Filling Time

As I am on my own for two more days (hubby has met up with the kids and their kids at Disney World and they are sooo happy to meet him and take advantage of the ratio of three adults and three children that he has agreed to stay for another day) I am settling in further to this extended being-on-my-own mode, hoping I do not get to like it too much.  I am now eating my dinner on the couch in front of the television.  I have become a slug, a slob, a sliver of my former self, except I have probably gained pounds so sliver is not the most accurate image here. 

I am like my son...or my son is like me...ask his girlfriend.  She said many of his friends have told her that they see him so much more now that he is dating her.  They say he used to hold up in his apartment in the evenings and on weekends working on his music, but they are glad she now gets him out and about.  This sounds like the roles my husband and I play in life.  He is the gregarious get-me-out-of-the-house one.

I have tucked away in this house for days, except for one day when I went shopping and ran a few errands taking my boot off to drive and then putting it on to walk through the supermarket. I did get out one warm afternoon to prune my roses which were beginning to leaf out.  Of course, my foot has made me be cautious and as immobile as possible in the house and I have been amenable to that excuse.  I have heard too many stories of people falling and breaking something else when wearing the boot!  AND I really want it to heal, but there is nothing on TV (rarely is there ever) and I have almost finished reading "A Thousand Acres" and my own novel is stuck on Chapter 6 already.

The person that I am trying to interview for the Master Gardener program has not returned my 4 phone calls...guess that is a wash and I will not try to take it personally.  One of my neighbors called to see how I was and my hubby's hostess in Florida and I had a nice chat, but my voice has not been used for much else these last 10 days.

The days are so gray that photography is only an ambition.  Even the sunsets are silver at night. 

I have had so much time to bird watch that I can tell the difference between the various tufted titmice that visit the deck feeders and almost have reached the stage of giving them names.  One has lost his tuft.  He looks so effete and lonely and I wonder where he misplaced it.

I bought the movie "The Way" on cable and it is a nice ride (walk) through Spain/France with Martin Sheen.  His sons are very talented...even the one with issues.  I have watched two different versions of  "The Phantom of the Opera" on TV and listened to every Keb Mo album that I own all this afternoon.

But too much of a good thing is really too much of a good thing.  (Why do I think I have written that before?) 

All Alone

I have been alone since February 24 and will be alone until late on March 3 or mid-day on March 4th.  For those of you who live alone regularly, this is like writing that you have eaten a breakfast in the morning.  For those of you newly alone on a permanent basis it is, perhaps, like a reminder of a bad dream that you thought you had woken from.  For everyone else it is just reading someone's blog.

My husband, whom I love more than I show him and not as much as he deserves, has taken off on a wilderness voyage with two men older than he into the depths of the Everglades for several days by canoe.  This is in reality a dangerous trip, but I have heard today that he is safe, and since he is the best canoe guide I ever knew, I am relieved.  They are all seniors...he is mid-60's and one is mid-70's and the last has just turned 80.  What possesses men to insist they can recreate their youth is something we all understand.  But those of us married to them feel more like parents rather than spouses.

I have enjoyed the quiet mornings when I can lay in bed and read with the second and third cup of coffee.  I have enjoyed the quiet of my house with only my sighs to mingle with the wind and unscheduled grazing and meals that seem to fall together rather easily.  But I am ready for his energy and crazy ideas and desire to make the day last long after sunset.  I am ready for him to return. 

She Writes It Much Better Than I Can

A Slower Pace

I Used to Be One of These...

...and I am proud of that fact!

Six Degrees

"Six degrees of separation refers to the idea that everyone is on average approximately six steps away, by way of introduction, from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of, "a friend of a friend" statements can be made, on average, to connect any two people in six steps or fewer. It was originally set out by Frigyes Karinthy and popularized by a play written by John Guare. "   More on this statistical premise can be found here.

Grannieannie posted that her Goddaughter was once again attending the Oscar ceremony and that she would be watching TV to see her.  This got me thinking about the 6 degrees theory.

I live in the woods. Just outside my woods about a mile away is a small shopping center that has the name of my town because it has the Post Office. Just 4 miles from there is a little seaside tourist town...very little. Across the river is another town supported by a large military base, but consisting mostly of strip malls and chain restaurants. None of this area suggests a sophisticated community.

Two days ago while getting my hair cut in a walk-in shop my young white hairdresser was talking about the death of Whitney Houston.  She said that she had cried for the entire day.  While I was a little concerned about her stability she went on to explain that she was a high school friend of Toni Braxton and still emailed her on a regular basis.  She said that Toni had her issues with fame and fortune and that my hairdresser was concerned about her sometimes.  When I went home and did some research, I found that Braxton had indeed lived in a small town not too far from here.

Last month I ate dinner at a friend's house and while we were enjoying his grilled oysters he asked us if we had seen the movie with Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock titled Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  I explained that since it was about 9/11 I still could not see movies on this quite yet (if ever).  He then went on to explain that the young boy with the major roll in the movie was the son of a close friend of his in California and had literally fallen into the role, and therefore, they felt some obligation to see it.

This next is not a true 6 degrees because I did not know someone who knew someone...but a few decades ago I spent an hour with Morgan Freeman watching a street show in Bermuda.  We did not talk to each other but did smile and enjoy the music together and did stand "incredibly close."  I recognized him from the Public Television show Electric Company...and although he had started acting he was not nearly as famous as he is today.


Here is a true 6 degrees and only two degrees.  My daughter and her husband did have a leisure dinner with Rob Lowe and his assistant about a year ago.

Do you have a 6 degree's anecdote from the entertainment industry that you would like to share?

Belated Post

In the United States on the third Monday of the month of February we celebrate a holiday called President's Day.  This day was set aside to honor our Presidents.  Since it is close to Washington's birthday, our first president, we Americans are very efficient and made it into two holidays.  We also combined Abraham Lincoln's birthday into the celebration since his falls into the middle of the month.  Are we not efficient?  If we were one of the more socialist countries we would certainly make sure that we had three full days to holiday during the month of February.  But we are a nation that honors that Puritan work ethic...or pretends to.

Since we have long since given up treating our country's leaders with any respect as they continue to prove our idiocy in electing them, this holiday is somewhat an anachronism for us.  Citizens usually shop (President's Day sales), sleep, drink, or get together with friends and eat.  Rarely does anyone discuss anything about our Presidents --- past, present or future.

During this past President's Day (February 20) we, like many grandparents, babysat our grandchildren since most schools are closed.  But on the Sunday before, I decided I wanted to see the Annie Leibovitz photographic exhibit that was free at our Smithsonian Museum of American Art.  I was not allowed to take photos at this exhibit, so if you want more information about this artist and the exhibit you need to go here.  She is a very interesting lady!

The Museum of American Art was completely remodeled a few years ago and it is just lovely.

