Mary Louise Eklund

Category: Home life

No, no, I didn’t forget I’m here!

Yes this post is late. I know, I know, teach but I have an excuse from the doctor. Can I make it up?

I do apologize for being late but I’ve been battling strep throat that turned into scarlet fever. Yes, in the summer. Yes, at my age. No, I’ve not a clue as to why or how I got it. I blame Australia as it is winter there. I only know I want out of it! I’m on a second antibiotic and making progress.

During this whole process I’ve not had the energy to do much writing. At times thinking coherent thoughts and composing sentences has been a challenge. Yet, I needed a creative outlet. To fill this and add to my daily-to-do list (gosh knows I ignore enough on that now) I accepted the 365 challenge. That is- make a picture each day for 365 consecutive days. I was all serious in my fevered desire for an outlet that didn’t need words I even joined Project 365 over on Flickr and made my own Personal 365 set in my account. To my now non-fevered brain’s surprise I’ve kept this up for the last 10 days.

I know that you over there squirming in your chair is thinking, “Gee, that’s great Mary Louise but what does that have to do with this blog post I came over here to read?” My answer is everything. I’m still on drugs, but not fun good ones rather icky good ones. I’m still struggling to express ideas in word form but visual, that medium is working full bore. So I shall give you my 365 and why I took each picture.

Day 1

This was recall election Tuesday in my district. We were the second round of recall elections in Wisconsin. I am not going to get political on you. (I’ve vowed not to do that or religion here.) I did feel my duty to vote and since I’d been on the first antibiotic for three days thought I wasn’t contagious. It took all my effort to get up, shower and get to the polls. I did it. I brought back proof I’d done it. I stuck it on my keyboard. Once I decided that I was doing Project 365 I made a picture of it. It represented what was the core of my day for that day.

Day 2

Meet Russell, this is his evil side. Aaron bought this silly deer cut out somewhere and named it Russell. Wanting Russell to have a face on both sides he drew this on the blank side. Being sick I was asleep in bed when Aaron got home. He put Russell on my desk for me find when I dragged myself to work the next day. It so happened the next morning Rappy, my greyhound, was leading the way into my office with me following. She yelped, jumped back, and cowered against me. Wondering what had spooked her (no I wasn’t afraid, let’s just say Rappy isn’t the sharpest tool in the doggie shed. She’s so dull you’d give her to at toddler as a play thing.) I flipped on the light. I cackled in laughter finding Evil Russell on my desk. So he became the photo of the day.

Psst here’s his nice side –

Day 3

I was feeling better or determined to feel better, not sure which looking back on it. Any way I wanted to go outside in the SUN! Our backyard beckoned. The black-eyed Susans were in bloom. So using my new camera on macro I sat on the warm walk and tried to get a good shot. I think I succeeded.

Black-eyed Susans always remind me of my Aunt Susan. She never liked the name of that flower. I can’t say I’d particularly like a flower named “Domestic Violence Mary Louise” either. Summers when I was young and would stay with my Granny Winnie, Susan and I would take walks up the lane. Sometimes with Granny other times just us. I remember one time Susan was picking black-eyed Susans and calling each one a different family name – we had black-eyed Mary Louise, black-eyed Winnie, black-eyed Dwight, black-eyed Gary, black-eyed Alan, black-eyed Sidney, and so on until she had big bouquet that included all her brothers, sister-in-laws, parents, aunts, uncles, and me. So my apologies to Aunt Susan, this one is a different Susan with a black eye.

Day 4

We were getting low on food. I HAD to go out shopping. This was my Walter Mitty moment as I was leaving the grocery. I was chilling though it was hot. So I sat in the warm truck and opened my cold diet cola. As I sipped I watched a grocery store employee ride up on this thing with a chain of carts in front of him. He stopped at the cart corral just across from me and began sorting carts to get them ready to add to his string. I had a brief fantasy of running out there, jumping on that thing, revving it up and riding off like a stagecoach driver running from bandits! YeeeeeeHIIIII! I saw in my mind’s eye the bewildered employee standing there in his dark blue apron watching me go with his mouth open and brow furrowed. Then the moment was over. I was tired and wanted to go home. I put the soda in the holder, started the truck, and drove home.

