Could my house be haunted?

After living in the here for 17 years, I'm beginning to wonder if my house is haunted.  Or maybe it's just my office.

Sometimes I get up earlier than my husband.  (Okay, I ALWAYS get up earlier than him.)  And I'll be sitting here in the office and it's deadly quiet.  And then the noises start.  Things bumping around.  It'll sound like someone is taking the pool tools (which hang on the side of the house) off and putting them back up again.  Every so often there's a really loud CRACK that seems to come from around the window that overlooks the (postage-sized) back yard.

I've given it a LOT of thought and ... I'm pretty sure that I'm afraid of ghosts.  Can they harm you?  I don't know.  Do they want to communicate?  Maybe that's why all the noises?  We have a farm behind us--no people--so don't have drapes on that side of the house.  But sometimes I get nervous and wish we did.  When the noises start, will there be a ghostie hovering outside my window or just a plain old burglar?  (Burglars usually don't want to be caught so are QUIET. So who's making all this noise?)

I used to babysit for a couple who had a noisy house.  "Don't worry, the house is just settling," the lady would say every time they left me in charge of their kids.  Well, it sure settled a lot when I was there.  There were all kinds of bumps and noises.  I did not like babysitting for them and was glad when I finally just stopped babysitting altogether.

So where do you think all these noises in my office are coming from?

I love my cats, I love my cats, I love my cats . . .

Way back in 1995, Hubby and I took a trip to England and learned the joys of sleeping under a duvet.  My mother had been telling me for years I would like it, but being an obstinate daughter, I didn't listen.

Whoa!  I'm not too proud to say I was wrong.

I was WRONG.  She was right. I loved it.  No more heavy blankets. Just one light and fluffy down comforter to keep you toasty warm on the coldest winter night, and not overly hot on a summer's eve.

I've got two of them and alternate them on the bed.  I must say that the old one, which is pretty lightweight, is still the better of the two comforters.  But they both have the same problem:  the feathers get jammed in the baffles on one area of the bed.  The middle.

Why is it that a couple buys a king-sized bed because they want to sleep in comfort and then allow their pets to sleep with them?  It wasn't my idea.  For the first half of our marriage we were happily pet free at night.  But then we got George the tiny terrorist, who beat up all the older bigger cats and the next thing you know, the cat he beat up the most was in bed with us, because that's the only way he was safe.

Sadly, George was my one cat failure.  No matter what we tried, he would NOT fit in.  So we found him a forever home with a wonderful lady and her resident cat, who George has not attacked in the six years they've lived together.  Go figure!

But now that Chester was ensconced, we left the door open at night should he hear the call of nature.  And now we have THREE cats sleeping with us.  Here we two humans are forced to cling to the edges of the bed while three cats sprawl out wherever they please.  And since all the feathers in the duvet seem to end up in the middle, that's where they are most comfortable.

So, come winter, I tend to bring a big beach towel to bed with me, because at least 1/4 of me is not going to have any of that warm and (somewhat) fluffy duvet and what I do have does not have any feathers and I feel like a Popsicle.

No yogi gave me a mantra, but I have one anyway:  I love my cats.  I love my cats.  I love my cats . . .

Don't fall on me!

Why is it that paper seems to breed in my office?  I've been avoiding my office easy chair for some time because the little table next to it was so piled full of papers they'd spilled over onto the chair (which also houses a bunch of other stuff making it unfit to sit in).

Over the weekend I'd had it.  I decided it was time to tackle that pile.  And I tossed more than half of it.  But now I have to figure out where to put the papers I saved.

They consist of:  recipes, magazine articles, old invoices, receipts, manuscript formatting instructions, newsletters, software instructions, newspaper clippings, and other odd things.
So, once I have them all sorted into the appropriate piles (Um, that hasn't happened quite yet), what do I do with them?

I have a nice oak four-drawer file cabinet . . . which also happens to be stuffed to bursting.  It's time to lighten that load, too.  But here comes the problem:  no time.  Not between my "day job" and taking care of a house and cats.  I can't even stuff it in the closet (which I sorted through the week before, because it's now crammed full again).

