Synapse

Sometimes my neurons seem to misfire or miss firing all together. Recently I have been noticing coffee drips all over the kitchen floor. Dang, I really dislike cleaning that mess up. I suspected it was hubby as he is mister messy. Anyways he should be blamed for all messes in the house.

We purchased one of those one cup coffee makers and I love-it-love-it. No more wasted coffee but we have coffee splotches all over the tile floor. Just when I think I'm going face to face with hubby and point the finger at him - My neurons start synapsing. Hello - earth to me!!!!!!!!

The coffee maker punches a tiny little hole in the top of the coffee container and low and behold it punches a whole right through the bottom. Hello earth to me again. how does the coffee get out of the container to my cup? I never thought about that.

After my coffee was brewed (fresh) I took out the coffee container and walked over to the trash all the way through the kitchen and dropped it in the trash. All the while the remainder of coffee dripped on the floor. And 'I' was ready to blame it on hubby. My bad.

Couple this with me running into the sliding glass doors and the screens and we have neuron dysfunction. Well my poor little baby (the dog) apparently is having some synapses relapses also. He ran right into the sliding glass door screen. Oh what a nasty site. He cried just like a baby due to the fact that he forgot he really is a dog. Blood all over the place and me in panic mode. After dropping alot of green stuff at the Vet's the little guy is back home recuperating.

Me and him will stay away from that evil screen door and I will no longer slop coffee all over the kitchen floor and think about blaming some one else.

Coffee Break

So I'm hobbling around on this bum foot feeling a little like a drunk giraffe on an ice rink. The stitches have been removed it still tingles and the toes definitely have not gone back to work yet. They kind of sit there all crumpled up and useless.
Every morning my favorite thing to start the day with is sit outside on the lanai, sip coffee, stare at the few remaining stars and watch the planes coming and going. It's a quiet time before the noise of the day begins. It's still dark when I start my journey to the outside world to relax and enjoy the roasted brew.

I'm pretty good at traversing the darkened lanai and shuffling over to my favorite chair. This morning as I exit I notice a plane - lights flashing - getting ready to land and all of the passengers antsy to embark. I am captivated by this sight. I should concentrate on my own world and not get dreamy eyed about some far off adventure.

Still, my eyes are stuck like gorilla glue on the descending aircraft. I shuffle by the pool - eyes still resting on the flashing lights up in the sky. BAM, my fumbling feet stumble. It's the darn cat. Doesn't she know my movements are slow and unsteady? What is she doing in my path?

There is nothing to grab a hold of to break my fall - so down I go. Okay, if I hit my head on the cement - get a concussion - and fall into the pool - I will surely die. I won't be able to scream because I'll be unconscious. There goes my travel plans. Since I can't scream no one will hear my futile cries. It's 5 AM no one but me and the cat are awake.

I flail about on my downward spiral trying to stay away from the pool and the cement edge that is calling my name. I slip on the pool skimmer that someone always leaves by the edge of the pool. It throws my balance backwards toward the glass topped table. I start thinking hard and fast if it's the kind that doesn't break in pointy sharp pieces and could pierce my juggler veins. It was on sale - pretty cheap. I can envision the sharp shards of glass piercing my body.

My arm hits the corner of the table and my body takes another turn and hits the wicker chair. And like magic I am plopped down unscathed right in the chair still holding my coffee cup. The coffee is splattered all over the floor but the cup is safe and sound. It's truly a good thing as it is my favorite coffee cup.

The Oil Spill

If I were the sailboat and you were the wind – oh, the trouble we’d be in.

If I were the lock and you were the key,

If I were the coffee and you were the cream,

If I were the salt and you were the pepper,

If I were the grass and you were the mower,

If I were the wallet and you were the money,

If I were the pen and you were the ink,

If I am the fish that swims in the sea and you are the oil – oh, the trouble we are in.