Anyway, I was allowed to take photos in the President's Portrait Gallery wing which was just down the hall and therefore, I will share some (just a few) of those with you.  I know that this is the first time in my life I have even been in this gallery and certainly the first time close to the holiday that honors them.  I am sure you will notice the tremendous variety of artistic styles and one has to assume that the President's approved of these...although in some cases I wonder why.

I Support Scientific Research

I do so need to move this election on. I do not live in a state that is being bombarded with election ads. As anyone who reads this blog knows I am a liberal with fiscal conservative leanings and definitely a progressive.  I do not fear the discoveries of science and Republicans seem to be anti-science with preventative care for women and global warming denial among other science subjects.  I know that science can introduce dangers and can diminish the importance and beauty of life.  But I also know that science has saved us so many times (polio, salmonella, prostheses, understanding our planet, weather predictions, creation of fabrics and products that make our lives so much easier, etc., etc and even MORE etc.)

I do not understand why this fear is so overpowering and that makes me so sad.  Our education system is not keeping us in the forefront of producing dynamic and smart people and other countries are fast at our heels.  But this article really depressed me. 

These links disappear so fast but here is the start of this article if you cannot find it:

" A large group of Americans fear what Science is "under siege," top academics and educators were warned repeatedly at the American Association for the Advancement of Science meeting as they were urged to better communicate their work to the public.

Scientific solutions are needed to solve global crises -- from food and water shortages to environmental destruction -- "but the public now does not understand science," leading US climate change expert and Nasa scientist James Hansen told the meeting.

"We have a planetary emergency, and very few people recognize that."

The theme of the five-day meeting, attended by some 8,000 scientists from 50 countries, was "Flattening the world: Building a global knowledge society."

"It's about persuading people to believe in science, at a time when disturbing numbers don't," said meeting co-chair Andrew Petter, president of Simon Fraser University in this western Canadian city.
Experts wrangled with thorny issues such as censorship, opposition from religious groups in the United States to teaching evolution and climate change, and generally poor education standards.

"We have to plan for a future, considering the risk of climate change, with nine to 10 billion people," said Hans Rosling, a Swedish public health expert famous for combating scientific ignorance with catchy YouTube videos.

Rosling, pointing to charts showing how human populations changed with technology and how without science the majority of a family's children die, said it is naive to think that humanity can easily go backward in history..."

Spamming Along

It didn't take long. Two spam comments to older posts on this blog. But since I have comment moderation on for older posts they did not make it to publish!

That NASTY Word Verification

I went back to the old interface and saved the remove word verification process.  Would you all let me know if this works.  I will leave this setting up for  several posts and see if it increases spam comments.  I agree with everyone that the new word verification interface that Blogger has implement is a DISASTER.  You all  keep me posted and I will do the same for you!  Then if it seems to work, I will assist anyone else in this process.

One Woman's Taste

Grannie mentioned in a recent comment to my post below that she had ordered a baked sweet potato as part of her Valentine's dinner last week. The waitress asked if she wanted cinnamon and brown sugar on it and she replied that she preferred sour cream and butter. The waitress looked at her as if she had ordered something really odd. Since neither of these are super healthy toppings, the critique had to be for another reason, such as personal taste. It was off-putting to Grannie since she was the customer!

During my visit to Charlotte, NC, I celebrated an early Valentine's Day with two dinners in fancy restaurants.  ENSO and Blue if you want to check them out, you can click on the names.  Blue had tremendous attentive service and the food was good if not great although they were right-on with the wine pairing.   ENSO on the other hand was high energy and certainly for the young.  We were the only gray heads in the restaurant, but did not feel out of place in anyway. The room was filled with young music, beautiful young girls eating dinner and being waited on by handsome male waiters, some of whom most certainly should have been gay, they were so perfect in appearance.  The food was excellent!

But as we left Charlotte that Sunday and since it is an 8 hour drive for us, we had to have lunch mid-way somewhere.  We stopped at some chain restaurant whose name I do not remember.  I had been eating heavy all weekend and chain restaurants are not known for their healthy food.  Therefore on one of the sides to my fish dish I ordered veggies and dip rather than fried rice, french fries, etc.  The waitress a short and stocky black women looked at me and smiled.  "You don't want that.  Are you sure?"

I asked her, "Why not, were the veggies old or something?"

She replied, "No, but it is just raw vegetables with ranch dip.  You REALLY want that?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Are you sure?"  she repeated.  Then she made a face and said, "OK." as she wrote down my order.

I do not mind wait staff telling me about problems with certain dishes based on their opinions, but critiquing my taste in food is something else.

Label Reading

Since I am more inactive than ever with my boot I try to eat healthy.  I also am trying to eat less.   I try to keep calorie rich snacks out of the house except for company.  Hubby now does most of the shopping and came across these chips at the market and knowing the I like sweet potatoes thought I would like these.  I did not intentionally cut off the top word on the bag, but I think it was something about how healthy food "Should Taste Good."  The tiny print in the very middle is what should have been read more closely.  It says "All Natural Tortilla Chips."  Unlike 99% of America, I am not a big fan of tortilla chips unless they are those light ones freshly made at the Mexican restaurant.  I can eat a few of the bagged tortilla chips but not with much enthusiasm.  These sweet potato chips didn't remotely taste like sweet potatoes.  They were not light like chips but hearty and thick.  I turned over the bag and read the ingredients.

Sweet potatoes are the third ingredient after corn and fat.  I also find the euphemism of "Evaporated Cane Juice"  just a little insulting!  I hate when companies do this!

Drum Roll

I wrote the names on my legal tablet and then cut them in identical little pieces and put them in the basket. With my eyes closed I drew out the winner...and the winner is Mage from Postcards! She has a lovely home, so I hope my photograph fits somewhere. Mage, my email (the one I use for blogging only and rarely check) is Sec66M at comcast.net. Please send me your mailing address and I will send you the canvas as soon as I can.

Honesty

Friko posted recently about how polite we are in our comments to other bloggers.  She compared this to the advertising that tells us what we want to read about ourselves so that we will buy their products. "You are a smart woman so you really should try this." I do think that we are usually very kind and complimentary in our blog comments.  I know that I have never told anyone that their post was interesting and just needed a grammatical correction here and there and should probably have a more concise conclusion.  I actually don't think I ever thought it even!  I would never mention typos since I am the Queen of those.  I also know that I am most strongly attracted to those blogs that seem transparent and honest.

I think that perhaps we are kinder to our readers than we would normally be because we want them to continue to read the daily stuff we write; maybe they can improve their writing skills by reading us.  We want them to enjoy our breakfast descriptions, our new purchases, our baby pictures, our fun with pets events, our music choices and above all our daily angst and whining.  In exchange we will endure their goat's antics, their garden photos, their dirty cartoons and their painful poetry...and in Tabor's case, her overuse of the period as a pause feature.

