Happy Thanksgiving to All - A Time to Take Inventory

So, have you ever awakened on a winter morning and known immediately that you have no electrical power? Even if your warm, cocoon of blankets is still intact, you simply KNOW
by the dead stillness of the house that nothing is happening in this familiar space.

I love the happy little hummings of a house that is alive and breathing. A house has a whole retinue of hums, clicks, creaks, ticks, that let you know that all is well. At this season of thanks giving, I am very thankful for those sounds.

I am very thankful for a warm, comfortable, cozy place. Those hums and clicks mean that
temperatures are just right. They mean that hot water will flow from pipes. They mean that food is being safely kept and the stove will to prepare a meal. Thank you, Lord, for those hums and clicks.

Those sounds mean that the telephone will work. And the computer will work. I can have instant contact with those I love. And, thank you, Lord, for all those blessings! We are so thankful for children who have turned out to be good people and made good choices.
They chose well when they married. Now we have six great kids instead of three - and
wonderful grandchildren, too!

The phone and computer bring messages from other relatives and from so many good -
NO I mean GREAT friends. Thank you, Lord, for the blessing of friends. With all its problems, Anderson may not seem like a place anyone would want to live. That is if you looked at it from the outside. But, I thank you, Lord, for this town that is my home and a place where I am daily nourished with the love, the caring, the fun, the nonsense, even the work that is a part of having a good family and great friends.

I am even thankful for some small thumps and and scritching sounds. They mean that Frank, the cat, is nearby. And. Lord knows, I am thankful for that cat. He certainly keeps me company, loves to curl up on my lap or in my arms. He is a low-maintenance kind of guy.
He doesn't eat much or poop much. Thank you, Lord, for Frank the cat.

Oh, and then there is the sound of the garage door opener. That means that the Impala is either coming or going, coming or going, coming or going, coming or going. I am most thankful for that pretty white car. Even though it comes and goes all day long. It means that Don is busy bringing in what is needed, running errands, helping someone, or delivering me places I need to go. Thank you, Lord, for that pretty white car.

And, Most of all, thank you, Lord, for the driver of that car. Nothing, nowhere, nohow, no time,
would be possible without his love and caring.

Oh, and thanks for the Casino. It keeps that driver busy when I want to stay here quiet at home and listen to all the comforting little sounds that a happy home makes.

What's Even Better than Nieces and Nephews?

When nieces, Liz and Andrea, visited last Saturday, they were accompanied by Andrea's two younger children Ayla and Aaron. And I must say they are very sweet and very likable kids!

I guess the only thing better than nieces and nephews might be great nieces and nephews.

Besides being very pretty, Ayla is every inch a young lady. And Aaron was very interested in everything at our house. Both kids immediately made friends with Frank the cat and enjoyed looking at all the miniatures. Aaron asked, "Do you know that you named your cat a human's name?" I tried to explain about his eyes being blue when he was a baby, so we named him after "Old Blue Eyes," Frank Sinatra. I'm sure none of that explanation meant a thing to Aaron, since

Frank is really ancient history, but he accepted the explanation with good grace.

What Aaron was really interested in was greeting great-uncle Don and seeing all the treasures in his room. As you can see from the picture, Aaron went home with a Hoosier Park hat and an

autographed baseball.

Well, we hope we can all get together sometime soon. We really need to have a Green/Baker/

Smith/Holloman informal jam session. Like Brenda says - and make a joyful noise!

Contest Winners

I have had a long vacation from blogging. No excuses. I have just been doing a lot of other interesting things. I have been feeling a writing itch lately. Perhaps with colder weather, I will really get the urge to sit at the computer and put some thoughts into writing.

But, today I am going to record the thoughts of some other writers.......better writers....very good writers.

As you all know I have been promoting the Friends of the Library writing contest. We had the contest to bring about increased interest and sales of biographies. And I am so happy to report that the contest really stirred up interest in our biography sections.....and did increase sales substantially. We also had a very nice article in the Anderson Herald Bulletin - full page- and in color. The publicity resulted in many new custtomers!

The other even happier outcome was that my two nieces TIED FOR FIRST PLACE in the

"over 15" group of contestants. And a lovely young lady - a 5th or 6th grader I think - won the "under 15" prize. Several facebook friends have expressed the desire to read these celebrity conversations. So I am posting them here on my blog, so that all of you can read them.

Conversation Between Condoleezza Rice and J.K. Rowling

by Liz Green

CR: Hello, I'm Condi.

JK: Nice to meet you. I'm Jo. How did we end up on these shelves together?

CR: Well, I am a former National Security Adviser to President George W. Bush. You?

JK: I wrote the Harry Potter novels.

CR: Oh, those were so good! They are so good at showing relationships among different people and different worlds. That is something I have always found interesting.

JK: And don't YOU have to know a lot about international relations and people to work in the American government?

CR: Indeed. I studied political science specializing in international relations. Especially Russia.

JK: That is so interesting! I used to teach English as a second language. My parents wanted me to be a bilingual secretary.

CR: Mine wanted me to be a concert pianist. It wasn't the right job for me. It sounds to me like you chose your own career, too.

JK: I did. I loved writing, language, and creativity.

CR: I love languages too. I speak Russian.

JK: I lived in France and Portugal.

CR: The world is becoming smaller all the time.

JK: It is. And we need to learn to live together in this complex world.

A Conversation Between Salman Rushdie and Gilda Radner

by Andrea Kuieck

A biography of Gilda Radner is sitting next to a biography of Salman Rushdie. They are in a library somewhere in Indiana. For our purposes here today, they can converse.

Hi, Salman Rushdie!

I am not actually Salman Rushdie. I am his biography. As you could not possibly he Gilda Radner, sadly, may she rest in peace.

Um, Okay. Bummer. Hi Salman Rushdie's biography! I don't think anyone is going to read you, but I'll keep you company if you want, so you aren't too lonely.

Why, thank you. But why don't you think anyone will read me?

Well, I think it's the big words, Salman Rushdie. Your books are great and everything.... I mean like, REALLY great! But if your biography has that many big words in it, then I don't think anyone is going to read you. And that is a shame. I mean.... you're like GREAT. You're so interesting, and intellectual, and that whole thing where there was a hit out on you for writing THE SATANIC VERSES just makes you so DANGEROUS and COOL. And then you were hip enough to be in the Bridget Jones movie.....that was so funny.....I mean it's not YOU, it's THESE GUYS.

Well, thank you for the compliments. At least I think so. But what do you mean by THESE GUYS?

Well, Salman Rushdie, it's like this. You know how in your latest novel you use the word QUOTIDIAN like a million times?

Yes, I suppose I did use it more than twice.

I don't know if people around here even know that's a word.

Well, I don't believe it appears in this biography. No. Not even once.

And did you reallly truly use the word TREPSICHORIAN in your last novel? Because no one on this planet has ever said that word, Salman Rushdie. I think if you say that word in Indiana they write you a ticket.

I see. Yes, I suppose it might not be the best demographic for me.

They won't read me either.

Of course they will! your are a National Treasure, Gilda Radner.

Oh, go on.

You were everything we admire, Gilda. You were talented, funny....hysterically funny.

Oh, stop it. Not really. Go on.

You were also very brave and you will be forever, sadly missed.

Thank you, Salman Rushdie.

Even if you are slightly quotidian.

Yeah, I know. I looked it up.

No, you didn't.

No, I didn't. But I trust you.

So there you have it.

SHOCKED

written by Claire Mountcastle

Age 11

One perfect sunny afternoon I was sitting in the library doing my algebra, when all of a sudden I heard two women talking. I looked around the room but nobody was there except me and the librarian. I turned around to a shelf behind me and the voices were coming from the books. Anne Frank and Laura Ingalls Wilder were talking to each other?

I jumped out of my chair listening to the conversation. "The difficulties in my life are running and escaping from the Nazis and Hitler," Anne said.

"The difficulties in my life are doing everything by hand, making every item we eat from scratch, and even trying to tell time. It is hard because we have to guess our way through life." Laura said.

"I get your point," Anne said with interest.

I went to the librarian asking why Anne Frank and Laura Ingalls Wilder were next to each other on the shelf. She told me her intern must have put one book on the wrong shelf. I went back to the shelf and listened some more.

"Laura!" Anne said with excitement. " We have something in common."

"What?" Laura asked.

"The thing we have in common is that we both had difficult lives." said Anne.

"Did you go to school, Anne?" Laura asked.

"Yes, for a while, but when we were cornered by the Nazis, we left to go live in a secret annex."

"You did?" Laura said curiously.

"Yes, I did! For two whole years we lived there."

"WOW!" Laura said. "It must have been boring." she said to Anne.

"I had to sit still and be quiet for hours until the office closed." Anne whispered.