Watching the Moon

Lately I have fallen into the trap of - Woe Is Me. Such an ugly despicable place to be. The description being a large dark pit with ominous clouds hovering over trying to smother all positive thoughts and the sides of the pit are greased and slimy making the exit of this hell hole extremely difficult.

Feeling sorry for one's self is not a trip through wonderland or the enchanted forest. I recently saw Alice In wonderland with the wonderful Johnny Depp and decided to be more like Alice and see the world through a different perspective. Not really but it sounds good.

Back to - woe Is Me - get over it - get on with it - get out of that deep dark pit. And so that is what I am doing.

Sitting out on the lanai - a strong and luscious cup of coffee in my hand - still early morning dark with the quiet surrounding me - I sit and watch the lights traveling in the darkened blue sky. One after another the planes leave TIA - off to some exotic place. It seems like most of the inhabitants of the bay area are leaving town because the planes are almost non-stop - away they go and here I sit - contemplating life in the morning darkness.



The sun is sweeping away the morning darkness and the innocence of morning is vanishing along with my coffee. Time for a refill of coffee and positive thoughts. Watching the moon and wondering.

1. I am happy it is such a beautiful morning.





2. I am happy I have a huge project to work on today.





3. I am happy for this time in the quiet of the morning to reassemble.

Dreams Part II

So I believe hubby's chicken dream sent my dreams into overdrive. Last night I dreamt that I started to roast a chicken (plucked and dead) in the bottom drawer of a two drawer file cabinet. I read the directions but had issues understanding the directions. They told me to plug the extension cord into and outlet and then into the chicken. I became very frustrated when I could not find a receptacle any place on the chicken and their were no picture diagrams on the directions. Then I went on to have some alien type dream about a very short child and how he got his head stuck in the wheel well of a truck. The truck was not moving so that was a good thing. And then I woke up and downed two cups of strong coffee.

Euthanasia

When one hears that phrase - 'When the shit hits the fan', you know something isn't too pretty. What happens, 'When the shit hits the floor'? It has happened at our house quite often lately.
The old girl is 18, senile, half blind, can't hear, has constant eye infections, her body has become some kind of wart factory and she paces aimlessly as if in pain. Her back legs are stiffened with arthritis and no longer bend where they should bend. She has difficulty standing and frequently falls over. When outside she seems to be searching for something and tends to wander off, always in the road. I can't take my eyes off her for a second. She will only do her business in the driveway. 18x7=126.
I have doggie pee pads placed in two places in the house. She's has approximately a 90 % chance of hitting the pads. Since she can't see I'm thinking they must have a secret smell to attract piddlin. I don't mind the doggie pads.
Recently the number two issue has raised its ugly head. I have been feeding her soft dog food so her need to defecate has increased. I do this because she has lost quite a few teeth.
Yesterday she was playing hide the poop and she did hide half of it under the doggie pee pad. The remaining portion was in the middle of the kitchen floor.
I slip out of bed in the darkness of the morning and trudge for the kitchen. NEED coffee, need coffee. I neglect to turn on any lights - my reasons are warped.
1. Trying to save on the electric bill. LOL.
2. The kitchen light shines in the bedroom and hubby is still in lala land.
3. The kitchen window faces the street and there I stand in my ratting old nightgown.
So as I walk silently, in the dark, across the kitchen floor to get the coffee - it happens. Something soft, squishy and odorous squeezes between my toes. I walk back to the bedroom leaving a trail of poop across the tile and into the bedroom. Another one of abilities she has lost.
As the shit hits the fan and is blown through my world I think the unthinkable. Is she suffering? Has her quality of life slipped below that level? She doesn't seem happy. Should I - her caregiver/mommy for all these years step up and turn off the fan? There appears to be a sadness in her face and I believe she at times is embarrassed for her lack of control.
Some friends have said, 'you'll know when it's time.' Do I know? Is it time? Euthanasia?

