So here we are at day what- 67? without A/C?  To be sure, Progress Energy is doing a remarkable job of reducing the numbers of those without power. I, with partial power have no room to complain. I have received a recent call from PG that they are working in my area.

I would vote me off. Yes, I have continued to work hard during this last immunity challenge. Yes, I did finish the staining of the deck. Yes, I did forage and found a squash to cook. But I was not a team player and I am probably one of the strongest women of this tribe of one. So, I vote me off. Let me go home to be part of the jury in an air conditioned hotel with pedicure priveleges. I will happily view footage of my performance. I vote SusanofPudlin - first Survivor Florida member off the island. The tribe has spoken.

Today is day four with partial power. I may get a bit cranky. The temperature inside is a balmy 90 degrees in the afternoon. It cools off around midnight to only 80 degrees. All available fans are running. I finally was able to reach Progress Energy. On Sunday, some 300 thousand in Pinellas County were without power - any power. Today that number is in the area of 70 thousand. I can only imagine how hard those people are working. I do appreciate them and I hope that they are compensated well for the dedication exhibited throughout this amazing hurricane season.

On other news: the neighbor chopped up the tree that was decorating the deck. Henry is planning to help facilitate deck clean up this morning. The fee for his services is a bowl of pho'. I can handle that.

Since it is way too hot to be in, I used yesterday as an opportunity to clean the bar bathroom. The bar and bath have been neglected for way too long. I got out there, cleaned up the bath and took a shower in it for the first time in about five years. That bar was Joseph's pride and joy. It kills me to be in it. But progress is being made on that front too. I have to take ownership of it. Which means I have to take care of it as well. I had forgotten how pleasant it is to shower out there. For one thing, it is pretty big. And it is nice and there is a cool little seat in the shower. Now, it has a cool new shower curtain and towels. There is stuff in there again. Shower gels and stuff. So Henry and I went to Target last night and I got one of my favorite gadgets.... Lysol toilet brush. The one with the cartridge inside that squirts the cleaning stuff into the toilet. Love those things. Also LOVE Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Try them.

So off to the races for me. The race is on to see if I can get the laundry done before I am 50 years old. All of this rain and hurricane junk has every towel in this place smelling like mildewed wet dog.

Cheers!

Spices: Salt (1 teaspoon), soy sauce (1 tablespoon), sugar (1 teaspoon), white pepper powder, cornstarch, sesame oil.

Procedure: 1) Soak bean noodles in water and cut into four sections. Dice mushrooms, carrots, baby corns, water-chestnuts and celery. Julienne red pepper.

The power went out for a couple hours only. Gratefully..... I was told that someone with black curly hair reaaalaalllllly had to pee.... so I let them out. Lacy went over to the fence near the orchid tree and I looked. Then looked again. That section of fence was listing and the tree was pressing against it. Lacy came in, Colin blessed the same spot. 15 minutes later, I heard the crash. The tree is now draped across my deck. It could have been way worse. It could have hit the house. It could have killed my dogs. It could have landed in the pool. It could have happened AFTER the new fence was installed. It did none of this. It just took out old rotten fence and casually draped itself like a feather boa across my deck. Surely I am blessed.

Now, enough with the hurricanes already. Today - here in St. Petersburg, Florida, we are getting a visit from Jeanne. Now sister in Orlando, who has already endured Charley and Frances personally, is again without power. This will go down in her scrapbook as the summer of no power.

Currently I still have power. I also have a massive oak tree and a massive avocado tree right outside that look like they want to come in the quick way. So if you never hear from me again, you may assume that I have met my end in a very dramatic way. Please, someone write about it, won't you? To be sure, it would be my preference to be impaled by an oak tree branch in a hurricane than to end my days in a wheelchair stained with urine in some nursing home Alzheimers ward.

To say that we are weary of hurricanes is so lame as to be pointless. I will merely report as I am able that I am a) still breathing and b) that Mimi is still breathing and c) that Henry is still breathing. I have no idea what this day will mean to him with regard to work. They are telling us not to drive, yet his position may well require him to go in early and stay until this is over.

So for now, I will hunker down quietly and keep tabs on my flashlights and my dogs. Which reminds me.... need to gather up leads and extra collars. Later gator..... film at eleven.

Today was the gathering for my eldest son's 12th birthday. The festivities included hot dogs, chips, cupcakes and ice cream. Young grandson was gifted with his Robosapiens. Hope he loved it. Bet by next week the thing will be cleaning his room. Henry came for hot dogs and taking lots of photos. I took lots as well. I got a couple of good ones of Henry. Will post later.

I had the predictable craft project ready for the children. This one involved glue and beads and foam. They enjoyed it.

On another note: I don't feel well. Just that vague coming down with a cold or something thing going on. Which did not prevent me from having a great time at the neighbors extended housewarming... I probably infected 25 people with my germs.

This evening I went to buy stuff. A woman came out of a side street. It appeared that she was driving like a nut case.

The thought occurred to me. What if I crossed that intersection a millisecond earlier? Oddly enough, my first thought was that I would want Boo there. What does this mean?

To be sure, I should have edited this more carefully to begin with. What I "meant" was, that if I lived, I would want Henry there - in hospital. NOT there for accident, you hosers.

