Making Up for 2 Months

One can’t hope to develop and retain faithful readers of one’s blog if one lets months go by between posts.

I have left large gaps in the blog before and will no doubt do it again. Not sure why exactly, but here it is 2 months since the last time I wrote. We are about to teeter into a New Year, and if I were to make a New Year’s resolution, perhaps it might be to try to regularly write.

Having grown increasingly disillusioned with some of the laws and regulations coming out of the state government in Sacramento, my brother’s daughter and husband decided they did not want to raise their children in California, and so they packed up and moved to Idaho in September. Daniel decided he wasn’t going to let his daughter and grandkids go without him, so he and his wife also packed up and moved to Idaho. 

It was sort of a shock for the rest of us that they did that… that they’re gone, but I get why they did. We did the same thing in 1979 when we decided we didn’t want to raise our son in Southern California, so we packed up and moved to Oregon and then later moved here.

But it now means that when I am able to travel again, I won’t be able to make a one-stop visit and see both of my brothers and sister. If I want to see Daniel, his wife, and the grands, I’ll have to go to Idaho. They are certainly having some adventures and are experiencing Winter for the first time in their lives. 

I’ve forgotten what it is like to have an adventure, so it might be a very good thing for me to do.

The pandemic had the most affect on our Thanksgiving. We don’t have family here, but for about the last 10 years we been invited to our friends’ house to share the meal. They did invite us, along with at least 1 other person, but at about that time, the number of COVID cases in our rural county had gone through the roof. There was a significant backlash in the next largest town down the road about wearing masks in public and social distancing, and it filtered into our town as well.

We just did not feel safe eating in a group, and so declined the invitation. Other people we know did have Thanksgiving with friends and family and did fine, so I suppose we were being too cautious. We had a good meal and a pleasant day at home.

I did end up getting a COVID test, something I would not care to do again anytime soon, because I got a very bad cold about a week before Christmas and thought for sure I had it. But the test was negative (whew!), and I am better now.

We sent my brother a microwave popcorn popper, which we use and love.

Our mom used to call Daniel “Mr Sobersides” because he was always so serious, but my brother has a mischievous sense of humor, which played out on Christmas day. We received a small box from him and when we opened it…

We laughed and laughed. It made for a very happy Christmas

To Buy or Not to Buy?

When I went to the market on Friday to check on the price of lettuce (at $2.99 a head? I don’t think so) and buy a few other items, I noticed this huge, rather spectacular fruit nestled there next to the grapes, pears, and kiwis.

 It had a rather spectacular price too, $29.99. $30 for a fruit!!??

My birthday was Saturday. One of the women at church always says "well, it's the xxx anniversary of my 39th birthday..." so I spent some time trying to figure out how many anniversaries of my 39th birthday this was. I finally e-mailed my pastor, who has taught mathematics at the college level, and she was kind enough to explain how to figure it. I believe this makes the 32nd anniversary of my 39th birthday. Either way, I may be an old woman chronologically but I feel very young inside.

I got telephone calls from both of my younger brothers and my sister. The older of the two brothers moved to northern Idaho about a month ago, and he was very excited. "It’s snowing!!!” He has never lived where there is “real winter.” They are in for some interesting experiences. I doubt he will be as excited about the snow come January.

I opened birthday cards and found a generous gift card from my younger brother and his wife. Now I am debating how to spend it.

I could have an adventure and spend it on that fruit. It was still there when I went to the market today. My cousin’s oldest daughter, who lives in Hawaii, sent me Internet links on how to open the fruit and ideas for preparing it.

Or I could put it toward some “Sunday go-to-meetin’ shoes,” which I need. Birkenstocks work okay for some things, but not always too well when trying to “dress up” a bit. There is a large shoe store 25 miles down the road that I am sure will have something that I like. I just have to decide whether I want to risk going in the store.

Or I could get a pedicure. Two of the women in the aerobics class have had pedicures and were raving about how wonderful it is to get your feet and lower legs massaged and pampered. I was encouraged to do that. It sounds good, but I am not sure I can bring myself to let someone look at my awful toenails. Yes, I have the horrible toenail fungus on a couple of my toes. “Oh, they don’t care. They see all kinds of feet…”

Decisions, decisions.

