Christmas Comes But Once a Year

We've lost our sunshine today, but at least we don't have snow. Doesn't do much to put one in the Christmas spirit. I had a long list of things to do today, but the lack of sunshine rather sapped my initiative. I'm in the stage of going through the gifts I have purchased to make sure I have "enough". My car may very well dictate that. When it was idling as I was unloading things at Goodwill today, it started making a high-pitched squealing noise. The noise stopped, but my experience is that high-pitched squealing noises are never a good sign. I am financially ill-prepared for car repairs right now!

I will be in Grayslake, IL, with my daughter and her family this Christmas, and I THINK we will all be here at my place for New Year's. It's a two-pronged celebration. Christmas is America's big deal; New Year's is Russia's. If things go as they did last year, we will be on Skype with my son-in-law's parents in Russia on New Year's Eve twice--once for their midnight traditions, and again later for ours. (I believe there is an 11-hour difference.) There will be champagne, Olivier salad, and other goodies that are traditional in Russia. Last year, we would have had fireworks, but a thunderstorm hit just before midnight that kept us in the house!

I'm sorry I will be missing Christmas Eve services at my church. There will be an orchestra with the choir, and the music will be wonderful. Our Director of Music is a very talented young man who oozes talent and showmanship from every pore. He is also our organist/pianist...with a sense of humor. On Sunday, the postlude after the benediction was supposed to be "Christmas Fanfare", but because the pastor had sent us with the message that we should pray for a couple of committees that are looking at building projects for the church, the postlude that came out of the organ was the theme song from "Mission Impossible". I loved it! The best part was that I am quite sure he didn't know what the pastor was going to say by way of benediction, and I'm ever surer that he didn't have the sheet music for Mission Impossible in front of him. He never plays a song the same way twice and can get all kinds of fantastic sounds out of the pipe organ. I just love hearing his work!

I'm not sure what the portent is for all of the mild temps we've been having. Understand that I'm not complaining....just suspicious! I figure things can go any one of several ways: A) We will have a mild winter (which is not what has been predicted), B) Winter is just being delayed and we will get socked later, only to drag out the beginning of warmer temps in the springtime, or C) It will be a regular winter, just not starting as soon as it did last year and the year before. I'm voting for A! On that note, my daughter IMed me yesterday morning all excited because they had hoar frost. (I had just posted about hoar frost on Christmas Eve a couple of posts ago.) It usually doesn't last long, but it sure is pretty when it's there!

Oh...on a sort of funny note... I sleep with my TV on. It used to be like a nightlight, but when my sleep started being disturbed by life, it became a distraction for my troubles. (Too bad that late night programming is almost always infomercials!) Anyway, this morning, I was dreaming that Dr. Phil was visiting at my home, helping with repairs after I'd moved. He started to make horrible accusations about my granddaughter--that she was drunk all the time...calling people bad names...out of control...and I was aghast to think that my beautiful grandchild could be doing those things. Then I "came to" and realized that a rerun of his show was playing on OWN, and he was confronting a 14-year-old troubled female. I was so relieved to be awake!!!! I don't want to live long enough to see my baby Robin descend into rebellious teendom. I already paid my dues at that altar when my own daughter was a teen, then taught teens for many years. I would rather be oblivious!

Christmas comes but once a year...then the rest of the winter is blah. Enjoy the meaning of the season before the ugly stuff hits!

Hoarders

It's really good for me to watch the show Hoarders on TV. I think there is a tiny bit of hoarder mentality in all of us. We keep things we don't need just in case we might need them SOME day, so watching people whose homes and lives are out of control because of their need to keep "stuff" helps me keep perspective.

In my experience, it only takes two years to totally fill up an empty house. When the last of one's parents dies, or an adult child (with children) moves in, we end up incorporating their things with our things--and suddenly, there is no space left for a single other item to enter the house! I said several years ago that I was going to adopt the policy that something had to go for every new thing that came in. Have I followed that? Uh....well...not really.

I keep bedrooms for my grandchildren in my house. We remodeled and redecorated every bedroom and the garage when they moved in with me. When they moved out, I wasn't about to change their rooms. I kept them, as is, as their home-away-from-home when they came to visit. They would arrive, play like crazy for a day or two, clean up by shoving things under the beds or in closets, and leave. Over the years, the rooms have collected huge amounts of pieces of toys--some of them tiny and unrecognizable. (Did I mention that the rooms are small?) It became obvious that a deep-clean was needed. Where to start???

One of the things that bugs me is that I am finding Christmas gifts that are a year or two old that the children have never touched. Time to pare down, I guess. While they are here, they might rediscover something for a few minutes, but it doesn't last long. Robin plays with teeny-tiny things and creates her own little world of imagination. Ryan mostly just trashes stuff. To him, everything is replaceable, so I need to think about that before I contribute to it. (I just spent quite a bit on money on stocking stuffers that won't mean a thing two hours after the stockings are unpacked!!! Do I ever learn??)

I've spent some time today working on Ryan's room. OMG! I have found the most amazing things...dirty underwear behind the door...the lower-leg zippered part of a pair of pants that I threw out because I couldn't find the part...toy parts everywhere, including little tiny beads from a craft set that he only played with once, two years ago. And do you know what I have found myself doing? Sorting the parts to put them all together! Why?? He wouldn't even know they were gone if I just threw them out! But, ever my father's daughter, I can't just throw things out. I gather them together to take to Goodwill or The Salvation Army. Can you see my halo??

I really feel the need to de-clutter. As I go through things, I realize that I still have a lot of items that rightfully belong with my daughter. (She doesn't have room for them, either!) Still, I set them aside and take them up when I go. Maybe someday, it will all shake out. Hope I live that long!!

Thank God I'm not a hoarder, but I do need to start evaluating everything in the house for value. I picked up something today and asked, "What am I keeping THIS for??" It's a start!

Vectren

Before I left for Illinois for my sister's birthday party, Vectren (the local gas company) called me to say they wanted to come and check out my meter because it wasn't showing much usage. We scheduled for today. The rep told me it would be an 8-4 call. I assured her I would make it a point to be here. And I was. They weren't. I had no big plans to be gone today, but I even stayed away from cleaning in back rooms (although I was in the mood to do so) because I feared I wouldn't be able to hear the guy knocking on the door. Ugh!

When Vectren first called, I was concerned that I would somehow be hit with a big catch-up bill if they found that I had used more gas than the meter was showing, but I slowly became aware that it is to my advantage if the meter is broken. They have to be able to document gas used. If the meter isn't working properly, they can't. In my own defense, I have been gone quite a bit...but the furnace was still on (though turned down), as was the water heater, although demand was less. I'm not sure whether the meter is working or not...but the Vectren technician didn't show up today, so it will take a little longer to find out!

Radio club Christmas party is tomorrow evening. I have things I have to do for that. Hope it goes well!

I'm Home

Guess I should define "home".

I just spent the better part of a week at my sister's near Springfield, IL. It's not "home" but almost feels like it. Whenever I visit, I have a bed and a TV at my disposal, and I pretty much help myself to food in the fridge. Since Shari and her husband moved to Springfield many years ago, I have visited relatively often. I just put the car on automatic pilot and let it take me there. The trip takes anywhere from 3 3/4 to 4 hours over some of the most boring roads known to man, but boring is good when you're driving alone.

My grandparents' farm is a couple of hours north of there, near Streator, IL. That's where I was born...Streator...although I never really lived there for any length of time. The farm was the only REAL home I knew through my childhood because of our family's military status. We moved a lot, but we always went "home" to the farm. After my grandparents and parents died, we sold the property to our farmer. It was a wrench but inevitable.

Since 1988, my home has been in Indiana (because of my then-spouse). We were divorced a scant three years after we moved here. It took me awhile to get used to being a Hoosier--something we always made fun of before--but I bought my little house-on-a-slab as a newly-single woman and did my best to make it a home for Megan and me...and later, my grandchildren. It needs a lot of help, but it is my sanctuary, of sorts. Be it ever so humble...

Geologically, Indiana is by far the prettier state; however, I've never played favorites. And here's why: it's all about perspective. I've been to California many times. The rugged scenery and absolute beauty of the place is unquestionable. But it wasn't home. I've been to the Rockies, Appalachia, the Orient. They were all fascinating places, but they weren't home. It would be nice to claim the beautiful places of the earth as home...but sometimes, home is just what is there in the place that you love. In "my" part of Illinois, the only thing that stops your view is the actual curve of the earth. It is as flat as flat can be. Looking off in any direction from the car, one can see miles and miles of corn fields and bean fields....and grain elevators. At one point, I could see huge grain elevators in every quadrant of my field of vision. Illinois is a breadbasket for the nation...and it's MY state. When I am driving over that flat, boring, expanse of land, I am somehow comforted. No matter where I am in space or time, Illinois will always be home.

Christmas Party

Last evening, I was privileged to join my Sunday School class for our Christmas gathering, which happened at Martha's Orchard just west of Plainfield. It was most pleasant. The venue was nice. One of the evening's events was a scavenger hunt, of sorts, to discover things about our surroundings and ourselves. One directive was to share a "special Christmas" memory.

Every Christmas is special, of course...but I remembered one that has stuck with me all these years. Many Christmases were spent at my grandparents' farm in Illinois. It was a two-bedroom house, with a hide-away couch in the living room. To this day, I don't have a clue where we all slept when we visited--the five of us along with my two grandparents--but I didn't care. In those days, kids were expected to entertain themselves while the adults did their thing, and I was expected to sleep on the hide-away with a sibling. Their thing was to play bridge or pinochle around the circular card table in the middle of the living room while the rest of us were supposed to go to sleep mere feet from the festivities. Dad and my grandfather (Popo) smoked cigars, and they all were loud in their enjoyment of being together. I loved the festivity of it all!

The farmhouse had three picture windows--one in the dining room, facing west; and two in the living room, one facing east and the bigger one facing south. My grandmother always kept the curtains closed during the day, but at night, they were open. I never truly understood that, but it wasn't up to me. I didn't care!

One Christmas Eve--how old was I? 11? 12? Maybe not that old... We were at the farm. The card table was up. The adults were playing cards. I was so excited, I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to. I knew I should be asleep to make the night go faster, but it just wasn't going to happen. What DID happen around midnight was that a huge cloud of fog settled on the farmyard. I couldn't see past the light in the yard through the picture window. It was eerie. Then everything froze. When the fog lifted a bit later, everything--every blade of grass--was white with hoar frost. Christmas Eve magic! It was a crystalline world! God had wrought something to remind us of the miracle of the night. I have never forgotten it.

