Discombobulation

I not sure if dogs count, if they know when one gets more treats than the others; but they can tell time (mostly).
And that’s the problem we have, now that I am no longer working. For it is hard to maintain a schedule now and the routine is broken. Tommy like his routines.
If I get up before seven, which is not likely, it is the usual. Pet the dogs who are waiting, make the coffee, WG and I take the dogs for their walk. But if I get up later, then we have to wait until after eight, for the sidewalks are crowded with kids walking to school.
Now it is fun to see the expressions on the little girls’ faces when they see Molly and Tommy, but it is hard to walk and constantly avoid them. Not everyone likes dogs and it’s polite to let the kids have the sidewalk.
So Tommy waits for us and watches for the signs of the walk. Molly does not see the signs and is just excited.
And it is hard for me to set up a routine, but I am close. Choose one day to do projects, one day to job search. I have found that on the current stone path project, I am better off if I just mix half a bag of mortar. Then I am only on my knees for four hours and my knees don’t hurt as much. I then have the afternoon to do like fix-it jobs, or write.
I really have to be in just the right mood to write and I can’t be if a project looms over me. So a half-day of the project, I have made some progress and I can clear my mind of it and think of a story.
I have nine pages of a fun little story done and might be able to finish it soon. Willow will be pleased.

It’s three o’clock and Molly is antsy. She thinks she should be fed. Tommy is relaxed, for he knows feeding time is four-thirty. Tommy can tell time, but Molly is hopeless; or should I say, hopeful!

The kids are getting out of school now and Molly has to bark at the voices on the other side of the fence. Tommy sometimes barks, but Molly always does. Silly beagle that she is.

Sigh, I am a man of unfortunate leisure, with dogs.

Nobody knows where we are.

So, we have started laying the stones for the front walkway. I have found that it takes the same amount of time to lay a big stone as it does to lay a small stone. So despite the smaller space in front: because we are using smaller stones, it will take longer to do the front walkway than it did to do the backyard patio.
Put down a dollop of mortar, set the flat stone in the mortar. Tap it down, check the slope, tap it some more. If you tap the north side down, the south side lifts a little. Tap the center and it settles evenly. Because of this, I have to run a string over the stone to see where the high and low spots are, then careful tapping gets the stone to match the slope of the walkway.
Most stones are flat, but some are a little uneven and they take longer to set. I have to make the uneven stones fit the average.
Then some silly song goes through my head.
One minute high,
next minute low.
Nobody knows where we are.
Nobody knows where we are.

I wish I could remember the rest of the song, or who sung it, but it reminds me to take a step back and eyeball the slope and fit of the stones. It is easy to get focused on one or two stones and get off your mark.

Wonder-Girl has the stones all positioned. It’s like a picture puzzle, but without the picture. WG checks the fit in the pattern that I can’t see. Not too many of one color together, not too many with similar shapes together.
I am too busy just getting them set in mortar.

One minute high,
next minute low.
Nobody knows where we are.
Nobody knows where we are.

We make a good team. WG does the chipping to make them fit, adjust the color and texture, I set them in the mortar and keep the slope (or do my level best.)

Four to five hours at a time, then even a steady dose of Advil can’t keep my knees from complaining. Time to clean up and call it a day. WG says it is looking good, I can’t see the forest for the trees.

After the stones are done, we will put in the border of clay bricks. At least they are uniform in size and shape, so they should be easier to lay.
I’ll worry about that later, I am still focused of the paving stones.

One minute high,
next minute low.
Nobody knows where we are.
Nobody knows where we are.

Old dog, old tricks.

Flapity-flapity-flap, Flapity-flapity-flap.
‘I didn’t want to get up this early.’ Wonder-Girl grumbles. I was barely awake, but I knew it was Molly. A bother of a beagle.

It used to be Tommy that would sneak into the back of the house and shake his head to wake us up. Flapity-tinkle-flap. His dog tags would tinkle. After we got Molly last year it wasn’t long before Tommy brought Molly along on his wake up calls.
So if we slept in too late on Saturday morning, there was a chorus of flapity-flaps and a tinkle. I am sure that the flapities are a little different since Molly has the oversized beagle ears.
Now Tommy is an old guy and I know that he has just gotten lazy. Instead of him walking all the way to the bedroom, where he is not allowed; he has taught his tricks to Molly and he sends her to do his dirty work.

