Just because...

...the crocuses are in bloom and I rediscovered the "macro" setting on my camera as I was slogging through the manual.

Oops. This was my practice shot. Maybe I need to clean my keyboard.

I love how the colours are hybridizing as the bulbs self-propagate.

Happy Spring!

The list

Hey, are you ready for this, are you sitting on the edge of your seat?

Guess who is the proud new owner of a Saks Fifth Avenue credit card?

Let me back up a minute.

First thing this morning (well, I say "first thing", but it was more like nine o'clock, which is as "first thing" as I generally like to get on a Saturday) Jeff discovered that our lovely back flowerbed had been ravaged by a gopher.

If you look closely, you can see the line of broken dirt of the tunnel that parallels the back fence. It follows the whole fence line and is interspersed with whopping great mounds of loose dirt.

Jeff and I had planned a day of shopping anyway, so at our first stop, Ace Hardware, we picked up not only a free quart of paint for Bethany, but $19 worth of gopher-murder.

One down.

I love our local Ace Hardware. It always has what we need in the way of home repair supplies and is full of employees who will not only help you to find what you need but will instruct you on how to use it.

We drove to REI, on the prowl for some minimalist running shoes. After trying on some Vibram FiveFingers, Jeff's attitude quickly morphed from suspicion to discipleship. We stayed true to our purpose, however, and drove across the street to Bridgeport Village without succumbing to the siren song of the Vibrams. We hit pay dirt at the New Balance store, where we both found some minimalist (as opposed to barefoot) shoes for $59 a pair. The Vibrams will have to wait and see how we adjust to this first step. 

Another one bites the dust!

As we headed back to the car, I remembered that I had seen a Saks Fifth Avenue store as we drove in. On a whim, we walked over to it. Jeff has a very expensive Zegna suit that we purchased at Saks about fifteen years ago and the pants have worn out in a sensitive area. I thought there was a slim chance that we might be able to buy some matching pants. No such luck, but we did find some very nice Saks suits on sale that are made of Zegna fabric and are very nicely tailored. Jeff obliged me by trying on four suits. We bought two of them. By the time we got all of the discounts, plus an extra 10% for applying for a credit card (apparently, the one we got when we bought the first suit got canceled when we didn't use it again), we got $2,400 worth of suits for $755. And the name of a tailor who can fix the original suit.

I felt pretty satisfied.

Hmmm, that one wasn't on the list. We are dangerous when we shop aimlessly.

We were ravenous, so we stopped at Arby's for lunch.

Using coupons, of course.

Making up for the Saks thing.

Two cheese, two plain, a large curly fries and two iced waters.

Jeff was in heaven.

He kept saying Mmm, I love this.

He almost choked on his sandwich, laughing so hard because of all the photos I was taking.

That boy needs a haircut.

He shall have one tonight, if I can fit it in between hemming and altering new suit pants.

Then we went to Costco and spent frivolously with the annual reward from my AmEx card. We got more money back than we spent.

And another one's down, another one's down, another one bites the dust!

Then Jeff decided he needed a nap.

So we drove home.

He had his nap.

Now.

Let the war on gophers begin!

A serendipitous turn of events

Today started in a sort of ominous way. I looked out the bedroom window at about 4 o'clock this morning (it was that kind of a night) to ascertain the source of the abnormal glow that seeped into our room. It was snow-reflected moonlight, a not-totally-unanticipated occurrence. That, combined with the scratchy-throat-dry-cough thing I've been fighting all week, caused me to skip my morning yoga class and cling to my memory-foam mattress until the last possible moment. I figured I could forge my way through the morning's preschool music group and afternoon's piano lessons and lie, pining, on the couch for the rest of the day.

Well.
After the music group, which went fantastically well and put me in a frame of mind to deviate from my plan of pining, I popped into the senior citizens' centre on the way home. It is my habit to pick up a free bread item when I am passing (Jeff said one day, Aren't those for old people? and I replied, For 50 and older, my dear) and check in with the desk on the buzz for the singing group I am starting in April. As I walked down the hall, I noticed a room full of old people, sitting on chairs in a circle. Some of them had their shoes off and feet propped up on cushions, with needles sticking out of their legs and feet. Some of them had needles in other body parts. I was reminded that a local acupuncturist does $10 acupuncture on Thursdays, which I had been meaning to give a try.

I picked up some artisan rolls (with which I made delicious pulled chicken sandwiches for dinner with leftover chicken)

and took them out to my car, whereupon I thought to myself, Self, you should go sign yourself up for a session.
So I went back inside and signed up for an appointment in two weeks and returned again to the car.
A little voice whispered in my head, Self, what about trying for a spot next week? You could use a little toe and wrist relief, the sooner the better.
Back inside I went and, after further waffling and walking up and down the hallway, I got myself in right away.
Wouldn't you know it, today the price went up to $15?

But first, I searched the bookshelves and found a good novel to read while being stuck with pins needles.

An hour later, my arthritic wrist was pain-free (not much improvement on the toe) and I was on the road again.