Fruit? 

Shoes? 

Pedicure?

I think the shoes have it.

The Mars Connection

I had errands to run in town this morning so it was very convenient to drive to the park and walk on the walking trail. They have planted a number of fall foliage maple trees that are starting to turn scarle,t so it is quite lovely. It did my heart good to see two young moms with their children in strollers making the circuit. One of my earliest memories is being taken on a walk around the block with my mother pushing the stroller with my baby brother.

But, that has nothing to do with Mars.

All of our computers are hooked up to uninterrupted power supply (UPS)  devices to protect us from damage to computers from "brown-outs" and surges and loss of data from sudden power failures. These have saved our bacon many times.

Periodically there will be voltage irregularities on the lines, usually not enough to flicker the lights or cause things to shut off but enough dips in the voltage that cause the UPS units to click on and off. The last time we had a problem with this, we called the power company and they came out, but couldn't find anything causing it. The crew thought perhaps it was the electrical panel in the house.

It happened again yesterday. There is UPS unit at my computer and another one on the other side of the partition that separates my work space from the bedroom. We watch television off the internet using a computer that is hooked up to our wide-screen TV (not a monster one but a nice sized one).

So off and on nearly the entire day…. click click….. click click… Very annoying.

We finished watching our Monday night program (Yorkshire Vet on Acorn TV), at about 7:45ish, and I thought I would step outside to see if I could see Mars.

So I did. We usually can’t see much going on in the sky at night because there are so many trees around the house, but there was a perfect gap in the trees so I could see Mars from the porch. So I went in and told Richard, “You gotta come out and see Mars.” Normally he won't come out to look at "dos in the sky" but he did this he did come out.

He took a look and said he needed to go back in and get different glasses. I glanced around to see if anything else was visible, and I noted this "flashing." At first I thought it was a UFO (I really did -- I have always wanted to see UFO), and then wondered whether it might be a clump of fireflies in the tree, but then I saw that it was actually coming from the power line on the pole.

Went in and told him he needed to see something. He looked and was very alarmed and immediately called the power company. He told the person he talked to that the connection from the transformer to the power line was arcing. This was about 8:00. 

They came with two trucks at about 9:00. One man went up in his amazing bucket and fixed it and both were gone by 9:20.

If I had not gone out to look at Mars, we never would have seen the arcing, because it wasn't visible in the daylight. Who knows what might have happened. The line could have burned through... and in the meantime Richard would have spent a lot of time reconfiguring the electrical panel that wouldn’t have solved the problem.

So we are very happy and sort of amazed at that interesting coincidence and how it all worked out. The power company is great. Can't say enough good things about them.

Little Girls Growing Up

When I learned I was pregnant, I hoped the baby would be a boy. Not because I didn’t want a girl but because I was afraid I would not be a very good mother for a female child. I couldn’t see myself trying to fix her hair so it looked pretty, or dressing her so she looked cute, or doing some of the things I knew mothers were supposed to do as part of raising their girls.

Looking back now, I realize I almost certainly would have been a good mother to a girl, but as it happened, we had a boy. And as life happened, I never had a daughter, or a daughter-in-law, or a granddaughter.

So, I watched with interest the daughters of friends as they grew up and got married and had children of their own.

I especially enjoyed watching from a distance as my brother's daughter (in the front) and my sister's two daughters...

grew up....

and got married, and now my brother's (that's him in the background, being silly) daughter...

has a daughter of her own.

I sort of thought I was done watching girls grow up, until our neighbors moved next door with their 3 children – a son and 2 daughters – in January 2012.

The kids were “little” and now 8 years later, they aren’t.

The last week of September was “Daughter’s Day” on Facebook, and our neighbor posted this picture of her oldest daughter, Hannah, which took my breath away.

A day or two after this picture appeared, Richard was up at our mailbox and noticed one of the girls riding one of the family's dirt bikes. 

