This has been a most satisfactory day. This afternoon we had a visit with my great-granddaughter April and her mom and dad, a great pleasure to us all. She smiles, giggles, coos and listens intently when I sing to her. Then we got to keep the little boxer dog Kaya for a few days, and we are enjoying her immensely. She is extremely active and will keep us on our toes, most beneficial to lay-abouts like us. She is a little afraid of our old cat, so they keep their distance from each other, but it is a friendly sort of relationship. April will soon have two new little cousins, a boy and a girl. This is a baby-boomer year.
We just finished a very good book titled "The Amber Room." It was a novel, not historically correct, but it kept us listening late into the night. It concerned the famous amber room rumored to be in a castle in Czechoslovakia, taken down by the Nazis and hidden, still not discovered. It contained every kind of chase, mayhem and torture the author could dream up. Almost as good as the Mountain Man series.
Another trivia about myself: I come from a very long-lived family. One of my grandparents (five times removed I think) lived to be one hundred and eleven years and eleven months. My great-grandma lived well into her nineties. My mother was just short of being ninety-six when she succumbed to a heart attack. So maybe my hundred-year ambition will be realized.
Take care and keep in touch.

More random thoughts

I thought it might be fun to write a few more random things about myself. First of all, I am very liberal in my thinking, quite independent and most certainly stubborn. I am generous, said to be humorous and sometimes given to impulsive acts that might seem unwise and often are. One day i got it into my head to put our little house on the market, so we could move into an assisted living facillity. The realtor was delighted to list my property, but when i came to my senses the next day, he graciously allowed me to withdraw my listing. Don't know what got into me. We are perfectly situated here.
I am intellectual and managed to graduate from college at the age of 65, while holding down a full-time job and keeping my housework done. I even managed to graduate summa cum laude, to the surprise of everyone, including myself.
I am an obsessive-compulsive checker. I used to check everything endlessly, fearful that the stove would be left on, the sink would overflow or the doors would be left unlocked. I have managed, with the help of my MFT licensed granddaughter, to get it under control, but there is no cure. I was afflicted with OCD from the age of four, and without diligence and practice it will come back. It is an anxiety disorder, and is genetic.
What do I look like? Ha, ha! I am no beauty and never was. My picture tells it all. But at my age it matters not a bit. As long as I can keep my senses about me I will be satisfied.
Well, that is about it. I took an intelligence test the other day and got a score of 117, so I am not on the brink of dementia yet. Adios, for tonight.

Eight random things about myself

Hi, grinandgrumble.So pleased that you have tagged me. I shall write eight random things about myself, some more random than others.
1. I am eighty-five and aiming for a hundred. I am in pretty good shape but do have the usual mild disabilities that go along with advanced years.
2. Five years ago I fell backward down a flight of stairs onto a hard surface and fractured my right hip. I was rushed into surgery, anaesthetized and a plate was put into my leg from my knee to my hip. I was in a coma for five days and awoke to find my granddaughter calling my name and stroking my cheek. I was in the hospital and a convalescent hospital for six months and believe me, was I glad to come home again.
3. I have seen and done many things in my long life. I grew up in Wisconsin on a farm bordered by a main road down which Charles Lindberg used to ride his motorcycle on his way to Madison to the University. He used to scare the livestock into a frenzy.
4. I remember when his little son was kidmapped and the furor that ensued when Bruno Richard Hauptmann was tried for his kidnapping and death. He was found guilty and executed. Some people believed in his innocence to the end of time.
5. I lived through the great depression and remember when Franklin Roosevelt gave his fireside talks and Eleanor went on her trips. Times really were hard. We were lucky to have a farm that provided adequate food and milk and eggs, but when I was in high school, my lunch was often stolen by other students who had no food to eat.
6. Oh, the things I have seen and experienced! I could go on and on! I was in college on December 7, l941. I was doing some watercolor washes when the news came on the radio. We almost thought it was a joke, but unfortunately it was not..
7. Because of the teacher shortage, I was drafted out of college and sent to teach in a one-room country school with thirty=five students in eight grades. I was only nineteen and found the job too challenging and so at the end of the school year I went down to Milwaukee and got a job in a war plant as an inspector of parts for superchargers for airplane engines. I strutted around with my measuring tools in my hand and if one of the machines was producing defective parts I shut it down and red tagged it. Boy, did I think I was the Queen of Sheba.
8. As soon as I was twenty-one, I enlisted in the Army and was stationed at a top secret base at Arlington Hall in Washington D.C. We were sworn to secrecy for life, on pain of death, but in the l990's the freedom of information act was passed and now a comprehensive description of Arlington Hall can be found on Google.
How is that for starters? And I have only reached as far as my twenty-first birthday!