And sometimes, when we are not paying attention to Molly, she walks up to us and flaps her ears. Just to get attention, I think.

Building a Better Beagle Barrier

So we have this patch of dirt for the vegetable garden. Tommy knows to stay out (border collies know their borders (mostly), but the Molly dog doesn’t. I put up a simple little wire mesh fence to keep Molly from becoming a mud-mutt. But alas, it didn’t work. The persistent (stubborn) beagle kept pushing at the bottom of the fence until she wormed her way in. Then we would wonder where Molly was and we would find her in the dirt, trapped by the fence. Because of the stone border, she could get in, but not out.
Since Molly is not good with the word ‘NO’, we decided that we needed to build a better beagle barrier before we planted the vegetables. Molly has already trampled Wonder-Girl’s flowers, so there is no sense in planting vegetables unless they are protected!
The wire mesh fence took a day to build and the planting took the second day. By Sunday evening we were all set.
Molly was not happy.

Monday morning Molly went right to the fence and began trying to push herself between the wires. I think she smelled the little present that the neighborhood cat left. (Why do dogs like cat shit?) Anyway, she pushed apart some of the wire, but could not get through.
So far, so good.

Until she takes a running jump, I suppose.

Beagles are stubborn and you can never trust them.

VeeDee part two

I looked a box of my dad’s collection of toys and found a toy washing machine. When I looked inside, I saw this (see pic) and had to laugh. It is another attachment to the VeeDee. We all know that washing machines have agitators, but this one is designed to ‘agitate’ something else.

Rabbit test

Years ago, when the Tommy dog was young, we had a house rabbit. One of those mini bunnies. You know the ones. Barely enough meat to feed a person, much less two. I would joke to people that the bunny was our emergency earthquake food. Wonder-Girl never thought this was funny.
So when I joke about catching the bunnies down the street and having them in a stew, I know it would last a long time because WG would never eat bunny.

Rabbit stew is quite tasty, as I remember it. Every so often, my dad would bring home a brace of (dead) rabbits from the lab he worked at. Dad would gut and skin them, mom would make us a nice dinner. Two big, plump rabbits would feed our family of seven.

So decades later, when I was remembering the rabbit stew, it occurred to me to ask my dad just what kind of experiments they did. Part of me didn’t really want to know. After all, I am somewhat normal, I think.
So five years ago I finally bit the bullet and asked him what they were doing with the rabbits. They were doing test on plant viruses and were using the sensitized rabbit blood to test for the presence of the virus.
Okay, not some kind bizarre growth hormone or long-lasting neurotoxin to kill insects. Simple plant viruses.

I am glad I didn’t ask him when I was little. I still remember the Thurber cartoon about his uncle that caught Dutch Elm disease!

A Man of Unfortunate Leisure

So, tomorrow is a new day and my first day of leisure. After twenty-six years at my company, they could no longer afford my services. I have tried to think of a good analogy and I think sailing ships are a good one. You are stuck in calm waters with little breeze and diminishing food. So you lighten the load and hope you can continue to feed the crew you keep. They were beyond getting rid of the dead wood and have increasingly cut into those that were needed.
So they put me in a rowboat with a few rations and said good-bye. It is now up to me to row to other ships, similarly becalmed in the sea of business, to see if they need another crewmember.

So I will polish my resume, last written in 1996. (When I was told not use a dot-matrix printer!) Now things are emailed and instead of two interviews, I can expect six. Sigh. Manufacturing has changed so I will try to expand my horizons and look at other companies.
At least I have time to do the pile of Honey-do’s around the house and research more of my dad’s toys. I have six boxes to categorize and eight boxes that I have not even looked in! Research model planes and their engines (from the 1940’s). It takes my mind off my troubles.
Next week I will reschedule my shoulder surgery. Might as well have that fixed during my downtime.

It’s rough waters, but I can still row a boat.

Toys for boys, and…ummm…girls?

Friction toy, Japan, circa 1950’s




Friction toy, England, circa 1904.


Yes friends, this is the patented VeeDee for Vibratory Massage! Good for what ails you, be it Lumbago, Headache or Neuralgia.

Used in the treatment of what was then a common female nervous condition known as hysteria. (Husbandus ineptus?:-)
All stainless steel construction, variable vibrations by simply adjusting the wheel on the end. It even comes with two soft, natural latex attachments. Just the thing to sooth those hard to reach places! (The ones your husband can’t even find if he had a GPS.)

