Fleetingly Carol

Eldest son gave Old Man and me a gift that keeps on giving. And, for no reason! It wasn't Christmas, an anniversary or either of our birthdays. My mother would say he's awfully 'thoughty'. And it was a tremendous gift! One that I would not have ever thought to get for myself. The gift is about 2 feet tall and weighs around 45 to 50 pounds. It leaps tall buildings and stops a speeding bullet. No, that's not right. It leaps hurricane fences and scales 6 foot tall dog runs. And stops at nothing to get in the house when someone is shooting a gun, or there is thunder, or the door is open, or another dog has entered the house. Any of these reasons. Yes, you've guessed it - it's a dog. A Catahoula Leopard Dog, to be exact! Old Man and I already have 2 dogs. Girlie-Girl is a 25 pound Heinz 57 and looks like a big Miniature Pincher. She is very well behaved, never jumps up on people; she doesn't bark much; she's small and compact; she comes when she

     Dear Reader, do you remember the post titled "My Fleeting Labor Day" posted September 6, 2010? If not, I encourage you to go back and read it, for the following story is about the same person. Her identity is hidden for her own protection because my friend is more blond than she pays to be.  Take for instance, her recent trip to the mountains. I would not have discovered this if her husband wasn't such an eavesdropping pea-ninny. My friend and I were having casual conversation over coffee one Saturday morning, talking about our experimental container gardening, pets and the problems inherent with them, husbands and the problems inherent with them. Somehow talk of husbands led into getting away from it all. My friend expressed her desire to see Europe on $100.00 a day, I want to see the northeast U.S. in the fall. The talk turned to driving through mountain passes when her husband entered the room with a wicked look on his face. We didn't realize he w

A very dear friend from childhood came to visit last week. We had not seen each other in several years, although we kept in touch via email and social networks. When she called to say she would be in town, I looked forward to a delightful time reminiscing about old friends, teachers - oh, and old boyfriends we stole from one another.         When we met at the restaurant, I almost didn't recognize her. Her once-cinnamon colored tresses were every color of blond imaginable. And her deep brown eyes had become a strange color of green.          "How do you like my new look?" she beamed.          "Um, wonderful . . . um, beautiful . . . um, why?" I couldn't think of anything else to say.          "Oh, you know."          Oh, I do? I have the same mousey blond hair I was born with.          "We're getting to that age, you know. Where the grays are popping out. Anyway, I always wanted to find out if blonds really did have more fun."

When Old Man was Young Man and the kids were younger - when the world was new and all, dinners could sometimes be very, oh, what's the word? tense. Ours was a very nontraditional dinner-time. We ate with one another with no television running in the background for distraction. This, Dear Reader, is ancient history, not even cable or dish networks had been invented, much less the Internet, computers and cell phones. I don't know how families do it these days. Why, I was on that very popular social website (which I can't name because of the Terms of Service on Blogger, the hosting website for this blog. I am not allowed to say their name, or any product name, for that matter). Anyway, here I was reading all the posts by family and friends, when a new one from Son came through. It simply said, "Daughter, get downstairs, dinner is ready." Not 2 seconds later, Daughter posted, "But, Dad, I'm right in the middle of a school project." Her father's res

It's two o'clock in the morning and Old Man is fussing at me for being up and on the computer. I'd like to know what he's doing up to be fussing. Shouldn't he be in bed? But, he just worries about me. He can't sleep if he thinks I'm having a bad night. So, right now, he's sitting across the room, fingers drumming the arm of the chair because he knows that helps me keep up with the time better. He's just sweet that way. So, I have to tell you just this one thing, dear Reader. I'm on a very famous and ubiquitous social network, along with Old Man, our children, their spouses and their children, my siblings, my aunts, uncles and cousins and everyone I've known since I was five years old. You know the one. Well, whenever one of my family posts a comment on their page, I receive a text message on my cell phone. My cell phone also doubles as my alarm clock, so it stays by my bedside at night. Two hours ago, a text came in when Dear Daughter pos

Natural, medium, neutral, brown In spite of brown ears and scalp, in spite of Old Man really wanting to mow the lawn in 100+ degree weather rather than help me color my hair, the color, as you can see turned out fairly well. Now, dear Reader, I know that's a blurry picture, but I just need you to get this color fixed in your head. It is, as it says on the box "natural, medium, neutral, brown". Honest. That was the name of the color on the box. And, that is the color you see on the left. Girlie-Girl Can you picture this on Girlie-girl? Yes, that was our surprise! Wherever you find me, you will find my sweet little puppy, Girlie-Girl. You've read about her right her on the Fleetingly Carol blog. She's my froo-froo dog that isn't really. It's a rule that froo-froo dogs must be under 10 pounds and Girlie-Girl weighs in at a hefty 10 1/2 pounds. I'll put her on a diet when she reaches 11 pounds, so her poor belly won't scrape the ground.   Girlie

