Domestic Putterings

Life with a Lizard

Buckwheat got a treat the other night.

A Hole in our Home, and in our Hearts

Four summers ago, a scraggly, sick, more-than-half-starved black cat half-walked, half-crawled into the back yard.

Friday, she left our home for the last time.

We made the difficult decision Friday to put Lenny to sleep. I did not expect to have to make this decision so soon, or so suddenly.

This is what you sign up for when you take a pet. Their lives, their well-being, are all up to you. It is the responsibility you get for the reward of companionship and love.

And, oh, were we rewarded by Lenny.

Beat the Heat

The thermometer has gone past 90 degrees, the humidity is somewhere between Turkish bath and sauna, and it's officially icky out. Hardly a breath of wind to be had, and, it looks like, no rain for the week. Our poor yard is already en route to Kentucky Fried.

While there were some things I could have accomplished this weekend, it's just too darned hot. Fortunately, I have a bag of limes from Costco, a flourishing mint plant on the front porch, and a husband who lists bartending as one of his favorite hobbies.

Mojito time!

Falling for Fiestaware

I'd always associated Fiestaware with vintage shops, retro diners and hipster-wannabes who thought dressing like a Fonz caricature or Flo from "Alice" was somehow ironic.

Then about 10 years ago, my mom got me four placesettings of Fiestaware in yellow. She'd seen it on sale and thought it would look pretty in my new apartment.

That's all it took. I became a Fiesta Fanatic.

Wild Kingdom

We brought Buckwheat out this weekend to hang out in the sun. He doesn't like it for very long. I think the big, open space and sky freaks him out. He was getting cranky by the time John was finished taking pictures.

Are Dandelions Dandy?

I hate yard work.

My parents did not pass down the gardening gene. My mother has always had lush houseplants, including a Christmas cactus started by her grandmother. After a couple of decades off, my father has gotten back into vegetable gardening. This one is much smaller, since it's just for him and Mom. He enjoys it, except when bugs get into the lettuce he'd been lovingly tending in the cold frame.

My Grandma Hebert, called Ge (pronounced "Ghee"), loved to come up to our place in the fall and rake leaves for hours. Give her a cold Piels on the screened in porch when she was done raking and some dinner, and she'd be a happy girl. My sister Deb also loves to rake and tidy up the yard.

Blech.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

It's hard to believe that a year and a day has passed since John and I stood before Canton mayor William Healy and got married.

It wasn't the wedding I envisioned when I was younger, or even when John and I got engaged. The original plan was a simple ceremony at Grand Pacific Junction, followed by a reception at the Grand Pacific Hotel right down the road. Maybe 100 people, tops. I even had a lovely dress picked out.

But when I lost my job, it just didn't seem sensible to spend at least $6,000 on a wedding.

Scaling back plans, however, was not a huge sacrifice. The small, intimate, family ceremony we ended up having at Bender's in Canton turned out perfect. It was relaxed, and happy.

So much has happened since that wonderful day. I've gone from unemployed to freelancing to back to work. We've both had to make the change from living apart to living together. Even after being together for almost five years, that was still an adjustment.

The Empty Cage

It's a sad time in the land of Domestic Putterings. Yesterday, our bearded dragon, Mr. Bighead, passed away.

John worked from home briefly that morning and remembered seeing Bighead looking at him. John later brought Bighead's food bowl along with Buckwheat's into the kitchen so I could wash them before my daily feeding of the boys. Sometime between then and when I brought the food in around noon, Bighead quietly died.

The January Letdown

It's that most not-wonderful time of the year. Time to take down the Christmas tree and put the decorations away.

There's always a bit of melancholy associated with the task. It means that special, festive time is over and it's just ordinary winter now.

This year's tree was a bit special since it was our first Christmas as a married couple. John and I picked out the tree together, not realizing until we got it home and in the stand that it, being short and squat with two protruding upper branches, looked a bit like a Dalek. John was tickled, being a major "Doctor Who" fan.

A Very Conscious New Year

Well, 2009 is officially in the history books and we're in the 2010s.

Many of us were happy to kick 2009 -- as well as the previous decade -- to the curb. Between terrorism, war, the economy and job losses, we had to look even harder for the silver lining.

Even in the midst of hard times, it's hard not to get a wee bit excited about the new year. Twelve months, 52 weeks, 365 days, shiny and new. Nothing bad has happened in them yet. Anything is possible.

During my career, I've written a few New Year's resolution stories. I've kind of soured on traditional resolutions, because very often they're made impulsively with no real idea on how to carry them out.

This year, I'm looking at the resolution thing a little differently.