After posting my dilemma with the bees, a dear friend sent me a message telling me to get my hands on an old flick called "Pure Luck" and watch it -- reminds her of me. It's about two people who have more than their fair share of nonsense in their lives. So much, in fact, that calamity is just the norm. I don't get it ... what's so funny?
Dave and Rose M were here for what turned out to be a marathon of quilting yesterday. They feathered the dickens out of one very large quilt, and then did another. They will be taking these two gifts with them on their next journey overseas. It was a long day, but the quilts turned out great. The pictures? Not so much. Camera trouble. Of course. I was the one trying to use it. Makes perfect sense that first the memory stick would jam and then, once I got that working, the batteries died. I'll post pics tomorrow after I charge the batteries up. Maybe. If all goes well.
This morning there was a barrage of acorns pummeling the gutters on the front of the house. What a racket! That sound brought to mind something I'd not thought about in many, many years: cap guns. When I was a kid, we used to walk to the store and for a penny (or was it two?), we could get a roll of caps. At any rate, it usually took about four of us to accumulate the needed change to go off and make a double purchase. Then we'd divvy up the rolls so we'd each have a chance to shoot some of them off. It was a long time before we actually got the guns to put the caps in. I can recall always being on a hunt for the best kind of rocks to beat the caps with to make them fire. Some rocks just ruined the spot on the paper without yielding up the S*N*A*P. Eventually, I got a cap gun. So did my brother. His was a big, cowboy-style number. Mine was "a dainty Dillinger pistol." Now, I had and still have no idea what that meant, but that's what I liked to call my little cap gun.
What are caps, anyway? And how come they don't sell them to kids any more? (And where'd all the coyboy movies go?) Wait ... wait! Don't tell me! Let me guess ... caps are made from a mixture of lead, mercury and gun powder -- which have all since been determined to be not such a good idea to let kids play with. And ... oh, yeah ... we used to break the glass tubes from thermometers whenever we got a chance. We liked to watch the little bead of mercury roll around, as in, "Watch this! Lookit go! It's liquid metal! Cool!"
Being the kind of kid to hang onto things I treasured, I wouldn't be surprised to find that little pistol in a box with my other junk again some day. Another possibility is that it ended up at the bottom of the creek behind our house. When my brother got mad at me, he'd pitch something of mine in there to make me wail. Worked for him every time.
I do still have a few of my favorite toys. Among them: a tin bank that when you crank the handle, it recites "A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned" -- frugal living was considered a virtue way back then; a doll for which my older sister made a ton of clothes. It was the best doll ever thanks to her creativity. When I was four, I wanted a toy tractor in the worst way and decided that was what I'd ask for if anyone offered to buy me a gift. An insurance salesman/agent used to come once a week to collect the premiums from my parents. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, so I promptly told him. He told me I'd never get THAT! THAT is for boys! Well, my dad had been a farmer and I got my tractor. Still have it and can see it from where I sit right now. One other thing of special importance to me that I still have is my toy sewing machine. It's a tiny little thing, but it actually did sew. I guess a lot of my adult interests had very early beginnings.