body. At this point is anyone actually keeping track anymore? I’m guessing the months by the weather we are having, which can be hard to do in Iowa where it can change from one to the next in seconds.

The only way I know what day of the week it is would be by what TV shows my DVR has recorded for the day. I rarely watch any TV “live”, I record it all and then watch it when I want to, minus all the commercials. It’s usually at 3 a.m. Other shows I watch are on demand, so that’s not helpful at all time wise.

I’m also so over cooking at this point as well. Ok, so yes, I had to cook before covid set in to stay, but its just getting annoying right now. Remember, I can only recycle about five or six recipes so the rotations are getting very boring. They were boring before, but covid seems to heighten everything. We rarely went out to eat much before covid either, now it just feels like we never go out to eat at all. It’s a whole mindset thing. Darn it covid!

Once in a great while we do go pick up our favorite pizza at Zeno’s in Marshalltown. Like most restaurants, they now have curbside pickup. Having done this a couple of times (maybe once a month?) I am getting better at being prepared for the “meal in a moving vehicle” ride home. Paper plates, napkins, paper towels just in case, lidded glasses with ice and a straw for the pop, water for me and a pizza cutter, all the necessities.

The first time we had decided we were going to go pick up a curbside pizza at Zeno’s, we realized we had to eat it on the drive home because there was no way it was going to stay hot for that forty-five minute drive back. What we didn’t plan for was everything else.

Sadly we had not thought this through and our unpreparedness was quickly realized. We pulled into a gas station in town before arriving for our pizza and Jay got a pop for him and water for me. We now remember to bring our own. We hadn’t thought at all about napkins, paper plates, a pizza cutter, things that they give you in the restaurant to eat your pizza. Things that would be greatly helpful trying to eat pizza in a moving vehicle with limited supplies on board.

Luckily on that first trip I found a few napkins from a fast food place in my glove box. Unfortunately they were the really cheap little brown ones that instantly melt into a slime ball when something touches them.

We love Zeno’s pizza, and normally they will drizzle just a bit of olive oil over the top of the pizza after it’s baked to enhance the flavor and aroma of it. This particular pizza however, got a dump of olive oil on top of it. I don’t know if it was by accident or it was a new cook, but each piece of pizza was literally dripping with olive oil. Those poor little brown napkins were no match for the amount of oil of each piece. We soaked up as much as possible and still enjoyed the delicious flavor of our pizza on the drive home. It was worth the drive there and back.

Good preparation is the key to eating on the go. Isn’t “be prepared” a Scout motto? I’m not sure, having never made it past being a Brownie, which I was for two years instead of one. I wanted to go with my BFF who was a year older than me so they let me go a year early. I guess two years of being a Brownie did me in, as I never made it into Scouting.

The down side currently of driving there for pizza is the sun sets earlier so we drive home in the dark. It’s hard to see the pizza in the box. I may have to invest in one of those lighted headlamp things. Yes, I know they have lights inside the vehicle, but it’s hard to see around the big open box lid and it can be distracting for the driver.

The last thing I want to do is end up in the ditch while eating pizza on the ride home. I’m not sure how the highway patrol would feel about our “meals on wheels” pizza run, but it feels nice to be able to go visit our favorite pizza place again. In case you are wondering, yes, Jazzy gets to ride along with us. No, she does not get any pizza.

Be safe, wear your mask, be socially distant.

Until next time…

Toni

Last night as I made my usual bathroom pit stop before going to bed I had a strange encounter with a spider. When I turned on the bathroom lights, there was a largish black spider on the bathroom wall right beside the toilet. I hate most insects and spiders are definitely not my favorite creature.

I stood there staring at it a bit as I had just spared a spider from certain death last week when I found a large spider occupying space on the seat of my lawn chair outside. Granted I did fold the chair back up and tossed it about ten feet away from me, but I didn’t smash him.That felt different though as he was at least outside. This was inside my house, fair game in my book.

I grabbed some toilet paper off of the roll and making a little bunch out of it I reached out to squish the spider. I hate squishing things, but sometimes its about self preservation. He must have seen my intent and was too fast for me. He dropped to the floor and ran into the corner beside the toilet. I tried to get it with the plunger that sat nearby but he escaped behind the toilet where its hard to reach.