Same girl. The girl obviously has other interests.

And then there’s the youngest daughter, Faith, who also dances in the ballet...

and makes wonderful sweet rolls (which they gave us for Christmas), and now I realize was at least partially responsible for the sounds of “World War III” that erupted from their place a few days ago.

She too obviously has other interests.

Happy October!

 It’s time I think to relax in my recliner and read a favorite novel. 

Says Anne Shirley to Marilla Cuthbert...

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November."

The book blends so well with the wonderful series that was aired on PBS, with the characters perfectly cast.

I can hardly read the book without seeing the wonderful cast of characters in my mind’s eye.

October days can be truly glorious here in the Missouri Ozarks. The sun is not so high in the sky, so the light has a different quality. Fall seems to sneak up on us here at first, but now the trees are starting to turn colors. It may not be quite as colorful as it might because of the drought which has caused some trees to drop their leaves early, but still pretty enough.

October days can also be sort of chilly and soggy and a tad unpleasant – today started off like that, but then the sun came out and all was right with the world.

Yes indeed. I agree with Anne. It would truly be terrible!

My Weekend

When I turned on my computer this morning, there was an e-mail from my friend Judy that she sent yesterday. She drove herself to Indiana to see her sister, who has metastasized cancer with a poor prognosis. All of us (her friends) thought it was extremely important that she go there and spend some time with her sister. She arrived safe and sound. I admire her courage. I would hope that if I were in a similar situation, I too would be brave.
 

She wanted to know how my weekend was. How was it? Well....
 

After a delightful walk in the early Fall-like morning, I spent most of the day Saturday working on a long, tiresome paper for the gastroenterology journal.

Sunday morning I heated up a slug along with my coffee in the microwave (I forget to check before I shut the door).

I remembered to wash my hair in plenty of time before I left for church. Last Sunday I washed my hair 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave, but managed to arrive on time.

Heard a good sermon on God’s generosity.

Finished a delightful novel for young teenagers, The Incredible Guinevere St. Clair.

Our library has a collection of Mark Twain-nominated novels for young people. I have read several of them and enjoy them very much.
 
Watched a fascinating program on Nova on PBS about the slime mold Physarum polycephalum

And to close out the evening, I dropped one of the lovely cordial glasses, which shattered.

The six glasses we ordered were shipped from England and arrived here in perfect condition. We knew one of us would break one eventually, but it was just awful and I really hate it that I was the one. 

So, as one of my brothers (who has sold his house, packed up and moved his family to Idaho just in time for Winter -- are they ever in for an adventure!) would say... there you have it…

Not in the Palmer style

 “The pages…. Look like the scrawlings of an hysterical octopus."

Ilka Chase Free Admission

This is about Richard’s sense of humor, but it may take a minute to get there.
 

Some of us were taught cursive with the Palmer method in the early years of elementary school.

I think, though, that how we write is sort of hard-wired to be either legible or not so legible. I dunno for sure, of course. I am sure there have been studies on this, but I haven’t investigated. 

My Dad was a lefty, and his printing could be a little difficult at times. I was mostly able to figure it out. 

 

The sample is from a letter he wrote. I love his description of the “mail lady.”
 

 My mom had beautiful handwriting. 

 

This sample is from a family history she wrote for our son.

I did not take after her. My worst grades in elementary school were in handwriting and mathematics. I can write quite legibly, if I take my time, but usually my hand can’t keep up with my brain and so my writing starts off clear but usually deteriorates. And if I am in a hurry? 

Richard had a call in to Todd, our computer repair person, and he told me what he wanted me to say when Todd called back. 

 Translation:

Modem out
we have another
How soon can he come
(dead in water)

Last week I cooked two big family-size packages of country-style pork ribs and then divided the meat in portions of about 6 to 8 oz each in freezer bags. We have learned the hard way that everything that goes into the freezer must be labeled, otherwise we end up with packages of mystery meat. 

I wrote him a note (everything has to be in a note because of his ADD): Make 5 rib labels. The note was probably not very legible, but he didn't keep it. This is what he gave me before he did the 5 labels.