Cup of Joe

What is it about coffee that energizes me, controls me and gives me a sense of euphoria? The smell alone can send me there. It takes me away - to that place - of total pleasure. Tickling my taste buds with bitterness and sending jolts of energy throughout my system. A quick start, getting the bus moving, on the road, thunder and lightening - rolling down the hill.

The urgency for that cup of early morning brew is over powering and tantalizing. In the morning I sit outside before the sun makes her appearance and sip my dark liquid gold and watch the world begin a new day. It engages my engine, oils my inner working parts (sometimes a little too much) and gives me that jump start charge I need to begin my day.

Life or mornings are not complete without the tar looking mixture. I add lots of creamer to dilute the bitterness of the brew. Although I like that touch of bitterness that pierces my taste buds and slips softly into my system - and I don't know why. It must balance out my chemical imbalance of - need caffeine.

The aroma of coffee in the morning wraps me in peace and happiness. I know not why? Is it an addiction? A necessary substance the body craves? Who cares. I want it and I need it so I drink it and savor every single drop. Gotta love that cup of joe.

Porch People

You know who they are, probably have seen a few and perhaps know one or two. They're not really busy bodies but people who enjoy the world as it passes them by. They wave and smile as you pass by on your way to somewhere or nowhere. They hold the appearance of a contented life with no troubles or worries. Funny thing is we all have troubles and worries. Life is difficult and wonderful.

I used to be a porch person when I lived in the country. I had my comfy wooden rocking chair: it now sits in my outdoor living area and it holds a pot of flowers. It's rotting away from the toil of time, weather and age. I painted it pink. I would sit and watch the grass grow. I was also a back porch person - a place to reflect, meditate and dream. I would watch the birds and the clouds drift by. I would dream of traveling to exotic places and experiencing wild crazy fun.

To be or not to be - a porch person - that is the question? It's not really a question but a state of mind. I don't see as many porch people in the burbs of Florida. It's either too hot or they have gone to the beach. In my area we have the - garage people, similar to porch people. They watch the world fly by from their garage. Whatever? If it makes you happy - go for it.

I don't have a front porch and the garage is not to pleasing to me so I have become a lanai person. I sit there in the morning as the sun creeps over the horizon sipping my coffee and imagine the possibilities. Life is good.

What reminds me of porch people is the huge front porch of Cracker Barrel overflowing with rocking chairs just begging you to sit a spell and watch the world in peace.

Life in a Teacup

Tea leaf reading and me. If someone read my tea leaves they would see it's either feast or famine. At times I am drowning in STUFF. My cupeth runneth over just like when the toilet gets plugged. The toilet runs over lots in our house. Not a pleasant task.

Then I have the other extreme where the tea leaves are dry and lifeless. Very much so like my lawn. Bare spots, weeds, sand spurs and ugly black sand is my xeroscape.

At times my cup is cracked and leaks life sustaining forces that leave me hollow and brittle. As dried up as Crews Lake in Shady Hills. All of life disappeared, gone, missing - the only remnants are a few scrubs and dried grasses. Beating hearts and the shattered souls have limped to purgatory. Held against their will - connections cut - ready to become dust. Dust that blows away silently and softly with the desert winds. The migration of pain explodes within.

There seems to be no 'between', it's - either or. No spring breaks or pleasant plateaus. No calm boat rides down the Peace River. It's barreling down a class 3 rapid on the Colorado River. I went white water rafting once - it was terrifying!!! My life at times is terrifying and then it's thrilling - like hang gliding off of Jockey's Ridge.

Words and lack there of pain my heart. Locked rooms, slamming doors, fences way too high and rivers with out bridges make life's journey a desperate race. Tears and sadness explode without warning.

Add a little water to enhance the tea, perhaps sugar and a little cream to change the demographics and flavor. Become a coffee drinker? I wonder if anyone ever reads coffee grounds? Life is a journey of sensations, manipulations and confrontations.