It these modern days of electronic devices, it is perhaps time to move back to a more simpler time. Going ‘green’ could never be easier and more enjoyable! Why this device would be certified ‘green’ by even Al Gore! (Tipper didn’t have much to say, as she was a little out of breath! :-)

And think of the benefits ladies! Not only does it burn calories and firm up those flabby arms, but it is the most enjoyable exercises ever! (sorry Thigh-Master)

So ladies, if the batteries on your iGasm or OhMiBod have run out and your feeling a little cranky; well then, get cranking!

Before the floor

Gosh, so hard to keep my fans happy. :-)
So here you are, the pictures of the bath
as the floor was torn up. just with the new floor and toilet. And a closeup of the Arcade doll house toilet.

New Bath

Well, WG and I finished Step-mom's downstairs bathroom today, finally! :-)
New paint, new toilet, new light fixture, shelves over the toilet, new vinyl flooring. There are four corner shelves by the light switch(you can't see). A new door knob completes it.
One of the best things is the mirror on the right. After we took off the mirror strips on the wall, Step-mom's thought she might want them put back up, despite them being kinda shabby. WG happened to notice a mirror on the wall of the Toy room, behind a shelf. We brought it home and took some old picture frame wood that our son had salvaged years ago(there was just enough!) I made the frame and WG painted it green with silver highlights.
Since the sink and tub are still avocado, the mirror frame looks very good. The only thing left to put back up is the bear toilet paper holder. I was able to fix it, but lost the roller in it. When I find it, or buy a new one, I'll install it.
Particular attention should be paid to the little toilet on the shelf. I found that in the dining room. It is an Arcade cast iron toilet, probably for a doll house.
An actual collectible, I looked it up! We all think that it should stay on one of the shelves as a decoration because it is a similar green and it is a little beaten up.

And to think we only wanted to put down new flooring and a new toilet. But gosh, it looks good

Kith the girls and make me cry

I was good, last September and held my tongue. The whole time I was there, I saw my friends, talked and laughed with them; had a really fun time (as usual).
And not once did I turn to Little Appetizer and say, “You do realize, don’t you, that you will never see me again?”
It would have been cruel to say that, especially since my friend is doing what makes her happy.
So I kept quiet and had fun with her and all of my friends.

And now it occurs to me, as I review my severance package, that I won’t be sent to that little island to train people anymore.

And that I will never see them again.

Times are tough all over

As I was walking the dogs down our street the other morning, we saw two shapes dart across the sidewalk and under a fence. One was black, one was tan. Molly went nuts, as she should, since she was born for this. Tommy strained at his leash, eager to join the hunt that Molly’s howls announced.
I held the leashes tight, for the two bunnies that had streaked past were probably someone’s pets. (And is bunny number three, by the school, someone's pet also?)

Now beagles were bred to hunt rabbits so it would be natural and right to let Molly go hunt. And since Tommy is half beagle, it would be okay to let him hunt also.

Wonder-Girl did not think it was funny when I looked at the two dogs last week and said. “Things are tough all over and kibble is expensive. So the next time we see the bunnies, I’ll let you loose to catch your own breakfast!”

Maybe there will be enough left over for some stew?

Righting #1

RIGHTING 2009

Tidbits that serve no purpose. A collection of puns, funny sayings, slips of the tongue and one-liners that I have thought up, but am still polishing.(or can’t bear to throw away.)
And yes, I would like royalties.
--
What’s a woman’s ideal wait?

A bird in the hand is better than one on the internet

Plain white tease

Dude, it’s called KY jelly, not penetrating oil!

Running a fowl of a wild goose chase

“I don’t think we have been improperly seduced, I mean properly introduced”
She slowly looked me up and down. “I think you were right the first time.”

I’d rather have to shampoo the carpet, than hose your blood off the street. (did I read that somewhere?)

I was too young for the 60’s, so I missed the drug experimentation. But I did get in on the tail end of the free love part.

Maybe the lesbian couldn’t say, “Let me get this straight.” Or “Give it to me straight.”

A vestigial virgin. Not a virgin, but she still has the box it came in.

I am like a canary without a coal mine.

I know women who would kill to have her body…
…And guys who would pay money just to touch it.

I tried to eavesdrop on the gynecologist, but only got snatches of conversation.