I'm starting to think the best thing might be to just toss this stuff in the recycle bin and start all over again.  I mean, I haven't missed it so far, right?

But ... I won't do that either.

I need a black hole to hide the stuff in.

Do papers breed in your house, too?

Unnecessary ingredients

I kvetch about processed food, but unfortunately, it's still a part of my life.  The grocery store had Lean Cuisine entrees on sale and I though I'd stock up on a few because some nights who wants to cook?

Last night was one of those "I can't be bothered" nights and I went to the freezer and picked out a couple of boxes:  Stuffed cabbage for Mr. L and turkey, stuffing and apples for me.

When I asked Mr. L how his dinner was, he grunted and said, "Not like Mary made."  (Mary is his Polish mother.)  Mine ... eeew!  First of all, I am not a gravy fan and the stuffing was covered with it.  The turkey was a tough as shoe leather, and the apples ...

Why do food manufactures always think they have to improve on nature?  Apples are usually pretty sweet.  I always buy unsweetened applesauce and am amazed at why anybody would buy them sweetened.  You actually taste the apple in unsweetened applesauce, but when it's sweetened, all you taste is high-fructose corn syrup.

The apples in my entree were like that.  Dreadful.  I won't be buying that Lean Cuisine entree ever again.

Simple fact:  if food manufactures didn't put so much salt in their products, there'd be a lot less people taking pills for hypertension.  If food manufacturers didn't put so much corn syrup in everything we eat, there'd be less obesity.

End of ran.

All that work and no sale, either

I am a sucker for most of the shows on HGTV.  It's a good thing my cable package doesn't include it, because I'd never get anything done.  I mean, I'd sit there 24/7 with toothpicks holding my eyes open.  My mother does get HGTV and darned if it isn't on when I go to visit just about every day.
One of the shows I love to watch is GET IT SOLD.  Every episode, home staging expert Sabrina Soto (that's how she introduces herself) strips a home of any personality it has, and makes it as bland as possible so that people can (theoretically) sell their hard-to-move houses and usually does it for a grand or less.

Often, the homes do need to be stripped of all personality.  Garish paint colors, floor to ceiling clutter, crammed full of kid toys, and wall-to-wall religious pictures on the walls--those places need staging help.  But I was particularly offended on an episode yesterday where Sabrina made the homeowner pack up every single book and put them in storage.  I will admit that the bookcase was in the dining room, which is kind of an odd place to put it, but apparently the family liked to read while they ate.

Some of the changes are quick fixes that make me cringe.  A kitchen had a "dated" border, so they sanded them down (ruining them forever) and painted them black.  This looked pretty good on a TV screen, but I'll bet in person it looked like what it was:  a cheap fix that did more harm than good. The new homeowner is going to have to do something about that, and it won't be a cheap fix to undo.  (I've taken off a tile backsplash before and it destroyed the plasterboard behind it.)

What's worse, in nearly all cases, they check back with the family between two and four weeks after the staging and the house still hasn't sold.  What does that tell me?  Well, this is a tough market, but that most people don't give a hoot what the furniture looks like.

Before we bought our house, we looked at 84 houses.  We'd make the rounds every Sunday week after week, month after month.  We told our agent we wanted a ranch, she showed us everything BUT ranch homes.  In fact, we asked her to take us through the house we bought, and she wouldn't.  "It's only got a bath and a half."  So I waited until they had an open house.  The house was perfect for us.

Today, it wouldn't have passed muster.  You see, the homeowner's personalities were right on show.  The lady of the house quilted.  The man wasn't a professional photographer, but took portraits as a hobby.  John Denver came to town and darned if he didn't talk him into posing for him.  (There were a couple of other celebrity photographs on the wall, but 17 years later, I've forgotten who they were.)

One thing that really struck me was the blend of antiques and contemporary furniture.  They had a marble topped commode.  For the past 17 years I've pined for something with a marble top (just never found anything I liked enough).  Of course, after 17 years, there's very little of their personalities left in the house.  We've changed the landscaping (back and front), we've totally redone the entryway and the bathroom, and our decorating taste is totally different.  This is our house now.

