A bit of this and a bit of that . . .

 

Last night when I went to go upstairs to bed I remembered one of the downsides to Autumn's impending arrival.  All those big creepy spiders that have been enjoying the great outdoors suddenly feel the need to move in with you.  I almost put my hand on one going up the stairs . . . I know for sure now my heart is in pretty good shape, because if ever there was a time or a thing that was going to give me a heart attack, almost putting your hand on top of a hairy spider the size of a one pound coin with legs as thick as spaghetti would do it. YIKES!  I made a really wobbly noise and skedaddled up the stairs lickety split, only to encounter another one sitting on the wall at the top of the stairs.  Thankfully my Spider Ninja came to the rescue and dispatched them (humanely) back into the great outdoors.  They probably came back in shortly thereafter, but I didn't see them and that's what counts. 

"Its a wonder I slept last night at all!"  

 

My fear of spiders comes from my mom.  I can't tell you how many balls of fluff she has killed with a fly swatter through the years, along with the odd mouse, poor things.  The grief of her loss overwhelms me from time to time, and in very unexpected moments. I can't control it.  The other night I had just gotten into bed and was about to press play on an episode of "Friends."  I watch one every night, it helps me to relax.  Anyways I was just about to press play and all of a sudden the loss hit me like a huge tsnuami and I was off to the races again and was crying.  Deep sobs and heart aching grief. There is no rhyme or reason to it or when it will hit me.  Its just there and I cry, and I mourn.  All of it.  I wish I had been able to see her one last time.  I want to call the house and hear her voice on the answer machine, but I am afraid someone would answer the phone and then I wouldn't hear it . . . irrational I know.   

 

Speaking of killing mice  . . .  my computer mouse died this week.  I have a lap top with a built in mouse thingie, but I have never ever been able to come totally to terms with it. I mean, how do you copy and paste with it?? I am sure its quite simple, but I haven't got a teenager in the house to teach me. Just a Todd and he is as much in the dark about such things as I am, if not more so.  I found myself with lots of old mouse/mice and a bunch of dongles, batteries which I wasn't sure worked or not because every one I tried wouldn't work so I couldn't tell. Which dongle even went with which mouse?  Was it the battery, the dongles or the mouse?  Why do we even have a collection of old mouse/mice!!!!! Todd picked me up a new one. A cheap one, but it works.  That's all it needs to do.  I don't need bells and whistles. I just need things that work when I need them to.

   

"Grandpa's getting old and grey,

whiskers getting in th way.

Grandma chews them in her sleep

and dreams she's eating shredded wheat."

Just a little poem my mother taught me long long ago that I have never forgotten. Probably because it is funny. This week I have been enjoying shredded wheat for breakfast in the mornings. Having it the way my mother used to make it for me.  She would pour boiling water over it first and then quickly drain the water off.  She would then sprinkle some brown sugar on top and add a bit of milk. It was perfect.  These days I have brown sukrin on top, which is for diabetics, and I add a few berries, a luxury that wasn't available to my mom . . . but I still do the boiling water and add the bit of milk.  And I still always think of that poem, and remember mom while I am eating it.   

When I was a child our favourite breakfast used to be when we ran out of cereal and mom made us buttered bread with sugar and milk.  Or homemade egg nog. What a treat that was!!

 

I am in love with the morning light that pours through our dining room window each morning.  The days are getting shorter for sure and the mornings definitely have a distinct chill in the air . . .  but that light.  It grabs me and holds me for moments each morning until it passes . . .  this morning the few clouds that were there were tinged with pink.  My glass birds make the light even more beautiful. They bring me joy.  I have not finished collecting them yet  . . .  there are still a few more to go . . .  and I want a star . . . small things  . . .

  

I got to enjoy a morning rainbow this week, which is not a usual occurrance.  I am so grateful I was looking out the window as I sat here and that I noticed it. 

"I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token

of a covenant between me and the earth."

~Genesis 9:13 

Every time I see a rainbow I think of God and His great love for us. I can't help myself, nor do I apologise for it. I am a woman of deep spirituality.  I believe in God. I believe in His promises. He is real to me.  I know He loves and cares about me and He knows me by name. I was His in the pre-existance, I am His now, and I will return back into His presence one day.  That knowledge brings me great comfort.

  

You just have to laugh.  Mother nature does have a sense of humour at times. Tina and Tony brought us a bag of veg from their garden this week and these are some of the carrots.  They are all the same.  They made me laugh when I saw them.  So funny. Definite smile makers.  I am not sure what causes such a thing to happen, but I am glad that it did what it did.  These are fun, fun, FUN carrots!  Its almost a shame to eat them, but I will . . .  and I bet they taste really good too!  

 

I looked up at the sky yesterday afternoon.  It was a beautiful blue . . .  interspersed with about a bazillion contrails  . . .  jet trails   . . . and I found myself thinking about all the people on each plane.  Where were they going, were they sad to be leaving loved ones behind, or exited because they were flying to meet up with loved ones  . . .  going on a honey moon, or a much deserved holiday . . .  going home to mourn the loss of someone they cared about . . .  on business perhaps, maybe running away.  Each seat on every plane filled with a story,  a purpose, a beating heart.  We have two airports not too far from us. Liverpool is the closest and then there is Manchester . . . there are always planes flying over head in one direction or another, any time of the day or night.  Sometimes you hear them, most times you don't, but you usually see them  . . .  and you know they've been there because of the trails they make and the dispersing trails they leave in their wake . . .  

   

I found myself wondering at what kind of trail I leave in my wake, or I will leave in my wake.  Will people know I've been here by the stream I leave behind.  How long will it take for my trail to disappear.  Will the trail I leave behind be tinged with pink?  Or will I even leave a trail at all  . . .   deep thoughts for a Saturday morning.  Deep thoughts . . .  

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *You do not just wake up 

and become the butterfly.

Growth is a process.

~Unknown   •。★★ 。* 。 

  

In the kitchen today  . . . .  diabetic friendly Lemon Oaties.  Perfect.  Crisp. Lemony.  Low GI.  Filled with fibre and flavour.  Yum yum! 

Have a fabulous Saturday.  I hope it brings you immeasureable joy.  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!