August 25 - This, that, and everything - with a Tamar poem on top! (Or, I should say, at the bottom.)

 How exciting! I was taking some recycling to the blue bin this morning, when I saw this green bug on the organic bin.  At first I thought Grasshopper! as it was green, but then realized, no, definitely not a grasshopper.

So, I opened the handy dandy Seek app on my phone, and Voila - a stink bug. 

Now, the only thing I know about stink bugs is, if you squat them, they stink. So I just stepped back and let it be. Because, as Celtic Thunder sings, All God’s creatures have a place in the choir. 

So, back inside. I had found 17 - yes, seventeen! - Waylon

Jennings on Marketplace last night, and this morning I made arrangements to pick them up. I was under the impression from the post that the seller lived kinda near-ish, but when I got the address I found out it was far far away - a 25 minute drive. So Howard had to find out exactly where it was, and he wasn’t very happy with my Google Map app. 

(I love my apps.)

And then he remembered he had a map of Surrey tucked away, so of course he had to find it and tape it to the wall. But in order to do that, he had to find another spot for my calendar, which was fine. My calendar is a desk calendar, but it has two hanging holes in the top.

 (Are you still with me? There is a point to this.)

So, the two little nails I had in the wall to hang up said calendar had to be moved too. But of course, there is no hammer in our room, as that definitely wouldn’t fit in with the decor. However, I do have my Newfoundland rock - Howard says it’s flint, I think it’s meteor - and I offered it as a hammer substitute. (I had used it as such before.)

I told him I could ‘hammer’ the nails in if he held them, but it was like he didn’t trust me or something. 

So, there. Calendar and nails moved successfully below the tv. 

And .... it’s squish. I will, of course, have to fix it, because I notice I’m getting a touch of OCD in my old age. Enough that I will never buy a comforter with obvious lines in the pattern again.

Anyway ... after all this, when he found the cross streets on the map, he informed me he wasn’t going to drive me. I don’t think he trusted the map.

But I still got my records, thanks to my brand new daughter-in-law. 

And yes, in case you’re wondering, I do have a driver’s license, but it’s been so long since I drove  - about 13 years, actually, when we bought a bloody big Dodge Ram and I knew I’d never be able to park it. And now, when I’m a passenger in the car with either Howard or Steve, and they get a wee touch of road rage because some driver is going just under the speed limit, or cuts them off a bit, or is slow going through a yellow light, or doesn’t seem to know where they’re going? Well, that’s me. I have lost all my driving confidence. 

But come to think of it - I do have a poem!

ODE TO OUR TRUCK 

Oh truck, oh truck, you are so big

and i'm so ruddy short

i really need a lifting apparatus 

of some sort

oh truck, oh truck, i'll get a stool

for climbing out and in

and everytime i wear a skirt

you'll see more than my shin

oh truck, oh truck, you are so wide

the driveway looks so thin

to knock a mirror of the side

would be a bloody sin

oh truck, oh truck, you scare me so
with six-stick on the floor
i used to drive a standard but
don't want to any more

but anyway, now you're our ride
for getting to and fro
and if i need to get away
a-walking i will go.