Day 5

That was a blarggggghhhh day. I was wiped out and running a high fever again. I did nothing. Rappy’s bored sighs from her bed summed it up. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired! So she stood in for my feelings. I was paying for all that imagined cart riding excitement from the day before.

Day 6

During all this time, Mike has been on active duty in Japan. Every night I’d wait on Yahoo IM for him to log in so we could voice chat. I didn’t feel like writing, picture surfing, reading, or any thing with the computer that night. I straightened out my jewelry stock for the Three Gem jewelry sales I do. Here are two bookmarks I made with a dolphin theme. Not bad. I think I’ll be selling some stuff on e-bay eventually and have to work out how to get good pictures of it. This was a start on that idea.

Day 7

Woot! I’d made it a week in photos. However with over a week in treatment I wasn’t feeling well or even much better. So I started beading. Since that’s what I was doing I made several photos of it (hop over to my flickr **points to right side there for link** to see more cool macro jewelry shots). I know I really don’t need more jewelry to sell but I have the material and I like making it. Finally, I realized my inventory on bracelets was low and started making those instead of necklaces or earrings.

Day 8

Woke up feeling undead. So undead I called the doctor’s office. Did you know the undead are hot? Yeah run about 101F unlike us cool living people. This was my mug that morning for my coffee. I thought it appropriate. Doc put me on a new antibiotic that makes me feel icky in a different way. Sometimes I ponder is the cure better than being a zombie with a sore throat and rash.

Day 9

OMG! I’m ALIVE!!! I’m human NOT an an-ah-mule! Yes, on the second dose of the icky antibiotic I started feeling better, except for the warned side effects. I made myself dinner that night! It was a big bowl of veggie fried rice and it was wonderful! I ate at my desk waiting on Mike. I got to chat with him & went to bed feeling like the world was improving.

Day 10 – Today!

This morning I woke to find my daily picture waiting in the bay window. No it doesn’t have much to do with my day’s activities as I worked with the insurance company to try to get my house reassembled. (see this blog post to understand why my house needs reassembly). It wasn’t the best day as far as that goes.

Still he’s a handsome furry fellow and made a wonderful photo for today. He’s the trouble maker of my clowder. If there’s a crash he’ll walk out of the room nonchalantly and swear he heard nothing unusual in there. He had no idea what I’m talking about despite say dust from the broken vase clinging to his black fur.

So there you go – my last 10 day in photos. I’m not sure when I’ll do this again. Let me know what you think in the comments (points down below) if you want this to be a regular thing, if so how often. If you’d rather we never speak of this again and if so when we meet we’ll act like it never happened. Maybe you’d prefer this be just a one shot deal and for those really into it they can go to my flickr set… Just let me know. Maybe, just maybe we can make this a conversation rather than just me shouting into the dark of the internet.

Oh, I forgot to say if you are interested in the photos or the ones made those days but didn’t get chosen just click on the photos here and they will take you my photo feed where you can stroll around and enjoy seeing the sights.

August 25, 2011
We All Know What Runs Downhill

View of the offending pipe from the hole in my bedroom wall

I can tell you in a house the same stuff flows down to the basement. It all started with a quick load of laundry so I could pack my favorite pair of nice shorts to wear at the parent orientation.

Okay, okay I’ll back up a bit.

My son, honors graduate, has been accepted to University of Wisconsin Madison (UWM). He’s majoring in Bio-Chemistry in the College of Honor Science and Letters. At UWM there’s a freshman orientation for students and parents called SOAR. Ours was the 12^th & 13^th of this month. We went there after work on the 11^th to be ready bright and early on the 12^th for our first day of orienting, which brings us back to the laundry for those nice shorts I was wanting to pack.

I was in the laundry room and looked over to the corner to see water flowing from the finished area of the basement into the drain in the unfinished part where the laundry is. Being very sharp and on the ball despite the stomach flu I said, “That’s not right.” Yes I said those very words as I walked out onto soaked carpet that stank.

Long story short… we did what we could to take care of the water with towels, Shop-Vacs, and left dehumidifiers running. Also Mike, my dear Hubby, spotted the problem – the sewage line from the second story was cracked. Yep it wasn’t a water leak I’d been walking in – it was a sewage leak, the flow I saw was from a toilet being flushed. Let’s all say EWWWW!!!

