Spring Silliness

Did you read about the canoe trip on my other blog?  Not yet?  Go there and then come back here for the after party....

Did you read it?  OK.

I had to set up this story with the afternoon canoe post you just perused so you can see that I was not on Prozac...just some Tequila, too much sun, hungriness, and good spring weather.  Yes, it was a LARGE Margharita, but in my defense they only listed LARGE and EXTRA LARGE on the menu and in further defense I actually drank only 75% of it.

Well, as elderly people who are off schedule and eating dinner later than usual and who combine that dinner with a cocktail (only me), we easily slid into super relaxed mode after the end of an afternoon in the spring sunshine.  Hubby guessed that we had paddled about 3 miles, which is not a huge amount, but proves we did lots of poking about.

I was dressed in ratty old denim jeans and a denim shirt that had also seen better paddling days.  I had a royal blue Stephen Colbert duck bill cap on my head (in this very conservative county) which mashed my short hair cut and gave me a more boyish/mannish look than I ever wanted.  My face was sunburned and it was shiny from sun-tan lotion.  I just write this, because I am vane enough to state I rarely go out to dinner looking like this and I was self-conscious on top of being tired.  

We ordered our drinks and having been together all afternoon we became silent and began people watching from our window at the restaurant.

While waiting for the guacamole to arrive, I saw a sleek convertible pulling into the parking lot.  There were three people who emerged, an elderly man and woman and one younger woman.  Very conscious of how others were dressing on this beautiful spring evening, I realized I had even forgotten to bring a brush to fix my hair when I removed my baseball cap, so I must have looked like a very lost soul.  Hubby retreated to the restroom while I watched the two woman wearing long flowing skirts and looking so summery nice.  The younger woman was helping them carefully put up the convertible top and returning some new plastic cover to the trunk of the car.  As they shut the car trunk the younger woman reach up to loosen her hair from a tight bun which had held her hair neatly for the windy top down drive.  As she released the pins, silky hair flowed in a wave of the most beautiful brown and shiny sweep that fell across her bare shoulders.  Ummm!  I was feeling even mousier as I took another sip of my Margarita.

When hubby returned from the restroom I made note of the fancy convertible in navy blue and brown to him.  We think the car was an AUDI, but not sure.  I pointed out the lovely lady as they were seated at a table nearby.  Hubby nodded and then said there was a much nicer car catching his eye, but it was behind a more closely parked car and I could not see it from where I sat.  I saw just a bit of the bright yellow hood and silver hub cap.

We continued to people watch, as two young teenage girls with actual flower crowns in their hair entered with their parents.  Just before our entree arrived hubby commented several times again on the fancy yellow car.  I suggested as our meal ended that we go out that way and look at the car.  By then I was feeling a bit fuzzy from the drink and mentioned that we could give customers a laugh as they saw us walking around and around the building thinking we were looking for our car and forgotten where we parked our car---which was on the exact opposite side of the building from this yellow car.  Would they shake their heads at two old people walking in circles...or would they even notice?  Still hubby wanted me to be able to see the car so after we paid the bill we took a right instead of a left at the front door.

A woman in her late 40's with a man in his 60's followed closely behind us as we exited and I suddenly became self-conscious once again of not actually walking to our car.  Being in a silly mood as well, I turned as I held the door open for the woman and said that we were not parked on this side of the restaurant and we had not lost our car!  We KNEW that it was parked on the other side of this building, but wanted to check out a car parked on this side.  She smiled (patiently?) as she held the door for her companion.

"Oh, I get distracted by cars as well," she said and winked at her companion.

I went on to explain it was fancy yellow car.

She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "You know, yellow is my favorite color."

I laughed.

We turned the corner of the building and I pointed out the car at the end of the row.  She smiled again and said "That is my car.  I like to check it out every once in a while as well!"

"Your car?" hubby and I said together.

"Really." she smiled.

"Well, we were admiring it through the window during our dinner," Hubby replied.

"I like to look at it through the window when I eat dinner also!"  she laughed.

"What brand is it?" I asked stupidly.  I know nothing about cars and neither my husband nor I would ever crave such a status symbol, but we were both in a silly mood on this evening...obviously.

"It is mustang."  she smiled.  Her male companion could barely contain himself as he watched our surprise at her having such fun with us.  She had read us from the beginning, I guess, and knew exactly where we were headed at the outset.  Maybe this often happened to her?

