More Than I Need or Want

While I enjoy these modern times, there are some things from the old days that that I miss—those little triangular car windows in the front doors, the vent knobs under the car’s dashboard that were perfect for hanging litter bags, jeans that actually reach my natural waist line, and being able to buy one bed sheet at the time.

I need a regular, white double fitted sheet, 400 or higher thread count made of cotton. I don’t need a 16” or 24” pocket, a flat sheet, or two pillow cases.

Over the last few days, I have looked at Bed, Bath, and Beyond where I did find a single fitted sheet. The problems were the deep pockets and the prohibitive cost. Target does not sell fitted sheets only, just sets. Walmart had the single sheets, but they were the kind that pill after a few washings. I also checked a couple of department stores; they all have sets only. Today I looked at 240 offerings on Amazon and not one “fitted” my criteria. Am I asking too much? Am I the only person who resents being forced to buy sets instead of a single item?

And, just what the heck is microfiber?

The next item on today’s agenda is to set up the sewing machine and patch my fitted sheet. Have I mentioned that I hate sewing? On the bright side, I can’t get any testier.

Bad Grammie! Bad Grammie!

Don’t tell anyone, but I’m playing hooky today. After 7 days out of 8 with the grandchildren’s games (baseball and volley ball), I hit the wall yesterday.

Yesterday morning there was a 9:00 am game an hour’s drive away. I woke a few minutes late and had to skip breakfast. Mr. Fixit likes to be on time, and I thought I could get something to stabilize my glucose levels at the concession stand. The concession stand was a long walk, and I didn’t feel like going that far after getting very little sleep, as usual, and getting up early. There were two games. By 3:30 pm I thought my numbers were dropping like a stone. We stopped and I had a real Coke with lunch which causes the levels to rise quickly. I don’t remember much after eating. I guess I fell asleep in the car. When I woke up I was in my own bed still wearing the clothes I had worn to the game and still wearing two pairs of glasses (my regular glasses and a pair of sunglasses that fit over the regular ones). I know that I made it in from the car under my own steam; I just don’t remember it.

I then decided to take the day off today.

The weather has been nuts, too. We were all sunburned last weekend. It was cool, but the sun was bright. I didn’t think about burning until it was too late.

The night baseball games have been cold and windy—miserable in a word. Even yesterday with the sun shining, the wind made it so cold that I was shivering. I retreated to the car during one game.
The comfortable games were Bella’s. They play inside a gym, thank goodness!

Tomorrow it starts all over. We have only one  off day. I have to go to most of them. I need to go with Mr. Fixit to the away games. He has a terrible sense of direction, and I worry about him driving alone at night.

If the weather gets a little warmer, it will be easier. Right now, I feel as if permafrost has formed on my behind.

DST–ARRGGH!!! (My Annual Rant)

What a difference an hour makes. As usual, the time change has screwed up my routine, boring life.  On Eastern Standard Time, I go to bed at 11:00 pm, read until midnight or 1:00 am, and depending on the severity of my insomnia, I wake somewhere around 3:00 am. I read until 5:30 am or 6:00 am, take a medication that requires an empty stomach and no food until an hour after taking it. I then go back to sleep for an hour and I’m up at 7:00 am. By 10:00 am, I have dressed, prepared two breakfasts (Mr. Fixt and I eat totally different morning meals), loaded the dishwasher, read the news on line, worked two jigsaw puzzles, and solved two crosswords.

Since I sprung (as much as a 67 year old can spring) forward that one lost hour seems to cause me several hours of frustration. It is now almost 11:30 am, and I’m just now finishing my routine morning stuff. It ruins my whole day. It takes me months for my body to adjust.

Pardon me for shouting, but I HATE DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME! I’m so angry at Ben Franklin, the old buzzard.

(DST also makes me testy.)

Handyman Extraordinaire

I decided I wanted a scroll frame to use for embroidery. I bought the frame. It was too big and clumsy for me to use without a stand. I checked the prices and found they were priced a little out of my budget. The cheapest one I saw was $69. I described to Mr. Fixit the features I would like to have and asked him if he could make me one. This is the result

The scroll frame flips so that I can work on the back without disassembling the whole thing. I need to work on the back when fastening starting and ending threads.

He used scrap wood. We did have to buy a couple of screws and the knobs.

Sometime ago, I described another little item I needed to keep my crochet thread and yarn cat-hair free. After I explained what I needed, this is what he came up with—works perfectly. I can use it with lots of different thread and yarn holders.

He’s so handy to have around.

The Grandchildren

Cole, who is a senior this year, has been accepted by several colleges, but he was disappointed when he hadn’t heard from his first choice.  They had all his all of the necessary paperwork except for his application. The lady told him to re-submit the application and she would rush it through. He received his acceptance a few days later. He’s so happy!

He is also playing varsity baseball again his year. They have already played several scrimmage games and one tournament. It has been so cold. I went to the first one which was on a warm sunny afternoon. The next game was played at 5:00 pm. It was so cold, Bella and I sat in the car through six innings. Last night Mr. Fixit almost froze his tush off. The game for tonight has been cancelled because of rain. It has rained here for days it seems.

Noah, our seventh grader, made the C team for his middle school. It’s for seventh and eighth graders. He made the A honor roll as usual, and his classmates voted for him to take part in a program that I don’t quite understand. It foster the virtues of knighthood; it’s based in Texas, I think. I think it’s great that the other kids see what a peach of a kid he is.

He is so logical, too. We were having lunch, and I asked him if the chicken was good. He said that he always eats his fries first. He explained that if he filled up on french fries, the chicken could be taken home and warmed. He said that warmed over french fries weren’t very good. I never thought about that.

Bella starts her volleyball season soon. She had a practice last night. She made the laugh and also realize that she has common sense. The night we were sitting in the car waiting for the game to be over, she brought up the subject of bathrooms on tour buses. She told me the ones she had seen were pretty nice, but you are bounced around while taking advantage of the facilities. I said, “I guess you have to be careful not to go in right after a boy.” She said, “The girls try to go before the boys get in there.” I can imagine a group of fifth grade girls discussing and solving the problem.

Owen made the honor, too. He’s going to be playing baseball on the rec league and his travel league. His hip-hop team competed recently; they did very well. The kid can dance! Even though he is 10 years old, the instructor put him on the teen team. He “has the music in him.”

Levi is in first grade and is looking forward to baseball season, too. They may have had a practice already. He’s such a good player in both baseball and football. And he’s sharp as a tack.

Grandmothers are allowed to brag a little once in a while.

Meanwhile Back in Geezerville. . .

When one lives in Geezerville, one must become a Geezer or Geezerette in good standing. For a Geezerette, the uniform of the day is the ugliest black shoes that SAS manufactures worn with white socks, jeans that are an inch or two too short, and a chic flannel shirt. This outfit is appropriate for those cool, winter mornings, and  one hopes that no one knocks on one’s front door.

It’s Official!

This morning when Mr. Fixit dressed to go out to change the oil in the car, he was neat. He had tucked his shirt into the waistband of his tidy whities and cinched the belt on his jeans tight. Very neat, indeed. The problem was that his jeans had slipped a bit and the waistband of his whities was showing above his belt. I (tactfully, of course) suggested that he adjust his clothing a bit. The next thing I know he had put on a cardigan sweater  to cover his faux pas. There was a little problem there, too. He had buttoned the sweater wrong making it a tad askew. After he re-buttoned, he put on his jacket and his new knit cap to work outside. It’s cold here today. I noticed his cap. The tags are still attached.

Yes, it’s official. I live in Geezerville!