ROCKEY HORROR

The saga of the dog named Rockey continues. They took him in to have him put down. They couldn't find a vein, so they gave him a sedative while looking for it. They hit the bone with the needle and the dog cried and cried, which made the owners do the same. They were ready to take the dog back home but decided not too. After the dog expired, she wanted to take him home but they left him to be cremated. It, according to the owner, was the worst day of her life. Sad.

Old Trunks thinks this would be much harder than finding the animal dead but not finding the animal run over. Odd, isn't it, that our forefathers and even people of farming communities simply shoot the dog when it is hurt beyond help or sick. I do remember Daddy being upset because he had to shoot a lab who was infected because she tore out her stitches too many times. He said it was hard to have a loyal animal looking at you when you pulled the trigger.

Tom has taken dogs in to be 'put to sleep'. He says it isn't easy.

What would you do?

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IT HAPPENED AT THE LAUNDROMAT

It is not a secret; it is just not a discussion. It is a private thing from another life and another time.

It is the presence of a friend, a good friend. One of those Phoenix friends; the kind that burns off the impurities and leaves pureness.

I love dreams.

Someone had left their laundry in the dryer at the laundromat. Rather than stuff them into a basket, I folded them. The last piece was a pair of white underwear with a pink tinge.

And I remembered the cowboy and how he had washed his whites with a loose red sock and wore pink underwear. Can't help but feel his presence.

Gotta love cowboys.

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THE EXPLODING GOLF BALL

I love dreams.

Last night, Tom and I were dancing around a burn barrel. Inside the barrel and flames were jumping. We were doing trick shots with golf balls. You know the kind, over the shoulder, 10 paces away, eye closed sort of shots to listen for the ball fall into the container.

THEN, the golf balls all exploded and flames jumped high into the sky.

It was lightening outside, it wasn't golf balls at all. Oh crap.

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SWANS IN THE FOG

And Val said, "Mother Nature at its finest............"

Old Trunks is hopeful you have an opportunity to be away from all hustle, that is, if you wish to be.

North Dakota winters are long. When spring comes, despite raging storms, snow, and wind, there is hope that fishing will follow.

It isn't all about fishing. It is about the sounds or the lack of them. It is the eagle's screech, the peep and the croak of the frogs in the pond. It is the call of the loons and on this very foggy morning, the trumpet of the swan, which sounds more like a muffled grunt.

Where were they? We could see white foam along the shore. Tom listened, the sound was coming from a small cove. We saw them as they moved past the area and swam in tandem along the shore. Any pictures would have to be manual; auto settings tried to capture only the fog.

I led the camera along the bank, clicking , clicking. The flash spooked them and they started the run on the water. They lifted and landed in another area of the lake, later they would return to the cove. The fog had lifted by then and the shots where full sun. Beautiful swans but not nearly as dramatic as those in lift off in the fog.

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THE PRESENCE

Their poodle was 17 years and then some. The veterinarian said he was suffering. I guess they have a license to say that. The owners had an appointment Saturday to have the dog "put to sleep". In a world of soft terms, I guess we don't say, "Have the dog dead".

For all of us who have 'lost' a pet, meaning, a pet has died, we have the pleasure of their presence now and then. It seemed to help her know that Rockey would be around for a long time, just as Tom and I still hear Max on occasion.

Although this note is just about pets, it happens with people too.

Let it happen, you are in the best of company.

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POTTY MOUTH

The English language has plenty of words to describe all situations. Yet, while fishing, I seem to have a need to have a potty mouth when I loose a fish and hear the zing of the lure fly past my head. Odd, when I catch a fish, I can reach into my word pool and find a real word.

Wonder why that is.

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TO LOCK OR NOT TO LOCK

The car was in the garage, the door was shut. Someone opened the door and had a party. Part of the party was to put a tomato on the driver's seat. When I went to work early that morning, I did not think to check the seat for tomatoes. Yes, I sat on it. Then, I started locking the doors of the car in the garage. No, I don't know who did it.