When I commented on Friko's post I explained that I tell the truth 99% of the time, which perhaps most of us do.  If I cannot write anything nice I will NOT make a comment.  Of course, this does not mean that my lack of comments on your blog post means I did not like it.  I  might not have read it, might have figured I had nothing to add, or might not have understood it enough to comment, as I can be a little thick.  I do not follow most of the many fiction writers blogs, but I guess if I did I would be glad to critique their work honestly if they asked...but I could only critique as a reader, as I do not see myself as a good editor.   On other types of blogs, daily journal types, if someone was writing about some difficult time in their life and I thought that they were in a rut and whining too much, I probably would not comment honestly because I have no idea what stage of their life they were in and whether I had the full story of this drama.  Even most honest writers can only write about their lives through the glasses that they are wearing.  And if someone else spent too much time writing about their cat, I would not comment with "What a bore you are becoming."  I wouldn't be reading their blog in the first place.

Most of us do not get paid for this sterling prose that we type, and therefore, really do not deserve a critique. Some of us have the time and interest to create meme challenges, award icons and links to those posts we read that impress us.  That keeps the soup stirred so it doesn't burn and also helps us meet each other.

I am off on a trip to Charlotte, North Carolina for an early Valentine's getaway and will complete the drawing and announcement on the prior post when I return.  I only got a dozen blogger's interested which may say more about my photography than it does about interest in my blog!  Oh well, I am not going to dwell too long on either painful thought.  Play nice while I am away.

Free Art Giveaway and Charity Donation

Okay I have decided that the best way to get this photo out to a 'winner' is to have my readers post a comment to this post, not just any comment that says you want this photo, but a comment below with a few sentences on your favorite charity or cause and why you give to it.  It can be local, national, and anywhere in between.  It is just to get you into the hat for the drawing.  I will leave this post up until  Thursday at 4:00 PM  East Coast time.  I will then draw a name and ask for the mailing address of the winner and get this package wrapped and mailed...free of charge even if it goes overseas.  See the post below for a reminder of the picture printed on canvas and the dimensions of the canvas frame.  Remember, even if it does not fit your decor, it might make a good gift for someone you know.  And as an extra little bit of motivation and so I am not embarrassed by the lack of interest in my artwork, I will donate $50.00 to the charity of the selected reader.  Happy Early Valentines Day to you all!

Gifting

This is a photo I took about two years ago when some little white ducks swam close to the dock at sunset.  I had it printed on canvas and it is 16inches  by 20 inches approx.  I actually, accidentally, printed two of them and have this as an extra.  It has been sitting in plastic under my bed, and the recent painting of that room brought it once again to my attention.

I think it would make a nice give-away to one of my lucky blog readers...but I have no idea about the best way of going about that.  Any ideas??  Should I just ask if anyone wants it and then draw names from a hat of the responders?

Because some of you asked...!

In Denial?

Now that I have made my readers (the handful that keep coming back for more of this pap) all anticipatory, I am feeling a little guilty.  But it is the writer's goal to get readers hooked on the next post ...right? 

My purchase, that expensive foot covering, designed in Switzerland, comes in the following styles:  Safari Plus, Rocky Plus, and Rocky High. From these names you might assume that it is an 'active wear' item.  Mountain climbing or desert hiking, perhaps?  Mine also comes with an accessory to make sure I have a custom and comfort fit, indicating I can wear such style for a long time with no fatigue.  One of the reasons for the expense.

The Safari Plus is a perfect fit for me because I like to walk like an Egyptian and most people who know me will tell you that I am frequently in De Nile.  Ooops.  Sorry.  I know.  Pretty painful.  And, no I have not had several glasses of wine...just my second cup of coffee this morning.  I can write stupid quite well without alcohol, thank you.

(Quit stalling, Tabor, and post the damned photo, already!)

Notice the solid construction, the sleek lines and the fancy accessories and stitching.  Needless to say I only bought one and actually Medicare paid for it...after waiting for 15 minutes for my doctor to call the powers that be and get permission.  Last year my insurance would have covered it without incident, but now that Medicare must be my primary insurance I must be more suppliant.

This is the air pump that makes the boot customizable.  Now, since I actually own this piece of crap stunning hardware/software, I am thinking of going to the store for glitter paint and flower stickers to customize it even more.  I have to wear it for (at least) the next six weeks.  I am soooo excited.  Imagine all the small talk conversation starters I now have!  Imagine how many times I get to tell the same story over and over and over!  And even better, wait until my children see this and begin the lecture of "I told you so!"  I am not telling them.  Although my ever so honest husband will delight in sharing the news.

Okay...enough complaining.  At least I have avoided any surgery and/or the worse-case-cast.

Ooo-eee

Oh my goodness.  Went shopping and got shoes.  $600.00 a pair.  Photo to follow if you want to see them.

It Is Complicated

While cleaning out my closet after the painting fiasco I came across my soapbox.  It was a little dusty, so I cleaned it off and now that it looks so shiny and sharp I must stand on it for a bit.  Go get something hearty to drink as I would like you to be polite and listen through to the end... I am waiting... Go on, I won't fall off this thing.  I do have a lot to say.  (If you do not live in the U.S. you can go finish your laundry now and come back another day.)

Liberals are happy that we have a president who is cool and intellectual and who will not start a war if he can negotiate or spy his way out of a situation.  Conservatives want a president who has their back 24/7 and is not afraid to say so.  They like the fact that Rick Perry carries a loaded gun when he jogs.  You can never be too ready to kill something.  It would be so easy if we could always tell the good guys from the bad guys and if all we needed was a Sheriff.

The problem is that this is not the issue that will get us out of our mess today.  There is not a president that we would elect from either party or even an independent who would not go to war and protect us if necessary.  The defense department is ready to defend us at any cost and reminds the leader of the free world of that everyday.  Of course, I believe that starting some of these wars at any cost could lead to the destruction of the planet since a lot of hot heads are waiting for an excuse to defend their country against the "Imperialist America" and they now have the means to do so.  War is never a solution only a regret.  It is complicated.

But what about our internal enemies?  The real battle is that between the haves and have nots.  And I wish it was just the simple picture that the 1% versus the 99% argument seems to try to make.  It is not.  Jobs cannot grow without substantial compromise to the environment,  to workers health, and to reduction in regulations.  There are just as many CEO's (percentage wise) who care not one bit about their workers safety, job security and health, and who cheat each day as there are workers who put out the minimum at work, game the system, steal from the job and scream discrimination when they are fired. There are those in the 99% who will only take the job they were educated for and there are those who are so lazy they live off their relatives and what welfare they get ( I am related to someone who does this.)  Mitt Romney, whom Newt Gingrich  Perry called a "vulture capitalist," was doing the job he was paid for and doing it very well and it appears legally.  He worked for the stock-holders and he made them money.  It was not his job to create jobs.  It was his job to reduce costs, labor being a big one.  And we could argue all night about how patriotic it is to game the system and keep your money off-shore to avoid paying your full taxes.  But he played by the capitalist rules.  It is complicated.

