the last windmill cookie

fire1.jpgBig, beautiful snowflakes are gliding down from the south to the north in the yard. The back steps are still ice covered, it’s about an inch thick. The Chihuahua no longer wants to use outdoor facilities due to the risk of sliding off the steps. At some point I have to go out to light the stove. The electric heaters don’t touch the first 24 inches from the floor up; the tootsies are cold! Remember, I have to go outside to the basement to light the fire. 😉

Last night I was given the last windmill cookie in the cookie jar. I haven’t eaten cookies since January, so wasn’t even sure what was in the jar when I handed it to the beau…he wanted cookies. Lorna Doons were in there, a couple of leftover birthday cookies from January, which I think were someone else’s Christmas cookies, and underneath it all, the hidden windmill. I liken it to the windmills of one’s mind…buried under everything else, amidst the crumbs, etc…one perfect cookie remains like a buried treasure. I should learn how to make my own windmill cookies…they just don’t put enough almonds in them anymore. Hmmm, a new goal, albeit an unusual one. It’s not like I am Susie Homemaker when it comes to making cookies, especially without kids around anymore. A lot of things don’t happen because I’m not around the kids.

Now I have two dogs and a cat for kids. I would rather have a couple of nice koi in a pond, but no, I have what I have due to strange choices. Like the dogs…talk about strange choices.

++Monk was on (9:49 am) as I copied and pasted my old journal entry about when we got the dogs, which was just under an entry about being at the dentist. Funny coincidence…he was being tortured in a dentist chair.  Anyway…here is the entry about the dogs:

October 18th, 2006

Went to Vevay for awhile so the beau could close a few of the standing seams on the roof. Afterwards, we went up the hill to get the prescriptions filled (for my teeth). Since we had to wait about an hour, we thought we would go look at the dogs at the pound again, and the next thing you know, we pick up two dogs, bought dog food, showed the dogs off to two friends and introduced them to one of the cats. “Peanut” is the Chihuahua, the name he came with from a previous owner; he is 11 years old, so they say, blond and in need of flea baths and nail trimming, and though he has cataracts he can still see. I think he had a day left in the pound, since after 3 days they put some of them down. Doesn’t matter to me that he is old, so they gave him to me for free, that was nice, I can love him for free too.


So when we got home, the beau cut his nails because they said the dog would not let them do it, but they did give him a little bath at the pound before we left; of course, he still has fleas. They said he was flea-ridden when brought in, so if they really gave him some Frontline, the fleas should be gone soon, but of course, now I have to be spraying the house again. Grrr. He is a next-to-lap dog, meaning he is happy to lie next to someone in a chair. He seems to prefer the beau to me. He also likes to get under the blankets like Scuttle the cat does, with the beau. I need to get a walking harness for him sometime soon, so he can go to the river and back with me. It will help get those claws down a little too. I found my old Indian ankle bracelet (with tiny little bells on it) to use as an indoor collar for Peanut, so if he is walking about the house I can hear the tinkle of the bells and not trip and fall over him.


The other dog is not likely to be underfoot for long; he is a Newfoundland/border collie mix, with feet bigger than any dog I have ever seen, and he is only a couple of months old. The collar I had for Emily, my last dog, will fit him a short while. He is black with grey mottled feet and a white tipped tail. He keeps hiding under things, which I suppose is ok for a few days. In a month he won’t fit under anything. His name is Reuben or Ruben, unsure of the spelling yet, but we will figure that out soon I guess. Must have been that dictionary random game word that came up the other day; remember…chein…syndactylus…yep. On the way out of the pound, as the girl held the dog up to me and I touched his feet, I discovered that “Reuben” has a double dew claw, and for those that don’t know what that means, it appears to be a webbed toe…a double toe. I did not know that until that moment.


The word “syndactylus” came to me two days ago, before even going to the pound, that is correct. Anyone paying attention here? How many signs do you need to know something is going on? I figured that was just one more clarification. My Mom’s favorite sandwich was a Reuben, mine too, and when the beau said that was the name he wanted for the dog, I said fine, knowing it was just another confirmation.


The day before I wrote (in part)


Stopped at the animal shelter , like I was guided there today. It is on the same street as Goodwill. We saw a big puppy that just came in yesterday, a combination fluff ball that seems to have a border collie face and very large paws. The beau definitely liked that one, saying it was like his old dog Xeri. Next to his cage was an old Chihuahua named Peanut, barking his head off. I picked him up and held him a minute. He has cataracts, his nails are long and he is a little overweight; his master gave him up because he was not allowed to have animals where he lived and had no money to move elsewhere. Rather than move out he got rid of the dog. Soooooo, I could have a Chihuahua for a couple of years if I brought him home. I know how it is to be uprooted from a certain lifestyle. Old dogs need love… just like old women, lol.


Today’s horoscope reads, “People want to know you, what you’re up to and how they can be a part of it. This want seems to threaten your need for privacy and solace.” Figures. In the other paper it reads, “Explore different interests or schools of thought today. Avoid ruling out philosophies or concepts until after you have done your homework.” Philosophies…yeah, I heard that. Today’s random word is empyreal, the dictionary opened to that word, among others, on the two pages between emotional deprivation and enantiotropy. Curious that “eantio” means opposite and tropy takes me to trope, rather than the definition of the word “eantiotropy” itself I see it as pieces. Must have something to do with Hagar, lol.


