The new chickens lived, so I went and got four more, and now have a proper flock of eight hens, including Kate, the original white Sussex. Of course, introducing the new chickens proved to be as traumatizing as I expected as by 8:45 last night two of the new black chickens weren’t in the coop with the others, and were nowhere to be found. I figured they were tucked up under the coop.

I phoned downstairs to Calvin to ask him to go out and see what he could do and went to bed. This morning, I got a message from Calvin saying he couldn’t see the two black chickens but figured if they were that far under the coop, they should be okay until morning. I went out and opened the coop and counted seven hens. I guess one of the two from under the coop just casually decided to join the flock as though they’d done everything right.

I noticed George the tuxedo cat standing on the fence at the bottom of the yard, and this caused my eye to fall upon a black chicken on my neighbour’s driveway. I grabbed a pet carrier and hopped into my car and drove down the hill, around the corner and into their yard where I parked and started looking for the errant bird. I called chick chick chick chick and then saw her inside a cedar hedge. I made a lunge, caught the hen, put her into the carrier and drove home, triumphant.

My cousin Ruth’s daughter Daniela took hundreds of photos and was kind enough to send me a whole bunch of them, and guess what I learned? There is an age limit to sleeveless clothing, and I believe I’ve reached it. Seeing the crepey top of my arms made me realize I can’t run around like that anymore as it’s going to scare people.

And speaking of scary while the relatives were here, I noticed a large abscess forming on George’s lower chin area. At one point I was able to grab him and apply a hot moist cloth which made him start purring, so I figured that was helpful to the cat. I believe that helped the abscess finally burst, and then the cat ran around with a large ugly exposed raw-looking wound, but now it’s starting to heal. With these cats, surgery plus a cone would be a death sentence, so it’s Doctor Moni for them.

I remember the night before their spaying and neutering when I had to block the cat door so they couldn’t get out. A magazine rack filled with 20 pounds of barbells did nothing as they worked to push that aside. I got masking tape and wrapped the pet door shut, but after an hour they’d almost worked that off so by the end of the night there was a full roll of tape covering the wall from floor to ceiling.

Now, seven years later, I wonder why I didn’t just play hardball with the cats and lock them into a bedroom. It’s funny, isn’t it, how we realize we were completely mentally disabled just a few short years earlier. It means a few years from now when I think back on chicken ownership I’ll go, wow, I must’ve been certifiable.

Here’s something I didn’t know. When you go to Amazon.ca you read reviews just from Canadians, and when you go to Amazon.com you can see American reviews. I got such a lovely review from the U.S. but sadly it doesn’t appear on Amazon.ca so I find that very surprising, don’t you? You’d think no matter where a product is bought, all reviews from all over the world should pertain. Maybe it’s just books?

My book, which I called Okay I’ll Bite – Light-hearted Suggestions for Better Living is now available on Amazon! It’s free for people who already have a Kindle account so you can see this isn’t going to be feathering my retirement nest. However, it’s kind of nice to have finally completed that, even though it’s a compilation of past newsletter articles, and the next book will be a test of my mental fortitude.

 After getting that onto the site it was time to prepare for my 70^th birthday which was also a celebration for mom being in her 100^th year. This way if she dies prior to February 25 she’ll have seen and talked to all the people who would be at her memorial. After the event she said, “no more celebrations after this.”

It was a true test of my catering abilities as I was supposed to have help from our friends Jim and Federico, but the latter arrived from Europe with Covid so they had to cancel. I therefore made dinner for 20 on the Friday and 40 on the Saturday. Three of the Ya Ya’s attended, Mary, Phyllis and Renate, and also my friends Margaret and Bev. Phyllis made a delicious pineapple chiffon cake which everyone loved.

My nieces and their families were there, and I got the best card from Sunny. It said, “I feel like going on a spree, shopping or killing, I’m not sure which.” And of course, all the preparations and the party itself were held in Osoyoos during a heat wave so everyone snuck into the house to eat. It’s hard to enjoy food when it’s 40 degrees Celsius.

Then the day after getting home from cleaning up from the big party, my cousin Ruth and her daughter Daniela arrived from Germany. My mom’s an only child, so I have no cousins from that side, but my dad’s brother had two children, and they’re my only first cousins, so I was thrilled to be able to spend time with her and Daniela.

They’re currently off to Banff for three days and I’m catching up with my blog, have to write my July newsletter, and want to bake chocolate chip cookies for their return as they were crazy over them, as most human beings are. Calvin’s sick with a horrible flu so I’ll have to slug it out myself and mow the lawn.