"Did you go to school, Laura?" Anne asked.

"Yes, I got a degree as a teacher when I was sixteen."

Suddenly the voices stopped. I was curious about how it stopped so quickly. The intern had put Anne Frank back on her correct shelf.

I saw my mom pull up in the parking lot. I grabbed my backpack and ran out to the car, still shocked.

Happy Birthday, Cheryl

Our baby girl had a birthday today. Our baby girl turned 48 today. That must mean we are
getting pretty old.

She is today, and has always been a very special joy to us. We love all our children, and sons are pretty special, but I think every mother ought to have one daughter. It is just a relationship like no other. And the fact that she is such a loving and happy person just makes her more of a blessing.

Anyway, we wish her the happiest of birthdays, and we hope that she can look forward to many more that are just as joyful as today's.

Mothers Day Revisited Thanks to the Cincy Smiths

This is a big thank you to the Cincinnati kids and grandkids.

We have been enjoying these beautiful red roses that suddenly appeared in our "Surprise Garden." We are sure that it is one of the roses that you sent for a Mothers Day gift some years past. The weather this summer has been good for roses, and this one decided to grow and grow - also to bloom beautifully.

It has been just like getting a little love from you guys all over again. THANKS!

Bird on A Wire

"Bird on a Wire" was the name of a movie I saw way back in the 1990's. I may have been one of the few people who actually paid for a ticket to see it. It really wasn't a very good movie. Goldie Hawn was in it. That's all I remember about it. So why am I remembering this mediocre movie, and writing about it twenty years later?

Well, "Bird on a Wire" is my new theme for August. Or maybe it should be "Birds on a Wire," or maybe even "Lots of Birds on Wires." When we sit on the porch these August evenings, we are watching the birds as they are beginning to do their autumn flocking. You know they pair up with their sweeties in the spring time, and the couples raise one or two nests full of babies. But when autumn and migration time approaches, they part from their mates (I guess) and join up with huge flocks to safely accomplish their migrations south.

So these flocks make a habit of resting on the electric wires that run between poles beside the creek. I mean there are many, many birds strung like beads on a necklace resting and watching the evening sun go down. Not only do they rest, but they seem to enjoy an evening snack just like we do as we watch TV of an evening. Every few minutes or so a few birds will flutter down onto the yard or over into the field across the creek. I guess they spot some insect or seed or tidbit to snack upon.

And they seem to enjoy basking in the evening sunlight. And they do a lot of picking at their feathers and evening grooming. But, most of all, they visit with one another. There is just a very loud, on-going chatter of conversation. We sometimes speculate just what the birds are saying to one another at the end of a busy day, while waiting on dark and bedtime.

" How are things going, finding plenty to eat?"

"Oh, yal, been spending a lot of time at those bird feeders over on Wildflower Lane."

"I gave up on those. Do you think anyone ever mentioned to those squirrels that those are called BIRD FEEDERS?"

" I know, they are a pain. How are the kids? Have they all left the nest?"

"Yeah, finally. That little one of ours wanted to hang around forever. I was about ready to
introduce him to that black cat that lives under that house on Pleasant Way."

" Oh, you wouldn't do that. Boy, I really watch out for that cat."

"How you been feeling? I know you had your digestion all messed up with eating berries."

"I'm better. I was pooping purple for a long time there."

Oh, we could speculate on and on. It got funnier and funnier. But, all of a sudden, all two hundred birds suddenly took off like they were in a terrible panic. The electric lines were left swaying quite violently. We were so surprised and wondering what had triggered their sudden flight, when Don looked up and said, " Well, look at that."

There came swooping down across our yard a huge red tailed hawk. And he sailed right into
the thick leaves of the tree next door. He was so hidden that we couldn't tell whether he had
a small bird clutched in his talons. Although we do occasionally find a pile of feathers left in our yard. It is sad, but it is just a food chain fact of life.

When Don went out to the garage this morning to pick up the morning paper, he heard a squawking sound from outside. He looked out the window, and there were two hawks in our driveway. I hope they don't manage to permanently frighten away the "Birds on the Wires."
We do so enjoy watching their evening ritual.

Addendum

If there is anyone out there reading this blog, then the reader needs to look to the right of this screen, click on June entries, then go to the June 13 entry titled " I Wish I'd Known Him Then."
You will see that I wrote about Don's childhoold and his love of games as a way to entertain himself.

Yesterday evening we were going to meet Debra and Rod for supper at Bob Evan's . We drove
through the neighborhood where Don grew up. I asked, "Was this the field where you played
baseball?"

"No, that field is south about a block close to Nicholson File plant. That is where the neighborhood kids played baseball. We even had a league and a schedule of games. We called the league "The Block League." Someone of us always called in the results of our games to the newspaper, and the newspaper even published the scores and team standings."

"Wow, you were really organized. How many kids were there, and how many teams in your neighborhood?"

Very seriously Don replied, "Well, there was ONLY ONE KID ON EACH TEAM." And let me
repeat that he said this very seriously with a straight face!

Of course, I found this very funny and had a good laugh! "How did you play baseball with only one kid on each team?"

"One kid(team) pitched and fielded the ball. The other kid(team) batted the ball. We drew lines on the field. If you hit the ball past line one without it being caught, then you hit a single, past line two was a double, past line three was a a triple, and, of course, out of the park was a home run. Very simple."

" And they put these results in the newspaper?"

" Yes, that is pretty funny, isn't it? But one of us would phone Red Haven, the sports editor, and he always put in the scores and standings of "The Block League." We had 500 lap and 200 lap bicycle races in another field. He put those results in, too."

Well, now I am on a mission to go to the newspaper office and search the microfiche files for the late 1940's, and see if I can find "The Block League" scores.

Don also said that he just took off in the mornings, would be gone all day (except for meals), and no one seemed to worry about where he was or what he was doing. He just set out on his carefree adventures. I asked if he ever did anything wrong, or got into trouble.

"No. I just always had fun and took care of myself."

This story reminds us sadly that our generation enjoyed a much safer, more innocent world.
And I think it shows that a person's character is simply there even when they are children.
Don just wouldn't think of doing the wrong things.

It is also a little lesson to kids who are so bored in this world if they don't have all their electronic gadgets and entertainment. The kids on "The Block" had only a bike, a ball, and a bat. And they had a whole wonderful summer of entertainment.

AND THEY GOT THEIR NAMES IN THE PAPER, TOO!

August and Another Great Reunion with Good Friends

It seems that August must be THE reunion month. We have been having so much fun getting together with old friends recently. And, believe me, we are all feeling quite blessed that we are still around and are able to be together.

This evening we were invited to share an evening with old friends: Bill, Sharon, Dick, and Lonnie.
Don, Bill, and Dick have been close friends since they were athletes together in high school.
In fact, the three guys and I all graduated in the same class of 1954. But Dick and Bill married much younger women. Well, a little younger, anyway.

I thought we all looked great this evening, just as we do when we meet every summer, before the other two couples return to Florida for the winter. We are all still young enough to have a great time and a lot of laughs. Typically, the guys sat around on the patio and shared all the stories about the good old days. They are all very mellow, laid-back guys. But I heard a lot of ornery laughing going on out there.

The girls sat inside where the talk was about our kids and grandkids. Pictures were passed around, and we all agreed that our grandkids were very handsome and beautiful. We all agreed that we don't always agree with the younger generations, but that they are doing a pretty good job in an increasingly difficult world. We talked about health issues, hobbies, and how we have really cut back on cooking and other strenuous activites.

Except that Sharon is still an excellent cook and loves doing it. Can you believe that she considers it a hobby? Anyway, she served a delicious supper. Sharon and Bill are both so
relaxed and gracious while entertaining. Everyone had a great time. I loved getting to see their new "Senior" home in the new "Senior" community. Thank God! No stairs!

Thanks, guys, for a great party and for your continuing friendship. I think we are all way more fabulous now than when we were young. I think we are all way smarter, too. We are smart enough to know a good friend when we see one!

An Ode to Friendship

Last evening we shared a party with good friends. This is an annual event, a birthday party, to celebrate all of our birthdays that have happened throughout the year. We had sillly party hats, horns, leis, and VERY appropriate gifts for each guest. Corny? Sure. Fun? Of course. Funny?
Hilarious. The stories told were all the old ones that we've all heard before. The jokes were all the predictable ones that we all know and love . Everyone got a "lei", how predictable were those jokes?

We have all been friends for many years. In fact the years that we've known one another far out number the years that we didn't know one another. We have worked together, had fun together, shared troubles together, in short: just been loyal, good friends. We used to be better looking according to someone's standards ( American culture as shown in magazines?) But let me tell you, by my standards, last night those faces were never more beautiful. There is no beauty as great as the face of a good and loyal friend.

