Barettes in the Candy Aisle

As I waited my turn at the grocery check out yesterday, I scanned the chocolate bars and candy at the till. Back in the day, there were bins that had sale prices of 2 for $1.00 (or am I imagining that??). 

Prices have skyrocketed so I am no longer tempted by current day sale prices. I am almost immune to even looking. But I check it out regardless.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear??

Barettes!! 

I don't have a barette in the house and my hair is driving me crazy when I'm working outside or cooking. In the house, at least my hands are clean and I have access to elastic bands to concoct some way of keeping hair out of my eyes and food. When I'm outside, the wind takes hold and whips my hair into my face, my hands are usually filthy so I turn my head into the wind, like a dog sticking its head out of the window of a moving car to clear my vision.

Every time this happens, I think to myself, "Get some barettes!". This involves getting cleaned up and stepping out of the house again. Once I'm in the house, I'm IN for good. If it's hot outside, the last thing I am going to do is walk to the store in the heat and work up a fresh coat of sweat in order to buy some barettes. The next day, all is forgotten. Until the next time I'm outside and I think to myself,  "Get some barettes!!"

I ran to the grocery store after work last night and the last thing on my mind was picking up barettes. I was out of milk, strawberries were on sale and I was craving Fresca. Priorities!! My hair would be blowing in my face on my walk home but that was the last thing on my mind.

I was perusing the chocolate bar and candy selection at the till, when I spotted the barettes. Bonanza!! I didn't know the price and didn't care. They were exactly what I would have chosen, if I was in an aisle containing a barette selection.

You know the world is looking out for you when you find barettes in the candy aisle. If, of course, you have been in the market for barettes for a while...

It's Already Been Written

I can't count the number of times I find myself searching this blog to discover I've already used a title or find I have already written what I had planned to write. Not necessarily the same stories (though that happens too), but the underlying theme. Same lesson, different circumstances surrounding it.

When I have felt lost, I'll refer to my own writing. It speaks to me in a way nothing else does. Funny how that works, huh? I speak my own language. 

I'll search for a phrase or term that will bring up posts where it's mentioned. It works well when trying to recall the dates I've seen Cher, for example. My "Dear Mom" series or memories of Mom or Dad... I'll fall down rabbit holes of my own doing. 

It's a fun little exercise when I'm searching to find my own answers. This life we live. Same emotions, similar conflict, previous resolutions. We keep cycling around the answers we continue to seek.

I believe our own answers are within us. That is why talking things through with a friend is less about receiving advice and more about hearing your own thoughts outside your head, volleying them back and forth with another human being and one begins to hear their own answer.

Writing has always been therapy for me. Going back and rereading old posts reminds me I'm a fairly good therapist for myself. I've walked the walk before and eventually walked through whatever is plaguing me at the moment.

I keep falling back to the Rules for Being Human I came across decades ago. This says it all:

~ Cherie Carter-Scott, From "If Life is a Game, These are the Rules."

P.S. I fell down another rabbit hole when I tried to find where I had written this before. I searched "life lessons" on my blog, never to find what I was looking for. I found it in a closet. Apparently life lessons is a well documented topic on this little blog of mine. I may go lose myself in my own lessons once again.

On the Eighth Day

Ahhhh! Things look the same around here but they sure feel different after a relatively productive weekend.

TV off. One step in a forward direction. Start. Just start.

Yesterday began with "I'll just clean a blind". One blind led to another. And another. And so on and so forth. Clean blinds led to vacuuming screens and cleaning the inside of the windows.

I stopped for lunch. Most days that would have been the end of me but before I stopped, I parked the vacuum cleaner at the top of the basement stairs.

I'll just vacuum the stairs. Forward momentum didn't take me as far but it took me to the cardboard recycling bins a few times. I picked a few more weeds on my final trip home. 

All I had left to do with the day was to add a few side dishes to go along with the ham I had cooking most of the day (I like my ham dry and overcooked). I think I may have overdid it a little:

I had the mantra "If I make it, they will come" chiming through my head as the aroma of the ham slowly cooking wafted through the day. Please! Let someone drop by and take me out of my misery. I had done enough. I was ready to stop.

Maybe no one likes overdone ham the way I do. I have enough meals to take me through the week and beyond. My future self feels very taken care of.

On the eighth day, after a five day work week and a two day work weekend, I'm ready to head back to work to rest. 

