A new beginning

Happy New Year!


May the New Year bring our world peace and freedom.

May the New Year bring you health, happiness, and prosperity.

Blue Mood, Blue Moon

This is the last week of the first decade of the 21st Century. The end of the newest "turn of the century". The 2oth century is fading into our memories of distant ages. A part of history never to be seen again.

At the end of the week, we'll have the second full moon in December. That's a blue moon. "Once in a blue moon" kind of things are likely to happen.

Maybe that's why I feel an impending sense of doom hanging over my head. (Or maybe it's just the weird combinations of snacks I had yesterday.)

Even my horror-scope for this week says "You keep looking at some gloomy picture of how things could all go wrong, ... " But it ends "Regardless of what happens, you have nothing to fear - but the worst is not going to happen. In fact, this week is due to be pleasing and liberating."

Pleasing. Liberating. That sounds promising. It sounds like I'm either going to burn my bra or quit my job. The 20th century isn't that far away after all.

BLUE MOON
Once upon a time before I took up smiling
I hated the moonlight
Shadows of the night that poets find beguiling
Seemed flat as the noonlight
With no one to stay up for I went to sleep at ten
Life was a bitter cup for the saddest of all men

Blue moon
You saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own

Blue moon
You know just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for

Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart, 1934

Merry Christmas

I woke up early this morning like a kid expecting to see presents under the tree. I don't know what the hurry was. I've already opened all my presents so there are none there for me today.

I'm wearing two of my presents this morning. Fire-engine red nightgown and slippers. I look very Christmassy except for the white legs between the gown and the slippers. I should have got some red or green tights to complete the ensemble.

And a red Santa hat would top it off nicely.

December 25, 2009

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS!

May God bless us with peace, happiness, and good health today and in the new year.

Merry Christmas!

It's Christmas Eve and I'm at work. Not actually working, but I'm sitting here typing so nobody can tell if it's work or not. The management team is all at home today (nice, huh?) so if I got up and wandered around the desks of the 3 other people that are here I'd probably find they're working as hard as me.

I'm sure that Santa's already checked his list twice and doesn't have time to change it now.

Merry Christmas to You and Yours.

It snowed today and it's cold and it's dreary. In case you didn't notice. I'm a little disappointed, but I'm not really complaining.

"Why?" you may ask if you know that I'm a grumpy old lady who lives to complain about anything and everything.

"Why? Well, I'm glad you asked" I reply happily. "Let me tell you why."

1. I just realized that it's only 2 more months until I can start saying "It's almost spring".
2. We didn't get a foot of snow like some regions of the country.
3. I didn't get stuck in the Channel tunnel between England and France like some people did today. For hours! HOURS Many without water, food, heat, or lights. I could almost scream thinking about it. I hope they managed to sleep through it.
4. I watched one of my Christmas presents after lunch - a DVD set with 150 old TV detective shows. So far I've only watched one disc so I have about 130 shows to go.
5. This evening I can watch another present - a DVD set with 150 old Westerns. Whooeee! I'll be in cowboy heaven. All I need now is a 10 gallon hat, a horse, and a saloon.

Happy Days

It's Friday. That means tomorrow is Saturday and the next day is Sunday and I don't have to go to work for 2 whole days! It's more than 2 whole days if you count this evening which I shall cause I ain't gonna do no work!

Come dance with me

I bought a Dancing With the Stars game for the Wii a couple of weeks ago. It's fun exercise and I've lost 4 pounds without even trying, but I'll never win a dance contest.

I'm not much of a dancer, but I wish I were. I'd love to be able to float through a waltz, or do "flick kicks" to a jive number, or samba while wearing those dancy pants with all the layers of fringe that shimmer and shake "like your sister Kate".

Actually, I'd settle for the pants.

For The Birds

Two of the most noteworthy things I learned last week was that blue herons live in blue heron rookeries and that there are blue heron rookeries in Indiana.

Since you rarely see more than one blue heron in the same location in a pond, I just figured they nested alone. Shows you what I know about birds.

My mother and sisters were all bird watchers. "Look, there's a bird!" someone would shout and the car would come to a screeching halt as binoculars were called into action on all sides. I liked going with them on their bird watching excursions, but that was just to get out of the house, not to watch birds. Still, I picked up some bird lore on these trips and I don't remember any one mentioning that blue herons lived in rookeries in Indiana. (So HA! I know something you don't know.)

I now know that blue herons do not spend their lives alone, there are about 145 blue heron rookeries in Indiana for about 7,000 birds, and Fort Harrison State Park near Indianapolis has one of the larger rookeries with 270 nests. (My source for this newsworthy information was reporter Chris Sikich (chris.sikich@indystar.com) and The Indianapolis Star. )

I don't know if there are herons there in the winter time. Not that I plan on visiting them before spring. I'm just wondering where they go when it's cold enough to freeze one's tail feathes off.

Where are you?

I'm beginning to get in the Christmas spirit. I said spirit, not spirits. Though one may follow the other in either order.

Earlier this week I found the box of Christmas cards I bought in November and I found my address book. I even found a pen without too much difficulty. I began to hum Christmas carols as I sipped at a cup of hot cocoa stirred with a candy cane.

I flipped open the book and turned to the A's, then the B's, then the C's. I need to ask Santa for a new book. At least 90% of the addresses in that book were no longer valid. Relatives have moved. Loved ones have passed away. Friends aren't were they're supposed to be.

I pulled out a stack of saved cards from Christmases and birthdays past. I hoped the return addresses would give me a clue, but that was a false hope. Too many envelopes had different addresses for the same family and I couldn't tell who was were when.

If I were paranoid, I'd think people were trying to hide from me.

Baby it's cold outside!

It's cold outside! I know it's December and winter is only a few weeks away, but it's COLD! Ten to fifteen degrees colder than normal and December in Indiana ain't that hot to start with.

It's making the arthritis in my wrist come alive. It has to be the cold. I don't do enough work to aggravate it.

At least we have sunshine. Indiana's November tend to be bleak and dreary - gray in color from the sky to the dead grass. December, on the other hand, has several days of sunshine in a row. It's cold, but the sun helps mitigate this a few degrees.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

This year December is also giving us a Blue Moon. I always thought a blue moon was when it had that blue aura around it, but actually a blue moon is the second full moon in the same month. Learn something everyday, don't you?

Even when you're as old as me.

Double Ticket Day at the Amusement Park

It's double ticket day at Club Bing - MSN's free gaming community.

Just because it's free doesn't mean you don't have to work for it.

1. It can take over half an hour for a game to load on a slow server.
2. The 'sign in' box is hidden. I'm not telling you where it is. I had to find it myself and so o you.
3. Before you sign in, you have to enter a secret code. They give you the code but obscure it so it can't be read by machines or old ladies. I just make a guess at it. Then guess again. And again. Finally they give up and let me in.
4. When I want to replay a game I have to enter another different code. Just read # 3 twice more to see what happens next.
5. There's no 'Boss Button' to quickly go from game playing to working on a spreadsheet when the Boss walks by.

Why do I play then? Because the games are fun and mentally stimulating. Plus you get "free" tickets that you can cash in for prizes or donate to charity. Where else can you get something free for having fun?

I had over 3,000 tickets the last time I looked. Today I had 31. How was I supposed to know the tickets had an expiration date? It's not like they're going to spoil. Perhaps if one wasn't so busy trying to decipher the secret code one might be able to find time to read the small print.

Four Day Weekends

Just got off the couch long enough to say, "I think I'll go take a nap now."

Let's talk turkey

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you all had an abundance of blessings to be thankful for this year. We haven't had snow yet. That's always a blessing for me, but I know it's a disappointment for others.

As I fixed dinner this year, I was struck by how many memories the simplest chores stirred in my memory. As I fixed an apple pie, I remembered my mother's apple desert that was like a pie, but was baked in a rectangular pan, only two or three apple slices thick, and had a powdered sugar glaze on the top. My mother liked her pies thin, I don't think you can have a pie that's too high.

When I fixed the pumpkin pie, the recipe for pumpkin roll that was on the side of the can reminded me of Cindy, a co-worker who made excellent pumpkin rolls. The utensil I used to beat the pumpkin mixture was bought in Florida, bought with the Christmas bonus from Winter Park Hospital. The whip cost $10, a goodly sum to a college student as I was back then, but I've never regretted buying it. It has served me well.

The pastry blender I used to make the crust brought back memories of buying it at K-Mart. I had a choice between a more expensive model and the cheaper one. I went for the cheaper one and have regretted it many times since.

While I was fixing the stuffing, I tried to remember how Grandma and Mom made theirs. Stuffing is one of the foods that nobody makes like your family. I can't even make it like my family. I think this will be the last year I attempt it. My stuffing is an embarrassment.

I burned my finger when boiling gravy splashed on my finger. I washed it off immediately but it still blistered. It reminded me of a when Grandma accidently ladled hot gravy on to some kid's hand as she/he was reaching across the table. I no longer can remember whether it was a sibling or a cousin or me, but I remember Grandma smearing butter on the burn.

When I put whipped cream on my cranberry sauce, I think of Aunt Joan's cranberry pie. It's not quite the same thing, but memories rarely are.

I still haven't tasted the pies. I hope there's some whipped cream left for me.

The Day After

My shelves are still standing.

Me, not so much.

I can't lift my arms higher than this.

