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 My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| In July, my niece married for the second time. She became a widow while pregnant with her third child. She met a wonderful man with two kids of his own. They have a blended family. The only attendants were those children. Each had a daughter who were bridesmaids, age 10 and 12, in coordinating dresses, but not identical. Her two sons were the "ring men", age 9 and 7 and a half. His son, almost 14, was the best man. And yes, for those who follow such things, the bride did wear white again, with a long train. No tuxes for the men, just suits and ties. The best man is usually seen wearing shorts, so this was a feat all by itself. It was to be an outdoor event with the reception in a picnic pavilion. The place is a working farm that boards horses, but brings in extra cash with a B&B and wedding venue. They don't cater or do any service. Because it rained all afternoon and drizzled off and on at the appointed time, the ceremony was moved to the pavilion. The 7-year-old standing to one side, kept slipping over to the candy table, out of his mother's sight. All the audience had the giggles and tried holding back their smiles as he replaced the top with a bang several times. Personally, I think he's adorable even when he is not in navy blue with an ironed white shirt. When the bridal party was called in by the DJ for the reception, he made a rock star entrance bent over with his hands up in the air behind him. He just doesn't know how not to be the center of attention. All five kids went with them on the honeymoon to St. Thomas. Does that make it a familymoon? Two families were joined together. It's been a struggle for my niece to raise these kids alone. She deserves a solid family now. |
| It's hard to believe I went over a year without migraines, but this year, I am on my third round, which will last 2 to 6 weeks. Take too many prescriptions for any pain killer stronger than Tylenol. And I'm limited on those! There are other kinds of headaches, too. I've been paying probate taxes for several years because we haven't sold my dad's house. I'm living in it, per the instructions of his will. I can't afford to buy out the others, and my share won't get me another place to live in my state. I hired a lawyer to take the house out of probate. He charged me a lot of money and said I could do it myself. I think he misunderstood something. I can't find an accountant experienced in computing probate taxes to let me know what to pay, and the county is not helpful. I'm having solar panels installed, but that is in stages and will take about a month. I'm leasing, not buying. It might help the sale of the house once I see whether it really reduces my electric bill. I'm all about saving money now that I am on a fixed income. Everything costs more than it did last year. In two years, my auto insurance doubled. Everyone is in the same boat on paying out more than they have coming in. So we all have that headache. I'm trying to help my church plan a first time ever community event where we provide food, music, a bouncy house and games. We'll have door prizes for anyone willing to give us an email. We'll also have face painting and beer pong, make that church pong, with small prizes. It will be outdoors with several popup canopies, chairs, and porta-potties. There are so many details. It could be a big flop or we might not have enough space. But it's an exciting kind of headache. On the other hand, I've been reading Walt Whitman. Page after page of depressing stuff, no matter how beautiful the language or the great imagery from nature. Then my head hurts too much to keep my glasses on, so I stop. At least with a headache of some kind, you know you're still alive. |
| It's the start of the tropical season. No hurricanes or other storms yet, except for one out in the Atlantic, no where near land. But we have had our warnings. Fortunately, I am not in a disaster area now. I grew up in the flood zone, but the river waters always came just short of our yard. There is a small town, very quaint, near here that has been flooded completely several times in my life. But they always rebuild and carry on. Meanwhile, the oppressive heat has let up, and we enjoy cooler temps even on sunny days. It's good for catching up on weed pulling and invasive plant pruning. I had some beautiful red zinnias this year, which are now fading. I know what I want to plant next year: more red zinnias. I have rose of Sharon everywhere. The individual blooms are not that pretty, but a whole shrub covered with them is quite lovely. And this year I've noticed hummingbirds going to the blooms. However, the shrub grows very fast and gets out of control It also multiplies. Every day I pull stray plants out of flower pots and from between the slates on the patio. I have heard it is almost impossible to hurt a Rose of Sharon; now I believe it. They take a lot of work and time to keep them from taking over the entire yard and house. They don't require watering or fertilizer; just pruning. So as the days get shorter and summer starts to fade, we know the hot weather is not gone completely. It will continue possibly into early October, even as the leaves start to fall. Tropical storms, fading flowers, earlier sunsets are all just reminders that life goes on and our lives are getting shorter. Let's enjoy the weather while we can. |