The last you’d heard, I had either three or four chickens, and on the weekend of my party in Osoyoos, two more were stolen so I came to home to my own lone hen, who I called Kate. She was the only one of the six chickens I could recognize as all the others had black feathers at the neck and hers are gray.

Seeing her all alone distressed me terribly so I immediately began a search for friends for Kate. Calvin was going to reinforce the chicken fence but couldn’t due to illness, so today I bought netting and my pal Sylvie from next door came over and we secured it over the open area as best we could. Soon after I saw two large black raptors in the tree over the chicken yard.

I found a woman locally with a variety of chicken breeds, so today I brought home one lavender Orpington and one splash Marans and one blue copper Marans. If I can keep these alive it’ll be a test and then I said I would next week for four black Ameraucanas. Apparently I’ll get different coloured eggs which will be interesting, but I just want them to live at this point.

You’ll recall in my last blog I was devastated to find a dead chicken in the coop, and today a chicken was massacred by a wild animal in their run. There was a gap in the chicken wire which I’ve now covered but Calvin’s going to reinforce the whole area for them. I heard them making a ruckus so stood at the coop scanning the grass and saw nothing, so I thought oh those crazy hens are just imagining something.

Never assume a chicken is imagining anything. When I returned a few minutes later, a chicken was gone, and I followed the feathers down the hill and found the dead hen. I must’ve scared off the predator, but by then I just left the chicken as what am I going to do with a mauled hen?

Now we’re down to four hens so I do hope my friend Wendy O’Reilly will be able to bring me three chickens from Langley. And as you know, chickens aren’t free, so as I’ve said before, “free eggs” is a wonderful concept but it’s not real.

The other day when I visited mom in Osoyoos I found a small dead mouse floating in her bathroom sink. Then when I came home the dogs acted crazy around a chest of drawers. Because I had the mouse on my mind, as I moved the furniture I said to the dogs it’s nothing it’s just GAAAH a giant rat! This thing raced past me and into the living room.

The dogs were in hot pursuit but as it’d jumped up onto a tall side table, they couldn’t find it until Frieda decided to stand on her high legs at which point she and the rat were eye to eye. This caused the rodent to make a break for the kitchen where Louie cornered it and bit it in its middle, and Frieda, screaming, then grabbed its snout. Finally it was dead and I took it out and threw it into the bushes for the raccoons.

To distract myself from the carnage I’ve done more cooking for the big party next weekend, and I believe most of the details have been worked out. When I was in Osoyoos I set up a few tables outside on mom’s deck, and I think people will love it. Too bad the temperatures will be in the cremation zone, but whatever. There’ll be buckets of liquor to assuage everyone.

Alison surprised me with the cutest pair of flats. They’re a coral fabric embroidered with the front half of a dachshund on one shoe, and the other half of the dog on the other. We don’t usually buy each other birthday gifts but she said I’d understand when I received this gift, and I do. Dachshunds forever.

Speaking of them, they’re going to be mighty upset when I drive off next Friday and leave them behind as they love going to Osoyoos. But with so many people coming and going, and the gates being left open, it’d be way too hard on my nerves. God knows everything in Osoyoos takes its toll on me as it is.

You’re thinking, yeah well, so where’s the book you said was about to be put onto Kindle Direct Publishing? At the very last moment, it turned out I had to write a description of it, then choose seven keywords/phrases, and then as I had those ready, Trevor got Covid and couldn’t come over for the final push. Next time you read this blog the book will be done and for sale on Amazon.

Imagine my shock and horror to find a dead chicken in the coop. I told Calvin and he came out and retrieved the body and put it somewhere for a coyote to find. The poor hen! I felt so bad, and then today I was really pondering what could’ve killed that otherwise healthy chicken.

The only thing I could think of that might be weird are the horseradish leaves I sometimes give them. I’ve done this before, and nothing happened, however when I googled them it turns out they’re toxic to chickens! Therefore, I killed one of my own hens.

Now we’re down to five so I want to get three more, so we have a decent flock of eight. I just love them, and look forward to getting more of them, and now know how not to kill them. I told the nice chicken owner down the road, and she was so kind to reply that she accidentally killed a baby goat with cherry leaves, and said the vet told her it’s a common way for livestock owners to learn.