I went and opened the bathroom cabinet doors hoping I guess that I actually had an insect spray in there. I got my body spray out, desperate times and all that. I started spraying body spray behind the toilet attacking from both sides. My bladder was letting me know we had to finish what we came in here for, so I quickly sat down and kept turning sideways, my eyes darting left and right to try to find where the spider had gone.

When I got up, I saw it trying to hide behind the very plunger I had tried to kill it with. Bad idea buddy, I thought. I grabbed the air freshener spray that sat on the back of the toilet and let him have a blast of that. That had to do it, right?

I went back into the living room to finish watching my show before heading off to bed, all the while both wondering if the spider was working his way out here to bite me, and almost gagging on the sickly sweet smell of the mixture of my body spray and the air freshener spray that was wafting out into the living room.

A few minutes later my show ended, and I went to bed. Well I went in and laid on my bed still wondering if the spider had survived my attack. Hours later I finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Three o’clock a.m. rolled around and as usual I woke up. Normally I head right into the bathroom to empty my bladder so maybe I can fall back asleep. Not tonight. Tonight I was worried that I hadn’t killed the spider and he would either be laying there suffering, forcing me to smash it, which now just felt inhumane to me, or he would be gone, and I wouldn’t know where he’d snuck off to.

I tossed and turned for about an hour and my bladder won out. Side note; why do we always try to put off getting up to use the bathroom? The bladder always wins out. I crept into the bathroom and flicked on the light switch. I peeked beside the toilet to see what had happened to the spider. To my relief and dismay, no spider was in sight anywhere.

I sat down and lifted up my feet so they weren’t touching the floor, short people can do things like that. I was worried that the spider, who may now be temporarily blinded by the sprays and is certainly ticked off, might run out and bite me as I sat there helplessly. I hurried as fast as my sixty-five year old bladder would let me and quickly got back into bed.

Laying there wide awake once again, I ran all the possibilities through my head about where and when the spider would have his revenge on me. After a long while I once again drifted into an uneasy sleep.

In the morning, two hours later, I woke thinking about the spider first thing. When I went into the bathroom I began lifting everything around the toilet area, the grandkids step stool, the plunger, the little stool that holds the bucket with the spare toilet paper, the two rugs. That was everything, and no spider body, alive or otherwise. I looked up to make sure he wasn’t above me waiting to jump on me and bite me.

I’m not sure how this is going to play out, maybe he went down the heat register and is living out his spider life in the basement somewhere, telling others down there about his horrible adventures with a crazy lady upstairs who sprayed sweet smelling stuff on him, or maybe he’s lying in wait somewhere up here plotting his revenge. I do know that for a while, the bathroom is going to be a scary place with an unknown spider danger possibly awaiting. I guess we’ll never know…

Update: I don’t think this is the spider in question because I swear it was a lot bigger than this one, but there is a similar though smaller spider now living in my spare toilet paper can!

Every time I use the bathroom he turns and stares at me from on top of the toilet paper roll. Is he a child of said spider waiting to exact his revenge? One of these days I am going to have to take that whole can outside and dump it out and he can make his way in the world outside. Did I mention I hate spiders?

Until next time…

Stay safe, wear your mask, social distance.

Toni

Have you ever had one of those Mondays where nothing seems to go right and many things seem to go “fall off the rails”. Not in a tragic way, but worse than normal days. Well that was my Monday.

I slept horrible Sunday night, it was one of those long tossy turny kind of nights where nothing brought me relief or sleep. Fan on, fan off, fan back on. Blanket on, blanket off. Pillow between the knees, pillow back out, feet up, feet down, left side, right side, back, adjust head pillows, etc. Use the bathroom, play soft music, glass of chocolate milk, listen to audio book, etc. From one-thirty in the morning until I gave up at seven nothing worked. So Monday morning I was expecting it to be a very groggy brained tired kind of day.

