What's been happening in my little corner of the world

Summer has finally, officially arrived, and with it comes the heat!  Goodness, it's hot outside, and the meteorologists are predicting over-100 degree temperatures for next week.  These are a few of the things going on in my life this past week:

This was on the front of my refrigerator two nights ago.  It is a Black Witch moth, also known in Mexico as a Marisposa de la Muerta.  It is the largest noctuid (moth) in North America.  In some cultures the belief is if they visit a home where someone has recently died, they are the spirit of that person coming to say goodbye.  Mom...?  Personally, I think she'd be prettier than that!  At any rate, this darn thing had a wingspan of about 5".  Scared me silly!

Juneau (with a photobomb by Sitka).  He was watching me while I was on the computer.  If that face doesn't tug at your heart, you don't have one!

This is my new motto, courtesy of my friend Eric.  GYST stands for Get Your S**t Together.  Apologies for the language!  This is my reminder to get off my butt and get stuff done. 

And, since it's June, we don't want to wait too long to prepare for autumn and Christmas.  This was the scene in my local Hobby Lobby today.  I thought it was bad last year when this stuff appeared at the end of July; now it's June and here it is.  Do you think this is as ridiculous as I do?

Well, that's been my week--scary moths, sleepy dogs, and Christmas decorations.

Stalled

When you have a huge project that you've been working on for a while, do you ever get stalled?  That's where I am right now--stalled out  Just like a car whose engine is flooded.  I'm stuck and don't seem to care whether any else gets done or not.  My lawyer warned against inertia; it's so easy just to do the absolute minimum and then stop.  After all, the bills are getting paid and no one is beating down my door for anything.  It would be easy just to maintain the status quo.  The only thing keeping me from stopping altogether is that I can just hear what my mom would say if she knew I wasn't finishing up the big move and selling my house, as well as getting rid of all the surplus stuff.  It wouldn't be pretty!

Throw me some motivation, readers!!  What do you do to get out of your ruts?

My daddy

That's my daddy. 

That's what I always called him--daddy--not dad, or pa, or pop, just daddy.  Even though I was 26 years old when he passed away, he was still "daddy"  to me.  He and I were "like two peas in a pod" my mom always said--sometimes in ways that were good, and sometimes not!  We were both Hoffmans through and through, she told us. 

When I was little, I was quite crabby in the mornings.  Apparently, so was daddy.  Mom told me that she couldn't change him since she hadn't raised him.  However, she was raising me and she could change me.  Since I was sort of scared of my mom, I figured it was the prudent course of action to do what she wanted.  From that time on, I was perfectly happy in the mornings, and if I wasn't, I kept my mouth shut and pretended that I was!

Daddy and I shared a love of reading.  Even though he was always very generous with his money (especially where I was concerned), he truly never scrimped when it came to buying books.  Never did I ever go in a bookstore with him, that we didn't come out without a bag of books.  Even though we both loved to read, we didn't read the same kinds of books.  He was into westerns, and I loved science fiction.  I don't really remember ever conversing with him about books that we read.  It was  nice just knowing that we shared the same love of the printed word.

I have so many fond memories of my daddy.  One of the things I remember most about him, and most admire, is how much he loved my mom!  Every now and then, he would call home during the day.  If, for some reason, she wasn't home, and he couldn't find her in a little while, he'd get frantic.  I remember once, he even drove home when she hadn't called him back.  She was outside working in the yard. 

Every year on their anniversary, he'd send her a huge arrangement of roses.  On Valentine's Day, he'd get her one of those big, frilly, lace-decorated boxes of chocolates--the kind they don't make anymore.  At Christmas, the space under the tree overflowed with gifts for her.  Those were just outward shows of his affection for her.  Inside, where it really counts, he loved her even more.  When she was in the hospital once when I was in college, I came home to help out.  I've never seen a more desolate person than my father when he was at home without mom.  I remember his sitting in the den (which he never did; he usually stayed in his study and read, while mom watched television in the den) and just staring at the screen.  I think I could have had a party in the room and he wouldn't have noticed.  He was happiest when she was by his side!