Another unpleasant surprise I received was an email from Telus telling me my mobility account was overdue. I don’t have a mobility phone, however mom does, so I soon figured out this was her new phone system. To add insult Telus charges extra for overdue accounts, however I didn’t know I had one, and when I went to My Telus, there was no service agreement either. What a strange company.

As a result of the overdue account, mom’s phone will be cut off on July 1^st. I’m still waiting for a Telus rep to explain the bill to me, as I see mom’s Visa is also being billed. However, if you know anything at all about ‘communications’ companies, you know no human being there gives a rat’s ass about a 99-year-old blind mom with no phone.

I’ve spoken to nice representatives in the Philippines who try to sell me more Telus products at the end of the unproductive call, but to no avail. Remember the old days when you’d walk into an office with a piece of paper, and people were able to comprehend what the problem was within a few minutes and solve it? I miss those days.

But more importantly, I’m googling whether or not butter cream icing freezes (it does!) as I’m cooking and baking ahead of the gala event at mom’s mid July. If mom’s still alive we’re celebrating her being in her 100^th year, and me turning 70. If she dies prior to the event, it will be a memorial for mom, same party for me.

I’ve rented plates and glasses as no one wants to wash that many dishes, and I have quite a few people pitching in to help. It’s a two-day event though, so I’m counting maybe 20 people for dinner on Friday, and 50 for the big event on Saturday. Many people would collapse under the weight of that, but I love it. I should’ve been a caterer.

My collection of musings from my 15 years of newsletter writing, called Okay, I’ll Bite, is now in the final formatting stages, and then apparently there’s a formula on the Kindle Direct Publishing page whereby it calculates how much to charge for your book. I’d like to do both an e book and a hard copy as my illustrator’s done such a nice job of it.

And now summer begins, and I shall try my best to focus only on the positive. Telus be damned.

I was both shocked and elated to find out the Hall Road area has been designated a “no-growth” zone by the City. Right beside me a developer had wanted to put in a subdivision with 16 homes, but with this designation, he can’t. My view is saved, along with the coyote dens that are on that land.

Then today I was shocked and maddened to hear from my pal Lorraine who lives on Manhattan Drive that the City is trying to buy up all of those homes, level them, and turn that into a park. As they had just built this house a few years ago, Lorraine said she doesn’t want to move, plus who would buy the house knowing the City will eventually get you out anyway?

I just find the City’s decisions to be quite fascinating. The old heritage area downtown has been designated for densification. Of all areas in Kelowna, this is filled with lovely old homes on large, landscaped lots. Now they’ll have to put up with carriage houses and perhaps the destruction of some single-family homes for small apartment buildings.

As there’s not one single thing anyone can do about these things, I keep my mind on the things I might be able to control. These appear to be few and far between as well, given on the latest “treasure hunt” with Elsa I came home with yet another oil painting.

Another thing out of my control is poor old mom and her declining health. The other day the care aide found her on the ground and had to call the paramedics to help get her up. Luke and Jan are also available at times, though both work, and so I’ve decided to come weekly now as mom’s in such bad shape. However, she’ll likely keep on ticking, knowing mom.

Do you recall how I used to like saying Stephen Colbert’s band leader Jon Batiste was my boyfriend? He’s moved on, as have I. I’m now madly in love with Trump’s former lawyer Michael Cohen. I have never in my life experienced such heady potty mouth as Michael’s. When I met Denis on a blind date, and I realized he swore with every other word, I knew this was the guy for me. We married soon after.

When Michael calls someone a “f.ing putz” I swoon. I notice when I go on tirades people blanche a bit, and I think it’s because I look so f. ing innocent. Ha ha. They’re not used to hearing such colourful descriptions coming from such a sweet old lady. Though at the Puerto Vallarta airport I met the loveliest young woman of English descent who had no problems with the term I used to describe a person who irritated me.

I believe I can trace it back to my gramma. She suffered from potty mouth, though it was all in German. I learned absolutely hilarious Schwabian expressions as a child and just thought that was a normal way of speaking. I sure miss my gramma.

One thing I’m surprised and happy to be able to report that I was able to control, was my food intake. I’ve now lost ten pounds since January, and I did it largely by following the Weight Watchers diet though I didn’t join as so much of it is available on-line. I couldn’t control my cocktail intake, though, and still lost weight, so I say, “bottoms up.”

I’ve written about my bouts of euphoria in the past, and said when I googled it, I learned it could be the sign of a terminal disease. Twenty years later, and nada, so I figure it’s just plain old euphoria over being alive and especially living in Canada. Our main worries seem to revolve around how to utilize the 1.8 litre Hellman’s mayo we stupidly bought at Costco. In other words, nothing.

