Some Days

Some days Many days I wish we had a dog.  There have been at least six dogs in my lifetime  Pepper, Donie, Christmas Dog, Makai, Kane, Buster--a wide variety of names.  All of them were unique in personality and spirit, purebreds or not.  I have cried at every loss as dogs do become members of the family.

On the day that we visited a farm, I see this big, hairy, galumphy, dedicated, muddy pawed animal in the photo above and cannot resist calling him over for a good ear scratch.  This is a working dog, but even he is not above a visit from an admirer. 

I forget all the hair, dust, slobber and sand that they bring into the house.  I forget the body scratching in the middle of the night that jangles the tags that wake me up.  I forget almost tripping over them on my way to the bathroom in the dark.  I forget the water spills from the water dish next to the kitchen counter that appear in a line across the floor and the bits of stray kibble under the cabinets.  I forget the endless hours of puppy raising that one must go through at the very beginning...almost.

We travel way too much to have a dog (no neighbors we know well enough to help) (currently in France now).  

There is a new wrench in the canine discussion...ticks.  Our ticks in these woods carry all three of the major diseases.  Both of my neighbors have gotten the two least known illnesses and many years ago I had a meet-up with Lyme, the third and most well known.   There is now a new tick borne illness in some Southern states that is more lethal than all three above and that has killed some people!  

I do wonder if we will ever get a dog....so sad.  For now it is going to be relegated to these farm visits, I guess.

Moms

My mom when she was still in her teens!  Wonder what she was thinking when this photo was taken back in 1939.

Getting Out of the Jungle Alive

Hubby got an email from an old college roommate a while back, someone he had not seen or communicated with for over 50 years!  The roommate had lived with him and some other college friends for only one semester.  Hubby needed someone to help with rent and after meeting him at the local laundry place and finding he (lets us call him Rodney) needed a place to stay, invited him to join them.

Hubby is super friendly and rarely thinks to the future results of certain decisions.  The reason that Rodney had no place to stay became immediately evident in that he was demanding, annoying, insecure and needy.  Hubby and the other roommates spent most of the semester dodging him, although knowing my husband, he was probably very kind and helpful at times.  At the end of the year Rodney went back to his home town to finish college and went on to get his PhD in entomology.

On this week Rodney was delivering some insect specimens to the city museum and wanted to stop by on a free day to visit us.  I suggested to hubby that we eat out so that I could disappear on the boardwalk if I found the meet-up too intense or annoying.

Rodney arrived, a short and chunky man, wearing glasses, a white mustache and a healthy head of white hair.  Within minutes of inviting Rodney to sit on our deck and putting out some cold Thai tea he began to pour out his life-story.  Explaining that during his time at university he was in a terrible mental state.  He explained that he had been abused as a child, his father demanding he become a concert pianist and he wanting to play basketball instead (which he explained he did very well in spite of his height), being depressed throughout most of his life, getting married twice, divorced once, estranged from his biological son, but very close to his step-son and two grandchildren, having faced death last year during surgery contracting a hospital infection and being put in a 6 week coma, going through years of mental therapy and still belonging to an international therapy group, becoming a world-renown insect expert on a specific group of insects and now facing retirement.

This was all before we went out to lunch!   During lunch he talked about his work (really somewhat fascinating since I like science), his hatred of state bureaucracies and his feeling we are leaving our children a world in a disastrous state with the extinction of species every year.  He did give us time to talk every once in a while.

Upon getting home and completing a short tour of the yard and riverside and some photo taking, it still took a couple of hours to get him out the door, into his car and on the way back to his hotel.  I printed out a scan of a map, since he was a bit of a Luddite when it came to phone GPS help and had gotten lost on the way down.  (He seemed to find that when he stopped to ask for directions on the trip down, everyone working at the quick stop stores seemed to have difficulty getting pants on correctly each day, therefore having no clue how to get around the area...his interpretation.)

I knew a young man in high school who might have been much like Rodney, although a different personality, painfully shy and physically unattractive.  He was a very odd duck, but well accepted in our small town which was somewhat like a big farm family.  When he went on to college, he committed suicide his first year as I am sure he faced extreme loneliness if not worse.  I remember thinking about him for years later and this visit brought up that memory, reminding me that the world turns for us all and we never know how important, positive or negative, the energy we might contribute to someone's life.

Is She Never Happy?

I have nothing important to post... and by writing that, I am assuming most of my prior posts had something important to reveal... not.

I am wrapping up things here at the house, making lists of things to do such as: stopping mail, finishing leftovers, soaking plants, turning off the thermostat, going through travel documents, and just in general hoping I have got everything written down before beginning to pack.

Regrets, suddenly, I have a few.  My garden is now in its swollen prepubescent stage just a week before erupting in stunning beauty.  Iris, clematis, rhododendrons, achillea, peonies and roses are all forming the most pulsating buds of potential pulchritude and I will miss them!  They will be waning when I return.  Yes, other plants will be beginning to show off their beauty, but the first spring blossoms are always the best.

Birds have found nesting boxes and are sitting on eggs and will be busy feeding the littles ones upon my return.  It will take me some days to figure out which box has tenants and sit and watch.

This is the month perfect for canoeing and boating as the weather is not so warm that one wants an umbrella when sitting in a boat.

Thus I have resolved never to do this again...travel for weeks during the month of May.   It will be summer travel or fall travel or perhaps even winter travel.  But April and May have to be enshrined for gardeners.

(Yes, I will be photographing pictures of French blossoms so your lack of sympathy is understood.)