Guess I'm Gonna Live?

Had a routine cardiologist appointment this morning, early. (Had my blood work done for that yesterday.) The results: BP is good. Cholesterol is good (although the doc wants it lower, as always). Heart looks and sounds good. Weight is up, but not a word was said about that!!! We did talk about some issues with my back that are preventing me from exercising. The doc is a cardiologist--not a neurologist--but in the course of our conversation, he seemed to pin-point my problem right on the money, and suggested that he would talk to a neurologist about my situation. It sounds like stenosis (a narrowing of the hole in the spine that the spinal cord goes through). Might need an MRI, etc...but I have to check financial things out because I can't take on much by way of financial obligations. I have insurance, obviously, but I'm not a rich person to pay for what the insurance won't handle. We'll see. The problem with my back is beginning to affect my life. It might make a difference in my quality of life from here on out.

I thought about going back to Greencastle today to do more genealogy work for my daughter, but the sunshine and relatively warm temps were so delightful that I decided to stay home and take care of some things here. Got the Christmas boxes back in the minibarn. Went to Walmart to do some shopping. Took a nap. (Needed it!) It's all good!

What isn't so good is that I got a call from Vectren (the local gas company) saying that they want to come out to check my meter because it hasn't shown much gas use in Sept. and Oct...but did show use in November. I'm not sure what that means. I've been gone a lot, but the furnace has been on for months, even in my absence...as is the water heater. I have scheduled them to come out and look, hoping that there is nothing wrong with the meter because I sure don't need to be hit with some huge catch-up bill down the road! Let's all say a little prayer for my gas meter!!

Speaking of prayers...I have some friends who are having tough times. If you are a praying person, please ask God to bless Betty, Adam, Vern's sister, and the rest of us who keep on pluggin'!

Adventures in Microfiche

I took a trek to Greencastle, IN, today to look for some obituaries for ancestors on Megan's father's side of the family, by special request from her. She supplied the information needed. Obituaries are found in newspapers, and newspapers back then were somewhat disorganized--not much more than gossip rags and advertising. In short, I had to find microfilm for local newspapers around the date of the ancestor's death, then go through--page by page--in search of info just inserted anywhere in the paper. I pulled six rolls of microfilm out of the drawer at the DePauw University library and spent almost five hours searching--and only found ONE of the obits Meg had requested. (She requested 11. I only had time to search for six and found one. The later ones should be easier to find.) The print was small, and by the time I headed for home, my eyes were blurry...

Genealogy searches are long and arduous, but when you actually find something, it's like, BINGO! Gaps fill in. One's ancestors become more like people and less like birth-and-death dates.

On another note, I've been up since long before dawn. Had to go to the hospital today for routine blood work for my cardiologist appointment early tomorrow morning. I may go back to Greencastle tomorrow while I still have time...

Grandma is TIRED!

Confessions of a Technology Flunk-out

Okay. I have a telephone with voice mail. I am aware that, once upon a time, my voice mailbox was full. I vowed then that I would keep up with my messages so I wouldn't look like an idiot...but, well, that didn't happen. Every time I pick up the phone to make a call, I get the beep-beep-beep-beeeeep that indicates I have unheard messages. This evening, I decided to go through those.

I put in what I THOUGHT was my password (although, to be honest, I had quite forgotten it). Had to reset it. Thankfully, I could answer the question that would allow me to do that without getting too tricky.

Once I got the password reset, I started listening to my voice messages and am embarrassed to admit that there were 76 of them, dating back to May 16th!!!!! Have only listened to 48 of them, so far. Many of them came through when I wasn't even in the state...but I need to be more attentive!

So, if you called and left me a message, and never heard back from me, now you know why!

Ryan's Birthday

Forgot to mention this in my previous post!

Sunday, November 13th, was my grandson's 8th birthday. I was up in his neighborhood, at my daughter's, although it wasn't her visitation weekend. She had, however, gotten permission to take him for breakfast or lunch. As it turned out, the whole family--his and ours--met for brunch at a nice, family-type, breakfast specialty restaurant. Ry's birthday party was slated for the next weekend, but we all met to celebrate his actual day.

The restaurant offers a big (what they call) pancake that takes 30 minutes to prepare. Nathan and Kendra had ordered one for us all to share. (It was HUGE!) We all ordered other food, as well...and Nathan bought for all of us--himself, Kendra, Ryan, Robin, Megan, Denis, and me. It wasn't cheap, I'm sure!

When the waitress discovered that we were celebrating the little guy's birthday, she brought a large muffin-style cake with a candle in it. It made the day special!

The following Saturday was Ry's party--at a place just over the line into Wisconsin, called Action Territory. It's a glorified Chuck E. Cheese-type place, but with laser tag and bumper cars... There were 10 kids and 8 adults in attendance. The children all enjoyed themselves. The adults...well...not so much!

I'm Still Alive!

I haven't posted on here in weeks, largely because I've been away from home and was busy. I'm back...at least for awhile!

What should I write about? How about the fact that I went up to my daughter's, north of Chicago, in order to watch the grandchildren for a couple of days off due to teachers' meetings, etc. That would have been Thursday and Friday, Nov. 10th and 11th. Then my grandson's birthday was the 13th. And in my feeble senior mind, Thanksgiving was the following Thursday. If that logic followed, I would have been home by Friday, the 18th. But no! When I got up there, my daughter made me aware that there was yet another week to go before Thanksgiving. Huh?? The trip up there is a good five hours. There was no way I was going to go home and go back up for the turkey holiday. My biggest quandary was that I didn't think I had taken enough medicine with me. Thanks be to God, I had thrown all of my pill bottles into a box to take. Don't know why, but it saved me!

Let's talk about the medicine deal for a minute. Before I left for Lake County, IL, I was aware that I was out of BP meds--like, the day I was leaving. The mail order place had already called that the meds were processed and being mailed but hadn't arrived yet...so I took yet another trip to Walgreen's to see what they could do to help me. They called the doctor's office and were awaiting a call back. I waited awhile, but since I was in a hurry to get errands done, I left to do a few things before I went back. When I went back, I heard that the doc's office hadn't called yet. Hmmm... So I went home to continue packing. The instant I got in the house, I was aware that the power was out. This is not good! It was out all over the neighborhood (because of high winds, I think) but I had no intention of leaving for IL before it came back on. I loaded the car and talked to the neighbor gal. When I went back in the house, the power was back on. Whew! I called Walgreen's and found out that my meds were ready. Got those and departed. Another crisis averted!

I arrived at Megan's just after dark on a Wednesday. Thursday and Friday, the children and I did stuff. Nothing special--just enough to stave off boredom. Friday night, we all went to Meg's place of employment--the College of Lake County--for their yearly (free) Harvest Fest. This consisted of a turkey dinner, and family activities, such as face painting, crafts, and a balloon artist. Robin got her face painted. Both of the kids then got in line for the balloon artist. She was good! It was a long wait because she would provide anything the kids wanted. Robin got a Pegasus horse; Ryan asked for Santa on a surfboard. They were both works of art!

When all of that shut down, there was to be a family movie: Transformers. Denis and Ryan wanted to stay for that, but we females didn't want to...so we left the guys to watch while we went home to be veggies. By the time the guys got home, it was bedtime...in fact, Robin and Mommy had already hit the sack.

On Saturday, the children went home. The rest of the weekend was spent getting caught up on laundry, etc....and resting some.

When I go up there to visit, I largely stay busy with laundry, dishes, and planning/cooking the evening meal. I take my laptop computer so I can stay in touch with my own world, in the meantime. I'm never bored, although my daughter keeps thinking that I will be. Hasn't happened yet!

Thanksgiving was most pleasant. My former son-in-law and wife invited us all to join them for the feast. We took food, as assigned. Present were: Us (Megan, Denis, and me), the grandchildren (Robin and Ryan), the Heffelman grandparents from Plainfield (Judy and Phil), the hosts (Nathan, my former son-in-law, and his wife, Kendra), Kendra's brother, wife, and three kids from Wisconsin, Kendra's father from Tennessee and Mother from Muncie, IN, and Kendra's daughter. Seventeen in all. Both before and after the meal, there were euchre games going on. My son-in-law got suckered in--never played before--but caught on and enjoyed it! The food was good (lots of it) and the company equally as good. We had a very nice time!

The Friday after Thanksgiving, Megan, Denis, and I caravanned to my home in Plainfield. It's a 5-hour trip, no matter how you cut it. We arrived, after a stop for supper, at about 9:30, Indiana time. Found out via text that the Illinois faction got the heebie-jeebies. They were asking if we were sick. Thankfully, no one from here--including Nathan's parents--picked up the bug!!

Saturday and Sunday at my house were spent cleaning out gutters, raking the rest of the yard leaves, doing some minor household repairs, and putting up my Christmas tree. I fixed a crock pot roast on Saturday and a turkey dinner on Sunday (largely because when you have Thanksgiving at someone else's house, you don't get leftovers!). I sent enough food home with Megan and Denis for their next day's work lunch. And so it goes...

That basically catches you up with my life, in case you care. My next excursion will start on Monday when I trek to Springfield, IL, for my sister's 70th birthday. I'll be gone about a week. Lots of things happening in the meantime!

God bless you all!

Sho-Jo-Ji

I lived in Japan when I was a 10-year-old (1957 into '58) due to my father's status as a Navy officer. It was a great experience, and I came home with some treasures that I still have. I got the treasures out, just before Halloween, so Robin could wear my kimono for trick-or-treating. They were still out this weekend when the family was here.

One of the treasures is a 45 rpm record of a Japanese children's song called Sho-Jo-Ji. (Anyone have a record player?? I have the record but no way to play it!) No matter. I know Sho-Jo-Ji by heart! Another of my treasures is a small carved wooden figurine of Sho-Jo-Ji--obviously a bear with a big tummy. The song indicated that the bear beat on his belly to make the noise "pon poko pon no pon". Megan was admiring the figurine on Sunday. She said it was "cute"...so I gave it to her. I thought I remembered that there used to be another part to the figurine, but whatever it was had been lost decades ago. As she was looking at it, she noticed a unique anatomical feature...and wondered what it was. We got to looking and laughing. There was no mistaking it--and no way to put it politely: Sho-Jo-Ji had huge testicles! And the weird part is that I had never noticed them before! (Leave it to my daughter to see that...)