Daddy had a rough start in life.  His family didn't have a lot of money; he didn't even go to high school.  Once he and my mom married, things were still not easy.  He was in school for the first 11 years of their marriage.  Once his career was established, however, he delighted in doing the things he'd never been able to before.

He discovered a love for travel, and never stayed at home if he didn't have to.  When I was young, our station wagon was the favored means of travel.  As I grew older, and daddy's career became better-established, we took some overseas vacations.  His favorite means of travel, though, was his motorhome.  He bought the first one when I was in junior high school.  As the years progressed, each new motorhome got bigger and fancier.  We went everywhere in them--at last tally, we went to all fifty states (although, admittedly, the trips to Alaska and Hawaii were of the more conventional airplane variety).  Oh, how he loved his motorhomes!  He bought the last one only five months before his death.

When I scanned the picture above for this post, I took a minute to really look at the picture.  Daddy has been gone for close to 23 years now.  I was disturbed to find, that when I really looked at the picture, his features seemed almost unfamiliar.  It's been so long since I've seen anything but a picture of him.  Would I know him if, by some miracle, he came up to me on the street?  That's the worst thing about losing someone--forgetting first the little things, and then the big ones.  It can't be helped, I suppose.  Life goes on, and those who remain have little choice but to go with it.

What I will never forget is how much I love him--still--and how much he loved me.  When I was little I always told him, "You're the best daddy I ever had."  It's still true today.  Daddy, I love you!  Happy Father's Day!

My day off

Here's my day: 

Messy den, puffy feet, and Spongebob on television

On my way to lunch

Lunch at Matt's Rancho Martinez.  Love the "Lite Dinner"--hate that they spell it "lite"

Stop at Office Depot

Quick stop at Sonic for my favorite beverage

Back in the car on my way home to clean up the messy den!

The only thing I left out was my trip to the bank to change the last of mom's bank account into my name.  Whereas Well's Fargo was almost too easy, this bank made me feel like I was trying to steal the money in the account.  I pointed out that if they couldn't help me, I'd just write a check and drain the account--since I have check-writing privileges--and take my money elsewhere.  They got it fixed  after that!  Stupid banks!  

Old habits die hard

I saw this at Target yesterday and was so tempted to buy it, even though I just got through packing up about 300 cow creamers that belonged to mom.  She didn't have this one and she would have really liked it--and it was only $4.99.  I had to remind myself, however, that I don't collect cow creamers! 

Old habits die hard, indeed.  And just for the record, I did not buy it!

Emotion wears me out

Over the last week I've been very emotional for two reasons: 

Giving away mom's car was harder than I thought it would be.  For some reason, a person's car is, well, so personal.  In my eyes, that car was the perfect embodiment of my mom.  It even still smelled like her!  And so, letting go of it was like watching a piece--a big piece--of her go.

Another reason that I've been more emotional than usual (which is saying something--since I'm pretty emotional all the time!) is that one of my friends and co-workers has been dealing with her mom having a serious, sudden illness.  I won't go into details, but it's just a bad situation all around, and I'm sad for her.

I haven't felt much like doing anything, so work on the house and sorting has ground to a temporary halt.  However, Poquito, Juneau, and Sitka are my constants!  I love them so, and don't know what I'd do without them!

I'm looking forward to feeling better soon.

Mom loved her big car

Tonight, I called AAA and had them jump mom's car so I could get it out of the garage.  Poor car--not only was the battery dead, but one of the tires had gone flat.  I had the oil changed and the state inspection done in November.  There are exactly three more miles on the car than there were when the oil was changed--from when I drove it home. 

The car is in pristine condition; it's a 1998 model purchased in 1997 and has 36,115 miles on it (yes, that averages to less than 2500 miles per year).  It was the typical "little old lady who only drove the car to church on Sunday" car. 

In mid-90s, she got a wild hair and sold her 10 year old Seville and bought a Honda Accord.  I had one and it was a great car--a great car for me, not her.  She disliked it almost immediately.  She planned to give it to me after a couple of years, so that she could buy another Cadillac.  Sadly, a drunk driver t-boned her one Sunday morning as she was on her way to church.  The car rolled and the driver fled the scene.  Luckily, she was unhurt (See?  Honda's are great cars).  The car, however, was totalled.  No car for me!  Mom got her new Cadillac, even if it was definitely not the way she wanted to get it.

