Fighting Time

I just looked at the date of my last post and can't believe a whole month has passed.  A blog is like a plant...if you don't tend it regularly, it'll wither and die.  So do you want my list of excuses?  Didn't think so.
No new jewelry this month (yet!), no muse, no time.  The store is in its transition period from a happy, comfortable place to stop and chat to summer mode, when everyone is back from wherever and they haven't been here long enough to slow down.  Rush, rush, rush.  
I've been reading Kate McKinnon's blog and she's mourning the death of the male cardinal that lived in her garden.  It made me remember the cardinal who lifted my spirits and helped save my sanity in a very stressful time.  My husband had had a severe stroke and was in the long-term care ward of the hospital in Brantford.  The hospital parking lot was in the centre of a quadrangle, with buildings all around it, and every sound echoed.  Every evening when I arrived from work, a cardinal would be sitting on the top of a light post in the middle of the lot, singing his heart out.  He was obviously aware that he was on stage and his song was amplified, and he was just puffed in pride.  Standing and watching him for that few minutes each evening always made me laugh and give thanks for the gift of his music and the fact that he was such a ham.  The cares of the workday would fall away and I could face the cares ahead of me with a lighter heart.  There's a lot to appreciate about being a birdbrain.

As I've got older, my lungs' tolerance for chemicals is getting lower at an alarming rate.  Perfume, men's cologne or aftershave, cleaning products, anything with a chemical base will send me into a paroxysm of coughing and a dash for my puffer.  With all the "perfume free" signs everywhere, you'd think people would clue in but there are still women and men alike who literally bathe in the chemical stew they call scent.  In my day (yeah, yeah, showing my age here) we were taught that you spritzed the air in front of you and stepped through the cloud of droplets, and that would give you just enough scent to be smelled within your personal space.  Some people seem to feel they should broadcast their scent, like creatures broadcasting pheromes to attract a mate. Yuck, what the heck are these people attracting?
The cleaning solution I use for the store is a bottle of alcohol, a cup or so of vinegar, three tbsp. of liquid dish soap in a gallon jug, filled with water.  Works great, smells nice and keeps the floor shiny.  We keep a spray bottle with a tablespoon of bleach and water mixed, and use it to spray anything used for eating.  And another one that is half vinegar and half water for cleaning counters, windows, glass fronts, the top of the ice cream machine...anything we feel like, basically.  I spritz a little on a paper towel and use the damp towel to run over the cash register and interac machines.
Well, I started this thread because my brother-in-law sent me a great video, and immediately got on my soap box about chemicals.  I also haven't figured out how to put a video on my blog, so only have the link, but check this out - a serious subject but one of the funniest presentations I've seen.  I'm still giggling about it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-k9K8V2-Itw

Harry's New Job As Goodwill Ambassador

Harry and his John Deere have found a new calling in life.  Those of you who read about Harry and the chicken will remember that I mentioned how goodhearted he was.  As he and the Deere were putting down the road Sunday, Harry came upon a STRANGER walking down Route 112 near the creek.  I'm sure the fact that it was a good-looking 20-something girl from Korea had nothing to do with the fact that he stopped, but fact is, he stopped and asked her if she wanted a ride somewhere.  She thought she might see some water if she walked far enough, so Harry invited her to step onto the blade cover and he took her for a scenic tour.  Understanding that lawnmower travel might take more than a few hours, Harry, the lawnmower and the girl detoured into a farm and picked up eighteen-year-old Dirk, who had access to a car. This girl is either very trusting or she knows that no trouble can come from being picked up by a man on a lawnmower.
Harry, the girl and Dirk, but not the lawnmower, went on a whirlwind tour, visiting McConnell's Point, with a little lighthouse and a great view across the water to Summerside; Chelton Beach for some great photo ops of the Confederation Bridge; Sea Cow Head for the lighthouse and red cliffs, and last but not least, the lambs at Dirk's place.
"I really had to keep an eye on the young fellow," Harry stated.  "He was pretty much in love by the time we got home."  The young lady from Korea had visited the Island thinking it was small enough to walk and bike around to most places and she booked her stay at Historic Maplethorpe in Bedeque, one of the nicest B & Bs available, but not without a car.  She was probably resigned to seeing nothing but lilacs and creeks until she ran into Harry and the Deere.  "When we were at Sea Cow Head, she put her arm around me and had Dirk take our picture together!"  Harry grinned.  "Me, not Dirk.  My picture will be all the way to Korea!"
I wonder how long it will be before he puts the wagon complete with armchair back on the lawn tractor and offers free tours?