Over-planning vs. Full Speed Ahead

If my daughter says she is coming for the weekend I tend to over-plan. I head out to the grocery for kid-friendly snacks, make sure linens are changed, put out new towels and refill the soap dispenser.  I do a quick dusting even though no one will notice and make sure the sidewalk is free of grass clippings.  I check the weather to make a soft list of activities in case of rain.  I get out the toddler dishes and sippy cups.  Of course, I charge my camera battery.


My husband, on the other hand, tends to go with the flow.  His most recent approach was to decide after the toddlers had arrived for the weekend to sleep in a tent in the back yard with grandson.  He was pretty excited about this adventure.  Our two man tent has not been used for maybe a decade (it smells) and the directions have long since been lost along with our foggy memories of how we used to set it up.  No surprise, but help from the five-year-old was not as useful as he had hoped.  After a couple of hours and some stifled bad words, this was as far as he got before he admitted defeat.  I think I am happier facing less disappointment and spending more pre-time as the one who over-plans.

Savouries of Life, Repetition on a Theme

When I was a child I remember how rare candy was at my house.  It was rare because of cost, not so much the enforcement toward healthy eating, but I am sure that was part of it.  I can remember squirreling away my Halloween candy (admittedly a large bag of it) in my dresser drawer and stingily eating little pieces of it all winter and into the spring until Easter candy took its place.  I can remember the rare bag of M and Ms being parceled out piece by piece to all three (long before the birth of my two younger siblilngs) of us kids making sure we all had the exact same number of pieces.


New clothes were also a big deal.  I remember one Christmas getting a pink sweater with golden new-moon shaped beads around the neck that I wore and wore until the moons were tarnished, it had become tight under my arms, and it had developed too many holes to wear anymore.

We never had any magazines at our house and I remember devouring them in the reception area of the doctor's office, always hoping that we had to wait a long time before the nurse called us into the examination room.

There were no distractions of children's television, video games, computer activities or phone texts.  I could savour the lilacs blooming each spring in the back yard right after breakfast and I did.  A good book and my imagination took me on wonderful journeys more detailed than any Avatar movie whose scenes were designed through another's vision.  A trip to the city was an exciting adventure, even though we didn't do anything more fun there than shop in a few stores.  It was the change of scene and sound that I savored.

If you are allowed every distraction, adventure and luxury as a child, do you ever really savour it.  It will be there tomorrow or next season surely once again, why bother to savour it?  Do your learn the technique of savouring something or does your life consist of hurrying on to the next best thing?  Must the skill of savoring be learned?  Does a chocolate cupcake crammed into one's mouth or with just the frosting eaten first taste as good as that one that you eat ever so slowly and think about each bite as it coats your taste buds knowing that it will be a long time before you get to savor another?

Craziness

For some weird reason we decided to use the rest of the tax refund (i.e. that free loan that you give to Uncle Sam, AND in our case, the State for a year) and spend it on paving the driveway.  Hubby and I have gone back on forth on the environmental issues, the weeds with ticks that appear by August down the drive vs. the toxicity of herbicide and pesticide vs. the oil runoff of asphalt and the heat that it will bring to the front yard.  I think what pushed us over the edge was the inability to shovel a gravel driveway with any success this past winter after week after week after week of snow.


Then hubby, who is the least pretentious person I know, decided he wanted pavers for the part closest to the house.  (Yes, you can close your mouth.) That is an expensive decision and certainly not necessary.  I was/am so shocked I decided to go along with it.  As I frequently say these days, I am going to die someday, so why not?  I do not fear or welcome death;  I just know that I am now on that downhill side and any decisions I make are not that important when they help employ others in this recession.


Anyway, I sit here at my desk with clouds of powdered cement drifting across the outside front yard and coating every green leaf and colored flower petal as workmen begin to saw into chunks the current cement sidewalk before starting on the driveway paving.  Oh yes, this will be major.  The house shakes as they lift huge chunks of cement with a bulldozer and dump it in their truck.  The workers (you know, the ones with the green cards that everyone wants to ask for to make sure they are legal ...the ones who are essential to our lifestyle...the ones that actually helped, in a small way, keep retail businesses open during the recession... and one of whom has only two pairs of work shoes but will not wear the other pair for weeks because a bird nested in them on his back porch) are covered in cement dust as they use cement saws to cut chunks of 4 inch thick concrete into manageable sizes.  The white guy sits in the front loader and moves the cement to the truck.