Dear Reader, Who among you remembers "Only her hairdresser knows for sure"? If you do, raise your hand. Aha! You have just aged yourself! Well, dear Reader, that's perfectly alright, because I just admitted my age as well. When that commercial came out on television, our family had only 2 channels from which to choose. We children were our parents remote control. When Dad said, "Carol, turn the TV over," he did not mean to flip the television on its head. He meant to change the channel to the only other station we had. Well, enough about how old I am. I believe I've just established that I'm old enough to be going gray, but not old enough to look good at being gray, hence, 'only my hairdresser knows for sure'. I'm just a little gray around the temples.That's my story and I'm sticking to it. My hairdresser died with the dinosaurs and no one has seen my natural hair color since Women's Suffrage. In these tough economic times,

My, my! It's been over a month since I've blogged. I can't believe it! Where has the time gone? You might say I've been out galavantin' around. Or, you might say I've been very busy at work and was coming home too exhausted to write. Or, you might say I've been working very hard on the old homestead that I've been wearing myself out. Or, you might say that I've just been loafing around. It sounds very contradictory, but given I haven't been here since the end of June all of those things could have and, indeed did happen. I had a very busy and exhausting summer at work. I mean, you try punching all those numbers in a computer and see how tired you become! Hence, I had to take some time off. I went galavantin' with Older Daughter and her 2 daughters, Granddaughter 1 and Granddaughter 2. (That's not to say they are anything like Thing 1 and Thing 2.) It is especially fun and refreshing to travel with a 5 year old and a 3 year old. Gran

About a month ago, I heard a funny noise coming from the outside of my car as I was driving down the Interstate. It went thmp! thmp! thmp! thmp! thmp! I slowed down and the thmping stopped. Something was loose, but I didn't know what. By the time I arrived home, I had forgotten all about it. Until the next day, that is. On my way to work, I heard it again - thmp! thmp! thmp! thmp! thmp! As I slowed down, I made a mental note to check it out as soon as I got to work. It turned out to be the gasket that surrounds the windshield, it had come loose and was flapping in the wind. I pushed the gasket back into place, making another mental note to drive home by a route other than the Interstate and to take it to the repair shop to have it fixed as soon as I could. A couple of weeks later Old Man asked if I had the windshield fixed. Of course I hadn't. Dear Reader, don't you just hate it when you are treated like a child? That's what I felt like when Old Man told me to get i

Aunt Mildred has new neighbor. And she is sweet on him because he has greens growing in his garden. I just got back from visiting Aunt Mildred. She is doing well, except for her feet. Her skin is so papery thin that when she bumps her toes or shins on something, which she does on a regular basis, she breaks open a new wound. So, she stays in her house puttering around using her scooter chair. She complains about not being able to get out to the local greasy spoon to get some good old Southern Fried Catfish. Because she can't go out to eat, she turned her attention to the neighborhood, which means her new neighbor in a house just across the street. There are no other neighbors in sight. It seems the gentleman was out on his front porch one day when Aunt Mildred went to throw out some leftovers from the refrigerator to the cats that hang around her house waiting for these treats. He offered a friendly wave, which Aunt Mildred thought was very forward of him! After all, she did

Giggle. No, really giggle. Out loud. Wasn't that fun! I love to giggle. Now, if someone is in the room with you, start giggling and see if that other person doesn't begin to giggle, too. Go ahead, I'll wait.  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Are you giggling? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . There now! Don't you feel better? I do thank you. I was giggling just thinking about you, Dear Reader, laughing. Laughter is very infectious. And, I think the most infectious laughter is that of a small child giggling. I was in a store just window shopping the other day, but please don't tell Old Man. He'll think I bought something expensive. Which I did, but he doesn't have to know. Anyway, while I was browsing the shelves in this department store, I happened upon a b

From Wikipedia: Labor Day. “The holiday is often regarded as a day of rest and parties.” Hmmmmm, somehow, I missed that memo. Today has been a day to play ‘catch-up’ on a lot of housekeeping that has been let go in the past few weeks. I haven’t gotten a whole lot done, although I have caught up on my laundry. I don’t have to wash out a pair of undies tonight before I go to bed, if you catch my drift. I guess my friends got the memo though, because I’ve heard from quite few of them today! That’s why not much cleaning has been done . . . My friend with the stuck burned beans happily reported that the odor is out of her house and she was able to get the burned beans out of her pot without using Old Man, Sr.’s recipe for disaster (please read yesterday’s blog). Do any of you have friends who have dark brown hair, but do really blonde things? I know a few of these type of people (and they are not all women) and one of them called me today. Normally, this woman is very reasonable, in