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In Dwelling

I'm Roz, and this is my relaxed space. It's about fun, good conversation and — well yes — good conversation. Pull up a well-padded armchair and help yourself to something to drink. You'll find cheese and crackers on the sideboard. What's new with you?

If you're looking for things in a more serious or spiritual vein, you can check out Exultet where I write that sort of thing.

Taking your house from disaster to guest-ready in 10 minutes

Caveat: these are not original with me. The original post is here.

  1. Clean off the floor, picking up anything that weighs less than 50 lbs and moving it to the floor of the nearest closet. Artfully cover the pile in the closet with fabric. Vacuum only the visible areas.
  2. Grab a few empty boxes from the laundry room where you keep them for just such an occasion, and sweep all flat surface clutter into them. No need to sort, simply pile it all in the boxes. Seal these boxes with tape, label them “Old Underwear To Donate”, and place them in the attic where you can easily find them when you realize your checkbook is in one of them. I’ve taken to writing the date on these boxes, since I sometimes never get back to them again til tax time.
  3. Don’t empty the dishwasher, that’s a waste of time. Instead, remove only the biggest items and then cram whatever dishes are in the sink in with the clean dishes, and run it again. The overcrowding won’t matter because half those dishes are clean.
  4. Hide the ginormous pile of clean laundry that you’ve neglected to deal with for several weeks in your daughter’s closet, only keeping out and putting away your kid’s sports uniforms and your spouse’s favorite clothes that they’ll look for in the next day or two. Bribe daughter with Starbucks if she’ll keep that door closed for the day. Threaten her with death if she doesn’t.
  5. Pour a lemon smelling cleaner in all sink drains and toilets- but don’t flush. Out of lemon cleaner? Try Sprite, works just as well.
  6. Dampen a towel for each person who’s in cahoots with you, and add a drop of lemon oil to each one. Run around the main living areas, wiping flat surfaces- but only those that show. Use this opportunity to also tuck random items into the couch cushions- like the Sharpie markers that perpetually live on the side table, the turkey baster one of the kids was using to make fart noises, and the stapler that you’ve been looking for forever.
  7. Throw all wayward shoes, cleats and slippers out on the back porch, in the corner where you can’t see them from inside.
  8. And lastbutnotleast, all of your activity and running and flailing will have created a wind that has blown all the dog hair under the dining room table and into the corners of the kitchen. Instead of sweeping, take an old wet dishtowel and wipe up the hairs that have conveniently collected there. Throw this towel away, because by the time you get around to washing it, you’ll have forgotten how it became covered in hair and dirt, and you won’t want to touch it, so you’ll throw it away.
Of course, if you feel this is all too much work, you can just smear your guests' glasses with Vaseline when they come in so they can't really see anything.
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A glimpse into my family

One of the things I enjoy about my kids is the somewhat unusual sense of humor we all share. I'm going to let you have a peek, but first some backstory.  Last summer my son's family joined us at our cottage for several days. Son-meister brought his bike and did some riding -- at least until he encountered a bear cub with its mother. Although a mild-mannered minister, he realized that it was very likely that Mama Bear wouldn't realize this and would consider him a threat, to the detriment of his health (and his bike). Thankfully, after staring carefully at one another for a time, everyone decided to go peacefully home. General thanksgiving and discussion of bear-encounter strategies were one of the dinner table topics that evening.

So, when I came across this article, I sent it to my son via Facebook:




I'm waiting for his response.
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Another reason I appreciate Facebook

If it weren't for conversations on Facebook, I wouldn't have these witty and refreshing exchanges with my children.





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Remembrance

My father-in-law died suddenly during the early morning hours of January 21 of this year. In preparation for his memorial service, his children gathered some memories of him, and I was inspired to write down some of my own.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My first impression of him was "upright and courtly". He was warmly courteous as we first got acquainted and always made me feel welcome. His pleasure at our marriage spoke volumes of his love for my husband and his regard for me, and I never stopped considering that a high honor.

His courtesy and welcoming manner, though, didn't stop him from putting me to mild tests. His wit was quick and sharp, always challenging his conversational partners to keep up. He probed to find out whether I could hold my own; when he decided I could, it was "off to the races". I could never be bored or mentally lazy in his presence. I suspect the same might have been true for the family as they were growing up -- in how many families would it become an annual tradition to read the Christmas story aloud in Greek?

He may have experienced a connection with me because I was the only person in the family who had, like himself, been widowed. Although he was not inclined to speak about feelings (I am probably significantly understating that), he would occasionally create opportunities to refer to our mutual understanding of losing a beloved spouse. Though he never spoke of emotion, if tears came to his eyes at those times, he made no effort to hide them or shift the topic to something more comfortable.

He was someone whose salient characteristics were so clearly defined that even a brief mention will bring vivid images to mind. A watch chain and Phi Beta Kappa key will always evoke thoughts of him, even though I never saw him in his suit-vest-and-chain workday wear and only have stories from my husband to go on. He was . . .  cheese and cocktails before dinner, Scientific American and New York Times Magazine, a sensible car, precise syntax, the roast carver at the head of the table, summer on Cape Cod, gallantry, respect for tradition, and (in tribute to his wife) a Woman Voter.

He decided at age 10 that the key to life was found in Science, settling on his operating principles and life direction at an extraordinarily early age, and he never wavered. I've probably never met anyone to whom the word "waffler" was less suited.

I am grateful to him and fortunate to have known him.

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Things you missed if you're not on Facebook

Elizabeth: "Emergency Bulletin: Even on the internet, 'yr' does not mean 'your' or 'you're' in English. Thank you."

Theresa: "I totally agree with yr Emergency Bulletin. It's true "Yr" means neither something that belongs to You, or implying something about You as a person or what You as a person is about to do. Yr means 'yer.'

"Frinstance: 'Yer being a short-sighted prescriptivist, oh Lizzie' can be shortened to, 'Yr being a short-sighted prescriptivist, oh Lizzie.' For further examples of 'Yer' to 'Yr' conversions, see: 'Yer a scallywag!' or 'You forgot yer bag' or 'Yer mother was a hamster and yer father smelt of elderberries!'"
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  • About
      Name:: Roz
      Hometown:: Ann Arbor, MI
      Mother of several, grandmother of a couple, wife to one very good man. My epitaph will probably read, "Well, you just never know." Life is good, but it takes unexpected turns. Good thing I like surprises.


  • Email me.


    And if you're interested in what I have to say in a more serious vein, check out Exultet.

    Other blogs - mostly amusing

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