indiana territory

MOVING

2008-04-25T08:13:00.003-04:00

Hi,

I am moving on over to another website at The Leaning Cow until I can decide what I really want to do with Indiana Territory. A lot of the later posts on Indiana Territory are already at The Leaning Cow

I look better in the upstairs bathroom mirror

2008-04-22T17:27:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have noticed that when I look at myself upstairs in the master bath with the sunlight over my head, that I don't look too bad. Sometimes, I will not look in another mirror for a long time and then I will catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror somewhere else and I am surprised at the dumpy plain person I see. It occurs to me that I cannot conduct my life from that bathroom but the magic is in THERE, not in the other places I go. I ponder having a picture taken of me in that mirror and pasting it on my face. I guess I could start out with first pasting it on a bag and then putting the bag over my head. I don't think anyone would take me for a bank robber since I am not a president nor a movie star. But they might take me to the funny farm, which isn't politically correct to say and yet it falls naturally from my tongue.

Now, "asylum" - that would probably be real bad to say. Unfortunately, I say it sometimes: "Well, I'll just pack my bags and go to the asylum." No, I don't say that. I say, "You pack your bags and go to the asylum." Of course, I use asylum so much that no one thinks too much about it being insensitive. Odd though, it's okay to say you're seeking political asylum . . . Oh, never mind, I see my mind is all over the place.

Beware of Stephen King's Christine - the movie

2008-04-19T08:50:00.003-04:00

Last night, I knew Christine was going to be on TV and when I finished reading my book and talking to my mother (see below) on the phone, I turned on AMC and watched the latter part of it. I didn't think the car - Christine - was so spooky, in fact, I liked the way it repaired itself. I did think the actor playing Arnie was a bit on the scary side; he made me feel very uncomfortable, more villain than victim. Anyway, it ended up and I started thinking, "Where is that copy of the book?"

Then I went to sleep . . . and I dreamed: long, relentless, slow-paced events that centered on my getting in and out of the little green car (RIP). I had a little kid with me I had to keep track of and the car seemed but together oddly, giving me the feeling that any moment I would not be able to understand how to drive it.

I remember, toward the end of the dream, picking up screws off the floor at a Wal-Mart; were they mine that had fallen out of my head, having been loose for so long?

Waking was not an easy task; I had to talk myself into reality. I really dislike that type of dreaming; where are the dreams of beaches and convertibles? Well, it would be a bummer waking up from them as well.

Reading and interruptions

2008-04-18T23:51:00.001-04:00

I am one of those people who reads - a lot; fortunately for me, when they talk of addictions they don't call readers addicts - they call them bookworms. I have learned to adapt my reading to what is going on around me after all these years, but sometimes I revert to my primal state. Tonight was one of those times. After several questions from my grandson, I asked loudly, "Can't you see I am READING?"

That brings my granddaughter out to where I am to quote what I said to her the night before: "If you can't ignore people talking, you are not a good reader." And, of course, I had to answer that there is a difference between people talking and being asked a direct question. But then, to her anything her brother asks is not worthy of note and I am wrong not to ignore him as well

So, I get them off my back . . . and then I get a phone call. Okay, fine, we're talking, talking, talking and then that call is over and I settle in. I always call my mother in the evening to make certain she is all right; tonight she called me and after a while I told her I was reading, almost to the end of the book. Finally, finally she gets off the line.

Then 30 minutes later the phone goes off on the table, playing Honky Tonk Blues and vibrating against the wood. And I knew. I really, really knew. I answered with a gritted out hello and I heard, "Did you finish your book and then . . . and this is from a notoriously grouchy lady . . . laughter.

This is that lady, in case you don't remember:

Sign of spring . . . finally

2008-04-18T11:11:00.002-04:00

ACK! Blue color washed out in sunlight.

Earthquake felt in Kendallville, Indiana . . . after memory tweaking

2008-04-18T11:10:00.001-04:00

They had an earthquake this morning in some 130+ miles east of St. Louis - a 5.4 or 5.5 (now being listed as a 5.2) and I didn't feel it. Although some news reports said it was felt as far north as southern Michigan and that building's in Chicago's Loop swayed, I DIDN'T FEEL IT.

I was awake, but stretched out on the sofa, thinking should I doze or keep reading. At one point the dog jumped down, turned around and stuck his nose in my face - maybe it was the earthquake, but I assumed he wanted a dog biscuit to add to his collection. Later I saw the breaking news story, but didn't say anything to anyone in the house. My daughter-in-law just now caught a snatch of the story on TV and exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh, I felt it!"

She's a nurse and she said, "I knew I wasn't having a seizure because I was alert." Okay. Well, I missed it. I can't remember even being vibrated on a cushion sensation. Nothing, Zilch. Even the over-piled coffee table by my usual sitting spot remained unchanged.

Wait a minute . . . you know how police go over and over the questioning of a subject . . . I think I was aware of it; I remember thinking, that, gee the dog is vibrating against my legs.

So maybe I did feel an earthquake, but I had to figure it out . . . maybe it is a false memory. Perhaps if I keep thinking about it, I will suddenly remember being shaken onto the floor as the ceiling fan swayed menacingly above me.

It couldn't have been too much, though, because I was not aware of my body's extra weight feeling like a bowl full of jelly .

Hot icebox

2008-04-15T07:10:00.001-04:00

I know it is not an icebox; it is a refrigerator - the thing that sits in my kitchen. I sometimes call it an icebox, though.

The summer I was born, my father delivered blocks of ice for iceboxes. He was a teacher then and I think he worked for my great uncle's ice business. My grandmother had an icebox, I'm certain. I vaguely remember it. But then we also had a 1948 Frigidaire and to tell you the truth, I don't know if it is still working or not. I know it was a few years ago. It had this little, tiny freezer compartment that came down like a nodule from the inside top - and icecube trays that had a little ratchet type release handle.

I have always been behind the times when it has come to icebox improvements. I did not have an icemaker for decades . . . and only a few years ago did I get a refrigerator that dispenses ice through the door, as well as chilled water - which I don't use.

Yesterday, the divider that separates the freezer part and the refrigerator half got really hot. I vacuumed the coils, but that didn't help. So I called the local repairman; he made a point of getting over last night and found the hose for the water had blocked the compressor fan. So he unblocked it. I paid him and he left, and then I turned to the newly-revealed accumulation of gunky dirt in the refrigerator area and thought, "Oh, my God." So we made a stab at cleaning it. I took no pictures, no pictures at all.

Gosh, I'm a yucky housekeeper . . . I need a maid - or to move every year.

Hey! The driveway moved.

2008-04-15T07:09:00.001-04:00

Now that the snow pack has completely melted off and the trapped leaves beneath it been raked - to some degree - I see that the driveway is not where we assumed it was. That is, to be blunt about it, the actually cement is closer to the spruce tree and farther away from the hedge. We had been quite comfortable making the curve between the two, using the frozen snow path as a guide. As it turns out, the spruce stretched out at the bottom and we were making a bigger arc.

Jody with clippers . . . Ah, the thought is scary, and gets scarier when I think of putting a ladder against the trunk and just dropping those lower branches. Hey, I've been watching Ax Men. Maybe if I watched the show while staying at an Holiday Inn Express, I would be a real expert.

Jody with a chain saw!!! Yes!!! The possibilities . . .

Mother has her TV converter box

2008-04-12T08:23:00.000-04:00

Yes, the coupons came - she says they look like a credit card - and Mother took one of them up to the Wal-Mart in Sturgis, Michigan and purchased a Magnavox model for $49.95 or something like that. (The coupon took that down to $9.95 plus tax.) Since she has 90 days to use them, she is going to check into other manufacturers' product. But now she has this one and we will be hooking it up . . . just kind of for the heck of it, out of curiosity, if you will. We know it's a long time until next February, but heck, we don't want to delay and wind up facing the Christmas Eve Toy Putting Together Syndrome. Now, that's stress.

I'm grateful that these coupons are available because my mother, child of the Great Depression as she is, might decide to forgo getting a converter box and just do more reading. Not that reading wouldn't be fine, but I really would like for her to have some way to watch news stories and important happenings . . . such as the attack on the World Trade Center.

Two Roberts - 1971 - Kingman, Indiana

2008-04-10T10:24:00.001-04:00

There will be Blood - I watched it for Redbox

2008-04-10T08:19:00.001-04:00

Gee, I don't know about this movie. Well, that is inaccurate; I do know something about it - I watched it once, fell asleep in the middle and then watched it over again. Today I watched scenes for a second and sometimes third time.

I think it is a sad movie; I wouldn't rent it again or watch it if it shows up on TV in the future. And I am certain it will. I have seen it; I know what people are talking about when they speak of it; I understand the plot. I have done my homework. That is the way I think of it.

Not only did I find it sad, I found it slowly sad and getting sadder - maybe like a rock rolling downhill with reverse momentum.

I have heard some think it is a great movie; I think maybe it could have been.

I'm sticking with No Country for Old Men when it comes to this year's movies.

Alison - three pictures

2008-04-08T08:48:00.002-04:00

Alison as a baby.
Alison at 4 1/2
Alison at 16.

I have transmission fluid in my hair

2008-04-07T17:31:00.001-04:00

I have transmission fluid coming out from my engine area and I decided to get under the car and figure out what was going on, since the car is becoming quite frankly and eyesore - but I love it. Still, it is due to have its brakes fixed and I don't want to spend that kind of money if the transmission is going to be expensive.

So, I put on old clothes and slid under the car and stared at dirty greasy things. I got out from under the car and started it . . . then I sort of got a little bit back under it and saw the drip seemed to be coming from a certain area.

I wiped that area clean (after shutting the car off) and then turned it back on for a few seconds to see if I could narrow my search area down. Well, I think I did. Then I get this great idea to put tape around the tube/hose that looks worn and is leaking and see what happens. Okay. Nothing leaks.

I go and get transmission fluid and put it in; fortunately the pour point is on top of the engine and Thank God I remembered to get a funnel. I put the fluid in, could shift and everything . . . and then my patch started to leak.

But, hey, I didn't give up. I did it all over again. This time it leaked more. I am going to have it towed to the shop.

I don't know how many times I got under that car and out from under that car. A lot. I also got dirty and after a while I realized I was lying in transmission fluid. My hair was in the stuff.

I showered but my hands are pretty black still and my hair feels really, really funny.

