I had the day off from my paying job on Monday. Brian was at his job and the house was fairly quiet.

So, this was my day of little things. I love this kind of day!

A day of little things is when you get to do all those things that are just too small to put on your to-do list.  It’s a day to start and finish those smallest of projects that you think about wanting to do from time to time, but never can seem to find the time in your normal daily routine. It’s a day, that your relaxed mind might think of some little thing that needs done and so, you go do it.

Do you know what I’m talking about? I call doing the little things  “putzying around.” This is not really an accurate term. I must have somehow modified putz’s (which means putter) many years ago and it stuck with me.

So, I putzyed my day away. I wrote a blog, hung the laundry on the clothesline, cleaned the grate on the barbecue grill, cleaned the outdoor oyster pot (dirty from the last oyster roast, which means I had to let it soak awhile), washed and filled the hummingbird feeders, began preparations on the kitchen garden, washed some clay gardening pots, twittered for a little while, and I don’t even know what else!

There are lots of terms people use to describe their putzying. One  more common term I hear is “puttering.” So, I asked around. 

My neighbor says he likes to fiddle fart! That’s funny! 

Another friend said she likes to piddle! (When I hear the word piddle, I don’t think of putzying around. I think of someone having a small peeing accident, as in, “Jane, that was so funny,I laughed so hard that I just piddled in my pants!”  But hey, if piddle is her word for putzying, who am I to judge!)

One of the guys I work with said he calls putzying “dicking around.” I dunno about that one! My first thought was of a man that puts his you-know-what where he should not!  But, okay, on second thought, I can make the connection from dicking around to “doing nothing important.” Either way, I don’t know any women that use the term, dicking around, for putzying.

If you had called me on the phone on Monday and said, “Hi! What are you up to?” or, “What’s up?” or “Whatcha doin’?” I would have answered, “Putzying around the house.”

If I had called you on one of your days of little things, what would you have said you were doing?

The baby kittens came to us about 6 months ago. This is how it happened…

Brian was in the workshop doing some guy thing, and he heard mewing nearby.  He pinpointed the noise coming from some overgrown bushes right outside of the shop.  Down on his belly and crawling under the overgrowth towards the center of the mess, he found a baby kitten, a little black one.  It was so tiny.  And he couldn’t quite maneuver to reach it with his bad shoulder, so as he talked to it gently, it wobbled to him on its shaky legs.  He pulled it out, brought it to the house, fed it milk with his finger, and made a warm bed on the back deck.  A little while later, he heard a baby kitten crying again in those bushes. And, after investigation, found a second one.   He brought it out and after feeding it, put it in with the other on the back deck.

Their mother came, sniffed at them, and left. We put food out for the mother and she came back to eat it, but would not go to her kittens. It was obvious that this was her first litter and she had not learned yet how to care for babies.  These kittens hadn’t even been cleaned properly from their birth experience!  

And so, by nightfall, we had brought them into the house and began to feed them milk with eyedroppers, followed several days later by kitten bottles and kitten formula found at the feed and seed store. 

We are guessing that they were about 3 weeks old when they came into our lives. And, we didn’t know if they would live. But live, and thrive, they did!

Tess is the black female and Tink is the gold male.  This morning, they go to the vet to be spayed and neutered.  I am as worried as any mother might be if her children were going to the hospital for a surgical procedure.

Two events transpired recently that caused me to get a cell phone. What? No cell phone, you say. What planet am I from? Gee, even kids in kindergarten have cell phones.

I know. I used to have one, but when I chose to live a more simple, less chaotic life, I gave it up. And, I haven’t missed carrying one around with me for over five years. 

I guess I could go on a tirade here and give you all my reasons for hating cell phones, but let me just jump ahead to what happened recently.

First, several weeks ago while on my way home from work, I got stuck on the interstate behind an accident. This wasn’t just any little ol’ accident. This was a doozy that happened on the crest of the bridge going over Lake Marion on I-95 and involved a semi and several cars.  I was about a minute behind it.

It was still daylight when the accident first occured and traffic slowed to a stop. I didn’t think I’d be stuck for long, so I pulled out my current read (The Story of Edgar Sawtelle) for something to kill time. Thirty minutes later, at dusk, it was too hard to read  and I was wondering if my hairdresser would continue waiting for me to get there for my cut.

An hour later, I wondered if hubby was beginning to wonder why I was late. An hour after that, I knew he’d be worried. 

I thought about borrowing someone’s phone. But,  gee, it was just too dark to approach a complete stranger’s car, rap on a window and ask to use a cell phone.

So, I sat and I waited. I kept thinking that surely we’d get moving soon. And, of course, we didn’t.

Now, there is a story on being stuck in the dark with a bunch of strangers, with nothing to eat or drink and it’s cold, and you know your family may be getting worried about you, and your body is starting to ache, and there’s nothing to do, etc., but telling that tale digresses from my ultimate point – that it would have been pretty damn good to have a cell phone in that situation.

The second incident occured even more recently. While on my way home from work the other day, my car died. The tensioner pulley broke, which is what holds the serpentine belt in place, which controls steering, water pump and alternator. Stuck on the side of the road, my choices were pretty limited. I ultimately decided to walk into town to use a phone and accepted a ride from a total stranger so I could get to a phone to call for assistance.

I know that with an aging automobile and given the remoteness of where I live and considering the length of my trip to work everyday, having a cell phone is a smart decision.

But tell me this, why does this tiny little thing feel so heavy in my purse?