The Itchy and Scratchy Show

...Oh, man, whatta week. What started as a minor irritation has exploded into my first full-blown case of contact dermatitis, poison ivy, for the year. I can count on one or two cases each season. Nothing like when I was a kid and ran the fields and forests just asking for trouble. I'd get a handful and soon it would be everywhere, driving me nutso, applying calamine lotion and fels-naptha soap, adding chlorine to the bath, anything to soothe the maddening itch for a moment. The worst was sumac, those reddish cones that grew on tree-like stalks. That stuff once took hold on the side of my face and before it was through my ear had taken on cartoonish proportions, reddened and blown up like a balloon. Ugh!

Hard to say where I picked it up; from the single plant I weed-whacked at the neighbors or maybe from the field roaming dog of my Mum's. Any residue of the plant oil and I'm in for it, big-time. This time it's got my hands swollen and itching like a hundred bugs crawling under the skin with a few small patches here and there for good measure, some unmentionable places. Brother... I don't know which is worse, the itch or the balms, benadryl and hydrocortisone creams. Yeah, it's the itch, no doubt.

But anyway, most of the homestead is settled by now, only a few stacks of goods here and there remaining to find a place. Still making the trip to the arts and crafts studio a coupla times a week until the workspace at the new digs is cleaned out and refurbished to make it habitable in winter and summer. Meanwhile I have fun watching the odometer turn, I left here one day last week with the trip odometer showing 1964, one hundred ninety-six and four tenths miles, and imagined it was like a time machine scrolling through the years as I drove up the road. I started out three years old and a few short miles and it was past high school, a succession of years and occupations, through the present tense and way, away into the future, ooh wee oooh! Shades of The Twilight Zone!

 

Zzzzzzzzzz

'Asleep at the switch'. Or 'the lazy penman', whichever you prefer. Been a while since I got over here to blather on about nothing...  My, my, how time does fly... except when you're commuting twenty miles each way and each day to ply your little homespun arts and crafts trade. I suppose it's not an inordinate amount of mileage or time expended behind the wheel for many; for me, however, it's a stretch. I think the furthest I've ever driven to and fro to a workplace previously was twelve miles. But it makes for some interesting sights; other drivers, close calls between vehicles, dead animals at the roadside and so on. A graveyard with a sign on the gate, 'Closed from Dust to Dawn'. Gotta be a clever commentary there on life and death, I just haven't come up with it yet. Though I'm fairly certain it was unintentional.

There are at least four major routes I can take between my new abode and the garage where my toymakings are located at present and plenty of shortcuts on each of those roads. So I vary the route to avoid boredom, driving is not one of my favorite things. It used to be, no more. Maybe it's the car I'm driving. Been thinking about the Mustang lately since son-boy is excited about vintage muscle cars, getting to the point where he's serious about driving and looking to acquire a fixer-upper of a car sometime soon. Scary. But he's got himself a part-time occupation, taking up plenty of schooling time lately, so he'll have a little nest egg to blow for himself on whatever wheeled wonder he gloms onto. And on pizza deliveries. Mother and I were out late running errands and brought home carryout Chinese for his supper- but he wasn't waiting around to be spoon fed, he had already made his presence known to the local Pizza Hut. You know your kids are growing up when they don't have to depend on you for their pizza anymore.

Home Sweet Home

...is thirty miles away as I have yet to relocate the toy laboratory. Might be a week or two- or more -until I have the space prepared for the shelves and bins and so forth. It'll take some insulation against the elements and some other modifications as well so meanwhile I run down here every coupla days to slather some rubber and paint and wrap goods for mail. Naturally, the back and forth coupled with the loading and unloading of two small passenger cars not meant to be beasts of burden has taken its toll. Both are making awful strange rumblings and squeaking noises from their nether parts and it's a toss-up whether one or the other will give up the ship before I get 'em professionally assessed as to their particular respective maladies. It's always something, ain't it?

At any rate, some small facets of life are settling down quite nicely. With the bird feeders in place and a new song bird mix filling them up the neighborhood feathered population is having a regular smorgasbord. We've got a red-winged blackbird and a pair of cardinals as well as the usual robins and blackbirds. Also checking in every so often are a pair of fuzzy bunnies. I promptly named them Chester and Molly. They don't come when I call them yet, maybe someday...

And the stacks of boxes and clothing are shrinking as well as they find their places in the teensy weensy dwelling. It's actually possible to go from room to room without turning sideways and squeezing by some container or cardboard box. So we took a break from sorting and storing on Saturday afternoon to browse a local neighborhood-wide yard sale. What a circus, hordes of foot traffickers and cars, vans and buses crowding the streets! But I came away with a few items that might turn a buck or two on the toy market. Nothing too arcane or Antique Road Show-worthy but at least it made braving the the sun and the walking-for-hours-tired dogs worthwhile. And a card from a fellow who does woodworking, might be a prospect for getting a Ponderosa house facade made up for my Bonanza doll men.

Played a coupla hours of softball with a group of guys yesterday, Sunday. Not too stiff today either, surprisingly. I complained to the boy on the way home how we neighborhood kids used to live by the ballfield when we were yung'uns. We played for hours and then went swimming and running through the woods and then played ball some more. And still complained we weren't tired when bedtime came. No such complaints last night, to be sure...

Movin' in, movin' out

   Seems like a regular occurrence here late. A lot like work and preferable to a shark bite but not to a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Well, okay, it's more to be desired than a good hard poke... but not much! At any rate, all our worldly goods and then some have been translocated to a northwesterly locale- aided by a number of pals with trucks- and what I jokingly referred to as the Braungard Moving and Heaving Company, that is, my school pal, Pat. For a guy who lifts hundreds of pounds repeatedly three times a week, moving the king-size bed and attendant dressers, sold to a very happified granny over Red Lion way, was a walk in the park, I guess -and a rented fourteen foot UHaul truck. Seemed like the way to go, save a few pickup truck trips with the bigger truck, but wow, was it costly. Between the truck rental including insurance and dollar-a-mile, not to mention the pizzas delivered for two nights of friends' assistance and our own fuel costs for ten, twelve car loads back and forth plus the restaurant feeding most every day for a week... Then add the costs associated with starting and stopping several utility services, well, it's not for the faint of heart. So stuff is stacked and piled up now like an indoor Mt. Everest of just plain stuff, needful articles and other things that may not see the light of day in six months to a year. What a mess!

   But there's a pathway between rooms and the kitchen is starting to become discernible, enough that I could crack some eggs and fry up some bacon this AM for the first time. I like eating out as well as the next guy but it's hard on the wallet after a week! Got the lawn cut and weedy areas under control, bird feeders planted and visited by a red-winged blackbird this morning already. I estimate a week or more of shifting and sorting what stays and what goes and we may even be able to sit in the living room and watch the telly-vision. Maybe. Of course, the real trick over and above getting the living space in order is going to be converting the work shed to my own private Idaho, the toy laboratory of sorts for my homespun enterprise. It'll take some insulation and floor covering and some flourescent lighting to augment the one bare light bulb hanging therein at present. I'm thinking about carpeting the walls to insulate and soundproof as well, maybe install a guitar amp. Though I doubt any amountof soundproofing will dampen the sound of the Crate half stack all that much. In such close quarters it may be best to stick to headphones for the most part, sigh...

   Spent a coupla days then too cleaning the former domicile. Boy, how it shines, never so clean and orderly while we occupied the place! Of course, it helps that there's nothing in there...  I had fun cutting the grass and touching up the paint throughout, vacuuming and washing windows. All in all, it's just another exciting chapter play in the continuing adventure that is just one life on planet Earth. Yay...!