We wrangled the cats upstairs so they didn’t have to be in it. Left them the automatic feeder, water and fresh litter boxes. They murmured something about we get all upset about a missed litter box then we go soak the whole damn basement. We told them to shut up then headed to Madison.

While in Madison we scheduled the plumbers to come out for an assessment. Once we returned they determined it was a wrought iron pipe as old as the house (over 70 years old) that had cracked from old age and use. The repair would involve pulling all of it out and replacing it. That would have to followed by an abatement of the sewer water in our basement. By then the water had evaporated leaving behind… well what sewer water leaves behind. Thank goodness the crack wasn’t large enough for sewer “mud” (okay we all know what it is and it’s not mud but let’s stay with nice plumber euphemisms okay?) to come out. Just for the water that ran over & around it to then flow out into my nice textured Berber carpet.

This necessitated call to the homeowners insurance. You know, I just needed to get another ball rolling with that mud that goes downhill or in our case, down pipe. I was told what they needed to determine coverage. All I had to do was get the plumbers, sewer abatement company (who knew there were such people), and the restoration company all in agreement then start work. Oh I had to schedule them in the correct order. Needless to say a weekend stalled all of that. Come Monday I started juggling again.

Which brings us to today… Today was the plumbers action day. I was prepared by being awoken at 6:15 this morning by a freshly shower husband chattering away about things to ask or tell the plumbers upon their arrival. Then I got up, made coffee, and left said instructions with the plumber’s answering service lest I forget them once caffeinated.

I then practiced the fourth thing I’ve listed on my business cards and cat wrangled. We have three cats, one elderly girl named Mo and two aging brothers named Puss & Boots but called Red and Blue (long story another blog post). There was only going to be one room with a door not affected by the proposed wall cutting to remove the pipe. It was my office. I set up a litter pan and water bowl in the office then wrangled three cats into the room and one greyhound out of the room. It became a crazy house as I caught Red and put him in, his brother Blue would do kitty Matrix moves to get out while the door, swollen by the humidity, wouldn’t close. Then I’d catch Blue to find the door was now stuck shut. I struggled with it while the large black tomcat in my arm continued do his best Neo Ninja moves. Finally, all three were in the office.

The plumbers showed up and I explained how I needed the billing for their time broken out because the insurance would cover assessment time and access time but not actually plumbing time. Go figure. Still better than I expected though, so props to USAA.

What followed was a day of watching a house we’ve worked to make a home become undone. Walls we lovingly painted or agonized over the wallpaper selection were cut into with holes large enough to fit a man. Insulation dust filled the air but with it being 101F outside couldn’t open the windows to vent. There wasn’t a breeze. It cleared once those holes were made. Toilets were set in places they don’t go like tubs and back yards. (Yes neighbor’s it’s a new planter enjoy!) Then came what the whole shebang was about—removing the sewer pipe that serviced two floors. Much banging, ringing, sawing, cracking, thumping, shouting, and aromas I’ll leave to your imagination occurred as over 20 feet of 6 inch in diameter cast iron pipe was removed from my walls and paraded down steps, through my dining room, or up steps depending on where the section was pulled. It was placed next to the toilet enjoying its day in the sun.

Ahh, now to put the new PVC pipe in. So again with the banging, sawing, shouting, and thumping. I again brought water to sweating but grateful plumbers as they worked through lunch. Then it was done.

Once again I have indoor plumbing. One of the nicest niceties of modern life was restored. I now have a new appreciation for it since we’ve done without it for a bit. Kinda like I love my electricity after that two day power outage last month. Is the world trying to tell me I’ve forgotten the lessons of Hurricane Hugo? Taking my cue from Scarlett—I’ll think about that tomorrow.

Where am I now in the downhill flow? I have a Swiss cheese house that smells like wet swimsuits in the basement. The holes cut in the walls, ceilings, and floors now allow the scent to waft freely through the rest of house. However, we can now use all the plumbing in the house without fear of adding to the eau d’toilet in the basement. The abatement is yet to be done. It’ll start Friday morning with my ceremonial cat wrangling.

What’s involved in that? Basically tearing out the finished part of the basement (carpet, linoleum, paneling, ceiling tiles, and contaminated furniture) power washing what’s left with an anti-mold, anti-virus, anti-bacterial, anti-anything bad then putting industrial blowers, dehumidifiers, and such down there running for 3 days straight while keeping all living creatures (humans, cats, and greyhound) out of there.

