I just don’t know anymore

I find myself remembering happy times we spent in England, in Yorkshire,  at Peasholm Park in Scarborough, with our friend Sheila who lives in the Dales.  I’m starting to think I will never see Yorkshire again.  Without going into too mjuch detail, things are changing for me here.  I cannot drive my car due to pain and today I had to ask P. if he would take my work to and from the office for me because I just cannot go thru the pain any more. 

Enough of that.  I just wish to say that I love England with all my heart and soul.  If any of you readers are lucky enough to live there, or have lived there at some time, then maybe you already know that it is the most beautiful corner of this earth.  I yearn to see her again, but probably won’t.  That makes me extremely sad.




I can’t help but wonder where I’ve been…






I ask myself this question quite often lately.  Where HAVE all the flowers gone? 

The “flowers” being the joys of life.  The smiles.  The laughs. The contentment.

I don’t know where they’ve gone, but I know they have gone somewhere.

A cyber-acquaintance recently wrote that she thought she was boring to other people.  Always talking about her small dimensional world – children, maladies, being a mother 24/7 with little outside contact.  But don’t we all do that?  If we all thought we were boring to others just because we talk about what we do and think and feel, then no one would ever write anything.

As my lifetime winds down (and I KNOW there are many who are older than I), my whole outlook on life has completely changed.  No longer do I look at things with an eye to the future – what will this event bring me, and where will I be in a year or two?  I feel now that I am stuck here.  In this rut I’m in. 

I get up, get my cuppa, come back upstairs and sit down to work at my computer, until around noon or 1, then pack up my work, drive to the office, drop it off, pick up more, come home around 2, eat a late lunch because by then I’m starved, tidy up a bit before P. gets home, then sit down finally, with an hour all to myself, and catch up on the news of the day, then at 5 start diddling in the kitchen with ingredients I have available for dinner, wait for P. to walk in the door (because one rule I have is that I do NOT start dinner before he walks in the door at night.  Too hard to have everything ready at the same time.  Then I prepare our dinner, and afterwards we put a (usually) British show in our (PAL/Region 2) DVD player and watch for a couple of hours, switch to the ballgame to see how the Red Sox are doing, or losing, then when we see they are losing, we close up shop and go to bed. 

Every day.

Same old same old.

Oh, in between, gets lots of loves and hugs from two very important dogs.

Who are barking out front and I need to go.  Sorry.



Says it all…

This is a poem written by Sir William Beach Thomas and was contained in a little book I’ve been reading called “A Countryman’s Creed,” published in London in 1946. He has put into words how I feel about my beloved dogs, Kip and Emmalee.

“My Spaniel”

“He lies contented at my feet,
His half-raised head my fingers meet;
And dog and man both know the sweet
Of life, in comradeship complete.

Together hour on hour we spend;
And till the fast approaching end
I shall not be ashamed to bend
The knee, in thanks for such a friend.

Gazing at me as half-devine
The brown eyes send a surer sign
Than any cunning words of mine
That strive sharp meanings to define.

It lies not in his competence
To trace the wherefore and the whence;
He rests on some profounder sense
Than my too proud intelligence;

And is content to know not why;
but knows all’s well, while he and I
Seek out each other’s company —
And lays his nose against my thigh.”



Jim is clairvoyant!

 Jim – how did you know? (see comments at my previous entry).

There is a funny story that goes with the ticket below.


The other day, about a week ago, I was doing my weekly food shopping.  When I wheeled my cart into the check-out aisle, down on the floor was a rather grubby-looking, slightly wet-looking, one dollar bill.  I carefully picked it up but it was so unappetizing to even touch, I held it out at arm’s length and gave it to the cashier and said “Here, someone dropped this, you can have it.”

After all my groceries were scanned and it was time to pay, the cashier asked, as she asks every customer, “Would you like to donate $1 to the Jimmy Fund?”  And, as usual, I quickly answered “No, thanks.”

(I work very hard for every dollar I earn!)

Then on second thought, I said to her “No, wait!  Use that dollar bill I just gave you and donate that for me!”

I had no idea there was a ticket involved.  I just thought I was donating the dollar bill.

She tallied up my food cost and gave me all the related papers/coupons/etc. that they give you these days, along with a scratch ticket.  I just stuffed it all in my purse and forgot about it. 

I never buy lottery tickets.  Ever.  Neither does Paul. 

At supper, I was relating this story to Paul and came to the bit about the scratch ticket and said “Oh!  I forgot!  I have a scratch ticket in my purse – I’ll go get it!” 

I made him scratch it off, and he looked at both sides for a long while, with quite the good poker-face, I might add, and finally handed it over to me saying “I think you may have won $500!” 

“No way!”

“Yes way!”


“I think so!”

Neither one of us knew for sure so we had to get our eyeglasses out and read all the fine print on the back to see if we had, indeed, won.  It seemed that we had.  But I wouldn’t believe it until someone official told me so.

Next morning I took it up to the food store and showed it to the woman at the Service Desk.  Her eyes lit up and said “I do believe you have won $500!  You lucky lady.”

She went on to tell me that they NEVER have winners like that there. Maybe once.  Wow.

I had to fill out a long form and submit it, and I won’t receive anything for 4-6 weeks in the mail, but hey – I did win!

I forgot about that little incident in my life when writing my last entry.  How could I forget winning $500?  It has happened to me only one other time, the year I got married, when my family bought me a weekly numbers game ticket with our birthdays as numbers and it won me $500 then.  That was in 1986. 



Spring colour


No, that is not a picture of spring at Crow Cottage.  It’s last year’s fall colours, but I haven’t been outside with my camera in a dog’s age and don’t have a good current spring photo yet this year.  Shame on me, too, because this past week we have had the most exceptional colours splashing all around our gardens, front and back, and I haven’t gotten a single snap of them yet. 

