This is how one email begain when I opened my inbox today:
This was a hard day telling Michael about what happened before knowing names. He is handling it well by asking thoughtful questions and knows that there are kids in heaven with Orazio(grandfather), Ricardo (horse), Elmo (fish), and his hermit crab.
Michael is the grandson of a friend of mine who just earlier that week attended a birthday party of one of the children who was killed in the tragedy at the elementary school and who also attended CCD (Catholic school) classes at his church taught by the mother of the same child. The wife of my friend who sent this email, who is also a friend of ours, is a nurse and was at the hospital working with a father, a NICU Physicians Assistant who has save so many babies lives, when he learned that his daughter had been shot at the school. This is the little blonde girl whose face has appeared in so many news stories. These tragic waves keep on expanding.
This is such a tough holiday season for us all. I took an unplanned trip up to see my grandchildren on Sunday...just to hug them and see them.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Early Warming?
It is totally amazing to me that I had roses to pick a few days ago to add to some Christmas decorations that are on my dining table. I also noticed this morning that some trees are beginning to have small buds swelling in anticipation. This is so frightening to me as I do think we must have some cold weather ahead. If we do not, how odd spring will seem in early March! Which plants will survive this change, which birds and insects will be caught off guard and flying around somewhere they should not be?
Friday, December 14, 2012
Words...just Words
You can ask why? No one will give you an answer that makes any sense.
You can ask how? No untangled web will lead to the path of what the pattern meant.
You can ask what next? Take one step and then breathe and then take the next step and then breathe.
The breathing hurts, I know. It is harsh and sharp.
The first step feels as if there is no ground beneath your foot.
You may fall, but pick yourself up.
Reach for that nearby hand, it is firm and warm.
Take the next step.
You are part of the tapestry of this life.
Your presence helps keep it all from unraveling.
You are important. Please stay strong.
To the Rest of the World...We Are Not as Crazy as We Seem...Maybe.
(Note: This event and the writing about it happened days before the Oregon tragedy.)
I had a list...somewhere...I thought...looking for that wrinkled yellow paper torn from my notepad and now lying hidden beneath a wallet, a small camera, hand lotion, a pocket calendar, and stale gum deep in the bottom of my purse. I must use the list or I will kick into that addictive mode where I keep buying gifts for loved ones as if that could make them love me more or longer. I MUST STICK TO THE LIST!
I look around the mall filled with dazed shoppers and resigned children carrying bags of all shapes and sizes. Down the center of the mall are young minimum wage employees standing expectantly outside their kiosks wishing to dab something on my hand or allow me to play with some automated toy. They stand intensely watching for potential customers or absently texting wishing they were anywhere but here before displays of woven scarves or silver jewelry or brightly colored cell-phone cases. I silently say a prayer (to whomever) that they make it through the season with a little more money than they had hoped for. They deserve some reward after spending days rubbing lotion on old ladies hands.
Sighing to myself, I have given up on the list. I do remember my son asking for shirts and sweaters in medium and I turn to hubby and direct him away from watching some flying toy toward the large department store at the very end of the mall. It will be a trek and an obstacle course, but we will get there.
Surprisingly, the men's clothing section in the back of the store is not in total disarray. Shelves are neat and reasonably full of stock. Some of the sale prices are very good. I peruse tables avoiding the cream cheese golf look and the expensive European brands and turn toward the edgier clothing to match my son's 'rock star' personality. After all, he texted yesterday that he will be opening for Sublime with Rome...whoever in the hell they are! Striped shirts with thin bright bands or shiny black buttons which I match to a more subdued but very soft pullover sweater are my selections.
As I turn toward the checkout a tall woman about my age is standing just to my left. She turns to the (Indian/Pakistani?) girl behind the counter and asks if the shirt she is holding out is more blue or more purple. The girl hesitates and then answers "Purple" with a distinct un-American accent. Then the woman pulls up a bright lime green shirt, and looking at both the girl and I, asks if we think it is too bright. The girl demures clearly not sure what answer her customer is looking for.
I think her question is naive, but I tactlessly respond. "Depends on the personality of the man you are giving it to. Is he bold with personality or more conservative?" She doesn't answer but tucks the shirt under her arm and then turns to me again with the blue/purple shirt and asks if I think it is blue or periwinkle. I want to explain that looking at colors under store lighting is very deceptive, but being the photographer that I like to think I am, I boldly state that it has a little more purple in it and is probably closer to periwinkle.
I place my selections on the counter and hand the girl my credit card.
"I do not know what color is periwinkle," she smiles as she begins to scan the bar codes of my selections.
The tall, solidly built woman approaches the counter behind my husband and I, and looks around the store commenting that there is a lot of stock that still has to be moved by the holidays. I respond that I have seen some stores that do not seem to have so much inventory and appear to be playing it more carefully.