They had to carefully move quite a few established plants from either side of the walkway.  I am hoping they survive.  


Mrs. Bluebird left early and I have not seen her return, and I am VERY concerned that we have driven her off her nest.  The distant chickadee in the far birdhouse is still hanging in there in spite of the noise and dust.  We had forgotten the issues of spring when we scheduled this project.  We also should have been prepared for the washing machine gasket problem (in prior post) and the compressor going out on my little wine cooler in the kitchen.  


(Did she say she has a wine cooler in the kitchen?   Really?)


Anyway, neither of these are going to be repaired anytime soon.

A Puzzle for You

Discovery and serendipitous cleaning are some of the hallmarks of the time spent in wandering one's house post-visit of toddlers.  One cannot just wander through the familiar hallways or saunter into the bedroom as you normally do.  Make sure that you have shoes on.  Make sure you have your glasses on.  Make sure your hands and pockets are free to collect treasures.  Do not be squeamish.  One child's treasure is ... well, never mind.

If barefoot crossing the kitchen floor you will encounter surfaces that grasp your toes and heels with ardent stickiness.  You cannot see where this sticky surface rests, but it is there and will grasp every bit of dust and dirt in the days to come, revealing its presence unless it is scrubbed away right away.


One cannot just vacuum a floor without the same careful perusal of the areas that one uses before mowing the lawn.  Something will be camouflaged within the pattern of the Oriental rug or slipped just out of sight beneath the edge of the sofa.  Something will stymie that vibration brush on your vacuum or cripple your barefooted arch and leave you limping for days as you step upon that first stair. 


The expertise of looking for tiny fairy slippers, pointy plastic swords, and teeny legos is something that must be practiced and learned well.  Impatience in this arena will punish you.  I have learned this the hard way.


Yet, even I can learn something new.  I had collected all the sheets, pillow cases and assorted bath towels and had begun the first load of laundry.  When it was done I pulled the heavy damp sheets up into the dryer.  Within minutes I heard a clanging noise.  I stopped the dryer and pulled wet heavy fabric right and left and found nothing.  I continued the dryer again and heard that odd noise.  The photo of the metal hoop above is what I finally was able to retrieve from my damp laundry but only after it has torn a small corner off the sheet.


I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what it is, where it came from, or whether I should be a little panicked by my lack of knowledge.  I do not have one of those fabric tunnels that children can crawl through.  Everything is still working in the house.  Any ideas?  Should I worry?  Do you have one of these?

Best Laid Spring Plans

The local theatre brochure arrives by post.
I peruse
and mark those entertainments that look promising.
Unfolding the town paper, I scan the insert
and make a mental note of
weekend frivolities that are intriguing.
A new restaurant in town has live music for lunch, and
I jot a mental note to make sure and drop by.
The evening news showcases a local sports team and
I mark the calendar to see the next game.
My favorite artist has an exhibit in the nearby town and
I clear some space in my week.

The weekend comes and the drama of
the osprey nest building show,
"Engagement one week only,"
claims my time.
The following week there are hyacinth bean seedlings
in the coldframe
demanding transplant.
During the coming spring days,
my lunch hours are filled
with the dance recitals of
hummingbirds and new butterflies.
By month's end, the lonely canoe needs a quick
paddle down the creek to stretch its spine.
So, I will admire the spring landscapes painted by 
the local artist, Mother Nature,
while pulling my paddle through the silver water.

Damages

(The title above is in homage to the season finale of the TV show, Damages which I am way too addicted to watching.)

Friko commented on how lovely the flowers were in one of my recent posts and 'bemoaned' that I truly had a green thumb and must have a perfect garden.  (If she only knew!)  Her recent post had commented on how harshly the winter had treated many of the perennials in her garden. Lest my readers get the wrong idea about my gardening success...here is a dose of reality.

The long and hard winter has changed how the wild dogwoods bloomed this spring at the edge of my woods.  Perhaps the harsh temperatures froze the buds or perhaps the birds or squirrels or raccoons had eaten the new growth during the winter as I have only a 'handful' of blossoms per tree as can be seen below.

