Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
Are we talking about baby books that older adults read to you? Are we talking about the first book you read to yourself? Are we talking about the books you would buy at the Scholastic book fair? The fair they had every year in the trailer, and you would walk in and it would smell like new books and you knew this was your place? Or are we talking about books you read as an older child, the books that formed who you are and showed you other worlds can exist. And not only can you read them, you can write them.
I am sure they’re all in my memory somewhere, but they all exist as one.
Probably one or two of you know I had a previous blog which is not deleted, but is archived. WordPress informed me today I started that blog twelve years ago.
Nothing much came of that blog, but I created a new one, which is the one you see now. Still though, twelve years? Maybe a suitable gift from WordPress would be new daily prompts!?
Happy birthday, original blog. Thanks for being here, everyone. Let’s have some cake! 
You may not know this, but Ma’am has her own container of walnuts. No one else gets these walnuts but her. I keep it fully stocked. Yes, she is spoiled. She stopped by the café this morning and nicely requested a table for one, so I easily made the accommodations. Not even the starlings knew she was there for 40 minutes snacking, and the starlings know everything.
Now that I’m allowed to answer prompts again for the past two days, WordPress had better be ready for me. I’m not actually going to answer this prompt, but I feel like the choice of words is incorrect. Well, that wouldn’t be the first time for WordPress, am I right?
I agree, Idris 
Let’s talk about something else. Let’s continue the theme of helping animals. In mid-April we had a really hot spell. I had no air-conditioning installed at the time, and neither did the animals outside. Earlier in the morning, I washed up a few dishes in the sink and placed them next to the sink on a cloth. I didn’t dry them. I just sort of left them there with the drops of water surrounding them. I left the kitchen and came back a bit later only to find a tiny spider on the counter. I don’t know how many of you would have squished the spider, but as you know, I had Katherine I, the orb weaver, make her nest on my porch a few years ago, so I have developed a reverence for spiders. Well, at least a tolerance. I will not kill them if I can move them outside. And yes, I do realize some spiders are house spiders, and they will die outside. So we have a deal. As long as a house spider doesn’t get in my shower, it can live in my bathroom, but in a space where I can’t see it.
Back to the counter spider, I wondered what the spider was doing, but then I understood. It was drinking the water on the counter. It was thirsty and it was hot. So I let it drink, and I told it as long as it goes back to its house outside, I would not have to use the special cup with the lid to transport it outside. I watched it for several minutes and then I left it alone. It was fascinating. I came back later and it was gone. I did put a small piece of cat food next to it in case it wanted some food with its drink at the drive-through, but it didn’t seem to eat any.
Safe travels, my tiny friend.
Even insects deserve mercy, a safe home, and not to be uprooted from all that they know.
*Except the tiny ants who are found in your kitchen by the thousands and are trying to eat one grain of sugar. I cannot rescue these individuals.*
I’ll get to the prompt in a minute. I’m hoping this is the start of me being able to answer the prompts again. Truth be told, weeks ago I got a survey from WordPress and I really let them have it about the prompt problem. They didn’t exactly promptly fix the problem, and I don’t know if they did fix the prompt problem, but I can answer this one.
While I have your attention, I no longer get email notifications when everyone/anyone posts. I did not change my settings. Is anyone else having this issue, or has everyone left the site and no one is publishing anything anymore? Please let me know in the comments.
What did I learn in high school? I learned that sarcasm is my gift to the world and my gift isn’t always well received.
I took algebra two for my senior year. I should’ve been more advanced than that, but I am not a math person. We weren’t allowed to take our math books home because there weren’t enough books, so we ended up using them during class. I don’t recall much homework. If you can’t bring a book home, what could your homework possibly be? I didn’t like my teacher, but I did like talking to my friends during class. I didn’t pay attention in this class. It was my senior year, and I had three study halls because I didn’t need any more classes. At the start of school year I set myself on auto pilot and cruised through like the main character in Office Space sans gutting a fish on my desk and wearing flip-flops.
