Everyday Life...

...which includes a trip to the beach.

What are you doing to occupy your time while you shelter at home?  I have mentioned before that I have enough hobbies to keep me busy all day every day, and that's mostly how I've been filling my time and engaging my mind.

I purchased the eight-book series of The Dark Tower by Stephen King.  There was a movie out recently, The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger, which is loosely based on these books.  So far I've read 1,371 captivating pages of this 4,470-page behemoth.

I've made three dozen of these crocheted dish rags.  Each one takes about two hours from start to finish.  And as is par for the course, I've already given away most of them.

I've made two of these flannel baby blankets, a gift for a great niece who will make her debut in June.  My grandmother made one of these blankets for each new baby born into our family.  She taught me how to join them together with a simple crochet stitch before she left this world.

I finished the drawing of this cityscape on linen.  It is setting in my embroidery basket waiting for me to begin stitching.  This embroidery project is destined to become a wall hanging.

I've spent hours scribbling pictures in my sketchbook.  The image on the far left is a whimsical drawing; the one on the right is a good representation of the art of Zentangle.

Consort and I walk the dogs several times each day within the RV park.  We have also gotten out a few times for pure enjoyment.  Our outings are nothing like the excursions we had before the order to stay at home (which they're very serious about here in south Texas), but it is time away from the fifth wheel and out of the park.

We took the dogs with us to the drive-thru at Dairy Queen over the weekend.  Did you know DQ will give you free "pup-cones" for your dogs?  This is Annie slurping up the little bits of ice cream that missed her mouth and caught in her furry face.

The above is a collage of pictures from our day today.  Notwithstanding the hobbies, card games, and endless hours of reading that consort and I pursue, and in spite of the fact we take the dogs for walks and visit with our neighbors several times each day, we were all ready to move beyond the encroaching walls of our home that presumably keep us safe.  (The picture on top is of a couple walking down the beach.  The weather was very foggy when we started.)

We drove to the dog park yesterday, but it is still shut down.  And nowadays, consort and I are much too mature to hop the fence.

Today we drove to Padre Island determined to spend the day at the beach allowing the dogs to run, jump waves, and sniff every oddity found in the sand.  In our past trips to the beach, consort and I end up chastising ourselves for not being more prepared.  We never seem to have the things we need or want.  Today would be different.  We were resolved to have everything necessary for our outing.

We packed sandwiches and sodas.  We bagged up treats for the dogs and an extra jug of fresh water for them.  We had our chairs, the dogs' retractable leashes, our hats, and a bottle of sunscreen.  We remembered the tether tie-downs for the dogs so they could continue to play while we enjoyed our picnic in the salty sea air.  We jammed all of these essentials into a wheeled shopping cart and applauded ourselves for our thoroughness.  

When we came over the causeway and drove into Padre, we were stopped by a police officer who asked our destination.  Consort answered that we were heading to the beach for exercise -- the only allowable basis for accessing the beaches.  The officer waved us through with a wish for a good day, and we motored off in search of surf and sand.

We found a parking lot about 100 yards from an open access to the beach.  We parked and began unloading the dogs, we shoved all our baggage back into the wheeled cart.  I had the dogs, while consort managed our fully loaded cart, as we headed off to the beach.  

We located a nice spot and set up our chairs.  We set the tie-downs for the dogs.  Once the picnic area was arranged, we took the dogs out for a run.  After about a half an hour walking the beach, we decided to take a break and have some lunch.  

We finished our lunch and congratulated ourselves again for getting out of the house and being so well prepared for the day.  We were ready to sit awhile and let our lunch settle while the dogs played.  It was wonderful being in wide open spaces, outside, away from all confinement.  

It was just about then that a police officer driving down the beach pulled in beside us.  He was friendly and polite, but said with no compunction that we would have to pack up all our stuff.  While the beaches have been opened for exercise, they are not open for lounging or sunbathing.  If you're on the beach, you must be moving.  Being the law abiding citizens that we are, we complied.

We packed the chairs and the last of the lunch.  We put the dogs back on leash and pulled the tie-downs from the sand.  We repacked the dog treats and water.  Consort volunteered to pull the wheeled cart back through the sand, up the ramp, and the 100 yards back to the truck.  I acquiesced with a nod of my head.

I stayed on the beach walking with the dogs while waiting for consort to return.  When he was back by my side, we continued walking the dogs until we were sure they had exhausted their pent-up energy.

On the way home, we just had to laugh.  We finally got our act together and were well-prepared for our day in the sun only to be told that on this day we needed only a leash.

How to enjoy a face mask

First, empty the contents of the fabric you choose.  Second, put on your face mask.

Is good, yes?

Ghost Stories

Have I ever told you the house we just moved out of was haunted?  You have no reason to believe me, but there it is:  We had a ghost.

Throughout the entire 17 years we lived in the house there were inexplicable events.  I know the claim of ghosts in a house is too dubious to be believed, but there were happenings that had no other explanation.

When we moved into the house, consort had a job that required him to wake up at 3 a.m. and leave for work at 4 a.m.  Regardless of my job assignment as a court reporter, I never had to wake up before 6 a.m.  I was always soundly sleeping when consort left for work.

One morning, during the first week we were in the house, I was awakened by a loud pounding and the sound of someone yelling.  I lay listening for a moment, then decided what I was hearing was consort calling to me from the first floor.

Being one who tries never to exert herself, I rolled over, faced the bedroom door, and yelled back, What do you want?  The pounding stopped immediately, but the shouting continued.  I hollered once more, What's wrong?  Did you forget your keys?  The only response was a loud, unintelligible voice making a ruckus on the first floor.

Fully awake and completely annoyed, I got out of bed and headed down the stairs.  Consort was not in the entryway where I expected to find him.  In fact, aside from myself, there was no other living being within the house.

