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uninvited guests
Bees in almond tree. (Photo courtesy of Allison Bean) We had a case of hives here. Or hive. I came home Friday evening with my arms full of groceries to discover that my kitchen was full of bees. (Full is a relative term.) One bee is slightly alarming in the kitchen. There were about 50 bees. And when I went into the living room, there were about 50 more in there. The kitchen window was open and I know it’s swarming season (when a hive has grown too big, splits and half leaves with a new queen to find a new hive). I could see bees outside the window, too,…
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Trash and the Single Female
I’m not a single female. Happily married, see? (waggles ring finger.) But I’m the only female in this house. So why am I head-down in the trash can? How did taking out the garbage become a gendered job? Should I feel like I’m doing the gentlemen (Mr Husband and The Boy) a big fat favor when I’m taking out the trash? Should I get annoyed when it’s still sitting here in the kitchen? Who died and made me the Boss of Everything? Uh. No one. Of course, I wouldn’t be alone in thinking that taking out the trash is the man’s job. Check out these marriage experts, and this one,…
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many changes instantly
Farewell, White House. I used to work for MCI, one of the early long-distance companies, which came into its own after the breakup of the telephone monopoly. Sprint still exists, but MCI was bought up by someone else and is long gone. However, back in the day (this was about 1986), we workers of the early telemarketing plantations often received new edicts from above. So many that we said the company’s initials must stand for “Many Changes Instantly.” So here we are, in MCI mode — many changes instantly. Three months ago I was enjoying a full house of offspring and a healthy husband, chickens, a lovely piano, 5 bedrooms…
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Notes from the Poor House
Well, it’s a tough scene, but this is the scoop. Mr Husband is out of work on disability while we wait for back surgery, and a layoff shimmers on the horizon after that. We’re moving very quickly to a smaller, cheaper house (apartment, really) and have been packing, sorting and donating carloads of stuff. Cash flow sucks. I’m both trying to earn more as a freelancer while trying to move us single-handedly. So it looks like all that fun stuff on the June Food Stamp Challenge of a year and a half ago will come in handy…Just thinking about some of the techniques (if they can be termed as such)…
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beyond the house
Doris, age 16, in 1926, with her Aunt Mae, left. Hey, loyal followers — just wanted to post a link to my current project. Since my Great Aunt Doris passed away in March 2011, I inherited her journals, and have since been transcribing and compiling them for posterity. Fabulous funny stuff from a rebellious teenager in the Roaring 20s, spirited entries from a stubborn college girl in the Great Depression, and delicious posts from an independent young woman arriving in San Francisco on the eve of World War II. Love, laughter, cocktails and lovers — it’s all there. I may not be posting at the Muse for a while as…