After the family left for their trip north--with Sho-Jo-Ji now in their possession--I got to looking on the Internet to see if I could find a translation of the song. I was in shock! Sho-Jo-Ji is not a bear at all, but a Japanese raccoon dog! (I guess that's why there are raccoons on the jacket of the record, huh??) I immediately texted Meg to tell her that after almost 55 years of assuming one thing, I was now met with the fact that the bear figurine was supposed to be a raccoon, so who the figurine represented was a mystery to me. I felt so betrayed! Within two minutes, she texted me back that the figurine is "Tanuki". Sitting at a rest stop somewhere between Indy and Chicago, she looked up "bear with big balls" on her iPhone and solved the mystery in seconds. Tanuki is a puckish Japanese raccoon dog--mischievous--and represented in Japanese folklore as a creature with exaggeratedly large testicles. Bingo! She said, "We'll have to find a hat for him." That jogged my memory. He used to have a hat! That is what was lost so many years ago!

Tanuki-san has a new home now, with a new understanding of who he is. The Sho-Jo-Ji song helped to make the connection. Who'd a-thunk it? The Internet is a marvelous thing! There have been several other instances in the past 5-10 years where the Internet has solved some mysteries of a more personal nature. Ain't it grand?

Weekend

My daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren arrived at my house close to midnight on Friday. It sure was nice to have them on my turf for awhile! It was easily 2:00 AM before we all hit the sack.

On Saturday morning, I was awakened by little fingers tickling my back. Robin came in to get me up. Ryan was already up, too. Mommy and Denis were a little slower to rise, but that's okay. At 10:00 AM, Ryan went into their room to get permission to go to play with the neighbor boy. (At least he waited that long!) And that's how the kids spent their day--playing with the neighbor children, which is what we expected to happen. Before that, however, they manned the rakes and spent some time raking leaves and playing in the yard. They love rolling in the leaves!

Denis got busy with the leaf blower and got the yard mostly cleaned up by blowing the leaves to the curb where the Town of Plainfield will suck them up. There are still a lot of leaves yet to come down, so it wasn't a complete job, but it was an enormous help. Eventually, the young adults went for a nap while the old lady finished up plans for supper. (Hey...they have jobs and I don't. I figure I can catch up on my sleep later. They can't!) Sometime on Saturday, Denis changed out computer monitors from the defunct living room computer to the one I'm typing on (bigger monitor), and he worked on my laptop to "fix" the mouse. (It needed new batteries. I could swear we had already done that!)

Judy and Phil Heffelman, the children's other Plainfield grandparents, joined us for supper, along with their son, the kids' Uncle Dan. Denis cooked steaks on the grill. With that, we had salad, sauteed mushrooms, and oven-baked potatoes, plus a yummy pumpkin bundt cake that the Heffelmans brought. We didn't have to send out for pizza! They stayed to play three rounds of Russian Bingo--a game that Denis's parents had brought from Russia when they were here in August. It was a nice visit.

After J and P left, Megan and Denis took a run to Walmart. I had put "chocolate" on the shopping list, and they came back with a discounted HUGE bag of mini-Snickers/Milky Way/Twix/3 Musketeers--230 pieces worth! I should probably mention that I was concerned after Halloween what would happen to all of the leftover candy. What was I thinking? Before Megan and Denis went shopping, virtually every shred of candy was gone, with a leaf trail that led to the candy dish! When we finally all went to bed, it was midnight. Ugh!

Sunday, I had no takers for church. We were all pretty tired. When everyone finally got up--with an extra hour, due to time change--we had a big breakfast. Thereafter, I fear we abused Denis. Well...heh heh...I KNOW Megan did. At the breakfast table, he put a piece of candy in his teeth and asked Megan to kiss him...to get a bite of the candy. She obliged, but warned him that the candy was so small, she would probably end up biting his lip. Well...it actually happened! She made a last minute lunge, and he ended up with a bloody upper lip. I don't think she actually bit him--more like she pushed his lip into his teeth. At the time, it wasn't funny, but a few hours later, he acknowledged that it was HIS fault. "Never feed wild animals!" I threatened to put it on Facebook, but then she threatened to post some of her unflattering pictures of me from our summer trip on there. Stalemate!

When I say we abused Denis, I mean that we put him on tasks that we largely didn't help him with. Today, Sunday, he did things like replace the flapper in the toilet tank of my half-bath. The toilet has been running for months and months--not much, but enough that it ran for five seconds every five minutes. One of my friends looked at it months ago and adjusted things, but it didn't last. Okay...replacing a toilet flapper isn't a huge job, but the fact that there is a storage cabinet over the toilet tank makes it bigger. I had to empty the cabinet, then Denis had to lift the cabinet way over the tank before he could even get to the tank. He put in the new flapper. The toilet hasn't run since. Life is good!

There was also a last-minute project that became monumental. A few years ago, when Megan and the children moved in with me, we bought Ryan a Spiderman loft bed. It came with shelves that go underneath, but Ry was so small that we didn't need them. We stashed one of the shelves in the minibarn and the other along a wall in his room. This trip, with Ryan's permission, "we" installed the shelves. (Denis did!) Denis also changed some lightbulbs that would have been an issue for me. The dear man said, as they were leaving, that I should prepare a new "honey-do" list for the next time they are here. What a blessing!

My family isn't even home yet, and the house is trashed from having four extra people in it, but I loved having them here...and I am especially grateful for all of the help.

Tempus fugit. I am happy for every moment!

Taming the Senior Beast

My mother was not a whiner or complainer, but she often said, "It's hell to get old." At the time, I just chuckled...but it's not so funny now. I get it, now! My mother passed away suddenly at age 67--far too young for those of us who relied on her for emotional support. What bothers me is that I am now 64, and I have my doubts that I will make it as long as she did!

No one warned me--nor would I have believed them if they did--that old age brings anger. No one wants to get older, but it is inevitable...and those of us who aren't rich don't have the luxury of plastic surgery. I mean, Cher is my age...but she doesn't look it. We all know why. It's just not fair.

When my daughter was a teenager, we would run errands. She would refuse to go into a store because she wasn't fixed up. I wasn't either. Her comment, in so many words, was "It's okay for you to go in. No one will notice." Then there was the time that I jokingly asked my grandson if I was beautiful, and he responded, innocently, "I think you used to be." And the fellow at the Indy 500 who said, "You were probably a 'looker' in your day." I'm sorry. The message is unmistakable: old people are invisible and don't count.

Baby Boomers like me make up a huge percentage of America's population today, but television is all about people under age 35. What is aimed at us? "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" Reverse mortgage ads...insurance ads about Medicare supplements, Internet jokes about sagging breasts and the inability to hear or see or walk or contain our bladders and bowels. This is funny? Every single person on the planet will endure these problems. Why aren't we providing services to help seniors get through the anger and depression that come with losing the ability to be in touch with body parts that we can no longer see or reach?? I can't really cut my own toenails any more, but I can't afford monthly pedicures. What am I to do??

When I retired, I did so with the happy knowledge that I could better help out with the grandchildren who lived with me. And then, suddenly and without my prior knowledge, they were gone. Poof! Oh yes....just before that, there was the heart attack. I remember going down the aisles of the grocery store saying, "I can't have this; I can't have that." Anger at situations I could no longer control. It is what it is, but no one prepared me. No one explained that I was going to be frustrated without any ability to fix it.

The last time I got my hair cut with the fellow who has been doing it for 20 years, he butchered it. I mean, hair grows, so it should not have been that big a deal, but my hair is problematic. I don't have much of it, and just looking "normal" is always a challenge. I'll be talking to him about this before he cuts it again. It's only just now beginning to look right after almost two months.

Do you know what hurts most? Everything that I used to be able to do for myself I must now pay for. My friends--God bless them all--that I used to rely on for assistance with things are now suffering from old age, as well. Bad backs, bad knees, loss of strength, weight problems. It doesn't end. You work your fanny off all your life to eke out a living and provide for your family, and your reward is to get old and not know which ache or pain could spell your last. It just isn't fair!

I can hear the voices saying, "Life isn't fair". No, it isn't, and I am so very grateful for what I have. I'd just like to see society have a little bit of understanding that there is anger that comes with growing older. It's depressing. Two years ago when I experienced the worst wrench of my life, I reached out everywhere looking for a group or a service that could help. Guess what? Nothing in all of Hendricks County! Nothing to help with the grief and depression. I did the best I could.

My sister is now enduring the beginning throes of a spouse with dementia. She is largely unsupported, and sometimes under attack. She vents to me, but I don't think even her children get it...and I can't be there for her every day. For what it's worth, sister-dear, we are Covill/Armstrong women, and we will survive as God permits! Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead!

Naming Things

This is going to seem like a stupid post, but it amuses me.

My sister and bro-in-law have always named their cars. I never did, but the practice does put a personality on inanimate objects, and I like the idea.

My daughter and grandchildren seem to have picked up on that. A few years ago, Megan bought a Pontiac Montana minivan, complete with DVD player for the children. The minivan became "Hannah". (Hannah Montana--get it?) Poor Hannah served well through the years, mountains, and even unbelievable heat in Death Valley, but died an ugly death right after our return to the Midwest this summer, forcing Megan and Denis to buy another minivan--a Honda Odyssey. Naming this one was a no-brainer. The new blue minivan became "Homer". Homer Honda. (The first male in the dynasty.) Homer Simpson (cartoon character) is one of Megan 's favorite "people"...and the author of the epic poem The Odyssey, was a Greek poet named Homer. All hail Homer Honda, and may you serve longer than Hannah did!

Just a couple of weeks before Megan and Denis left on their trek to California a couple of years ago, I gave them a GPS for Christmas. The voice was female. She often sounded annoyed as she said "recalculating!" when they didn't do what she had told them to do, so they named her "Linda". I'm not sure why, but I do know that there was an annoying person at Megan's previous workplace who was named Linda. Coincidence??

My grandchildren, Robin and Ryan, have their own naming standards. Robin is always creative about naming her toys and dolls. Her big stuffed horse is named Piccadilly. Piccadilly?? Where did that come from? When they were in the Webkinz phase of childhood, Ryan named his critters more simply. The stuffed wolf became "Wolfie"...the bear became "Beary"...the platypus became "Platty". Do we see a pattern here??