I had to do laundry this morning. In the stackable washer/dryer. I reached up with my right hand to open the dryer door. Wrong move.

I reached up with my left hand to open the dryer door. Wrong move.

I stood and stared at the dryer door for a few seconds, then I said to myself, "Cowgirl up, old lady. You ain't no sissy." Well, I am, but old ladies do what has to be done, so I reached up and opened the door with both hands.

I removed a towel and holding it in both hands started to shake it out. Wrong move. And the same voice said, "Don't be stupid, old lady. Just fold the sucker up and be done with it." So I did.

Wanta feel my muscles?

Yesterday I bought steel shelving for my storage area. You may remember that a few years ago I assembled plastic shelves and they almost did me in, but I held my ground and won that battle. The shelves still stand but they list a little to the front.

This time I went for the big boy: steel posts, metal shelves, over 5'3" tall. I know the approximate height because I'm 5'3" and it was about 2" too tall for me to put together.

I searched several stores before I found the one I wanted at the price I wanted. Still I wavered between a plastic one for the same price, because I can lift plastic. I gripped the box with the metal shelves and lifted it a few inches off the ground. It didn't seem that heavy. After I threw the box into my cart I saw a sign that said "2 man lift" meaning 2 men, not one fat old lady, should have lifted the box. "Now they tell me," I thought to myself.

I picked the box up out of the cart and put it in the trunk of my car all by myself too. At the storage unit, I opened the box inside the trunk and slid the parts out to carry them into the unit a few at a time. Little round rubber discs flew everywhere. I picked them all up, crawling under the car when necessary, and piled them on a box and in my pockets.

The outside of the box said "Easy Assembly No Tools Required". The inside of the box said you'll need a rubber mallet and 2 adults. "Now they tell me."

I don't have a rubber mallet and I didn't have time to find 2 adults so I tackled the job myself. First I screwed all the steel posts together. No problem. Then I put the handy, dandy little clips that make the shelves adjustable onto the steel posts. Then I re-read the instructions and removed all the handy, dandy little clips except for the bottom set. To put each shelf onto the posts, you have to slide the shelves over the top of the posts. The first shelf took some accrobatic moves, but still was easier than the plastic shelving had been.

Then I had to put on the second shelf. Over the posts that are taller than 5''3". Did that. I'm now approximately 5'4". Put on the other 3 shelves. Readjusted the handy, dandy little clips for the 3rd shelf as the 2 on the left side were stationed about 2" lower than those on the right.

I moved the shelves closer to the wall and the self adjusting legs actually self adjusted so the shelves sat level. Amazing!

All done in less than an hour.

Then I saw the pile of little round rubber discs. I re-read the instructions. I studied all the pictures. They weren't mentioned in the instructions at all. "Now you can tell me," I thought to myself.

I went back a few hours later and the shelves were still standing. Proudly. Empty, but proud.

This morning, I have a stiff neck, my right elbow feels disconnected, my left wrist won't bend, and I have a few bruises I didn't have yesterday.

But the shelves are still standing.

Let's chat.

You go first.

Current Affairs

I just finished reading the NY Times series Held by the Taliban articles by David Rohde. It gives a fascinating, but scary, glimpse into the minds of Taliban "foot soldiers".

In the fall of 2008, just two months after his marriage, David Rohde and two Afghan colleagues were kidnapped by the Taliban and held for seven months. This series condenses 7 months and 10 days of captivity into 5 articles of terror, boredom, bravery, hopelessness and hope.

I urge you to read these articles or at least look at the accompanying pictures. You will also find the Questions and Answers in the At War blog to be enlightening.

November 11th, 2009

Thank you.

A trillion dollars is a lot of money.

I read the House passed the Health Reform bill yesterday and it's headed for the Senate. I haven't read the bill. I doubt if more than 2 or 3 Representatives read all 2000 pages of it.

I'm not opposed to health reform and since I haven't read it maybe I shouldn't express my opinion of it. But based on other bills passed by Congress, I'm going to hazard a guess that it's a trillion dollar boondoggle, chock full of paragraphs here and there that have little to do with health care but a lot to do with getting some good old boys some good ol' government handouts for their constituents. Whether they need them or not.

And to further prove what an old cynic I am, I'd bet that the bill (1) might improve healthcare for some of the nation's poor, (2) would save or make money for the rich and/or decrease their taxes (which is the same thing), and (3) will be paid for by the middle class who will have higher insurance premiums with no improvement in care.

A Conundrum

I know that a lot of people don't like their jobs. A lot of work isn't very likable. But most of the time, it's not the actual work that people don't like, it's the job. The whole package. The manager, the co-workers, the company personality.

I was thinking about that last week and I remembered a job I held for 3 weeks at a hospital many years ago. I liked what I saw at the interview, but by the end of the first day of training I realized that the place was slightly out of kilter. After I'd been there a couple of weeks, one of the nurses on my floor admitted she cried every day for 6 months when she first started, but then she 'got used to it'. "Don't worry," she encouraged me, "You'll get used to it, too."

Ahh, there's the rub. I didn't want to get 'used to it' but I was too old, too tired, and too discouraged to try to change the attitude of an entire hospital so I handed in my resignation. I could have left then, but it was Thanksgiving week and people had plans so I stayed another week. I'm a team player. They were not.

A couple of years later, I met a nurse who had worked at the same hospital. When she worked there, she was being groomed to become a supervisor or director or some mucky-muck job like that. She never made it. Her family started begging her to quit because the place was changing her personality and they didn't like the new Mom. When the light came on, that it 'was them' and 'not her', she quit.

We both agreed we did the right thing. "Getting used to it" wasn't an option.

The moral of the story is: Never tolerate a job that makes you cry, drink, or kick the cat every day. Either change the job or change jobs.

Don't bank on it.

They changed the time again. I must be getting used to it because here it is 4 days after the fact and I'm just not gripping about it in public. Or maybe it's because I didn't have to complain this year. Everybody else was doing it for me.

I must have received nearly a half dozen emails from the East coast to Indiana which began or ended "I wish they'd just leave the time alone." Sometimes it was "the *&^% time alone". And every day this week when 10:00 rolls around at work somebody says "I'm starving" and follows it up with "That's because it's actually 11:00". And it's not me.

I'm resigned to DST, but since they changed the time back to real time, it's been getting dark about the time I get home. I think they've got it all backwards. When the days are shorter is when I need that extra hour of sunlight in the evening.

Nobody has ever spent a minute they saved with Daylight Saving Time.

I have too many boyfriends

And they can't keep their hands off of me.

Al Zheimer likes to visit me at the most inconvenient times, but Gerry Atric is my constant companion.
Arthur Ritis likes to grip my right wrist and Charley Horse keeps squeezing my left calf.
Will Power shoves me out of bed every morning, which is odd because I go to bed with Johnny Walker.

I know it's an old joke, and it's too true to be funny but I couldn't help it. I'm feeling my age this week.

And yours too.

Headlines

On MSN.com today noteworthy headlines included:

1. Pilot on errant flight: 'Nobody was asleep' - Did you hear about this? The pilot and co-pilot missed the airport by 150 miles. Luckily, they realized their error before they tried to land. Whatever the reason, it must have been a doozy because they won't admit to nothin'.
2. Top 10 Homemade Buiscuit Recipes - My grandma's recipe wasn't included so they weren't really the top 10, but some look interesting. They include cornmeal buiscuits, Trisha Yearwood's "Daddy's Buiscuit" (which look good and fast), spiced buiscuits, sweet potato and pumpkin recips, and a plain recipe that uses only 2 tablespoons of buttermilk.
3. Can she stop her chin hairs from growing? - The lady who needed an answer to this question also complained that they were now gray. That seemed to be why she wanted them to stop growing. As if it didn't bother her before.
4. Man in Motorized Lounger Cited for DUI- I wanted to know how he got out of the house and if there was a cooler built into one arm or both. The article reported he was leaving a bar and the lounger had a cup holder and stereo, but said nothing about a built-in cooler.

There now you have something to talk about.

Sometimes I lisp.

I've been trying for 15 minutes to log in to this blog this evening. Now I have to go fix supper and I don't have time to think up any thing witty or pithy to say.

Well, pithy I might be able to do. If you know what I mean.

Wii and Mee

I think I told you I bought a Wii several months ago. I planned to use it to get more exercise since I can't exercise outside when it's too cold (under 50) because I wheeze nor can I exercise outside when it's too hot (over 75) because it's too hot. So far Wii hasn't motivated me to get my lazy butt off the chair more than once a month, but I do trip over the balance board frequently.

Saturday I bought the new Biggest Loser Wii game that's supposed to whip you into shape much like the TV show does its contestants. Yesterday afternoon I loaded it up and started a beginner's program. It had me warm up for 6 minutes by walking and jogging in place - not that one could see much difference between the two when I did them - then I selected an easy 16 minute upper body workout. It consisted of "boxing" and push-ups.

I like boxing. I don't like push-ups.

I did the boxing as best I could, but co-ordination is NOT my middle name and I had trouble following the simple steps. Step forward on the right foot as you punch with the right arm, touch step the left foot and jab with the left arm, step back on the left foot and then the right. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

HA! I've got 2 left feet and they both tried to do the right foot routine. Then Jillian (the trainer) threw in lifting the right knee up as you brought the right foot back. I found if I just stood on the balance board, I got a "perfect" from the feedback meter. Apparently, I'm pretty good at standing around, doing nothing.

