musings from Melba Street

2011-12-25T14:04:00.002-05:00

The shelf is ready to be hung. I sanded the devil out of it to remove the pen marks...targets for Donnie and the pellet gun. Next step was the finish. My choice was Australian Tree Oil because it is similar to Danish Oil finish. It sinks in and can be reapplied if the furniture gets that scuffy look.

time to hang the shelf. Spence came over. We both thought it would be a simple project: Use molly. Hang shelf. Boy were We wrong. The mollies wouldn't go in. It seems this house isn't constructed like the usual old house. There are no studs back there. One trip to Lowe's. My favorite salesman, Roger, showed us a new fastener. We bought a set and drove back to the house. the first one went into the wall fine. The bracket went on the screw fine. The second fastener went into the wall fine. The screw wouldn't catch. Damn. We had drilled at least 3 holes that were failures. Back to the store for another set of fasteners. This time, I tried out the screw to be sure it would go into the fastener. yes it does. Spence is working on the second attachment when Joe comes in from New York state. Joe was my husband's good friend. He became my friend, too....helping me with all sorts of projects. Joe can do anything with a tool. Both Joe and Spence decided the fastener had made too big a hole in the wall. It needed a washer. Found one in the box. Every one has a box to throw stuff in when you don't know where the tool goes. Anyways, the second fastener was up and the bracket attached. This simple project took 5 days. All that is needed is to fill all those useless holes and repaint. That's for after Christmas.

2011-12-03T11:35:00.004-05:00

One of the things I did over Thanksgiving, was to pick up the shelf that my son in law made for me. I need the shelf to hang over the peg board that holds my coats. It is fastened on the wall near the front door. The shelf will hold the mittens, scarves, hats and boots that don't fit on the pegs.
Don apologized when He handed me the project. It had marks on it. He made this shelf for me from a scrap of board he had saved specifically for this project. His son used the board for target practice in the basement. There are dings all over it from being shot at. Don filled the dings and explained how they got there.
It is my opinion that the dings become an interesting feature of the shelf. They are now house archeology....marks that tell a story. Some day, Donnie will see those dings and remember being a teenager, target practicing on the board in the basement of the house he grew up in.
My husband had post polio syndrome. His right leg was paralyzed. He walked with a brace. In order to go up and down stairs, He had to swing the leg , scraping the stairs. Over time, it wore down a spot on every stair in the house. I think of Bob every time I see the worn spots.
When I was a little girl, my mother took down the curtains in the kitchen, cleaned the room and painted the cabinet doors. I was a toddler. I found the curtain rods, swinging them around and banging on the freshly painted cabinet doors. The dings went deep because the wood must have been soft. I presume they are still there.
My daughter , a preteen at the time, could not have a pen, pencil or something that scratches, without marking something up. She was talking on the phone with a pin in her hand.. doodling...making a design in the bench she was sitting on. It is still there...ditto her name on the organ.
The best archeology marks are from a friend. She tells the story that she announced to her parents that she and her husband had made a purchase offer on a house. It was accepted. The mother was excited, as it was the house she grew up in. After the sale was completed and the family moved in, the elder couple took the younger couple up to the attic. There, behind the attic door, were pencil drawings on the wall. The mother had made then as a child on a rainy day to amuse herself. You bet they will never be removed .

2011-12-01T11:22:00.002-05:00

One of the first things to do after returning home from a trip is to check the answering machine. I was shocked and saddened to learn that my next door neighbor, Butch, had passed. He was my age...a month younger. The funeral was held while I was away, preventing me from attending. It happened very quickly, so it was a blessing for him. However, it should have happened when He was 99 years of age. There were projects He was looking forward to completing. God did not give him enough time to complete those projects. Some people bring their own sunshine with them. Butch was one of those people.
...more later on this very nice neighbor.
Second message on the answering machine was my tenant's mother had passed. I knew she was ill, but again, this was a very fast passing.
Those readers with a dominant left side of the brain can say of course this happens. It is only demographics. It is the age of that generation. Expect it. My neighborhood has many retirees living here. Expect them to pass. It is on the agenda.
Those with a dominant right side of the brain, feel the loss and emptiness that remains. There is a loss in the fabric of my reality. People are missing. I am not used to this. There was no warning....no time to mentally and emotionally prepare. I am adrift.

2011-11-27T20:19:00.002-05:00

I really an sick of writing about real estate problems. Our Autumn Northeaster took out power in the area of one of my rental houses. The tenants have been very good about the weather disasters...one after another. After all, what can We do about the weather? The company I call on for sump pump issues has installed a new pump for them with increased capacity plus a battery backup system that is warrantied to run for a week on battery power. That should take care of any power outages that occur.
The only thing is, they cut the line to the leaching field ...part of the septic system. Another company came out to pump out the tank, so perhaps this latest disaster was a blessing in disguise. The tank needed a pumping out. They gave me the name of the man with the backhoe . He will take care of the cut line....after Thanksgiving. My fingers are crossed that the pumping out will last over Thanksgiving. The company that cut the line swears up and down that they didn't do it. There is nothing to be done right now. Instead, I drive to my daughter's house and forget about what is waiting on my plate back home.
Thanksgiving was a success. It was good to have the whole family together, eat too much, have lunch with three old friends, and spend a quiet morning at the Regional Farmer's Market. I love that place. When I lived in Syracuse, it was my favorite place to visit on Saturday mornings.
I have returned home, driving through the thousands of people also returning home. It is too late at night to pick up my dog at his doggie daycare. That will wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I shall call the backhoe man to find out what really happened in the ground.
In the meantime, the mice problem is also fixed: They were getting in through the dryer vent. It didn't have a flap to close them out. A new vent was installed.
Are We done yet? Is this the last of real estate repairs?

2011-11-14T20:53:00.002-05:00

My resignation is in. I went to my second to the last meeting of the Veterans Parade and Ceremony Commission. It took some thought to resign, but I did it. Perhaps if there was a ground swell of support for the military museum, I might have stayed. As it is, I was just putting in my time. A walk around the building, just looking, brought back memories of the people I met and worked with in that beautiful building. Emotionally, I turned the building over to the younger volunteers. It is their turn.

I feel close ties to my adopted city. I spent 11 years on this commission and another year on the Council On Aging.

Before that, I worked for United Way. It was an experience to learn about charities and social services. I experienced the world of the poor and those who don't cope very well...those that don't know how to function. We don't have nearly enough services available for those who require help. It was disappointing to see the executive director of each charity out for himself/herself. The client is way down on the list. I learned that my talent is not for fund raising. I was an outsider in the "good old boys" network. My interest lies in another direction.

Before that, I worked for the city. I loved that job. Through my work experience, I gained respect for our civil servants...especially public works. The Health Department, Fire Department, Police, Engineering, Planning and Zoning....all staffed by capable people. I take it for granted that the water is safe for drinking, restaurants won't poison me, the fire department will be there if I need them. Bridges don't fall down. The traffic lights don't mal-function and cause a pile up. The library still has free books for lending. Those people do a very good job.

I even like it that some positions are elected. Mayor, Board Of Aldermen, Board of Education electives represent the people who live in the community. I could have run for any of those offices. So could you. In this way, the people who live here, shape the city . This is all good stuff.

My mother was the person who influenced me to do volunteer work. She drove the car when I was little, delivering food baskets for a Police Charity. She wanted me to come along and see "how other people have to live". The lesson wasn't wasted. Mom was always doing something for other people. One of the phrases she used a lot was,"What can I do for you?" She would do it for you....even giving out money or performing free professional services.

My volunteer service will be over in December. I am free to get in my truck, paints and canvas in the back and wander around...not having to check the calender so I don't miss a meeting. I think I finally retired.

2011-11-14T12:11:00.003-05:00

Yes, it is a glorious autumn day. We've had several glorious days in a row. This is the last of warm weather. Cold, damp and darkness will be here soon. For now, it is time to enjoy the outdoors.

I should be outside with my paints, painting foliage colors, but there is work to do...as usual. The rake, tarp , gloves, extension chord and leaf grinder are retrieved from storage.

This isn't work. It is wonderful outdoor exercise. The sun is shining. Neighbors are out raking up leaves. Each household has a different technique for leaves. Tina uses a blower. Joanne rakes leaves into paper bags and leaves them at the curb for pick up by Public Works. Last year, I ran my lawn mower over the leaves, mulching them in place. Butch has a leaf catcher at the back of his lawn mower. He catches leaves as He mowes the lawn...then bags them. My neighbor Bob and I chat over the fence. He is shrink wrapping his boat..tucking it in for the winter. I've already covered my sailing dingy with bubble wrap. I hope it stays in place for the winter. I make a note to myself to use a tarp next time.

This year, I need the leaves to fill in a low spot in the side yard. All my mulch is distributed on the vegetable bed and the flower bed. The man who cuts the grass, put his foot through a hole in the ground that I did not know was there. He wasn't hurt. I am surprised but now I know why the fruit tree I planted in that spot did not grow. I planted it over a cavity. The roots dried out, poor tree. (Another mental note to plant another tree there next spring. The ground should be settled by them.)

Several bags of dirt are purchased from the garden store. One bag is dumped in the hole. The hole is filled up. It looks fine. However, when I water it down, the entire bag of dirt disappears down the rabbit hole. Ditto the second bag and the third bag. All the weeds and sticks...anything organic is dumped down the hole. It looks filled up. I test it with a pole..poke ..poke..poke. Seems to be filled up OK, but I don't trust that spot.

Standing back, I see a bowl shape in the lawn. It is where the septic system used to be. That whole area has sunk. I will level the entire spot with mulch. The leaf mulcher crunches leaves. I rake the front lawn, put the leaves on a tarp and drag it to the low spot. Mulched leaves are heaped on the spot, then raked as level as I can make it.

Still doesn't seem level. More leaves are needed. Several days with many breaks for lunch or tea will clean up the lawn. I should have the bowl filled level and more to go into the mulch pile. For now, it is lunch time. My back is aching, but I have that good feeling of accomplishing something useful

2011-11-12T20:07:00.002-05:00

The southern coast of Connecticut has escaped the autumn northeaster storm. I am safe and warm...both houses. However, friends up north are not so fortunate. This northeastern storm was worse than the hurricane because it came so early. There were leaves on the trees. When the rain and snow hit, limbs broke , pulling power lines down with them. Connecticut Yankees love their trees. There are lots of them...trees, I mean.
I called a friend and asked if He had power. He said He did. His family did not. His house is a small cottage. There is not enough room for his gang. I invite them to take over my beach house. They gratefully accept.
The house is filled with children enjoying the beach. They watch the waves, collect stones, shells and crabs. Their mom is a teacher, but her school is closed. Her sister and her two children join her...any place that is warm is wonderful. Good Karma is going on here. There is the excitement of children, laughter, good sleep and good hot showers.
They stay for 7 days. Their power is returned. Mom has to go back to school.
I am sorry to see them leave. They leave behind for me, several bottles of very good wine. I am saving them.

2011-11-05T07:37:00.002-04:00

Hurricane Irene isn't the only weather crisis in Connecticut. The state has also had an earth quake and a tornado. Damage is everywhere. Then the Autumn Northeaster hit. There are still leaves on the trees. The ground is saturated with water from the hurricane. FEMA sets up camp in our state.

When the northeaster storm hit, the wet snow weighed down tree branches. They broke. There are limbs and trunks everywhere. Trees bring down power lines. About two thirds of the state is without power. With live lines down, Halloween is cancelled. It is too dangerous to send young children out trick or treating. This is the first time in history that Halloween has been cancelled.

I am fortunate. Milford is fine. The new drain system and sump pump works fine thanks to Budget Dry. It keeps the beach house nice and dry. Lights and heat work. I have hot water thanks to TriCity. The replaced the furnace and hot water tank after the hurricane.

The main house is also safe and dry.

Then the phone rings: The tenants with the new toilet have called to tell me that their basement is flooded. They are losing their possessions stored down there. The water may rise to take out the furnace and hot water tank. Did I not just go through with this problem only a month before? At the beach house? It is happening again. I can't believe this.

My tenant is patient. This is a good family to work with. I give them every break I can to keep them happy. In return, they take good care of this house. Together , We will solve this problem.

The little Honda generator goes into my truck along with an extension cord and a gallon of gasoline. My tenant starts up the generator, plugs in the sump pump and it pumps out the water. I am so glad I bought the generator. The next door neighbor, who has power, runs another extension cord. The tenant can have a light and maybe a space heater upstairs. I am surprised at how much water is being pumped out of the basement. It rushes out like a river. In fact, there is a little stream on the property. It is swollen with run off from the hurricane. The ground is saturated. There is no where for the water to go except in the basement.

This is a situation that can not be ignored. As much as I don't want to pay for another drain system, I have to make the call. I call Budget Dry. They come out and design a much better drain system plus sump pump with battery backup. This will replace the existing system. This system can run for 6 days on battery back up. That should be long enough to carry over until the utility company can turn the power back on. I sign the contract.

The new system will be installed in two weeks. The old pump has to last only two weeks more. It doesn't. It is burning out. My tenant is down stairs manually plugging in the pump and then pulling the plug when the well is drained. If He didn't do that, the pump would run continually and burn out. The choice is either flood or fire. Some choice.

Something has to be done right now. Can We borrow a pump from the plumber? Will Budget Dry reschedule us for tomorrow? This is an emergency. Both John, my now favorite plumber and Budget Dry call us back. John can't get a pump. The supply store is closed for the night. However, Budget Dry will be there at 9AM in the morning.

I see the cash register go ching ching....money disappearing, but what choice is there? My tenants have been very patient about all of this. I feel the need to refund part of their month's rent to compensate them for this inconvenience. They very gratefully accept my offer.

2011-11-05T07:17:00.004-04:00

Are these the times of tribulation? I am beginning to think so. There is water dripping from the bathroom on the second floor through the kitchen ceiling. My tenant has cut a hole in the kitchen ceiling to prevent the Sheetrock from falling on the stove. He moves the stove so that water doesn't leak onto their dinner that is cooking.

Here We go again. I've had a plumber out several times for this bathroom. It was so wet that the tile loosened from the floor. They snaked the drain line to remove a blockage...if that was the problem. This is the third plumber I've hired for this problem.

John pulls the toilet. We think it is only the wax ring. He finds a surprise: The toilet is defective. It should have been rejected at the factory. It should have been destroyed, never sent to the store. The wax ring that seals the toilet to the floor needs to seal to the toilet. The toilet needs to have a ring to accept the wax ring. This one doesn't. It has a piece missing from the ring. John buys a new toilet and the problem is solved.

This leaves me with an angry feeling about people who aren't professional. The quality control people in the factory should have spotted the problem. The first plumber that installed the toilet should have spotted the problem. The second plumber that snaked the drain line...should have spotted the problem.

I had to have the ceramic tile on the bathroom floor replaced, the bottom of the door cut so it could close. The kitchen ceiling had to be cut open twice to access the plumbing. Then new Sheetrock had to be installed. The kitchen ceiling had to be painted. ...twice. The expense and upset was entirely unnecessary if people did their job. My tenants were inconvenienced and so was I. I hate incompetence.

2011-10-30T14:36:00.002-04:00

I am glad to have a family and wish they lived closer to me. On the alternate days, I am glad they don't live near me. Grandson has a drug problem. He has attention deficit syndrome and controls it with legal drugs. The problem is He abuses those drugs. He has made a mess of his life, fired from jobs, evicted from housing, trouble with girlfriends. He shows up at my door asking for sanctuary. The problem is We've gone that route. I spent over a decade giving him room, board , medical care, clothing and even paid for his education. He is in my living room. The words that come out of his mouth tell me that He hasn't progressed at all. He is in his early 30s. My expectation was for some maturity by now, some learning of life's lessons. After a day or two of listening to his con artist speech, I ask him to leave.

Daughter doesn't take care of herself. I suspect it is a combination of depression and genetics. She is passive, just like her aunt and grandmother. Daughter needs dental care. I paid for it. It is only half done. Daughter finds a lump in her abdomen and does nothing about it for over 9 months. I send her an email and tell her that Steve Jobs died because He delayed seeking surgery. Perhaps she is scared of what the doctor will tell her. If so, then she is like her grandmother and it will cost her her life. There is nothing I can do about this situation...except ...leverage: I am expected for Thanksgiving and expected to pay for the feast, as they have no money except for the basics. Per phone call to daughter, I tell her that unless she sees her physician or goes to a clinic and also gets her dental work done, I will not be coming for Thanksgiving and I am not paying for the feast. I think she went into shock hearing me talk like that. Perhaps it will light a fire under her and she will seek the medical care she needs.

2011-10-30T14:18:00.004-04:00

I had planned on spending the winter at the beach house, to enjoy the fireplace and peace and quiet. This house has a shower while the other house has a bathtub. This house has a very good washing machine and dryer, while the other house has a top loader that isn't as good. An ad goes in Craig's List...firewood for sale.

The problem is my dog poops on the rug. Did I tell you the whole place is carpeted? After three days of cleaning up after Jack, I am throwing in the towel. It took a lot of energy to move my clothes and the contents of the kitchen to the beach house. Now I move them back. I am seriously contemplating giving up this dog. What stops me is his loyalty. He follows me everywhere and gets upset if I go out the door without him.

So, back We go. I had the land line phone transferred over . Now I must transfer it back. Some good things , though: the house on Park Circle got a good cleaning. The refrigerator looks cleaner than I've seen it in years. I have a waffle iron. I celebrate with toasted cheese sandwiches and sizzled apples all made in the iron.

The work is coming to an end. Ernesto will start stripping off the siding on the water side of the beach house, wrap the house in tyvak and reside with cedar board and batten. When the siding project is finished I will be done with repairs to this house. Hopefully, I won't have to do anything for a long long while. Even the decks will be upgraded. The Honda generator is ready to go should another flood happen. (It wouldn't dare, not this winter, would it?)

My tenant called me. The toilet is leaking. It never rains, but it pours? pouring toilet water?

2011-10-06T09:33:00.002-04:00

We are coming to the last of this project. By Friday, Ernesto will have finished painting the walls , installing the kitchen cabinets and addressing small repairs.
On Monday, Stanley Steemer will shampoo the rugs upstairs and down. I used a shop vac to remove most of the mud and sludge that was deposited on the downstairs rug, but it isn't really clean. There is still a smell downstairs.
In preparation for the cleaning, all small stuff has to be moved out of the way. I have to get the lamps, small tables, plants and things moved either to the bathroom, or outside on the deck so that the rug cleaning can commence. They wanted me to move the beds out of the way, but I said I could not do that. Instead, they will bring long wands to clean under the beds. I hope that is clean enough.
That leaves the windows, furniture cleaning and placement and calling my tenant back. Will she want to come back? Who knows?

2011-09-23T13:59:00.003-04:00

Clean up and reconstruction continues. The refrigerator has been cleaned. I plug it in. The freezer starts to freeze, then the circuit breaker trips. The refrigerator is ruined. I will need another refrigerator. I liked this refrigerator. It was upstairs and served me well.

Two dehumidifiers are running. Each morning and evening, I empty their collection buckets. They are always full. That tells me that they are still pulling water out of the Sheetrock. I will turn them off when they start to cycle on and off, telling me that the humidity is now at a normal level. What will my electric bill be with all those machines working?

The company that ordered my Honda generator calls me. My generator has come in. Hurray! I drive into New Haven and pick up my generator. An employee shows me how to operate it. It is quiet and simple. I love my generator all ready and I've never used it. (It is a twin to the one that the Fire Department loaned to me.)

My windows are covered with dried salt water. The film has to be removed. My search for a company to do this has come to a dead end. Do I have to call the company that left a flyer in my mail box? Are they fly-by-night? Are they any good? The only way to find out is to call them.

I am moving into this house for the winter, to enjoy my fireplace. Arrangements have been made to transfer my phone line. Every time I go to Melba Street, I take something with me....to empty the refrigerator, to bring over winter clothes.

2011-09-12T13:04:00.004-04:00

When Richard and I bought our house on Melba Street, the real estate agent said We would have to have flood insurance. My house is on a flood plane. It was $80 a year...a little expensive for us, but in order to have a mortgage, We bought flood insurance.

Years later, mortgage is paid off. There is a flood. It was so extensive that claims adjusters were brought in from out of state. The adjuster asked me where did the water come from? Did it break through a window or door? No. The door and windows were fine. My guess was it came through the floor drain...just my guess. The adjuster said that I did not have a flood. I had rising ground water. Claim denied.

I looked at this flood and knew it was the kind that occurs in my area. The mortgage was paid off, so I did not renew the floor insurance. Instead, I added "rising ground water" to my homeowners insurance. It lasted a few years. Then insurance companies stopped offering it.

Instead, my agent added hurricane insurance to my policy. Hurricane Irene stopped by and visited my in law apartment downstairs. I had water and the damage that comes from water. See my blog for parts 1 through 7 on Hurricane Irene.

I called my agent and learned that I am not covered for the damage my house sustained. Hurricane insurance covers wind driven damage only. Claim denied. I asked him what it would cost for me to add flood insurance? He said it will cost me over $1,300 a year in addition to the cost of my homeowners policy. I can't afford this.

I've paid out thousands of dollars for insurance coverage. When I have a claim, I find out I am not covered. I am wondering why I have insurance anyways.

2011-09-12T07:13:00.002-04:00

This is a blog in praise of our Police, Fire and Public Works departments. During the hurricane, they activated their emergency response plan. It worked. After my evacuation, the Police and National Guard blocked off the area to prevent looting. There was looting, I was told.

When the water was low enough, I was allowed back in. Right along with me, were the Public Works crews. Bull dozers worked to clear the sand from the road. Other crews picked up the debris. Others cut up downed trees, making the way for the utility companies to repair downed power lines. There were trucks everywhere. I bet the crews worked 12 hour shifts...sometimes sleeping in the trucks...to catch a quick nap when fatigue overcame them.

My problem was water. How do I get it out of my house without power? I called the Fire Department. They sent over a team that hooked up a gas generator and a submersible pump. Turned it on and away it went. I loved to see the water go out. I loved that little Honda Generator, that I ordered one for myself...just in case there is another flood.

In the middle of this, someone down the street became ill. An ambulance and crew responded. I can't think of another facet of city government that wasn't activated during this emergency. Even the mayor was on the phone with a recorded message reporting on the progress of the clean up and what homeowners should do.

All in all, the emergency response plan worked out just fine. Our city officials were prepared and minimized the damage from Hurricane Irene.

2011-09-12T06:59:00.002-04:00

Budget Dry has pushed me up on their schedule. Luther will be here today to clean out my sump pump. I must empty the 2 dehumidifiers. When I step into the apartment, I step ankle deep into more water. Everything is wet again. We have had rain for days. The ground is saturated. There is no place for the water to go, except into low places...my in law apartment. The place must be accessible for the sump pump clean up.

I get my small pool pump, plug it in, attach the garden hose and let it go. By the time Luther gets here, the place is sans puddles.

Luther cleans the pump. He checks the battery and pronounces it dead. The salt water has shorted the battery. It must be replaced. He replaces the battery, runs the hose into the sump and flushes the pump. It is now safe to turn the pump on. Wow, it runs and runs. All that water was sitting in the drain lines with no way to get out. It is brackish. Luther keeps pumping until the water exiting the line is fresh water. All done and ready to work...and here is the bill for over four hundred dollars for an hour's work.

The bad news is that my insurance doesn't cover the cost of any of this. Ernesto will have another bill for me...and another one to purchase insulation and sheet rock...and another bill for repainting...and another bill for cleaning...this one not from Ernesto, but from a cleaning company. Is there no help for me? There is a handbill on my door. It says to call FE MA. So I do.

Several days later, a young girl comes to my house. She reviews my insurance, checks that utility bills are for this address in my name. She checks my ID. Yes I am who I say I am. Yes. I live here. She is an insurance adjuster. I bite my lip to not chat with her about my experiences working for The Hartford Loss Control Department. I see that the pen top laptops are now lighted. That is an improvement from when I used them.
Johanna inspects the property and leaves. What does this mean? Will I get a grant? An interest free loan? Probably not, but I will see.

2011-09-05T14:45:00.002-04:00

The power is back on. It is time to get cleaning. From past experience, I learn that time is of the essence. Water will continue to do damage if I let it sit . Mildew grows. Furniture falls apart. Smells develop that no amount of bleach can erase.

Ernesto has use a pressure hose with steam to push all the mud He can get at, to a corner near the sump pump. It is my job to get the rest of the water off the floor. The shop vac is the right tool, but it is a manual job...a hands on experience. The vac gets set up. It is so noisy that I am wearing hearing protection. The nozzle grabs the rug and pulls water and mud and grit out of the carpet. Into the barrel it goes. Turn off the vac. Take the top off the vac. Wheel the barrel to the toilet. Lift. Pour. Repeat and repeat and repeat....for 2 days. My arms are sore...ditto knees and low back, but the water has to come out.

Next chore is to set up a dehumidifier and fans. I've had the fans running with the windows wide open. Now I close them and turn on my new dehumidifier. Nothing happens. Expletive deleted. I have to take it back to the store. I tried it on several outlets. The outlets are working. As I am hauling the 45 pound machine to the truck to return it, a thought occurs to me. I had better read the directions. Read the directions....and learn that the little vertical slash on the front of the machine is the power button. Oh.
Push the vertical line. Machine turns on. It works fine.

I've had the old dehumidifier set aside to dry. It was in the flood and my fear is that it is ruined. ..but it is worth a try. I test it carefully, expecting an electrical arc or nothing at all. It works fine. The second dehumidifier is added to the crew of fans and dehumidifier working away in the apartment. Both dehumidifiers are full by nightfall. They are emptied and reset to run all night.

In the morning, they need emptying again. The windows are opened for fresh air. It is time to tackle the kitchenette...the one room I dread because it is covered with sewerage, mud and grit. What a mess. I don't want to start by scrubbing on my hands and knees. What can I use? First, the broom. Sludge collects into a pile. It gets shoveled into a dust pan and put outside in the mud pile. A lot of sludge leaves the kitchenette that way. Next soldier is the shop vac. This vacuum picks up everything...both wet and dry. I have to move the refrigerator around in the tiny room, but most of the sludge is in the barrel of the shop vac. Out it goes. Repeat. repeat until the floor is merely dirty. Last soldier is water and bleach. On hands and knees, I clean the floor and the cabinets as best I can. They would not pass muster , but that is all I can do for today.

Ernesto comes in the afternoon. He has plans to check the walls for water. We both suspect the Sheetrock and the fiberglass insulation is soaking wet. No matter how hard the fans and dehumidifiers work, We know the walls won't dry out. He cuts a neat square in the wall that confirms the insulation is soaking wet. It is wicking up. It must be cut out and replaced. That is for tomorrow.

The next day Ernesto comes with a helper. These guys are so neat and clean...real European craftsmen. They're from Albania. They lay down a drop cloth. Both get to work removing 2 feet of sheetrock and the wet insulation behind it. Ernesto neatly bags the stuff and takes it to the curb. Public Works trucks are still working the neighborhood. The bags are taken away.

We leave for the night with walls wide open, floor vacuumed and hopefully drying out all right. With the help of friends, progress is being made.

Tomorrow, Luther will be here to clean the sump pump. After cleaning, I will be back in business. Hurray!

2011-09-04T06:51:00.004-04:00

How did the shop vac work when there is no electricity? Ernesto unhooked the Fire Department's pump. He plugged in my shop vac to the Fire Department's generator. Such genius!
There is debris everywhere. There is not much I can do without electricity except to clean up the debris. A pile grows at the curb, similar to piles being added to by my neighbors. My next door neighbor has swept a mountain of mud from his garage and driveway. To it I add a soggy and broken TV stand, debris that was driven in by wind and rain. My across the street neighbor has lost their central air conditioner, shingles and a riser from their steps. The riser is in my yard. Police cars patrol up and down the road, presumably to stop looters. Public Works trucks and Fire Trucks are all over the street. One neighbor has a medical emergency. Add an ambulance, another Fire truck, and several more Policemen to the Frey.
I had put masking tape on my new patio doors to distribute any wind gusts on the glass. No broken glass , thank goodness. The tape can come down, but my! the glass is dirty with salt water smear mixed with dirt and bits of mulch from the garden.
My cell phone is missing. I look everywhere for it. I need my phone to arrange for a cleaning crew. It is needed to call the company that installed my drain system and sump pump. Chris , while in my house during the storm, reported that the pump worked beautifully, until our utility company cut power. Then it continued working for 3 hours on battery backup. If I had my emergency generator in place, I would have avoided the damage I now survey.
The phone is working at my other house. I called Budget Dry. They told me that the pump is designed to work with clean water. If I turn on the pump with salt water and mud, the pump will get clogged, burn out and void the warranty. I make an appointment to have the sump pump cleaned. Its another bill not covered by insurance.
The Second call is to Service Pro...a cleaning service. Some people called this company in the middle of the hurricane. They are first on the list. How far down am I on the list? If I wait for them, the water will continue to do damage. There is nothing to do accept face the fact that I must start cleaning as soon as the power comes back on.
Before the hurricane, I'd moved smaller pieces of furniture upstairs where it was safe and dry. Now I moved arm chairs. An inspection of the bed and table shows they just made it above the high water line. I do not have to throw out the mattress. Their feet will dry out OK, I hope.

