rambling rosemarie

Imagine my surprise to yesterday to find out that my blog had been removed. It was gone as in ceased to be. Like the proverbial parrot in the Monty Python skit, it was no longer with us. At first I was certain that I had been the victim of a prank, next that the senility I fear had, in fact, descended upon me before I hit the double nickles, which is way too soon even with my bad genetic history. I tried to follow all the directions that were on my dashboard, and ended up frustrated. There was some nonsense about not having signed into my account since 2007. Uh... I posted something the day before they deleted me. Next I was given some spammer and or purveyor of porn excuse. Uh, not unless I was hacked. Was I a hate monger? Did I wantonly violate copyright law? Not in this lifetime. At the urging of a friend and real blogger, I appealed to the blogspot gods , asking them nicely to return my blog and they did. All hail the blogspot gods! While I worship only the One True an...

Today we are having a lovely garden variety thunder storm. No warnings for impending danger, just the occasional flash of light and grumble that follows. Grumbles that are audible but not deafening, as if the light is hurting the cosmos or keeping it from sleeping. It's lovely. I like the way it feels and smells. Outside my office from hell, (know from this point on as OFH) there are an array of oriental lilies blooming. The gray clouds and the glistening raindrops make them look fake. Sort of like wannabe bawdy hookers. You know, like Dolly Parton. Not quite respectable but not quite plastic. Their fragrance is lovely though and once the rain has passed I think they will look like proper ladies again. In other news, I plan to do some more work in the OFH. I am happy to report that 6 of eight of the packages I sent the other day have been accounted for and the two outstanding ones are set to be delivered on Monday. The two that were most important to me are accounted for and...

Part of my problem with going through some paperwork in my office from hell is that my office has been the holding ground for boxes of pictures and papers that I acquired after my father's death. The sentimental torture is bad enough but my parents were both smokers, though my father quit in his later years. My aunt/step-mom was a bit agoraphobic and anxious. She was a heavy smoker all her life and did the majority of her smoking in a small, closed home. The boxes, photos and paperwork reek of stale cigarette smoke. It's particularly disgusting when you are a reformed smoker. The two forms of proof I have that I was once young and stupid are the years I spent smoking and the tattoos I sport. But enough about my foibles and follies, let's get to the business of this post. I found a card that was sent to my aunt/step-mother in 1959. It was not sent to her by my father. It is a sweet Christmas card that says on the front "for you, Honey at Christmas." I ope...

Today I am feeling both pensive and melancholy. I didn't set out to combine these two states of being. I just went out into the garden to begin stripping out the ravages of neglect and winter and suddenly found myself thinking about the way things used to be and how I long for some of those things to return. When the girls were young we all lived in a 100 year old farm house and had 10 acres for things like horses, sheep and gardens. I miss living there. I didn't know I would miss the sound of the pheasants calling or the raspy bark of the foxes who were hoping to eat them. How could I know then that I would miss the smell of tar weed growing in the pasture, especially when it can be a real problem for you when your horses eat it. I miss seeing my horse parked under the ancient pear trees and the old Gravenstein apple tree, in my mind she looks as fat as a tick and she is munching windfall fruit. She used to do that until she looked rabid from all the foam and juice that esc...