In the spirit of optimism and working toward being about as happy as a person wishes to be (Somerset Maugham) I offer the following list of ten good things that happened here in the house of Pudlin:

1. My pal Richard found a cool old door that we bartered (he got tools) for him to hang as my new and improved back door. He did what he could, and confessed that I would need to get professional help with the locks. To date - about 2 weeks, it was locked with a promise and had a wad of painters tape over the holes for the knob. Today that ended. Henry's handyman (now MY handyman) tweaked the door hanging so that it now is proper. He also dredged up a cool shabby chic knob set that works. AND the lock is secure. Double key deadbolt.


2. Henry was present - in email at least - from the moment I awakened. Always quietly in the background, until I need him, he is a presence that is reassuring and comforting.


3. Stephanie dropped by to thank me for taking care of her little dog. What, like she didn't make sure mine were good for 2 years? Good friends. Good thing.


4. Tomorrow is the celebration for my eldest grandson. I am REALLY excited about the Robosapien. I wish I was not having to sacrifice participation in Yom Kippur... but I only have so many options.


5. Fall is in the air.


6. Every time I see a piece of furniture that I scored at that auction, I smile.


7. I can find photos and I can find supplies. This represents no small feat. You want to know where that particular sticker is? I know. You need what color stamp ink? It is right here.


8. Henry will be here tomorrow for the small birthday celebration. And that makes me happy. To have him participate in my family.


9. This may seem silly, but it is important. I did a piece of stuff today, for grandson's scrapbook that was a lot of work, but is really satisfying. My grandkids CLAMBOR to see their "books". Like all children, they love to look at pictures of themselves and read about what they were like as babies. I might get crazy and photograph this piece when it is finished and let you all see. For now, let me suffice to say that I did a 4 page spread with the theme Extra! Extra! Justin is TWELVE. If someone had done that for me when I was 12, I would be jazzed.


10. My furry babies are happy, safe, healthy, and relaxed throughout my safe little cottage.

Why do jack-o-lanterns have silly smiles on their faces?

You would too if all your brains had been scooped out.

How to you fix a broken Jack - o - Lantern?

You USE A PUMPKIN PATCH!

What do you get when you take the circumference of a pumpkin and divide it by its diameter?

Pumpkin Pi

Many of you are watching as the Heni and Susan - "the real story" made for Lifetime movie unfolds. Today was Henry's day off. He arrived about 4pm and surprise! he had dinner ingredients all set to go in a pan. Also, tucked under his arm was a bottle of wine and a couple of DVD's.

We decided on a walk on the beach. We also were intending to stop in a store I like on the beach for a scrapbooking item I saw there some time ago. Lo and behold, no longer available.

We walked on the beach. It was nice. We have gotten to the point where silences are neither awkward nor uncomfortable. They are what they are. Comfortable silence. The air must not always be buzzing with conversation. We returned home to allow Chef Heni to whip up dinner. It was fabulous, as always. Pan sauteed grouper and vegetable stir fry along with some stir fry veggie rice. Along with a wine that does not deserve a return visit. We looked at some pictures..... and talked and talked and talked. Now, some people flip through photos that you hand them. Henry takes them in. Absorbs them. Takes note of the furniture in the background. The look in the eye. We talked some more about the photos. Mind you, we went through only a small section of photos, specifically of me. Some of vacations, some hiking. Those times when I was more alive than I have ever been since.

We started watching a DVD, and soon lost attention. Fade to black.

In previous posts, I have alluded to my poorly formed concept of what is expected at any given age. That we are in uncharted waters. This is a cool thing for me. What I am doing, is trying to be in the moment. What I am doing, is focusing on the feeling right now. Be here now. There are no expectations of what tomorrow might look like. So I am free to truly revel in what his eyes look like. What his hand feels like in mine. What his lips are telling me when they kiss me.

I think I might see him again.

Here is my methodology for photo organization: (a number have asked) -

1. I got pretty shoe boxes from a craft store and dividers from Staples. I labeled each section with my labelmaker.


2. I started at the beginning. For me, I broke it down by subject matter. I have sections for each grandchild and each important person in my life. I have sections for photos of my sister and me, my mother and me, etc.


3. I based the subjects by likely scrapbooking pages. So the photos of my daughter and I are divided by daughter and daughter and me.


4. I took it one section at a time. I tried to label each section based on what would make it memorable for me. Without becoming too wrapped. IOW, the photos of all of us in the pool in Port Charlotte are lumped together with all the Port Charlotte photos.


5. I am not finished. But I made a dent. That is enough for today.


6. Oh, large photos went into page protectors in a loose leaf binder. For later.

So I made a significant dent. More to come.

The sconces in the bedroom went on again. To make it even more interesting, Henry saw the lights flicker that I have mentioned. But the most bizarre thing is this:

I went to check on the chef's dog. Both chefs are cooking out of town all week so I let her out about midday for her comfort. Before I walked over this morning to see if I needed to add her to my agenda (verifying that the key is in place) I took the dumpster from the side of the garage to the front of the house. I mention this because it means that I had to walk in front of the garage. When  I returned, the garage door was open. Anyone who has an explanation, kindly pass it on. The garage door is electric. The opener is a two button system so that you cannot accidently hit one button and open or close it. The dogs are locked out of the garage by a gate between the laundry room and garage and the door between the kitchen and the laundry room. Furthermore, smart as they may be, (Chuck excluded) they don't have the paw width to hit both buttons simultaneously. Now here is MY explanation: Ready?