That will leave me with a stripped basement in my fresh smelling Swiss cheese house that won’t give me roto-virus. After that the restoration guys will be booked. They will patch, carpet, linoleum, paint, panel, tile, and anything else until it’s like new. Then it’s new furniture time, the guys pick the replacement couch for their freshly cleaned man-cave. Which Aaron will only enjoy for a week or two before he moves to Madison.

So basically I’ve learned sewage mud may roll down but it takes cooperation at all levels, inside and out, to clean it up. Doesn’t matter if you’re at the top or the bottom the cleanup will affect you. Just do your best to manage what runs your way, call for help to manage it if you need to, and know that in time it’ll be fixed. Oh, and keep your cats from falling through the holes in the wall & floors in the mean time.

July 20, 2011
A PEN WARMED IN HELL

Boogerman Devil Figure 1992 by Ernest Patton figure in the Folk Art collection of the Milwaukee Art Museum

I can’t remember the essay’s contents but I do remember being intrigued by the tone of it. Here was lovable Mark Twain author of Ransom of Red Chief, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and many other beloved humorous stories being, well harsh, almost mean-spirited but for a good cause. Yes, there was humor in the essay as my high school English teacher Ms. Tunstall read it. Yet, it was a bitter humor one that made you laugh and smart from the sting at the same time. This wasn’t the Mark Twain I knew while appreciating the biting sarcasm (what teenager wouldn’t like that!) I was stunned the warm Southern grandfather figure with the bushy white mustache was so caustic. The anthology of essays was A Pen Warmed Up In Hell. At the time I wanted a copy to read it all. It was out of print and I couldn’t find a used copy. Apparently people weren’t clamoring to be stung by a beloved author.

Years went on and I didn’t pay much mind to it. The phrase “a pen warmed in hell” would scoot across my mind from time to time. When it did I would think, oh yeah there was more to that Mark Twain fella than just warm fuzzy laughs and good dialect writing (oh I wish that would come back in style I love it). Other than that I went on living my the rest of my teens, 20s, 30s, and half my 40s without giving it much more thought. Until a few days ago, this time it didn’t just scoot but instead it walked in and sat down in my mind. “Okay you’re old enough to get now.” It seemed to say and the thoughts started brewing.

Yes, I do get it. I’m aging into a crotchety old koot. I know as I watched people attempt to board my plane with more than two carry ons. I contemplated are they stupid and can’t count or just selfish bastards. Either way I felt some need to tell them, but I didn’t instead I tweeted it to the world. Yeah I said it aloud in a humorous way. Why? Because I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut. I no longer tolerate fools, rudeness, or rude fools as well as I once did. I wish I was aging into a happy smiling Buddha-faced elder woman who looks at such things with loving tolerance. I don’t. I’m not aging into that. I’m aging into hardened hopefully wizened old crone.

I get sick of modern displays of fools. You know those who buy internet scams hook, line and sinker. Okay if it’s not well written, doesn’t make sense, or says a computer will do something that either it can’t do or would take a fortune to program it to do – it’s a scam. If you are unable to reason this on your own a quick search will bring answers of all kinds of reliable authorities to your fingertips. I’m giving you a HUGE benefit of a doubt that you know how to screen sources for reliability and this may be my fallacy.

You know if I have to display my spiritual faith in some on-line community for it to be valid then I don’t want it. Nope, that’s shallow and demeaning of what I see as the most intimate and important aspect of the human – their soul. I can’t see it matters a rat’s ass to any divine being that my status on Facebook says anything in particular. If that’s the litmus test I want to fail. I want my spiritual experience to be deeper and more personal than that. I don’t care to “show it” because what you or anyone else thinks is irrelevant to me.

Also businesses that don’t seem to consider the customer. Yeah you ,Continental Airlines I’m looking RIGHT at you on this one. When you have a gate with 24 seats, that’s not enough. NOW add three more gates waiting at the same door, well those 24 seats are ridiculous. Then to add to the foolishness I don’t tolerate well have security come by and chastise us for standing in the walkway. To make it even worse have young people wallowing around in the chairs lost on electronic devices while the elderly lady next to me struggles to wait standing. Whatever happened to manners? Oh and thanks kid for flipping me the bird when I suggested you wallow in the floor and let her sit down.