 

I can't imagine what it would be like being married to someone who didn't make me laugh.

Varmits and Alarms

We concluded a raccoon or a groundhog was the culprit damaging our pepper plants, so I set a trap to attract a raccoon. I caught an itty bitty possum instead. We don’t have horses (the opossum carries a protozoa that can infect horses and kill them), and we don’t have chickens, so I opened the trap and the itty bitty scurried off.

Next, I baited the trap with things I thought might attract a groundhog: carrot, an apple, cabbage leaves, and a piece of cantaloupe. Two mornings in a row I found a turtle at the back end of the trap trying to figure out how to get to the cantaloupe. I took down the trap.

Richard decided to move the pepper plants to the deck, which seems to have solved the problem. It wouldn’t stop a raccoon, but we decided groundhog would not likely climb the steps up to the deck.

We were right. There has been no more damage to the pepper plants.

In the meantime, I am putting out bits of melon for the turtle.

I can’t help myself.

I occasionally have “senior moments” that let me know my brain is beginning to age and that I just don’t have the mental acuity all the time that I used to have. Last week Diane, our pastor, told me she had an appointment on 30 July to see Bob at the nursing home. Bob is a member of the church and July 30 is birthday. She asked if I wanted to meet her at 2:00. I did. It always helps to have 2 people when visiting Bob. The last time I saw him, another man from church went with me and it worked well. So I wrote this plainly on the calendar at my work space: 2:00 p.m. Bob.

So at about 12:45 on Thursday I got dressed and headed over to the nursing home. I told the CNA that I was there to see Bob. I gave her the birthday present I bought to give to him and so she left and got him and wheeled him out. I wondered where Diane was.

About 20 minutes later she came and got him and took him back and I drove home and immediately realized that I had gotten the time wrong. I hadn’t even looked at the calendar.

Turned out to be a banner day for Bob. He got two visits instead of one. Diane sent me the picture she took of him.

In my defense I suppose I could say that I got mixed up because I had just made an appointment to see another resident there for 1:00 next Thursday. But, I still should have looked at the calendar.

Richard suggested that I set alarms to come up on the computer to remind me of stuff. He has suggested this before and I have resisted doing it. But, I did decide to take his advice and now I am thoroughly alarmed.

Déjà vu

The nursing home is now permitting friends and family to visit the residents with some restrictions: maximum of 2 people, visits take place outside under the canopy for drop-offs, 6-feet apart, masks, 20-minute limit.

Before everything changed, I visited 2 people in the nursing home on Sunday after church. One is a man, a member of the church. At first he was in the assisted living section, and then the Parkinson disease that put him there got worse and he was moved “upstairs” to the nursing home facility.

I met Louise by accident. I had gone to visit a woman who is the mother-in-law of the daughter of a woman at church (did I get that right? Yes). She was there short-term to recuperate from a problem. Louise was her roommate and was reading a book from a stack of books that the activities director had got for her from the library. So I stopped to visit with her a bit about the book she was reading.

The next week I went back to see the “mother-in-law,” but she had been discharged home. Louise was still there. I had won a drawing for a book give-away from the library and had finished reading those books. I wasn’t interested in keeping them, so I took them to Louise to read. And that was the beginning of what I see as a lovely friendship.

Then the pandemic hit. The nursing home locked down, and no visitors were allowed. The library closed, so there were no books coming to the nursing home from the library. Louise was climbing the walls with boredom.

So I collected books for Louise that I thought she might like from my own bookcases and dropped them off at the nursing home for the activities director to give to her to read. My friend Judy, who owned a used book store, also collected books from her storehouse to give her.

I made an appointment to see Louise, and they wheeled her out, with the aide carrying the last sack of books I had given her to read. I was so glad to see her.

We started to visit and to try to catch up, and about that time, a man on a tractor began roaring back and forth with mulch in the bucket that he was putting around the trees in the front of the nursing home. The noise made it a little hard to visit, but I did enjoy seeing her; 20 minutes was not long enough.

