A case of mistaken identity

Longtime friends recently moved to a new house. They arranged to have all their mail forwarded to their new house.

Soon their forwarded mail had bills they hadn't charged and letters from people they didn't know. They feared identity theft. They spent lots of time trying to get rid of the bills they didn't owe.

Finally, they called their previous landlord.

"Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you that my current tenant has the same name you do!"

Headed for the Last Roundup

The Frugal Gardener despises bindweed (seen here in my corner garden) and its cousin morning glory. Wicked, wicked weeds! I've battled them ever since my brother and I slaved in my mother's garden.

Our previous homeowner actually planted morning glory where we now have our vegetable garden. What were they thinking? They had even erected a wire trellis for it. Removing that trellis was our first garden project.

Every year I pull, pull, pull that nasty vine. And every year it returns. Disgusting. Morning glory is supposed to be an annual. If "annual" means that it returns annually, the description is right on.

I didn't have a bindweed problem until last year. Then it appeared in my corner garden, probably brought by a passing vehicle or bird droppings. UGH. Some started growing in my sidewalk. I dumped straight bleach on the sidewalk bindweed and killed it.

I've already sprayed the corner garden once this year and I sprayed it again today. Hopefully this spraying does the job. If not, I'm going back out there. That stuff is going to die!

I found quite a discussion about killing bindweed on Garden Web's forum. Some people get hot under the collar about using chemical weed control.

I prefer organic gardening to using chemicals, but if it's a choice between bindweed infestation or using chemicals, I choose chemicals.

Recycling all over again

The Frugal Gardener is always looking for something to rescue from the landfill. Our landfill doesn't allow recycling, so the Frugal Gardener has to grab items before they ever get there. Previously, this garden's boundaries were marked with red bricks taken from an abandoned school building that had been knocked down. The red bricks kept falling into the street. The Frugal Gardener got tired of picking them up.

Last year, Hubby and I were visiting his aunt and uncle when their neighbor began carting off wood. The Frugal Gardener was appalled at this potential waste. We rescued the wood for our purposes, some for firewood and some for landscaping. Most of the rescued landscape timbers had already been put to use. Our stockpile did not have enough landscape timbers to completely frame this flower garden. But we had salvaged fence posts from other places.



Weeds had taken over this garden. I dug the worst so Hubby can till in here. Our tulips have about died down and the hibiscus has yet to leaf out, so it looks pretty bad. Once he tills, we'll plant more flowers in here.

After digging, I picked up all the bricks and placed the boards where I wanted them. Unfortunately, they are just a bit short, so I had to leave a few of them in place. But I'll keep looking for more boards. Buying some just seems like cheating! Turning other people's trash into our treasures is much more rewarding than buying something.



Previous owners planted cedars rather too close to the sidewalk, forcing us to walk on the grass. Not much grows here because we continually walk on it and several trees take up most of the water this patch receives. So instead of patchy grass, I took the replaced bricks and began a red brick walk. We'll truly be Walking the Red Brick Road once it's finished.

"Lawn-gaine"

Our lawn suffers from baldness.

So what does The Frugal Gardener do to cure lawn baldness?

She uses the "Lawn-gaine" Treatment.

First, identify misplaced grass. Grass definitely doesn't belong in my strawberry bed.



Second, dig up misplaced grass and place in wheelbarrow.


Third, overturn soil in bald spot.



Fourth, Place misplaced grass into its new place and step on it.



Fifth, water daily until grass is established.

Presto, the cure for lawn baldness.

Lights, camera, actions

I have recently learned to love Photoshop's Actions palette. Actions allows the user to automate repetitive tasks. I created an "Initial Processing" action. It runs all Photoshop's automatic adjustments (auto levels, auto colors, auto contrast) plus unsharp mask.



Here's the original picture using my own actions.

I have found that auto colors tends to make pictures bluer than I'd like. If I don't like new color, I go into the history palette and click on the step before auto colors. That removes auto colors.

Then I use the unsharp mask command again. It's under filter ---> sharpen. Unsharp mask has three sliders. I have set my amount slider at 50 percent, radius at 1.0 pixels and threshold at 0 level. I rarely change these.