Yes, it was their car as we saw them drive past us out onto the highway and we must have made their day.  (The only thing I regretted later is not having children or grandchildren around so that I could have embarrassed them.)

Found It!

Shortly after posting the prior post I found a plastic shoe-box-size container that I had moved all of my seeds into sitting on the top shelf of my closet way up in the dark with the spider webs and dust to keep it company. I opened it, noted most of the seeds are now years old, went outside and scattered a bunch of seeds everywhere in my wildflower bed and raked them in gently and watered. Keeping my fingers crossed.

I then planted small potting containers of sunflower seeds as these get eaten by critters before they get a head start.  Some of the sunflowers we might give away at one of the garden events.  All of this stuff is now going into the ground here and there and anywhere, because the seeds are probably not viable. I certainly do not need to save them.  I have two packets of Forget-Me-Nots and most people know that these are hard to kill even with time.

I have resolved to empty this box and start fresh this fall.

We are now planning some more weeding and then maybe a sunset canoe trip from a nearby woodland park boat ramp. I will, of course, take the camera, and if I see anything worthwhile, I will share.

Sigh

My life is better and more normal these days. The meeting in the previous post was a terrific experience.  Yes, I did get a great night's sleep for a change as I was exhausted upon my return.  I met some new and interesting people and found I have much in common with them. The only downer is that few people ate my soybean salad.   I always try to bring something vegan and healthy, but the chile, pulled pork, baked beans, cakes and pies all seemed to be the favorites, as usual.  Next year I am bringing fudge---or some really decadent pie.  Screw it!

I spent today looking for my file container of seeds.  I keep in storage folders and plastic vials with seeds collected from last year and new packets from the seed exchange a while back.  I opened the portable carrier that was labeled "Seeds and Plants" and not a single seed was inside!  All my notes and plant information and plant stakes were there...but not a single packet or container of seeds?  I know that I cleaned out the old seeds last year, but am totally lost about where I put the new stuff that I got from the seed exchange.  I am also missing a batch of plastic vials that may or may not have seeds?

I looked into another file carrier that had a lot of travel brochures, maps, notes, etc.  AND another carrier that has some older files.  As an elder it is easy for me to get distracted, so, I spent the better part of the day sorting through this old stuff.  I actually had old pay statements and evaluation reviews from my last job!  What a fun time I had shredding those files for the compost pile in the garden!  I threw away a number of items that were dated regarding national and state parks and hotels we had visited, saved some of the old stuff from trips (Jamaica, Ireland) as memories, and made newly labeled file folders for it all.  What a good girl am I. 

Still I cannot find my seeds!

I was going out tonight for dinner and then maybe buy some seeds, but I gave in and have made mole' chicken, friend rice and leftover green beans and we will stay at home. We have never seen House of Cards (the American version) and maybe we will watch two episodes of that.   Hubby is now water spraying the oyster flats of their winter growth and he will be both dirty and exhausted upon his return.  (Maybe he will remember to bring up some oysters for tomorrow's dinner!)  Thus dinner should be waiting for him...not a shower and trip to our local restaurant.

Oh, our osprey (Fred and Ethel) are having a rather risque old time and I will try to remember to post something about that on the next blog.  They returned close to St. Patrick's Day as they always do.  The photo below is not good as it was taken through a window on a rainy day...but you can see how drenched the poor thing was.

Hypocricy

I do not know why age and aging are more on my mind these days.  April is spring and renewal and getting to start new things.  Yet, I am drawn to articles about aging, loss of faculties, changes in outlook and reduction in activities, and even poetry on dying.  Not in a depressing way, but in a thoughtful and curious way.

It does not help that every month or so I notice some new mark on aging in my body or my ability to do things.  I can still put on my pants standing up and I can still get up off the floor without too much difficulty...both actions which I hold close and dear as hallmarks of good health.

As a result of this gloomier mood, I have been more prone to avoid getting together with others unless they are family.  I used to be this way when I was middle-aged (decades ago), but it was just a light mood.  Now when I have a meeting to go to, as I do this evening, I really want to just stay home and curl up with a good book or TV British mystery and some hot tea.  The meeting is a "meet-and greet" for new members and almost everyone that shows up is a wonderful person!  We all have the same interests anyway! Yet, I am not eager to be in welcoming mode and small talk mode and eating a buffet of homemade goodies, for some reason.  It all seems like taking a 5 mile walk in the heat of the day.  I can do it; I know it is good for me; but I do not want to.