I gave up punching and tried to get the foot work down, and almost succeeded.

Then they switched to push-ups. From the floor. I don't do floor work so I sat on the couch and watched Jillian and my fat little avitar do some "planks" and some push-ups.

Then back to the "boxing". Then back to the couch. Then back to the "boxing". Then back to the couch. I kept waiting for different exercises, but it never happened. Even Jillian looked bored. My fat little avitar was off screen most of the time - I think she'd found her own couch behind Jillian's back.

We did do every step of the cool-down routine. Actually "step" may be the wrong term. We stood on the balance beam and did arm stretches.

Then I had a piece of chocolate cake. Without ice cream.

I've been thinking

I was watching TV last week and somebody recommended that if you like mashed potatoes but don't want all the calories, you can substitute mashed cauliflower because it looks and tastes a lot like mashed potatoes. I'm thinking that if mashed cauliflower tastes like your mashed potatoes, you need a new recipe for mashed potatoes.

I've been thinking that some hot apple cider would taste pretty good. It's been about 20 degrees colder in Indiana than normal for this time of year and it's chilling me to the bones. You know, what? I don't think I'd say No to a piece of hot apple pie either. Do you like yours with cheese or ice cream? I'm an ice cream girl myself. I don't think cheese and apple pie really go together.

Do you know what tastes really good together? Raw apple slices and popcorn. Try it sometime, I think you'll like it.

I keep thinking I'm going to the Apple Store at Conner Prairie, but I only remember to think about it when I'm home and already been to where I was going and don't feel like going out again. It will probably close for the season before I remember to go.

Sometimes I like to ask my co-workers "What do you think?" and then I add "or do you bother to think at all?" So far, none of them have answered the second question.

Here's a fun thing to do when somebody says, "I've been thinking". Look surprised and ask, "Why, is it Tuesday?"

Happy birthday to me...

or birthday musings.

Yesterday was my birthday. That means I'm older than I was this time last week. But then, so are you.

I didn't have chocolate cake on my birthday. A big disappointment. But then, I had a chocolate pudding cup before I went to bed. Not the same thing at all.

I got a new game for my birthday, but I don't like it. It's for stupid people.

I didn't get a pony. Nor a bicycle. Nor a Betsy McCall doll. And I didn't get a piano or a set of drums. But then, I didn't get underwear either. Six or sixty, birthday presents of underwear aren't that great. Super Hero underpants and lingere are different.

I had a picnic on my birthday. That was nice. Cool, but nice.

Mike bought me lunch on Wednesday for my birthday. He's sweet like that. He buys me lunch even when it's not my birthday.

I got some nice cards and emails from friends and family. Reminding me I was older.

To sleep, perchance to dream

I had a weird dream last night. I know almost all dreams are weird. At least the ones we remember.

Anyway, most of this dream I could figure out what brought on the different scenes, but one scene was unsettling and I can't get it out of my head.

• I dreamt about a hospital lobby - We talked about a hospital lobby when I had lunch with a friend yesterday.
• In one scene, a former manager was in the lobby selling trinkets for 5 cents apiece - we talked about the manager at lunch and I had watched an old TV show in the afternoon where a sign on a shelf in the General Store said "Everything on this shelf 5 cents".
• There was a scene in a hair salon - I meant to get my hair cut on Monday, but didn't.
• A hair stylist decided she was going to cut my hair with the top half cut so it would curl under while leaving the top half longer. In the old TV show, one of the women had a do something like that but I couldn't figure out if the top part was cut short or was tightly curled. Or the stylist could have been describing a sissified mullet. I kept saying No, I don't think so, but she wouldn't leave me alone.

Anyway, this is where is gets strange to me. The hair stylist decided to show me the style on somebody else who I assumed was in the next room, but, of course, she wasn't. It occurred to me several times in the dream that I was really stupid for following this hair stylist I'd never seen before to goodness-knows-where, but I didn't want to be rude.

Anyway, when we got to this place where the haircut was, a middle-aged, but well-worn man (if you know what I mean) was in the front room/porch and the stylist showed him my purse and they admired it for a while which made me wonder if I was there to be robbed. He asked where I got it and I tried to answer but his conversation kept darting between the purse and pop-corn shrimp. (We ate lunch at a sea food restaurant and my friend paid.)

When we finally entered the home, it was plain that it had probably never seen better times. The carpetless, scuffed floor was cluttered with papers and bits of stuff, and the rooms that Icould see were sparsely furnished. An old woman and man were in the living room, semi-reclining on the floor, rehearsing a play/movie from the 1920's, complete with costume. (Got no idea where that scene came from - the old TV show was a western, circa 1880's). The old man apologized, but I responded, "That's OK. I've been in lots of homes where people are busy living." (I'm quite profound in my dreams, don't you think?)

Fade out, and fade in to dinner at the same house. OK, here's the really weird part that won't get out of my head.

A young boy was sitting at the end of the table using a cat for a spoon. At least, I think that's what he was doing. He held the cat in one hand (like a fork or spoon) and dipped its paws in a plate. (The paws were held together kind of like they were praying.) The boy put the paws to his mouth and I think he was eating the food that was between the paws, or ... he was eating the cat.

All the news that's fit to print

My cousin sent me an email with a bunch of advertisements and articles scanned from newspapers. Actual newspapers, as they say. I'm going to share them with you because this is better than anything I can make up.

In 1999, a "star reporter" from Colorado Springs wrote that "Statistics show that teen pregnancy drops off significantly after age 25". Huh, I would have thought the decrease occured at a much earlier age, or not at all.

Phil Haywroth wrote "Fish need water, Feds say". Yep, you can always count on your government to get right to the heart of a problem.

The Register Guard reported that Lane County would "pay $250,000 to advertise lack of funds". Another example of government hard at work spending "their" tax dollars.

The Utah Poison Control Center warned everyone "not to take poison". What would we do without these helpful reminders?

A World staff writer reported "Federal Agents Raid Gun Shop, Find Weapons". I think they were looking for drugs, but was anybody really surprised when they found weapons at a gun shop?

One article was titled "Alton attorney accidently sues himself." Wonder who won?

A police report from Hagerstown, MO, said "Police: Crack found in man's buttocks". Do you suppose the police or the reporter thought that one up? According to the report, they found 15 bags of crack cocaine "in his buttocks" while they were searching his home. Yeah, I know. It's not a pretty picture.

Someone offered for sale "A collection of old people". There was no asking price in the ad, but I would think a collection like that would be priceless.

Another add carefully described a car with a price of $4,500, but the last sentence in the ad was "Not for sale". I bet there's a story there. I don't know it, so I'll make one up. Wife says "You have to sell that car now! Put an ad in the paper today!" and husband says "OK! But if we don't get any takers, you can just stop nagging me. Deal?"

Debra Jackson reported she liked shopping at the Dollar Palace because it was convenient and casual. "I don't have to get all dressed up like I'm going to Wal-Mart or something".

Some of my ancestors were Irish

Lately I have been watching epicodes of Ballykissangel, an Irish television series, and the little voices inside my head are now speaking with an Irish accent and talking to people with names that I can't pronounce and can't spell. (The voices don't care. They aren't talking to me right now.)

As I've mentioned before, I find British, and now Irish, television to be frequently unsettling as they have no problem killing off regulars. In America, for the most part (and not counting daytime soap operas that kill off anybody any time and later bring them back as their own twin sisters even if they were brothers before their demise), the main characters of a series leave intact and of their own volition. Sometimes you get shot and we think you're dead, but in a season or two when you couldn't get decent work anyplace else, they bring you back and explain it was all just a dream.

Not the British. Not the Irish. They just kill you off and be done with it.

So far in Ballykissangel, the agnostic owner of the local pub died of electrocution. As this was a month or two after she was married and an hour or two after she and the local priest declared their love for each other, some in the village were thinking it was only just punishment. But to make it worse, Father Clifford, in his grief, left Ballykissangel and the series. I wasn't upset at their departures. Disappointed, yes, because I liked both Father Clifford and Asumpta and hated to see them replaced, but I didn't shed any tears.

On the other hand, last night they killed off Ambrose, the local Garda (policeman to you). I've seen the series before so I knew it was coming. His fickle little wife, Niamh, had decided she loved somebody else and was going to leave him, not because he was a poor husband, far from it, but just because she had 'the grass is always greener on the other side' disease. Ambrose's heart was breaking because he knew they were growing farther apart and he didn't know why and he didn't know how to stop it, so he turned off his police radio and took a walk along the craggy Irish sea side. The whole time he's walking and thinking, Niamh is off betraying him with her new boyfriend and I'm crying buckets of tears because I know Ambrose, with his breaking heart, isn't coming back from that walk. He dies while saving a couple of tourists that are stranded on a rock with the tide coming in. Even in the next episode, when his Mummy came to visit for her grandson's birthday, she teared up and I teared up. But I never cried when Niamh cried. My heart was hardened against her.

That's BallyK for you. The people aren't plastic surgery pretty, their teeth aren't artifically white and straight, the priests stray, the girls have freckles, people you like die, and life goes on.

Remind you of any place you've been lately?

Let's chat

Happy birthday to my bother who's getting to be really, really old as opposed to me who's only medium old.

