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 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| Today the public schools were closed in order to allow polling. So I babysat 3 of my greats at my house. Their mom works in town and dropped them off. They were good, probably the best they've been for me in years. Oh, they're growing up, I guess. One has only recently taken to coloring; he's always resisted up until now. So I watched a lot of "Big City Greens" in the morning. We had pizza from the freezer. An hour later, they wanted hot dogs which I didn't have. So I offered French fries. They went out to play in the fort while I baked them. (They have a homemade fort behind the shed, which they have modified over time with whatever they could find in the shed or the yard). After eating fries, I went out with the boys to get some weights I found recently in the shed. I'm sure they belonged to their grandfather, my late brother. They didn't want to take them home, but carried them out to the "back room" of the fort (these were dumbbells). We pulled up ivy which is rampant and fast growing, and I inspected the "barrier" they were reinforcing. Later they all went outside to ride bicycles down the hill. I had to stand in the street to watch for traffic. They have gravel at home and no hills. Who knew that a long winding hill could be such a thrill? It was against my better judgment to let them do it, since it's difficult for motorists to see at the top of the hill where I live. We lucked out. No cars for about 20 minutes. Then I made them go back to my level driveway where they circled around the trees in the yard and my car and me. The six year old did cartwheels while his siblings raced him. It soon turned too dark to be in the street, anyway. So I know they got exercise and will sleep tonight. In between "Captain Man" on TV and bikes. I took the 8 year old boy to the garage where I gave him my old tool box. We then went to my dad's workbench and found some tools I don't plan on using. Two extra Flathead screwdrivers, one Phillips, a package of small nails, a few long screws, a couple of band-aids, and a measuring tape (I have surplus tapes), some black electrical tape. He found a vise in one of the drawers; I wouldn't have included it, but I have no plans for it. He turned down needle nose pliers, but I talked him into some wire cutters. We found a small hammer in one of the drawers, and then he felt satisfied with the box. I explained that these were not weapons, that he could never stab or hit anyone with them. I also reminded him that if anyone borrowed one of his tools, to be sure it went back into the box and not left out on the porch or the ground. He agreed. It felt kind of good, thinking that his great grandpa would be happy to see the boy have his own tools. He was very excited to take everything out of the box and show his mother. He's carrying on a family tradition. |
| I have wanted to travel all my life but couldn't afford it. My nieces, who are half my age, travel all over the country with kids. Now they're taking the kids out of school for a week in December and going to Jamaica. I should be happy for them. And I don't want to go with them and crash their younger lifestyle or babysit. But I'm so jealous! I should be ashamed. I've been to Merriam, Kansas, and north to Montreal and Quebec. I've seen Louisville and Churchill Downs. I've spent time in West Virginia, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, North and South Carolina, Ohio, Missouri, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Buffalo, even Niagara Falls. And Virginia and DC. I camped in Indiana where the rain flooded my tent. The places I haven't been still call my name. I fantasize about Christmas in Paris. I want to roam ancestral grounds in Scotland and the Channel Islands. I'd go anywhere around the Mediterranean, including Tunisia. I have known people from many places, and they always made their home sound enchanting. I read stories about New Zealand or travelers on vacation in Vietnam. I want to see these things for myself. I want to cruise around Alaska and see American Samoa. Of course, I have to see Easter Island and Christmas Island, listening to Jimmy Buffet songs. I'm dying to go to South Dakota and learn Indian history and culture. I've led such a sheltered life. I've never been to New York City or Hawaii, or anywhere in Texas. I have been on the Ohio River and spent an afternoon on the Mississippi on a showboat. Some people don't desire to travel much. But some of us have itchy feet without the means to do anything about it. Now I'm so old, I'd have to worry about taking enough medicine and where to find the right kind of doctors wherever I go. At least the younger generation in my family is doing something about wanderlust. |
| I thought the movie version was excellent. However, it pales in comparison to the opera version. It is a presentation of a book written by the nun who is the key female figure in this story. It is a true story of a man on death row in Angola, Louisiana. It is the largest penitentiary in the U.S., primarily black inmates, but this character is white. It is a huge prison that once had gardens and stables and barns that supplied all the food consumed by both staff and inmates. This nun was requested as his spiritual adviser, so she was allowed to visit him on death row. She became obsessed with the salvation of his soul, desiring him to confess his crimes. She was afraid of the prison, afraid of this man and his horrible deeds, but she grew to care about him deeply. The opera show her anguish, as well as his as he awaits his death, denying his wrong doing. It shows the anguish of his mother and brothers, the victims' parents. The music intensifies their pain. The movie took some liberties with changes and added a little Hollywood flair. The opera is more closely written to the facts. If you have never seen an opera, or generally hate them, this is a good one to start. It is all in English. The musical styles include some gospel, some jazz, a little rock. There is even an Elvis scene where they are alone and discover they are both Elvis fans and imitate him. It is a riveting story. You cannot take your eyes off the action, and you will not fall asleep. They take a few daring new moves to make it a truly contemporary opera. You might be able to catch it on a cultural TV station, like VPM, or you can go the Met library to watch online. It runs about 3 hours, which includes a long intermission. I saw a live broadcast from the NY Met. I observed people wiping their eyes and heard them saying how exhausted they felt afterwards. Warning, it will engage you. It is very religious. It is a morality play. However, it does not make the argument for or against capital punishment. |