So maybe those shows do have it right.  Maybe the buyers need to see a bland backdrop and try to imagine where they'll put their chairs and tables and bookcases (if they have any).  But I'm still not convinced staging sells homes.  Not when every show seems to end with the words, "They have confidence they'll get an offer soon."  Funny.  Those homeowners don't look very confident.

What's your favorite HGTV program?

Is it just a gold ball?

Recently, hubby took me out to lunch at the Sherwood Inn in beautiful Skaneateles, NY.  It's a picturesque little village on the shores of Skaneateles Lake.  Although it was a dull, gray day, we still had a good time, and a lovely meal.  (I had the wonderful potato-leek soup, and then the ham, swiss cheese and leek quiche.  Divine!)

While wandering around the village, we visited the local bookstore (all the books were face out.  Hmmm), were disappointed to see that the ice cream shop was gone, as was the Christmas store (unless they moved way down the block).  But the little thrift shop in the basement of a huge old home (now a real estate office) was still there, and of course I had to buy something.  In fact, I bought three things.  The first two were Syracuse China (restaurant china) soup cups.  And as I was waiting to check out, something else caught my eye.

A gold ball.

I don't know what made me grab it.  Maybe it was the price:  $1.25.  I'd considered buying witch balls before, but was always put off by the expensive (to this junker--$10+) prices.  So when I saw this little beauty, I just had to have it.

Later that evening, we were watching Star Trek Voyager.  A very nasty virus had contaminated the ship and Captain Janeway stripped down to her skivvies and was blasting them with a phaser rifle.  (Go, Kathryn!)

While we were watching, I'd taken the gold ball out of the bag and was rolling it around on the couch (which is a bit difficult as it's weighted--probably so it doesn't roll away).  Captain Janeway had just blasted one of the aliens when hubby says:  "I'll bet there's an alien squirreled away in that gold ball."

Oh, dear. My lovely new toy might be a sinister death trap.

Suddenly I had a terrible decision to make:  should I toss it in the trash and hope that when the aliens emerged they'd do it at the landfill, or should I be brave and hope to battle it out with them myself--sans phaser rifle.
Instead, I put it on my shelf and admire it's beauty whenever I walk by.

(But I'm still watching--just in case it does explode with a bunch of alien critters bent on destruction.  Can't be too careful, you know.)

One Fine Daisy

The yard sales have been few and far between this year, and since I started this blog to share my yard-sale treasures, there hasn't been much to blog about.

So I thought I might share some pictures of my garden.

(Oh, I am loving my new camera.)

Look what followed me home . . .

I know some people think that pink flamingoes are tacky -- and I suppose they are.  But they're also CHEERFUL!  My roses, which were going great guns, are taking a break, and with all that ivy out there, I thought a splash of color might be fun.

What do you think?

Mr. Bee likes my coneflowers

Happy Fourth of July

Mmmmm...cookies!

Thanks to the rain, the yard sales were a bust today. Even a church rummage sale was canceled.  (Although the good (?) ladies of the church might have put a sign out to warn people.  Ahem...just sayin'.)

But the Fly By Night Cookie Company in Fair Haven, NY was open, and I had the most DELISH cookies. (Why didn't I think to take a picture?)  I had a hermit cookie, unlike any hermit bar I've ever had before--and this was BETTER, and a peanut butter brownie.  They price was a little steep, but it was well worth it.

Maybe if you're driving around the edge of Lake Ontario, you might want to stop in the charming little village of Fair Haven--and do stop in the Fly By Night Cookie Company and test their cookies.  You won't be sorry.

And it only cost 50 cents!

The weekend's junking expedition started off with a fizzle.  I had seen a sign saying a church rummage sale was set for Friday and Saturday.  No surprise--it always had been on a Friday and Saturday before.  So I showed up bright and early and . . . no line.  What gives?  Oh, they decided to hold the sale on THURSDAY, Friday and Saturday this year.  Ha-ha!  I bought a 25 cent bowl and left.  The other three sales I passed on the way had nothing of interest.  But I did have to pass the rummage sale sign again and low and behold, someone had hand written in THURS. 

