Saturday, September 6, 2014

Cabbages and kings

"You know I'll never be lonely, you're my only one, and I love the things, I really love the things that you do."

I have several things on my mind right now.

Biscotti is growing and his personality is starting to blossom.

At first it was very hard to get a good photo of him at first. I deleted about 3,000 before I got this one.


He's learning his name and making more eye contact now, so I was happy to get these two shots on the same day.



His eyes are growing bigger, along with the rest of him, and even though he looks so serious, or even sad, rest assured he is a happy little champ.

It's hard work raising a kitten, at least the way I'm doing it. The vet said I should feed him three times a day until he weighs 5 lbs. He weighed in at 3 lbs. 6 oz. yesterday. Zamboni weighed 9 lbs. 2 oz. and Loki was 13 lbs. 6 oz.

They really all three need to be on their own special diets, but I'd have to play meal police, which would be problematic because they aren't always hungry at the same times. Except Loki, who thinks he is hungry all the time.

I'm happy and relieved that I finished the second 100 pairs of the 200 pairs of beads I agreed to make for Beads of Courage. In the interim, my primary BOC contact let me know she had resigned (to stay home with her two young sons).

She told me in a private message on Facebook and after offering my encouragement, I said. "I'm working on the second hundred Carry-a-Bead pairs. Unless I hear otherwise, I'll finish them up and send them to BOC."

Since she didn't demur, I went on to finish the project. I have to say, I'm happy to be finished. 800 beads is a lot to take on. I was rushing at the end, just to get it over with, and that only caused me to make more mismatched pairs thn usual. But finish I did.



I cleaned the last beads Friday, packed them up and dropped them at the USPS. I'm giving myself two days off to rest my arms and neck and to clear my head. I have some new designs in mind. All I will say now is that they don't include round beads or pairs.

Maybe they will ask me for more and maybe down the road a bit I'd make more, but I'm ready to move on to other things.

Ironically, I already have promised my friend Pam more small beads for her shop by the end of the month. Luckily, I didn't promise round beads. I think free-form nuggets, maybe some ribbed donuts and pressed beads will fit the bill.

I also want to concentrate on my Facebook sales again. I need things that are new and different to tempt my customers. My beads still are selling but sometimes not until the second or third time around.

I honestly don't know how some of the FB sellers do it. I think they must stay up all night making beads and then they sell them all day long. And I'm still utterly bemused about how many beads some of the buyers buy. Even if money is no object, what do they plan to do with them.

OK. I know. I should talk about hoarding. All right then.

Something else I wanted to talk about is waste. I hate waste. To some degree that goes hand-in-hand with hoarding. Conversely, I see it as the flip side of hoarding.

I use soap and shampoo and lotion down to the very last drop in the bottle. I will add a little water to the dregs to keep the pump action going, and then I will stand the bottle upside down and eek out every last smidgen of product.

I will use soap that I don't especially care for. I have a bottle of apple-scented soap, sitting in the kitchen window because my theory is that sunlight will break down the sickly sweetness enough to be unoffensive.

I use toilet paper to the last square. My ex-sister-in-law used to change the rolls when they were down to about one quarter full. Her reason. I don't want to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and find myself out of paper.

My ex-sister-in-law deserves her own post, and one day I will write that one, but I have to say, I found her wastefulness both horrifying and admirable. At the same time. She wouldn't drink the last few inches of a beverage because of "backwash." I think of that sometimes when I grab a swig out of a bottle in the refrigerator (so as not to waste a drinking glass).

Lynne carried it to extremes. At dinner in a restaurant she'd order a side dish of corn for my niece, knowing full well that Amara wouldn't taste it. Her reason. I want a vegetable on her plate.

If she brought out a box of popsicles to the patio for the kids when they were small, she'd let whatever was left in the box sit and melt, then throw it away, because that was easier than putting the box back in the freezer.

My mom, the thriftiest of the thrifty, was appalled when Lynne bought jello in individual serving sizes. Mom cooked her own jello from box and put it in Pyrex custard cups with saran wrap over the tops.

There is a happy medium.

Anyway, I scrape condiment bottles to get the last morsel. I finish stale bread and cookies because I bought them and tossing them would be wasteful. I do draw the line at mold. But I definitely get a sense of satisfaction when I use something up. And that's where I see waste-aversion as the flip side of hoarding, when I'm glad that something is gone.

Neil and I are aligned on the waste thing. Neil is funny though. He forgets we have things to eat for example. So he'll open a box of Pop Tarts instead of eating the perishable scones we bought the day before. He can look right at ripe bananas on the counter, or right past leftovers in the fridge, and literally not see them.

I find all his little quirks cute. We've been together for almost 14 years and one of the ways I knew he was "the one" was when his little idiosyncrasies didn't bug me. And amazingly they still don't. I may roll my eyes (literally or figuratively) but I rarely feel annoyed. I mostly feel amused.

Oh, sometimes I think, wow, he really is not thinking about me. Like when he forgets that our grandson, my daughter's baby, is coming to stay with us while she's on a business trip, and he makes a plan for Dim Sum with friends. Or when I got a pink slip for a registered letter and he never asked if I picked it up or what it was (for the record, it was a set of beads I bought from an Israeli artist). He never asked how much my mom's cousin bequeathed to her in trust, and I don't imagine that was out of diplomacy or tact. I think he just forgot.

I chalk it up to distraction, or forgetfulness or to just being a man with important things on his mind, like whether or not the Yankees still have a chance at the wild card spot.

I know he loves me. He says it. I feel it. But he said something the other night at bedtime that touched me in a way that no "I love you" could do, not even if he said, "I love you and I'll do the dishes tonight."

He said, "you're my best friend."

I may never come down to earth again.


Ooh, you make me live
Whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see
Ooh, you make me live now, honey
Ooh, you make me live

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine and I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you, ooh
Oh, you're my best friend

Ooh, you make me live

Oh I've been wandering round
But I still come back to you
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy at home
You're my best friend

Ooh, you make me live
Whenever this world is cruel to me
I got you to help me forgive
Ooh, you make me live now, honey
Ooh, you make me live

You're the first one
When things turn out bad
You know I'll never be lonely
You're my only one
And I love the things
I really love the things that you do
Ooh, you're my best friend

Ooh, you make me live

I'm happy at home
You're my best friend
Oh, you're my best friend
Ooh, you make me live
You're my best friend

(John Deacon former bassist for Queen)

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Thanks for your comment! I will post it as soon as I receive it. Liz