Picking Blueberries

The farm I grew up on was self-contained. We grew our own food, and had to purchase only such basics as flour, coffee or sugar. After we started growing sorghum we made our own syrup and sweetened a lot of our food with that. The flour came in flowered cloth bags, usually saved and used to make dresses for the girls. They were of soft gingham and made comfortable garments. If one wanted white bags, for diapers for example, they were available. The women of the neighborhood would save their bags, wash them and bring them over as presents for the new baby. The material was absorbent and wore forever. When they were no longer needed for diapers, they made great cleaning rags.
Growing our own food meant a lot of work, though, and summer vacation was usually more work than vacation. Hoing, pulling weeds, making hay, picking strawberries and green beans, the work was never ended. I do remember one summer, though, when we spent about a month picking wild blueberries and we all enjoyed that. It happened to be a year when the conditions for the blueberries was particularly favorable and it produced a bumper crop. We would all crowd into the old Ford and rattle off down the sandy dirt road to some remote clearing in the piney woods, where we would climb out, each carrying a tin pail. To pick the berries, one had only to reach up into the underside of the bush and pull off handfuls of the plump, succulent berries. We picked on our hands and knees. smelling the fragrant scent of the pine trees, and trying not to get too far from the rest of the family. Squirrels chattered, birds sang and there was usually a spring or little brook nearby for a drink. We thought nothing of drinking the water, and I don't remember ever getting sick from it. When our pails were full, we went home and sorted the berries, packing them into little wooden boxes to be picked up the next day by the packing people who paid cash for them. We made enough money to buy our school clothes that year. I remember that Mother always had a fabulous meal ready for the hungry bunch coming home with the days pickings.

Chores of long ago

Hi. I am back again, blogging a little early tonight. I usually wait until around nine o'clock or so, but we ate early and I am now settled in to do some writing. I have been reminiscing about all of the chores we used to do that are now done by our modern appliances, such as washing clothes or dishes or hauling in water and wood. Even getting food involved activities we wouldn't dream of doing today. To cook a chicken involved killing the creature, pulling off its feathers, cleaning it out and washing it thoroughly. Only then could it enter the cooking process. If one wanted venison, the animal had to be shot, dragged home. hung up and disemboweled. Skinning the thing was a major job. It was then hung up in the wood shed, allowed to freeze, and then chunks would be sawed or chopped off, and subsequently cooked. What a job it was just to put a meal on the table. We used no canned goods except the ones our mother canned herself, so everything was cooked from scratch. To feed eight people three times a day was a daunting task.
But cooking and eating, and cleaning up afterwards was only part of the deal. On Mondays, the clothes were washed, over a washboard and round tub, rinsed and hung out on a clothesline. On Tuesday, they were ironed. Wednesday was for baking. There was no down time for the housewife or her daughters. Fathers and sons had their own routine of jobs. My brothers had chores from the age of six and worked hard at them. How we did it I don't know. Glad it was then and not now. Now we feel deprived if the electric power goes out for a day or two.
Remembering back to those long ago days, it seems that we have all come a long way. I wonder what new gadgets will come along next? It will be interesting to see.