Contrast and Maybe a Little Whiplash

Baltimore Harbor, March 2015

Ellen wrote a great post about the difference between poverty or oppression and poverty AND oppression all stimulated by the current issues in one of my favorite love/hate cities, Baltimore.  While I knew this, I must admit I never really thought about it as carefully as I should have.  But to jerk me around and muddy the clarity, this little incident below happened yesterday.

I was shopping for clothes for my upcoming France trip.  I still flinch when I write something like this as it seems like bragging.  Anyway, I wanted some dressier slacks or jeans and after hitting Bloomingdale's where the jeans started at $160.00 I moved on to another store.  I could have afforded these, but I would have been sick with regret every time I put them on.

I next went to Lord and Taylor for some type of cruise-wear and prices were pretty much the same, so I put out $60 for some diaphanous top that will both hide my fat waist and be cool on warmer afternoons.  Almost everything I looked at and much of what I bought was made in another country, but I managed to find a couple of pairs of Capri pants and another top.

While waiting to check out, hubby sat on a bench behind and against some dresses working his email on his phone.  There was a well-dressed 40-something black woman sitting next to him.  She was talking in a clear but not loud voice to the register clerk (the one I was waiting for as well) about how she was a "very busy" person and needed to get her tailored items and could NOT wait any longer.  The clerk (also dark-skinned but with an accent from the middle-East) was explaining that she worked in cosmetics and did not know where the clothing clerk was or where tailored items were kept for pick-up.  She said she would call the manager and headed back to the counter.

"I just don't have time for this, I am a Doctor."  The black woman called after her.

I stood waiting until the floor manager was summoned by phone and then the clerk proceeded to check out my items.  While this was being done, the store manager, also black, came up and was directed to the lady who once again, looking up from her phone, explained how precious her time was.  He hurried off to find her items.

After a somewhat convoluted process (the more expensive stores have the worst check-out procedures as there is some stupid security tag on every item) I got my items paid for and turned back to hubby.

The black Doctor smiled at me and once again apologized (to us this time) for being so demanding, but her time was precious.  I commiserated and then added something about how there were too few store clerks and the check-out process was too complicated.  I explained we lived an hour and a half away and tried to complete all our shopping on those rare afternoons two or three times a year.

As I gathered up the bags at my husband's feet and hubby shut down his phone, the Doctor proceeded to ask where we were from and we told her and she said she 'loved' that area and then mentioned the suburb outside the city where she lived and dropped the name of the hospital where she practiced medicine.  "I am a Doctor."

This all took an even weirder turn when she told us it was much better shopping at Nordstrom because they gave you 'points' that you could apply to purchases, or on your bill, or online shopping.  She felt it was much better to buy from them and then proceeded to show us an email she just got from Nordstrom where she had purchased some black HIGH heels recently and wanted to know if they had them in red.  The store sent a picture of the red shoes but explained they were .5 inches shorter and as she showed us the picture comparing the two types of HIGH heels she proceeded to explain that by spending $1,000 on this first pair and another $1,000 on the second pair she would get $100 in points to apply to her account!  I bit my tongue, smiled and wished her luck.  (The only things I own at that price point are appliances.)

She wished us a safe drive back home as we also wished her in turn.

(What goes around, comes around...or I have no idea what I am trying to say in writing this post.  But to prove that it is far more complicated than we can every know...here is an article from another African-American doctor.)

My Annoying, Unfocused and Lovable FB Friends

Do you remember the days when someone would be surprised that you were on Facebook and that you sent a message wanting to friend them? If you had gray hair, older children, and/or an established career or were retired, you were joining the college (young adults) kids hangout. You had entered their little social club and they were not sure that, as much as they love/like you, they wanted to let you into their fun and "edgy" lives.  You were an archaic part of the world, part of the more established and boring social world and you would water down their happy little group!

No?  You have forgotten?

Well I can remember a 20-something being amazed in comments on FB to my son that I, my son's Mom, was on FB and wanted to 'friend' him!  My son did not respond because he was probably crying in the bedroom of his apartment.  I am an in-your-face snarky kind of mom, so he knew this could be the end of his social life as he knew it.  

Well, as we all know, 20-somethings are now closer to their 40's than their 20's and have families of their own whom they worry about allowing getting a FB account in the immediate future.  FB has become less edgy and less young and more like the rest of the social world full of people wanting your money, your ID, your time and in some cases your soul.

I still like FB.  I have some great friends on FB and am able to keep in touch a little better with long lost friends and far away relatives and to actually see some great images after I wade through all the memes and useless personality tests and directed ads.

Still I have "those" friends on FB who are gentle and very social souls and whom I view with some condescending superiority (I'm sorry).  They post endless posters of sunsets or kittens with uplifting quotes, photos of baby animals, photos of wounded veterans they do not know, photos of animals in shelters, photos of missing teenagers they do not know.  Others find it necessary to post photos of their latest meal, photos of their latest manicure, their latest haircut, and of course, those photos at the bar with friends celebrating endless birthdays and get-togethers.  (Maybe I am jealous that I do not get out more...not.)

I have friends, like me, who post news from Public Broadcasting sites, "interesting" arguments on political issues, and interesting studies found about demographics or psychology or this insane Congress and its add-ons to bills, and volunteer group items.   AND I post endless photos that I am addicted to sharing.  I also do communicate with friends in my comments.  Of course, none of this is annoying to MY friends.

FB has changed in that members can now create groups and post certain things to only those groups, so some folks (son?) can now keep me out of a certain part of their life.  Oh well, it worked for a while and while it has competition with other sites, I will still hang out there for a short while in the morning and late afternoon.


(Yes, I fiddled way too much with the font and I am not going back and changing any more <span> stuff.)

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.