This scene is iconic
I don’t know how other schools were, but in each of my subjects, there was a midterm and a final exam. There were also tests in between. As I mentioned, we did not take our books home and I don’t recall homework. I also mentioned I liked to talk to my friends during class. It would’ve been fine if my whispering didn’t cause laughter among my friends, but it did. On more than one occasion, the teacher shouted at me to stop mumbling under my breath to my friends.
Ehh, probs not, Molly
Not gonna lie, I didn’t stop talking under my breath. I distinctly remember being sent out to sit in the hallway in a sort of hallway detention for the remainder of class. I didn’t see this as a punishment. I still don’t. I rather enjoyed chatting with people who walked by. I touched up my make up and I didn’t have to do any math. This hallway detention happened twice. I think it was the second time when I saw my Bestie in the hallway. She had the hall pass to go to the bathroom and just happened to find me sitting in the hall. We chatted for a few minutes. The teacher came out from time to time to check on me to make sure I was still there. Where would I go? Why would I get up? Silly man.
Can confirm this eye roll is similar to what landed me in the hallway – plus the mumbling under my breath thing
When it came time for the midterm test, I did my best, but without a book to take home, and not really giving it my all, I winged it. I made up formulas to solve fraction problems. After the teacher graded our tests, he announced – in a strained, pained voice – I had gotten the highest score. We were all in shock. I remember everyone turning to look at me with white eyes and I shrugged. 
The highest grade? Pfft, it was nothing
Let’s fast forward to the final exam. It’s late May, I’m graduating in June and I have totally checked out from all subject matter that didn’t involve graduation. I did not study for my final exam in algebra two. I probably didn’t even crack the book open. I continued to talk to my friends and my teacher continued to turn 10 shades of red when he yelled at me to be quiet. I was unbothered. We took our exams, and I guessed at almost every question. I did show my work, because in math you don’t get any credit if you don’t show your work. Imagine my surprise when the teacher announced I had gotten the highest grade yet again. (No, I did not cheat. There was no way to cheat and I would never. My grades were earned. From A all the way to F. And yes, I passed this class. I did very well, in fact, because I got the highest grades in the class for the most heavily weighted tests.) Everyone in class turned to look at me and I smiled. Then I laughed. And then my long suffering teacher almost suffered apoplexy.
Yep
I found out the following school year that my math teacher had retired. I like to think he had a long, enjoyable career and just decided to retire, but I truly feel I pushed him over the edge.
So what did I learn in high school? A couple of things. I learned how to put my sweatpants over my clothes so I didn’t have to change for gym. I learned that if you’re going to cut class, you should not cut the class where the teacher has a view of the parking lot and can see you leaving. I learned that I had a gift for writing. I learned my mouth could get me into a lot of trouble. And by trouble I mean hallway detention, which was actually fun. I learned that lunchtime detention was the absolute best. It was quiet and people brought your lunch to you from the cafeteria. I learned very little algebra, and to be honest, I haven’t needed it. I’ve needed the chemistry I learned at university, which was incredibly difficult for me to learn, but I did, and without any mumbling under my breath. 
I learned that making people laugh was something I was good at and something that gave me joy. If it got me hallway detention, cool. If it got me lunchtime detention, even better.
Gratuitous James Spader gif from Pretty in Pink because HELLO, IT’S JAMES SPADER #teamsteff
I mentioned in a post kind of recently – recently being relative – that I have a story I want to post about an ongoing project/adventure. This photo is a sneak peek (or should I say peak snack?) of that story,
I mentioned Miss Pearce a few months ago, when she was bequeathed to me along with some other fine art. I have to be honest: I’m only keeping two of the pieces. Miss Pearce and the little girl. I donated the Raphael to Goodwill. And if anyone wants the Renoir, let me know. I’m not a fan of his work because everyone looks like a corpse. I can’t deal with the gray skin tones. I don’t think I need to tell the person who bequeathed me the items what I’m doing with them – after all, this person was my writing mentor, now won’t even read my blog (“Blogs are too personal, and I am not interested in reading self-serving drivel,” or some eye roll-worthy shit like that), and has permanently left the country. But Enough Of That.
