Rain and More Rain

Rain, rain go away .....

I mowed until I could no longer see last night. I mowed way more than my fair share. HeWho is no longer towing (supposedly) kept taking calls yesterday. In case you are wondering if he repaired my mower .... he did not. He did, however, get an older push mower going. My old mower cuts a wider path and the self propel function was functioning. See, I don't ask for much.

I prefer the blade on the old mower as well. It goes lower and I like a nicely shaved lawn. No, I do not scalp it and leave raw spots. But, that is neither here nor there. The fact was that we had one day and one day only to accomplish the mowing. It can be done, we do it all the time, but it does require two people on task. It was late yesterday afternoon when HeWho mows and tows discovered that he needed a new starter for the zero-turn. He had to go purchase this very not cheap part and install it before he could actually mow.

As annoyed as I was, I still took pity on him and mowed all the low areas that were particularly wet. Well, if I am truthful, I mowed them because I don't like the way it looks when he leaves muddy tracks in those areas. Not to mention that there is always a chance he will actually get stuck and make a huge mess pulling the  mower out .....

I had a brief respite when Kamper Terry borrowed the mower to mow his site. Then I mowed until darkness fell. I took Meloxicam and aspirin, but my legs and back hurt all night. Cujo curled up against my back and acted as a live heating pad, but Eddie was restless and kept trying to climb up on my side. I felt like I had just dozed off when I felt a furry face on the side of my face. A little tongue gave me a doggy kiss and for just a second I thought it was Eddie of still sweet (though no longer puppy) breath. For just a second a smile was forming until I caught a whif of nasty dog breath. Cujo. It was Cujo. Cujo has been warned to keep his mouth shut and only accept my affections and not to reciprocate. Guess he forgot.

So, I have been parked in front of the TV most of the day, still tired from yesterday. I had stuck a slab of corned beef in the crock pot and was expecting to at least smell it after 2 hours. I went to the back door, as I had been doing periodically all day, to try to persuade the canines to go out. I took a peek at the crock pot. I had the temperature set on WARM. No wonder I didn't smell anything!

It was mostly frozen when I put it on. I turned it up, but I may have to resort to the pressure cooker or make different plans for dinner. Eggs? Frozen pot pies? I don't really care. I just know I am sick of rain!

MY Mower!

The sun is shining!! When last we met I regaled you with a tale of turkey eggs. You know, how when you know what you are referring to, you just assume everyone does? Well, the carton contained chicken eggs. There were only two turkey eggs, that is what I found nestled among the receipts. Make more sense now?

Speaking of large eggs, meet our resident goose. I have decided to name her Gizelda, her husband's name is George. Her eggs are still intact, but during a pause in the rain I saw her out in the field, foraging for bugs and worms. You can't really see them, but Henry and Hilde are out there with their babies, too.

The sun is out, but it is still wet out there. No matter, I still had to mow the back yard. Eddie could hide in the grass if I didn't. You might recall that I started last season with a nearly new mower. Fancy, with an electronic starter. HeWho is in charge of lawn equipment can no longer locate the charger for that function ...... says it is my fault, since the mower is mine, I should have taken care of it. I have no idea what it looks like and am therefore exempt from blame.

The mower starts easily with the pull cord and I am not complaining. Well, not about the starter. We have quite a few tenants here these days and one family has teen boys. One of them got in trouble with his dad and was sent up to the office to do some manual labor as punishment. I suggested to HeWho was in charge of choosing a task that weed eating needed to be done at the dog park. Let's face it, nobody likes to do that. The equipment is heavy and your back hurts afterwards. Punishment.

So, the kid shows up last week before the rains and I am busy inside, secure in the knowledge that HeWho rarely listens to his wife is taking care of the punishment. I go outside for some reason and see that my mower is being used in the dog park. By the kid. I can just see the cut grass being thrown into the newly mulched area that I had just worked so hard on. Am I happy? What do you think?

Later, after mowing, the kid is weed eating around the fence. Backwards. You weed eat first, then mow, that way the mulching blades will chew up all the long grass and you won't need to rake it up. Later on that day, another helper used my mower. A responsible adult. He raised my blades to avoid rocks and such in the tent area. After he was done, he mentioned to HeWho allowed the kid to use my mower that the self propel function was NOT WORKING!

