Tag: Houndstooth

A really happy day

Today is our late friend Steve R’s birthday. The last birthday we celebrated with him and other friends was in 1992. Every year since, I’ve made him a cake (or sometimes, Lynne made him a cake), and we always invited friends or coworkers to share it with us in memory of Steve.

Usually it’s a Winnie the Pooh-themed cake, and this year, it was again. Also this year, after thirteen months, because we are all fully vaccinated and past our two-week waiting period, we have a friend staying here to celebrate with us. It seems right that Lynne is the first friend back at Houndstooth Hall, because she was the last to stay with us here before we began to isolate at home.

Steve would have been delighted, and any step toward whatever is the new normal is a welcome one.

Happy anniversary of your birth, Steve, and welcome back to your room, Lynne and Minute!

Happy Earth Day!


I love globes and dolls, but fortunately I have only a few globes of varying sizes.

I know plastic is harmful to our planet, but though I buy a lot of dolls, I also provide a new home for other people’s dolls. One time a couple of my friends even rescued a doll from a trash can and brought him to me. He’d been somewhat mutilated for a Christmas fashion, but did I reject him? NEVER. I cleaned him up and he has a happy home with me still.

This globe was a gift from Lynne many years ago. The doll is one of my character dolls. The dress was made by me in 2010. And the lantana she is posed in front of was frozen down to sad little sticks, but now Mother Nature has stepped in and is bringing it back to beautiful bright green and yellow life.

Nature will do so much to heal the planet if we will only stop hurting it.

Tiny Tuesday!

We lost a LOT of botanicals during the big freeze, including many potted plants more than twenty-five years old. I have a hard enough time growing things, without this insane climate chipping away at our efforts.

I already showed you that we’d cleaned out Aaron’s garden, and we–meaning mostly Tom–have been trying to take care of the various beds around the house to clean them up and prune things until we have the time and inclination to find more plants for our pots.

In case you don’t remember, this is the book that kicked off Tiny Tuesdays however long ago that was.

And I spotted this page in it.

While I don’t have an actual flower garden, I have been casting a critical eye on one of the beds next to our house where heavenly bamboo grows. It’s not actual bamboo, but the nandina shrub, and people just call it heavenly bamboo. (Not so heavenly if you’re a human, cat, dog, or bird who ingests the toxic berries. Or maybe a little TOO CLOSE to heavenly. Hmmm.)

So I started cleaning it out and pruning, and when things got beyond my reach, Tom did his part to finish. I didn’t take before photos of how overgrown these were, or how the bed was covered with last year’s leaves. But once it was pruned and cleaned out, we moved a couple of the ferns that survived the freeze to join the nandina.


The larger bush had actually been covering most of that window and is now cut down to merely brush the sill.


Another angle. Maybe we’ll put some potted flowers in there, too, later. We’ll see what can take the sun there.

On the other side of the house are the little trellises where my ruellia vines grow. They were a HUGE mess after the freeze, as well as because of other invasive vines that were choking them out. Once again, I failed to take a before picture, but thanks to Tom, they are much tidier now, although the trellises themselves may not last another couple of seasons. The vines will be safe; we can always get new trellises. I hope they bloom again this year, but they may need more recovery time. The flowers are favorites of bees and hummingbirds.


Our fence, on the right, looked just like the one on the left only three years ago when it replaced the old fence after the Harvey flood. Our neighbor replaced hers in the last few months. The sun and climate are so brutal here.

Here are some of the leaves and cuttings that Tom and I cleared out, in the only lawn bags approved by the city of Houston. If you put the wrong bags on the curb, they won’t pick them up and will slap stickers on them to let you know you need the environmentally friendly bags. This means everyone driving or walking by KNOWS YOUR SHAME.

Stay tuned as we continue to reclaim our yard and flowerbeds and replenish our pots.

Busy doin’ nothin’

What I’ve been doing hasn’t actually been nothing, but that title goes with the song I’m posting at the end. Over Friday and Saturday, I did yard work on the bed of shrubbery next to our driveway and cleaned up some more of winter’s gift of leaves and spring’s gift of other tree stuff from our front walkways.

I’ve also continued the purging and reorganizing of several bins and files. I created these two large piles of paper to go to a shredding company next week.

As for the Neverending Saga, I MAY have finally figured out an angle for the chapter I’m writing. Too soon to say, because I’ve already made several false starts that ended up deleted. Hopefully tomorrow, I’ll get on paper what I mentally wrote while I was coloring today. I finished this mandala that my mother-in-law drew as a birthday gift for me. It’s brighter than the photo makes it look, but too much flash washed it out.

Inspired by bossa nova, Brian Wilson’s song was on the Beach Boys’ 1968 album Friends. About the minutiae of a day in the life, I once decided “Busy Doin’ Nothin'” was the forerunner to Suzanne Vega’s song “Tom’s Diner” from 1987, and that song’s parody, “Jeannie’s Diner” by Mark Jonathan Davis in 1990. You can find both of those latter songs on YouTube (along with the Beach Boys, below).

State of the Hall

Today Keith and his helper whose name I do not know came to Houndstooth Hall. (ETA: I now know his name. It’s Jay.)

Where it started:

How it’s going:

The black plastic bag covering the hole in the kitchen ceiling is gone, and the job should be finished tomorrow. WOOHOO!

Meanwhile, I’ve been busy, too. Witness the closet doors in the guest room known as “Lynne’s room.”


