That’s today, May 7, and that’s also a definite hard NO from me, whether it’s “world wide” or “worldwide”!
I’m out in the garden, fully dressed, thank you very much. However, if YOU choose to celebrate sans clothing, please wear sunscreen and please DO NOT send pics!
I don’t know what the heavens have unleashed, but since April 1 every day seems to bring a new disaster, a series of unfortunate events…
—I tore or somehow injured my medial collateral ligament on my right knee, the one that had previous injury issues! Talk about collateral damage…It’s starting to heal; KTape is my new best friend.
—The day after our big rainstorm, I went out to my pond to empty the filled up basin so I could use the water for the garden. There used to be a waterfall with a motor that kept things moving along, but that’s no longer working cos it’s some sort of big job to fix the electricity.
—I very gingerly knelt down to protect my painful knee. I then leaned IN (not the kind that Sheryl Sandberg wrote about) with a small container to transfer the rain water to a larger bucket. Everything was still slick with the inch of rain we had and as I leaned my left hand on the rocks surrounding the pond (some cemented in, some not) I apparently leaned on a rock that was NOT cemented in which was super slick and my left hand slid right in the water, while my right hand which had been acting as a stabilizer got sliced on the other rocks. There was blood EVERYWHERE.
That’s not even the worst of it. I fell so hard and unexpectedly that the larger cemented in granite boulders directly collided with my upper left quadrant rib area. I have prominent ribs and oblique muscles so there wasn’t a whole lot to cushion the blow, which felt like I got hit by a bus. Now I have either bruised or cracked ribs or cartilage, not sure which as I’m going to wait as long as possible to call the doctor. I think that’s called “blunt force trauma.” I figure as long as I’m not having a problem breathing, I can be pretty sure that my lung wasn’t damaged, not so sure about the spleen, but I’m hopeful the ribs caught the brunt of it.
Did you think that was it?
Nope, there’s more…
—Yesterday I went in the shed to take out all the deck cushions and toys to get ready for a visit from the Angels. (My ribs are sore and I know I shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy.) I haven’t really been all the way in there for a while, maybe only briefly to get a rake or some clippers so I was absolutely SHOCKED to see that everything was covered in layers of fresh and old rat droppings. It is quite literally the most disgusting thing I have ever seen.
Apparently in our tight housing market, the first rats to move in must have communicated this free space to their entire extended family and they set up an elaborate condo development. The rats also ate completely through the plastic bags of fertilizer and snail killer, which was NONtoxic (unfortunately).
I thought about cleaning it up myself, but as I looked around at the filth and contamination, I realized that it was beyond my capability. I don’t even know what I’d do if I saw a rat run out of there; I’d probably be scarred for life. The shed also appeared to be a perfect breeding ground for the hantavirus which I definitely didn’t want to breathe in and become infected with, so I found a company that’s coming with biohazard gear and they’re going to take everything out, vacuum up the droppings, disinfect it all, and help me figure out how to avoid another catastrophe like this in the future.
I love all animals but the not the ones that bring disease.
You have to know that a situation has to be REALLY REALLY bad if I don’t clean it myself. I have pics but you probably don’t want to see them. The only one who seemed interested was Angel Boy 2.0 who wanted me to flip the camera around so he could see.
“Show me the rat poop, Grandma!” “Wow, that’s a lot!”
Yuck. I’ve lost my appetite, hope I didn’t do the same to you.
This garden has possums, coyotes, bobcats, hawks, and owls; all of whom include mice and rats on their menu. I’ve tried to make a hospitable environment for them here at Casa de Enchanted Seashells and all I ask in return is that they keep my space rodent free — and they let me down. They failed. I’m very disappointed in our relationship.
What more could April bring? I don’t even want to know. Tell me when it’s my birthday month of May, OK?
UPDATE: The rat guy left and the infestation was so bad that a lot of stuff had to be discarded!! It’s all clean and disinfected now, but WOW. If anyone’s in the SoCal area and needs similar services, I 100% recommend Pacific Coast Animal Control.
I need an intervention.
I’ve watched so many British TV shows that I called somebody a wanker (under my breath) and actually started to get in my car on the OTHER side.
Sometimes I use the word “whilst” and stop myself from adding a “u” to color, honor, favorite. I actually think they look better with the addition, but that’s a personal issue.
I think it all started years ago with Absolutely Fabulous and all the British baking shows, Downton of course, Broadchurch, Vera, Scott & Bailey, Call the Midwife, Endeavour, Sherlock, The Crown, Unforgotten, Grantchester, now All Creatures Great and Small…soooo many!
Honestly, I don’t watch a lot of American TV unless it’s reruns of The Nanny or Bewitched or Emergency and it’s turned me into a bloody fool, but I should stop whinging. I’m cheeky like that. No worries, it’s all brill.
My DIL thinks I’m so funny because she likes to watch American shows and I don’t think they are nearly as well acted or written. Oh, we love to watch trashy Dynasty, but that’s a one off for me.
One of my favorite sayings is “needs must”. I reckon those two words speak volumes.
Cheers! Off you go then.
This is a great day for all of the reasons!