We used to all work so hard to be successful, to raise and educate our kids, to attain the
"stuff" that meant we were doing well. I know some were much wiser than I. But many of us were judgemental, a bit envious, a bit slow in realizing the beauty and worth of a friend.

Now we care not a whit about the "stuff" we have accumulated. We have all had our problems, our health issues, our disappointments. We have learned to accept our kids and grandkids, no matter their decisions. I think we have learned to rejoice in the ordinary things that bring joy to every day life.

And, certainly, we have come to the realization that there is nothing more beautiful than the face of a good friend.

I'm Tired of Waiting Around

You know, we may just have to move to a better climate. You would think that we would have figured this all out before now. But we've always been the incurable optimists. The weather isn't so great right now, but it's going to be so much better tomorrow. Those are the words that Hoosiers live by. It should be printed on the Indiana flag.

You know there was January when you expect a picturesque snow. I remember snow, and drizzle. I remember cold winds. I don't recall picturesque. Then there was the famous winter storm. When we all geared up to be snowed in. We bought groceries. Why, we even invested in a generator. We remembered the famous ice storm when we were without electriciy for a week or two.

The storm didn't exactly let us down. We did have ice. It was bad. But it wasn't the kind of ice for which we were prepared. We still have a virgin $300.00 generator in our garage. Because of the way the (rain,snow, sleet) fell, it didn't freeze on wires or tree limbs. This was good, except what it did was freeze at least 6 inches thick on roof tops, awnings, car ports, lawns, streets, parking lots, and side walks. I couldn't go anywhere that didn't have the walks and lots cleared.
And we are still finding little and big home repairs that need to be done because of that danged ice.

Then there was March and April. Of course, we excuse March for all its winds, and April for all the rain. Taylor was looking forward to getting back to work on the farms. But, alas, during the spring ( and by that I also mean most of May) it just rained and rained. But we were sure that those beautiful spring days were just around the corner. We put the lawn chairs on the porch in hopeful anticipation. We even sat on those chairs one sunny day. I think that occurred back in March. That was just cruel! Because after that it became rainy again.

We planned a lovely three day weekend in Michigan in May. We left on our trip in the middle of a little shower. The little shower lasted the entire trip to Michigan, gradually getting bigger and bigger and windier and windier. When we arrived in Michigan we were having to run from car to hotel, back to car, run to the restaurant, etc, etc.

We did awaken the next morning to beautiful sunshine. However, it was so cool and breezy that we had to wear coats the entire time we were in Michigan. The next day, on our way home, it was cloudy and, again, rainy. Oh well.

Then we were eagerly awaiting Memorial Day. We have the annual picnic in the yard. We play corn hole, sometimes badminton, eat outdoors, listen to the race. You know the routine.
The day arrived. It was sunny. Dad put all the chairs and tables outdoors. Only it was so hot that everyone stayed inside.

We have a favorite mantra that we seem to be reciting over and over. It always begins with the words, "Why would anyone....." . Like "Why would anyone plan outdoor concerts in Indiana?"
Hoosier Park has a summer concert schedule this summer. They set up a fabulous outdoor stage, a thousand chairs, food and drink vendor tents. Every concert has happened, but has been very iffy. There has either been severe thunderstorms just prior to the concert, sweltering temperatures, or both.

Why would anyone plan a 4th of July parade when it is in th 90's. Why did our neighborhood plan neighborhood-wide rummage sales in July? It was last weekend. Very few people participated, and fewer buyers attended. It was soooo hot. I read in the paper today, that some charity was having an outdoor ice cream social in a downtown park from noon to 2 today. Picture that in the 95 degrees. Jim Baker fried all that fish in the sweltering hear last week at their church fish fry.

I guess everyone is just tired of waiting around for those few perfect days that happen so infrequently. I know that we bundled up here in our cozy house all winter just waiting for those
lovely days when we could get outside. Guess what? Here we are wearing as few clothes as possible inside our air conditioned house waiting for those lovely days when we can get outside.

I know it is terrible for me to complain when so many places have suffered such devastating weather events. And I am thankful that we have been spared. And anyway, there will be some good days in September. Maybe we can go to the Piepalooza at the park, or the big family reunion. Or surely there might be a day or two in October when we can drive south and see the colorful trees.

Hope springs eternal.

A Sad Real Estate Story

You readers know my story: married 54 years, taught school 30 years, raised and educated 3 children, loved the grandchildren, etc. Don and I have always stuck to our jobs. I often didn't want to, but Don kept me on track.

Every year or so throughout my life, when boredom set in, I have wanted to CHANGE things.
Usually I wanted another house. I would tempt Don into going to open houses, I read the ads.
But Mr. Sensible always managed to convince me that we couldn't do those things, we had to use our common sense.

I have always loved to redecorate. Or rather, I like to pick out things and have Don do the hard labor. He is the ultimate Mr. Painter Man, the ultimate Mr. Fix-it man. I get the ideas and he carries them out..............to the point where he says, "No." And it is a good thing that he knows that point. The only time he agreed to sell our house and move was when a cash buyer appeared at the door, and he knew we could pay all our bills and downsize for retirement.

I, on the other hand, had the DREAM. For instance, my all-time favorite dream is to buy an old country school house, turn it into a home, and furnish and decorate with all thrift store finds.
You see, I'm not a good decorator, but I am a cheap decorator. Our house is all hand-me-down,
inherited, and thrift store when it comes to decor.

Strange, then, that when we made a really big mistake, real estate wise, that it was Don who initiated the whole project. Our son, Rod, was single, just out of college, starting his own business. Don saw what he thought would be the perfect spot for Rod. It was on our side of town, it was a duplex with room to grow his business, and it had loads of paved, off-street parking. So we
gave Rod the down-payment and encouraged the purchase. I'm not sure that Rod was ever as enthusiastic about it as we were.

Well, he lived there, worked there, and even rented out the other half. Then he got married.
So the other half was made into the business side. Debra did a beautiful job of redecorating the house. It looked marvelous. Then they decided to move their business to the "perfect" spot in the country with an office building and pool.

The second big mistake was moving out before house #1 had sold. And haven't we all made that mistake. Debra and Rod took all the pretty decor with them, leaving an empty house. And this all happened at the same time that the real estate market was beginning to take its plunge. So the little house became the "sad and empty" little house that would not sell.

So Rod decided to use the house as a rental. Don acted as the rental agent. This worked out pretty well even though the house was still up for sale. Then the real estate agent complained that it was hard to show the property with renters in there who didn't always keep things in perfect order, or weren't home to make the property available to show. At this time Rod decided to hire this agent as a rental agent so she could coordinate all these things.

This was about six years ago, and she rented the large apartment to a family that consisted of
an aging mother who was not well, and an older son who was on disability. The good thing about these renters was that in six years they never once were late with the rent payment. That is where all the good ended. They kept all the windows covered with black plastic to "save on the heating bill," and parked many old junkers in the drive.

About a year ago Rod and Debra gave the rental agent job back to Don because they were tired of hearing all the complaints from both sides of the other arrangement. Let me tell you that Don is so good with renters and repair men. I guess it is because he is so NICE. He is fair, helpful, and attentive. Renters and repairmen seem to want to treat him fairly, too. Repairmen show up in emergencies and charge him a fair price. The renters "hated" the professional agent.

Well, at the beginning of this month, the disabled renter's daughter called and said that her mother was moving out and living with her because the son was not taking good care of his mother. The son could not afford to live there on his own, so they all moved out. Let me just say that they paid their rent, but, because of ill health, they had never cleaned in six years. I need say no more.

So Don with the help of our daughter, Cheryl, has been cleaning and painting all day every day for a week now. As usual I give advice as to decorating decisions, picked out window coverings, etc. Just like old times. Service Master is working their magic with carpet and floors. Little by little the sad little house is coming back to life. Every time I go check, another room is looking clean and bright, the sunshine is pouring in. Even from the outside, you can tell that the house is feeling happier about itself. With windows covered with curtains, and driveway and garage all cleaned out, it is beginning to look like a happy house.

With just a few more days of work, with just a few more weeds trimmed, just a few more decorative touches, the house should be ready for some renters. Let's hope that in the future the sad little house will become the happy little house that it deserves to be.

It Must Have Been Juneglow

Do you remember the song that begins "It must have been moonglow"? I remember it mostly from the movie "Picnic" when Kim Novac was all dressed up and going to the town picnic, where she falls for a romantic stranger. Don and I were dating at the time, and he thought Kim was pretty hot. I don't know about that, I was a little jealous of Kim.