Now don’t get me wrong I don’t think youth is going to hell in a hand basket any more than we were or our parents were in the 50’s or their parents in the 20’s. We all did something daring that shocked the prudes of the older generation be it sagging, heavy metal, ducktail hair cuts, or bobbed hair with rolled stockings. That’s fine. I don’t mind rap, don’t like it but I’m not supposed to like it. I don’t mind sagging and think they’ll laugh at it like I do big 80’s hair and 70’s roller disco. Youth is youth and even the ancient Egyptians were sure the next generation were spoiled, uneducated, had it too easy, and were going to hell in a hand basket.

The manners I’m talking about are simple consideration of others. That’s all. Thinking beyond yourself to the rest of the world. Like maybe 2 carry ons means 2 for me too. AND even if I put wheels on it a foot locker still won’t fit under a seat or in the overhead bin even though it’s one of two things I have. Or that maybe since there’s 4 gates here and we don’t want people waiting blocking the hall we should extend our waiting area and add some more chairs. Like maybe being the kid in line in front of me today who saw the old man struggling to find enough change in his car to pay the last bit on his groceries and handed the woman a dollar to cover it. (The old man cried and I just about did).

Just when I get sparks flying from warm hellish pen, someone goes and does something like that. All the things that fire up my caustic tongue are doused by the simple act of paying a buck for someone else. Yeah it’s still out there and I thanked the kid for his kindness. He shrugged it off as the white wires to his ears danced with the lift of his shoulders. “It’s what you’re supposed to do.” He turned and left with chips and soda, pants sagging so I could see plaid boxers, head bobbing to some music I’m no longer the target audience for any way. I bet when he gets older he has a smiling Buddha face or maybe he’ll hold a hot pen tired of those who don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Either way he didn’t just help the old man but he help me, my fiery rant was quench by witnessing the kindness I longed to see.

Home now, my wrath doused I looked for that anthology of Mark Twain’s essays. I find it’s now available on Amazon. I’m awaiting my copy. I get it now, it’s not Mark Twain’s voice there but an aging Samuel Clemens. One who aches to see kindness to others, a bit help to the underdog, and is tired of keeping his mouth shut about it. Ya know, I bet that bushy white mustache would have covered a smile today at the grocery if Old Sam had been in line behind me.

July 5, 2011
The Things I Don’t Miss About Christmas

Many people paint a rosy picture of their childhood Christmases. In hopes of being a bit more practical I will admit there are many things I don’t miss about my childhood Christmases. Not that they weren’t great Christmases but there are some things I’m thankful I DON’T have to do any more.

I don’t miss getting dressed up to sit around the house. Yes, my Nanny (what I called my maternal grandmother) required everyone to look like a Norman Rockwell painting but better dressed. Didn’t work, I was uncomfortable in a dress or skirt and knee socks trying to play with my new toy. Give me jeans any day and I’m a happy camper, better yet sweats to just wear about the house enjoying myself.

I don’t miss having to make my bed and display my gifts. Well I didn’t HAVE to but my Nanny liked it. It did make writing thank-you notes much easier. Besides it’s easier to play with Barbies on a bed when you are in a skirt than in the floor.

I don’t miss the good china. Yeah it’s nice and I carried that stupidity to a new level when I was a young married woman by having specific Christmas dishes (well we used them all winter because they were winter themed). No really the meal tastes just as good on every day dishes and is much less stressful to do.

I don’t miss all the stupid school stuff. When I was in 5^th and 6^th grade our class went about singing to different places and putting on some odd variety show. We wore orange-yellow shirts with our names on them in fuzzy purple letters (our school colors were purple and gold but gold was expensive so orange-yellow stood in). I’d “blossomed” to a C cup by the 5^th grade and they had to shorten my name to fit on the shirt. It looked like one of the girls is named Mary and the other Lou. I don’t miss that.

I don’t miss the oyster stuffing. I like oysters steamed or smoked. I don’t like them in stuffing. Enough said.

I don’t miss the cut up stuff in the gravy. Why my grandmother insisted on chopped boiled egg and chopped turkey giblets put in the gravy is beyond me. I like my gravy plain like my coffee. They’re both beverages right?