I really tired hard and failed, but it doesn't feel so bad. I think there is a fix out there that I just haven't thought of yet. I did consider super glue, but that is probably better not tried.

Bird music

2008-04-07T07:29:00.000-04:00

I am not complaining, but I have noticed that when spring comes round, birds are loud. It has finally dawned on me where the word atwitter came from, as in, "The tearoom was all atwitter." It is not unpleasant at all - just a sound that was missing in the past winter mornings. I think it started off with one bird chirping right outside in the shrubs by the windows. Now, those shrubs are alive with the sound of music. Oh, look, there's a bird in lederhosen! I have not looked at the weather prediction - I am hoping for at least some cheery sun as I continue to scrape my way though the layer cake of dirt, leaves, more dirt, and rotten leaves that were caught beneath the snow this year. There are occasional other finds as well, such as a wind-caught soda can that was once entombed, unknown, in an edge of the driveway mound of packed snow and ice. Then we have been working away at things in shady areas which have only bit by bit been released from the ice - errant pieces of firewood for instance. Leaves are everywhere, in every crack and crevice where a late fall wind blew them and an early snow trapped them. But, while working on them, I looked up at the maple and saw those reddish buds against a blue sky. What is so fascinating is that in a month we will have leaves ON THE TREES and fresh mulch and grassy areas cleared of sticks and twigs the occasional dropped knit glove.

Closed eyes . . .

2008-04-05T13:46:00.000-04:00

I have done this many time before, but I am here at my computer when I happened to think of it. Sometimes when I close my eyes in the daytime, I think that I could be anywhere, that my location is determined in my mind by what my eyes see. If I am not pleased with my view or setting and I close my eyes, I mostly generally will remain in my mind where I actually am. But, if I close my eyes and thing of other places and other times, I can experience part of that place of time. And there are things that surprise me.

Today, I just leaned over on my sofa and pulled my legs up and rested. I thought of the porch at my grandparents' house in Kingman, Indiana and lying in that position on the swing. Of course, I lay very still because the motion of the swing would make me sick, as did riding in a car.

I was thinking of just the summer afternoon in Kingman when all at once it occurred to me that my body didn't feel right on my remembered swing. I had imported the place but I was bigger. Not so much grown up as I would still lay on the swing when I was 18, but BIGGER in the hips and everywhere. And what was this pull on my jaw? Could it be sagging facial muscles and skin?

But I put that out of my mind, and saw things as they were then - the bushes, the screen door, the steps, the space in the porch walls where water could drain. And, then I got up and went out and raked some leaves - that girl on that swing would have been appalled at the wait I have put on her frame.

Super glue accident

2008-04-05T08:33:00.000-04:00

Yesterday when I super glued Gopher' name back on him, I closed the glue tube and put it on the table. Late last evening I thought that I'd just grab that glue and use it to stick something else back together. I got the tube open and something went wrong and glue was all over my fingers and my wedding ring was glued to me and I got so upset that I became a run-on sentence writer.

Remember Gopher the Bear?

2008-04-04T16:54:00.001-04:00

his morning as I was leaning over to tie my shoe, I caught sight of an old looking piece of dried paper. When I picked it up, I realized it was not paper, but masking tape - the masking tape that had Gopher's name on it. It was bent over and wrinkled; I must have sat on Gopher sometime yesterday and his name came off.

A tremendous sadness overwhelmed me as I remember the day we had put it on him: time passes; things change. I dropped the old tape on the coffee table I use to hold my things - drinks, pencils, remotes, batteries and so forth. Then I felt just really done in and I stared at the tape, thinking, "Just let it go." A minute, two minutes. I picked up the tape and straightened it out; it had that fragile quality that dried out old masking tape gets. But there it was - GOPHER - resting in my hand.

So I got the super glue and put it back on. Call me sentimental . . .

Oh, yeah, I'll get a picture when Gopher settles down.

I am slipping . . . and so is my transmission

2008-04-04T16:44:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I was apprised that two rummage sales would be held today: Faith Methodist at 8 am and the Catholic Church at 9 am. I go to the first day, even though my real time to shine is on $1.50 Bag Day when you can cram as much as you are skilled enough to handle into a grocery bag. I am very skilled.

If anything has an empty space in it, I fill it with something - anything. My bag leaves the church as a solid cube. I give them a donation to even things out; I just pack the bag like that to retain my title and have the thrill of "engineering the squash" success.

But, that's maybe history. This spring I forgot about the rummages sales until 10 o'clock. I jumped up when I suddenly remembered and then flopped back down. Despair.

Finally, I decided getting there was better than not going at all and made up my mind to go right away. My pants were too loose and I couldn't find my belt right off the bat, so I used a safety pin to attach them to my shirt. Then I put a big sweatshirt on and pulled it down low and went.

It was great; I walked in and there sat a retro aluminum cake cover and bottom. Do you know how useful those are? I love them and they look cool - like I am hip or whatever. "Hip" isn't the current lingo, is it? Did I give myself away? Probably. Good, I no longer have to worry about keeping it secret.

I also got a nice 50's type cotton tablecloth for outside when we grill. And . . . and . . . a Pfaltzgraff pie pan, a large serving bowl, a creamer, three little serving bowls for $5. The price said $5 for all that and about six plates and a bunch of cups and soup bowls and a butter dish, plus a couple of other pieces. I couldn't see being greedy, so I took the ones I wanted, gave them a high $5 - no, I handed it over at normal level - and went happily on my way.

Then I realized there was a puddle of transmission fluid under the little green car.

AAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH

Virtual Tourist

2008-04-04T09:27:00.004-04:00

Well, I was just thinking about virtual travel, an by corollary, being a virtual tourist. So I picked a spot on the map while closing my eyes. It was Vermont and I pulled up the state map and selected an area and zoomed in until the town Bellows Falls caught my eye. So I decided to look around, not so much for the facts you can pull up in three seconds in a Google search, but in little tidbits of Bellows Falls connections.

Governor Thomas Salmon (1973-77) came to Bellows Falls and practiced law after his days as Governor and University President. His one time personal residence is for sale. I have linked to a page that shows the wallpaper that is in the house now. It's not my taste, but you can see it here. I then looked at Wikipedia and found this picture:

But here's an interesting fact: HIs son, Thomas M., was elected State Auditor in 2006. After the first vote count, he trailed by 137. He asked for a re-count and was 102 votes over his opponent, incumbent Randolph Brock. Never before had a Vermont state-wide election result been changed by a re-count. Kind of ironic that the election was for auditor. Thomas M., by the way, is a CPA.

If I am ever in Bellows Falls, I think I would at least stop in here.

I found the above photo at Flickr; it was taken by Sunset Sailor.

Bear names . . .

2008-04-03T16:46:00.002-04:00

I wrote before about how my younger son and I named the bears I had begun collecting because it was so hard to believe anything as cute as they were could only be material and stuffing. This is Gopher; we are certain of this because we put their names on their butts.

Tire mulch - I'm happy with this

2008-04-02T13:14:00.002-04:00

This red mulch is rubber and is made from recycled tires. I don't think it looks too bad, and actually since it is a purpose for old tires that are usually in landfills, I think it is very lovely.

Wal-Mart doesn't check out okay in the end

2008-04-02T13:10:00.002-04:00

It started out okay with the old barn I love in the background of Wal-Mart's spring outdoor stuff; $5 films: 20 Alfred Hitchcock, included a couple of silent films and A River Runs Through It - great book, great movie. Then we hit the check-out line. Yes, line and oh, my gosh, only two lights were on for people who had more than 11 items and couldn't use a Fast Lane because they don't want full cart people to do that. We waited such a long time.

When I got up to the cashier, for whom I have great sympathy, I noted that they have two automated questions on the touch screen for payment: Was the store clean? or Did your cashier greet you? There is no question that asks "Were enough lines open?" We got to talking and she confirmed they 1) have to call Arkansas if they are sick and can't make it in and 2) have to pass a customer to another associate if it's time for their shift to end. That's really fun when you are asking questions about a product and then have to ask them all over again of another person.

But it's sunny today, so that is good.

Grover and Summer

2008-04-02T08:10:00.000-04:00

I am not pleased with my granddaughter's attitude about Grover. She says he is stupid. What a jerk . . . she is. She found a copy of The Monster at the End of This Book on th bookshelf and was joking around with it in front of her dad. I told her that wasn't the original book - that we had gone through perhaps four copies when her dad was somewhere around one year old. I would sit on the little cherry rocker that had belonged to me grandfather, the one that I had been rocked in, and read TMTETB over and over again. The cover, back and front - fell off of the first one; one copied split in half. They were all stained and wrinkled and dogeared. I didn't need the book to remember the words, but I appreciated for Grover's picture. My memory could never do justice to his little face and gestures and the true-blueness of his fur.

Now, this twerp girl mocks him. Never you mind her, Grover. You are so very dear to so many of us here. I love you.

Mother and hat . . . but not the mad bomber

2008-04-01T17:15:00.002-04:00

wind . . .Wind . . . WIND . . . wind . . . wind

2008-04-01T09:02:00.000-04:00

I look at that title and even thought I was thinking of the wind that is weather - breezes, gusts, straight line and so forth, I get the image of a wind-up toy in my mind. But never mind that. Too late? Well, I should have kept my mouth shut.

It is windy here. No, do not see all the folks walking around stiffly with a little thing to twist coming out of their backs; words such as "wind" can be a problem, can't they? Another one is polish. How much polish do you need to screw in a light bulb? For seem reason my spirits are up right now, even though they are manifesting themselves in a juvenile fashion. I mean spirits as in attitude - not liquor, although it is up too. You knew that though, didn't you?

Okay, really, the shrubs and trees are whipping around and I have to go out and drag a limb that came down off the sidewalk. I am hoping it is a dead one that has been threatening to come down and will be light and, obviously, no longer a threat. I was not aware of this until middle age, but the chief cause of death in the days of early settlement in these parts was falling limbs. Sometimes it amuses me to think of how residential lots are now advertised as "wooded" when back then, the draw might have been a "clearing" in which to build.

I have strayed from the weather topic - I guess the wind blew me off.

Raking in Indiana

2008-03-31T14:00:00.000-04:00

The snow is gone, probably because the temperature has climbed through the night and day to 57˚ and is supposed to hit 60K. Everything is wet and if you were using the moss on the north side of the tree for guidance out of this land hereabouts, you're direction is would be well-marked. The sun is above layers of gauzy overcast and I would imagine anyone flying high up on a flight from San Diego to here would just about cry when the plane descended and entered the gloom.