For my birthday (which is a week after his), I took a week off, as usual, starting today. As usual, those of you in my home state can expect rains, possibly late tornadoes, and/or snow this week. I don't care. I'm staying inside and rejoicing that I don't have to go the Dumbass company for over a week! Woo-hoo!

I already bought myself a birthday present. A course in Gaming for Teenagers - meaning how to program games on your computer, not how to game your parents out of a bigger allowance. I don't know what possessed me to buy it (except it was a "bargain"). I'll probably be so frustrated by the end of the first chapter, I'll throw it at the first teenager I see.

My co-worker is also on vacation this week. Remember the cranky pregnant lady I worked with? That's her, but she's no longer pregnant. She's going with her parents, her new baby, and 2 dogs to the next state over. Her dad has to go to a medical clinic there, and while they're in the area they will be visiting family. Wait, it gets worse. Her dad drives, the dogs sit in the passenger seat because one of them gets carsick, her mom and the baby ride in the middle row, and she gets to sit in the back. (I guess we know who's at the bottom of the pecking order in that family.)

Do you remember when I testified at a trial last February? I told you I took a trip, but I probably didn't tell you I testified while the trial was on-going, but that's what I did. Me and several other people that I used to work with testified for the prosectution. A few weeks ago the defendent was sentenced to 9 years in jail. Not only was he greedy, he was stupid. It's nice to know that sometimes stupid people eventually get what they deserve.

I finally rented a storage locker. It's small and overpriced and I haven't had a chance to move anything in yet. So earlier this week, I asked my landlord (again) if there was a garage available. The garages here are half the price of the storage locker and twice as big and I've been trying for 3 years to get one. Yesterday, I got a note to call about a garage so it looks like I might get one. Finally. After I rented a locker elsewhere.

OK, I'm done chatting. It's your turn now.

It's lunch time

I frequently take my lunch to work. Why?, you may well ask. Well, there are 3 main reasons: (1) It's cheaper (2) It's cheaper (3) It's cheaper.

For two years I've been on a search for the perfect lunch bag. Not too big, not too small, keeps cold foods cold, has space for a fork and napkins away from the ice packs but not on the outside, holds a drink as well as the food, etc, etc. I finally found it.

Actually, I found two. A big one and a littler one. The big one has a mesh pocket on the outside for my refillable water bottle and is big enough to hold a TV dinner (one of the steamer kind with the cut off corners). The littler one holds a sandwich and fruit on the inside and has an outer zipped pocket for utensils and chips. It also has a pocket on the outside for a drink. And it doubles as a back pack - if you're 6 years old, which I am not.

And the total cost was less than $20 for the both of them.

I bring this up because I just viewed some "fashionable" lunch bags on Oprah's web site. They didn't look that practical to me (unless you just need something to pack a carrot stick or celery rib) and they cost well over $20 each.

The most expensive was $85 for a lunch box set which has multiple compartments of various sizes that snap together, one on top of the other, to hold wet food, dry food, cold food, and hot food separately. Doesn't that seem like a bother? You need instructions to put it together and take it apart. You've got four containers spread around your lunch area while you're eating. And who's going to wash all that stuff every day?

If you think that sounds fancy, you should have seen her idea of quick and easy meals to pack. The Pan Bagnet sandwich used half a fennel bulb on a baugette with capers and black olives. A fennal bulb sandwich? Yech! (I say Yech, but I don't even know what fennel is.)

Just give me bologna, some mustard, and a couple of slices of bread. To be fancy, I'll eat it with my pinkie in the air.

Mrytle

Did I tell you that the women's restroom on the 9th floor is haunted?

At my age, I'm lucky I can remember my name so if I've already told you this, just go away.

I call the haunt Myrtle. The poor thing comes out when you're in the restroom alone trying to do your business. She moans and grunts like she's constipated (hint: which means if it's you making those noises, you can always blame it on Myrtle) and she rattles the doors and dividers like she can't find a comfortable seat. The fancy faucets are suppose to turn on when you place your hands under them, but Mytle turns on the faucet over the left sink when you think you're alone, then she prevents the faucet on the right from coming on at all while you're standing there waving your soapy hands frantically under the tap.

We had a "new girl", Linda, start in the office today and when we visited the litte girls' room, as they say, somebody asked about the faucet turning on by itself and I explained that it was just Myrtle. Later in the afternoon, Linda came to me and whispered that she had just been to the restroom by herself - except for Myrtle and she wasn't going back in there.

It's about time--- again

I have tried to log into blog several times this week, but couldn't get through. Now, I can't remember what I had to say. My memory isn't what it used to be. Not that I can remember what it used to be.

The electric went out again at my place. I found all my clocks blinking when I came home from work on Thursday. I set them all and then took a shower. While I was showering I closed my eyes when I dumped some stuff on my hair. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't see a thing. I thought I'd gone blind, but then I realized that the electricity had gone out again.

I finished most of my shower in the dark with only one mishap. I dropped my soap and there was no way I could find it in total darkness so I was afraid to move lest I step on it. I didn't. And the lights came on in time for me to finish rinsing off.

Then I dried off and reset the clocks. There is some kind of rule in this town that says I have to reset my clocks twice every time I have to do it once. Just wait till Daylight Saving Time is over for the year and I have to set my clocks back in November. I'll be complaining then that the electricity went out a few days later and I had to reset my clocks again.

My cousin pointed out that I could put back-up batteries in most of my clocks and not have to worry about re-setting them.

But then what would I blog about?

Let's talk

Let's talk about the weather for a minute. The other day, the weather forecaster said that our skies were sunny but there were clouds out west. Then he added, "We'll tell you when the rain gets here." Well, isn't that a little late? I have a device for telling when it's raining outside my door. It's called "My Hand" - when I stick it out the door and it gets wet, there's a good chance it's raining. It it stays dry, it's probably not raining.

Now let's talk about me a minute. I was doing business yesterday at a small, local establishment. The guy waiting on me was just filling in for the day. About halfway through the transaction, he stopped and said "You're not Ms. Wright, are you? I was told to be on the look out for Ms. Wright."

Man, nobody should give me an opening like that. I had so many one-liners running through my head that I could barely reply audibly "No, that's not me." Now, I'm assuming that he wasn't flirting with me because, among other reasons, I'm old enough to be his mother, probably his grandmother. He was so young I was afraid he'd wet himself if I answered something like, "Huh, they told me the same thing about Mr. Right. Are you him?" or "Yes, I'm Ms. Right, and I've been waiting for Mr. Right all my life. It must be our lucky day." How about, "Yes, I'm Ms. Right, but you look like Mr. Wrong." Or what I really wanted to say was, "Oh, Honey, that's so sweet of you, but I'm much too old for you."

It's better to start at the top.

Well, I never got back to my tirade on the difference between labor and management and the moment has passed. But just in case you weren't sure, I'm on the side of labor.

The longer I work for companies (and it's getting close to a half century), the more I realize that the problems with too many American companies begin with stupid, self-centered, egotistical, don't-have-a-clue management teams. Even if you have a good manager, a manager somewhere up the line is gonna suck and manage to make work life difficult for the underlings. And eventually it's all gonna land on the laborers.

To the right is an illustration of a typical organization chart from a typical department in a typical company. With the typical fall out from management and the typical workers who just sit there and take it till they can pass it on down the line.

What this company needs is a good old fashioned, across the nation worker revolt. One for all and all for one and all that.

I'd volunteer to lead it, but I'm really close to retirement and I don't want to screw up my pension.

HAHAHAHAHA - What pension!? The Dumass Company dumped our pensions months ago in favor of a bigger bonus for the CEO, Big Daddy. May he be forever constipated.

Labor Not

For today is a holiday. Ironically enough, it's Labor Day - the last good holiday before "The Holidays" glut at the end of the year.

It was poor planning on somebody's part to stick so many holidays at the end of th year, but thank goodness for Labor Day. A day set aside just for American workers to be honored and to get the day off with pay. If you're lucky.

I have more to say, but I'm in a hurry. Maybe I can finish this later - want to guess if I'm on the side of labor or management?

Fi Fi Fo Fum, I smell ........

I smell chocolate chip cookies.

Unfortunately, there aren't any fresh baked chocolate chip cookies around. It's just my imagination, the little people inside my head, haunting memories or spirits.

I have occasional olfactory hallucinations, which are known in the medical field as phantosmia. Which are known in my world as 'that crazy old lady and her weird symptoms" syndrome.

Sometimes I smell something baking, like the chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes I recognize scents that used to radiate from my grandmother's kitchen or from my mother's oven. When the wind is right, I can even taste the source of those scents. I can gain weight from just the memory of those delicious aromas.

Sometimes I smell my grandmother's face powder and then I can see her reaching up to the top of the refrigerator to get her makeup. She kept it there because the mirror was in the kitchen, a left-over custom from the old days. I would perch on the red stool and watch her "put on her face" for church or a trip to town.

I occasionally smell a man's cologne when there are no males nearby. It's always the same scent so I know it's the same man, but not who. Someday maybe I'll find him. Or at least the cologne.

Until then, I think I'll go beat up a batch of chocolate chip cookies - the kind with peanut butter and oatmeal. The kind you can actually eat.

September

It's September all ready. Time really does fly when you get old and have less of it.

I usually like September. It's not too hot, not too cold. Traces of summer remain, unmarred by hints of the winter that is lurking under the calendar pages.

