Happy New Year

Today has been such a quiet day, we did nothing exciting at all. My husband drained some water out of the hot water heater, hardly worth mentioning. We are trying to flush the calcium deposit out of the bottom, as it eventually will damage the heating element and the heater will fail. We will have to get used to doing this, as the area in which we live tends to have this problem with the water. The water tastes good when we drink it, fortunately.
I am happy to report that the little juncos are back, and even some chickadees. We look forward to seeing these little birds every winter, cheerful little visitors from other areas. The hummingbirds are long gone, and the blue jays are scarce, but these little birds come in flocks and perch in the apple tree and in the rose bushes, twittering cheerfully.
Christmas was a fun time for us, with visits from family and friends. We were happy to celebrate and exchange simple gifts, but I must confess that now I am content to slip back into my old lazy ways and rest as much as i want to. I have had a problem with walking, and my left leg has developed what i assume is tendenitis although I am only making a guess about it. I rested most of the day with my leg draped with a heating pad and it seemed to help. My husband is most patient with my complaints and I try not to moan and groan too much. We each have our own list of ailments, none of which overlap.
What will the new year bring? It bodes to be exciting and different, and I am looking forward to a new president, and many changes in the lives of us all. My heart goes out to all of the young families facing bleak economic times, having experienced lean times of my own. That was a long time ago, but my memory is quite clear.
But that was then and this is now. I wish everyone everywhere a Happy New year and hope to keep in touch with my readers for a long time to come. Bye for now.

In Another World

After I retired, I used to attend classes held for seniors at Sonoma State University, which were both edifying and entertaining. The following essay describes my experience as I attend one class.

I slip unobtrusively into my seat in the classroom - glancing around to see who has come this day. I am as usual late by a few minutes, but I sit in the back row and no one seems to notice. The teacher is already into his lecture, making unintelligible notations on the blackboard. The topic of today is how Bank of America is ripping us off and aiding and abetting corporate corruption. The students listen in rapt silence.
I stealthily look around. There in the aisle opposite me is Mr. Clean, a small pleasant little fellow dressed impeccably in sports shirts and slacks, as neat as a pin. He has been both attentive and courteous to me, picking up my papers when I drop them and helping me out of my chair when I get stuck trying to arise. He comes alone and seems eager for companionship. He is a psychiatrist, learned in the matter of sociopaths, now retired.
But just in front of him, also across the aisle, is a student who defies description. I can best picture him as resembling a bag of rags. His face is hidden by a large, floppy hat, he has long, unkempt hair and beard, and believe it or not, his jeans are held up by a piece of clothesline. But wait. He asks a question. At that point, I realize that here is a man of intelligence and accomplishment, a man who once held an important position in the world of technology. Is his garb and presentation a spoof on our subject of study? Or is he a true eccentric? I view him in a new light after he speaks.
The entire class is composed of students who have not only earned masters and doctorates but have owned successful businesses, have held political office, have been doctors and dentists, attorneys, teachers, accountants, the whole spectrum of the professional life. What am I doing here, I ask myself. Can I hope to gain knowledge of the corporate world from a series of five lectures?
I am learning more than I realize. Simply by observing the students, I am gaining an insight into the vast spectrum of personalities and lifestyles of the senior population. I hope someone is studying us, we are a fascinating group.

It's the little things that count

These are the things that make me happy.

A flock of chickadees landing in the old apple tree outside my family room window.

The sight of a full moon sailing across a clear sky.

A hastily scrawled note of affection from my granddaughter.

A freshly brewed cup of coffee in the morning

A rainbow arching across the sky.

Sunset over the mountain.

A whiff of fragrance from my husband's aftershave lotion.

An unexpected letter from an old friend.

Winning a hard-fought chess game on the internet.

Rocking a baby.

These little bubbles of happiness are the golden threads that hold the fabric of my life together.

This little essay was written many years ago, found lately in my collection of papers. It is as true today as it was then.

The F Word

I wrote this little essay for my writing class some time ago, but it is just as true today as it was then. I have less to remember now as I did then, but essentially nothing has changed.

I have been using the F word a lot lately. No, I am not a dirty old lady. I don’t mean THAT F word. I mean the F that precedes the word forget. Not that I forget everything. My memory is selective. Ask me for example, what my husband said when I told him I thought I was pregnant, and I can quote his words verbatim. No, I won’t repeat what he said, my lips are forever sealed. Or ask me to quote a poem or song, and I am fine.
I am referring specifically to everyday events that occur in my life for which I cannot dredge a vestige of memory. What did we have for dinner two nights ago? How should I know? I cooked it, served it, ate and cleaned up afterward, but my memory bank is totally blank. Some aging process has caused my inner brain computer to crash on a daily basis.
It can be darned embarrassing! What did I call my dentist at my last appointment? His name is Salmon (I know because I looked it up) but I called him Bacon. Go figure. The other night I couldn’t remember the word “liberal”. Why did I need to know? I can’t remember. But the words to the poem “Spanish waters, Spanish waters” surge through my brain with no effort.
But why am I telling you this? I am neither proud nor ashamed of my lapses. I don’t even know why I am noting this down. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember!

A lost week

Greetings! No, I haven't passed on to the next world- I have just been incredibly lazy and have let everything go in a scandalous fashion. I did have a fun week, finishing things off by going to my little great-granddaughter's birthday party and meeting many very kind and interesting people. The memory will stay with me for a long time.
I must admit that I am feeling my age a little, having developed a very painful condition in my leg that makes it hard for me to walk or do housework (ha! ha!) so my husband has to run around waiting on me, cooking, cleaning and in general filling in as caretaker. He doesn't seem to mind - as a matter of fact he likes to cook. Why I didn't discover this sooner I will never know.
And to top off a fun week, we have our little Kaya dog again, and are enjoying her immensely. She is a people dog, following us around from room to room, and sleeping on a doggy bed in our bedroom. When she stayed with us before, she barked a lot, but has calmed down now and only barks very rarely, if someone comes in the yard. She and the cat are best friends.
I am almost getting into the Christmas spirit, but since we have all agreed that buying presents is out this year, I am finding it slow going. We are going to bake a lot of cookies and give them out as our gift to family members. and I am sending out Christmas cards. The gloomy economic picture has put a damper on shopping. Well, take care and keep in touch.

A quiet day

What would we do without our blog spots? I usually wait until fairly late in the day, just in case something really exciting happens, and i can write about it. Today, however, has been very quiet. We actually haven't done much, except to turn down the temperature of the water in the hot water heater, just in case that was why the circuit breaker shut off. The dripping water in the kitchen sink will have to wait until we get replacement parts. Luckily, my husband is very good at fixing these little problem, with me as his eyes and with his hands being strong enough to turn things and tighten them up and so on. He used to have beautiful hands, with long, slender fingers and smooth skin. Now his old hands are gnarled and twisted, but he can still do anything he wants to do with them. When i look at my own hands i see my mother's hands from long ago.
Do we ever get used to being old? When I startle myself in the mirror, I look like an old crone. I can't believe that I am that wrinkled face looking back at me.
With great foresight, I cooked up a big batch of beef stew the other day, so we are having leftover stew for dinner tonight. It is one of the few dishes that I like as a leftover. Maybe I will pop a batch of biscuits in the oven to go along with it. (Made out of Buisquick Mix, natch!) Nowadays I do everything the easy way! bye, and take care.

Memories

My poor husband was much dismayed yesterday when he broke a cup from my English tea set, which I brought from England over forty years ago. I, of course, was irritated but couldn't be too angry, as he is visually handicapped and simply didn't see it. We glued it together with Gorilla Glue, and it looks almost perfect. Since I seldom use those dishes anyway, it really doesn't matter. They are on display in my china cabinet and look very pretty. They are Staffordshire bone china and the set is named "Roses to Remember." They took several months to arrive so I really appreciated them when they finally came.
Of all of the places we have lived or visited in the years during which my husband served in the armed forces, England was my favorite. The old cobbled streets of London have their own stories to tell. Every house has a history. We spent a week in London one April, and prowled the lanes down by the Thames, wandered in the footsteps of Jack the Ripper, and visited Fleet Street where the roar of the presses filled the night. We didn't neglect the opportunity to have a glass of stout in one of the local pubs and watched the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace. We always intended to go back some day but, alas, it didn't come to pass.
We were lucky to be stationed in Germany for two years, and since we had a Volkswagen square back, we were able to travel extensively on weekends and short furloughs. We made up a bed in the back and simply camped out wherever we found a convenient stopping place. We got down to the black forest and Hitler's Eagle's Nest, and the town where they put on the Passion Play every four years. France, Belgium, Holland, Denmark, all were within reach with a day or two of travel. Our next favorite place was Denmark, because the food was so good. Oh, if we could only turn back the clock!
But it cannot be. We no longer fly, and since I can only walk with difficulty and my husband can no longer see, it wouldn't do much good to travel. But we have wonderful memories, and hundreds of pictures to remind us. It has been a wonderful life. Bye, and keep in touch.

Coast to Coast Radio

In the evening, while composing myself for sleep, I listen to a radio program called "Coast to Coast radio" which nearly always gives me some new idea to ponder. Last night it was the information, apparently verified, that mental disorders are genetic and that the genes can be identified. This was of keen interest to me since i am an obsessive-compulsive checker and although I consulted a psychiatrist for years, I never quite broke myself of my compulsion. It is much better now and I can stand back and watch myself with some amusement as i complete my ritual. I still have to do it, though. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is an anxiety driven manifestation. It is genetic, however, I am sure.
This has caused me to wonder if the many counseling sessions troubled people attend are of any use whatsoever. We used to put a lot of faith in psychiatrists and insurance companies would pay for sessions lasting as long as two years, That is a lot of time on the couch.
Borderline personality is an interesting mental quirk, as is the tendency to be wildly irritable and prone to cruel ranting and raving, calming down afterward, with no memory of the hurtful words that were said. I wonder how many children go through life wounded in spirit because a parent was verbally abusive. In my family, one was said to have the "Pettis Temper" if that person flew into temper tantrums and vented his or her anger in cutting words. This is indeed cause for thought.
We have heard a lot lately about a large asteroid that was supposed to descend on the earth, with great damage. Then we heard the date of the broadcast - 1997! LOL! It would long since have come and gone and we neither heard or saw it. So much for predictions of the future!
Good night all - Be of good cheer!