2011-09-02T16:58:00.004-04:00

I can't get to my house. The street is running with water. Cars that were not moved to higher ground are now ruined in the salt water. Chris and his dog, Lucy, are neighbors living across the street. We had a mandatory evacuation. Chris refused to leave, so I said He could stay in my house because it was higher. Chris accepted. After the hurricane, I could not reach him. I was so worried about this young man. Why had He not called me? He has my cell phone number and I have his. I tried to reach him and got no answer.
His car is parked in my driveway.
After the National Guard and the Police allow us in, I drive through the flood and look for Chris. The apartment is definitely flooded. I can't get the door open. There must be water in front and in back of that door.
The main level door works. I call for Chris, looking in every room. He is not there. Such relief. He was not stranded in my house...but His car is.
The next stop is Chris' house. There He is. He has not called me because His cell phone battery is dead and there is no electricity in the area. He has water on the floor. The yard is washed away. Pieces of concrete are everywhere. Someone had their foundation crack. Yellow tape and "Unsafe. Do not enter." sign is on the building. Many people had it worse than I did. A few summer cottages were washed away. That is incredible. I've lived on Melba Street for 34 years and never saw a storm like this one.
I know from past experience that the first order of business is to get the water out. Per my call, the Fire Department brings a submersible pump and a gasoline fueled generator. In no time, the apparatus is pumping water out of my apartment. My job...the only one I can do at this time....my job is clear out the dry well in front of the apartment door. There is debris floating on a scummy pond in front of the door. The dry well is supposed to drain away that sort of thing. It never worked right. I had better get the water and debris out of there. My tools come from what I can find located under the kitchen sink.
Ernesto comes with another generator and pump. This one can get the water level down even further. Bless that man!
Pat comes by to see if she can help. She mentions my shop vac at the other house, but there is no electricity to run the shop vac. Pat points out that I can use the Fire Department's generator to run the shop vac. Of course! I drive to Park Circle, get the shop vac and We set it up. Ernesto uses the shop vac to clean the dry well. He must pick up the vac, carry it up the steps and dump it. It is very heavy, filled with filthy water...and probably sewerage, too but he manages to do it. Nothing much to do now. Time to go home and clean up. I will start clean up tomorrow.

2011-08-28T15:17:00.002-04:00

Neighbors are walking the streets, looking at the damage. The rain and wind has stopped. City officials don't want us walking around until all live wires are de-energized, trees are cut up and pushed off the roads. Still people are curious. So am I. In fact, I am very worried about my beach house. Just this winter, I spent a lot of money to bring the in law apartment up to my standard so I could rent it out. The tradesmen I hired also knew their codes and did their work accordingly. The electrician especially did a wonderful job.
Kristin, a young lady had answered my ad for a boarder. She came and saw the place. She loved it. She said,"I'll take it." We were to sign a lease and get a security deposit, when the warning of the hurricane was sounded. I told Kristin to wait until the hurricane is over. Then We will talk.
I managed to get my truck around a fallen tree so I could get out of my driveway. Jack and I drove as close as We could to Melba Street. There is a cross street at the top of the hill. At the hill, were stationed National Guard and Police. There was a yellow tape across the road. We could not get anywhere near my house. But We could see it. I looked across the body of water that should be the street. Down a ways, was an island . On the island, was my house. I assume that the sump pump was over powered by the rise in water. It probably ran until the power company cut power. Then it ran until the battery was drained. I am not sure. I can't get near enough to get inside.
Where is Chris and his dog? Why have they not called me? He has his cell phone and He has my number. Sitting half way in and half way out of the flood is Chris' car.

2011-08-28T12:29:00.004-04:00

We got the call to evacuate Melba Street. We are having a hurricane. It going to scar the entire eastern seaboard from the Carolinas up to Canada. The governors are on TV. Our mayor is on TV. All city departments are on emergency response duty. Fire and Police, medical emergency have drilled for this for a long time. They know how to handle an emergency. But the scale of this is huge! It is bigger than any storm I've experienced since I moved to the shore. It is supposed to be as big as the Gulf Of Mexico.
I have to leave my house but I can go to my husband's house in the middle of the city. Captain Jack comes with me. Some of my neighbors state that they aren't going to go. So I invite them to stay at my house...because it is on higher ground ..and is 3 stories high. Chris says He will stay at my house with his dog, Lucy.
My mistake was not getting his cell phone number so We could stay in touch.
TV coverage shows a lot of wind and water power. There are flooded streets, downed trees and power lines. I am OK where I am. We never lose power, but my neighbor, Butch, loses big limbs on his shade tree. One falls on my lawn. The other one falls on Butch's lawn, pulling down his power line. Butch doesn't have electricity nor a phone. No TV, either.
Down the street in the other direction: Another tree is snapped off at the root. It blocks the street. I can't get out from either direction.
Carol calls me. She lives near Melba Street, but she did not have to evacuate because she is on higher ground. Her concern was wind damage. It could break her new windows.
Carol says she got a call that a few cottages on the beach side have been swept away. My stomach gets that sinking feeling. Carol offers to walk as close as she can. She reports back to me that the water is over the road and about 50 feet across the road. This does not bode well for my house. If the sump pump can keep pumping, then maybe I have a miracle. I can't reach Chris to ask him for a report. He has not called me. Is this a good sign? I don't know.

2011-08-28T11:39:00.002-04:00

The Captain is one smart dog. He is a Bichon ...a breed known for their intelligence and ability to problem solve, to make their wishes known. Captain is so smart, that He out smarts me.

I knew I was going to get another dog to replace my Lily...my lovely lily who died of kidney failure. A little dog should be free to run in the backyard. A dog owner who is busy should be able to put the dog in the backyard and go about her errands, knowing the dog is safe and in a happy place, free to explore and watch what is going on in the neighborhood.

With that in mind, I asked my grandson if He would put in a wire mesh fence for me. The installation is simple: just hammer in U channels in the ground and attach the wire mesh. Stephen said yes. He did a good job. The fence is level and secure. The gates were harder, so I called a fence company to install them. All the abutting neighbors were questioned and said it was OK to put in the fence without getting the property line surveyed....because the fence, by its nature, was temporary...just for the dog. The fence is completed. Captain Jack is let out the back door into the back yard. He promptly escapes. He escapes again and again. How is He getting out? He has found every dip in the ground that He can wiggle under. Each dip is a easy escape for a little dog. I plugged up the holes with bricks, dirt, anything I could find.
Captain Jack still escapes. I am getting calls from my neighbors. I got a call from the secretary at a nearby school. The kids had brought him into the office. How embarrassing! I look like a poor dog owner.
The dog isn't running away from me. He is running toward people on the other side of the fence. Jack loves people, especially children. He wants to play....with everybody.
How is that dog escaping? The thing to do is to stand outside the fence and call him. This I do. He comes running to me...by wiggling between that triangle of space in the stairs, made by the handrail, the riser and the tread. That is how the clever dog gets out. I brick up every tread on the stairs. Round one. I win.
Round two: It is a hot and humid day. Our town is having a festival. This is a popular festival. People comes from the surrounding towns. They fill up all the parking lots. Then they park on the streets closest to the festival. My street is one of them. There are cars all around the circle. I can hear the loudspeakers and the music. People are having a wonderful time. The sun is getting low. It is time to leave the festival. People start to walk to their cars.
Meanwhile, I am reading a book on the front porch. Captain Jack is at my feet. It is too hot and humid to do much, so a good book is a good way to spend the day.
Suddenly, Captain takes off for the sidewalk. He has spotted a little girl and her family. He runs to the little girl, tail and butt wagging in good spirit. The girl is petrified of this active little dog. I ran after him and picked him up. Her father picks up the little girl. Tentatively, she puts out a hand and gets a doggie kiss. Smiles. All is well. We part.
Now I know that Captain can't be left on the porch with so many people passing by. I put him inside the fence so He can watch the parade of people, but not scare little children.
The Captain disappears. I can't see him. Where did He go? Now He is beside me on the porch, watching for children. How did He do that?
He went around the back and found the back door open. He went through the door and through the house, then out the front door by me. My dog solved the maze puzzle. Round two. Dog wins.
Round three: My one indulgence is to eat breakfast out at a local diner. I am a "regular" there. I like to see the other patrons. I like to hear their voices. The waitresses know my usual order. All this is a comfort...like the bar, "Friends"...where everybody knows your name.
The Captain comes with me. He loves to ride in the truck. He knows He will be rewarded with a bit of bacon when I return to the truck. I can't jingle my car keys but Jack is at the door, ready to go.
Truck key jingle. Dog at the door. Let's go.
We are in the parking lot. Jack has a cup of water in the cup holder. The windows are rolled partially down so He gets a good air flow.
Jack gets the command,"stay". I head for the diner.
My breakfast is delivered. I am enjoying reading the paper and sipping coffee. Suddenly, there is a commotion at the door. The waitresses are at the door. There is lots of giggling. One waitress is holding up...my dog!
Jack had jumped out of the window, crossed the parking lot, and managed to get through the first pair of doors. He was headed for my table and a piece of bacon. Round three. Dog wins.

2011-07-24T08:29:00.003-04:00

Back in the late 1800s, a good education ended at the 6th or the 8th grade. That was all any one needed to function in life. One could read and write and cypher (add and subtract). The only people that needed more education were those that were studying to be bankers, doctors, lawyers.
Florence wanted more. She was my husband's grandmother. Florence lived in the next town over from Yale. Those days, some lectures were opened to the public. One could attend a lecture, get a good education without paying tuition to Yale. I think the reason that Florence wanted a good education has to do with her choice of a husband and their choice of where they built their home.
Albert was a golf club maker, working at a local golf club. They built their home right next to the golf course. They met the attorneys and bankers on the golf course.
So, Florence attended lectures at Yale. She was especially interested in American literature and the lectures she attended were given by a man named Phelps. You can read about him in Wikipedia....if I ever remember his whole name. There is a chair at Yale named after him.
Doctor Phelps lectured on American Literature. Florence bought the books. On her bookshelf is Sam Clemens, Hawthorn, Alcott. She collected poetry and Russian authors, as Russian literature was an interest of Professor Phelps. In the collection is the entire works of Dickens. Florence turned out to be a well read person. She collected good watercolors that she displayed on her walls.
Florence's daughter was Mae. Mae is the mother of my husband, Bob. I never met either woman, but I feel I know them through the possessions they left behind. Mae was a reader, too. The collection of books grows to include James Fennimore Cooper, Bronte, Shakespeare. The collection lightens with O. Henry, William Saroyan, and Reader's Digest condensed books. The Reader's Digest books are printed on cheap paper with a high acid content. They are disintegrating on the shelf, but still readable.
I am adding my own collection of books to this library because I had the good fortune of inheriting these priceless works of literature through my husband. Mine are on gardening, on art, home repair, holistic health, dysfunctional families, child development. Fiction includes Harry Potter series, Steig Larsson's "The Girl Who...." series, detective stories, Sinclair Lewis, science fiction .
All are gone now. Their footprints are left behind: their books, their watercolors, school primers, their gardens, canning and sewing supplies. ...and their wonderful son and grandson who has joined them in heaven. What is left is the rich environment they left me filled with books worth reading and watercolors now displayed on my walls. I've added my own collection of paintings.
To Mae's piano and stack of piano music, I add my own.
I go to the backyard to pull weeds from the lilac bush that Mae planted. The day lilies are from Florence's yard. The rose is my own.

2011-07-17T11:20:00.004-04:00

My father's hobby and passion was amateur radio and all things electronic. He was a member of Radio Pioneers. That was back in the days of crystal sets. He had a ham station before He met his wife...my mother. There was also a ham set in the car. He exchanged QSL cards with other operators to prove that he had talked to them. They lived all over the world. I gave those cards to my grandson and the cards, unappreciated, disappeared.

As I stated, his interests broadened to all things electronic. He got a "deal" on a full size motion picture projector and boxes of movies. I don't know where they came from. Dad set up the projector in his ham shack...a room in the basement. A hole was cut out in one wall, making the ham shack a projectionist's booth. Dad called me into that little room and showed me how the film was wound on sprockets. He showed me the film up close. I could see that there were tiny changes in the picture from one frame to the next. Dad explained if you looked at them fast, you got the illusion of moving pictures. He showed me the big wheel in front of the liens, which turned, blocking the light except for when the hole in the wheel was passing by the lens. This blocked the showing of the lines between each frame yet allowing the picture within the frame to be illuminated. It had to be calibrated exactly, or you would see the picture flicker.

One rainy day, my parents called in all the kids in the neighborhood to come to our cellar. Dad had hung a sheet from the ceiling. We spent the day watching old movies. I saw Tom Mix, Kay Keiser and his college of musical knowledge, Felix the Cat, Hector the Dog at the steel pier in New Jersey. I saw Will Rogers roping and dancing while on a horse. I also saw a 7 reel western that consisted on a cowboy riding his horse into the sunset....and the next day, riding back into town. I never got the plot for that one.

Those movies were fascinating. I will never forget them...or the experience shared with my parents and the neighborhood kids one rainy day The movies sat round for a few years. Then my Dad got tired of them. He probably got tired of the projector sitting in the middle of his ham shack. So He sold them.

2011-07-13T14:11:00.002-04:00

The fruits of spring and summer are a delight. I love their fragrance, taste, texture. I don't even mind juice running between my fingers. Apparently I am not the only one.

After eating a handful of cherries, I put the pits in the container that holds kitchen waste destined for the mulch pile. Next morning, they were in the towel drawer. "Oh silly me. I must have aimed for the container, but the pits fell into the opened towel drawer." The pits got cleaned out and put into the container. I ate more cherries.

Next morning, the pits were in the towel drawer. This time, I knew I hadn't missed the green container on the sink. Miss Mouse is back. All peels and pits were collected into the contain and carried outside to the mulch pile. The container is now clean.

I cut open a cantaloupe and put the seeds in the aforementioned green mulch container on the sink. Next morning, miss mouse had carried every one of those seeds to the towel drawer. She ate the inside and left the husks. How much work it must take to carry all those seeds, a cheekful at a time to the towel drawer? Once more, I cleaned out the towel drawer.

She really is a hard worker. I admire the little furry creature, but she can't live in my house. who ever heard of a mouse taking up residence inside in warm weather? Most mice look for shelter in the fall...looking for a warm place to pass the winter.

My best guess is, she came through the door to the back yard. That door is left cracked open so Captain Jack can go outside. I must remember to install a doggie door in that door. Can mice use a doggie door?

I am an admirer or mice. We had them in the nursery school where I taught. They are all miracles in miniature. In spite of that, Miss Mouse has to go. I put mouse bait in the towel drawer. The next morning, it was well chewed. The mulch container remains untouched.

2011-07-08T09:29:00.003-04:00

The story isn't original to me. It bears telling anyways.

It was winter in the great forest. Dark and cold. The wind blew and sent chills to anyone foolish to venture out in such bad weather. Sleet fell. A lone wolf walked the forest, cold and hungry. He came to the woodcutter's cottage. A warm light shone through the window. Smoke rose from the chimney, telling of a cozy fire inside.

The wolf cautiously came to the door of the cottage. There, guarding the door, was a dog. The two looked at each other...the wolf, starving and cold....the dog, well fed and fat.

"Poor wolf. You look cold and hungry. Why don't you come inside with me for a while? There is food in my bowl, and water. You can have it. The fire will warm you and you will feel much better", said the dog.

The wolf was tempted. Surely this fellow canine was friendly. The cottage looked solid and inviting. Looking through the door, wolf could see the filled bowls waiting for him. The warmth of the fire and a woolen rug to lay on, beckoned him. Wolf was tempted. He started to enter the cottage, then He stopped. He asked,"Dog, what is that around your neck?"

Dog answered, "It is my collar. Master put it there so He can chain me if He needs to."

Wolf turned and went away.

Moral of the story: Freedom first.

Why did I post this folk tale? Because I had a flashback of a news story I saw on TV. It was of an all inclusive senior living facility ...happens to be in Florida. They promised to take care of our seniors...all inclusive. There were apartments and free meals. Medical attention was available when needed.....even a nursing home for resident's last days. It was on the news, showing an elderly man so weak, He could not raise himself from his bed. He was starving to death. It seems the facility did a very poor job of caring for the residents...but of course, it collected the money ...all that the seniors had. They had no money to leave the facility and no family to call for help.

I remember how my mother was taken care of in an Assisted Living facility. She was outspoken and difficult to control. So they doped her up with Attlivan to shut her up. She sat in a chair in a haze of dope...I watched her muscles atrophy from last of use. I was afraid in her weakened condition, she would fall and break a hip. The pupils of her eyes were contracted into tiny points. She was cold as ice. Her lungs were filled with mucus...so much for good care...

That facility wasn't doing my mother a favor. They learned she was a full paying guest...not on Medicare. So they wanted her to stay...very profitable to them. Mom deteriorated to a point she was eligible for the next level of care...and more expensive as well. The facility was working to be eligible to open an Alzheimer's wing and Mom was to go in it. Mom did not have Alzheimer's disease. To be in an Azheimer's wing and not have the disease? It sounded like a nightmare. I basically kidnapped her and took her home across state lines without the approval of the court.

My reward for defying the courts was to see her brighten up. She was off all medication. My physician put her on a full range of nutritional supplements. I encouraged her to walk. We did things together. Her defiant behavior disappeared. She relaxed. That last year of my mother's life was a gift to me....memories I will always cherish.

Never ever believe anyone...or any institution... who says they will provide for you.....Never believe in turning your life over to someone else...including the government. Never believe it when they say they will help you. What they mean is, they are planning on helping themselves to your assets. .Believe them at your peril. When you put your life in someone Else's hands, you give up your freedom to act for yourself...a bad bargain in my opinion.

2011-07-02T12:35:00.007-04:00

It is the Fourth Of July weekend. I should be planning something nice, like a family picnic. Oh wait, that was last week. There is no family around. I have no date, no boat and no dock. Poor me. I will be tortured again this fourth. My street runs parallel to Long Island Sound. The small cottages are rented to young people who love a good weekend party. I will listen to motorcycles running up and down the road. I will smell beer and hamburgers...at other people's picnics.

I sure hope that Don gets relocated here soon so I can have some family around to share a holiday with.

Listening and smelling other people's picnics brings flashbacks of Fourth Of July celebrations past. I am remembering sitting on my father's car as a preschooler, watching the fireworks shot out over Lake Erie. The day was filled with ice cream and watermelon and corn on the cob. I am in my bathing suit....same suit I spend the entire summer in. I am free to swim any time without parental supervision. I know how to swim. The water is shallow. It is a delight to be young , light on my feet, and free to swim out as far as I want to. There is a "stand" at the end of the colony where my parents had a cottage. For a dime, I could buy my favorite treat: a creamcicle

When I was older, my parents and my aunts and uncles had picnics together in my aunt and uncle's back yard. They had a willow tree in the back yard. I watched the caterpillars rain down on their silk threads. Fascinating, but I didn't want to sit under that tree. In the evening, the kids...my cousins...had sparklers.

Another Fourth of July. I am older and dating the man I would marry soon. His family had a picnic with steak...and later lots of fireworks. My in laws were always very nice to me. I could never understand mother in law jokes. My mother in law was more of a mother to me than my own mother. I ate at their house often. After I had my own home , I realized how expensive I was to have around at mealtime. My father in law never said a word about the cost. Dad, I don't think you ever got the credit you deserved.

I should do something with this weekend. There is no one I want to spend it with. Perhaps I will go to the movies....or pack up my paints and head out somewhere to make a watercolor painting. What I probably will do is stay home in the backyard and read a book. ..maybe pull some weeds.

2011-07-02T11:54:00.005-04:00

Hi Gary from Hartford

I am enjoying our e-friendship and all the similarities We share. We both were away this weekend. I was away from Thursday through Tuesday. You were away at a wedding. You are the wine bringer. People must look forward to seeing you come through the door. I bet over the years, you've developed a fine sense of wine.
I look over the selection of wine at the local package store and usually end up with Little Penguin Pinot Noir. It is very good....but I know there is better wine out there....because I've tasted it. The trouble with knowing what good wine tastes like, is...all the rest taste second class.

While you were at the wedding, I drove to Syracuse New York. It takes 6 hours with a few pit stops to let the dog out...and for me, too. My daughter and her family live there. The youngest one graduated from High School. His father put together a big picnic for the family. They invited everyone including the neighbors and old friends. Don put up a tent over the driveway. He cooked for days. There were too many choices to eat...in my opinion. Yet at the end of the picnic, food was mostly gone. There were 3 desserts and I would have opted for one...to name just one example. The ones that had the best time at the picnic were my dog, Captain Jack and Amanda's dog, Sadie. Both dogs were stationed under the picnic table, moching food without shame. Over 45 people indulged them. They were happy dogs

Most graduation ceremonies are pretty awful to sit through, although they are very exciting for the graduates. Donnie's wasn't too bad. The auditorium was air conditioned. The speakers spoke clearly and slow as to overcome the echo from bad acoustics. I was only tortured an hour and a half.

Members of the audience were a hoot to look at. People dressed in all sorts of outfits...from biker wear to dress up clothes. Little kids would not sit still. They kick the back of the seat in from of them. Nobody knows what decorum is.

After the ceremony...nearly deaf from the shouting when a graduate's name was announced....after the ceremony we met Donnie outside. Donnie is a new father. He is much too young for this, in my opinion. We know He will have a hard row to hoe with his daughter and her mother. At least He picked a nice lady with a good head on her shoulders. Both intend to continue their education...but I see it will be hard financially.

People greeted each other, many for the last time. I was disappointed to Learn that others are new parents, too.

On Monday, I met with 3 girlfriends I've known for decades. They are very dear to me. Gary, you said you have some friends you would give a kidney to. They are that dear to you. These ladies are just as special to me as your friends are to you. Ginny and I lived within 5 houses of each other when our children were growing up. We had coffee together in the afternoons. We picked strawberries and made strawberry lemon jam together. I met Helen and Judy at Friends Meeting. (Did I mention I was a Quaker?) We had a reunion in a restaurant and enjoyed lunch together...catching up on each other's news. Lunch went by way too quickly.

Judy had to see someone who was ill and Helen could not come with us, because she has arthritis in her feet. She walks with a cane. Ginny and I went to the Thornden Park Rose Garden which was just past its peak...but still a lovely walk. We walked and talked.

Ginny took me back to Beth's house so I could get my truck...but I could not get in the house to get my keys. ....so Ginny took me back to her place for another walk and talk around her house with her lovely garden. I made a mental note to myself to dig up a lot of flowers I've planted and replace them with shrubs so the landscape has more architecture to it. We had dinner together. Her husband, Frank, loves wood working. He has taken a table apart to reconfigure it. Don't ask me how He is doing it. He is remaking a cherry dining room table. Knowing Frank, it will be lovely.

I've figured out the common denominator connecting my friends: They are all peaceful people, socially aware and intellectuals. They are competent people, able to handle whatever life hands them. Don't I have good taste in friends?

The next day was a travel day back to Milford...laundry and mail...you know how it goes. There was a nice surprise waiting for me as I drove in the driveway: My next door neighbor had cut my grass for me. Captain Jack jumped out of the truck and ran to Butch. They are the best of friends. Sometimes, life is good.

2011-02-23T09:47:00.003-05:00

I've lived at the beach house for over 32 years. Richard and I bought it. Then He died. I made all the mortgage payments...sometimes out of unemployment compensation. I sacrificed to stay afloat...something many people are doing now in the light of all the housing foreclosures. I lived bare bones...no holidays, cut my own hair, no movies, no cable, heat turned down to so cold I wore my coat in the house. Many people can relate to living this way. One does what one has to do to make mortgage payments. As a result, I am proud of this house, proud of paying all the mortgage payments...not late once. I am now in a good position: no debt at all, no car payments, no mortgage payments. I don't even pay interest on credit cards. I am a little smug about this.
So, this house is important to me. I want to keep it in good shape, as it was well designed to start with and has a good location, location, location. The house faces the water. The builder must have run out of money as the project progressed, because He put in cheap utility grade windows and patio doors.
The house needs good windows and doors. Over time, I've replaced the windows with Owens Corning fiberglass windows. My parameter was to address exposure to water, rust, rot and insect damage. I think I chose the right windows. They are expensive, but work very well.
The patio doors had to wait until I had the money and found the right contractor. My friend Carol used Ted for her addition. He is a designer as well as a meticulous craftsman. I will hire Ted. Now, what type of patio doors do I want? I went through the home stores and window stores. My ideas began to gel. I want doors that are clad on the outside so they are weatherproof. I don't want to look through screens. I chose roll up screens. I like the idea of blinds between glass. This gives privacy if needed, a clear view if that is chosen, or some combination. The blinds between glass makes it easier to keep them clean...and prevents dog paws from getting at the blinds. Final choice was Pella patio doors. There are THREE layers of glass with this type of door.
Before the doors went in, I had a structural engineer look at the house. There is a problem with the slab in the basement. There are crack lines in the Sheetrock. The engineer did a survey and said the reason is that the house is settling at 2 rates: The center of the house is 2 stories high. The front and back are one story high. The extra weight in the center section is the cause of the crack. There is essentially no construction flaw. On that good news, I went ahead with the project. The doors are in. I am finishing the inside of the wood doors with tung oil...a slow and laborious process, but the end result will be worth it.

2011-02-23T09:35:00.002-05:00

My neighbor, Butch, suffered damage when the tree fell. See previous blog entry. I had submitted bills to the city for the damage done to my property. Butch did not. I felt the city was responsible , as there were two previous warnings to the city that there was something wrong with that old tree. My claim was denied. I filed in small claims court.
Butch came with me to testify if needed. I was astounded at so many people that came from the city. There were two attorneys, the claims clerk and the city's tree warden. How much salary times the time spent in court is this costing the city? and by extension, the taxpayer? My claim was for under $2,000. Surely the wasted salary sitting there was much more.
In the end, I won. I got the cost of filing back and the cost of replacing the weather vane that the city destroyed when it pulled branches off the roof of the garage. I forgot to mention the pear tree they pulled up. I was not reimbursed for the rest....which was a considerable expense to the garage and lawn. The judge ruled the tree falling was an act of nature...ignoring the two warnings.... I did not submit bills for the sidewalk, as I know that maintaining the sidewalk is the home owner's responsibility. Add this experience to my experience with courts in New Jersey and Connecticut for my mother's care. The result is that I have lost confidence in the system, especially attorneys who seem to have sold their soul for money. That's another story. At least Butch saves the cost of filing by watching my experience.

2011-02-23T08:58:00.004-05:00

So much has happened . I was so busy I did not record any events. This blog is a "catch up" on family news.

Last summer, my sister in law died. She was a life long smoker. She developed emphysema and lived the last years of her life connected to a machine. Carol and Phil moved out of Buffalo ...to Kentucky where her son lived. She needed to be closer to family for the care she needed.. I got the call from her daughter in law that Carol died of a heart attack. I felt sad for all that We had missed. There was no socializing between us. We were very different people and lived in different parts of the country. Carol was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She looked like Elizabeth Taylor...only more beautiful. All her beauty was lost to cigarettes.
I can't figure out the person she was. She never learned to drive. How does one function like that in a civilization based on roads and cars? Perhaps she used her own mother as a model. Her mom never learned to drive either, but that was in an earlier generation when people could walk to where they wanted to go...or take the bus.
Carol never held a job . She didn't graduate from high school, but got her GED later. She never did volunteer work that I know of. She spent her days in front of the television, watching CVS and buying clothes from the program....and smoking.
I am tempted to write that her life was useless, but that isn't true. She was deeply loved by her husband and her family. Her family was everything to her. She raised two very successful children...a son and a daughter...my niece and my nephew...both with graduate degrees, good emotional and physical health and contributing to our society. She was an artist and a gourmet cook. Her husband loved her very much and was devoted to her, even in the last difficult days of her illness..
Her mother, my mother in law was a stay at home mother. She was superstitious about writing a will. She put it off, reasoning that if she did write one, she would die. But reasonable persons convinced her that since she had property and some assets, she needed to write her will. She finally did so. She got the call from the attorney that it was ready to be signed. She died a day before signing the will. That ment that her assets were divided according to the laws of the state and not according to her wishes as stated in her will.
Carol was the executrix of the estate. Carol told me that she gets half the estate and the other half goes to Richard's heirs...her brother's children...my daughters. I get nothing. That was OK with me. I understand the rules. Carol told me that her mother's will gave something to her children.my niece and nephew. The new system does not. Carol called to ask me to convince me to get my daughters to turn over their half of the estate to her children...as Oley wanted that. I was stunned. I could not convince my sister in law, that her own children will inherit from her...if she conserves the assets. I asked her to contact her nieces directly, as I was out of the loop. She did not speak to me again from that day forward to the day she died.....not a post card or a Christmas letter. Go figure. I guess I do not know as much about being human as I thought I did. Her daughter in law stayed in contact with me...bless her...so I kept up with the Kentucky branch of the family. Last fall, there was a memorial service for Carol in Buffalo. It was a long delayed reunion and wonderful to see how the children had grown up into successful people. There are new grandchildren and in laws. The clan has grown. My daughter and her husband and I went to that memorial service. There were pictures of my sister in law as she was...in good health and as beautiful as ever. My feelings were Carol's life didn't accomplish anything. But I am wrong. ..and I am not her judge.

2010-12-20T07:15:00.002-05:00

6:30 AM. Time to start my day. Captain "Happy" Jack goes outside. I start the coffee. I am meeting the contractor today at 8AM . He is reconstructing my in-law apartment that was destroyed in the flood. The clothes for the day are laid out on my bed . Next stop is the bathroom. When I turn on the light, I see a mouse in my bathtub. The little thing is in a panic. She fell in and can't get out. (I know it is a female mouse, because when I was teaching nursery school, We had pet mice in the classrooms. Female mice are clean and sweet. Male mice stink to the heavens. We kept out male mouse in the storeroom. His name was Sam, but that is another story.)