I keep thinking: My ancestors settled this state - maternal in the north and paternal in the south . . . What WERE they thinking???

Anyway, I took my trusty - not really, it's plastic - rake and went out back. It was like raking washcloths, wet ones, ones that had been used by a kid and left wadded up in odd shapes. I didn't rake a whole lot, but those leaves were heavy and clinging to the ground. I picked up sticks too, although I really am not fond of that job; I sincerely suspect that some sticks hide and then pop out when I think I have got them all

Tonight it is to rain. And tomorrow is a high of 48˚ and wind. Yes!! Wind, I love it. Dear, dear wind, please dry us out. We need to dry out and have a temperature above 50˚ so I can finish staining the fence. Last summer was so brutally hot that we put it off to fall and then the weather was just not good for painting. This is what happened: We painted and painted when we could and I told my grandson to just "paint around" the one woodpile and we would move the wood and paint that part later.

We got caught and could paint no more, so we left the wood, until we needed a fire. Then as we drew wood from out variously seasoned piles, the unpainted portion of the fence appeared. It really stands out now. I'd post a picture, but WordPress has not resolved the upload problem - probably a good thing.

I am thinking of starting a fire to drive out the dampness and fill the air with the cozy and comforting (to me) scent of wood smoke. A couple of Yankee Candle tarts and we'll be all set.

It wouldn't be so bad in this state if at least it had a romantic and adventurous history. No one yearns to go to Indiana; to add insult to injury, we used to be the Northwest Territory. Not anymore, Oregon and Washington have that nickname - - and they also have mountains and seacoast and tales of horses and buffalo and all sorts of things. Excuse me, but I have never heard of the Indiana Trail.

Even North Dakota says rugged individual and strength of character. And it's next to Montana, home of the Big Sky and Chet Huntley.

So why am I here? Shoot, that's a darn good question. I don't know, maybe it gives me confidence - I can face problems and say, "Ha! I am not fazed. I have lived in Indiana, the Great State of Non-Descript.

Have you ever heard, "Eli Manning, you just won the Super Bowl, what are you going to do?"

"Why, I'm going to Indiana!"

Oh, wait a minute . . . maybe I should have thought this sarcastic comment out.

Technology and me

2008-03-31T09:20:00.000-04:00

I like having this Internet connection; I like having a word processing program that just lets me go back and delete without an eraser; I like having a printer, no having to painstakingly type each word and use thin paper so the erasures would not show so much. I love this stuff - cable TV and DVD's and digital camera pictures going on the computer. Ipods and digital recorders, cell phones - heck, I thought cordless phones were cool. It took me forever to realize I could actually walk away from the main phone base.

However, I sometimes think I would have liked to have lived in the old days - not the old, old days, but the ones where Rudy Vallee first crooned through his megaphone and everyone seemed so cheerful singing, The Stein Song. Sometimes I sit here with old songs coming out of itunes and visions of raccoon coats in my mind.

I'm up . . . but just barely

2008-03-31T06:55:00.001-04:00

Spring Break is over and I an sitting Indian fashion on the end of the sofa, about 45 minutes away from taking Alison to the hospital and getting kids to school - except one. Colin developed a sore throat and fever on Saturday and got antibiotics at the After Hours clinic yesterday. Let's see, Cameron was sick, then Summer was sick (You don't want to be around Summer when she is sick.), Alison was sick and some time in this Time of Germs, I was sick. I think we will be between three weeks and a month of having someone home and not at school.

I have been staying late on some of the Spring Break nights, because for most of my life I have been a night owl.

I had to leave writing this and on my return, about an hour later, I realize that for a lot of my life I was actually a night owl and an early bird. But I am too old for that now - too old to stay up to two and get up at six.

I can remember staying up all night and all day and late into the next day and not thinking a thing about it. But lately I have read that while we sleep, our brain is making more chemicals that we need to . . . oh, think. So, getting sleep is a duty; yes, that's it - a duty. Well, I think I'll do my duty tonight about nine.

ooooh, eye candy

2008-03-30T19:30:00.002-04:00

I guess I'll wait for one in purple, the color of royalty.

Leaning tree

2008-03-30T17:34:00.002-04:00

Oh, gee . . .

2008-03-29T09:58:00.004-04:00

I listened to an interview this morning where someone made the point about political correctness having the effect of putting the importance on what people feel they should say think as opposed as to what they really do think. My mind works in weird ways. As I was about to move away from the page, I looked at the banner of cows and into my mind popped:

My cow burns at both its ends,
It will not last the night.
But, oh, my foes and oh, my friends,
It gives a lovely light

Now, where the heck did that come from? But this isn't anything to do with political correctness because I don't want to burn cows. Obviously, this must be symbolism, a Freudian thing. Or maybe it is just a silly attack - my mind wandering on to the remark: Emily's first draft was not quite there, yet.

Is Lipton not making peach tea anymore?

2008-03-28T19:49:00.001-04:00

I have, during these months of winter, been able to pick-up a 12 pack of Lipton's Diet Green Tea, Peach flavor. Now, I haven't done it often, but when I have, there has been a pack for me. Not now. Knowing I would be wanting a lot of iced tea soon, I checked out the stores and found, "Yes, we have no peachanas." Well, rats. I really liked that peach. They had lots of the flavors I don't care for, but no peach and my only hope was that the new berry flavor would do. Today I tried it, and it is okay. Different from peach, but better than the others - much better.

I love to drink iced tea in the summer. That I am drinking it poured over ice out of a bottle would be news to my grandmother. She always made hot tea and it was poured over ice that cracked. It had no flavors other than "tea" and back then I had no idea there were different kinds of tea, anyway, let alone flavors. The glasses were tall and thin and the spoons long and graceful; condensation formed on the outside. As I grew older, I learned by example to run the glass slowly over my forehead when we were sitting on the porch. Of course, you didn't do that at the dinner table.

I was so fortunate as a little, little girl. The war was over and people were happy; people gave you the things they had wanted in the Depression. My father took graduate courses in the summer on the GI Bill and one year we were in Bloomington for the whole year. We lived downstairs from a Chinese gentleman who had a daughter my age - only she was in China with her mother and couldn't get permission to come. I'm told he used to come and see me and that I was afraid of him. I have no idea why and now I feel sorry. And somehow I have come back to tea - tea in china cups with a man from China during a Midwestern winter.

Knut

2008-03-28T07:16:00.002-04:00

I feel sorry for the cute little pseudo-orphaned polar bear cub at the German zoo who was brought to - uh, let's call it - "really bigness" by the people. Knut is the bear whose picture has been on the Internet news a lot lately - you know the one, the picture where it seems he is trying to bite, eat, whatever a kid and would have succeeded had it not been for the Plexiglas barrier his face rammed against.

As I understand it, the people who were with him all the time, the ones he thought were friends and family, decided it was time for him to live like a bear, alone in his cage. (I guess they call them enclosures now.) He has, in a very real sense, been abandoned. This time he is no longer the incredibly cute little polar bear cub and some people in the zoo community are calling him - forgive me - a psycho bear.

Mother, terrorism and Kipling

2008-03-27T08:21:00.002-04:00

My mother has had just about enough of Bush taking it on the chin because of the war in Iraq. She asks me what these people who criticize want . . . for more people to blow up more things and hurt more people on our soil. The Twin Towers, the Pentagon . . . and the targeted White House. She remembers the attack on Pearl Harbor; she remembers the speech on December 8, that announced "A state of war exists . . ."

And this morning I found myself murmuring the lines of a 1914 Kipling poem:

FOR all we have and are,
For all our children’s fate,
Stand up and take the war.
The Hun is at the gate!

I rented Kite Runner

2008-03-26T07:48:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was Tuesday and Tuesdays are the "new movies at Redbox" day. I rented Kite Runner and Love in the time of Cholera - the first will demand that I find the book so I can re-read some parts and the second will leave me with . . . well, I don't know what. I wasn't particularly interested in renting the movie or seeing it, but felt it was an investment in my reference knowledge base. The book was a bestseller, but I didn't read it; the movie is a convenient "Cliff's Notes". I have to confess that I just don't care much for South American subjects and, quite frankly, I am not a fan of Gabriel Garcia Márquez, even though he won the 1982 Nobel Prize. So we shall see.

I think last year at this time I was in San Diego, totally soaking up all the things I have come to totally love about the place: breakfast at Kono's and sipping a soda on the balcony of of the little coffee house. The staircase is through a non-descript doorway and lots of times - given the right time of day and year - you may have it to yourself or have to share with only a couple of folks. Last year, one day the wind was strong off the ocean and sand was blowing right at us, but there was a sheltered corner and we stayed quite a while.

The beach was deserted and the little booths that sell sweatshirts and sun umbrellas and tee-shirts to take home for relatives were shuttered. Sand drifted like snow. I think I would have been happy there to stay all day, just watching the occasional person pass beneath us. I was lured away by the mall and the Apple Store.

Windy

2008-03-25T19:51:00.001-04:00

The wind wasn't particularly cold for a northerner, but it was strong - gusts around 40 mph. and it brought to mind the famous line: dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly. I was glad for it; we need something to dry out everything so we can start getting things in order. We've had a long time of frozen ground, thawing ground, re-freezing and heaving ground. It's a mess, but as they say on so many TLC shows, it's our mess.

Oh, I think someone ran over one of the rakes.

Baby animal questions . . .

2008-03-23T08:10:00.001-04:00

To determine what animal you most resemble in the quiz featured in the post below, they ask you a bunch of questions, answers to which range from a wide scope of diverse choices to those which ask you to narrow in on one facet of a topic.

But, as I sit here, pondering my baby pandahood, it occurs to me that I probably qualify for my own personalized set of questions for kooks.

Do you prefer to nap on a bed or curled up on a sofa with an afghan pulled over all of you, including your head?

Which do you crave more - peanut butter or candy?

Would your home look like a real estate model or a second hand shop with narrow paths between odd objects?

Do you feel a loyalty to inanimate stuffed animals that have become threadbare? Y/N

If your spouse woke you from a deep sleep and said, "The Assyrian," would you respond "What?" or say, "came down like a wolf on the fold and his cohorts . . . "?

Are there certain common English words that are the default punchline to joking questions? Example: trucks.