Hubby says something about the recession and something else that I do not hear about the economy as I finish my check-out. The woman responds to him with some comment I miss and he looks at a loss for words. I grab my bags of clothes and turn to leave as the woman leans in close to hubby's ear and says something to him in a low voice.
As we are leaving the store and out of her hearing, I ask him what she said.
He takes a deep breath, "When all the goodies are gone, just make sure you have your gun loaded and ready."
And yet, she had looked so absolutely normal.
I had a list...somewhere...I thought...looking for that wrinkled yellow paper torn from my notepad and now lying hidden beneath a wallet, a small camera, hand lotion, a pocket calendar, and stale gum deep in the bottom of my purse. I must use the list or I will kick into that addictive mode where I keep buying gifts for loved ones as if that could make them love me more or longer. I MUST STICK TO THE LIST!
I look around the mall filled with dazed shoppers and resigned children carrying bags of all shapes and sizes. Down the center of the mall are young minimum wage employees standing expectantly outside their kiosks wishing to dab something on my hand or allow me to play with some automated toy. They stand intensely watching for potential customers or absently texting wishing they were anywhere but here before displays of woven scarves or silver jewelry or brightly colored cell-phone cases. I silently say a prayer (to whomever) that they make it through the season with a little more money than they had hoped for. They deserve some reward after spending days rubbing lotion on old ladies hands.
Sighing to myself, I have given up on the list. I do remember my son asking for shirts and sweaters in medium and I turn to hubby and direct him away from watching some flying toy toward the large department store at the very end of the mall. It will be a trek and an obstacle course, but we will get there.
Surprisingly, the men's clothing section in the back of the store is not in total disarray. Shelves are neat and reasonably full of stock. Some of the sale prices are very good. I peruse tables avoiding the cream cheese golf look and the expensive European brands and turn toward the edgier clothing to match my son's 'rock star' personality. After all, he texted yesterday that he will be opening for Sublime with Rome...whoever in the hell they are! Striped shirts with thin bright bands or shiny black buttons which I match to a more subdued but very soft pullover sweater are my selections.
As I turn toward the checkout a tall woman about my age is standing just to my left. She turns to the (Indian/Pakistani?) girl behind the counter and asks if the shirt she is holding out is more blue or more purple. The girl hesitates and then answers "Purple" with a distinct un-American accent. Then the woman pulls up a bright lime green shirt, and looking at both the girl and I, asks if we think it is too bright. The girl demures clearly not sure what answer her customer is looking for.
I think her question is naive, but I tactlessly respond. "Depends on the personality of the man you are giving it to. Is he bold with personality or more conservative?" She doesn't answer but tucks the shirt under her arm and then turns to me again with the blue/purple shirt and asks if I think it is blue or periwinkle. I want to explain that looking at colors under store lighting is very deceptive, but being the photographer that I like to think I am, I boldly state that it has a little more purple in it and is probably closer to periwinkle.
I place my selections on the counter and hand the girl my credit card.
"I do not know what color is periwinkle," she smiles as she begins to scan the bar codes of my selections.
The tall, solidly built woman approaches the counter behind my husband and I, and looks around the store commenting that there is a lot of stock that still has to be moved by the holidays. I respond that I have seen some stores that do not seem to have so much inventory and appear to be playing it more carefully.
Hubby says something about the recession and something else that I do not hear about the economy as I finish my check-out. The woman responds to him with some comment I miss and he looks at a loss for words. I grab my bags of clothes and turn to leave as the woman leans in close to hubby's ear and says something to him in a low voice.
As we are leaving the store and out of her hearing, I ask him what she said.
He takes a deep breath, "When all the goodies are gone, just make sure you have your gun loaded and ready."
And yet, she had looked so absolutely normal.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Continuing with the Holidays
I have little to add this week as I am up to my eyes in Christmas wrapping paper and there seems to be various amounts of scotch tape in my hair that I cannot get out. I have misplaced the scissors once again yet I know they are somewhere here on the floor where I am sitting under tags and ribbons and boxes. I refuse to get up and look around, because at my age getting up off the floor requires and Act of Congress and I find it almost impossible to get back down again.
Speaking of Congress no one from there sent me a single Christmas card! And I did send a number of those folks money this past year. But I got a 'BUNCH' of cards from the White House--each time asking me for money and I thought my candidate of choice had won that election? Anyway, I thought I would share two of my favorites that came in the mail. No matter who is in office I always love their pets!
Speaking of Congress no one from there sent me a single Christmas card! And I did send a number of those folks money this past year. But I got a 'BUNCH' of cards from the White House--each time asking me for money and I thought my candidate of choice had won that election? Anyway, I thought I would share two of my favorites that came in the mail. No matter who is in office I always love their pets!
