Mars and Venus in the Ice Box

Today's entry deals with men and women and machines.  That is Mars and Venus and the Ice Box!!
This morning broke clear and warm with spiders in the grapenuts and stinky cheese in the frig.  Well, any girl knows that you first eat the spiders and clean up the grapenuts then tackle the stinky cheese in the frig.
Grapenuts and pumpkin yogurt down, spiders banished, exercise and two cups of coffee, then don the tennies and sweat my way through cleaning the frig.
Since retirement, I have been better at throwing away old stuff that smells, so this came as quite a shock to me.
First, I wrapped up the smelly cauliflower...Not it..
Then, I tackled the smelly cheese locker...nothing there.
So....I had to begin the begine...
One shelf cleared.  Old potatoes and meat gone!
Found year old sour-crout...gone
Still the smell, damn.
Sink full of suds and systematic attack on the shelves.
What no baking soda???
that would have bought me a few more hours of stinkless peace.
Alas, the smell permeates the kitchen and I begin to dismantle the frig.
Three shelves emptied, dates checked, like condiments in different areas of the kitchen.
And, the man o' the house arrives to save the day.
I just want to say that men and women attack this differently.  There were alot of comments, meant to be helpful, that came at me quickly, such as:
"Don't shove that, that won't fit like that, ever thought of finding the manual, let me handle that for you..."  You get the picture.  We who have cleaned out refrigerators before know there is a slow and systematic way of doing this.
You men who swoop in to help don't know about this unwritten code.  However, since we both need to fill our day and the frig. still stinks, I allow Oh Holy One to help!!
By now I have washed six side shelves, three slide-ins, organized the condiments, milk, cheese, yogurt, pickles, catsup, etc.
Left-brain asked how he can be of assistance.  I say, butt in air and head in crisper, please dry those things and I'll start putting them back in.  Not specific enough.  Butt does not see that sweet babboo is not drying the shelves, but the milk, condiments, flaxmeal and yogurt I set on the counters.
No more counters to wash and dry more shelves.  YIKES!!
I once again am a "Placid pool of tranquility', 'OM, OM, OM,'  sigh,  "No sweetie, the food doesn't need drying, the shelves do.' Small laugh and back again.
Well, here is where I am foist on my own petard!  Women, and me too, have spent years telling our men that they need to pick up a quart of milk and come straight home.  No beers on the way, the milk, eggs, whatever will spoil.  We girls all know that you could go to the mall, out to lunch and take a yoga class before those things would go bad, but we want them now, and no falderoll stopping for a brewsky allowed.
Bad, when you need time to clean properly.  Man thinks that spoilage is imminent...ala beer warnings.  So, he hurries me up and we end up with every part of the refrigerator strewn from backyard to front.  I'm confused, where did that shelf go, where did this part fit....I'm not used to being helped and or rushed with this tedious job.
Once again, I suggest drying the component parts.  That is heard as: "Why don't you take the honda out for a spin" if you run out of gas I'll come pick you up."
Two shelves returned, honda purring, dry, dry, hose, hose...What I hear the hose.  Babboo is washing, ne.. scrubbing the frig innards and watering my precious plants at the same time.
Glory be, we might just get this done today.
We are close and no huge fight yet, my stars are in alignment, but my shelves are not.  I demure:  "Why don't you put those together, you have such a good sense of space and those bulging muscles are good for something, right?"
"This catsup is too tall, yogurt is too short, throw that shit away and I can maybe put this sucker together."
Years of mars and venus, give and take, you and me babe come to the rescue and I sweetly say, "Have you tried this beer from Weed (Microbrew from Weed, CA.-not what you think)?; You need to try it now!!"  One growler later, my shelves are set, my preserves are preserved, my dignity and frig are in tact and other than my lost growler, I am no worse for the wear.
Just another day in paradise and retirement for two,  We survived and did real well.  Chardonnay anyone, we've earned it.