| I'm reading a dumb romance novel. I thought it was going to be a western, and it does start out at the end of the Civil War. It quickly moves to Southern Indiana before going to Texas. However, it's really about falling in love with the wrong person, who probably will end up being the perfect person if this romance is true to form. Some cliches stand out. In the midst of war battles, two people find comfort in each other's arms. Six months later, after another peacetime trauma, they find each other and discover their bodies fit perfectly together. When have two bodies not fit perfectly together? One could be dead and lying on the floor; a second one trips and falls on the cadaver and their bodies would mold perfectly to each other. Nothing romantic about that. If two people want to be together, they will find a way to justify it. Maybe I'm just cynical or I've seen too much of this stuff. A lot of genres just have set formulas, so that when we see them, they just make us gag a little instead of sympathize with the characters. In fact the characters in this book are just too movie star-ish to be believable. I find myself being more sympathetic to the cold-hearted brother with a battle scar on his chin than the handsome, perfect doctor. We'd like to believe someday "my prince will come" or Santa will bring what I really want this year or this time I'm gonna win the big lottery. Reality doesn't fit into romance, no matter how many harsh scenes you create, or how many obstacles the hero and the beautiful maiden confront. And when one of them thinks, "Our bodies don't meld perfectly together," you can be sure that one is already moving on. |
| I like driving. I do. Managing this big machine like it's an extension of myself. Handling the curves on the road. I do enjoy it. However, there are many things about driving I do not like. I don't like heavy traffic, whether it's rush hour or not. I don't mind sitting in traffic as long as I have plenty of gas and no time limits I don't like crazy drivers who think they own the road and don't have to watch out for other vehicles. I really don't like the price of gas. I can't stand the people who ride your bumper, particularly on country roads where they do not have the option to pass and I have no places to pull over. Just because they know the roads well and have lots of experience driving 15 miles over the posted limit, does not mean they can ride so close to end up in my back seat if I brake suddenly. I don't like GPS. Traffic circles are not my favorite. If it's evident which way to go, I'm okay. But don't make me read the signs for North or South in heavy traffic. I don't always know which direction I want to go. I just know the map said Rt 15. It didn't say N or S. I drove South on I95 through Miami about 40 years ago. It was exciting to see so many cars and what seemed to be a spiral of roads. My eyesight and nerves were much better then, I think. The last time I changed a tire on my car was in the Everglades. I was traveling alone and I did it successfully. Today, I don't know if I can even get the spare out of the car. I think I can do the rinky dink jack and screw the bolts to get me to the nearest mechanic. But I don't want to. I just like feeling the power of controlling this mobile unit. But I won't object if you want to drive for me. |
| I am in the library again, until I find a new ISP for my area that I can afford. We don't have fiber optics yet, and the one I've had cut me off when I had the land line removed. It was terrible service anyway> I can accomplish in less than 2 hour what it used to take 4 or 5 hours to do with all the crashing and outages. I can tolerate the noise of children. The library is a great place for them. My mother used to walk us to the library when we were young, and it was a thrill to get new books. I don't like the adults who carry on conversations at full volume. There is a lady behind me who even has her phone on speaker. She's broadcasting her phone numbers and passwords loudly to everyone in the big room. She has no idea how disruptive she is or that her privacy is gone. A librarian is helping her, in a softer but audible voice. Whatever happened to whispering? We used to be afraid to talk out loud, much less give personal info. My college library, full of young people, was never this noisy. We never had to listen to anyone's financial transactions with her banker. Oh no! I heard her say "Calling you back. . ." Hopefully, I won't be here. She did tell the banker that she was old enough to be the grandmother of the person helping her. Maybe they're excusing her because of age. But rude is rude. And only scammers want your personal data. Now, someone is playing music! Ssh! |
| I had the worst in-laws imaginable. However, I have known a few people who spoke warmly of their in-laws and loved them dearly. My own grandmother hated her mother-in-law because of her sharp tongue. It turns out my grandmother wasn't a very good mother-in-law to my mother either. My dad loved his mother-in-law, and I think she loved hers, at least during my lifetime. We know Ruth as the most famous daughter-in-law, so her husband's mother Naomi must have been an ideal in-law. "Wither thou goest. . ." is used in so many contexts. I saw an episode of the Big Valley where Linda Evans as Audra quoted those words to her mother played by Barbara Stanwyck. I've also heard wives say it to husbands. I'm watching The Honeymooners this summer, one of those old shows that's not run ad nauseam. There was a mother-in-law episode that after much vitriol and humor turned out to be tender and endearing to the wife's mother. It's a hard job to deal with the younger generation. You see them making mistakes, many of which you also made. You want to give advice, but have to bite your tongue. You can't be a helicopter parent when they're young or when they're grown. You give advice when they ask for it, or maybe hint for it. You have to watch them live their own lives no matter how much it hurts you. My in-laws loved drama. They weren't even kind to one another, let alone a newcomer. The bottom line is I just never liked them. |