All the rest of us who are in the majority in both classes have to decide if we will trade a little more polluted air and water for warmer or cooler homes, cheaper food, cheaper clothing and products and the ability to keep one more job in the families of the 99%.  This decision is very hard, because those of us who make it will probably not see or be affected by the increased pollution.  It will most directly impact those we do not know, and our unborn. 

We have to decide if we will pay more (in taxes or direct costs...it makes no difference) so that everyone can get health care in the wealthiest country in the world.  Or we could lobby our Congressperson to pass a law that says hospitals do not have to take in accident victims or dying people if they have no health insurance.  I wonder if those who took the Hippocratic oath would turn the dying away if it wasn't against the law?  I wonder if we could sleep at night with people lying hopelessly at the doorsteps of hospitals as happens in many third world countries currently?  Or we could compromise our freedoms and require everyone who can afford it, to buy health insurance, so at least we do not have to pay for them!  It is complicated.

I believe that anyone who is financially secure should not take social security, but I am only financially secure as long as Wall Street does not allow their greed to bring the stock market to it knees once again.  This can only happen with strict regulation of financial markets by government bureaucrats.   I will be dependent on Social Security if these regulations are not held, but I am among the 99% when it comes to having a voice in lobbying Congress about the banking and investment industry.  My voice is tiny until we have financial election reform and EVERYONE gets an equal voice.  If you think anyone, including the Koch Brothers or Greenpeace, lobbies just for your interests, boy are you so very wrong.  I also believe that the age should be raised on Social Security to keep it solvent as our life length has changed since it was created, but I did not perform heavy lifting, work at furnaces, or perform other hard physical labor into my late 60's and I have no injuries from that.  So this also is complicated.  I do not think Social Security should be abolished.  It works.  It has kept society secure.

With a nod to that crazy old anti-Semitic running for office, I believe that foreign aide should be reviewed, but as public television reported recently, 94% of money put out by USAID comes directly back to American companies and contractors. Thus, it seems we also game this system, and reducing foreign aide could reduce jobs in this country.  Much of our foreign aide is hidden through Defense spending and dare we review that?  There is a reason that the Washington, DC area and surrounding suburbs are more recession proof and it is not because they house government workers.  They house lobbyists and those contractors they work for who get paid in Federal dollars. 

And, of course, we cannot forget the call for smaller government.  County? State? Federal?  I was a bureaucrat for many years and through much more than a decade we created smaller government by attrition.  It is not the best way to reduce labor, but as people left or retired no one took their place, and if the job was important, it just went on the back of someone else who did it half as well, overburdened as they were by the prior year's attrition.  This is why no one answers your phone call, or if they do, they seem inattentive.  When we finally got down to a skeleton crew and it began to impact service we were allowed to hire contractors.  Mine was not the rich Defense Department, and therefore, our contractors were somewhat like slaves.  The money went to the lowest bidder which meant the contractors made less money, got far fewer benefits, were laid off at will and we slowly developed a culture of them and us.  Not the best atmosphere for service to the taxpayer.  There is a better way to reduce government.  The Department of Commerce, the one of the three(?) that Perry wants to abolish, claims that its job is to improve the economy and help create jobs.  Ironic that we would cut that department, is it not?  Actually, this is one of the few areas that I agreed with Perry.  Commerce has grown into a mess and could certainly be reviewed and re-organized under other departments, although I am betting that Perry and I would probably disagree substantially on the details.  And Perry is not really a detail man anyway!

I believe that the majority of us, rich and poor and in the shrinking middle, do want pretty much the same thing and we care about our brothers and sisters when we see them as the human beings they are; so we better tread very carefully in this finger pointing and name calling.   Neither skin color, religious affiliation, nor the size of the house you live in tells us about your honesty, willingness to work hard, or moral character.  Only how you have lived your life and how you now live it everyday tells us that.  (And if you claim that your God thinks you are special and tells you things clearly and directly, like who or if you should run for office, you are a very scary person to me.)

(P.S.  Yes, I know that Perry is no longer running for office.  But with all the 'colorful' GOP candidates this year, I could not exclude him from this one post.)

Watching Paint Dry

My recent weekend consisted of bringing home paint chips from the hardware store, putting them against the wall of my master bedroom and agaisnt the oriental rug on the floor, deciding on a hue, purchasing a gallon of the best quality paint they had and painting the bedroom.  (Cannot get in to see the ankle Doc for another week...so ankle be damned...and it was.)

My house is five years old.  It has settled somewhat on the bedroom side.  There is a slight chance it would settle further down into the ravine...but I am optimistic that won't happen while I live here.  But settling does create hair-line cracks around window frames and doors, and last year, my husband, who became frustrated with my putting off the painting project, proceeded to patch the cracks with Spackle.  Then he went to the basement to get the then 4-year-old paint that we had used when the bedroom was initially painted and covered all those nice white patches he had created.  The paint had changed, of course.  It looked like he had painted over with a color that resembled old poo instead of soft mushroom.   We lived with that ugliness for a year and finally this past week went through the process I described above.

We guessed that painting the bedroom would take about 4 hours.  Ha!  The bedroom has 6 windows, three doors, AND most significantly a tray ceiling.  The painting took almost seven hours and I am not counting the day before when we moved furniture, covered what we could not move, rallied the various painting tools that we had left from our prior life of painting various rooms in homes, removed electrical and phone plates, and taped every single piece of wood framing with that blue stuff.  That prep wore us out and we retreated to the living room for dinner and movie.

The next morning fresh and energetic we began what is referred to in painting circles as 'cutting in.'  It was a cloudy day making it very hard to tell what we painted and what we didn't since the old hue and the new hue were pretty close in color.  I am also old, and do not see as well as I used to.  But the most significant issue with this project is that this new paint would dry to touch within a minute making it so much harder so see where I painted and where I had left off in the gray shadows from the window.  The only clue was that I had purchased a slightly shinier finish of paint this time and if one stood at an angle to the wall, one could see the difference.  Thus we painted, and then re-painted, and ate dinner and then went back in and touched up a few more places as the lamp light revealed a few more areas of incomplete coverage.

Finally we felt we had finished, cleared the room, washed the brushes, put everything away and fell exhausted and with stiff joints into bed.  The next morning as I sat in bed greeting the new day (you KNOW what I am going to write here) I saw two more small areas at the base of the side wall that needed touch up!  Fast drying paint is not all it is cracked up to be.