Work, as usual, has been holding me captive. 

It’s been a dog’s age also since I’ve come in here to create something for you to read.  I’m sure you have plenty of other blogs/journals/diaries, etc., to keep you occupied.  But c’mon.  I’ve gotten really bad lately. 


It’s Friday.  I have to keep saying that to myself because I keep thinking it’s really Saturday, and different things happen around this place on a Saturday than on a Friday, and I’m all messed up in my head.  I kept thinking Paul would be selling lobsters this afternoon, so I asked him to get the lawnmower out and get it all ready to go in the front garden, and maybe, if I were feeling very ambitious (which I almost never am anymore), I might make a stab at mowing a patch of the front lawn.  He reminded me that he wasn’t going anywhere today and that’s when I realized it wasn’t Saturday. 

Every day is the same for me.  I work every day.  Just about.  If I work a lot on Saturday and Sunday, then I get Monday mornings free, but then I get more work at noontime and am back at it in the afternoon.

I think you all know the routine.  That’s another reason I never write because my life is so incredibly “same-old same-old” that I hate boring you with it. 

I have birds making a nest under the bottom of my air-conditioner here in my office.  They can’t get into the house, but they are just t’other side of the little vents on the sides, and I listen to them all hours, building their nest, laying their eggs, raising their young birds, etc.  I like being that close to wild nature and them not knowing I’m listening.

Every year, within minutes of the window air-conditioning unit being installed into my window, those birds are there, hoseying the space underneath it in the windowsill for their spring nesting area.  Then their work starts. 

I have to go.  Things are happening here and I need to attend. 

Catchya later. Maybe with some new snaps.


Bex & Co.

Is change really necessary?

I realize change is what keeps the world spinning round and round, but once I hit 60 last year, change became my enemy.  I don’t like change any more. 

I did change my header photo just now, but that’s only because I don’t have much to say here.  So you get a new picture but it’s nothing you probably haven’t seen already.  

It’s Sunday.  I’ve been trying to work most of today.  So far I’ve worked a total of 4-1/2 hours today.  All the in-between time has been spent running up and down stairs, letting dogs out, waiting for them to start barking, then trying to coax them into coming back in.  That’s what you have to do when you have dogs and close neighbors.  They do their fair share of barking but we do try to limit it as much as possible.  I mean, a dog’s got to bark SOME times!  After all. 

It’s been so long since I’ve used my computer to “play” – it seems it’s all work and no play for me lately.  Makes for a dull Bex.  No trips to England for going on 7 years.  What?  Is that right?  I think 2002 was our last trip.  Wow, that’s disgusting.  We used to go every other year or at most every 3rd year.  But 7 years?  The economy is what I’m blaming now, but it’s really other stuff.  I don’t really want to hop an airplane these days.  The older I get, the more frightened I become of flying.  I keep telling Paul that it’s not natural to be so high up and going so darn fast.  Not natural.  Then plane crashes lately, and I’m just about determined to never step foot on a plane again. 

But I know I will.  If I live that long.  After I retire.  I will get back to England if it’s the last thing I do.



Anybody Home?



I’m trying out something different.  For me, anyway.  I’m actually composing this entry using Microsoft Word and then will copy and paste it into my wordpress page.  I realize that’s how I should have been doing this all along, and that most of you out there do it this way, but I am a stubborn old coot, and ever since I first starting doing an online journal or website, I’ve typed directly into the little box online and risked getting knocked out and losing everything into thin air. 


I’m sorry I’ve been absent from here for oh-so-long.  I’ve been right here all along, working day-in-and-day-out, as usual. 


Nothing much has changed, except for the fact that at one point last November I was online and a virus snuck in and got me.  Life has never been the same since that day.  I am afraid to visit sites now.  I do visit some sites, but even those innocuous looking blogs prepared by friends have dark overtones for my paranoid mind now.  Everything is a threat, to me.  Just last weekend I got my computer cleaned up.  Yes, it has taken me that long to have it done, for various reasons.  Even now, though, little things still are happening, and I can’t explain them, so I won’t.  Let’s just say that I am happy I’m nearing retirement age.  Once I don’t have to depend on my computer to keep me afloat here, I will be able to breathe a sign of relief, and just use this machine for enjoyment.  I hope. 


I really think that a young person who may be considering what occupation to go into would be well-advised to consider computer repair!  Oh yes.  It’s the job of the future.  Because I’m sure I’m not the only one out here who knows next to nothing about computer-eze, and what to do if a virus strikes.  The “geeks” of this world will rule in the end, if they don’t already. 


So, we have had a grand total of 49 inches of snow so far this winter here in New England.  We did have some lovely warmish, spring-like days over the last couple of weeks, too, and a lot of that snow has gone, leaving bare brown grass in the front garden but still snow-covered in the rear of the house.  And, if we were lulled into a false sense of happiness – thinking that spring were just around the corner – then we should think again.  Tonight, at around dinnertime, we are scheduled to receive another storm of some type.  I haven’t heard the weather report today so not sure of details, but I know it will be unwanted, messy, and frustrating. 


Paul has been lobstering all winter long.  He’s out there doing it now.  Not a lot, but on the days when there is little wind and the seas are not too choppy.  Those are his two requirements.  Temperature, rain, snow, and even fog, don’t deter him.  Wind and high seas do.


So as winter meanders slowing down the days toward a well-anticipated spring, I bid you good afternoon, friends.  Don’t know how long it’ll be before I am back again.  But if I unexpectedly leave this life without you knowing about it, I’ll let you know from t’other side – somehow…. I’ll find a way.