My rhododendron, above, purchased on sale at a hefty price last fall has suffered tremendously from the heavy winter snows.  It is just a shadow of itself and I fear it will not survive the summer!  I was told when I took in a branch that it was getting too much water...but I think it is something more. I expect perhaps one blossom and am afraid to move it to a better area as this is the best spot I have!

The side of my foundation landscape at the front door entry has holes in the nandina hedge where snow pack bent the branches to the ground and broke much of the tall growth.  The hedge is now thin and spindly.  Nandina plants are hardy so I hope some shape will return.  I have staked it as it quite naturally leans out toward the morning sun.

My large rosemary had to be cut back and the damage has certainly ruined its shape. It will be moved this week to the new herb bed which has better drainage but less afternoon sun :-(.  The shock has caused some of the stalks to bloom already.

The most dangerous damage was done to my expensive cut leaf maple which is now three years old and holding its own beneath the front bay window. It may look lovely here but lets pull back the leaves to see what we saw on our return from that last heavy snowfall in February.

Yes, in our desperation that cold winter day we used duct tape to save the branch.  The branch had been torn away and was hanging by the thinest of cadmium on the opposite side.  Since the tree was dormant at the time, I pushed the two parts of the branch together and taped them hoping scar tissue would form in the spring and save the branch.  Hubby added the string support tied to the stronger part of the tree above to ease the strain on the broken branch.  This branch was full in the front and important to the full shape of the plant.  All appears well for now and we will see if this repair will hold down through the summer and winter to come!

Practical Beauty

I spend my time in spring with my face or my camera lens pressed against some ornamental flower trying to capture that moment in time where color and shape are perfection and to file away a memory for a cold gray day.

I recently realized that I fail to see some of the wild and practical beauty all around me that is missed because the hybrid stunners are crying for attention.  Therefore, I am pleased to present those playing supporting roles in this spring performance.

I think this is a Viburnum prunifolium above, but I am open to formal identification. This wild plant has balls of beauty that cover the bushes standing at attention up to 12 feet high along the shoreline at my dock during the month of April.

Above is the familiar hybridized strawberry flower promising jam and syrup and topping in the months to come.  It is small and covering the grounds at the back of the garden, but a no less lovely  bloomer than all the others.

Above is a newer ornamental version of the strawberry.  We are waiting to see if the flavor and/or size of the strawberry has been compromised in order to make the flowers stand out, as this is a new addition to the garden this year.

This beauty is, of course, from our new blueberry plant(s) which have been tucked back by the wood pile just inside the deer fence.  YUM.

Above are the flowers of a wild persimmon tree that grows against our dock just at the edge of the inter-tidal land.  It is only 8 feet tall and maybe too young for any fruit as we have not seen any set as long as we have lived here.  I have seen raccoons and squirrels performing acrobatic feats to get at the persimmons in our higher trees at the edge of the forest.

These are buds from my kaffir lime tree which has been moved outside now that the weather is more gentle.  The tree is still small but I have gotten about 6-10 fruit in the past.

And finally among our cast of supporting performers is Barberry (Berberis) growing at the side of my house doing its duty as a landscape plant.  But in the spring its lovely yellow bells ring out in contrast to the wine foliage above.  (Click on photos for better views.)

Williamsburg, VA

I do not think I have ever met anyone who did not like the town of Williamsburg, Virginia after visiting there.  It is Disney World for American history buffs.  It is Disney World for middle class history buffs.  Most of the food and shopping are expensive, although, with care, it can be done economically. The historic area was surrounded by children from private schools on spring holiday.  I was there recently for a two-day garden seminar.  Something we elitists do when spring arrives and we have planted all that we dare to before the last frost date.

There is nothing more entertaining for a husband than following sensible women with sensible haircuts in sensible shoes around sensible historic gardens all afternoon.  There was some variety in attendance as some of the women attending were those charming 'Southern Bells' who wear lovely hats, Town and Country clothes and nice jewelry.  They knew and were willing to share their knowledge of the scientific names of most of the plants with a maple syrup accent as their fragile husbands in nice suits stood quietly by... my, my!  Even more exotic, the weather was perfect!