Friday, December 07, 2012
The Annual Visitor
There it sits with patience, or is it insolence, in a dark corner of the basement. Plastic green sheeting with bright red handles protects it from dust and mice droppings. Every year it gains weight. What does it eat down here? It has melded into its little corner with such fossilized determination and like a big fat dog it fights our every tug and pull to break it free from other large unidentifiable objects.
Finally it falls between us with a soft whoosh like a beached green whale just inches from our toes. Hubby lifts the heavy end and I lift the other heavy end. We both grunt and groan and wonder if we really want to do this. Every year we put off the task until we reach a tipping point in time. The lump gets bumped and dragged past the covered unused dining room table, past the antique doll house and over the threshold toward the stairs. This is where we wipe our brows and put our courage to the sticking place. At our age this could be a life or death decision.
With hands tightly grabbing canvas and stitched pulls we drag it ever so slowly over each wooden step up to the main floor using our (my) body weight to prevent it from running back down the stairs and taking me with it. At the main level it is like a heavy dust mop as we pull it down the hallway. It accordians various throw rugs until it reaches the designated place: the bay window. This means we no longer have a place to eat breakfast.
We should feel successful at this juncture, but an even greater effort and struggle awaits us our expended energies. We catch our breath.
Hidden in the dense plastic branches, there are green tips to match green holes, red tips to match red holes and black tips which are impossible to see to match anything. Then buried deeper in the darkness of the plastic pine needles, there are numerous male and female plugs, so many that we have never been able to count them all. One year long ago when I was determined I labeled them AA, BB, CC, DD. We have never again found the DDs in the dense green. There is one string of lights that no longer lights (perhaps related to the DDs) and we must add our own little string across that area.
After an hour in which we do not swear because it IS the holiday season, we have a perfectly symmetrical plastic tree in place. It does not smell of pine, but smells of age and mildew, a perfect tree for old people. We tweak the ends of various wire branches turned inward like the bowed head of a timid dog that has been subdued by its master and does not want to be here. Then we decorate each branch in red and gold glass ornaments because it is an adult tree with sophistication and no whimsy as all the family ornaments have been given to the children now that they have their own homes.
Once it is lit sharing all its glory we remember why we go through this every year. It cleans up pretty good and so does my floor!
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Finally it falls between us with a soft whoosh like a beached green whale just inches from our toes. Hubby lifts the heavy end and I lift the other heavy end. We both grunt and groan and wonder if we really want to do this. Every year we put off the task until we reach a tipping point in time. The lump gets bumped and dragged past the covered unused dining room table, past the antique doll house and over the threshold toward the stairs. This is where we wipe our brows and put our courage to the sticking place. At our age this could be a life or death decision.
With hands tightly grabbing canvas and stitched pulls we drag it ever so slowly over each wooden step up to the main floor using our (my) body weight to prevent it from running back down the stairs and taking me with it. At the main level it is like a heavy dust mop as we pull it down the hallway. It accordians various throw rugs until it reaches the designated place: the bay window. This means we no longer have a place to eat breakfast.
We should feel successful at this juncture, but an even greater effort and struggle awaits us our expended energies. We catch our breath.
Hidden in the dense plastic branches, there are green tips to match green holes, red tips to match red holes and black tips which are impossible to see to match anything. Then buried deeper in the darkness of the plastic pine needles, there are numerous male and female plugs, so many that we have never been able to count them all. One year long ago when I was determined I labeled them AA, BB, CC, DD. We have never again found the DDs in the dense green. There is one string of lights that no longer lights (perhaps related to the DDs) and we must add our own little string across that area.
After an hour in which we do not swear because it IS the holiday season, we have a perfectly symmetrical plastic tree in place. It does not smell of pine, but smells of age and mildew, a perfect tree for old people. We tweak the ends of various wire branches turned inward like the bowed head of a timid dog that has been subdued by its master and does not want to be here. Then we decorate each branch in red and gold glass ornaments because it is an adult tree with sophistication and no whimsy as all the family ornaments have been given to the children now that they have their own homes.
Once it is lit sharing all its glory we remember why we go through this every year. It cleans up pretty good and so does my floor!
.jpg)
Thursday, December 06, 2012
Action vs Reaction
Continuing on a theme from the prior post.
This is why (not really) that I no longer go to church. I wonder what the parishioners' "helping the poor" programs are like, because in spite of their misinterpretation of that quote from the Bible, Jesus did preach that we help the poor. Do they offer free gun training or free ammunition to poor families at Christmas? It reminds me of the dorm at the Colorado University that was set aside this year for students who wanted to bring their guns to college. Keeping a concealed weapon is so important to learning. No one signed up, which gave me hope that we were not returning to the uncivilized wild west where we must be ready to defend ourselves daily using violence. There are those who live in fear of almost everything and need to stock up on food, water, guns and prayer with the belief that victory goes to those who are prepared for the very worst. There are those who feel there is a master plan of which we are a small part or if no master plan is unfolding, then we must accept that each day is an energy of events and we can control it to a small extent by the way we live our lives. But the greater control we have is how we react over time to what happens to us. You know which one I am.