I went to the grocery store last night to purchase the ingredients (and coffee - I was completely out!) for a new crock pot recipe for Moussaka. I am sure that I locked my car, but apparently not. In the back seat, pretty as a picture was my daytimer - replete with a ton of credit cards. I think that the garage door was opened so that I would be surprised enough to look around and realize that the car was open as well. I was not gone more than 5 minutes. The chefs live two doors down. How long could it have been for me to walk to their front porch and back? Yet, there it is.

The moussaka is currently in the slow cooker. I will let you know how it turns out.

UPDATE: I went outside again. Guess what was open? The garage door. Please advise!

In days gone by, I cooked. Not just toss this and that into a pot cooked. I cooked. Paella parties, things that required research and thought. I used to make pasta from eggs and flour. I know how to do a mole'. I made tortillas from scratch. I am familiar with pisole'. Seriously, there was a time that I considered attending the Culinary Institute of America (CSI). I jazz about entertaining and preparing food for family and friends.
I have lost that along with my fan club of one. Joseph was a guy that got star treatment 3 times a day. I was a big breakfast kind of person. Omelets, memorable ones, french toast made with interesting left over bread, bagels and varieties of cream cheeses, frittatas... I did them all. To an admiring, ever waist expanding audience of one.
Then, lunch... he would come home for lunch, never knowing what that might mean. The "plane" might have landed anywhere on the globe that interested me on that day. My day revolved around making his life better. If that meant cooking, bonus. If it meant taking his mother somewhere, ok. If it meant that I could paint, sew, quilt, whatever... then I was happy. I was always happy. But every day he came home for lunch. And lunch was there.
Then dinner - but it might be dinner with friends or out or something really light because lunch was a Thai concoction of major caloric intake.
Sunday mornings were the best. I would do what I did. He would read the paper and tell me what might intrigue me. It MADE ME NUTS. By the time I served breakfast, I was overwhelmed with news and could not read anything without him telling me about what he was currently reading. C'mmmmonnnn!!! How could I catch up??? But to have yet one more Sunday.... I would give my life. ONE more moment of one more Sunday.

These ten things I love that start with the letter H:

1. Henry - he is the most. He is the kindest. He is the best packer that you have ever seen. And I do love him dearly. He is very very very smart. Smarter than he lets on. Craftier than he lets on. Suave and debonair too.


2. Hats. Now what can be better than a vintage hat except a handcrafted "vintage" hat gifted to you by your sister?


3. Handmade anything. If someone crafted it, probably it is better.


4. Home cooked meals.


5. Happy people.


6. Horticulture. Wish I was good at growing things.


7. Habits, good ones... like making beds and being on time.


8. Holidays. My favorites are Thanksgiving and Passover, not necessarily in that order.


9. Halloween! LOVE dressing up in my poodle outfit and handing out candy to the children. Love the parties.


10. Herbs. LOVE them. Especially rosemary. Which Henry planted in a big old tub for me on the deck. Along with sage and basil.

Catchy titles build traffic. But, there is a segue in there somewhere. But let me begin at the beginning, for a change.
My day began when I rolled out of bed and did my morning routines. Sunday is clean sheet day. Bed was stripped and made. Toilet was swished. Bathroom was a wreck. Whole house was a wreck with bits of furniture looking for a home all over the place. Stuff that will be looking for a new home was still in the house. It was very full.
The garage has become a dumping ground. I can hardly bear to be out there, for it was Joseph's domain and the air is thick with memories. So I have become guilty of cutting and running. I toss stuff out there and it piles up. AND up and up. To the point that it was physically impossible to walk through it. Now, the windows will be delivered on September 30th and the cabinets on October 16th. I NEED the garage to store them until installation. But I procrastinate like a professional procrastinator. Henry, bless his heart, has offered and offered and offered to help clean it up. I have not wanted to have him working in my garage on his day off because when you have a day off, it should be fun. Or working in your own garage. But he insisted and I finally relented. However, the first order of business was lunch. We had some lunch at a Chinese restaurant (with the current trend, I may turn into a fortune cookie. You are what you eat!) Then we headed to a couple of stores to see what might be seen in the way of new bedding for Henry. He has decided that his current comforter has seen better days. We compared and contrasted the merits of Matellaise, quilts, and comforters. He is pretty much sold on the quilt theory but is considering one comforter that struck him due to the color scheme. It was fun to look at the displays. I would look with his taste in mind and point out the ones that I thought would appeal to him. I was right on the money. It is easy. He found TWO new wastebaskets. Bed, Bath and Beyond was an eye opening experience for him. He was speechless. I was, of course, in my element. I got a shower curtain and a shower cap.
We left there and went to pick up the jewelry that I had in for repairs. I have been jazzing about getting back my jewelry and it was thrilling. Finally I can wear my mother's rings and charm bracelet. I had my grandmother's screw back earrings worked for alpha backs for pierced ears. So cool. Want to see me happy? See me in hats and vintage jewelry.
We checked another couple of stores for bedding to no avail. He will ruminate on this for a while. And he pressed for the garage cleanup. And pressed.... until I caved. We went home and I deblinged (oooh goody, I think I have just built a new word! Deblinged, the past tense of debling - meaning to remove jewelry. ) Then we headed into that vast black hole. The final frontier. He promised that we would only spend an hour or so. We moved stuff out (my kayak and bike) and began sorting and prepping for the imminent garage sale. He never complained. Packed boxes like a pro. Put up with my incessant whinging. Swept and sorted and made sense of it all. And smiled that smile a couple of times. He prodded me on when I got distracted with the tough stuff. He teased and cajoled and distracted me. And before I knew what was happening, we could walk through. Now all the keep stuff is along one wall. All the garage sale stuff is organized by category and along the other side. All the trash is in Henry's truck on its way to an unknown location. So in case any of you are wondering where the best boyfriend in the world is, *I* know. He is right here. Kissing me.
So once THAT monumental task was wrapped, we took all 5 chairs that have been replaced into the garage and I can now move around IN the house too! Then we called in a pizza and crashed and burned on the couch. All in all, another fabulous day.