I wonder if this is a natural process as we age, because we have less energy and are less eager to think quickly.  I mean, if you looked at me, you would not see someone doddering or slow.  You might actually think that I look fairly good for my age and be impressed that I have many interests.  But maybe this process is to avoid being exposed to illness, avoiding energy draining talk, and preparing us for a time when we will naturally be less active and less conversational?  Of course, there are many elderly, like my husband, who live for "meet and greets" and who will hold audience with many at his deathbed.

Oddly enough, I just wrote on someone's blog that they should look forward to the challenges of getting out and about and not be so withdrawn when they complained of  avoiding going out to dinner with loved ones...little hypocrite that I am.

(I think I figured out how to change the font size in html with this template..not too old.)

Post It

Too busy to post something thoughtful or insightful...which, of course, is my style.  I currently have dirt under my fingernails from weeding the last two beds in the front yard and planting petunias and pansies in a few of the pots on the deck.

I have called two of the Master Gardener volunteers this week for their brief interview and will write up the notes on that when I  am done here.

Calling various handymen for repair work and have made a dent in the fix-it list.  Got our 9 (NINE) smoke alarms rewired, got the outlet to the freezer fixed so that we can now begin stocking it once again...perhaps with spring fruits and jams soon.

Reading Elizabeth Gilbert's "The Signature of All Things" and no matter how many reader blew off "Eat, Pray, Love" (which I read twice) I think this writer has a great talent and ability to write in different styles and I do like her ability to take me away from it all.

Now, I am resting on my laurels and read your blogs during this time.

I drop back, in a few days.

Being Honest(?) With Myself

My blog is anonymous and one of the reasons for that is this odd post below where I am sticking my neck out.

I remember a lecture about prejudice that I attended many years ago when I was "probably" in college.   A black man gave the lecture and one of the very first questions he asked was "Who in the room was racially prejudiced?"  A very few tentatively raised their hands before I cold even get the question around in my mind.  Then he went on to say that every single person in the room was prejudiced to some degree because of their background and experiences.  He included both black and white people in the room.  This was a new concept to me at that time; remember this was almost 50 years ago and I was very young and naive, which brings me to this past weekend.

Easter Sunday was a day my daughter had scheduled for one of her son's birthdays.  Her other son's birthday party was on the Saturday!  They were both born close to Easter.

Daughter selected a museum in Baltimore for the little guy and allowed him to invite his closest friend from preschool. Since my grandson had mentioned this friend a number of times, I was glad to have the opportunity to meet him.  The friend's family came as well...parents and their 2-year-old daughter.  We ate at a seafood chain restaurant and then spent time in the museum designed just for children.  Exhausting for us old types, but lots of fun as well with all the unusual physical activities. 

It was not until well into the afternoon that I realized I had been very careful of my behavior (internally) for most of the day.  The mother of this family was black and the father was white.  I realized that each time I approached their young boy to help or distract in an activity I was conscious of trying to be as 'politically correct' as possible.  Stupid and odd on my part, but I subconsciously kept making sure my actions were balanced and fair and "liberal" between the two four-year-old boys.  I did not want a hint of accidental prejudice to show!  I did not want to make some mistake.  This is a really odd feeling and I have no idea where it came from.  (No bleeding heart liberal comments please!)

I am not prejudiced.  At least I think (hope) I am not.  Then why was I so conscious of  the possibility of making a mistake?  I will honestly admit in my little old lady white world these days, unlike my younger years, I am not around black children very often.  I have a few adult black acquaintances at meetings, etc., but my life is so white bread. ( I am trying to change that with some new volunteer work which is not evolving as I hoped..not even getting off the ground.)

Am I too old for words?  Or am I just overly sensitive?  Am I a relic of the older generation that millennial types try to ignore??  Am I prejudiced and just don't know it?  If you are black, do you sometimes go through this when you are around white kids or is that too dumb a question?

One fact, which is undeniable and which I really do not fear, is that my world is becoming far more plural each day.

Please Tell Me This is Over

You know how they say that things come in threes?  I am beginning to think they come in 33s.  Our nightmare began when we left for Florida to escape winter last month.  On the way out the door Hubby noticed that the keys to our other car were hanging on the key rack just inside the garage door.  He thought it would be prudent to move these elsewhere in case someone did break into the house.  The keys sitting there would give them easy access to stealing the car.  I was busy loading stuff into the other car and said "ok" casually over my shoulder on the way out the door.

