Add 3272...

Ground Hogs Day 2003. Five years worth of rubber bands from the daily newspaper with maybe a few thrown in from brocolli or asparagus bundles.  

3272 days later... something doesn't add up... wouldn't the circumference of the rubber band ball increase in the same proporation as the circumference of our Jelly Belly bellies?

Tiny Pencils

While I procrastinate about writing my own book, my son continues to work on his. While I sit in my comfortable office, use a computer, access the internet, and pull from life's continuing experiences, he works in his tiny quarters, using tiny pencils, pulling ideas from memories or fantasies. I make excuses for not writing but he prods along, producing volumes of pencil written drafts and artwork. My current commitment is to process his words and send him encouragement and hope. Look for his fantasy novels soon. And if you have some encouragement and hope to share with him, let me know.

Summer... Gone In a Flash

I picked up my camera today, blew off the dust and checked the batteries. Checking the contents, I see the last photos dated back to the beginning of summer when Little J and I took a trip to Virginia. What's wrong with this picture (or lack of pictures I should say)? It's not that I haven't taken any photos. There are a few "Where Am I"s posted on Facebook, taken with the iPhone, mostly at the prompting of Little J.

So what's up with this lack of enthusiasm to post here at Wittbits? It's kind of hard to explain but those who are close to me could give it a good guess. For the rest of you, let's just say I've been a bit bothered, bewildered and befuzzled. Sometimes life just gets that way.

So here we are at the beginning of another school year for Little J. 3rd Grade brings a new wealth of homework assignments but it seems they are starting gently. This weekend he had one task... make a collage of the things he likes, the purpose being something to stash in the front of his writing journal. 3rd Graders must write every day. So... I could use a little lesson here. Grandmas should be writing every day too. It's good for the soul.

Yesterday Little J and I got out a few of our treasures and some old magazines. Armed with scissors and glue sticks, we put together our favorite things collage. JJ's is a bit sparse but that's OK. The things he chose are a pretty good selection of just where he is at today... Yugioh cards, pizza, pancakes and fond remembrances of his big trip. The big green bookmark centered on the page... let's just say he really misses his uncle.

Now about my collage. Let's just say... I have a lot of catching up to do with my writing... and life.

Cleanliness Is Next To…

A while back while on a quest for products to do the annual obligatory spring cleaning, I started my search with window cleaner in the aisle of Target, I heard a voice behind me. It was kind of an anonymous whisper, “Vinegar.” I turned around to see a 50ish kind of woman with long graying hair. In defiance I picked up the manufactured window cleaner containing ammonia and who knows what else that is bad for you.

Around the corner, I sought out bathroom cleaner. The voice again behind me squeaked, “Vinegar.” I recognized the plaid flannel shirt and worn out jean and shoved a can of aerosoled bathroom cleaner into the basket. I threw in some extra strength toilet bowl cleaner for good measure.

The shelves on the next aisle held a broad assortment of kitchen cleaners. I wanted something all purpose. Behind me again, I heard “Vinegar.” The voice was a bit louder and more persistent this time. I didn’t bother to look at the perpetrator and instead grabbed two bottles of bleach scented kitchen cleaners… one for counters and a stronger one for floors.

Pet odor eliminator was next on the list and the orange scented spray bottle of deodorizer seemed like it might do the trick. BUT, there she was right behind me. This time I beat her to it. “Vinegar,” I blurted out. She rolled her eyes in response and taunted, “No, baking soda.”

Funny thing, spring cleaning has been a slow process this year. Part of the reasoning is that I work fewer hours at “paying” work so now the house work doesn’t need to be a frantic weekend activity. Instead, I have a commitment to do at least one task on that spring cleaning list every day off from work. The list sits on the edge of the desk, most of the easy ones having already been tackled. What leaped out at me today was the dreaded window cleaning. Unfortunately, when I checked out the cleaning supply cabinet, I found someone had raided it. The ammonia cleaner was gone. The voice came back… “Vinegar.” Knowing a trip to the store would sabotage the agenda, I looked for a recipe on the internet: 1/4 cup undiluted white vinegar, 1 tbsp cornstarch, 1 quarter warm water to be applied with a spray bottle and wiped dry with crumpled newspaper. With Monday newspaper short on pages and the Sunday news long gone to the recycle bin, I didn’t get far. The patio door and three kitchen windows are indeed streakless but with my new excuse of environmental consciousness, I refuse to get into the paper towels.

Now would someone please tell me how to get the newspaper ink out from under my fingernails?

Rusty Secrets

Rusty bear and I have shared this journey through life for 61 years since his arrival in a package from Dad on my first birthday. I've lost count how many times he's been packed away to move from house to house. Over the years he has been a steady comfort, sharing pillows from crib to king size. (OK, so I don't sleep with him anymore but he does sit on my nightstand when darkness comes).

His body holds the secrets of our parallel lives. The fur that is matted and worn, bald in some spots, honors years of toddler cuddling, tweenage tea parties, teenage rants, newlywed neglect, new mom blues, and diminished house cleaning attempts. I remember when Mom gave him new button eyes in his early years; now he has only one, barely hanging by a thread. The zippered pocket sewn inside his left leg in the thirteenth year, held a stash of teenage secrets. Rusty and I may be well worn around the edges but as long as the stuffing doesn't fall out, I think the secrets are safe.