Really, this time of the year many people wax nostalgic about their childhood Christmas. However being the cynic with a good heart I don’t want to gloss over the stuff I didn’t like (besides Mary and Lou are still hanging around, albeit a bit lower now).

Yes, there are things about my childhood Christmases I miss. They can all be summed up by one miss—I miss the anticipation. I miss the build up to Christmas. The excitement was so much I felt was going to burst and squirmed with delight at that feeling. It built so much until on Christmas Eve night I couldn’t fall asleep and my parents would take me on car rides to get me to go to sleep . I’d be in my pajamas with a blanket watching the dark sky and Christmas lights go by until I fell asleep.

No for me it’s gone. I get glimmers here and there of the thrill. The closest sustained anxious feeling like that is when I race from the car to the bathroom in Target wondering if I’ll make it in time. (Hey there’s anticipation and squirming involved with great joyous relief when I get there). No the anticipation isn’t the same.

Still looking on the bright side, I get to wear sweats, not wear the girls names about in public, enjoy a plain gravy while eating off my every day dishes, and skip making my bed that day. All in all life’s pretty good.

December 25, 2010
Entry to the Blogosphere

Bathysphere4826 by Bob Richmond on Flickr. Image used through the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution license.

Welcome to the first post in my blog. I’m not real sure where to start. Do I jump in babbling about the topic that entertains me for the day? Do I introduce myself? Do I set a statement of purpose for the blog? Do I need a bathysphere to enter the blogosphere? Maybe a blogysphere?

Since I can talk about anything, I know I have the first one covered. That’ll mostly be what I do, jump into a one-sided conversation on something that strikes my fancy. It’ll become two way if you comment because I will reply.

That brings me to introducing myself. As the blog says, I’m Mary Louise Eklund. I wear a lot of hats in life. I’ll write about all of them here. I’m a published writer of short stories. I’ve been published in Terribly Twisted Tales and most recently Steam Punk’d. I have more in the works. I’ll shout out when they are coming out. Given that I’ll write here about writing, words, language, reading, and all the stuff related to that. What I like, what I find frustrating, my process, inspiration, blocks, and all the stuff I go through trying to write.

I enjoy photography as a hobby. You can see my photos on flickr, again under my name. The most recent ones appear on my sidebar. I’ve sold a few in my time. I even worked as a photographer for a bit in my undergraduate days. I like going out and making photos of things, not so much into photographing people. It’s not that I don’t like people, I love to watch people. I just like to take pictures of things because they don’t fret over how they look. It’s also easier to find stuff that’s willing to pose and release for publication isn’t an issue.

On the people topic, I am into genealogy as a hobby. I love the stories I find, the interesting facts, and the thrill of the hunt. I like trying to solve the puzzle of family lore or where did so-and-so end up. Like Mark Hicks my 3^rd great uncle that went to the Confederacy in the Civil War when all the others in the family were Union. His brother was a Union Calvary officer. The family never welcomed Mark home and blamed him for turning in his brother-in-law who died in Andersonville. Mark wound up in Arkansas destitute and living on the dole. I found him. Those stories and the questions raised as I work through the information I have will show up here. I’ve even got a story inspired by my genealogical research and expect more to come from it.

I make jewelry. I do beading and am trying out resin pouring designs. I will eventually sell the stuff. I’ll link to that here when it’s up and running. I’ll chat about my working on it and other crafting. I crochet and take various courses in other things that hit my fancy. So far I’ve enjoyed fused glass, pottery, and precious metal clay working. You’ll get all about those things too.

I’m a family person. I’m a mom of a 17 year old who is in his senior year in high school. I’m a wife of a busy business man who is also an officer in the reserves. I’m also the only child of aging parents. I’m a person with chronic illness that’s manageable but not curable. I’m a pet parent, 3 cats and a dog. Those things I’ll keep to a minimum. If it involves another person I don’t want to say more than they are comfortable with sharing. I don’t want to whine and complain about health, there’s enough blogs made up of kvetching. However, I’m sure some off it will come through at times.

That takes care of introducing myself and what I’ll write about. What do I intend to do here? I’ll post regularly. My goal is at least weekly but hopefully more often. I’m sure it’ll depend on the ebb and flow of the other areas of my life.

December 24, 2010