Low spirits

I hate to admit it, but I am a little downhearted tonight. Why, I don't know. Maybe it is the approaching holiday coming so soon, and all of the people out there who will have a stressful time, trying to buy presents. I remember the feeling well. It was a long time ago, it is true, but it still comes back to haunt me. I must try to find a present or two for the "Toys for Tots" program, that is the least I can do.
I particularly remember Christmases when I worked for the Postal Service and we worked long hours for weeks trying to get the mail through. Since I worked from midnight until eight in the morning, I was always sleepy anyway. Sometimes I would fall asleep at the sorting machine and the letters would fall out on the floor and pile up, unsorted. We all tried to help each other, and the single mothers were especially stressed out with home duties, small children and no money. those were the days I would like to forget.
But to cheer myself up, I have taken a handful of chocolate chips and a few walnuts and I am having a forbidden snack here at my computer. My husband is watching an old movie, "White Christmas" which we have seen many times in past years and I can miss cheerfully.
We hope to get to keep our little dog Kaya in a week or two (we think of her as ours) and that will cheer us both up. Until then, take care and keep in touch.

Has the moment come?

I saw a commercial today which caused me much merriment, not to mention puzzlement. It concerned Viagara, that much touted enhancement drug without which men are not supposed to be able to function. There they were, the romantic couple, sitting side by side in bathtubs, out on the end of a pier. I could imagine the conversation that ensued:
Wife: "Are you almost ready? Has the moment come? I'm freezing out here. We're right out on the edge of the water and I'm ready to go home right now."
Husband: "I'm sorry. I'm not all that comfortable myself. Do you think we'll be able to do it in that tub anyway? I hope I don't fall in the water climbing in there with you. Let me check for a minute. No, the moment hasn't come."
They sit silently for a few moments. Wife tries to warm up by rubbing her hands up and down her legs, but to no avail. The sun is going down and it is getting downright chilly.
Wife: "Where are our clothes? We could at least get dressed. You can do it with clothes on, can't you?
Husband: " We left them back at the other end of the pier."
Wife: "I didn't want to come out here to these tubs anyway. Even if we could both get into one tub, how could we relax for the part I like best afterward? I like to be warm and cuddled up when I relax. I don't think I want to do it out here. I want to go home."
As they climb out and hurry back to their clothes, husband cheers up. The moment has come. They can do it in the back of the car. If he can talk her into it.

My most unpleasant task

My intrepid writing teacher assigned us the title "An Unpleasant Task" for our next class, and I plunged enthusiastically into the following essay, which is as true today as it was a couple of years ago.
An Unpleasant Task

Let’s see. What do I consider an unpleasant task? That is a little bit of a challenge because I don’t usually do unpleasant. If it is the job of cleaning up a disgusting mess, which I will not name at the moment, I make my husband do it. I leave it to the reader to imagine what the mess might be.
There is however, one task which I, and I alone, can do. That is a task which all of us must do once a year, and that time is coming closer and closer. I am referring of course to April 15, the dreaded income tax day. Need I say more?
I used to prepare myself for this most odious of jobs by procuring a bottle of sherry, a box of chocolate candy, and a pot of coffee. Since in days gone by I struggled with capital gains taxes, rental property, retirement checks, social security payments, and minimum alternative taxes, I needed all the help I could get. Many a time I struggled with all of the facets of the many pages and attachments I had to fill out, and thought in my innocence that I was done, only to find out that I had forgotten some vital item and had to do the whole thing over. One year I worked all night, and found to my surprise that while I had been struggling, my poor little cat had been waiting outside in the cold all night. As soon as I let her in, she promptly went into labor and produced two lovely kittens on the sofa. Her ordeal was probably more painful than mine, but the results were more enjoyable.
The job is easier now. I can take standard deductions, I have no rental property anymore and my husband and I can qualify for an expanded exemption total. Does that mean that I can enjoy the process? Not really. My intake of sherry and chocolate candy has been curbed, and all I have to comfort me is a cup of coffee and some nondescript cookies. I still run into unanswered questions which must be researched and unraveled. My husband still hovers over me, anxiously awaiting the final result. Do we have money coming back? Do we still owe more? This year I am pretty sure I will owe, as I cannot take a credit for my grandson’s tuition this year. That will mean that I failed to send in enough estimated taxes and will come up short. Oh well. Ces La Vie.
Why, you may ask, do we not secure the assistance of a tax preparer? Never! I reply. They charge hundred of dollars for the simplest of forms. If I make a mistake, the IRS will tell me. And I have made mistakes! One year I got back $30.00. One year I owed 36 cents. They spent the price of a stamp snd the enclosed letter to tell me that I owed the money, but that since it was less than a dollar, I didn’t have to pay. Go figure.
This year, I will brew a pot of coffee, prepare a plate of organic oatmeal cookies, spread my papers out all over the table, and plunge in. I expect to take all evening, and will fill out the forms in ink and send them in by mail. I will not use the internet. I will not agonize over my math, or worry about whether I need to attach the 1099 forms or triple check everything. I have been doing this since 1948 and can say without hesitation that though this is the most unpleasant experience I can fathom, I am equal to the task. Eventually, I might even learn to enjoy it. Only kidding.

The flu shot

This being the time to get flu shots, down we went to the local Pharmacy, where they were giving away free flu shots. We had expected a long line of people waiting their turn, but there was no one there but us. It was a painless procedure, and we have felt no side effects whatsoever, so it is nice to have it over for this year. They usually charge $25.00, so we don't know why it was free.
Today was a lovely, warm day and we enjoyed the ride down and back. The trees are turning red and yellow, and the river was a pretty blue. We saw many buzzard hawks sitting on wires, waiting for a road kill. Ugly as they are, they fill a useful function.
We think the hummingbirds have gone away. We watched the feeder all day, and saw none feeding at all. We were wondering when we should take down the feeder, and I think they have given us a hint. It will be stored away until next summer. Not much to write about today. Take care. Good Night.

An Adventure to Remember

When I attended my writing class, my teacher was always asking me to write about how I "felt" about events and people and so on. So i tried to reveal my sentiments about a rather dramatic event that took place at my daughter's house.


The Day We Tore the Ceiling Down

We had noticed a large number of carpenter ants wandering through the rooms of our daughter’s house. From the bedrooms to the family room, they were everywhere. They bit us on our feet and jammed in a pile under the hot water heater. Closer inspection revealed that they were nesting under the insulation on the ceiling of the laundry room.
What to do? Being desperate, my son-in-law George decided to take decisive action. Stationing me in the center of the room, holding open a large black garbage bag, he began pulling down the ceiling tiles and revealing the nesting space underneath. The ants and eggs cascaded down in great clumps, missing the open garbage bag and landing on George and me with disastrous results. They attacked us with a fury, biting and tearing off small shreds of skin and drawing blood. Throwing modesty to the winds, we fled into the back yard and tore off our outer garments and sprayed each other with the garden hose.
Now what? Wrapped in bed sheets, peering out through the folds, we hit upon a plan. The fire extinguisher was close at hand, and it was the work of a moment to activate the thing. “Stand back!” George cried, and began covering the ants, eggs and debris with foam. The ants tried desperately to rescue the eggs, running around in a frenzy but finally collapsing in death when the foam took effect. We scooped them up with a shovel and filled two garbage bags with ants, eggs, foam and whatever else happened to be enclosed in the fast hardening
foam. The ceiling still contained thousands of eggs and we scraped them off as best we could. We had done our best. Subsequently the house was tented and ants, termites, and mice were eliminated. Not a life-threatening event but one we well remember.
How did I feel about that? What kind of question is that? We did what we had to do. I have never regretted it. I look back upon the whole episode as a kind of adventure. I still look around for the things when I am in my daughter’s house but I never see any. I have had many adventures in my long life, but this was one of the funniest.

A haunting poem

This poem was written by a dear friend who passed away recently, but will forever be in my heart.

The River's Lure.

Before the springtime of my children it enticed me
Seductively
Tall redwoods cast their shade.
Along the bank dandelions called, then
Keeping their appointment with the wind
Blew themselves away
River otters showed me
The joyful path of water

Now when summer's over
Swallows ask me where is spring?
And for me
Moonlight sketches shadow poems
That crickets and frogs may sing
At midnight from the small island
Ancient crones send wisdom to me,
Time and sunlight bleach my hair white
Remember
The river's lure

I have never been a fan of this form of poetry, and confess that Emily Dickinson leaves me cold, but the images evoked by "The River's Lure" haunt me whenever I read it. I have several of her poems which I will share in future.
To other things, we got our shipment of wood today, and will have a cozy fire on the next cold night. Today was very warm so a fire is hardly appropriate, bur cold days will come. Night all, and keep in touch.