I've also automated changing the photo's dots per inch from its original setting to 72 (web quality).

To make your own action, choose the actions palette under windows. Click on the circled arrow or three bars at the upper right of that palette for the menu. Choose either "New Set…" or "New Action…". "New Set" will make a folder for your actions, but a new folder is not necessary. After naming your new action, click "Record", then complete the commands you wish to automate. When finished, choose "Stop Recording".



I found some very fun actions, including the collage, at Visual Blast Media.



The Pioneer Woman is another source for great actions. Hers are more practical than the fun ones at Visual Blast Media. I used Quick Edge Burn on this one.

All I Ask of You

Hubby and I recently listened to a new karaoke CD of "The Phantom of the Opera". The CD's most fun songs to sing are the title track and "Music of the Night".

But neither of those songs fit Hubby's baritone range. The one that does, "All I Ask of You", is a beautiful duet between Christine and her lover Raoul.

Its lyrics are so appropriate for the man I love.

I am so blessed.

World without End

When I heard that Ken Follett had written a sort of sequel to The Pillars of the Earth, I was thrilled.

"Pillars" ranks as one of the best books I have ever read, full of danger, intrigue, suspense and fascinating details of life in the 1100s. An unscrupulous bishop unites with a vicious lord to tangle with a prior and his master builders in the fictional English town of Kingsbridge. The book held me enthralled from first page to last and still does after repeated readings.

If I had not already read "Pillars", World Without End would certainly have been more satisfying.

"World without End" is set two centuries after "Pillars of the Earth". "World" references the original book's characters, but stands alone. Just as its predecessor, "World" opens with a mystery. But unlike "Pillars", the mystery is not central to the plot.

The characters in the second book seem to be copied from Follett's first visit to Kingsbridge. The builder Merthin Bridger is a copy of the original cathedral's builder Jack Jackson. Merthin's lifelong love Caris Wooler is a copy of Jack's lifelong love Lady Aliena. The twists and turns of Merthin and Caris' love affair somewhat parallel those of Jack and Aliena's. Ralph Wigleigh, Jack and Aliena's descendant, is a copy of the villian William Hamleigh.

"Pillars" was set against the background of Stephen and Maud's battle for kingship and the lawlessness and disasters it spawned. The barons were lawless in Edward II and III's time as well, plus the Black Death slaughtered much of the population.

Still, even though I didn't like "World without End" nearly as well as I loved "Pillars of the Earth", I still recommend it.

Strawberries and cream

Nothing says potential quite like a berry blossom. Our strawberries are blooming and my mouth waters every time I see the strawberry bed. I have visions of strawberry ice cream and strawberry shortcake dancing in my head.

Sometimes strawberry and raspberry seasons overlap. The combination really makes my mouth water. Strawberry/raspberry smoothies, anyone?

We haven't long to wait!

Keep your eyes open

Sometimes the best pictures are the unexpected ones.

Hubby and I went to an old barn, where I shot lots of pictures. We were about to leave when a stock tank caught my eye.

It seemed to be saying, "Take a picture of me! Take a picture of me!"

When I walked to the stock tank, I found two of them calling to me.

Calling to me for very good reason.



Then sometimes you get what you expected to find.



Good pictures start with the seeing.

Highway to the Danger Zone

I will never live down my high school driving habits.

I saw my neighbor from my high school days this weekend. What did she bring up? My driving.

I well remember the incident she described to my husband, whom I did not know in those days. But she remembers details that were lost to me.

I took three junior high students to and from school daily. Four people in a Ford Falcon is crowded. Sometimes another girl, Robin, would hitch a ride. I should never have let this girl ride with me because she egged me on to dangerous behavior.

After all, I was 16 years old and completely invulnerable, right?

I only remember having five people in the car that day, not including my neighbor. But she says she was there and that I had three other boys in the car. One more wanted to ride with me and we had absolutely no more room. According to her, I told him he could ride in the trunk. I don't remember that at all.

Robin urged me to drive ever faster on this gravel road. And I foolishly listened. We topped a hill going a high rate of speed, went airborne and landed hard on the other side. The impact ripped a hole in my oil pan. One girl hit the ceiling and bit her tongue badly. That much I remember.