Normally I babysit Brittney’s two little children on Monday’s but she had one of her bad migraines so she wasn’t going to her painting class at UNI. In a small way I was relieved only because I was so groggy and tired, and now I could get a nap or two in during the day. Things seemed to be going ok.

I would have also thought from the email I received that morning that it would be a great day. You see, I had ordered through my cell phone company a new iPad because the one I have is at least 7 years old, a dinosaur in iPad terms, and it was starting to fail more and more.

I don’t have the hefty money that it costs to go buy one, so I opt to buy through them and just pay a small monthly charge forever. I knew it would be a few weeks because Apple is extremely slow right now with new products coming and covid concerns that has slowed down everyone.

Two full months later it had finally arrived! Hurray! Ok, kill the fanfare because the agent at the cellular store ordered the wrong one. Yup! I had very specifically stated I didn’t want the lowest GB model, I wanted the next one up. I received the lowest one. I could reject it and have her order the correct one, but that would be another two month wait or more because that size was even harder to get. Yay me.

So hence the lack of enthusiasm about my iPad arriving. I went and picked up my wrong iPad order and brought it home. It’s not as thrilling to open and set up a new electronic when it’s not really the one you wanted, but I made the best of it. Years ago I lowered my expectation bar down to zero, so now nothing really surprises me or disappoints me. I started going through all the set up steps, and then it asked me if I wanted to transfer all my old iPads information to it via the iCloud. Why yes please, that would be wonderfully easy!

Nope, not as easy because apparently at some point in time my auto backup to the cloud for my entire old iPad had been switched off. Luckily my photos were still saving there, but nothing else. So I went through all the steps on my old iPad and told it to run a complete backup. It told me it would take at least 4 hours.

During that waiting time I decided to have a snack. I got a little convenient snack pack out that has almonds, white cheddar cheese and dried cranberries and started snacking happily away. I also had cut an apple up for the squirrels and had kept a couple pieces so I was munching on those as well. As I was eating I noticed something kind of hard in my mouth, so I extracted it and saw it looked like a bit of a tooth. I have a tooth in the back that has a slight crack in the top, so I thought that was it. Nope.

My top lip began to have this very odd sensation of something very sharp going across the inside every time I chewed. I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror and there it was, a big piece of my front tooth had chipped off. Its had a very tiny chip in it for decades, but this one looks like I used to play hockey and caught a puck with my front tooth.

Awesome. Just what I needed. The tooth next to it is capped and has been since I was twelve. I broke it off after ice skating in our homemade backyard “pond” and after removing my skates and walking up the small hill to the house I slipped and landed front teeth first onto some ice and broke that tooth in half. Now I guess I’ll end up with a matched set.

It was now supper time and I was just going to get out the chili I had made over the weekend. I set the table with the usual bowls, spoons, glasses and chili crackers and waited for Jay to get home so we could each nuke (aka microwave) ourselves a bowl of chili. No, I do not put it in a pan and warm it up, are you kidding?

At around six-fifteen, I decided to go ahead and start eating so I scooped some chili in my bowl and hit the button several times to make it cook it for a couple of minutes. There is a soup sensor setting on my microwave, but its faster just to hit the 30 second button numerous times.

My chili bowls have little handles on them similar to a coffee cup, so when it was done I reached in and grabbed it by the handle. Not even thinking it may be the temperature of the sun. I almost dropped it midway over the stove, but willed myself to quickly set it down on the counter before yowling in pain from my now burnt middle finger.

I ran it under cold water for several minutes and then got a cold wet paper towel and wrapped that around my finger for good measure. I sat and ate my chili and crackers in silence.

Jay got home a few minutes later and I smiled showing him my new front tooth situation. His instant comment was “go to the dentist.” Guess he doesn’t like my new look. The upside is, I always wear a mask when I’m out and about, so no one will even notice!

After supper I checked my iPad again, and over the next several hours it gave me a new estimated time of being done. Five hours, twelve hours, eight hours, it was as if it were taunting me. I wonder if it knew I was replacing it with a newer model? I had started this whole process around two in the afternoon, by eleven-thirty that night it was finally done!