It was not uncommon during the first seven years we lived in the house to hear voices shouting or someone calling.  It was always bizarre, but never frightening.  During those same seven years, consort and I were busy restoring our house to its original 1920s condition.  It was during this reclamation period that the voices were most active.

At some point in the restoration, we completely gutted an upstairs bedroom.  We chiseled plaster from the walls, opened up a closet by removing a wall, and, of course, we pulled up and removed carpet.  Beneath the carpet were remnants of the original linoleum.  As I worked to remove the linoleum, the voices occurred with greater frequency.  I heard them multiple times during the day.  Once the renovation of the house was complete, the voices went away.

We always assumed the main voice we heard was one of the previous owners, an elderly lady who died in the house.  I don't know who the others might have been.  The conversations, if one could call them that, were an indistinguishable mixture of voices.

For about three or four years the house was silent.  There were random disturbances like knickknacks  that were moved to the wrong place on the fireplace mantle.  There were sounds of doors opening and closing or being knocked on, but there was never anymore voices.

We acquired our first dog, D.O.G., in April of 2014.  One afternoon when I returned home from a job, I found D.O.G. sitting on the landing in the stairwell.  He was barking at a wall where two oversized pictures were hanging.  The framed pictures were heavy and necessitated the use of drywall screws to secure them to the wall.  A screw was placed so that both pictures had a screw in each upper corner.

The pictures were still hanging on the wall, but they were cock-eyed.  One picture hung from its upper left corner, the other picture hung from its upper right corner.  And there sat D.O.G. in the middle of the landing, staring at the wall, and barking for all he was worth.  It took me quite awhile to calm him down and coax him away from the wall.

The next two curious events occurred in the last month we occupied the house.

Our house was an old, two-story Sears bungalow.  All of the doors had skeleton key locks.  I collected skeleton keys, had hundreds of them, but only one key ever fit a door lock in the house, the lock to the basement door.

Most of the homes in Oklahoma do not have basements; there's too much ground water seepage.  We did have a basement, but used only the top few stairs for household cleaning items.  There was a sump pump installed in the basement that could be turned on with the flip of a switch at the top of the stairs.

One morning when I came downstairs, I noticed the basement door was ajar.  I assumed consort had opened it and simply forgotten to close it again.  I shut the door without too much thought and went on about my day.

That particular day I was working upstairs getting ready for our big move.  Around lunchtime, I went downstairs and saw that the basement door was, once again, ajar.  I thought it odd but came to the conclusion I had neglected to shut the door tightly.  I closed the door and then pulled on the knob to make sure it was secure.  It was tightly closed.

I made some lunch and took a short break.  (That's code for I grabbed a Pepsi and went to play Candy Crush for half an hour.)  When I walked back through the house, I saw the basement door standing open.  This was beyond strange and I was sure it was our ghost.  I closed the door for the third time and used the skeleton key to lock it.  I double checked to be certain it was secure and would not open, and then walked away leaving the key in the lock.

Again in the vein of never exerting myself, I left the packing up for another day and went out to run errands.  I was gone for a few hours.  When I returned home, the basement door was open and the key nowhere to be found.

The last encounter I had with the ghost is the most unbelievable.

I was in the kitchen unloading cabinets.  In my peripheral vision I saw an elderly woman.  Her hair was knotted in a bun.  She wore a long-sleeved dress covered with an apron.  She walked from our back door, across the laundry room, and disappeared into the bathroom, a total of about eight feet.

That was the last time we had any contact with the ghost.  In the beginning, the voices made us uneasy, but never fearful.  Over the years we got used to the ghostly actions and looked forward to sharing the haunted tales.  As far as we know, the ghost lives there still.

Consort and I are trying to decide where to go for Easter.  We're debating between the living room and the kitchen.

You say it's your birthday

Happy 6th birthday, D.O.G.!

This must be the front end of D.O.G.  He's holding a toy in his mouth.

  

D.O.G.'s first birthday.  He and Bella were treated to pupcakes.

D.O.G. sporting a man bun, again holding a toy in his mouth.

D.O.G. and Bella, BFF

A Trip to the Beach

 

Consort and I are on day nine of our self-quarantine after our north-south travels.  Other than walking the dogs, we haven't been out much.  We've kept ourselves busy, but we have become exceedingly dull.  For instance, I have been watching old home movies so I can create labels chronicling the events recorded on each DVD.  Exciting, right?  Honestly, it's been kind of fun.  In the past nine days I have attended weddings and graduations.  I have celebrated birthdays, Easter, the 4th of July, and Christmas.  I have been on family vacations.  There's something to be said for a good couch trip.

Yesterday, consort and I decided it was time to break out.  We loaded the wee mangy mongrels into the truck for a drive.  South Padre Island beach is closed, Boca Chica beach is closed, and the dog park is closed.  We settled on a drive to Padre Island hoping we would find the north end of the island open and an empty beach where we could walk the dogs.  We were not disappointed.  The north end of the island was open and we found exactly what we were looking for, a completely deserted beach.  

Being a responsible dog owner, I want to be sure of my dogs' recall skills before allowing them to run off leash.  A recall command is used to tell your dog to return to you.  When the dogs are off leash and I yell, "Come!" they are supposed to drop whatever they're doing and return to me.  D.O.G. has great recall skills.  I don't worry too much about Annie, she seldom leaves my side.  Bella, however, continues to have impulse control issues, and I was not in the mood to chase her if when she ran off, so she remained attached to the retractable leash and had to make do with only 30-feet of independence.  

No birds were caught, despite best efforts by the dogs.  The pups ran and jumped waves, they sniffed and dug holes.  By the time we left to head home, we had successfully exhausted the dogs and restored our own mental health.  It was a very good day.

What is not on the TV:  News channels