This is why (not really) that I no longer go to church. I wonder what the parishioners' "helping the poor" programs are like, because in spite of their misinterpretation of that quote from the Bible, Jesus did preach that we help the poor. Do they offer free gun training or free ammunition to poor families at Christmas? It reminds me of the dorm at the Colorado University that was set aside this year for students who wanted to bring their guns to college. Keeping a concealed weapon is so important to learning. No one signed up, which gave me hope that we were not returning to the uncivilized wild west where we must be ready to defend ourselves daily using violence. There are those who live in fear of almost everything and need to stock up on food, water, guns and prayer with the belief that victory goes to those who are prepared for the very worst. There are those who feel there is a master plan of which we are a small part or if no master plan is unfolding, then we must accept that each day is an energy of events and we can control it to a small extent by the way we live our lives. But the greater control we have is how we react over time to what happens to us. You know which one I am.
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
Tis the Season to Blow a Kiss
Up to 57% Off Concealed-Handgun - Permit Class
"A bullet travels at hundreds of miles per hour, much like a beam of light or a kiss blown by Paul Bunyan. Work on your quick-draw skills with this Groupon."
( Found in my "Groupon" email this morning.)
"A bullet travels at hundreds of miles per hour, much like a beam of light or a kiss blown by Paul Bunyan. Work on your quick-draw skills with this Groupon."
( Found in my "Groupon" email this morning.)
Sunday, December 02, 2012
Ticky, Tacky Taste.
(In a pink fog mood.)
So my cold decides to stay a little longer and that means that bacteria bring trunks of stuff and move in to keep the cold company. Therefore, I am now on antibiotics. The cough has reduced in duration and size, but the medicine I am taking to move these hanger on cells has given me tummy rumbles that are not wise to endure in polite company. I am staying under cover for a day or two more and have now finished both books that I was reading. Hubby is gone to babysit while I am bored and turn to TV.
Some of my choices are:
The Shopping Channel
Ink Masters
Storage Wars
Pit Bulls and Parolees
SurvivorMan
Celebratory Ghost Stories
Redneck Island
Deadly Women
Amish Out of Order
Honey Boo Boo doesn't come on until another time, so I didn't list it, and there are bunches of 'housewives and wh++es' shows that feature plastic/saline enhanced women wearing skin tight clothes who spend too much of their time drinking and shouting at each other in expensive restaurants...shows that only a very lost soul would consider entertainment. Even at death's door I would not invite these people into my home. (And people think the Hunger Games is a fantasy.) Many times I turn to BBC, Aljazeera or RT (Russia Today) or MHz network for a fresh air change in news and re-runs.
Main stream shows are interspersed with tasteless ads about some beautiful celebrity using expensive perfume and then having men chase her through the rain soaked streets of some European city while her diamonds and clothes drip away. The next ad is developed with great Christmas spirit when a handsome young man shows up at the Holiday decorated house of his well-to-do parents and goes looking for them while they sneak out the back door and steal his fancy new car and go on a road trip laughing as they get traction on the snow. This ad may be followed by a family being persuaded to go on a holiday cruise by a sea shell. Yes, a sea shell! Perfume, cars, cruises...all of the things that families will be buying this year I am sure, the 2% at least. We are so tasteless, tacky and tawdry sometimes that I am embarrassed for us.
At least I have Bill Moyers on PBS and that dignified costume drama on BBC starting in a few weeks.
Do you think this time in our culture will go down as the lowest in years or am I just not aging well?
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Bah? Is there a bug humming?
Still sitting here waiting for the departure of this cold. It is a moving target. Fever and scratchy throat and malaise have given way to chest congestion, cough, runny nose and grumpiness Taking various PM drugs to sleep, but decided to try without last night and now realize that getting about 4 hours of sleep does not put me in the best mood. (Don't you just hate when bloggers whine about their winter colds?)
Speaking of wine, even that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I seem to be able to eat cookies and cupcakes rather easily, though. And Lindt chocolate truffles go down without a whimper. I am living in stretch pants this week.
I have finished my Holiday newsletter and will print up a batch and distribute them to one and all who might scan them before tossing them in the trash. There are only so many news notes on travels and photos of darling grandchildren and brags about adult children that my friends and relatives are able to endure before pouring more bourbon in the eggnog and watching a rerun of Miracle on 34th Street, or National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation or the Muppet Christmas Carol while wrapping some odd shaped item that was on sale and will find its way into the back of a relative's crowded closet.