Now the new iPad finally recognized that there was data in the iCloud for it to fetch. It took what seemed like hours to transfer the information but not as long as it took to put it there. Finally that was done and it asked if I wanted to install the newest update? Well of course I do. There went at least a couple more hours of time.

At around two-thirty in the morning my new iPad was finally ready for me to open and check it out. Nope. Wrong! It wants my apple ID and log in first. Well who on earth can remember that? I have it written down in my “big book of everything I need to remember and can’t”, but that was out in the living room.

I went to get up to make a bathroom run since I was wide awake and in the process I knocked my container of water off my shelf. I have one of those “cubby shelf units” that holds canvas bins in it for storage. It was half full of water and the lid hit the edge of the cabinet and came off spilling all of the water on the carpet. I brought a towel back with me and pressed it on the carpet, no harm, no foul right?

I had Alexa turn on my small bedroom lamp and only then realized that the water had also spilled out on top of the shelf where my phone laid. It was a little wet but not bad and had dripped into one of my top clothes bins and gotten a few socks wet. Nothing too tragic, just annoying.

I had decided not to go into the living room for the information I needed because Jazzy was sleeping in there on her favorite spot on the couch. Most nights she can’t be troubled sleeping on my bed with me. If she does grace me with her presence it’s only for an hour or two and then she abandons me for the couch.

I could shut my bedroom door at night so she’d have to stay in there with me, but I think she likes the couch better as its in front of the window and she can be on guard if she needs to be, protecting us from field mice, owls, and the occasional random leaf that blows by outside. I would not want to take those responsibilities away from her.

In the morning I woke up to a new iPad waiting for me to log in, (I did) a middle finger that thankfully didn’t blister and is just a bit red with a big dent in it the shape of a cup handle, a front tooth that still has a giant chip in it, and a happy Shar-pei who had a good nights rest and is outside making sure the squirrels don’t get too close to the house.

I am still waiting for my new iPad to finish uploading all of the programs from my old iPad but happy to say it is chugging along nicely! Sometimes the joys of new technology are real.

Until next time…

Stay safe, wear a mask, and social distance.

Toni

I’ve never been a great artist. I love art, and I’ve always loved painting, but I don’t seem to have that true natural talent that makes a great artist. I’m more of a frustrated ok artist.

In high school I managed to turn out a few decent paintings and ended up getting the senior art award in my class that year, not that there were many others in art in my class. After high school I continued to draw and paint at home now and then, but was always more frustrated with my final projects than I was happy. So I basically put my brushes away and stuck more to my writing. That was always my stronger talent.

Then I had children and low and behold, I had given birth to little artists, ok 3 out of 4 and he knows who he is. One of them had to take after Jay and be the farmer boy in the family. He excels at that and his handi-work with his perfectionism being just like his dad. Actually none of them inherited my total laid back attitude. I guess that’s good, they are all perfectionists.

My other 3 got my art talents and ran with it. They became artists, photographers, painters, writers, and I love it! Even my “non-artist” son is a good writer! I am somewhat (ok, a lot) jealous! I am still a frustrated artist and they are painting beautiful pictures and their writing and photography put me to shame. At least I can take credit for them inheriting that talent.

Recently my youngest daughter and I decided to try painting rocks with the kids at our first annual “Cousins Camp”. It’s a fun project that many are doing, and it’s easy for kids as well. It’s a great at home activity especially now during covid-19 shut downs. It’s not expensive, it’s something you can do with your children, and you can take the finished rocks to public places to leave for others to find them and spread the joy! Some call them kindness rocks, I call mine love rocks.

At first, I found a simple little “stick” person that I could draw pretty well with my cheap little paint brush. There are all kinds of cool acrylic paint pens and other tools, but to start off, I have just a few paint brushes I had on hand and some .50 cent acrylic paints and a can of spray gloss coating.

The stick people were cute, and I thought I’d found something I can do well! More importantly I was enjoying painting again! It felt good to have a brush in my hand after all these years. For a few years my brush had been nail polish brushes as I did nail art and enjoyed that phase. This felt better though because I’m giving these art rocks away to unknown random people.