Anyway, if you want someone to fall in love with Indiana, as do Mitch Daniels and all the mayors of all the cities in Indiana, then you simply must have them visit the state in June. Because there are a "few" days in June when Indiana puts on its very best show, and might cause someone to fall in love with the state. But all of us Hoosiers must keep all the rest of the terrible weather days a deep, dark secret until they get moved here.

This past week Indiana has been putting on its very best. We have been spending a lot of time in the evenings on our porch enjoying the show. I know June is now officially over, so I am too late with this message. But if you sit outside on a perfect June evening between 8:00 and 8:30, you will be simply dazzled by Indiana Juneglow. It is that time of the evening when the sun is beginning to drop in the West, so that all the shadows lengthen, and everything is bathed in a golden glow. If the humidity is down, and the glow is prime, there is just nothing better that Indiana has to offer.

Of course, all the lush green doesn't hurt, either. I have heard from folks who have moved from the southwest, that they can tell from the airplane when they are back over Indiana, by the lush green down below. I think they miss it when they move away. So, since I am definitely staying right here for the rest of my life, let me count some of the Indiana things that I love the most: sweet corn, strawberries, tomatoes right out of the garden, lightning bugs, chicken and noodles ON mashed potatoes, breaded tenderloin, sport fanatics, and of course friends and family. How about you? Do you have any Indiana favorites?

Anyway, July may not be too late to go out and get washed in some leftover Juneglow. Just try it!

Can June Be Almost Over, So Soon?

I checked this blog and realized that it has been a whole week since I have visited this site.
I realize that the older you get, the faster the world spins, but WHERE did this last week go?

I guess that I shall just reflect on the week because it has been a happy one, and happy reflections are good to store away. Weeks seem to always begin on Mondays. When I actually had a job, Mondays were those awful, dreaded days that marked the end of week ends. Now Mondays are happy days because I get to spend them working with my aunt/sister/friend, Elaine, at the hospital information desk. Last Monday we had lots of catching up on news and
(we don't call it gossip) information.

Tuesday was the Christian Women's Luncheon at Edgewood Country Club. Since I had missed the May luncheon, it was good to get back into routine and to see all my old friends. I enjoy riding to the meeting with Margie Reed, appreciate her helping with transportation, and always
marvel at our interesting conversations. Tuesday we were joined by Diane Morford. Diane is a friend from teen years. We married our husbands the same year, and have been good friends ever since. I am so thankful that we can still have these times together.

Wednesday Don and I took off about 8:30am, and drove to New Buffalo, MI. We had a McDonalds brunch about mid-trip, and then went directly to the Four Winds casino. They had sent us coupons, and we had about $180.00 in casino cash to play with. We stayed and played until late afternoon, then went to check in at our motel, and to take naps.

Let me just say that we had one of the nicest hotel rooms ever. It was a new Fairfield, and we had a suite. Hotels are now providing such nice luxury touches when it comes to beds and bedding. The beds are super comfortable with luxury linens, six pillows of every size, and comfy duvet covers. We really slept well, and loved having the extra living room so that I could read and watch TV after Don was already asleep. Also he could read the paper and watch TV the next morning without waking me.

Wednesday night we enjoyed a delicious meal right down the road from the Fairfield at "Jimmy's", a very nice restaurant. And then we went back to the casino and played until we couldn't stand to play a moment longer. My arm and hand were sore the next day. Let's just say that we were a bit ahead if you don't count gas and hotel. But the enjoyable drive and
stay were worth every penny.

Thursday we just tried to catch up on jobs and recover from trip fatigue. Neither job is easy at our age. Don mowed and I worked on displays for the July book sale.

Friday was my day for working at Friends of the Library. The Library friends enjoyed our afternoon. And the Happy Birthday USA display looks pretty good, if I must say so myself.
I was so pleased and happy that Taylor and Ashley came to visit us at the library. They are such a great couple, and so cute! The ladies enjoyed meeting them, and I was so proud to introduce them around.

On Saturday we took Janie to lunch to celebrate her 80th birthday. I can't believe she is 80.
Cheryl. Liz, Janie's friend, Nancy Burkhardt, and I helped Janie celebrate. We had so much fun.
Edgewood has a beautiful dining room with huge windows overlooking the golf course and pool.
The food was great, the talk was fun, and the laughs were contagious. We even enjoyed the
sunbathers, or rather one sunbather. He put on quite a show! He had no idea he was entertaining the old ladies.

I also managed to get in quite a bit of reading this week. I have found that this is possible if you stay up late enough! I read "Saving C.C. Honeycutt" by Beth Hoffman, and "Song Without Words" by Ann Packer. Both books are excellent reads and deal with young girls who lose their mothers at very young ages. Both mothers have suffered mental illnesses that greatly affect the lives of their daughters. Both daughters are saved by the strength of friends. The third book that I read was " A Single Thread" by Marie Bostwick. In this book a woman is abandoned by her husband, and she, too, is saved by the strength of friends.

Thankfully, I haven't suffered the traumas that these women suffered, but I certainly do
value the strength and loyalty of my many friends. There have always been times in my life when circumstances have been difficult. And friends have always been there to make things better, make things bearable. I know right now there are friends I can call in an instant, and they will be there to help. There are places I can go where the doors are always open. I know that they care not a whit if the house is perfect or the dishes are done, because their hearts are always in perfect order!

I hope they know that my heart and door are always open, too.

DAD! IT'S YOUR DAY

If at all possible, I have found
It's good to have a dad around.
They are good for cash to pay a bill
And keep promises when they say they will.
Most dress in clothes anything but new.
Some try to style. That's embarrassing, too.
They're good with hugs and grilled food,
Though they never understand your mood.
If silliness brings you satisfaction,
Dads are best at that kind of action.
They can be a model for what's right and good,
So we treasure our dad, is that understood?
Much love to Dad - he is the MAN,
To love him always is the PLAN!

Bird of the Year (and it isn't Larry)

We sat on our screened-in porch this evening enjoying the cooling breezes as the day settled into evening. We were listening to the evening serenade of our resident cardinal, who entertains us most evenings, "Brigadoon, brigadoon, tyoo, tyoo, tyoo." This was the preferred song of the evening, even though he/she has quite a repertoire.

It seems that every summer we have a different resident bird that manages to entertain us in many and various ways. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal have chosen our pear tree as home, and keep us entertained with wicked, startling flashes of color, and with their singing. I really don't know if they both sing, if just one sings, or if it is Mr. and Mrs. I do know that yesterday evening our yard was curiously quiet as we sat on the porch. I remarked that the birds seemed to have deserted us. I could hear them singing from several houses away.

Then, when Don was getting ready to go to bed and most of the daylight had vanished, he said to me, "Come look out the window." There on our birdbath sat a beautiful hawk, preening and cleaning its feathers. No wonder all the small birds were staying away. The hawk is a beauty, but is a deadly hunter. We sometimes find piles of feathers in the yard. The hawk leaves only feathers after its meal.

But I have another hawk story about another bird of an earlier summer. When we still lived at our last house, a mother hawk decided to build her nest in a tree that stood right beside our screened-in porch. Then she promptly filled it with eggs. We still had two cats at that time and Mama hawk did not like our cats, and she did not like us. She especially did not want us sitting on the porch - poor planning on her part. She should have built that nest elsewhere. She would stand guard from a tree across the street and fly full speed directly at us, veering upward at the very last moment to avoid flying right through our screen wire. She caused several spilled cups of coffee. We did have a humming bird who forgot to veer and smashed into the screen. She couldn't get out, so I very gently pushed her little nose/bill/snout with my finger. She/he flew away a little dizzy headed, I thought.

But we grew quite attached to the hawk and enjoyed watching her as she took care of her young, and guarded the nest. At the end of the summer she began pushing the "little" ones out of the nest one by one. One morning the cats came and got us because something was amiss on the porch.
One of the little ones was hanging upside down with one claw caught in a window screen. When we tried to help her she was so frightened that she was harming herself with flopping about. We finally called the bird rescue people who came with their equipment and rescued the baby.

Two summers ago we had several bird feeders in the yard. One day we noticed a bright chartreuse bird eating at the feeder. We watched it with our binoculars, and sure enough, it was a parakeet. He must have escaped from someone's home, because he would let us walk up quite close to him as long as we didn't try to touch him. But he was wily enough to never let us catch him. He entertained us all summer. Every evening we would start watching for him. If a car was in the driveway, he would sit on the side mirror and admire himself. And he tried his very best to socialize with the other birds, following them around and trying to make friends. They treated him like an unwanted alien visitor.

As summer drew to a close we began to worry about his survival. We even bought a small bird cage and set it up in the yard with the door propped open with enticing food inside. But he wanted nothing to do with it. The only bird brave enough to go inside was a red-winged black bird. And they seem like pretty gregarious/brave little birds. But we didn't want him for a pet.