Have you ever gone to a store with a purpose, on a mission, like you know exactly what you’re looking for or need, BUT you become sidetracked and MUST HAVE what caught your eye?
Well, that happened to me. I was looking for prezzies for my almost six-year-old. I like to start accumulating stuff way in advance of his March birthday and not wait until the last minute. I put a lot of thought into the gifts I choose; some educational, some for fun, some for artistic craftiness.
Up and down every aisle and there’s really nothing that I/he can’t live without…until I spy a pink butterfly and I’m entranced. When I get closer, I’m hooked. I’m in love. Obviously I’ve forgotten all about my original intention because this beauty was coming home with ME.
It’s a 12×12 pink butterfly pillow and it’s entirely crafted out of beads and sparkles. Oh my. It’s EVERYTHING. It’s gorgeous and sparkly and pink and tactile and PERFECT for my bed, and it’s on sale. It’s obviously not to be used as an actual pillow; it’s decor– it’s princessy and enchanted and beyond precious.
I have no idea why it was discounted 50%, but I l very gently– reverently— carried it in my arms to the register.
The employee said, “Where did you get that? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I pointed, and she said, “Just a minute, OK?” and ran over to snag the only other one.
“I had to have it”, she whispered, and I nodded. “I know. Sisters.”
What a simply perfect way to start the lovely month of February.
Last night I totally freaked out. I was watching my new obsession, Aussie Gold Hunters, and I heard a noise. My heart started to pound…
It sounded like there was some kind of creature in the house–in the room where I was on the sofa watching TV.
I muted the sound and looked around to try and figure out if it was coming from under the sofa, under the table, or near the patio doors.
It was a regular sound, kind of like scratching, scrabbling or fumbling, almost as if something was caught or stuck.
I got out a powerful little flashlight and looked everywhere. Then I thought that whatever it could be was trapped behind the entertainment center but there’s no way I can see behind it or move it.
After spending quite a while searching,I was pretty super stressed out. What to do? I straightened up the kitchen, put away in the refrigerator a half bottle of cayenne kombucha that I hadn’t finished, and went to bed, making sure my bedroom door was closed tight just in case IT tried to find me while I was asleep.
The first thing I did this morning was to check and see if I still heard the noises.
Nope.
I made my coffee and while it was brewing, I took out that unfinished bottle of kombucha, had a few sips, put the cap back on, and set it on the tile counter. I went to my bedroom to unplug my computer and bring it out so I could read emails and learn about what fresh hell the Supreme Court was doing while I was drinking the fresh French roast.
I HEARD THE NOISES AGAIN!
“Scritch, scritch, scritch…”
Now it seemed to be coming from the direction of the tile counter where I had placed the kombucha. I put my ear near the cap and heard the very same sounds that had alarmed me last night.
OMG. Apparently, my “wild animal” was merely the bacteria-friendly fermented carbonation trapped in the bottle of kombucha.
Did you know this? When making kombucha, bubbles are created during bottling (also called second fermentation). At room temperature, the yeast eat the sugar and create carbon dioxide (CO2). … This is how kombucha becomes fizzy! If your kombucha sprays out of the bottle as soon as you open it, it’s because there is too much pressure inside.
I quite honestly got weirded out over NOTHING. I really am crazy, but very glad to know that no critter was trapped in my house. Whew!
Or how I became the spirit human to a wandering white egret. Do you have a spirit animal? I’m sure we all do, but today I became a bird’s spirit human. At least that’s the story I told myself.
(I’ll not bury the lede and confess that I’m NOT the naked lady, just in case you were curious.)
I don’t know if it’s because of the lingering full moon energy coupled with another Santa Ana heatwave, but this was a strange and interesting Sunday.
I’ve been able to increase my mileage according to the doc’s plan, as long as my foot doesn’t hurt. It can be bit sore, but if I start limping, that’s my cue to give him a call. So far, so good.
On today’s walk, I got a late start and didn’t want to walk to the beach because that’s about 7 or 8 miles round trip, much more than the five miles he approved.
I walked up and around the lagoon. On the way back, I saw one police car and then two and when I saw the third one, my interest was piqued and I decided to follow it. They seemed to all be parked on a street that leads to a lagoon beach.
I stopped and asked a neighbor what was going on and he said he heard there was a naked woman wandering around the area. I then walked up to a police officer and asked him to corroborate what I heard, and he did. I exhorted (strongly encouraged) him to be kind to her since the police dog was there too, and it probably was some sort of mental health issue, not a “let’s unleash the hounds of hell” issue.
By the way, when did cops start dressing like urban warfare combat fighters? The ones I saw today were dressed in FULL ON body armor, in FULL ON FIGHT MODE to what was probably either a domestic or a mental health situation. They were incredibly intimidating looking for a little beach town, way too hard core.
I decided to move on and continue walking out of respect for whomever it was and whatever was going on. Sometimes I hang around to document possible police misconduct, but there were other people gathering, so I felt it was okay to leave.
After walking for another block or so, this is what I saw.