So WHAT Is It, Really?

A photo of a nearby shoreline tweaked with filters and tone and lighting manipulation.

Yes, in answer to some questions, the photo in the prior post was my lovely granddaughter.  I captured her in the middle of a hide and seek game where she was hiding under a ladder in a playground and her innocent childhood personality was revealed like shining silver in such a photo.  I tweaked it somewhat...making it more of a "work of art" than a snapshot and putting more light on her face.

Friko, one of my favorite bloggers and a real artist in her own right with her writing, commented on Downton Abbey, which both she and I like to watch.  She felt it was not really art because it did not make you think.  I am so glad she stimulated some discussion with this comment because her comment "made me think!"  She felt that the TV series lulled the viewer into a false sense of security.  I disagree because the change that war brings and the events that happen in this next season take away the security of constancy for all of the characters.  I also think that writing about this time in England with rose colored glasses instead of raw reality glasses is more enjoyable for viewers and those poor souls who think this is an accurate representation of the time may also think Picasso's horses reflect a reality.

I then went on a hunt to find definitions for art, because there are almost as many definitions and quotes as there are works of art and this will fill up the rest of this post nicely!  And if you are good and read to the end...that is where I put the funny one.

Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.  ~George Bernard Shaw

Art is not, as the metaphysicians say, the manifestation of some mysterious idea of beauty or God; it is not, as the aesthetical physiologists say, a game in which man lets off his excess of stored-up energy; it is not the expression of man's emotions by external signs; it is not the production of pleasing objects; and, above all, it is not pleasure; but it is a means of union among men, joining them together in the same feelings, and indispensable for the life and progress toward well-being of individuals and of humanity.  Leo Tolstoy.

 Art is the product or process of deliberately arranging items (often with symbolic significance) in a way that influences and affects one or more of the senses, emotions, and intellect. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression, including music, literature, film, photography, sculpture, and paintings. The meaning of art is explored in a branch of philosophy known as aesthetics, whereas disciplines such as anthropology, sociology and psychology analyze its relationship with humans and generations.  Wikipedia

Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.  ~Pablo Picasso 

Science is out of the reach of morals, for her eyes are fixed upon eternal truths.  Art is out of the reach of morals, for her eyes are fixed upon things beautiful and immortal and ever-changing.  To morals belong the lower and less intellectual spheres.  ~Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist, 1891

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.  ~William Faulkner  (I particularly like this definition.)

We all know that Art is not truth.  Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.  The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.  ~Pablo Picasso

And, of course, from my favorite cynic...I so glad she does not live next door as I would almost immediately quit blogging and taking photos:   

Very few people possess true artistic ability.  It is therefore both unseemly and unproductive to irritate the situation by making an effort.  If you have a burning, restless urge to write or paint, simply eat something sweet and the feeling will pass.  ~Fran Lebowitz

Art Is a Three Letter Word

Photography, painting, music, and writing all fall under the domain of creative art, and therefore, are covered by the term "artistic license."  According to Wikipedia (not exactly recognized as the final or most accurate word on such discussions) artistic license is:

• Entirely at the artist's discretion
• Intended to be tolerated by the viewer (cf. "willing suspension of disbelief)
• Useful for filling in gaps, whether they be factual, compositional, historical or other gaps
• Used consciously or unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally or in tandem

I have been thinking of this as I take more photographs and tweak them away from accuracy in what I actually saw and as I continue to struggle at writing my tome about an archeologist in Australia.  (I have made it to Chapter 4, but since I am just now writing a chapter outline...who know what number this chapter is?)

This question also came to my mind when I read a scathing review in one of the national news sources about how pathetic the currently popular British television series Downton Abbey was as a fictional series.  The reviewer felt it was not historically accurate enough to portray the time period and the dangers of such a class system.  I view it as a wonderful soap opera and do not need all the realism of that time to enjoy the series.  Yes, there was more disease, dying, poverty and cruelty during that era,  but I just want a good story with interesting and stable characters.  Let the writers take their artistic license.

After all, art is in the eyes and ears of the beholder.  The result being that I am amazed at what passes for art these days and how people compete to spend money on it.  But as was discussed in a New York Times article, the satisfaction of being the highest bidder gives more credence to the artwork than the actual enjoyment of the artwork.

Is Damien Hurst really an artist?
Or is this collaborative project actually a form of art at this museum ?
What about Isaac Layman and his photography?
Or  this, the worlds most expensive photograph?

All of the above brings me to the big sigh about those artists who were never recognized by any marketing machine and are lost in time.  Street artists whose art appears and disappears daily, women artists who worked as nannies and died in poverty with their photographic art destroyed, soldiers whose writing was lost in the dust of battle.  Does it have to have an appreciative eye or ear to be art?  I do not believe that it does.  It just has to have the passion and soul of the artist.

Good News but Mostly Bad

Well, I have gotten the results of my X-ray and MRI.  My ankle was healing as I was taking long walks, but there were days when it felt stiff or a sudden movement would create deep pain.  I wanted to have the option to get back into yoga, aerobics and other exercise.  I am not a lean mean exercise machine, but I go through phases of loving or needing it before I become a slug at intervals.  This interval has been WAY to long.

The results are that there is a small piece of bone that has broken from some part of my ankle, one of my ligaments is torn and I have some bone edema (swelling...maybe due to another tiny microscopic fracture.)  After hearing the report (via the phone and read in total technical terms by my idiot doctor with little sympathy in his voice).  He seemed relieved to have to make a referral.  I have been referred to a podiatrist who will look at the X-ray and MRI results and tell me what has to be done.  I currently have no idea what he will say and I am sure that it will take more than a week to get an answer.

I do know that my GP said to hold off on any exercise until I talk to the podiatrist.  Egaw!

It amazes me how in this time of my life I am thinking impatiently of all the time I will lose if they have to operate or do something invasive.  I do not fear the pain, but I hate the thought of mobility loss during what time I have in this life.  I hate thinking of having to wait for a healing process as I sit in a chair or on a bed.  Clearly I have no patience for this and that is why I tried to avoid the situation in the beginning by avoiding the doctor.  Please don't lecture me.  I know that I am stupid and stubborn, but for many people (like some of our GOP candidates) these are good traits.

Well, got that off my chest.  I feel guilty in saying this to anyone close to me, and my blog readers are a great sump for stuff like this. 

Please note that I get around very easily and can do most things I have done in the past before the injury.  This could be much worse, and I am fully aware that I have so much to be thankful for.