As summer ended all we could hope was that Mr. Green Jeans was wise enough to join up with a flock that migrated south. He would fit in perfectly in a tropical climate. Anyway, he has never come back to our yard, and, believe me, we have watched for him.

A Garden of Surprises

We have a tiny garden full of surprises in our yard. It keeps surprising us by producing flowers that we didn't know were there.

I had a very good friend, Barbara. We taught together, we were in Menta together, we volunteered in the literacy program and at Friends of the Library together. We always shared rides to our volunteer jobs. Barbara was one of the neatest persons I have ever had the joy of knowing - big heart, wonderfully interesting conversationalist - full of wisdom and common sense.
One day when Don picked us up at the library and we were driving to Barb's house, she mentioned that she needed someone to dig up the bulbs from a small garden bed.

She lived in a lovely condominium and shared a garden bed with a neighbor. It was between their two patios, and they wanted to replant with neat, low maintenance shrubs. Don volunteered to do the digging. Barbara said that we could have all the bulbs to replant in our yard. So Don rescued the bulbs and planted them safely in various places in our yard. We really didn't know what they were.

This all happened before Barbara became ill and was diagnosed with lung cancer. Her family and all her women friends went through this tough time together, with Barbara showing us all how a classy lady goes through a devastating illness with dignity. She died a year ago.

Well, the bulbs from her garden keep surprising us. Things keep popping up in different places with different names that have us running to identify them. Early this spring we had yellow daffodils. And this week we have the most startling Amaryllis blooming in the bird bath bed, with loads more of them reading to pop out.

Also in our surprise bird bath bed are miniature roses all abloom. These are from some past
Mothers' Day gifts from our Cincinnati kids and grandkids. For several years they have sent
these exquisite miniature rose bushes. Don plants them in our rose beds. Sometimes in the spring they come up and bloom. Some years they don't. But this week they have surprised us once again.

Such memories that can be inspired by a lovely flower- flowers that share so many of the fine qualities of the gift givers: beauty, strength, pleasure.


That's our little memory garden - what an unexpected source of joy.

How Difficult it is to Entertain Some People

Since I share my posts on Facebook, you may have noticed that lovely SmithBites blog post about the Memorial Day picnic at our house. It was a lovely, fun, party with food furnished by our kids. Debra and Rod brought all the yummy Mexican themed food. Cheryl brought
nachos and crock pot FULL of hot dip. She also brought really cute graduation hat cup cakes in honor of Taylor's graduation. I made my usual flimsy attempts to add something to the party.
I made Mexican Paletas (I think they are called). They are just blended fruit, sugar, and juice made into little popsicles. I also had Ginny James get quesidilla cornacopias from her Schwan man to
add to the menu. They even drove all the way across town to bring them to us. Then I totally forgot to get them out of the freezer. OH WELL!

The kids took care of all the classy, delicious parts of the party. And Debra has described it well on her blog. But all the silliness was planned by Don. He went to great lengths to plan the annual 500 mile race pool. Everyone drew drivers' names until they were all gone. He didn't even have anyone put in the usual $1.00 per driver. He came up with all the lovely prizes by himself. He gave everyone all the promotional items he has won at Hoosier Park this year.
Well, he didn't give all of them away. Believe me when I tell you, we can hold several more
contests.

Actually some of the prizes were quite nice, and the winners got quite a kick out of winning. I got such a kick out of mine, that I promptly gave it away to Austin, Tiffany's new boyfriend.
I was afraid we would scare him away from such a crazy family if I didn't bribe him with a nice prize. Don made quite a ceremony out of prize presentations. Cheryl got some steaks, Tiffany got some steak knives, and Lydia won the very coveted slot machine cookie jar. I hope she is
saving it for her hope chest.

Another much anticipated entertainment at all our parties are the gymnastic events. These fall into two
categories. The first is the replaying of the Christmas video from about 25 years ago. Tiffany was five and had received set of rhythmic dancing ribbons. I had put some wine in the very delicious punch, that everyone but Tiffany was allowed to drink. Sad to say that all the adults at the party danced with the ribbons. So, as usual, Don, the entertainment coordinator broke out the Christmas video once AGAIN! Lydia, Avery, and Taylor can't believe that their parents acted that way. I don't know why, because they still do.

Then, of course, we had to let Ginny Gymnast do her routine, after Don let her out of the storage shed. I think when I told Austin that we were letting Ginny out of the shed, he really was about to try and escape from the family. But, let me tell you about Ginny. When our Grandchildren were very small, I bought a Ginny Gymnast doll at a rummage sale and kept it in
their toy storage cabinet at our house. I actually think I bought it for Tiffany at a rummage sale at the lake.

When we sold the lake place, we brought it home for the grandkids to play with here. But, for some reason, Cheryl is the one who simply cracks up when the doll does her routine. (She is battery operated, does flips, hand stands, splits, and lands on her nose a lot.) Of course, if you know Cheryl, you know it doesn't take much to make her laugh. So one year on Cheryl's birthday, Randy, Elaine, Avery, and Lydia were here visiting and we were having Cheryl's birthday party and Rod and Debra's.

The girls and I got a sudden fiendish inspiration and wrapped up Ginny in a lovely gift box, and took it to the birthday party for Cheryl to open. Needless to say, Ginny was the hit of the party and has continued to come to many of our parties. But when Don and I moved five years ago, we somehow lost Ginny in the move. (Let's see - hmmmm - one of those Goodwill boxes?)
Then about a year ago at one of our parties, everyone talked about missing Ginny. So after the party I got on E Bay and actually found another one to buy!

So, Ginny is back, and hopefully will never be lost again. Even if we keep her in the shed, we love her. And, Austin, I hope you aren't too scared of this crazy family. We all liked you a lot.
And, I should mention that Ashley, Taylor's girlfriend, although not as new to the family as Austin, had never before seen Ginny. But we have no fear about Ashley, she seems to be as easily entertained as Cheryl.

I Wish I'd Known Him Then

More and more in recent times Don seems to like to reminisce about his childhood, and share stories about his boyhood. I love those stories. It makes me want to know that resourceful little guy, and to keep him company.

It seems he must have spent a lot of time entertaining himself. His mother was only a teenager when Don was born, and then divorced when he was just a baby. She always worked, and Don spent most of his childhood at his grandparents' house. They were good people, and had their own boys, Don's uncles, who were only a few years older. But, I guess, there was enough age difference that Don created a lot of his own entertainment.

Don loved any kind of sports. He loved baseball, softball, football, and basketball. But mostly basketball. He played a lot of basketball at the Cunningham house down the street where they had the only full double basketball court in town. But mostly he created his own games that he could play by the hours by himself.

He was telling me yesterday that he would bounce a baseball hard against the back step so that it bounced unpredictably into the yard. Then he would race to field the ball. He actually pretended there were two teams, kept score, named the teams, had tournaments.

At high school basketball tourney time, he would play out the entire state brackets by using playing cards to draw for quarter by quarter scores. He would play out the entire state tournament in this way. I can just picture it.

And, of course, there were always wiffle ball games, games of "Horse", and who knows what else.
I'll bet the sound of a ball hitting the side of the house over and over drove the grown- ups crazy.

He also talks about some very dangerous things he did. He would hop on a slow moving train beside the grocery where his mom worked, and ride across town to baseball practice! And when his grandparents managed a little theatre in the south part of town, Don and his uncles would stay late and sweep the theatre after it closed. If it was snowy when they left. They would wait for a bus to stop in front of the theatre, then grab the back bumper, and slide home on the ice.
Scares me to think about it. It is a wonder he survived his childhood.

But the resourceful, busy boy grew up to be a resourceful busy man. And he always made up fun games and contests for his own kids to play. And then he entertained the grandkids in much the same way. And he still keeps himself very busy. He gets up in the mornings with an agenda - at least a half day of little jobs, errands, and places to go - people to care for. The neighbors ask, "Where does he go so early every morning?"

Oh, and the little boy who loved to listen to The Grand Ole Opry and The Hit Parade on the radio? He's this grown up man who loves to listen to music on his satellite radio, or our favorite CD's. He can still name a the artists, and looks up lyrics and artists' names on the internet.
Still happy entertaining himself and keeping busy. One of his coaches in college, talking about Don's resourcefulness and drive, said, "I don't know where you got it, but don't ever lose it."

He hasn't - only maybe a little slower version of himself. But, I would love to have known the little boy.

The Ironing Board Chair

I have never lived a day in my life without this chair being in it. This chair was made by my Grandfather Lininger at sometime in the 1920's I think. This was during the Great Depression, and my parents, along with my two oldest brothers, were forced to move in and live with my mother's parents, Grandma and Grandpa Lininger. My older brothers were probably about 3 and 1 at the time.