Clean windows

Today is the first day of spring, and I guess we got a touch of spring fever because we washed all of the windows and doors in the house. It is wonderful to look out of sparkling clean windows into the green branches of the redwoods outside. We took special pains to dry the glass thoroughly and so far it looks great. I did the inside and my husband did the outside. We are quite proud of ourselves.
Now that I have reached the advanced age of 85, I am good for about four hours of work, and then I lag behind. When I was younger, I often worked eight hours or longer at my job in the post office and in addition did all of the housework, shopping and cooking for the family and went to school for about four hours. Now I can work just about half of the day and just goof off for the rest. I must say it is wonderful to be free of the responsibility of my younger days. In many ways being a senior has its advantages!
We are awaiting the arrival of the part for the dishwasher. I guess we will use the dishwasher again when it is operating once more. It's nice to be able to just shove them in and not have them sitting around waiting to be washed. Bye.

This will take only a half-hour or so

For some reason, when my husband and I start some repair job, we always underestimate the time it will take to do it. My husband had a burning desire to pull the dishwasher out and see if the electric power supply was wired directly into the electrical system or if it was a plug-in situation. When I protested on the grounds that it was a bit too late in the afternoon to start, he assured me that it was only a matter of unscrewing two small screws in the top of the unit, and would probably take at most a half-hour. Ha! and Ha! again. First, we couldn't get the screws out, since they seemed to be stripped. Then when we tried to get the dishwasher pulled out, it was cranked up too tightly and would not come out. We finally got the little bolts screwed down enough to get the thing out and found, logically enough, that it was wired directly into the house system. Good to know, I guess, but by the time we finished, picked up the tools, swept out the debris that had collected under there and turned our thoughts to dinner, it was almost six o'clock.
I do admire my husband, though, since he always finishes a job, no matter how long it takes. Since he is visually impaired, most of the time he has to rely on touch to find the screws, fittings, and so on, but he has infinite patience and somehow gets the job done. He actually installed a tongue and groove oak flooring throughout the house, and did a beautiful job.
Anyway, that is the blog of today. I do love to get comments, so let me hear from you. If I get too boring, let me know.

A failed water inlet valve

The following episode actually happened in my house, and I present it here for my readers to enjoy.
Scene 1: husband and wife are draped over the counter listening to the dishwasher, which has been acting up. The dishes haven't been coming out clean and it doesn't sound right.
Husband: Can you hear anything?
Wife: No. Not even a clicking or swishing.
Husband: Can you see any water being pumped out?
Wife: No. Nothing.
Husband: Open the door fast and peek in.
Wife obeys, seeing absolutely nothing. Dishwasher goes into wash mode but there is no water in tub. Husband gets pot and dumps a gallon of water into dishwasher. Wife watches horrified. Husband is calm. Dishwasher makes loud swishing sound, wash arms begin rotating, and cycle is completed. Rinse cycle receives another pot of water dumped in by husband. It becomes clear that no water is coming in from the water pipe and further action will have to be taken. Husband does what all husbands do when frustrated by household crises. He goes out to his work shed and works on a table he is finishing. Wife does what wives do when frustrated - she goes to the sofa and has a lie-down.
Lest my readers fear that the dishwasher has defeated us, I hasten to say that I went onto the internet and asked the Dishwasher Guru what was wrong. He knew of course, and E-mailed me that the water inlet valve had failed, and that I should order another one. This I did. In the meantime, we will once again become acquainted with washing dishes by hand, which after all, ain't that bad. Especially when my husband does them.