Back home, I discovered my new Keen socks on the doorstep, ordered at a deep discount from 6pm.com. They label your socks in case you forget which is your right foot and which is your left.

Then, while mildly pining on the couch and eating my Jose Ole tacquito lunch, I ran across a couple of good things on my new favourite bargain website, FrugalLivingNW. I scored two free tickets to see the movie Blue Like Jazz later this month and also five sample-sized powders and brushes from Bare Escentuals for a dollar.

And then, my piano students were all particularly delightful.

So, what started of to be a phooey kind of a day turned out to be pretty magnificent.
In a lackadaisical kind of a way.

I am the ant: Part II

This is my Dad, doing one of his favourite things.

Having fun.

Here he is, with our first sheep, known as Frisky. Frisky was a good sheep, who came running across the fields with thundering hoofs whenever we called him. He was gigantic, being bottle-fed for some weeks past the point we should have cut him off. Dad, and we, loved this lamb.

Dad was on a Scout camp when he rescued this orphaned goat. We called her Whiskey, for some strange reason. Dad loved Whiskey too and built her a little house where she lived in our back garden.

Dad worked at Church College of New Zealand as the plumber. He started work at 7:30am but usually went in an hour or two early to work on his private projects. He worked hard and whenever he sat for very long he fell asleep. Sometimes it was at the dinner table, after a nice meal cooked by my Mum, and sometimes it was sitting against a wall on a sunny day.

Dad loved to go camping. Mum always said this photo made them look like diddicoys, or gypsies.

I come by my stockpiling instincts honourably. When we moved to New Zealand in 1967, my Dad, for the first time since we joined the Mormon church five years earlier, was surrounded by members of the church.  Most of us are fiercely independent and believe in being self-sufficient. He embraced the lifestyle with enthusiasm.
Nay.
He owned it.
He became that guy, the one who built wheat grinders and researched the best way to store wheat. He was the guy who found the suppliers for bulk food and got frustrated when people weren't as enthused as he was over buying 40lb buckets of honey. Dad was a force of nature when it came to getting things done and his old friends still remember all of the work he did to help them get their food storage items.

After our new house was built, Dad enclosed the area under the stairs in the basement and disguised the door that led into it. He lined the walls with shelves and bought himself a shotgun. His philosophy was that he had done everything he could to persuade his neighbours of the importance of being prepared and now they were on their own.

My sister read Part I and was teasing me about revealing my stockpiles to the world. I reassured her that I would tell the rest of the story.

My Dad was good to the bone, but he did not suffer fools lightly.

I am my father's daughter.

Right down to the shotgun.

A budding talent

Sam's in town for the weekend.

Apartment hunting, with her handy-dandy little ring-binder in hand. 

I refuse to tempt fate by telling you that the boy will be home in a matter of weeks.

We sang in church today: Jeff and Jonnie boomed out the bass, Bethany crooned the counter-tenor, Sam, Kenzie, and little Natalie belted out the soprano, and I sang alto and strummed guitar.

We sang Rock of Ages very enthusiastically.

I love making music with the progeny.

The rest of the day was full of children bouncing around the house and eating everything in sight. As the night was winding down and Bethany's crew had gone home, four-year-old Jeff started taking photos with his mama's camera.

I think he has a latent talent.

Self-portrait.

With his Aunty Sam.

Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

Daddy the.....werewolf?

He got very excited about this one. Hands! Hands! he kept shouting.

The family rat. Um, dog. Squeaker by name.

And.

Our front door.

The end.

I am the ant: Part I

I was at Fred Meyer a few weeks ago, buying milk and oj on one of their frequent "$1.25 for a half-gallon" coupons.
Well, they used to be a dollar, but, you know, price of oil and all that.
When we had a houseful living at home, I always bought the limit of ten, because five gallons of anything didn't last long. Now that it is just The Two of Us (why do I want to burst into song?) I usually buy a couple of oj's and four milk.
So I get up to the checkout and the clerk says, Did you know there's a limit of four?
Why no, I said in surprise. How long has it been four?
Oh, a few months, she replied.
Well.
She went on, Yes, they had to lower the limit because people were hoarding. They were freezing the milk.
In my mind, I was sarcastic.
You see, I have frozen milk. Although, not for a couple of decades.
But, afraid that she would see the hoarder in my eyes, I smiled sweetly and said, Well, I guess it depends on your perspective. Some people would call it smart shopping. She conceded the point, albeit reluctantly.
And as I walked out of the store, I wondered what my fellow shoppers would think of me if they could see this

and the buckets of wheat that I plan to eat before I die.

Or foist off onto my children.

And do they know that gallon jars are my favourite size for lentils and chocolate chips?

And that I buy my flour in 50lb bags from Costco?

My spare room closets are havens of cans of hot cocoa mix and rice and dried potatoes

and vacuum-sealed bags of chocolate chips and Clif bars and boxes of candles and Emergen-C.

My freezer seldom has a cubic inch of spare space

and my pantry.

Well, let's not talk about my pantry. It is a disorganized mess and my oldest granddaughter needs to come help me organize it.

So yes, I am the ant.