The historic district is romantically and accurately preserved with lots of Colonial architecture, some winding lanes, staff in Colonial dress doing Colonial era activities and or staffing the many cutesy little shops.  We bought two of the Early American jar birdhouses for our fence posts.  Did I mention that being there in the spring is wonderful?

Unfortunately, our favorite (and expensive) restaurant, The Trellis, was closed for renovation.  This is the restaurant that produced the famous Death by Chocolate dessert that has been mimicked by every high-end restaurant on the East Coast the last few years.  Fortunately we found plenty of other good places to eat.


On the last day, I found a true treasure.  There is a very small used bookstore called Mermaid Books located beneath a wine/deli restaurant on a side street off the Market Square.  Before this trip I did not know of its existence.  We had a long lunch hour to fill and were perusing the shelves for some good historic references on plants and gardening, stimulated by the recent lecture we had heard, when I came across this!

The bookstore owner actually hesitated in selling it to me.  He hemmed and hawed and then felt he must have another copy in the back, because he had planned on scanning it for the wonderful woodcut illustrations inside.  I told him to let me buy it and he could mail it to me when he was done scanning it.  He finally relented and let me purchase it then and there.  Now I will see if the memory of enjoying reading this book when I was much younger still holds true.  Have any of you ever read this book of fantasy? It is a male's version of a romance.  It is not copyrighted in the U.S. and is downloadable at the following URL, if your are interested.

http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/942

Or you can search the title and find it online in several places.

Privilege Has Its Price

My grandchildren are very privileged and we will certainly reap the problems of that in years to come, but their joy is an immediate reward.  During our week in Long Boat Key, Florida, they went to the Seafood Fest for face painting and carnival rides; they went to a zoological garden to feed animals and watch a bird show; they challenged their parents at putt-putt golf, spent days at the pool and the beach, and did Disney World as only toddlers can.  They even spent an afternoon at the children's science museum--G-Whiz.  During 'down' times they watched videos, were read stories and we even squeezed in an Easter egg hunt!  Very different than my childhood vacations which usually consisted of reading comic books under the tree on the farm after I had finished my chores.  There are pros and cons to both life styles, I guess.

We are working hard to make this gal a nature lover. But, in all fairness, the flamingo birds were much taller than her!  She did get a kick out of their pretty 'pink' color which is her favorite, of course.  Below the lights of my life  are filling the moat to the castle with water...at least attempting this challenge.

Above my little gal gossips about Ariel with Belle at Disney World.  If you don't know who Belle is, than you are definitely not a Fairy Tale aficionado and must get with the program.

Spring Forward

I have nothing serious or funny to post and am exhausted from gardening...so enjoy...needless to say I got a million of em!

Heroes

This photo above was taken during the war in the South Pacific.  The man in the middle was my husband's half brother.  I do not know if he did anything particularly brave during his tour of service, but I know that some of the battles on those islands were pretty scary.

When we think of heroes we usually think of soldiers, firemen, policemen and others facing an emergency and being able to save others while risking their lives.  Remember Captain Sully?


Today on NPR there was a program about Ryan White, the young man who died from AIDS 20 years ago.  He was a hero to me.  I will never forget him. His honesty, strength, humor, and leadership while only 13 helped bring an understanding of this terrible disease to most of America who were fearful and prejudiced.  His calm practical approach to dealing with this fate was truly inspirational.


There is another hero, from blogdom, that I want to mention.  She has been a blog pal for a few years, and I cannot remember what made me visit her blog for the very first time, but I kept coming back because she was a real life hero to me.  She wrote poetry, prose, and told things about herself that most of us would want to keep secret.  But she told them with such magical humor her readers could laugh out loud.  She made me comfortable.  Her name is Tammy Brierly.


This Sunday she is going to free dive out of a plane!  Brave for a 48 year old woman you may think.  But this is not why she is my hero.  She is doing this in spite of brittle bones, an inability to walk by herself and a continual battle  with other side effects of ALS---Lou Gehrig's disease.  There is no cure, but since her diagnosis years ago she has done more, and been more spirited and accepting of life than 100% of the people I know.  I have never met her personally, but she has become my inspiration!  She is making this jump to bring awareness to this incurable disease.  She spends most of her time now on Facebook so I did not link to her blog page because it is an easier venue for her.  


I am so thankful for heroes like these.  They certainly make me want to be a better person.