While I was working on my stick people, my daughter Brittney was painting beautiful landscapes and cute little bugs and campers. Yes, I have to admit I was jealous of her talent. But then I realized, oh wait, she got those talented DNA bits from me, so I’m ok with it.

After the rock painting success at Cousin Camp, we decided we wanted to continue painting rocks and giving them away. I was looking through online media sources to find some more ideas of simple things I could paint, when I came across this black rooster. He was kind of comical looking, but looked pretty simple. I gave it a shot and I’ll admit it came out pretty well. There have been many rocks that I have painted over after attempting something, but not these. That’s what I love about acrylic paint, the forgiveness!

I painted a second one, and a third. I think I’ve found my niche. I added white dots to a couple, made some hens and some roosters. Each one seemed to be coming out pretty well and I was enjoying painting them. I’d found my calling in chickens it would seem and I’m ok with that.

I love chickens and the black colored ones have always been my favorite. So I guess the little stick people weren’t my thing after all, I guess it’s chickens! Life is like that sometimes, you think you’ve found what you are supposed to be doing or what you are good at, and BLAM, along comes something else entirely different! I guess my moment was chickens.

There is also something calming about sitting here painting chickens. Each one takes on it’s own personality and I wonder about the people who will find them. Will they like my little attempt at art, or will they think it’s silly and give it a toss. Either way, I had fun painting each and every one of them. Some I’ll admit I like better than others, but I’d never tell.

Then after a couple of good spray coatings so the artwork doesn’t wash away in the rain, Jazzy and I put a few in a little tin and drive somewhere to place the rocks. I usually leave them out pretty visible, I want people to run across them. The fun of seeing something you weren’t expecting is part of the joy of leaving them. I always hope it will bring a smile when someone goes for a walk, or sits at a bench or table and spots a silly little chicken rock sitting there waiting for them to discover.

Be on the lookout for them. I sign them all with a TLA on the back. If you find one, let me know, it would be fun to hear. I usually leave them at the Dike lake or in New Hartford at their memorial park. Some end up in Cedar Falls at my favorite places. Once in a while at other towns I’m in, you never know.

Sometimes it’s something else I paint, but mostly it’s all about the chickens!

These chickens give me joy in painting them and my hope is they bring the finder some joy and a smile.

Stay safe, stay socially distant, wear a mask in public.

Until next time!

Toni

I am a professional plant killer. Shocking news, I know. If you have a green plant that you no longer want, just ask me to watch it and I guarantee it will die. Don’t get me wrong, I love plants, flowers, most things green. I just can’t grow them or keep them alive for any amount of time on purpose.

The few green plants in my house, there are four, have all survived because they have a strong will to live and are determined not to let me kill them. I admire each of them. One even graced me with beautiful little pink flowers this year which I found even more amazing. Most of the plants around it in the same little basket have died off one by one, but there it is surviving and now seemingly thriving.

I blame it on the whole genetic pool thing and how once again, just like in cooking and baking, it apparently skipped a generation. My parents were both avid gardeners who raised copious amounts of vegetables each year in which I had to help plant and harvest and can or freeze. I hated every minute of it. All of my children are good gardeners and plant growers. My son Josh even got a blue ribbon in 4-H one year for his little garden. Show off.

One year for Mother’s Day my four children all gave me plants and flowers for outside. They (knowing better) even came and planted, organized and beautified my “flower garden” as I jokingly refer to it. It looked great for a few weeks.

As early as I can remember I used to get little potted philodendron plants for in my bedroom and after a month or so would be tossing out yet another dead plant. My paternal grandmother once gave me a small cactus plant telling me “no one can kill a cactus”. I did.

Each Spring I have gone to local nurseries or grocers and purchased pretty little flowers to plant outside. I’ve tried directly in the soil, I’ve tried in little pots. One year I even left some in the pots I bought them in, just to be safe. Most had the same results, dead or dying among the weeds. The weeds however, thrive in my “flower garden”.

When planting flowers I always start out all enthused but after the third or forth plant I’ve had enough of the dirt and the whole planting thing and usually throw the rest together in one big pot and call it good, or stick it in whatever looks like a pot and is near-by. It always ends up looking like there was no plan to it at all, and that’s usually a correct assumption.