My neighbor said that my spare tire broke loose of its mount and landed the kid in the trunk. We had to lift it off him. That part is gone from my memory, but certainly not from hers.

Sigh.

I sure hope I never listened to Robin again. This story is definitely not one I ever completely explained to my mother.

By the way, I haven't gotten a speeding ticket in years. Maybe age does bring wisdom.

Cutting the cake

My cousin Joshua graduated Sunday. He's enlisted in the Marines and heads for boot camp this summer. His brother is a sailor. I am very proud to have men in our family who are serving our country.



But Joshua is still a mischievous teenage boy.



When his mother asked him to cut the cake, he complied. Only he didn't cut it into nice, neat squares as his mother intended. He cut an X in that cake.


Mama was not happy.



But, being a mother, she took the situation in hand and recut the cake into the nice, neat squares she wanted in the first place.



Then she and Joshua served the cake to the guests.

Having Mama around is much more pleasant than the drill instructor. DI would probably have made that Marine drop and give him many push-ups. Mama just looked perturbed.

Trash to treasure

I love to turn an object headed for the dump into something useful. We found this ammunition box while we were out walking with our friend Kevin. We later returned and picked up the box while Kevin distracted the neighbors.

Unfortunately, I did not record the box's original appearance. I brushed several coats of exterior-grade varnish on the box, which unfortunately covers some of the wonderful stamped words on it.

I had found a very sturdy pallet not long before we found the ammo box. I thought the pallet would make a wonderful replacement top.



We cut the pallet to size.



I bought some remnant vinyl and foam from the local sign shop. I glued the foam to the pallet and stapled the vinyl to the top. We attached hinges with the help of another friend.



The ammo box makes excellent storage as well as additional table space.



I found a fellow blogger who changes Trash to Treasure and also shares my faith: Check her out.

Maggie Grace Creates repurposed an ammo box as well.

I Like Ike

Recently I read Ike: An American Hero" by Michael Korda.


I have been interested in World War II nearly all my life. Books on the war take up several feet of my bookshelves. When I picked up this book, I wondered if I'd learn anything new about Dwight Eisenhower.

I did.

Ike was severely criticized for his management of the war in Europe. The British wanted to have a narrow thrust deep into northern Germany, while Ike favored a broad front, attacking Germany from north to south. Ike's decision was second-guessed during and after the war. Would a narrow front attack have ended the war sooner, saving thousands of lives?

Korda says no. In this decision and many others, Korda supports Ike.

He puts Ike into the tradition of Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses Grant, a man who rose from humble origins to exalted leadership. Ike followed in the American military tradition of using American technology and unrivaled firepower to win wars. He followed in Grant's footsteps by seeking to destroy the enemy's military capacity, not capture cities and other geographic objectives. As Grant went after Lee's army instead of Richmond, so Ike went after Hitler's armies instead of Berlin and Prague.

One of the war's great controversies still swirls around the policy that Germany, Italy and Japan must surrender unconditionally. Korda supports this decision. At the end of World War I, Germany had not been invaded, their army command remained intact and they deposed the Kaiser themselves. Germany's complete humiliation and destruction ensured that they would have to learn to cooperate with their neighbors.

Korda also points out that Ike was in charge of the world's two greatest amphibious attacks, the one at Salerno, Italy, and the greatest of all, D-Day.

I also learned that Ike opposed using the atomic bomb on Japan. The Japanese were "already defeated" and using the bomb was unnecessary and would only "shock world opinion."

Ike had great energy, patience, common sense, and the greatest advantage of all, the ability to deal with prima donnas like Sir Bernard Montgomery, the British commander. Korda pulls no punches in describing these prima donnas.

Winston Churchill was definitely on the prima donna list. I had always thought that the British aristocracy kept up impeccable manners. This book shreds that assumption. Churchill is twice said to have had "atrocious" table manners. "… A concern for good table manners was essentially middle class or Frenchified."

I also learned more about Ike's life between the war and the presidency, but I was disappointed in the short shrift Korda gave Ike's presidential years.