My daughter has to have a loud fan blowing at bedtime, just to drown out noises. (Me, too!) The fan goes everywhere she goes for an overnight stay. Her fan came with us on our trip back to the Midwest from California this summer, to be plugged in at each motel room and cabin along the way. Following Ryan's pattern of naming, the fan was called "Fanny". Poor Fanny got dropped at one location and her base broke off. We had to take a side trip to a Walmart to find a replacement--Arizona? Don't remember where we were... We didn't have a proper funeral for Fanny. She got dumped in a trash can in the Walmart parking lot, but we had a replacement. It was a kind of "The fan is dead; long live the (new) fan" situation.

I think I need to find names for things that are close to me and have been with me a long time. My one and only house plant is one. My beloved house robes are another. Another friend is my patio, which is often my only link to the outside world. Patty????

The Bat Wreath

Fifteen years ago (or more), Megan and I went to Mansfield, IN, for their huge craft fair as part of Central Indiana's covered bridge celebrations. That particular day, I bought a treasure--a home made Halloween bat wreath. It's one of a kind. (If you saw it, you'd understand why.) The center circle is in padded orange calico, and the outer edge is a large black calico ruffle. In the center of the circle is a black satin bat, with red eyes that flash while the whole thing laughs maniacally, due to a motion sensor. Every year, I have put that stupid wreath on the door, with the batteries installed. (In later years, I learned not to put the batteries in until the 31st because I got tired of hearing the laughter every time a car drove by outside.) It has never received more attention than it did this year!

One little girl saw it and heard it as I answered the door. Her eyes got really big and she took a step backward. (I was afraid she'd fall off the stoop!) Several others reacted similarly. At one knock, I opened the door while the wreath was flashing and laughing, and said "Yeesssss?" in a menacing tone. There were two teenagers on the other side of the door who were in the spirit of things and expressed fake fear. It was fun!

Do you know the song, Christmas Was Meant for Children? Well...I used to believe that Halloween was meant for children, but now I'm inclined to think that it's meant more for parents! I had many children at my door who were way too young to know what was going on, or even to eat the candy that was doled out. (I was guilty of that when my daughter was a baby, and I loved seeing my very young grandchildren in costume for the greedy holiday!) I get amused at Christian parents who think that the children will be taken away by the evil beginnings of the occasion. It's all about the fun! There is also a group out there complaining about children who dress up in stereotypical costumes depicting a culture. Are we taking ourselves a bit too seriously????

Halloween 2011 is now history. I still have a half-bowl of candy left. Since the family will be here this weekend, it won't go to waste.

On another note, today would have been my brother's 58th birthday, had he lived. He left this planet far too soon and without my permission!

Still another note, tonight was my son-in-law's first official Halloween in America where he actually met trick-or-treaters at the door. He said it was "charming". :)

I Should Have Been Raking Leaves, But...

Shoulda, woulda, coulda... It was a fairly decent day and I SHOULD have been out raking leaves...but...but....it's Sunday...but...but...there are still a lot of leaves left on the trees. Oh, well!

I spent some time yesterday preparing the house for the trick-or-treaters, convinced that today was Halloween. When I sat down at the computer this morning before church, an email or two had come in with 10/30 as the date stamp. Huh? Surprise! Today isn't Halloween; tomorrow is!

What I DID do today was go to church, do some grocery shopping, and start my Christmas shopping. (I had a few ideas, so I just did it.) My family will be here next weekend, so I had to start thinking about what to feed them. Truth be known, by the time they get here on Friday night, it will be too late for supper, and they will leave early-to-mid-afternoon on Sunday, so we are really only looking at one day of food. There are some Grandma's House typical meals...like walking tacos (which my grandson loves) and corned beef and cabbage (which my granddaughter loves), but I'm keeping the options open. I have steak and pork and brats and chicken. We'll see what transpires. I eat it all!

I actually spent $17 on myself today! I have had three bathrobes around the house...all of which serve a useful purpose (hiding my body). One of my favorites--one that I sometimes sleep in--is faded and threadbare and developing holes. I bought a replacement today. Let's have a moment of silence for the old one. My daughter bought it for me back when she was still in high school. Time for the rag bag! RIP dear robe! You were my friend!

I need to step up my preparations for weekend company. I will be so happy to have all of my chicks in the coop again!

Dr. Phil's Truisms

I've hit the jackpot! The Oprah Winfrey Network airs old Dr. Phil programs at certain times of the day, so if I'm lucky, I can watch more than one show a day! (Beats "Keeping Up with the Kardashians"!)

After so many years of watching the Dr. Phil show, I have come to know most of his truisms--things he repeats over and over again. I wish I could denounce them, but they are all so true! Here are a few of them:

1. You can't change what you don't acknowledge.
2. The most influential person in the life of a child is the same sex parent.
3. People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing.
4. Some relationships need a hero.
5. Children would rather be FROM a broken home than LIVE in one.
6. If you fight in front of your children, you change who they are.
7. We create what we fear in our lives.
8. Would you rather be right, or would you rather be happy?
9. Your job as a parent is to protect your children and prepare them for the next stage of life.
10. In order to have happy children, you have to take care of the parent.

Wish I could find fault with all of that, but I haven't been able to!
I am so proud that my family has seemed to get past division for the sake of the grandchildren. (Except where my ex is concerned. Apparently he doesn't like me very much, which is a hoot considering that HE is the one who strayed from our relationship.) In any case, we are also now dealing with a family member who has been diagnosed with dementia, and that changes everything rational. One can deal with things that happen for a reason, but dementia adds a new dimension that won't always make sense. I pray for my sister who is dealing with this in her life! (And she needs to pray for me for my own trials and tribulations!)

Another day, another dollar....sort of!

Grave Markers

I think I might have mentioned in a previous blog post that my daughter, son-in-law, and I drove down into north central Illinois seeking the graves of my Covill grandparents, without success. A genealogist in that county offered to have one of her volunteers look in the Greenfield Cemetery in La Moille, IL, for my grandfather's grave, which we hadn't been able to find. The volunteer found the location but no marker...which means, in essence, that no marker was ever placed for him.

That makes me sad, actually. And the worst part is that my sister and I buried our brother in 2006, without a marker. Doug had been estranged to us. His life insurance was in the name of his roommate, but she didn't have any authority to do anything with his remains. Thus, what arrangements my sister and I made, we did as his only legal next-of-kin and in the hope that his roommate would pay for it. We were frugal in our approach. We had Doug cremated, which was his wish, and spread his ashes in the family cemetery, which was also his wish...but without the permission of the cemetery authorities. His roommate did pay for his cremation and funeral arrangements, but disappeared thereafter, leaving us to wonder what to do about a grave marker. My sister and brother-in-law paid for the luncheon after his services. His burial was not without honor.

Doug was a veteran. He is entitled to a military grave marker, but all of his military documents are lost to us. Thus, I have decided to do whatever it takes to get what he deserves and find a way to get a marker placed on the grave where his remains would have been placed had he been a whole body upon burial. We first have to apply for a DD-214 form...proof of service--then talk to the cemetery people. I think we have proof that the family owns grave plots... It won't be easy. I just don't want to go to my own grave knowing that we never put anything up to remember his life. We'll see how this goes.

Meanwhile, it is rainy and gloomy here for the second day. Yuck!

Life's Little Lessons

This has been one of those days in which one task led to another. (Trust me...I didn't overwork myself!)

When I woke up this morning, I noticed that I had been drooling onto my pillow. Then I got to looking at the pillow case. Yuck! There was mascara and makeup on it, which is what happens when you don't take off your makeup before you go to bed. Okay, so I stripped the bed, pre-treated the stains, added a little bleach to the load, and washed my bed linen. No biggie.

EXCEPT, I got to looking at the washing machine and discovered that it was filthy. Not the tub, of course...but under the lid and around the rim, etc. I do laundry on a regular basis. How is it that I just kept overlooking that???? It took all of 5-10 minutes to clean. I need to be paying more attention!

I was also embarrassed yesterday afternoon, late, when Grandma Judy dropped by to bring me some apples from an orchard, and it was dark in the living room because of burned out lightbulbs. I reached over to turn on the one light that was still working, and it popped right in front of us! We sat in the relative darkness and talked for a bit before she left. Needless to say, I started replacing bulbs after she left... (I failed to mention that I was still in my bathrobe and hadn't done my hair or face. Oops!)

I still haven't put things away since I returned from my daughter's over two weeks ago. Here I am, starting to look at Thanksgiving plans, and I'm already behind!

The bathtub drain is running slowly again. Need to work on that. And cleaning floors and beds and kitchen messes. I always have the best of intentions. Guess I just need deadlines to remind me to look at things with a wary eye! Doesn't look like I'll need to be planning a Colts Superbowl party this year, so maybe I need to invent another excuse to have people over, just so I'll clean!!

Annual Kiddie Kandy Kwandary

Yes, I know I misspelled some words in the title! It was my effort to be cute. So sue me!

The time approacheth for me to purchase Halloween candy for the trick-or-treaters. Decisions, decisions. This shouldn't be a big deal, but it is! Here's why:

1. I was a kid once, and I knew what I wanted to get in my bag: CHOCOLATE. Those were the days when the candy industry hadn't yet figured they could cash in on Halloween by packaging small amounts of chocolate individually and charge through the nose for them, and before society's perverts thought it was funny to give apples with razor blades in them--and even still before everyone had to be suspicious of homemade treats due to tampering. More often than not, I got things like apples (gag!) and homemade popcorn balls. (Now that I am older, I recognize the amount of work that went into making popcorn balls, but I never ever ate one!) All I really wanted was chocolate. Hard candies were out of the question, and taffy-like candies were a waste of time. I guess I was a candy snob! Maybe it's because we never really had candy just lying around at home. Candy was a treat, and free candy was Heaven!

2. When Megan and I moved to this house in 1992, it was the first real neighborhood we had been in since we came to Indiana in 1988. I bought at least four huge bags of candy, expecting lots of trick-or-treaters. Every year since then, I've been somewhat surprised at the smaller numbers of roving ghouls and ghosts that appear at my door, leaving me with leftover candy.

3. Leftovers! If one doesn't appropriate the handouts correctly, there will either be no candy left, or lots of it. If I am going to have candy left over, I want to make sure it is something that I want and/or my grandchildren will eat. You know what that means!

4. Funding my life as a retired person gets a little tricky. The bags of chocolate candy get more expensive with less in them. I can't afford spending a lot of money on candy to give away, yet want to be in the spirit of the occasion...so...I am ready to make a decision.

DECISION: I will buy three bags of candy from the Dollar Tree store (everything is $1), and supplement my home candy dish with chocolate. It's the best I can do!

Why?