As much as I admire and enjoy pretty plants and flowers I hate the whole digging in the dirt planting things. I also don’t like taking care of them. Weeding is exhausting and they will. not. stop. Making sure plants are not too hot or too cold or watered, ugh. Just thinking about all of it wears me out. I get no enjoyment out of working in the dirt or caring for plants. None.

Dear friends of mine post beautiful photos on social media of their plants and flower gardens that could be on the cover of magazines. I admire and envy each and every one of them. They have large blooming flowers and neatly potted plants. Not mine. Mine looks more like a war zone and I lost. There is grass and weeds growing rampant throughout, with a few pulled dead bodies laying scattered here and there. The flower pots are in no kind of order and then there’s that one that has three or four just stuffed into it because I was sick of the whole thing. If plant disasters was a thing, I’d be the queen of it.

There are bits and pieces of pottery and clay pots laying about because I always have grand projects in mind where I will take those bits and re-purpose them into something magnificent for my flower garden. My friends all post lovely photos of beautiful art pieces that also adorn their well kept flower gardens. I did turn a broken clay pot over and called it a toad house. I call that progress.

My roses, bushes and other things seem to be at least a month behind everyone else, only the weeds are thriving. I don’t know if it’s because I live two miles north of most of my friends or if the windy country air is doing odd things, but according to their photos I should have roses and other things blooming already. I think mine are afraid. (Note: the roses are finally blooming and bursting at the seams! Jay also is the one who takes care of them by the way).

Maybe it’s because I don’t put a lot of love and care into my plants and so called “flower garden”. It’s like my cooking, if I can’t nuke it, it’s just too much work. There doesn’t seem to be a shortcut to flowers and plants that I have found so far. You have to actually get out there and pull weeds and water stuff. It’s really annoying.

Latest progress report is that last weekend Jay finally got tired of all the tall grass and weeds and got out the weed whacker and mowed them all down. I racked out all of the debris, then I took multiple big pots of boiling water with added vinegar and dumped it on each of the weeds, effectively killing them without any harsh chemicals as I don’t want to harm my birds who eat in that same area. It actually worked! It may take me another week or two to finish in this 90 degree heat, but its a start.

I suppose I should feel a little bad about the poor plants that come under my care. In the case of my houseplants, they were all given to me, so that’s on someone else’s conscious. They have survived my total lack of a green thumb or any other planting abilities for over five years now. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, those four plants are proof of that. Good job little plants, good job!

Until next time…

Stay home, stay safe, wear a mask when out.

Toni

Today is day 3,459 of being in self isolation or whatever they are calling it today. I started early on this stay at home quest because it turns out I have several of those pesky underlying conditions they keep mentioning are not good.

The other reason is that I am not a fan of hospitals. I’ve only had surgery once, and that was enough for me. So I plan to do whatever I can to stay home and stay covid free. I wear masks, stay away from everyone including family, sorry kids and grandkids, and wash my hands constantly. I have in effect become a covid curmudgeon.

Lately I’ve been pondering this dilemma of being stuck here on the “ranch” or actually in the ranch style house would be more accurate. It’s not so much the social distancing from other people that bothers me, you’d know this if you’ve read anything of mine because I am a bit of a loner personality within an extrovert shell. The thing that bugs me the most is not getting to go wander around in stores.

Yup, I am a wanderer. I am also a visual person, which means I like to see things up close. I hate sitting at a computer screen trying to decide if I want to order a new pair of slippers, (my main in the house footwear) or buy a new book. I want to hold the objects in my hand, look them over, smell them, see them up close and personal, all the things stores now frown on and discourage.

Recently while in a store that didn’t have curbside delivery, I picked up a bag of a new flavor of pretzels to examine them and see if I should buy them. I realized I had my hands all over them so to be a good citizen I placed them in my cart and bought them, it’s called covid guilt shopping. They turned out to be really good by the way. That was me as a shopper before covid happened. I’d wander through stores touching this and that, picking up things and looking them over, placing them back neatly on the shelf, that’s the OCD. I can’t do that anymore and it’s distressing for a person like me.