Yes, I am grumpy. I am heading back up to those darling grandchildren to babysit once again this weekend...unless I find my illness does not go away. Then it will be up hubby to hold up my end. It is only the baby that needs to be watched as all four other members of the family have different social obligations on Saturday. They have full calendars most days. Hope the baby can keep up! Below is the command center that was recently installed.
Speaking of wine, even that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I seem to be able to eat cookies and cupcakes rather easily, though. And Lindt chocolate truffles go down without a whimper. I am living in stretch pants this week.
I have finished my Holiday newsletter and will print up a batch and distribute them to one and all who might scan them before tossing them in the trash. There are only so many news notes on travels and photos of darling grandchildren and brags about adult children that my friends and relatives are able to endure before pouring more bourbon in the eggnog and watching a rerun of Miracle on 34th Street, or National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation or the Muppet Christmas Carol while wrapping some odd shaped item that was on sale and will find its way into the back of a relative's crowded closet.
Yes, I am grumpy. I am heading back up to those darling grandchildren to babysit once again this weekend...unless I find my illness does not go away. Then it will be up hubby to hold up my end. It is only the baby that needs to be watched as all four other members of the family have different social obligations on Saturday. They have full calendars most days. Hope the baby can keep up! Below is the command center that was recently installed.
I have finished much of my holiday shopping for them, but it is a bit of a challenge. Just a photo or two of my granddaughters room is an example of holiday shopping headaches for those who are grandparents to over-privileged children. (For the longest time I shared a bedroom with my brother AND sister until I was a teenager!)
Yes it does look like someone threw up a strawberry milkshake in here and one can get a headache if staying too long!
Oh well, I do not want you to think that these over-privileged children are spoiled. They do their chores somewhat faithfully and seem to get along with each other phenomenally well. I am blessed and will be in a better mood to realize that when this damn cold departs!
Monday, November 26, 2012
Lazy
There is a hedonistic side of me that emerges more as I age. I guiltily like being able to be lazy when I have justification. For the past two days I have been sitting and watching TV. There is little on day time television that is worth my valuable attention, so I spend time watching reruns of old favorite programs instead. Then I go through my holiday photos that I took and sort them and later I begin the reading of the Anne of Green Gables series that I bought at the bookstore near the author's home on my summer trip to Prince Edward Island. I have caught up on reading current blog posts but not reading the past posts. "Why", my eager reader's might ask with the holiday season hot on our trail and a tree to be decorated and gifts to be wrapped, "am I being so lazy?"
Well, the weekend before my long Thanksgiving Day drive north, I spent babysitting my three grandchildren. Naturally my lovely granddaughter had a nightmare and about 4:00 A.M. I heard the soft patter of feet and little child whimpers and then a tearful child was beside my bed crying from a nightmare. I allowed the sharp kneed and elbowed girl into my bed and dried her tears and comforted her as we both attempted a speedy return to sleep which she succeeded in doing. But unfortunately, my little grandchild was fighting a cold, sore throat, and mild fever at that time. And she shared that with me.
My husband developed the cold symptoms first on the day after Thanksgiving and two days later I came down with the same cold symptoms. My response is always worse than his, and even though I have been taking Zinc lozenges regularly, I still have symptoms and feel tired from lack of a good night's sleep.
But, because I am not super sick, I am kind of enjoying this gold-bricking excuse. Tomorrow I will return to my lists, errands and duties. But for today, I am being the grasshopper.
In the photos above we are driving in and out of a little of winter on our return from the north two days after Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Thursday Thoughts 13-#38 Thankfully
I will be sharing Thanksgiving away from home and with my son's future in-laws whom I have only met twice. It will be a long drive and a bit of an experience, but I am sure by the end of the day I will be thankful that I didn't have to cook, didn't have to hostess, didn't have to eat with just the two of us and didn't have to bite my tongue once over something not worth such behavior.
Thus I am thankful that:
- The holiday catalogs that will fill my mailbox on my return are not overdue bills.
- The candles I light tonight are for beauty and not because of lack of electricity.
- The fire in my fireplace tonight before departure is not the only warmth in my house.
- The clothes that I pack are well-worn but by me and not a stranger.
- The long drive that I take will be to see friends and not to seek shelter.
- The food I eat will not be the only warm food I have had that day.
- The stories I hear will be followed by laughter and not tears.
- The photos I take will be for smiles and not for insurance assessments.
- The tours I take will be to see places for the rehearsal dinner and not the damaged neighborhood.
- The thing broken will be my diet promises to myself and not something rare that I loved.
- The loss will be the passage of time but not whole days in my life.
- The hugs I share with others will be for the future and not to forget the recent past.
- The thankfulness I give will be no less sincere than that of others on this planet.