This is an important function when you mow as much as I do. HeWho saw fit to let my mower be used even told me about this change in mowing status. He said it should be quite easy to fix. Remember this all occurred before the recent torrential flooding rains. One would have thought that someone would have taken care of this "easy fix" BEFORE his wife had to mow this morning. You know, to avoid her wrath.

I mowed the back yard, which is not big, but with all that rain, the grass was high and the ground was boggy in places. I was totally spent after that. I usually do the side yards and under all my trees after mowing the back. Not today.  Now that I have rested and vented some anger I will attempt to mow some more. Although, now that I think about it .... I should have held on to my anger to propel that mower.

Belated Easter Egg Hunt

During a brief break in the rain yesterday, I took a stroll through the yard ....... to look at the WEEDS!! I have my work cut out for me in this garden.

And more weeds under the peach tree. The taller "weeds" are actually baby peach trees. I will be relocating some of them throughout the park. I found a small oak tree among the weeds, as well. It will be easy to dig with all the rain.

This is my small patch of bee balm in front of the Iris. Seems like I worked for hours carefully plucking out the stray tendrils of grass and other weeds. Mainly dandelions. I don't hate dandelions in the open fields. I just hate them when they try to choke out my more desirable plants.

It was supposed to be a dry day today, but I woke up to rain. And it is cold out there. I had big plans for those weeds ........ Instead I am stuck inside again. Not that I don't have plenty to do in here. First day of the month and my desk is calling me, so I answered.

I keep a tray next to the register for the credit card receipts. I usually remove them and file them after one month. Trouble is, that tray becomes a catch-all for HeWho finds things in his hands, and wonders what to do with them. HeWho often finds himself in a quandary. If you should stop him while he has a tool in his hand, that tool could end up anywhere. If he is near the check-in counter, it might end up buried under receipts. I am guilty, too. I found my ear buds among the credit card slips .......

But today, I found the oddest thing yet.

We have some new tenants. Super nice couple and they have some friends who happen to have chickens. They have been giving us eggs. I love fresh eggs and appreciate them so much. Just the other day, we were all talking about fresh eggs and I was asked how the turkey eggs turned out.

Turkey eggs?? I must have looked dumbstruck, because I was. I had no idea what he was referring to. Then I remembered that HeWho is always out and about the park had handed me the last carton of eggs ....... We all looked at HeWho. He remembered the turkey eggs, but not what he did with them. I suggested that he search his vehicle, because if those eggs went bad and burst, he was going to have a big problem.

But, you have already guessed what I found in the credit card receipts, haven't you? Like a belated Easter Egg Hunt. That is my life.

Worst Paper Cut EVER

While the rain pounded down so hard it came in the vents on the roof and I had to mop every hour or so, the internet went out. Really. I can't go outside and to add insult to injury, I can't navigate the web in between mopping.

I am finally able to get on-line again and catch up with my "reading". This is when I catch up on my favorite blogs. I was doing just that, and had just written a witty comment when ...... the internet went down again.

This time it was actually my fault. I had accidentally turned the function off when I was vigorously scratching my jean clad belly because I thought I felt something crawling on me. A tick, I thought, but turned out it was just an itch.

Anywho, I was responding to Hillbilly Mom's unfortunate paper cut. Paper cuts really hurt. It made me remember my worst paper cut ever. I know, I know, everybody thinks theirs is the worst, but I am willing to bet that my story will top all others.

This happened back in the 80's, close in time to the Glamour shot incident. We were living in Tampa and I had custody of our 2 year old grandson. I had been to the grocery store for just a few items and had only one bag. I stopped at the mailbox and stuck the mail in the grocery bag. With a wriggling two year old in one arm and the bag (remember paper grocery bags?) in the other, I made my way into the kitchen. I put the bag on the counter and turned to deal with the cranky child in need of a nap. I forget what it was that he needed so badly from that bag, but I stood on tip toe and reached into the bag to get it. I grabbed the mail, rolled up inside a magazine and pulled it out of the way as I was looking for this most important thing that I can no longer
remember.