Of course, with cat ownership one is often brought down to Earth by their habits. Yesterday I noticed a mouse head, well not really the head but the snout and whiskers, lying on some dried blood. I thought I have to get a paper towel to clean that but having a hummingbird’s ability to be distracted, I forgot. Then this morning after walking down the hall I realized I’d kicked the mouse head without noticing, as now it’s dry and light as a fluff ball.

Margaret was here over the long weekend which was tremendous fun as always. We went to thrift on Saturday where she found a new pair of Ecco pink leather runners for $15.00 and an Old Navy brown trench for $4. We love stuff like that. I screamed for joy when I found a 6-cup plastic filter cone as I’ve been looking for months. I need to be able to make vats of coffee at once for the German visitors and I only have the silly 2-cup cone.

Denis and his long-time pal Ralph came to visit us on Sunday. They scared Frieda so badly with the sound of their motorcycles she had a diarrhea attack in the kitchen. Fun. We had a lot of good laughs, mostly over the offspring, so that was great. Only parents can really get into the crux of what makes their children insane.

I’ve found a new mania in the yard, the lawn. For 20 years I’d watch Denis aerating and fertilizing and ignored it, wondering what it all meant. So, for the past 14 years I’ve done nothing except water, and over time I noticed the moss and creeping buttercup, but thought hey, it’s green isn’t it? However now there’s very little grass left so in a total fit I ordered aerating, moss-killing, and thatching, and now I’m out on my hands and needs pulling out tufts of moss.

It’ll likely never return to being a proper lawn, but at least I have a new obsession, right? The old ones, such as dahlia collection have also kept me busy as I planted the bulbs I’d stored over the winter, and 22 of them turned into plants again, so that’s an awful lot of planting to do. I did half a week or so ago, and today the dogs and I’ll go out and get mighty dirty and love it.

As I’ve said we have Amazon deliveries almost daily thanks to Calvin, the Gen Zer, and the other day the old Purolator driver came, and we chatted a bit. He looked at my Ponderosa pines and cedar hedges and said well I guess if there’s a fire, there’s not a lot you can do here. I agreed and said I’m sure not logging off 30 mature trees just in case there’s a fire one day, then went inside and packed a Tupperware of precious stuff to take to Osoyoos, just in case.

I really hate people who worry all the time because what does it do? Ruins your present moment and sure as hell doesn’t stop that thing from happening or not happening. I refuse to do that to myself because I have too much to do in a day as it is. Imagine wasting my precious time on that.

We’ve been warned of impending drought this summer, and along with that the concomitant wildfires, yet so many people leave dead cedar bushes ringing their homes. We were wrong to buy them when we did, and I’d never do it again as they need so much water. But if you have them, you do have to water, or else they die and then if you leave them and one cigarette butt is thrown, look out.

34 years ago when we moved into this house we noticed many yards were ringed with cedar bushes and when we went to the nurseries they had tons of them, so we naturally thought this is the plant to buy. However it’s not a desert plant, and so can imagine the amount of water these hedges require?

And then add to that the thick pine needle drop in Sutherland Hills Park and you can just sense another disaster of fire waiting to happen. My Ponderosa pines are part of that forest, as we live in a beautiful heavily wooded area. We all love trees until they burn down our homes, but I can’t worry about it. I can only hope the City recognizes needle drop in a public park and dead cedars around homes are hazards.

Social media sure works, as I posted on the Osoyoos Connect Facebook page that mom’s phone wasn’t working thanks to being switched over to some high falutin’ cellular network. Over 100 people commented, and over 60 emojis were posted, most of them angry, and the nice Telus person who was working on mom’s house said he got several calls from concerned citizens.

Just a suggestion, but if you really want to get something done, post on social media. The downside, as we all know, are trolls making rude or stupid comments, but I didn’t actually get any of those on this post about mom’s phone. Though when I posted about the thick pine needle drop on the Hall Road Facebook page, I got some ignorant results.

And while we’re onto suggestions, if you have stuff you really don’t know what to do with, put it into a box and drop it at Value Village. They’ll sort and recycle. Where else can you drop half a can of old paint, a broken fan, old photo albums or ancient books with that tiny print? Exactly. Instead of putting them into the landfill, let Value Village decide what’s garbage and what isn’t.