How can I take a bath with a mouse in the bathtub? She wants to hide. The only camouflage she can find is the drain. Little lady mouse hides in the drain, but she doesn't fit. Her tail sticks out. If she was one of our pet mice, I would merely pick her up by her tail and let her sit on my hand ....her ride down the stairs and out the door.

This is a wild mouse. She will panic and bite me. I have no traps. I have no bait and I really don't want to kill it. They are so beautiful...perfection in miniature...tiny eyes and feet. Everything works. God is a perfect engineer. His works can be seen in this tiny little mouse.

I call Butch, my neighbor. He laughs at me. We decide that I need a heavy pair of leather gloves so no one can be bitten. Yes. Butch has the gloves. My neighbor comes to my house with gloves in hand. We ascend the stairs. There she is...looking at us from her drain refuge.

Only this time, the tail is tucked in. It takes some coaxing . She runs all over the tub. She runs up Butch's arm. He shakes her down. Lady mouse stops with tail straight out. I take a piece of cardboard and hold her tail down...cardboard on end. Butch covers her with his gloved hand. He slips the cardboard under her. The lady mouse is captured in Butch's hand.

Butch carries her between his hands and talks to her, telling her that We won't hurt her. Lady mouse is deposited in a pile of leaves outside. I hope she finds a place to stay warm this winter , but not in my house.

2010-12-04T13:14:00.006-05:00

Merry Christmas to my friends and family that are reading this blog. Merry Christmas, too, to blog readers just passing through. Stop again in anytime and leave a comment stating that you were here.

Instead of writing a Christmas letter, I thought I would give a try at this new technology...a blog letter for anyone to read.

Christmas always has me thinking of Christmases past...remembering when I was a little girl. I believed in Santa Claus. My imagination was so sharp, that I could almost see the elves disappearing around the corner. They were watching me to see if I was good or bad. I have marvelous memories of Christmas past...of stockings filled with oranges and walnuts and lifesavers...of music on the radio...of the presence of my parents, just as excited as I was .

In contrast, this year is a sad year for several people I know . My cousin Christine has lost her husband John . He died of cancer. My childhood friend Deanna also died this summer. She died of cancer from smoking. Lily, my beloved rat terrier died last winter of multiple organ failure. Captain Jack does his best to help me forget my loss of the lovely Lily.

Judy D. lost her husband to artery disease. I've know Judy since we were little kids playing on the street in Buffalo New York. Joe lost his love, Phyllis to breast cancer. My sister-in-law, Carol is also deceased. Her family had a wonderful memorial service in her memory . People traveled from all across the country to be there. It was sad but sweet to see family I hadn't seen in many years.

We almost lost Barbara. Barbara, my dear friend from elementary school traveled halfway across the country to attend our reunion. The next day she was in the hospital. The doctor used the phrase,"If she lives through the night....". That is enough to scare the beejeeses out of anyone. She pulled out of it with the loving care of her daughter and granddaughter.

Those who were left behind are devastated. It will not be a good Christmas for them....the first Christmas alone.

Richard died November 1978. The first Christmas following his death, I smashed every Christmas ornament in the house and have not put up a Christmas tree since. Merry Christmas indeed. The sound of carols in the mall is annoying. Ads on TV promoting all kinds of wonderful things for children and adults leave a feeling of heartache. Christmas seems to have turned into just a buying frenzy. I choose to not participate. If I bake cookies, I will eat them and get fat. Then I will hate myself for baking and eating cookies.

Instead, it is time to treasure those friends that I still have...those people who know what Christmas 1945 was like. We are scattered from Australia to Arizona to California and back to Buffalo New York. We do the best We can to stay in touch via letter, phone or email. Modern technology does make it easier.

I celebrate with friends. We meet at each other's houses. If it is my turn, I decorate with poinsettias, pine wreath and bayberry candles. It smells like Christmas. A meal shared is comforting and joy . There are lots of good Christmas music CDs and DVD movies for Christmas. The laughter and conversation of friends is the glitter of the day. Christmas present is different from Christmas past and that is OK.

There was a lot of activity at my house this year. Christopher got a very good job at Timex. He stayed with me, saved his money and flew down to Raleigh NC to be with his girlfriend every chance he could. Then He got the job of his dreams with Red Hat. They gave him excellent training. Chris and Tara are soon to be married. This is a good match. I see only good things happening for this couple.

In February, I flew to Fort Lauderdale Florida for a seminar in Matrix Energetics. My friend Deanna lives there. I am so glad that I saw her one last time, had time to spend with her and her brother Russell and Jim and Rich....those wonderful people who supported her in her struggle with cancer.

House renovation report: I had storm doors installed on my house and learned I get an energy credit for that. At the other house, I finally got the kitchen counter tops installed. Last project for this year is to replace three patio doors at the first house. The doors are delivered but not yet installed. I also found out I have to re-side the front of my house that faces the water. The salt water and sun have done a job on it. Then my tenant called to tell me that the wind and rain storm pulled a storm window right off her house. It came off frame and all. During another rain and wind storm this last winter, a city tree by the side of the street fell over onto my garage. I replaced one side of the garage, half the roof and filled in the holes in the lawn that the branches dug. The city came and ground out the stump . This left the sidewalk with a hole in it. It is the homeowners responsibility to care for the sidewalk, so I now have a new sidewalk. While I was at it, I also had them pour a new floor for the garage and a new driveway. the masons were here and the work was needed, so why not do it all at once....

Chris and I had fun at an alpaca farm. I met my friend, Marian there. I got free alpaca manure for my garden and Chris got an alpaca toy for Holiday. It was a pleasant informal day out.

Spence and I went to see the musical, Hair. It was a good overview of 1960s culture. They got every symbol of that era into that play, including putting a daisy in the barrel of a rifle. Loved that musical.

My one excursion into New York city this year was to see the King Tut exhibit in Times Square Museum. It is fun to take the train into NYC, eat at a restaurant and wander around the big apple. Spence and I sat in Times Square and watched the people. This is a good city for people watching. The exhibit, but the way, gets only a passing grade.

Too much time has gone by without "the ladies" getting together. This is May. I don't want to wait until summer for a get together. So, We got together at Judy H's house. Everybody brought something, so no one person was stuck with all that cooking. I like socializing at people's houses instead of a restaurant for several reasons: one of them is my hearing isn't what it used to be. At Judy's house, there are no other conversations intruding from the background. We can stay as long as We want to...unlike a restaurant. and it is less expensive.

In Judy, I adopted a poodle that turned into a Bichon. Captain "Happy" Jack is now part of the family. In fact, He runs the place. Like all dogs that come from the SPCA, He must have had a lot of trauma. He was saved from a "kill" shelter in Georgia. He had some upper respiratory problems that the vet cleared up. They also had to pull a tooth. We cleared up an ear infection. I had to have another tooth pulled, as it was abscessed and bleeding into his mouth. What could have happened to a little dog only four years old (we think) and have those problems? I am pleased to report that as of December, He has no more infection and his coat is beautiful. He has a good diet, is well adjusted to my routine, goes everywhere with me in the car and sleeps on my bed...even when I don't want him to. As I said, He runs the household. His wish is my command.

A long running disagreement with my sister in regards to the settlement of our mother's estate is finally over because I gave in. I took a big loss, just to end this. This is a sad situation because I was unable to carry out my parent's wishes in regards to their estates. I am sure my sister thinks she won. I think We both lost, but it is done. Time to look forward, right?

In the summertime, there were hot dogs at the beach to celebrate friend's birthdays. I love the beach...love the sound and sight of seagulls, the smell of salt water, sound of waves, boats, sun on my skin. I bet there are people who are landlocked who would give a fortune to live in my town right on Long Island Sound.

In the fall: I went to my first high school reunion. There were a few people I was in touch with via email but had not seen since We graduated...decades ago. I also wanted to see friends from the old neighborhood. There is some overlapping of the two groups. How exciting to be reconnected and to learn what people have done with their lives. We are all successful people. Some have their own businesses while others worked for a company. Some friends are teachers or artists or musicians. Again, I learn of those who have died. The "rah rah" gang is still in charge of our graduating class. They went the rounds of the tables, trying to get us to sing the old school song. None of us at our table wanted to do that. We just wanted to talk quietly and get reacquainted. Our table met again the following day at a restaurant just to continue our conversations and take more pictures. OK. Now I can say that I went to my high school reunion. I saw people 54 years after We graduated. I don't want to do that again. I do want to see again, the people who sat at our table. We can have our own reunions.

One thing I learned is that my friends in Buffalo have turned into snow birds. The long winter is hard on retirees. It may be fun when you are a child in a snowsuit, building a snow fort, but it seems dreary wet and cold to retirees. So they fly the coup....to Florida, mostly. I wish I was there for a visit....capturing some sunshine in February like they do.

Eric called me to resume my volunteer duties at the Johnson Memorial Museum. This museum is located in a city owned building dedicated to veterans. Sergeant Johnson was our local hero from World War 2, Korea and Vietnam. He was a prisoner of war for 18 months in Stalig 17B. It is appropriate that the museum is named after him.

There are uniforms , medals, books ...stuff....sitting in the museum office. I dropped this project over 15 years ago. It has laid dormant ever since. Our library is located right next door . The librarian is supportive and helpful. With Eric's help, Jean's help and the support of our Aldermen, I am back at it...cataloging artifacts. Our retired librarian , Stanley developed the system I will continue to use. Civic groups have given money to this project. Local veterans have donated their uniforms and artifacts. Eric has an extensive personal collection that represents each branch of the service. He has collections that date back to the Civil War.

So instead of sitting by the fire reading a book, or flying to a tropical climate this winter, I will be sitting in a dusty museum office having the time of my life connecting respectfully to our dead and interfacing with the living. Merry Christmas everyone. The Gardenbug
wit

2010-10-19T14:29:00.002-04:00

Dear Aunt Irene: When I knew that I would be in Buffalo for a high school reunion, I planned the other days to see other friends and family. Naturally, I called Christine to see if they were doing anything for your birthday. We had such a good time my last visit. I was looking forward to a repeat visit.
I was so shocked and saddened to learn of the turn of events since my last visit. John has cancer and probably is dying. Christine is beside herself with worry and with tears. She cried on the phone. He is now in Hospice Care.
Then I learned that you are now living in an assisted living facility. That was the second shock. I guess that caring for two people is more than your daughter can manage. There is nothing I can do from here to help out, but I would do anything if I could..
I remember the family tradition I observed in your family: Lenore cared for Ami. Irene cared for Lenore...and I thought that Christine would care for Irene when you no longer were able to care for yourself. I felt sure that you would be cared for, as Christine is a loving and hard working daughter. Life had other plans, I guess.
Anyways, I called your facility to see how you are adjusting and was relieved to hear that you are making new friends, so perhaps this will work out after all.
I know that you dearly miss your old life...your own home...Charlie and church. I am hoping that new experiences...all good...will replace the old situation.
This is just a little note to let you know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.
As for me, I continue to renovate and repair my house, enjoy my garden and train my disobedient dog, Captain Jack. I don't have any family around, but I have good neighbors and friends that act like a support system. My grandson, Stephen lives in the next town over, so in an emergency, he will come and help. Melanie lives in Australia and Beth lives in Syracuse. Melanie's oldest son, Chris, is living in the Raleigh NC area and is doing very well with his career. He asked a lovely lady to marry him and she said,"yes". I approve. She is lovely.
I will close this letter out now with a blessing for you. It is plopped on your head like ice cream onto a cone. Love and light are dripping all over you and it tickles and delights. Love from your niece.

2010-08-30T16:58:00.006-04:00

This is an article in the local paper written by Dr. David Katz. At the end, I will add my editorial comment.
Which came first is what may prove to be the nation's largest salmonella outbreak: the chicken or the tainted egg?
Neither, in my opinion. Both are effects. We are the cause.
Any gardener knows that to solve a weedy problem, you have to get it at its roots.
Why is it that some 500 million eggs have been recalled, and 1,500 people have gotten sick in the U.S. due to salmonella contamination? Proximal causes have much to do with modern farming and food-handling techniques, and something to do with FDA resource limitations. But what about the root cause?
And how about the worst drought in Russia in 50 years, leading to massive crop failure? Could it be fed by the same root?
What of massive population displacement in Pakistan due to inundation, and similar is lesser upheaval due to flooding in China? And while we're at it, can we trace the root to accelerated melting of the polar ice, with ramifications we are still guessing at?
I think we can. The root cause that connects these dots, and many others besides, is global population growth. There are too many of us, and too many more each year.
This particular topic carries something of a wince factor for me, a father of five. I usually enjoy the comfort of practicing what I preach. But, then again, former drug users often make the best addiction counsellors, and some of the top obesity experts struggle with their own weight. I suppose i can come clean about population pressures, despite having done such a poor job of keeping my genes to myself.
I raise the issue because it's ominously absent from the discourse in preventative medicine, public health and public policy. Mum's the word about the global population in almost all discussion of global warming and climate change: modern industrial agricultural practices: and propagation and transmission of infectious and chronic diseases. This is odd, and worrisome. It suggests either obliviousness, fatalism, denial, ideological intransigence or capitulation, and none of these is good.
I was stunned when I spoke last year at the Imagine Solutions Conference in Naples, Fla, that my fellow speakers addressing the trials and tribulations of the planet spoke about a rapid ascent toward a global population of 9 billion or more as a fait accompli. Even though rapid population growth was the driving force behind the problems they went on to discuss--depletion of the oceans, climate change, deforestation and so forth--it was not discussed as a problem in its own right. I had a similar impression when last I participated in the Aspen Ideas Festival.
If the harms of excessive global population have become a taboo topic, I didn't get the memo.
There are more than 6 billion of us here now. I am inclined to think there is no problem 9 billion could solve that 6-plus billion can't. However, 9 billion may be the problem that the 6-plus billion need to solve, if we are to solve any other. Because the growing horse of us consuming the planet's resources, not to mention eggs, in uniquely modern fashion is the problem underlying many other problems.
The massive demands and ramifications of an ever-more-massive human population may be the root of the roots of many of our most urgent crises. Certainly, it is the reason 500,000 eggs were laid, packed and shipped at the same time in the first place. And, like most perils that fall within my preventive medicine purview, it is something we can address by means at our disposal, but only if we are cognizant of it and willing to talk about it.
We have met the enemy, and, in our ever-increasing, ever more modern, ever more voracious multitudes, it is us. While 500 million seems a big number, We have 9 billion things to start talking about, and the sooner, the better.

My thoughts on the topic; Dr. Katz is correct. From his medical background, He can see that distributing birth control can help. Empowering women so they can control the size of their family.....that can also help. Men need to be educated to learn that women are people with just as much right to a say as their men have. Men need to learn that women are not baby making machines. Political entities need to know that encouraging families to not use birth control may enlarge their political base in the short run, but in the long run, will be the destruction of us all.

We need to get our numbers down. The last time I saw a statistic, world population was 4 times what the earth's resources can sustain. That means We are using up resources faster than they can regenerate. From my background in human development, I learned that when families are educated and live with enough money and resources to be in charge of their lives, they automatically limit the number of children in their family. Therefore, one major key to population control is to help families rise out of poverty into relative wealth and comfort.

Empower people with good education and the resources to control their own lives. Let people know that it is OK to stay single, or to marry but not have children, or to adopt. Let people in villages speak with one voice and improve the life in the village . As I said, the key here is to empower people ..... Thanks, Dr. Katz, for opening this topic.

2010-08-29T11:03:00.002-04:00

Good things happened to this family in August. Chris , with a lot of courage, quit his job to relocate to Raleigh North Carolina. This is where the lady He loves lives. He grew up there, so He knows the city and suburbs. His old boss asked him to continue work as a consultant from Raleigh, so there was no interruption in paychecks. With a phone line and a computer, Chris continued working for his old boss. That is the first miracle. The second miracle is the job He wanted came through....with training free included....that He was willing to pay tuition for. The third miracle is that Tara agreed to marry Chris.

The Fourth miracle is that Stephen now has a job. He works as an auto mechanic, but lost his job because He lost his license from driving under the influence. He will never do that again, he says and I know it is true. He found a job that doesn't require Him to have his driver's license and He is still peripherally in his field. He continues to work towards regaining his license and various trade certifications. My grandson has reached a new level of maturity. I am proud of him and his brother.

The fifth miracle isn't really a miracle. It is merely tasks accomplished that I can cross off the "to do" list. My mother's probate is finished. ....long story....I will save that one for later.

Also finished: the repairs to the garage roof, garage wall and floor, driveway, replacement sidewalk and repaired lawn. Yesterday I went to Windowrama to look at patio doors. The next project is to replace all three patio doors at my house. I will pay for them for what I got out of my mother's estate. It seems I am always repairing or replacing parts of my houses. Perhaps I will be doing this the rest of my life. It gives me something to do as long as I don't run out of money to do these projects and a feeling of accomplishment. However, I do want this list to be done and then be free to do other things.

2010-08-22T08:41:00.003-04:00

My grandson is 32, divorced and wants to start a family. Chris wants to remarry and settle down. The love of his life lives in Raleigh, where Chris once lived and where He met Tara. Chris is doing very well at his job in Connecticut. The only thing is the job isn't in North Carolina. He makes a big decision. Chris gives notice that he is leaving the job and moving to North Carolina....without a new job lined up and in a national recession. He has a recruiter looking for a job for him. The one He wants is with Red Hat and a computer system called lynix...I may have misspelled the system's name.
He gives a month's notice to his boss....very professional of him. They don't want him to leave. He is firm. OK. They start to look for his replacement. Chris gets to interview his replacement...This will look good on his resume. He gets to train an intern. This will also look good on his resume. The boss praises Chris in front of the staff. This is also very very good for my grandson. He states to me that He has made good changes for this company and they appreciate it. They still don't want him to go. Finally they make an offer He can't refuse: until the new job comes in, will He stay on as a consultant? With a computer and a phone line, He can still work for them from Raleigh and collect a salary. Chris says yes.
It is time to pack. He packs his car to the roof . He packs my truck also to the roof. There is no space for anything more....but everything my grandson owns is there and about to be moved. We turn on our cells phones and off We go. I have Captain Jack as my copilot. Jack and I stop for breakfast, but Chris goes on ahead. Chris is about an hour ahead of me. The weekend traffic is awful. The heat and humidity is awful. Chris calls me on my cell. There is a 2 hour wait to get over the George Washington bridge. It is all volume traffic. By the time We get to Virginia, I am tiring. I call him and say that I am stopping in Richmond. Will He stop too? No. Chris wants to drive straight through. I stop at Motel 6 in Richmond because they allow dogs in the room.
Captain Jack loves the ride. The motion of the car puts him to sleep. I have a sleeping four year old puppy next to me the entire ride.
Next day I arrive at Holly Springs...our destination. My hostess and her little girl could not be nicer. We find that We have much in common. Chris has told me about Tara and I feel I know her before We met. She feels the same way. The little girl gives Captain Jack a bath. He stands perfectly still in the bath, so He remembers other baths. Holiday is delighted to have a puppy to play with. Captain Jack likes her too.
The afternoon is spent in the community pool. It is lovely. I love this pool and can stay in it all day. It is a salt water pool...the first time I've been in a salt water pool. By using salt, they don't have to use as much chlorine....which is a poison. This is one healthy pool.
Dinner is as the Gypsy Shiny Diner. I love diners and this seems to be the only one in the entire state of North Carolina. Holiday is falling asleep at the table. Time to go home.
It is bedtime. I have the couch which is fine with me. Holiday is put to bed. I am moved to hear Tara ask Holiday what is she grateful for? I had never asked my children that. Holiday gets to answer that question every night. One thing that Holiday is grateful for is playing with Jack.
It is time to turn out the lights and go to bed. Captain Jack won't sleep on my bed as He usually does. He insists on sleeping with Holiday. Good dog.

2010-08-22T08:14:00.002-04:00

This winter, the city tree at the curb fell. It landed on my truck, on the garage, and also on my neighbor Butch's house. It took down Butch's antenna, bent the mast, punched holes in the roof of my garage, gouged the side of the garage and roughed up my lawn.
A month earlier, a huge branch had fallen. The city came, cut it up and took it away. A year earlier, I had written the city about another branch that was hanging over the electrical supply line to my house. If that branch falls, it will disconnect my electric . I ask the city to prune this tree. They did not. Instead, they say that I can cut the branch myself. How can I do that? By good luck, my across the street neighbor has an arborist doing work for him. He sends the man to my house to cut the threatening branch. So, that is three instances with this tree.
When it finally had to be removed, the city tree crew came and did the work. They picked up all the branches that were dug into my lawn. By accident, they also pulled out a newly planted pear tree. It was winter. The tree looked just like any other branch stuck in the lawn. The crew used a bucket truck to get the branches off the roof of the garage. By doing so, they also pulled off my weather vane and broke it so it could not be reinstalled.
Now my neighbor and I have to repair the damage to our houses. I have holes in the roof of the garage. It rains inside the garage. This condition can't be ignored.
Butch hires someone to remove the bent mast that held his antennae. If that pole hadn't been there, the entire side of his house would have been damaged. I bet He would have had windows smashed. It was a really big maple tree at the end of its life...rotten inside.
I hire someone to replace just the damaged half of the garage roof, replace siding, repaint the damaged side. A landscaper comes to fill in the holes and spread grass seed. The total bill is around $2,000. The bill is submitted to the city for repayment. They refuse to pay, stating they have no responsibility to inspect their trees.
I have filed in small claims court. The city hires an attorney who tries to get the case out of small claims court into another court where he will have an advantage. He fails...the case isn't scheduled yet.
Meanwhile, there is a big space in the sidewalk where the tree was. Someone will fall in the hole and break an ankle. The maintenance of the sidewalk is the home owner's responsibility. I have to have a new sidewalk put in because the hole is a liability exposure.
My tenant has 2 squares of sidewalk that need replacement. Might as well have that done, too...as long as the mason is here. and....While He is here, I might as well have the garage floor and driveway done. They are cracked. Grass grows in the cracks. There are several sunken spots in the garage as if someone dropped something very heavy there. All this needs to be replaced. Might just as well do it all.
I call in my favorite masons. They did a wonderful job putting down the stone paver walkways. They also did a wonderful job installing glass blocks in the basement windows. I know they will do a good job on the sidewalk.
Yes. They did that. They also power washed the old sidewalk between my new sidewalk and the tenant's new sidewalk...and they edged it, too. The whole place looks pretty good.
The cost for all that concrete work was expensive, but it had to be done. I don't mind paying for this work, as I know I will never have to do it again. However, I feel strongly that the city should pay for the damage the tree did. The case doesn't have a date in court as yet.

2010-08-22T07:51:00.003-04:00

Lily died some times ago. I still miss her. When I look at her picture, I still feel sadness. This house needs a dog around. "I will just look"...I tell myself. It is a nice day for a ride to the SPCA. I see that dogs are outside in kennels under the trees for shade. They all look good.
A volunteer has me sign in . She asks what am I looking for. She asks the usual care questions....can I take care of a dog? Are there young children in the house? Will I walk the dog? Backyard fenced in? Yes. My backyard is fenced in.
No one is allowed to walk around by themselves and I understand why. Dogs can be stressed, living at the SPCA...and strangers are an unknown factor. We walk around. Several dogs meet my requirements. This volunteer is anxious to get a dog adopted. She puts a fuzzy puppy dog in my arms and lets me play with him. First of all, I do not want a puppy. This isn't a puppy. it is a four year old male dog. I don't adopt males, either.
I can see that this dog isn't traumatized. He seems happy . I tell the director that I don't love this dog and am unsure about adopting him. The director tells me that I will learn to love this dog. The papers are put before me and I sign....and write a check. How did that happen? The staff must be good at selling....
I am going home with a Bichon Freise......a dog that will forever be a baby. This isn't a dog for me. What am I doing with this dog?
The dog bonds immediately with me. He knows that my hand is attached to the can opener. I show the dog to my friends....dog does a "cute" act: rolls over for a tummy rub. cocks his head sideways and smiles. What a goofy dog.
I am not sure about this dog, but apparently he is mine now. I want him to cut out the cute stuff....He does the cocked head and smile thing routine again. I will give him a strong man's name.....none of this cutesy stuff. I call him Jack. My grandson, Chris, adds "Captain".
So Captain Jack becomes part of the family. I notice that He has a tendency to get nickname's...like lamb chop, fuzzy bear...yuck. This dog is TOO cute.

2010-06-29T12:47:00.002-04:00

It has been so hot and humid that I don't want to go outside and pull weeds. I know that I will have to pay for this. The weeds will win. That is to say, the grass will win. I have a lot of grass in my garden....in the flower bed where it doesn't belong.
I put some bottles into the recycle bin out by the kitchen door. My feet are bare in order to take advantage of the cool wood floors....anything to stay a little cool. In my bare feet I walk to the sidewalk that leads to the recycle bin...and I burn my feet. It is that hot outside.That's it. That is the last job I am doing outside for today.
The rest of the day is spent indoors. I have a stack of magazines that I should throw out. My favorite is People Places and Plants. It is a regional magazine that features gardens from my area, features new plants and lots of ideas connected to gardening. My garden is only 10 years old. It has a way to go before I can sit back and say,"There. It is finished." Actually, gardens are never finished. They are like children...always growing and changing.
People Places and Plants magazines have been saved for a long time. Surely I have memorized the ideas that I wish to use in my own garden. To be safe, I will spend this day looking through those old magazines. I have a bad habit of ripping out ideas and saving them. If I throw out the magazines before I rip out the good ideas, then good ideas will be lost to me.
The first thing is save is the last page. There is a column on the plants out back....weeds for medicinal purposes. This interesting article is written by Corinne Martin who is a certified clinical herbalist. Each issue of the magazine contains an interesting article on a different native plant. I rip out the article and put it on my bookshelf....in the gardening section. If I keep doing this, I will have a folder on native plants and their uses.
There are several articles on Tasha Tudor. I adore this old lady and her 1880s way of living. She has all the skills of an artist, a writer and a homesteader. She can plant, sew, weave, can produce from her farm. She has dogs, chickens....lots of animals. She has a gorgous garden. I delight in reading about this feisty old lady. I save everything about Tasha Tudor, as there are no more current news from her. She died a few years ago. I am taking this personally, Tasha.
I have gone through only 2 copies of my favorite magazine. The truth slowly dawns on me: I have no desire to part with them. They are water stained and some smell of mildew from their spot in the basement. I still want them. They will be stacked on the kitchen porch to keep them in sight. In this way, I will look at them more often. I stopped buying magazines a few years ago because of the failing I have: I can't throw them out. Perhaps People Places and Plants have a website and I can read them online. It would save storage space on the kitchen porch. In the meantimes, I am reading a 2003 copy of PPP.

2010-04-14T15:07:00.003-04:00

The vet said that my lovely rat terrier, Lily, has multiple organ failure. She came to me with a bad heart. Now she has kidney failure. I got medicine for her heart. It worked beautifully. She had a nice strong heart beat. There was nothing that could be done for her kidneys. There was no treatment, no history of reversal of kidney failure. My lovely dog could not be saved.

Through research, I learned that if there is a terminal diagnosis for a pet, do not wait to put them down. As much as I loved my dog, I did not want her to get to the last stages of kidney failure, which I understand can be painful. As it is, Lily was exhausted. She was alert and interested in what is going on, but Lily spent most of her days curled up in her bed, resting. She had no more energy than that. She lost weight and seemed more fragile.

I tried to care for her as long as I could. She wore doggie diapers, took her medicine, tried valiantly to do her peeing outdoors like a good doggie does...as she always did....but there were accidents, lots of them. The floors in the house were covered with plastic tarp with newspaper on top of that. ..and the diapers. She pees so much that she soaked a diaper overnight and urine puddles were on the plastic when I got up in the morning.

I had hoped to give her a good summer. In my imagination, Lily enjoyed the backyard. She could pee wherever she wanted to outside. However, she deteriorated to the point that I knew she would not last out the summer.

I made the call to the vet. He had me come in right away...before I lost courage. Dr. Smith told me once more, that there was no treatment that would save my little terrier. When pet owners have their pet put down, the pet is usually pretty far gone. They lay there, unresponsive. It was different with Lily. She was alert, walked in, was interested in the other animals in the vet's waiting room. She did her usual thing: tried pulling me to the exit door. How I wished that I could take her home. Actually I could....for a very short time. However, the longer I keep her with me ...because I don't want to give her up....the more she will suffer and be closer to that awful pain stage. I made the decision to put her down while she is acting relatively normal...a hard thing to do, as one never knows if I should have come earlier, or delayed a week. There is no answer to that one.

Then then put her down. She lay on the table as if she was sleeping. All muscles were relaxed. I petted my lovely dog for the last time. Her fur is like velvet....so warm and silky.

Lily was adopted from the SPCA. I wonder why she was at the SPCA because someone obviously had spent a lot of time with her. She listened when I talked to her. She looked at me right in the eye and tried to figure out what I wanted. She was clean in the house, intelligent and loving.

She had no neurotic behaviors...only a few mannerisms that were lovely. Lily cleaned her paws like a cat. She liked to sit on my lap. She liked having a basket of her own to sleep in. Some one loved her very much before I got her. Perhaps she ended at the SPCA because someone died or had to go to a nursing home. I will never know.

The only problem she had was separation anxiety. She panicked if I left the house without me...barking all the time I was gone....going from one window to another window, watching for my return.