How is it that I can be so successful with things that don't matter much, but on the important stuff, I fail miserably??

I have a philodendron plant that has been in the same pot for well over 25 years. I don't feed it, and only water it occasionally, but still it survives. Why?? Well, the dear plant is beginning to show signs of dying. I will root cuttings and replant it in new soil so it can regenerate. It doesn't owe me anything!

I'm still trying to figure out why having grandchildren is so much more rewarding that having one's own kids. There is the obvious--the fact that one can spoil one's grandchildren and give them back to their parents--but it is more than that. There is a certain freedom about loving children late in life. I don't have to "fix" them...just love them. And I sure do!

The family across Stanley Road from me was having a yard sale today. Why? A couple of months ago, the lady that lived there died. They were trying to dispose of some of her precious belongings, which were very nice. It struck me that none of the things they were selling would mean as much to the buyers as they did to the woman who died. God help the people who have to dispose of my stuff! I have very little of any use to anyone! The woman had some very nice clothes and shoes...all too small for me. Ugh!

On Friday, I went to a function at church called Snack 'n Craft. It's a ladies' night out kind of deal. Bring a snack to share and a craft you are working on...spread out on the ample tables in the room, and enjoy the company. Why did I go? Leaving home with my projects forces me to actually work on them. When I was still teaching, I used to take papers to grade. This time, I took Civil War pension documents to sort through and transcribe--all part of the process of understanding what my great-great-grandmother went through just to get an $8-a-month widow's pension! (She couldn't prove she was a widow. Turned out that her husband had simply abandoned the family. Long story!) Anyway, I enjoyed the fellowship.

Today was a mostly fruitless day for me. Not sure why. Maybe tomorrow will be better!

The Fro-dog Years

Still talking about critters here...

After my cats went over the Rainbow Bridge and my daughter was out of the nest, I determined that I didn't want any more pets. I am a committed pet owner--one of those that generally accepts that the animals are part of the family and that the responsibilities of their care are just part of the package. I had put up with cat hair, cat barf, cat litter, cat pee, cat poop, cat-scratched wallpaper, etc., for 14 years. I figured it was time for me not to have to take care of another living thing aside from myself. Yeah!

This seems off topic, but it isn't. When I bought my house-on-a-slab in Plainfield, every room was carpeted--even the bathrooms and the kitchen. The kitchen carpet was one of those low-pile berber deals that won't wear out. Just gets dirty and doesn't clean up well.

Okay...so the first thing my daughter and her then-husband did after moving out of my house to their own apartment was get a 6-week-old puppy. I knew it was in the works and had admonished them, over and over, not to do it. They were just getting started in life, living in a rental apartment with carpeting, etc. Don't get a dog now! Did they listen? Noooo.... The pup was Nathan's decision. He named HER Frodo after a book character that he liked. (The character was male; the dog was female. Try to explain that to people!) Frodo was an adorable buff cocker spaniel with the prettiest brown eyes and long, floppy ears. She also became, over time, one of the most spoiled-rotten dogs I have ever met!

The apartment complex where the kids lived had resident ducks and geese around a small lake. There was duck/goose feces everywhere...and that, I guess, is the reason Nathan and Megan didn't bother to housebreak the Fro-dog. I let them know that they weren't doing right by her, to which Megan responded, "When you have your own puppy, you can train it any way you want." Thereafter, I said, "Then don't bring her to my house because she won't be a good house guest!"

Nathan treated Frodo like a princess, and she filled the bill. She flatly refused to eat dog food, preferring to lick human dinner plates and/or steal food from the table when the human backs were turned. (She was a shameless food whore!) She piddled and pooped anywhere in the house she chose, in spite of the fact that she might just have been outside minutes before... And after the children were born, Robin learned at a very young age to put a paper towel over piles of dog poop. (Isn't that what all toddlers do??) Still, I loved that stupid dog...and she loved me. When I arrived at their house, I was always greeted by doggie-hysterics. She was a hoot, but she was also a health hazard!

In my last post, I mentioned that my cat Puddy Tat had cornered a yellow Lab with her attitude. Puddy did the same thing to Frodo. The kids would come to visit. Butterscotch would run and we wouldn't see her again for the duration of their visit, but Puddy--who lacked claws but didn't lack attitude--would stand down Frodo. The dog wouldn't get off the couch because of the big bad pussy cat! It was comical, actually. While the humans dined in the kitchen, Puddy would lie down near the kitchen doorway, thereby preventing the scaredy-dog from being near the food--something that just killed her! After Puddy died, it took several visits before Frodo realized she could get off the couch.

Nathan and Megan and Frodo lived first in that apartment in Indy, then with Nathan's parents for a few months, then at Friendswood Golf Course where the children were born just five miles from me. Then Nathan got a good job offer in Muncie, IN, and the family was to move there. The first place they found to live--a rental--required "no pets". Nathan cried and cried at the notion of having to relocate Frodo to another home. I slumped in defeat. I could not let my grand-dog go to a shelter somewhere after she had been so spoiled. She wouldn't understand. I loved Frodo....I just didn't WANT her. I relented. Okay...I said I would take Frodo until I could find her another home. I made Megan and Nathan pay to have her professionally de-flea'd and make sure her shots were up to date. I purchased things that I needed for a doggie housemate. And so it went. I decided I would work to housebreak her, then find an acceptable home for her. Well! Frodo had other ideas!

I didn't know it then, but cocker spaniels are hard to train. It is a characteristic of the breed. I got Frodie when she was three and had her five years. I worked and worked to train her to "go" outside, but had to buy "puppy pampers"--pads to put down in the kitchen for her to urinate and defecate on. Sometimes she did, and sometimes she didn't. The kitchen carpet, which was already dirty, became a cesspool of germs. (Dr. Oz would not approve!) When my grandchildren came to visit, I couldn't let them be on the kitchen floor nor could they play in the back yard until we did the "poop patrol". (Ryan was too young to remember it, but he and I used to go out to do poop patrol so I could pick up dog feces before he went out to play. He got pretty good at spotting it. Isn't that an accomplishment with which you want to be able to credit your grandchild????)

Sad to say, but Frodo could not be trusted alone around the grandchildren. She was defensive around food and/or chew toys that had food potential. If she felt threatened at all, she would nip. She was totally insecure which leads to fear reactions. For awhile, grandson Ryan would get down on all fours at Frodo's level and follow her around, even to her safe places under my feet, pretending to be a dog. I lived in dread that she might turn around and bite him in the face, just to get him to leave her alone. He was too young to be deterred. "That's what dogs do," he would tell me.

One day, Megan and the grandchildren came to live with me, unannounced. A divorce ensued between Megan and Nathan. In the meantime, we did what we could to make my little house suitable for all of us. The bottom line was that I felt we were living in Frodo's toilet. The handwriting was on the wall. Frodo was not adoptable and had been unresponsive to training. She had just chased Robin down the hall and nipped her on the fingers. I was done. For the first time in my life, I gave up on a pet.

With a heavy heart, and feeling like an absolute criminal, I took Frodo to the vet to be put down. Thereafter, we began to put the house back in some semblance of cleanliness. The kitchen carpet was replaced with vinyl flooring. The yard was permanently rid of the need to do the "poop patrol". We survived. I hope Frodo will be waiting for us with forgiveness on the other side of life. I really felt that I had no choice in the decision I had to make. I hope she understands that she was my LAST pet!

Critters I Have Loved

Don't ask me why I am posting this. I have no clue!

I have always been an animal lover. Because we were military nomads in my younger life, we didn't have pets...but when we settled in Danville, IL, for a whole couple of years, my dad brought home a dog. She was a young dog, but not a puppy. She was a blonde cocker spaniel, and her name was Taffy. Wow! A pet! We'd never had a dog before. I was a kid and knew nothing about what to do. We didn't play with Taffy...never took her on walks. She was just supposed to exist, I guess...and exist, she did. When we were sent to Japan, she went to live with my grandparents on the farm. When we returned, Taffy was almost unrecognizable. She had become fat! My grandparents apparently had fed her from the table.

Taffy moved with us to the Chicago suburbs and continued to live her seemingly-unloved existance. Then, one day, she was gone. Was I away at college? I don't remember. I do remember my parents telling me that Taffy had "gone down in the back" and they had her put to sleep. I think she was 10 at the time. I accepted it then, but all of these years later, when I think about poor Taffy, I feel bad. She didn't get a fair shake in life.

Fast forward to my relationship with my then-husband. He had an Irish Setter named Ann, and before we were married, he gave her to me. Ann was not what I would call a show-quality setter, but she was a very good dog. We could take her everywhere without a leash. She just wasn't very bright. Sometimes, she would flush out birds in the field and would be jumping as if to catch one, when there were rabbits running practically right under her feet and she didn't see them! She could never have been a hunting dog. She hated guns. I suspect some were fired around her and it scared her to death. Ann was my child. I loved her and she loved me.

The first Memorial Day weekend after my husband and I were married, we were packed and ready to leave for Indiana for the Indianapolis 500. Joe took Ann to work with him because we didn't want to have to return home to get her before departing from Illinois to Indy. (He had a library to keep her in during the day.) He had a luncheon date planned with other faculty members. The very last thing I said to him that day as we left for work was, "It's supposed to be hot today. Don't leave Ann in the car."

At the end of the workday, Joe came to pick me up for our trip to Indiana...but he took me into my office. I immediately knew something was wrong. "Where is Ann?" Joe was forced to tell me that he had left Ann in the car while he went to lunch with friends for "just a little bit"...and Ann was dead due to the heat. He had realized the gravity of the situation when he got back to the car and had driven her to a vet--or so he said--but she could not be revived.

In a second, I went nuts. I screamed and cried and beat on his chest. My teacher's aides heard me and left in a hurry. I shocked myself with the strength and insanity of my reaction. (I have only experienced one other event that did the same thing to me...just two years ago.) I was sick for weeks...could not eat or sleep. There was no joy in life. All I could think of was that my baby dog had died at the hands of someone who was supposed to care for her. It was awful.

Instead of leaving for Indy, we detoured to the family farm in order to bury Ann. My parents didn't know we were coming, so when we showed up, there were questions. I sent Joe to the pasture to begin digging Ann's grave while I explained to my mother. She was so angry. I think she said something like, "I want to shoot him!"