Birthday Cards

I won’t see my son on my birthday this year; nor will I see him on his birthday five days later. But, he sends a card, a card that was artfully done with the only tools he has, short colored pencils and cheap white all purpose paper. There is a message attached to the card. He apologizes for not having enough money to buy me a ticket. As I look at the cartoon, I smile then laugh at the humor. The picture is worth much more to me than a ticket to the most costly of all concerts. Even more important, it appeases my sorrow knowing that my son can still maintain his sense of humor in his sad situation.

Mug Cakes 101

OK so I weighed in this morning and was pleased to find that I was still 1.5 pounds under my goal weight. By noon I was craving a celebration and I remembered seeing something somewhere about a microwave cake in a mug. By 12:02 I found google results for hundreds of pounds of these tidbits. It seems everyone has their own variation somewhere in their blog. Everyone but me anyway.

I started mixing the basic ingredients: 4 tbsp flour, 4 tbsp sugar, and pinch of baking soda. I added the beaten egg and stirred thoroughly. Then I added the other basic ingredients one by one: 3 tbsp milk then 3 tbsp oil. Someone had suggested a splash of vanilla so I stirred that in too. I poured it into a well greased mug, stirred in a couple tablespoons of chocolate chips and stuck it in the microwave for 3 minutes. I dumped the lopsided cake (it's supposed to be that way) onto a plate immediately just like it said in the recipes. I let it cool... for about 15 minutes... if I had read the blog comments, I might have known better. Next time I'll dump and eat immediately to avoid chewing my way through a rubbery sugar fix.

No, I did not calculate the point value. I don't want to know.

Yesterday’s News

We have a regular morning routine in our household. Just as I finish my morning bowl of mush, hubby takes the bowl away and brings my coffee. (Note: I have never asked him to do this… he just does it). Usually it’s about the same time that I turn to the obituary page. Usually he stands over my shoulder and picks out at least one picture and comments, “That guy looks familiar” or “Geeze they all look so young.” Yesterday as he looked over my shoulder he exclaimed, “Wow they changed the format of the obituaries, I don’t think I like it.”

”Look again,” I say “It’s the new survivors”…

Xfinity and Beyond

Monday evening hubby and I settled in to my warm bed to watch the weekly episode of House. Half way through the program up popped an ad for an Iphone Xfinity App. Curious as to how I could remotely control my TV without an official Comcast remote, I promptly reached for the Iphone and downloaded the app. With a patient tweak here and there I discovered I could indeed control my TV DVR plus the one in the living room.

Little J was curled up on the sofa in the living room watching cartoon network. Hmmm, I thought, I could play a trick on him now. I could change the channel and he wouldn't have a clue as to what was going on. So I did. And it worked. Shrieks came out of the living room, "Grandma something happened to the TV." Hubby and I laughed as he came stomping into the room and we quickly confessed that Grandma discovered a new Iphone app and was just playing around to see if it worked. We assured him his show would be back on the living room TV before he could return to it.  It worked.

Getting back from  the distractions, House was  moving right along and getting close to the final commercial break when the TV went haywire. It seemed to be searching for channels, flipping back and forth from cartoons to DVR to House. I tried to break the cycle and wondered if it had been a mistake to download an Iphone app and if perhaps the internet had taken over every TV in the house. I reached for the Comcast remote and turned the TV off. It flipped back on. I turned off the DVR. It flipped back on. I reached for the Iphone and turned it off. I missed the end of House and only hoped that the back up recording was in order. After a good ten minutes and with increasing frustration, I picked up the Iphone again thinking I would delete the app and all would be well. All of a sudden Little J appeared in our doorway, all giggles and grins, "It's all a joke Grandma." There he was with his remote control which just happened to work on my TV too. I'll never figure out how that little trickster managed to keep so quiet for so long.

This morning I reminded him that he had played the last trick so now it was my turn to get even. He looked at me with those sweet innocent brown eyes,  "It's OK Grandma. I'm ready and I already have my next plan."

Possum Pie

For years we have had deer roaming our hillside. Each spring we look forward to seeing the procession of does with new little Bambies and an occasional buck. We chuckle when they pass through the fenced in boundary of our neighbor’s yard to nibble on her latest delicate flowers.

There is the morning ritual that begins with the doling out of dry cat food to the cats, as we watch the sleepy eyed raccoon pop up from his little nest halfway up the hillside. I’m prepared as I huff back up the driveway to chase him away with the daily newspaper.

By noon the turkeys have polished off the latest dusting under the bird feeder and are strutting their way around our yard, evil glaring eyes daring us to try to get from the back door to our cars.

Owls keep us awake at night, blue jays torment the cats and someone in the neighborhood taught the mocking birds early morning wake up calls.

Skunks leave behind odiferous reminders as they pass through the yard, perhaps having been disturbed by one of the six cats that reside at our address.

I cringe when I think of the huge tarantula that I removed from middle of the kitchen last week. It managed to sneak in under the back door. I'm plagued with spiders but at least the termites are gone.

The cats earn their keep with weekly deposits of rat heads and tails on our doorstep. I've learned to look before I step these days.

But here's the latest. I'm searching the internet for a recipe for possum pie...