So, she came everywhere with me. Lily loved riding in my truck. She made friends at the bank and at the diner. Patrons gave her bits of bacon. She sat in the truck while I ate breakfast inside and people passing by would smile as they saw her in the truck. When I returned to it, the first thing she would do would be to stick her head in my purse to see what I had saved from breakfast for her.

The first night living with me, I set up a kennel for her. She was to sleep in there because I did not want her wandering around the house at night, possibly peeing some place. What a racket she made. Bark Bark Bark. The message was plain: no offense lady, but I don't sleep in a kennel. I opened the door. Lily raced up the stairs and jumped on my bed. I got the message and that is where Lily slept as long as I had her....which was way too short...two years to the month.

One day I brought up a basket of laundry from downstairs and set it on the floor. Lily jumped in. That is how I know that her previous owner had made a basket for her. So, I made another basket for her.

Lily is in heaven now. I cried terribly and miss her very much. My little dog was a perfect dog...intelligent, personable and loving. Her only flaw was her health and I would have done anything to save her, but nothing was possible.

At home, I do the clean up. Plastic removed from the floors, packed up all her belongings to donate to the SPCA. Her medications went back to Dr. Smith. He will use them on another dog from the SPCA. It seems terribly quiet in the house.

2010-04-08T20:32:00.004-04:00

The little cottage next to mine is rented to a nice lady with a son in middle school. She is a widow...running her household all by herself. Over time, the cottage needs care. I was shocked to see how much had deteriorated since my last walk through...and it was not because she had done anything to damage the house. Every thing needs painting. The ceiling in her bedroom has a crack that needs repair. The same condition is found in the dining room. There are two interior doors that need painting. Some walls need painting, too.

Outside, the exterior needs painting and two squares of sidewalk have broken up. I need a mason to install two squares of sidewalk....and I would like to replace her front steps. They are safe, but look awful.

Time to call my painter. We make arrangements to have a drywall man put up a new ceiling. He will tape it and then Spence will paint it. Meanwhile, Spence is sanding down the doors. Paint is blistering off the doors in sheets.

We are waiting for a man to install her dishwasher. I am waiting for her dishwasher to get out of my kitchen so I can finish up my kitchen. I can't finish my kitchen until the dishwasher is out. Once it is out,I can move my base cabinet into that space and install the countertop. Tina is waiting for the installer to schedule the installation.

Meanwhile, the phone rings: It is tenant two. This is an educated couple raising twin daughters. They are traditional Italians...very neat and particular. When I drive by, I swivel my head to check out the house. It looks like the husband has vacuumed the lawn...it is that neat. It seems that We have had a lot of rain, a lot more than usual. The family is watching mold grow on the wall in the sun porch. Oh oh. This can't be ignored. I get a contractor to look at it. He says the roof above is shot and the sun porch needs Sheetrock and insulation.

Down in the basement, water is pouring in from the Bilbo doors. It needs to be replaced and the wood door in front of the Bilco door needs a repair. Ernest gives me an estimate and I agree to it. I will be writing a lot of checks in a short period of time, but these repairs need to be done to keep my tenants healthy and happy....and to safeguard the value of the houses.

Meanwhile, at my house, Ernest fixes my front door. He builds a temporary step for the basement door. We discuss the flaw in the basement slab and He suggests the solution: The slab central part needs to be broken up and removed. A new slab should then be poured with lots of re-bar. The builder skimped on rebar. That is why the slab moves so much. This is one project that will have to wait until I pay for the tenant repairs.

2010-04-08T20:16:00.002-04:00

What is the matter with me? It must be spring fever. I can barely put one foot in front of the other to get through the day. I took a nap today.....something I never do. If it isn't spring fever, then it may be because I got an early start on my garden.

The city removed the tree that fell on my garage...and my neighbor's house. There is thousands of dollars of damage done to my garage and to my neighbor's house.

The city's crew removed the trunk and the branches. They chipped up the stump, then drove off. I waited all winter watching for the city truck to come back and cart away all those chips. There is a huge pile of them on the narrow strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street. That is where the tree was.

Then it dawned on me: I am stupid. I am paying $7 to $10 a bag for mulch and there it is, sitting in front of me. There is no difference between what I was buying and what is sitting at the curb. This tree died from fungus. What's the difference. There is fungus in the soil naturally. I won't be spreading a disease if I use the wood chips in my garden. I have a bonanza of mulch ...free for the taking. I am taking it or as much as I have room for. Putting my back into it, I shovel wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of wood chips . They mulch around my plants . I have two beds: one for vegetables and one for flowers. For once, I have enough mulch to do the whole yard. Greedy me. I lay a tarp on the corner by my old mulch piles and shovel more tree chips into a pile. Let it rot in place. It will be good to go next spring. There is still more wood chips. The next day I work at it some more....but with less energy than the first day. The third day brings more shoveling ....fewer loads than the day before. yesterday, I could only manage one load. Today, I managed one more load and quit.

My shoulders, knees, feet, back are stiff. I can barely move. I walk around the house and yard as if I have a bad case of arthritis. A nap seems a good idea. Last task of the day is to make a sign on a stick. It goes in the much reduced pile of wood chips at the curb. It says,"Free Mulch. help yourself"

By the way, the city says it will not pay for the damage the tree did. The city says it has no obligation to inspect each tree. I consulted with my insurance representative. I am suing the city.

2010-03-01T19:32:00.002-05:00

It is March 1st. My grant proposal should be on the Pepsi Refresh website. I see that there are over a thousand requests. I could not find my proposal after reading over 200 of them. Perhaps I should start at the bottom of the list and work up. Any ways, I was able to vote for 10 good ideas....ideas that other people proposed. I will vote again tomorrow. See what happens.
One proposal was for drums for the middle school in Syracuse New York that my grandson used to attend. He's now in high school.
My enthusiasm for Kiva has not wained, even though, through more research, I see there are dangers in loaning money in poor countries. I have decided to not loan money if people need food or to pay medical bills as they have no means to repay that loan. Those people should be at free clinics and shelters....Hopefully those services are available.
I am still interested in loaning money to women that are operating a business. The dangers of doing this are a few: crops could fail and there is no way the loan could be repaid. Unstable countries could fall or the local currency could be devalued. War or sickness or flood or earthquake could ruin plans. The local bank could fail. Still, the idea is a good one.
It is my understanding that the repayment rate is very high. A micro loan is a wonderful thing to receive. It is a lifeline to establish or continue a business. The receiver of the loan has a reputation to uphold. Most loans are repaid. Some people have established a good credit rating. They've had loans before and paid them off.
Some people have banded together to run a business. The group applies for the loan. They elect their spokesperson. If one of the group slacks off, the others are there for discipline. This program is much like the Good Will program in my community. It is "not a hand out. It is a hand up.".
Go to the Kiva website and look at the photographs of people applying for a loan. See also, the photographs of people willing to risk a micro loan to someone they don't know. Loaners won't make a lot of money doing this. In fact, they may lose money. This isn't the purpose. It is a people to people opportunity to help someone who really needs the help. Only loan money you are willing to lose.
I am going to do this again with my own money. If I get the Pepsi grant, that will be even better.

2010-02-04T08:18:00.002-05:00

Pepsi is an advertiser for ABC News ...which I watch to start my day. This year, Pepsi announces , that it will NOT be sponsoring an expensive ad during the Super Bowl. Instead, they are sponsoring a project, "Refresh Everything". The money that would be spent on the ad, will instead be given out as grants to improve our world.

Quickly I wrote down the website and visited it. Please do so yourself. There may be something you could do through a grant. The website lists categories for the grants: fine arts, health, community, etc. The website is Refresheverything.com.

There is another website I love. It is called Kiva.com. I proposed granting Kiva $5,000 to distribute as mini grants to women around the world, currently living in poverty, who would like to start up a business. Each applicant is screened by Kiva, so the money has a high probability of being effective for a business start up and a high percentage of applicants repay the loan. This is not a program that drops money into Somalia, for example, where it is never seen again. I trust Kiva's screening process. They have a successful track record. They charge very little interest when the probability of repayment is high. The interest rate is a little higher if the loan is a little riskier. In fact, their repayment rate is higher than from a US bank. The goal is not to get a lot of interest. The goal is to empower people.

I also know that these capable women make a dramatic improvement in their family's situation. The children go to school. They have the required uniform. They get health care. There is money to buy seed for the farm or a goat if that is the goal.

Frustration and discouragement has consequences. Young men commit crimes. They join extremist organizations because they are desperate. Wars and terrorism feed on this fertile ground. Desperate people are frantic and looking for changes in their lives.

We can make a difference by helping people directly...so that they can help themselves....which will result in a more prosperous business and community.....which will directly improve peace prospect for that country and for the world.

I hope I am chosen for a grant.

You can do this, too. Go to Refresheverything.com. Go to Kiva.com

2010-01-27T19:20:00.003-05:00

Haiti had a horrible earthquake. At their best, the people are very poor. Many are subsistence farmers. When the tremors started, people went inside for shelter....the worst decision they could make. Those that lived, ran outside. Buildings fell on the occupants.

The TV and print news tells of panic, starvation, smell of dead and rotting bodies, lack of medical care which resulted in fairly simple injuries getting so badly infected, the doctors had no choice but to amputate. I read where doctors were using saws and scissors for lack of proper instruments. Roads are so bad that medical supplies can't get through.

At first, people were very good. They rallied to get their friends out. They dug with their bare hands. Miracle after miracle happened. People who were buried for 10 days, were found alive. Time passes. How many days can people go without a drink of clean water or something to eat? After a while, riots broke out. Aid workers had to use teargas to get people to take their turn. Women complained that the men pushed to the head of the line. Women got nothing. Children were orphaned. Some people lost their entire families.

I see that the Haitians are people with the same love and concern for their family you will find anywhere there are people. The living are very worried about the missing.

I was prepared to point to Jared Diamond's book, "Collapse" to explain how Haiti ruined their environment with lack of foresight and too many children. I was prepared to point to their corrupt government. I know that good people have been concerned for Haiti for decades. This country was in trouble long before the earthquake. There are other causes for their troubles, beside the earthquake.

Haiti shares the same island with the Dominican Republic....which is doing very well. Why isn't Haiti also doing well?

Doctors are interviewed on television, near tears or in shock. One after the other states that it is by far the most traumatic experience of their lives....responding to the needs of the sick and injured. Slowly, food, water, medical aid gets through. reconstruction of property and of people's lives will go on for a long time.

This is not the time to point to Haiti to accuse the citizens of poor government and poor education. It is time to help.

2010-01-01T15:40:00.003-05:00

New Year's eve. The boys and girls want to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. Ho Hum. Boring. It's cold out there. You can't bring a backpack filled with something to eat and drink. It might contain a bomb. There are no bathrooms for the crowd. To get there, one has to take the train....two hours each way. At one time, I would have wanted to do this. Not any more. Such adventures are for the young.

I am in bed at 9PM, listening to the radio. Art Bell is taking predictions about the new year. People call in and make a prediction. Art reads the predictions from last year. Some of it came true. Most did not. It is a fun tradition. I listen every year, but have never called in.

It is morning. January 1, 2010. Funny to write a new date. I must be careful when I write out my first check of the year. Sometimes I get the date wrong...wrong year. My email is full of good wishes from friends far away...and some just next door. It is fun to read them. Then I think which other person would enjoy this missile? I forward them and delete the original. It takes a while to clear email.

Ordinary things take up my time. I make a new batch of file folders for my income tax records. They say 2010. The 1009 folders can't be put away just yet. There are tax documents coming in and some bills, too.

I get my checkbook out. The register is labeled 2009. It is put with the tax folders. A new check register is inserted in the folder. It says 2010. I am getting used to the new year. The next checks I write will be for paying property taxes. Darn government, but there is no getting away from paying property taxes.

Last chore for the switchover is to print out my blog for 2009. I read everything all over. Did all that stuff happen in just 12 months? I guess so. There is much more that did not get written about. If I write about the repairs to the beach house...the storm doors, electrical updates, the reader will think it took place in 2010, but this occurred in 2009. Too late to write about it.
Each page of my blog is printed out and placed in a three ring binder. I write 2009 on the cover of the binder. The new, empty binder says 2010.

Others are watching the parade or the football game. I feel like Bob Cratchit...clerking away the holiday.

2009-12-30T12:39:00.004-05:00

Carol, Pat and I have a tradition. We get together in the week between Christmas and New Years. We meet at Pat's house, exchange presents and have a meal. This year, I made a suggestion that We go to the movies. Wednesday is senior day. Tickets are $4.50. We should go on Wednesday. Carol and Pat agreed. Let's pick up take out food and come to my house. It's closest to the mall. We've done take out before because it is quick, everyone gets what they want and no one has to cook.

While We're at it, let's invite some other friends. Carol and Pat know Judy and Doris. Let's invite Judy and Doris as well.

It is one day before the movie day and no one has set up the schedule. I make the calls. Doris has a French lesson. She won't be free until after 2. Judy wants to come, but she wants to eat lunch before the movie We can eat at the food court. She can't stay late. Carol doesn't want to eat lunch. If she eats lunch, she says she will fall asleep in the movie. She wants to eat after the movie.

This is the sort of thing that drives me crazy. Carol wants Pat to pick her up. Now let's see: Pat lives the farthest east of the movie and Carol lives the farthest west. That means that Pat has to go way out of her way to get Carol. If I think about it, the most efficient way to pick each other up is for either Doris or Carol...driving east...to pick me up. Pat should come alone driving west. We all meet in the middle.

By email, I ask each friend to look over what movies are playing and the time. Let me know which movie you want to see. Two movies get all the votes...split evenly. If We go to the one that shows earliest, Doris has to skip her Franch lesson, but We will eat after the show, which will be OK with Carol. However, Judy will miss the meal.

If We go to the other movie that shows later....oh forgetaboutit. In the middle of all the phone calls, I have a power outage. It's not just me. The entire area is pitch black. My cordless phone doesn't work. The lights are out. The house starts to cool.

There are candles and matches upstairs. In the dark, I locate the flashlight...which shows me the way upstairs to the candles. Candles, matches, flashlight are on the diningroom table. I have my cell phone...which works. I call Carol. The call doesn't go through. Oh, that's right. Her phone is out as well as mine. By candle light, I find the address book, which has her cell phone number. It isn't programmed in my phone. At last We can talk to each other. Pat calls me several times...getting a busy signal, as I am on the phone with Carol.

Finally Pat gets through. She has power. She has email up and running. Pat emails Doris and Judy that our final decision is to go to the movie that shows the earliest. Pat will pick up Carol. We'll discuss a late lunch when We're all together.

2009-12-26T08:07:00.002-05:00

We are supposed to be gloriously happy that is Christmas. Actually, it is Advent and shopping season. The merchants are either happy or anxious. I used to enjoy Christmas, but as my family grew up and moved away, there seemed to be no point in purchasing a tree and putting it up. You just have to take it down again.

I have many happy memories of Christmas when I was a little girl growing up during world war two. Most materials went for the war effort, so there was little left over to make toys for children. My doll highchair was made of cardboard, but that did not matter to me. My pull toys were made of wood. To this day, I think that wood is a better material to handle than plastic is. One friend got something made of plastic. She showed it to me. My response was that it felt sticky. Wood is friendlier. Christmas is enjoying experiences with parents and relatives. It is making cookies with mama. It is being taken to the department store to visit Santa. It is having dad drive up and down the neighborhood streets so We could look at lights. It is listening to Christmas music on the radio. ...making stars out of tin foil and putting them on the tree...watching Dad's train go around the base of the tree. That train never came out of its box except for Christmas. Christmas is finding the pickle ornament on the tree...and the ghost ornament...something left over from a Halloween party that my grandmother impulsively put on the tree. It became a tradition. Note that none of the above require much money.
Those old black and white photographs of the era are treasure to me.

When my children were little, the magic happened all over again. This time Richard and I were standing in for Santa. Our neighbors put their tree up early, but Santa brought our tree. It appeared like magic on Christmas morning with presents under the tree. After the girls outgrew Santa, they helped put the tree up. One Christmas, our neighbors came over for a visit. We showed them the presents for our girls to discover the next morning. Little did We know that both little devils were hiding and listening. I did the same thing when I was little. My mother would lock the door that separates the bedrooms from the public space. In that way, my parents could put the tree up and decorate without little kids finding out . ...except....my sister and I were hiding behind the couch. We fell asleep behind the couch...affording us an early start at opening presents. Christmas is magic for children, except when it isn't.

Later I was teaching at a poverty intervention program: a nursery school for very poor children. I saw how excited the children got to see toys advertised on TV. They expected those toys. The worried look on the parents' faces told another story. We did holiday activities at the school...learned songs...made presents for the parents.....read Dr. Seuss....had a party and invited the parents to attend. Then they went home for the holiday. When they came back the looks on the children's faces was somber. The parents bought the presents they could afford, which came from the drug store....just trinkets. The cheap toys broke. Children got a lesson in disappointment.

This year, my grandson visited for Christmas. His girlfriend doesn't like the holiday. She must have sad memories . Sometimes it is OK to spend Christmas crying. My husband died during the month of November. The following December, I took the boxes of Christmas ornaments out of the closet and threw them on the floor. Then I stomped on the boxes and ground the heels of my shoes into the ornaments until they were shards of glass. I smashed every one and I am glad I did that. Merry Christmas, indeed.

2009-12-15T07:51:00.002-05:00

Early up and the day is started. After my cup of coffee, it is time to catch up on email. I have friends in far flung places. God bless email. It keeps us together and up to date on events in our lives.

Today, I get an email from an ecard website. I love this website. The cards there are well drawn, animated with music to set the mood. There are three animated Christmas ecards...all good. The cards are previewed. I arrange for them to be delivered just before Christmas. The ecards are in addition to the paper cards I've all ready sent out.

The old fashioned ecard gets me remembering my childhood. This mental link is called association. In the ecard, some of the gifts under the Christmas tree are similar to those I had as a child....or wanted to get but never got.

In memory, I am a child again, wandering around the old neighborhood. There are two neighborhoods....one for winter and one for summer, as my father had a little cottage out at the lake. It was there I learned to swim. I think I spent the entire summer in my bathing suit and loved it. Those are happy memories. I hear my mother say about such memories: "Memories that bless and burn". Yes. They sure do. Today, they are blessing.

Then, I remember that I was free to wander in and out of other people's houses. People did not lock doors then. I was curious and friendly. I said hello to my neighbors. Some of them were the parents of my playmates, but others were not. I remember going into a cottage that had a little sun porch. By little, I mean really little. It was just big enough for a daybed...which was on the long wall. Hanging in the window, was a spider plant with little spider plants growing out of the pot. It was like a green waterfall. The lady told me the name of the plant. I was delighted to see the plant sway in the breeze that was coming through the open window. Also in memory, my lungs filled with fresh air and the sound of the waves on the beach. You can't beat that experience.

A winter memory : back in the city. Next door lived Mama Young. She was an overweight woman . Her children were grown. Their names were Bob and Marie. I remember that Mama Young had a substantial rocking chair that she positioned facing the street. From her station on the rocking chair, she could watch the street. She would watch and rock. I came to visit. She gave me a dust cloth and asked me to dust the furniture...which I did. That was not remarkable for the times. In her dining room, was a matched set of furniture. There was a sideboard or credenza...placed in the same place that every home in the neighborhood placed their credenza: on the short wall . She had a display of fruit in a bowl on the sideboard that looked delicious. When no one was looking, I picked up a piece of fruit and bit it. It was wax. Oh Oh....I put the fruit back in the bowl...teeth marks down.

Mama Young's son, Bob came home from the war (world war 2). All the neighborhood kids were so excited to have a real hero come home. What could We do to show our welcome? What materials do children have for the task? Chalk. There must have been five of us who took chalk and drew all over the sidewalk and the street to welcome Bob home. I think We also drew on the cement step to the front door. I don't remember what the reaction was to our...probably messy....welcome home .

One sad day, Mama Young died. There was a reception in the house for her. Relatives and neighbors came in to pay their respect. The neighborhood children wanted to show respect, too. We went into the empty lot next door to my house and picked wildflowers. They were put in a glass with water. Solemnly, they were presented to Bob and Marie. Our flowers were placed with the other expensive and store bought flowers...in a place of honor.

2009-12-10T16:17:00.002-05:00

In spite of the wind and the rain, I am looking forward to this day. I promised myself that I would go to the movies. Today is senior day. That means a price cut. Suddenly from outside, I hear a big boom. What in the world is that? It could be a traffic accident, or an airplane breaking the sound barrier. It could be a backhoe dropping a load. It certainly made a lot of noise. Looking out the window, I see nothing.
I am still in my pajamas. There is a knock at the door. It is my neighbor, Butch. He asks me to come outside and have a look. With jacket tossed over PJ's, I follow him outside, around the garage. Oh my gosh! Half of a maple tree has fallen between our two houses. It has taken down Butch's gutters and my gutters. It forced branches in the roof of my garage. It swiped Burtch's antennae off his mast and bent the mast. Butch reports that the pole is four feet in the ground, set in concrete and the hollow pipe is also filled with concrete. The force of the tree falling has made the mast list about 15 degrees. That is a lot of force. Butch says that the mast took the brunt of the falling tree. If it wasn't there, there would be a lot more damage to his house.
Back into the house I go. Get dressed. Grab camera. Take a lot of photos in the wind gusts and pouring rain. Drive to the photoshop to get the photos developed. Meanwhile, a public works crew is here. I had called them earlier to report the downed city tree.
There is lots of noise for at least an hour. The crew take the limb down. It is as big as a tree trunk and about half the volume of the tree. They cut up the tree limbs and take them away.
The backhoe also takes out my gutter downspout. My wire fence is bent and....could it be? My weather vane is gone. When the crew pulled branches off my roof, they also pulled the weather vane off. Where is it? I check the ground all over. It is no where to be found.
The back yard has branches. The crew goes into the backyard to get those branches. In the process, they pull up a newly planted pear tree and take it away. It must have looked like just one more branch to them. I go to the movies and forget everything for a while.
That was yesterday. Today, my neighbor and I compose a letter to the city informing them of the damage. I enclose the photographs. Butch calls a roof man and a gutter man. We will get estimates and forward the estimates to the city. I am sure that our claim will be honored. We will be back in business in no time at all.

2009-11-15T12:44:00.003-05:00

The movie was titled, "Last Chance Harvey" with Dustin Hoffman playing Harvey. It's a cute movie....not destined to be an ageless classic. However, I caught a premise in the movie. Harvey was at loose ends. He had time to attend his daughter's wedding. Harvey was let go from his company. Harvey looks like a loser in the beginning of the movie. He really wants his job back. At the end of the movie, his boss (or agent?) asks him to come back. They had hired a replacement for Harvey. The new guy couldn't do the job. In the beginning of the movie, Harvey would have grabbed the first plane and went back to his job of composing advertising jingles. He would have come on his knees if He had to. At the end of the movie, Harvey tells the agent to shove it.

Scene two: Richard is working at SCM Corporation. It's a stressful job that requires competency. Over time, Richard and his colleagues become more and more proficient at their programming jobs. Over time, they get raises. Over time, administration notes that these guys are costing the company money. They find a way to let one man go. Richard and his colleagues watch the office politics at work. Administration hires a new programmer at a lower pay rate. Never mind that everyone works like donkeys. There were times when my husband worked around the clock to get the job done. So did the other men. They worked hard and earned their salaries. Never mind that the Supreme Court has ruled that this is discrimination on the basis of age. Never mind that. It happens all the time and it has happened to me several times. Anyways, the new man is now working at SCM. It is quickly shown that He can't cut it. He is slow and inexperienced. Administration determines that this new guy has a job that is too much for him. So, they hire a second man to help the first one.
Now the company has two men that are doing the work that one man did earlier. It took money and company resources to hire and train the new employees. Wouldn't it have been better to just keep the first employee, pay him his worth and trust in his efficiency and competency?

Scene three: I am working at a major insurance company. I am a technical specialist. All the people in my department are very competent at their job ...which is loss control. We have a lot of freedom to map out our own days. We have to meet deadlines for timeliness and for proficiency. Those that were goof offs, have been let go. There is a salary scale that supposedly is fair to all. A quick talk to my colleagues and I learn that none of us have reached the top of the pay scale...even those with many more years with the company. I note that this is a red flag. This is a wonderful company to work for. I put in extra hours willingly. So do my colleagues. The company announces that the company is going paperless. We are all trained on pen top computers. This makes sense, as insurance forms are standardized, so We should be able to input the information electronically. There is a learning curve. It is hard to see the screen when the sun is on it. It is difficult to back up when I find something that should be noted on a different page of the form. Over time, our proficiency rises.
Then, some bean counter in home office decides that loss control is very expensive. They have spent a lot of money purchasing pen top computers and training the staff. They solve the cost problem by closing down our department. Only a few top administrators can find a job in other departments. Some women take positions in claims processing...which doesn't pay the same salary as a technical specialist. We went to school to get certified. Claims processing is clerical.
The best salary I ever earned, was the last year that I worked in insurance. I hated to leave the company. I retired 5 years earlier than I had planned. As I am cleaning out my desk, I see advertisements for new hires in a different department. Their starting salary is the same as my ending salary.

2009-11-14T13:18:00.002-05:00

We did not have good weather for Melanie and Dan's visit. However, family can make good experiences whatever the weather. It was Melanie's birthday. We went to a good restaurant. Her number one son and number 3 son came to celebrate with their mom. Chris' girlfriend, Marge came too. We filled up the table, ate good food and wine and congratulated Melanie. There was another feast at my house on another day. Mostly, with all that cold and rain, We stayed in, watched movies, went through old scrap books, re-read old letters. It was enough that We were together, if only for a little while.

They are now back in Australia and it is time to get the property ready for winter. Tasks that I did not do in the spring, are staring me in the face. Too soon, the leaves will require raking. I am reluctant to do all this yard work by myself, although I am capable of doing it.

Our social service Department has a program called "Rent a Kid"....or is it "Hire a Kid"? Anyways, I signed up for this program. The first mother that called me was some experience. She is the typical helicopter parent. (she hovers) Her son, my potential yard work partner, has never held a job of any kind. He is 17 years old. His mother said that He will be coming with a friend to keep him company....and she told me what she would be charging me....which is more than double what I intended to pay. You can imagine that the deal fell through. First of all, a young man seventeen does not need his mother to apply for his job. Second of all, a paid position pretty much precludes having a friend around to talk to while working. ...or am I that much out of date?

I called the program director back and explained the above. Then, I told him that a young man with no work experience will not be working efficiently. I could just call a landscape company and they will be in and out in half a day with all the yard maintenance done. Even if I pay them more, they will do the job a lot faster than a high school kid. Therefore, I will not be paying any more than minimum wage.

A few days later, the phone rings. It is another mother. Her son is 13 years old, big for his age and is applying for the job. We arrange to meet. This is a good family. We agree to $6 an hour. Then, I get the request that Stephen would like to have his friend help him. I don't know what to say. The mother says that I don't have to pay the helper, but Stephen would enjoy the work more if He had a friend along. I know that this generation is very social. They live with a cell phone attached to their ear. (Stephen has one...so does his friend). I have the choice of forbidding Stephen to bring his friend or to let him bring along his friend. The difference from the first applicant is the age. These boys are 13 years old. I regret saying OK, even as the words leave my mouth.

On the appointed day, Stephen and his friend, Alex appear ready to work. Alex is a small 13 year old. Stephen is man size. They get right to work edging my sidewalk. Over several days, they put down stone blocks to continue the walkway to the curb. They rake leaves. The two work well together, so I tell Alex that He is getting paid, too. For a 13 year old to get a check for $18 is a fortune. They will be spending their money on games.....Stephen has to get his x box fixed. I loved seeing the light in their eyes.

Then, the mother tells me the story about Stephen's helper. He and his two siblings are adopted from Russia. Alex has come from an alcoholic situation. He has malnutrition. His teeth are poor. Apparently, the state took the children away....or they were abandoned and neglected. No wonder Alex is small. He's been hungry. Alex's new mother tells me that although they had very little, the ladies at the orphanage loved the children. When she picked up the three, the workers stood at the door with tears in their eyes. The children never looked back. On the train, all they had to eat was tea and bread. They were so hungry that they tore open the sugar packets meant for coffee and ate them.

I fell in love with Alex...loved his inquisitiveness, learning about all things American. He was confused that I have 2 houses. How come I don't live in the house they are working on? Both boys are rewarded with their checks and root beer (their request). Working makes a fella thirsty.

2009-09-20T11:35:00.002-04:00

The phone rang. It was my daughter, calling me from Arizona to let me know that she and her husband have arrived safely. They flew up from Australia. Her youngest son lives in Tucson Arizona. That was their first stop. After traveling over 24 hours on a plane, they will spend the next day visiting the Grand Canyon and then, Tombstone Arizona. If I flew 24 hours on a plane, I would want my first day to be a day of rest with my feet up, drink in hand.

I could tell that she was excited to see her youngest son and his wife...and probably glad to get off that plane. She will call me every night to tell me of the day's adventures and I probably will write about them here.

The allotment is only four days to tour around Arizona, then in a car for a long drive to the northeast to see more family.

2009-09-06T08:40:00.002-04:00

E mail from J. H.: I'm not certain that this recessionary period is the best time to introduce an expensive revamping of the health system in this country, but there is little doubt that a simgle-payer government-run system is the way to go. The article below (from today's LA Times) is a good and I think fair comparison of the Canadian system with our own. I only wish that more citizens of our country were able to open their eyes and see what's really going on in the health care world and be less tied down by their ideologies.