In these days of automatic lock fobs, there really isn't any reason to walk away from your vehicle with securing it, it there? After all, if you have more than one vehicle, the fob can be programmed for more than one.

When I came to Fargo with a car that needed to have the key to lock up, I was poo-pooed for always locking. It was a lesson I had learned from the owner of the company I worked for in Lawrence. I also learned to carry the keys, lest I be an hour away and the wind blows the latch shut while unloading oxygen bottles. Believe me, that on call person was not happy about coming to get the vehicle opened because the town had no lock smith.

Is it called breaking and entering if you leave your windows down and your doors unlocked? Well, yes, because you are taking property that is not yours. It is a good lesson learned the hard way.

Odd, isn't it, for those of us who grew up in small towns where no one even used a key to start a vehicle. It was an open switch. I didn't even have a key for my car. Who needed it?

And what about Donnie J who left his car running in front of the theater on Sunday afternoons? It is now a crime in Fargo to leave an unlocked car running but they will allow it in the winter if it is locked. Odd what weather allows, isn't it?

Several decades ago, it was prime play to go to the welding shop and play gangster in the old cars with horsehair upholstery. Those were all push button start. Which vehicle is it now that has push button start?

Here all this time we could have been playing, "Back to the Future".

Lock up!

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CHILDHOOD IDOLS

In a newspaper far away, they ran a poll of people on the street. The question was: Who was your childhood idol?

Answers:

Marsha Brady

Prince

Michael Jackson

Elivs Presley

Old Trunks thought about Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.

I don't remember my parent's talking about idols. I do know Mother said she loved Liberace. I hope she meant his music.

Did my grandparents have idols? Who might they be?

Kids are so lucky today, they don't have to buy magazines to get pictures. Photos can be printed off the Internet. There walls could be covered!

Perhaps a better way to look at this is, who would you be if you could be someone you really admired, (as a child). I would still want to be Dale Evans and Audrey Hepburn.

After all, that is who I pretended to be when Barb and I went to Winnipeg one winter to get her teeth. We walked downtown with big sunglasses and cigarette holders. No wonder my favorite movie is still Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Think about it, won't you?

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THE JUNIOR MINT

Old Trunks has never written messages on her hand like you see in the movies, or in nursing homes when there is no paper in the nurse's pocket. If one wrote down all the wonderful and silly ideas that passed through the brain throughout the day, we would all be looking like full body tattoos, don't you think?

The story isn't that a smushed Junior Mint, a favorite candy of mine for years was stuck to a book I got off the shelf last night, rather, the saga is about finding a picture of Aquaman, drawn by my son in 2/1985. He may have given it to me as a book mark. I have written to him to ask the significance of the pin holes around Aqua man's head. He may not remember, after all it is greater than two decades ago.

Odd, isn't it, how we make notes on owned books and haven't a clue later? BUT WE THINK WE WILL!!! Why, for example, would I place a sticker for Jobst products on the back of the book? I was personally not a distributor! Yet I did, and very possibly while eating, you guessed it, Junior Mints.

The name of the book is, Let's Get Well by Adelle Davis. Although she states in all of her books that supplements can hasten recovery, she still succumbed to cancer. Yet, her books have merit. Written in a language which is understandable to those of us untrained, we can hype up the idea that nutrition is the real thing. She published her first book in the thirties.

I discovered her books in the summer of 1984 or so. Our family took a challenge to eat right and we called in the summer of liquid chemicals. And, on a August birthday, instead of having cake, I had a round of long horn cheese topped with a wedge of cheddar. Let me assure you that by the time the next four birthdays came, there was cake. One more in August, two in September, and one the first of October. The point I am trying to make is this: I remembered bits and pieces of my obsessive reading about all of this.

And when you take one vitamin or mineral, you have to counter balance it. It is possible that living in the snow bank has caused my deficiency and after a few days, there is a sense of more energy, or as I told a friend, some bubbles are back.