Saturday was better.  One sale in particular, too.  We have a Saturday circuit and we'd been to a sale at this barn a couple of years ago and everything was EXPENSIVE, so I had low expectations. Apparently there'd been a death in the family and they were eager to get rid of stuff, so the prices were terrific. 

I'm a sucker for brown transferware, so when I saw this Old Sturbridge Village mug, I knew I had to have it.  Any time you buy a souvenir these days, you can bet it was made in China.  Not so my little brown mug.  Ironstone, Made In England (which tells me it was probably purchased 20-30 years ago).

It just so happens, that several years ago my husband, parents and I made a trip to the old Sturbridge Village.  It was a wonderful trip, but I didn't buy any kind of souvenir, so I was pleased to find this.
And here's what it says on the bottom of the mug.
Don't you just love it?  And the cost?  Fifty cents. 
I bought more things at the sale--like a whole bag of doilies (12) for $1.  Birthday candles (can you ever have enough of them?) and . . . brown craft tags (a big bag for 50 cents--they look like toe tags.  Gotta think of something wonderful for those), earrings (for 25 cents a pair).  I'm sure there was more, but I can't remember right now.  No doubt about it, it was the best sale of the weekend.

Did you get anything good at the sales this weekend?

Somehow the tea tastes better in a pretty cup

I'm a tea drinker.  There.  I've said it.

Most days I drink my tea out of mugs.  It's just easier that way.  But sometimes I want to drink it out of a dainty cup.  So I collect bone china tea cups.  I've paid as much as $24 for a tea cup -- but that was when I had a regular day job.  Those days are gone.  So now I look for bargains.

This little beauty was just such a bargain.  I got it at a yard sale for a dollar.  Why?  A tiny hairline crack in the cup.  I really, REALLY had to look at it a couple of times before I saw it.  But will that distract from the pleasure of a nice cuppa?  I think not.


On the same day, I came across this coffee mug. I love old restaurant china and have many pieces.  This, alas, is not old, but it was only a dime.  If nothing else, it'll make a nice place to put pens and pencils.

Or I could just put it in the daily mug rotation.

What's your favorite cup/mug for tea (or coffee or cocoa)?

Squarish Plates

I am a sucker for dishware, and one of the things I collect is square plates. I have a wall of them (well, it's a stairwell, actually), and I'm always on the lookout for them.

Recently I acquired two of them. Okay, one of them is only "squarish," but I thought it was lovely and decided to add it to my collection. Actually, this was one of three plates for a grand total of 50 cents. (That's THREE for fifty cents.) I sure was a happy camper. I'm keeping this one, but the other two will probably be part of the "catch and release" program. That is, I'll be having a yard sale later this season, and they'll be part of it. (I got the phrase "catch and release" from Yardsale Bloodbath, a weekly blog about a couple of junkers in Seattle.)

This other, smaller "tulips" plate  I paid a whole buck for.  Not bad.  I saw another quite nice, but nothing particularly special, square plate at a yard sale the other day, and the woman wanted $10.  I quickly put it back on the pile.  She gave me a story of how it was made in England and the factory was bombed out of existence in WWII, yada, yada, yada -- but the bottom line is, I'm not collecting plates because they have history, I'm collecting them because they're pretty.  The plate may well have been worth $10--but she should have put it on Ebay or sold it in an antiques shop, not a yard sale.  (Then again, everything else in her sale was overpriced. She had a LOT of stuff.  I'll bet she had to drag it all in at the end of the day, too.)

My philosophy about yard sales is this:  do you want to get rid of it, or sell it for a profit?  If your motives are the latter, then open a booth in an antiques arcade or become a power seller on Ebay.  Don't have a yard sale.

Not Everything Goes In The China Cabinet

As soon as I saw the ad, I knew we'd have to hit this place first thing on Saturday morning. I knew what we'd find: home schooling books and Children's clothing. And one more item:

Homemade cinnamon rolls.

The place was jammed, but no one seemed to be browsing.  Like me, they homed right in on those heavenly cinnamon rolls.

What a treat they were on Sunday morning for breakfast.