Upon our return almost three weeks later, Hubby comes up to me and asks where he hid the keys!  I explained that I did not even see which room he went back into as I was loading the car.  Well, it is now almost a month later and while we have torn the house apart we have not found this second set of keys which will take $500 to replace!

The week after our return hubby's car starts acting up in that it refuses to lock.  The lock on this car was an add-on many years ago when we lived in the apartment and the landlord's son tried to break into the car destroying the lock.  We got a brand new system that worked (somewhat) for years.  Last year we replaced both keys to the tune of several hundred dollars, and now, this year, once again we had a key problem.  Hubby took the car up to a company that fixes locks in cars and they had to replace the entire system (computer chip and all) and we now have two NEW keys for that car!  I would tell you how much it cost,but hubby won't tell me!

Yesterday, after driving hubby to the town up north to pick up his newly re-configured car, I came home and went to unlock the garage door to the house  It is a bit tricky and you have to remember to always turn it to the left and NEVER to the right or the key sticks and you can neither unlock nor get your get back out.  Well, I was hungry, had to go to the bathroom, etc. and completely turned the key the wrong way and was stuck!

We have a hidden key around the back of the house at the patio door and I hurriedly headed in that direction down the hill toward the river side of the house and pulled the key out of its hiding place and put it into the french door lock and TA DA...it also stuck and would not turn or unlock the patio door, no matter how much I jigged or jagged!  I was seriously thinking of going to pee in the trees but walked once more back up to the garage and fiddled with that door again and luckily it broke free of its stasis and I got it unlocked and went inside!

Is there some universal key god that is punishing me for some sin I have committed this year?  And what can I do to repent and end this expensive nightmare?  You may remember in a prior post that I have been trying to hire someone to fix the front door latch as well since the front door fails to close correctly and therefore makes it hard to turn the deadbolt with that key.  There must be some bad spell about keeping things in or keeping them out that has been cast my way.

(Oh, I almost left out that they lost hubby's luggage (over 4 days and waiting) on his trip to the tiny island school in the Caribbean last week where there were NO stores and where he had only one pair of underwear.  I also almost forgot to throw into this mess that the breaker outlet failed in the basement for on our chest freezer resulting in the loss of hundreds of dollars of food yesterday!  Good luck has to be around the corner....right?)

Story Time

Still struggling with this short story assignment.  Each time I listen to a writing lesson I try to incorporate what I have learned and the darn story takes off in a slightly different direction.  As it pulls away, some threads get broken until what I have left is a rather frayed compilation of words and I must go back and repair paragraphs, scenes or dialogue so that it appears to belong to the story.  Each day I admire more those bloggers I read who can write fiction so well on their blog...and elsewhere.

On the good days my analogy is that colors start flowing into each other making magnificent new colors I had not seen emerging, but then I cannot corral the flow into the direction that I want it to go and I have some mosaic that is a free-formed artwork instead of a structured story.

The story does not have the contemporary energy that I find in stories I like to read.  My problem is that when I started to write this I was sort of in the genre of Virginia Wolfe because that had been the example given in the lesson.  Lord knows, I am not Virginia Wolfe but the rhythm and flow had been set, so just like a Yoga exercise I am going to stretch in that direction and hope that I do not fall over and break something along the way.

At least I am secure in that I now seem to have found an ending that I like and therefore my path is a bit clearer. The photo above is much like my story...poorly framed and poorly cropped right now.

Paris in the Springtime

I am in the process of planning a spring trip on a river cruise through France in the spring.  Please do not be jealous of my opportunity, but share my joy and I hope you will enjoy my sharing the trip in photos, a few, later.  Yes, I am very, very lucky to be able to afford such an expensive trip, and in truth, I am spending my children's inheritance, but I also have TIME chasing behind me and reminding me that these travels will not be so easy or even enjoyable as I age.

Some folks (those who have discretionary income) spend money on homes or jewels or sports or fancy cars or even fancier hotels, or their children and grandchildren but my money goes to travel.  So much of the world still to see before we destroy it all and find ourselves involved in global terrorism and maybe even war. I have been reading about the history of France and feel that much has not changed from the 1600's and 1700's except for the speed with which hatred and prejudice and war and rich taking advantage of the ignorance and powerlessness of the poor can travel and spread.  That does sound like a depressing note, but we are an ugly species and hard pressed to see others viewpoints.  They have their history of genocide just like we do.

I never really wanted to see France among the many places of the world, but this will be a trip with my sister whom I see so few times and really am looking forward to the close memory making.  