Yup, a beautiful white egret simply standing as still as a statue. S/he took a couple of steps…do you have any idea how SLOWLY egrets walk? It’s like doing a mindful walking meditation with Thich Nhat Hanh, something I’m not at all good at, ‘cos I’m not patient. At all.
But this time, I slowed down to enjoy the moment. S/he walked across the street SO S L O W L Y, turned his/her head and seemed to beckon me to follow, so I did. I stayed a couple feet back and every so often, s/he would turn to look at me and continue.
When it seemed as if (I’ll just call it a female, cos that’s the vibe I got) she wanted to cross a street that’s a bit busier, I went out in the street to warn traffic and to escort her safely. A mom and her two kids joined me and we all followed this queenly white egret up the street. Cars stopped to watch and it was so joyous and so delightful to participate in the Queen Egret Parade. The mom and kids went back home but I continued on our journey together to shepherd this magnificent bird.
I felt as if she was a bit timid, a bit unsure about where she was, and needed me. When we came to a clearing with a field and tall trees, I decided it was time for her to fly. I raised both of my arms outstretched like wings and silently communicated to her that it wasn’t safe on these streets and she needed to fly.
And she did. I watched her circle the area and land in a tall eucalyptus tree. Another egret flew by and my hope is that they all ended up back at the lagoon, safe and sound.
Honestly, I feel like in that moment, I became the spirit human to this pure white egret wanderer.
I don’t have any new information about the naked woman, and I’ll update if I hear anything.
It’s only 11 a.m. and I’ve already had a magical day. It’s time to put a clothes in the washing machine and check the video to see if my coyote or bobcat came to visit. For me, that would be the icing on the cake.
Check out how S L O W L Y she walks.
I like this idea and plan to do it with the Angels (also Mom and Dad) ‘cos we LOVE a good scavenger hunt and a little gratitude guidance is always appreciated.
I bet it won’t take long before someone hands me a seashell or a rock. I’m so easy!
Or T will say something like, “It’s me! I make you happy, right Grandma?”
Oh yes, my little friend. Always.
During my recent period of enforced lack of strenuous physical activity, I tried to solve one of my major dilemmas; how to take a photo that successfully captures the sparkle of a rhinestone or a diamond or glitter. It’s so HARD!
Every photo I had previously taken seemed flat and lifeless. My research revealed it has a lot to do with aperture and lighting so I set up a little impromptu photo shoot with the correct lighting and my Canon for some experimentation.
I can’t honestly say that these pics look any better. None of them really capture the play of light or the vibrant colors that glint off the sparkly stones. I have no idea what I did wrong, but it was a fun diversion even though I didn’t achieve success.
This princessy sparkle-encrusted goblet is my newest special purchase and the beverage isn’t pink champagne, it’s my fave cayenne kombucha.
Here are the results…I’m trying something different because I seem to have reached my photo limit on WP. This is an embed by Imgur.
Happy November!
I simply HAD to share this brilliant illustration by Will Santino, cartoonist at The New Yorker.
https://www.willsantino.com/
Due to a communications mixup, I didn’t get to see the new podiatrist until today.
Lemme back up…about a month ago, my foot started to hurt after a long walk. At first I thought it was a stress fracture, but there was no bruising.
Pretend doc that I think I am, I decided it was a joint or tendon injury: extensor tendonitis and possibly capsulitis of the second metatarsal. I wore a boot in the house, iced it, soaked in epsom salts, taped it up with KT tape, and did a lot of stretching.
Refusing to give in to the pain, I forced my poor foot to go on long walks that were excruciatingly painful.
Finally, this morning, I got an xray and waited for the doc. Actually there were two of them that came in to see me, ‘cos I guess it was a slow Monday. They asked me what happened and I gave them both the benefit of my ZERO years of medical school.
I was pretty chatty and finally, one of them broke in and said, “How’d you like to look at the xray?”
I said, “Well, you could have shut me up about five minutes ago haha”, but he said he liked listening to my diagnosis, even though I was totally wrong.
The xray left no doubt as to what the problem is IT’S a COMPLETELY BROKEN stress fracture at the base of the toe and not healing because I kept re-injuring it.
My initial diagnosis was correct! I should have gone to medical school for real, oh well, too late now…
I hate my feet, I really do, they’re tiny but completely deformed from too many years of ballet and toe-crushing pointe shoes, in addition to breaking every toe multiple times because I’m CARELESS. I call them my fat little trotters.
I can’t walk anywhere for two weeks, I have to wear a hiking boot in the house, I can’t go barefoot at all, and I had to promise to actually and truly wear the boot so I wouldn’t be forced to have an aircast up to my knee. In other words, my foot needs to be completely immobilized.
On the plus side, they told me I had the softest feet they had ever seen, (which was only slightly weird) and they loved my high arches–from an anatomical perspective. The docs said I should see the rest of the feet THEY have to look at all day, and in that regard, my feet were a PLEASURE. LOL. AND that my sunny disposition cheered them both up because they were having a not-so-great Monday. We spent a lot of time laughing which made me happy, too.
There’s a SLIGHT chance I’ll have to have surgery in January, but only if it doesn’t finish healing correctly if I disregard their expert advice.
That’s my Monday, I hope yours is less fraught with injury!
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 