Would you sit in the rain on a Pacific beach and watch the gray water or go do something in a dry place?

If you saw a new gadget, would you think, "I can make that with my grandmother's old potato masher and duct tape"? Y/N

Have you been torn between the old school punctuation outside a quoted word or phrase and the new school's idea to stick in inside the closing quote? Y/N

If you are reading a mystery and think you have figured out the killer, do you go to the back of the book, find out and then go back to reading slowly and enjoying the writing OR do you race through the rest of the book to see what happens, totally missing clues and well-phrased sentences?

Do you ever feel like punching someone in the nose?

Me?

2008-03-23T07:27:00.002-04:00

Here's a little quote from a Wikipedia article; it does not surprise me. In fact, when I saw I was a baby panda, I thought, "Gee, they're kind of mean, aren't they?

Though giant pandas are often assumed docile, they have been known to attack humans, presumably out of irritation rather than predatory behavior.

Mad Bomber Hats

2008-03-22T21:40:00.002-04:00

My mother said to me around Christmas that she had noticed women wearing colorful versions of "that hat you got your dad" - the mad bomber hat. I don't know where I got it. It was a long time ago.

The hat was sort of a joking Christmas present because when I was in high school, he used to drive me crazy by sticking the zipped-off hood of a parka coat on his head to putter around outside or walk the dog. The sideflaps poked out down around chin level like beagle ears. Overall, it gave him the look of a homeless man. It was some shade of green; I can't really call it forth clearly in my mind's eye because I always rolled my eyes when I looked out the window and saw him wearing it.

When I saw the Mad Bomber hat years later, I knew I had to get it for him. That Christmas morning, I remember my mother telling my aunt about the infamous hood and remarking, "She hated it, just hated it." He wore the Mad Bomber and I think it kept him warm, and that I had learned, was the important thing.

Then these stylish versions turned up at Eddie Bauer and Mother took a fancy to them, so I got her one for a late Christmas present - although she insisted on paying for it. I got her, though, I told her it was half as much as it was. Hers is blue with the fur in the usual places - on the forehead flap that folds down, on the ear flaps and around the edges of the neck. Mother is 81; she has panache.

She wore it down to the bookmobile and into a couple of her thrift shop haunts. She doesn't wear it to chop kindling; she says she doesn't want to get it dirty.

Look at this

2008-03-22T12:33:00.002-04:00

Yes, of course I ripped this off from the Weather Channel website. Do you see the left hand part of that white streak across the country up by the Great Lakes? We are under it. Kind of looks like Zorro went to make his mark and only got the first slash in, doesn't it?

The skunking of Little Ann

2008-03-22T08:24:00.000-04:00

Little Ann was a cocker spaniel, and, I suppose, in the heaven that dogs just have to go to, I guess she still is - a cocker spaniel angel. We loved her dearly; she loved my husband to bits, was fond of Quentin and tolerated me. She was, however, a free spirit.

Little Ann came from the Butler County, Ohio, Animal Shelter. She was about a year old and, by the way, had never had her tail docked. I think she was probably born and said, "I'm emancipating myself; I'm out of here." Of course, she gave Quentin the smiling, happy look that said, "I know you're going to take me home. I know it. I know it. I'm so happy. I love you. I love you. I love you."

So we took her home. And she promptly took off. She had used us for her escape. Ah, but she did not know her new adversary. She wasn't going to break my son's heart. I kept tracking her down and she kept running away. She did that for 13 years. Of course, somewhere along the line, she would run away and I had learned to shout, "Fine, find your meals somewhere," and she would be scratching to come in when she had wandered around enough. If you wanted her back right away, the trick was to take about five steps to chase her, and then turn your back and walk away. She would follow.

I remember taking her to the Fairgrounds. When it was time to leave, she would not get in the car. I would drive a few feet and she would run along behind. I'd stop and open the door and she would run off. Many is the time I drove the few blocks home with a dog following a car that stopped every half-block for her. I would get so furious. And I'd turn round and take her to the Fairgrounds the next day. We got another dog, Sally, and Little Ann would get Sally to run beside her and then she would run past a tree and Sally, watching Little Ann, would run into it.

One time, when Quentin was a senior, he got so incredibly upset with her that he bowled her in the porch door. She rolled over and over along the carpet to the other end and bounced off the wall. Did not faze her.

She would come for Cameron when he came to live with us. He was five or six and he would see her make an escape and run for the door, calling, "I'll save you, Ann." And she would look at him and come. He called her Sweetums. We would get him up late at night to stand in the door and call, "Come here, Sweetums," when she was being especially stubborn.

I took her to Mother's a lot, although we just had to take it for granted she would show up when it was time to go home. She liked to make trips out at night and she would buffalo me into believing she had "to go". She'd be off and I'd have to get Mother to demand, "Little Ann, you get in here right now." A lot of folks are a little cowed by Mother.

Anyway, one night, we were there and she went out and came in willingly. Thank you, Ann. She had been skunked, right on the forehead. At 2 am, we bathed her in tomato juice and vinegar and Dawn dishwashing liquid - which is supposed to work. We thought it had. I returned home the next day and everyone exclaimed, "WHAT is that stench?" More baths - nurse baths, the ones where my daughter-in-law scrubbed her with one of those net mesh things and then rinsed . . . and then did it again.

I don't know if it was the actual skunking or the nurse baths, but Little Ann stayed clear of skunks from then on.

She got old and she got cancer. We did what we could but she got worse. Her spirit was so indomitable I knew she would never give up - I had her put to sleep.

Ah, Little Ann, I can hear St. Peter calling now: "Little Ann, you get back in here . . . Do you hear me? Don't make me get the Big Guy . . . "

Early, early in the morning . . . for me.

2008-03-22T05:38:00.001-04:00

I am up because I have to take my daughter-in-law, who doesn't drive, to work at the hospital; she likes to get there early for her 12 hour shift of nursing. Tomorrow I will do it again . . . but today, today, I see white, slick roadways out there. But this is not as bad as it could have been; our snow measurement is less than an inch and the predictions for much more have been cut back. Auggghhhhhh. Given the percentage of good calls by the weather guys in our area this year, that might mean we will actually wind up snowbound.

************

UPDATE: 6:45 am. Sydney's tracks are filled in and more and the snow is coming down fast and furious. On the way to the hospital I followed a little car with the taillights of Corvette going 20 mph; no way I was passing him on the right. On the way home, I met a salt truck and my first thought was to be nice and safe in it. Well, it is big . . . but all the salt is behind it. That could be a bummer. Anyway, if this keeps up, we could have a lot of snow. ACK.

**************

What I am doing here is reacting to the situation in a manner influenced by the Internet and The Weather Channel - this awareness of everyone's weather and emphasis on our own, in light of what is going on elsewhere. Hey, we have had many, many snows in March and April; this is really northern Northern Indiana and this is the way it sometimes goes.

Shoot, back in 1935, they a terrible time getting to the hospital when my cousin Freddie was born because of a blizzard.

Shoot, back in 2000, Quentin and I went by two semis and lots of cars that had slid off the highway on our way to Indianapolis. In fact, just as we thought we were out of it, we felt the tires let loose on an overpass. We got lucky. And then it was nothing but just rain.

I got him to the airport and then went over to Fountain County to check on the engraving that was supposed to be added to my father's tombstone. I remember pulling into the cemetery - The Kingman Fraternal Cemetery - very early on a foggy morning. It was too early to stop at anyone's house and I was really too tired to go anyway. So I pulled the car off to the side of the cemetery lane, climbed in the backseat and went to sleep beneath one of the sleeping bags we never travel without. I awoke to bright sunlight and a clear sky. The morning of incredible snowy ice could have been a dream.

When I got home that night, everyone had tales of how things had come to a standstill after we left - road warnings were issued: stay home. It seems Quentin and I had unknowingly been traveling in a break of the storm - it had been much worse on the highway about a half-hour before we passed and new yuckier ice and snow were following us.

I told them I had slept in a cemetery that morning. Now that impressed them. Hey, it was bigger news than bad weather in Northern Indiana when it was supposed to be spring.

Life and me

2008-03-20T16:20:00.003-04:00

I was up 'til one this morning, trying to get something to work between Google and me. I didn't get it working, but I figured out exactly what was broken, which is an accomplishment for this little cookie from the slide rule generation. (I remember I was really pleased to have a "round" slide rule to carry in my purse. Wonder where it is now?)

I overslept and woke thinking, "What if my heart stops today?" I thought about pulling the blanket up over my head. But I got up and hollered - yes, hollered and I do hate the yelling from room to room thing. Got Cameron dropped off at school and waved at Summer and Alison - our resident sickies - misplaced and found my mini-recorder, stuffed extra batteries in my vest and headed out the door. Then I came back in for the keys.

Called Mother from the car and told her I'd call again later.

Then the old, old diesel and I trundled on down the road . . . and it was sunny.

I had a great time at the construction site. The guy from the energy agency, the vocational instructor, learning so many new things about special ways to do basement walls and something called "sip" walls and recessed ceiling lights that have the potential to be big heat losers.

I liked the instructor; he was one of those fellows I could drive across the country with and not feel as if we had to cut the car in half or flip a coin to see who got killed between here and California. The kids were great; I like good kids - really like them. At one point I said, climbing up and over a big, big stack of plywood, "Hey, I'm sixty guys, give me a hand." I lied; I'm 59. I had to laugh; when I tell my age to most, a lot exclaim that I can't be that old (which, of course, is why I mention it in the first place). When you're dealing with high school juniors and seniors, they don't react like that. You're old. Oh, yeah.

I told the instructor the hour I spent there had made my day - that I'd be upbeat all day. So far, so good - even if I can't tweak the template to get Google to see what I want it to see for a few hours.

Sydney and I even went out to the fairgrounds and he got to run and sniff, sniff, sniff. The wind switched over and was coming from the north, however, and I took shelter from the gusts on the south side of the log cabin, looking down toward the grandstand, a view that was always so pleasing until the ancient structure burned down. The new one is metal and safer, but it doesn't tug at my emotions the way the old wooden white one did.

Floral Hall is always a good link from the past to me to the future. I'm sure it leans to the north, but they tell me it's solid. At the fair, it's home to quilts and local history; flowers and canned goods are there too, but the display is pretty small, compared to the days of my childhood when I was taught to scrape the paraffin off the top of the jelly and jam my grandma made.