I Got It All Figured Out...For Me At Least

I think I have figured out the basic difference in conservative and liberal mindsets at the far reaches of civilization.  Most of us are sane and reasonable people with little deep seated insecurities that we try not to let rule our brain.  Most of us are willing to try compromises.  But we do have deeply ingrained fears.


Conservatives fear that liberals will get that 'coddle the world' thing going so strong that liberals would be willing to have us all living on a commune with vague morality and therefore stifle progress of all types.  There would be no incentive as all money earned from development of new businesses and new ideas would be distributed evenly to the masses regardless of effort.  We would drown in the laziness of the free ride as liberals insist on saving everyone and refuse to defend themselves with weapons.


Liberals fear that conservatives will get that 'don't trust anyone different' thing going so strongly that conservatives will put us all be under some vague conservative standard that measures our patriotism and loyalty within narrow definitions, and therefore, all liberals will have freedom of speech or privacy or other personal freedoms slowly taken away.  If we don't fit the perfect standard we would be watched closely on every decision that we make.  Rebellious intellectuals would be sent to the country for an improved work ethic as happened in China.


Yeah, probably an oversimplification...but it makes sense to me.


I really think that we both have the country's best interests at heart and if the shouting stopped, we could walk down a middle road.  With compromise, yes, with back-stepping and correcting, yes, but also with progress.  

The Other Woman

Marriage is a tough path to follow, and anyone who tells you otherwise does not have standards.  Marriage is not for the faint of heart or the weak of mind.  Marriage is for those of us who do not mind being warriors on a daily basis.  I will explain further.

As you read this post I am (hopefully) sitting on a sunny Florida beach with my grandchildren.  Yes, I am obviously richer than Croesus being able to take off to Florida several times a year.  In reality this expensive lifestyle is causing us to spend rather then save our recent tax refund.  We are driving down with our S.I. L. while our daughter and two kids fly in a day later.  Our car will be crammed to the top with more beach toys, food, luggage, and clothes than anyone needs for a week.  We will be prepared for all types of weather, all types of fun including some fishing and canoe gear if hubby can find room, and leave just enough empty seats for 3 adults and the one adult and 2 children that we will be picking up at the airport before we have a chance to unload.  God forbid we should get bored!

But, as I write this post for later publishing I have some trepidation about this trip.  Not because we are covering 1,000 miles in a day an a half with limited food and bathroom breaks.  Not because I am with my fairly liberal-minded husband and my fairly conservative-minded son-in-law in a confined space for hours on end while we want to listen to NPR and he wants to listen to Sports Radio.  (S.I.L. will have to stew in some agony because we do not have satellite radio.)  And, finally, I am not concerned about my snoring as I probably sleep a good part of the trip away. 

No my concerns are about the 'other woman.'  She had joined us on our last trip to Florida and I do not think it is an exaggeration that her presence created such discord that I wanted to take her and hit my husband!  I did not mention her presence in my prior blog posts because I was trying to pretend she hadn't been a part of the trip.

Conversations in the car would start like this:
Me:  OK, I think we are ready.
Car engine starts and we head out of the yard.
Her:  Turn right and drive straight for 44 miles.
Hubby:  (Grunt)  (Mumble) Two women telling me what to do.

Things would go along pleasantly for a while until we reached an area where she and my husband would begin arguing about who knew the best route.
Her: Stay right and turn right in .5 miles.
Hubby:  What?  The better route is taking Exit 42!  (Which he would then proceed to do.)
Her:  Recalculating.  Turn right ahead.....turn right ahead........recalculating.....take the next right exit.

After the third time this happened and hubby ignored her, we got lost.  I asked my husband if he would just follow her directions completely for once.  (Asked is probably too gentle a description as I think they heard me three cars over.)

He is 'Florida boy' and refused to admit that this sophisticated technical bitch might just know about a few new routes that he didn't.  


One time I just turned her off and said, "OK, you are one your own!!  You figure out how to get to the condo!!" 


It did not take too long after this that he admitted he could use some help in this new part of Florida and she proceeded to take us to a traffic-free freeway which he had not known about and we got back to our condo in a very short time.  After this I began calling her Truthsayer  just to irritate my husband.  

Me:  Shall we have Truthsayer find us a good restaurant?
Me:  Shall we see if Truthsayer can route us to the canoe launch site?