As the Englishman said, ‘May I give you a Brit of advice?”

She looked around and said. “Is it global warming? Or is it just me that’s hot.”

Auntie climatic

An inconvenient troth?

Does it take a village to define a village idiot?

Caught in Candy

Life’s a beach. Then you get sand in really uncomfortable places.

The world is my oyster, but I am allergic to shellfish.

Militias prosecution

Living vicariously through you
Living precariously through you.
Living bi-curiously through you.

Beware the virgin who’s tattoo says. “You break it, you buy it.”

Do gay polygamists tell tales of their four fathers.

She was like a farce of nature

I am not ignoring you, the voices drown you out.

The voices talk to me because they think I am real

It’s like looting the cabins onboard the Titanic

If turnabout is fair play, what is foreplay?
(are twins four-play?)

Do you want me to list my girlfriends gynecological? I mean chronologically.

When you go trolling for trollops, should you us a reprobate?

Authors know when two wrongs make as write.

Are ‘Cougars’ mounting lions?

Tweens – The age between ‘hello kitty’ and ‘Hello Sailor’

‘So, do you want to help me take over the government?’ She coup’d in my ear.

Everything but the kitchen slink. (relate to the dogs slinking into the kitchen to get a snack?)

I’d like to follow my bliss, but she got a restraining order.

Dude, when they asked if you were an abuse survivor, self-abuse doesn’t count!

She said she would try to, ‘crack the art of being your own lover.’

Helping the marginally breedable continue to procreate.

Looking for a little piece and quiet

Pipsqueak

Pipsqueak - Informal. a contemptibly small or unimportant person; a twerp.
Pip - Informal. someone or something wonderful: Last night's party was a pip.
Squeak - a sharp, high-pitched sound.


I stumbled across an archive site and realized that I could continue the tracking of my missing Pipsqueak.
It's become a kind of game and maybe more fun than a computer game. It is interesting what people archive and this place isn't complete.
When my emails bounced last year from the two accounts she had and her blogs all vanished, I did the usual googling, but this only gave me places where people mentioned her name. Unusual also was that a lot of the mentions were in abandoned places. (will companies ever purge the old inactive blogs? Judith, your blog might last forever?)

The archive had most of her blog, which was interesting to reread, but more importantly, it gave me names of people who were her friends. From there I tracked down a few email addresses of her friends and I sent some emails.
I received an answer, of sorts, saying that Pip had some troubles and had to remove all records of herself.

There was a trace of her real name last month and she did change jobs.

So that’s all I know.

And I’ll wait for a squeak. (A wonderful sound?)

Creating Monsters

One of my Cebuana coworkers emailed me, requesting a meeting to go over the output of a report.
But instead of a simple request there was this added little hook,

“I know you can't say "NO" to me...hehehe...bcoz I'm one of your favorites...let me remind you of that ;-)”

Oh sure, laugh all you want. My life can be very difficult.

Searchin

“Well, Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade got nothin', child, on me.
Sergeant Friday, Charlie Chan and Boston Blackie.
I don’t care where she's a hiding she'll never hear me a comin'.
Gonna stealth through the Internet like Bulldog Drummond”

'Cause I've started searchin'.
Oooh, Lord, now searchin', mm child.
Searchin' every which a-way, yay, yay.
But I'm like the Northwest Mounties.
You know I'll bring her in some day.
Gonna find her. (searchin – Coasters)

Okay, so I am not Boston Blackie, but I think it’s time to really dig through the Internet and see if I can find The Pipsqueak.

I was digging in the ether recently and managed to get into the Plasticine level and found curious records of deleted blogs. So I am going to go digging and see if I can find what happened a little over a year ago and why she vanished from the ether.
Perhaps she lost track of my email addresses; perhaps I said something to upset her (I doubt that)
But I think it might be fun to play detective.( I can always ask Older Brother for hints.)

Or frustrating.

New Age

I stood there and thought to myself. “They are all black and they all look the same.”
I just had to smile at that thought and see the humor in it. It was also fun to see the realization sink into Aunt Obie.
And I knew that we could tell her something until we were blue in the face. She had to see it.
All those TV’s lining the walls of the store looked so similar; black and shiny.
For as we left the house, Obie said that she wanted a new TV that looked like furniture.
Yes, just like her old, dying, console TV. Circa 1980, twenty-five inch, built in stereo, genuine simulated wood grain veneer.
‘Obie’, we said, ‘they don’t make console TV’s anymore.’ Sound bouncing off deaf ears

The sound acted up a few times and she realized that she should just buy a new one. Especially since the broadcasters are all going to digital next month.
The TV still works and the picture is decent. I guess Zenith was not far off when they used to say, “The quality goes in before the name goes on.”
But after more than twenty-two years, it’s okay to buy a new one.