Thanks for the memories

As I sit before my computer, a paraphrase of a plaintive old song winds itself through my mind. "Thanks for the memories, of candlelight and roses, of colds and runny noses."
Ah, yes. Who can forget the pleasure of winter colds? Or any other colds, for that matter. With six children in the family, and all living in the confines of a small house, we had plenty of opportunity to experience colds and runny noses.
How did my mother ever cope with the demand for handkerchiefs?- Kleenex hadn't been invented and we had never heard of paper towels. Toilet paper was still in the future for farm families like ours and I am sure we couldn't have afforded it if it had been available. What did we do?
We did have handkerchiefs. Mostly old, worn white handkerchiefs which we shared with one another. Many a time my mother washed out a whole tub-ful of handkerchiefs and spread them out on top of the big wood-burning stove to steam and dry. We were not averse to grabbing a clean diaper and using that. My grandmother made use of her apron for everything from wiping a toddler's runny nose to wiping up spills and drying her hands. Necessity is the mother of invention.
We did have a whole list of remedies for colds. When the first sore throat appeared, my mother would burn creosote over the chimney of the old kerosene lamp, causing the pungent odor of tar to waft through the rooms. Why we didn't all end up with cancer I will never know. A wet sock placed around the neck of the sufferer was another old remedy. I can't see the merit of that old trick from any point of view, but that is what they did in those days. We never were excused from our chores or from attending school, but went on with life as though we were in the pink of health. Only an abscessed ear or severe chest pain gave one the excuse to stay in bed. Sometimes every student in the schoolroom was coughing and blowing his or her nose.
I took the opportunity of looking up old-fashioned remedies for colds, and found the one most effective and still useful to be chicken soup. A whiskey toddy was recommended as well and a glass of hot lemonade was advanced with approval There are any number of medical potions on the market, but in the end, there is only one remedy that really works, and that is the passage of time. In the meantime, the poor patient can only wait and suffer.

Lefties unite

We have been observing my little great-granddaughter with interest, to see if she is going to be left-handed. It does run in my family, I myself being a lefty. I went into my file of essays and found this little offering, which I wrote for my writing class. So I offer it here.


Lefties

Left-handed people (lefties) unite! Rise up against the tyranny of the vast multitude of right-handed people! Who are they to dominate us, lording it over us with their right-handed tools and implements?
It’s true that only one person in ten is left-handed. Does that not make us unique? Are we not entitled to consideration and admiration for the way we have learned how to get along with a handicap that is inborn in us, and cannot be changed? Just let a right-handed person try cutting with a left-handed scissors or some other implement designed for lefties. They will know what trouble is.
The list of objects hard for lefties to use is endless. Doorknobs, screwdrivers and screws, telephones, adding machines, computers, letter sorting machines, buttons and buttonholes, vacuum machines, the list goes on and on!
We are especially handicapped because there are so few of us. For the lefties of my generation, it is too late. We have done our reproducing and though we have probably produced our share of lefties, the coming generations can do more. So to any lefty who has not yet married or cohabited , I say this: Only reproduce with other left-handed people. In this way, the balance of power can be shifted. In the next fifty or so generations, we will perhaps have caught up. How does that grab you?`
Though this was written in jest, and I have always been proud of my left-handedness, I know in my heart that the disadvantages do exist. Still, I can't help harboring a secret hope that I have a left-handed little great-granddaughter.

What next, we wonder.

It is Friday, mid-afternoon. Obama has given his speech, my husband is out in his work shed, puttering around, I am cooking a pot of split pea soup, and all is well. I was pleased with the speech, and if Obama can pull it off, bringing prosperity back to our economy, I will applaud him. I think it will be a while, though. For retirees like my husband and myself, the problem of money is not that troublesome. For the younger families and recent graduates, it is pretty hard.
My husband has been listening to a book tape which has given me much thought, and I am pondering once again if I have failed him all of these years. The book purports to relate various (and frequent) sexual encounters between the main female character and members of the opposite sex. The descriptions are vivid and cause us much merriment as we listen to what is supposedly normal sexual behavior. Quivering thighs, heaving bosoms, throbbing unmentionable body parts and moaning and groaning. I can say without hesitation that neither of us ever behaved thusly. To us, sex was an expression of affection and respect. But did we miss out on what the book seems to say would have been ecstasy of the highest order? It is made more vivid by being read aloud by an accomplished reader, giving it the dramatic emphasis that cannot be reached by simply reading the book silently. But no, I don't think we missed out. I think the book has sold the listener a bill of goods, with increased sales being the main concern. i hope no one thinks this is normal behavior. One could get a dislocated disc with such goings-on.
One series of books that we have enjoyed, simply because of the absurdity of the tales, has been the Mountain Man series. The Mountain Man (Smoke Jensen) kills his enemies with every conceivable weapon and against great numbers. In one chapter, he took on eleven, and single-handedly brought them down. The descriptions of the storms, scenery, wild rivers and herds of animals are fun to listen to. The books come almost every day and are of every type, from historical novels to biographies and war stories.
Well, time marches on, and life continues to be interesting and varied. The little boxer dog is back at my granddaughter's house, and we miss her, but will get her back soon. In the meantime, we are spoiling our old cat, and looking forward to each new day, wondering what will happen next. Take care, and keep in touch.

Our pet termite

I had expected this day to be somewhat of a letdown after the excitement of Tuesday, but it has proved to be a nice relaxing interlude, not at all unpleasant. My husband is listening to a book tape, and I am simmering a beef stew on the stove, one of the few dishes I actually enjoy cooking. I always make a large pot so we can have leftovers the following day. This is a good time to blog.
I came across a story i wrote a few years ago, that I would like to share. It is a true story and it happened in our little vacation cabin on the top of Starret Hill in Monte Rio. Every word in it is true, or it is as I remember it.

MY PET TERMITE

I must warn my readers that the material contained in this story is both graphic and disgusting. So you must read at your own peril. My story goes as follows:
"What do you think this is?" asked my husband as he came into the cabin. He was carrying something on a small piece of plywood, and seemed to be somewhat afraid of dropping the thing.
From where I was standing by the sink, it looked like a freshly dropped turd, and I hurriedly demanded that he flush it down the drain and throw the piece of plywood into the fire.
"I can't do that," he responded, coming a little closer, and then I saw that the thing was alive. Not only was it alive, it was surrounded and partly covered with tiny squirming worms. Now I knew what it was! Just what we had always wanted - termites. The large creature, a queen was a dirty white. She was about five inches long, and seemed to pulsate. The little whitish ones, now trying to cover the queen, were the workers.
"Those are termites." I informed him, "And I don't know how to kill them. I suppose we could spray them with something and kill them that way."
"Good idea," he responded and sprayed them with mosquito repellent, which caused the little workers to curl up immediately and fall lifeless onto the piece of plywood. The queen remained placidly pulsating and opening and closing her mouth. She had no eyes and seemed not in the least uncomfortable in her new surroundings. In fact, she began to open and close the aperture from which the eggs would emerge, and we were at a loss to know what to do with her.
"Let's put her in a jar and keep her for a couple of days," suggested my husband. "We could think of her as a pet."
It was not an unreasonable idea. Over the course of many years, we had had not only the usual dogs and cats, but a turtle, a hermit crab, an ant farm, fish, a bird, and a pet snake. So why not a queen termite?
"Or," suggested my husband, who is exceptionally practical, "We could eat it. I have the barbecue out on the deck. We could barbecue it."
Why not? We have always been adventurous eaters. In the course of my long life, I have eaten and enjoyed frogs legs, pigs brains, blood sausage, head cheese, pigs feet, snails, oysters, shrimp, crawdads, and so on. I have even eaten ants and grubs in sour cream dip, and once, I tasted crow and had several feasts of eels. What could be so horrible about a queen termite? We could even pan fry her. But alive? We couldn't figure out how to kill her.
In the end we kept her for several days in a jar, and watched with interest as she placidly lay there, waiting for help from her workers, who never came. There seemed only one thing to do - we tossed her into the wood burner while a good fire was going, and cremated her, still alive.
Were we monsters or humanitarians? Since the termites had already eaten up a good part of the cabin, we considered that we had gotten even, and had the cabin tented and fumigated, and eliminated the whole bunch. If there was only one queen, that is, We will never know. In the end, I think the termites will win.

A momentous event

Well, A momentous evening. We didn't even clear away all of the dinner dishes, but plunked ourselves down in front of the television, awaiting the results of the election. Finally, at 9:35 Pacific time, it finally played itself out. McCain gave a remarkably gracious concession speech and Obama gave one of his usual rousing orations. I admit to being relieved that it is all over and we can go back to the even tenor of our lives. Do I expect great changes in the economy or our country's conduct of the conflicts here and there in the world? No, I can't say I do. But life will go on, and other exciting things will happen again. I am glad I was here to witness tonight's event, anyway.
Take care and keep in touch.

A fond memory

why this memory floated up in my mind I don't know. But I thought I would share it.


The School Play
It was l933 and times were hard. Not as hard as they would become later, but hard enough. One thing we had, however, was a good school. It was large enough to seat thirty pupils, and had done so in the past, but when I went there only twelve students sat in the wood desks. Our teacher was strict but thorough, and we had a good education there.
One of the main features of our experience there was the annual Christmas program. Every year, before Christmas vacation, the school put on a play and sang Christmas carols. As the old saying goes, the play is the thing.
One year, we “put on” an excerpt from the book “Mrs. Wigs and the Cabbage Patch” which was perfect because it allowed each student to have a part. My cousin Ruth, being the oldest, played the part of Mrs. Webster, the rich lady with the little sick girl. My sister, next in line, was Mrs. Wigs, with a large family of children, and my cousin Joyce was the oldest child. I was sassy Kitty, always being scolded by Mrs. Wigs. We were well placed and studied hard and practiced diligently.