ONE of the things that I am not nuts about regarding me (and there are a number of them) is my capacity to read into things stuff that is not there. Case in point: flipping through the online guide. I see "Pimping Gas" where clearly it reads (if one is patient enough to actually READ) Pumping Gas. This unattractive trait rears its ugly head in other genres as well. I am in such a damn hurry to have fun that I will frequently finish other people's thoughts. The effect is the same - wrong! I am thinking come on! Hurry up! Finish the sentence and out blurts some imbecilic nonsequiter that is totally different, confusing, irrelevant, and out there that I am continually surprised that my tolerant family and friends don't JAP slap me into unconsciousness. And THAT my friends, is the tip of the iceberg.

Brought to you by the letter T. These ten things that start with "T" that I am not all jazzed about.

1. Tests that involve blood. 


2. Trellises - actually, I like trellis - I HATE painting them.


3. Tropical Storms - ENUFF already.


4. Tight anything - I go for comfort, not speed.


5. Telephone calls that start with "Get someone to drive you, don't drive yourself."


6. Temporary fillings and restraining orders.


7. Tee shirts with advertisements.


8. Toxic shock syndrome.


9. Transients.


10. Taxes. MOST of all, taxes.

Not crazy about the word hate: so -

1. Rats. I know, I know there are some what keep them as pets. You ratkeepers are on your own. Just keep Ben out of my sweater drawers. You know who you are.


2. Republicans - See #1 above.


3. Rabies - nuff said.


4. Rodents - oh, already went there


5. Redundancy - especially built in redundancy.


6. Riptides


7. Rhinovirus


8. Retrovirii


9. Runny eggs


10. Rudeness

Does a dog have the capacity to differentiate between a pair of cast off tennis shoes and a pair of Manolo Blahniks? Probably not. Does a dog have the comprehension necessary to reason: this is designated chew shoe, all other shoes are off limits? Probably not. Therefore, is giving a dog a shoe for a chew toy a good idea? Not so much. If for no other reason than extracting parts of shoes from the stomach the hard way is expensive. My dogs have been notoriously bad lately about eating objects that are potentially life threatening and just plain bad for them. The latest are Brillo pads, rat poison, houseplants, and panties (my dogs are very tall and can scale tile walls. I swear they stand on each other's shoulders to get to the delicate laundry bag hanging on the inside of a locked door. One of them bought a skeleton key at a yard sale, but I digress). Truth is, it is my fault and my responsibility to keep them safe and I let them down. I got real damn lucky, but the guilt is there.

Ask any veterinarian what they have removed from the stomachs of goats (errrrr dogs). You will get a laundry list of innappropriate chew toys. For my dogs, rawhide is not appropriate. Rawhide is swallowed in large chunks and swells in the gut. Emergency surgery is the only alternative. Nylabones are about all they get out of me. They can chew on them for months and the nylon breaks off in tiny shreds that pass normally.

But back to the topic at hand. Dogs chewing shoes. I see a terrible future for dogs who have not been shown that the only things that they are to put into their mouths either are in a food dish or a toy box just for them. So here is the scene running in my head.

Puppy is given an old shoe. Puppy chews and it is all good to him. It is cute as all get out and there are pictures to be taken. Puppy grows up and so do his jaws. Now he can rip and tear reallll gooood. The shoe is like a piece of zebra carcass to the hunter in him. He will rip and tear and it is Chicken Soup for the Canine Soul to him. And then he walks into a room and there is another shoe. Whoooohooo!!! Lucky DOG am I!! He thinks as he settles down for some more of that there zebra carcass. He has a nice long chew.... and feels the need to go outside to pee. He is, after all, a good boy and has learned that peeing inside is bad. He goes to the door, asks to be let out. He is let out. He goes to find the spot to pee. It must be just right. Just then, the new fresh carnage is discovered. The evidence is run out to find the culprit. Just as he raises his leg to pee on the Jacaranda, he hears the angry voice of his mommy! Wait! I thought I was SUPPOSED to pee here. Maybe peeing is bad? No, wait, I get it! Peeing in front of Mommy is bad. No, that can't be right. Peeing OUTSIDE is bad.

Has he any idea that the problem is a lump of saliva covered Cole Haan remains in Mommy's hand? No clue. Does Mommy have clue one what she has just done, i.e. taught dog that peeing is bad? Probably not. Nor will she "get it" the next time that a pair of shoes is destroyed. What is more likely is that a decision will be made that he is a "bad" dog and he will end up in the shelter or some rescue group will get a call and then they will pick him up and take him somewhere strange and he will not know why. If he is reallllly lucky, he will be placed. If the shelter is overcrowded, he will be murdered. Not euthanized, for he is not in pain or sick, he is just unwanted because he cannot tell the difference between Payless and Ferragamo.

Lynne http://lynne.tblog.com/" title="http://lynne.tblog.com/" target="_blank"http://lynne.tblog.com/ brought up this panty swap chainletter thingy which got me thinking.