Taking the Plunge

As some of you geek types may know I have been having some difficulty with the dwindling storage space in my free account on Pica$a (adding characters rather than real letters to the words in this post following another bloggers wisdom to avoid search engines) that G00gle has allowed for my blog.  I blog anonymously and therefore do not really care if these blog photos are preserved in large format or various formats or able to be batch downloaded later.  That type of storage requires more research.  I do currently back up photos on a separate hard drive and on DVDs before deleting them from my current PC.  But maybe I should think about storing them somewhere on the "cloud" as the third location.  I just want to keep on blogging and sharing for now.  Therefore I am paying Pica$a $5 annually for up to 20 GB storage.  This should hold me for quite a while and continue my ability to link to photos without having to start some new process that my aging brain will find difficult to grasp.  (I many times feel like Tom Cruise clinging to the front of a rapidly speeding freight train in that movie of his with the technology changes that happen even as I post!)

I have to consider, as Butler and Bagman did, whether printing out various posts on good old archiving paper is worth it.  That is a lot of ink and paper and a lot more money than $5.  But there are also posts that perhaps should make it into a paper archive journal in the event that those who follow in my blood line wonder how and why they got so strange!  Also, my grandchildren may be amused by events that we shared that they had long forgotten.

At any rate, $5 annually seems a small price to pay to continue to share my "marvelous photography."

Heading out for my ankle MRI late this afternoon.  Please wish that they find very little scar tissue or current tears in my ligaments so that I have no more excuse to just sit and not exercise.  I need very little reason to keep my on my bum these days, and we gave ourselves an X-box for Christmas to be a better motivator to go downstairs to the basement.

By the way, my new passion is the British TV series Downton Abbey.  Just re-watched the entire first season and going to watch the new episode this evening if I get back early enough.  It is a bodice ripper for the thinking generation and actually has a cast with some older than 35.

My List

I am one of those obnoxious people that makes one or two major New Year's resolutions and usually keeps them...at least for the year.  Thus I will list some big and small plans I have finally gotten around to formalizing this year.

1. Get a pass on my ankle so that I can start exercising again.  (Already started this with an x-ray this past week and and getting MRI next.  My ankle really is mostly healed, but I still get stiffness and pain so want an okay to push it.)
2. Continue to work on my Australia writing project...even when I think it is going nowhere.  Just look at it as an exercise for something better in the future!
3. Learn how to process RAW files and use them!
4. Re-learn all the features of my camera.
5. Increase my efforts at volunteer work on a more regular basis instead of just when I want.
6. Clean out at least one set of shelves in the basement while hubby is on a trip in February.
7. Make those d*** drapes for the kitchen window before the fabric rots!
8. Get everybody's birthdays written down in my calendar...I havestarted on this...I have a big family.
9. Find money to finish the decorating in the master bedroom.
10. PAINT the master bedroom.

OK.  Ten challenges are enough.  They are probably subconsciously in the order in which I will probably succeed or fail.  They are all fairly practical.  Nothing here on trying to be more patient, a better person, doing something nice anonymously for someone each day.  That sort of goes without saying...doesn't it?  As for losing weight, my goal is just to get more exercise and feel more energetic.  If the pounds decide to leave, that is OK, but I am not counting on it and it won't stop me from beginning an exercise routine if my ankle allows.

Finally, I want to thank each and every one of you who commented on my blog this past year.  If you are a lurker, please add your two cents, I will not bite.  All the rest of you have become special friends, and are closer to my heart than many people I actually know.  You are funnier, wiser and more honest and I will continue to read your posts.  I know this might say more about me and my ability to relate to real people than you...but!  (Special kudos to Hilary who is the blog hostess with the mostess as she sends readers here, there, and everywhere and added some readers to my blog this year.)  

Cannot Keep Up

This is crazy.  No wonder everyone is sick, at least almost everyone I know including my doctor.  I have had a nice fire going most evenings and afternoons as temperatures outside hovered just over 30F.  The birds are loving the heated water and eating all the fattest seeds first.  I have gone through a pound of peanuts, not for me for them!  I also put on my nice warm fleece tops as I bring wood inside from the porch.

I only ventured out once for a Doctor's appointment and hurried inside office and home with the speed of a much younger woman. 

Then suddenly this afternoon the weather turns again breaking 45C F!  I am roasting in my fleece and the birds are singing as if spring were just around the corner.  Clouds are warm and golden in the late afternoon.  I can't keep up!

( And to make the month weirder my daughter has already emailed me with the tentative summer schedule for her children wondering if we can work in some childsitting time.)

A Post Script

I blogged rather disparately about my birthday a few days ago which did eventually go off without a hitch.  As proof, below are a series of photos on the cake making and eating.  The mix and candles had been found and the little girl learned to bake a cake.

She had to taste the batter (health officials please look the other way) and give it her blessing before it went into the oven.

And dressed for the party she gets to taste the fruits of her labors after frosting and writing have been added.  Yummm!

And since you are all so terribly curious and I just love the shocked look on your face when you see THIS photo of me in my birthday gift.  Yes, it was a request!  How in the heck can you get close to wildlife to photograph when you are in a white bathrobe or red winter jacket?  Now at last I am one with mother nature.  Needless to add, granddaughter and I are on very different wave lengths at this time in our lives.

The Next Journey

We are on our way to a new year.  A year that we fill with hopes, dreams, passions and successful ideas.  We tuck it tightly under our arm and head out, chin high, eyes clear, looking only forward with no backward regrets or reviews of past failures.  It is a clean slate we have before us with no marks or smears or scratches, yet.  We only see the clear blue of potential and the electricity of energy to meet that potential.  We get another chance.  We forget those embarrassments of ourselves and of others.  We will ignore the obstructions that were placed in our path by others and find a new way around them.  Our shoulders are square and our focus is determined.  This year WILL be better than last year.

The Rains

What a bitter afternoon this has been.  After a fall of calm and moderate weather the winds have decided to howl and throw biting rain at my windows.  The young oak trees that have held on to the copper leaves now flutter them like mad brown butterflies revving jet engines before taking flight.  If I must be sick, there is nothing more comforting than lying in a cozy bed and watching the cold gray battle from inside.  The wind roars now and again with angry energy to remind me of its power.  The river and sky are both the same angry gray color.

The whole day has been dark gray with copper browns of attached and fallen leaves, and now it is blanketed in wetness adding charcoal shadows.  I think about those who had to go to work, as I once did.  Having to hurry down sidewalks and clutch at coats and scarves as if in some Sherlockian story hoping to make it safely home by the fire by days end.

I almost feel good enough to start a fire in the fireplace this evening.  I want to bide more idle time as I heal.  At least when one is retired, one does not worry about all that is left undone at the office.  I get to worry about several piles of laundry...big deal!

I will have to plan meals tomorrow.  I have had no appetite to speak of for days, just soup and cereal were all that I made, but the bear I am married to is getting better and seems to want real food.  He was going to venture out to shop, but I am sure when he wakes from his nap, the weather will put a figurative and literal damper on that plan.

