“Nooks-n-Crannies”

 

            Some tasks simply must wait until enough time becomes available before I can tackle them. Even then, my frame of mind needs to zero in on the “time plus effort” equation to evaluate if I really want to take on the chore.

 

            Yesterday, I set about accomplishing the housework that no one else sees, that takes days and days to finish, but often results in the most satisfaction. I spent two and a half hours in the master bathroom taking every item out of the linen closet, sorting through each storage bin for expiration dates of over the counter remedies, organizing hair clasps and head bands, and thoroughly cleaning under the bathroom sink. I dusted every slat on the blinds and buffed every surface to a shine.

 

            My master plan continues into our bedroom today. With vacuum attachments in hand, feather duster nearby, and music swirling around me, I will tackle every drawer! Nineteen in all. I’ll sort through two trunks, and reclaim the closet. I will mercilessly chuck old panty hose into the trash, critically evaluate my affection for a favorite and faded nightie, and decided that calendars dating back three years no longer hold importance.

            I’ll tax my muscles as I inch heavy furniture away from the walls to attack dust bunnies that have bred several litters. My fingers may ache by the end of the day from polishing every surface, but I’ll celebrate smugly when the work winds down because I’ll know the job’s well done.

            And tomorrow? On to the next room and another full assault until I’ve conquered every little nook-n-cranny within the house.   

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Cardinal Flirtation”

 

            We have a pair of cardinals nesting in our yard each year. I suspect that the pair we have this year remembers us from last year since they ignore the dogs, barely avoid the squirrels, and linger within sight when I stretch out comfortably in a lounge chair.

            The male teased me mercilessly last night. I saw his brilliant crimson against the green lawn as he cocked his head this way and that. Determined to finally capture him on film, I grabbed my camera and quietly slid outside. I tried to sit off to the side, but soon realized that he kept a distance too far for my camera’s reach. Slowly, I crept under the Live Oak, stopping under the arch our bushes create next to the fish pond.
 

 

            I know, without a doubt, that the cardinal spied me. He flitted flirtatiously from branch to branch, following a pattern of perch, hop, perch, hop, swoop, perch and hop. He circled around me in a predictable display of cockiness. He’d linger along the rooftop, grace the back of one of the wrought iron chairs, and play hide-n-seek among the leaves. His head peeked around leaves and small branches as he challenged me to capture his arrogant pose.

 

            Always just a little behind a branch. Always just a little too fast for my shutter. Always just a tease away from the perfect pose.

 

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

“Koi’s Summer Crew Cut”



Koi in March with full coat

 




Koi at the cabin in March

            High temperatures and humidity hang over San Antonio beginning in the spring. By early summer, we get a rapid heat-up where our mornings start in the 80s and the day boils away by noon. Last summer, Koi’s thick coat meant he limited his outside time for early in the morning and after the sun went down. I’d let him outside after midnight, drift back to sleep, and hear him yelp to come inside an hour or so later.



          Although only in the first week of June, I can already tell that Koi’s miserable. He longs to go outside and piddle in the yard while I water plants. Yesterday, he would venture out for a few minutes, and then sit by the door, whimpering to return inside to the cooler air.

 

            Koi’s coat, always lusciously thick, grew to fullness over this winter that surpassed previous years. I think he’s leaving puppyhood completely behind. This maturity means he’ll suffer even more this summer unless we do something proactive.

 

Koi after the second round with the shears

 

 

 

            And so I purchased a set of shears the other day. David and I worked on Koi until the battery ran down, making it about half-way through. The next day, we worked again. Every evening Koi sat patiently until he ended up with his final hair cut. With luck, this new “do” will keep our Pommonster cool enough and let him enjoy morning walks in the park and afternoons under the live oak,  reading with me.

                                                                  

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

           

“Sitting-101”

            A normal person wouldn’t need lessons in relaxation. A normal person wouldn’t have to practice the art of sitting still. A normal person wouldn’t have to hear reminders from loved ones to “take it easy” or to “just sit and do nothing.”
            I am famous for my reputation of being unable to sit and do absolutely nothing. I’ll find a rerun on television, listen to music, or grab a book as I head to the couch. I’ll find myself itching to run a dust cloth over the furniture if the TV show doesn’t capture my attention enough. I may set down the book to get a drink in the kitchen and find myself wiping down the counters one-more-time. And music? Well, sometimes I just have to get up and dance!
            So this morning I practiced sitting still. Intentionally, I headed out back without pen and journal in hand. And although I have just finished reading one novel, but I didn’t snatch the next volume from my summer reading pile. I didn’t turn on the television for background, and I didn’t switch on the stereo.
            I sat outside in one of the lounge chairs and listened to the rise and fall of child voices coming over the back fence. Their high pitched squeals mixed with the coos of doves. The breeze felt cool and the morning sun gentle.
            I lasted about fifteen minutes.
            Then the dogs wanted outside, and my foot itched, and my neck needed popping.
            Needless to say, I will have to practice this new skill daily.   
 

Where I plan on conducting my morning "class" each day!

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Daring Changes”

          A few years ago, I decided to go back to my “roots” by cutting all of the color out of my hair and resisting the urge to cover the gray. I wanted to see just how silver or white my tresses had become after I hit fifty.

          I thought my silver/brown looked fine until I caught a good look at it in several different pictures. When several friends suggested I add a little color to my hair, I took their advice to heart.

          Remembering the guideline of coloring your hair to a lighter shade as you age, I experimented with various shades of light brown, ashes, and champagnes until I finally settled on something that drew more compliments than criticism.

          And I slipped into a comfort zone fairly rapidly, settling into changing my hair style instead of my color. I clipped my long hair into short layers, and I’ve slowly progressed to bangs and one layer over the last couple of years.

          Some nights, I believe my hair grows an inch. My color, presentable one day, turns into a mess of grayish-brown roots so suddenly that I never have my brand of color handy. Usually, I browse through the hair aisle on my own, but the other day my son accompanied me to the store.

          “It’s time for you to try a new color, Mom,” he dared.

          I stood looking at the wall of smiling models with a rainbow assortment of choices. We ruled out the pink and purple, shied away from the greens, and barely glanced at the dark blacks.

          The reds, though, drew my son’s attention. “You’ve never colored your hair red.”

          “It has so many red highlights in it already, I’ve always been afraid to go with red,” I explained.

          Before I knew it, I held a couple of auburn shades in my hand.

          “Go for it, Mom!”

          I didn’t need much encouragement.

          Sometimes, we get into ruts. We put ourselves into predictable boxes. We follow our set patterns. We bore even ourselves.

          So, I put a totally different color into the grocery cart, went home, and became a redhead within an hour.

          The color screamed, “RED!”

          I glanced into the mirror several times and wondered what David would say when he came home from work.

          “You look like my grandmother,” he piped when he took in my new shade.

          Now, no woman wants to hear that she looks like her husband’s grandmother!

          I immediately realized, though, that it the tint did closely match the shade of red that Grandmother had used.

          Deciding to “tone it down” a notch, I rushed back to the store, selected a shade of brown that I could apply, and created a totally different hue that’s uniquely my own.

          I don’t know how long I will stay with this latest tone, but I love that I can still take on a dare and not be afraid of changes.

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman