A "Real" Lawnmower, or a "Reel" Lawnmower

It is because of this, I'm sure, that I also felt very strongly about these. In fact I'd found one at a garage sale (go figure! 😁) & was bound & determined to make it worth my while & useful for my yard. Such a small yard, self mulching, no gas needed, nor electricity. And think of the guns I'd be giving myself.

It wouldn't take up too much space in the garage. I used it; I did. It did work, though the blades on the one I found at the garage sale were a bit duller than they should've been. And I did find myself using Grandma's old mower much more often for the task. I'm sure it's directly linked with my overall familiarity with having a gas-powered mower.

I'd still like to use one of these & know that, when I do get my own lawn again, & I do decide how much to make into a garden (growing food, not a lawn), that with the remainder - whatever lawn I do have left, I think it would be most sensible (&, of course, super unique) to use a reel lawn mower. I think this model, though "Amazon's Choice", would also be my choice, as it's a narrow mower & I would think for spacing efficiency, & cutting around landscaping nooks & crannies, it'd be a great option. If anything, go for the additional blade; get the five blade instead (same link).

I'm sure that the one I'd gotten at the garage sale wasn't up to par & that getting a brand new one would provide the efficiency, quiet, good-for-the-environment/no gas cost/no electricity cost goodness I'm truly looking for - along with a quick workout built right in.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

On Side Discharge Lawnmowers

The timing, if it's to be called that, of Grandma's death very nearly lined up with some adult transitions in my life. I'll always be grateful that Grandma got to know about my having my first apartment, & even got to come by & enjoy a meal there - along with Mom & Dad. At the same time as I was in the apartment, I was simultaneously looking to buy a house. Grandma did know about this wish of mine, yet she died in the Winter before the Summer when I made the house purchase.

When she died there were many things of Grandma's Mom knew I'd be able to use. One of them being her lawnmower, remember this post 😉. It'd be one more thing I wouldn't need to purchase - either at a store - or, at a garage sale 😊, to further complete my "list" of "needed items" for my house.

Trouble with this was that Grandma's lawnmower wasn't state-of-the-art; it was quite the opposite. It had a side dumping area with no bag, like this one, which meant it really only made sense to mow using her mower from one side, not in actual rows. The side discharge flap wasn't flush, so the task was never "clean" looking. If any landscaping would be nearby, the grass clippings would end up in it, or any cement structures, like front steps/stoops, simply couldn't get close enough - since the cement wouldn't move.

It would seem a driveway would be a welcome alternative as to where to turn, yet that just meant that the mess of fresh grass clippings would spew out onto the driveway, thus needing to get brushed up - which never fully happened; some remnants of the project were always sure to be remaining.

It was a gas powered mower, which was great since the house I got was right down the street from a gas station. Whenever I would happen to run out of gas for the mower, I could easily just walk on down, add a bit of gas into the can I stowed in the garage, & be back on my way.

I've never used an electric lawnmower, though, with a neighbor a few houses down from Mom & Dad's house using one, I have seen one in action. It was always odd to see them mow a bit, then reach for the cord, toss it to get it far enough out of the way, then continue on; it seemed rather efforted. I was glad I didn't have to bother with one of them.

Grandma's mower didn't mulch. The only plus that came with the mower - a while after I had it - was when, as a birthday gift to me, Mom & Dad, looked up the information about the bag that matched the mower, a side collection bag like this one. Then at least, for the remainder of the time that mower worked for me, I didn't have to deal with it spilling everywhere. I simply had to strategize the bag/side dumping area - that they wouldn't be butting into higher landscaping or front stoops.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

Trimming a Tiny Yard With Hand Trimmers

When I got my first house, that is, the first one of my own, I had a small yard, which I liked, though much of it was grassed, a true lawn. It wouldn't be until many years later that I would be able to appreciate the whole idea of planting gardens, not lawns.

The lawn was small enough, though, that, upon locating one of these in among the treasures handed down to me, I wanted to make something of using it. I knew I'd need some way to trim around the lawn's edges, even though I had hardly any lawn that needed to be trimmed, I knew I needed something to trim what lawn I did have. As discussed yesterday, Dad's the one who'd always worked with the trimmer & trimming. I think this is also why I was looking to figure out a simple way to handle the task. Dad wouldn't be coming & trimming all the time for me; in fact, he'd not ever be stopping by to trim. That'd be absurd!

I really liked the idea of manual; all things manual. And with the small lawn space, as much as could be manual, even squatting down to hand trim along the mulch line beneath the front window, the paved sidewalk section, & the double long parking pad seemed do-able. I was quite young back then too 😁. Oh the words of ambition I had. Plenty of times I had sore fingers & wrists, yet I also liked being so capable of meticulously maintaining & keeping up after the task. I'd get a sense of accomplishment; that was a good thing.

I also liked that these were small; they're smaller than an electric trimmer, like this one, by a long shot. Therefore they take up lots less space. And they're simpler to use. Yes, they're more effort, though sometimes effort can be well worth what's put into it.

And yes, there were times when the last thing I wanted to be doing was getting going outside to get at the trimming. I'd wait until all of the edging looked long & scraggly. Sometimes I'd even consider the judgements of those who walked past & how they probably wanted to tell me to get my yard in order better - though a few would kindly stop by from time-to-time to share how much they were grateful that another was maintaining their yard & that they'd always see me in my yard & how terrific it all was.

And so I learned that not everyone was always noticing that I didn't keep up on the upkeep as best as I knew I truly could be. Sometimes, after all, sometimes I really just wanted to be reading a book, like this one, or crocheting, using some yarn such as this or this, or even make a batch of brownies from a box mix like this.

Sometimes ya just gotta get done whatcha just gotta get done.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

About Our Electric Lawn Trimmer/Edger

Dad always took care of handling trimming the lawn with the electrical edger. The family edger was electric, whereas our mower was gas powered. I'm pretty sure it's this exact Toro model that Dad used. I was shown the ropes for the task, yet never really got involved with it, though I do remember specifically what the trimmer looked like, & this is it. A short cord to attach into an extension cord, the black guide handle right below the red handle with the control trigger switch, & the base, where the line was being black, yet the motor section directly above, being red.

Sometimes Dad would trim in advance of my mowing the lawn; other times he'd ask that I mow one section of the lawn first in so that it would be completed & he could take to that section with the trimmer & the two of us not be "battling" out for the same square footage of yard. If he would be trimming in the front yard then we'd set him up & turn on the switch for the lamp post at the base of the front walk next to the driveway. The outlet on the backside would be active with the light switch turned on inside the house & all Dad would then need to do was plug in the extension cord & toss it around so as to not be in his way. He had that part of the project pretty well down pat. There were a few electrical outlets along the backside of the house too, which is where he'd plug in when trimming in those sections.

It was fun taking care of mowing the lawn because I always knew he'd be satisfied & content. The critical nature I'd developed for myself was equivalent enough to Dad's, that he never came back & said, "You didn't do that section well enough." Sometimes I took a thrill in getting to skip sections. When Dad would be working on replanting/regrowing the grass in a particular area, then that square footage wouldn't get mowed. It was equivalent to taking a break, which sometimes would be nice.

I'd always know how long the mowing task would take depending on how high the lawn had grown & how much rain we'd received. If it hadn't really rained, as in, it was the driest months of the season, then mowing the yard would possibly only take one bag full, which could take as little as 45 minutes. That could be inspirational just to get me going. Mom & Dad would only be looking for the lawn to be mowed in order to keep the blades that were growing even & unified with those that weren't so much. Dad wouldn't trim on these weeks. Sometimes they'd also "allow" for another break of a sort & let the task go for another day or so for whatever growth any additional overnight dew might initiate. I'd be delighted for the delay, & my ability to tend to any of the other hobbies of mine in the meantime, yet still anxious knowing that the task technically still awaited me.

Then there were the times when it wouldn't stop raining & the grass wouldn't stop growing - at least not long enough to get myself out there & get the task completed. It would be a bummer when I really couldn't wait long enough for the grass to be dried out enough to begin the cutting because it would get caught up in the mower's blades, stick, & be holding me back, & tying up my time. On these mowing days I'd often need to mow in less time than a week, probably within four to five days. And on those days I'd take me - most likely - two solid hours - with at least four bags full. I'd also get frustrated with myself that I'd try to get just-one-more-row completed, & there I'd be with clumps of wet grass, every six to twelve inches or so, which would then need to be either picked up or I'd have to re-mow the row or, even worse, the rows. There was more than one time when I'd have just one more, or maybe two more rows to mow, & would have left the front yard section, the part furthest from the dumping area at the bottom of the backyard, when the bag would begin showing it's "over fullness". I'd have to quickly decide if I was going to just buck up & change out the bag & come back to finish the final swipe or two; or, if I was going to finish up with the current load as was & then basically just hand pick up those remaining clumps decorating the lovely lines the mower's wheels had drawn on the lawn.

This was an easier decision, & much more welcome, than when I'd run out of gas in the mower in the same situation. Either way would remind me why starting in the front yard & then working my way through the side yard, to finally make my way all the way down the hill to the base of the yard, was typically the best way to organize the overall task seeing as the dumping would be right there, &, if I did need more gas, if the engine did give out with remaining blades to trim greater than that of what Dad's work with the electric trimmer should take on, the gas can was stored in our shed (in the same place that the lawnmower was stored when it wasn't being pushed around the yard), & therefore it was a super short trip to getting the gas can out, filling the tank, & getting the engine back up & running in order to finish up & be complete.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

Thoughts on Mowing the Lawn

My earliest memory of assisting with the family's lawn care was, when I was ten years old, being shown the ropes. That is the rope that is the pulley for starting the family's lawnmower. Our parents decided, sometime when we were really little that, once we turned ten we would be old enough, & big enough, to operate the lawnmower by ourselves. Thus that's when we were taught. Also by then we'd learned by nurture, not just nature, how our Dad would most like us to be mowing the lawn, the precision & meticulousness of what would look best & be most pleasing to him. Nicely & efficiently curving around with the circumference of each fruit tree's bed of mulch, lining up the wheels for each straight-away as we'd take the larger parts of the open areas & just, well, push the mower.

When I first got started Dad would stop whatever yard work he had in hand & come over to get the family mower started again. Yes, eventually I was able to, & very good at, pulling on the cord to & getting our manual mower started all on my own.

It eventually came to that I preferred the task of mowing the lawn for its option in meditation. The inorganic noise, turned organic music that the mower provides can be just the right tune to use for contemplation, a great way to clear the head, sometimes not really thinking about anything at all.

It's an instant reason to go walking in confined circles (or squares, or rows) whereas otherwise that person would be considered potentially crazy (the diagnosable kind of crazy); it's a great way to be active without too much trouble (I mean, you don't have to look on an "options" listing, as in - gee, what do I want to do to be active right now since I've been sitting around all day at work, etc. & really should move a little bit today); there's not a lot of concentration that goes into the task - especially if it is just out & back rows. You're pushing an object, which, if a bag's being filled (not mulching), it's an object that's continuously gaining more weight (until it's emptied for the next round), so you're gaining good muscle.

A downfall to mowing the lawn would be, if it's a sunshine day, needing to lather on the sunscreen (remember this post? 😉😏) & probably hunting down a hat before pulling on that start lever. And, if the grass would be getting too high, just needing to get the lawn mowed. Strategizing around neighbor's gatherings (no one wants their neighbor mowing the lawn while they're trying to entertain guests at a graduation party or summer birthday gathering), or - maybe even worse yet, in the midst of a funeral wake. And it's not appropriate to mow too early in the morning, or too late into the evening/nighttime; basically before dawn/sunrise & after dusk/when the sun's gone down (this timing for dusk can be adjusted a bit if there's enough outdoor artificial lighting later into the summer as the sun's already going down long before it cools off much for the day, & sometimes lots of yardwork can be achieved in that pivotal half hour, especially when someone has been working overtime in the late afternoon at their desk job & hasn't be able to get back to their yard just yet). Grass cannot be adequately mowed when it's still damp from the overnight dew, or after any type of rain, especially a long, hard one.

It's a reminder of the perks of shoveling snow. It can be snowing & shoveling is acceptable. (Though not always wise as it lays underfoot.) It can be any time of day or night. Unless the driveway or sidewalk is accidentally getting scrapped, shoveling snow is a "quiet" task to tend to. Though shoveling snow can't wait "just another day or so (or week or so)" like mowing the lawn can (though oftentimes it shouldn't 😂). That snow can turn into an icy mixture causing chaos & havoc as well as just needing to be out of the way sooner than later so it's easy enough to get into a vehicle parked in the driveway, or back out of a garage & down a driveway - or, if a postman is dropping off mail at a mailbox not at the curb, that snow being shoveled more promptly than not can help them too - & the homeowner if the homeowner isn't so interested in having the postman's footprints packing down their snow, turned sleet, into a potentially icy mixture.

And now I find myself reflecting on icy mixtures in the driveway on one of the first full days of Summertime for the year 😬. This mower (this is an Amazon affiliate link as well as the image link in the top left) reminds me of the mower Dad got when I was older, yet still helping out with mowing their lawn. We'd discussed the pros & cons of the "original" mower &, with the changes in the technology that models of that era offered, the larger back wheels was something that would help with getting around the circular mulch beds as well as turning nicely & swiftly at the end of each long row for the straight-aways & sharp turns as one of the issues we'd had with the original mower was that one of the back wheels continuously came loose & fell off.

We also knew that, with the twists & turns within the yard a rear bag catcher was best. Mulching mowers were only somewhat becoming a "thing" & Dad wouldn't have been ready to really use the feature anyway. Bag & dump was definitely his style; it still is. The plastic flap for the bag had been stretched & no longer completely covered its hole, thus no longer handling its specific task. Grass clippings would spray everywhere once the bag was filled to that point, which wasn't exactly noticeable if you're lost in what you're doing & making sure that your lines are straight & you're not picking up too much mulch, while at the same time aiming to save from needing the same section weed wacked later on. Suddenly, upon glancing up & taking a deep breath, maybe even wiping some sweat from the brow, it becomes obvious that, for the past maybe handful of long straight-aways, a "dribble path" had also been left behind.

We were glad, as well as satisfied, that we got a new lawnmower & that we got the one that we did. It was an appropriate upgrade for our family's mowing needs. The most significant glitch Dad noticed came in the form of the customer service he received when selecting the mower. He realized, post-purchase that the gentleman who sold it to him made a reference that the mower would be sufficient & adequate for his daughter to use, though the salesman didn't say it like that, so Dad didn't catch on & identify the "blow" in the moment. It was easy enough to let go with Dad seeing the task differently. Sure he had pride that his daughter mowed his lawn so efficiently, professionally, & with such talent, though he knew he could rely on me, that what I considered my best work was the best of what he wanted for his yard too. Something that any son could do just the same, & his did too, yet his daughter was doing a darn fine job of such a job. And that's something we both knew for absolute certain.

Compressing the Calves

After talking about the perks of fingerless gloves, I found myself remembering about these too. Back a handful of years ago when I was working on accepting that I needed to be wearing a knee brace, as well as realizing I technically needed to be wearing two knee braces, I was also checking into the influence of K Tape, which is this, also known as Kinesiology Tape. I saw numerous runners wearing it, & they appeared to find it rather beneficial. (I'd also heard them chatting positively about it to nearby inquirers.)

A number of celebrities, in recent years, have been photographed wearing these. Which have become a style all of their own, where many likely wear them for reasons other than their intended purpose.

I think it's because the discomfort I was dealing with had become so central to the knee area &, basically below, that these began to seem like a potential source of relief, at least something for which I should give a try to; and that I did. Maybe it was the reasonable price; maybe it was my wanting some solution to work out for me already.

And, ironically, those are the exact words that I needed to put into practice. By working out, the right way, I could improve myself. I took a lot of time off; a lot of time away. I still have the sleeves, & as long as they are worn properly, & are an adequate fit (as in, they don't fall down), they can be very good to have around; I've no regrets with my purchasing them.

I also work hard to focus on my form, making sure it's as proper as it should be. I've learned that the more that I focus on it & properly engaging my muscles through each stride, while avoiding any mental drifts into a la-la-land fog, helps immensely.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

Callous Chaos

In my quest to improve myself, that is, my physique, I've succumbed to revisiting the ol' "weights" management. I'm aware that they're good for me; I just struggle to utilize them more often than not. I own a few sets of these (yes, I bought them because they're blue). And I use them as often as I get a good whim. (It does happen! 😜)

I've had a rowing machine of my own, which I found from someone who'd had one they no longer needed after finishing up some rehab/therapy. It folds well enough to stay out of the way when necessary & I've had these to help keep my hands safe when I use it. The rowing machine has always served well as a nice warm up - getting my general muscles "ready to rock" & be moving...pushing me better & farther; enhancing my running performance.

And that's where the problem began; that's where I identified & accepted that I needed to work from scratch again. I'd worked with weights years ago, & without even trying, enhanced my performance. This is when I got better & had to figure out the how & why. Even back then I had the rowing machine, which is why, when the going got rough recently, & run/walking a half dozen miles seemed to be way more of a chore than it needed to be, I walked right on over to the weights area at the park. It's always available, & the weights respond based on the user's own bodyweight. So, when someone performs the sitting bench press, they're essentially doing so entirely with their own bodyweight. No, I've not managed this machine to its full capacity.

I no longer wish to feel sluggish just with running a mile or two. I'm proud of myself that I'm not wrangling through a knee brace for each leg. Knowing that, as long as I watch my running form well, & concentrate on what I'm doing, then I'll be able to stay away from the braces & all the congestion that they can cause.

Though I've a rowing machine, & gloves to wear while using it, they're both in storage. So here I am now, interested & excited to utilize this outdoor, at-the-park rowing machine, which, thus far has been creating just as many callouses as it is muscle strength. I could also tell I was immensely focusing on the pressure on the palms of my hands while using the machine versus concentrating on my muscle's performance as I best have been. I wasn't even letting the rowing bars down gently & properly; I was nearly dropping them.

Knowing that finding my pair in storage wouldn't be happening soon, if it actually did happen that I'd find them, & also knowing that the pair wasn't in top-notch condition, I rationalized getting a new pair. First I found these. Very applicable as they are designed for women, though they're also pink. Ugh. Then, from the sidebar I happened to notice this link for the all-black men's pair. I figured it couldn't hurt to click, view, & check them out. So I did.

At least while I was checking them out, the men's pair ran a lower price than the woman's did. On top of that, the page for the men's pair also included sizing info (just using a tape measure, which I had very handy). And the men's pair is all black. Bingo!

This pair would be a successful one for me to have in so that I'll be able focus on properly engaging those muscles that I'm using while at each station rather than focusing on the pressure & pain being caused by callouses. I could use it on the rowing machine as well as all the various options the park offers such as the bench press & the skiing device/elliptical.

And that's exactly what I will be doing! 😊 I'm working on improving these skills while engaging my muscles in so that my performance will become what it should be - while I'm running 😉.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

On the Topic of Sandals

So it's summertime now. Summertime means sandals. These look a lot like my current "main" pair, which are Italian & a super simple style. I've also a pair of close toed, open back muted light blue sandals - which I've had for a few years now...Blue...Go figure.

These also look a lot like my current pair, though the biggest thing about them which I don't care for is the clasp. I find it to be complicated & derailing to have to unbuckle & "rebuckle" & basically wear out the strap on that third hole from the end (or, whichever is most sensible for the wearer's foot). I'd rather have something to slip on & off.

I've also had bad experiences with this type as the front piece typically gnaws at the skin in between my toes & I've also had a bad experience with a backing like this because a had a young child, maybe toddler, maybe a little older, accidentally step on the back of it, therefore stretching the sandal's material & no longer equating it to the other foot, &, well, being too loose. It just didn't work anymore & I found myself shrugging it & donating that pair. (Though the pair I had may have had an elastic joiner between the sandal's main material & its base, which would've been what was stretched out - even if it was just a half inch or so of elastic on either side of each sandal.)

I'm not sure what I'd do with a pair like this, or where I'd wear them, though I'm sure the right generation sees a pair of sandals like this & instantly pictures the entire outfit they've ready to go & all their accessories (or from which friend to borrow them 😂).

These look super sporty. As if they're meant to support the wearer for a major event, providing loads of comfort, while also bringing on that summertime sandals experience to the max.

In my more recent life one thing I've learned for sure is to "never say never", though I've really no idea where or how I could possibly find myself interested in wearing a pair of sandals like this. They're opposite of simple, yet that's how I felt about rings on my fingers at one time & now rings on my fingers is how it is. {sigh} One just never really does know.

Here's one for all the shorter ladies 😂.  No really, it's a definite heel. If a gal's into wearing heels, even if she's not aiming much for the extra height, just the look & feel, & it's her style, then it's a good option & it is a simple style, yet has personality, so it can be a classy possibility.

 I imagine this sandal being worn while prancing or skipping her way through a field of high grass & white "blow a wish" dandelions like this wearing a spaghetti strap dress with a large, flowing skirt; most likely white, maybe a cream or similar muted shade.

Then there's this sandal. It's considered to be a moccasin sandal. It's the first sandal I ever had that I truly remember. And loved. Absolutely loved. They worked for everything. They were appropriate because they were so similar to an ordinary flat slip on. Close toed & they've a back. They're also a flat, which is all I wore at that time.

I wore that first pair out. They were raw from too much wear & all the tear. Ugh. I worked to replace them & never could get it right again. I bought a pair in my size. They turned out too big & my foot was falling out of them. I didn't get to enjoy them nearly enough. Next time around - the next season - I went for the next size down. They were smashing my feet. My toes were all red. I couldn't win. I digressed. I moved on. I experimented with other varieties. Though I'll always have a special fondness for that first pair which made me feel in fashion, in season, in style, in touch, & looking swell.

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

Summertime Scarves

They can class up an outfit or provide needed warmth when the A.C. is up too far in the conference room (& you're not the one controlling the wall gauge!) or in the seminar hall at the all-day hotel extravaganza your neighbor invited you to at the last minute.

Paired with just the right look, from faded blue jeans to a crisp pair right off the rack, as well as a sheik blouse or simple top & skirt combination, a scarf can add just the right touch. Even a classy, night-on-the-town, or out-to-dinner style like this. Can't figure out what jewelry to wear? Substitute with a scarf. Wear a thin one at this time of the year. Seasonal colors like pastels, or brights; peach is good too. This one gently unites Spring with Summer under the cover of a delicate pastel blue. Skip the wintertime holiday themes like black & orange for Halloween, rustic browns & oranges for Thanksgiving, or the ever obvious red & green combo for Christmastime. These will be Debbie-downer looks.

If styling them seems complicated, try one of these. There aren't a lot of variations for wearing them. Wrap them twice, wear it long, or pull it to cover your shoulders. If you're planning to be "at camp" one like this might be the one to complete your look. These are some simple solids in more muted tones, which can provide an elegance all their own. These have just the right amount of color, mixtures of color where each shade fades into another; they'd look appropriate tucked within the collar of a suit. You'll be set for your interview!

If scarves came into fashion, I missed their entrance. I typically do miss these things. Even once I knew they were a "thing", I was still slow to catch onto the "trend". I've always been a necklace & chain wearing gal, sometimes skipping out on them too & simply being a complete "Plain Jane".

I've also learned the importance of the right length & width for a scarf. Some of my first scarves could barely be wrapped into a "look" & wasted more of my time & created more angst for me than productively made me more exquisite.

I've also thought it could be a nifty idea to take a few similarly styled scarves (a few, so that they are thick enough to not be see-through, & a few so that a true layered look would now "be" by having multiples), ones of the same brand, with similar or the same pattern, & the same size (length & width), layer them atop one another & sew a seam & create a waistband. Suddenly a "scarf skirt" would be born!

Quick! A trend for which I'm note late! 😊😏😂

These links are affiliate links to Amazon as well as the image link in the top left.

Delicious Water, Drinking Some H2O

While working at my first professional job, a co-worker came over to the water cooler, which sat a few cubicles over from my own. She poured some water into her mug, leaned back, & drank it. When she finished, she stood straight up again &, with a smile on her face, exclaimed, "Mmmmm, that was some gooooood H2O!" Her delivery had me sold. Smiling too, I jumped to my feet & poured an ounce or two for myself, almost as if I were sampling it. I sort of was. I drank it delighted, yet let down. As it did taste just like ordinary water. She had been so excited for some water, so thirsty herself, that she made the water seem to be something other than it was, even for just a split second, for me.

As a kid I never considered if the water straight from the kitchen sink tasted good. It just did. I never had a problem with the taste, never thought it was dirty, or tasteless, or yucky of any sort. I drank plenty of water, though I know at that age, I drank plenty of milk too.

Then I bought my first house. As a result I found myself learning that houses nearby highways, which mine was, tend to have, well, different tasting water. I've never worked at a water company, & this occasion was decades ago, so there's no way for me to reiterate what was shared with enough precision to make as much sense as I'd like to. What I do remember is that it was suggested that I fill some plastic pitchers (of which I already owned a few) & let them sit out on the kitchen counter, sans their lids for at least a day. Then taste this water to see if it tasted "right"; it did.

This became my practice for the next many years. Eventually, due to the influence of others, & gift giving, I succumbed to one of these. By this time I was living in another house where the water didn't even taste as poorly as it had in that first house. No matter, the pitcher was there & it got used.

While living at yet another, third house, because of its location, the water, again, wasn't up to par. Due to downsizing before arriving at this third house, the initial pitcher didn't make the commute. This one seemed to be more practical for the situation. I've never been a fan of cold, refrigerator water, nor of kitchen counter appliance clutter, therefore having a narrow pitcher sitting atop the a small counter space worked well. The only task remaining became keeping these on hand.

Some people just use these. No longer living in any of these houses, & being in an area where the water is relatively reliable, I tend to just drink straight from the faucet. Well, not directly so 😊, as I wrote here, I do tend to pour water into something first, then take a drink 😂.

This company is becoming (perhaps has already become) another company like Kleenex, Velcro, Q-tips, Band-Aid, Scotch Tape, Sharpie, Wite-Out, the list goes on & is quite extensive, where just having the Brita name stands for all things water filtration devices & purification.

Keeping up with keeping the filters changed out & the pitchers full, or full enough to enjoy a glass without waiting on a few ounces to sift on through the filter's chambers, as well as occasionally getting the necessary fluoride the direct-from-the-faucet water provides, can make for quite a project of such a simple task as getting some hydration from this most basic resource: water. Whether it's enjoyed over ice, straight from the tap, hot from the kettle, cold from the back of the fridge, been accidentally sitting out in the warm sun all afternoon, or even had some flavored sugar mix like this added on in, those droplets of the compound H20 can be the best answer to the question: refreshment & nourishment. After all, approximately 70% of the human body is water.

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A "Sweet" Father's Day

Dad's never fit any of the stereotypes. I learned this while trying to find him an appropriate Father's Day card for the first, well, nearly every. single. holiday, where it'd be fitting to get him something meant just. for
or. him.

The closest I could ever find would be something like "gardener" or a "baker", a dad who'd be handy in the kitchen, & anything referring to a dad being as such was never really marketed. I did find him a stick-in-the-ground placard reading "Dad's Garden" one year. I remember this because he's kindly kept the item right alongside the front flower bed aligning with the hedges as one approaches the front door & mailbox, simply by glancing a bit to the left, they can notice it.

Stereotypes typically aimed dad's to be beer guzzling, television watching, junkies; fishing gurus; golf (or any sport) playing; & automobile obsessed to name a few. Dad was none of these. He didn't follow these profiles. He wasn't a workaholic either. He just was. And that was enough. Then how to acknowledge this in an annual greeting card, or get him an ideal gift? It typically ended up way too complicated & most years I sweated the situation.

This year initially was no different. In fact, the idea for Dad's gift this year sort of fell into my lap - not literally though 😂! It's been for years now that I've mixed up a batch of these (though I most often grab for the generic) & brought it along as a "snack" or a "just or fun" idea. Dad's raved about it since Day One. At this point, any time I might see Dad, I make sure to bring along a batch. It' become My Thing. Don't worry, the stops aren't all that frequent, though there is a therapeutic quality to mixing up each batch, prepping, & baking it. And box mixes have been a rather reasonable cost.

Having two thirds a cup of oil & a quarter cup of water handy as well as two eggs & one of these (this size is fundamental for just the right brownie thickness), greased, as well as one of these & these, though, for Dad, in this throw away form, has become second nature. The treat has also become a quick house warming gift (yes, in place of a potentially unsuitable bottle of wine), or just something fun with which to surprise, well, anyone.

I happened upon a bunch of discount coupons for a particular store. They were really good discounts, so I kind of really wanted to make sure to use them. Isn't that the way we've all been trained to think? 😂 I found myself in the snack section & there they were, individual bags of these & these.

I picked up enough to fill the coupons I had with me & stowed them away. After all, what became this "project" began months ago. Soon after I ended up with another set of coupons. Again, I lined up  these bags for purchase. I did enough times that I realized I had about half the bags needed for a clever project. I could get Dad enough of these bags to have a bag to represent each year he's been a father. And I did it. I kept collecting the highest discount coupons & got a cardboard box to adequately stow in a safe corner. It took a few months &, when I finally counted them up I had enough bags between these two available flavors, to label each with a sticker marked to acknowledge a year of Dad's fatherhood including one for the year when Mom was pregnant & one to grow on.

Of course, I prepared a pan of brownies for him too. He thought the idea was brilliant, so did Mom. Very thoughtful, original, & creative. With all of the little events & activities Dad participates in, these bags could make for good "take along" snacks. Summertime concerts in the grass, volunteering at church, any random seniors activity, an afternoon spent at any of the places where he does his beloved genealogy research, etc. With each bag labeled with a year, he could literally count back the years of his fatherhood until he finished his gift.

No, there's never been a stereotypical Father's Day item or selection geared toward guy's obsessed with genealogy & taking long walks, yet, somehow I manage each year to find something that will be useful to him, something for him to enjoy.

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The Three-Speed Bike

After sitting on the very back end of the banana seat of my two-wheeler for way too long, it was somewhere between junior high & high school that I graduated; graduated to a three-speed bike, that is.

With my brother dilly-dallying about the randomness of the ten speeds on his bike's handles, I couldn't have been more absolutely certain that I wanted my adult bike to be just a few speeds, ones that I could easily identify & know exactly what each could do.

Mom & Dad worked with me to find what I had in mind. There was a store that had one in their stock. It was one of those stores (it's now out-of-business) which keeps a display of their in-stock merchandise on the sales floor with a tag providing a complete description & it's price. The customer used purchase order paperwork the store provided to write-up any of the items they'd have an interest in purchasing.

So we went to the pick-up counter after Mom & Dad turned in our order slip & up the rotating belt, from the store's basement, came my three-speed bicycle.

Ever the mother, Mom did her work as being the wise adult & inspected the bike. There was a large area above the rear wheel where paint was missing. Mom requested another one from the store's stock room. The counter associates received word that only one other of this bicycle remained in the store's stock & the associates working in the basement stock area had made the discretionary decision that its condition was less than the one which had been sent up the belt.

Mom requested a discount. The bike we'd found in the sales floor would have already been on sale. Knowing my parents, they'd specifically looked to shop this store because they'd found a sale in the store's weekly flyer. Mom was now requesting a discount upon the sales discount. Of course, Mom was fine with this. She'd not purchase anything that wasn't what she expected it to be, especially not without the appropriate applicable discount in place. And so we got a fair price & we left the store - three-speed bicycle in tow.

I used that bike & I used it well. First speed, clearly marked with a "1", was the speed to use for biking up a hill; it would made the ride quite a bit easier to manage. Second speed, clearly marked with a "2", was the speed to use as if using the bicycle as a one-speed bicycle; it was the traditional speed, ordinary speed. The third & final speed, clearly marked with a "3", was the speed to use when biking longer distances; it helped make each pedaling stroke take bike's wheels that much further without the extensive exertion.

I used each speed plenty of times throughout the years. And I'll even be honest enough to share that a few times I left the bike in first speed more than I needed to - just so I could have the ease that comes with biking up a hill in first speed - even if I'd be on a downhill. Yep, so I cheated a time or two there 😇. I also remember that sometimes using second speed would be frustrating because the handle to change the bike's speeds would then be straight out - as if at the "3" on an analog clock - which placed it in a position to wedge itself into my hand where my index finger meets my thumb. If my hand wasn't in the right spot on the handlebar, off by an inch or so, it could make for a less pleasant bicycle ride.

Nevertheless, I rode that green three-speed bike around local neighborhoods, campgrounds, state parks, to school & back & plenty of other places. Before I was old enough to drive & our other Grandma, the one who'd lived locally, needed to stay in a nursing home for her final months, I used my three-speed bike to bike to the nursing home where she stayed, which just happened to be an even closer distance to our house than the house where she'd been living - & it wouldn't have been safe for me to bike to visit her in that house. Her living in a nursing home & my having a capable bicycle were an ideal fit at an ideal time of our lives.

Within the past year I donated that bicycle. It'd run its course & had many miles upon its wheels. It worked great, yet it wasn't something I use enough at this time of my life to have around. A few bad memories had formed surrounding it toward the end too. Passing along the bike made it easier to pass along & rid myself of those memories. I'd seen plenty of thrift store commercials over the years about children getting "new-to-them" bicycles because of the generosity of others who were no longer in need of their bikes. Besides, I could always get myself a new bike; maybe even this one 😉.

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The Ten-Speed Bike

When my brother graduated from his childhood one-speed bicycle, which was a darker, boyish color. The most prominent thing I've always remembered about his adult bike was that it was white, & had handlebars like this. I don't recall when it was, or how old he was, when he got this bike; I remember it had ten speeds & was a better fit for him now as he was getting bigger & growing up.

With the bike having ten speeds, it came along with a manual. I'm not sure that manual was ever really read; I'm not even sure it was ever skimmed. Dad probably walked him through it & showed him how he could learn to really use each speed that the bike had.

And I remember notches. I remember that bike having notches on each handlebar to signify a speed. At that age, it seemed there were at least ten notches on each handlebar; obviously that's just not possible. So I apparently found it intimidating. Yes, yes I did. Moreover I felt it bizarre. As the days turned into weeks, & the weeks turned into months, & yes, the months into years too, I watched my brother not really seem to make much use of those notches of speeds on his adult-size bicycle.

He'd fumble through a few, switching it up a bit; I'm not really sure he had any clue of whatever change, or shift, the speed he'd switch to had made. This impacted me immensely; watching all of this. He'd had a front row seat, basically complete control, in the selection of his ten-speed bike. In fact, he's actually picked it out! In many ways our parents made our first adult-size bicycles, our first sign of independence; they wanted to make sure that what we got was what we wanted, what we'd really use.

He did use it. He used it all the time. He rode wherever he needed to get on it & when we'd be on family vacations, he willingly took it & used it to get from A to B. I need to give him fair credit for that. I just know that he didn't use it as fully & completely as he could have. And therefore I knew, just by observing his decisions, that when I'd be picking out mine, that is, my first adult-size bicycle, I'd not be bothering to get a bicycle with nearly so many speeds as his ten-speed.

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Wheels Not Wanted

A few years ago my brother's kids participated in a piano recital; they did great. I was there. Because I was there, which is not nearby where I lived, I headed back to their house & hung out with them for a few hours.

I borrowed one niece's bike to ride around the neighborhood with the other niece - the one who's always excited to chat & share a story & fill you in on what's what. And that's what she did around her neighborhood. We had a fun time. She was about to point out where a friend of hers lived & then noticed her friend approaching from the opposite direction, back from a run. My niece asked her, "Were you out for a run?" Her friend affirmed with a head nod.

We continued back around the rest of their neighborhood's main circle which dropped us back off at my brother's house. My niece put the two bikes back in place. Her sister came out of the house from helping her mother with something & I could tell that her mother was asking her if she wanted to go bike riding with me, knowing that I'd eagerly go back out around the block again with the other one; she declined shaking her head no. She's into that sort of stuff; she just wasn't in the mood in that moment, which was fine.

We'd pulled out the family's hula hoop & played with it for a bit. I had my smartphone handy so I took pictures of my niece, which is where I learned about timing on tapping the smartphone camera button I wasn't so good at it. I tried a few times to capture her mid-hula-hooping & realized it wouldn't be the shot we truly wanted. I warned her, when it became my turn at the hoop, that I wouldn't last long. She nodded in understanding, further contentedly saying, "Okay." She also showed her smartphone camera skills to be better than my own as we've better evidence that I tried to use the hoop for a heartbeat (the moment that she captured), whereas she actually used the hoop for a few minutes, & I, well, I don't think my attempts at capturing her some quality jpg images does her justice. Oh well.

Before moving on to the family's backyard, where I further didn't do well with my camera when my nephew climbed a tree & successfully jumped from it - & the keepsake I captured isn't of his jump, rather moments before, & then again afterward, my niece pulled out another item from their family's garage, one of these.

She'd just received it as a Christmas gift a few months prior (as this memory of mine happened in April of the year when it did happen). She'd asked to receive it; it wasn't just something someone saw & thought, "Hey, she might like this, let's get it for her." Nope. She was interested.

I looked at the gift, stunned. My own mother looked at me, noticing I'd been taken aback. I was stuttering with a loss for words. I had no intentions of speaking negatively about it, though for me to speak about it, it would've been my own thoughts on it, which weren't positive & encouraging. I'd no interest, or need, to be negative, however, as it had nothing to do with me & it wasn't wrong. I was shocked & amazed that my niece had an interest in such an item; I'd never ever had an interest in using one, let alone owning one. My niece was so interested, she asked for one as a Christmas gift.

The family only had one, so sans showing me a few moves on their driveway, right there, right outside their garage - which is where these toys were stored, there really wasn't much to do with it.

I'd always considered figuring skating. as I'd seen in the Olympics, to be pretty nifty, & I'd considered roller skating to be a close & viable option; though, aside from those shared skates I wrote about earlier in the week, I never did get a pair. Maybe these would have been a fun pair to try, which I'd select because of their color, their no-ankle-coverage, & that they aren't roller blades. No matter, that same, where-to-skate problem would have still remained.

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My First Two-Wheeler

We came back to our house from spending our traditional Christmas Day with Grandma at her house in the morning, then riding around to each of the local family & friends who'd come to expect our visit sometime on Christmas. Dad unlocked & opened the door as he always did, from any time the whole family would go somewhere together, even just to church & back.

The rest is a blur to me, well, not even that. I simply only remember it based on the photos from the half roll of photos Dad took of me in the following minutes & the story from Mom of how it all came to be.

When I walked in the house & turned the corner to see in the living room, a two-wheel bike with one of these sat at the edge of the living room so that the back wheel was touching into the dining room. Yes, I hopped right on. I grinned from ear-to-ear. This part I know because it's apparent in the well documented photos Dad took 😂.

The story has it that a lady who lived down the street, happened to be down on her luck due to a few family mishaps & happened to have three girls who'd outgrown a two-wheeler she still had around. My parents bought that bike from that lady for me for Christmas.

I'd been asking for a particular themed bike; one that stores probably didn't sell either. My parents applied stickers of this theme all over the bike's pink paint. I didn't know any better; I was sold. A basket similar to this one hung from the handle bars. The main difference is that mine was an all white weave. No, I didn't have tassels, thank goodness; yes, my simplicity extends to the earliest days of my childhood.

On the back of the seat there was a metal bar. That's the same bar Dad held onto as he trained me to successfully ride the bike as training wheels hadn't become mainstream yet - & knowing our Dad, we'd likely not have had them anyway; we're 'old school' that way 😁. He'd smile & jokingly say, "We don't need training wheels in this house. I'm your training wheels." And so he was.

He was good at it too. He was trustworthy that way. That patch of flat street that began in front of our house I mentioned in yesterday's post? Yeah, that one. That's the one we used for training. We'd walk the bike down to the far end, the five or so houses away from ours, & I'd climb on. I think we trained this way because the hill (read: mole hill) that began right after our house was a smaller hill than the one which sat behind us as I began learning to balance on the straight-away. This way, if I were to ride & not manage to brake & stop myself in time, it'd be a lesser hill I'd have to climb back up. Besides, it'd be right at the beginning of our property where I'd be cresting the hill, so if I had any problems it'd be super simple to come right inside & get help.

The biggest thing I remember from learning to ride that bike: Dad steadily holding that metal bar behind my seat "enough times", always encouragingly saying, "I'm right behind you." Of course, at first, he actually was 😏. Then, because I was so consumed with my accomplishment, I couldn't realize that his voice was trailing behind me as he continued to call out, "I'm right behind you." Though he did begin making sure he'd say, as I was taking off, "Don't look behind you; you'll lose your balance."

Of course, I did look behind me, a little bit, at least once. That might just have been my first "deflate" moment from Dad. I'd trusted him & he wasn't really right there like he'd been saying all along that he would be. I just might have felt my heart sink. ...And at the same time I still had Dad calling to me, "Don't turn around; you'll lose your balance." So I had to keep both my body & the bike straight ahead & focus on my accomplishment rather than dwell on Dad letting me down. Tough love, they do say.

*****

Year's later I'd definitely mastered that bike. I'd mastered it so much that I'd more than outgrown it. I was despairing because I'd spent at least a season riding on the furthest back section of the seat & was now left only to somewhat balance off that same metal bar that belonged to Dad during those first riding days. Those theme stickers which Mom & Dad had applied in order to give me the exact bike I'd asked for? They'd all fallen off, or been picked off, leaving the bike naked & without paint. The bike had definitely begun to look tacky; maybe more than tacky: downright despicable.

It was the only bike I had, so I kept on riding it. It was the first bike I rode up all the challenging hills of our neighborhood, the only way we had to "get out" & go places like the nearby convenience store, the local library, & some other local neighborhoods was to climb up these hills. One was just really long, another was a gradual incline, making it seem less intimidating, & the other street's hill was actually a "double hill" where once I'd climb the first hill, just as I'd be cresting & potentially becoming "at ease", I'd suddenly need to begin pedaling like crazy up another hill before finally, officially cresting it & getting on flat ground. The perk to this "double hill" was that once on the flat portion, I was houses away from the building the local library was located in. Also, I had the good, fuzzy feeling inside that I'd accomplished that whole, big, long climb. Yep, the first time I managed that one without getting off to walk my bike even a little bit, was great.

*****

I'd outgrown that bike so much that I'd try riding Mom's bike on occasion. She also had a one-speed bike, just an adult size one. And her bike was blue 😁, making it all the more fun to ride; though it was a bit clumsy for me, it fit & it was a great color. Unless we had a "family ride" when Dad & Mom would ride along with us kids, Mom pretty much didn't use her bike. Awaiting a bigger bike of my own, I used her blue bike in the meantime.

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Sharing Wheels

Frugality can be taken to extremes sometimes. Such is the story of a early childhood Easter; circa seven years old. Mom & Dad would prepare Easter baskets for us kids each year. We'd get the traditional chocolates, & other candies stashed inside plastic eggs. We got other things in our Easter baskets too; things that varied from year to year. None were as memorable as the year we were asked to share...Without even actually being asked. \Yep, we were simply each given one skate each (not one pair...rather, one skate) among the faux grass blades & plastic eggs in our pastel shaded Easter baskets.

It was an adjustable set of skates where there was a sliding feature connecting the toe portion to the heel portion via a wing nut. It was a bare bones skate - as in - it was just these metal pieces; the kid using the skates would need to be wearing their shoes while skating.

We couldn't skate together since we were sharing the pair & places to skate were complicated. Our family's back patio was the largest section that wasn't a dirt or grassy area. However, the patio wasn't all that ideal since it was made of patio stones like this one. They'd been in place for a number of years, so they'd begun offsetting, where one would be a few millimeters (or more) higher than the next one over. This made it a bit rough for a kid to accomplish adequate skating in the small section of patio that did exist.

We could skate on our street, though we'd have to stay to the side & there was only a stretch of about five houses where we could easily skate, otherwise we'd have to battle skating up a hill (after managing to successfully skate down it), so skating on our street didn't really happen. We were, after all, quite young, & that wing nut wasn't all that trusty. It would come loose just in the general skating we'd try on the patio. Our driveway was another location where we could skate, that is, if neither car was parked in it. In fact, it would be a better skating pad than the patio stones in the backyard. However, we generally didn't get to enjoy the driveway because, at that age, one parent was always with us at the house, which meant the vehicle they'd used to get to the house would've been parked on one side of the parking pad that was our driveway (& no one thought to park one on the street for a short period, or they didn't want to). And because it was right off the street. Which, though we were far from being on a main street, for us, as for safety, roller skating right along the street curb wasn't in our best interest.

Lo & behold, after extended concern that the skates wouldn't stay in place as we made our strides, those skates "went away".

*****

A family friend, one that had a great friendship, along with his wife, with Grandma... & Grandpa too, when he was still alive, happened to have a bicycle-built-for-two. When Mom stopped by their house for a visit, it was Spring or Summertime. The family friend happened to be dilly-dallying around in his detached garage & noticed my brother & I with Mom. As Mom headed inside to catch up with his wife, he caught our attention & wheeled out one of these.

He brought it into the street (&, like our street, also not a main street) & we "hopped on" as best we could since we'd never been on one before. My brother got on in the front; I biked from the back. A bicycle-built-for-two is one where both people need to work together to get the bike turning & moving along properly; it takes some special skill, especially when it's two siblings who are entering into double-digit ages, or just have & might not be all that stoked about suddenly participating in this activity - especially not together.

Our family friend coached us & encouraged us. We biked a bit; at least down their long street, maybe even around the block. At that age, especially as I was in an area I wasn't all that familiar with, & would have been lost had I been riding solo, it was nice to know I simply needed to maintain a reasonable pedaling speed. The neighborhood was completely flat, so coasting didn't really happen, yet neither did any aggressive pedaling either.

We finished up rounding a corner to see this man who'd been great friends with a grandfather we'd never had the chance to meet grinning from ear to ear with his head cocked to the side a bit & his hands clasped together before him in contentment, admiration, & love; his eyes glistened. For this, it was well worth pedaling in tandem with my brother. He held the bike steady once we reached his driveway & we climbed off.

Both of these items, the roller skates & the bicycle-built-for-two, we were to share & share we did.

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A Tricycle Riding Memory

The only memory I've of Mom's brother is one of him fixing my tricycle. He died months after I turned six & lived in a neighboring town to Grandma along with his family, so we didn't see him often. Even though we had tricycles back at Mom & Dad's house to ride around on, the only memories I've have actually doing so are the ones I've of riding along with our first cousins all along Grandma's long driveway. The photos we've in our family photo album, which Dad took (he's always been our family photographer) have helped keep these memories alive too.

We'd all gotten together for a family picnic; it was sometime in early or mid-July. We "picnicked" at Grandma's picnic table right in her backyard. She had a smile so wide that day; I've seen it so many times in those pictures Dad took. I feel like I remember the scene with my own eyes, as if I were matured ten more years than I'd been when the moment happened. She was so proud. She had every right to be. Here she had her children, along with their spouses, & all her grandchildren. This was her life's work; her legacy.

Our tricycles were equivalent to our generation & nothing so modern as these. Though the design was very similar to this bike, so it's likely that we were riding on the Radio Flyer brand back then. I remember there was a blue tricycle & a green tricycle at Grandma's house. I think it's the green one that I used. It was a "retro" green; not a bright & crisp Crayola green & the clumsily padded bike seat slumped at the back end where we were probably getting a good ab workout just keeping our hinnies hoisted up & not falling off the back & into the "standing space" where a thrill seeking sibling or cousin could step up & hold onto our shoulders for a short ride.

The bikes were likely gifted to Grandma by a neighbor or a nearby family friend. They probably had the bikes sitting in their garage from after their children had outgrown them. Knowing they should purge their items, they thought of Grandma & how us kids would stop by from out-of-town; the tricycles seemed meant for us.

I remember us kids pedaling around the top of the driveway, nearby the detached garage, which sat next to Grandma's backyard where the picnic table & grill were located. Something happened to the tricycle I was using, as if something had come loose. I got off & brought the bike over to the picnic table where all of the adults were standing & sitting. Mom's brother, my uncle, went into action checking out the bike. He must've had a wrench or a screwdriver already handy cause he seemed to take just a quick moment & suddenly was handing me back the bike. As in, he was setting it down from off the edge of the picnic table onto the ground right in front of me. I hopped on & rejoined the rest of my generation pedaling away in the driveway.

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