Last year, mind you, we had more 90 degree days in September than we did in the entire preceeding summer months. That's Indiana for you. We take pride in being contrary.

I heard the Indiana tourism community is looking for a new state motto. We've had several in the past: The Crossroads of America, Wander Indiana, The Hoosier State, Restart Your Engines, Enjoy Indiana. I think Indiana: We Take Pride in Being Contrary says a lot about the people, the weather, the culture in my home state.

Not in a dis-agree-able way, but in an interesting way. For example, we could discuss the contrary topology of Indiana. I'd say we have a great lake to the north and mountain foothills in the south, but somebody would counter with "the most you can call those are toehills". And just to be contrary, a third party would pipe up "they're just hills. Why do you always have to make a mountain out of a molehill?"

And a lively debate would follow. Probably for years.

Too Much Information

I finished watching season one of She Spies last weekend. The last few episodes were so in-your-face ridiculous that I laughed out loud. Now I need season two but they haven't released it yet and have no plans to do so. The spy handler in season two was much easier on the eyes to an old lady like me. He wasn't as funny as Jack from season one, but you can't have everything.

Would that be spy handler or spy wrangler? How would that look on your resume?

I made a shopping list yesterday morning before I went to Target. All I had on it was laxative and toilet paper. That struck me as really funny. Sensible, but funny.

I had a stopped-up drain that neither the plunger or a plunger-in-a-jar (ie, chemical drain cleaner) didn't make a dent in. While grocery shopping yesterday I found this long skinny plastic rod for $3 or $4 that promised to unclog my drain without nasty chemicals. It actually worked. It pulled back a hairball half the size of Cleveland. I swear I don't know why I'm not bald, losing that much hair. In the old days, I would have used a wire coat hanger (cost: free), but I don't have any. They're one of those things from the good-ol'-days, I guess.

I'm having chicken and noodles for Sunday dinner.

Sadie get your gun and bar the door!

Yesterday I came home from work just like I do 5 days of the week. As I was opening the door to my humble abode I could hear children laughing, but I couldn't see them because my front door faces away from the sidewalk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a child run past me and as I turned to see what she was up to I felt a cold shiver run up my left side. There was no child there. No place for a child to hide. No way to escape unseen.

I shoved the door open and rushed inside.

Of course, if it was a spirit child I was in no way safer inside than out.

But if it wasn't, at least my neighbors couldn't see me scolding an invisible child.

Knock 3 times

Remember that old song "Knock 3 times on the ceiling if you want me"?

This morning I had to knock 3 times on the ceiling, but it wasn't because I wanted anybody. I just wanted the idiot upstairs to have a little common sense and respect for his neighbors.

At 5 o'clock, 5 A M on a Saturday morning mind you, the idiot started exercising or something. I don't really know what he/she is doing up there but I assume it's either jumping rope or some kind of exercise equipment. What ever, it sounds like it's coming through the ceiling. He/she frequently exercises on Saturday or Sunday morning and I usually ignore it or leave for a while. I try to be tolerant of my neighbors, even the weirdo's. Maybe especially the weirdo's.

But 5 o'clock on Saturday morning? Pul-leaze!

I tried to ignore it this morning but I couldn't get back to sleep so at 6 I got up and wandered into the living room. Then I could hear not just the exercising but the stereo. My eyes were half shut and I hadn't bothered to turn on any lights, but I found the broom and pounded on the ceiling 3 times. Instantly all the noise stopped. Now you know your neighbor knows he/she is in the wrong when it only takes 3 knocks to produce complete silence.

I don't know how she/he managed to stop what ever was making that noise and simultaneously turn off the stereo. I guess the exercise is paying off in speed and quick reflexes.

Hot wheels

It seems like the only thing I have to talk about any more is the drive to and/or from work. That's because it takes such a big chunk of my time. Yesterday I left work a little after 6, stopped for groceries, and made it home around 8.

A 2 hour commute is more than I bargained for, but at least I made it home undented and unscathed. Thank the Lord! It was a harrowing drive.

Yesterday morning we were experiencing thunder storms again so millions and millions of people (more or less) went into work late yesterday after the storms had mostly abated (blown east). So almost that many people left work later than normal and my drive to and from the Dumass company had more company than usual.

If that was't enough to raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels, a few blocks north of the state fairgrounds, a vehicle ran a red light. I'm not talking ran through on yellow or at the beginning of a red light. We were half way through the light cycle and it was my turn to cross the street when I noticed this streak of blue metal coming from the left. When I say 'my pedal hit the metal', I'm talking about the brake pedal. I saw that blue streak pass a few inches in front of my car while waiting for that sickening sound of grinding metal as my car scaped the blue paint off - or worse.

But the little devil missed us all. So I just drove on like nothing had happened. I didn't even have time to yell at him or teach him a few pertinent hand signals. A couple of minutes later I did ask myself if I wanted to pull over and throw-up but I decided the moment had passed.

And I was only half way home.

And I have to do it all again tomorrow.

Hopefully without the harrowing part.

Bless you!

You know the Dumass Company moved my office downtown which more than tripled my drive time. I don't like it. To help me bear the drive downtown in the morning and to keep my blood pressure from tripling, I have begun to say what I call "my bless me's".

I start by praying, begging, "Dear God, Bless me and bless this journey. Help me make it to work this morning. Help me make it through the day." Then I move on to Bless the other travelers. Bless the homeless. Give them food and shelter and give them comfort. Bless the soldiers and their families. Give them peace. On both sides. Keep them safe. Bless the world leaders. Help them find peace.

Sometimes I get sidetracked and offer a few choice driving instructions to the idiots weaving through traffic or driving in my space, but then I get back to the blessings. Bless the policemen and the firemen and the postmen and construction workers and everybody else who has to be out on the roads today.

I ask for blessings for my family and friends by name, I ask that my managers be blessed with common sense, I ask for special consideration for foster children and their families. Both of them.

One day I blessed the preachers asking that God give them words of wisdom to share with their congregation in these trying times. This week I blessed the people working at the state fair as I drive by the fairgrounds twice a day. Today I blessed my oldest sister and her husband and their 50th wedding anniversary.

It seems like every day I find someone new to bless. And if I haven't said it before, May God bless you and yours!

Please put a penny in the old man’s hat

If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do

If you haven’t got a ha’penny

then God bless you!

Jerks

I had to take my car in to be serviced today. It was giving little intermittent jerks when it sat idling at stop signs or while waiting in traffice. It was barely preceptible, but I hate that shuddering and shaking that happens sometimes with old cars. So I called Pat at the service desk and he said Bring 'er on in. So I did.

When I got there, he was on the phone so I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more. Finaly Hank came over and started the paper work. "What do you need today?" he asked. I explained about the little jerking motions and he said, "Idles rough." Now I don't call little jerking motions, "idling rough". Either he was prone to over-statements or he's never been stuck at a stop light in a '67 tri-colored sedan, with one door handle, mis-matched tires, and a coat hanger for an antenna that needed a tune-up 5 years ago.

Anyway, an hour and a half later, they tell me there's nothing wrong with the car.
"Yes, there is," I replied. "You didn't notice those little jerks when it was idling?"

"Well, you could take it for a drive with the service technician and see if you can reproduce the problem."

"Frankly, Pat, I doubt if I can reproduce a problem that only occurs while idling when I'm driving the service tech around, but let's give it a try."

Sam and I went out to the car. "I did the computer tests. They didn't show anything wrong," he said.

I got in the driver's side. He got in the passenger's side. I started the engine. He put on his seat belt. I shifted into drive. We sat there idling for about 30 seconds.

"There, did you feel that?" I asked as the car gave a couple of little jerks.

"Hm, that's strange," he replied.

A half hour later, Pat says, "We found the problem. There's a loose wire on your spark plug. We've got to send away for it and that will be $110. OK? It will take a while to get it so you can leave and comeback. OK? It will be here about 12:30 so come back at 2. OK?

"Huh?"

"My guys go to lunch at 12, 12:30, so they can't get to your car till 1, 1:30. So bring the car back at 2. OK?"

"OK."

I leave, I come back. "This won't take long," Pat assures me.

I sit in the waiting room. Reading a book. Watching court TV. Watching other customers come and go. An hour later, Pat comes in the waiting room. "Hmm, that didn't fix the problem. Looks like a coil is loose. That'll be another $250. OK? They want to replace all the wires, but lets see if the coil fixes it. OK?"

"OK."

An hour and a half later, it's fixed. Or so Pat says.

Valerie offers to sign me up for their "customer advantage" card. It's free so it's a win-win situation. One of every five oil changes is free. You get $10 just for stopping by, then you get 5% off just because and then they put $10 in an account for you to use for service the next time.

"See?"
"No."
"So your bill today is $459 and we'll put $332 on your credit card. OK?"
"OK."

I'd ask what happened to the other $127, but I don't really want to know. I have one item on my bill that's $210 and another that's $150. Nothing for the quoted $110 or $250, so I know they're just making up numbers anyway. You might say they were just rough estimates.

Happy birthday to you and other topics

Yesterday was my Aunt Joan's birthday. I remembered to send her a birthday card. Tomorrow is my friend Weston's birthday. I remembered to send him a birthday card.

That's amazing. I remembered to send two birthday cards before the actual birthdays. Usually I can remember it's somebody's birthday and that it's sometime this month, but I don't usually remember who or when before the fact. I'm very proud of myself. It's the only positive thing I've accomplished in about a month.