And who among us thrift store shoppers hasn’t bought an item that seemed wonderful only to discover it’s got issues. I bought a great hard-sided carry-on suitcase at the Salvation Army for around $10 and was smug all the way home. Then after trying to lift and release the handle a few times and realizing it was super sticky, I went oh that’s why it’d been dropped to thrift. Tit for tat, right?

I’m quite sure this is going to lead to a disaster, however Romany Runnalls, the nice volunteer president of the Okanagan Humane Society, said they’re always looking for host foster families as they don’t have a facility and count on volunteers. I said I doubt I’d qualify as my pets aren’t vaccinated, plus I already have two dogs and two cats so could become a hoarder quite easily.

However Romany replied that’s not a problem, thanks a lot, we always need volunteers, you’ll be doing such a good thing….. so just make a note of this date so that when I hit the papers, you’ll know why.

I sometimes imagine myself in a condo, no yard, just hours and hours of free time to fritter away. But then I go out and start shoveling, then get the wheelbarrow and load it up with pulled weeds and soon I start to imagine what it’s going to look like in summer. Due to the minus 27 in January, I see my blanket flowers (gaillardia), heliotrope and penstemon all died. Wimps, I guess.

Also gone are the two bunches of arrowleaf balsamroot flowers that were here when we arrived 34 years ago. That makes me particularly sad because my dad used to pick a huge bouquet of them in the hills above Osoyoos and bring them to my mom each spring. I’m grateful a third bunch is alive right at the top of the driveway, but now I wonder if it’ll disappear too. I can’t imagine it was the winter, but it could be the ton of pine needle debris under which they tried to live.

The area to the left of my driveway, which is covered in pines and where the indigenous flowers lived, was given to the City by the O’Reilly’s in exchange for their permission to develop the subdivision. Mrs. O’Reilly visited a couple of decades ago and said she and her husband gave a lot of extraneous small pieces of land to the City, which was super nice, but kind of unnecessary in my mind. I mean, the City??

Another sad thing I noticed is no more hooey hoo hoo hoo from the mourning doves. There are now ring-necked doves that are invasive and seem to have overpowered my birds. I grew up with that sound. Have I mentioned how much I fear and loathe change?

And finally, I used to see the last stars when I sat on my couch in the early morning, but now, nope. Thank you to everyone who thinks it’s very important to keep an outside light on so that no other person needs to be bothered by pesky twinkling stars.

I went to Osoyoos last week and came to the realization that Luke isn’t a gardener. It’s not his thing, and I’m not there often or long enough to work in the garden, so we had to get some help. The hint it wasn’t working was the five-foot-long, two-foot-wide, one-foot-deep gouge he’d “trimmed” into the side of the hedge. All I said was “don’t ever do that again.”

My nice new neighbours, Sylvie and Jim, who live beside my vegetable garden, were admiring the bamboo I planted in the corner many years ago. It’s incredible as you can see its progress day to day. It must grow at least six inches daily. How or why it would do this in a temperate climate, and especially given all that was killed during the sudden cold snap, is the question. It’s quite the champion.

Because having 22 dahlias in pots, ready to plant into the garden aren’t enough, Sylvie and I went to Costco today and visited their nursery. The other day I noticed fruit trees were around $125 at Art Knapps, but here they were $55 so I bought a plum. The soil was $17 instead of $45, so as sorry as I feel for the nurseries, Costco sure can compete.

But now I have to find a spot, then dig a nice big hole for that plum. It’s odd that I’d buy another fruit tree, given I’ve had maybe three cherries in total from the tree I planted about five years ago. I don’t think the twelve-year-old apricot’s had a lot of fruit for the past couple of years so why do I think this plum tree is different? Hope springs eternal.

My kitchen sink’s been draining very slowly over the past while, so I finally called in a plumber to snake out the drain. I still have the old, galvanized pipes in some areas, and this is one of them, so they’re very rough and easily clogged with gunk. He’s currently in the kitchen working away while I hide back here, praying for him to hurry up and get out. No reason really as he’s quite pleasant, however I like being alone in the house.

Turns out the plumber also has a dachshund, a mini named Lucy so we bonded immediately over that. He and his wife also have five cats, so what’s not to love about someone like that? Now it remains to be seen if the sink snake-out actually did its job. As we know, no German relative may visit and see a sink that drains like that.

The ten-day stint of minus 27 in January seems to have taken out quite a few of my garden plants as well as the Valley’s grapes. So off to The Greenery I went to shop like a wild hyena for all manner of lovely perennials, then yesterday Petra and I went to Vernon to two nurseries there, and I hauled home more flowers. Now to wait for a sunny day to plant them all.