| I'd like to know more about this topic. It seems that a lot of fans want to write their own stories for old TV series, like Kramer in Seinfeld wanted to write an episode for Murphy Brown. Those shows get the imagination going, and many of us believe we can write better episodes or at least get them going again. I read that Gary Clark, an actor in westerns in the 60's and 70's, wrote for Get Smart. He created the character of Hermie the Robot. Ten years after the show ended, they wanted to do a spin-off using Hermie. But the copyright owners couldn't be found. Producers and directors agreed with the writing crew and lawyers that using Clark's idea would probably create a legal battle eventually, so the project was abandoned. However, they remake movies frequently and make many changes. Hogan's Heroes was almost straight out of a movie, but that legal battle went no where. And someone did write a sequel to Gone With The Wind after Margaret Mitchell's death. I have several episodes in my head, or a series of episodes. But why do it if I'm breaking some legal or moral code? Of course, I would apply today's standards to those old stories, just like the people of "the old days" applied the standards of their day on the 1800's and early 1900's. I seriously doubt women wore high heels with pointy toes, even in saloons, like the show I saw last night. Today you don't show family men and women smoking. And men can't be so chauvinistic. And no one can be racist. I also realize that some of my changes would make the shows a little less humorous. Do we really want to watch TV or read stories about everyday normal people? |
| Funny how I can think of a million things I want to write about when I'm nowhere near a keyboard. Sitting at a desk and a keyboard somehow erases whatever is on my mind. Is it intimidating? Or do I just think better when I'm busy? I've always been bad at directions, so I don't think I'm getting senile yet. I remember going to a city over 2 hours away and driving all around an area I thought I was familiar with. I missed the wedding of my friends. I was only in my 20's. Earlier this year, I missed a funeral, but then it was in unfamiliar territory out in the sticks. I almost missed a wedding this past Saturday at a farm in the next county. I should know those main roads, but I kept missing my turnoff. GPS sent me to the wrong town in a flood and thunderstorm. I drove onto the premises at the last minute. Thankfully, they delayed the ceremony, not for me, but to see if the rain would let up for an outdoor ceremony. They decided an hour later to do it in the pavilion where they planned the reception. But I'm not completely off the hook with the final vows being over. When I left, I drove down to the pavilion thinking I was on the exit road. I finally got on the right road, but still ended up in the boonies and not on the major road I came in on. I wandered around for hours in the dark alone, until I finally came on pavement with painted lines! I was so happy to be in civilization again. I still made wrong exits from traffic circles in the small nearby town. Finally, I saw a sign pointing to an area outside my town and took that deserted, but painted road. I got home, thirsty, tired and a little scared to try that again. Fortunately, I had a full tank of gas. So maybe my family members aren't so far wrong, acting like I'm a feeble old lady. I want to be independent and make my own decisions. I have to pay my own taxes, and take care of my own yard. I can do the whole thing. And there aren't that many wedding invitations. |
| Everyone remembers the "good ol' days". Mention them and people will nod their heads or go "Uh, huh". But whether we're thinking along the same lines depends on the ages to whom we are speaking. We had childhood or young adulthood in different decades, and our memories go back to whatever was a simpler time for us. The truth is our memories blur out all but the most painful memories. The good old days were never all that great. We were in better shape and had more energy. Our dreams were still alive and we were still driven to succeed at whatever was our course in life. Whether you are 25 or 75, you have pleasant memories of what seems like better days. We didn't have cell phones or "911" when I was young. Medicine has improved greatly. Just this year I had a difficult but innovative surgery that wasn't even dreamed of ten years ago. In some ways the "good days" are now. We have computers, widespread air-conditioning, life saving drugs, improved food storage, better cameras, more entertainment for kids. Agriculture techniques and tools have improved. Machinery is faster and more complicated (harder to maintain). Minimum wages have increased. Some of the old things have gone away. We don't take in family members who are down on their luck or getting sick or old. My grandmother always had someone staying with her. My own parents took in a great aunt, never married who lived alone in the country. She was a nanny to us kids while Mom cooked and cleaned. We don't have a daily newspaper any longer. Play areas are now businesses. Fishing areas are off limits today in many spots. Some things are gone and I'm glad. When I was young, there were people with outhouses inside the city limits. That was on the white streets. A black friend told me her family had indoor toilets but open sewers that ran along the streets. You had to walk in the street, no sidewalk, and balance across wooden planks to get into your own yard. It always smelled bad. Those were not part of the good old days. In my town, the Jews were a welcome part of the town. The foreigners were Italians or Greeks and ran the restaurants. Only occasionally did you encounter an Oriental, like the Filipino I worked with in high school. Now 16% of the city population are from other nations. That's neither good nor bad, just different. What makes them the "good old days" is our fading memory. We get beset by the weight of world affairs, financial difficulties, relationship troubles, and we want to go back in our minds to a time when we had fewer worries, less concern, no deadlines or bills to pay. Our perspective, negative or positive, taints our memories, too. Perhaps, any time we are still alive and free, those are the good days. |
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