In actuality the weather is somewhat exciting and I feel no guilt in staying prone to mark its course.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I drove back from daughter's house with a sick husband who toughed it out because he did not want to miss their Christmas.  All three grandchildren were sick with coughs and runny noses, but that did not stop them from enjoying a present-filled Christmas  My granddaughter opened the large box she had seen at my house when she was staying with me last week thinking it was a large fan.  It was fun to see her face when she recognized that it was the Barbie Dream Townhouse.  This thing is perfect example of materialism with food, a light when you open the refrigerator, a noisy shower, and a laptop among 50 other things.   Barbie does live the good life!

When I got back home late on Christmas day, the cold grabbed me by the throat and chest, shook me hard and threw me on to my bed.  I can't even remember if Hubby and I ate anything for dinner!

Last night was a disaster of coughing and this morning I have lost my voice completely.  Oddly enough it bothers Hubby that I can't talk to him and respond to his comments.   I always thought he felt I talked too much.  He tries to cheer me up by spotting a waxwing and a piliated woodpecker in the back yard. When I do not make an attempt to leave my bed he realizes I am really sick.  He is getting better, so now he can wait on me this day.

My chest congestion sometimes sounds like a cat purring and at other times a wheezy bellow.  I hate, hate being sick and am drinking lots and lots of tea, chicken soup, and coffee.  So much for starting on the New Year's list.

Greetings to You and Your Kin

May you have the gladness of Christmas which is hope;
The spirit of Christmas which is peace;
The heart of Christmas which is love.
~Ada V. Hendricks

The Fly--not at all in a Holiday Mode

Just like that aberration in the same-named movie, the fly started annoying with a soft buzz on her right side.  She had just settled down to read before bed.  Cushions had been propped carefully, the comforter tucked across her legs and lap and the book in the perfect halo of the lamp.  The room was cozy and quiet...except for that damned fly.  He was closer now.  She heard the buzz just behind and above her head.  How on earth could one have a fly in the bedroom in the middle of December?  Was this some Superfly that had hung out in the garage in semi-dormant sleep these past weeks just waiting for the door to be held open for the perfect moment so that he could enter this castle of warmth?  This was more than annoying and oddly a little scary.  She felt somewhat powerless.

She turned her head and saw it was a small common house fly as it darted beneath the brass lamp cover and sat so close to the bulb he would certainly fry.  She batted lightly at the lamp with her book and he flew out and away to another part of the room.  She could still hear the annoying buzz and soon it got closer once again, ever annoying and even more scary this time.  Was it going to fly in her hair, her ear, down her pajama top and buzz her to death?

She swung crazily behind her head with the open book and she could hear it once again dancing above her head toward the ceiling.  Maybe it was a little angrier,or was that just her imagination?

Sighing in frustration she knew that turning off her light and turning on the hall light and sitting in the dark would cause him to leave the room in pursuit of a new artificial sun and she could close the door behind him after turning off the hall light.  But her husband would be coming to bed shortly and opening the door and starting this whole war all over again.  She threw off the covers and headed for the laundry room to retrieve that high technology tool, a fly swatter.

When she returned there he sat on the wall as if it was summer sunbathing, just above the glow of the lamp.  She gave him her best shot, which was not good enough, since he darted once again under the brass cover of the lamp.  She prodded somewhat carelessly with the edge of the swatter beside the bulb and then was rewarded with a thwup as something small hit either the back of the mattress, or the pillow, or the floor.  She looked everywhere carefully.  She listened for many minutes for the awakening buzz.  Nothing revealed a fly.  Finally in resignation she carefully crawled back into her bed and renewed her nighttime rituals.  The evening passed without further incident.

In the morning she had forgotten the intruder as she headed to the kitchen for her wake-up coffee.
When she crossed the kitchen floor she noticed a small dot on the warm wood which upon closer inspection was the fly bathing in the light of the kitchen on his back feet up in the air with no modesty at all.  She didn't know whether to be relieved that he met his death or mystified at how and why he died here.

Happy Birthday to Me

Thus far today my birthday has proceeded according to a typical plan.

1. Last night my granddaughter, who is staying at my house this week, had a horrendous nightmare and then proceeded to come down with a nasty cough the rest of the night...no sleep for me.
2. This is birthday breakfast at my house in the photo above.  E-Z prep.
3. Last night hubby asked if by any chance I had purchased the cake candles when I went grocery shopping!
4. This morning, on my birthday, hubby asked if I had come across the cake mix and candles that he hid!  He can't find  the bag anywhere!  (Don't ask, because I cannot answer your many questions on this.)  I have spent 15 minutes helping him look without luck.
5. He finally found the bag under his jeans on his bedroom chair.
6. The first, and thus far only, birthday call I have received by 10:00 A.M. was on my cell and it was from my stockbroker!  
7. We are eating dinner out (the 3 of us) and I am hoping that the restaurant doesn't burn down today.
8. My last gift today will probably be a cold from that precious little girl in the photo.

J'accuse the Jacuzzi

It is like my private pool,

All white and big enough

for two to meet.

It lies alone most days

Waiting for my attention.

I fill it with water that is hotter

than a Japanese geothermal spa.

I enter naked and carefully

To sit not on river rocks

but a textured plastic bed.

The ointments dance with

the watered bubbles of air and

soon I am sitting in

a field of rain-bowed orbs

with burbled sounds

drowning my thoughts.

I am up to my ears in

pinks, yellows, greens and blues.

It is a glittering luxury.

Enough water to quench

the thirst of an Egyptian family

for months.

Enough perfumed balms

to satisfy any Cleopatra.

But I am no beauty.

I study my shell and

find I no longer recognize it.

It is covered in smudges

brown, pink, red and black.

Some smooth and some

like rough sand.

When did I lose my skin?

Did I shed it like some snake

and then step aside or 

did it flake away slowly

like cream-colored wallpaper

disappearing in the air

as I walked?

These days I must contort

like some gymnast

to enter and exit.

Some day I will not

be able to enter my private bath.

My limbs will petrify

ever so slightly but harshly.

I slip beneath the

white foam

and ask for forgiveness

and another day.

(Some may find it interesting that the photo above was originally a lovely sundog I had captured one fall afternoon.)

Angry Birds

Fix your face she said.

He wiped the smile away.
She sat on the couch and focused her attention on the re-run.

It was just a squirrel
to run around and around
in her easily distracted mind - he understood.

He sat in the faded chair
by the window and picked
with one arthritic hand at the broken seam in his pants.

Fix your mind he thought.
Her eyes got that far away look.
Today was just like that long ago yesterday.

And it now appears
It will be a repeat of tomorrow.

(Something that came to my mind as I watched an elderly couple in the restaurant.  This is the life we all may dread, but some of us cannot avoid it.)