An evening chore

We have the dishwasher more or less running, but we washed the dishes by hand tonight, and it wasn't bad. As a matter of face, we somewhat enjoyed it. I washed and my husband dried, and very soon they were done and back in the cupboard. It actually took less time than rinsing them, loading them in the dishwasher and then putting them away. We've had a dishwasher for so long that I had come to believe that it was a necessity of life. Of course, when I was a youngster, washing dishes for eight people in a tin dishpan with water heated on the woodburning stove, was a considerable chore. We were never allowed to skip this particular chore, the only reprieve being ill or disabled in some way. My sister and I took turns washing and drying, although this was a little unfair, as she was two years older than I. But mother felt that we should share equally in the chores and thus I had to learn to keep up. I rather think I benefitted from this as I grew up quite independent and for the most part marched to my own drum. I have certainly led an interesting life, from my experience in Arlington Hall to my marriage to a military man and our being stationed on military bases all over the country.
That sounds a little like an obituary, doen't it, and I really should give some thought to writing mine. I have left instructions that there should be no tears over my demise, since I feel that my 85 years, or however much longer I may be around, have been full and well spent. I have gotten all I have needed from life and there will be no regrets.
I hope that all who read my little snippets of news and memories are getting as much pleasure out of reading them as I am in writing them. Blogging is addictive - if I don't put something down, I think I am missing out. Take care, and keep in touch.

My Secret

I mentioned my service in the Signal Corps during World War II in my last blog. The story of Arlington Hall is printed in quite a bit of detail on Google, under the title of Arlington Hall. I have written a bit of a story detailing my training and my work at the secret base, along with pictures of me in my uniform and some details of what it was like to be stationed there. Out of all of the trainees in my squadron at basic training at Fort Oglethorpe, only four of us were singled out to go on to Washington, D.C. We didn't know where we were going or what we were going to do until we got there. Then we were sworn to secrecy under pain of death if we revealed where we were or what we were doing. Even my mother never knew what I did, and because she viewed all women in uniform with suspicion, and I never told her my secret, she felt a touch of shame at the disgrace she felt I had visited upon the family. Wherever you are, Mother, in the far reaches of heavenly space, rest assured that I served honorably and engaged in no hankypanky whatsoever. I wish now that I had told her when she was here on earth, I think it would have comforted her. But she died before the secret could be revealed. Now it is on Google for all to see and I am happy that I was able to participate in this wartime service.
On a more mundane note, St. Anthony helped us find my husbands magnifying glass, but extracted a price, or so I thought. When I unloaded the dishwasher this morning, the dishes were if anything more dirty than they were when I loaded them last night. i ran them through again. No water ran into the tub. Aha! I thought. St. Anthony wants his payment. However, when my husband dismantled the thing, we realized that the filters were entirely encrusted with years of calcium deposit, as I had not been using the rinse agent that goes in with the soap. After cleaning the filters, and putting them back in, all is well again. Thank you, St. Anthony. Sorry I blamed you for the dishwasher, and thanks for all of your help all of the time.
I had no winning numbers on the lottery last night. Good-night and keep in touch.

For some reason I am lazy tonight- I am sitting in front of my computer waiting for the winning lottery numbers to be posted and of course hoping to win the big one - ha, ha! Once in awhile we get the mega number, but that is only maybe once in a couple of months. We faithfully play, however, and it is true that hope springs eternal. Like it has been said, if you don't play you can't win.
I forgot to take my pills this morning and went around with shaking hands and uncertain steps. We went in to Guerneville to put some papers in the safety deposit box and I couldn't sign my name to the register or walk unaided into the room. When I got home I remembered and swallowed the pills, and soon I was myself again.
In going through the contents of the box, I came across the presidential citation I received for my work in the Intelligence Unit when we were decoding Japanese messages. I had forgotten all about it. Maybe next time I get a chance, I will retreive it and put it in a frame and hang it somewhere, just to remind myself of those long-ago days. I don't think I paid that much attention to it when I got it.
Well, the clock shows me that it is time to check my lottery ticket. Wish me luck. Bye.

The lost is found

Once again, I am indebted to Saint Anthony, this time for helping my husband find his little fold-up magnifying glass. He uses it constantly, so when it gets lost it is a major problem. He had it in the work room and used it on an old telephone he is restoring, but when he came in the house he couldn't find it anywhere. He looked in his pants pockets, in the big purple chair, in his bed, and even walked back down the line of the fence he put up along the wooden fence. No luck. I had thrown out a bunch of old papers into the garbage and we even looked in there. Ughh! Finally he collapsed into one of the green chairs in a gesture of defeat. "Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony" I prayed, half in jest. My husband folded his arms in frustration, felt a bulge in his shirt pocket and pulled out the magnifying glass, in the one place we hadn't looked. Cosidering how much pure junk I have thrown out in the last few days, I really wouldn't be surprised to find out that I had thrown out something we really wanted.
How pleasant it is to sit here at my computer with the dishwasher going and a snack awaiting me in the kitchen when I finish writing, and a new book tape in the record player for our amusement. I think I will boycott the TV for a little while - the political scene is chaotic and Nancy Grace is getting on my nerves. So I will say goodnight to all and I think of you always.