That is how I came to find the Junior Mint stuck to her book. I was looking for the round off. I know I feel better because, once again, I am chattering like a mag pie as my system tries to balance its tires, or is that tireds?

As we all know 15 minutes is about all you get at a doctor's office, if you wish to know more, one has to research. I am totally all for that, I mean I am the first to admit that Dixie was right, I did read five books to learn how to plant a tulip.

The idea is to add B6 to the high doses of calcium and Vitamin D. (Last weekends joke was if the fish aren't biting, I will still soak up the sun). Davis' book gives a long list of things that happen when Vitamin B6 is less than normal. It will interesting to see after a week or so, if even more symptoms disappear.

And to close, let me say that anyone with the first name of Daisie has to have a lot going for them!

Ramblin in Fargo.

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THE OLD CLOTHES LINE

Soozi just wrote remembering her mother using bleach on wash day, she went on to say the house either smelled like baking or bleach.

After I read her note, I started thinking about clothes lines. Especially since most areas no longer have them. If you wanted to hang things out, where would you put them? People who use cloth diapers still lay them on their lawn to bleach out. That snowy white from the sun can't be matched.

I remember on Oakland Park Road the clothes lines were right out the side door which faced a crab apple orchard and then to the back yard. Mother learned that wren's build nests in pockets.

I remember the clothes lines on Arnold Avenue. The back yard was all landscaped except for where the lines were. It was not a play like yard.

We moved to Kneale Avenue next, the lines where in the back, and instead of two poles, one side was fastened to the garage. The pole was metal and every spring mother painted the pole and the fuel oil tank with silver paint. We were in big trouble if we pretended it was any sort of live being--an elephant, a horse, or even a rhinoceros because it scuffed the paint. Oh well, we rode elephants at other people's houses that didn't paint them.

From Kneale we moved to the farm. Mother had a concrete slab under the lines there. The hunting dog liked to poop there, what did he know, he was raised in a kennel. So on wash day, one not only cleaned the lines with a cloth but shoveled the Diamond do too. We have talked about this before but it is worth mention again: Underwear went in the center as not to be exposed to anyone seeing them and all the crotches better go the same way.

From the farm to Kneale again and when mother went to camp for two weeks, I put everything in the dryer. I saw no reason to drag clothes from the basement to outside, let them dry and bring them back in. Mother always had a dryer; she used it only for towels.

Even in their last house, built in 1975, mother had clothes lines. And you can bet the crotches on the panties were all the same direction on the center line. By now she had graduated to vinyl lines which replaced the metal wire. More than once she had to tighten them up. She had a thing about droopy lines and she NEVER left her clothes pin bag hanging outside. Clothes pins were the straight kind, never the spring kind because the might mark the garment.

Here? I think the posts have been gone for a very long time. DO we have clothes pins? Yes, they work great for sealing cracker tubes, potato chip bags, securing a cloth around a broom to brush walls and dust exposed wood floors. The straight pins make great little people all painted up like tin soldiers!

My question to you is? Do you remember where your clothes line was? Bet you a clothes pin, you do!!!

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Syttende mai

Velkommen


THE SIGNIFICANCE OF SYTTENDE MAI- THE 17TH OF MAY - By Ruell Solberg, Jr.


Syttende Mai has a similar significance in Norway as July 4th has in the United States of America. It marks the country's declaration of independence and the triumph of constitutional government. This day is also called Constitution Day and National Day and is a great spring festival in Norway.


The following provides some background for why Norwegians place such great emphasis on Syttende Mai. The Norwegians have a proud and independent past, dating from before the time of the Viking era, which was from about 790 to 1050 A.D. when they were very prominent and greatly feared in much of the world. Unknown to many people, the Vikings established the oldest surviving parliament in the world at Iceland over a thousand years ago in 930 A.D. So, many aspects of independence and self-government are part of Norway's history from way back.