Then Saturday morning, I met Judy for coffee at the small plaza-park across from the pizza restaurant in downtown. The plaza is sandwiched between two 3-story buildings, and it is well shaded in the morning. And then whadda know: a man on a large lawn mower came roaring up to cut the grass of the park part. We had to suspend conversation while he did this…

As Yogi Berra said, “It's like déjà vu all over again.”

A pat on the back

Some years ago, a publishing company invited me to be a copyeditor for a new journal they had acquired. I got the invitation because I had done a good job on a previous journal for them, so I knew going in that I was "good enough."

I accepted.

Their customer, a very important major medical association, is incredibly fussy, and the negative feedback began pouring in. 

Usually, I was being gigged (gigged? A large fork hunters use to impale frogs, fish, etc) for minor things, but the criticism was pretty devastating nonetheless. Seemed like no matter how hard I tried, there was always something wrong. 

Once in a while I would get a "Good job" remark, but not often.

I cried a lot. Richard put signs in my office to encourage me. About once a week I vowed I was going to quit, but I didn’t. 

I got an e-mail from them yesterday:

It’s very rare that I work on a post-edit review and don’t have a single correction to make to it. I just worked on an article that was so perfect that I said “Beautiful!” and had to know the copyeditor—it was you… I just wanted to thank you for your great work…

Well, I just about cried again, but for a different reason. And today there is a lovely essay on this very topic on Pocket…

You really can make someone's day happier by offering a bit of praise.

Time for Plan B

The score is in for round 1 of the contest between a determined...

and very clever animal... 

and the human (me) who is attempting to outwit it. 

Animal: 1, human: 0. 

First, it climbed the tree and pulled down on the cable, which caused the feeder to slide down next to the tree and it could get to the sunflower seeds,

I put a stop to that by putting a clothespin on the cable to keep the feeder in place.

Then, it did an upside down tightrope act down the cable to get to it.

I thought I had fixed that when I strung the cable through the empty soda bottles. Silly me.

Today, the raccoon destroyed the bird feeder I was attempting to protect. True, it was already somewhat damaged, but I had fixed it enough so that I could still hang it.

Now it is beyond repair.

I am very tired of the game, and tomorrow I am setting up the live animal trap when we get home from church. Since it is out now in broad daylight, I hope to catch it early in the afternoon.

I can only hope that it is not so clever that it figures out what will happen when it goes in for the food.

A Happy Day

Today is our anniversary. We’ve been married 49 years.

We’ve experienced storms and times of tranquility and have come through both, still together. 

Neither of us is ready yet to dine out in a restaurant, so we are planning a picnic at the lake and will have the wonderful sirloin left from our Father’s Day dinner for our evening meal. 

The song is one of Richard’s favorites by this singer, and we listen to it often.

Who's to Blame?

Richard is very good at packing the food in the freezer compartment of our refrigerator, but occasionally it shifts.

Yesterday morning when he opened it to get a package of ham for our breakfast, a small plastic container of blueberries flew out and shattered, scattering the berries, along with a larger container of frozen fruit (which did not shatter, thankfully) and a package of sirloin steak. 

And no, with the price of beef here being what it is now (at last check, $7.00 a pound for hamburger), we did not splurge and buy this steak. This was given to us when things were normal by friends at church when they cleaned out their freezer. We will eat it for Father’s day dinner or our anniversary, which is coming up.

After the berries were picked up, and he put everything back in the freezer, Richard said, “I blame it on the sirloin steak.” 

And I suggested (and where this came from, I don’t know) “We could blame it on the bossa nova.” This was a song that was popular in 1963 by Eydie Gormé—and if you want to listen to it you can find it on YouTube, but I am not going to put a link to here.

“I suppose I could," he said, "but we don’t have any bossa nova in the freezer.”

Well, it was funny at the time.

Locking up

About 20 years ago (give or take) Richard locked the keys in the truck when he was in Springfield (that’s 90 miles to the city limit sign), and the locksmith charged him about $30 to unlock the car.