I am also beginning to wonder if my brain may be suffering from some of the consequences of being cooped up here all day every day with just the dogs as company and only being able to face time or call people. Some odd things have been happening, although with me, they may just be ordinary and covid may not be to blame, but I’m going to anyway because that also seems to be the current “thing”.

For instance the other day I sat out on my front stoop and removed all my nail polish. Later that day I took my shower and as I was drying off I noticed I had completely missed one nail. I had gone most of the day like that. That never happens, I’m a retired nail tech after all. Worse, it’s three days later and I still haven’t removed that one nails polish.

Then there is the ankle tan I’m working on. You know, it’s on those rare Iowa Spring days when the sun is shining and the wind isn’t blowing 50 mph and you go sit outside to enjoy the sun. You’ve got your house slippers and your leggings on, because let’s face it, who is going to see you anyway? Then later when you change clothes you notice you have this nice little tan line on just your ankles. I’m going to call it a covid tan. Mine is coming along quite nicely.

I’ve also done completely unexplained things, like bake Jay a peach pie. Ok, I used canned peach pie filling and a pre-made pie crust, but I did dump it in the crust and shove it in the oven, so I’m counting that as “baking”, even if he said it’s not if you don’t make the crust from scratch. He lived.

Another evening I made us a small batch of homemade caramel corn. I used microwave popcorn, because lets not get ridiculous here, but I actually did the whole stirring of the caramel in the pan forever and pouring it over the popcorn bit and toasting it in the oven on low for 2 hours. Who is this person?

I cleaned out some of the freezer, which in reality means I removed two old ice cream containers. I’d set them on the counter trying to decide if I should wash them out and keep them in case we ever need a gallon size container for something, or just toss them. Of course one fell off the counter and melted ice cream splatted all over the kitchen floor. The dogs got in a few licks and part of the floor got mopped, so there’s that. I felt productive.

Last night, actually is it considered last night when you wake up at 3:00 AM? Anyway, at 3:00 AM I was awake as usual and made myself a new “daily routine list”. I know what you are thinking, “Wow Toni! You must have a lot of ambition and things to do to make up a list like that!” Just slow down, it’s not what you think.

My list is like this: 8:00 – Feed dogs, 8:15 – make tea, 9:00 -read a Bible study chapter (something I’m trying to make a better habit of) and so on: eat breakfast, unload dishwasher, go outside, etc. You get the drift, plain ordinary stuff I “should be able to remember to do kind of a list”. The truth is I have become so bored with being at home I have found myself just endlessly staring off into space and then realize 5 hours have passed and I haven’t moved off the couch. The dogs have been giving me accusatory looks too, so I thought I’d try to step up my routine. In case you are wondering, yes, nap time is on there and it has the biggest time slot. The dogs join me for it every day.

So far this morning according to my list, I have missed the unload the dishwasher and go outside events, and now I am an hour late for my lunch. I hope it doesn’t goof up nap time.

Stay home and stay safe.

Until next time…

Toni

Lets face it, so far 2020 stinks. We just barely got into the new year and we started hearing rumors of some new virus thing on the other side of the planet. No need for us to worry, or so we thought.

Now here we are three months in and most of us have been faithfully sheltering in our homes for the past several weeks, cutting ourselves off from human to human contact as best we can and trying to survive the toilet paper wars.

Shopping trips have now become covert missions that have planning strategies and special equipment involved. You have to be up at the crack of dawn, load up on hand sanitizer and maybe a face mask, disposable gloves and disinfectant wipes. You are now ready to go to the grocery store.

Best strategy is to shop online and go to a store that brings the groceries out to you so that you don’t have to step out of the safety of your car which is now more like your bubble of immunity outside of your house. If you were smart you checked the online groups for sightings of toilet paper nearby and hope that there is still some left when you arrive.

When you get home, depending on which how-to video you’ve watched, you unpack and sanitize each grocery item before putting it away, or you leave all non-perishable items sitting in your garage for a week, saying a silent prayer over each one that it is not the one with the virus stuck on it because you are not sure of your techniques.