During the Viking era, much of present-day Norway was united from many local chieftains and many kings to one king. But, then after the Viking era, many regional leaders claimed the throne. There was over 100 years of civil wars in Norway and soon north German merchants largely controlled the economy. Norway became dependent on them for grain imports. Norway was weakened further until the bubonic plague killed about half to two-thirds of the people in the mid-1300s.


Shortly after the plague, Margrete was the wife of the king of Norway, Haakon VI. She was also the daughter of the King of Denmark. When her father died, Margrete, who was already the queen of Norway, became the ruler of Denmark. Margrete's husband died soon thereafter, and she became the ruler of Norway as well. Then, Margrete was elected to rule Sweden, also. So, Margrete united Norway, Sweden, and Denmark with the power centered in Denmark. But, Sweden broke away after about 125 years in 1448.


Then, Norway grew weaker and Denmark grew stronger. Norway was even declared a Danish province. During the Napoleonic wars, Denmark sided with France against Great Britain. However, Britain was Norway's chief trading partner at the time, so the Norwegians had a very difficult time and many starved. After a while during those wars, the Norwegians began to trade secretly with the British again and began to manage their own affairs.
During those Napoleonic wars, the Swedes were allied with Great Britain and defeated Denmark. Then, Denmark gave Norway to Sweden. However, the Norwegians did not recognize the treaty (of Kiel) that did this and met and drew up a constitution for an independent Norway. That constitution was adopted on May 17, 1814, but Sweden refused it and defeated the Norwegian troops. Then, Norway was forced to accept the king of Sweden as their ruler also.


But, after nearly 100 years of Swedish rule and wars between Norway and Sweden near the end of that time, all but 184 out of 368,392 voters in Norway voted for independence in 1905; and it was granted.
In some respects, Norway being governed by Denmark and then Sweden would be similar to the state of Texas being governed by the state of Oklahoma or Arkansas. Texans would not like that.


It is easier to understand the rivalry between Norway and Sweden because of the imposition governmentally by Sweden on Norway and the wars and other hard feelings between them. Out of that, ethnic sayings became popular, such as "a thousand Swedes, running through the weeds, chased by one Norwegian."


Norway's independence is much more recent than America's (less than 90 years compared to 225), and observance of Syttende Mai is still a very important occasion in Norway. They have lots of parades and celebrations all during that day with everyone participating, especially the school children with their school bands and school banners.


This history, written by Ruell Solberg, Jr. of San Antonio, formerly of Cranfills Gap, was inserted in the 2002 Syttende Mai program, complements of the Bosque County Chapter of the Norwegian Society of Texas.

MY NEW UNCLE

Interesting, don't you think, how non-blood related people adopt? Think about it and look at the people around you that are not necessarily only friends, rather have a little more space in your inner circle.

What started me thinking about this is when Shirley mentioned the Allard died and he was like a father to her husband as well as herself. The relationship was beyond friendship, being father-like and should be classified as soul ship. Old Trunks is hopeful you have people like this in your life.

I am a fortunate one, along the way, I have been adopted several times. Although I do not consider myself a needy personality, these kind folks seem to see a reason within them selves to give me embrace.

Aunt Lillian took me on as a daughter the birthdays after Mother died, stating I needed a mother image. I adored her for that and all the years I had known her, we became close and visited, and wrote. It was a great experience for both of us.

Regardless of what tries to do, this sort of connection is not something one works on. Or at least doesn't strive to accomplish.

Take the case of Farmer Paul. Now, I met him in '98 at the lake. We are neighbors. Our conversations were about fishing and weather mostly. We call him the mayor; he knows everything that is happening in camp. Tom and I send birthday cards to him and his wife and we, for this decade or more, have been emailing good junk.

Now, he is not a farmer, rather a retired person from Southern Minnesota. This past winter, we became farmers in the cause of Farmville.com and Face book. We were excited to see each other beyond I/M and farming and compare stories. We were excited to learn about his grand daughter and her new puppy. (The kind that uses a piddle pad and misses regardless).

