The Teal Sisters

Sepia Saturday

Ella, Ivy, Maude, and Myrtle

Ah, the Teal girls: my great  aunts and grandmother. If I met Ivy and Myrtle once upon a time, I have no memory of those get-togethers, so either our encounters were quite forgettable, not very often, or both.

It is quite a different story with  Great Aunt Ella, as I have fond reminiscences of fun times together in San Francisco where shopping and lunch were high on the agenda. Since this was the 50s, we "dressed." I'm talking gloves and hats, something unheard of in today's San Francisco scene where jeans and sandals rule the day. I was skinny and bow-legged, not yet in my teens; I must have looked silly in gloves and a hat. But that was the custom when visiting The City.

Quite different, as well, are my memories of Grandmother Maude. There are none, only stories told to me by my mom. I never knew Grandma as she died shortly after my mother was born, leaving Mom and Grandpa alone until a not so wonderful step mother, whom I vaguely remember as having huge horse-like front teeth that fascinated me,  appeared on the scene and became a strong influence in Mom's upbringing, a childhood characterized by a lack of maternal warmth.

Yet my mother turned into a wonderful person, so there must have been something positive happening. Maybe it was Grandpa's influence.

How I wish I could have known her.

Check out the gang at Sepia Saturday...HERE.

I Quit!

We are done...the gym and I. This last membership fee increase pushed me over the edge. Granted it was a small amount when you look at the % of the gain, but where does it stop?

 I am on my own after all these years, and I confess that I am not that disciplined a person when it comes to working out; but I know what I need to do and I will be going for it.

So I begin, and I'm off,
 looking forward to creating an exercise program that works for me...like I did in the days before I joined a gym. When I actually ran. And tap danced. And...

Timber!



Poor Unhealthy Doug

 Thanking my income tax refund, I finally took the big step and said goodby to my long ailing Douglas Fir.  I've been watching Doug slowly wither and, after this winter's stormy down-pours which caused many neighborhood trees to crash to the ground, I knew it was time to act.



Before



The tree people arrived at 8 a.m. and didn't finish until almost  3. I was amazed at their efficiency and coordination. Not only did they have to take down this monster of a tree, they had to direct traffic, split the wood into log size pieces, haul it away, and clean up the gigantic mess left all over the street and my property.




After

 

The last truck rolled away at around 2. I was exhausted just watching the operation which involved, in varying shifts performing different tasks, eight men. They all worked hard, but the poor guy who had to shimmy up my ailing Doug, power saw madly swinging from his leather belt, had the worst job. I hope he got paid extra.

So that's over. I did my best to make the unattractive remains of my once towering, majestic fir blend into the yard by placing a few pottery frogs atop the lonely stump. Soon the ivy will cleverly hide this sawdust covered, stomped on portion of my front yard and Doug will be just a memory.

Oh. The house painters arrive at seven tomorrow morning.