According to Gertrude Stein the French did not invent the "croissant" but it came about as the result of Ukrainian soldiers making bread and using a Turkish recipe during a war.  I have no idea if this is true because Gertrude Stein rarely uses commas and writes in a sort of stream of consciousness style but it is a lovely idea.  

In my reading I am surprised at how France has come about much like us from disparate groups of people over the years.  Gauls, Romans, Flemish, etc. have combined to create this complex culture.  The mapping of the country over the years created three major and many other meridian line claims and maybe I will see one or two.  The Tour de France was a commercial enterprise that became more successful and very different from its original race with country picnics along the route.

Anyway, I will be leaving at the end of May and hope it is not too canned an experience and I just thought I would share.

Five Days in My Life

I am exhausted and restored at the same time.  I am full-up and empty.  I am lost and fully aware of my place in the universe.  I am full of joy and feeling the touch of bittersweet pain.

I just spent a week with my grand-children while their parents went away to celebrate their 40th birthdays.  Now, firstly, you must realize that I am not old enough in spirit to have children passing their 4th decade of life.  But it appears that factually I am that old!  Secondly, being responsible for a 3-year-old, a 7-year-old and a 10-year-old who spend the majority of their day in school and who are in bed between the hours of 8:00 and 9:00 PM cannot be portrayed by any stretch of the imagination as a difficult job.  They are really amazingly organized and well-behaved children.  They have rooms full of toys and books and games and their brains are sharp and creative.

I did not have a job to go to during the day or course work to complete in the evenings.  THEIR homework was sometimes challenging, on the other hand.  I was embarrassed to admit going brain dead briefly when working with fractions.  The terrible photo-copies of assignments sent home did not help in trying to understand some of the questions, but we muddled through.

We went to a park, hiked a trail, practiced bike rides, played board games, saw a movie, and walked to and from school each morning and afternoon.  They read to me and I read to them every single evening.  Even the 3-year-old has a favorite book that he read to me EVERY single night and we laughed at exactly the same places each time.

I cooked the healthy meals that Mom had left behind for me and they ate the carbs and protein and dabbled at the vegetables.  I got donuts for breakfast and chocolate Easter eggs for dessert, so we did not eat too healthy. 

So now I am spending daytime hours winding down back in my own quiet house in the woods.  Hubby is on travel and being in the house alone is much like a meditative experience for me right now.  I bought some new chanting music and plan on listening to it tomorrow and then plan the rest of my week and continue my process of being so thankful for what I have.

Linkng Back Ten Years to Cuba

I have been blogging a long time and realized that many of you may not have read these posts that I wrote back in 2005.   I should remember to print these posts out for my grandchildren if all of these blogs go down in years.

Hatties blog is one I read regularly as she lives in Hawaii were I went to school for a short time.  Her recent trip to Cuba reminded me of this post I wrote so loooong ago and this epilogue that I added later. 

Come back here, please, if you want to leave a comment as those posts are so long ago in another time zone!

Word Play

Writing is a compulsion for some of us.  We love the tidiness of words that fit like soldiers in a march toward some end and the untidiness of words that erupt like a volcano leaving bits of fire everywhere.  When we spill these words across a page, they mean different things to different people, and if we are a good writer, writing critics, just like art critics, spend precious time analyzing and deciphering and admiring.  Yet most of us are mediocre writers at best.  We know that and do not stop because it is a scratch that we just MUST itch. Most of the time what we spill is not deeply intriguing or even interesting beyond the single reading.  For some of us, it can help us understand ourselves and our place in time when no one else does.  We think our words become far more than a spontaneous and uncontrolled communication with the universe.

Some of us have a turn of phrase tumble out of our heads onto the paper that requires deeper analysis before we share, and so we tuck it away into a note for it to ferment.  Another time, maybe it is something we have seen that strikes our fancy and so we paint that scene with words.  We never for a second allow the thought to enter that this unique combination of words might be trivial and we might be lying to ourselves about its potential importance when woven into a paragraph, an essay,or  a scene.  We hope and nurture that it is a tool clearing the passage to something more magnificent down the road.  When we pull it out once again months later, we might possibly read it as the ramblings of an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing...someone famous wrote that and I just stole it...sometimes what floats to the front of the mind it is something that someone else wrote which we admired such a long time ago.