My daughter was born the next year. God took away my dog but gave me the love of my life! As Megan grew, she became a critter lover like me. We always lived in rental homes so couldn't have pets, but when we moved to a rental home in Indiana in 1988, we requested permission to have a cat for her. The landlord said "no problem". We were totally new to the area, so I called a local veterinarian's office to ask about places to find a pet. They referred me to a lady in Eminence, IN, who took in strays. The woman there could only catch one cat--an orange tabby that scratched the hell out of my arms in the process of trying to put her in a carrier. We took her home and opened the carrier, and that was the last we saw of the cat for a week!!!

The very next day, I was outside. Out of the bushes running straight to me was a 4-5 month old kitten who was very dirty and very loud, just begging for food and love. She was a mostly white cat with some black and a tiny bit of brown. I sent Megan around the neighborhood with the kitten to see if anyone knew where she belonged. (She SAID she did. True or not, I don't know.) No...we can't have two cats! No way! You can guess the rest...

We named the orange cat Butterscotch, aka Sputterbutt, Butter Buds, but mostly known as Butter...or simply "Buds". In the beginning, we only knew she was there because the food would disappear. One evening, in an effort to play with the white cat, we were using a string...and the orange cat came out from under the couch to catch it.

The white cat was named Puddy Tat (from Tweetie-bird's attempt to say "Pussy Cat"). Puddy Tat became Puddy, and then simply "Puds". (My then-husband called her Shithead.) The two felines became fast friends, in time. We would often find them wrapped in each other's arms in slumber...in laundry baskets, beds...you name it.

When my ex and I split up, he made it clear that I was to take the cats with me. Unfortunately, Meg and I were moving to a rental place that specified no pets. What to do? They stayed with us for a couple of weeks until Megan said she was afraid we'd be kicked out if they were discovered...so I asked my brother in the Chicago area if he could take them and find homes for them. He said he would. They were locked in his bedroom in Oak Park, IL, with six other cats in his apartment. Seven months later, when I bought a house in Plainfield, IN, the cats were still with him. Megan and I drove up to retrieve them. When we arrived at our home and opened the cat carrier, the cats blinked and looked around a bit, but it was as if we had never been separated!

Buds was a scaredy-cat all of her life. If she came to your lap to be petted, she always placed herself facing out so that if you made one false move, she would launch to another room. She was street-smart. Puddy was just a common thug, too dumb to know that she could be frightened. Puds was the dominant cat--the licker/groomer. I have a blind friend who had a yellow Labrador service dog that came to visit one day. Puddy was 1/8th that dog's size, but she had him cornered in fear with her swagger. She did the same thing to a dog I had a few years later. If I had a ladder put up for a household project, I'd find Puddy on top of it. If there was an open suitcase somewhere, Puddy slept in it. The usual human response to Puddy was "You stupid cat!"

One day in 2000, I noticed that Butter was sitting on the arm of a chair near the bay window and hadn't moved for hours. Very strange behavior for her. I took her to the vet--always stressful. He heard a heart murmur and noticed that her gums were quite pale--an indication of a big-time heart problem. As she gyrated on the exam table trying to get away from him, he thought she could have a heart attack right then and there. I broke down because I understood the decision that would soon face me. I cried and cried in the vet's office, then brought Butter home.

Over the next week, things got worse. Buds could hardly move, but she exhibited a desire to be outside--something that hadn't happened since the day we got her many years before. She had scratched a spot on the back of her neck totally bald. I put a piece of gauze over it so it wouldn't sunburn and let her go outside on the patio. I checked on her every few minutes. Mostly, she just sat in one spot. Then, on one check, she was gone! I started calling for her. She responded. Somehow, she had found her way through a hole in the fence and was in the neighbor's yard but totally scared. I retrieved her. Butter had an adventure!

Then, one day, Butter could no longer hold up her head. I knew I couldn't leave her home alone in that condition, so I took her to school with me. The vet's office was practically on the school campus, and I had second period free. That morning, I could put Butter over my shoulder and carry her around--something she never would have tolerated before. I had to say good-bye to my Butter Buds that day, then go home to Puddy Tat without her.

Megan moved to her own apartment that week...so Puddy lost two of her best friends in the same week. She was never the same again. Over the next two years, she became very thin--had stopped eating but was drinking a lot and urinating a lot. I took her to the vet. They checked her for diabetes but couldn't find that. They did an ultrasound and found spots on her liver. I took her home to be comfortable. One evening, she simply couldn't stand anymore. I had brought her food and water to the living room near her. She would stand up to go to them but would fall over. I called the emergency vet near the airport for her final trip. Puddy and Buds are buried near each other in a flower garden in my yard. I loved those stupid cats!

There is one more pet to discuss, but it is late. You will have to hear about Frodo the Wonder Dog later!

Serendipity

Lots of stories to tell but not much energy. This post will ramble. If you aren't in a rambling mood, move on!

I spent two weeks at my daughter's in Grayslake, IL. I went up on a Friday with the intention of staying only a week, but things happen. I had such a good time with Denis's Russian parents. First, I was going to come home on Thursday...then Sunday...then found out that the grandchildren had a day off on Tuesday and would need supervision, so I stayed until then. Was going to come home on the Wednesday after that...but I was too unenergetic to do anything. Thus, I didn't leave until the Thursday AFTER the original Thursday! Two weeks!

Denis's parents, Luda and Sergey, departed on Friday, Sept. 30th. Before that, however, we took turns cooking the supper meal for the breadwinners. It was unspoken. When I got there, they seemed to leave supper to me...but I had to be gone one day and they took over. It was all good. Meg has a cleaning service that comes every couple of weeks. On the day of the cleaning service, after Megan and Denis left for work, Luda and I just launched into picking up things to make the place clean enough to be cleaned. We didn't say anything to each other about it. It's a gal thing! Some things are just obvious in any culture!

I did attend a ceremony for Major Pat at The Salvation Army's Territorial Headquarters in Des Plaines on a Wednesday while I was there. Pat is retiring as National Director of SATERN, probably the largest radio network of its kind in the world. They had refreshments and a nice presentation by the National Commander/Commissioner (I'm not sure which). The man made it a point to say that SATERN is a "big deal"...and worthy of recognition from "national". I have to say that it is gratifying to hear that from a non-ham. Patrick--and all of the rest of us in amateur radio/SATERN--have struggled for years to help others to "get it". This little ceremony cemented that and gave Major Patrick his "due". Nice!

Unfortunately, being on the highways and byways of the Chicago area has its pitfalls. When I got off the tollway on the exit that would take me to THQ, there was an unattended toll booth that needed $1 in coins. I didn't have $1 in coins! I threw what I had in the basket and moved on. The same thing happened as I got back on the tollway to return to Meg's. Ugh! Had to get online to pay $2. As I came home, I got aced out of paying an 80-cent toll by the fact that there was only a 3/4th mile notice and the right two lanes were occupied by semis...so I couldn't get over in time to be in the cash lanes. I'm letting that one pass. They can sue me for 80 cents! It's not like I didn't try!

The Tuesday that I supervised the grandchildren was a busy one. I drove Robin (and Ryan) to Robin's dentist appointment. She went in alone, got her shot and a filling, and was back in the waiting room less than 30 minutes later! She was a trouper, bless her heart. After that, we went to have lunch with Meg, then I took the kids to the movie to see Dolphin Tale in 3-D. Thereafter, I drove the kids back home to Zion. It was a beautiful day.

Oh...didn't mention the genealogy trip! The weekend after Luda and Sergey left, Megan, Denis, and I drove several hours south into Illinois to seek the graves of my Covill grandparents. Megan printed out what information she had. We drove first to Princeton, IL, because they have a county genealogy society that is open one Saturday per month...which was THAT Saturday. We didn't get there until 1:00, and they close at 3:00, so we were busy little beavers! The gal in charge was totally knowledgeable and helpful. We got a lot of information in a relatively short time!

Armed with cemetery information about who is buried where, we went first to Tiskilwa, IL, to seek Grandma Covill, who was buried near her folks. We found her parents, but not her. Just some empty spaces in the cemetery row. Running out of time and daylight, we drove to LaMoille to look for Grandpa Covill who was buried near HIS folks. Same thing. We found his father's grave marker, barely readable...but nothing for Grandpa. The family was dirt-poor. It is our belief that no gravestones were ever placed for them. I wish I were a wealthy person so I could put markers on their graves in the memory of my father who probably helped pay for their funerals... Again, it was a beautiful day for a ride. We took pictures of a Civil War monument in Princeton that has my great-grandfather's name, and his brother's, inscribed. Although we weren't successful in finding the final resting places of my father's parents, we saw a part of Illinois that were part of their lives...and other information about family. I counted the trip as a success!

I came home from Megan's with a bug. Chest and head congestion. I have been trying to recuperate without seeming like a hypochondriac, but it's been tough. Thankfully, this isn't a major bug. If I got a major bug, I would probably not survive...

Hope to be well enough to go to church tomorrow!

Adventures in Language!

I have spent all week at my daughter's in Illinois meeting my son-in-law's parents from Russia. Luda speaks a little English, which is a godsend. Sergey speaks almost none. But, interestingly enough, we have all been able to communicate even when the resident translator (my son-in-law) is at work. It's comical, though. We have to be very animated in order to show emotions, etc...so it all looks very much like a pantomime with words.

Sergey knows two words quite well: "night food". He stays up late at night watching television and snacking. Every time we come back from the grocery store with things, he jokingly sets some aside, saying "night food". By the looks of his girth, Sergey should probably cut back on "night food"!

I will have lots of stories to tell when I get home. Tomorrow, they will be winging their way over the Atlantic after three weeks in the US--Sergey's first visit and Luda's second. There have been times when Denis thought his brain would explode because of having to translate Russian to English and English to Russian. When we were all out to dinner last weekend, he turned to me at the table and started to translate something, but he was speaking Russian. I laughed when he realized his mistake. Poor fellow!

More later. I have to go to the store to get more night food!

Learning Lessons the Hard Way

Got a call from my daughter today indicating that she had gone to her daughter's soccer game today. Little Ryan's team didn't play. Just the girls' teams. Since the other parents were sitting halfway between the two girls' games in order to try to catch some of the action in both, Megan asked permission for Ryan to sit with her at Robin's game. It was then that she found out that Ryan was under "house arrest", but he was allowed to sit with her. House arrest?? Why??? Well, it seems that Ryan decided to walk to a friend's house six blocks away from home yesterday but didn't bother to ask or tell anyone he was going. (Have I mentioned that Ryan is 7??) Three hours later (!) as he was on his way home--probably having been sent that way by the parents of the kid he was visiting--he heard people calling his name, several of whom were police officers! Thus, house arrest. Ryan isn't permitted out of sight for a month, which includes playing outdoors after school. He told his mother that it never occurred to him to ask to go, but I'm not buying that. He knew better! This is not the first time that Ryan has brought wrath down upon himself--and others--because of his impulsivity. He will learn...maybe. He told Megan, "This is the first time that the police have ever had to look for me." Megan informed him, "IT HAD BETTER BE THE LAST!" Will it sink in? I'm not so sure, but I hope so.