(posted early due to travel)
Monday, November 19, 2012
Peacefulness is Here
I did not grow up in a family that listened to music, either at home or on the radio. I never heard my father or mother sing that I can remember. I could not sing with a bucket over my head and my flute playing in junior high school was a struggle for us all. But I was able after my children were grown and moving out of their teen years to listen to music on the radio that was not just popular or contemporary stuff. I was able to focus on what certain types of music did for me during my pauses in busy work days.
With no more college bills and reduced food bills at that time I was able to peruse music shops and buy a number of CDs from all genres. Classical, broadway, international, jazz, folk and even some popular artists. I today am listening to something called African Tapestries and it is filled with percussion that mimics the sounds of a lion, drum beats from some village, a flute that calls like the tropical birds and the sound of rain now and again. It is as if I am sitting in some rainforest bamboo hut waiting for the storm to pass. I have not converted these CD's to digital and may never spend the money to do that. I also purchased an expensive sound system at the same time and have wallowed in this delightful decadence for years.
Regarding my prior political post, it was not removed because I felt I cannot speak my mind on issues. I feel strongly about my liberal social values and my more moderate to conservative fiscal values as well. You can ask any of my relatives and they will tell you I am no wallflower when it comes to controversy. I am willing to listen to their side, and they must listen to mine. But this blog was not created as a forum for that, so I try to keep away from going down that road. My conservative readers are moderates, I really think, and do not need my lecturing. My liberal readers will only agree with me in spades. My moderate middle-of-the road readers can find their way better through factual research than my specific arguments. So do not feel that I removed it out of fear of making someone angry, only out of realization that the conversation tends to be more one-sided in blogdom. I do worry about those who think that politics U.S. is too far gone for their voice anymore. Every citizen that throws in the towel is more dangerous than they know.
With no more college bills and reduced food bills at that time I was able to peruse music shops and buy a number of CDs from all genres. Classical, broadway, international, jazz, folk and even some popular artists. I today am listening to something called African Tapestries and it is filled with percussion that mimics the sounds of a lion, drum beats from some village, a flute that calls like the tropical birds and the sound of rain now and again. It is as if I am sitting in some rainforest bamboo hut waiting for the storm to pass. I have not converted these CD's to digital and may never spend the money to do that. I also purchased an expensive sound system at the same time and have wallowed in this delightful decadence for years.
Regarding my prior political post, it was not removed because I felt I cannot speak my mind on issues. I feel strongly about my liberal social values and my more moderate to conservative fiscal values as well. You can ask any of my relatives and they will tell you I am no wallflower when it comes to controversy. I am willing to listen to their side, and they must listen to mine. But this blog was not created as a forum for that, so I try to keep away from going down that road. My conservative readers are moderates, I really think, and do not need my lecturing. My liberal readers will only agree with me in spades. My moderate middle-of-the road readers can find their way better through factual research than my specific arguments. So do not feel that I removed it out of fear of making someone angry, only out of realization that the conversation tends to be more one-sided in blogdom. I do worry about those who think that politics U.S. is too far gone for their voice anymore. Every citizen that throws in the towel is more dangerous than they know.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Good Morning
So sorry for the prior post and I wish to formally apologize. I just felt my head was going to explode. These past few months have been like being on a diet of bitter coffee forever waiting for the hot chocolate to get delivered. There is a SMALL segment of our society (much like deeply conservative segments in other countries of the world) that want their way but since they cannot form intelligent arguments or ways to compromise to convince their populace they instead resort to violence, anger, and other stupid ideas. I will be a very good girl, now and avoid writing about them and certainly avoid reading about them. (I deleted the post...did not want to give them immortality.)
Thursday, November 15, 2012
That Canned Meat
I doubt it is just me, but I have suddenly been hit with spam comments on a daily basis to both of my blogs. I have my blog set up where I do not require those posting comments to go through that annoying word verification window that is set up to prevent spam robots from leaving comments. I hate this gatekeeper because it also prevents real people from commenting on others' blogs. I also have no restrictions on who can comment on my posts...no registration, etc. I do have an approval requirement that kicks in on comments to my posts that are over 7 days old and this is where the spam comments are being posted.
I mark these comments as spam so they never get published. They are drug ads mostly...some clothing ads. All of them annoying and clearly from non-English sources due to the bad grammar.
I do not want to implement that nasty word verification window that Blogger has created which is so hard to read that I sometimes try three times to get the code right when trying to place a comment on another blog. After that, if I still have no success I just don't comment on the blog. Most readers refuse to use the word verification at all.
At any rate, here is hoping we soon get a much reduce diet of that canned meat, SPAM!
I mark these comments as spam so they never get published. They are drug ads mostly...some clothing ads. All of them annoying and clearly from non-English sources due to the bad grammar.