A CANADIAN DOCTOR DIAGNOSES U.S. HEALTHCARE

The caricature of 'socialized medicine' is used by corporate interests to confuse Americans and maintain their bottom lines instead of patients' health.

by Michael M. Rachlis August 3, 2009

Universal health insurance is on the American policy agenda for the fifth time since World War 11. In the 1960s, the U.S. chose public coverage for only the elderly and the very poor, while Canada opted for a universal program for hospitals and physician's' services. As a policy analyst, I know there are lessons to be learned from studying the effect of different approaches in similar jurisdictions. But, as a Canadian with lots of American friends and relatives, I am saddened that Americans seem incapable of learning them.

Our countries are joined at the hip. We peacefully share a continent, a British heritage of representative government and now ownership of GM. And, until 50 years ago, we had similar health systems, healthcare costs and vital statistics.

The U.S. and Canada's different health insurance decisions make up the world's largest health policy experiment. And the results?

On coverage, all Canadians have insurance for hospital and physician services. There are no deductibles or co-pays. Most provinces also provide coverage for programs for home care, long-term care, pharmaceuticals and durable medical equipment, although there are co-pays.

On the U.S. side, 46 million people have no insurance, millions are under insured and healthcare bills bankrupt more than 1 million Americans every year.

Lesson No. 1: A single-payer system would eliminate most U.S. coverage problems.

On costs, Canada spends 10% of its economy on healthcare: the U.S. spends 16%. The extra 6% of GDP amounts to more than $800 billion per year. The spending gap between the two nations is almost entirely because of higher overhead. Canadians don't need thousands of actuaries to set premiums or thousands of lawyers to deny care. Even the U.S. Medicare program has 80% to 90% lower administrative costs than private Medicare Advantage policies. And providers and suppliers can't charge as much when they have to deal with a single payer.

Lessons No. 2 and 3: Single-payer systems reduce duplicative administrative costs and can negotiate lower prices.

Because most of the difference in spending is for non-patient care, Canadians actually get more of most services. We see the doctor more often and take more drugs. We even have more lung transplant surgery. We do get less heart surgery, but not so much less that we are any more likely to die of heart attacks. And we now live nearly three years longer, and our infant mortality is 20% lower.

Lesson No.4: A single-payer plans can deliver the goods because their funding goes to services, not overhead.

The Canadian system does have its problems, and these also provide important lessons. Notwithstanding a few well-publicized and misleading cases, Canadians needing urgent care get immediate treatment. But we do wait too long for much elective care, including appointments with family doctors and specialists and selected surgical procedures. We also do a poor job managing chronic disease.

However, according to the New York-based Commonwealth Fund, both the American and the Canadian systems fare badly in these areas. In fact,an April U.S. Government Accountability Office report noted that U.S. emergency room wait times have increased, and patients who should be seen immediately are now waiting an average of 28 minutes. The GAO has also raised concerns about two to four-month waiting times for mammograms.

On closer examination, most of these problems have little to do with public insurance or even overall resources. Despite the delays, the GAO said there is enough mammogram capacity.

These problems are largely caused by our shared politico-cultural barriers to quality of care. In 19th century North America, doctors waged a campaign against quacks and snake-oil salesmen and attained a legislative monopoly on medical practice. In return, they promised to set and enforce standards of practice. By and large, it didn't happen. And perverse incentives like fee-for-service make things even worse.

Using techniques like those championed by the Boston-based institute for Healthcare Improvement, providers can eliminate most delays. In Hamilton, Ontario, 17 psychiatrists have linked up with 100 family doctors and 80 social workers to offer some of the world's best access to mental health services. And in Toronto, simple process improvements mean you can now get your hip assessed in one week and get a new one, if you need it, within a month.

Lesson No. 5: Canadian healthcare delivery problems have nothing to do with our single-payer system and can be fixed by re-engineering for quality.

U.S. health policy would be miles ahead if policymakers could learn these lessons. But they seem less interested in Canada's, or any other nation's experience than ever. Why?

American democracy runs on money. Pharmaceutical and insurance companies have the fuel. Analysts see hundreds of billions of premiums wasted on overhead that could fund care for the uninsured. But industry executives and shareholders see bonuses and dividends.

Compounding the confusion is traditional American ignorance of what happens north of the border, which makes it easy to mislead people. Boilerplate anti-government rhetoric does the same. The U.S. media, legislators and even presidents have claimed that our "socialized" system doesn't let us choose our own doctors. In fact, Canadians have free choice of physicians. It's Americans these days who are restricted to "in-plan" doctors.

Unfortunately, many Americans won't get to hear the straight goods because vested interests are promoting a caricature of the Canadian experience.

(Michael M. Rachlis is a physician, Health policy analyst and author in Toronto.)

2009-09-02T08:34:00.002-04:00

email from Melanie: As you know, I don't really like to get into political debates. I figure - vote with your conscience and it's no one else's business, but, as you know, health care availability and affordability for all is an especially important issue to me, especially since I have seen my sons suffer without it.

Someone posted this essay in Facebook, and it says a lot of what I think when people start shouting "socialism" in the USA. They use the word "socialism" or "socialist" like it's a dirty word. I really think that those people don't understand what it really means. But this guy does (for the most part.):

Here is a post passed on from Carl Wlodarczyk (Denver, CO), who wrote:

This morning I was awoken by my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the public power monopoly regulated by the US Department of Energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the national weather service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather was going to be like using satellites designed, built, and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I watched this while eating my breakfast of US Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking the drugs which have been determined as safe by the Food and Drug Administration.

At the appropriate time as regulated by the US congress and kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the US Naval Observatory, I get into my national Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on the roads build by the local, state, and federal departments of transportation, possibly stopping to purchase additional fuel of a quality level determined by the Environmental Protection Agency, using legal tender issued by the Federal Reserve Bank. On the way out the door I deposit any mail I have to be sent out via the US Postal Service and drop the kids off at the public school.

After spending another day not being maimed or killed at work thanks to the workplace regulations imposed by the Department of Labor and the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, enjoying another two meals which again do not kill me because of the USDA, I drive my NHTSA car back home on the DOT roads, to my house which has not burned down in my absence because of the state and local building codes and fire marshal's inspection, and which has not been plundered of all its valuable thanks to the local police department.

I then log on to the internet which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration and post on freerepublic.com and Fox news forums about how SOCIALISM in medicine is BAD because the government can't do anything right.

----------

With the exception of the Federal Reserve Bank, which is a private banking consortium, I have to agree. It's too bad people are so controlled by scaremongering.

2009-09-01T11:46:00.003-04:00

The following is a reprint from the Opinions page of the Connecticut Post from September 1, 2009. The author is Hans Wilhelm
I am trying to understand why we Americans think we live so much better than the rest of the world. In many ways I can compare myself with my brother who lives in Bremen, Germany, in a house that is very comparable to ours with regard to size, value and location. He pays only a bit more than $1,000 a year on taxes. This allows him not only to live in his house till the end of his life but also pass it on to his children. As a matter of fact, his estate has been in our family for more than 150 years and will continue staying in the hands of his children.
Our taxes for our American house are close to $20,000 a year and I doubt whether we will be able to afford the ever increasing taxes in 15 or 20 years, and may be forced to sell the house instead of passing it on to our children. For us...like for millions of other Americans....it is simply not possible to live out our lives in the house we are calling home.
The children of my brother can visit the best universities for virtually free. When they are finished they will not be burdened down by enormous student loans, and neither does my brother have to mortgage his home to pay for their education. Compare that with costs for college education for the average American family. Too many American kids cannot afford to work in a profession they really want because it may offer lower pay. Instead, they have to take any well-paying job....just to pay off their loan. So much for "following your dream."
My brother does not have to worry about any excessive health care costs, for himself or his children. His son actually had a complicated heart surgery...with no extra costs to my brother. A third of all personal bankruptcies in the U.S. are a result of unpaid health care costs. We throw our children to the wolves and give them no safety net whatsoever when it comes to illness. What king of parents are we?
Germany is a highly industrial nation with a higher productivity per worker than America. And yet the average fully paid holiday for Germans and other Europeans is four to six weeks! Compare that to an average of 8.2 days of paid vacation in America. Maybe we would enjoy our work more if we had also more time to refresh our mind, body and spirit.
Like most Europeans, my brother can expect a pension that will not make him rich...but will keep him in his own House and far away from the poorhouse. Compare that with the latest statistics that say 80 percent of all baby boomers in America are underfunded for their retirement and will run out of money before they die.
Our favorite argument is that we pay less tax than the Europeans. Well, I wonder, just add our outrageous property taxes, our steep private health insurance premiums and actual health care costs that we have to pay out of pocket, and add our costs for colleges and you will see that we probably pay very much the same.
It is also interesting to note that the European Union is made up of many very different countries, nationalities, languages, histories and traditions...and yet, there is one common thing that all 500 million Europeans have firmly agreed on: They all have voted for governments that have socialism as their base and provide each citizen with health care, pension and free education. As a matter of fact, even our close neighbor Canada has voted for similar values.
I am not saying that everything is perfect and better in Europe. It is not. They also have their problems with their big programs just like we have. But why are we so afraid of a little bit of "socialism" when we could have so much more in our lives and the lives of our children? In all statistics about living standards and quality of life, America trails well behind the European countries.
Why are we satisfied with so little? Why can't we live like the rest of the civilized world? (end of article.)
My opinion about socialism was changed when I saw Michael Moore's movie, "Sicko". In the movie I am reminded that we use our parks, libraries, police and fire departments without paying directly. Our mail is delivered without paying the mail carrier. That is socialism. I don't think that is a bad thing.

2009-08-14T12:10:00.002-04:00

Ellen Goodman writes: I am back at my post in coastal Maine. Feet planted on the porch railing. Back braced against the familiar contours of the Adirondack chair.

On the bird feeder, squabbling goldfinches vie for the same perches as if there were not plenty of open seats at their sunflower seed banquet. A bold hummingbird stops chasing his larger avian foes to see if I am worth his time, and then moves on.

the house is quiet this morning. A summer of rain has given way, at last, to sun. a summer of family has given way to solitude. The superheroes who must be obeyed and tiny doctors in need of an adult patient have packed up their imaginations and left us to the landscape. the cacophony of grandchildren is replaced by the low hum of a neighbor's lobster boat in the cove.

Weeding, they say, is a gardener's full employment program. But children are a grandparent's full employment program. The cultivation of one has let the other get out of hand. Crabgrass has become our garden's most reliable produce.

so, I give the garden my attention and then move on to my other weeding job. It's time to cull the family photographs on my laptop. the portrait of our Fourth of July clown. the crabs in the bucket. the epic water fight. The cousins picnicking on a rocky point they could once only navigate with adult help and now clamber over with abandon.

I choose the best of these--a sunny, happy, "say cheese" album --although not without wondering about my role as editor. The Brownie's and Kodachrome of my childhood and parenthood have been replaced by the digital camera and the ubiquitous cell phone lens of my grandparenthood.

These come with their instant images and delete buttons that leave a record of childhood as one long smile. There is even a camera with a smile detector that automatically clicks at a toothy grin. Do we now excise the frowns of childhood the way we edit out red-eye?

But, I am here as grandparent, not editor. so I will transform the photo album of experiences into memories and add them to the family rogue's gallery that lines the hallway of our farmhouse. There, cousins can see themselves and their childhood in a kind of time-lapse photography.

It is, I suppose, the business of grandparents to create memories and the relative of memoires: tradition.

We want to lodge moments, like snapshots, in the fleeting video of time. We want to expand the comfort zone of emotional routines.

I suspect this is one way we bond with grandchildren who take to traditions with the same natural ease that they paradoxically take to the latest computer game.

My 7 year old granddaughter already has her list of island traditions. she arrives on the ferry with her Tamagotchi and a checklist of Things We Do on the island. The walk to the store for ice cream. The collection of seaglass and shells to be carefully sorted while sitting on the same judicial stone. Some comes as well with memories for which there are no photographs: the day of the tomato hornworm, the night of the bat.

My 6 year old grandson expects grandma's "Condor food" for breakfast and tales at bedtime. He memorized true "mommy stories" from my repertoire and insists on another variation of tales starring"scary hand and friendly hand." Along with the electronic games we fear have taken ownership of his mental storage space, there is room for every story of his grandfather's boyhood pranks.

Parents, I remember well, are caught in the dailiness of child raising. But grandparents, imbued with a different sense of time, create a narrative arc across generations. If parents are the forward momentum of a child's life, we become the curators of traditions.

How odd, I think, as I sort the photographs, that of all the generations, mine would end up as a traditionalists. Weren't we the ones who upended the whole culture, the relationship between husbands and wives, the preconceptions about family? Aren't we the people who were born before television and, in a blink, got Medicare cards and iPhones at the same time? Weren't we our country's designated change agents?

Yet, here we are after all this time, with our children's children. We have become of all things, of all people, the collectors of memories and builders of family traditions. This is what we do with small people on a small island, one snapshot, one story and one summer at a time.

2009-08-14T07:07:00.002-04:00

The deck is done. The fence is all most done. We are waiting for the fence people to put up the gates. When that is done, my dog can run around the back yard and I will know she is safe from traffic. She can keep the squirrels out of the peach tree. She can sniff the mouse trails. She can exercise without a leash. I hope to complete both projects before fall.

Time for a break: I am driving to see my daughter. Talking to her on the phone, I hear discouragement. They have car trouble. How can that be a problem when there is a mechanic in the family? Stephen said He will come with me. Daughter is much relieved. We have to pack the back of the truck with Stephen's tools. Don gives us a list of the parts the car needs. We will bring them with us. Stephen gets a mechanic's discount. It pays to buy the gaskets here.

Don has painted their bathroom. (It really needed it.) Beth has taken down all her shelves and decorations. Can she "borrow" some decorator things I have? They are in storage. It is better that those things get used than sit in storage. I get a list of items Beth thinks would look good in the newly painted bathroom. I also volunteered some other things that go with her request. Beth is going to have an woodsy bathroom...like an outhouse. She gets the plaque that says,"bear bottoms welcome here" (bears in the woods) I find a little carving of a raccoon. It goes in the truck along with a toilet paper holder that looks like a bear and a photograph of Adirondack chairs. I joke with my daughter and tell her to cut a hole in the bathroom door that looks like a half moon. All those things are packed in the back of the truck along with two Aerobeds for Stephen and me....sheets, pillows, blankets.

While rummaging through storage, I find a gallon and a half of a good neutral color paint that I never used. It is a low VOC paint. It goes in the truck. There are other rooms to be painted.

We have one day to pack and get out of here. I fill out the forms so the post office can hold the mail until We return. The fence people are called. They can't put up the gates until We return. My neighbor knows We are going. She will look out for the house. Stripped the beds. Did a load of laundry. Got out the suitcases.

Stephen has some things to do before We leave. We have to go to the parts store and to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles. He has to pack his suitcase.

Before I walk out the door, the trash goes out. Somethings in the refrigerator have to be transferred to the freezer. Turn down the hot water tank to "vacation" position. Pull plugs on most electronics.

Lily is coming with us. Don't forget the dog...and dog food , leash and water.

Must not forget some CDs to enjoy on the drive and my address book with phone numbers and water to drink for the two of us.

Much to do before I can get out the door.

2009-07-31T07:03:00.006-04:00

I wish that President Obama's stimulus money was given to the citizens, instead of to banks, the auto industry and other institutions. With money in hand, said citizen will bank it, buy a new car and infuse the economy with good economic health. So much money has been handed out, that if it was in the hands of the people, they could pay off their mortgages.

No. Our banks are NOT too big to fail. Let them fail. There are other banks and other car manufacturers. The survivors will provide needed services and goods. The government split AT&T into the Baby Bells. That worked out fine. We should have done that with the banks. We should do that now. We should pass a law that nullifies the ceo's fat cat contracts. Its our money and it is not ment to line the pocket of any ceo . There seems to be a size that businesses should not grow beyond. They become inefficient and lose their flexibility to respond to the needs of their customers.

Hey Prez: Are you for the voters or the monied institutions that bankroll our politicians? Where does your loyalty lie? I know where you say it lies.

On Health care: Dear President Obama. The rising cost of health care is mostly administrative. If you set up another system, you will add another layer of administration and its resulting costs. I suggest that the system you want to design, is all ready in place....as state social service systems.

Each state provides medical care for those who qualify for the program. With a stroke of your pen, you can create a new category "medical only". You set federal standards for minimum level of care and open the current welfare system, oops, social services system for everyone. Those who were denied care because they made too much money can now use the existing network of clinics. I understand that these clinics provide very good care. Let the states run their own systems, as they do now.

Those using the "medical only" card would not be eligible for all the other services provided in the social service system, like food stamps, but they would get their health care needs met.

"Medical only" would not pay for routine care, but it would care for a serious illness. Those who feel they are above using the clinic, sitting next to the poor, have the option of going outside the system and paying for it themselves. There would be an influx of new patients, so the federal government should financially help the clinics expand. There would be some new jobs added to this system, but all in all, there would be less bureaucracy ...and less cost...than if you set up a new system.

I see that this system would be used by the elderly facing end of life care. It would be used by those with a serious illness or disability. These are the people that are turned down by insurance companies . The rest of us can pay for our yearly check up out of pocket...or through our medical insurance . While We're at it, lets fold all parallel medical systems into this one system. In this way, no one group gets better care. Isn't this what a democracy means? So, let senators and representatives give up their program and they can use our program. There are programs for railroad retirees, the military, teachers, postal workers.. If We all paid into the same pot, there would be plenty of money to care for a greater number of people .

Post script: Reading the blog "Suddenly Senior" and found another idea that seems good, simple and quick: Open Medicare to everyone. The system works just fine.

2009-07-21T18:18:00.003-04:00

Everyone in the family knows that our family is dysfunctional...that is...all who want to face the truth. There are some family members who are threatened by this topic. They refuse to know how sick our family dynamics were when I was a little girl. I honor them by not rubbing their noses in the mess. I keep my mouth shut.

My cousin and I provide therapy for each other by talking freely about how betrayed we were. We admit to each other how hurt we were by our immediate family. Mercifully, those family members are no longer here. They have escaped "the talk...the accusation". It would not have done any good anyways. I now understand why they acted that way, from the distance of age and I forgive them. This comment is only by way of opening up the topic of the list.

All my life, I have felt the unseen hand of spirit on my shoulder...guiding me to an experience necessary for my growth. When I have grown strong enough to solve that problem, the "unseen spirit" leads me away from there and on to a new situation. The flip side of this experience, is, if I can't solve the problem, it is presented to me again with different people and perhaps a different location. Thee is no running away from these life lessons. There are no failure at life lessons. The same situation keeps repeating until I master it no matter how uncomfortable it makes me.

Part of this miracle is the people who turn up at the right time. They are on "the list". One of the people on the list is world war two Sargent Johnson. I hope to devote an entire blog on this man. This current blog only touches on my relationship to him.

Bob was a prisoner of war for 18 months. He was in a Jewish death camp. He lived only because the war ended and the camp was liberated. If you have seen photographs of the living dead that were liberated from those camps, you have the idea of how close to dying Bob was. It was the horror of his life that gave him nightmares the rest of his life.

Bob came into my life when I was in need of serious help. I consider myself a practical and competent person able to handle just about any life situation. I was in one that I could not solve by myself. I found myself a widow living in a new state and city. I had no business contacts here. I had no family here. I was completely cut off from any help or support. I had a mortgage to pay off and no job. My permanent teaching certificate was not honored by Connecticut. Connecticut and New York had no reciprocal agreement to honor each other's teacher training certification program. I was emotionally exhausted from caring for my husband while He fought cancer. Then He died, leaving me utterly alone in the mess. In short I was stuck in the mire with no way to get out. Then Bob showed up.

We became good friends and talked a lot. Bob told me about his life growing up, his life in the military. I told Bob about my life and my strong belief in Quakerism. We seemed the odd couple: a military hero and a pacifist. I got on my high horse one day and stated that it was wrong to kill anyone. I am against war, capital punishment, murder on the streets....violence of any kind.

Bob gave me a mature look and stated from his experiences in Stalig 17: We think that there are things we would never do, but you are wrong. There are extreme circumstances that will make you do anything just to survive one more day. You will steal a loaf of bread if you have to. You will shoot the other man before He shoots you. If you are hungry enough, you will do anything you have to.......to survive one more day.

Bob taught me that all human beings are capable of all human emotions....from the most loftiest to the most base. Most humans function in the middle of this response scale. We deny our dark side capable of murder, theft, destruction of others, jealousy. We may deny it, but it is there. Good mental health suggests that when those awful feels of rage or jealousy surface, We should recognize them, give them a name and let them go. We do not have to act on those feelings. Just looking at our baser self and admitting that those feelings are there , frees us from them . They are released. If We do not name them and release them, they fester on our deep levels, influencing us to act in ways We would not choose. Old wounds are alive in you today if you have not looked at them and healed yourself. They are the steam in the pressure cooker of your soul.

I bless the military and the awful job they do to protect my freedom. I am free to be a pacifist because men and women like Johnson went to war and died. We speak English today, not Japanese or German because Bob Johnson and his buddies stood up to Germany and Japan. I am free because they guard my freedom.

Meeting Johnson was a life changing experience. I knew that He had been tested and past the test with flying colors. Johnson functioned on the highest spiritual plane. He represents the best of the human race. He was given a job where he could have died. He did not flinch. He is a true hero.

By comparison, I see people who act selfish. Foolish young people are preoccupied with the latest fashions and electronic gadgets. "Status" is important to them. I see that they are going through life with their eyes closed. I wonder if God tested them, how would they do? It is not my job to be their judge. I am only noting that they are functioning way below Sgt. Johnson.

I am mulling this over. Hmmmmm. Are there other people who are functioning at their highest level ? The answer is yes. Our town, my experiences are full of people I admire. You have met them, too. They take on responsibility and do it well. They are scholars at the local college. They are musicians . One is a doctor. Another is a teacher. Still another is in social services. I now actively look for these fully actualized people. They represent excellence. Many are unknown. I can see their excellence shining as they go through the day.

Some I know only through the books they've written. They influence me. I never met John Bradshaw, yet his teachings opened my eyes and set me on the path towards my own self actualization. Eric Erickson. Jared Diamond. M. Scott Peck. Richard Fineman. These authors are on the list.

The list of self-actualized people is a treasure . Those people are an honor to see how they function. I recognize them by my own feelings of admiration. It seems a privilege to talk to them. I know that when they stand before God, he will say, "well done." The list is growing.

If reincarnation turns out to be true, then I would make a request of the angel who is sending me back here again. Please place me with people on the list.

2009-07-18T18:26:00.003-04:00

Clark Howard is my favorite consumer reporter/advocate. I listen to him in the afternoons if I can. He also has a website that I check. Being a consumer advocate is a professional path I once considered, but did not take. I am still interested in savings money and "not getting ripped off"...to quote Clark Howard.

While I am driving around, I listen to Mr. Howard. This day, He is talking about how expensive prescription drugs are. One way to fight back is to purchase from the big box stores. (Other ways are through the mail , with prescription insurance or as part of a visit to Canada.)

It was a coincidence. I had just switched doctors and my supply of Armour Thyroid was down to the last dose. My new doctor called me in for a blood test to see how much thyroid I should be taking. At the same time, Clark Howard told me via the radio program, that I could purchase my script at Costco without buying their $50 membership. Since I was on the road, I drove to Costco to check the facts. Yes. I do not need a membership to use their pharmacy. The pharmacist gave me the dose/cost information.

#90 Armour Thyroid
cost without membership cost with membership strength
$14.27 $11.60 15mg
17.50 14.78 60mg
16.48 13.77 30mg

Reviewing my checkbook: I've been paying the local pharmacy about $60 to $50 a month for my supplement. At Costco, I paid $46.28 for a 3 months supply.........a savings of about $120 a year.

While waiting for my script, I compared Costco's price for Tums and a generic tums against the price for those items at my local grocery store. (Those items were near the pharmacy, so I chose those items to compare prices.) Costco was significantly cheaper. The cost comparison could only be done by comparing unit pricing, as each store had different sizes of packages. Without unit pricing, I could not compare.

the negative side of this experience is the regimentation....being made to feel as if I was in school. I had to stand in line behind the white line on the floor to get my script. I had to pay in cash. Credit cards and checks are not accepted. To exit the store, I had to stand in another line. At the head of this line, at the door, was an employee who examined customer membership cards and marked my prescription receipt.

I don't like standing in line and having my belongings examined by the school principal/door checker.

I don't like parking in a huge lot. My local drug store is steps away from where I park. I am invited to bring my dog in with me, as she is a well behaved dog. People call me by name at the drug store.

Back at Costco, I see cars lined up six or seven deep to buy gas that is about 3 cents cheaper than the cheap gas station in town. I figure that they must allow at least 2o minutes to get their gas...a savings of about 30 cents a fillup, if they buy 10 gallons.

The store is HUGE. I don't like shopping in a warehouse. This means walking fairly long distances on a concrete floor. If I had purchased anything, I would have had to stand in yet another line.

It seems that I've run into another example of the two basic choices in life: If you want something, you can spend time or money. Those are the only two choices. If you have extra time, you can save some money. If you are short of time, you have to spend money.

I haven't made up my mind. Shall I put up with the regimentation to save a little money? Is this worth it?

2009-07-10T21:16:00.000-04:00

Our golden retriever was a wonderful dog. he made a good TV watching pillow for my two girls when they were young. Nugget wasn't allowed on the furniture. We never caught him there. However, the couch had a warm spot, dog hair and a drool spot on it. Nugget was on the floor. His eyebrows were working up and down saying, "not me. I wasn't on the couch."

At nursery school: Our supervisor raised big newfoundland dogs. She also taught dog obedience classes. At Christmas, she would bring one of her dogs to our nursery school, dressed up as Santa Claus. He had a Santa hat on and a red velvet blanket on his back, trimmed in white. Hannah, our supervisor, was demonstrating dog obedience to our students. Her other goal was to assure the children that this big dog was gentle. He would not bite them. The children sat in a circle on the floor. Hannah put a basket filled with cookies before her. She called her dog over. The dog came and sat. Hannah gave the command, "take it." The dog picked up the basket by the handle and walked around the circle. Each child was encouraged to take a cookie from the basket.

I thought this was a wonderful trick. My golden retriever is a natural for this trick. I bet Nugget can do this trick, too.

At home, I found an Easter basket. Melanie was in the bedroom. I was in the living room at the other end of the house. I placed the basket at my feet and called my dog. He came right away with the look,"Yea? What do you want?"

I picked up the basket, placed it in his mouth and gave the command, "take it". Nugget got the trick right away. He pranced around the room with the basket in his mouth. Next, Melanie called him. Nugget came to her, carrying the basket in his mouth. I called him. He brought the basket to me. This was fun. We all loved this trick, especially Nugget.

the next step was to put cookies in the basket. I put the basket at my feet and called the dog. He came and sat. I gave him the command,"take it."

So, Nugget reached down and ate the cookies.

2009-07-10T21:03:00.000-04:00

The cat and dog belonged to the man I was dating after my husband had died. His name was Bob. Kids playing in the park nearby taught Cassie to catch a frisbee. Cassie was part coyote.

Cassie's mom belonged to Bob's friend Bill. Bill's dog had puppies...a gift from a wandering coyote. The puppies had some of that savy that their coyote father had. Bill's pup had a bad habit of killing chickens. No matter what Bill did, the pup got another chicken. They were down to a small number of chickens. Finally, one friend said He would cure the dog. he would teach it to not kill chickens. He grabbed the dog, tied him to a tree and beat him soundly with the dead chicken. They left the dog tied up in the strong hot sun with the chicken tied to his neck, figuring the experience of a smelly chicken would cure the dog of his habit.

The family went away for a few hours, leaving the dog to his misery. When they came back, the dog had eaten the chicken.

Cassie came from the same litter, but He was a more mellow dog. Cassie lived with a cat, Honey by name. Bob thought that Honey was an evil cat. I was there one evening when Bob had to go out, briefly. I stayed in the house.

Cassie was snoozing on the rug. Honey came by and smacked the dog with her paw, claws extended. Cassie was started awake. He jumped to his feet and looked around, as if saying, "What did I do? What did I do?" Honey strolls by, satisfied with her evil deed.

Another evening, same scene. Cassie is on the rug. Bob is out. I am sitting on the couch, just watching the animals. Bob has his garbage can under the sink. The cabinet door is closed. Nice smelly garbage smells are coming from that cabinet. The dog nose knows. The cat nose knows. Honey goes up to the cabinet door. Her paws pry the door, trying to open the door. Cassie gets up from the rug and goes over to the cabinet. Cassie stops Honey from opening the door. Honey looks disgusted. Moral of the story: Dog has a sense of right and wrong. Cat does not.

2009-07-10T20:56:00.000-04:00

Luann's dog had puppies. My daughter Beth wanted one of the puppies. "Can't We get one, Dad. Please! Please!" They were very tiny...little beagles....cute, warm and fuzzy. Dad and I said, "Yes.". Beth came home with a little female, barely 10 weeks old. She named her Lucy from the Peanuts gang.

Such excitement in the house. We had to find food dishes and bedding. We went out and bought puppy food. Little Lucy explored the house. Little Lucy was the center of attention.

Nightfall. Everyone is exhausted and sleepy, especially Lucy. We had heard that puppies separated from their mother for the first time, are upset and confused. We decided to try the old hot water bottle and ticking alarm clock to sooth our new puppy to sleep.

We did not have a hot water bottle, so Beth slept on the floor with Lucy and an alarm clock ticking beside her....two little tykes sleeping on the floor.

I took a picture of the two of them cuddled up together... my youngest and her new puppy.....sleeping on the kitchen floor. It is engraved on my heart.