The story line was simple. Little Evangeline, the little sick girl, was lonely and wanted to have the Wigs children over to her house for Christmas dinner. Mrs. Webster tendered an invitation and Mrs. Wigs scrubbed up her brood and dressed them in their Sunday clothes, and sent them over. Mrs. Webster ushered them into the dining room where a lavish feast was spread before them. The Wigs children oohed and aahed, suitably impressed. I had one line. When Mrs. Webster asked me if I wanted dark or light meat I replied “A little of both, if you please.”
A chorus of “shame, shame,” greeted my remark and a couple of the children pointed their fingers at me. I was supposed to bow my head in shame and put my hands over my face as though I were shedding a tear or two. Mrs. Webster corrected the situation with a polite remark. “That was very genteel. A little of both will be fine.”
It was an ambitious play, and I can’t remember now how it ended. I read the book and enjoyed it very much, and I must say it was ideal for our little group of students. Everyone got a part even if it was only one line
I loved the programs, but failed to shine in the singing of the carols. My voice was deemed too shrill and I was told to just move my lips as though I was singing. To this day I have never learned how to sing melodiously.
bye for now. Keep in touch.

The first rain of the season

Today we are having our first real rainstorm of the fall, and it is so pleasant we have been sitting around all morning enjoying it. The trees are blowing around and there are leaves all over the ground. It will make it a little wet for trick or treaters. but they never seem to mind. We are somewhat isolated here, but we always get about twenty or so, and we really do love to see them.
My neighbor called to say that she had read that in California it is possible to practice medicine without a license. Where in the world did she read that? I went onto the internet and looked at several newspapers, including the S. F. Chronicle, and found nothing like that at all. I hope she brings the article over - I would like to see it. Not that I would consult an unlicensed practitioner but it is a matter of interest, at least.
The election is coming up and none too soon, as far as I am concerned. I have even gotten a little bored with Obama, eloquent speaker as he is. Sometimes I listen to him and the cadence of his voice mesmerizes me, but when he is done, I have no idea what he said. We used to get the same effect from listening to Swami Chinmayananda when we attended his classes. It was as though we were hypnotized!
I didn't vacuum the carpets today, even though they could use a good cleaning. I am trying to follow my own advice to lighten up on my compulsive cleaning, so I forced myself to just let them be. It wasn't all that hard, ha, ha!
Bye, take care and keep in touch.

You can't win

This happened in our little house about a year ago. I thought it worth mention just for the humor involved.

Scene 1

Family room, in great disarray. Furniture is shoved down to the far end of the room. Blocks of 4X4 wood are piled up in the middle of the room. Tools are strung around and sliding glass door is off the track and standing up against the wall. Clock on wall says 6:30.

Enter wife. Looks dismayed but says nothing. Husband is working on door. He looks cheerful and relaxed.

Husband: “See these screws? They adjust the depth of these little wheels that slide along the track. I have to make them longer.”

Wife: (nodding) “O.K.”
Husband works diligently with screwdriver. Wife looks and cries out in alarm.

Wife: “Stop! Stop!. You’re taking the frame apart.”

Husband mutters but tightens screw. Loosens other screw and the wheels fall completely out.

Husband: “There. There’s the problem. The wheels are flat.”

Wife takes wheels and runs them along the track of the door frame. They wheel smoothly. Husband then takes off the other set of wheels and they appear to be unharmed as well. Husband now attempts to put them back on the door.

Scene 11

Clock on wall shows 9:00. Husband and wife are in kitchen, eating can of Dinty Moore beef stew. Husband is frustrated. Wife is tired.

Wife: “We could stop and work on the door tomorrow. I’m a llttle tired.”

Husband: “Go to bed then. You’re no help anyway. I can do it myself.”

Scene 111

Family room where husband and wife are trying to get the door back on track. Husband is using crow bar, cats paw, spatula and various putty knives and the 4X4 boards to winch the heavy door up into position. The clock on the wall shows 11:30. Husband tries to lift door by himself and actually gets it up on the track. The wheels still won’t roll and husband wrestles with it, moving it an inch or two by brute force. Wife (fearing he will suffer physical damage) finally speaks.

Wife: “We could just leave it and call the window and door people. This is a two-person job and we don’t have the proper tools. It won’t cost too much.”

Husband throws tools down on the rug, utters a rude expression and gives the door a good kick. Door thumps into position and slides easily back and forth. Mission accomplished!

Scene 1V

Wife and husband are drinking hot coffee in kitchen and resting before cleaning up the family room.

Husband: “I think next I’ll tackle the kitchen sink. I’d like to put in a new stainless steel one. And the hot water heater needs a new element.”

Wife says nothing, until husband goes back into family room.

Wife: “You can’t win. I won’t even try.”

Exits to help husband. Clock says 12:30.

On Throwing Things Away

The following little ditty was presented as my offering to my writing class on the assignment we were given to write about throwing things away. I couldn't resist waxing poetic.


I rummaged in my bureau drawer
which always is a mess
I threw away my old brasiers
With pleasure, I confess.

Old socks went too and handkerchiefs
and pairs of underwear
Pajamas, scarves, belts and such
All hiding from me there.

I didn't waste a lot of time
there still was much to do.
I went into the closet
And found an unmatched shoe;

That was just the start of things
I now was in full swing
Old lipstick, powder and perfume
I threw out everything.

I could go on and on of course
I threw out lots of stuff
My husband said with great dismay
"I think you've done enough."

It sounded like an order
There was nothing I could say
Except to mutter to myself
"There'll be another day."

I apologize for an occasional spelling error in my blogs. I notice that I spelled "flour" as "flower" in my last blog. Sometimes I get carried away and don't even notice an error when I read my blog over. But keep in touch and thanks for your comments.

A One-Act Play

The following little scene happened a few months ago and describes one of the moments of drama that we experience now and again in our quiet little household. We remember it with amusement now.

A ONE-ACT PLAY

Scene: Husband and wife are standing in kitchen, peering into food cabinet.

Husband: What do you feel like eating?

Wife: What is there to eat? We're out of everything.

Husband: There's a can of refried beans on the second shelf. Could you make something with that?

Wife: I wish we had some tortillas. We could have beans and tortillas.

Husband: Couldn't you make some? See if there's a recipe in Joy of Cooking.

Wife looks in book and finds recipe for tortillas.

Wife: reading aloud: Two cups of corn meal, one cup of warm water and pinch of salt. Mix together with hands and make 12 balls. Flatten with plate. Fry in skillet. Sounds easy enough. We do have corn meal.

Husband measures carefully. After washing hands, he follows instructions and mixes corn meal and water and attempts to make balls. Corn meal and water crumble and fall all over the countertop, and husband scrapes it all back up into bowl and looks helplessly at wife.

Wife: Try adding more water. Make it warmer.

Husband adds more water and gets mush. He tries to drain it on paper towels and finally throws the whole mess in the trash basket.

Wife: You must have measured wrong. Try again.

Husband: Read the recipe again.

Wife: 2 cups corn flour, l cup water, pinch of salt.

Husband utters cry of indignation. You said corn meal. The recipe says corn flour. You read the recipe wrong.

Wife wordless cleans up mess and washes dishes. They eat toast and refried beans and scrambled eggs.

Did I learn anything from this experience? I learned to keep more supplies on hand. I learned to read recipes more carefully. And I learned that toast and beans aren't bad, after all.

Growing up on a little farm miles from the nearest town, we often had to make do with what we had on hand. Sometimes the results of my mother's innovations were remarkably tasty. One example is her emergency hasty pudding mix, made of white flower and water, served with canned blueberries or milk and cinnamon. She could cook up a squirrel stew to feed the whole family and leave us feeling as though we had just eaten a feast. Her venison roasts were as tasty as anything one could get in a fancy restaurant. Why I am not a good or enthusiastic cook I will never know. Meantime, I am trying to learn to at least read the recipes.

Ships that pass in the night

Playing chess on the internet is like a blind date, or perhaps can best be described as a one-night stand. It is possible to set up an encounter with a specific player if both know where to find each other, but usually it's catch-as-catch-can, and one night I plunged into the game as one of over 7,000 players. i logged into a social room, meaning one where anyone of any skill level could be found, and found LoonieMommy31 waiting on the black side of the board, waiting for an opponent.
Perfect. Her (or his) score was 1173. Mine was 1176. I clicked onto the sit button and typed in a greeting. Loonie shot back the letters asl, and I typed in "I am an 86- year-old Grandmother from California."
No one ever believes me, except for a priest from New Orleans, who responded with a non-committal answer which I have now forgotten. But Loonie shot back "LOL" which means "Laughing out loud." "It's true," I protested and Loonie answered "Liar. If you can't play any better than you can lie, I will knock you off the board."
I of course accepted the challenge, and the game was on. We both played conservatively and used up about twelve moves to set up our pieces. The pawns moved up to the middle of the board, making room for the bishops to move out. The knights sashayed up to the middle, where they faced each other in the classic English opening. Loonie and I both castled. Loonie moved down to threaten my rook.
What happened next defies all logic, It will forever remain a mystery to me. I honestly don't know what I did. Without even meaning to I somehow performed a brilliant move which checkmated Loonie, and ended the game. I only know that I shot up the queen to push back the knight, and the little notice came up on the board saying "Checkmate. White wins the game."
I was so shocked that I failed to type in the traditional "good game" message that the winning player usually sends the loser. I tried to see what I had done, I did invite LoonieMommy to play another game, but then I saw that LoonieMommy had left the room.
Like ships that pass in the night, make brief contact and then go on their way, we had met briefly and parted. How will I ever find her (or him) again? Sometimes as many as 9,000 players are on board. I will play again, and as almost always, will meet someone interesting and fun, but I will always remember Loonie and my miraculous win.