Instead of him waving from the porch, he came down to give me a friendly hug.

This may seem odd to you but in all the years I have gone to the lake, where Tom was established, this is the first connection that, instead of being in Tom's shadow with his friends, (now my friends because they are his friends), I had made one on my own. That is two lake people, if you are keeping score.

Although people are friendly in an outside sort of way, fishing camps are cults. Or, for those of you where the word, 'cult' raises a flag, perhaps it is better to say clique or small town attitude. What is the common thread? Fishing and weather, beyond that, there is little hope of new conversations.

The only other thing talked about is the business of how it is run. Or how was your winter and the conversation is over after good, bad, ugly. And for certain, just how much snow we had or didn't have.

Another option is to listen to old timers talk about their past, stories you heard year one, two, and three. Just this weekend, we were stopped on the road by a man who gave us another round in detail of all his illnesses for three decades. STOPPED ON THE ROAD IN THE TRUCK LEAVING THE CAMP!

So I have a new uncle, I met him on Facebook, not eharmony or some other amour site in cyber space.

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THEY COME IN WHEELCHAIRS

No matter where graduation is, people come to see their pride and joy graduate. It might mean several hundred miles of driving or it may be taking a great grand mother out of a nursing home for an afternoon. Perhaps it means extra equipment to make that member be able to make the trip. The important thing is, that for the graduate, it means someone cared enough to go out side of their comfort zone with the help of others.

It really is a very special day, whether it be high school, college, or trade school. It seems like a symbol to the graduate that we backed you up and we are proud to be that sort of sponsor to you whether you know it or not.

I am thinking about my own Mother, who came to Rachel's graduation in 1985. She was robust then and could see her way to making an 800 mile trip for the occasion. One she would not repeat do to health reasons.

I am thinking about my grand parents who, in 1962 were mid eighties and less and came to my graduation and shuffled about to find seats in a gym with plank seating and no back rests. Think about it, it is really pretty impressive.

The graduate deserves the honors, the cards, and the gifts. Yet, think about the spectators who come in wheel chairs bearing oxygen equipment, the little stooped over ladies on the arm of their sons and all the others who no longer have the mobility. All of these people have a genuine interest in what is happening to their loved one. They are to be admired.

Happy graduation to all~~introduce your loved one to your friends and let them see that not all people can skip into a gym and run up the stairs but they are there with the same amount of pride for their graduate.

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THE CHOPPING BLOCK

We had our big meal at noon when I was a kid. Mother would say, "Stan, come and cut the meat". On the counter was a maple chopping block, a carving knife and a sharpening tool. Daddy would swish the knife back and forth on the sharpening tool, feel the edge with his thumb, turn the meat to cut it in the right direction and carve. He carved the entire roast, regardless of size.

That chopping block was at Mother's when she died; now it is here, in Fargo. Wood cutting boards have always been a favorite over plastic for a number of reasons. But here, at house, I inherited the kitchen lock, stock, and barrel, which, of course, means the plastic cutting boards.

Now Tom had recently read what I always knew, wood does not gather germies like plastic. One weekend, while getting things for the lake, we bought two boards to replace the plastic units. The story means nothing except, when I talked to Ryen on Mother's Day, we were talking about cutting boards, as he gave me a very special one along with information of where and why he bought it.

Both of us were laughing so hard when he said, "I don't have many things left from my youth but I do have the plastic cutting board from the house". It was only after he said it that he realized how funny it sounded. Yet, the board went to the co op where he lived while in college, it went to New York, to Columbus, and now resides in California. He has kept it as a 'thing from his youth'.

My question to you is, what do you have from your youth? Soozi kept her cat eye glasses from tenth grade. I will have to think about it, beyond pictures. It wasn't a cutting board, although I have it now as something I inherited.

Meanwhile, back to the board!

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CLEANING PRODUCTS

Ever thought about how cleaning products have changed? Or have they?