Coffee with grounds

I normally do not make the morning coffee - I just push the little button and wait a few and reap the rewards. My sweetiekins is in charge of coffee making. For many reasons he doesn't trust me to produce the precious brew. So I don't feel so bad over this mornings disaster. If he wanted a good cup of coffee he should have fixed it last nite - this is his normal procedure and he is a creature of habit.

A few ( a lot) of grounds in the coffee makes it rather interesting and unique. Instead of reading tea leaves we can read coffee grounds. If I had a sifter perhaps I could sift out the grounds and he would never know, But then, there are the telltale grounds left on the counter, the floor and a trail that leads to the living room. He might suspect some wrong doing. I could clean it up - hide the evidence.

It's his job to prepare the morning coffee. NOT MINE. He will have to suffer. He could make a fresh pot but I used all the beans up. It's either a trip to the store or the coffee shop down the road.

Coffee Time Again

What goes better with a beautiful morning? A fresh cup of coffee. The sun has just began its ascent to brighten the gorgeous day. It was a little brisk so I donned my fleece L.L. Bean robe that has been with me for years. I venture outside with coffee in hand and find a secluded place to sit and sip. A few birds serenade me with a soft sound. Dew is absent from the tropical painted comfortable adirondack chairs. They are comfy and sort of mold to your backside and the wide arms make a perfect table to hold the cup of brew.

All is right with this morning and my world. Peace, quiet a little melody in the air and a strong cup of coffee with cream. A perfect time to meditate renew my thoughts before the work day begins. Just the smell of the coffee sends my taste buds swirling like a rogue wave crashing onto the beach in the late summer. I hear the dull thud of the dog door - then back to natures silence. Perhaps he will not find me.

His heavy footsteps thump across the wooden deck. His panting lets me know the toy is in his mouth and he is ready for play. I suck down a hot gulp of fresh coffee - with cream. I set my coffee on the large arm of the brightly painted yellow adirondack chair. I look away from him. He drops the toy right by my left foot. He pants and slobbers on my exposed right foot. Still, I pay him no attention.

Another swig of the warm lucious brew. His panting grows frantic and he grabs the toy and dances around. Anything for attention is his motto. I reach out to take his toy. His movement was instant and deadly. The tail a dangerous weapon wacks my coffee cup and sends it flying, shattering on the wooden deck. I sit placidly in my comfy adirondack chair and feel the hot coffee drip from my fleece L.L. Bean robe all the way down to my bare toes. He just stands in front of me with the stupid toy clutched in his mouth wagging that dangerous tail with a gleam in his eye. I yell obsenities at him and the wag of the tail escalates. He doesn't have a clue.

I stand and hold the soggy robe away from my body and walk back in the house. I look over my shoulder and his long pink tongue is licking up the fresh hot coffee with cream. His tail wags excessively. My day begins.

Morning Coffee

It's not an easy straight shot to get my morning cup of coffee. It's more like a meandering maze of defiance to obtain the caffeine connection. As soon as my feet hit the hardwood floors the little dog needs to pee. She's getting old and has a difficult time making it throught the night. If she doesn't get out before first light she targets the nearest rug. We don't have many rugs left in the house.

In the dark I walk - tripping on shoes and discarded garmets - over to the bedroom door and walk out into the brisk cold morning. She doesn't budge. She refuses to go out the back door in the backyard, where neighbors can't see me standing in my pink short nightie. She walks slowly toward the front door. I have to grab my robe off the hook - all this still in the dark. And we exit the front door so she can pee in the front yard. WHY? She heads directly under the street light so I can do the runway model walk for the neighbors. But then how many neighbors are up at 5 AM?

We head back inside - slowly. I remove the robe and try to hang it on the hook - still in the dark. I enter the kitchen and old pusss is standing guard on the counter by her empty food bowl. She lets out a howl and gently slaps my bare arm. Remember I left the robe on the hook. She wants to be fed NOW! In the dark I search the cupboards for her cat food and give her the standard 1/4 of a cup of lowfat cat food. She's as fat as a pig and we have put her on a diet. She's not happy.