That done you toss your disposable gloves, ok who are we kidding, you toss the two dog poop bags you’ve been using as disposable gloves into the garbage, strip out of your town clothes and toss them directly into the washing machine and then go take a twenty minute shower singing happy birthday forty times to make sure you’ve washed properly for this virus. I call this the Howard Hughes phase of shopping.

Now that you are back safely in your house, doors locked in case some crazy relative just decides to pop in to see how you are doing, it’s time to chose what to do today. Let’s see, you’ve watch all ninety seasons of Lost, you’ve knit five more scarves, ok you only knit one more because you are really, really slow. You finished reading that huge Stephen King novel and you have actually listened to most of the audible books in your collection, so that subscription is finally paying off.

If you are like me you are already bored with all of the apps and games on your iPad or tablet and the new ones look incredibly boring or too complicated. You’ve also already beat the computer numerous times in games of Monopoly and Solitaire. Alexa is starting to get on your nerves because she isn’t following your instructions so you find yourself yelling at her as if that will help. Solitude can do strange things.

It was nearly sixty degrees out the other day and so I ventured outdoors to see what I could do out there. I have this little tiny rake, I’m not sure what it’s true purpose is or why I bought it, but I don’t have a normal sized leaf rake. I have a garden rake which doesn’t work well for leaves, I don’t know why I have that either as I don’t garden. I took my tiny rake and tried to rake the leftover leaves out from around all the plants in the front of the house, I had fair success.

Then I walked around the yard and picked up all the big sticks that had blown out of the trees the last several wind storms and put them into a big pile. I was already winded from too much activity but was determined to make a day of it. I decided to follow my daughters idea and walked out into the field and looked for pieces of corn that I could leave out for our squirrels. I only found four and walked about an eighth of a mile and back but I felt accomplished none the less.

I reclined on my lawn chair for a bit but it isn’t satisfying. I miss my hammock! If we do get money from the government for economic relief during this pandemic, I am buying a new pad for my hammock stand! I have my priorities after all.

The sun was getting too hot, yes, sixty degrees is hot for me, so I went back indoors. No sense overdoing it on the first sunny day. I looked around the living room for something to do that did not involve the TV. If I were the ambitious type I could tackle my living room closet where I store all of my seasonal decorations. It has become a giant disaster with holidays dripping all over the place. I opened the door, looked inside, shut the door. Too much trauma for me.

I’ve already rearranged my living room, so what other room could I tackle? The dining room and kitchen have no options. Same with the laundry room. We had already updated the den aka grandpa’s room. That left the guest bedroom, which is also the grandkids toy room. I stood in the doorway and looked at it for ten minutes.

To move anything was going to require a lot of removing things first. Then there is the whole plug outlet situation, and the TV dish cord is in one corner so the TV is stuck there. There are shelving units with the kids toy bins, a big sized kids kitchen set, a bookshelf loaded with kids books, my desk and a bed, and a unit with my clothes. We are talking a twelve by twelve bedroom, with each wall lined with some type of unit of something. I turned and walked away. Best not to poke the giant.

A thought of trying to bake some homemade bread flashed briefly across my brain. Who was I kidding. I folded all of the blankets on the couch and arranged all of the pillows. I almost went and got the vacuum cleaner, but that idea went away quickly as well. I spied the extra Wemo plug that had been sitting on my roll top desk in the living room and had a clear vision of what to do.

I have a large round fan that sits in my living room and is plugged into the outlet that works off of the light switch. There are two such outlets in the living room so when you click the light switch on, a light on my desk turns on and the fan turns on. I picked the Wemo plug up (it works with Alexa or by an app to remotely control things plugged into it) and plugged it into the wall behind the couch sectional that was to the left of me. Then I plugged the fan into it positioning it to perfectly blow a nice breeze on me. After several minutes of trying to remember how to program the plug, I finally got it.

Life is good for now. It’s often measured in the small things. I no longer have to get up and flip a light switch to turn my fan on or off. Now I can remain seated in my favorite spot on the couch, watching all six seasons of Schitts Creek for the tenth time and just say “Alexa, turn on living room fan”. Covid lemonade.

Please stay home and stay safe.

Until next time…

Toni