My dashboard snowman

I have a little snowman on the dashboard of my car. He doesn't reside there all year, just November through February or March (depending on March's weather).  I found him at a long ago rummage sale and had to get him. He's just a little, unassuming, white terry cloth snowman, three balls high and filled with beanbag type stuff.  Pipe cleaner arms, cloves for buttons, teeny black dots of some sort for eyes and a teeny carrot-looking thing for a nose - no mouth - wearing a faded little scarf.  Nothing much to look at.  . . . But he's magic!

Every November I put him on my car's dashboard, on top of a square of grippy stuff (that no-slide rubbery stuff you sometimes see in cupboards).  I set him securely upright, facing the inside of the car, looking ahead, between the front seats.
But he moves!  All by himself!  After a few trips in my car, I'll look over at him and there he is . . . staring at me!  And he's usually leaning forward toward me, too!  This year, though, he's kind of leaning back, away from me, but he's still got his beady little eyes on me!  I want to say "What?? I'm not driving that badly!", (and, okay, I often do).  If I put him back in his original position, within days, he's back to staring at me again!

I think if I put him facing the windshield, he'd somehow manage to turn around and look at me over his little snowman shoulder!

First Snow

My town got its first measurable snow yesterday and today. Depending on where you were in town, you got between a couple inches to only a dusting that is already gone as I write this.  My street got the dusting.

I remember first snows of my childhood. Why were those snows so much better, so much more magical than the snow I had to go out in to run some errands in this morning?  Where were the big, fluffy flakes, lazily floating down from .... who knew where?  Where was the snow I couldn't wait to get out in, to catch on my tongue and feel kiss my eyelids?  What was so different about the snow of my morning today? I would no more have thought of catching this snow on my tongue than I would have thought of licking it off my car (something, by the way, I've never done).  Did the snow change? Or did I? And how rather sad and disheartening it is to think that it is me that has changed.  Me that has lost the ability to see the magic and charm of a first snow, thinking instead of whether I should put warmer blankets on the bed and if I really needed to run these errands.

Maybe I should start by buying myself a silly, childlike hat. Something whimsical to wear when my inner child needs to be shaken awake. Maybe then I'll feel like going out to catch a flake or two on my eyelids and tongue.  Maybe I will.  Maybe on the second snow of the season.  . . . In the back yard.

Stray thoughts about books

The Disclaimer: These opinions and ramblings are my own, so take them with as many grains of salt as you like.

I don't go out of my way to read them, but some of the most fun books I've read are geared toward young adults.  I just picked one up today that sounded good, and when I looked at the library's spine info, there it was, "YA".  All the Harry Potter books were, I believe, for younger readers and probably the Twilight books as well - although that series wasn't my favorite. Belle annoyed the heck out of me. So did Edward, for that matter.

Of course, I've read some fantastic books geared for older readers, too. One can't live on Oreo cookies and milk all the time (huh??), and I probably read more of the older-geared genre than younger.  But for a quick read that moves right along (young adults must bore easily), it's hard to beat a good Young Adult book.

I like series books.  I like getting to know the main characters and all their quirks as the books go on, and love catching references to previous books in the series (which is why I read them in order whenever possible).   The Sookie Stackhouse series, by Charlaine Harris is nice, racy fun, and Kate White's Bailey Weggins books are also excellent; fun, kind of sexy murder mysteries that never give away "whodunit" until the very end (at least I never know).  Also, in case you're interested, the Kathleen Mallory series, by Carol O'Connell is very good.

And, finally, here are some other authors I have found to write very good books, whether horror, fantasy, mystery or more serious subjects:  Stephen King; Dean Koontz; Robert McCammon; Neil Gaiman; Frank Delany and Mary Ellis, who wrote the not-to-be-missed, The Turtle Warrior, a book that moved me to tears many times, and has stayed with me for many years.