I do not want to implement that nasty word verification window that Blogger has created which is so hard to read that I sometimes try three times to get the code right when trying to place a comment on another blog. After that, if I still have no success I just don't comment on the blog. Most readers refuse to use the word verification at all.
At any rate, here is hoping we soon get a much reduce diet of that canned meat, SPAM!
Monday, November 12, 2012
Relations
It was the end of a long day in the garden for hubby as he put his beds to sleep for winter and a long day for me going through all of my office files and moving an ugly wooden file cabinet out of my bedroom and up the stairs into my little office on the stair landing. We had moved all the patio furniture into the shelter of the porch and finished the process of getting it ready for winter. We both were basking in the success of a well organized day. We had just stuffed ourselves on spaghetti Bolognese with a side of garden vegetables while we were waiting for NPR news to start on TV when hubby turned to me and leaning forward asked:
"Do you think you will treat grandchildren differently from your new daughter-in-law than you do for those from your daughter?"
I thought for a minute and realized that indeed I probably would.
I know my daughter intimately and while I allow her to raise her children as she wants, I do sometimes offer just a little advice when I think she needs guidance. I also stretch the rules just a little when they are alone with me. With my daughter-in-law, if they are lucky enough to have children, I will stand back more and wait for her actions to help me. I already love her, but I only 'think' I know her. She is very close to both her mother and her grandmother...my role will be much smaller.
I will live closer to them geographically, so I hope they feel free to call on us for babysitting and child-watching. I feel strongly that is my biological role in life. I cannot explain. but being a grandmother is a calling in my book. I think it goes to the deep root of reproduction that is the core of most of us.
As I pondered on my husband's unusual question, I realized I had never given thought to how different these two families would be in my life. I accept that our relationship with our children colors so many things that happen in their lives. So tell me, if you have children of both sexes, who marry and have children of their own...does it make a difference in your relationship with the grandchildren? I am not asking if you love more or less, that I know is stupid. I am just asking about your philosophy in providing guidance to the children and interacting with them and their parents on a subtle and small scale.
"Do you think you will treat grandchildren differently from your new daughter-in-law than you do for those from your daughter?"
I thought for a minute and realized that indeed I probably would.
I know my daughter intimately and while I allow her to raise her children as she wants, I do sometimes offer just a little advice when I think she needs guidance. I also stretch the rules just a little when they are alone with me. With my daughter-in-law, if they are lucky enough to have children, I will stand back more and wait for her actions to help me. I already love her, but I only 'think' I know her. She is very close to both her mother and her grandmother...my role will be much smaller.
I will live closer to them geographically, so I hope they feel free to call on us for babysitting and child-watching. I feel strongly that is my biological role in life. I cannot explain. but being a grandmother is a calling in my book. I think it goes to the deep root of reproduction that is the core of most of us.
As I pondered on my husband's unusual question, I realized I had never given thought to how different these two families would be in my life. I accept that our relationship with our children colors so many things that happen in their lives. So tell me, if you have children of both sexes, who marry and have children of their own...does it make a difference in your relationship with the grandchildren? I am not asking if you love more or less, that I know is stupid. I am just asking about your philosophy in providing guidance to the children and interacting with them and their parents on a subtle and small scale.
Friday, November 09, 2012
Post Mortum
The results of this election have not really changed the egg shell mood of this country. Deeply conservative people are angry and terrified. ( I remember how I felt when George W. Bush was elected. I was sure he was going to destroy this country or bring it to the edge of destruction with Chaney. Guess what?)
I have talked to (former) friends who are so mad they are no longer going to vote. Trying to reason with that logic is hard. Fortunately, most of my friends are moderates...they are Republicans married to Democrats and Democrats married to Republicans and Independents not yet married, who realize that politics is an evolutionary model. It swings to the left and then to the right and makes most of its slow progress in the middle with compromise.
While Trump was adamant that Obama was very secretive about his background, I was concerned with the fact that Romney deleted his emails and sold off servers and PCs to employees when he was governor of Massachusetts with the result that there was no information to send when freedom of information requests were filed to find out how he really governed that state. I was concerned that he did not reveal his taxes. If you want to be the Head of State I want to know everything about your finances and I think I have that right. I did research Bain's success under the time of Romney and found that the huge majority of companies purchased were sold off and shut down. Of those that Bain did help, only seven really became successful under Romney and only four continued in the black being able to carry the debt that Bain left them after he left.
But I also want to point out I am not happy about Obama's record on the environment. Neither candidate even touched these issues due to the recession. Clean air and clean water are too expensive these days. The Keystone pipeline will be completed under this president...but perhaps that is the least of our environmental issues.
This President is pretty moderate by standards of years ago.
This article here (not really tongue in cheek) makes the case against a liberal president and shows you we are in moderate, if not totally conservative, hands. Read it before the link disappears as they all do.