A few days ago, while cleaning up my laptop (digitally), I found a file labeled philosophy.  It consisted of about 14 lines of questions and interesting statements about life.  I was intrigued by what I had written, and at first, assumed I had been very erudite at the time I made that note.  I must have been humming like a finely tuned violin.  The more I re-read the words, though, I realized these were phrases captured from some movie I had seen...where the dialogue (I think from some detective) had been intriguing and intellectual, unlike most movie dialogue.  The questions he asked were so thought provoking that I guess I had hoped to use it as a stimulus for future meanderings of my own.


Have you ever done that?  Is your life cluttered with your notes, others' notes and jumbled words just waiting to be woven into a cleaner more interesting tapestry, or am I the only one stumbling in this cluttered and indiscriminate universe of words to which we are exposed every day?

I have been taking a digital course on writing and love being a student again.  I was never one who hated school.  I am working on bits and pieces of a "short" story in three parts as part of the course.  If I find it worthwhile and do not fear being naked, I may post it if I can actually finish it.  It is going to be close to 20-30 pages, so perhaps translating to a blog will not work...too long.  I am struggling.

You Are Forgiven If You Arrive Fashionably Late

(The last of my 3-part series on the Ringling Brothers Circus.)  The main house on the John Ringling estate is quite a eye opener.  John and his wife never had children, but they loved to entertain and this house was designed by and constructed with the oversight of his wife.

John Ringling and his four brothers living in Wisconsin on a farm would tour towns as jugglers and skit performers.  They were very good businessmen and soon built an entertainment empire.  Each brother had a job and John was in charge of transportation. They worked fairly and split the money equally and soon had the largest entertainment enterprise in the 1880s.

In 1905 he married Mable Burton.  It is my understanding that he gave her full reign in the construction of the house.  It was named Cà d'Zan, "The House of John" in the Venetian dialect of Italian.  Easy to see the strong influence of European design and architecture...mostly Italian baroque..  Personally I think the 30 room mansion is a little over the top for my tastes.  Yet, I am sure others find it a lovely home.  As it sits right on the water, you can imagine the terror that the curators face every time Florida gets a warning of a hurricane!

You may just be able to see the houses and keys in the distance on the horizon in this photograph above.

Does the maintenance alone not boggle your mind?  Most of the staff are volunteers.  Perhaps history or archeology or architecture or art students at Florida State University?

You do not arrive at dinner here under dressed and without grand expectations.

I think this place tries very hard to capture the elegance of Europe but ends up looking like a dictator's ego-filled palace.

But, again, I must remind myself that these people made their wealth from the entertainment industry...from the circus.  Why should I be surprised that this place has that atmosphere.  Note John Ringling's portrait behind that large brown organ.  He was a very good business man and created a wealthy life with his talent.

The Train, The Train!

(Some of you wanted to see more....so)  Ringling Brothers Circus today uses two trains that travel simultaneously. Back in the 1950's there were three giant train systems:  the first section being 22 cars with tents and poles and workers, the second section of 28 cars carried the ushers, canvasmen, and side show workers, the third section was 19 cars long and included the sleeper cars.  After merging with Barnum and Bailey the trains consisted of 100 double-length railroad cars transporting 1,200 employees, and was arguably the largest traveling amusement enterprise up to that time.

Only a very small portion of the older train is in the museum - personal travel cars of John Ringling and his staff.

No expense was spared for decor!

Looking down the train from the back end.

Above is the  lounge where John and his wife read and listened to music and watched the U.S. go by.  Such luxury !

The bedroom. 

The kitchen was very efficient and the cook prepared complete meals. 

The bathroom...with actual bath!!  Since they had to have access to water for the animals, I guess bringing/getting water for a bath was not that difficult. 

It Never Forgets

The news has recently said that the Ringling Brothers Circus was going to phase out its elephants from the circus.  I saw this elephant act decades ago in D.C. and that event made me decide I would probably never see circus animal acts again.  I could sense that the elephants were frightened.  You could see it in their eyes and by other things they did.  Ringling Brothers had, over the years, been receiving criticism for revealed behind the scenes harsh treatment toward these animals.  As we have learned, elephants are far more intelligent and complicated than we ever assumed.  In some atonement Ringling now has created a 200 acre conservation center in central Florida to retire these elephants in a phase out program.  I also remember years ago another video going around showing elephants using their trunks holding paint brushes to paint rather nice paintings in some place in Asia bringing in lots of amazed tourists with their money.  Behind the scenes training revealed unimaginable cruelty being inflicted to get these elephants to do something so unnatural.