I am not sure how long this living arrangement lasted, but two more boys were born in the 30's, and I came along in 1936, and I'm pretty sure that only the two older boys lived with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa Lininger built this chair as a "time out" chair for the little boys. As I remember Grandpa, he was not terribly enthralled with little children, and was a little short on patience. The Time Out chair was probably a good idea. And, I'm sure that, being short of money, Grandpa used whatever materials were at hand. In this case, he used an old wooden ironing board. If you look closely at the back of the chair, you will recognize the shape.

This chair was always in our house as I grew up. I remember it for a short while in the laundry room with an always overflowing laundry basket sitting on it. But, mostly I remember it for years in my parents' bedroom sitting by my dad's side of the bed. And it was always stacked tall with issues of the "Saturday Evening Post." All the years of my dad's life, that I knew him, he subscribed to this magazine, and only this magazine. You know the Post - it is still in print in a much smaller paper-saving version. It always had a cover that was a painting by Norman Rockwell. It had recent news and human interest stories, some fiction short stories, and a lot of cartoons.

My dad read the post in bed every night before falling asleep. I believe I started reading it as soon as I learned to read, or maybe even before. I loved the pictures and the cartoons. I can remember lying on their bed on summer afternoons and reading that week's issue. I know it wasn't great literature, but I liked it, and it introduced me to American culture as only a popular magazine can. When I see today's little puny version, it makes me sad and homesick to see my mom and dad propped up in bed reading when I went in to kiss them good night.

Now the chair sits in my bedroom by the window. The seat has a crack that might pinch your bottom if you sit in it. Anyway, it's really too low for an adult. So you see that now it has been claimed by Frank the cat, and from this viewpoint he loves to survey his empire. It is comforting to awaken in the night, and see him keeping watch over our little world.

The Ironing Board Chair - it's not beautiful - but it continues to keep me connected.

Senior Adventures

Don and I sat having our raisin bread toast and coffee this morning, and discussing some of our "senior" experiences that occur daily. We were both closing one eye and saying what little we could see with our left eyes. ( I won that contest.) This led me to mention what strange things my eyes do while I'm reading. I should only read large print books. But I have good friends who give me books they say I simply have to read, and so I do even though they have tiny, tiny print. I have been trying to finish Ginny's book "The Hissy Fit." It is hilarious and a great read, but her copy has teeny, teeny print. When my eyes get tired as I'm reading, I get these crazy swirls all about the perimeter of my eyesight. It is like reading with your book in a bowl full of worms.

Then at night when I close my eyes I sometimes have a very colorful light show behind my eyelids. Don often has "floaters" in his vision. And he has experienced optical migraines that are so bad he has to stop the car, put his head back, and close his eyes until it passes. All these vision problems cause us to carefully select seats in restaurants to avoid glaring light, and to not recognize friends' faces when we come inside from bright daylight.

Then there are the little hearing antagonisms. Don has some ocean wave roaring in his ears. I have a sudden loud banging sound sometimes when falling asleep. That syndrome was explained on the "Doc Martin" show, but I can't remember what causes it.
( I shall save memory loss for another blog.) Then, sometimes when I awaken in the morning and move my head on the pillow I have a sound in my ears like sand moving in a sand bag. Maybe it is sand. I've heard of people having sawdust for brains.

I won't even mention all the idiosyncracies of the digestive system. They are too numerous and gross for delicate reading. I try my best to keep these hidden from the public eye. I will say that I strictly adhere to the four basic senior food groups that my body craves: sugar, fats, salt, and caffeine.

Today Cheryl and I are going out for a mom/daughter lunch and shopping trip. She is full of energy, hopping in and out of the car, and insisting on helping me walk so I won't fall over something. Bless her heart. I remember when I used to hop in and out of cars and lightly skip up steps. Alas, that is not a part of the senior experience. Here is the proper senior way of getting into a car: turn clear around, drop your rear end onto the seat, and carefully pull your legs in after being sure to not injure your bad hip.

And, as far as steps go: Mike, the therapist says that you always lead with your good hip and leg when going up the steps, and lead with the bad one when going down.
To help seniors remember, he says, "You know bad things go down you know where."
Mike and I share the same philosophy of life: all bad things should go you know where. An even better plan is: if there is a ramp, take it. Always follow the path of least resistance.

So, enough about our senior adventures. All I have left to say that all my senses are diminished except maybe one: the sense of humor. Cheryl and I often laugh so hard at lunch that we fear getting asked to leave the restaurant. Well, here she is, come to pick me up. We're off on another adventure.

Our Big Anniversary Celebration

Today is our wedding anniversary - our 54th, to be exact. It sounds like a very long time, but those years seemed to have rolled by quickly when we look backward from this viewpoint.

It has been a good marriage and a happy life. Of course, we have had our tough times and our challenges, but we have always faced them together and with love.
There have also been a lot of laughs and some really good stories - some I cannot tell.

We have never been real big on celebrating anniversaries. It is usually like by evening on the day it dawns on us that it is our anniversary. So we go out to eat to celebrate - just like we do every day. I choose to believe that our whole life is one big celebration, not that we forget to celebrate anniversaries.

We knew that we each had other things to do today - Don met Chuck for their usual Wednesday afternoon watching the horse races on simulcast. Sometimes they even place a bet, or rather Don places the bets. Chuck has a time getting in and out of chairs. I was having lunch with the Menta ladies club, just as we do twice a month. Later Don mowed yards and I checked the E mails, then we had carry-in chicken dinners, spent an hour at the casino, and visited Cheryl at her evening job in the garden shop. Yeh, it was a good celebration, pretty much like all our days.

We did take a little road trip yesterday down to Cambridge City to visit the antique mall where we used to have a booth. Then we ate lunch at one of our favortie lunch spots in Cambridge City, the Lakeview. We said it was a pre-anniversary trip because we knew we would be busy today. I'm just saying - we aren't big on celebrating. I did bake a coffee cake to leave on the kitchen counter for breakfast as is our custom on special days. This always prompts Don to make an early morning trip to the store to buy a card - which he did this morning. It WAS a very sweet card.

Once, many years ago, Don said that we would go to Hawaii on our 25th anniversary. Here it is our 54th, and I think it is safe to say that I have never been out of Indiana on any of our anniversaries. One year we totally forgot the date. We were in Certerville helping Rod move. The temperatures were in the 90's, we were very very tired, hot, and dirty. We were driving home early evening when it suddenly dawned on us that it was our anniversary. So we stopped in Losantville, population
maybe 100, and had supper at the Blue Moon Cafe. Not Hawaii, but maybe the most exotic of spots in Losantville.

Well, anyway, we figure that it is all that other important stuff that you do for each other on the other 364 days that really matters. So Happy Anniversary, Honey, I think this marriage may last.

Time Out

It has been over a month since I have written an entry on this blog site.
And the only excuse that I can offer is that I am suffering from an addiction.
I know, that is a shocking admission, but I am afraid there is no cure. You see, I
am addicted to British television. What is it about the British sense of humor?
I think it is because they are so preposterously outspoken, and their words are so
perfectly matched with preposterous facial expressions.

Most recently I discovered a series that had been on BBC for four seasons, and
was one that I had never seen before. It is called "Doc Martin," and I found all four seasons that could be watched instantly on Netflix. Well, you guessed it, instead of spending any time writing or doing much of anything else, I have spent most of my free time this past month watching all four seasons of "Doc Martin" from beginning to end.

I have yet to discover anyone, friends or family, who have ever seen or heard of this series. I first noticed the title because they received almost a 5 star rating on Netflix, and I had never seen any title that had much over a 4. So it immediately caught my attention, along with the fact that I could watch instantly.

It is a series about a highly regarded London surgeon who develops a deadly fear of
blood - not a good phobia for a doctor to have. It is necessary for him to give up his surgical practice and retrain as a general practitioner. He decides to move from London to the small seaside village of Portwenn in Cornwall. He buys a surgery that is in a terrible state of disorganization with, perhaps, the worst office girl on the face of the earth.

Doctor Ellingham, or Doc. Martin, as the villagers call him, is certainly the proverbial fish out of water in this small village. They are very simple village folk who know one another's business WAY TOO MUCH. He is a brilliant Londoner who has absolutely no bedside manner whatsoever. Picture Dr. House with a neat haircut in a suit, white shirt, and tie. I mean he is ALWAYS in a suit, white shirt, and tie. And he always says exactly what he thinks. If he thinks they are ignorant, he tells them they are ignorant. Get the picture? Of course, the twists of the plots always make the outcomes seem like his fault, and the whole village knows and talks about it!