| When I was younger, I could do a lot of last minute things. I can't any longer. I have to plan my wardrobe the night before, including jewelry, and lay it out for easy access. I have to plan my meals ahead of time, or I go bonkers on whatever I find in the kitchen. I have to make a daily to do list or I waste the day with whatever comes up. With a list, I feel obligated to check things off. But then, I want to tell someone how much I've done, but nobody cares or there is no one to tell. On Fridays, I try to clean the inside of my car and my purse and wallet. Receipts in all places go in the trash. Parking passes, half used Kleenex, they all have to be tossed. I haven't done the car today, but I did clean out the purse. I've never been a planner or a prepper, but I find that old age makes me slow, so my lack of organization shows more. I can still walk out of the house on the way to volunteer work or a meeting and walk right past my needed papers of the lunch I packed. Gotta run. I have to put clothes in the washer that I need tomorrow morning. |
| All Saints Day is always Nov. 1. I suppose it started as the church's response to the Day of the Dead or Halloween. It is simply a day to remember or honor all saints, both known and unknown, even if they have their own commemorative day. The non-Catholic version began after that, in which you simply honor the memory of anyone you know who may have died since last All Saints Day. This can be very meaningful to a family that has lost a member or to a community that has lost a beloved leader. Many Protestant churches will take a small part of their first Sunday service in November to name its members or family of members who have passed. I have seen whole families go up front just to light a candle in honor a parent or sibling and have observed their continuing grief. I was especially moved when my young nephew went up with me to light a candle for my father. Since then, it has become an even more meaningful and moving experience for me. I want others to have that opportunity when they lose a loved one, to remember publicly in a reverent moment. Depending on the numbers, it's a very short ceremony. So if you have lost someone, a co-worker, neighbor, a friend, a family member in the last twelve months. Do yourself a favor. Light a candle tonight and just watch the flame for a minute or two in your own private moment of reverence. You will experience peace. Tears are permitted, but not required. |
| In my part of the world, the weather is unpredictable. One year for a Christmas outdoor light show in the closest botanical garden, we were freezing. I wore two pairs of gloves and my hands were like icicles. The following year, I went with family and a lot of children, including a 2 year old, warning them to wear coats, heavy socks, gloves and scarves, and we all thought we would suffocate. The kids shed clothes as they ran around in the grass in the dark. Some years for Halloween it is extremely cold. Kids wear coats over costumes, and some years they sweat inside the costume alone. I remember working in a haunted house downtown for Halloween and we had fans blowing to cool us down. Tonight this year, it will be very cold. I have to cover my plants for frost prevention. Last year for Thanksgiving, we ate outside on picnic tables. So much for the snowy roads to Grandma's house. Yet I've seen it snow on Veteran's Day before Thanksgiving. At least the leaves are beautiful this year. You can't always count on that either. You can count on raking a mass of them. I'm going to wait until the trees are bare, then mow the lawn. and rake all at once. I like the changing of the seasons, I just want Mother Nature to stick to a timetable. |
| I really anticipated this show with excitement. Finally, someone was going to recognize that people don't die inside just because they get old. They still have feelings and hopes. I am going to say after watching almost to the conclusion, that it is a disappointment. First, the whole idea of a competition for love and romance is ludicrous. I'm glad that no back stabbing or devious plots have taken place yet. The drama queens are definitely toned down. However, it's such a phony setup to build a relationship. They are all attractive women over 60, but they are all "in love" with this one very nice, always on his best behavior, guy. No way. Such artificial circumstances cannot lead to undying love. It's as though they all have agreed to be let down and feel like failures. Very few are walking away like it's been a fun adventure. Next, I wonder what kind of man, no mater how charming or polite he may be, can date all those women and believe that "she" might be the one. He's a floozy. H makes out with multiple women per day. If I were there, I would be thinking, "Keep your lips away from me. They're full of germs" or "I don't want to kiss her. Why let you carry her germs to me?" It is just gross. Why aren't these women thinking about things like building exclusive relationships, not shared ones. They're only responding to chemistry at this point, and the desire to win the competition. He's thinking about earning his paycheck by courting these women. He might even be overplaying the sympathetic role, worrying that he's hurting someone. If they run this another season, I hope they pick real women over 60, not potential models. Let them show a man and women with arthritis and a steady medication routine. People with bad tickers and hearing problems want love, too. Or is it only about what the audience is willing to watch? Surely, there are plenty of sponsors appealing to senior cash reserves. |