As I wrote in a post before, I visited the Ringling Brothers museums during my trip down south.  In the photo above is the patio that John Ringling created just outside his large and rather garish house in Sarasota, Florida, now owned and maintained by Florida State University and on the same grounds as a circus museum, an extensive art museum, a miniature circus model and other interesting venues along with a beautiful garden.  That day was the warmest we saw...maybe 55F?

A large room houses a fascinating model of the three ring circus.  The model took years to create and is built in 3/4 to the foot scale.  Fifty-five train cars were also handcrafted and can actually be packed with all the circus figures.  It is a reproduction of the Ringling Circus in the 1920's and fills a large room.  This venue is very popular with all ages.  I did not take pictures inside the actual building as I guess I got distracted, but you can Google "Howard Brothers Circus Model" and get an eye full and experience a bit of the big tent excitement.

Ringling Brothers Circus was an important part of Americana and while we have many more distractions and entertainments in our modern world, this little bit of nostalgia was enjoyable.  (Let me know if you want to see the house or actual train.)

Soft Cold

Within days the ice storm, I wrote about in the prior post, melted and was almost immediately followed by another cold front bringing hail in the early hours of the day and a snowstorm in the later part.  The tickety, tickety sound of the hail hitting the skylights was like little wrens dancing on a tin floor. Then it changed to snow.  There is nothing more lovely and surprising than a heavy dry snow storm coming through on a late afternoon.  While we have had cold weather in these parts, we have not had lots of snow like so many others.  One storm of a few inches I missed while I was on travel.  This second one came through the second week of march and left me with beautiful scenery.  Such snowstorms (when not in super abundance or brought with frighteningly high winds) are so soft and clean when they cover everything.  They purify the sins of the earth.  Everything is virginal once again.

Snow is initially fun to watch because it is gentle and quiet and not intimidating like a summer electrical storm.

The clickity sound of the hail on the skylights was replaced...by...no sound at all.

Birds came in from everywhere and began to wait patiently for the sun to set.

The storm place a layer of soft fluffy crystals with bits and pieces of loose down sticking to the barks of trees and building in drifts pushed by the wind catching bunches and throwing them high.  A true pillow fight of large proportions. By nightfall every edge was smoothed in crystal white.

The evening meant a fire in the fireplace and some apple spice cake making from all those apples I picked and froze  last fall.  We each had a big slice.

By morning the sun arrived boldly and the yard had been dressed in a new smooth white silk with only the fox's footprints in the front yard and a lone deer's hoof prints in the backyard to break the perfection.  (This post was written days ago as I have been busy with kids doing lots of stuff.)

Hard Cold

Our return to the land of the frozen was dry but bitter. We waded through 6 inches of snow covered in ice to the front door and carried our gear ever so carefully.  By the next day a rain that originated with warm air high above us in the atmosphere fell through the frozen air and as it reached near our ground it became liquid ice and this is what we saw when we woke the next morning.

I put on my camouflage gear and winter boots and headed out early for just a sneak at what the river looked like.  The dock was wrapped like a silver package in a sheet of ice with a glitter dusting of snow and my concern for both my camera and my bones made me stop short of the edge where it hung over the water.  The nets in the left foreground are oyster floats.  I think the oysters are down in the mud right now, but I will have to ask hubby if these are just empty or set-asides. Other oyster farmers in the area are worried about their oyster stock in this frozen water.  The plastic owl leaning drunkenly below is supposed to chase away birds from leaving calling cards on the dock, and now askew, he is hardly looking intimidating.  The boat was pulled in late fall for some motor maintenance and sits on a trailer in the front yard and not on the boat lift below.  This finger of the river is frozen all the way out the day this photo was taken.  An unusual event, certainly.  This is as far as I was brave enough to walk.

Pre -Valentines Day Stop

I wrote on my Facebook wall that I had eaten dinner at the bank and slept in the parsonage when I was on this trip south.  I did not add details at the time I wrote the post because I did not want to emphasize I was out of town to the public, but other posts I made pretty much blew that cover over time.  Also, since there were no car tracks over the snow in the driveway when we returned, I think that might have given any nefarious person a clue.

Hubby was very sweet in trying to make this fishing/canoe trip more fancy for me and he arranged that we stopped on our drive down at North Carolina in a little town called Washington.  Not the D.C. one but Washington, North Carolina, a town that claims they were the first city (town) to be named after General George Washington.  We were there only overnight, but I do want to return and explore the interesting historic buildings some day.  We stayed in the B and B below.