Tonight it gets colder; tomorrow it snows. Well, that's okay.

" . . . woke thinking, "What is my heart stops today?" Okay, so I've got my ups and downs.

My address - Somewhere in the rain

2008-03-19T07:57:00.004-04:00

You are aware of the snow globes that make such lovely winter scenes. I think I live in a rain globe - as if someone put me in a recycling fountain and put a ball of glass around me and my fountain. Probably there is a wooden base down there, maybe with a little wind up switch that sets some song playing.

I just looked on itunes and a search for "rain" yields the full 150 choices; as does one for "raindrop" - and both have some selections marked "explicit" in red. I don't want to know anything about this. No red stuff - no.

Ah, but wait, all is not lost - I see itunes thinks I may have erred in my spelling - they are listing under the artist category a group called "Reindeer Section" . . . Unfortunately, I could not leave it with those three dots; I clicked on the group which is Alternative and found the album, "Y'all Get Scared Now, Ya Hear" from 2001. And, they also have a follow-up album - "Son of Evil Reindeer."

They are a Scottish group and YES, one of their songs is "Raindrop" so I guess I see the itunes logic. No, they aren't a Scottish group; they are a group of musicians from Scottish groups. I wish I could copy the album review here, but maybe I've gone far enough - or too far already.

I know; I'll have my rain globe play "You Are My Sunshine."

A little brain WOO-HOO

2008-03-18T09:07:00.002-04:00

This was nice. Last night just as I was going to sleep I thought about my husband's great aunt Cuba and wondered what was her husband's first and last name. And my brain was able to pull the information out of some crevasse. Good chemicals from the success uplifted my spirits.

It was a little tricky; I knew he name was a "bit" different, with the flavor of a foreign country to it, but just trying to think of those types of names didn't yield anything. So I did the old alphabet trick. I got really teased by the "E" category, as if I were almost there. I forced myself to go on and as I hit "I" territory, it came to me - Ivan. YES. YES. YES. YES. WOO-HOO.

But my body craved more of the good chemical of success and I thought . . . last name? last name? last name?

The alphabet again. Trying to hear my husband's voice in my head . . . almost saying the name.
Oh, gosh, I was getting toward the end - past the "R" section and the "T" faction and getting nervous . . . and then, then, my mouth said it and I heard my husband's voice say it at the same time: Vilander. Ivan Vilander.

Not that this has much importance, if any, but it sure felt good to have some brain cells firing.

a little holiday cheer from cool guys

2008-03-17T21:05:00.000-04:00

little guys from the home and garden show

2008-03-17T12:04:00.002-04:00

Testing the prevailing mother weather theory

2008-03-17T10:21:00.005-04:00

My mother in NE LaGrange County says the sky is lightening up and if the usual pattern holds, we should be seeing some sun in NW Noble County in a few minutes. Do like the Whos and cry, "Sun, we are here. We are here."

UPDATE: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I almost see shadows outside because the sun is almost out. I had about given up and then, the total gloom lifted. Summer is throwing up; I almost typed "puking" and I don't know why. I don't talk that way.

UPDATE 2: Okay, fine, now it's gloomy again . . . and cold . . . and I think I want to jump out of my skin. Yeah, it's windy, too. Gloom sky - we must find a nice Indian to to the sunshine dance.

Dawn

2008-03-17T07:43:00.001-04:00

Here I sit, looking out a half wall of windows at shrubs and bits of sky. Even with the light on, I can differentiate sky from shrub - it is not just a dark mass. So, dawn is coming. Ah, I think it is a gray sky again. Well, that is ultimately okay, although I could use a good dose of sunlight.

Yesterday was a teaser day - first sun and clear sky, then clouds rolled in when they weren't predicted (not surprised), then the sun picked out in changing blue pools . . . and finally, finally, the sky was one big piece of construction paper azure blue again. But it was late in the afternoon and chilly to cold; in the backyard, the leaves were frozen to the ground, so I propped the rake against the side of the house and popped back inside.

Another sick one is on the sofa, up half the night with a sore throat. Drat.

Still, we await the day so we can carpe it and gather our rosebuds.

Tom Coughlin's face

2008-03-16T21:26:00.002-04:00

Remember when I thought he had managed to get a case of frostbite in the Green Bay game that result in disaster? Well, of course, I was wrong. I just didn't know how wrong; he has saved face, boy, has he saved face. He is getting 21 MILLION dollars to coach for four more years. READ HERE and there is a picture of his face.

Kendallville Home & Garden Show

2008-03-16T20:23:00.002-04:00

It was about as usual and I had a good time. I bought some crazy little things to stick into flowerpots and I'll try and get photos of them tomorrow.

YES! We have sun

2008-03-16T08:29:00.002-04:00

I have come to really like sunny days; I have learned my lesson from this dismal Northern Indiana winter of 2007/2008. And today it is sunny, right now and it is predicted to remain so. If it does not, I may just have to go hunt Jim Cantore down. Today is also the Kendallville Home & Garden Show; it was yesterday too, but I forgot. I think my mind was dimmed by the overcast. It's a small show, but, hey, what the hey? Or something like that.

Renting purses

2008-03-15T10:34:00.003-04:00

No, no one would really rent a purse. A handbag is a different story, however. Handbag is Queen of England and the late Queen Mum; Margaret Thatcher knew a handbag was classier, that's why the green grocer's daughter carried one, somewhat to the alleged annoyance of the Queen. They - and I don't know who I mean by that they - are now renting expensive handbags and jewelry to ladies. I am not surprised by this. Someone apparently listened to enough sales personnel talking about charity fundraiser customers "buying a dress" and leaving the tags on, but tucked in . . . and then, yes, returning the dress. Often they sported perspiration stains on the satin and enough of a leftover expensive fragrance to leave the sales people fuming. But, of course, they could say nothing to the wannabe Mrs. Astor's. The rationale for the buyers/returnees was, of course, that the salon should be thankful for the - cough, cough - advertising . . . ooooh, such as commercial word, dontcha know.

Anyway, take a look at this WEBSITE; I found it on the right sidebar of the Pioneer Woman's site. Now, wait a minute. It strikes me that rental handbags and jewelry are on a site where people come to see men in chaps and lovely mares, not to mention calves losing nuts and vast vistas of the prairie. It strikes me as odd. Or not. I can see ladies wanting to feel a part of a western ranch life - wannabe pioneer women if you will. So this is a place where you advertise rental high fashion, designer wares? Is this target advertising . . . oh, the questions that conjures up.

It's warmer out today

2008-03-13T16:59:00.002-04:00

I got all the cans from the better part of this winter ready to the recycling place. It took a long time; some of the bags had broken, quite possibly because I had nudged them when backing up and they were covered with snow. Or maybe I nudged them on days when the snow had blown off and they were in plain sight - if it had been light. Of course, some times I didn't think to look at all.

The temperature was warm enough for me to be out in shirt sleeves and there was a slight breeze from the southwest. I know this because when I straightened up to rest occasionally, the loose strands of my hair would blow around my face, and I would have looking to the northeast. There was a lot of time to think.

Belle Gunness - serial killer

2008-03-12T16:09:00.005-04:00

My mother read an article about Belle Gunness and suggested I look her up on the Internet; seems she's a serial killer that died in a fire in La Porte; no, wait, it might be that she faked her death and moved to California where she did a few more deadly deeds. So, I looked her up and found THIS, which takes the story up to the fire. I need more information, so I'm taking a deep breath and diving into the Google pool.

Gasp, gasp. Another LINK and they are both with a black background - this one has a line of dripping blood. And, then there is the Wikipedia entry: stuff about Belle Gunness including the fact that a rock band in the Netherlands was named after her . . . and the lyrics to a folk song:

In old Indiana, not far from LaPorte,
There once lived a woman, a home lovin' sort.
Belle wanted a husband, she wanted one bad,
She placed in the papers a lonely hearts ad.
Men came to Belle Gunness to share food and bed,
Not knowing that soon they'd be knocked in the head.
But while they were sleeping, she'd lift the door latch.
She'd kill them and plant them in her tater patch.

Well, I'll have things to tell Mother tonight, not the least of which is that DNA testing is being planned for the Belle in the fire and the one in California.

See this fellow . . .

2008-03-12T15:56:00.002-04:00

This is a rare picture of Cameron smiling for the camera - I think I may have tricked him.

Eat less, live longer

2008-03-12T10:32:00.002-04:00

I was watching a show a couple of nights ago; I don't remember what it was, because I wasn't really watching. The TV was on. Now, I think it was this show that had a segment about a French caver lost in a maze of caves and the things his brain automatically did to allow him to survive. Probably, I realize now, this was something on the Discovery Channel . . . the phrase "human limits" is tickling my memory.

It doesn't matter where I heard it, and actually I am now worrying that I can't remember what my primary activity was when the show was on. Rats, another senior moment. I'm been typing aimlessly here - although I tried to get you to assume there was a purpose - because I have delaying facing the dilemma of my lament about life being short and my overweight status. This comes right after I blogged about actually living better and actually losing ten pounds as well.

AAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

I got sidetracked, but I didn't forget

2008-03-11T09:06:00.001-04:00

So, do you remember I was taking note of the ornaments on my special sitting room tree? Well, I didn't forget; I just wandered off in other areas for awhile. This little embroidered material is from many decades ago. I did it while sitting on the enclosed front porch of our house in LaGrange County - in the little village of Scott - with my grandmother sitting beside me doing her own piece, something with French knots, I think.

That would have been in the fifties; yes, I decided to go ahead and get graphic with the numbers. The porch is, for the most part, the same as it was then, and often my mother and I sit out there and read or do sudokus. I did a lot of embroidery over the years and then my fingers started to tingle when I would hold the needle and so I finished up the project I was on and didn't do another.

I was going to say a few things about Grandma, but I got sidetracked again. She was born in 1881 in Lima, Indiana (now Howe) to Wesley Wisler and Martha Fowler Wisler. My mother wasn't born until 1926, so I had a pretty direct link to the real horse and buggy days. I remember the way she smelled - clean and starched - and it does seem odd that someone I knew so well and loved so dearly is a complete stranger to those in my life now, with the exception of my mother.

Heavens, I didn't mention her name. It was Jessie Ethel Wisler. I used to giggle at the the Ethel part. She was named after her father's brother Jesse who moved to Mancelona, Michigan and started a business. She was first married to Harry Huff and had two children, Lucile Elizabeth and Stanley Malcolm. Harry died of Bright's Disease and some years later she married my grandfather, John Michael Shimp.