Photog Man

When I met my darling husband.  Long ago and far away.  One of the first things he wanted to do was to take my picture.  I still have it.  Who is that skinny, dark-haired beauty?  He has zero patience for much in this life, but he does amazing work with his camera.  What he lacks in artistic talent he makes up for in fortitude and tenacity.  He will group together any number of relational mongrels and come up with at less one adorable pic.
Everyone has Mikey's photos on their walls or frigs.  He still takes film, but will soon move up to digital since the old trusty camera is old and no longer trustworthy.  While all of us go on to photologs and cyber-albems, he patiently puts together packets of pictures for family and friends.
We recently visited my sister in Oregon and while there I saw some of his best work.  Pictures of my sisters and mom taken in my backyard dozens of years ago hung in pride of place.
Facebook friends have been musing over "The green dress" picture taken of my brother-in-laws sister Vicky, at a Christmas party another lifetime ago.
He is a consistent chronicler of our family and I love him for that.  Even though I have posed in parking lots, on mountains and in downpours, I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Keep clicking my dear, you the man with the cam!!

Varments, Varmants, Variants on varments!!!

Posting in the pm sounds amusing if nothing else.  The birthday boy is off to purchase various and sundry ways to kill ants and mice...denisons of our desert haunt.  Back to the desert soon to work in the musuem and hike a bit, now that my knee works again.  Can't wait.  Our dear little villa is overrun by ants and mice.  Ants in the refirg., toothbrush drawer, any sink or wetish area.  Mice leave their calling cards...small black pellets everywhere....fireplace, drawers, my drawers, mikey's drawers, bed frames, picture frames, all bathroom faucets and camodes...nasty little creatures.  Even pissed on my paintings.  Really, you are not paid to be a critic you little varmant!!  I am returning armed with soda bottle incentives, peanut butter traps, sticky traps, gooey traps, you name it, I got it.  Beware varments, I am pissed!!

Happy Birthday dear man

Writing every day isn't as easy as it sounds.  My new idea is to write as much as you and I can stand.  There are limits!
This, the day after big boys birthday dawns clear and warm.  I wanted to murder my dear husband yesterday.  Computer illiteracy and sending all messages he can get through in all caps is distrubing if not down right depressing.  Last monts, as a loving and inexpensive anniversary gift, and one that has only cost me my sanity, I signed the dear boy up for facebook.  Being the friendliest irishman about, it seemed like a good idea.  WELLLLLLLLL!!!!! not so much.
You see he is very confused about computers and from one moment to the next forgets what I've taught him...over and over and over the same instructions we go.  I've even gotten him a cheat book in which I write the instructions, but alas, he lost it along with his wallet and keys!!!  67 ain't no time to learn an old dog new tricks; you would think I would know that by now!!
Have to go now, just been summoned by "himself" to find his lost Yahoo!
Too bad I'm too serene or I could commit husbandaside!!!  However, I am a placid pool of tranquility, I have the peace of a frozen lake.  I remember when I had enought patience to run a school with 1200 students and teach 35 leaky kindergarteners.  I walk into the valley of confusion, channeling my former self.
One oldish irishman can't be that difficult, can he?
Deep breathing, breathing deep.
If you read about this in the papers tomorrow, my defense is set!!  Just cause and all!!

Football Fall Sunday

This lovely Sunday morning the birds are singing, the coffee is strong and Lou Holts is yelling.
I have moved to the farthest corner of our kingdom and I can still hear him!!!  LSU...wha????
The Sunday paper lies in pieces flung from fireplace to front window.
I slipped on Sports Illustrated lying on the stairs, SI, not me.  I avoided the fall and Lou didn't even notice, Holtz that is.

I cudda been a contenda if only I could get someone's attention.

I put my jersey and flip-flops on and parade through the room...Move over is the only comment I got, evidently Lou can't yell with my butt in the way.

Football Widow, the life of the living dead!  Back to my novel, no Lou Holtz, no SI, no newspaper, just the birds and the words for me this Fine Football Sunday Morning!

Retirement Responsibilities

Being Retired can be exhausting...what with trips and plans and infinite time to make appointments, see friends, read books and garden...Such a weight to decide what to do or not to do each day.

My, my, I'm sounding like a crotchety old grump, I really am not.  I'm happy to be healthy and have time and a little cash on hand.  Some days I do feel a bit blue, what with no deadlines or committments to jar my serenity.

Just kidding.  I think I would like to write a book:  Any suggestions?????

Anybody out there listening..??