The new office. It's wearing me out. Tuesday I had to drive through torrential rains, record setting rains, to get downtown. I'm lucky I didn't drown. No, really. I'm lucky I didn't drown. But I shouldn't complain. I just saw the headlines on iGoogle. Dozens dead in Indian mudslides. A million in China flee typhoon. My little problem of a rainy drive and working in wet clothes all day pales in comparison, doesn't it?

Now my car is acting funny. It gives a little jerk every few minutes when it's idling at stop lights. I suppose I need to take it into the shop and let them rip me off again. But at least I have a car and I have the money to get it fixed or buy a new one if it comes to that.

If I keep working. We're supposed to find out this month if we have a job after November. They were supposed to tell us last April if we were going to have a job after July, then they were going to tell us in May, then in June.

It's wearing me down. Uncertainty. Little things. The big things I can cope with. Eventually they get over and done. But the little things. They're relentless.

Like birthdays.

Are you being served?

I think that's what the sales clerks and floor walkers ask if you go shopping in Britian. There is a long running, rather strange, but very funny television show by that name. Are there any stores left with floor walkers? Were they the fore runners of Walmart greeters?

The greeter at Walmart gave me a cart today. They rarely do that. I think if they're going to get paid to stand in the doorway, they should give me a cart.

I went shopping today - I started at 7:30 and got home by noon. I hit Walmart, Meijers, Barnes and Nobles, Kohl's, Office Depot, Mennards, and Culvers. There was only one of those stores where nobody asked if they could help me find anything. More than one person asked at most of the stores and at one store the offers to assist me were so frequent as to be almost annoying.

Almost, but not quite. Too many is better than too few.

Sometimes the clerks just smiled and said Hello and they said it like they meant it. Don't you hate it when a clerk or waiter says "Hello, How are you today" while they're running away from you?

Sometimes the clerks engaged me in conversations. The old lady at Meijers wants to know why teachers have such long lists of supplies for school children. Her kids never needed all that stuff and they didn't even have Trapper notebooks, just paper with lines. The lady in the Movies and DVD's department at Barnes and Nobles doesn't know why they have the DVD's mixed in with the CD's or why the sign saying "Educational" was placed over the British DVD's instead of the educational ones. The guy at Office Depot with the red hair is named Ken. There's a woman at Kohl's that will help you find the perfect purse - if there is such a thing.

Nobody at Mennards asked if they could help me and I needed help there. I went in for two things and left with nothing.

The moral of this story is: If you want me to buy something, give me a cart.

That's Why I Always Carry a Flashlight

A new "reality" TV show premiered last week, and is returning for another episode tonight. Called Dating in the Dark, the show gives participants - 3 men, 3 woman - an opportunity to become acquainted with each other in complete darkness. After a few days of blind dating (get it? blind date), snuggling, and whatever, they get to chose whom they'd like to see in the light.

My comments:

1. Now does that sound stupid or what?
2. I think I saw a cartoon like that once, and the female went screaming from the building when the man was revealed. Or maybe it was vice-versa.
3. How can you have an hour show about 6 people in a totally dark room? Just how long can one sit and stare at a blank screen listening to couples snog? Wasn't that called radio?

Pull my finger

Do you know what I learned to do this month?

Quite by accident, mind you. It's certainly nothing I set out to learn. I was a little startled the first time I did it, but I'm quite proud of myself now that I can replicate it on demand (mine, not yours). I'm not very good at it yet, but I'm quite sure that if I keep practicing I'll get better. Maybe I'll even learn to play tunes.

Guess what I learned to do this month. Go ahead guess. Give up?

I learned to make "tooting" noises with my hands, if you know what I mean. Now that's a skill that will be a gas at the old folks' home.

Anyone for Sardines?

The Dumass Company that I work for is moving us to a new office - or more accurately to another office. I like to call it that soul-sucking little hell-hole downtown.

It's a money saving move or so "they" say. I say they're just trying to take advantage of the workers.

I think the office used to be a supply closet before they stuck 8 cubicles in there. When we visited there earlier this week there were cardboard reindeer in one of the trash cans. If it wasn't a supply closet why were there carboard reindeer in the trash can in the middle of July?

They should have left the reindeer - at least there would have been something cheerful to look at. The desks and files cabinets are gray, battle-ship gray I think would be a decorator's more precise description. The cubicle components don't match so 2 drawers in each cube are brown. Brownish - the desks were filthy (not just a little dusty, but black streaked filthy). After we clean them they may also be battleship gray, or the color may be rust.

Would you believe that earlier this week we got a pep-talk video from the Dumass Company about being loyal to the company and about how they are working hard to make the Dumass Company a great place to work?

Dumb asses.

Mr. Cronkite

Walter Cronkite died yesterday. He's one of those American icons that make you ask, "He's dead? I thought he was already dead." then you think "He can't be dead. Walter Cronkite couldn't die. "

He's one of the first reporters I can remember watching on TV. Back when the news was only 15 minutes long and all you got was the news. When TV only came in shades of black and white. Chet and David and Walter Cronkite. Not just news anchors, but anchors of our world.

I'm so tired

Wake me when it's over.

"Time!", he screeched

frantically, "Time! Time! Time! It's time!"

I don't know what happened to my timer this week. I realized yesterday that it was the 13th but I "felt like" it was the 12th and I can't get back on track. I know today is only Tuesday, but it seems like it's near the end of the week.

I think that's why I seem to be obsessed with time. It's such a fleeting, ephemeral thing that's hard to hold in my mind or hands.

I can't see it, eat it, drink it, touch it, control it. Sure I can see time on a clock, but how do I know the time there is right? I can't tell if it's morning or evening or Tuesday or Saturday by looking at a clock. Not even a digital clock. At least not the digital clocks in my life.

They say what they want and none of them says the same thing. The clock in the bedroom is almost, but not quite, an hour off. So I know approximately that it's almost some time or other and if there's light coming through the blinds it's probably daylight, but sometimes when it's gloomy weather I have to guess.

The sad thing is that I mostly tell time by the television and when they screw with regular programming I don't have a clue.

Ah, that's the thing. She doesn't have a clue.

Hey!

That's all just Hey! How's your momma and them? Everybody in the family doing OK?

Nobody eloped, divorced, strayed, wandered, or looking sideways at somebody else's goody barn? Nobody pregnant that shouldn't oughtter be?

Anybody win the lottery? Or swap the mortgage for a deck of cards?

Nobody's kids missing, kissing, or robbing the liquor store?

Anybody's tomatoes take first prize at the fair or a wet t-shirt contest?

Anybody looking up the judge's robes in the courtroom or behind the courthouse?

Anybody leading the parade or following the horse brigade?

Man, is your family boring or what?

Happy Birthday, America!

It's the Fourth of July today. America's 233rd birthday. Not so very old in the history of time. Do you think she's growing weary yet? It's a tremendous responsibility to be The United States of America, the greatest nation in the world.

I read something today about the digitalizition of politics and I started wondering what George, Tom, John, Ben and the rest would think if they were still around. Would they be saying, "No! No! No! You've got it all wrong!" or would they be smiling, "We did good, boys. We laid a great foundation and look at what they've built on top of it today."

The last sentence of the Declaration of Independence is "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."

That's a lot to live up to.

Which way did it go?

Do you remember those cartoons where the characters would repeat over and over Which way did he go? Which way did he go? while running back and forth and around and around? That's my life.

I have been so busy at work this past month that I'm missing everything. Just look:

• I missed my westerns for three days in a row.
• I missed paying the rent by the first day of the month.
• I missed the first day of summer.

About noon yesterday, I suddenly realized it was the first day of July. A little later I thought to myself, " Hey! If it's July first, then summer has already started! When did that happen?"

I like to keep track of the comings and goings of the season. The first day of summer is my favorite day of the year because it's the longest day of the year. Every day after this, until the first day of winter in December, is going to be shorter than the day before. Precious seconds of daylight disappearing every day. It gives me seasonal depression just thinking about it.

If I were president, the longest day of the year would be a national holiday. It would be celebrated by picnics, and swimming, and evening baseball games. Churches could hold sunrise services to start the day. The official song would be "Here comes the sun".

We'll call it the Longest Day of the Year Holiday. (We'd call it Celebrate Summer Solstice but I know some used car lot would be advertising "Salebrate Summer Solstice". And the spokesperson would be somebody who spits when speaking the S sound.)

Don't get astronomical on me and start explaining how the longest day of the year is different depending on where you live. Some places it's before and somedays it's after the Summer Solstice. And some places it's both.

It's simple, we'll all just celebrate on the same day as me. Where ever I am on the longest day of the year, that's the day we celebrate. If I happen to be in San Francisco where legend claims there are 4 equally longest days, we'll just have to celebrate it for 4 days.

Make plans now to celebrate the Longest Day of the Year Holiday 2010 with me.

We've already missed 2009.

The Stuff of Which They Make Movies

Did you know that the chief of police of Egg Harbor Township is Blaze Catania?

Honest, I'm not making that up, but doesn't it sound like a name you'd see in a mystery novel? Blaze Cantania, Chief of Police

I think somebody should make a TV series based on him. It almost writes itself.