2009-07-10T20:38:00.003-04:00

In complete frustration, I called the 888 number listed on the website of my local TV station....the station I can no longer get on my old analog TV set. After some time, the government man showed up at my door. He was a nice man, polite. His purpose was to help me set up my converter box. I all ready did that. He did tests with his antenna...stuck it out my window. Nothing improved the reception. I have a case of righteous indignation. I want my major networks and local programming and I am not going to sign up for cable. I hate the cable people. ...heard too many stories about their "service no service department".

The man's name was Stephen. I told him that there was an antenna in the attic, but it wasn't hooked up to any TV in the house. Would it be possible to use it? Stephen went into the attic and traced the line. The electrician had cut the old line to the antenna, but He had run some good cable. We could use that. Stephen said I should get a power assisted new antenna as Connecticut doesn't get good TV reception. I should get an antenna that drew in programs from as far away as 150 miles.

I suggested that I also get a rotary, as it may be necessary to turn the antenna to catch certain programs. Stephen said that was a good idea.

So, I've ordered a new antenna with power boost and a rotary to be installed in the attic and connected to one TV upstairs and the one in the living room. That should do it I shall pay for this expense and be done with it. and...no monthly bills to the cable company.

2009-06-16T08:21:00.003-04:00

This is a matter of principle. The airwaves belong to the people. Air, sunshine is a given in our environment. I understand that our government shall regulate the use of the airwaves. If not, there would be interference where ever you go on the air wave spectrum. We need designated spaces for TV, emergency broadcast, Police, Fire. That is a given. Still, the airwaves belong to the people. The government can't sell it ALL to commercial interests. That is why We have over the air TV. The law protects that little piece of spectrum for us. It is free.

I remember when cable TV first came on board. A neighbor was first to have cable. She said, "After all, it is only four dollars a month." That was in the 1960s. It is now between twenty and forty and up. I think of all the money I did not spend by sticking to my rabbit ear antennae.

Then friends would say, "Look at all the good programs you are missing." That is true. Also look at all the books I haven't read, the fairs I haven't attended. There is more to do than I have time for.

When I am in a motel room, or visiting my daughter, I look at cable TV. I like home and garden shows because I am renovating my house and I like my garden. After a few of these shows, I get the message. There is a lot of repeats. I don't need to see any more.

All stations are now switching over from analog to digital TV. Either you get a station with good picture and sound, or you get nothing. Is this the time to sign up for cable? Satellite TV? AT&T? I investigate and learn that I still can have TV with an antennae. I purchase converter boxes for each of my TVs. Then, I learn I must purchase a better Antennae. Rabbit ears simply are not sensitive enough to pick up a signal. One new antennae purchased and installed.

This is the day I try out the new system. My grandsons help me set it up. I can get several infomercial channels, one Spanish language station, and public television. Public television is the only channel that interests me. I can't get the major networks: ABC, NBC, CBS. I need the local channels from New Haven and Bridgeport to keep up with local news, emergencies, weather, etc.

This house has a roof antenna in the attic. I never hooked it up. I shall call a technician to see if He can attach my TV to the roof antenna and adjust it to get good reception. I am not giving up. After all, the airwaves belong to the people.

2009-06-11T18:00:00.003-04:00

This is the ending of a chapter in my life. The chapter should be titled, "interactions with Ted".

A girlfriend talked me into going to a singles group. That was that part of my life when I did such things....before I found out it was a waste of time. We went to Stamford and watched all the ladies stick to one side of the room and all the men stick to the other side of the room. When We got unstuck from the wall, one man...an older man I guessed, by his salt and pepper hair....this man came over to talk to us. As We were walking along, I noticed that he glanced back behind me. I was being checked out. He liked my butt. Ted is a butt man.

Dating someone I don't know calls for caution. We met at public places. I took down his license plate number in case I had to call the Police. It turned out that this was not necessary. It also turned out that Ted doesn't eat in fast food places. He is a health food person. That was the first impact Ted had on me. Over time, Ted changed my eating habits. Junk food went out of my diet. I did cheat a little with soda, though. We studied macrobiotics and I am convinced that this is the most healthy way to eat. It is also the most spiritual way to eat. On Fridays, We went to Macrobiotic dinners. I learned about seaweed, Kombu, daikon, nori....all sorts of good things to eat that are now part of my diet. On Mondays, We would meet at Ted's condo to cook something out of our macrobiotic cookbook. Some of the receipies started with,"soak barley for 6 hours." It was a wonderful experience sharing and learning together. We both became good cooks. Ted was also meticuous about cleaning up the kitchen. His condo was always clean and in order...traits I admire but cannot quite accomplish in my house.

Ted told me about his flying experiences in world war two. (He's 15 years older than I am.) Don't think that He was a hero, although in a way, he was. Ted did his best to stay out of harm's way. He came from a rich family. They had maids and butlers, chauffers, a laundress....the complete set of help to run the household. He went to a private school . Ted says he was sent there because his father found out that Ted was chasing the upstairs maid. He was made to stay on the straight and narrow by attending Choate. He hated it. Once , He walked and hitchhiked all the way home. Ted does not like discipline imposed upon him.

He is an iconoclast who thinks for himself. Sometimes, His conclusions cause consternation for others around him. Who can understand why He would drive down the center of the road? Why He would start the car moving with the doors open? He had reasoned that with the doors opened when moving, all the hot summer air is exhausted and the car cools off quicker. (He learned this when learning to fly.) He drove in the middle of the road because there were less potholes there...or junk to cut the tires. Until He explains, one thinks Ted is crazy or just plain stubburn.

When in the Army Air Corps, his mother sent him cases of fine liquor. He once arranged for his motorcycle to be shipped where He was stationed. In that way, He had a way to get off base. Ted is an iconoclast, first class. He thinks for himself. He learned that if He was in a training class, He wasn't on the front line. Ted stayed in training for most of the war, although he did see action in the Pacific. He guarded Japanese prisoners on some island...forgot the name.

Once bitten with the flying bug, always a flying bug. During his career years, Ted and his partners owned planes. That is, their advertising business owned the planes. There were photographs of his planes in his condo. Ted took me flying. The first time I went up, I was so scared , that when We landed, I just about kissed the ground. It was so good to be on the ground. One trip was to see fall foliage over New England. I took my camera and shot photos out the window. Something must have gone wrong with the camera, as it wasn't "clicking" when I pressed the shutter. It took fine photos, I learned when the pictures were developed. It is that the plane was so noisy, I could not hear my camera. Now, I love flying in little planes...wish I had more of that experience, but this chapter is ended.

Ted belonged to a New Age church. He was also a teacher. Once a week, a group of people came to his house to learn about Gnossis Christianity. We were in complete agreement that reincarnation is a fact. I sensed that Ted was a proud priest in one of his previous lifetimes. He could be very "priestly"...leading prayer and meditation. We went to the first Harmonic Convergence together. I met wonderful people there, people who also have the same belief system that I have. Ted led me to good books, universal law, meditation.

I enjoyed his family, too. He had a sister and a sister-in-law who hosted Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. I was invited and enjoyed his family.

Ted and Brother Bill were also fishermen. Bill had a boat. Ted and Bill went lobster fishing every summer. I enjoyed the catch...with melted butter. Also enjoyable is just boating: out and away from telephones and responsibilities. The sun makes my skin warm. The boat rocks gently. Both brothers are competent with boats, nativation, and engines. I am perfectly safe. One time, Bill engaged me in conversation....a little longer than seemed natural. it turned out that he was keeping me facing away from Ted....who was peeing over the side of the boat.

We parted amicably. It seemed my life lessons were over. Ted and I remained friends, but our focus was in different directions now. I saw him now and then, but I was dating Bob ...the man I eventually married.

One day I heard that Ted had had a stroke. He gave power of attorney for medical care to Lynn...another friend in the study group. Lynn cared for Ted for ten years. I lost contact with him....did not know where he was. Sometimes Ted required medical care at the VA. Then He would call me and I would visit him. I could see that He was receiving good care, but was failing. He had lost his mobility, He could not control his bladder. His mind was just as magnificent...and as independent as always. Even in his frailness, he was a handsome man.

Today, Lynn called me. Ted is at the VA Hospice wing. He will not make it this time. I go to see my old friend. Ted is sleeping, snoring. I take his picture and leave the hospital. Crying has to wait until I am in the car.

2009-06-10T17:08:00.004-04:00

The deck was built when the house was built: 1975. It is a miracle it lasted this long. Beth and I painted it with deck preservative several times. One rotten board got replaced. The deck survives, but the floor of the deck (the decking) needs to be replaced. I am going to do this the legal way. I am going for a building permit.

One starts at the tax office. I have to prove that my taxes are up to date. Peggy gives me paper with a stamp on it. I am up to date. The next stop is Planning and Zoning. Linda is at the desk. She pulls my original plan. The deck on her plan is nothing like the real one. We make updates. She bills me and gives me the plot plan with her stamp on it. I pay the bill and get a receipt. I am cleared by Planning and Zoning.

The next step is Building Inspection. I don't need to replace the entire deck, just the decking. I will use Trex because it is a long lasting, no maintenance product. It is made from recycled material. I like Trex. I draw my plan. Not complete. Have to go home and work on it some more. It is decided to take the back stairs off and reuse the stringers for the front steps, as Trex needs four stringers. I will expand the deck 5 feet by 5 feet....the space where the old back stairs were.

When visiting the Building Inspection Department, be prepared to wait. I sit on chairs in the hall. My companions are contractors and the trades. They need electrical permits, plumbing permits.....all sorts of permits. I am the amateur in the group. There is a lot of grumbling going on about wasted time sitting waiting. It takes several visits, a lot of help from the building inspector, but I finally get my permit. It gets displayed on the window right in front of the deck. This lets my neighbors know that my construction is legal.

Next step is to order the special order materials. Then the fit hits the fan.

I receive the following letter from my credit card company: "Your AB CArd account is funded by an independent trust which owns the balances you owe on your account and provides funding for new transactions. We expect the trust to stop funding activity on our accounts. The trust also restricts our flexibility to fund activity on your account. unfortunately, as a result, effective May 30th all AB credit card accounts, including your account, will be closed.

I have only one credit card. That one. The one that was closed. I have never heard of a credit card going out of business. Perhaps this is related to all the bank closings. Anyways, I now have no credit card.

I am a fan of Clark Howard, a consumer advocate. He was discussing on the radio, about identity theft. If your state permits it, Mr. Howard said, you should put a freeze on your accounts with the three credit reporting bureaus. In this way, no one can take out a mortgage or a credit card in your name. It sounded like a good idea, so I did it. My credit report was frozen. After all, I had no need for a mortgage or another credit card.....I thought. I have closed all department store credit cards and use only my one card. In this way, I have good control over my charges.

There is a way to temporarily lift the freeze. It takes writing to each bureau, paying a fee, and stipulating the time for the lifted freeze. I chose 30 days. This is done, but I won't have a new credit card in time for the planned deck construction.

Don and family are arriving in three weeks. They are taking vacation time to build the deck. I am facing a deadline. It will take at least two weeks for the special order materials to be delivered. There is only one solution I can think of: go to the bank and transfer a whopping amount of cash from savings to checking.

The materials are ordered. They will arrive 2 days before my family arrives. I paid by check.

2009-05-13T20:26:00.002-04:00

The grass is cut. We've had a lot of rain, so the grass is lush and green. Cut...it looks like green velvet. Progress shows from years of working on the yard. My peach tree looks good, viburnum, lilacs, wygelia, hydrangea, daffodils, tulips, grape Hyacinth, iberius, one holly hock, roses....strawberries and two pear trees. The basics are in place. It is so nice to just stand and look. The sun is getting low. Shadows fall across the lawn, so peaceful. I spent the morning at River Crest Farm, shopping for plants. Chinese forget me not, morning glory were purchased and planted. The geraniums I had overwintered are also planted. The peas and beans sprouted in the window. They get planted along with lettuce . My maple tree has gifted me with lots of little maple tree seedlings. They have to be pulled out by hand...one by one. If not, I will have a forest of maple trees. Grass grows in the beds. It, too, will have to be pulled out, but not today. It's quitting time for the day.

One large maple tree is cut down. It is at the corner of the garage with branches hanging over the roof of the garage. If a branch falls, it will damage the roof. The roots have raised the driveway, so the tree has to go. I left the trunk standing about eaves high. It will rot and become a home to a woodpecker, if I am lucky.

With the tree gone, three dead trees are discovered. They are on my side of my neighbor's fence, but technically, they belong to my neighbor. The fence is not on his property line. We confer. The dead trees have to go. If We have a windstorm, they will come down....on my garage roof or his fence. We split the cost. The total is four trees removed for this season. By coincidence, the very next night, We have high winds. We were just in time.

My grandson is putting up a fence for me...all by himself. It isn't an architectural fence. It is a plain wire mesh fence with metal posts. It is a utility fence. It is just what I wanted. Half the fence is up. I can't wait until the whole fence is up. Stephen gets the gates from my deck on Melba Street. They were to be discarded when the new deck goes on. The gates turn out to not be square. My grandson has to take them apart and rebuild them. Stephen will use them on my utility fence. A fence is like a blanket...enclosing and protecting. It will also keep Lily in the back yard.

Tomorrow , I hope to finish transplanting the little seedlings I started indoors. I have cosmos, flax and goji berries. The gojiberries were a gift from Jake, a neighbor. It will take years before I can harvest the berries. Can't wait to do that. ...I can harvest the berries if the squirrels don't get there first.

2009-05-09T08:07:00.003-04:00

She called me on Saturday and said she would be staying with me on Monday. Can I pick her up at the limo stop? ...at 2AM? ...Of course I could. I hang up the phone and go immediately into whirlwind mode: The house needs cleaning. Beds need a change of linen. Who will sleep where? This will be the first time that I will use the pull out bed in the couch. I will take Stephen's bed. He can have the couch. Joyce gets my bed...my guest of honor. I need to cook ahead and put food in the refrigerator. My mind races ahead, planning.

Joyce's sister has died...the reason for the emergency flight to our town. This whole family has been good to me. I enjoy spending time with them. Joyce is the sister-in-law of my neighbor. That is how I met her. This family is entangling in a good way. They share their time, their food. They help each other. It takes a little getting used to this "what is yours is mine and vice versa", as I have very clear personal boundaries. I would never feel that someone else's stuff was mine to borrow because I might need it.

Joyce says she will call me when she arrives at the limo stop. It isn't far away from my house. However, at the appointed evening, I decide to drive ahead and wait for her. It is near a restaurant. The restaurant is closing. Staff leave. Cars pull out from the parking lot. The town is in sleep mode, after all. It is 2AM. No Joyce. It is 3AM. No Joyce. It is 3:30AM. No Joyce. I decide to go home and wait for her call. At home only a short time and my friend is at the door. It seems that there was a delay at the airport, causing a delay on the limo. She had caught the last limo of the evening. If she had missed it, she would have been stuck at the airport. Joyce never called me because she had left the list of phone numbers home on the table. She solved the problem by asking the limo driver to drive her directly to my house. This is unheard of, but He does it. Joyce is in her 80s and uses a walker to get around. The driver went out of his way to help a senior citizen, who would have been stuck at the limo stop if He didn't. She gave him five dollars as a thank you. Without my phone number, how would she have gotten to my house? At least she remembered my address...across the street from her brother-in-law.

Suitcases are inside, Joyce and I greet each other. I've taken the reverse trip to her place on St. Croix. The trip is exhausting. She is so much older than I am. Yet, she did it and here she is. To bed for a good night's sleep. Joyce likes my bed because it has a heated mattress pad on it. She is used to the tropics, even though she was born in our town. My friend can no longer tolerate the cold.

The next day after breakfast, Joyce wants to go shopping. (I thought she would want to be in touch with her family right away, but she wants to go shopping.) This reminds me of my mother. That is what she would want to do...go through the stores and look at every thing. Joyce has a list of things she wants to do while she is here. Stocking up on things she can take back in her suitcase, is one of those things. Getting an eye exam and a new pair of glasses is another. Hearing aids is a third goal for her visit. (We didn't get to the third task, as We ran out of time.)

We are in the drug store and I have to use the bathroom. There is none for the public. I am crossing my legs until lunch time. Joyce wants to go to Kentucky Fried Chicken. I want to go there, too. My Mom liked this place as well. ...and...they have a bathroom.

After lunch, We go to Sears Optical. Can they take Joyce in for an exam? It isn't possible, as they are fully scheduled. Instead, We went to our local independent optometrist and eye glass store. They take Joyce in immediately. For an old gal, her eyes are very good. She needs this exam for new glasses for a renewal of her driver's license. Again, there is the press of time to get everything done before she has to leave. The exam is covered by Medicare, but the glasses are not. My friend is shocked by the cost of glasses. If she pays cash, she will not have enough money for the rest of her trip. I volunteer to pay for her glasses. Joyce promises to pay me back. I know she will. I write the check.

We are getting ready for the wake. Joyce goes to her sister's house. The relatives will be gathering there. No one is there. We drive to her niece's house. The family is there, but they are getting ready for the calling hours later that day. There is some chaos there. A son has broken up with his girlfriend and has returned home...with a puppy. The niece has three dogs. The new puppy is a border collie who has decided that it is his responsibility to round up the other three dogs. There is a dog round up in the living room. Much activity in that house, so Joyce would only add to the confusion. Joyce comes home with me.

Time to get ready. Can Joyce borrow my white coat ? of course she can. She had borrowed my navy blue one since she arrived. Do I have a pair of pantyhose she can use? She can't find hers in her suitcase. Of course she can use mine. Do I have a piece of jewelry she can borrow? I had just bought a new necklace...watermelon tourmaline. I have never worn it. I liked it . It was too expensive. I paid for it on time. Joyce wanted to wear that necklace. I said OK. It looked good on her against her purple suit.

Joyce has had my room to herself. She explores. She finds my makeup. Joyce helps herself to my lipstick and eyebrow pencil. Of course it looks good on her. Her relatives come to fetch her. She is gone for the evening. I won't see her until tomorrow morning. She will be staying with her brother. I am glad she gets some time with him and his family. That is one thing she wanted to do. I get some peace and quiet.

The day of the funeral. Once again my friend is borrowing stuff from me. She isn't well organized, I observed. She doesn't want to take my necklace off and return it to me. Oh Oh.... She says she will give it back after the funeral. Off she goes with handbag, tote, walker, wallet, my coat and scarf and necklace, wearing my makeup. She picks a flower from my garden and puts it in her hair. The color of the flower matches her clothes. Joyce has good color sense.

Joyce is back that evening. Dinner is picking on the leftovers in the refrigerator. One more night with the electric mattress pad turned up to high. Joyce sleeps well. I note that she never took a nap. How does she keep on going?

In the morning, We get ready for the limo. It is very early in the morning...still dark out. Joyce has decided that she doesn't want her coat anymore. It is too heavy. Instead, she will wear layers of sweaters and take them off, one by one, as she gets to the tropics. This makes sense to me. She doesn't want cold feet. She asks for a pair of socks. I put a pair of my socks on her feet. She is keeping my lipsticks, my socks, my pantyhose...but I get my necklace back. (Whew!)

She is leaving her coat behind, a can of hair spray, a gift for me and by accident, a tote bag with her cell phone charger in it. Later I learned that the cell phone wasn't hers. She had borrowed it from her grandson on St. Croix. Joyce calls that she arrived home safely about 11PM. That is a long trip. If it was me, I would be exhausted. Last task of the experience is to mail the tote with the cell phone charger to her. Cost about $20 for mailing the box with tote and all inside.

Having Joyce around is like having my mother back. It makes me smile. I am exhausted. I need a nap.

2009-04-03T14:28:00.003-04:00

Phew! Lily's breath stinks. She gives me kisses. I hold my breath until she is done. It is time to get her to the vets. My rat terrier needs her teeth cleaned. Instead of taking her to the vet 2 blocks from my house, I make an appointment with the SPCA vet...several towns over. They gave me a discount for adopting a rescue dog. At least, they did when Lily needed her cancer operation. The SPCA paid for half the cost of the operation.

The appointment is made. The nurse tells me to bring in a stool sample. Lily and I walk around the block. Nothing happens. I feed her some more. Nothing happens. We drive to the Vet's office. I report that I don't have a stool sample. Lily knows this place. She starts to shake and whine. This is the place where the people do things to her. Things she would rather not happen to her.

Up on the table....dog is shaking....The vet sticks his gloved hand, with paper towel in ready, and scoops out a stool sample. Lily gets blood drawn. Lily gets kennel cough vaccine blown into her nose, Lily gets her Rabies shot. Lily gets her mouth opened and examined. Yup. She needs her teeth cleaned. Can she also have her nails trimmed? They're pretty long. Yes. Can do.

I point out the scar on my dog's back. Could Lily have some plastic surgery to remove that scar? People think she has mange and are hesitant to pet her. I also think that the spot may turn into skin cancer some day, as there is no fur on that spot to protect her from the sun's rays. The doctor says that her skin is loose enough that He can cut out the spot.

Poor dog that was proded from one end to the other is let down on the floor. Lily is visably upset at the exam. Lily gives her opinion on all this, by pooping on the floor.

The surgical proceedures are scheduled for the next day. I am to bring in a urine sample this time. This is a comedy, trying to follow a dog around the back yard, carrying a cup to catch her urine. Cup doesn't work. Lily wonders what am I doing back there? Imspiration: back in the house, I fashion a low and narrow collection scoop from aluminum foil...just the right size for Lily. Lily squats. I slip the scoop under her bottom and Lily hits the target. Hurray!

Back at the vets. She knows. She starts shaking. She poops on his floor again. the results of the blood test are in. There are no mast cells in my dog's blood. Lily is cured of cancer, thank God. I leave my shaking dog in the good care of the nurse. All the proceedures will be done that day with Lily sedated.

At 3PM that same day, I called the vet hospital. Lily did fine. She is waking up from the anaesthetic. Come and get her. At the office, there is my dog. She has short and neat nails. Her breath is sweet. Across her back are a row of staples. The scar is gone.

The vet comes out to greet me. We go over Lily's blood work. All is fine except her glucose level is very low. Am I missing something from her diet? The vet says no. She may have a tumor on her pancreas. If her glucose gets any lower, she will have convulsions and may die. He recommends a test that can be done in the office. I am reeling from paying two vet bills that total about one thousand dollars. (No insurance ) However, she is my little dog and I have a responsibility to her. In return I have her love and loyalty. I get the better part of the bargain.

Lily and I will be back in two weeks to get her stitches out...and for one more pancreas test. The vet had better have some paper towels ready for the floor.

2009-03-28T15:56:00.002-04:00

It was a beautiful day, so it is time to fire up the garden. I rake leaves from the lawn in the fall, but leave the leaves in the flower beds. The leaves are a blanket and they work just fine. I touch the leaves and feel heat from decaying compost. However, the leaves have to come off in the spring or the flowers will be smothered. There is such a thing as too many leaves. Last year, I was late with this task. I had to hand pick handful of leaves and stuff them into a compost bag. I could not use a rake, as the daffodils were blooming. If I used a rake, I would pull up the flowers.

So, here I am, rake, bag, sunshine and energy. Five bags later, time for a break. Most of the leaves are off. As I work, I note that the crocus have spread all over. It is a riot of purple flowers. That's wonderful. Color is always welcome. I make notes to myself about where the bare spots are, which bush needs to be pulled and divided, which hollyhock died over the winter.

Having a garden has no end. It is never finished. These are living things, those little plants. It is my pleasure to take care of them, to plan for a display of color every month of the growing season. In the mddle of summer, there is a lull. The spring display is finished. The fall display isn't here yet. This is the test of a good gardener. What shall be planted to bloom then? Dahlias? Sunflowers?

2009-03-22T19:14:00.002-04:00

They were on Craig's List, one county over. There were pictures, too. The man had metal kitchen cabinets. He said they were Youngstown brand, but when I went to see them, I couldn't find the logo, or the tell tale boomerang handles. Bought them anyways, as the size was right.

I have bought other brands and found out that it didn't make a difference what brand they were. Once they went to the auto body shop for rehab, they all looked like the same set...just so long as they fit the space. I have extra boomerang handles for the newly bought base cabinets.

The one that was the hardest to find, was the corner cabinet. I didn't care if it had a turntable in it or not. It just had to fit the space. A visiting grandson helped me move the cabinets to the kitchen and placed them to verify that they fit their assigned spaces. Yup. They fit. Tomorrow, they go to the auto body shop for sanding, priming, painting and clear coat...just as if they were a car.

This means that there is only one more step to take before the kitchen is complete. I will have a counter top made for them and perhaps, some spacers between cabinets,if needed.

How did my mother-in-law function in that kitchen? When I inherited this house, it had no cabinets in the kitchen. She must have walked back and forth from the pantry. I am sorry that I didn't remember to take some "before" pictures. It was awful...institution pea green and sickly yellow asbestos floor, inadequate wiring, outdated refrigerator and stove. The only thing I loved was the cast iron enamel sink with its two drainboards. The commitment to the sink meant that I needed to keep the metal cabinet that contained it, hence the commitment to metal cabinets. It turned out to be a good decision.

I've met some very competent tradesmen: asbestos abatement people, plumber, electrician, the guys at the auto body shop, the floor man, the tile crew. Couldn't do it without these guys.

2009-03-07T14:26:00.003-05:00

Imagine turquoise water, blue skies with wispy clouds, sunshine that goes right to the bone and warms you, relaxes you. Now add the sound of the waves as they break on the beach. Breath in unpolluted air. Ah! Warm sand underfoot. Clear water awaits swimming. I had all this, almost all to myself. The beach was practically deserted. I could swim anywhere I wanted. At the rise of the sand dune, sits a bar with no walls. It is open to the air. Breezes blow through. A roof shades customers from the sun. I sit with a rum drink in hand and listen to the sound of the waves. Pure bliss....and a good lunch, too.
At Sprat Hall, my hostess and her daughter greeted us with a surprise dinner. How many hostesses would do that? It was a completely unexpected pleasure. Greeting us as We drove up, was a pack of dogs....all good burglar alarms, but all friendly. Horses, chickens and roosters, guinea hens, banana quits....lots of birds and animals made just sitting on the veranda interesting. One old dog adopted us for the week. Yet a gentlemen, He would never come into our cottage unless invited. One day, a peacock sat on the roof of our car. Everyday, a mongoose crossed the road. (Why does a mongoose cross the road? Why, to get to the other side, of course.)
There is no sleeping in at Sprat Hall. The roosters are fighting each other for the attention of the hens. Little chicks follow mama chicken around, so some rooster was successful. This is heaven for animals. They are free to roam as they please. Dinner is served to all. Each animal is free to behave in a normal manner. Dogs congregate in one area, or they spread out and patrol the whole plantation. Every morning, the roosters told us when it was time to get up. Judy has horses. At one time, she lead tourists on a horse riding experience, but no longer. The dozen or so horses are all pets. I saw one horse walk up to Judy and lay his head on her shoulder...pure love between them.
Joyce's beloved husband, Jim has died. She runs the entire place by herself and with the help of her daughter, Judy. Joyce could not have been a more devoted wife to Jim...who deserved the loving care he got from Joyce. There is a whole chapter about Jim that I could write. He was a blimp pilot during world war 2. He was a botanist. The place is planted with trees and flowers, fruit trees, date palms, coconut palms...all good things to eat. We ate oranges and tropical fruit that grew on the plantation. Walk outside and pick breakfast. Lovely.
The plantation at one time had slaves that worked the sugar trade. There is a sugar mill on Sprat Hall plantation. Joyce renovated it for a wedding. It is now a restful place to sit in , read a book, or gaze out at the view. Jim is buried just before the sugar mill. How I wish I could ask him to tell me stories about his adventures. Jim's brother, Bob, was my across the street neighbor. Bob died several years ago. The two of them must have been a lot of trouble growing up for their parents. They had the Irish devil in them...spirit!
After breakfast, We took a ride to explore the island. We saw the mongoose in the tropical rain forest. We saw one a day . It wasn't the same one. If it was, He sure got around a lot.
Lunch on the road and then home again. Afternoons were spent reading. We sat on the veranda and read paperbacks. Not a word was spoken. We did not even look at each other...just read. A casual observer would think this was very queer, but it isn't so...when two people are readers. Books belong in the luggage when one is on vacation. A vacation is a time to read.
Sometimes We ate in. Sometimes, We went out to eat. Back home early and to bed. I slept soundly, did not wake up once.
The rooster told us when to wake up. The week went quickly. How disappointing to have to leave paradise.
There were mini adventures in the Miami airport and in the Porto Rico airport. It seems all We did was to keep going through security. At last, We arrive home in Hartford. How disappointing to learn that winter hasn't dissipated while We were gone. It is dark and cold...and about a 45 minute ride to return to Milford...and then to bed.

2009-02-10T19:11:00.004-05:00

We are living in dangerous economic times...an echo of the great depression. The great depression is what my parents lived through. Mom told of counting the slices in a loaf of bread so my father had enough for a sandwich to take to work...a sandwich a day. In those days, there was no social security to help families when they lost their jobs. My family was lucky. Instead of my Dad losing his job as a police officer, he had his pay cut to half. We made it through those times, just barely.

I heard stories of people having just one pair of shoes. When the sole of the shoe wore out, the lady put a piece of cardboard in the shoe to cover the hole. You could also get soles to glue onto the shoe. That rarely worked right. The sole came off. Flop Flop Flop ...the sound of walking with the sole coming off.