I head for the coffee pot feeling the rush. I climb over the gate that seperates the big dog from the little dog and big boy barks for his morning treat. I step back over the kitchen gate and search the cupboards for his bag of bones. Still in total darkness. The little mutt paces frantically around my feet. That's the signal she has to do her number two. I head back to the bedroom grab the robe off the hook - still in the dark. Out the front door once again because she has 'the spot' where she will only do the discharge. She takes her time sniffing out the perfect location. The deed gets done.

We trot slowly back inside and I hang up my robe on the hook - still in the dark. I go back to the kitchen climb over the gate that keeps the two dogs apart and reach my hand out to press the ON button. It makes a nice soft little click sound and I sigh in relief.

I've forgotten to take my blood pressure pill- hhmmm - why do I have high blood pressure? A walk back to the bedroom encased in darkness to find the pill bottle. I touch the menagerie of bottles and containers on my dresser - searching for the pill bottle. I find the one - pop off the cap and drop the entire contents on the floor. I drop to my hands and knees and search for the lost capsules before the dog finds any. I find three and hope there are no more rolling about. I pop a pill and reach for my water bottle always sitting on my nighstand. Empty.

I hurry into the bathroom - still in the dark and search blindly for a cup. No such luck. I resort to desperate measures and stick my head under the faucet. I amaze myself with all this activity and not an ounce of caffeine running through my system. I trip over my robe that never made it to the wall hook.

The sun begins to make her appearance - I wish she would come earlier or the animals would wait till later. I climb back over that darn gate and walk with the full pot of java back to the kitchen in the early morning light. I pour myself a cup of the sweet smelling brew and smile. I open the refrigerator door and reach inside for the creamer. NADA - NONE. Life is cruel.

Strangers in the Night or Day

Life becomes a little more complicated when you have teenagers living with you. Our recent teenage addition is 18. He moved in as a single package deal but that is ever changing.

This morning when I awoke there was a strange young man taking a shower in the front bathroom. I stepped over another body on my way to the kitchen. I went outside to walk the dog and there was a strange car in our driveway (blocking me in).

My full pot of coffee disappeared rather quickly along with a gallon of milk and all the bananas. There is a pile of wet towels in the corner of the bathroom, a sink full of dirty dishes and sneakers that have an aroma stronger than the kitty litter box.

I can hear the wheels of progress clinking now - water bill rising - groceries disappearing rapidly and rap music wafting through the house. Our quiet predictable life will never be the same.

I heard the birds chirping outside this morning when I awoke. It sounded very spring like. The weather has cooled a little bit here - nice sitting outside weather. I poured myself a cup of coffee added my fat-free creamer and strolled outside. The bird was off on some mission taking his melodious morning chirp with him.

I strolled over to my really kool pink painted Adirondack chair and plopped down in my thin cotton night-shirt. WOW. I nearly jumped right out of my thin cotton night-shirt and dripped hot coffee right down the front of me. Dew lined my pink painted kool Adirondack chair. Well, not anymore it was adhered to my thin cotton night-shirt mixed with coffee, cream no sugar. It sent a chill right thru me.

So I go back inside change my nightie get another cupa java slip on my winter (L.L. Bean) fleece robe and return to nature. I plop right back down on my kool pink painted Adirondack chair and enjoy the morning quiet. No sirens bellowing, car horns honking, no neighbor dogs barking - just total quiet.

I sat there in my fleece robe drinking my coffee with cream, no sugar and cherished the silence. I thought about what my day would bring. The turtles and their huge pond needed to be removed from the front bedroom to make space for the grandson. The old carpet in the closet needs to be ripped out and replaced with laminate flooring. New shelves may or may not go up this weekend? The bird came back and sang me a quick song. I drank my coffee and became lost in the stillness of a great morning.