Wisconsin Cactus and Succulent Club

The Wisconsin Cactus and Succulent Club (not to be confused with The Cactus Club) is one of my favorite features of the State Fair. They are always right next door to the bonsai group: I know just where to go. Huge Jade plant: the proud owner, cultivator, bonsai-er talked to me for awhile. He had me convinced I need to attend a WCSC meeting. I did try to get his picture next to it, but it didn't happen.

Amazing! Look at the shapes! Some of these come from faraway locales: the Canary Islands, for instance, was the birthplace of the large specimen on the far left.

Rosy pink, almost magenta- and gorgeous.

This one looks like glass. Or candy.

Look at the swirling colors and the pink flowers- I could get lost in this for hours. Trippy! Next club meeting is in November. Maybe, eh?

Gotcha!!

So, for a long time now I have been wanting one of those neat grabber things, with a little squeezy handle and the ability to pick up anything without having to bend over. Even a threaded needle, as I have been catching up on my mending (PUN!). E-Z Grabber. I fully endorse this product, even though my insurance did not cover it.

Well, I finally got myself one. Look how cheerfully yellow it is too! What a happy color for grabbing. Usually I want something for a long time before finally breaking down and buying it, and since my body broke down first, and then I reached my breaking point (oh do all these whiny puns SLAY ME!) I bought one from the always-helpful Ye Olde Pharmacy. It didn't break the bank. I love that place (and puns). They sell things no one else seems to have (for instance, I also got a non-aluminum deodorant crystal thing. Honest people in my life can help me test it out.) I mean it.



Speaking of sensory issues, my PT gave me some interesting advice: use sensory pleasures, such as funny pictures, petting the cat (yes, Jinxxx is in my lap right now, "helping" me type), and pleasant smells to trick yourself help the brain release chemicals that will alleviate pain. So, after getting the grabber thing, I went to Penzey's and bought allspice and cloves- two of my favorite and most pungent spices.- The clerk there was so helpful. She was an older lady. She saw me open the door with my cane and was imediately at my side, found exactly what I wanted justlikethat, put it all in her pockets to carry it for me, and was just incredibly kind (another glowing endorsement, I know). The store was a bit quiet and I told her my rationale for extra spice use. She told me she knew all about pain- indicating to me what I had already noticed- the ravages of rheumatoid arthritis- and yet she was so kind, so helpful, so pleasant.


So I made an amazing hot beverage (recipe: hot water, allspice, cloves, pinch of brown sugar, tsp vanilla). It did seem to help. It certainly was tasty.


And I can't wait to use my grabber to clean up trash in Lincoln Park this summer, the original reason I wanted it in the first place. Look out, chip bags. Get out of town, blunt wrappers. I'm coming to get you.

Weed bouquet

Today is the 11th anniversary of my marriage to Brain. He doesn't get me flowers, ever, using his half-Vulcan logic: "You have flowers," broadly indicating the yard. This year, though, all I have are weeds. And a fairly good excuse to not have gotten rid of them. (Though I had eradicated the evil garlic mustard previously, at least). I missed the peonies' bloom- pushing aside the taller-than-myself weeds revealed only shriveled brown. I had hoped to snip a bouquet for myself, at the very least.

Since many of my neighbors care meticulously about their own lawn appearances, particularly those directly next door in either direction, this is especially frustrating.

So today, Brain, ever the practical pragmatist, weeded the front flowerbeds for me. Ah, mature love. That, and the perfectly cooked steak he has been making for me.

A B A Semar

So, the other week I was trying to figure out to whom I could cry out for help: I have a pair of beloved shoes that desperately needed resoling. I thought the man that typically takes care of such things for me (A B A Semar, 5464 N Port Washington Rd Milwaukee, WI 53217; 414-332-0600) was out of business, since the building he worked out of got remodeled, redone, refurbished, and his sign was gone. The place looked empty. The staff at Stan's (whom I finally called out of desperation) said otherwise. "Go to the back of the building," said the voice on the phone, telling me the secret to the meaning of life (and shoe repair). "He is there." I felt furtive, like I was going to see Mr. Miyagi, or The Oracle.

Sure enough, Mr. Semar was sitting outside, by the back door, a spry little old elf.


When I got inside, I noted all manner of watch repair items- and since I had repaired my watchband myself with black electrical tape and mightily resisted The Brain's efforts to buy me a new one (his taste can be, well, dissimilar to mine)- I asked them to replace the band on my old one, which the did, whilst I waited. (I love my watch. I had bought it at a thrift store in Eagle River, WI. It is special to me.) Now that it has a new band, it is pretty much perfect again. I wear it all the time, except in the shower.


I do get attached to objects, and have a sentimental streak that borders on pathological, but it's not the worst thing, really. Having items repaired keeps the economy going, too- not just buying new things. I now have my shoes back too- they are refurbished like new- and since they are the kind that I can just slip into, they are just ideal with this back thing I have going on. What excellent timing. I am trying to stay optimistic. These little things make all the difference.

Re-Threads on Humboldt

Re-Threads, a new store that opened up on Humboldt just north of Locust, is like having the coolest friend ever to trade clothes with. It is like thrift shopping without having to paw through stained, torn shirts and too much Faded Glory.
The store went up so fast and seemed so cool that I thought it had to be part of some regional or national chain. I asked the friendly, efficient clerk about that. Nope, it's locally owned and operated- something the clean and easy-to-navigate website corroborates.
Photo courtesy of the Re-Threads website.

The premise is simple: you bring in your clothing that is still worth rockin', but just doesn't fit your body/life/closet anymore, and trade it for cash or store credit. Brain and I walked in with items that I had previously loved and knew that someone else would someday love just as much, and walked out with some cash, a pair of pants that I want to say "fit me like a glove" (but no, they simply fit me like a wonderfully-fitting pair of pants) and a sweet Thneed. (I don't think this versatile garment has a real name, but it is very awesome and even has the original tag still attached.) Re-Threads is like being invited to one of those parties where people bring clothing that just ain't working out anymore and have a big trade, except the pool of people involved is just that much bigger. They could use more men's clothing though; I hope for Brain's sake that shakes out eventually, but I loved it. The concept is brilliant.

...and we lived forever after, in a cottage by the sea

On Sunday Brain and I walked around Long Lake so that I could look at all the lakeside houses that I was coveting- the ostentatious mansions, the cottages with bleeding hearts and low stone walls, the beat-up old ones with outhouses just a bit too close to the water's edge. This sweet doomed angel, next to a cottage for sale, is about to be torn down to clear the view for a planned new house. (We enjoy our vacations thoroughly.)

You can see the campground from this spot. When we are camping, I always find cottages to think I want, but I realized that if I actually had one, I wouldn't be there; I would be back in Milwaukee, worrying about the place. Plus, I enjoy the allure of the new. That's the thing about camping: you can put your tent anywhere and explore all the crazy little places you never knew existed.