1. How do you deal with the size issue? How do you send off panties in say size 7 to someone who might wear a 5?


2. You know, panties are to art as Degas is to ballet. So how can you have a panty swap when I *know* that I might receive some horrible purple things or panties with cartoon characters or worse.


3. Just as some men wear boxers and some wear briefs and some wear boxer briefs, there is a thong for everyone. But not every thong is for every body. Personally Body By Victoria is the bomb for comfort. But there are others that, well.... not so much. What if I get those thongs that dip in the front, or those boy leg jobbers or gasp! Full panties - AKA granny panties, that I will never have any use for them.


4. AND as panties are another location primed for jewelry, how could one be sure to get a worthy "canvas"?


5. AND how in the world could you possibly wear panties that do not match the bra? I am not talking white bra, white panty. I am talking white bra with chantilly lace and seed pearls and white panty with chantilly lace and seed pearls. SAME lace. SAME pearls. SAME fabric, thank you very much. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule that fall under the "what do you wear under yard work clothes" but that is the exception, not the rule of course.

So, all things being equal (does not apply to panties) I think I will stick with Lynne and use the old fashion method of panty purchasing. And one more thing.... you know how VS always can be counted upon for the buy three at this magical sale price tables with panties laid out like gems in a jewelry store? Why can I always find TWO that I like and have to settle for the third because they don't have my size in the color I want? What is UP with that?

Cheerfully snagged from my darling niece:

1. Waking to find Lacy belly up looking for a tummy rub.


2. Racing down the stairs (daily event) to feed my crew of three.


3. Coffee - with whatever is the creamer de jour.


4. Email - there will be one from Henry - a song, poem, card, some little indication that he has thought of me from the time he went to sleep to let me know he cares.


5. Tblog comments. Those who regularly check in, then the newbies.


6. Lingerie - MY secret... I am a junkie. Be it underwear, nightwear, I am a lingerie whore. I LOVE lovelies. I wear them for me, for Henry, in the event of accident. To be sure, if I am the victim of an unfortunate accident - when they cut off my outer wear, they will all be thrilled to see whatever the concoction de jour is. I can be sure.


7. HDTV. Nuff said.


8. Friends and family - Lisa never sees this. Lisa was there for me that last night.


9. Claudia -


10. Colin - my boy, my love, my champion. You who regularly head butt me, who refuse to participate in compliance. You are your own dog. I respect you. I admire you. I wish only that you would be just a "titch" more amenable to discipline.


11. My sister.....


12. My niece, who somehow has been able to continually see me for the me that I am. Without judgement. Tough to do. I respect that.


13. Henry.

In a variation of Rock, Scissors, Paper maybe?

I have been reeaaallll busy this morning. I don't know why I did, but I felt compelled to check the pool skimmer. Good thing, as there was a tree frog frantically trying to escape what to him/her must have been a rip tide of gigantic proportions. AND with sheer walls that were slick to boot. So I fished him/her out and set him/her on the pool deck. That is how I gathered that exhaustion was at hand. I didn't want the dogs to kill him/her so I went to get a towel to pick up him/her. When I approached, s/he dove straight back into the pool. So I fished him/her out again and placed him/her in the tree.

Then I began the arduous process of raking up the leaves. Now, with Charley and Frances we had some pretty good wind and rain. All of which knocked out a bunch of leaves. All of which potentially could end up in the pool. Besides, they are just messy. It is too big a job for one person, but my choices are limited. So I decided to eat the elephant one bite at a time. As my heroine FlyLady says "you can do anything for 15 minutes". I raked and bagged and raked and bagged some more. Somewhere I forgot about the 15 minutes and managed to rake up SIX bags of leaves. Everywhere I raked looked so much better that I kept it up for the whole morning. Now, raking here involves more than just raking..... three dogs, remember? So the yard is pretty much pooper scooped to boot. AND the grossest thing.... as if pooper scooping is not gross enough, I am wandering around looking for land mines and found a rat corpse. YUCH! Under the dining room window! YUCH! Where the last of the two rat doors is waiting to be attached so that they had time to get out of the attic. I hate rats so much. I truly hate them. But I love the way my deck looks without the leaves. Now off to the shower go I.

In the house of Pudlin, there are three very distinctly different dogs. They are ages: five, four and three. Two are black standard poodles. The eldest is a mixed breed girl ( Chuck) who likes to think she is a poodle. The hair on the stairs tells a different story.
I of course, love them all. Heni and others close to me know that I have a favorite and who that is. You could guess from fifty paces that it is Lacy. Now, Colin's breeding is more elegant. Lacy is the product of two poodles. Colin's heritage was a carefully orchestrated dance. Lacy had health issues from the word go. Even as a baby, I recognized that she was not of breeding quality. She was spayed at the earliest chance. Colin, on the other hand, comes from a long line of very carefully thought out breeding. Colin would add considerably to the gene pool. Colin has had every advantage. I have carefully groomed, trained and shown him to his current championship status. Lacy had nothing to gain, other than that I love her dearly and she is so very smart. So I took her on and we worked and indeed, she earned her Companion Dog title.
Colin is a champion of record. Lacy is a titled obedience dog. Chuck goes into the alley with me. At the end of the day, it is Lacy who made me laugh, Colin who makes me proud, and Chuck who would take a bullet for me.