Thou Shalt Not

This afternoon I attended a memorial for a friend from my writing class who had sadly passed away. We gathered together to read some of her poems and remember her humor and kindness. In looking up her poems in my collection of writings, I came across some of my own little essays and memoirs. I will insert one or two from time to time, but tonight I thought I would put in a few sentences from one of my shorter offerings. It is titled "Thou Shalt Not" and follows below:
1. Thou shalt not nag Thou spouse.
2. Thou shalt not heap scorn upon Thy spouse"s diminishing physical capabilities.
3. Thou shalt not buy lottery tickets with the grocery money.
4. Thou shalt not tell Thy wife that her new outfit makes her look fat.
5. Thou shalt not leave the toilet seat up.
6. Thou shalt not tell Thy wife how to drive the car.
7. Thou shalt not sneak money out of Thy husband's wallet.
8. Thou shalt not let the dog sleep on Thy bed.
9. Thou shalt not sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night and drink up all of the milk.
We had a lot of fun with this offering, with the members of the class adding their own admonitions and some pithy comments were exchanged. The class has disbanded now, as some of the members are incapacitated or have moved to retirement homes. I suppose more and more we will be attending memorials, as we are all now in our late eighties or even nineties. But it is a segment in my life that I remember with great fondness.

A few days of idleness, a day or two of contemplation

Howdy! I am back in action again after a couple of days of some strange malady which kept me on the couch with my husband in attendance at my beck and call. I was, for some reason, dizzy when I tried to walk, and could only stagger around, even needing to be helped into the bathroom from time to time. Then in the evening, my arms went numb and I could see only a little, with black spots dancing before my eyes. I naturally feared the worst, but I thought, "If this is how death comes to me, this isn't that bad. I'll shut my eyes, say the Act of contrition, and off I'll go." Luckily, it wasn't to be, and today I am recovered, and getting ready to go to a memorial service for a long-time friend, who used to attend a writing class with me, and wrote heart-breaking poetry. She had been ill for quite a while, and I hope her passing was easy.
We still have our little boxer dog, who sneaked into the living room and stretched herself out on the sofa when I wasn't looking, and looked so comfortable that I let her stay there awhile. She knows exactly what is permitted and what is not, but like a child she tries to get away with mischief now and then. She follows my husband around like a shadow.
While laid up on the sofa, I listened to a good book tape about the Civil War. The carnage that went on between the two armies seems unbelievable to us now, sometimes they fought face-to-face, clubbing each other with gun butts and swards, at other times firing point-blank into each others faces. I have enjoyed going to Civil War Reenactments in the summer and they are very interesting.
It is interesting to me that although I am a skeptic about religion, if I am ill or injured, out comes the rosary and my lips move in prayer and it does seem to help. I though I had forgotten the Act of contrition, but when I needed it, there it was. Old habits die hard.
bye all, and stay in touch. I love getting comments.

Hobos and woodpiles

My husband is watching a movie on television and the dishwasher is loaded, waiting for me to push the button. We had a nice dinner and a bowl of freshly popped popcorn, and are going to make out the shopping list soon. How fast the week has gone!
We are having cooler weather, and our wood supply still hasn't come. The dealer is having trouble with his truck. Our situation reminds me of the huge woodpile we used to have stacked up in front of our little house in Wisconsin when I was growing up there. I have somewhere a picture of my father posing beside the split wood, ax in hand, showing off his huge supply of wood. Actually, he seldom split wood. The job was usually done by my brothers or various hobos who showed up at the house, willing to work for food. Some of them split the wood easily, others labored mightily. It all depends on the aim of the ax and the speed with which it descends. When we moved into this house, there were several cords of wood stacked in the driveway and in the woodshed. It took us a couple of years to burn it all.
One never sees hobos anymore. During the depression, they came along fairly often. Since our farm was only about a mile from the train tracks and the main road, they found it easy enough to pay us a call. My mother always managed to scratch up enough food to give them a decent meal, and if they were clean and interesting, they got to eat on the kitchen porch. Other-wise, it was out on the steps. We never felt particularly threatened by any of them, they were just a fact of life in those hard times.
I listened to Coast-To-Coast radio last night, and the topic of conversation was the book labeled "The Forgotten Man," detailing the many aspects of the depression of the thirties. The forgotten man apparently was Herbert Hoover, and I will certainly try to get a copy of the book to read. I really don't think we are headed for another time such as that, but you never know.
time to go and make out the shopping list. Goodnight and keep in touch.

Motorcycles and memories

This is an ideal time to blog - dinner is cooking on the stove (Swiss Steak), my husband is listening to a Mountain Man book tape, and the dog is on her bed listening for noises from outside. I had been listening to the book as well, but it is pure fantasy with the Mountain Man, Smoke Jensen, slaughtering about three men in every chapter, usually by gunshot but occasionally by fire, explosives or drowning. Now his wife Sally has been kidnapped by three outlaws and heaven knows what Smoke Jensen will do to them when he finds them, which he will. I am better off not knowing!
This has been a quiet day, with the neighbors all off on their motorcycles and nothing much going on in the neighborhood. My husband used to have a motorcycle that he rode up and down the hills and valleys of Marin, usually with me riding on the back. I will admit that there is something hugely macho about a man roaring up and down on his "wheels" and to the female clinging on behind, he seems as close to Godly as a man can get. We got brushed off the road by a car one time, and as the motorcycle skidded down into the ditch, my husband yelled "jump!" and we both threw ourselves off at the same time. I landed with a thump onto his broad back and neither of us was hurt a bit. We laugh about it now but the driver of the car neither slowed down nor seemed to notice what she had done. It was not an uncommon experience.
Not being able to drive a car or ride his motorcycle after he lost his vision was probably the hardest thing for my husband to endure. He especially suffered when I was driving and he was a helpless passenger. He noted and remarked upon every little mistake I made. Then six years ago I had a diabetes episode (luckily at home, not behind the wheel of the car) and my doctor warned me not to drive anymore. We do have a kind daughter who takes us anywhere we need to go. I suppose there are a good number of people driving around who should give up the privilege but one can't blame them for resisting.
Well, only a couple of weeks before the big day. We are waiting with bated breath. Take care and keep in touch.

The debate, at last

Time has passed so quickly that I can't believe it's been ten days since I last entered a blog. I guess i was waiting for the debate to gather my thoughts together enough to write a little. It was a good debate, but didn't change my mind one whit. I voted for Obama on an absentee ballot, and made sure I mailed it in. We have a new mail carrier and the poor fellow has such a long route that he doesn't get to my mail box until six in the evening. Being new, he is still a little slow.
My husband used to deliver mail, and had a very interesting route. He carried the mail on his back, in a pouch, walking down Madrone Canyon in Larkspur, California, and delivered to several of the music groups including the Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin, who was a dear, if eccentric, little soul. She used to meet him at the door with a cup of coffee, and greeted him as warmly as she would have greeted her own Daddy, causing us to think that maybe she considered him to be a father figure. Although surrounded by a group of hangers on, she still seemed to be lonely. That was long ago, in the early seventies. On Saturdays I used to walk the route with him. He was liked by everyone on the route.
Oh, those were the days. We used to walk up the mountain to what was known as the East Peak, which we reached by walking the fire trail which started right behind our house. Halfway up was a rustic Mountain Home Inn, where lunch could be purchased, quite delicious, and then the trail continued up and up to the very top of Mount Tamalpais, and the whole valley would be spread out far below. If we looked carefully we could see our little house almost hidden among the redwood trees.
It seems rather ironic that I can hardly walk today. I use a cane and stagger around holding onto doorways and railings when i go up and down steps. It's not so much the result of my broken hip as the consequences of Parkinson's Disease, a troubling and almost untreatable affliction. But one cannot reach my advanced age without a few ailments. I keep up my spirits and can still do all of my own housework. My faithful husband is always at hand.
I will try to get in the groove once again. Take care and keep in touch.

The first rain and the first fire in the stove

It's hard to believe that this is Sunday evening already. Where did the week go? We had the first rain of the season yesterday and built our first fire in the wood stove last night. We heat mainly by electricity but there is something so comforting about a wood fire that we couldn't resist lighting it and letting the warm glow of the flames light the room. With a contented sigh, the dog settled down in front of it, and stayed there quietly until we went to bed. We don't actually burn wood anymore, but do burn pressed wood logs which are a lot easier to light and make a lot less ashes.
Tomorrow is shopping day, so I will soon have to make out the list for the week, and hope that I don't forget any vital item. My husband does the shopping, with the help of my son-in=law who kindly takes him to the store and helps find items now and then. He does pretty well, at that. Once in a while he will read my list incorrectly and I will find an item I didn't want in the shopping bag, but it happens very rarely. I used to go along as well, but as I no longer can walk well, they find it easier to leave me home! I spend the time tidying up the house and rather enjoy my time alone.
I am afraid my creative ideas aren't very evident tonight. Am I slowing down? Or am I simply in a slump? For a while in my life I took valium which leveled out my moods and then i was switched to zanax, which made me somewhat giddy all of the time. Now I resort to Tylenal but only about once a week. I'll try to be more inspired next time I blog! Good night all and keep in touch.