He immediately had a spare key made, which he kept in his wallet, so that wouldn’t happen again. It did happen a second time, again in the truck, but that time he had the spare key in his wallet.

After thinking about it some more, he had a second spare key made, which he kept at his desk.

He thought about it still more and had spare keys made for all of the vehicles, which he keeps in a container at his desk. We have 4 vehicles, so the collection of keys has grown quite a bit.

Friday morning he left to have new lenses put in his glasses. Two hours later the phone rings: “I am stuck in West Plains,” he says. “I locked my wallet and my keys in the truck.”

So then he had to explain where the spare key was in his office. I found the key...

got dressed--well, I was dressed (old t-shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts), but not suitable to be seen in public--and drove to West Plains (about 25 miles away) to rescue him.

They optometrist’s office policy is that he could not wait in the waiting room for the lenses to be put in. He had to wait in the truck, and they came and got him when the glasses were done. In the confusion of getting in and out of the car, he goofed.

How to keep this from happening again? He never leaves the house without his bucket hat, and he never leaves the hat in the car, so he is thinking about putting the spare key in one of the pockets on his bucket hat.

That should work. I hope so.

Not pretty but servicable

When I was in high school, girls took home economics. We learned basic cooking skills, how to read a recipe and measure ingredients. One of the things we made, Goldenrod Eggs, is something I still like and will be having it tomorrow for breakfast.

We learned how to knit. I wasn’t very good at that. The teacher had a few remarks to make when she saw my first efforts. The slippers I made would have been suitable for Big Foot.

We learned how to use a sewing machine, how to cut out a pattern, and sew it. We made a gym bag to carry our gym clothes.

My mom was good seamstress (she made my prom dress)

and I learned from her too. She had hopes for me. They gave me a very old Singer sewing machine in a cabinet when I graduated from college.

I made some of my own clothes back in the day, and I made a caftan for Richard after we moved here.

I was never really very good at it, however.  And 50+ years later, I am still not that good.

We had BLTs the other day. The toaster is one kitchen gadget that we almost ever use. We probably had not used it in at least a year, and it was very dusty. I had to open the bottom and use canned air to blow it all out.

Richard thought we needed a cover for the toaster because it was so very dusty. He had a bolt of black cloth that was very cheap which he uses to cover equipment in his office and shelves in the garage where the little red bins of nails, nuts, washers, etc live to keep the wrens from throwing the nails all over the floor when they decide to build a nest in there.

So I used that to make the toaster cover. I saw some really cute toaster covers on the internet, but I didn’t have a proper pattern. I just measured the dimensions of the toaster and then cut the pieces out of the material and sewed them together. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell the right side from the wrong side, and after I finished, I realized one of the seams was on the outside. 

Oh well. I decided not to dismantle it. It will keep the dust out even if it isn’t quite right and is probably the ugliest toaster cover ever.

Following the directions

On our last trip to Springfield in the Fall (before anyone had heard of COVID-19), we stopped at the Asian market. Richard spent too much time in the noodle section and came home with 6 or 7 different kinds of noodle. Including Beijing Noodles. 

They are a long, flat noodle, sort of like linguini. 

“It is non-fried and no preservatives. The quality is healthy and satisfying. You can set your mind at ease because we can guarantee your expenditure.”

He wanted me to cook them for dinner. So I read the instructions… not the ones in Chinese, obviously, but the ones that had been translated into English.

1. Add Noodles (100 g) per person to boiling water and stir occasionally to separate noodles. Wait 3 minutes. 

Okay. We have a kitchen scale. Weigh out 100 grams and into the boiling water they go. Set the kitchen timer. So far so good. 

2. Turn to small flame. Add a half cup of water. Turn off the flame while boiling again.

What? Huh? I guess they meant bring it to a boil again on low heat and then turn the heat off. I didn’t know.

I decided the noodles would be mush if I did that, so I improvised. I added the half cup of water, turned the burner off and let them sit in the hottish water for another 3 minutes. They turned out fine

Just another case of the meaning getting lost in translation.