1. He lives in Egg Harbor - that's a name made for television.
2. Egg Harbor is close to New York and to Atlantic City and not that far from the District of Columbia. We can send Blaze on a clue hunt to one of those locations when we need a boost in ratings.
3. He's a police chief who worked his way up the ranks. In the show, Blaze will be popular with everybody except the creep who got passed over for promotion because every show needs somebody to boo (i.e., the antagonist).
4. He has FBI and West Point training so we could work in some episodes about his connections with federal agents or an army captain.
5. He's an assistant football coach. There's an opportunity there for episodes involving kids. High school, drugs, sexting, run-aways,throw-aways. They're all popular.

You know, I'm thinking with a little tweaking (or a lot), this would make a great Western. Maybe it could even make Westerns popular again.

To do the impossible...

is just silly.

I re-learned an important lesson this week (and it's only Tuesday). If your boss gives you an 'impossible' task, don't do it!

Even if you're the type that takes pride in doing the impossible, don't do it!

Even if you know that it's not a brain-busting task, just a little complicated and time consuming, don't give in to that urge to show off. Just don't do it!

And especially don't do it today if you can stretch it out for a week or a month, like it's really, really, REALLY hard.

You know why, don't you?

Because if you do the impossible today, he won't be grateful. He won't give you that raise or bonus you deserve. All you'll get is more work because he'll just think up something else that's even more impossible to do tomorrow.

Show me the money!

One good thing about renewing my TV service, I get to watch the westerns that have been absent from my TV for several months (due to Channel 40 electing to switch to DTV early). I only get home in time to watch part of Bonanza, but all of Gun Smoke and yesterday I got to see a Gun Smoke episode that I didn't remember seeing before.

It was slightly strange. Matt Dillion got hit by a gunman robbing the bank and lost the use of his right arm - his gun arm. While he was flat on his back in Doc's 'hospital' nobody went after the bank robbers - they didn't even think about going after the bank robbers. That was just silly. Then they let Matt go off by himself because he was afraid that gun fighters would come looking for him, knowing he was handicapped, and put the town at risk. Then when they knew the bank robbers were looking for Matt because he had killed one of them doing the robbery, Doc talked Festus & Newly out of getting a posse together to go after Matt to save his life - Hello, they were bank robbers - why were the deputies not going after the bank robbers? That was just silly.

Then Matt meets a young man who deserted the army. He had a fast draw and could shoot the antennae off an ant at 50 paces but he didn't believe in killing for any reason. He was sitting over an open fire with something turning on a spit over the fire when he declared he had never hurt another living thing. What was on that spit, honey? Roasted lettuce?

Anyway, the kid learned that sometimes you have to shoot back to save your life (or Matt's life), but he threw his gun away and decided to go back to the army because they were bound to have a job for him that didn't involve killing people. Matt went back to Dodge and everybody went on with their lives except for the bank robbers. All but two were dead and the last we saw of them they were face down in the dirt (the live ones, the dead ones were belly up).

Nobody ever went after the money.

It's over

What's over? you ask politely.

My protest against governmental interference in my television viewing pleasure, I respond sheepishly.

I lasted longer than I thought I would. A whole weekend and almost a whole day after that. Monday I tried hooking up the world's stupidest converter box (you know it converts a normal TV to one that will accept digital shows) to my 'big' TV. It wanted nothing to do with any of it. I got one channel in but the picture was in groups of pixels in different areas of the screen, not altogether to make one picture.

I tried adjusting the antenna control as per the instructions (that were almost but not quite written in English) but the quality (based on their scale of 0% - 100%) got smaller and smaller. I think it actually dipped to a negative number. So I gave up and watched She Spies on the portable DVD player. (Please don't tell anyone I told you that I watch She Spies and even paid for the first season DVD collection. How embarassing!)

Tuesday I got a big bright idea as my nephew Jeramy used to say. I hooked the converter box to my little TV in the bedroom. It works beautifully. If you have a pair of binoculars to see the screen and don't mind sitting on the bed. And if you don't mind having to surf through useless channels to get to the good stuff between commercials.

Hey, I think that still counts as a protest. It's uncomfortable, cramped, inconvenient.

Yeah, my flag is still flying. Now if you'll excuse me it's almost time for So You Think You Can Dance.

Another time and place

Have you ever seen the play "Our Town"? There's a pivotal scene where Emily is at her own funeral and learns she can go back in her life for one day and experience the day all over again. Not as if she were living it, but as an observer. Those who had gone before warn against it, but she chose her 16th birthday thinking that it will be a special day. She found out that it's the little everyday things that people take for granted that are so achingly special when you can't live them anymore.

When I fixed my breakfast on a tray today, I slipped a knife under the back of my plate so the syrup would stay on the pancakes. I learned that trick from my grandfather. Sometimes he would have cereal for breakfast in a plate instead of a bowl and he would put a knife under the back so the milk would stay on the cereal. Do you think it ever occurred to him that 45 years later his granddaughter would remember that?

It never even occurred to me that I would miss that someday because I never thought the time would come when I wouldn't be able to eat breakfast with him. When he wouldn't be sitting at the head of the little red table in the kitchen.

How could I not have known he would not last forever?

Digitalization

They did it, didn't they? They said they would and so they did. They screwed up my television so I can't watch a single show. They claim it was the best thing for the nation. They also claim that now you can watch more 'free' shows. Free?

I either have to replace 2 TVs that worked yesterday, switch to cable and pay $30 - $100 a month, or buy an "inexpensive" converter box that costs $50 or more. Does that sound free to you?

I bought one of the converter boxes last year because I'd heard how great they were. One of the IT guys at work was extolling their virtue months ago. He claimed his parents could watch twice as many shows.

So I bought it, I set it up (which wasn't as easy as they make it sound - the directions STANK!), and I took it off. It didn't even last through one show. I hated it. I hated the remote control, I hated that I couldn't get all the programs I got before, I hated wasting my money and my time.

I should have known better than to trust an IT guy.

So I'm without TV. On purpose. It's my little protest against tyranny. It may be one of the shortest protests in history.

Just give me chocolate and champagne

Suddenly Senior

For the price of a book

I went shopping this morning. This week at the office was frustrating so I hit the bookstore first. Nothing perks me up like buying a new book. I bought 7. And I bought the 'membership discount card' because I think this is going to be a frustrating year, work-wise, and I'm going to need a lot of new books. Which means I'll need a new bookcase. And a new house to put them in.

I've been trying to figure out how to hit my boss up for a raise or a bonus. Heaven knows I deserve both.

1. If they're going to frustrate me to the point that I have to buy books every week to survive, they need to pay me more or cut the level of frustration.
2. When it was 90 degrees in the office, I had to plunk down my own money for a new fan, buy extra bottled water and Pepsi, throw out the melted chocolate in my desk drawer, and buy a cool new blouse. And I mean cool literally. Somebody has to pay for all that stuff.
3. I don't like to toot my own horn, but, damn, I'm good. For an old lady, I'm damn good at what I do. Actually, I'm that good at any age.

If it's not one way, it's the other

You know last week I was complaining that it was 90 degrees in the local Dumass company office?

Well, they fixed it. The last 2 days of work the temperature hasn't got over 72 and it only gets that high when I breathe on the thermometer. The restroom is colder than an outhouse is January, and almost as breezy. I caught the clerk looking at the gloves in a mail order catalogue. The cranky pregnant woman cranked up a space heater at her desk and blew a fuse.

It's official, I'm working in hell but it's trying to freeze over.

Fire the program director

Did you watch "I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here!" last night?

Go on, you can admit it to me. I won't judge you. I watched if off and on myself. It was kind of like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You know you don't want to see the disaster that's coming, but you can't quite tear your eyes away and even when you do, you find you just got to look to see if it's happened yet.

Except ... it wasn't quite as exciting as a train wreck. Actually, it wasn't as exciting as two moles running into each other in an underground tunnel.

In the first place, NBC uses the word "celebrity" in the broadest sense. If you've heard of even half these people, give yourself a pat on the back, then find something to do besides watching TV 24/7. Some of these people you won't even see on TV.

In the second place, both hosts seem a little prissy to be hosting a show in the middle of a jungle.

In the third place, it's just really boring so there is no 4th, 5th, etc.

But in last place, NBC plans to present this 4 days a week for 3 weeks.

Did you know NBC was in last place in TV ratings?
Hnh, wonder why?

Is it hot enough for you?

We have been having nice weather recently. Oh, it rains every 2 or 3 days, but in between it's been 70 - 85 degrees with a nice cool breeze. Yes, sometimes, just before it rains, it's more like a gale than a breeze and then we have some thunderstorms that will rattle your teeth and take out the TV. But in between the weather is nice.

Except in the office where I work. The office was hot like hell warmed over and hottest in the cubes where me and the cranky pregnant lady work. And nobody cares but me and the cranky pregnant lady.

The first day after it reached 84 degrees in my cube, I bought in a new fan because the small office-size fan that habitually sits outside my cube just can't cut through that kind of heat.

Now I have a big ol' 18 inch blade whirling the hot air around, stirring up the papers on my desk and cube wall, tossing my hair into a mess, but at least making afternooon work life almost bearable for me and the cranky pregnant lady.

The day I bought in the fan it only got up to 82 degrees in the cube. Uncomfortable, but tolerable and if I needed to cool down, I could always step outside where the temperature was only 70 degrees.