For all of you who have friends of the Jewish faith, this week is a big deal. Specifically, Thursday the 16th. This is Rosh Hashana - sometimes referred to as the Jewish New Year. To be sure, one would think that the new year would fall in the first month of the calender, nu? But no, this is the 7th month of the Jewish calender. Why, you ask? Because there are a couple of other "new years" too. Just like the American system, there are several things that sort of chime in a new season. Fiscal years begin in March. The new school year starts in September. Then there is the onset of football season. Rosh Hashana is kind of that thing.
So go buy some apples and slice them up and dip them in honey and wish all of your cool friends L'Shana Tova! For a sweet new year.

The recent repairs by handydude were not quite right. To be sure, the rat proofing is great. The windows are wonderful. BUT the lattice on the screen porch was incomplete. There was a piece missing and the stuff he put up was not painted.
So I was going to Home Depot to get the correct size basket for the pool (the same basket that I have been asking pool guy to replace for months) and the replacement mesh thingy for getting the leaves out of the pool. I decided this morning that Ivan is going to have to go somewhere else. I then fished out the furniture from the bottom of the pool and got dressed to go to HD. Well, apparently when I was in the pool, Henry called and I didn't answer. So he came over. We went to HD and then went for a bowl of pho. He went home, and my pal John showed up. John and I caught up (I haven't seen him since the funeral) and then he went on his way with strong admonitions to do a better job of spending time together.
Then, I just decided to tackle the porch. I measured and cut the lattice strip and nailed it in place. Then I put tape around everything and painted the replaced strips. Now, many of you are thinking big deal. Yes, it is a big deal. To me. To me who always had someone who did all that stuff and did it effortlessly. MY job was to look cute, and hand him tools, and make him lunch.

Richard got my new (old) door installed, partially. To be sure, it is in, and has a locking mechanism. But I will have to get a locksmith to retro fit the knob and adjust the lock. This old house requires old doors and windows. The replacement door came from a 1920's house. It is solid as the day it was made.
I worked on a few quilt squares and then cleaned up the dining area and kitchen. Am gearing up for the kitchen demolishion.
The latest news is that Ivan has strengthened to Cat 5 and is heading for the Caymans and southern Cuba. Great. They can't get any stronger than Cat 5.
AND on that note, I am going out while the getting is good. I hear a shoe store calling my name.

Here is the plan: It is 8:21 on Saturday morning. I have to get dressed and make the bed and the rest of the morning routine. Then, I begin the quilt.
But wait! Richard just called and the plan is to get my new back door installed. He has been putting it off for months and owes me the door (barter for tools). I have been worried about the existing door's safety under the duress of weather. So today will be door day! Yippee! Soon it will be fence day (week?) and window day and then kitchen month!

OK, this is getting old now. I have enough food for a cub scout troop and a baseball team. I have water, tuna, a gas mask (I don't know! Ask LOOPS what it is for!), meds for the dogs for 3 weeks, and beer and wine. This one is making me, old hand at storms, quite the nervous nellie. I am going to hunker down with some fabric, drag the treadle machine out of the closet (granting sister's wish) and whip up a Hurricane Ivan quilt.
Those of you who harken back to Mblog days may remember my marathon quilting long weekend when I took some fabric on Friday, and had a quilt by Tuesday. When the going gets tough, I sew. I quilted right through 9/11. It was all that I could do.

Snagged from IslandArtist

1. Tapioca


2. Ponchos


3. Tee backs


4. Voir dire


5. Motion in limine


6. Excelsior

About my day:

1. The deposition was the major event of the early part of the day. All that fretting over very little. He DID ask if Henry and I had separate rooms in our last St. Augustine trip - predictably.


2. Ivan the Terrible is eating the Caribbean and looks like he will make the mess that is Florida even more messy.


3. In my angst of preparation and hormonally challenged week, I have managed to be a real poop head to Heni. To his credit, he was tolerant and understanding. I really wonder sometimes, if I had an option, would *I* put up with me? Probably not.


4. To facilitate the kitchen redoux, I have begun packing and sorting and stuff. The dining table has become the clearing house. I am being ruthless, as in totally without ruth when it comes to elimination of clutter. To be sure, how many times in the past 5 years have I used that french fry cutter? Zero? Into the garage sale box it goes. My plan is to have the new and improved kitchen FlyLady approved. That is - NO clutter.


5. After the depo, I did some retail therapy. Let me just say - glamour, you are here - in my closet, in the form of a skirt with a billion pleats in the back. For trial, doncha know.


6. Heni de Boo was called right after exit from depo. I waltzed around Baywalk did some shopping, called him when I got home. He arrived and was his usual charming self. We went to Ted Peter's for dinner (I was starved) and then walked on St. Pete Beach for a half hour or so. We came back here, watched a movie - The Bourne Identity and spent quality time together. Heni has bonded with Chuck the Wonder dog. The "Wonder" part is "I Wonder what the hell I was thinking!"


7. I spent much of the day thinking how very fortunate I am. That I could express the anxiety of what this day meant to me here, and have so many send messages of caring and concern... means a lot.


8. I apparently did a good job in the deposition. My attorney said that it was "perfect". The opposing counsel asked regarding my relationship with Henry, if he had or I had talked about any future or marriage or anything like that. My answer was that - and I found myself beginning to cry - that when you had been through the kind of loss that I had endured, that you cannot even imagine thinking that kind of thing. That he has his life and home, and I have mine and right now - that is a good place to be. I didn't want to come across as glib or morose. I wanted to present as a person who while I think of my husband every day, indeed, every hour, that he and everyone else who is reasonable would expect that I would move on.