The big hype again, (underlined) is vinegar and baking soda. New? Not hardly. But baking soda, olive oil, and vinegar in the toilet? Try to figure that one out.

Now we buy vinegar at this house in 4 gallon boxes. Badly worded, should have said, boxes with four gallon count. We buy baking soda in 4 pound bags. Why? Because we use it to clean the window blinds. And it does a great job on the odors, if one has odors.

I am a Windex fan and I am not ashamed to admit it. I use it every day to clean the bathroom sink after I have cleaned my glasses. You see, we have a paper towel holder in our bathroom and one sheet of Viva, (brand of choice) does a lot of work for one little square. I don't like the small of vinegar anymore than I like the smell of finger nail polish remover and bleach. Some things, in this green scene to save our planet, just can't go quite yet.

What I will say is we have the same cans of abrasive cleaner in the kitchen and the bathroom that were here when I arrived in 1998. I am remembering my grand father who used Ajax, which he pronounced "A Yaks" in the stain steel sink. Since he didn't see well, he never quite got all the film off.

My mother was a Hilex hold out. If you didn't use bleach, it wasn't clean. She also used enough Santiflush in the toilets to disrupt the balance in the septic tank. I could never, and still can't figure out how sprinkling Santiflush in the toilet did much good for cleaning the bowl, and to this day don't know just why she did it because she scrubbed the toilet with a cloth, not a brush. I also questioned the use of chemicals in the toilet because the dog drank out of the toilet.

Drank out of the toilet? Yes, Diamond never did have a water dish that I can remember. He drank out of the stool in the bathroom off the entry at the farm. Mother was especially annoyed with him when he 'spilled' on the floor. There was no catch the drips rugs. The outside dog drank out of the stock tank. But that wasn't cleaned with chemicals.

So my question to you this morning is this: What do you use for cleaning products. Is it more or less than, lest say, ten years ago? Have you ever put olive oil in your toilet and why? I am not going to say it....yes, I am, things don't stick.

Try to be a little more green about our planet. Consider giving up one harsh cleaning chemical, will you?

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QUOTE THE RAVEN--EVERMORE

A robin built a nest in the crook of the down spout in the house to the west of us. It was under the eave and out of the wind and rain. Since we could watch from the sofa through the piano window, it has been great interest as our own private showing.

We knew she laid eggs, as she was on the nest except to feed. On Saturday she went to eat and a raven scrunched under the eve and ate one of the eggs. Tom saw it happen and stated since they were so intelligent, it would be back for more.

A few minutes later, I saw the shadow of the raven on the blind in the east window and dashed to the piano window. Sure enough, the raven was sitting on the roof but this time, it did not get the egg, as the robin chased it away.

She went back to sit on her nest, only to leave again. Once more, the raven came. He ate what we think must have been the last egg, as the robin has not been nesting since.

Tom says that robins lay clutches of eggs if others are destroyed.

In the dozen years I have been in Fargo, there has never been a nest in the elbow of the down spout. It is, after all, not really hidden, this is probably why. You know what? It is really sad. Although we know there is a pecking order, we just never thought a raven, which we have not seen in the neighborhood before, would zero in on this robin's nest. It is a 'movie' with a not so good ending. Or is it NOT an ending, at all.

TRIBUTES TO MOTHERS

Mother's day is about remembering and honoring. It is a time to think about the good things and soul one's mother had. It is a time to buff up a dozen memories of things you remember. (I am talking to myself here--but you can listen if you wish).

It is knowing, in adult hood she was afraid of horses and storms.

It is knowing that she showed her care by house work and ironing for eight hours on Tuesdays. And cooking three meals a day, every day, day in and out.

It is knowing that she wanted her kids safe and healthy and offered vitamins, minerals, and cod liver oil in the winter. And didn't want us to get hurt doing something stupid.