In November 1997, the pearl white Sedan de Ville came home to live with her.  Boy, in its day, that was a car!  I felt so posh driving and riding in it.  We went on several memorable vacations in that car, she and I.  It has always been a good car; not quite as maintenance-free as my Hondas, but pretty good.  And mom loved it.  She liked that it was a big car.  It was easy for her to get into and out of.  It was big and safe to drive.  And, best of all, even though it was the size of a boat, it drove like a dream and had more get-up-and-go than 10 Hondas put together.

Even though she didn't drive much anymore, she could still drive, and was a good driver.  Whenever we went somewhere together, I was always her chauffeur.  All those vacations, the trips to Oklahoma for Christmas, and more recently, even trips around town, I drove.  Her ring tone on my phone was the theme song from Driving Miss Daisy. 

After mom passed away in January, I started calling the car my my mom's "pimp mobile."  I would never have called it that within her hearing distance!  When I was in Oklahoma for her funeral, my dear cousin's son--who is quite the card--jokingly offered me $500 for the car.  I checked www.kbb.com for the value and laughingly declined.  In April, when I went up for Easter, he again asked about the car.  I told him that it had a dead battery now; negotiator that he is, he offered me $300 for the car.  When I said that it had a flat tire too, he immediately changed the offer to $275.  That kid will own the world one day!

After much soul-searching and debate, I decided to donate the car to charity.  They are coming tomorrow to pick it up.  I hope that Mom is watching and approves.  I am finding this process very emotional; I've stopped and bawled about three times tonight.

Goodbye dear "pimp mobile!"

What we save

My mom and dad were born in 1928 and grew up in the Great Depression.  The idea of "saving" was ingrained--at least in my mom.  She saved zip-loc bags (washed them and reused them); the same went for frozen dinner trays, plastic water bottles, plastic grocery bags, wrapping paper, string, and any other thing that could be reused, or used for a different purpose.  Today, we live in a throw-away society, but in the earlier part of the 20th century, people kept everything because they might need it and not be able to get more. 

I suppose you could call Mom a "pack-rat"--or today's favorite term, "hoarder"--but at least everything was very organized and clean!  She never let her saving get out of hand, like the people you see on those television shows.  There was no trash and no filth, but I have found every available spot filled with stuff she saved. 

It's interesting to me what people, even my own mother, find important enough to save.  Everything my mom saved had some intrinsic value.  She was especially keen on clothing.  She saved most of my father's shirts, thinking that she would wear them.  She also saved many of his coats and jackets, again thinking that she would wear them.  She saved the old lenses from her glasses.  She saved magazines that she liked:  Decorating and Craft Ideas from 1974-1979, American West from 1968-1975, assorted Country magazines, and assorted Mary Engelbreit Home Companion magazines. 

Now, before you think I'm criticizing, let me tell you a secret--I'm right there with her!  Oh, I don't save plastic zip-loc bags or plastic bottles, but I'll save just about everything else (except newspapers--never been a newspaper saver).  I had a closet full of clothes from the 80s--until a friend staged an intervention!  Now I have a closet full of 90s and 00s clothes.  I collect stuff; if I have more than two of anything, I'll add to the collection. 

Another amazing fact about my beautiful mother who saved everything:  she saved money too!  She had enough gumption and determination to get my dad through college and professional school on one very small salary. 

Lastly, I love looking through the things that made her her!  It's like a little peek into a time capsule and what made up her world.  The best part is finding things I made for her--she kept them because they were important to her!  It makes me feel good to know that she loved me enough to keep all my tokens of love, no matter how small.

And so, in continuation of my vintage offerings, today's are as follows:

Every lady needed classy white gloves!

These were for putting over your curlers while you worked around the house.

Vintage recipes

Found these above mom's stove.  Except for the first picture, everything belonged to my grandmother, who passed away in 1968.

Holiday recipes from the Garland Daily News, November 1970

 

Spry's veal birds and crispy taters!  What's a "veal bird?"

A recipe on the back of a Canton Bank counter check

Sliced sweet pickles, on Motor Parts and Machine Co. letterhead.  What does "make brine to carry an egg" mean?