They went ahead and did it

Hi. Ye Gods, they passed the bail-out bill! We're supposed to call it the rescue package, but let's call it what it is, a bail-out of the big banks and corporations. I was and still am opposed to the action, but I have no doubt it will pass the House and become a fact of life.
This has been a hectic and nerve wracking week. I have to confess that I have sat crouched over the Television for hours on end listening to the debates in the house and watching the voting as it went down the tubes. Of course the Senate passed it and one would have to admit that it was inevitable that it would be passed. Now the House will pass it and we will resign ourselves to watching history unfold once again. I don't subscribe to the gloom and doom attitude, however. I think we would have been all right letting the stock market take its course. I can say that with a light heart, as I don't and never have owned any stocks or bonds. Neither have I or my husband made large purchases with our credit cards and we always paid cash for our cars and furniture. I can't remember when credit cards came into being, but we have about twelve of them which we keep in a drawer and never use. We use one of them for small purchases and pay up the balance every month.
This has been a fun week as well, as we went to a rip-roaring party on Saturday, with good food and wine, music and dancing and about two hundred guests singing and dancing. I tried to coax my husband out onto the dance floor, as they were dancing the "Minnesota Two-Step", which he knows how to do, but he refused to budge, and sat at the table charming the other two ladies who shared the table with us. I mingled among the other tables and met a lady who claimed to have been married and widowed four times, and had sixteen grandchildren. I rather think she was spoofing me. Later i saw her dancing the boogie-woogie with a nimble-footed elderly gentleman.
Last Sunday my family were all here for my birthday, and I got to rock my little great-granddaughter to sleep, singing songs to her and reciting nursery rhymes. My husband said she fell asleep to escape my singing!
Tonight will be the VP debate, and in preparation we are having TV dinners so we will have no dishwashing chores after we eat. These are indeed exciting times. Glad I am still here for them.

A teenager

Hi. I tried to leave an answer to the comment from Random Thoughts, but I am such a klutz that I couldn't get my computer to publish it, so I will leave a little blog here. i was fifteen when my little sister was born, and I was deep in rebellion, causing my poor mother all manner of grief. But with the birth of my dear little sister, I straightened out and became a dutiful daughter again. Not that we didn't have our differences of opinion from time to time, but I think i became a little more sympathetic and just a bit kinder.

The Depresson

Thinking about the depression of the thirties, I remembered a book that realistically describes the hard times people experienced. It is "The Grapes of Wrath" and is well worth reading. If it is possible to watch the movie of the same name, that would be very interesting as well. One event of my life that i particularly remember was the birth of my beloved little sister in 1937. My poor mother, in her forties, was plunged into despair, but valiantly continued the pregnancy. I remember that she saved flour sacks and asked neighbors and friends to save theirs as well, so she could make diapers. She had only two little shirts and one blanket, and she cried when she showed them to me.
My little sister was born in the midst of a fierce snowstorm, and my father had to go fetch the doctor with a sled and team of horses. They returned with very little time to spare, and I still remember the thrill I felt when the doctor placed the tiny baby, wrapped in a towel, in my arms. From that moment, she was the focus of my life. I loved her dearly and still do. I spent many happy moments rocking her or walking back and forth with her draped over my shoulder. Circumstances have kept us apart but in our hearts we are still close.
the depression dragged on and on, and the country only came out of it when World War 11 happened. By that time I had managed to graduate from college and after teaching a year and a half, I went to work in a war factory. That was a long time ago, but I remember it all very clearly.
Well, enough for tonight. Please keep in touch.

A changing world

I'm not sure I like having my computer in my bedroom, but I will keep it here for awhile and maybe I will get used to it. It is nice and quiet in here, with no TV or radio to distract me.
My husband and i have been having quiet days here, trying to think up new food ideas and watching the financial world turn upside down. The consensus of opinion is that something has to be done, but no one is in agreement on what to do. No one dreamed it would come to this!
Now and then an amusing little episode will occur that causes us to chuckle a little. Yesterday my husband made French Toast, a dish that he enjoys making and does rather well. He served up my portion and I seated myself at the table and began to enjoy my meal. In a few minutes he joined me, with his plate neatly covered with delicious-looking slices browned to perfection, and absent-mindedly began shaking salt and pepper over his plate. He had forgotten he was eating French Toast and thought he had scrambled eggs! He was goodnatured about it, and poured on maple syrup and ate it as it was.
i am constantly amazed at how much he can do with his very limited vision. Cooking is no problem to him at all. Except for an occasional spill or dropped egg, he is more adept than I am. Luckily for both of us.
Good-night. Keep in touch.

A busy evening

Much activity here last night. First, i decided to bring my computer into my bedroom, which necessitated moving all of the furniture around and hauling the TV set out into the family room. When we did that, i somehow managed to block out all of the channels above 32. This frustrated my poor husband no end, and he spent almost three hours trying to remedy the problem. Since it is almost 20 years old, I was in favor of throwing the thing out, but this morning i called Comcast and in about two minutes, the kind technician straightened me and the TV out, and we now have all of the channels back. It really is nice to have both sets working, so we can each watch our favorite programs simultaneously. Another problem solved.
I am so aghast at the turn of events that has taken place, with the government putting us all into this huge debt condition, that i am almost glad that I am teetering on the brink of the abyss. I lived through the depression of the thirties and it was no fun. Besides that, it lasted until the war broke out. My family did quite well, as we were able to grow most of our food, and my father was quite skilled at thinking of ways to generate cash, but not everyone was so fortunate. It was a time of despair and no one could see the end. Many people were actually glad when the war came along, because there were jobs for everyone, young and old.
Must close and join my husband in the family room. Keep in touch.

A down day for Wall Street

This has been an interesting day, if not unexpected, with the stock market dropping and many people in peril of losing their investments, although we are assured that savings are safe. My husband and I drew out all of our investments sixteen years ago when we bought our house, but almost everyone we know has at least some money in a 401K or Roth account. I suppose we should mourn the fact that houses have lost value as well, but we will not be selling anyway. It is going to be an interesting couple of months until the election, as well. I guess I will stick around and see what happens. One of the great advantages of being my age is the ability to look with detachment on the momentous events happening every day.
There is a rumor going around that there is going to be a cataclysmic event in the year 2012, one that will change the world forever. We listen to Coast to Coast radio, and one of the speakers declared that this year is actually 2012 because there was an error in charting the calendar. Isn't that interesting? I don't believe for a minute that a comet is going to collide with the earth or a monstrous earthquake is going to take out California. There will of course be earthquakes, with horrible destruction, but the earth will go on as before. At least that is my belief.
This has been a lovely day here in the redwoods. Actually, this is my favorite time of year. The redwoods are shedding their fronds, as they do in the fall, but the roses and hydrangeas are still blooming and the hummingbirds are bold and sassy. Take care and keep in touch.

An experiment on the rug.

In a burst of energy today, I spot-cleaned the carpet in the family room.. I can now state, without hesitation, that shaving cream works better than detergent. Neither worked perfectly, but it was ground-in grime, and really needs to be steam-cleaned with a good machine. Which I will do when I get around to it. This is a heavy traffic area, and has never been cleaned in the several years we have had it down. However, it does indicate that I am feeling better. Last week I could barely find my way from one chair to another, I was so lethargic.
I received a CD in the mail today, containing 65 minutes of music by Mozart, along with a little book with background information about his life and works. I felt guilty about keeping it, and read the accompanying printed material, trying to find out if by keeping it I am obligating myself to make future purchases. Apparently I am not. We played it, and the sound was very good. Like the numerous address strips and calendars we get from various organizations, i respond to some but not all. Not all requests are valid, of course, but how does one tell?
As I write this, Ike is pounding the coast of Texas and Louisiana. We lived in Arkansas once, and i remember one storm which roared through the area, sending me home from work to check on my children. Luckily, the baby-sitter had taken them to a shelter, and i drove back to work with trees falling and windows shattering all around me. Not as bad as Galveston, but scary enough that I still remember it.
i have lived in Wisconsin, Washington D.C., New york City, California, Alaska, Arkansas, Germany, and finally back to California again, where we have taken root. We have lived in California since 1959 and here we will stay. Take care.

A very active little kid

Yesterday was indeed a most delightful day. Little April is crawling around everywhere and we had a very busy day playing little games with her. We improvised toys out of plastic measuring cups and let her explore the living room and family room. She loves to stand up and practice jumping up and down. Walking is just around the corner and then she will indeed keep her mom and dad busy!
Today was our weekly shopping day and my cupboards and refrigerator are bulging with food. My husband likes to keep us supplied for any contingency and I have to really watch what I do so that we don't have to throw anything out. Needless to say, he loves to eat! Luckily he also likes to cook.
We are missing our little Kaya dog. We keep looking outside for her, forgetting that she is back with our granddaughter. We will get her back again in two weeks.
Somehow I can't get excited about the coming election. I have even cooled off about Barack Obama. I am more interested in the turn of events regarding the economy and the bailing out of Fannie Mae and Freddy Mac. I studied economics in college and still do not understand how the stock market works. I tremble for the future.
Anyway, we will muddle through. Night all.

Bodega Bay

Hi. It's been a whole week since I wrote anything. To tell the truth, I am only now feeling like myself again, and I hope it lasts a while.
We had a lovely little trip yesterday, when my daughter and her husband took us out to a marine laboratory on the coast at Bodega Bay. The drive out there is spectacular, with huge rocks and sparkling waves and surfers trying out their skills. Since i don't walk well, we took my wheelchair and i rode around in it in a queenly fashion.
It is a huge place, all concrete and occupying several buildings. We took a tour, with an affable and knowledgeable guide, and everyone was most kind, insisting that we come to the front of the group so we could see better. There were ramps for the handicapped and exhibits, tide pools, a huge library and even a freshwater source. They only allow visitors on Fridays, and we felt really privileged to be able to see it.
All in all, this has been an enjoyable week, even though i didn't record it in my blog. We have been enjoying our granddaughter's little dog Kaya and are looking forward with pleasure to a visit from my granddaughter, her baby and her baby's father. They will take Kaya back home with them for a while, and then we get to share her again.
A lovely day today - warm but pleasant. Night all - keep in touch.

