A Blob Post

Almost exactly 3 years ago, Howard took
this picture of a chipmunk, who was sitting

near a drainpipe here at That Old House.

On this day Mr. Chipmunk, or more likely his many descendants,

would be wiser to stay under cover. 

 Although today looks a lot like this time, two years ago:

2011

When it snows, I tend to take pictures from inside the house.

Our side yard, this morning, from the dining room:

Our side yard, two years ago, from the front porch,

at that odd "blue light" time of day in the late afternoon. 

2011

 I am not the only family member who thinks it's best

to stay under cover on a nasty day.

Dylan is napping in his favorite spot: the back of the Study sofa.

He has never tumbled off backwards; he leads a charmed life. 

Or, possibly, there's a zipper in that nice coat of his, and inside there's a cat. 

My Mom used to say that the Lord watches over little children, drunk men, and fools.  Dogs, too?

Gilda prefers terra firma.

She is sawing wood in the Study crate.

Note to her foster Mom, Adriane -- see how sleek her coat is?  We done good.

While I was snapping pictures out of windows this morning,

I noticed that the Parlor mantel is nekkid.  Like, totally. 

 But I also saw something even more odd

than a nekkid mantel shelf.

See it?  Lower right corner.  Fuzzy cloudy blobby thing.

My Nikon camera sometimes produces an image with

a fuzzy spot, but today I was using my Canon.

Which doesn't.  Make spots I mean.

 I took two of these shots, and both show the blob.

 Have our spirits returned?

:-)

Happy Tuesday!  -- Cass 

 (Who needs to clean the lens on her camera!)

Boo! The Ghosts of That Old House Wax Poetic

In less than one week, it will be Halloween.
I have decided to focus on that, and not the
looming Thanksgiving holiday, coming up
very fast in my rearview mirror.

In 2009, I posted a Halloween tablesetting in our Parlor,

and I'm recycling it today.  Hope you enjoy it, and the 

little bit of "poetry" penned by the Ghosts of That Old House.

So, BOO!

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."

The Spider and the Fly
Written by Mary Howitt (1799 to 1888)

Yes, come and see our curious things, dear precious readers all.
There's a table in our parlor, O so charming, O so small.
You can rest your weary skeletons upon our chairs so black. 
Do not fret about the ghosties sending shivers down your back.
Do not worry, all you pretties; you will not hear ghostly calls.
You will not hear howls or rattling chains in That Old House's walls.
For the ghosties here are kind ones, and we wish you only well.
Now sit down and sip our wine, for we've a story still to tell.

A shameless rip-of of The Spider and the Fly.
Written by the Ghosts of That Old House,

*********************************

Welcome to the Parlor at That Old House. Let's play pretend.

It's Halloween, and it's drawing on to dark.

The wind whips the leaves around the lawn and up onto the porch

(what ever happened to the landscaper's promise to come two days ago?).

We begin to light the lights, and hope for Trick or Treaters.

We love Trick Or Treaters.

With a bit of good Bearnaise Sauce . . . .

Come, I've set two places at a little round table
in the Parlor: one place for you, one for me.

We're just going to have a snack, nothing fancy. Maybe a glass of wine.
Blood red, of course. Here is your special glass:

The Jack O' Lanterns are troubling the gathering darkness.

A wee little ghostie watches over us. His name is Rudy, and he has lived

with our family for almost 20 years. His story is for another post.
But you must behave when Rudy is watching. . . that's all I'm saying.

In our tablesetting, some very old plated flatware.
Just the right size to use for the children
who come knocking at your door . . . . to feed them, I mean.

An Ebay find: vintage flatware -- 1919 era -- in a charming small luncheon size.

Or, possibly, child size.

Just right for a spooky little feast.

Let's see what else we played with today. . . .

Pumpkin plates from HomeGoods.  Not dishwasher safe. Boo.

Underplates -- old restaurant dishes, white with a green stripe.
They were my Mom's.

Sterling china, in Ohio.

Napkins -- goofy Halloween print, sewed 'em myself eons ago.
Wine glasses. . . where else? Dollar Tree, 2008.
Rudy the Ghost -- from a craft fair, 20 years ago.

