Blood

I got an e-mail this morning from the blood bank, begging for my blood.  I am (slight bragging here) O- which is the universal blood.  Anyone can take my blood. So the blood bank calls me often asking me to please donate.

Today was a good day for giving up my blood so I called and asked how late they are open and could I come at 5:00.  The scheduler took a reasonable moment to check the books and determined that 5:00 would work.  A short time later I changed my mind and called back to say I wanted to come at 4:30 instead.  The scheduler again spent a reasonable amount of time checking the schedule and determined  that this could possibly work.   Yes, 4:30 would be okay.

When I arrived the lobby was empty.  I checked in.  Since I was about 10 minutes early I took my own sweet time getting to the required paperwork, until I realized that the three employees who had suddenly appeared in the waiting room, were in fact waiting for me.  So I paid attention t0 what I was supposed to be doing and was immediately taken back for the initial screening.  After which I was ushered into the blood draw room which hosted 8 chairs/beds whatever they call those things, all of which were very empty.  And seven of them stayed empty during my visit.  I was the only donor in the facility the entire time I was there.

I just started laughing– inside.  The scheduler had been very diligent making sure they could get me in at 5:00, and then at 4:30 instead.  But no one else came in!   I was the only one!   Could be I was the only one all day.  Maybe I had made the scheduler’s day. I  hope so.

Rain

I’m not sure but I think our lousy summer weather, mostly and currently, rain and thunder and lightening may be all about me. ,

I love summer.  Long, warm days that lead into long, warm nights.  Birds singing, flowers blooming.  Problem is, I  have to sleep even in the summer.  And for much of the summer I still have to get up early.  It’s really hard to go to bed early on a beautiful summer evening when it’s still warm, and even sunny, out.

But it’s not so hard to go to bed, even if it is still light, when it’s rainy and cold.  In fact, it’s kind of fun to go to bed when it’s rainy and cold. And rainy and cold, or barely warm,  have been most of our days this month. I haven’t felt like I’ve missed out on much summer, because we haven’t had much summer.  Which leads me to thinking this weather may be all about me.

But now listen up weathermen!  My summer break starts in a week. So let’s get it together and pull in some of those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, okay?

Many of us will Thank You.

Missing Winter

There is one thing I miss about the passing of winter.  Not the short days, which are depressing.  Not the dreary, overcast days, which are depressing.  Not the cold that goes to your bones, which is depressing.  Not even the snow, which isn’t depressing, but doesn’t last long.  The one thing I miss about the passing of winter is not using my wood stove for a few months.

I love a fire. How you can hear it, see it, feel it, even smell it a bit.  It’s kind of sad when the days get longer and warmer and it’s time to clean out the stove for the final time, until next winter.

It’s kind of sad.  But not really, really sad.  Because summer is here!  How could you be sad about that?  So instead of staying sad I clean out the wood stove for the last time. Then I decorate my stove with plants, which can’t live there when there’s a fire.

And all of this is to say that today, the last day of spring, could very well be one more chance to have a fire in the wood stove.  It’s that cold.  But I won’t, just out of principle.  You don’t build a fire in the wood stove on June 20, the day before summer starts.  You just don’t.  You put on another sweatshirt and tough it out.

And hope the weatherman is telling the truth when he says tomorrow will be warmer.

Thunder and Rain

When the girls were much younger, about 5 and 8, we made a trip to the ancestral home, Des Moines, Iowa.  In the hot, muggy summer.  Don’t know how all the previous generations survived without air conditioning, but it was clear our generation wouldn’t.  But that’s a story for another day.  Anyway, it was hot and it was muggy. And then the air just couldn’t hold all that moisture anymore.  The thunder arrived right on time and the clouds opened up and the rain poured down. It was fabulous.

Out here in the wet northwest we get our fair share of thunderstorms.  But if it is not already cool, the storm will take care of that. The heat will be gone and will stay gone.  Not so in the midwest.  It was hot when the storm arrived and it was hot, and wet, when the storm left.  The girls had so much fun playing in the warm rain, chasing the stream down the gutters.  It was better than any girl could dream.

It was sunny and  in the low 70’s when I pulled into the driveway after work, today, in the pacific northwest. But in just minutes the clouds rolled in and the thunder followed right behind.  The rain is pouring down, as is the thermometer.  Cold.  No fun to be had playing out in this storm.  Unless I had a fantastic yellow rain slicker with matching umbrella and boots. Then it might be worth going out dancing in the rain.

Slugs

Last year I fought a valiant fight against those disgusting, slimy, creepy things called slugs.

The slugs were determined to eat all of my dahlias and I was just as determined to save the dahlias.  I put out copper tape to shock those creepy things from crossing the line.  I bought six packs of beer and kept the alcoholic slugs’  bar well stocked, drowning them in their own sorrows.  I bought pounds of salt and crept out before daylight with my flashlight and salted the buggers into dehydrated masses.  In spite of it all, however, I lost a lot of battles. But in the end I think I did win the war.

Well, maybe I just admitted slight defeat. I decided to move the battlefield because, as General Sherman once said, (or was it a famous realtor?  Never mind, it really doesn’t matter.) “It’s all about location, location, location.”

Hubby plowed me up a strip of land in a bright sunny spot–away from lots of other plants that appeared to be in cahoots with the slugs, hiding them until nightfall–and I planted my dahlias.  I am very proud to report that to date, not a single slug has found them.  I, however, have found slugs here and there.  And I continue with my cheapest, easiest, and most lethal method of destruction, that I resorted to at the end of last year.  I squish them.