Three of the many fruit cake recipes that my grandmother had.  She must have loved fruit cake!

 



Olive-stuffed flank steak from August 1954

My mom always said that my grandmother was a wonderful cook.  She certainly had some interesting recipes!

Disappointment

After hearing about the virtues of the store, Home Goods, through their television commercials and several blogs, I was eager to see the store and all the home goodies they have.  Major disappointment!  The store had many half-empty shelves, and besides that, they didn't have anything particularly cute or special.  Maybe it was just the store I went to.  Have any of you ever been to Home Goods?  What did you think?

Poquito has a dim view of stores that don't live up to their billing!

Donation--out the door!

The Salvation Army came and picked up all of mom's clothes yesterday. It feels good to get all of that out of the house! Now I have some room to navigate.

On to the next project--doing something with her car.

The view from my desk

What I see on a daily basis

Bare feet

I've just realized that one of the best feelings in the world is coming home during the summer and taking off your shoes and socks!

People watching--what a trip!

People-watching has to be the best past time ever!  I took a little break from the pathos of trying to sort through stuff, and I went to Northpark Mall to indulge in a little retail therapy.  Almost better than the shopping is watching the people who are doing the shopping. 

Have you ever seen the website People of Walmart?  The pictures of poorly-dressed people at Walmart don't surprise me--nothing against Walmart, but c'mon, it's a discount store.  Northpark is probably one of the chic-est malls in America, so you would think that you would see correspondingly chic people.  And, sometimes you do.  Sometimes, however, you don't!

This stuff just can't make itself up!  I actually saw a woman wearing curlers in her hair.  There was also a mortified-looking girl wearing what looked like a bad 70s prom dress.  Everywhere I looked there were girls dressed too old for their actual ages, and women dressed too young for theirs. I saw more than my fair share of women who looked like they had just fled the gym, including one who was wearing tennis clothes. 

And then there are the trends, that while "fashionable" I just don't get.  I think my age my be showing.  Floor length dresses for example, saw at least three of those, one on a woman way too old.  The no-pants look was evident, as was the hooker look.  Is it just me, or do about half the clothes and shoes in the stores look like something hookers would wear?  All I know, is that if I had a daughter, no way would she be wearing those clothes.

Thanks People of Northpark Mall for a very entertaining afternoon!

In which I try to put three lifetimes of stuff in one house

It's a good thing I don't subscribe to a minimalist decorating style! Why, you ask? Well, let me tell you...

My mom recently passed away quite unexpectedly (she was 83, but the week before Christmas she was fine, and by the end of the first week in January, she was gone. That's unexpected!) Anyway, due to her passing, I now have more stuff than I ever thought possible: Two houses, two cars, three dogs, and two packrats' possessions.

How do you go about sorting through a lifetime of possessions and deciding what you do and don't want? Hey, it's me--remember? I love everything. Some things are pretty easy to dispatch to the sale pile. For instance, the odd medieval-esque accessories that were in the living room. I think mom bought those at a furniture store in the 1960s when she and my dad bought new furniture for this house. Those were the days before we started to travel, and before we acquired all kinds of personal, memorable decorative accents. I've always thought those things--two porcelain knights, a couple of wooden ships (looking like drawings I've seen of the Pinta, the Nina, and the Santa Maria!), a faux-old globe, and a small cannon--were so out of place in our house, and didn't seem like something my parents would have liked. I guess they went well with the mediterranean style of the house.

Yes, those were easy to part with. My mom collected cow creamers--those were tough. I couldn't get rid of them. I just packed them in boxes, except for a few that I really like. I cried just packing them up. I kept blubbering, "I'm sorry little cow" every time I put one in a box. I haven't even tried to pack away any of her thimble collection, or my dad's carved bird collection.

I have gotten brave enough to change some things. The living room/dining room will become a dining library. I barely eat at the table and no one ever comes over--so the dining room, and yet another living area, are totally superfluous. My dad's study will become my studio. It's not big enough to house my books too, and I don't want to make the living room into my studio because it's right in front of the house where everyone could see my mess when they walked in. And, there's not a good window for ventilation in the front of the house--necessary for jewelry-making.