Miss Pearce, American, c. 1840
Miss Pearce has her post in the hallway, glancing toward my room evermore. She seems quite mischievous. And her satin dress is silver, which I found out after I scrubbed it down with a gentle cloth. I also cleaned up the gold frame, which is immense and probably worth more than the print.
But who is Miss Pearce? Or – more accurately – who was Miss Pearce?
Some say she was the best friend of the wife of the painter Thomas Sully and was painted around 1840. He was an American painter who lived from 1783 through 1872. Other resources report the painting is American (unknown artist), done around 1840. It’s not difficult to discern the time period of the clothing, but it seems a bit difficult to discern who actually painted her. It seems to be the original is somewhere in Massachusetts, but even that isn’t that definitely known to me. If any of you know more about Miss Pearce and her origins, please leave a comment!
I suppose it will remain a mystery for now. Sometimes a little mystery ads a certain… je ne sais quoi. I like the expression on her face. She is animated and seems to be a tad bored. She has the hint of a smirk and wide eyes, a very light brown shade. Ascertaining her expression is subjective, of course, but we can all agree she’s looking to her left, and something over there has caught her eye. She’s been hanging in my hallway for several months, and frankly, there is nothing of interest anywhere near her, so…I rectified that.
Miss Pearce and her new friend
I will not claim the image she now gazes upon is of the correct time period, but we all know Jamie Fraser is quite familiar with time traveling ladies. He broods in his French finery from Season Two. I think I’ve discussed my affinity for Season Two and its costumes, so I shall not bore you, Dear Reader. I will simply link to my previous blog about it here.
At least now she has something to look at. I pass her by every evening on my way to bed. I wish her a good evening and give her a sideways glance. I’ll have to see if she has an extra twinkle in her eye tonight, now that Monsieur Fraser is next to her. Just as I wish time travel were truly possible, I wish Night at the Museum (Er – Night in Amy’s Hallway?) was also a possibility. I can totally imagine Miss Pearce climbing out of her painting to get a closer look, can’t you? If I hear noises in the hallway, my first guess will be it is Susie playing. If Susie is nowhere in sight, it’s obvious Miss Pearce has hopped out of the painting. Don’t worry, I will check to make sure the painting isn’t blank.
Hmm. This scenario is playing in my mind, turning around, gathering steam and gathering ideas much like an avalanche as it rolls downhill. Maybe Miss Pearce is up for an adventure in a different time and place?
I’m celebrating kindness today. Not going all in for the Valentine’s Day fluff, and considering I have been sidelined all week with a diabolical variant (XEC) of the ‘Rona, I am as surprised to be here as you are to see me here.
I found the little piece below in my phone Notes. It’s rather old, but I hope it helps you to see there is still kindness, and sometimes it’s hidden, just waiting to be discovered.
The Folded Over Tape
I opened the hood to put in washer fluid and I saw it. The engine insulator on the underside of the hood chewed through, creating a small opening with a pocket that was mouse-sized.
I stood there, stunned, weighing my options, which included staring at the damage and not knowing what to do.
“What are you doing?” was the question I heard to my right. I was expecting him for the second opinion on that job that I needed done. Oh, and the new thermostat.
“Well, I was putting in washer fluid and now…” I waved my hands in the general direction of the damage. “Look at this fucking mess! What is this?”
“Mice,” he said casually while he pressed the washer fluid lid. I had already closed the lid.
“So do I have to get this entire insulation replaced?” My exasperation started to show. Dollar signs flashed and started adding up in my mind’s eye. The second opinion I was waiting for could save me thousands of dollars or possibly just make it worse. And now this.