I heard stories of children not paying attention in school. When questioned, they answered that it was their brothers turn to eat that day. The child was hungry. You could tell who was poor by looking at their mouth. Poor kids had lots of cavities, as they could not go to the dentist. Children who did not have good nutrition developed health problems. They had colds all the time. They cought what ever was going around...including polio. They wore clothes that didn't keep them warm. The school nurse looked for head lice and found them. They looked tired, sallow, with thin limp hair. I saw this myself, living in the inner city.

President Roosevelt started social security so that those terrible days would not repeat. Social security is a mandated savings program. I had money taken out of my paycheck and sent to the federal government for safe keeping. My boss matched what I paid into the system. In turn, I am promised that this money shall be safe guarded and returned to me when I retire, or if I am disabled. I am promised a set amount of money every month, with an adjustment for inflation. I contributed a lifetime of working...adding to my social security account.

Unfortunately, the government could not keep its hands off that money. They added it to the tax revenue stream. SOCIAL SECURITY ISN'T A TAX. IT IS A SAVINGS PROGRAM. Social security money should never be used as a revenue for the federal government. Instead, social security money should be separated from the government and safe guarded by a quasi government agency that prevents the US government from getting at that money. That agency should be charged to invest that money conservatively. Overhead of the agency should be restricted, so that positions in the agency do not become political plums to be handed out to those loyal to the party.

Currently, all that is in the social security pot is a big IOU. I think the citizens of our country would be shocked to learn how broke We are. If We could see the actual debit and credit line, We would throw all the politicians out of office, or storm Washington. Failies have to live within their means. So should the government.

In January, I got my social security statement, showing me what my monthly payment will be for the year. There is a new line on the statement. It wasn't there last year. It says "income-related monthly adjustment amount based on your 2007 income tax return". This means that they are reducing my social security payment because I've reached some sort of financial ceiling that I don't understand. This means that my benefit isn't based on my contributions plus cost of living adjustment. The government changes the rules and I have no recourse This means they may change the rules again next year.

I wish that my social security contribution wasn't in the hands of the government. To make it worse, I, like many others, invested my IRA and pension money in the stock market. I got good advice, diversified my holdings, balanced stocks with bonds, sheltered some money in a tax free investment. The result of a life time of sacrifice, is my accounts are down the same percentage points as the stock market is down. Thank goodness I don't have a mortgage. But, how shall I pay my taxes? What shall I do when my old truck...my only means of transportation...what shall I do when I have to replace it? What if I get a serious illness? How shall I pay for medical care?

I understand that good minds are working on these problems. They had better hurry up.

2009-02-01T07:47:00.003-05:00

The pressure of time: So much to accomplish before self imposed deadlines.
I want my income tax records in the hands of my accountant before I take a week's vacation.
I want the living room alcoves painted and put in order before I take a week's vacation.
Did I tell you that I am taking a week's vacation...in St. Croix, US Virgin Islands?

It takes forever before I decide on a paint color. The living room faces north. That means the light is cool. The room was blue and looked much too cold. It needed warm colors and boy did I put warm colors in that room. The old chair that I got from Goodwill is now upholstered in a red and soft yellow check. An ottoman that matches is slip covered in the same fabric. Two pieces of oddly matched furniture, now match perfectly. Throws over the coach are in yellow. I am proud to say that I pieced both myself. One is promised to my daughter, Beth. It is a twin size bedspread, but too fragile to be thrown around by her high energy son. She will have to wait until the kids are grown up. Then she can have my cathedral windowpane spread. In the meantime, it decorates the couch.

I decided on two shades of yellow for the alcoves off to the side of the living room. One is a deep yellow shading to orange. The other is the lightest yellow on the same color chip. I painted the ceiling of one alcove and the outside wall. When I got to the contrasting yellow, I got jiggle lines, not a straight line. To hell with this. I called Spence. He finished the painting and did a much better job than I did. I was only going to paint the walls, but Spence talked me into painting the woodwork as well. That was a good decision. Fresh white against daffodil yellow is...fresh and cheerful.
Then I decided to make curtains for the front door and the side windows...in a yellow print. Did that. They turned out very nice.
Spence never liked the deteriorated condition of my wood floor. I don't like it either, but haven't solved the problem of moving furniture to clear the room...to refinish the floor. Spence says, "How about We refinish just the alcove and see how it looks?" That is do-able. One day of sanding, two coats of polyethylene done and two more coats to go. There was such beauty hidden under the old finish and dirt. It shows up now. I am pumped to do the whole floor...in warm weather when We can leave the doors and windows open.

Making progress. Making progress.

Now for the vacation: Stephen says He will watch Lily while I am gone. Tina says she will be a back up because there is a possibility that Stephen may be in traffic school on that weekend. We don't know for sure. Since Lily is a cancer survivor, I don't want her in a kennel. The kennel requires immunization shots. That makes sense, as I don't want her to catch kennel cough from some other sick dog. However, I don't want her to get injections when We know her immune system is weak. The solution is to keep her out of kennels.

My friend, Joyce says there is room at the plantation on St. Croix. By coincidence, Hat will be there, too. Hat and Joyce are sisters in law. Hat's family will be coming and going that week. Hat's daughter will be on the same plane with Spence and me...last leg of the trip. This is a socializing vacation...not sneaking away to be alone. Spence calls his sister to tell her about his trip. She is delighted, as she says the best vacation she ever had was on St. Croix. She went snorkeling at the Marine Preserve just off the island. She loved it so much, she did it again. Spence is a golfer. There are several golf courses available to him. I think We will be snorkeling and golfing...and just watching the sunset. Think of steel drums and drinks made of fruit juice and rum with a little umbrella in them. Can't wait.

2009-01-01T13:58:00.002-05:00

January first, 2009. Those that went out celebrating the new year, are now flat on their backs sleeping or watching football on TV. A long time ago, I made the decision that Thanksgiving and Christmas is enough celebrating. By the time January comes along, the thought of going out in the dark and cold, drinking too much, staying out late, driving on roads shared with drunks does not appeal to me. I read somewhere that you can tell you are getting old when you get invited to two delightful parties and you choose the one that gets you home earliest. That's me.
I have some time to myself...to get my tax documents organized. I start new folders for each catagory, only the new ones are labeled 2009.
The kitchen floor needs to be washed. It does not appeal to me. The livingroom alcove needs painting. The paint is sitting right there along with the ladder, drop cloth and all the rest. The chore does not appeal to me.
What I did was to print out my blog. All of my entries for 2008 are now backed up. It was good to go back and review what happened. I am surprised that my kitchen project is less than a year old. It seems to have been in progress for ages. Ditto Lily. I've owned her for less than a year. She seems a permanent fixture in my life.
I got caught up on the ironing, grazed from the fridge, read the paper. This is the pause that starts the new year.
I hope to have the kitchen finished, the bathroom floor on one rental replaced, sheet rock and insulate the entryway of my other rental. I hope to have two large fir trees cut down and cut into wide planks...stacked and aged in my garage....and later installed as new floors for my home. That old carpet has got to go. I think this is my list of new year's resolutions. Happy new year.

2008-12-26T05:27:00.002-05:00

Its the day after Christmas, but the holiday isn't done. Carol and Pat are coming today for a girls coffee klatch. Later, Chris and Marge are coming . Chris has 2 presents waiting for him...and I have one gift coming with Chris. On Tuesday, Judy and Doris and I are going out for tea. Both of these dear friends have been to Paris. I am going, too. They promise to share insiders guide to the city. The reason I am going is a sad reason.

Dee called me from Florida. She has been diagnosed with lung cancer. She is a smoker. How any one can think of smoking, is beyond my understanding. Teenagers think it makes them look grown up. Instead, it makes them look stupid. After a time, smoking will make them look dead. What a deal. One pays money and agree to become addicted to nicotine. In return, you increase your probability of dying from cancer. Why would anyone with even a grain of common sense agree to such a bargain? Paying a large corporation to make them sick?

Dee was one of those people. She has smoked for decades. It finally got to her lungs....after years of lung problems...pneumonia every winter, for example. (Stephen, are you listening?)

We were three and four years old when We met. Her parents bought the house just two doors down from my parents. We started to play right away. The moving van was still unloading furniture. I wish I could say that We stayed connected all these years, but the truth is that We lost track of each other. The dividing line between two school districts was right between our houses. I walked one way to school and Dee walked down the block in the other direction.

Dee admired my Mom's business sense. Perhaps my mother was a model for Dee. They both went into the same business field: real estate. My mom bought and sold houses. Dee bought houses and kept them, rented them out. In time, my childhood friend became a millionaire. When Mom was in assisted living, Dee contacted her. They had been writing to each other all this time. In this way, I got Dee's address from my mother. Dee and I picked up where We left off.

One of the things We wanted to do, was to travel together. shouldn't two retirees be able to drop everything and take a trip? We discussed it. Dee wanted to go back to Paris. She has been there two times before. She loves that city. We would see it together, but not at this time. We were both too busy. I flew down to Fort Lauderdale and spent a wonderful vacation with my friend...catching up on marriages, children, grandchildren...hopes and disappointments.

Then, she got the news from her doctor. After three months of chemotherapy, probably wearing a wig to hide her bald head, my old friend and I are going to see Paris together.

2008-12-26T05:19:00.002-05:00

The following is stolen from Glamour magazine: Here are 10 reasons for not being perfect. I was glad to find this list, as my life, my house and environs, my mind, my finances...are far from perfect. I suspect I am not alone.
1 Have you seen the Venus De Milo? Awe inspiring and yet, she is missing two arms.
2 Perfection? Well, it's exhausting.
3 Your being a size 4 won't make him better in bed.
4 When you finally find a guy who's thoughtful enough to pick up his socks, he'll make you pick up yours, too.
5 Avoiding chipped fingernails means no gardening, no pictachio eating, playing the piano. Not worth it!
6 Every happy family has a pathological liar arsonist cousin who owes them $2,000...or some such.
7 Nobody interesting has neat handwriting
8 Mutts are just the cutest dogs.
9 If you act like a perfect professional all the time, no one will talk to you at the office holiday party.
10 Breast implants need replacing every 10 years or so...just for your information.

2008-12-03T21:49:00.003-05:00

Dear Louise: I swear this is true: I was reading the Christian Science Monitor and ran across the book articles. First thing in my mind was "I should send this to Louise".

Then I got the mail, and saw your clippings about department store display. This brings back a lot of memories. In comparison to today's store display, We've gone down hill. I know that there are fabulous scenes are in the stores in New York, but in Connecticut...hmmm...have to go to the malls and then I see marketing, not art.

I remember getting on the bus with my mother. There was a connection from the trolley that ran to a wire overhead. Electricity was supplied by that overhead connection. In the winter, with everything wet, the wire would crackle. The trolley ran on rails embedded in the road. Inside the trolley, there was straw on the floor. I think the purpose of the straw was to absorb the water from our boots and also to insulate the floor. I remember having very cold feet, sitting on the trolley. I remember that the trolley was very crowded.

At last We were downtown. There were department stores everywhere. The crowd was exciting. The activity was exciting. Christmas music played through loud speakers. Some stores squirted perfume into the air. One of the best experiences, was seeing the windows decorated for Christmas. There were automaton dolls dressed as Santa's helpers. A train ran around the scene. Everything moved! It was wonderful. I got to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what I wanted for Christmas. I distinctly remembered that I didn't know what I wanted, so I made up something.

There was a florist shop that put the same display on every year. It was a Santa flying out the window. (half was inside and half was outside attached to the glass). Men sold Christmas trees in the vacant lots, remember? The fragrance of pine and balsam filled my nose. What a wonderful memory.

It was cold in Buffalo in December. We were dressed for the weather in wool snow pants, coat and matching hat, scarf and mittens. The mittens had a string that ran from one mitten to the other, so when you took off your mittens, they dangled and did not get lost. We wore Wellington boots over our shoes. Shoe boots hadn't been invented yet. If you didn't wear your snow pants, you got a red welt on the back of your calves where the top of your boot rubbed on your leg. Remember what the coat room in school smelled like when all the kids took off their snow clothes? The smell of wet wool....very distinctive.

Well, I am off the topic of window display. My college offered an art course in window display. I think they called it by a different name, but that was what it was. One display that stands out in my mind, was made entirely of white card stock. The artist cut and bent it so it stood on its own. It was a fashion scene of ladies in dresses...all made out of card stock. I remember the faces. How did they cut the stock so that the noses stood out? What a wonder.

Every window was decorated all year round. Remember the corner store down the block? They subscribed to a window decorating service. They changed their window display about four times a year. The display was made from colored corrugated cardboard. It was set up as fans, cylinders, back drop, etc.....all made of cardboard. The store manager displayed groceries in the window with the cardboard..like a display of mustard or laundry soap. Just about the time the cardboard is fading from the sun, a new display is put up. Perhaps the color scheme was changed with the season...red and green in the winter, fall colors in the fall. That is my guess. If you look around, you can see the reminents of this type of display still up in some windows. Now a days, posters selling merchandise is in the window, but it isn't the same thing as a designed store display.

Another display was in the windows of the houses . Dad would drive us around to look at the Christmas lights. People put their Christmas tree directly in the front window so the lights would shine outside. Some people would put an electric candle in every window. We would drive around, looking at the lights of our neighbors. In my dreams, I can still see the lights against the background of night.

I hope you get to Lancaster to see the restored displays. Thank you so much for sending the article to me.

Enclosed is the book article I thought you might like, and another article on the Great Lakes.

The Christian Science Monitor next year will go to an all electronic paper. This means that I can't cut out an article to send to you unless I print it out first. Note that sometimes the articles are short videos. Those, I can't send through the mail. I will miss not having my paper copy. I like to read it in the morning with a cup of coffee at the local diner. Some times, I leave the paper for others to read. Won't be doing that in the new year. I understand that newspapers are in trouble and there may come a day when there won't be any news stands. I hope I am gone by then.

OK, Buffalo Gal, it is time to close.
Sending you love and laughter and lots of good stuff your way. Gardenbug.

2008-12-02T05:09:00.003-05:00

This is my turn to address cancer. The surgeon has removed the skin from the top of my nose. He brought a flap of skin from under my eye to cover the wound. Very small stitches mean it will be hard to tell I had surgery for sun damage. After a week of healing, it is time to go back to get the stitches removed.
Spence comes with me. Spence hasn't been to this medical building in a while. We pull into the first entrance to the parking garage. It is on the back side from where I usually park, but it is the same garage. This shouldn't make a difference.
Inside, We look for the bridge on the second floor that will take us to where I have to go. It isn't there. Where did it go? No matter. There is the elevator. We take the elevator to the fifth floor and get out. My doctor's office isn't there. Where did it go?
This calls for a strategy. Another person in the elevator tells us We are on the wrong elevator. We have to go to street level and take the other elevator.
Down to street level. Out on the first floor and walking, walking, walking....there is the correct elevator. We take the elevator to the fifth floor and there is my doctor's office. My stitches are taken out. No infection seen. I receive my follow up appointment...the last one I will need.
Spence and I and several other patients take the elevator down to the second floor. There is the bridge to the parking lot. We cross the bridge . My truck isn't on the second floor where it should be. We walk up a flight. We walk down a flight. Spence matches the view to the one He saw when We parked the truck. The view out matches, but no truck. This is very strange. How could We get lost in a parking garage? Where did my truck go?
No solution but to walk to ground floor. We check the street signs. We are on the correct street.
However, We are diagonally across the street from the medical building. I don't understand how We got there, as I don't think elevators go sideways, but here We are. We cross the street, enter the other parking lot, walk up to the second floor and there is my truck...with Lily in it, barking for us.
The explanation is how the building got enlarged. My guess is that Yale Medical developed one building for medical offices. Then, they bought the building next door and added more offices. Each building had elevators. Think of a "U". First We were in one side. To get to the other side, We had to go to ground level and go up again in the other side of the U. The parking garages are a variation of the same theme. One garage is attached to one side of the U. The other garage is accessible from the second story bridge that takes me across the street . If I park in that garage, I must remember to use the bridge, or I may never be found. This complex is a great place to play a rat in the maze game. Find the cheese in the parking garage.

2008-11-22T02:01:00.002-05:00

It started out as a regular day with coffee at the local coffee shop. Then Mr. Boring sat down next to me. I think He looks for my truck in the parking lot , then makes a bee line to sit next to me. All I wanted was to finish reading my paper in peace. Instead, I put the paper away and was polite.

Oh, look at the clock! I have to leave because Lily has an appointment at the vets. I escape Mr. Boring. Rushing to get on the road. I am on the wrong road. How did that happen? Wasn't paying attention. Now it is indeed getting late. Lily will be late to see her vet. The truck has to make a big circle to get on the right road, but We are 15 minutes late. Up ahead, a fire truck is blocking the road. Cars back up behind the fire truck. What in the world is the hold up? It doesn't matter, the traffic jam breaks up and Lily and I continue our journey...speeding up a little. At the next red light, a traffic cop motions for me to pull over. I wasn't wearing my seat belt. He hands me a ticket. I owe the town, $35. Damn. On the road again.

At the vets, Lily has her stitches taken out. She acts like a horrible two year old....crying . The vet said He hadn't touched her yet. Lily is anxious about being in the office. She senses that this is the place where they "do things" to animals. How can I explain to a little terrier that what the doctor does is protecting her health? Of course, I can't. The lab result is in. Lily has stage 2 cancer. Mast cell cancer is caused by diet. It is an allergic reaction to something she eats. That is why I put her on raw foods...raw turkey, grated carrots and broccoli, fish oil and other supplements. ..and absolutely no grains or chemicals . The vet got both tumors out with a good safety margin. Perhaps she is cured, perhaps not. Another blood test will tell us if she has mast cells in her blood. The vet takes a blood sample and sends it off to the lab. If the diet is working, there will be no mast cells in her blood and she will have a good chance of living a normal life. If she has mast cells in her blood, then she will last only a year. I have decided against chemo and more surgery, as she has been through enough. We leave the office without knowing Lily's fate. The lab result will come via email.

Next stop is to pick up Stephen. I am driving him to the clinic. Stephen steps out of the car and goes in the clinic. I am waiting for him by the door, engine running. It shouldn't take long for him to return. He returns immediately. I have to move my car. I am blocking a fire lane. Of course. Except there is no other place to park. At the corner of the building, blocking traffic, is a truck pulling a man-lift. I can't get around them. Wait Wait Wait. Now I can. There is one parking place around the back. I pull my Ranger into the parking place and turn off the ignition.

The man with the man-lift crew comes to my window. Would I mind moving my truck, as they need that space? They are changing light bulbs on poles. I parked under the light. Resignation. Still no place to park. Why aren't people leaving the clinic? Are they stuck there? By now I am two thirds around the building with no parking place in sight. There is no choice but to stand in the driveway and hope that Stephen comes out soon. I can't stand there long. I will be told to move my truck any minute. Try cruising slowly. By now, I have driven all around the building. There is Stephen at the entrance, smoking a cigarette. He kept me waiting so He could smoke? No, He is waiting for another person so He can arrange a ride for tomorrow. Arrangements made. We take off.

I tell Stephen about Lily's news. Cooking doesn't appeal t me today, so We pick up take out food.

At home at last. Are We safe from obstacles now? No. The phone rings. It is Dee. I've know her since she was three years old and I was four. She has been diagnosed with lung cancer from smoking.

Will I lose Lily and Dee to cancer? Will Stephen develop cancer from smoking? The questions are unanswered.

2008-10-25T07:58:00.004-04:00

When life is long, friends are lost. They are lost through a move, new job, lost address in the address book and some are lost through death. Those that are left are very precious to me. Those people know what life was like in the old neighborhood. They lived in the same type house I lived in. They walked the same halls of the elementary school and high school. They wore the same clothes. We played in the same vacant lot and skated at the roller rink together. Over time, they suffer setbacks, divorces, loss of parents. Life happens, both the good and the bad.
I've written about the wonderful reunion with the Cambridge Street gang. Cambridge represents the elementary school years. Now I've found another group, the ones I went to high school with. Barbara and I are emailing each other. It doesn't matter that We are living at opposite sides of the country, We are now in touch. Barbara answered the questions that have remained unanswered all these years. I know that Diane died in her 20s, but I did not know that Colleen and Marilyn were also deceased. One couple had a good marriage. They stayed faithful to each other for 50 years. Bruce is now a widower. I had a crush on Bruce in high school . He played the Hammond Organ for special assembly in the auditorium. He was good. He played in church and I think, He played at restaurants when having live music was the thing.
One thing I never saw coming, was the deterioration of special friends. It makes me pause and bow my head.

2008-10-18T00:06:00.004-04:00

Spence took me out to a play this evening. It was local talent at our local art house. The production wasn't NYC Broadway, but it was pretty interesting. We went with Doug and Janice...good company.
After the play, Spence asked Doug and Janice if they wanted to come with us to get something to eat. They declined, so Spence and I are preparing to go to the diner by ourselves. Doug and Janice take off in Doug's truck. Now, We are all alone.
Spence has a big van. After Doug left, the van gave us trouble.
The burglar alarm started and would not let us start the car. Spence tried many different ways, but We could not keep the van running.
Spence never locks his van. Since We were in public parking, He locked it for the first time. When We returned to the van, after the play, He unlocked the passenger door to let me in. I, in turn, reached over and unlocked the driver's side door for Spence. Boy was that a big mistake.
Imagine being stuck in a parking lot, every one has gone home and your horn won't shut up. Spence tried every button on his key ring. The Van kept beeping.
Then, I realized I had opened his door manually. Spence got out. He locked everything with the tab on his key ring. I did not open anything manually. He pressed the fob to deactive the alarm and it worked!
We went to the diner . The only noise in the air was our conversation. The horn was silent. At the diner, Spence said,"This time, I am not locking the doors." He didn't.

2008-10-04T09:06:00.002-04:00

I was weak. I bought a cake from the grocery store. I love that brand of cake...moist, flavorful , with wonderful frosting. There it sits on the kitchen table defrosting. My mouth wants some. My tummy wants some. The bathroom scales says, "Don't eat the cake."
There is the dilemma. Why do companies make yummy things that are bad for us, make us fat, clog our arteries, do bad things to our bodies? I want some anyways. (They make it because when I buy it, they make money.)

This mode of thinking reminds me of other things that I love that I should not have. When I was a child, my father bought me an all day sucker. It was as big as a saucer. It did last all day...licking some and biting off pieces to crunch. The result of this wonderful experience was my teeth were bathed in sugar for over 8 hours. The dentist loves children who eat all day suckers.

Soda is sweetened with corn syrup. I am allergic to corn. I drink the stuff anyways. This makes me sick...a classic case of an addiction to what I should not have. I change to diet soda only to learn that the chemicals that sweeten the soda are now suspect. ...a cancer cause? The final solution to this problem is one quart of tap water to the juice of one lemon, sweetened with Stevia. This stuff is pretty good.

Red meat is on the list. There is nothing like a juicy prime steak, cooked over charcoal to perfection. Eat it and you die. If the carcinogens from the blackened fat plus charcoal don't get you, then the fat in the meat goes right to your arteries, causing a heart attack. Eat a lot of that stuff and you've increased your probability to colon cancer.

In late May, I harvest strawberries grown in my own back yard. They are delicious. When my own patch is bare, I buy them at the grocery store. Unfortunately, strawberries are heavily laced with pesticides, as are most fruits.

In summer, heaven is ice cream . It doesn't matter if it is in a cone or in a dish or between two cookies. The cool treat is pleasure. The more butterfat, the better the ice cream. I like all flavors. I especially love it under a blanket of hot fudge or any topping. Then I found out I was allergic to cow's milk. That wonderful ice cream gives me clogged sinus or a runny nose and a headache. I cough to clear my throat for the next 24 hours. The awful truth is ice cream isn't good for me. It causes an allergic reaction. The fat content leads to unwanted pounds. The sugar in it does the same thing. I have to eliminate ice cream from my diet. Darn it.

Wait a minute. There are some very acceptable substitutes out there. In my local health food store, I found a frozen product made from soy. It is milk free, smooth on the tongue and tastes wonderful.

Have I found the solution to eating problems? Soy is a good protein. In many dishes, it is a wonderful substitute for meat. It is the basis for that good tasting ice cream substitute. Then comes the crusher. Most soy in the United States is genetically manipulated. Our soy beans are banned in many countries. What am I eating when I eat soy beans? What is in them and where does it come from? DNA from where? I will ask the lady at the health food store if she can get soy beans that are not genetically modified. Nothing is labeled, so I don't know for sure. I do know she said that her soy beans are genetically modified.

Fried foods: When I am out doing errends, I stop at the nearest fast food place to pick up lunch. Almost the entire menu is fried, or sugar loaded. I order the mandarin chicken salad. Not perfect, but better than the burgers with bacon and cheese.

It is hard to get good food in the United States. Maybe I will turn my backyard into a mini farm.

In the meantime, the cake is defrosted and tea is ready.

2008-09-18T18:58:00.004-04:00

My current town has roots in history. People who are born here, never leave. They stay. No wonder. The little city is beautiful. We have old historic buildings, a harbor and long coast line, a river running through. The word "quaint" doesn't do my town justice.

I was a guest at an all class reunion a few years ago. Each generation was represented...great grandparents, grandparents, parents and the currently enrolled student. We had a few returning alumni who were in their 90s. Many were from the same families. Such stability! Imagine going to the same school your parents went to...and your grandparents! Sometimes parents and children had the same teacher. It seemed wonderful to me that they were in touch with the same children that they went to school with, all those years ago. At the reunion, excitement, joy and laughter was every where. People greeted each other like the old friends they were.

I all most cried, I was so lonely for familiar faces and locations. None of those people were friends of mine at that time. Some are my friends now.

By contrast, I grew up in Buffalo New York. My street was divided by a school district line. Those who lived down the block from me, went to a different elementary school. Those up the block from me, went to my elementary school ps 61. During those days, blacks were buying houses and whites were selling out. As soon as possible, people scattered for parts unknown. I kept in touch with some friends for a while, but eventually I lost contact with them all.

At times I wondered what became of them. Are they all alive? Any one get rich? Married? Perhaps someone from the old neighborhood lives near me and I don't know it. Sometimes I would dream of Cambridge Avenue as it was when I was little. If you want a peek at that neighborhood, just rent the DVD, A Christmas Story. Or rent Radio Days. It was something like that.

Then a small miracle happened. One of the "kids" on the block registered at Classmates.com. I responded to ask if it really was Louise from Cambridge Avenue? yes it was. Hurrah. I found one. Louise and I emailed back and forth. Some of the questions were, "what ever happened to.......?" She knew some of the stories, because Louise still lives in the greater Buffalo area.

Louise asked me if I knew what became of Deanna. I knew the answer because my mom kept in touch with Deanna. I had Deanna's address and had even visited her a few years back.

I wanted to know what happened to Joann. Louise didn't know, but she knew where to look. Skip didn't know where Joann was, but He knew where her younger sister, Marge was. I got Marge's address through Skip. Marge called me long distance, all excited to hear my voice and I felt the same way about hearing from her. We had a long and wonderful talk. Of course she gave me Joann's phone number and address. I called right away.

To make this long story short, We had a reunion at Joann's house. Joann could not have been a better hostess. I wanted to hug everyone who came. Louise was there. Judy and Carol came too. We made five all together. We talked for six hours straight. Marge and Deanna are out of state, but We called them long distance so they were part of our reunion, too.

Time has put its mark on my old friends. All our parents are deceased. One brother is gone and one entire family is deceased. Two of us are widows. Two of us have divorced and remarried. Among our group are cancer survivors, heart attack survivors, macular degeneration, lupus, knee replacements, death of children and one had a handicapped child who died at age 12. Around the dining room table, no one cared about trials and troubles. It was enough that We were together again after 60 years apart.

Of course We will have another reunion. Make new friends, but keep the old. God bless the Cambridge Avenue gang.

2008-09-18T18:58:00.003-04:00

If you are the worrying type, you have a lot on your plate these days. There are more crisis in the world each day. The one that worries me a lot is global warming.

I saw Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth". By the end of the movie, I was convinced...mostly because I noticed weather changes locally. If I shovel snow once a winter, that is all I shovel. It wasn't like that When I moved to Connecticut. We had blizzards that closed down the schools.

We've have summers so hot that I can't do much of anything during the dog days. By the time it cools off a little and I have some energy , my garden has become a field of weeds. It takes all of the fall season to get it right again. I see that garden zones are creeping northwards. I am currently in a 6A climate zone. Bet I'll be in a 7 climate zone soon. Just wait a little bit to see.

The newspaper says that the fish in long island sound are changing. It is too warm for lobster, so they migrate farther north. We have some fish that are local to the Chesapeake Bay area...from much warmer waters to the waters of Long Island Sound. We have an occasional dolphin or whale. That never happened before, or at least I was not aware of it.

Even little butterflies are migrating. I can understand that if the plants they feed on, are on the move, then the caterpillars have to move, too. Perhaps a few are blown off course. Perhaps some starve to death locally. The result will be that if some can survive in a new area, they will. This is something like an accidental migration.

Other factors of change are, of course, pollution. I am developing a bad cough....had it for years. It is getting worse. After doing what the doctor said to do, the cough is still here. My best guess is that there is something in the air that irritates my sinus and lungs....something in car exhaust?

Then, there is the cost of living. Today, I put $40 in the gas tank of my Ranger truck. It did not fill the tank.

I took a trip to Syracuse NY and back. Kept records of gas and tolls. It was about a hundred dollars for that little bitty trip!....not counting motel rooms (rates going up) and meals out (rates going up and up). and...that was an economical trip. The Ranger gets 27 miles per gallon if I drive a steady speed. I remember when $4 filled the gas tank.