A pleasant day

Hi. We went to a neighborhood flea market today, one which is held every year on Labor Day weekend. It was fun meeting all of our neighbors and wandering around among the tables to see what was for sale. We didn't buy, as we have everything we need, but there was yarn being given away, and I got some to finish a blue blanket I am knitting. The sun was shining and the atmosphere was pleasant and relaxed. My daughter took us there and it made a pleasant little day trip.
We had a little fun last night discovering a tiny shrew on our deck, which is something I have never seen before. Our dog kept sniffing at it, and at first we thought it was a ball of fluff, and then we saw its tiny white feet and realized that it was a shrew. It was only about two inches long, and scuttled along at quite a fast pace. I looked it up on Google and read that they are everywhere, under the leaves of the ivy and low brush. It was nowhere in sight this morning.
My husband just brought a bowl of hot buttered popcorn, which tastes especially good since we had TV dinners which we didn't like at all, and though he will eat anything put before him, I am picky and went away from the table hungry. This will fill the bill for me for the evening.
Well, so it goes. We have drifted into quiet waters and are floating in a calm haven. Night all.

A couple of lost days

I haven't blogged for the last few days because, due to new medication, I have been laid low by side-effects and felt as though I had been poisoned. My husband had to do all of the housework and cooking, and even though he is a good cook, I could neither eat nor drink coffee and could hardly walk around. Finally, on the advice of the pharmacist, i discontinued the pills and drank gallons of water to effect as much of a recovery as possible. I am much better today and will return the pills to the pharmacy, as we are no longer supposed to flush them down or throw them into the garbage.
We had a little drama here in our little community, when my neighbor came home from work and discovered her Bird of Paradise plant was missing. It shook all of us up as we have had no problem in this neighborhood for years. Then we found that her husband had moved it to another location and had forgotten to tell her about it.
We are going to have a whale of a campaign this year. I am elated that Senator McCain chose such a controversial running mate as he did. I was beginning to be bored with the whole thing but this has livened everything up nicely.
Time is flying by. Before we know it, we will be facing another year. Wonder what the future holds for us all. Take care and keep in touch.

My spoon was just scraping up the last of the oatmeal when the telephone rang. Feeling a stab of apprehension, I rose to answer it, but felt relief to find that it was my older sister calling to relay the latest family news. "Hello, Dorothy," she said in her calm voice. "I thought I would give you a call and tell you the latest news." Again that little thrill of fear. Who was it this time? My relatives and friends had been dropping like flies. Had another one gone to his or her reward? But first she gave me the good news, and I was filled with joy to learn that my little niece was expecting a long-awaited and longer-for daughter in May. But then came the bad news. My childhood friend, my partner in many an escapade, had been found dead on her bedroom floor. I was saddened to realize that after all of her work in raising and educating six children, she died alone in her dark and cold bedroom. But then I felt a little stab of fear, when I realized that we were almost exactly the same age, and it could have been me. And I was ashamed at the little prick of satisfaction that although she had been taken, i was still here.
And so went the day. Fond affection for the dog, irritation at the cat, frustration at the sticking patio door, disappointment at not receiving an expected letter. i worried over paying the bills, obsessed over swiffing the floors, and felt a burst of energy, followed by a desire to take a nap. All in all, emotion-wise, it was a pretty pallid day. One might almost say a vallium day.
Where was passion? Where was the agony and ecstasy? I had experienced no anger, no rage, no jealousy, no triumph, nothing whatever to stir the soul. I felt disappointed that I had no more to record than my few moments of pleasure. But i determined to fulfill my commitment and consign what little I had to paper.
But as i was starting to boot up my computer, my husband came up behind me and began to massage my neck and shoulders, and run his hands over my back. I felt a little quiver of pleasure up and down my spine, and began to tingle all over. My heart began to beat faster and I began to blush. I had felt this way before, but i couldn't remember what the feeling was. "Oh, that feels good," I said. "Do that again." He did and then i remembered. The big guy was turning me on. I was feeling ________ well, you know.

But how do you feel?

A few years ago, I attended a writing class, taught by a sincere and well-meaning young teacher. He used to exhort us to insert more of our emotions into our writings. "Make your story come alive," he would urge his students. "Include your emotions into the narrative. Tell how you FEEL."
With this in mind, I determined to note my feelings throughout the course of one day, just to make sure I do actually have feelings, and when and how I feel them. So, dear reader, please take note.
I woke up feeling cranky, which is not at all unusual for me. I never wake up feeling cheerful, or hopeful, or glad to be awake. So I lingered under my electric blanket for as long as I dared. I felt rebellious, wondering why I had to get up at all. But then I became aware of the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee, wafting into my room. It was my husband's secret weapon. Try as I do, i can never resist the chance to have a cup of his wonderful brew.
So I arose, and staggered out into the kitchen. I felt sleepy and groggy, and not a little depressed. But when I dropped gratefully into my chair, and began drinking that delicious, hot, strong coffee, i began to feel better. By the time I finished the first cup, I was ready to face the day. I was, of course, feeling hungry, but my husband, jewel that he is, had for my consumption a hot bowl of oatmeal. I ate it with pleasure, being glad that it wasn't lumpy and had been fully cooked. I felt gratitude that the powers that be had provided me with a husband who not only brewed delicious coffee, and made good oatmeal, but also brought me my pills and stood by while I swallowed them. Not to mention protected my from myself by hiding the chocolate candy.
My spoon was just scraping up the last of the oatmeal, when the telephone rang. Feeling a stab of apprehension, I rose to answer it. (continued)

A quiet day

Today was a nice, warm day, with soft breezes stirring the branches of the redwoods. I went down to the meditation walk and watered the hydrangeas and dichondra and enjoyed the chirping of the birds and squirrels. I don't go down there as much as I should, as it is getting a little hard to walk back up the stairs. Then I watered the roses and watched the hummingbirds feed at the feeder. We used to do a lot more work on our flowers but lately we have slowed down. Time has taken its toll.
Next month I will be 86, a venerable age for anyone. But I expect to put on a little more mileage before I shuffle off. I have already down everything I had hoped to do but who knows what will turn up next? Something thrilling and exciting perhaps. I may even travel again, although it will not be by airplane.
My dear husband cooked dinner tonight, and made a very delicious spaghetti meal, with enough for left-overs tomorrow. Why does food always taste better if someone else cooks it? I watched television while he was slaving over a hot stove and only came out when he had everything already on the table. What luxury!
Well, as my blog shows, today was a quiet day but very satisfying. Night All. Keep in touch.

A pleasant day

To blog or not to blog? It has crept into my routine until now I feel guilty if I don't make an entry, even if a small one. Today was such a pleasant day that I hate to end it, and will probably find some excuse to stay up late, perhaps watching TV. We are all waiting to see who Barack Obama chooses as his vice-president, but that will not be announced until tomorrow at the earliest, and I for one am hoping it will be Senator Biden.
The Olympics are fun to watch, and I have been watching the story unfold about little Caylee Anthony, although I feel quite strongly that she no longer is alive. But like JonBenet Ramsey, the full story may never be known.
Few people are alive today who remember the famous trial of Bruno Richard Hauptman, who was accused of kidnapping and murdering the little son of Charles and Anne Lindberg. Arguments raged back and forth for years, and there are some who never lost their belief that he was innocent. He went to his death declaring that he knew nothing about the crime, and it is still said to be the crime of the century.
My family has a mystery in its background, one which was never solved. It seems that my great-aunt Kate fell in love with the family chauffeur (her husband was a wealthy businessman) and she and the chauffeur ran off together. They were never seen again and although her husband offered a reward, and published a public forgiveness letter in the paper, her fate was never known. We think the two drove to California and managed to start over under assumed names. She was said to be an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Good-night all. Keep in touch.

The forum

This was a very interesting evening. I made sure I watched the forum for Obama and McCain and was surprised at how well McCain did. Not that he is the thoughtful and compelling candidate that I find Obama to be, but he did give quick and decisive answers to the questions. Of course some of the questions were pretty loaded ones, such as the question regarding the infant that survived the abortion. What did they expect the answer to be? To strangle the infant? I know that some doctors and attendants would just cover it up and let it die, but no one wants to countenance that. This is sometimes done to severely deformed and damaged infants, but we are not supposed to know about that. It is a cruel world.
I was amused to see that the Bigfooted creature is pretty universally judged to be a hoax. They went to a lot of trouble over that, anyway. If it did weigh 550 pounds, that would be some load to haul out of the woods. But it probably only weighed about fifty pounds, maybe even less.
We had quite a bit of dry leaves and debris blow down out of the redwoods today, very early in the season for that to happen. It will be an early fall.
Take care and keep in touch. My blog is my window to the world.

Bigfoot shows up once again.

Hi. Just saw a news flash on television that someone has gotten hold of a Bigfoot body and has it in a freezer in Georgia. Every now and then we will be subjected to a notion that Bigfoot actually exists, even though no one has actually gotten an authentic picture or carcass of one. I do not for a moment believe that tribes of Bigfeet roam our forests and fields without being seen or found lying about. Of course, I do not believe in ghosts, shadow people, little people or leprechauns, although I do write stories about little people. I am like the philosopher who kicked the stone and said, "Yes. It is a stone. It exists." If I can see it or touch it, I will know it is there. I would like to believe that life exists after death, but I question that premise just as I do all paranormal claims. I know that perfectly rational people believe that there are other worlds whirling about on different vibrations than our world, but of course I may be wrong and they may be right.
i was in a coma for five days once, and I neither went through a tunnel with light at the end, or felt that I had an out-of-body experience. It was simply a blank space in my life, and when I woke up, it was as though I had had a long sleep. My granddaughter woke me up, and I was instantly conscious and recognized her immediately.
The two men who claim to have found Bigfoot say they have sent in DNA to try to find out just what he is. They are offering safaris into the woods to find another one, for $1,000 a tour. How is that for a way to make money?