“Nah. Just put some duct tape on it.”
I was not convinced. My eyes narrowed.
“Won’t the duct tape melt from the warmth of the engine?”
“Nah.”
”You’re sure. My engine is not going to catch on fire?”
“Nope. Just check on it from time to time.”
That option sounded much better than an entire replacement of the insulation so I made myself acquiesce to the idea of duct tape.
We headed for the house – him with the thermostat and me making a bee line for the duct tape, which is really Gorilla tape, because the store was out of duct tape when I went last time, and I don’t particularly enjoy shopping for duct tape.
I grabbed the tape out of the junk drawer and mentioned the three figure price that was quoted to me to install a new thermostat that costs less than $50. I worked at finding the end of the tape for several minutes as we discussed the absurdity of a three figure thermostat installation. I finally gave up on the tape, not being able to get the end up and having to shift focus to explain what was found in my electrical box, and what I needed a second opinion on.
He inspected all of the questionable items I was told I needed to replace, and only found that I needed to apply caulk so water would stop leaking inside. I would stop smelling that “wet water” smell on the landing – you know, that smell that is a cross between moldy and mildewy.
“Just get some caulk the next time you’re out. I don’t have any in my truck.”
I nodded, understanding my assignment. We went back inside so he could look at the estimate from the other company. “Well, this isn’t too bad,” he said mildly as you scanned the first page.
”Turn it over,” I said, in a monotone.
I prepared myself for the response I knew was coming once that page was flipped. “What?! That’s way too much money. I would do it for half of this, and you don’t even need it. There’s nothing wrong. You just need to put some caulk on the outside so the water doesn’t get in. The electrical box is fine. Everything was replaced with top-of-the-line stuff and you’re not going to need anything.”
“Just caulk.” I reiterated.
“Just caulk.”
I couldn’t fully express my relief, but a $5000 weight was lifted off of my shoulders. He wouldn’t take any money for the thermostat, but I insisted.
I thanked him and he went on his way, but not before he told me the other company was ripping people off. He wondered aloud if he should be charging that much and gave it a brief thought. “No, I could never do that to people,” he said. I believe it.
The hood of my car was still up. I remembered about the duct tape. Excuse me – the Gorilla tape. I had left it on the edge of the couch so I wouldn’t forget to come outside and repair the damage. And also so I wouldn’t forget to close the hood of my car. I grabbed the tape, ready to try to pry the end of the tape away from the roll yet again. I was preparing the vulgarities in the front of my brain so they could exit out of my mouth much more quickly and then I noticed something as I started fumbling with the role of tape.
The edge of the tape was folded over neatly, about a quarter of an inch, so I would be able to grab it without fighting. I smiled and returned the vulgar language to the back of my brain and headed out to complete my job, grateful for the afternoon’s events. And folded over Gorilla tape.
I posted this reel on Instagram right after Rafa lost his match in the Davis Cup, which was essentially his last professional match and was also his moment of retirement.
I downloaded the reel, but the music wasn’t available to download so it’s silent. Sing along to whatever tune you choose.
Yes, I know a photo appears twice. I was editing quickly and missed it.
The on-court photos that appear to have been taken by amateurs have been taken by amateurs. Namely, me. The on-court photos with Rafa and Feli López wearing blue shirts and white baseball caps were not taken by me, but were taken by someone who was sitting to my left. That person also appears in this video posing with Rafa in a conference room I reserved. I snapped that photo during the second interview with Rafa which I have not mentioned until this day. You’ll see me kneeling down with my elbows on the table. No, I was not angry. I was very tired.
The closing goodbye you’ll see at the end of this video, as well as a similar variation in the previous video, is paraphrased from something Rafa signed for me all those years ago. I will never forget it.
¡Vamos, Rafa! Por siempre.
I have about a thousand photos, but obviously they wouldn’t fit here
“It's Amy,” I said. 