The medical situations are fascinating. The plot twists are at times hysterical. And you have to feel sorry for poor Doc Martin, even if he is thoroughly obnoxious.
Stir in a little love interest, or maybe a big love interest that finds him always with foot in mouth. Set all these happenings in a beautifully quaint English village, and you will see why I have been hooked for the last month.

The only ray of hope is that while doing research about the series, I read that they will soon be filming season five.

Retired Teacher Volunteers - God Bless 'Em

It seems like the older I get, the more I want to do things my own way, and to heck with the rest of the world. I guess it is one of the only perks of old age.

Today I was thinking about this, and it seems to me that I was a pretty well behaved child who rarely got into to trouble or had to be punished. I do, however, recall a few instances where my own desire to do my own thing led to some unhappy outcomes.
I remember that one time when I was may six or seven, I decided to try and find a school friend's house several blocks away from ours. I ventured off and became a little lost and stayed away until my dad came to find me. Boy, he was unhappy!
I was sent to bed without supper and cried myself to sleep. That may have been the one and only time in my life that I missed a meal!

Another time a new house was being constructed across the street from ours. I had been told to stay away from this dangerous contruction site. But I did SO want to see the new house inside! I followed my older brothers across the street, then sneaked inside. While exploring inside, I fell through a hole in the floor that had been cut out for heating vents. Ouch! Again, I was in trouble.

Well, do you know what strong-willed people grow up to be? That's right - school teachers. We can have our own little classroom empires where we can have our own way. Except that school boards, principals, parents, and even students (well, mostly students) often disagree and exert their own pressures negative to our desires. Anyway, we presist in believing that we rule our little empires.

So, do you know where old, retired teachers go, when they retire? Yep, they enter the world of volunteerism. And we think we are excellent volunteers. And mostly we are. We work hard. We learned early to be on time. We are creative, and we know that to survive any endeavor you have to be able to laugh at yourself. The only problem is that we have never gotten over that dratted desire to do as WE PLEASE.

If you have ever sat on a volunteer board where many retired teachers are involved, you know that those board meetings can be marathonic! I know, that is not a word, but I want it to be a word, and it should be a word. So there! Every teacher on the board has a different opinion on every item to be discussed, and must express that opinion whether it be about rules, procedures, new projects, or where to have lunch ( especially about where to have lunch.) Sometimes it takes months to change a by-law.

But we do eventually iron out our problems. It sometimes takes sheer genius to
to travel the mine field of interpersonal relations. But, give those teacher volunteers a good long break with refreshments and a teachers' lounge atmosphere,with no student interruptions, and we will follow you anywhere and tackle any job.

So the next time you see a retired teacher working at some community event, be extra kind and patient, or else!

TV Anonymous. Anyone?

I've definitely been watching too much TV. I know this is true because I get disgusted when certain commercials come on. I know, I know, this is how networks make their money, but commercials are so irritating. Especially after the thousandth viewing. They make me want to ban the products! No kidding!

I find myself putting commcercials into different categories: Clever, Too Clever,
Way Too Clever, I Totally Don't Understand, So What Is That Product For Anyway,
Sort of Cute, and AAAAGH, Where's the Remote?

In the Clever category are ones like the two guys on the ski lift, and one asks the other for permission to ask his old girl friend for a date. I laughed when the askee threw the cell phone off the ski lift. That is I laughed the first few times that I saw the commercial. Now, after the hundreds of times I have seen the commercial, I would like to throw both of them off the ski lift. And, I couldn't begin to tell you what that commercial is advertising. Probably, cell phones. But does that really make you want to buy a phone?

Which brings me to the Too Clever category. Those are the commercials where you really can't identify the product being advertised. These commercials are usually those highly touted ones that are saved for the Super Bowl, and maybe some other sporting events. I think most of them advertise beer. The only ones I've ever liked had either Betty White or the Anheiser Busch horses in them.

The Way Too Clever category includes commercials where all they bring to mind is the vision of over-caffeined advertising "geniuses" sitting around a table and brain-storming far out ideas way into the night! I think they are products of desperation
or hallucination.

I can't think of an example of "I Totally Don't Understand" because I totally hit the remote. But I am sure that you have seen them, and you don't understand them,
either.

In the category of What is that product for Anyway are commercials that should be accompanied by the warning "Do Not Try This At Home." They usually involve breakage,spillage,police,often alien monsters, cars going off cliffs, dads with
strange hair cuts, etc. So, can you tell me which toilet paper shaves off hair?
(From dad's head, that is). No, you can't, can you.

Now, to the relatively few commercials that I have seen hundreds and hundreds of times, and I can still watch them, and sometimes I still smile when I see them.
Ones that come to mind at this moment: the little girl who tastes the Meijers spinach and the other brand (I still love her reaction.) The cute little white dog who worries about where to bury his bone accompanied by the song "Trouble, trouble." I don't know if it's the dog or the song that I still like.

And, finally, in the Where's the Remote category: that insipid family of four eating dinner, reading the teenagers diary, etc. Like I said before, "AAAAGH!"
Or even worse, that dweeby guy who is late getting up and drinks the wake up stuff.
Then he runs down the stairs and says "Let's get this done." I wish he'd just go
back to bed, nobody out in this world wants to run into him. So hit the remote.

But, explain to me, how every network knows how to run commercials at exactly the same time. That's when I give up and go this computer. God bless Netflix. I can
get a commercial free movie at any time.

Oh, one more thing. I feel really sorry for those poor souls who must act in commercials. I know they love getting those nice little checks every time a commercial runs, but just think about their resumes. Who wants to put on their resume that they have performed as a dust ball, a dirt clod,or worst of all,
mucus?

Go Butler Bulldogs. And Thanks for a cleaner house!

I love the Butler Bulldogs. I love the kind of young men that play for Butler.
I love the kind of basketball they play - "The Butler Way."
I love their coach Brad Stevens, his intellect, his coaching ability, the kind of
gentleman and family man that he seems to be. I loved it when pregame they showed BU and VCU warming up on the floor, and they tuned in to hear the coaches. VCU coach was throwing himself around the floor, being kind of crazy. Butler boys were going through their regular routines, and Brad Stevens said, "Now, warm up appropriately."
Don't you just love that?
Everything about the Butler program just seems to be outstanding. It is something for which Butler U. can be very proud.
And, indeed, the whole state of Indiana has adopted this team. There is a great deal of excitement in our state. We can't wait for tomorrow night.

So, how did they help with my house cleaning? It's like this. I love them, but I simply cannot sit down and watch them play. They've won every game in the tournament by a mere few points. The anxiety is excruciating.

Last night, I very much wanted to sit down and watch every second of their game against Virginia Commonwealth U. But as soon as the game started, and VCU scored their first basket, I got so nervous that I had to leave the room.

I came back, and watched a few more plays. But BU fouled, and I had to leave the room. This went on for awhile. So finally I got the dust spray and cloth and began
dusting in another room - dusting with a vengeance. Pretty soon I was moving from one room to another, dusting HARD and polishing. Don would yell to me after each play, "VCU by three." or "BU by one." Pretty soon it was half time, and I had dusted everywhere but the living room where the TV was on.

So, the second half started, and I tried to sit and watch again. But pretty soon I went and got the bathroom cleaning supplies, and scrubbed both bathrooms. Then I
put all the towels and bath mat in the laundry and started the wash. All the time I was getting updates from Don. I was finally beginning to wash off the kitchen cabinets, when Don said Butler is ahead by eight, and there are only two minutes to go.

So, by golly, I did watch the last two minutes of that wonderful game, and did get to see all the celebration afterward. AND I have a pretty clean house, too.

I just don't know what to do tomorrow night. How will I ever make it through a
championship game? All I can say is,

"GO BULLDOGS!"

Ups and Downs

It's been a while since I visited this spot, and shared my views. It has been an interesting two weeks that were sort of a reflection of the weather - one moment good, the next moment, not so. That's just the way it is in Indiana and in life.
One moment we have glorious sunshine, and I start digging the summer T-shirts out of the closet. The next moment we have snow showers, and I'm looking for a sweat shirt.

Life has been a bit that way, too. A week ago last Tuesday Don had an out-patient procedure at the surgery center. Actually, he was supposed to have this done next week. But anyone who knows Don, knows that waiting is his most despised agony. So he begged the Dr.'s office to call him if there were any surgery cancellations, so they did. He will be VERY HAPPY next Tuesday, the originally scheduled time, to realize that it is all over and he is fine.

Last Tuesday wasn't actually too bad, except that they were running way behind with their surgeries. Don had had nothing to eat or drink since midnight on Monday. He was supposed to arrive at the S.C. at 2:00, and surgery was at 2:30. Of course, he
arrived at 1:45 Don Time, and his surgery was at 5:30. When the nurse finally came to wheel him back to the operating room she asked if he was allergic to anything. He said, "Waiting."

