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It’s not that we’ve run out of projects – we’ve run out of steam. In this small old house there’s alway something that needs to be reworked, painted, thrown out, or replaced. 

Recently, the thought struck me that we aren’t working on a project. They’re there. In my mind. Or on a list I keep on the fridge crossing off as soon as completed which gives me a feeling of accomplishment.

What was the last project that zapped all our energy and time? I can’t remember. Was it the painting I did last spring before H finished the school year? Surely not! There’s still another bathroom to paint and the paint color to change in our bedroom. There was that new fridge project in November that was dropped like a hot potato – we won’t go there. 

During the summer we had bought a new tv, sofa and chair, and an area rug. That was a project in itself if you’ve ever been shopping with H. Whew…I’m glad that’s over! 

H procrastinated on putting up a storage building in the back yard last year. I know it was overwhelming for him to think of having to assemble it. He did ‘clean at’  the work room, discarding little, and then stacking the rest in the nooks and crannies so as to have a little walk room in there. (I’d  add a picture, but it may scare you.) That didn’t last long when he started adding the junk I stacked by the door that absolutely had to leave the house. The cat food and bird food containers have been squeezed into the last bit of floor space. 

He often muses – being afraid I may hold him to it – about cleaning that disaster up and purchasing that badly needed storage shed. I know this because I can read his mind. I learned to years ago. Now if I could just figure out how to manipulate it…

I penciled in a few more projects on the fridge list because it was growing short. 

  1. Choose and install outside tile for the front entrance and breezeway. 
  2. Choose a new front door, back door, and closet doors. Order and install. 
  3. Purchase a storage shed and assemble it for all that junk on the carport that I really could live without, but some people think they need. (Out of sight, out of mind)
  4. Paint the bedroom and bathroom. 
  5. Chalkpaint the bedside tables and chest for the bedroom.

Order of importance to be decided by (his) mood. Numbers 1, 4, and 5 I can do myself and in an emergency I could also tackle 2 and 3, but let’s hope there’s a little cooperation on his part. After all, I made the list. All he has to do is choose one. 

Never fear. We now have a plan for summer projects. At least I do…



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Now I’m all for the arts in the schools because without that where would we get our entertainment? You’ll see where I’m going with this farther down the line.

A few days ago H and I planned to attend the middle school band concert of the feeder school for his high school. There you have it – arts and entertainment in one package.

I drove over to meet him and we had a couple of hours to spare after he finished with work so we decided to get a bite of pizza before the concert.

It was still early, but our restaurant of choice was open with two other couples occupying tables. With cloth napkins, tablecloths, and music playing in the background to listen to while we waited we observed this was no Mom and Pop pizza joint.

We scanned the menu after being seated and ordered some wine and a small pizza to share while we were told there would be about a thirty minute wait so the brick oven could heat up to cook our pizza.  Oh well. We had plenty of time and no place else to be.

After our pizza arrived we had to ask for the standard cheese and red peppers that seemed to be on every table except ours. An annoying fly kept us company while we dined because the bar area was open to the outside. The pizza was ok and the wine was wine.

Ten minutes after we had finished our dinner our waiter had still not appeared with our check. We had not seen much of him the entire meal and not because the establishment was overflowing with customers. We had spied him earlier behind the bar – where he had been most of the time we were there – laughing and socializing with other workers and ignoring our presence.

It was getting late and we needed to go so as not to be late for the concert. H decided to walk over to the bar and settle up there. I stayed behind gathering up my things. When he finally came back to the table I asked what had taken so long. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

He handed me the receipt as with drove off pointing out the extra charge.


Now granted, sixty-two cents is just pocket change. It’s the principle here. He was told that they sometimes have live music and entertainment on the weekends. This was a Tuesday and all we had was canned music, a thirty-minute wait for our pizza, a fly for company, and a sorry waiter! 

Well if you know H like I know H, he wasn’t having any of that. He stood his ground and made them remove the sixty-two cents. Then he didn’t leave a tip.

Yeah, I know these people depend on tips to round out their pay checks and I felt bad he hadn’t left one. Tips should be earned. They should give better service and not charge for what you don’t get, which really is the establishments doing, not the waiters.

And close that opened bar! I know we are down near the beach where that’s appealing, but if I had wanted to eat outside I would have asked to be seated there and I’ll bring my own company. 



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