I will admit that sometimes she is a bit dyslexic when it comes to taking an address and figuring out which city I want without giving me an opportunity to punch in the city---or STATE!  She also can be a bit dense if you want to change the route mid-route, but I won't tell my husband that.  After all, we women have to stick together.

Pat---Characters #1

Our country neighborhood recently got a new restaurant...an Olive Garden.  Now if you live in the city you are thinking...yeah, big deal?  But out here where every restaurant is fast food or fried something, this chain ups the bar on interesting food.  The place is huge and had been opened about three weeks already.  Last week we decided to stop by and eat (on a Friday night) and when we got there the parking lot was filled.  The lobby was full of patiently waiting people and the host told us there was an 80 to 95 minute wait!  We did not want to spend that much time waiting for our dinner and went somewhere else.


OK.  So on a Wednesday two weeks later, and over a month after it had been opened in this very rural area, we decided to try again.  This time there was only a 30 to 40 minute wait!  Geesh.  Someone has a gold mine here!  We went to the bar and actually ended up ordering dinner there.  I don't usually like eating at a bar but the atmosphere was cozy, the bar staff were wonderful and very charming and the food was delish and arrived much sooner than it would have otherwise.


While sipping my wine and waiting for our salad there was a young person sitting at the end stool next to me.  I turned and smiled at him/her.  Perhaps you are wondering what I am getting at here.  If you ever saw Saturday Night Live and saw Julia Sweeney's terrific rendition of the character 'Pat' you will understand what I am talking about.  Pat was a sexually vague character and each skit was a set-up where someone tried to figure out if he/she was a man or a woman.  Sweeney is perhaps one of the most underrated comedians and played this character memorably.


Well, this person looked like a 19 (could have even passed for 16) year-old.  He/She, whom I will now call Pat was drinking a coke and waiting for his/her takeout.  Pat was so much nicer looking (handsome, pretty) than TV Pat.  Dressed in a T-shirt and slacks and wearing a baseball cap with a man's haircut that covered orange-died curls in the front, made it impossible for me to resist making small talk.  


I learned that 'Pat' was 29!  I commented that while he/she probably did not like looking so young, they would welcome this in later years.  'Pat's' voice did not provide a clue as to the sex.  'Pat' was very nice and I found out that he/she did technical/mechanical work on the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter for the Navy!  Pat loved this work and had been shipped all over the world at times because of his/her exceptional skills.


Pat had served in the military in Iraq and liked it there but now worked for a contractor and was able to die 'their' hair orange just to drive the old command officer nuts.  I also learned that 'Pat' had an estranged relationship with his/her father who had left when he/she was only four and hated that the father now knew where he/she was living because of a regular security check that the contractor has to run every time there was a promotion.  (I obviously have a trusting face as we had an intimate conversation on all this while Pat waited for take-out and I waited for breadsticks.)


Pat made a very good salary because of his/her skills and told me that he/she owned a town home and 4 vehicles but was unhappy to be living so far from the maddening crowd of the city.  Pat was a really interesting person with a great sense of humor and made me confident that our defense pilots were in good hands and I thanked Pat for his/her service to this great country.


And, of course, just in case, I did not ask and Pat did not tell about... whatever.

Why I am Fat...well, Chubby.

A long time ago in a land far, far away a Queen without servants would now and again feel the need for some celebration organization such as the birthdays of the Prince and Princess and sometimes friends of theirs.  And so she took it on herself to spend many hours into the wee morning hours before those big days to decorate special birthday cakes.  When you live where there are no bakeries, one must take on the challenges oneself.  (In this modern world, my daughter orders her cakes so I no longer do this, and yes, I have been scanning slides once again!)

Somewhere among my paper photos is a picture of a dinosaur cake...the most difficult construction and decoration that I did for my budding paleontologist son who now is a wannabe rock star, but I do not know where that photo is.  Click on photos unless you are on a diet.

Ugh!

It can be a perfectly new and untarnished spring morning with so much potential. You can be blissfully sipping coffee and innocently checking quickly for emails and totally unprepared for that hard sucker punch in the gut from someone you love more than life itself. You are suddenly feeling so small and bewildered, and then the day becomes very different and the coffee very acidic.



(This has nothing to do with my prior post.)

