Bugs Ruin Everything

You may have noticed that my blogging has been scant recently.  I have what I think is a good reason.  Regular readers are aware that I am now among the most blessed of Americans—I am retired.  Retirement for me is akin to kids being out of school for the summer.  Only for me it’s an endless summer.

While I was in the workforce, I kept my property up with low maintenance shrubbery and very few flowers except for those I had on the deck.  I have a guy named Ben who comes to cut the grass every week in the spring and summer and scoops up the leaves every week in the fall until the leaves stop falling.

Now that I’m retired, I have the time to beautify my little corner of the world.  I got Ben to go to Lowe’s and purchase 12”X4” retainer wall blocks that mimic the color of the brick on my house to build a circular flower bed for some beautiful Autumn Lilac Encore® Azaleas and Emerald Blue and Purple Beauty Creeping Phlox.

I also had him replace the dozen Emerald Gaiety Euonymous shrubs that lined the front of my house with two Emerald Green Arborvatae (one at either end of the house) and dwarf Gold Mop False Cypress and frost-proof gardenias.  The euonymous were beginning to succumb to mildew and scale.

I put down pre-emergent fertilizer on my lawn and have sown grass seed in the spots where the damn squirrels have dug holes in search of the acorns they hid last fall.  Through all this, I have been afflicted with a major case of “involuntary horror reaction.”

While feeding my Knock Out® roses, I felt something crawling on me.  I looked at my arm and saw a neon-green worm traveling up to the sleeve of my T-shirt.  EWWW.  I flicked it off and continued undeterred from the task at hand.  A week later, I was feeding my roses again.  I noticed dozens of the green worms all over my pants.  EWWW.  Trying not to scream and alarm the neighbors, I rushed into the house, shed my pants and threw them outside.  I put on another pair of pants, fetched the pants I’d tossed outside the door and tried to shake the little monsters off.  When I felt I had been successful, I came inside and immediately threw them in the washer.

Things got worse from there.  For the last two weeks, every time I’ve gone to the mailbox, I’ve walked through silky threads that resemble spider webs.  They are invisible.  Nothing is creepier than silky, webby stuff clinging to your face.

What’s going on you may ask.  The little green worms are known as cankerworms.  Some call them inchworms.  During late November, the cankerworm moth travels up the trunk of trees and lays up to 300 eggs. In March and early April, the eggs hatch as cankerworms.  They munch and munch and munch on the tree canopy.  When they get their fill, they parachute down on silken threads and get in your hair, in your nose and in your mouth if you’re not careful.

Last Saturday, I was planting impatiens, snapdragons and alyssum in 22-inch bulb pans and saw literally dozens crawling around on them.  I smashed ‘em with murderous glee.  When I went to water my roses after feeding them an organic fertilizer, I noticed they had starting dining on the leaves.  I went to my storage shed and pulled out the Sevin™ dust and began annihilating them.

Needless to say, I am at war with cankerworms.  I have spoken with a local arborist and plan to band my trees next fall.  Ben has agreed to help me with that project.  In the meantime, until the cankerworms finally descend to the ground and disappear, I will be tormented by “involuntary horror reaction.”  I haven’t stopped itching since I started typing this story.

Oh, and one more thing about how bugs ruin everything, if you listen carefully, you can hear what sounds like rain.  It ain’t rain.  That’s the sound of the little nightmares pooping.  Their poop looks like poppy seeds and literally covers everything.  EWWW.

If bugs just followed the rules like everyone else, they really wouldn’t be a big deal. It’s their egregious disregard for boundaries that makes them so despicable.

Senator “Don’t Call Me Ma’am” Retiring

Yesterday we learned that an old hag from the Great State of California will depart the Senate in 2016 mercifully bringing to an end a 33-year congressional career. 

After Sen. Barbara Boxer announced her decision not to seek reelection in 2016, the underwear retailer Fruit of the Loom® marked the occasion by tweeting something that could coerce consumers to switch to some other underwear manufacturer:

Congrats to Barbara Boxer on a term that was anything but brief. #WeLoveBoxers
— Fruit of the Loom (@FruitOfTheLoom) January 8, 2015

Barbara Boxer's testy exchange with Brig. Gen. Michael Walsh at a June 2009 hearing of the Committee on Environment and Public Works illustrated her arrogance and ignorance.  "You know, do me a favor," Boxer told the officer, who was using military protocol to address those higher on the chain of command by "sir" or "ma'am." "Could you say 'senator' instead of 'ma'am?'" 