It is knowing there were things she wanted done a certain way and elected to do them herself rather than be a teacher. Except of course, when it came to hanging the clothes on the line when the underwear were to be hung in the center and the crotches were all supposed to point in the same direction. :)

It is knowing that doing the dishes with her every night was important to her because that is the only time we talked although we didn't talk about major issues.

It is knowing that she was an intelligent lady with a love to read as well as a sense of fashion and a gift to dress to the nines even to go to the market. Yet in all of that, she was not putting on airs. It was just the way she did it.

It is knowing that, if she was working on a seed picture, she would do one seed at a time. That is the same seed picture I would put glue where all the same seeds went dump on the seeds, wait until they dried, and shake off the rest.

You may be really different than your child. You may be the one seed at a time person in a world where your child can find a better, faster way to get things done. You may be the faster, easier way and your child is the read every direction, identify every part in the box before assembling.

Your mother may have sewn. She may have cut out the pieces and used a tool to mark where to sew. Or she may have been someone who just eye balled it. Maybe she read the pattern through and through or maybe she did it trial and error.

What I have learned is simple: The important thing is, in the end, you rub off on each other and communicate enough to know where each of you are at. If you are asked something, try to come out of your den and tell what what you child needs to know. If you don't know the answer, try to find the answer together.

Praise them for what they are and expect them to do the same back to you.

Hugs work.

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IN A DAY

In three days it will be Mother's Day. A day set aside nationally to celebrate mothers everywhere. Julia Ward was one of the early calls to celebrate Mother's Day in the United States. Written in 1870, Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation was a pacifist reaction to the carnage of the American Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War. The Proclamation was tied to Howe's feminist belief that women had a responsibility to shape their societies at the political level. Later, as in 1912, Anna Jarvis would begin the process to make Mother's Day the second Sunday in May.

In the UK, it is called Mothering Day. Countries all over the world celebrate this day, although it isn't always at the same time. Many countries link it to their religion.

For those of us who were in elementary school in the fifties, we are reminded of craft projects as gifts for our Mom's special day. In sixth grade, we had little boards on which we glued alphabet letters and stickers. The slogan was:

In all the world there is no other
To take the place of my dear mother.

You would remember it too, if you searched all that macaroni looking for the right letters for your project. They were pretty ugly.

Yet, getting a gift from a child, regardless of age needs to be a celebration of them extending themselves to you.

THE OLD WOMAN AT THE PIANO

Shame on me for laughing at grey haired ladies with hats playing old 600 pound upright pianos in little churches. Why, because in order to see the notes of the old time gospel hymns, they tilted their heads back and looked through the close up part of their bi-focal. To me, someone who did not wear glasses at the time, I vowed I would never be in that position.

Now most of you know, my Sweet Thomas is in the eye glass business. What you may not know is he is silent about me going to have my eyes checked lest he get caught in the cross hairs of my wicked, wicked side. Perhaps it is all about preservation, maybe it is about denial but I don't need an eye doctor to tell me I need glasses; I need to tell the eye doctor there has been a change. It isn't one of those one, twice a year visits unless there is a problem beyond simply, tilting head back to see notes.

My VTM, (formerly called video terminal monitor), now simply called computer screen is bigger than our first television screen yet, of late, I am the little old lady at the piano. I have put a cloth under it to move it towards me. If there is anything that will tell you one's eyes are screwy, it is long hours at a monitor.

And so about a week ago, my neck hurt. It was from looking through the bottom of my blended lenses. Again, since Tom is in the eye glass business, I have:

Goggle like sunglasses called Cocoons because in the little boat the wind is a problem for me.

sunglasses

TV glasses

Glasses to use when I have the laptop in my lap

The regulars, which are not used to sleep in--generally.

etc, etc.

I have anti scratch, anti glare, Polaroid, and everything else one can get on a high quality, top of the line lens. Nothing worked, pulling the wash cloth based screen still worked the best.

The other day we had a conversation:

"Do I pay for the eye exam or is it reciprocity"?

"Oh, are you finally going to have your eyes check"?

"Yes, I want to go back to __________".