Friday afternoon the temperature went up to 88 degrees in the office. When the heat gets up to 86, 88 degrees, it's too hot to think straight.

Don't give me that crap about the poor people working in the fields in 100 degree weather. I don't work in a field, I work in an office in the 21st century, where the windows don't open, where the computers, and printers, and fax machines, and overhead lights are producing enough heat to melt the polar ice cap.

Heat can make you cranky. Heat can make you do crazy things. When me and the cranky pregnant lady turn the place into a naturist camp, maybe the Dumass management will care that it's too freakin' hot to work.

I'll let you know next week.

Memorial Day 2009

In remembrance of those who have gone before us. May God hold you close in His arms, till we're beside you once more.

Mudsocks

I stopped at a new bookstore in town yesterday. Independent booksellers are having a tough time competing against the national chains so I like to support them when I can.

Mudsocks Books & Curiosity Shoppe wasn't quite what I expected. They carry more used books than new books, but they didn't carry a very wide selection of either. They had a lot of interesting games and puzzles. Mostly educational stuff, but it still looked entertaining. (But then I'm one of those dorks that is actually entertained by educational stuff.)

They had a grey cat wandering around the store. He passed near me several times and stopped once to scratch a table in front of me as if trying to impress, but I ignored him and he went away. Usually, much like children, the more you ignore a cat, the more he wants to be your friend.

It's just a coincidence, but the book I bought at Mudsocks was Dewey: the Small-Town Library Cat who Touched the World. I was almost ready to leave empty handed when the book caught my eye. "Sounds interesting", I thought. It's different than the genres I usually read.

I read the entire book yesterday afternoon. I cried at the beginning and I cried at the end.

If you want to learn more about Dewey Readmore Books check out this page, Dewey, from the United Kingdom or this one, Dewey's Biography, from his hometown libary in Spencer, Iowa.

If you want to learn more about the book and author, Vicki Myron, check out Dewey Readmore Books. (Get it? Books, Check out, Library?)

It's not Thanksgiving, but give thanks anyway

I made Turkey Meatballs this week that were so good. Monday I served them with spaghetti and Tuesday I served them on a sub bun and that was so delicious I had a Turkey Meatball Sub again on Wednesday.

I checked out several recipes before I selected Low Fat Turkey Meatballs at Low Fat Cooking on About.com. Other recipes bragged about how savory they were, but I thought they seemed too complicated, called for too many ingredients, and/or used too many pots and pans.

Normally I steer away from "Low Fat" recipes because that usually means "Low Taste", but as I said these were good. Real good. I did spice them up a little with some chopped onion, garlic powder, and thyme. And I used Paul Newman's spaghetti sauce instead of plain tomatoes because I had an open jar of Paul Newman's spaghetti sauce and that's why I was making meatballs instead of meat loaf in the first place. Other than that I followed the recipe exactly except I used a whole egg instead of just an egg white because what do you do with one egg yolk?

What's a penny worth these days?

Apparently, it's worth a lot to American Express.

Last week, I got a bill from them for a penny. It was left over from the trips I took to Illinois in February. They didn't send me a bill for it in February, March, or April, but I guess they got tired of waiting for their money. Times are tough you know and a penny is a penny.

I'm sure it's going to cost them more than 1 cent to process the check, but I sent them one anyway because I didn't want to get a $35 penalty for being late for not paying a penny.

Watch the pennies,
and the dollars will take care of themselves.

The light's on, but nobody's home

The weirdest thing happened yesterday.

The light in my bedroom hasn't worked for a long time - I'm talking a couple of years. I thought the bulb had burned out because it hadn't been replaced in at least 10 years. I'm too short to reach the bulb to change it unless I buy a new ladder and it seemed stupid to buy a ladder just to reach a light bulb that lasts 10 years.

It's germane to this story for you to know that I usually keep that closet door open.

Last night I was watching TV in the bedroom and decided to go watch it in the living room so I turned the TV off which made it really dark in the bedroom but I have to get up at least once most nights (if you know what I mean) so I know my way around my bedroom in the dark. When I got to the living room, I changed my mind about watching TV in there so I turned around to go back to the bedroom and could see a light there. It was bright enough it was casting shadows out of the room. I didn't have any idea what it was because I knew it had been dark there a minute before, but I crept back into the room ready to turn on my heels and run screaming and yelling out the door if anything moved.

It's a good thing I'm not spooked easily because it was that closet light shining brightly!

Weird, huh?

Spring time in Indiana

It rained today. And it's going to rain tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and then the day after that. I don't know if it's going to rain the day after that because the weather forecast only went to the 4th day after today.

Being a country girl at heart, I was wondering this past weekend if the farmers were going to be able to get their crops planted with all the rain we've had this month. In case you were wondering too, the answer is no. Some farmer told a guy on the news that if you didn't get the crops in by May 10th you lost a bushel an acre a month. That was May 10th when he said that and he hadn't been able to get the tractor out in the fields yet.

All this spring weather has brought forth the morel mushrooms. I haven't had any for a long time. They were $39 a pound at the grocery store this afternoon so it will be a long time before I have them again. I suppose I could go hunt some in the woods, but I think not.

Saturday I watched a father teaching his son to ride a bike without the training wheels. At first they went very slowly, the father more walking than running as he held the back of the seat and the handlebars. Back and forth, back and forth in front of my living room window. Finally Dad started to walk a little faster, almost a trot but still I wanted to yell, "Faster! Pedal faster!" Then they came back down the street again. Dad was running along behind, huffing and puffing but with no hands on the bike at all. Yeah! We did it!

And that's spring time in Indiana on my street today.

Carrot Cake

This is a two-fer. Today you get two vignettes about my life and carrot cake.

# 1: A local deli advertised carrot cake on their menu last month. Three layer slices of spice cake filled with tiny pieces of carrots and plump raisins covered with cream cheese icing. It was a lovely site.

And everytime I went to that deli, I either forgot to buy the cake or decided to wait till next time. Now it's too late. They're on to key lime pie. Luckily, I'm also a fan of key lime pie.

There's a moral there somewhere. It's either Take your pleasures when you find them because they may not be there tomorrow or Don't worry about today's pleasures, another one will come along tomorrow.

#2: I decided to make my own carrot cake. Duncan Hines advertised a decadent carrot cake mix with a picture that rivaled the deli's cake. The picture on the box showed a rich spice cake just chock-full of pieces of sunshine orange carrots and dark plump raisins.

I made the cake yesterday. It doesn't look a thing like the picture on the box and it doesn't taste good. Yes, I'm calling you out, Chef Hines. The cake I baked with your "decadent" mix is pale, not one little piece of carrot in site, and the raisins are anemic looking. I could shrug off the disappointing looks if it didn't taste like it was chock-full of artifical flavorings.

There's a moral here too. A decadent pleasure is rarely as good as the picture.

Check out these Other Opinions. Their moral is A cake mix is never as good as home-made to give you that taste of home.

Do you know what really ticks me off?

Well, actually almost everything.

A loose screw?

I have a stiff neck today. I don't know why. I didn't have it when I got up this morning. It hurts when I turn my head left, right, up, or down. It hurts when I try to touch my ear to my shoulder. It even hurts when I just hold it up.

Maybe my head's not on straight.


I'd laugh, but it's gonna hurt.

One of those days

I'm searching for a subject to discuss today but nothing comes to mind. My mind is too full of negative thoughts and what-ifs and whens and whats and wheres. Like ....

What if I tell my supervisor that nobody died and made her queen? Will she deny it?
What if I quit my job right now? Could I live in a tent in the middle of nowhere for the rest of my life?
When I quit my job, what do I want to do next?, where do I want to go, who do I want to tell off before I go?

Yeah it's one of those days and it's only noon.

Oh, you hate your job?

Why didn`t you say so?

There`s a support group for that.

It`s called EVERYBODY,

and they meet at the bar.

Drew Carey

Inside voices please

I am a cranky old lady. My new neighbors decided to play their radio loud enough for me to sing along tonight so I yelled at them.

Turn down that stupid music!
I got my own radio! You want me to crank it up so you can listen to it too?

They turned it down to almost tolerable, but it's still annoying. I don't like annoying people who think they own the world. I'd like to slap their annoying mothers for not teaching them more consideration for others.

Crank 'er up

This is my horror-scope for Friday:
"What's the point in being nice to people who aren't very nice to you? If they think they are getting away with their bad behaviour, they will only be even ruder and more annoying, won't they? Or perhaps you can kill them with kindness? Maybe you can be so sweet, sincere and sympathetic, that their barriers break and their icy hearts melt in the warmth of your sunny disposition. This weekend, the nicer you are, the better results you will get. That might not bring immediate satisfaction, but the long-term gains and benefits will make up for it." http://www.cainer.com/libraframe.htm

Most people don't like to upset other people. They really don't want to hurt others' feelings or they're afraid of retaliation. What ever.

Someone once gave me a magnet that said "Kindness is nice but nastiness gets better results." I know they say being nice won't kill you, but I don't like to take changes. My motto is "If you're mother didn't teach you good manners, I will." I frequently tell ill-mannered shoppers who think they own the grocery store, "Excuse me, and excuse you too". Goodness knows it's almost a full time job teaching discourteous drivers around here how to behave.

It's a good thing I don't believe in horoscopes because I'm too old to change my ways now. Besides, I'm looking forward to being known as that cranky old woman.