The Whisper of Change

The Mountain Ash outside my computer room window is getting its berries. My first thought when I noticed it was that it was too early, but with my next thought I realized July is nearly over. The spring, and even the early summer flowers are long gone and the season of daylilies is upon us. I see them running riot in every yard in town, it seems. They grow like weeds - except where I'd like them to grow, of course.  The stores have baskets of mums for sale outside their doors and, inside, whole aisles are devoted to back to school stuff.  To me, it seems as if the schools have just let out, and I imagine it feels that way to a lot of kids, too.  Even the days are getting shorter, a minute or two a day, and now that I think of it, some of the "Summer birds" are gone from the feeder. I guess they must have moved on to wherever they go when Autumn approaches.

Oh, I know we still have a month or more of high heat and humidity, and I'm certainly not pulling out my cold weather clothes yet, but if you stop a moment and look around you, you can feel it.  Amid the simmering heat, the splashes and shouts of kids in neighborhood pools, and the savory smelling smoke of summer barbeque grills, is the cool whisper "Fall is coming".

Forever 19

There is a child living inside me, I swear there is. She's about 19 and isn't overweight, so she has me convinced I look good. She gets really mad, however, when she sees photographs of me (us) and sees only the older, heavy, outside person.  I've tried to convince her that's really what I look like, but she still isn't convinced and, therefore, neither am I.

 I don't think I'd have as much fun if I didn't let her out now and then, though.  She likes to make me do things, then hide behind the unassuming facade of a 59 year old housewife.  The other day I was at the movie theater, for instance, and was annoyed by a guy in the row ahead of me cracking his gum loudly and repeatedly.  Any mature middle aged person would have simply asked him to stop, but instead I found myself wadding up a piece of paper I just happened to have and throwing it at his head.  I quickly turned back to the movie as he turned to see who had hit him, inwardly snickering along with my alter ego at his confused look.  He's lucky he stopped after that warning shot, because the next one would have been a spit ball. 

And there was the time, a year or so ago when, after playing UNO for shots awhile, I began shouting out the window to the neighbors behind us that the party we could hear them having was lame and we knew how to party! I swear my daughter . . . or that 19 year old . . . or both made me do it.

There you have it. My confession to childishness.  To my credit (maybe), I do act responsibly most of the time. I pay my bills, get the check ups an over 50 year old must get, all that. But there are times I catch a glimpse of that other me, the one who'll never grow old - she's most often seen now driving my convertible, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses - and I just have to smile.

Some gushing about my granddaughter

Colleen and Brian's baby was born on the fifth and Tom and I went to see her the next day.  She is just adorable! I know I'm biased and that all babies are cute, but Riley (Riley Taylor) is just stunning. She's got the sweetest little face and long fingers and toes and her disposition is as sweet as her face. She never cried, despite being passed around from grandparent to grandparent, and occasionally to parents, too. She only fussed a bit once when she was hungry.

If I didn't know she was adopted, I'd almost believe she was Colleen and Brian's natural born daughter! She has Colleen's long fingers and toes and the shape of her foot could be a match for Colleen's at that age! Both have narrow heels. It's really uncanny!

I went out to a rummage sale to look at a Pack N Play, thinking it would be a handy crib to have here, and ended up getting it, then couldn't resist also getting a few cute clothes I saw.  I hope Colleen likes them, but it's no problem if she doesn't - they didn't cost much.

We're going to see her this weekend and I'm counting the days, and hours, till then!

Sheesh! I was trying to help!

While out in my back garden, the one dominated by a huge box elder tree, I noticed a baby bird in the grass. Not wanting to accidentally step on it, I decided to shoo it over to a more protected spot. Little did I know my good intentions would create a riot among every bird in the yard! The birds were doing their sharp, clattering alarm calls, the baby was squawking at me (with very p'o'ed looks over its little shoulder) and all the birds followed me, cawing, chattering and squawking over my head all the way through the tree as I moved the baby along.  Finally the mom, or maybe the dad, flew down into the yard and did a wounded bird act trying to get me to leave it's baby alone.  I told the parent (and all the other birds that were carrying on in sympathy) that I was trying to help! I wasn't touching the baby! I'd leave it under this nice trailer for safety, shade, and easy access, but by the time I got it there, the whole yard of birds was involved and nothing would do until I finished my work and left the area.  I was a little surprised that blackbirds and grackles cared so much about a baby robin!  I guess, when one bird's not happy, nobody's happy!  I'm just glad none of the birds decided to dive bomb me - or bomb me in another way!