In doing so, the bundle of mail came unstuck unexpectedly and the rolled magazine scraped my open eye!!! Burning pain shot through my eye and tears began to flow like a broken faucet. I cannot begin to describe my misery. I must have located the item the child wanted and he must have realized how much distress I was in. I lay down with him, since opening my eye was agony. He finally went to sleep and, like all mothers everywhere, I got up to accomplish some household chores in peace and quiet.

Just a paper cut, you know. By the time school was out and the child who drove himself to school rolled in, I was mostly out of my mind with pain. I had managed to find an ophthalmologist that could see me right away. It was my sensitive sweet son and he strapped the kid in his car and hauled me to that office. He was so nervous, driving with his critical mother in the front seat. The road was bumpy and he kept offering apologies, but I could have cared less.

The very first thing they did upon my arrival was apply numbing drops to my pitiful eye. Instant relief. Turns out that I filleted my cornea. Seems that rolled up magazine pages are sharp! Ointment and an eye patch for a week and I was good as new. Well, maybe not new, but as good as could be expected.

Was I right? Can anyone top that paper cut story?

Happy Birthday, Gage!

I took these pictures almost 20 years ago. They are in a frame that hangs on the wall in my bedroom.

Makes me smile every time I see them. That precious face full of determination belongs to my grandson, Gage.

I love this little guy so much. Have loved him for 22 years! Today is his birthday.

I wish I could see this face today. He looks much the same. Still handsome with his beautiful blue eyes. He can still convince me to do things I otherwise would not do. Like the tattoo on my ankle.

Happy Birthday, Gage! Never forget that Gramma loves you!

I Am The Map

Eddie has grown into a fine little dog. Not so little anymore. I think he might be bigger than Cujo. They are best buddies now and sleep next to each other.

Thank goodness I have this sweet pair to calm me! I read somewhere that stroking a dog or cat will bring your blood pressure down .......

It has been the longest day. After yesterday's rain, the temperature dropped and it was chilly all day. I was busy inside, painting the trim to go up on the new siding outside. The phone rang almost non-stop. Cancellations for this weekend because of the crummy forecast and reservations for Memorial Day weekend. The usual exclamations of distress that one cannot choose the site they want and even a couple of  "is your all's pool open yet". Then we have the all the telemarketers that start the call with a demand that I not hang up. As if that will stop me.

I had talked to a man a couple of days ago, inquiring about tent camping. It was a rather lengthy call, as he had many questions. He also made me privy to his divorce agreement and child visitation arrangements. He is also currently engaged, in case you wanted to know. This conversation was conducted outside, as I was pulling the weeds in my Bee Balm patch. I assured the man, that he need not make a reservation in the weeks leading up to Memorial Day, as my tent sites are plentiful.

Yep, he called today to make a reservation. He retold me the same story as before and I finally managed to get the necessary information and repeat my litany of instructions. I picked up my paintbrush and was back on task when he called back. He has a dog. He thought I might want to know and what would he need to provide for the dog to stay. I assured him that we are pet friendly ........ I was just back on task when he called again to ask what to do when he got here.

I hope he doesn't need help with his tent, because I don't do that! I have come to the conclusion that he has never camped before.

I had three calls for over night stays for travelers. The first two were all checked in and I was waiting for the last one while I applied the second coat of paint. I normally close at 7:00 this time of year, but it gets dark later. I stayed in the office until 8:00 and the third over-night had still not arrived, so I locked up and came in to stroke my dogs and unwind.

I was all comfy in my recliner, dogs by my side, computer in my lap, watching TV. The phone rang. It was that third rig. Man said he was here, but did not know where to park. I told him I would be "there" in less than a minute. "Where, in the office?" asks the traveler. I answered in the affirmative and went in and unlocked the door. The parking lot was empty. Nobody out there.

I assumed he was at my competitor's park. It happens. Even though the names of the parks sound nothing alike and she is on the south side,  while I rule the north side. I tried to call him back to see if he was at the wrong park, but his phone was forwarded to voice mail. By now, I am annoyed. I am tired and want to end my day. HeWho was watching the monitor for the outside cameras and saw the big coach coming out of our private drive!