I Should Be Relieved

I should be happy and relieved today since millions of Americans will soon be able to get the same or similar health care to mine.  Americans today who get a tragic chronic illness can feel more hopeful about getting the care they need.


But I am depressed.  I saw too much ignorance and ugliness in the debate leading up to this bill.  I saw a video of a small man in a wheel chair with Parkinson's carrying a sign in support of the bill and being surrounded and yelled at by 6-10 white men who told him to go out and get a job!  They threw money at him as if he was some beggar rather than a citizen with a right to an opinion and a right to give that opinion.  He was very brave sitting their with these ugly souls towering over him.


I drove out of the city on Saturday and was delayed by a long cadre of police motorcycles and cars going into the city and learned later that it was because of anti-health care bill protesters angrily surrounding several black Congressmen calling them racial names and spitting on them.  They also shouted homophobic epithets to Rep. Barney Frank the next day.  Who are these dangerous people?


Some Tea Party protesters carried signs saying that if the bill passed they would incite violence.  My sister who is an attorney said last year that her Republican legal colleagues have actually purchased guns to be prepared...for what I do not know.  Where are their critical thinking skills?


This was not a bill about sending our men and women to war.  This was not a bill about rescinding the constitution.  This was a bill about caring for our citizens who through no fault of their own need a hand.  These are not welfare junkies but people who have lost jobs or lost fights with the death panels of the insurance agencies.  We need to stand by them.  This is about the numerous hospitals that are closing their doors because they can not continue to provide health care for those who have no insurance and still balance their books. 


Conservative Congressmen were far from conservative in their rhetoric.  There were far from statesmanlike in their incitement of the part of the  crowd that was protesting the bill.  The difference between a democracy and other forms of government is that you have the right make your argument peacefully and without threat of violence.


OK, I am done.  I do not like writing like this  because this is not what my blog is about and because I cannot change the minds of others.  But I am glad I got it off MY chest.

The Virtual World

I wrote this post a week or so before I started reading Danah Boyd's PhD dissertation titled Taken Out of Context:  American Teen Society in Networked Publics.  (I am not really as geeky as this sounds but a friend of my son's linked to this on FB...AND I have not made it through all the the 390 pages and perhaps may never make it to the middle even as I am also in the middle of a Hemingway book and a book of poetry, but some of the  ideas discussed seems to go with this post...so I do add some of it here.)


I have become established on Facebook (FB) in spite of my initial resistance and the fact that the person who originally asked me to join, and whom I befriended, almost immediately left this virtual space and disappeared because of issues with their family!   I am still struggling to understand why those who have hundreds of friends rarely post, and I, of course, have so few friends and post fairly often, and that has become a bit of an embarrassment.  This insecurity is all mine, because no one really cares how many 'friends' I have or clearly how often I post, and sadly, no one really cares what I have to say when I do post!  I disagree with the following conclusion:  "people are no longer shaped just by their dwellings but by their networks (Mitchell 1995: 49)."   Young people perhaps, but not those of us who are old hermits.  We don't care.  I hope I am not being shaped by my 'virtual' networks.  My real networks exist because of who I am...I don't think I am being shaped greatly by them.


(Yet this is perhaps why I find blogging more enjoyable, because of the greater interaction and shaping of thought.)


The interesting aspect of this virtual community (FB) that I have joined is I have found old, old friends that I knew decades ago and had lost contact with over time.  Sometimes these friendships are renewed with energy but most times we no longer have that much in common and this technology doesn't really make it easy to tell our tales and share our commonalities.  It is not exactly like meeting up at the local bar or coffee shop where alcohol or caffeine stimulate reduction in inhibitions and eye contact opens the conversation...something I would do more often if the few friends I have lived anywhere near me!  The exchanges that take place on FB are pretty much superficial.  We congratulate each other on posted accomplishments or send condolences when life is not perking along too well or the younger members post embarrassing pictures from last night's party.  Members also post the results of various virtual games that they play or their daily horoscope or other time-sinks that I have absolute no interest in.