Laying aside that issue, I liked "Ike" the book.

Learn more on all things World War II

Failure to brush brings on baldness?

My cousin Scott and I exchanged stories about our grandfather's false teeth today.

When I was about 6 or 7, I was staying overnight at my grandparents' house. I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. When I went into the bathroom, the street light was shining into Grandpa's "Chopper House". I had never seen this jar open before. The light shone right onto his dentures.

I didn't understand what dentures were yet and I was frightened.

I screamed. My need to go to the bathroom vanished. I scurried back into bed and shivered until I finally fell asleep again.

Scott remembered a better story than I did.

Grandpa got food in his dentures while eating a church dinner. He went into the bathroom to wash them.

A little boy came into the bathroom while Grandpa had his teeth outside his mouth.

"What happened to your teeth?" the boy asked.

"This is what happens when you don't brush your teeth," Grandpa said.

"You have no hair," the boy said. "Is that what happens when you don't brush your hair?"

Mr. Romero's lab coat

When I was in high school, I borrowed the chemistry/physics teacher's lab coat. I was set to play a mad scientist in a haunted house.

When I asked him to borrow the coat, I told him what we were doing and that I wanted to look as authentic as I could. We intended to spatter blood and guts around and I knew that I'd get spattered, too.

He said that he didn't mind getting his coat dirty, that a blood-spattered coat might make him more intimidating to unruly students.

My best friend played Igor. Another friend was my poor tortured patient. Patient screamed and thrashed around very convincingly, spattering me. Igor limped around with one shoulder higher than another, throwing blood and guts around freely. I was pretty convincing myself, speaking in a voice so deep, gravelly and frightening that I've never been able to use it again. From that night on, talking in that voice has sent me into coughing fits.



We put on a great show. We enjoyed the gasps and shrieks our onlookers produced. When the night ended, we howled with laughter as we discussed our reception.

Then I looked at Mr. Romero's previously immaculate coat. Caught up in the moment, we didn't notice how bad it had gotten. Jackson Pollock couldn't have done a better job of covering a canvas with paint. Think Joseph's Coat of Many Colors after his brothers had dipped it in blood. All laughter ceased as we contemplated what Mr. Romero would say and do to us.

When I took it back to him the next Monday, he turned as white as the coat had been. Long pause. "Are you SURE this is my coat?" he asked.

"Um, yes."

Long pause.

"Well, if I tell next year's freshmen that I've dissolved unruly students in a chemical bath, they'll believe me!"

Here's how to get a Mad Scientist's Union lab coat. I'm neither endorsing nor getting paid for this. The art was just too good to pass up and I can assuage my conscience by giving them the credit.

The servant's ear

My friend the nurse practitioner treated a badly infected ear a few days ago. The physician with whom she works examined it and said that the infection needed to be lanced.

Looking at the ear reminded the doctor of Luke 22:49-51 (New International Version). Roman soldiers and others came to the Garden of Gethsemane to arrest Jesus. "When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, 'Lord, should we strike with our swords?' And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.

"But Jesus answered, 'No more of this! And he touched the man's ear and healed him."

Doctor said that not only did Jesus heal the man’s ear, he preserved the servant’s job. Lev. 21:17 and 22-23 say, "Say to Aaron: 'For the generations to come none of your descendants who has a defect may come near to offer the food of his God. … He may eat the most holy food of his God, as well as the holy food; yet because of his defect, he must not go near the curtain or approach the altar, and so desecrate my sanctuary. I am the LORD, who makes them holy. ' "

Because of this command, a man with a missing ear could not have come near the altar of God.

Jesus restored the servant’s ear to preserve his position, but he has done so much more for us. We serve the High Priest, Jesus Christ (Heb. 21-22): [H]e became a priest with an oath when God said to him: "The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind: 'You are a priest forever.' "Because of this oath, Jesus has become the guarantee of a better covenant.”

But not only do we serve him, we are also priests under him. I Peter 2:9-10: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”

How can we, the imperfect humans that we are, become faultless priests?

Because our acceptance of Christ’s sacrifice has made us perfect.

Have you accepted that sacrifice?

