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Musings from the Laundromat: The Color of Blue edition.

Today the outdoors smells like a forgotten load of  damp clothes in a dryer.




The ground smells so different that Butters has refused for two days to venture across it to her normal ‘potty’ spot. Adamantly halting on her leash and not crossing some invisible scent line.

The laundromat floor is peppered with termite wings – a common occurrence out here in the desert after we’ve been slammed with a storm.

Yesterday our power went out and we technology addicts sat, sometimes paced, until we found something to entertain ourselves with.

Me?  I finally picked up a book my friend Betty loaned me long ago, back when I was reading at least a book per week.

‘The Color of Water’ by James McBride.


I made it half way through by the time the electricity returned, after my initial relief at the ‘WHOOSH’ of the A/C – I settled back to the book.

I’m feeling, ‘off’.

My color today and most of yesterday is blue.

No one reason in particular.

I think a combination of the stifling breezeless humidity, the fact that I still don’t have my car, and an aching mouth could be major players in this mood of mine.

I’m just out of sorts.

It was humbling to have my boss bring me home Friday after work.

I have such a stubborn streak, and hate to be dependent on anyone for basic things like food, transportation or money.

My son and fiance went grocery shopping Friday, and for some reason, I don’t feel comfortable eating the food.  Which is ridiculous.  We support each other.

I feel like a stranger right now, even to myself.

I drove to the laundromat in my son’s car, nothing feels the same. Off kilter.

I was glad to get lost in that book yesterday, because it took me out of myself and my own bad atmosphere.

I’ve just been so tired lately.  Tired and worried about this and that. This funk – I must shake.  And I will.

Almost smiled when I discovered half of my Friday lunch in my purse this morning – cucumber and cheese sandwich.  Tucked into its little sandwich bag. I’ll have to remember to toss that.

Poor thing.  All  prepared and didn’t end up getting to serving its purpose.

Yes, I still feel for inanimate objects.  Even when I’m blue.


for musings



Shivering and sheds and things …

“Mom, we can’t LIVE like this!”

My only child put his hands on my cheeks with sincerity in his eyes …

“It’s 72 degrees!!!!”

His hand were freaking cold.

Ok, I know – there are those of you living in places where you slip and slide attempting to drive to work – on black ice and through blinding snow. There are those of you whose pipes no doubt shall freeze – whose breath shall be visible in the chilled air.

I get it.

But how many of you have had an 80 degree drop? And it’s not even Winter yet for crying out loud!

I peeled my eyelids open this morning and seriously wondered if Fall could write me a note to get me out of work.

“To Whom It May Concern,

Amanda was unable to come in to work today due to the complete inability to remove herself from the barely comforting ‘comforter’ and exposing herself to the 50 degree temperatures within her home.



That wasn’t going to fly probably.

I braved it … and when I say ‘braved it’ I mean, I slid an arm out of the blanket next and grabbed for my sweatshirt. Slid a leg out and poked my foot into my Ugg boot – then had to actually sit up to accomplish the same for the other foot.

Butters has suddenly become a snuggler – surprise, surprise – and she lay all cute and curled up and watched me with feigned interest as I removed myself from my bed, bit by bit.

Oh how I wished I could turn on the heater!  It was 50 degrees in the house (I discovered this as I briskly trotted back to the bedroom holding a microwaved cup of yesterdays coffee.)

My pilot light went out when I accidentally shut off the gas thinking it was the water main a few months back. (Remember that? Yeah well, now we have repercussions don’t we?) Although, this does put me in a position of not breaking my annual tradition of lighting the flipping pilot and my friends and followers laughing at me doing it.

You would think I’d remember how I did it the past year – but every time (4 years now) it’s a YouTube tutorial then an ‘Ok, here we go!’ big ass event.

Feel like a hero in a movie – “I’m goin’ in!” Braving the gas and the metal and the flames to bring warmth to my little family.

Butters feigns interest for that activity too.

It’s always super rewarding when I do accomplish it though.

Speaking of accomplishing things …

I think I mentioned in my last post that we get wind.

No, not that kind.

Bitter, crazy wind that snaps and huffs and puffs and blows things down.

This weekend it was my shed. Sharp metal panels were hanging dangerously – all I could think was that if I didn’t get out and do something about it, a piece was going to completely abandon the structure and go slicing off into the air and decapitate something.


So outside I went – early in the morning with my galvanized steel wire and pliers and proceeded to stitch it together the best I could. My fingers almost needed stitching – with the flapping metal panels snagging me as I attempted to secure the pieces together, I cut myself several times. It was  probably a two-man job in such weather conditions and there were zero men – only me – (I have a new saying by the way “Don’t send a man in to do an Amanda job” – that was coined at work. Lol)

Anyway – Butters, again – is busy feigning interest – I think she was just glad I was outside with her somewhere other than the porch.

She abandoned me mid project to sniff around and bark at flying debris.

I kept stitching.

Don’t know why I bothered – this morning it was all sharply hanging and dangerous again.

I’ll probably get home to find a pair of ruby slippers sticking out from beneath it – if they’re fleece lined, I’ll keep ’em.