Everything seems to take place in 160 characters or less.  It is a Gen-X world and not at all reflective of  the Jane Austin school of correspondence.  I would call it the IM update school of self-indulgence.  It gives everyone a chance to be a brief stand-out comedian or to rally support for a cause.  One wonders what innocuous post will come back to haunt the poster in decades to come?  Those love affairs that are so pookie cute and then long since dissolved?  Remarks on recent job changes that seemed so innocent at the time?  I am at a stage in my life where anything I say would be miraculous if it actually made an impact on the rest of my life.  But these profiles for the younger generation do continually evolve as its users evolve.. (Danah Michelle Boyd Taken Out of Context  --"Kranzberg’s First Law: “Technology is neither good nor bad; nor is it neutral”  (Kranzberg 1986: 454-548). A technology’s value is shaped by its social construction—how designers create it and how people use it, interpret it, and reconfigure it. It is not an outcome of the technology alone or its potential.)


I do post photos and it seems that the historic scanning has put me in touch with friends of my children as they remember the 'good old days.'  Their lives are so busy that they rarely look back and I think that my photos help them put some perspective on their journey(s) forward.  They see themselves in that ancient innocent and enthusiastic period of their lives before responsibilities cluttered their peace.  At least, I like to think that may be true.


But,  as I have often heard and firmly believe, do not put anything on the Internet that you would not want to read the following day on the front pages of a major newspaper.


What do you think of the FB and are you on?

Leaving Florida with a Few Questions

This is the view from the window of the condo where we stayed.  We did not get the (more) expensive ocean view side, but the view of the marina was nice.  The problem here is that for miles and miles and miles...what used to be marsh or scrub or wild land is now houses, all the way to the freeway inland!  With this kind of growth, what is to become of this state?  

After we unpacked we saw this sign on the back of the condo door.  We were scratching our heads because in the photo below THIS is where the sprinkler heads were....

What on earth does this mean?  Clearly they have some very tall tourists or some amazing rock star parties.

Well, Florida, you did not give us warm weather, but we will visit again soon with our grandchildren and I expect you to be on better behavior.

The Eye of the Camera

(Brief interruption of my tedious Florida travel log...you can leave and go to the bathroom.)


I like to think that my love of photography is my new hobby due to having more time now that I am retired.  I also like to think that the digital technology has made this another reason I take pictures so generously and spend so much time looking for new things to take pictures of.

But, in truth, I have taken pictures my whole life.  I saved my allowance for my first camera when I was about 11.  It was a Kodak Brownie box camera.  It was just exactly that, a small black plastic box with a tiny lens to preview your shot.  I could barely afford the film and had to send it out for development to some address I discovered on the back of one of my well perused comic books each time I saved enough money.  I had the camera for about a year, when one hot summer day I forgot and left it in the back window of our Chevrolet and it warped in the heat.  My mother was totally unsympathetic and hoped I had learned a lesson.  (I always suspected she saw it there and left it to prove a point although with her odd punishment theories, who knew.)  I was devastated.

There were later cameras to follow that I purchased as a teenager.  After I married my husband, I was free to use his expensive Nikon with the underwater housing, a camera that became my best pal when I was learning to SCUBA dive in the South Pacific and beginning to discover the beauty beneath the surface of the ocean. 

While we traveled overseas to many countries there were only two times when I was very uncomfortable taking pictures as a tourist and realized how much contrast there was in freedom in American.  One time I was traveling in Taiwan.  I was approached by a policeman who made it quite clear that I would not be allowed to continue to take pictures on one of the outlying islands close to Mainland China that we visited.  I was also told to keep my camera in my lap during the short plane ride to the island. (I think I remember that I cheated a little.)  While living in  Egypt for a short time one summer, I was approached by a police officer in Cairo and told I could not take photos down a certain street.  I was also approached later that week in Port Said, Egypt, and told I could not take photos after approaching a bridge area that was leading to the Suez Canal.  These Egyptian uniformed and weapon-carrying men were stern and serious and I did not question their authority, both because I could still see the damage to buildings from a recent war, and I did not want to lose my camera or film.

A few weeks ago I received the following link in an email newsletter on photography.  If you take pictures I suggest you watch it carefully because it says a lot about how fragile our freedoms can be.  It also reminds us that we need to know our countries laws and rights and to be aware of how silly irrational fears can make us lose important freedoms in an instant.  Freedoms that when taken away do NOT make us any safer.

Of course one should always ask permission before taking someone's photo, because sometimes they can be very shy and intimidated.