If not, please do so today.

Roach Motel

April Showers blog wrote about a pet roach. Yeah, I said "a pet roach." Definitely not HER pet roach, though.

Can you imagine keeping a roach for a pet?

I can't.

I saw enough roaches when I lived in Tennessee to last me for the rest of my life. I worked in a restaurant that should have been shut down by the health department. Rats and roaches ran rampant.

Restaurant fumigated regularly, but not effectively. The day before the exterminator was to arrive, we sealed all the cupboard doors with plastic wrap. Where were the roaches? In the cupboards! Where could the roach killer not reach? The cupboards!

So we had some great-granddaddy roaches crawling around.

When I came into work one day, a crowd of people was staring and pointing at a point on the wall. I wondered at the reason for this odd behavior.

When I came closer, I saw why they were all gawking.

The biggest roach I have ever seen was sedately walking up the wall. In memory, this disgusting creature is as big as my thumb, but memory probably exaggerates. Whatever its precise dimensions, it was huge. Huge and armor plated.

I wanted to kill it and wondered why no one was doing anything to halt its progress. They were all mesmerized by the Granddaddy of All Roaches. Just as I arrived, GAR disappeared above the ceiling tiles.

For some reason, my appetite for supper had vanished.

For weeks I worried that GAR would drop down my neck. I can feel those imaginary feet even yet and I'm squirming in my chair.

I looked at Google Images to find a roach for illustration purposes, but my skin crawled just looking at them. UGH! I'll pass on the upload.

Tilting at windmills

I love the lines and shapes of windmills and how different angles and perspectives change the windmill's appearance.



This one is on an abandoned farmstead far out into the country. I wonder how often the inhabitants had been stranded by blizzards and how long their isolation had lasted. Maybe that's why the place is no longer used? The people who lived there just couldn't take the isolation any more?
The farm buildings and the windmill structure were falling apart, but the wheel and its gears worked just fine. Aeromotor must have made a good product. Windmill's gearbox does remind me of a nose.

I know of a bank that has a logo almost exactly like this, except reversed.



When I took a photography class many years ago, the professor told us to practice the use of perspective by taking pictures in old cemeteries. This windmill works as well as any cemetery I might find. I haven't quite figured out yet how to change the autofocus zones on my new camera. I didn't intend to have the tree branches in focus instead of the windmill. I mistakenly pressed too hard on the shutter and shot the picture when I hadn't intended to. I rather like how this "mistake" turned out.



This is what I intended to shoot in the first place. Just changing the focus changes the entire mood of the picture. I wonder how well the windmill actually works with all this foliage around it. Wind was calm when I took this picture, so I can't say.



Same windmill, different angle. I stepped into the structure and shot straight up. I found the lines of the structure and the chain fascinating. I don't know what function the squared-off wires serve, but those wires and the chain were an interesting addition to the standard windmill structure. Out of curiosity, I changed the image to black and white. Original is so monochrome that I couldn't tell the difference between the color picture and the black and white version.



This windmill picture took a bit more doing. I stepped into the structure, but the view straight up wasn't too interesting. When I hooked my legs around its legs and leaned backward, the picture became much more interesting. I had to shoot with one hand while holding onto the windmill with the other. Position was rather uncomfortable, but entirely worth the results.



Same windmill, different angle. I loved these clouds. The fluffy clouds made a wonderful contrast with the sharp windmill angles. But somehow the color masked the contrast. I tried changing the picture to black and white, but was entirely dissatisfied with the results.



When I tried sepia toning, I was very pleased. But sepia toning was only the beginning. I played with the photo filter, shadow/highlight and exposure adjustments in Photoshop to get these results.

Don Quixote, eat your heart out!

Bleach and ammonia

I've never taken a chemistry class, but here I am as the substitute. Duty calls!

I've always appreciated variety in my work. Substituting is definitely varied. The short notice doesn't tend to bother me, either. This is an adventure.

Before I left home this morning, Hubby suggested that I show the students how to mix bleach and ammonia. He tried that a few years ago when he was working as a maintenance man, even though he knew better. After all, he took chemistry in both high school and college.