Black iron candlestick -- church rummage sale, 50-cents.

Pumpkin applique table runner -- can't remember! Kohl's or HomeGoods.

Dried up leaves on porch and lawn -- from Mother Nature. Free.

BOO!

Happy Pea Soup Thursday, and
Happy Halloween!  -- Cass

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Ghosts? Or Just Bad Housekeeping? I Report, You Decide!

This isn't a pretty show-and-tell post.
Instead, it is a mystery tale.

Come and get your psychic on . . . .

When my girls were still in elementary school, I bought new
everyday stainless flatware, for 24. Enough to feed a crowd.

It was made by Pfaltzgraff in the Addison pattern,
and was shiny, good looking 18/8 stainless.
It was on the table at most of our meals for years.  And years.


When we moved to That Old House in 2008, it moved with us.
All 120 pieces of it, with maybe a spoon or two missing.

Then something odd happened.

By 2010, it was hard to find enough forks at dinner when we had guests.  Or, sometimes, enough teaspoons for ice cream or fruit.  Or even tea!

So I counted my flatware.  Knives, soup spoons, salad forks - there were a few missing, but that can happen over long use.  I guess.  But teaspoons?  I could only find 8.

And dinner forks?  6.  Just 6.

The Pfaltzgraff Addison pattern is the top one, above.  Isn't it pretty?
The larger fork is old hotel plate, bought at a rummage sale.

Only six dinner forks out of the original 24.

What the ???  

Yes, I am a casual housekeeper, but seriously . . .  how careless and sloppy would I have to be to misplace 18 big ol' dinner forks, and almost as many spoons?

I'm not that careless and sloppy.

Shut up, Howard.

I searched, re-counted, searched again.

But the Pfalzgraff flatware was gone.

Poof!  

What happened?
At a party, a guest may mistakenly toss a piece of flatware in the trash.
But we had big parties at our last house without losses.

We don't have a food disposal, so no grinding of forks and spoons by accident.  

Crazy, huh?  

But wait!  There's more!

In 2011, before our daughter's wedding, I ordered new flatware:

Reed & Barton Williamsburg Royal Scroll.

I ordered from The Silver Superstore, here.  They had the best price.
(Not paid for the endorsement, it's just the truth.)

I fell in love with it years ago on a trip to Williamsburg.

But I didn't need it, and I couldn't afford it!

It's beautiful.  Heavy, shiny, 18/10 stainless.

In 2011, I ordered service for 12.

The other day, I decided - just on a whim - to count my new flatware.  And count it again.  And again.  

And guess what?

Two of the dinner forks and one of the teaspoons

have gone AWOL in the past 16 months.

I am not making this up.

So what is going on?

Does That Old House have an insatiable appetite for flatware?

Do the ghosts who may or may not live here want forks and spoons

for their ghostly feasts?  Do ghosts even do that?

(Our ghost story here.)

Could it be the spirit of whomever wrote this on our cellar wall?

Can you read it?  It says "Hunger."  I noticed it a few months after we moved in.
Let's just say our cellar is not my favorite part of our dear house.
I do laundry in a dungeon.

Is someone trying to drive me bonkers, a la Gaslight?

(Hint: driving me bonkers will be a very short roller coaster ride.)

This is wackier than socks that enter a clothes dryer as two,

and come sashaying out as one.

No one has ever solved that mystery, either...

Or, could I be such a hapless housekeeper

that I keep tossing them out or losing them myself?

That's the scariest option of all.

Any ideas?  

By the way . . . in case you think I exaggerate the dungeon-like ambience of our cellar:

Really. Don't you expect to see iron shackles embedded in the walls,
and Edmond Dantes curled up in a corner? 
Which would be OK if he irons.  And uses a litter box.

Have a lovely day!

Don't let any spooks steal your silverware; you need it for your

table setting blog posts.  And also to eat.  -- Cass

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P. S.  Flatware isn't the only stuff gone missing; That Old House seems to have purloined clothing at an alarming rate, both mine and Howard's.  So she's a kleptomaniac and a cross-dresser.