This building sleeps ten to twelve and all bedrooms include a private bathroom.  The house is a century old and was a Rectory in its beginning in 1906 built by St. Peter's Episcopal Church.  The B&B is currently managed by a delightful woman who came to this country years ago from Central America.  At least one celebrity has stayed here in the past--Michelle Williams.  Beds were very comfortable, evening atmosphere was quiet, and breakfast was great!  Orange juice, fresh fruit with yogurt, french toast and sausage with hot tea or coffee.

We did not spend much time in this quaint sitting room, but I did grab a photo.

It is a quiet winter season in this little town, so we were two of only three people that stopped by for dinner at this former bank which is now a high end restaurant.  A young couple came later and sat at the bar.  Food was not cheap but delicious, and we got a private concert by the piano player!  I wish they would ditch the large screen TV.  Each of the few people we passed on the street on our way back to the B & B later that evening smiled and greeted us warmly as if we were neighbors.  It is a lovely town and I am going to return when weather is warmer since it is near a wildlife refuge which I will post about later on my other blog.

Drawing Attention To Ourselves

It has crossed my mind more intensely these days about why women do certain things in this Western culture.  Wearing earrings and necklaces and bracelets is really to draw attention to our shell shaped ears, our thin wrists and our soft curves just above the ivory decolletage.  Little bits of sparkle and movement to draw the male eyes toward us instead of to another.  (Ignoring the status symbol aspect of this.)

We used to wear long dresses that flowed with feminine movement and swirled with a flirtatious swish sometimes just revealing those sexy ankles that drew a man's attention.

We paint our lips to emphasize their plump juiciness and outline out eyes to give an exotic deepness to them waiting for the male to just dive in.

We paint our nails to draw attention to our delicate hands that we want held.

I have become dismayed (not depressed) that I no longer have the attributes that I would like more closely inspected.  Hands are veined with tan spots, lips are still plump but losing their shape, my neck is thin skinned and freckled and my decolletage, while still there, is not youthful looking nor sustained without assistance.  I still wear jewelry and make-up, and sometimes paint my nails, but realize it is being done for me, myself, and I.  Hubby still loves me even in muddy canoe pants and only misses my long hair which he has for years. He, while commenting nicely if I get dressed up, really has seen me without the camouflage and knows me like no other.

Yet having a bit of the soul of the artist, I do miss that smoothness and symmetry of youth, not to flirt, but to add beauty and a bit of power to my day.  Yes, age has its beauty, but I tend to be drawn to the other less complicated form.

There, now that I have depressed most of my female readers over the age of 50, I am glad to read in the weather report that the snows are melting this week and we may even get shirt weather!  Spring is around the corner and not around the bend.

Protection

Owning and using a car is a big responsibility.  A car is a useful tool for getting you places and transporting others who do not have a means of getting somewhere.  It can open doors to new worlds.  It is also dangerous if used carelessly.  You can kill or maim yourself or others.  Therefore substantial training, testing, and licensing of both you and the vehicle is required.  Cars can be stolen by others and thus we have gotten much better over the years in providing locks to prevent this.  That is not saying cars don't get stolen, but we have more complicated preventions, such as more complicated locking devices, silent alarms, cars that stall when stolen and GPS tracking devices so that we know where cars are at all times.  Not all types of vehicles can be used on public roads.  For instance, if you own a tank or one of those big wheelers, you must get a special permit to go from point A to point B and if you want to move a bus you have to have a specific license and testing in the majority of states.  Cars are not cheap to own and most states require insurance to protect the driver and others from tragic expenses and lawsuits.  Those that do not require insurance do require a vehicle fee paid to the state or the posting of bond. You cannot drive when under the influence of a drug and if caught can lose your license and/or car and must find other means of transportation if needed.  You may need to be re-tested for an understanding of the laws or even re-tested for eyesight and reflexes as you continue to drive. You are required to have your vehicle certified over time to make sure that it still has all the safety and other features working.  Law enforcement can check fairly easily any information on a vehicle by checking the license plate number in a database. 

All of these protections can be bypassed with effort, but that does not stop me from supporting the laws and technologies now in place even though it makes owning a vehicle an expensive privilege.

I feel the same way about guns and would like to have similar rules implemented.

( I should be home tomorrow...back into the polar express area of the world.  I saw the sign above and realized it was not something I would have seen years ago.)