I have talked to (former) friends who are so mad they are no longer going to vote. Trying to reason with that logic is hard. Fortunately, most of my friends are moderates...they are Republicans married to Democrats and Democrats married to Republicans and Independents not yet married, who realize that politics is an evolutionary model. It swings to the left and then to the right and makes most of its slow progress in the middle with compromise.
While Trump was adamant that Obama was very secretive about his background, I was concerned with the fact that Romney deleted his emails and sold off servers and PCs to employees when he was governor of Massachusetts with the result that there was no information to send when freedom of information requests were filed to find out how he really governed that state. I was concerned that he did not reveal his taxes. If you want to be the Head of State I want to know everything about your finances and I think I have that right. I did research Bain's success under the time of Romney and found that the huge majority of companies purchased were sold off and shut down. Of those that Bain did help, only seven really became successful under Romney and only four continued in the black being able to carry the debt that Bain left them after he left.
But I also want to point out I am not happy about Obama's record on the environment. Neither candidate even touched these issues due to the recession. Clean air and clean water are too expensive these days. The Keystone pipeline will be completed under this president...but perhaps that is the least of our environmental issues.
This President is pretty moderate by standards of years ago.
This article here (not really tongue in cheek) makes the case against a liberal president and shows you we are in moderate, if not totally conservative, hands. Read it before the link disappears as they all do.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Make the Pledge
This is a new day folks. Please make a resolution to find and focus on Common Ground. WE agree far more than we disagree in spite of what the Citizen's United Ads have tried to convince you.
Monday, November 05, 2012
Nothing Shared
One of the most important and powerful things in my life as I age is that file of shared memories I keep nearby and open at the oddest moments to peruse. While we remember the dark and sad times in our lives, I think that we most often allow our minds to turn to those happy and meaningful events that we shared with those we love. These are our restoratives and reminders that our life has been good. I realize that they do not have to be monumental periods in my life. The memory can be studying a spider spinning a web with a two-year-old on your hip, brushing the pollen from the pants of a 5-year-old tree climber just before he boards the bus for school, the sweet/sad memory of a little girl sitting on her metal lunchbox as she waits for the school bus. I also have a few big memories such as the memory of an evening in Hawaii standing on a hotel balcony overlooking the beach with a rising moon when my husband presented me with a new diamond to replace the one lost so many years ago and which was too expensive to replace at the time, or that time my husband, who greets life with endless enthusiasm, woke me at 2:00 A.M. during a camping trip so that I could see the tropical reef at an exceptional low tide under a full moon.
But lately, being a bit greedy, I have been having regrets for all the memories I have not been able to make. Life moves on with those I love who live outside my house. Their days are busy and full of tales and I am not there to see or hear them. I might get a shortened version of the more interesting or dramatic, but the little memories are only for those who were there. I have missed the grandchildren's first days at school and all the stories they might have shared when they got home and sat for dinner. I have missed the weekend and after-school learning or successes they experienced. I have missed the daily jokes and get-togethers of my own brothers and sisters that live so far away. I wish I could be there for the new challenges they have tried as they move into the later part of their lives.
I also think about the memories others missed. My third grandchild will not know all the early fun times we had with his brother and sister over the years before he arrived and while this is natural and inevitable, it does cause me pause as I realize we all have missed so much stuff. I then think of those whose families are broken and how difficult it must be to keep continuity to shared memories when some must be kept away in a quiet place that is visited only when everything is perfect. It is a tricky dance and full of land mines when skipping over these memories.
I know that I am reaching that time in my life when memories are going to be the most important tools I have and need to fill the sometimes big empty pauses in each day. Looking back can be such a bittersweet time, can it not?
Thursday, November 01, 2012
Downfall of the Aftermath
I did not see the actual fall, but was not surprised. More firewood for next winter. Another section of deer fence to repair! We also lost the lovely little wild fruit tree down at the dock. It was such a little tree, but its roots had sat in the brackish water too long. It had provided many lovely little white blossoms each spring, but will do that no longer.
During the noon of Tuesday, long after Sandy had checked out and checked in up North creating more disaster, I went down to the dock at high tide. The little dock platform on the right was not even visible. Still this flooding was not as horrible as it could have been.
But I think the biggest surprise was when I opened the front door just before the tree fall and saw my old Mazda with its sad expression. I had clearly neglected it way too much after the purchase of my new car. While my new Camry sat safe and comfy in the garage, the Mazda was left outside in the wind and rain. I stood in the doorway and saw the Mazda which sat like a small wet mammal wanting to come in and dry off! It had ruined the lawn in its crossing I noticed.
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| (Hubby did drive it here in the shelter of the garage. Sandy does not have a driver's licence and you should see what she had done to other cars!) |
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