A Few Last Words

This will be the last post on my project for a while.   I will try to provide more interesting fodder for my readers on other subjects in future posts.   But I have continued to write on this story...there seems to be endless research that interrupts my every sentence.  Thus far I have researched flora in Australia, bakery goods in Australia, aboriginal names, and more on geology, mining, and mineral values than I will ever put into any book.  But it seems one must be able to swim in the deep waters before heading out to the cleaner parts of the pool.  (Geesh...what a weird analogy.)  Granny was correct in commenting that many have files of well-intentioned stories that seem to be still born.  But I am enjoying this project thus far and setting aside some time each morning to work on it.  It even is competing with my morning light photography of birds!  By the way, I actually sold a photo as a greeting card this week.  It is not about the money CLEARLY...just such a reward that someone wanted to buy a work that I created!  Well, I have to head out as hubby is banging dishes about in the kitchen and the day is well underway.

The Project

Is it a good (?) thing that this motivation has continue to stay with me over the days? (If you are in a fog...see two prior posts.)  I am already thinking of how I could keep this story moving forward and more self-motivating...making it into short chapter stories before I weave it into the big picture.  Do I dare make it a New Year's Resolution?  I actually keep most of my resolutions so I do not make them lightly.  Well, time well tell as I usually have a lot of that after the holidays.  Thanks for the motivational comments, and those who did not comment I am taking as a polite but important pass which I must consider.  Enjoy you all.

The Beginning

Writing the beginning story post below is like casting a net.  It keeps getting caught on so many rocks and shells and such. I have to research a zillion questions for these two people.  I have to research archaeology, opal mining, visas, Australia, and who knows what else!  So much for following the rule that you should write what you know.  I have the vague outline of a story that came in my sleep, and so, I had to capture it with this start.  The writing is OK, but not as image filled as I would like.  But, you either start writing while the idea is fresh or your wordsmith it into constipation while in gestation. I will work on this and see if it goes anywhere and be sure to let you know...if you want.

A Self-imposed Exercise

Amelia had finally made the break.  She was at long last able to set her course for freedom and independence, far from the confines of her parochial small town at the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains.  This new job was in a remote corner of Australia.  She had scored a job with a mining company whose retrieval of opals had brought it too close to a possible human migration site.  She was going to be one of their required archeologists.  It paid very well, but her real pull was that it was far away from her family in Denver and the work she had been doing there.  It was far away from anything and anyone familiar.  It was a fresh start.  She would be on her own at last.  She needed the independence and the freedom like she needed fresh air and water to keep her spirit from dying of suffocation.


At least, that is what she thought.  As is so often true when we are young, what we want is what we want only until we get it day after day.  The dusty little wooden house that she rented near the town was barren and empty of personality.  She was far from any neighbor, and her late afternoons were filled with too much quiet.  She would take long walks with the strange mangy dog, who somehow captured the name "Mangy", and who had adopted her.  They would wander around the dry fields and down the dusty roads after an early dinner.  And as the days and weeks became months of this pattern, she began to second guess her decision to erase her former life.  For the first time in her life she began to feel a need for company.


She had recently noticed that the seasons were changing and the dry weather was moving on.  The rare passing truck did not stir up its usual tornado of dust as it roared by.  The air on that particular afternoon seemed cleaner due to last night's rain and many of the blossoms of the bumble tree on the hill she was passing had opened spilling their perfume down the field to caress her face.  She looked up and decided to sit in its shade.  Mangy ran on ahead as if anticipating her decision.  As she found a clear place to rest, she noticed a different smell, fragrant like roses.  She had not smelled roses in months and recognized the sweetness immediately.  She turned to her right and just on the other side of the hill in the flat grasses was a small cottage with an arbor covered in pink and white roses.  They were covering the roof tangling carelessly and almost blocked the shadowed doorway.  Behind the house the yard was in the deep shade of several large apple trees.


There were also small beds of other flowers, most still in bud at either side of the front of the small tidy blue house.  What was this place...so out of place in this arid land?  Who spent the time watering and watering to keep this garden alive?  It seemed as if no one was home.  There was no car and no sound.  Mangy had gotten bored resting at her feet and turned to head down the hill toward the house having seen some rodent movement in the shrubs, perhaps.  She sighed as she knew she would have to follow him to keep him from destroying the flower beds in his quest for fun.


He was a smart dog and did not bark but approached his prey quietly like a cat.  He stopped first with his nose at the base of an exotic Sturt pea plant.  It had several of the well recognized and dramatic red blossoms with dark black centers.  Amelia was never unsurprised by the exotic and striking plant life that she encountered on this harsh continent.


She was just about to call Mangy back to her side when a figure appeared beneath the arbor deep in the shadows with only scuffed brown boots showing in the light of the sun.  As the figure moved more into the daylight she saw it was a man in his late 40's or early 50's with a graying beard and sun wrinkled eyes.  He stood in a plain tan shirt and worn denim jeans with his hands in his pockets.  She couldn't help being startled, embarrassed, and somewhat threatened by his sudden presence.  But the flood of emotions did not stop her from quickly and too harshly calling back Mangy.


Mangy paused and then returned to her side as he glanced at the silent man.


"I..I'm so sorry.  My dog and I were attracted to your lovely garden."


The man paused and looked somewhere over her head before saying, "It is not my garden."  His eyes returned to her face with what seemed hesitation.  He remained silent.


"Well, it is lovely.  Not a common sight out here."


He brought his lips together as if to speak and then just seemed to sigh silently as he studied her.


"Well, we enjoyed the view.  Bye."  Amelia clapped her thigh to indicate to Mangy that they were moving on.  They climbed the hill and she only turned back when she had reached the shade of the Bumble tree and the sun was no longer in her eyes.  The quiet man was not standing in the arch of the roses anymore.  He had silently disappeared back into the little blue house.


She kept the strange meeting in her thoughts all the way home.

The Time Before

They once were unique and individual.  Some tall, some short, some medium.  They were thin and fat and muscular and lanky.  Their hair was brown or golden or fiery red.  When they aged the crown of hair on their head reflected the passing of the years by turning silver or white or disappearing entirely.  The purple and green and rainbow were not the crowning colors seen today.  The exaggerated curves were not the norm. 

Most were healthy with clear eyes and quick smiles, although their teeth were not the glowing white they are today.  Skin was not as smooth and tight as they all reflect now.  In earlier times, their skin was common and not covered with sparkling tattoos as it is today.  They talked with voices of all timbre and volume.  Laughter was a cacophony...not the LOL as it is today.

Their health was not so tenuous as it is now.  They weathered the changes of winds and attacks of germs much better with their own genes and immunity in more primitive times.  Now with the decades of use of designer foods and designer medicines, their bodies have evolved to a weakness that insures their extinction in the future.

We saw the future coming, but no one believed.