Now, this was a 42 footer and tall. There is a huge oak tree with low limbs hanging over the private drive.  The private drive has a sign, a lighted sign. Besides identifying the PRIVATE DRIVE, it also says DO NOT ENTER. The big rig is sitting there in the parking lot, facing the wrong direction. About 5 minutes go by and it starts to move, then backs up next to my car. But, nobody comes to the office.

HeWho has left to check to see if this driver has done a turn around in the open field ..... the very wet open field. Now, we don't offer curb service, but I went out to see if I could speed things along. I approached the driver's side and the man just sat there, staring at me. I really didn't cherish the thought of walking in front of the rig, but the driver seemed to be unable to open his window. I suppose he thought he could send a beam into my head and we could communicate through telepathy.

I took a chance and walked to the other side. I will confess that I considered walking behind the rig, but he still had his reverse lights on. I sort of ran in front of the rig. You will note that, HeWho is not afraid to route out the sewer line, seems to be intimidated by registering guests and often leaves me alone to take care of business.

The man in the passenger seat (I thought he was the other man's wife and was thinking that she sure did look masculine) opened the door and I asked if they planned to come in to register. "Oh, the office is closed, no one is in there." I almost said, "Just shoot me." They might have taken me literally.

At this point I wasn't even trying to hide my annoyance. I told them I had been in the office waiting since they called. I even mentioned that I had tried to call him back and that his voice mail picked up. He assured me that his voice mail was not activated! He was a little huffy about it. This did not help my attitude. I pointed out to him that there was a map on the front of the building, which he told me was confusing. It was later established that I had called the other gentleman, as he was the one who had called me and that he had accidentally turned his phone off ....

But, the thing that annoyed me the most was the fact that they had taken a check-in packet, but neglected to bring the map in and I had to use an additional map to mark their path to the assigned site. Or, it might have been. I texted HeWho abandoned me to watch the idiots and make sure they made it to the site. They did not follow my instructions! They missed the turn and had to be escorted into the site. I give very good directions! If you will just listen to me, then refer to the map on which I have HIGH-LIGHTED your path you cannot possibly get lost.

I am going to go pet all my dogs and cat.

New Residents

Remember my Killdeer, Hilde and Henry. They come back every year to lay their eggs on the ground and hatch new babies. You will have to look close at the picture above to see the 4 tiny chicks. I discovered the nest while mowing close by. Hilde ran out screaming "Dweep, dweep, dweep" as the mower grew close.

I stopped mowing to investigate and found her eggs. No pictures of the eggs. I just wanted to make sure they were safe. I would have felt horrible had I mown them down! I have been checking on them every day and hoping that Martha, the boy cat did not find them. I even left the weeds intact. Martha has enjoyed a delicacy of Killdeer eggs in years past. Seems I raised a murderer!

Here Hilde is covering her new hatchlings. She was frantic with her calls, so I went to investigate. I think she just wanted to show me her babies and have a little photo shoot. I had fondled all the eggs, as is my habit, while chatting with her on various occasions. I was close enough to her that she pecked my hand. She knows me and doesn't appear to be too bothered by my attention.

This is what she looked like when she was calling me. She really is a pretty little thing.

Can you see the babies? They were sleeping when I picked one up. So soft with their downy beginnings of feathers. When I settled the tiny bird on the ground he walked away from the nest. They all get up and walk soon after hatching. They will follow the parents around as they teach them to eat the bugs in the grassy fields.

While I was busy admiring the new little flock, Henry was flapping wildly in the grass. When an enemy approaches, they will abandon the nest and try to appear to be lame to lure the attacker to them and away from the nest. Henry's performance was silly and lackluster as he made an exhibit of himself.

Here is the tiny bird I held, finding his feet and walking away.

The barn swallows and Martens are busy trying to build nests, and we have a goose sitting on 6 eggs near the pond. She was not as accommodating as Hilde when I approached her nest. She hissed and stayed back. Geese can bite, you know!