I can only do about two hours a day in the yard and then the body starts to say no. I have a handy low stool which helps with weeding, but even with that, the old carcass starts to balk at odd postures. And then I like to do things like dig out deep-rooted plants with a hand shovel so that it also feels completely trashed.

So I intersperse thrift store treasure-hunting with garden work and that seems to help though lately it’s been pricey as I can’t stop buying things I don’t need because they’re $5.00. However, five dollars times God knows how many items equals a lot of wasted dough. And then we can’t try on in some of these stores so when I get them home and realize they don’t fit they’re donated back. Let’s face it, Elsa and I are heroes for all we give to charity.

Mom’s been battling with her body for 99 years and it appears she’s losing the battle. She’s very tippy and has no balance so is nervous to move. Then she’s also got awful spells of dizziness and has terrible back pain from compression fractures of the spine. In other words, aging is the pits and she’s not enjoying it. Her only comfort is the four litres of wine she drinks in a week and the couple of pounds of chocolate to go with it.

I’m losing the fight when it comes to YouTube as channels like The Bulwark, The Meidas Touch and Brian Tyler Cohen have me glued to them. I tell myself it’s not necessary to check these channels throughout the day, but I continue to fall for the algorithm’s sensationalistic captions, like “Trump goes into panic mode with DESPERATE stunt.” How can I resist that?

I also enjoy River, or River Royal as she dishes the dirt on Harry and Meghan, my dear, with the loveliest English accent. She also enjoys shopping at thrift and is a fan of J.K. Rowling. Again, what’s not to love here?

Something I do find detestable is my neighbour who insists on having a bright LED outdoor light on all night long. Why? I just heard an article on CBC Radio about the dangers of LED lighting to all living things. If only I had a YouTube channel, where I could, my dear, talk about all manner of miscreants.

Of the seven deadly sins, gluttony is the one that nearly did me in. On Sunday late afternoon I was ravenous with hunger and had made myself a lovely chicken curry. As I was sitting down, I was already starting to shovel food in with my left hand, but somehow my right hand, which was holding a knife, decided to poke me very hard in the eye.

I had to eat my way through the pain, then down a couple of cocktails as well, and managed to sleep okay. Monday first thing I phoned the optometrist, and the first opening was today (Wednesday) at 9:00. I kept looking at my eye and since no blood was pouring out, and my vision seemed okay, I figured there’s no point in going to emergency.

When the doctor had a look she said, “Oh wow, you really did a number on your eye!” She said I’d managed to take a gouge out of it, and prescribed antibiotic ointment. Of course her first question had been to ask how it had occurred, and when I told her she chuckled and said food really does shape how we behave, especially when hungry.

I was in Osoyoos for two nights last weekend as Gerry’s son David and his wife Hang (she’s Vietnamese) came to visit from Virginia. I made fudge with melted chocolate, peanut butter and fruit-flavoured mini marshmallows. As predicted everyone ate it with glee and said it was magnificent. It sounds odd but tastes so evilly good. Luke said to Hang “You should get the recipe” and she replied that was the last thing she’d ever want to know how to make.

The other week I looked at my living room and decided I hated the rattan couch and chairs and began hunting around online. As I wanted to know what the new couch would look like, I re-arranged the furniture, as per the suggestions of my pal Alison, whose taste can be trusted. I liked it a lot, but still felt piqued by the couch.

Then a few days later my friend Patricia came for lunch. She was the director of a museum and is an expert in textiles. I asked her what to do, and she declared the rattan as perfect, but said the white couch needed a fabric on it. As a classic thrift store shopper I got out a pile of tablecloths I’ve made over the years from beautiful designer fabrics. She draped them and chose one and voila, I now love the living room!

I saved a couple of thousand dollars in that venture so that was another wonderful bonus of keeping everything, just switching it around. I needed four blue pillows and was able to shop in my own home for those. I tell ya, there are a lot of benefits to hoarding thrift store items.

And as a homeowner I need to save wherever possible, given I just had a guy come and put disinfectant on the moss on my roof and clean out the gutters. He’ll return to wash the windows, and will pressure wash some hideous areas that I’ve looked at for years. As I said to him, “German relatives are coming!” I want this house all shiny and nice for them. He’s of Belgian descent so could totally relate.

Now I just have to try to keep sharp objects out of my eyes as I begin the long slog out in the yard. God knows I have enough opportunities to injure myself out there.