Apparently my grandson is one of those who has to learn things the hard way. He comes by it honestly. His mother is the same way. (I could write a book!) I am reminded of the night that Megan went to the movies here in Plainfield with some friends, boys included. We had just moved to the community and school had just started. She was beginning to make friends in 7th grade, although I didn't know any of them. I told her I would pick her up in front of the theater when the movie was over...sometime shortly after 9:00. I arrived, but she wasn't there. In fact, no one was there. I waited and waited and drove around the block a dozen times. I even went up to the theater to ask exactly what time the movie got out. Long past! I drove home, thinking she could be trying to call me. (There were no cell phones back then.) I didn't have Call Waiting on my home phone, so every call I made in an effort to determine anything was risking missing a call from her. I had no phone numbers or names to go by, and I was frantic. Finally, at 11:00 PM, she called and asked me to come pick her up at a phone booth in front of Dairyland. I was both relieved and livid. She told me that the group had decided to go for pizza and she went along for the ride. I hadn't sent her with enough money for that. Had she called me and said they wanted to do that, I would have said okay...but she didn't. To this day, I don't know if she actually went to the movies or what transpired that evening. Did SHE learn anything? Probably not, but I sure did. I gave her a punishment. I just don't think anything I ever did by way of that had any meaning to her.

My sister, in her teenage-and-younger years was one of those Hard Learners, according to things I have heard in family lore. Unfortunately, I was an adult before I faced that kind of learning. (I think when you learn the hard way as an adult, it hurts worse!)

I Corinthians 13: 11--"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." I'm still working on that!

What Do the Simple Folk Do?

In the musical Camelot, there is a song sung by Guenevere and King Arthur who are thinking that their lives are unimaginably complicated and depressing. So they ask in song "What Do the Simple Folk Do" to chase away the blues? One suggests that they whistle. So G an A whistle, but it doesn't help. So the other suggests that commoners sing. So G and A sing, but it doesn't help. Then, one says that simple folk dance...so G and A dance, but that doesn't help, either. Finally, it is declared that simple folk "sit around and wonder what royal folk would do". 'Tis one of the ironies of life. In that, I am reminded how envious I have always been of my sister's life, never really understanding that she also envied mine, for different reasons!

Today, with the television on for company, I have been watching a marathon of shows on the Oprah Winfrey Network--a reality show about the struggles between Tatum and Ryan O'Neal to resolve their relationship issues. Geez...give me a break! Tatum wants her father to admit all of his transgressions with her--her perceived transgressions--because he left her behind for Farrah Fawcett. He resists. I'm sorry. This is important because...? They can afford homes in Malibu, psychotherapy, reality shows (that are anything BUT reality), and the rest of us are supposed to be able to relate?? I'm changing the channel!

But seriously, folks, what DO the simple folk do? Show me a single family on the entire planet that isn't dysfunctional in some way, and I'll show you La-La-Land. My parents--eventually both of them--were hard drinkers, but there was never a single moment in my life that I didn't feel loved and valued. They had their own realities. They worked their proverbial fannies off to provide a good life for us. What we made of that was our own choice. In turn, I worked MY fanny off to provide a decent life for my daughter and me, based on what was burned into my psyche as important. I know I screwed up often, but I have learned to give up the notion that I can live long enough to find closure from the past. The only reality is now.

I have nothing but good memories of my childhood because I was an adaptable kid and always felt good about my family. Older and wiser now, I recognize the things that molded me. Some are good. Some aren't. It's all about life, folks! Time to stop blaming one's childhood for one's own shortcomings! It is what it was. Get over it!

What do the simple folk do? They survive because they have to!

The Mundane

There is a family the next street down whose back yard is visible through mine. They either have a lot of young children or run a day care. Every time I go out to the patio, I watch their comings and goings, and I like what I see! During the heat of the summer, they had a pool going. There is a jungle gym. Last fall, they put up a sheet or a wall or a screen or something, and used a computer projector to display a Colts game. Last week, they had a party after dark. They were throwing "corn hole" bean bags and having a great time. Often, in cooler weather, they have a bonfire going in a pit. I would love to be a part of that!

Outside tonight, there are the katydids in the trees and the crickets in the grass. Thankfully, in all my years here, I have never had a cricket in the house...but it does remind me of the farm when I was a kid. Crickets would find their way into the house. They would chirp loudly until we got close to them...then they'd be silent, making it harder to find them. I loved that old farm, but (as a kid) I always hated the notion that the bugs were part of our existence. In later years, there weren't so many crickets, but there were some kind of little beatles that crawled across the floor. Yuck! In my little house-on-a-slab, I've had spiders and ants and ugly little earwigs...and a rare centipede....but I haven't had a cricket or a beatle. God is good!

I took a run to the local grocery store after dark tonight. There were no lights on in the parking lot. I mean, this IS Plainfield, so it is probably still safe...but it seemed a little spooky to me. When I was in the checkout lane, the cashier mentioned that the people normally in the office were out trying to figure out what was up with the lights.

My daughter is dealing with having her Russian in-laws with her. There are challenges. This is the first time she has met Sergey (father-in-law). I guess he is a character! I will be going up later in the month to meet them and visit....

My house payment has gone down! For a long time, it was affordable, then shot up (due to escrow taxes and insurance, I'm sure)...it was killing me. But now it's a little more affordable. Whew!

The temp was up to at least 90 today. I guess the bottom will fall out later in the week. Megan reports that they are experiencing smoke and a burning smell from a wildfire in Minnesota 400 miles away. Isn't weather a wonderful thing??

I'm still restocking the refigerator with staples after the big cleanout back in July. I'm up to ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, spray butter, and Parmesan cheese now. I get it as I need it...

Time for bed. Life in the slow lane!!

September 11th Revisited

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of the event that took away innocence in America: the terrorist attacks on the US, using passenger jets as bombs to hit the World Trade Center in NYC, the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and the ill-fated attempt to destroy the White House with a fourth plane. The event is all over the media (again) and hard to miss. Nor do I want to miss it. I think we, as a nation and as individuals, need to remember and be reminded.

It's pretty common knowledge that I am a Baby Boomer, born after World War II to a military family. Parents in those days protected their children from the horrors of life. I think I was a teenager, for example, before I was exposed to the Holocaust. No one kept it from me. I was just blissfully naive of man's inhumanity to man, choosing--as a child of God--to believe that other children of God believed as I did. As a young adult, I endured news coverage of public assassinations, anti-war demonstrations-turned-violent, riots in the streets of our cities, and other atrocities that I never knew could possibly be visited on this great country of ours. Age hardens us to reality. It seems that we, as a society, are no longer as protective of our children when it comes to exposure to depravity. Or are we?

When the events of September 11, 2001, unfolded in front of us on television, I was on duty at school. I was alerted to the tragedies by email that I always checked between classes. One came in the form of a subscription devotional email. I had already read the daily devotional and had deleted it when finished. Why was there another?? It mentioned a report that two airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center towers. "Please pray for the families...and for our country." I knew that one plane could have been an accident...but two? Not possible! The second email was from a friend of mine, and employee of the FAA who was on the job at the Air Route Traffic Control Center at Indy International Airport. "This is the real deal." The next class period was normally my free period, but that day I had been asked to sub that hour for a fellow teacher who had to be gone--a 6th/7th grade class in Industrial Arts. I hustled down there and immediately moved the class to the wood shop where a TV was set up. This was history in the making. I didn't want to deprive the students of watching, if that's what they wanted to do.

I wish I could say that the high school and middle school kids in the wood shop that day were interested in what was displayed on the news. They just weren't. Most of them preferred to visit with each other rather than watch. Maybe it was too much for their young minds to fathom...I don't know. Thankfully, they had the sense not to interfere with the teachers who were watching intently.

And what did we watch? We watched burning buildings and emergency vehicles scurrying in an attempt to get close enough to figure out how to effect rescues. We watched people standing in smoke-filled windows waving for help. We watched the stunned looks on the faces of perfectly-trained firemen in full call-out gear awaiting orders. And then we watched as the first building crumbled to the ground. The period ended and I had to go back to actual teaching, only to be glued to the TV when I got home. (There simply was nothing else to watch. All normal programming had been suspended.)

Aside from the obvious, the worst realizations for me had to do with the people who jumped from those buildings, some 100 stories up. TV showed people waving. TV showed people falling. Reporters and other witnesses talked about dozens of jumpers. I simply could not imagine the suffering and panic that went on in those people's minds before they decided how to die. I must not have been the only one so deeply disturbed by that because, within 24 hours, all mention of them stopped. No more pictures. No more reports. Someone pulled the plug, as did those in charge of television programming who decided which shows would be okay to air and which would be deemed offensive in such a time of collective deep shock and mourning. I'm proud of that. Very quickly, America's First Lady and child psychologists everywhere were discussing with the American public how to talk to young children about the events of the day and after. It was not lost on me that we were being protected--that maybe we hadn't become such a decadent society after all. That maybe some things were still sacred. Thank God for that.

How does one explain pure evil to a child? Like a child, myself, I confessed that I had never hated anyone in my life, but I hated the evil man behind the attacks of September 11, 2001. I prayed that God would destroy Osama Bin Laden, then begged His divine forgiveness for having such awful thoughts. I was not thinking as a Christian but as a human being.

It took ten years and many American lives to find and assassinate Osama Bin Laden. It was a military venture, which took the blame for my bad thoughts off my shoulders. And I must say, the whole thing was handled in the only way it could have been. Bin Laden was engaged in gunfire and killed in a raid on a compound in Pakistan just a few months ago. It was carefully determined that we had the right guy, and his body was disposed of at sea--supposedly in an "honorable" way acceptable to Muslims. There was a hue and cry from some American citizens that they wanted to see pictures of the body to be sure, etc...but we were being protected. We could simply have captured him and brought him back to the US, for what? Trial in American courts with American due process, only to be housed during appeals and while the Justice System tried to work? Then what? Execution by lethal injection? It would have been too much. If we had displayed his dead body, we would have been participating in sensationalism at its worst. Airing pictures would have been as bad and could incite retribution. (It was bad enough that there was rejoicing in the streets in some cities.) As it is, no individual soldier can/will claim credit for the assassination of Bin Laden...at least not now. History will eventually be revealed. We just aren't ready for it.