And the wonders within. On the floor, from top to bottom are a bin of doll clothes; a bin of Monster High Dolls; a bin of Model Muse dolls; and on the bottom, a bin of doll furniture, vehicles, horses, and other marvelous things. Above them, the shelf is full of boxed dolls.

Like this:

And this:

More boxed dolls and doll cases on the shelves on the other side of the closet:

Little blue bin on the left has Monster High Doll accessories. Little blue bin on the right has “character” dolls–that is, dolls who I sometimes dress and pose to entertain and inspire me as I write the characters they represent. Those four small containers on top of that are Barbie and Ken accessories, mostly shoes. They have more shoes than Carrie Bradshaw, an outdated reference to Sex and the City. But probably not more shoes than Imelda Marcos, an outdated reference to the former First Lady of the Philippines who is now 91 years old.

The four orange bins on the bottom are full of individually wrapped dolls. Since I’ve been asked, the total number of dolls in that closet is 456 (edited: 459), acquired over 55 years. Considering that I’m 135 years old, it could be worse.

Here is a cute shot of a character doll who’s currently living in 1974 on paper.

I now know exactly what I have and have catalogued and photographed where everything is. It’s organized and at hand–no more asking Tom to bring bins from our outside storage room and searching for that ONE doll or ONE cape or tuxedo I need. I’m happy they’re inside, climate controlled, and flood resistant or at least easy to quickly move UP should the need arise. And there’s still room for Lynne or a guest to hang clothes and put shoes–and more room can be made by stacking the bins a little differently. But NO MORE shelf space. =)

Mostly I’m happy because the things that fill the Hall–among them, books, music, movies, dolls and a few other toys, stones and crystals, a bit of art, crafting supplies–all inspire me and nourish a nature that has yearned to create my entire life. I never wanted things for the sake of things; everything is a story or becomes one. I don’t know any other way to be and am grateful for everyone who’s encouraged and accepted me for who I am.

A little extra TLC


Although I gave these little friends a moon bath to clear and clean them on the night of the full moon, their home was a dusty mess. Like a Metaphysical Hazel (a reference you won’t get unless you are of a certain age), I decided they were overdue for housekeeping.


First up, got rid of their old cotton mattresses.


I gave their case a good cleaning and put in their new mattresses.


The wands got some cleaning, too.


After a water bath, they’re back in their freshly cleaned home, and some new friends have even moved in.

Good housekeeping makes good energy.

An anniversary

March 10, 2020, is the day I made a firm decision about myself and my life. It was a transport day, and as I sat at the table photographing dogs, I took notice of one of my favorite volunteers as she carried her foster dog our way before putting him on the van. This foster mom was normally all smiles and conversation at transport, but on that day, she was subdued and uncharacteristically quiet.

As I watched her, I thought, She doesn’t feel well. I don’t know if it’s something physical or her mood, but something isn’t right.

And though almost everybody I’d talked to since December about this weird virus seemed to think I was blowing it out of proportion, it all felt eerily familiar, like another pandemic I’d been through.

I’d told my employer in January that I wanted to stop the volunteer photography, and they were trying to develop a photo team to replace me. I could no longer handle the weather extremes, and we’d gone from one to two transports a week. I felt constantly tired and stressed out. I realized that any transport day, any one could stop and talk to me without either of us aware one of us was sick and contagious.

March 10 was the day I decided I was officially finished photographing animals at transport. My actual job could be done from home, and I intended to self-quarantine and research any guidelines I could find from scientists and medical professionals about this corona virus. My decision was later supported by my doctors.

It’s been a long, challenging year. I tried not to make COVID (or racism, or politics) the only things I talked about here or in conversations with friends and family. Some adjustments were easy; others weren’t. I was laid off in April, but I’ve always had many ways to occupy my time. I’m more resilient in some ways than I used to be.

I have a lot of masks. More dolls. More coloring books. A lot of books I haven’t read. Some new music. I’ve purged a lot of excess things that took up space. I’ve given away coloring books and pages to people I thought would like them. I’ve delved into my past for tangible items to display that bring me comfort and happiness. I’ve made some new art to give away.

I know a wider range of people on social media than I used to. I’ve reconnected with old friends, and worried about other, quieter friends. My hair has grown uncolored and uncut for over a year. I’ve lost twelve pounds. I’ve mourned the death of a beloved friend as well as a neighbor who I greatly admired. We’ve been through an extensive bathroom repair, a different kind of hurricane season, and that ridiculous cold snap that still leaves us with unfinished home repairs. Our dogs are fine. Our living situation is fine. I still enjoy it that Tom is working from home.

I’ve accomplished nothing earth-shattering, and I’ve had feelings shattered in unexpected ways. I hope I never get too old and jaded to discover new and wonderful things, but I also realize I’ll never be so old that I won’t be surprised by the grim actions of others.

My ultimate selfie of the past year is this one, because I am sure THIS IS THE FACE I MAKE WHEN I READ DUMB SHIT AND RIDICULOUS PEOPLE ONLINE. It is the expression of an annoyed Ram who does not suffer fools.

So here I am, imperfectly me, a year later. I’m certainly more hopeful about the future, and eager for vaccinations to help me reunite with people. It’ll be a while, but that moment is more real to me than it has been for twelve months.

I wish everyone the best physical, mental, and emotional health, and I hope that you, too, feel more optimistic.

P.S. Please don’t give me a reason to give you The Becky Look.™