9. For the moment, I am ok with where I am, and who I am. I made it through the whole day relatively calm. I didn't kick hardly anyone and I only pulled my Honza sword a couple of times. But they deserved it.


10. I feel reasonably secure that Henry will be able to get past the bitchy pre depo me and that we are ok.... and that is a cool place to be.

The update depo went well. The basic premise was: how am I doing? Who am I doing? Can we make you look real bad in front of a jury? Not so much. I came across like the injured party who is doing her best to reconstruct her life but still is in pain. In short, I told the truth. They wanted to know if I was living some wild extravagant lifestyle (fortunately they didn't ask about the shoes) and going on extreme vacations. Weekends in the state of Florida really don't count for much. Doing some small repairs to my home didn't send off alarm bells. He was fishing and I was the sly ole' big one that got away.
But thanks to all of you who chimed in, sent positive vibes and were generally there for me. It really did help.

My mother's presence has made itself felt as I gear up to do battle tomorrow. Lordy, I hope that somehow they have tripped upon this here lil ole' blog.
My mother was the single most powerful woman I knew - under duress. She taught me much about how much appearances matter. Mostly to the person making one. She also taught me how to make an entrance but that is another story.
My mother imparted to me a sense of fashion that translates into feeling in control (IF you are clean, neat, well dressed, and wearing rocking underwear.) My undies rule. They have been the fodder for many a blog. To be sure, most of the "collection" is for my own pleasure and that has been the case for years. Most men, if they are answering anonymously, would report that skin is good. Less clothing the better. Any that MUST be worn should be easily and rapidly removable.
Tomorrow's ensemble would make mommy proud. Even the outer wear. I plan to wear a red turtleneck (power shirt) with a black and white houndstooth check skirt. The shoe de jour is a yes, houndstooth check pump. Simple, elegant, stockinged little understated me in perfectly lined lips plumped up with MAC Russian Red (sorry sissy - this is THE lippie I have replaced THREE times because I LOVE it). The jewelry will be subtle. The makeup will be subtle with emphasis on my mouth. Because tomorrow is all about what *I* have to say and that is a lot.

Tomorrow I will again be deposed regarding the events surrounding the death of my beloved husband through the gross negligence of a couple of doctors. It has been almost five years since his death. The opposing counsel would like to know if I still remember the details. They also would like to know if I have been able to "move on" with my life and what the status of my romantic life is at the moment. I know, you are thinking "what business is it of theirs!" Yes! Exactly! But they will ask and they would love to hear that there is a marriage or one soon to come. It would help mitigate the damages. But I have not remarried. They will ask about Henry and I will tell them the truth. As will he when they send him a letter asking him to "explain" the "nature" of the "relationship".
To be certain that I have all my ducks in a row, I am rereading my deposition and highlighting all the points of reference to dates and times. I have read the chronology that I wrote again. And I have cried again and again. But I will read it again this afternoon and again in the morning and I will be sure to be the best prepared deposee that they have ever had to deal with.

Ten Things about my day:

1. Tuesday Morning

GREAT place for stocking up on paper supplies and also found a hella cool tapestry for my shabby chic hovel.

2. Lunch with Stephanie – Village INN ( actually Village OUT) Just EXACTLY how can one make a chicken Caesar salad float more? Splain to me – you take the Romaine and you what… toss it in a sink? Then in the bowl? Drift the dressing on top? AND now I know where all those lunatics freed during the Nixon administration and the Reagan years were remanded.


3. Chunky Monkey – Way cool gift shop. First holiday gift of the season purchased here.


4. Jewelry robbers – Perhaps I should call it a “store”. I bought a piece of “jewelry” that fell apart on the third go. I brought it back with receipt and all. To be sure, they were good about exchanging. It has been an education. Wherever one shops, one must look around… take in the clientele…


5. Ann Taylor Loft – Last visit they gave me some NICE coupons that were redeemable today! HOOORay for MOI!!! So I shopped and bought some very very nice fall stuff. AND then the leeetle sleeeaze baquette went into zee back of zee store and brought out zee most fluffiest of sweaters what mit zee fur trim. DAMN it Janet!!!


6. Windows – Install guy showed up on time ( but not so “suited” mostly in fat guy tee shirt wear)


7. Bobbie – Oh funny story for later date about “investment  counselor” that wasn’t.


8. My own personal Jesus – Remember that song? Well, Carol and I were in the Pier One outlet and there was this little cloth manger about 6 inches in diameter. In it, was the single character of the baby Jesus. All the other cloth characters had been lost. They sold me the zippable manger with my own “personal Jesus” for a dollar. I got a charge out of it. I use it for keeping together the items used for dog ear care. Swaps, cotton wipes, medications etcetera. As you all are aware, if ANY one is going to get into trouble around here, it will be Lacy. Lacy is currently WAY pissed off at Jesus. Lacy’s ear is medicated twice daily from the contents of Jesus’ manger. She is torqued. I found her mouthing the manger just a minute ago. She has issues with Jesus.