Grandpa had been married before also and his wife had died following a miscarriage; she had been all right when he left the hospital, but when he got home, they called with the message she had bled to death. (I didn't feel like spelling hemorrhaged, but then felt I was being a chicken so here it is.) It changed him, this event. They say he withdrew into himself. He died when I was 10 and they found he had one of my school pictures in his wallet. I remember hearing Grandma say, "He must have picked it up off the table."

I have some pictures of him in his youth. In one he is sitting on a thresher, I think in a coat, tie and hat; I know that at one time he traveled out to the Dakotas with a crew, harvesting grain. I'll have to scan them into my computer, along with my grandmother's graduation photo.

But back to the embroidery. I don't think we ever framed it; I think I just kept itfolded up in some drawer or box or maybe both at one time or another. At any rate, I found it in my thirties, stuck it in a hoop and hung it on a nail. Then we moved and I stuck it in a drawer. When this tree went up and I was looking for stuff to put on it, I thought, "Why not."

I close my eyes and I can be on that porch again in one of the summers when my age was still in the single digits. And it is a nice thing to have tucked away in my memory box.

I'm a little shaky on Breaking Bad

2008-03-10T11:24:00.002-04:00

So Walt is a competent fellow, handling Tuco and managing to make blue meth and doing this while on chemotherapy. Somewhere along the line, Walt lost his "I can't believe this humor". He does not lose his pants; he does not pull money out of his pool and put it in a dryer; he no longer teaches chemistry to high-schoolers. Yes, I realize he purchased not your usual ski masks for the robbery and, yes, he and Jesse did take the opportunity to wrap rope around the port-a-potty the security guard had entered - with magazine. It wasn't funny - to me - because I knew Walt was not going to have to do anything to make this work. The writers, who I guess came back from being on strike with fewer brain cells, give it the Obi Wan Kenobi treatment . . . Everything will be just fine and they will get away with a barrel of the chemical they need; you don't need to look for anything clever in what is happening.

So what is happening? Well, Walt and Jesse are making a lot of meth and Walt is having conversations with Hank about what is legal and what is not. He killed a couple of people, but that was back in earlier episodes, and now he is talking in terms of prohibition. Walt, I don't think so. Don't rationalize; just say, "Hey, I woke up a little late to the fact that shit happens and so you might as well take what you can get - no holds barred."

But, Walt, you're so damned good at it. I'm sitting here thinking that you're making a lot of money because you are smart and are tapping into unrecognized aspects of that intelligence. I'm sitting here thinking, "Hey, I wish I were as smart as Walt."

And I'm not sure this is how it is supposed to work out with this show.

Hello to the first school day on DST

2008-03-10T06:38:00.002-04:00

It's dark. Oh, yeah, It's dark.

Well, it's not going to change until we let nature happen, do I'll shut up.

Oh, not much to say if I'm not complaining and muttering; since I don't have Andy Rooney's job, that doesn't work out either.

Silence . . . silence . . . I must have SOME positive, upbeat words to greet the new day?
Okay. Hi there, day. How are you doing? Think your sun will shine or are you putting on clouds.

I guess some people are destined to be glum boxes. I have no talent for this cheery stuff.

I have known this for a long time. A lot of people have heard my first grade story, but I'm repeating it. Ahem:
When I was in first grade, another girl - one who was always smiling and well-liked - and I did something nice for someone else. I have no memory of what it was, but the teacher gave us a compliment and a pat on the head. I thought to myself, "I should have received two pats on the head because it doesn't come naturally to me."

Far afield

2008-03-09T12:55:00.002-04:00

Okay, I admit to being the alien intelligence that spurred the Egyptians to great power.

She was wearing the unlucky buffalo pendant, Buffy

2008-03-09T12:53:00.002-04:00

Yes, a parking lot in Auburn. That's where we were on the first detour of our journey and then we had to go to Fort Wayne. Why, you ask. I tell you it is because of the mercurial Summer and Buffy, her buffalo pendant.

Oh, wait, we are using the wrong strategy

2008-03-09T09:21:00.002-04:00

We emailed the gov. How silly. We need to do what Emily Lou Who of Whoville did in "Horton Hears a Who".

Mitch, we are here; we are here; we are here.

I emailed the governor (aka) Mitch Daniels (aka) "that boy"

2008-03-09T08:59:00.005-04:00

Fool that I am, I emailed the governor about our distaste for Daylight Savings Time for the State of Indiana. Oh, it would be okay if we were on Central Time, but we are not.

We are pseudo-Easterners. Ew!

I do not believe we will get any answer other than a form letter, but at least we are letting "that boy" know that some things just don't go away for his constituency - especially the 81 year old one who was born in LaGrange County, whose mother was born in LaGrange County in 1881, whose grandmother was born in 1848 right across the state line in Michigan, and whose great-grandmother walked out here from New York.

Mother lived through the Depression here in LaGrange County; she sat in the Scott High School gym and listened to Roosevelt address the nation on December 8, 1941. Maybe Governor Daniels, you could take a take a moment to email, "Well, Ma'am, I have my reasons and I'm sorry you don't agree with them."

Oh, by the way, here's that boy's page and email: www.in.gov/gov/2310.htm
Why not let him here from you about something on your mind - you can tell him Sarah and Jody say "Hey".

UPDATE: I already received stage one of the response:

Thank you for emailing Governor Mitch Daniels. The Governor appreciates
that you took the time to contact his office and play an active role in
the discussion about making Indiana a better place to live, work, and
raise a family.

Your email will be shared with the appropriate staff for a response.

Again, thank you for contacting Governor Daniels' Office.

Daylight savings time

2008-03-09T08:01:00.004-04:00

We used to call this fast time, back in the day. My mother and I still do; my younger son had to ask me what it meant. Of course, that may be because for a long time Indiana stayed on standard time all year, which was great considering how incredibly west we are in the Eastern Time Zone. Here we are in Indiana, getting up and going to bed with New York, Boston, and all the folks in Maine who can't get there from here.

Then a few years back, Mitch Daniels got himself elected governor and, gadzooks, we found ourselves on daylight savings time. Mother calls it GDT - for Governor Daniels or, more likely, God Damn Time.

I have yet to move my watch forward; my mother doesn't. I sent the governor an email back then but only got an intern's form reply. Aha, apparently Mitch does not understand he has lost Mother's vote - she calls him "That boy." And while she does not have a "Ditch Mitch" bumper sticker on her car, she just might be getting there.

No snow

2008-03-08T21:52:00.003-05:00

It seems odd to see cars sliding on icy roads - or getting stuck on drifting roads - so close to where we are and to have dry pavement and blue sky. Yes, we have no storm. We are northern Indiana and we have clear roads. I think, "Ah, for once, luck."

A long winter

2008-03-08T16:35:00.003-05:00

Well, we missed the big storm - it went south; but the sun is looking a little done in here in March. I pushed it back up and it immediately took a nosedive, so I stuck it in a bush. We'll go from here when it's a little warmer.

I've been thinking more about the Before You Go

2008-03-08T14:07:00.001-05:00

Earlier today I wrote about the "Before You Go" CD/DVD that thanks the soldiers for what they have done. Then later, I was upstairs, brushing my teeth of all things, and it occurred to me that we certainly weren’t saying a very good thank you by making crappy cars and losing out to the Japanese and having a bunch of people who are happy to stay on welfare. Let’s get personal: I whine about not losing weight. Well, for Heaven’s Sake, surely I can take off ten pounds. Surely I can keep my lawn in better shape; surely I don’t need to use obscene language; there are lots and lots of “surely’s”.

Beside the Stream and Pioneer Woman

2008-03-08T10:56:00.004-05:00

Is it the camera business - and software that brings editing and enhancing to the amateur, not to mention printing - that is behind some blogs today. Well, yes, I would say so. Now, I don't know what was the chicken and what was the egg with the the Pioneer Woman but along with her stories of her life, there is a pictorial place that few of us experience - the Old West, the New West, the prairie, nature and so forth. So, yes, Nikon and Hewitt-Packard would take notice of the potential for marketing. And Adobe Photoshop - hey, is there much difference between being talked through a recipe and talked through photo editing? Probably not. And she is starting a whole new blog devoted to it, along with the Pioneer Woman Cooks blog.

Now, on the upper right sidebar of Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, Beside the Stream is featured - a blog with lots of pictures about the mountains and Colorado. This lady, I think her name is Alice, starts right off telling you she hadn't really taken pictures until a "professional" camera arrived at her house. And now she has a tutor. I don't know what brand of camera she has and it probably doesn't matter. I think the idea is to get people wanting to take more photos and do more things with them and that leads to overall growth in camera sales, software and accessories.

This is okay with me. Perhaps soon I will be looking each day at photos of living in a bayou, in a bunch of cities, in the desert, in the High Plains, in the Sierras, in resorts, and so forth. Well, it should be educational.

Say, anyone want to give me a fancy camera to capture a small Indiana town in photos. I'm from Lagrange County; I can do farms and Amish and Shipshewana. I'm from the pioneer stock of the area - I've got old photos that can be resurrected.

Nikon, Canon, Olympus . . . if you're interested, remember you can reach me at jodyvance@mac.com. Or leave a comment - I'll come running.

Before You Go - a thank you in music and pictures

2008-03-08T10:26:00.003-05:00

I am in the lucky generation; I am the daughter of those who were young during the Depression and in early adulthood in WWII. My grandmother made my mother a winter coat out of an older one, sprucing it up so it looked nice. When Roosevelt spoke the day after Pearl Harbor, she listened to it over the public address system in the school auditorium. My father went in the service in 1942 and came back to Indiana in late 1945 and was discharged at Fort Benjamin Harrison.

He was in the signal corps and said he never was a "real soldier". He's gone now. His hair was white and he had become frail.

I look at these pictures of old men and the pictures of young men in combat and realize they are the same. I feel for them; I feel for me. Something so important, something that reaches so deeply into your soul and it passes in a lifetime. Maybe that is the real reason they made stone and sculptors - because at least there is something to touch, something as strong as they were.

(Well, okay, here is something is bronze - that's good, too.)

A musical and pictorial tribute and thank you in in album form on the Internet now. My husband sent the site to me, and now I am sending it on to you.

Flu or sleeping sickness?