"Yes, ma'am," Walsh responded. "It's just a thing, I worked so hard to get that title, so I'd appreciate it, yes, thank you," Boxer continued. "Yes, senator," he responded.

Filmmaker David Zucker, of “Airplane” and “Naked Gun” fame, lampooned the cranky moment.

Proof of her chuckle-headed stupidity can be found in her statement in May of 2010 on the subject of offshore drilling off the West Coast.  Boxer used the same dim-witted logic that The World’s Most Dangerous Community Organizer had used on the campaign trail in 2008 two years later.

Kerry Pickett of The Washington Times asked:

“Given California’s recent history of brown outs and black outs, what kind of reliable energy could Californians rely on if you are looking to eradicate the oil industry on the West Coast? The green energy industry is too intermittent and why not consider nuclear energy instead?” 

Boxer answered, “If all of the people in the country for 25 days had the proper tire pressure in their cars you would replace all of the oil,” she said.  “There is…this is such a little bit of oil in this area only enough to power the country for, you know, a year or so. So 25 days of people doing the proper pressure would replace it.”

With Barbara Boxer's exit from the US Senate, the average IQ of the chamber rises 13.6 points.
— Ben Shapiro (@benshapiro) January 8, 2015

80 Years Of Happy

Sixty residents and staff at a retirement village show us just what they're made of!  I totally adore the gentleman wearing the bowtie and the fedora.  Now that’s happy!

Sunday Slacker Post

So far, my retirement has been nothing short of glorious.  I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.  

Over the past twelve years I have never had a Sunday off unless I requested it.  Today is the first Sunday for the rest of my life that I can truly enjoy a leisurely Sunday.

Sophie, my little furkid, is in Seventh Heaven.  Ever since I got her she’s had to spend twelve hours a day alone in the house while I was at work.  Now, she is beside herself with joy.  She has her mom all to herself.

Just take a look at her.  Is that not the face of a happy pup?  She usually sleeps under the covers or on the same pillow my head is resting on.

This morning we were going to have breakfast on the deck and watch the squirrels and bunnies cavort in the back yard but it rained. 

I’m going to search for some good movies to watch nap through and enjoy a lazy day.  It’s Sunday after all and we’re retired.  Life is good.

I hope your Sunday is peaceful and blessed.

My Bucket List

Last week a co-worker presented me with a farewell gift in advance of my retirement.  It was a beautiful My Bucket List Journal.

In the front of the journal is a place to list the top 100 things you want to complete before kicking the bucket.  Following the list are pages for the date, why it’s on my list, where I travelled, who I was with, the details of the event and would I do it again.  Then, of course, as each item is completed you cross it off the list.

In my blog post “Throwback Thursday” I wrote:

“As a young girl, my room had dozens of horse figurines on shelves decorating the walls because I was always fascinated with their beauty and the freedom one feels astride the magnificent creature.  To feel the wind in your hair as the countryside passes you by is to experience something wonderful.  In riding a horse, we borrow freedom.”

“I think I will celebrate my first day of retirement by finding a stable and going for a ride to truly feel free.”

Today, as I was puttering around National Geographic’s Your Shot Photo Community, I came across a photograph taken by Amy Capparelli of her Yorkshire Terrier Gilligan interacting with a manatee at the dock by her house.

I immediately began to reminisce about my experience snorkeling in Cozumel’s Chankanaab Lagoon and the beauty of sea life.  I immediately began to think about what an adventure it would be to swim with manatees.

Everybody wants to swim with dolphins, something I did way back in 2004 at the Hilton Waikoloa Village in Oahu, but I have always been fascinated with these roly-poly teddy bears of the sea.

It looks like the very next thing on my bucket list is going to be a jaunt to Three Sisters Springs in Crystal River, FL.

Throwback Thursday

Everybody seems obsessed with #TBT, the weekly reminiscent photo movement.  I’ve decided to take the plunge with my own blast from the past.  This is a picture of moi, circa 1956, before I became a curmudgeonly old poop.