| Why is it so satisfying to dig in the dirt? To get your hands dirty and plant things or to pull stuff you don't want to grow? Why does dyed mulch please the eye so much? I don't do it to keep up with the neighbors or to brag about it. Sometimes I wish someone would notice my hard work and pay a compliment, but it doesn't happen. I am not going to win any prizes for outstanding blooms or best produce. The work has to be for the sole satisfaction of doing it. I only have to meet my own standards, no one else's. I stay out to nearly dark, dodging gnats, and getting cold. But I do feel a satisfaction I don't get from many other things. Lawn work is a solitary activity. I am stumped by transplanting peonies. I can't get them out of the ground without destroying them. I have a trench around a clump of them. I figure they've been there 15 years or more. They're intertwined which I'm told is normal. They are shallow, but I can't get the shovel underneath them. I'm told to get the whole clump up, then separate them. But I just can't get them up out of the ground, no matter how deep I go. That's frustrating. I'm doing much better with irises in a back yard bed, and begonias and geraniums in pots. I have to bring those in for the winter. I admit I do take some pride in having them survive from year to year and look beautiful. No one cares but me, but that's okay. |
| I think it was Martha Stewart who said most women don't go through their underwear drawers often enough. How true. We adult women need to go through those drawers with a trash can handy! No one needs to hold undies until they're threadbare. Anything with stretched out elastic needs to go. Missing snaps or hooks indicate it's time to discard. If it's new, and you can sew, you might replace hardware, but usually, these mishaps only happen to something past its prime. Martha tells us we need to recycle old bras. You have to remove the hardware and mail the items to a recycling company; she lists several. I don't have the postage, but if you belong to a club or group of friends, you can join together and save on shipping and still have a clear conscience. They use the parts for carpet padding. The fabric gets shredded up, treated and formed with many other scraps. No one looks underneath the carpet to the padding. This effort saves the landfills and the use of new chemicals. You can make donations of usable decent looking undergarments to homeless shelters of clothing centers. This is helpful for people who have changed sizes, up or down, like a teen who has outgrown her training bra. I volunteer at a center which caters primarily to homeless and others down on their luck. We get lots of smaller bras in excellent shape. On the other hand, no one wants a used thong! No matter how lacy or see through, no one wants to handle much less wear something that has been in someone's butt crack. Not may people still use slips, but they may be donated along with camisoles, as long as all straps are okay and no threads are dangling. If making donations, the rules are rips, stains, or played out elastic means "Throw away". Thongs, even if only tried on or worn once, "Throw away". Panties or boxers, if ever worn, "Throw away". If a multi-pack was bought and opened, but never all used, donate. That happens when the wrong size is purchased. Thermal underwear is okay, as long as they still have their shape and no stains. Nightgowns and pajamas are like thermals. They should not look frayed or worn thin or be stained. Used socks are okay, if they do not have holes or yellow or brown soles, particularly thermal socks. Homeless people walk all over town and need warm feet. Like the ad says on TV, socks and underwear are the most requested items. I have helped many men find the right size shorts or boxers and some white socks. So ladies, go through your drawers first, then your husband's, then the kids. Condense what you have. Then treat yourself to a new undergarment. Don't over shop; how many do you really need? But there is no crime in getting something new at least once in a while. Many women go for years without new panties of bras. Give yourself a break. At the shelter where I work one day a week, we also help refugees who are settling in our town and may not speak good English. People in every language need shoes, belts, underwear, and coats. We allow shoppers of all backgrounds without any questions about finances. People with referrals from churches, shelters, or Offender groups get free clothes, but we keep records for a year's total per person. Others pay cash by the bag full, not per item. |
| Sometimes I think I missed opportunity to learn things when I was younger. Like horticulture for one. I putter around with my plants and have discovered by accident mostly that I can maintain a few things in pots year after year, like certain varieties of begonias, hanging petunias, chives, and sage. I am lousy with rosemary no matter what I try. I save the seeds from miniature marigolds and cone flowers, label, and plant every spring. Now I have read that you can keep the cone flowers in the ground and not replant. Maybe next year. I mainly grow weeds and invasive vines. They choke out my butterfly bushes, irises and trees. The deer eat crocus, tulips, hostas, gladiolas, and vegetables. Groundhogs like vegetables, too. Squirrels like tomatoes in pots that grow near railings. They hang upside down from the rails and eat. They don't bother daffodils, basil, or peonies. Peonies spread quickly after a few years and get too crowded. I can't seem to dig them up without destroying them. I've also loved old black and white movies. Now after decades of watching, I've discovered there are college majors in cinema and film history. How did I miss that? I could have been in heaven, watching films and taking notes. Reading about them, the directors, and the actors is a thrill for me. No one wants to hear me talk about it, however. I could have worked for the Library of Congress or TCM and loved it. I'm not artistic, but I wish I had some drawing lessons when I was younger. I could have been sketching with Bob Ross. I could illustrate my own children's book. It would only be a hobby, but what fun! There are some old people who meet weekly at my church who paint. They're excellent and far too advanced for any novice to join. I can't do my needle crafts any longer because of hand cramps. There's unfinished projects now; I can't add art attempts to it. I console myself with my daily visits with my plants. I talk to them, but nothing personal. I water them and trim them and pull the weeds that are inevitable in outdoor pots. The flower beds are more time consuming and frustrating. Mother Nature insists on running things her way. |
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