2008-03-07T10:52:00.002-05:00

I think I'm coming up on two weeks of coughing. It has tapered off considerably . . . but I notice this little after-effect - I sit down and if there is a tilt to me, I will often wind up in nap phase. Obviously, this is a call for Mountain Dew Code Red - diet, of course.

Beach trekkers

2008-03-07T07:26:00.003-05:00

Here is one of my beach trekkers - the right one to be precise. I think I am going to like it because it has a closed toe, open spots on the sides and a study sole. It's a great deal like the Sketchers that I got in San Diego several years ago and wore and wore and wore.

I must say it

2008-03-06T12:03:00.002-05:00

I won't cry for you, Hillarito.

LANDS END

2008-03-06T08:19:00.000-05:00

They send me these catalogues, but I don’t look at them . . . because I scope out the website daily. I love it when they have 30 to 40 dollar shams on sale for $1.50, not to mention all the other sale stuff. But, now I am thinking of paying (gasp) full price for some clothes for summer. To justify this, I will have to go back to my habit of changing my clothes in regard to what I am doing. Well, that’s not so bad. I’m going to look now and pick some stuff out . . . and then maybe I’ll head over to LL Bean. I feel like it should be a rose and yellow year - not together though. I think I have been a red and navy person my whole life long - it’s just so darn practical. Well, we’ll see; we’ll see. On the other hand, I’m always up for khaki - especially when it’s vintage (safari days) Banana Republic. Hey, better check ebay for “found in the attic” goodies.

Ghurka - that’s another ebay search.

As far as my feet are concerned, I already have my beach trekkers.

two columns

2008-03-04T14:59:00.002-05:00

I've read about it; I've seen it in movies; I've seen it demonstrated in a classroom - now there's an iffy use for tax/tuition money. The idea is to list the pros of a decision or action on in one column and the cons in another. The reason for it is obvious; it's commonsense. I suppose a lot of people don't do it because they don't want to see written out in front of their face the truth of the matter. They have this really stupid urge to jump into the fire our of their warm frying pan and they don't want to have another hurdle between them and doing what they want to do.

However, this afternoon, I sat down and made two columns in my mind: people who are in my life and people who are gone. Now that's a heck of a thing to have staring you in the face.

Smells

2008-03-04T14:52:00.002-05:00

I very much like the smell of wood smoke - the kind that comes from a fireplace or a woodstove. I like the smell of newly-washed hands. I enjoy the smell of candles as long as they are not the sweet, cloying smells of some artificial contrived wannabe classy salon. I do not like the smell of little old ladies, unless it is the cleanliness of soap and the clean fresh clothes. That last sentence is an odd one - one that I might have edited out at another time. But, heck, live with it; it's true.

buffalo meat for Sydney; buffalo hot dogs for me

2008-03-04T14:34:00.001-05:00

My dog has bouts of pancreatitis and so we try to feed him neutral foods that are low in fats and easy to digest. Usually he gets chicken, rice and dog food (for vitamins) or buffalo meat, rice and dog food. When he gets the buffalo meat, I usually snitch a bit because it is so good. Sometimes we will brown regular ground beef and put it through a double draining procedure and every now and then I will warm up some Campbell’s Chunky Beef & Vegetable Soup and let him have some of the watered down broth on dog food. He loves that, but we have to be careful lest it taxes his little system. I almost forgot - sometimes he has minced steak warmed with dog food and a bit of water. That’s okay with him too.

Well, today, when I went for his buffalo meat, I saw that they had buffalo hot dogs in stock and on sale. Woo Hoo. It just so happened that I had a nice fire going at home and so, yes, I came home and roasted one and ate it. I still snitched a little of the buffalo meat, though. I love it . . . with absolutely no condiments. Love it, do you hear me? Love it, love it, love it.

a lot of money in a basket

2008-03-04T07:16:00.004-05:00

Because I wanted to check on school delays, I checked the TV this morning and while nothing was scrolling along the bottom of the screen, the news people, talking about the Ohio primary, visited a Longaberger basket factory to discuss the recession and the fact that 1,000 workers had been laid off during the year. I looked at their site as one of the reporters mentioned Longaberger baskets as being as "must have" item in some households.

$750 for a spiral basket.

Here's a scenario: Someone feels sick and they grab for a receptacle. And it is a basket that costs hundreds. Hey, why does anyone need a basket that expensive? The gracious living thing?

Long time, no see

2008-03-03T11:58:00.002-05:00

A bout with the flu of 2008 and I was a lump on the sofa, a lump with a cough that fell asleep in the middle of DVD movies. I only felt pretty crummy for a couple of days with chills and fever, but I have been a lump for awhile. Of course, my normal functioning is just about that of a lump, so it probably hasn't mattered too much anyway.

Now I am sitting in the den, watching a fire and wondering if I have anything of interest to write.

Nope.

Bye.

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!

2008-02-26T17:10:00.003-05:00

I heard a rustling and opened the door to find that snowman monster reaching over the fence.

Aruuuuuugggggghhhhh

2008-02-26T13:13:00.000-05:00

I have been sick with the respiratory flu, I think. At any rate, I have had a fever and some actual shake me around chills the past couple of days. Last night I was stretched out under afghans and blankets when I heard people talking in the house that there are many police cars outside. I didn't feel like getting up. What a bummer; just how many times do you think lots of police cars will park across the street from my house? And the piece de resistance? A K-9 unit. I could be posting pictures here of a dog on duty; I guess I should have had them hoist me off my sickbed and lash me to a telephone pole so I could provided live-blogging.

Plague house

2008-02-24T15:39:00.003-05:00

Just last night Hibernator listened to the enumeration of flu-ish people in the house and sent us a youtube video of Monty Python's movie with the "Bring out your dead" repeated call. I had forgotten it; I remembered it; I laughed. I cursed myself to fevered spells with chills. I will go to the doctor tomorrow, but until then, let's give a cheer for the immune system.

Give me an "I"

Give me an "M"

Afternoon in the sitting room

2008-02-22T16:17:00.000-05:00

I decided no more, no more total disarray in the bedroom and sitting room; so this afternoon I started. I pulled out bins from the closet and went through them, separating into keep, Goodwill and trash piles. I was brutal; not so much trash, but a lot of Goodwill. That left me with several empty bins so I went into the sitting room and starting filling them with all the things resting on horizontal surfaces. Then I opened drawers and emptied them out - turned them upside down. I did not sort through them today because today was "move the furniture so I can best access the scanner, the printer, the TV and the VHS/DVD player" day. Move out the stand-alone, long ago kid's school desk and slide over the coffee table. Add a wooden thing (scavenged from a redecorating company in another city) about two feet tall with close-set shelves for paper separating. Put the scanner on one end of the coffee table, the printer next to it and on the far end another wooden scavenged thing.

Organize plugs and cords and connectors . . . and vacuum, vacuum, vacuum. The dog, by the way does not like it when I move from place to place. He will not trust me to be right back from the adjoining room. So he was up and down, going this way, coming back and making me feel guilty. I gave him dog treats - my answer for everything.

There was one box in the closet that did not have clothes, but papers and pictures and a jumble of stuff that had hastily been gathered up from a dining room cabinet. I was good and did not go through the photos - but I saw a few from long, long ago and I discovered I am now at that age when those times seemed a different life and somehow I was a different me. The one in the pictures was someone never to be again.

As I said, I did not tarry and go through them, staring for long minutes at a time; but something had been triggered and I got to thinking that perhaps there was a door that needed shutting. Things are never going to go back to what they were, ever. So, I guess you go on, starting from this minute, this very minute and do the best you can . But, damn it, you look out the window and down the road and you still hope to see that past come walking up.

Harvesting the Heart - Jodi Picoult

2008-02-21T12:08:00.004-05:00

I walked down the truncated book aisle at our Wal-Mart and saw this book by Jodi Picoult, who wrote My Sister's Keeper, dontcha know. I took it down from the shelf and saw that it was about a young mother and motherhood and I thought, "Oh, not for me." Still, I opened it and starting reading a passage on page 234:

My father stood up and walked to the window. "When I was very little and we were livin' in Ireland, my own father used to cut the fields three time each summer for haying. He had an old tractor, and he'd start on one edge of the field, circlin' tighter and tighter in a spiral until he almost got dead center. Then my sisters and I would run into the grass that still stood and we'd chase out the cottontails that had been pushed to the middle by the tractor. They'd come out in a flurry, the lot of them, jumpin' faster than we could run. Once - I think it was the summer before we came over here - I caught one by the tail. I told my da I was going to keep it like a pet, and he got very serious and told me that wouldn't be fair to the rabbit, since God hadn't made it for that purpose. But I built a hutch and gave it hay and water and carrots. The next day it was dead, lyin' on its side. My father came up beside me and said some things were just meant to stay free." He turned around and faced me, his eyes brilliant and dark. "That," he said, "is why I never went lookin' for your mother."

I swallowed. I wondered what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands, something bejewelled and treasured and know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees. "Twenty years," I whispered. "You must hate her so much."

"Aye." My father stood and grasped my hands. "At least as much as I love her."

There in the aisle of store of life's details, part of me - the part that I know best - could slip into what the words had said, as if there were not billions of other people on the planet. My feelings were big, like they took up all the space everywhere, as if they were everything.

I didn't want to put the book back and get it from the library. I wanted to have those words where I could just rest my hands on the cover when I walked by a table and saw it. Where it would be a touchstone for that which I feel deeply.

And so I bought it.

2008-02-21T07:42:00.002-05:00

I thought I had written about American Gangster

2008-02-21T07:02:00.002-05:00

I watched it yesterday while I was transcribing - one of my least favorite things to do - and I thought I had written about it. Obviously, I must have done that in one of my alternate universes. But now I am not thinking about American Gangster; I am thinking that I will have to go start the diesel in a couple of minutes so it will be purring when the kids have to go to school.

I am also thinking that I am so glad that wretched transcribing is done. I usually put it off and put it off and then wind up doing it under a great deal of pressure all in one big surge. It is like hitting yourself in the head with a rock for an extended period of time. One option I'm considering is just doing a wee bit at a time, but that would mean planning ahead, and it would mean several separate times in which I whack my head with a rock. I really hate this chore.

But American Gangster was good; I think I'll watch it again . . . while I write the darn article. Auggghhhh. Ok, I will write it tomorrow. Tomorrow is good; Saturday might be better.