I want us to get out of oil dependency because it is causing mid east wars. I want us to get out of oil dependency because it is ruining our natural world. I don't want to live on earth if everyone has cancer and frogs and salamanders grow extra legs and heads. Something is very wrong here. I can't breathe the air any more.

Instead of looking for more sources of oil, like off shore drilling, why isn't it common sense to develop solar and wind energy? Now don't get me started about greedy people who can make a lot of money out of oil. I know that all ready. Let's ignore them and develop solar and wind energy. I am willing to put solar panels on my house if the town doesn't raise my taxes because I "improved" the property.

T. Bone Pickens seems to have a good idea about wind power. If I lived in the mid section of our country, I would put up a windmill. I remember when I was a child, farmers had one that ran a pump to pump water out of the stream into the house. It was a good idea then. It is a good idea now.

At one time, the United States decided that We needed to electrify the entire United States. Wires were strung, Sources of electricity were developed. The grid was developed and now We all have electricity.

Another time, the United States decided to improve our roads. Turnpikes and highways were added to local roads and now one can drive from one coast to the other. Goods can be transported in trucks over land instead of by waterway.

Before that, We decided that trains should be able to travel from coast to coast. It was done. Ditto with planes. and ditto with the Internet.

Our country is a "can do" country. Remember that saying from world war two? "can do"? We found whatever materials We could and used them to solve a problem. We can solve this energy crisis, clean up our planet, and make my cough go away.

2008-06-15T06:57:00.002-04:00

Today is father's day. I wish I could do something for my father...spend time with him. My dad died in 1985. My memories of this man are some of my treasures. He had the mind of a scientist and a heart of a poet. Sometimes He exhibited adolescent silliness. Howard was a man of steady habits. He all ways came home for lunch. He had the same job from the time I was born until He retired. Dad taught me now to ride a bike. I never had training wheels. He positioned me on the bike at the curb. My foot was on the curb. He told me that if I kept going, the bike would not fall. Just keep the balance. I pushed off from the curb, wobbled a little and got the feel for balance. It took less than five minutes to learn to ride without training wheels.
In memory, I see Howard in the basement. He spent a lot of time down there, because He had a ham shack down there. My dad was an amateur radio operator....a member of Radio Pioneers. He ground his own crystals to vibrate to the exact frequency He needed. If I wanted to impress some young boy, all I had to do was to take him downstairs and watch his eyes bug out looking at all that electronic equipment. Dad bought war surplus and the stuff was HUGE. This was shortly after the end of world war two. One could really get war surplus then. Dad talked to other hams all around the world. He got QSL cards from those hams. It became quite a collection. I gave the collection to my grandson who probably did not appreciate them.
Next to the ham shack, was the work bench. I saw Dad wind copper wire around a tube. In this way, I learned about electro-magnetism. Dad put a knife blade into the tube with electricity charging the wire. The knife became magnetic.
There were iron filings on the work bench. Dad scooped them up with a piece of paper. The magnetic knife moved the iron filings around. Dad explained positive and negative poles of magnetism. I could see this for myself as the iron filings rearranged themselves. This is the same principal that makes those toy black and white Scottie dogs chase each other.
Howard subscribed to several astronomy magazines. He had a telescope. One day the telescope was set up in the yard in the day time. Dad was tracing sun spots. I was told to never look into the eye piece when doing this. Look only at the paper that held the image. He traces the sun spots over several days. You could see them move across the surface of the sun.
In the evening, Dad set up his slide projector. He had bought slides of the sky, probably purchased from an ad from the sky magazine. He showed the slides to me. It was all black, except for white dots. Dad said that when this slide was taken, astronomers thought the dots were stars. We have better telescopes now. They take better photographs. You are looking at galaxies! The concept was so huge, I got dizzy.
Dad got a bargain on an old movie projector and boxes of old movies. One rainy day, He hung a sheet from the basement ceiling and invited all the neighborhood kids to watch movies. We watched all day long. I saw classics ...Kay Kaiser and his college of musical knowledge, Tom Mix, Felix the Cat, Hector the Pup at the steel pier in New Jersey, Charlie Chaplin. They were wonderful movies. It was a wonderful day, thanks to my dad.
Dad got vacation time. When I was little, We spent the entire summer at Dad's summer cottage south of Buffalo. I lived in my bathing suit. We were free to run all over the colony. I learned to swim. Dad told me my lungs were balloons. If I filled my lungs with air and held my breath, I could not sink. I tried it. He was right. By thrashing around and holding my breath, I learned to swim. Dad purchased the cottage before He married my mother. We were heart broken when He sold it. The cottage got sold to pay off the mortgage for the city house.
From that time on, vacations were road trips. Mom would never come. Dad took his two little girls down route five out of Buffalo. First stop was at Mable's Maple Grove. All three of us slept in the same bed. First dad has to kill the mosquitoes in the cabin with DDT . He sprayed. We stayed outside. When it was time for bed, there were no mosquitoes in the cabin. I have memories of a visit to an exhibit called Petrified Creatures. It was an exhibit of fossils. I learned about evolution from that exhibit. School could never hold a candle to what Dad taught me.
The high light of the summer, was a visit to Crystal Beach in Ottawa, Canada. We went across the Peace Bridge. All the guard asked us was, "Where were you born? How long will you stay?" That's it. We were in Canada. Crystal Beach was a wonderful amusement park. We ate junk food, went on the rides, saw exhibits at the side shows. There was swimming, but We never went swimming there. There was a huge pavilion for dancing, but We were too little for dancing. I remember that at the conclusion of the day, Dad said it was an expensive day. He has spent all of five dollars. We were so tired and sun burned, We slept in the car all the way home.
Dad rented a cottage from the state Parks Department. In order to do that, one had to get the reservation in by January. By February, they were all taken. We went to Selkirk Shores State Park for a week for several summers in a row...until I was a senior in high school, I think. The nature walks were wonderful. I learned that frogs like to sing along with my Dad and that little toads don't like to be teased...that chipmunks can move a stone from the door of their burrow. I loved the leisure, the sun and warmth of summer, sharing experiences with my father.
My love of science, I got from my Dad, but got much more.
Girls who think they can bring a baby into the world and raise them all by themselves are doing disservice to the child. Children need an intact family in order to grow up healthy emotionally and physically. We all need fathers and mothers, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and neighbors. Today, I need my father. Happy Father's Day, Dad.

2008-06-11T14:46:00.002-04:00

Calling long distance is expensive if I just pick up the phone and dial. To avoid the high cost, We resort to all kinds of side-steps: cell phones with national calling plans are on example.
I use a pre-paid calling card to reduce my calls to about four cents a minute.
Once I called my daughter in Australia from here is Connecticut. The call was short. The cost was over $200. I went the direct way and the most expensive.
Surely there are cheaper ways to keep in touch with family.
Enter Clark Howard.
Being a consumer advocate was my career path not taken. I all most did it...did volunteer research for Ralph Nader in college. I was a Nader's Raider and loved it. I loved learning how things work, especially our economic system.
Clark Howard is a consumer advocate. From his website, I researched various programs for long distance service. Skype was my choice.
Here is how it works: Go to the skype website and download their free program. Go to the electronics store and purchase a headset...earphone and mic combined. Get the other party to do the same thing. Choose a telephone address. Most people use their name. Learn the other person's name/phone address. At a prearranged time, plug in.
It worked beautifully! My daughter, my grandson and myself talked for a long time at no cost to either of us. We were talking through our computers. There are other options, like computer to land line phone, but computer to computer is fine for us.
There was some delays in our speech transmission, caused by Skype's program or by the shear number of people using the program. I can put up with that.
We have a "date" to call each other next week at the same time.
The world is shrinking. I can talk to Australia as if the country, as if my daughter is right next door.

2008-06-07T08:26:00.002-04:00

Lily, my lovely rat terrier, had her check-up. I pointed out to her vet, that she had lumps in her skin. She also has a bald patch, size of a quarter that no one knows what caused it. it isn't a burn. It isn't ringworm or anything like that. It is just healthy skin without fur growing there. I tell people that Lily was attacked by moths.
Actually, I don't know what her history is. She is a rescue dog. Some one loved her very much. I can tell by her good manners. She never messes in the house. She looks me straight in the eye when I am talking to her. I think she understand English. She made a fuss when I tried to put her to bed in her kennel. She taught me that she was quite used to sleeping on the bed...and jumping up on the furniture for a nap. Lily loves to be held. How could some one who loves her, give her up? How could she get lost? My guess is her owner died or went into a nursing home where dogs were not allowed. It is only my guess. I will never know.
I asked the vet if He could do some plastic surgery on the bare spot, so people wouldn't hesitate to pet her. He referred me to a vet surgeon. ...and He also took a needle biopsy of the lumps.
At the vet hospital, I got the news that Lily has cancer. Her cancer is mast cell tumors. Mast cells are those pesky leaky cells that make your nose run and you sneeze when you breathe in an allergen. The root cause of this type of cancer in dogs is diet.
The surgeon said they could not cure her, but they could remove the tumors, followed by chemotherapy. She would have to come back periodically for checkups. The surgeon said they had extended the life of a dog by four years....by removing its leg. I left to think it over.
At home, I went on the internet and learned that dogs' digestive system has evolved over millions of years to eat raw meat. We feed dogs mostly cereal. No wonder she had an allergic reaction. First thing I did was to feed her like a wolf...raw meat with supplements: fish oil to reduce inflammation, a little bone meal...and...per surgeon's suggestion: Benedril and Pepcid for her stomach. She will be on this died for as long as she lives. I will add other supplements as I find them.
I put myself in Lily's place. She would not understand being attacked by knives and made sick with chemicals. She shall not have the operation. If the surgeon had said CURE, I would have gone for it, but not the long messy battle that would eventually end with Lily's death anyways.
Today, the lumps are getting smaller. Lily is happy to follow me everywhere. She loves her new food. So far, so good.

2008-05-08T10:55:00.002-04:00

Stephen was supposed to come with me to visit his aunt and uncle. He didn't. I went alone, with Lily for company. While there, I purchased more cabinets for my kitchen project. My son-in-law put an ad in a local paper. Ruth answered the ad. The kitchen now has all the upper cabinets and one base cabinet. All that is left to purchase, are more base cabinets. If no one answers the ad, than I will wait and purchase new metal base cabinets from St. Charles company...as soon as their production process is up and running.
Beth and I bought a ton of groceries. We planted flowers together in her flower bed. The short vacation went by too quickly.
The cost of traveling is very soon reaching a point where people will chose to stay home. Just gas and thruway tolls totaled $100. Add to that, take out food on the way, money spent for the cabinets, taking the family out to dinner. My truck gets nearly 27 miles to the gallon. How do people driving gas guzzlers get around? They park it. I think my family will do the same thing. Bet they don't visit me this summer. We will keep in touch via letters and phone calls.

2008-05-08T10:23:00.003-04:00

The presidential campaign continues on, giving me a headache. It is way too long, too expensive, and too aggressive. I solve this problem by turning off the TV set when the debates are scheduled. In this way, I close my mind to propaganda.

This process was conceived in horse and buggy days. Candidates had to travel the countryside to get their message across. The public had to see what the candidates looked like. In those days, women were not allowed to vote.

Much has changed. We can vote now. We have access to communication medias unheard of in the past. We have the Internet and We have television.

Therefore, I make the following suggestions for change to the political process:

1. In TV debates, ALL tho candidates shall take part. That means even the lunatic fringe. Have faith in the American Populace. They can think for themselves. All they need is clear information. The media have controlled who gets heard. The media shall be required to have all candidates in the debate, not just the front runners. The amount of money raised to campaign shall not keep minority party candidates off the debate platform. Did you ever see a debate that included the Green Party, Libertarian Party, Communist Party, Ralph Nader independent? Neither did I. Excluding some candidates affects the vote. This should be illegal.

2. All primaries are held on the same day. Primary day can't be more than 2 months before the public votes for the president. Candidates can campaign on TV and on the Internet. This saves a lot of shoe leather for candidates. They don't have to go a whole year without sleep. Much money can also be saved. Wouldn't this reduce the leverage of the moneyed few? Isn't that a good thing?

3. The start of the presidential campaign shall be limited to the last six months before the primaries.

4. Those special delegates to the convention shall be eliminated. The general public vote is what gets counted.

5. He or she who wins the popular vote is the one that is declared president. No more Gore disasters. He won the popular vote. As far as the people are concerned, George Bush is not their president. If the popular vote president turns out to be ineffective, We shall have no one but ourselves to blame. I personally think We will do a better job than letting political professionals do the job.

6. The office of the President shall not steal authority granted to congress in the Constitution. Congress can declare war, not the president. In fact, We need to take a long hard look at all our laws to see if they are constitutional. Much is written that has no legal basis. Our government continues to grow without constraint. This is not what our founding fathers had in mind. In fact, it is the very danger that our constitution is supposed to address. Congress ignores the constitution.

7. Just as an aside: There is no such thing a safety. Safety is what is promised to us as We have our liberty taken from us. . Who said, "The price of liberty is eternal vigilance."?

2008-04-13T17:05:00.002-04:00

Public television ran a program on Jewish history in the United States. Members of this religion were discriminated against in the first half of the 20Th century. I remember some of the remarks I overheard about those damn Jews. This was the era of world war 2 and the death camps.
I was a child. I did not know what the words meant. Because Jews could not be a member of the country club, they formed their own. They lived in community because their neighborhood was insulation from the outside world...the world that didn't want them.
By the time I was growing up in the 1940s and 1950s, inroads to discrimination had been made. Since the Christians wouldn't include them, the Jews in the Jewish community became tight knit. I was jealous that I wasn't included. I could not live in certain neighborhoods....the best ones with the biggest houses. There was no legal segregation ...just people who wanted to live with their own kind. A kind of reverse discrimination occurred. My high school was on the edge of this prized neighborhood. Many of the members of my class were of this religion. They had better clothes than I did. They had better nutrition and good haircuts. They got braces on their teeth if they needed them. The girls were spoiled. They wore cashmere sweaters and a single strand of pearls. They had money to spend when I did not. I wanted to be spoiled just like them. We called them Jewish princesses. They had an attitude of entitlement. I was excluded. If there were any more Jewish students in our high school, I guessed that the school would be open for Christmas and closed for Hanuka. For a skinny underweight teenager, this was a big blow to my confidence.
In those days, sororities and fraternities were part of high school life. My sorority had a sister branch at a private school...Girls Seminary. What did their fathers do to make a living to pay for tuition to a private high school? I remember one joint meeting. The girls from Seminary had on cashmere sweaters and a single strand of pearls. Their hair was done in the fashion of the movie stars of the time...the old black and white movies. Everyone looked like Lauren Bacall. My Christian sorority sisters looked just like my Jewish classmates.....Sigh...
From these experiences, I saw that some people chose a lifestyle...of style. How their houses looked, how the family looked, what clubs one belonged to, how much money was in the bank...These things were important to many people.
The flip side of this was that since my family didn't share that life style, some how I wasn't very important. They took one look at me and dismissed me as not important. There was nothing I could do for them to progress their careers or life style. I was dismissed.
In another blog entry, I hope to report on how I surmounted those feelings of inferiority and learned to treasure a different value system.
Actually, the families of my high school classmates had the same values as my parents. It was the veneer of money that excludes people that bothered me.

2008-04-06T17:22:00.002-04:00

Her name is changed from Gidget to Lily because it fits her better. Perhaps her name should be tux because she wears a tuxedo. She is a mostly black rat terrier. She has the terrier personality: bright, alert and sassy. She is also a mush bucket. Lily likes to be held.
How did she get lost? How did she end up at the SPCA? Even the staff could not tell me where she came from. They did say that they got a batch of dogs shipped in from Porto Rico. Perhaps she was one from the batch.
Lily once had a family. I could see that she was familiar with riding in a truck, living in a house. She is neat. She doesn't mess in her cage, nor in the house. She tells me she has to pee by going to the door and barking. I did not teach her that. Her first family must have.
Lily likes to sit on the couch, at the top of the back so she can look out the window. She likes to sit where I sat, because it took her a nano second to become attached to me. Lily knows what people food is. She barks at me if I am eating. Lily is saying, "I know what you're eating. Hand it over. Hand it over now."
She likes to sleep on my bed. She follows me every where. If I leave her home, my painter , working in the house at the time, reports that she barks at the door. When she realizes it won't do any good, she goes to her cage and stays there until I come home. The cage door is open so that she can come and go as she pleases during the day. At night she sleeps in it with the door closed. In this way, I don't have to clean up a mess in the morning.
Best of all, in the evening , when I am watching television or knitting, Lily jumps up on my lap and stays there as long as I let her. Lily is a lap dog. Imagine that.

2008-03-30T07:37:00.003-04:00

Saturday morning. "I'll just look." That is what I told myself on the trip to the SPCA. Sure. The organization holds open house on the weekends. I had free time. I'll just look. There were the two dogs I saw on Petfinder.com. Lil' Red was in the cage on the end. He's a beautiful Pom. The worker who escorted me around, told me Lil' Red didn't like other dogs. He's a one person dog. If I took the Pom, then my social life would dwindle to nothing. I could not take my dog to my daughters to be dog sat. Red would not get along with the other animals in the family. Scratch Red. Staff seems to know their animals as individuals.
Next to Red is Buttercup. It is a female Pom. She is just as beautiful as Red. The worker gets her out of the cage and brings Buttercup to me. Buttercup is a nervous wreck. All the people visiting are making a lot of noise. Buttercup doesn't know them and she is slow to warm up to strangers. I put my hand to Buttercup's nose so she can smell my scent....You're supposed to do that. Buttercup snapped at me. Her message is ,"I don't want anything to do with this process. Keep away." Scratch Buttercup.
The SPCA worker (or volunteer) showed me Lucky. This dog looks very much like my lovely Rascal. Lucky is a Papillon. As I approach Lucky's cage, I am warned that Lucky isn't very social yet. The sign on the cage says, "Don't put fingers in the cage." OK. I don't. Scratch Lucky.
What do I do now? The worker's name is Allison. Allison says they have other small dogs...Bichon, rat terriers.... What 's a rat terrier? I like terriers. Kanga was a terrier. Allison has a favorite one. The dog's name is Gidget. What a stupid name. Allison says, "Gidget, the midget."
Gidget is a mostly black dog with some white socks and a little brown thrown in to make her interesting. She is the right size to travel in my truck...about the size of a large cat. Best of all, she is calm. Gidget watches all the activity around her with interest. Allison brings her out on a leash. Gidget is alert and social. The staff seem to love her, but why was she not adopted? Because she has a hot spot on her back. She has a bare spot of skin....no fur. This is the SPCA, remember. They are rescuing dogs that no one wants. They're not perfect animals.
Gidget came either from Puerto Rico or from Georgia. No one knows her background. I can see that she once had a family. She is neat in her cage, pays attention to humans and knows some basic commands. She seems to be about four or five years old.
Gidget had some health problems, but the vet cleared them up. She had worms and maybe round worms on her skin. Poor dog. What kind of life did you have? In spite of it all, her temperment is wonderful. She is a loving little companion dog.
First stop will be to my veternarian to check the hot spot. My guess is she has an allergy. Diet and medication can fix her up. I'll take her.
After filling out the paper work and writing the check, Allison brings Gidget to my truck. Gidget jumps out of Allison's hands to leap into the truck. It seems that Gidget knows riding in the truck is a fun thing for a dog.
First stop was to my vet to make an appointment. She goes in first thing Monday morning.

2008-03-27T09:03:00.003-04:00

When Rascal's heart stopped on the operating table, my heart broke too. She was such a strong part of the family. She left a big hole in our lives when she died. Lovely little dog of mine. I said I would look for another dog in the spring. This will give me time to grieve for Rascal...and to clean out the dog hair in the truck.
It is spring and time to go dog looking. Once I bought a pedigree dog from the local pet store. My girlfriend raked me over the coals for doing that. I was contributing to the puppy mills...poor dogs. It turned out she was right. The dog had mange from her mother. It took a law suit to get the company to pay for the medical bills to clean up the condition. No more pet stores for me.
The next step was to decide what kind of a dog will fit into my lifestyle. It is decided that a dog weighting about 20 pounds is the right size. If they are any smaller, I would be afraid I would step on it. A larger dog will be too big to ride in the truck.
There is a website called Petfinder.com. This website lists dogs for adoption from animal control facilities all over the United States. I narrowed my search to Connecticut.
In the town next to my town, the animal control department advertised a lovely Pomeranian female. Rascal was part Pom. I think I will look at this dog.
My friend who blasted me about my pedigreed dog, helped me find the pound. It was good Friday. The pound will be closed, but I can drive the route to be sure I know where it is. I find it. On the door, are the days open and the hours. I am up to the door to write down the hours, when the door opens. The facility is closed to the public, but staff is there to clean cages and to feed the animals.
"Is the Pom still available for adoption," I ask? Yes, she is. "Can I see her?" "Sure".
Trixie has been advertised for some time. Why was she not adopted sooner? Because she is a barker.
The staff person disappears into the building.
Less than one minute later, another lady appears to tell me that Trixie is taken.
Wait a minute. It is Good Friday. The facility is closed to the public. How could someone get here sooner than I? My guess is that Trixie was at the pound long enough for a staff person to get to like her. I bet Trixie goes home with a staff person. At least Trixie has a home with someone who loves her.
Strike one.
At home: On the computer: I fill out an application for another female Pomeranian This little gal is sponsored by Pom Rescue. I bet Princess is at some one's home and not in a kennel. I think I am a good candidate to rescue a little Pom who has lost an eye. Who else would want a dog with a disability? One of the questions on the application is: Will the dog have the full run of the house? I answer truthfully that she will not be allowed upstairs because I have new carpet installed.
Within a few minutes, I get a return email from Pom rescue. I have been rejected because Princess likes to sleep on the big bed! I think the world of people who commit their time and effort into rescuing animals. I also think that some of them have a few screws loose. I am retired and would spend a lot of time paying attention to this little girl. I think Pom rescue made a mistake. In the meantime, I remain dog less. Strike two.
I wonder what is available at the SPCA?

2008-03-26T19:04:00.002-04:00

Easter was fun. I spent the weekend with my daughter and her family. Don and I spent all of Saturday shopping for groceries. We stuffed the refrigerator and the freezer. Then, We all went out to our favorite restaurant. There was twice as much food as I could eat in a meal....and should not eat in a meal. Most of my dinner went into a take out box. The truck was so cold, the food stayed fresh without benefit of Beth's refrigerator.
Anthony spent Easter morning with us. Later both Anthony and Robert went to their other grandmothers for Easter dinner. Don did the cooking at Beth's house because he likes to cook. We ate the traditional ham with potatoes and vegetables. We were so full of food, no one wanted dessert.
What to do with the rest of the day? We went to the movies to see The Bank Job. It was a fascinating movie with far more implications than a simple bank robbery. I will let you see the movie for yourself and not tell you how it ends. I will say that I was satisfied with the ending.
My plan was to drive home on Monday, but Ginny and Frank wanted me to spent the day, so I did. Us retirees don't have to worry about work schedules any more. Ginny and I knitted while watching TV....knitting is an activity We both enjoy. Ginny knits mittens and hats for charity. I like it that my long time friend is still making a volunteer contribution for our community. Frank is active, too. They are all ways busy. I am knitting a sweater in navy blue. Ginny and I discussed various ways of casting stitches on. I don't like my method very well and I don't understand Ginny's. Guess this means I need a knitting lesson.
After dinner, We watched a DVD movie and I went to bed in their guest room. How nice that old friends are really glad to see me. I feel the same way about them.
Some sad news: I lived in the old neighborhood for 20 years. Many of the same neighbors still live there. We are all getting older. Two of my neighbors have Alzheimer's disease and a third is deceased. He is my age. This is getting scary....so close to ...what? dying?
The old neighborhood is a tract. Most of the houses are a variation on one or two floor plans. We all had Youngstown Kitchen cabinets. Ginny and Frank redid their kitchen years ago, but some of their old cabinets are still in the house. My friends gave me their cabinets. Hurray. I have more cabinets to take home and to install in my kitchen. One of them is a base cabinet. This project is getting closer to completion. When it is done, I will remember the good people who were part of the project. I will see Ginny and Frank in memory every time I look at their cabinets now installed in my kitchen, refinished at the local auto body shop.
The question now is, where will Frank put all his tools, now that I have the cabinets He was using? Frank says not to worry.

2008-03-20T07:54:00.002-04:00

You heard, no doubt, to "Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver. The other..gold". By good luck, I've connected to a friend from the old neighborhood. It is such fun to remember the old days. The neighborhood is much changed, but it remains the same in memory. We are all little kids again, riding bikes, roller skating on the street, writing on the sidewalk with chalk.
L. sent me this article from The Buffalo Evening News. The article was written 9/19/89 by Marge Theilman Hastreiter.
FOND MEMORIES REMAIN AMID POST MORTEMS ON CRYSTAL BEACH
THE SUCKERS--Cinnamon, lemon, butterscotch, nut, sticky, good, some for taking home.
THE WAFFLES--Hot, powdered sugar dropping onto our clothes.
THE LOGANBERRY--Cold, thirst-quenching, making a purple moustache.
THE FRENCH FRIES--Salty, soaked in vinegar, whetting our appetite for more.
THE MEMORIES--Many, good, leaving an indelible mark on our minds.
We were filled with anticipation for many days before our annual outing at Crystal Beach. A picnic basket would be packed and we would take a bus which dropped us off at a location with lots of old buildings and docks. We stood behind a big gate and waited anxiously for it to open. Finally, the crowd surged forward and we crossed the gangplank and you had to walk through one to get to the other with the water dark and deep below. Everybody jockeyed for the best seat from which to enjoy the cruise.
We disembarked at a huge concrete dock, the beach on the left and the amusements on the right. No one walked, everyone ran, it seemed, to the picnic area. We placed our baskets on the table and covered them with a table cloth. That was our spot and we would come back to that numbered area at a certain time.
Our money in hand, we stood impatiently at the ticket booths and then scattered to our favorite rides. Mine was the Merry-Go-Round. It was the most beautiful, white and gold with many lights, and besides the fancily garbed horses there were lions and tigers and wolves. Up and down, around and around.
Others headed for the Comet, a one-of-a-king roller coaster, descending, it seemed, into the lake itself. I was on it twice and no amount of coaxing could ever get me back on. Same for the yellow coaster.
I could always be talked into the Magic Carpet, although I disliked the dizzying mirrored and slanted rooms. The shot of air surprised us girls in skirts. The carpet ride at the end made the trek through worthwhile.
A laugh in the ark gave us Popeye, a spider, a locomotive heading right for the car. The sudden twists and turns and loud noises was a thrill.
There used to be a Tunnel of Love, although when I got old enough to appreciate it, it was replaced by drive-it-yourself cars.
I screamed until they let me off the Ferris Wheel. I don't know if it was the height or the swinging of the seats, but I definitely did not like the sensation.
The Bumper Cars were my all-time favorite, but I didn't realize it until I was there with my children and saw the looks on their faces as they came full speed ahead into Mom.
The Wild Mouse or the Black Spider or any spinning rides were not for me although I did try the Caterpillar once and even if the car did go around in a circle, the thrill was getting covered with the big green coiled cloth.
Kiddyland, brightly painted, with the little roller coaster, boats, motorcycles was perfect for the tiny tots. There were many smiles on parents' faces as they watched their children having fun.
The trees, the huge trees, stood in front of the concession stands, their roots breaking the concrete and blacktop around, shading those who chose to eat at the outside picnic tables. The big inside area meant many tables and benches, a refuge in a sudden rain storm, the condiment shelves attracting a few pesky flies.
Many enjoyed the day resting on the quiet beach and running against the gentle waves.
The Dance Hall, used in the day for roller skating, changed at night. All the big bands appeared and couples danced to their favorite tunes.
At the games of chance--break a balloon with a dart, pick the floating duck with the winning number, toss a ring around a bottle--the prize was small, inexpensive and the fun was in the trying.
Flowers were planted everywhere.
I'm not sure when the downfall began.
Was it when the beautiful Chrystal Beach boat stopped running? When someone stole my picnic basket that was placed in the numbered grove?
When they replaced the magic Carpet with stairs?
When they charged one price admission?
When they opened a bar on the quiet beach?
When the Wild Mouse disappeared?
When the bright painted colors in Kiddyland began to fade?
When they dismantled the beautiful gold and white Merry-Go-Round and sold the hand-cared, wooden horses, lion, tigers and wolves to the highest bidder?
I missed my annual trip to Crystal Beach this year, but the summer flew by so quickly.
"There's always next year," I thought.
I read the notice in the paper, "Crystal Beach is dead."
Someone, something killed it.

2008-03-14T09:14:00.002-04:00

Heather answered my ad for metal kitchen cabinets. She and her family have sold their house. The new owner did not want the cabinets. Spence and I drove up to Middletown and bought them on the spot. They're not Youngstown brand, but when all are painted the same color, who cares. The cabinets are now sitting on the kitchen floor. I think I shall have them installed to check that they fit right. Then they come down to be taken to the same auto body shop that restored the sink base.
Heather's cabinets are wall hung only. I have to find base cabinets. If I can't find base cabinets on line, I have decided to wait until St. Charles Kitchens gets geared up for production. I will buy new cabinets.
This still leaves under counter lighting and counter top to be purchased. This is my first experience with renovating an old kitchen. I think I am doing fine. The floor is just the right color. The decision to stay with metal cabinets is also a good decision. There are beautiful wood cabinets all over the place, but they are not for me. I am way under budget because I am installing used cabinets. The chase for cabinets continues.