9. OK so there are eight. Deal. I do, every day.

Last night, because of the impending kitchen doom, I began preliminary packing of objects used for fancy dinners, rarely used things, and the collective crap that is not required for day to day stuff. I found that I needed those totes that are scattered about the house. A couple are in the "office" filled with the ephemera with which I gift wrap. Around these here parts, gift wrapping is not a casual thing, it is an art form. Picture altered books meets mixed media.
So I took the contents and put them in a (forgive me for it is temporary) garbage bag and put that in my chiffarobe. AND, I went through two very difficult boxes. Box number one was ungothroughable (new word, thank me later) It contained all of the sympathy cards, letters, notes, roses, and memorobilia attached to the memorial service of my beloved. I opened an attic door and pushed it in. Later date - maybe. Box number two was labeled "thank you notes" and I wanted to be sure that it really was. Most of it was thank you notes. But some were cards and notes that we exchanged over the years. One tripped me up. It was a valentine. When I opened it, it whistled. This, after the lights in the sconces for the second time. Also in that box was the collection of photographs that I had to put together to be copied for opposing counsel. Nearly 5 years ago, they demanded every photograph, video and likeness of him. So, as a brand spanking new widow, I got to go through all of our albums and boxes of photographs and review. Did they need these? Probably not. Was it reasonable? Probably. Was the real motivation that I might fall apart and drop the lawsuit? Most likely. Did I? To my credit and their dismay, most certainly not.
Now, on top of my pc is my favorite photograph of all time. It was taken by our friend Jeff, of the two of us in the pool. We used it on party invitations. We loved that photo. Tomorrow I intend to take it someplace to be scanned to disc and I will share it with all of you. The cliche' about a picture is worth a thousand words.....

Sometimes strange things happen here.
I spent some time this evening going through boxes of difficult to go through boxes.... cards sent to me in the aftermath of Joseph's death and another that contained tons of "thank you" cards that I once collected.
Earlier this evening, I went into my room and the two sconces were lit. I chalked it up to me moving a lamp down to the living room. Maybe I inadvertedly hit the dimmer switch near the head of the bed. I turned them off.
Tomorrow is Stephanie's birthday. I wrapped her gift in acres of paper, nylon tulle, ribbons, and artificial flowers. Opening a gift from me generally requires power tools. Just ask sister. I brought gift to her and stayed for a few minutes. Then I came home. Now, before I left, I went through each room to be sure that I had extinguished each candle. I have those tart burners going most of the time and don't like to leave them going when I am not here. So I am sure I went to my bedroom where there is one.
I just walked by, on the landing, and there was light emitting from up there. Now, if there were an intruder, surely the dogs would be going nuts. Dogs are calm. I walked up there, into my room. The two sconces cheerily lit the way. You do the math.

Just checking in, kids. I was without power for the past day. A neighbor's tree went over the back fence and into the alley. But other than that, I have a messy yard and a messy pool. I am very very fortunate.
I have heard from dear sister Mimi and she is fine. I have also heard from dear daughter and she is fine. So thank you for your thoughts and prayers. Now you get to fret over Ivan. Frankly, we are all getting a bit storm weary around here.

1. Lacy has a yeast infection in her ear. OUCH!!! Lacy is such a good girl that she tries very hard to let me clean and treat without biting me. Goooooood Lacy. Lacy, I have heard that eating rat poison and Brillo pads cause sore ears. Just so you know.


2. Much ado about Frances. For the LIFE of me, I cannot keep the female/male spelling straight. But the bottom line is that Frances (my new approach is that *I* is associated with the erect part- ergo male" is much ado about nothing. I do believe that Home Depot/Lowes/Chicken of the Sea and the bottled water companies are in bed with the media. Film at eleven.


3. The cabinets are a preemptive strike. Home Depot (or as dear gf Lisa calls it - Homo Depot) puts out a time line that scares people and potentially scars them for life. You want a kitchen? We can get that done in 8 to 12 years plus shipping and handling. To be sure, the cabinet folks (Kraftmaid) have become my new best friends. They call to see if I feel good. They asked about Lacy's yeasty ear. They said "gee we like you so much we moved your cabinet production up" New delivery date: October 16th.


4. New project: get garage cleared. New windows delivered end of September. New cabinets soon after.


5. I got a call from my lawyer tonight. New expert is in place. I am to be deposed again on Thursday. Or, grilled as the case may be. But my lawyer called because she is jazzed about my new expert witness...... this is all going to be alright.

Another storm is coming to Florida. For the blissfully unaware, my family is spread out over Florida like a schmear on a corned beef sandwich. This hurricane is beginning to resemble hurricane Andrew's ugly twin on anabolic steroids. In short, 3 times the size and a catagory 4 at this point. So it will be like comparing a .22 to a shotgun. It will go the same distance, but the scatter effect will impact more Floridians. We are all so very storm weary from Charley. Charley played cat and mouse with Tampa Bay (where *I* live) and struck south (where I used to live) and then inland to Orlando (where sister lives) with a vengeance. It is like a really bad Bruce Willis movie.... all destruction, no box office. Puts one to mind to say plumbing words. I am not looking forward to dumping the yard furniture back into the pool only to be fished out again. I am only just putting the front porch back together after Charley (one of these days, I will post photos of the very ornate and totally eclectic front porch - think early hippie meets Shabby Chic). So wish us well and G-dspeed. Let this one go the way of Floyd - the hurricane that changed his mind and went back out to sea to dissipate harmlessly.
On the positive side, I went grocery shopping and I swear, you cannot drive a sheet of paper into the freezer. If the water supply is not potable, I have plenty of bottled. My home is on one of the highest points in the land. A virtual mountain by Florida's standards. I can use the contents of the pool to flush the toilet for weeks. I can bathe in the pool if push comes to shove. I have plenty of gasoline (not going to catch me saying "I have gas") and cash. I am as ready as one can be for such a weather event. So, if anyone wants to come here, bring plenty of pennies... the Frances poker game is about to begin. Bring it on.