And all Obie could see was the oblong black plastic frames. No wood grain. No square screen. No white, blue or pink.
No consol models, no furniture.

And now eighty-eight-year old Aunt Obie has a nice little 26” LCD TV sitting on top of her Hi-fi speaker (real wood) Oh, but you don’t know what Hi-fi is, do you?
But I digress.
I think she is pleased with the setup and we will visit her in a few weeks just to check on things.

Not a bad day

Fact or friction

Aye that’s the rub.
One of my chat buddies recently asked me what was the truth, in my blog. I pondered that for a while since I never thought of it before. Most of my friends, if they actually read this, know me well enough to know what is the truth, what I makeup and laugh when I blend the two.
But now I have strangers reading this blog and while I am sure some of the fiction is obvious, most may not be.
I have added labels, to identify the stories, then could not think of what other labels to use. So for now, I will leave it to my occasional readers to decide what is real, and what is unreal.

The F word

Beware the ‘F’ word, that’s all I can say.
Well, perhaps not all I can say, but an important part of what I have to say. For I have found that you have to dodge it, dance around it. Because once it is said, there is no turning back.
This was made very clear to me earlier this year when I happened to call up one of my ducklings in Boston. Degg answered the phone and I said, “How’s my favorite Duckling?”
She answered with a halting, quivering voice; “I’m…not…your…favorite…Duckling!”
“What do you mean? Yours is the first picture in the album and the caption says ‘My Favorite Duckling.’
“Yes.” She said. “And the next picture shows someone else and it says, ‘another favorite duckling’. So I am NOT your Favorite!”

Yes, I was soooo busted. So I have removed all references to ‘Favorite’. I should have remembered what my mom used to always say, ‘There can only be one favorite.’
(yeah, shut up mom. :-)
But it is difficult not to play favorites, for as you all know, in a group of friends, you might have a favorite in that group. Best if I don’t say who that might be. For I have seen even the darkest Cebuana eyes turn green!

So I was quite careful on my last trip to Cebu and never said who was my favorite. This is especially true since people have changed departments and now I have several favorites working together!

And you never know who is looking over someone’s shoulder, reading the chat session! So we have learned to avoid the F word and will just stick to calling each one a friend.

And if you are one of my special friends, well you know who you are and we should keep that to ourselves. Neither of us wants green-eyed monsters on the loose!.

“Favorite - a person or thing regarded with special favor or preference”

Can’t I have several?

A Goddess Walks Among Us

A Goddess Walks Among Us
(related to the ‘Inky-Sucky’ series?)
By GW Hogg
©2-7-08
She walked down the city street as if she owned it. Not tall, but with her head held high and shoulders back, she appeared much taller than her five feet, four inches. Her light blue dress fit her perfectly, showing off her ample curves. That it also revealed a little more tanned leg than might be proper was planned.
She knew men watched her, she counted on it, enjoyed it and used it to her full advantage. Today they left her alone, for they could tell from her walk and look, that she meant business and was not to be trifled with.
Despite the thick tropical air, she kept to her walk. When she wanted it, she could become approachable. Not now, not when she had a mission, had a need to fill. While others slowed in the heat, she walked quickly.