"Well, _______, is very good".

"That may be true but I like _________".

"Shall I make an appointment for you"?

"Sure, mid morning or mid afternoon sometime next week"

"I can get you in earlier".

"No, next week is fine".

"What brought you to this decision"?

"I think I have a cataract starting".

"What are you seeing"? Plus a barrage of additional questions beyond my grasp of human eyes, how they are constructed, why I may need surgery instead of another pair of glasses and MORE! (This is when the man with so much knowledge starts to come over the line into my comfort zone).

"Let's do this, let's have an eye exam and go from there. Let's not be thinking about surgery until after we find out what is going on. A cataract starting and a cataract ready for surgery may be two different things yet".

How do I know I have one starting? Doc shines light during physical. It isn't like I woke up one morning and decided to make a diagnosis.

Therefore, until next week, I will be the old woman at the piano.

e

CAT NAPPIN

And she said,......................"If I was going to do that, I would be looking at the clock wondering when I was done and never sleep".

It reminded me of how grandma would sit in her upholstered platform rocker and crochet. The chair would stop, grandma would be dozing with hands in her lap, hook and thread in tact. Soon, the rocker would start again and the project at hand would continue.

Something tells me this entire cat nap thing is a conditioning. It just doesn't happen. For me, my Grandmother was a cat napper and so was her son, my Dad.

We had our big meal at noon. We would eat, Daddy would go to his lounge chair, read the paper or a pages of a western, kick back, nap, and when the level on the chair sat him in an up right position, you knew he had finished his energy nap. I can still hear the sound of the lever. Odd, isn't it, the things we remember?

My Sweet Thomas, poo-pooed cat naps for a decade. That is, until he learned how to sit down, tune out, and snooze. It get past the idea of what time it was, he would loop his watch over his hand, which lay in his lap. If he needed to peek he could.

I told my friend to just sit down, close her eyes, listen to herself breathe and let go. I wish I could gift her a few sessions! But then, I had great teachers.

I wish you energy.

e

TV verses TOT

According to BBC, the average child of two watches nine hours of television a day and a four year old watches fifteen hours a day. That gives that four year old nine hours to sleep, eat, and what ever else children this age do.

The article goes on to say they are poor achievers.

I am wondering if the television just isn't on in the house. I can't believe a child between 2 and 4 can be parked. Can you?

Now, my children were TV kids, especially on Saturday mornings when that is the only time cartoons were on. Rachel watched Captain Kangaroo, Bud watched Sesame Street and Speed Racer and Ryen was a Master's of the Universe follower. Later, Rachel would zero in on Gilligan's Island. Most disturbing of all was MTV when the music was all choreographed and left nothing to the imagination of the listener.

I don't think it warped any of them. All of them became educated and went on to select occupations they are great at. Maybe all those years of Speed Racer made Bud a great video maker. Maybe Rachel's stories led her to writing and all the pictures we drew brought Ryen into the graphic design industry.

As for my generation, we didn't have TV. Don't you just hate that line. We were supposed to "find something to do". I think I used up all my out side points being outdoors! I have a special memory of Betty and I sitting on top of a snow bank eating chocolate cake. It was winter.

I do not believe children in Britain watch television that much. I would be okay with saying that if that is ALL they do there is a problem.

Will your tot rot from TV?

Will you?

e

WHERE DOES THE TIME GO?

Interesting, isn't it, when you know someone or of someone who lives in an area that is hit by Mother Nature's rage?

Her name is Deb and she posted pictures from their part of the world in Nashville.

For those of you who have not lived in a flooded area, I will tell you it is mass water. The family did well; they were high enough so their house was not flooded.

It is yet another time for us to realize how big the universe is and that we are part of it. We are not the universe.

One of the things Deb and her family did was hang on to their sense of humor. She said since they couldn't leave their house, they were going to buy a kayak on line. What is so silly about that it, it wouldn't be delivered.

Sick humor? No, Ranum humor.

Stay dry.

e