A short day trip

Hi. I had a lovely little day trip today down to the shopping center to try and find a new dress for the party I am attending on August 30. I found nothing I liked, but had a nice sandwich at a deli and a nice ride there and back. My daughter took me there and actually did some shopping for herself so the trip wasn't wasted. i am taking a new medication to try to improve the circulation in my arteries so I can walk better, so today was a sort of test to see how I did. i managed with a walker pretty well but did get very tired. I started to take this medicine last year, but found the side effects to be troubling. I am going to persevere this time, though, as I have been having some severe difficulties lately, and refuse to get a little scooter. If i start riding around in a scooter I am sure i will give up walking altogether. That I refuse to do.
We saw a dear little dog today in the optometrist office. It was bred long ago to be a lap dog, purportedly in the king's court, and allowed itself to be petted and fondled by every customer who came in. It was white with golden patches. I had never seen one before.
Today closes as most of the days do, with my husband and myself listening to the radio and closing the day down by watching the news on television. Last night I stayed up late and watched "Murder, She Wrote." two episodes actually, but tonight I think I will choose a more reasonable hour to retire. Keep in touch.

It's all my fault

Yesterday had a few quirks to it, including having the water shut off for four hours. This happens about once a year up here, usually due to problems with the water pump. It was back on in time to get dinner going, which for my husband and myself consisted of left-overs, which we enjoyed a little early.
The other quirk involved the television set, without which our lives are monotonous indeed. I had ordered and received a movie disc from Netflix, and had even managed to play it. After it had ended, and I had figured out how to get the disc back out, I tried to watch the Olympic games on the television. Nothing came on the screen. Only a blank blue screen.
"Honey," I called. "The cable must have come off the set. Could you check it for me please?
My husband, annoyed at having to get up from his reclining chair, called back. "You must have pushed the wrong button on the remote. Try it again."
I could tell by his voice that he had decided to play the accuser/defender game, at which he excels.
It goes like this, usually without change from one game to the next. He makes an accusation, I defend myself.
"That may be it," I called back. "Shall I try all of them?"
"How long have you had the set?' he demanded to know. "You should know how to use it by now."
"I do," I answered. "I didn't do anything that i don't usually do. I think the cable has come apart."
With an audible sigh and some grumbling he arose from the chair and checked the cable line. "There," he declared triumphantly. "There is nothing wrong with the cable."
I was expecting his next demand. "Let me try it," he said with an aggrieved look. "I don't know what you did but you did something that has to be straightened out."
He tried all of the buttons on the remote. He then depressed the buttons on the side of the set, causing various letters to appear in the upper right corner. TV. DIC. Spbtc1 Spbtc2. "What does this mean? What is DIC?"
I wanted to shriek in frustration, but calmly pulled out the instruction manual, but of course could not understand what it was trying to tell me. Finally I suggested, timidly, that we bring out the small TV set from the bedroom, hook it up to the cable, and see if it would work. It was a matter of moments, and the deed was done. The small TV worked perfectly when connected to the cable. Without the cable the screen was blank, just like the other set.
Without another word, my husband slid to the back of the set, fiddled with the various plugs attached to the back of the set, and just like magic, the screen came back to light, and when i changed channels, it worked perfectly.
"I told you," said my husband. "It was the cable. It wasn't plugged in."
He didn't say it was something I had done or not done. That is not part of the game. When the problem is solved, the game is over. Until the next time.

Time is rushing by

Time is rushing by too quickly for me. Next month I'll be 86 and I'm not ready yet. If someone asked me what I still wanted to do, I would have to say that I have done all that I ever hoped to do, and more, but no way am i ready to cash in my cards. i still want to see my great-granddaughter go off to school, I hope to see a little brother come on the scene, and I hope to be here for my grandson's wedding. A lot is still to come. Will I be able to hang in there a few more years?
I saw in the obituaries today that an acquaintance of mine, not yet even sixty, had passed away. It gave me pause to think that she had been cheated of at least twenty good years with her grandchildren and husband, while I am clinging on at almost 86. I don't know why I peruse the obituaries every day, since they do make me sad, and are a constant reminder of the fragility of life. Usually the departed are in their eighties or nineties but not always. Sometimes life ends cruelly soon.
Life here is serene and easy. My neighbor was up from San Francisco for a couple of days, and she had a tree cutter come and trim some of the trees down below her house. It gives us a nice view of the road down below. Our hummingbirds are enjoying the feeder we put out by the roses and my little cat is hanging in there although she is 24 and can hardly get around any more. My husband made chicken and vegetable stir-fry for dinner, so I had an easy evening. He likes to cook! Making a cake or cookies is a treat for him. Needless to say, I don't discourage him for a moment.
Night all. Keep in touch.

Good Friends

Little Mama Mouse was very frightened. It was winter and her little mouse house was very cold. What was worse, there was nothing to eat in her little house. Baby Mouse helped her look for crumbs in all of the corners and drawers, but they couldn't even find an apple seed. They were cold and hungry and Mama Mouse didn't know what to do. She put her arms around Baby Mouse and whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry, Baby Mouse," she said. "Let me sing to you and we will try to find something to eat tomorrow."
She wrapped Baby Mouse in a warm blanket and sat down in her little rocking chair and rocked and sang a lullaby. After while Baby Mouse fell asleep and she tucked him into bed and covered him up with all of the blankets to keep him warm and cozy. Then she took her little candle holder to the table and lit the tallow candle and sat back down in her rocking chair. The candle gave a warm yellow light and the fragrance of melting tallow filled the room. And all of sudden Mama Mouse jumped up out of her chair and did a little dance in the middle of the room. She had remembered something! Mice like tallow. It was their favorite food. And right there, on the table, was a fat little tallow candle ready to be eaten. Mama Mouse went to the table, stood on tiptoe and blew out the candle.
The room was bright with the light of the moon shining in the sky. Mama Mouse went to the window and peeked outside. It had stopped snowing and a full moon was sailing across the heavens. She saw the shadow of Mr. Night Owl as he flap-flapped along the path. Soon all of the night creatures would be out looking for their dinners.
Mama Mouse snuggled down under the blankets with Baby Mouse. She hummed a little song as she thought about the tallow candle and what her plans were for the new day that was coming. "We will eat the candle," she thought, "And then I will put his warm little coat and boots on Baby Mouse. We will go down to the old apple tree by the corner. If Mr. Blue Jay is there, he will get an apple for us. Mr. Squirrel will give us some acorns and peanuts. We are not all alone, after all. We have good friends who will help us. Everything will be all right." She fell asleep with a smile on her face and her arms around her little baby mouse.

A Bubble of memory.

Every now and then a little snippet of memory will bubble up seemingly out of nowhere, and tantalize me with a glimpse of the past. This morning I watched as a red leaf drifted down from a tree in my back yard, and the song "Red Sails in the Sunset" popped into my mind. I remembered where I was when I first heard it, and most of the lyrics were still intact in my memory. The entire scene was crystal clear as though it was yesterday. I remember i was a Freshman in high school, sitting in assembly with the rest of the students, and we were all singing in unison, something we did once a week in the last period of the day. I suppose it was a ruse to keep the restless students quiescent for the last period, but I remember being acutely embarrassed because I didn't know the song. I pretended to sing along and by the time we had reached the last stanza I was able to join in. I had never been encouraged to sing because my voice was deemed to be too shrill, but I was soon given a spot in the glee club, so I couldn't have been too bad. I sang in the glee club for the entire four years I went to school there and must say, I enjoyed it. "Red Sails in the Sunset" was my introduction to yet another new experience.
It is unfortunate that children accept and incorporate whatever is said of them by adults, whether the remark is justified or not. Later in life I joined a singing group and actually sang a solo in a production, wondering all of the time if my voice was too shrill. Now I can't get "Red Sails in the Sunset" out of my mind. I guess I'll have to sing it again.

Lost in the clothes hamper

When my grandson was small, we lived about seventy miles away and so I used to write him letters about little pretend people who lived outside my house in the elephant plant patch. I decided to share one with my readers, written about twenty years ago.
Dear Eli,
I sat down to write a story, and as I stared helplessly at my typewriter, and it stared back at me, I realized that I hadn't seen those little pretend people all day. I hadn't seen them yesterday, either. Where were they? I looked under the bed, and under the sofa and chairs, but no one was there. I got worried. I even went out into the cold night and looked under the bushes and went up and down the rows of rose bushes, calling out to them in a loud voice. "Where are you, little people?" No answer. A man was walking his dog and looked at me very strangely, but I didn't care. All I could think of was how cold it was, and how those poor little people were lost out there.
But maybe they were inside and hiding from me. I went back in. i looked everywhere. I began to get angry. "You come out this very minute. Stop fooling around!" I yelled. I made Grandpa look too. Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and thought very hard. I thought so hard that my hair stood on end. My ears twitched. My nose wiggled. And I remembered something. "Oh, oh" I said to myself. "You changed the sheets and pillowcases on this bed yesterday. Then you threw them in the clothes hamper. Look in there."
I went into the bathroom and carefully lifted the lid on the hamper. A dirty face cloth flew out and landed on my head. A handkerchief flew out and landed on the floor. Out came a towel and a pair of socks. Those little people were in there and they were so angry they were throwing everything out. "Stop, stop," I said. "How did you get in there?" At first they were so angry they talked in little people talk. "Grpplmn! Admtffr! Gillpogner." I couldn't understand a word they said. But then they let me help them out and onto my bed. "We were in the bed when you yanked off the sheets and blankets," they said. "You threw all of us into the hamper. We are so hungry we could eat a dirty sock!" They looked at me for a minute, and then I knew what to do. I went to the kitchen and brought back some cookies and an apple. They gobbled the cookies and apple down, and then, because they were so tired, they curled up on my bed and fell asleep. Next time I change the sheets I will look very carefully before I put them in the hamper. I looked again at the little people sleeping on my bed. Each one had a big smile on its face. Love, Grandma