Fave Tune: JST’s Lost Myself to Loving You

This beautiful song has become the soundtrack of my mind for the last couple days… the lyrics are brutally honest and accurately reflect the current state of my relationship with the vet.

Grass Stalks

Can I weave a basket or something out of ornamental grass stalks? If this is not enough, we have two more clumps in the back yard.


My neighbor’s tell me that I should as they do and cut my ornamental grass down in the Fall so my yard would look more tidy during the off season. The previous homeowner advised waiting until Spring. I’ve never had patches of grass like this before, so I don’t know. It does look messy, but we have seen a rabbit sitting next to the grass on snowy days. It could be a bunny habitat. They need wintry homes, too. Maybe that rabbit just uses the grass as a quick place to hide from the hawks who nest in a nearby tree. It needs cut and cleaned up soon. I just hate to shove those stalks into a yard waste bin.

I don’t know what I’m doing… the closest I’ve ever come to weaving with natural reeds or anything was when I redid a cane seat on an old chair with purchased supplies. And that was like 40 years ago. So I’ve been searching the Internet for how to instructions. Perhaps I’m using the wrong search terms as every grass basket found so far weaves blades of grass, not these kind of tubular stalk things.¬†They are dry and hard, kind of like reeds, so I’m thinking they will need to be softened enough to work with somehow, imagine soaked in water or something.

Ideas, links, or helpful hints would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you!


Shake Em Down

I don’t like the way things are going, so it’s time to shake things up and then shake em on down.

I have become predictable. He has learned my ways. I am also too sweet, too kind, too generous, and way too nice. I neglect my own needs to take care of others. It is time to break my patterns, to act instead of react, and start by doing something unexpected.

Who knew belting a few songs out in the kitchen would be an excellent alternative stress reliever when you feel like slamming a few pots and pans?

Oh yeah, I sang my heart out with complete abandon, as if I were home alone or out doing something like cruising down a highway in a convertible with the top down (oh, do I miss that car) where no one else can hear me except God and maybe a few cows. I started with Janis Joplin’s Mercedes Benz, followed by hymns, and kept going. I had just finished singing an old favorite, Blues Traveler’s Run Around, when I noticed him standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”


The man had never heard me sing, at least not like that, as I’m very self-conscious of my singing voice. It’s lower than his and some songs come out a bit gritty. He’s told me that I sing in my sleep but I imagine that’s very soft, like when I sing to babies. This was full throttle at the stove.

Singing might have caught his attention, but I’m thinking it’s what I did next that opened his eyes. Or, what I did NOT do… being so predictable and all. He knows that when I cook, I always cook enough for both of us and I always, ALWAYS, ask if he would like me to make him a plate. For the first time ever, I didn’t even tell him that it was done.

Bit mean? No… he had his own pot of nasties simmering on the back burner.

Besides, he does not tell me when what he cooks is done… if he says anything at all, he says it AFTER he eats, like when he is walking to the sink with his dirty dishes. I won’t touch his leftovers as that hits me crooked. I’m not a dog. I don’t want his scraps.


Well, its true… actions do speak louder than words.

The man woke up the next morning and surprised me with ham and eggs. Yes, he cooked breakfast for both of us AND he brought me a plate. Then he thawed out one of his gorgeous steaks just for me. That totally blew my mind. The kicker came two days later, when he fried chicken for himself and he brought me a piece, saying something about how “it wouldn’t be right” not to share with me.

Oh yeah, he got the message. I’m still like wow… just when I think we are doomed, that we might not survive 2018, he shows me that he really does love me, that it’s not just words.

Is love enough?

I don’t know… it’s been one hell of a year and we are only into April. Jaded sisters think I should change the locks but I’m not ready to toss the babe out with the bath water, so to speak. Oh yeah, I’m not done. And I’m not done shaking things up either.