Recent guest poster Cindy Frewen Wuellner asked how I do it.

And I think she was referring to how I can hack out a post in only a few hours ( . . . is it that obvious?).  My answer (in less than 140) . . . “Don’t do research, and use a lot of (literary) ‘ummmmmmms’.”

I really do plan to pick a topic one day, do some research, and actually write something intelligent about it . . . .

But until then . . .

*******

32 foot ladder up against stripped wood clapboard sidingI’ll admit it; I am not the most responsible guy. I don’t recycle as many building materials as I probably should.  Sure, I am big on reuse and I can even sometimes make my way to a re-purpose, but aluminum and copper is the limit of the products I have ever actually hiked up to the recycling center.  And I have yet to set up my backyard composting bins.

We call it the dump pile. In a front corner of our yard, near the gate and just off the driveway – the mound grows with most weekends.  Construction debris, some yard waste and occasionally a big wheel or a scooter goes there.

It always becomes most obvious as the holidays approach.  As good parents, we usually set up around this time for a picture . . . something maybe to be used on a Christmas card.  Oh! we inevitably say, Can’t shoot them sitting in the bay window . . . (because of that huge dump pile lurking behind them).

Recently we paid someone 30 dollars (US) to haul what we had away (and maybe it was $35).  He is what they call a small hauler.  I did some work on my siding this weekend and the pile began to grow . . . anew.

*******

A friend of mine calls it “purging.” OK, maybe not the same thing.  Here’s an example. In these purges, she is unloading stored pics or bookmarks . . . or simply clicking publish on a post that has sat in Draft mode for just a little too long.  This piece, my piece, is less a “purge” and more of a “dump.”  I am just trying to get some things out of my brain.

*******

my 90 year old grandmother on a site and spinMy mom’s mother, my grandmother, passed away last week; she was 91.  Some of you knew, and sent your condolences. Thank you.  I want to say that I had come to terms with it, been at peace with it for awhile.  I showed little emotion last week.

As we sat in the funeral mass (she was pretty catholic), my mom and sister, her brother pretty well broken up, and when the priest asked . . . I spoke.  I said something like, Well . . . probably no other person (maybe outside her husband) had a bigger impact on me or . . . on who I am.  She was upfront, honest . . . *short pause* . . . and strong.  Jenny cried . . . but only a little; they were close friends.

Thanksgiving just around the corner, and this makes me reflect – the first without her.  This is a woman who one year looked across the table, over the turkey, and at my pregnant sister to say, You’re not having that thing out your ass, right?  So why then does it keep getting bigger?  White Grammy, as we called her, loved to *errrrm* bitch.  Almost as much as she loved to dance.  (Ahhhhhhh . . . the memories.)

Now . . . we have to decide if hanging onto her house would be a good investment.  I can tell you — emotions would cloud this decision; and I would surely miss it.

The strangest thing I learned about my grandmother in recent months:  It seems . . . any woman I have ever been drawn to (except maybe my high school girlfriend) had at least a little bit of my Gram, well . . . about her.

*******

Some of you know I have been attending book club meetings (yes, that is code) – and I am still new at it.  I am amazed already at the level of wisdom that is passed in these rooms . . . . Last night we discussed humility.  Someone read a passage in which humility was described as the exact center point between pride and guilt . . . . Finding humility, the passage paraphrased, ‘. . . is like finding the right-sized you . . . .’

(That sentiment felt somewhat familiar to me.)

Afterwards — My friend and I spent some q-time talking about page 416.  He reached for the book, and just as we were discussing spiritual fitness, he opened it.  My book, my copy and out of its 575 pages – what page do think he turned to . . . in a flip? Page 414.

Sometimes it feels there are “forces” at work in the universe.  No?

*******

testing lay outs for a tile backsplashJenny and I have had some struggles picking out the backsplash we want for our (partially finished) kitchen . . . two trips to the tile surplus house, two trips to each of the home centers, one trip to a discount tile store, and then finally to see friends in the design center at Chesapeake Marble and Tile. We learned quickly that our instincts are to want to jam just a ton of detail into it . . . too much ultimately for the swirls/strokes of our Juparana Colombo.

Taping layouts to the wall helped us rule out some things . . . we had narrowed it down and were focusing . . . on . . . subways from Seneca Tile – with a subtle mosaic. Then . . . as we had gotten close, I looked over after Jen’s new man (more on him soon) had finished a bit with our kitchen passthru cut out – and I said, I don’t know; I like the . . . *pause* . . . indigenousness of the paneling . . . maybe a short backsplash in granite or marble will do . . . ?

With that, it was on . . . and my imagination took over.  And Jen . . . she wasn’t pleased (about the backstepping), but only for a short while.

*******

Thanks for reading and BMoxie BMore!