Setting Intentions

Today, my goal is simply to keep the TV turned off until suppertime. My intentions? I simply hope one act leads to the next, which leads to the next, and next and so on. 

I am showered up and clean after yesterday's battle against the weeds, grackles and nature in general. Today? I hope to sit on the back step with my second cup of coffee then move inside to see what battles I can wage within.

Nature is one tough cookie. I didn't even attempt to pick up pinecones. The wind keeps blowing them off the trees. If I was a rich person, I would hire someone who had a crane truck to pick all the pinecones off the forest which surrounds my home. 

I would collect the pinecones, mulch them into bits, then spread them around the perimeter of the house as a decorative mulch. I thought I read that pinecones repel insects and rodents. I'm all for that. They also help retain moisture and deter weeds. Hey, maybe I could spread my make believe pinecone mulch over the lawn like fertilizer. With all the above benefits, what could I lose?

I think I'm onto something here. Pinecone mulch. 

But for today? I hope for even a fraction of the forward momentum I had and held onto yesterday. If nothing else, I know what I'm cooking for supper - intentions have been set.

Ham & hashbrown casserole anyone?

Just One Thing

My morning started by looking out the living room window, noticing the cement that used to lead to the front step. The door and step have been removed. Now the sidewalk leads to no where. I wondered if it continued further than I could see. So I went outside to sweep/shovel off the dirt ...

 (p.s. there was no more cement to uncover - what I saw is what there was)

That was at 6:00 am. One thing led to the next. "I'll just pick a few weeds," I thought...

  

  
More than six ice cream pails full of weeds later, things were looking a little less weedy around here.

I sat on the back step with toast and coffee at one point in the middle of my weed-picking. I went inside and had lunch later on. I was already dirty. What else could I do?

I finally re-washed the new living room window ...

 

... then washed the windows on the garage.

I washed grackle droppings off the side of the house, garage and step. I swept cobwebs off the garage and back step. Then, I swept a little more.

I finally washed the bird droppings off the swing and scrubbed the table. Nine and a half hours after I started, I'm finally all ready to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labor.

Except I'm all cleaned up now and don't want to go outside and get dirty.

Maybe tomorrow...

I love days when just one thing starts a domino effect of forward momentum.

Finally.

One Day Too Much

Today is the "other" fifth day. The fifth consecutive work day. Sigh. I can do this. I simply wish I didn't have to.

10 hours later ...

I did it. I made it through.

I didn't take very good care of my future self though. I abandoned this post in order to make myself a tuna sandwich to take for lunch. It was a good choice.

When you don't take care of your future self, let your present day self choose the best priorities.

Lunch trumped blogging.

And that's all I have to say about that.

War of the Birds

The quiet of my morning was interrupted by the sounds of a war being waged among the birds in the trees outside the kitchen window. The distress calls were fierce, multiplied by their neighboring relatives joining the scene to unite forces. There were grackles and robins flying in and out of the trees. My assumption was someone's nest was under attack. My next assumption was the grackles and robins were at war. I was wrong.

I happened to look at the ground and spotted a crow, surrounded by some grackles, just before it flew into the tree. The robins and grackles appeared to be uniting forces against the crow. It was quite a scene to behold.

This vantage point is from the closed kitchen window:

This is from outside, after the grackles and robins deterred the robin from the trees by the window, to the trees by the shed:

I watched the battle for as long as it took the small birds to chase the crow across the street and out of sight. I silently cheered as the sheer numbers and group effort of two different species of birds, who are not necessarily allies in the whole scheme of things, deterred their common enemy. 

Witnessing this unity against an enemy in common gave me hope for humankind. Further thought led to the outcome if there had been more crows. Would the distress calls been loud enough to call in enough troops to save the day?

Nature is not kind. The natural order of things result in outcomes that defy a Disney World ending. 

This morning, the crow verses grackles took place on the other side of the house. When I peered out the window, I spotted the crow walking on the neighbor's roof. The grackles were holding their own but the distress calls were different. I watched the grackles fly in and band together, strategically placed among the branches. There was a completely different vibe this morning. I didn't get the feeling a nest was under attack. Yet the grackles seemed determined to protect their territory even when the stakes were not as high. 

I quietly named the crow a name that rhymes with "Grump" and let my thoughts linger a moment. The state of the world feels very precarious. Will the distress calls be loud enough to call in enough troops to save the day?