Well, that's all for now--wish me luck as I go over to my old house this evening and pack up another load!

Below, a picture of my messy "new" den.  You can see that I'm dealing with a massive quantity of "stuff."  Every room is just like this! (and you can see Poquito made a surprise appearance too)

In which I resurrect this little blog!

After years of neglect, I've decided to resurrect this blog!  I've been looking for a way to express myself, and I think maybe this is it.  Of course, I've been there before, but we'll see if this time I can make it work. 

To start anew, I'll tell you a little about my life then and now.  When I started this blog back in 2000 (2000?!--12 years ago), I was divorced, living in an apartment in Dallas, Texas.  I had a dog named Touchdown, a mom that I loved, a red Honda CR-V, and a job as a librarian.  Now 12 years later, almost everything has changed--except the "divorced" part. That's a constant; never going back down that road!

I live in a house in Garland, Texas now, actually it's the house I grew up in.  I have another house that I will be putting on the market sometime this summer.  I have three dogs--Sitka, a Siberian Husky, Juneau, an Alaskan Malamute, and Poquito Bandito, a Chihuahua.  I drive a bronze CR-V, and now I am the "Director of Institutional Support/Registrar" for the same college where I was the librarian.  My mom passed away earlier this year (which is why I have two houses, two cars, and three dogs). 

I'm pretty much alone, except for my friends and one close family member.  At least I'm free to do what I want.  Stay out until 3am, sleep all day, have wild parties, paint the house black--whatever I want, I can do it, with no interference!  Problem is, I don't really want to do any of those things.  I just want a nice, normal life.  I'm pretty uncomplicated.  I love my dogs, even the one I inherited; I love my stuff (I'm a collector/hoarder from way back); and I love my friends and family (the one family member I do have). 

Well, that's it for now.  I'll leave you with pictures of my children:

That's Juneau, the malamute.  He's a rescue dog, and at approximately 100 pounds, the biggest baby EVER!

This is Sitka, the husky.  She's also a rescue dog.  She's "Miss Independent" and is quite the diva.

And, last but not least, this is Poquito, the chihuahua.  He, too, is a rescue.  He was mom's dog, but she only got him in October 2011, and she passed away in January, so technically I've had him longer than she did.  He may be small, but I'm pretty sure he's the boss of us all!

My poor little blog! I'd forgotten all about it. I was re-organizing my favorites folder when I came across the link to "Puff, the Magic Dragon." When I checked--lo and behold, they hadn't deleted it through non-use--even though it's been (gasp) five years since I logged on.

Well, I thought I'd have another go at blogging, not that I have anything more interesting to say this time around. My life has gone in a pretty different direction than it was when I last posted, so maybe that will give me the impetus to do a better job this time!

Welcome back, Puff!

Well, nothing like dropping in to your own blog--nearly a year and a half later. I guess since no one reads this, I don't feel the need to send my thoughts out into the ether very often.

Lately:

Central Market just opened near P & P's apartment. We went the day it opened, braving the crowds, to spend two hours ogling the organic/homegrown/homemade foodstuffs. The bread and cheese departments alone are enough to make you weep for joy! The best part, free samples! If you want to taste something fresh (bread, olives, produce, bulk food), just ask for a taste and one of the hundreds of little worker bees will come to your assistance. It's enough to make local foodies jump for joy.

I am sick to death of my students! Well, one or two in particular--and if you're reading this--you know who you are!

Tomorrow night is J's birthday, with a lovely party (and surprises, according to the host). Can't imagine what kind of surprises, but I can't wait to find out. Now, if I could only figure out what to wear. I'm trying to decide between all black (very slimming) and a Madonna-esque Music-style get-up. I think that I've waited too late for the Madonna route. Next party, for sure.

Well, well, well, I'm never going to win any kind of web award if I don't post more often than I have been! That last was just a joke, by the way.

Winter just won't give up. After a lovely, sunny, Texas-sort of day on Wednesday (80 degrees), it is now 40 degrees and raining. Thunderstorms predicted! Perhaps I will go home this afternoon and curl up with a good book or rent a movie. The last thing I watched was Coyote Ugly. Altogether not as hideous as one would think. It's my life's dream to look as good as those girls dancing on the bar.