Though the heat didn’t bother her, she did appreciate that the conference center was air-conditioned. She paused for a moment at the entrance, searching for the registration table. When she spotted it she smiled. The table was manned by a nerdish-looking kid. It was much easier to influence a guy, than a gal. She took a few slow breaths and composed herself. Her look needed to be more approachable, seductive.
The kid was only twenty and quite bored at the registration desk. Today was the first day of the game developers conference and the important talks and sessions would not start until tomorrow. That’s why he chose to work the first day. That way he could spend time at the important seminars later in the week. He daydreamed as he arraigned his papers and the stacks of nametags on the table in front of him. As he glanced up at the door he saw her walking towards him and froze. Only his eyes tracked what he imagined must have been a character straight out of a fantasy war game. The deep V of her dress displayed just a peek of the mocha orbs that strained against the thin fabric. The small ruffles at the hem accentuated the motion of her hips as to make them hypnotic.
“Excuse me.” She said as she stopped at the table. He swallowed and momentarily shook off her effect.
“Yea, Yes, can I help you?”
“Do you have a schedule for the conference?”
“Su..sure.” He bent down to get one from the box on the floor. ‘If I can get her to stay and chat, maybe bend over a little.’ His thoughts occupied, he never noticed her reach out, quickly select a nametag from one of the piles and slide it into the side pocket of her purse.
“Are you attending the conference?” He asked as he handed her the schedule.
She didn’t mind as his eyes slid past her waist and caressed her thighs. His befuddled mind would never remember what she looked like.
“No. My brother wants to attend.”
“Oh.” He radiated disappointment.
”But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turned and sashayed to the door. It was always so easy with the young mortals. She thought and smiled to herself. Most of them could be so easily seduced, but she left them alone. There was no need to punish the innocent, even though she knew their innocence would not last. It was as her mother always told her. ‘All men either cheat or leave.’ And she never doubted her mother.
As she descended the stairs and headed to the Ayala shopping center, she thought of tonight’s activities. The nametag would allow her to blend in with the other conference attendees and separate her from the ‘Lobby Ladies’ at the hotel. She smiled to herself, everything was ready. Perhaps an afternoon of shopping would relax her and prepare her for the hunt.

At seven, the taxi dropped her off at the lobby of the Miriam hotel, just across the park from the shopping center. She wore a more tasteful green dress tonight. A little less bosom, a little less leg and the heels were of a more respectable height. The doorman was good and barely seemed to notice her dress, the same with the security guard who politely checked her purse. The nametag hanging from her neck helped her blend in.
As she walked through the lobby towards the bar, she took off the nametag but kept it in her hands.

Downstairs, in the meeting rooms, there were conferences still going on. She knew they would break up soon and she would have her pick of the attendees. She smiled in anticipation as she flagged the bartender.
With a cold Red Horse to sip, she examined her surrounding. There was only one guy at the bar. Far older than she preferred, but suitable. They made eye contact for a moment and he didn’t even smile at her! That was almost unheard of, for she knew men and was on the prowl.
Before she could follow up on the eye contact, a young woman approached the guy and gave him a big hug. They talked excitedly and then two more young women arrived and there were more hugs. Then the four of them, still talking excitedly, left the bar.
Well, she thought, maybe they were just friends or coworkers. It didn’t matter, men were the same all over the world.

She clung to that thought, later that evening, as she allowed an energetic young Australian to lead her to his hotel room. He seemed to have forgotten his wedding ring, as they all do.
And it was probably the farthest thing from his mind, later that night, as she straddled him, the rhythmic motion of her hips grinding against him. Deftly, she brought him to his climax, just as she rose to hers.
He never noticed the faint blue sparks of electricity dancing over their skin until it was far too late. And when he did, she bent over him and stifled his scream with her mouth on his. He thrashed against her, caught between the throes of ecstasy and the incredible pain as she began to suck the life energy from him.
Everywhere their skin touched, and especially deep inside her, blue rivulets of energy flowed from him. He struggled against the small arms and legs wrapped around him, but it was like fighting against bands of iron.
Then slowly, as the flows of energy weakened, so did his struggles. She lay on top of him, feeling his heartbeat slow until it stopped. Climbing off him, she shook her head. They never learn, until too late, the price you pay for cheating. With renewed energy, she practically danced into the shower.
Still later, as she dried herself off, she marveled at her transformation. The small laugh lines around her eyes were gone, her small breasts were firmer, as was the rest of her body. She could easily pass for twenty-two, not the thirty-five her passport said.
Humming to herself, she dressed. She paid no attention to the dried out husk on the bed, but she did remove some of the money from his wallet. After all, he no longer needed it. Silly man, there was a price to pay for infidelity and she would do her best to punish them all.

Later that day, she made her monthly pilgrimage to the cemetery. Wandered among the headstones to the family plot. There they were, all in a neat row. Her husband, two daughters, two sons and some grandchildren.
She missed her husband the most, these last hundred years. For all she wanted from life was to marry a good man, have lots of children and live forever.
She tried to keep him as long as she could, but even her powers could only do so much. And her mother always told her, that in the end, all men either cheat, or leave.