I loved ponies.  My Dad used to regale me with stories of when I was a toddler and every Sunday he and Mom would take me to a place not far from our home that had pony rides.  He’d buy a ton of tickets so I could ride for hours and when it was time to go home I’d wail at the top of my lungs to stay and ride some more.  I don’t remember that at all, but I don’t doubt that it happened. 

As a young girl, my room had dozens of horse figurines on shelves decorating the walls because I was always fascinated with their beauty and the freedom one feels astride the magnificent creature.  To feel the wind in your hair as the countryside passes you by is to experience something wonderful.  In riding a horse, we borrow freedom.

I always wanted a horse.

I think I will celebrate my first day of retirement by finding a stable and going for a ride to truly feel free.

“The horse, with beauty unsurpassed, strength immeasurable and grace unlike any other, still remains humble enough to carry a man upon his back.”—Amber Senti

The Bluebird Of Happiness

Yesterday there was a gentle rain falling.  It was my day off and a perfect day to sleep in.

I had opened the door that leads to my backyard and had full view of the little birdhouse that two years ago had housed a pair of Carolina Wrens.

I busied myself doing laundry and preparing breakfast when I noticed a cute little bluebird perched atop the finial that adorns the top of the birdhouse.  I had seen the male hanging around several times before yesterday but thought nothing more of it.

This day, however, was different.  Sophie, my little furkid, decided she was upset by whatever she had spied outside the door.  I would walk over and look for the source of her concern.  Seeing nothing I returned to my chores.

Later that morning I made time to hop on the computer.  It was then that I saw something wonderful out of the corner of my eye.  I got out of my chair and walked over to the open door and saw a bluebird with its head popped out of the entry of the birdhouse.

Moments later another bluebird flew onto the finial and remained perched there long enough for me to snap a photograph.  My movements caused the little darlings to take flight.

All day long, Sophie would bark at the door and I knew the little birds were back again.  This kind of activity meant only one thing—there were little, bitty baby bluebirds inside the nest box.

For thousands of years, the bluebird has been regarded as the harbinger of happiness.  I will not try to dispel that myth.  No sir, not me and here’s why:

This past January, I had a sleep study done.  It was determined that I have obstructive sleep apnea.  I was directed to start using a CPAP machine.  It took two months before I could be seen by the sleep doctor after the study had been done, but once I saw her I starting using the danged thing. 

My first follow-up appointment was May 1st.  The data card that recorded my sleep with the CPAP machine indicated that I was now getting 4.9 to 5.3 hours of sleep each night rather than the 3 hours nightly I had been getting before using the device.

The following Thursday I had a follow-up appointment with my cardiologist.  Though there is no cure for the diastolic heart failure I have, the cardiologist said that my heart rate and pulse had greatly improved and she saw no need to see me anymore unless I felt I needed to see her.  She noted that the CPAP was greatly responsible for the improvement.

In addition, I applied for Social Security during the month of April and received notice of what my monthly check would be.  I also visited my HR Department to turn in my retirement paperwork a week ago.

Two weeks ago, I got a mailing from the Social Security Administration advising me that since I had filed a claim for Social Security Benefits that I needed to contact the U.S. Department of Labor’s Employee Benefits Security Administration.  I did this and now have paperwork due to arrive shortly to finalize my monthly pension disbursements from my previous employer.

As of today, I have 66 more calendar days or 46 more actual work days until I can retire.

According to Proverbs 10:22, “The blessing of the Lord makes a person rich, and He adds no sorrow with it.”

I’m getting’ ready to do me some livin’.

Countdown To My Sunset Years

Photo Courtesy:  TeamJimmyJoe.com

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. 

Some of the best  times of my life were spent in reverie of the wonders God made for us like snorkeling in Chankanaab Lagoon and watching the parrotfish nibbling on coral formations, walking along the South Rim or the breathtaking helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon.  My memories include the ascent to the peak of Rothorn in the Bernese Highlands of Switzerland and trying my best to play an alpenhorn at a restaurant situated on the mountain.

I am four agonizing months away from retiring.  As I look out my window, I see the trees coming to life with neon-green buds where leaves will soon be.  In a few days the air will be filled with the fragrance of Spring.  The little Carolina Wrens have been busy remodeling their nest inside the birdhouse just outside my door and the grass is greening up after a long winter.

 

Retirement—that is when life will truly begin and I can go anywhere I choose.