We are not done with terrorism. As long as there are cowards in the world who can only make their points by killing innocent people, this plague will be upon us. It's been ten years. Already, we have slipped back into some old ways of thinking. Long after I am gone, the students who were with me in school that day will be telling their grandchildren, "I remember when 9/11 happened," and the kids will roll their eyes, thinking their grandparents are old as dirt. And so it goes. But we, as Americans, must keep the memory of that day alive lest we have to relive it. No amount of obscuring the details can hide the awful reality. We are protected, perhaps, but no longer willing to take what our enemies dish out. We must always remember.

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

Signs of the Times

One of the reasons I retired two years ago was the fact that I was beginning to feel the effect of Generation Gap with my 8th grade students. We connected well, but I recognized that some of my attempts to teach them associations of literature to life were tainted by my age and experience...and their lack of. It was time to let someone younger take over. I'm convinced that my grandchildren think I'm an extinct dinosaur. Both Robin and Ryan remind me regularly that I'm old. (They don't say that to the other grandparents. I guess because I jokingly talk about it, they respond in kind.)

Last week, I was commenting to someone else my age about how much society has changed just in our lifetime. I was probably 5 or 6-years-old before our family even had a television. I was a young adult before I had a color TV...and a TV with a remote was a real luxury! Computers were unheard of. There was no Internet. Parents always taught their children not to talk to strangers, but society was safer then. We could play outside without our parents having to ride herd on our every movement. Today, that's all changed. It's a different world. Columbine happened. September 11th happened. Children couldn't chat with pedophiles online. Society has become a dangerous place. It's almost as if change is occurring faster than our ability to deal with it!

So where are we going in the next 50 years? Personal hand-written letters from loved ones are disappearing. (If you get one, hang onto it because it may be the only physical representation of someone you care about!)

I predict:
1. Newspapers will fold.
2. Magazines will be slower to go away, but they will, too. (Internet news will take over.)
3. The US Postal Service will either become extinct or will be severely limited in services.
4. Libraries will have fewer and fewer patrons as books become more available on the Internet. Many will close.
5. Cell phones will (regrettably) replace land-line phones in households. Phone books will disappear. The useful function of ham radio will go away.
6. The American notion of privacy will no longer exist. Cell phones with cameras, home surveillance cameras, social networking....all will reveal the worst about you!
7. Society will continue the spiral of not having to meet people face-to-face. We will hide from the truth and become more and more depressed in our loneliness. Self-medicating will go to enormous proportions.
8. The "food police" will dictate what you and and cannot eat.
9. Parenting will become a matter of law.
10. Schools will become so watered down and so monitored by testing that they will no longer exist as they are now. Big Brother is watching you!

The only thing that will take us back to our roots would be something cataclysmic...some event that teaches us that we need to grow our own food and learn how to preserve it...a way to bring us down to the understanding that the past happened for a reason, and that we can't discard it in order to survive.

I won't live to see the changes...although some of them are already happening. In fact, change happens so fast that I can't even imagine the changes that will happen!

Here I Go Again...

Those of you who actually take the time to read my mind-ramblings in this blog are probably tired of reading about my cleaning attempts and failures. Sorry 'bout that, but can you endure one more??

When Megan and Denis went up to northern Illinois in July in order to find a place to live so they could send for their furnishings to be shipped to an address, I had already prepared a list of things to send up with them so they could survive sufficiently in an empty house until that happened. I sent pots and pans, some cooking utensils and cutlery, some bed linen and pillows, bath towels, etc. Then when the children and I went up a week later, I took kids' clothes, sleeping bags, air mattress, pillows, some toys, etc. You get the picture. When their household effects arrived, all of what I took up had to come home with me and get put away...

Then, last week, as I was preparing for overnight company, some things that hadn't been put away and/or didn't have a convenient place to be, got put in my bedroom. (That's one of the things I have always done to sabotage myself! When in doubt, throw it in my room, and I'll figure out where it goes later!)

Let me explain that I have two bedrooms: the one that used to be the garage that I moved into when Megan and the children moved in with me, and the one that used to be mine before Megan and the children moved in with me. The garage bedroom has a double bed. The old bedroom has a twin bed that is more comfortable for me. Thus, I now sleep in the smaller room, but my clothes are in the garage room...and it gets inconvenient.

Okay...so, since the smaller bedroom had a lot of stuff in it left over from the summer's escapades plus the company-cleaning-binge, I decided today to bring order to the room. Ha! As my granddaughter Robin would say, what was I thinking?? I took out some clothing that the children have outgrown to take to Goodwill. That was one stack. I put some shoes in the closet back there thinking I would then move clothes from the garage to the room. Uh....no. There are two big dressers in the smaller bedroom with 13 roomy drawers. Every stitch of foldable clothing that I own would fit in there with plenty of drawers left for extra storage...except they are full of Megan's stuff! I didn't realize how much! I worked on one drawer and realized that there were too many things that I couldn't just throw away--family tapes, scrapbooking supplies, children's phonics programs,...you get the picture.

So, I did what every strong woman would do: I gave up! I totally "get it" that in order to deep-clean one room, I end up messing up others that are more critical to my sense of well-being. In order to get through this process, I also need to accept that:
1. I have to clean out the garage closet in order to make room for the things in the smaller room.
2. Even after 3-4 years of sorting, organizing, pitching, and cleaning, I still have too much stuff.
3. I am tired of fighting the junk. Every day, I am judging what should stay and what should go. I don't have the funds to pitch it all and start over...
4. I hope to God I don't leave a huge mess for my family to look after when I croak! I need to get at it faster than I am now!

So, for the moment, I'm just cleaning around things and will take it slowly. Again.

Blah

I've been out of whack all afternoon today, and I'm not sure why.

Thursday, I did a major grocery shopping expedition in the morning and cooked all afternoon for a bereavement luncheon at church (for the funeral of the mother of one of my Sunday School class leaders). Friday, I was at church at 9:00 AM to help set up for the luncheon. Got home about 1:30 and puttered around the house.

Saturday, I was expecting my "other" family for an overnight stay. This consists of my former son-in-law, his wife, her daughter, and my two grandchildren, all of whom were coming to spend the rest of this Labor Day weekend celebrating his parents' 50th anniversary. I've known for weeks that they were coming but didn't get serious about cleaning until Saturday morning. (Don't ask me why!) I consider these folks family, so I know they would tolerate a less-than-immaculate house, but everyone deserves a clean place to sleep! Thus, I washed and changed the bed linen, knocked down some cobwebs, dusted everything, vacuumed, changed some light bulbs that are a pain to change, cleaned the filter for the window air conditioner, scrubbed the bathroom, and generally discovered (as usual) how much more there is to do when one really digs in. And (also as usual), I had to prioritize what was most important as I started to run out of time and steam. In the end, it all worked out.

It was a very nice mini-visit. The children--all three of them--were well-behaved and funny. Everyone had a shower and a place to sleep that didn't cost them a thing. I had some company. Something for everyone! We had a good breakfast and went to church where we all sat together just two pews in front of the rest of the anniversary celebrants. They departed after church for the rest of their weekend plans with Nathan's family. I came home and flopped.

To be sure, I was tired...so I took a nappie. Still, I had an itch that I couldn't scratch. I kept going to the refrigerator, looking for something to fill up my boredom. I really think my blah-ness this afternoon is a result of the slump that comes after the fun of an occasion ends. Back to the grind, you know. But I do need to maintain a list of things to do so I don't run into the last-minute cleaning crunches that always happen when I'm expecting company. First thing on my list? Start a list!

Some interesting observations:
1. I dug out my Japanese kimono and accessories (circa 1957) and had Robin try it on as a potential Halloween costume. The kimono was made for me by a Japanese seamstress when we lived in Sasebo, Japan, when I was 10 years old. At the time, it had a hem in mid-gown that could be let down as I grew, which it eventually was. When Robin (just barely 9) tried it on, the length was fine but the sleeves were a couple of inches short, and she could barely get into the tabi (socks) and geta (wooden stilt shoes). If we had waited until next year to try it, Robin would be out of luck! My granddaughter has surpassed my growth a year younger than I was when the kimono was made! She has decided that she wants to be a Japanese girl for Halloween. My daughter wore it for Halloween as a child, too. My kimono has spanned three generations!
2. Ryan never asked to check on his friend Jack even once. I'm sure he'd already been told that there would be no time for that.
3. I had left the grandkids' rooms pretty much as they had left them: messy. I resisted the temptation to clean. Their stepmother had them go in and pick up the rooms before they departed, so I actually came out well on that deal!
4. Nathan helped out quite a bit by doing things without being asked. He put down the futon couch in the living room so his stepdaughter would have a bed. He put it back up again in the morning and rolled up the sleeping bag. He brought two of the chairs to the table from the living room. I'm SO glad those things weren't left to me. I'm old, you know?
5. As we were leaving church this morning, Pastor Ted was shaking hands with Nathan. I introduced Nathan as "Judy and Phil's baby...my former son-in-law...my grandchildren's father". Pastor hugged me and said something like, "You need a program to keep track of everything..." I told him I didn't have a problem keeping track, but that it was sometimes hard to explain to others!

I've said this before and I'll say it again: I think the best thing I have ever done in my life is to work to maintain relationships, in spite of the divorce situation between my daughter and her first husband, for the sake of the babies. I watched my daughter suffer from the after-effects of my divorce from her father--something I couldn't help--and I didn't want it to happen to my grandkids. After Megan sent the children to live with their father, the other grandparents and I met, tearfully, over lunch and discussed the situation. We all agreed that the children didn't ask for what they got and that whatever had transpired between our adult children had nothing to do with us. We still were--and would always be--loving grandparents of the same children. Judy and Phil are accepting of my daughter and her husband. I have been accepting of my former son-in-law and his wife. We have worked together to maintain stability for the kiddos. The children know this and live it. (And to their credit, my daughter and her ex have done the same.) I don't know how the relatively new spouses feel in the blended company, but they don't make things awkward...and that's a good thing.

So, tomorrow is the "cookout" part of Labor Day weekend. I should have cleaned off the patio so I could have a cookout with friends, but I was too busy focusing on the inside of the house! Enjoy your holiday, my friends! I need to go start a to-do list!