Urban Explorers

2008-02-19T16:35:00.002-05:00

I don't know much about Urban Exploring, other than to look at the pictures other have taken of abandoned sites. I think one of my first vicarious forays was into a mental hospital in Connecticut - ironic, huh? Anyway, here is a site I found today and you can see Fort Ord and a lot of other interesting places.

American Gangster and Redbox and Michael Clayton

2008-02-19T12:15:00.004-05:00

Redbox, I was beginning to despair but I think I love you. Because yesterday was President's Day - a holiday, I had the feeling today was Monday. But it is TUESDAY! Tuesday is new movies at the $1 Redbox and I looked in and, even though it is almost noon, managed to get Michael Clayton and American Gangster.

Michael Clayton bombed, according to reports, at the Box Office, perhaps because it is about the big corporate law firms that consume lawyers. The "consume" word I grabbed from Slate Magazine's article on the movie. Okay, I going to go look up American Gangster and see if I'm going to get my dollar's worth. Uh, four stars from Roger Ebert. Well, that's good. Here's his review . I may have to buy these when they go on sale at the video store.

Yes, Redbox, these past few weeks of nothing too good coming out of your little disc ejector . . . and now this. So, it's okay.

A view of the Peanut Butter Cafe and Roadhouse

2008-02-17T14:16:00.002-05:00

The rain of Indiana

2008-02-17T14:09:00.003-05:00

This is the rain of late February in Indiana; it is not as common as the rain of March, but I have seen it before. I was thinking of the rain and the sound of it when I filmed, but it seems "Elizabeth" was in the DVD player and you can hear the music. It is toward the beginning of the film where Sir Walter Raleigh is about to tell the Queen of sailing across the ocean to the New World, watching for the land that appears as a haze on the horizon.

Letters from Iwo Jima on AMC

2008-02-17T08:07:00.001-05:00

Last night I tuned into AMC and started watching Letters from Iwo Jima - so far, so good - then I remembered why I had not seen it before - it is in Japanese with English subtitles all the way through the movie. I read well and fast, but shoot, it's a pain in the neck to have to flick your eyes off the actors to read what they are saying for around two hours. Look somewhere else, blink, realize the subtitle is obscured by the scenery in the film and it is all over. I didn't make it for the two hours; I fell asleep and woke un during the encore presentation. I turned the TV off.

Would it be such a crime to have the dialogue dubbed in - or at least read as in narration? Mr. Eastwood, sayonara.

Blogging for the mind

2008-02-17T07:14:00.001-05:00

I think writing thoughts down, just not thinking them, is a good exercise for your brain. At the very least it can be an indicator of mental decline: Whoa, this sentence makes no sense; Jody is losing it. Of course, you yourself have to notice this if no one reads the damn blog. But that's another plus for writing; nobody reads this stuff but it looks okay in a nice template and kind of makes you feel that you have done something.

Ideally, you should only write when you have something worth expressing. However, it is fun to see the little posts pop up on the computer screen, so you write about something - anything. That doesn't make it interesting, but it does make your mind scramble around. This wouldn't be a problem if something happened everyday to you that people might be curious about: falling off a roof, meeting a wolf, getting your foot caught in a register, meeting the Queen. But here you are in your dull life and so you just get your kicks from putting a noun and a verb together with an adjective and, if you are daring, an adverb. That's okay. Nobody reads this stuff.

Yes, the sun

2008-02-16T14:24:00.003-05:00

I think I love the sun and the blue sky. We have had at least three sunny days this week and I think my spirits have actually lifted. Woo Hoo, we need to sing a song to the sun. Think "On Wisconsin" and sing sun, sun, sun, sun, sun, sun, sun, sun . . . Blue sky. Yea! We have had many, many gray days. I am delirious with the sun.

A casket for the vampire in your family

2008-02-15T16:17:00.006-05:00

Well, this is the place that has vampire caskets:

ABC CASKETS FACTORY - LOS ANGELES
Family Owned and Operated Since 1933
1705 N. Indiana Street, Los Angeles, CA 90063

And here's a picture of "The Count Dracula":

And this is what they say:

This solid poplar casket is made primarily for TV and motion pictures. It is stained red mahogany. This type of casket is called a toe-pincher. It is widest at the elbows and narrowest at the feet. Floral beading is placed on the lid and the base molding. The one-piece lid is highly polished. The special gold colored handles are over 50 years old. Other colors and styles can be custom made.

The interior is a full shirr in thick red crepe. It has a full shirr pillow shaped to match the contour of the casket and a full lining.

the little ice age

2008-02-15T16:15:00.000-05:00

I am watching a program on The History Channel which talks about The Little Ice Age; right now they are talking of the accompanying heavy rains that washed away fields and led to widespread famine. From 1371 to 1391 there were 111 famines in Europe; the Black Death found this environment fertile for its spread and the population was reduced by one third. The story of Hansel and Gretel had its roots in these famines.

People blamed their neighboring areas and many were killed for witchcraft. The Pope blamed the foul weather on witches. Some say 50,000 weather-affecting witches were burned at the stake.

And now, global warming? Careful, don't wear a pointy hat.

As we near the end of the hour, I am learning that The Little Ice Age was 500 years long and in the middle of that span was a 70 years really cold spell caused by a lessening of the number of sunspots sending radiation to earth. During that 70 years, glaciers greatly advanced consuming villages.

A new plant, the potato, was introduced into Europe but the French refused to adopt it; while England and Ireland and the Netherlands ameliorated their famines, the French grew more hungry and restive and the show makes a connection between this and the French Revolution. (See, I guess the peasants wouldn't eat potato bread.)

A book written in 2002 about this topic is The Little Ice Age: How Climate Made History - 1300-1850.

So what caused the warm period before the icing age? Ah, that is probably another show.

Kicking Horse Pass

2008-02-15T10:53:00.002-05:00

No, this is not a football play; it is one of the place I found during a little surf on the internet. I can tell I am going to want to look up more information about this area in the Canadian Rockies, but for right now, you can check HERE to read about the other paragraphs that are above and below these two:

Mount Hector and Hector Lake were named for James Hector but Kicking Horse Pass was named for a horse that kicked Dr. Hector. As the party was struggling eastward towards the pass one of the pack horses, in an attempt to escape the fallen timber that made travelling so difficult, plunged into the river. Hector described the events that followed, "...the banks were so steep that we had great difficulty in getting him out. In attempting to recatch my own horse, which had strayed off while we were engaged with the one in the water, he kicked me in the chest, but I had luckily got close to him before he struck out, so that I did not get the full force of the blow."

Peter Erasmus was Hector's guide during this part of his explorations and he later wrote, "We all leapt from our horses and rushed up to him, but all our attempts to help him recover his senses were of no avail... Dr. Hector must have been unconscious for at least two hours when Sutherland yelled for us to come up; he was now conscious but in great pain. He asked for his kit and directed me to prepare some medicine that would ease the pain." Although not recorded in Hector's journal or in "Buffalo Days and Nights" by Peter Erasmus, there is a story that Hector's men gave him up for dead at one point and dug a grave for him. It is said that he regained consciousness within a minute or so of being buried alive and that he managed to wink an eye to show that he was still alive. Hector's men thought it was appropriate to name the river in honour of the "Kicking Horse" and the pass above was assigned the name as well

Chiari . . . I didn't know what it was either

2008-02-14T07:07:00.004-05:00

I few months ago, I didn’t know Chiari Malformation existed and then I came across the topic while doing some research on CarePages. Frankly, I feel lucky that I don’t have it and I feel really bad for the people who do. It is a bottom-of-the-skull thing; it is a PAIN thing. As I understand it, you are born with it and it may lie dormant for a long time; then again, it can assert itself in childhood. It’s trademark is PAIN. A lot of it.

Obviously, I do not understand it very well, but I understand these CarePages I have been reading. One of the people who have it was featured on the CarePage homepage, along with an invite to read Gabe's Story. Reading it may be difficult, but, hey, living it it . . . Well, that is the stuff of nightmares.

This particular afternoon

2008-02-13T17:33:00.002-05:00

From 1 pm until 5:30 pm

Washed pots and pans and glasses and cookie sheets
Crushed soda pop cans
Vacuumed most of the downstairs
Brought in three bins of firewood - after knocking it loose from the frozen pile
Laundry
Fed dog and kids

Okay, it's not like shoveling coal into a boiler below decks

Breaking Bad

2008-02-13T07:08:00.002-05:00

This show on AMC is only seven episodes long, or so I am told; I am beginning to think it might have a nightmare quality to it - a black, black comedy becoming a black hole of "Whoa, what we do when things go not just south, but to the South Pole."

In the extensive promotion for the show, interviews with the main character indicated it would show a nice man becoming a "bad" man. Well, I watched this show about a man with lung cancer deciding he could make a bundle of money for his family when he brother-in-law, a DEA agent, said they might be around $700,000 that was recovered in a drug raid.

Ah, I forgot to mention that Walt - that's his name - is a chemistry teacher, and, apparently, a smart one.

Without going into ever twist and turn of the plot, in the beginning you found yourself laughing as you would at an outright comedy and then it creeps up on you that these are things are not pratfalls - a bathtub full of hydrofluoric acid and a body does fall through the ceiling. However what falls through does not resemble a bathtub or a body; it is red goo.

In the next episode they clean it up, with sponges and buckets and gas masks. In the teaser for next week, the doctor tells Walt's wife that it is lung cancer and tells them both that it spreads.

Four episodes to go. What happens? Will she become a partner in crime. Will they murder together? And if they do make money, will the DEA guy figure out is drug money and seize it?

Oh, by the way, the wife is pregnant.

What is it with Pioneer Woman - Ree Smith Drummond?

2008-02-11T09:45:00.000-05:00

I think it is more than her intelligence, more than her ability to take and present beautiful photographs, more than her ability to tell a story - her story - well. I think a lot of people would like to be Pioneer Woman, or if not exactly her, to be someone living on that modern-day, yet turn-of-the-century ranch, in Oklahoma. A clean innocence of the prairie, the cold of winter and the heat of summer, the power of the land and the mystique of the American West.

A physician for a father, an upscale childhood, a USC degree, a spin in the world of business and tall buildings and a boyfriend with a house by the Pacific. Then later: four healthy children, scions of one of the most prominent ranching families.

It would be a good fantasy to escape into, and every morning, you can click on her website and be there . . . and carry the sense of it through your day.