I said, "What are you trying to get me to do? Make a bomb?"

"Don't you want some excitement in your life?"

"I had enough excitement when I found out that you'd done that a few years ago!"


Hubby said that he had been lucky to avoid chemical burns. "As soon as I poured them together, I had a volcano. They just shot up."

I said, "Didn't you read the directions?"

"Well, no. I had completely forgotten that ammonia and bleach are so volatile. And I'd also forgotten that they produce poisonous gas."

He had to flee the building. When he returned, the item was very clean.

"Hey, it worked!"

"Yes, but at what potential cost?"

NOTE: The bleach bottle image points up the need for recycling. Amazing how our garbage lasts forever.

Carbon paper and typewriter erasers

I stood in for Ms. Math Teacher today, getting called in at the last minute. School starts at 7:50. I got the call at 7:15. I had been up since 5:30, but hadn't showered or eaten breakfast yet. Yep, I never know what I'm going to get.

She told me to show an episode of the TV show "Numb3rs", but we couldn't get it to work. iTunes insisted on a password that did not exist. Technology is wonderful, but only when it works!

Instead of watching a great TV show, I had study hall all day. Actual teaching was out of the question. I'm not at all qualified to teach math! As I told one student, "Math and I are not friends."

During one "class", a paraprofessional and I started discussing my previous post about technological changes in the classroom.

"Do you remember carbon paper?" she asked.

(It's the blue sheet in this picture. The artist has drawn or traced the image on the top sheet. The pen pressure transferred the ink on the carbon paper to the bottom sheet.)

"I hoarded every piece I got," I said. Carbon paper was relatively expensive and didn't last long.

When I was in high school and early in my college days, carbon paper was the main way to make copies of one's work. It was messy and inconvenient. Mistakes could be erased on the original, but they would still appear on the carbon copy as strikeovers. And if the carbon got too worn, pieces of the original would be missing.

Since the machines had no memory, mistakes could not simply be deleted and redone. Enter the typewriter eraser.

In theory, the typist could use the rubber wheel to erase the mistake and the brush to sweep away any crumbs of eraser material. My eraser hated me. It didn't erase the mistake; it erased the paper! Holey documents just don't tend to be acceptable.

Correction fluid (like Wite-Out or Liquid Paper) was also a mistake-covering option, but it had grave disadvantages as well. Theoretically, white correction fluid matched white paper. But white to one paper manufacturer isn't white to another. And the typist had to wait for the fluid to dry. If she got in a hurry, the ink from the typewriter ribbon would smear.

The fluid often began to dry out before the bottle was empty. Correction fluid that was laid on too thickly made an unsightly bump on the paper. So typists had to keep bottles of thinner on hand. To use the thinner, the typist put her thumb over the top of a pipette and remove it from the thinner bottle. Then she injected it into the opening of the fluid bottle and removed her thumb. Thinner theoretically flowed into the correction fluid and a few shakes would make the fluid reuseable. Note that I said "theoretically". Sometimes the thinner worked and sometimes it didn't. Sometimes I had thinner on my desk instead of in the fluid bottle.

When erasable typing paper appeared on the market, I bought it. That paper was more expensive than regular typing paper, but the lack of aggravation was worth every penny. No more typewriter eraser, no more correction fluid. An ordinary eraser took care of typographical errors. Typos be gone! That paper had one drawback, though. Type tended to smear if handled immediately, but that was a minor issue compared to the alternative.

I was so delighted when memory typewriters appeared on the market and overjoyed when I finally got a computer that could erase mistakes before they ever ruined a piece of paper.

But more about that later.

Windows and doors part II

The few strands of wood hanging down from this frame make me think of strands of hair falling into the window's eyes. The sky dominates the landscape here on the High Plains. Many of the early settlers felt oppressed by the sky's vast expanse. The shed and window frame humanize the sky's scale, but only slightly.

Beneath our vast dome, we can find it easy to feel like ants on the cosmic scale. And I suppose we are. But our Heavenly Father finds us unbelievably precious.

Precious in His sight.

Precious enough to send His Son to die for us.

For those who have a relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ, the universe is a friendly place, no matter its vastness.