Smart girl, she said she was allergic to working late. Anyway it was about 8:30 when we finally got back home. Cheryl was so great. She drove us, and stayed with me all day. Don may not have had too much fun, but Cher and I had a great visit.

Don was quite groggy and had no appetite both Tuesday night and most of the day on
Wednesday, leftovers from anesthesia and medicine. He was supposed to have a catheter and bag until the following Monday. You can imagine how delighted he was with that plan. He was so out of it when the recovery room nurse told me how to take care of and change the bag, that he didn't hear any of it. Of course, I was nervous and slow and careful about all of it. Finally, he went off in his pajamas with his bag in hand on Thursday and went over to the Emergency Room where they showed him how to take care of it himself.

I am definitely a better patient than Don is. I have patience to wait on most everything. But, he is definitely a better nurse. He took wonderful care of me throughout my surgery. However, we would both like to avoid both these roles if at all possible. When I got up Friday morning, Don was not home. When he came back, he had visited the Dr.'s office and convinced them that they should take out the catheter. They did, and he is doing just fine. The procedure was certainly a success, and he is feeling so much better.

So that is another way that our lives have been on an up and down path.

Jon is very happy with his new job. He has gotten a promotion all ready. We are all so happy that he could find such a good job so soon after being treated so badly by Marsh. I think everyone knows that Marsh Markets were bought a few years ago by a Florida chain. They have systematically been trying to get rid of all their long time employees, so they could hire cheap help. Jon had been with them for over thirty years, and they let him go the day before Thanksgiving. Talk about a company with no heart. I am happy to report that the courts awarded Jon everything he deserved from this company after he was so mistreated.

Taylor is happy to be working back on the farms, where he worked last year during the growing season. He will finish high school this spring, and seems to love the outdoor work.

Cheryl loves her job, but the schools are cutting back so much to try and balance budgets, that she is not happy with many of the changes. So again, life has its ups and downs.

Rod's rental property was damaged by the heavy ice and snow. He is dealing with the insurance company. Don is trying to help by assisting the repair guy, and going for supplies. We are hoping that they can get everything in good condition, and get both sides of the duplex rented soon. Again, it is a matter of ups and downs.

Lydia had her sweet sixteen birthday this last week. She has turned into such a beautiful young lady. Avery is back to IU after her spring break. I think she has only five weeks left to complete her freshman year. Randy,Elaine, and Lydia plan to
spend some time over this long weekend at a cabin in Brown County state park. I know that they will have fun, and Avery will be happy to have her family close by.
I hope that their spring break will actually feature some spring break weather.

Even though volunteer jobs come with their challenges, I am so thankful to have these jobs that I enjoy. I love being with my good friends. And in spite of occasional differences of opinion, I love them all. Volunteering is so nice, because you can really choose to work as hard as you want. And you can also take guilt free breaks filled with fun conversations.

And, even though we are tied to Anderson by some of our commitments, Don and I do find many activites that we enjoy right here close to home. Today we drove to Muncie to see Mother. Then we had a delicious lunch at Concannon's bakery/cafe, Concannon's is full of treats! Then we came home, enjoyed Price is Right (I know. That is such a Senior citizen thing.) Then we both took a nap. After that, we went to the casino, and had so much fun: slots, first day of sulky races, live music and dancers performing upstairs, supper at Johnny Rockets, such fun! Then home for watching Wheel of fortune and Jeopardy (I know. Another Senior moment.) Then we watch American Idol, which we love this year. Last night's Idol show was so entertaining. Every contestant is so talented this year.

Well that is about as much "Ups and Downs" as I can stand for one writing. I'm experiencing a little motion discomfort. So I shall say good night, and go off to bed.

Cheap Thrills

About nineteen years ago Don and I realized that we needed to make a serious decision. The school system was offering a very generous retirement package for those teachers who were willing to take an early retirement. We were feeling the stress of our jobs, we were looking forward to the arrival of our first grand child, and we had both already taught nearly thirty years. Besides, we did not know how long the retirement packages would be offered. So we retired. Don first, and then I retired three years later.

About four years before we had been spending time with good friends at Lake Freeman, and thought we would really enjoy the lake life. While there, we found a small
mobile home on a rented lot in a lake side mobile home park. It was quite inexpensive, and we thought we might be able to afford it. We have never been lavish spenders. Indeed, "cheap" has always been the operative word when we were talking about entertainment. So, we bought our little lake side hide away, and began some years of great leisure time fun.

The first summer we purchased a two person paddle boat, and had fun paddling around our little cove.
But while we were away during the winter we began to think that a pontoon would be fun, so that we could explore the entire seven-mile-long lake. So Don read ads, and began the search for a used pontoon.

At a local marina, he found an old steel pontoon that had been refurbished. It was heavy, painted royal blue, had no seats except for the captain, had no awning, and had an ancient maroon- colored motor. But the marina mechanic assured us that it ran like a top and would serve us well. We loved it.

You realize and we realized that we were novice sailors. Don wanted to get that huge pontoon to Lake Freeman, and into the water before there were any spectators about to watch our efforts. So early in March, before the park officially opened, we hauled the pontoon up to the lake. It was weather suitable for enjoying the fireplace, not taking a pontoon ride. But, off we went.

We opened our mobile home, even though the park water supply had not been turned on.
We went to see the park manager to arrange for docking space. He helped us with that problem, and even allowed us to tap into his water by connecting a hose between our two places. Campground people are always friendly and helpful. The next day we hauled the pontoon down to the launching ramp. Our park's docking spaces were located at the end of a narrow channel that led out into the lake. Across the channel were some permanent summer homes. But, no one seemed to be about, so we were in business.

We had on winter coats, gloves, and hats. We brought a folding aluminum chair for me, and a bottle of wine to celebrate the launch. We backed the trailer down the ramp and slipped the pontoon into the water. All went well. I set up the lawn chair and poured the wine. Don took his place in the captain's chair, turned the key, and our lovely little maroon motor sputtered right to life! Ah, all was well.
Except that, right at that moment, five or six fishermen emerged from a cabin right across the channel, and proceeded to sit down on the bank to watch us. It seemed their only purpose was to watch two fools try to launch an old pontoon on a cold day in March. And so they did.

Well, Don put the motor into forward gear. The boat moved forward and veered a bit to the left. He steered some more, the boat moved forward some more, and veered some more to the left. So it went: forward, steer, left, forward, steer, left.
And right then we hit a pier on the left, my chair tipped, I landed on the floor,
BUT I did not spill one drop of wine! We did not look across the channel!

Don said, under his breath, "Act like this is where we intended to go."

So we tied up the pontoon, got into our van (quickly), and drove up the hill and back to our place. Don called the marina back at home, and found out that the mechanic had not attached the steering cables. So after correcting that slight oversight, we did have our maiden voyage the next day, and claimed and marked our
new docking space.

I want you to know - that was one ugly pontoon that motored many miles around our lake that summer. It was fondly called "Old Blue" by one and all. We detailed it out with mismatched lawn chairs, a cooler, a boom box, a bucket for peeing after dark, and a matching blue tarp for an awning. Oh, it was a pleasure boat that had it all.

We took morning cruises to greet the ducks, geese, and the blue herons. We ate many on-board picnic lunches in out-of-the-way coves. We had terrific off-board swimming with family and friends. We watched a hundred sunsets while anchored in "Bat Bay."
We named the bay for the bats that swooped over head when it got dark. We listened to our Linda Ronstadt tape a thousand times. There is a big excursion boat on Lake Freeman that takes passengers the whole length of the lake at night. They serve food, have bands for dancing, and a top deck for sight-seeing. We loved to follow the "Madame" down the lake at night and listen to her music. And that old maroon motor kept right up, and never missed a lick all summer.

The best sailor in the family was our dog, Scotty. He couldn't wait to set sail. He loved to ride up front, and outside the front gate, with his nose up smelling the breeze. When we anchored, he loved to jump in for a swim. Of course, he loved to find dead fish on shore and roll on them. He often went home smelling like dead fish. But the best part of all was following our tiny trolling lights home in the dark, under a star-filled sky, and walking uphill and home. We often ended the night with a campfire and a chance to listen to all the summer night sounds.

Our last trip of the summer on a beautiful Sunday at the end of September. It was a glorious, colorful, autumn day, full of sunshine and seventy degrees. Our kids and Scotty were with us. We cruised the entire lake, ate our picnic lunches, then went under the bridge and followed the river through town and as far as we could go until we came to the dam. What an end to a glorious summer.

We kept our lake place for maybe fifteen years. During that time we were to trade up twice for better pontoons. The last one was brand new, shiny, and so beautiful!
We enjoyed them all, but we never had as much fun as we had that first summer on "Old Blue."