Anyway, the word “empyreal” caught my eye first, the rest is gravy. For some reason I decide to play “random order” for a moment. Here is how it goes:


NOT circuit” is a circuit that is energized when its input is not. Next random word is “pas du tout” which means not at all. Yesterday I wore a shirt that said, “We short-circuit the competition.” Next random word is something I have not heard of before, the “law of excluded middle“, the principle of logic that any proposition must be either true or false. Hmmm, nothing in the middle huh? Next word, sloganize. You have got to be kidding, lol. Next word is ignition, then red-hot. Oh my. The next thing I get is a sign under a geometry heading, meaning parallel, and it says, “is parallel to; as in ABIICD“. Ok, I got the visual. I see below that a sign that looks like a wave over two horizontal lines, that means “is congruent to”, and I understand congruent so I flip again and the word prism comes up. I read the words, “Geometry, a solid having bases or ends that are parallel, congruent polygons and sides that are parallelograms.”


 Ok, we are talking via a geometric association and visualization and it IS real, just not easily explained to others. Someone else can come up with the formula. I want one more thing to clarify. I open the dictionary to the word swollen. Yeah, I have a very physical sense of that in my mouth.


Hello. Just random words you say? I would say the accentuator makes all the difference in how well this is received. “Accentuator?”



I hear, “Come on and take a free ride, as I finish pasting the old journal entries.” The beau has changed the channel once again.” Oh, the windmills of one’s mind…

Yesterday I made a new page, if anyone noticed…pot bottom moon, and included a photo of my tabernacle tin angels. I read back one more entry while I had the journal open and found this (it includes the “chein” reference): 


I have a daytimer that used to belong to my ex-husband. It is from October 2000. It seems when I was having a hysterectomy there were two important things on his calendar, one of them was Argosy Casino. He did order flowers for me, using my mother’s credit card; I’m sure she told him to do so for me since she was in the hospital dying of cancer. I remember when I came out of surgery that I was having a difficult time under the influence of powerful drugs, so how would I know what time it was. It is always nice to go back and look at calendars to help put things in perspective. Some perspective, eh?


So anyway, it has been six years now, and I can’t help but think it was the last “milestone” I went through in my life with my mother still alive. She is still alive, but not in the physical sense. She guides me, though, like an angel.


Tabernacle tin angels have begun to multiply. I made the bodies like a “keyhole” out of leftover, hot-dipped, tin scraps, put 7 stars around the circle that is the head, two holes for eyes, and using small copper wire for wings. I had to look in the Bible just now to read why I chose the 7 stars…I listen as best I can. In Revelations the mystery of the seven stars says the seven stars are angels, and well, since angels are messengers, it makes sense to me that I have begun these now. These are indeed keyhole angels; I have always had the key. My mother left it to me to find after she died. I found it under her catechism book. The root comes to fore…katech(ein)…ein…chein…I started the day with my mother’s old dictionary open, I opened it randomly to the letter K. When I opened it to that page, I noticed little pieces of white paper in the fold of this rather large book. They are an unusual shape, as though they were tips of rounded fingernails cut straight across on the bottom. First impression is all I can say. I used to think about having fingernails like my mother’s, very strong. I now have a thumbnail just like hers…one very strong thumbnail.


If you say the word “thumbnail”, most people will think you are describing a miniature depiction of a larger one, especially in computerese. For some reason I decided to look up the word thumbnail in this particular dictionary. According to this dictionary a thumbnail is also a porkchop. Ah, my mind goes into stream of consciousness, and I think about the title to a book, “When is Jesus Bringing the Porkchops?” My mother used to love to watch comedy shows and one of her favorite comedians was George Carlin, the author of the book whose title I just mentioned. I notice the dictionary pages changed as I wrote this paragraph, maybe due to the way I placed the book on the box next to me? Anyway, it is now open to the page on which the word is synchronize, no lie, and the definition to the previous word, synchronism is just above it. Uh yeah, I would say there is something synchronous going on here. Porkchop, by the way, was once a release word for one of my sister’s dogs, although we used a different language, not English.


Considering this stream of consciousness, I made a “chein” connection here, too. Chein means dog. I just listen as it comes to me. I look back over at the dictionary, seeing the word “syndactylus” which lets me know I am receiving information from the big guy, a clarification of sorts. It’s a family thing.


 Today’s headlines tell of an Indiana nun canonization today. They say you have to die to be a saint, unless of course, one is a living saint. I have to wonder how many miracles people need to believe they exist? Must be a reason I am using her dictionary now. My eye goes back to the dictionary, to the word “synecdoche”. I have to laugh as I read this: “syn + ekdoché, [the] act of receiving from another”. Hmmm. Synecdoche. On the TV I hear someone say that messengers can make mistakes, they can even die, so one needs to know the true message. Uh, isn’t that what I just said? The mystery of the 7 stars and all? Another character says, “Speaking of mysteries….” Synchronicity abounds. A commercial comes on for Charlie’s Angels…oh yeah.


A few minutes later I hear someone on TV say, “who are you”; the answer was “Messengers.” I look up to see a man in a wheelchair being handed a bouquet of flowers. Hmmm, interesting turn of events.


I am back to the present now…weren’t those nice entries? I decided to put the word of the day on my main page today…the word of the day is perdurable…I like that!

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