What next?

What next? Now it is the governor of New York involved in a sex scandal - gasp! What is disgusting is the fact that he portrayed himself as Mr. Clean and pointed his finger at numerous people as being sinful beyond the pale. I do feel sorry for his wife, though, she has to go through life as a scorned and wronged wife. I'll bet she feels like scratching his eyes out!
It was a lovely day here today - my husband did the weekly shopping and then worked out in the garage putting in a new fluorescenct light and getting ready to put some more wire fence on the inside of the old wooden fence to keep the back yard secure. I did a little cleaning and some laundry and a little more filing and organizing of my papers. I am almost done, and none too soon.
Some of our trillium plants are up, but we don't have near as many as in years past. I guess the cold weather we had this year has caused most of them to die. We will miss them. Well, this will be short tonight. Goodnight and keep in touch.

Shall we keep this or throw it away?

I have been going through old files in my filing cabinet and in the various drawers of my china cabinet and my writing desk. What great piles of documents I have pulled out and burned. Sixty years of bank statements, income tax forms, mortgages and purchases and deeds of trust, all filed away all of these years. When I first started pawing through all of these papers, I felt apprehensive about disposing of them. What if I needed one of them again? Would we be able to remember without the paperwork? Then I steeled myself to the task and actually began to enjoy myself. What a neat and orderly file system I have now, I can honestly say. The last file folder I cleared out was for the Eastman-Kodak stocks I used to own. I really felt quite nostalgic as I gazed through the papers it contained. However, the stock was bought back from me long ago, and there could be no reasonable reason for keeping them. Out they went. The only files I am holding onto are the income tax forms I have saved. They go back to 1946 and I keep them just for sentimental reasons. If we ever move or if someone else has to deal with them, they can all be thrown out.
Why did I start all of this? It seemed like a good idea. No one can predict what the future holds and I want to be prepared. Not that I am anticipating any drastic action in the near future. But one can never tell.
Today was a quiet day otherwise, except for my spilling my lentil soup onto the table, my lap, the chair and the carpet. We made a mad scramble for paper towels, I flung my clothes into the washing machine, and the carpet cleaned up nicely with the carpet cleaner Oust, and all was well again. I must say my husband was very helpful and stayed calm and collected. When it was all over we had a good laugh. Otherwise it was a quiet and pleasant day. Goodnight, all.

Spring Forward

Tonight will be a short blog. This is the night we turn the clocks ahead for an hour and it will throw us all off our schedules. I really can't see any use in it at all, but we have no choice. For those of us who have retired and don't have to meet any deadlines, it isn't that much of a bother. I do remember one year when I was working and forgot to turn the clock back, I got to work one hour early and had to wait around until the door to the office was opened. I took the opportunity to go and have a cup of coffee and a roll, if I remember. I was astonished at how empty the street was, as most of the people started work at the same time and no one but me had come. That was when I worked for the state of California down on McAllister Street. A long time ago - 35 years. When I worked at the Post Office in San Rafael, it didn't matter because people were working there around the clock. The building never shut down.
That's it for tonight's blog. Bye-bye! Keep in touch.

Obsessive- Compulsive Disorder

I never know what I am going to write until I am actually sitting down in front of the keyboard, and then I simply let the ideas pop out. Tonight I think I'll write about obsessive-compulsive disorder, which I have. Actually, I am a compulsive checker, which means that I have a routine I follow to check conditions in the house, particularly if I am going out or retiring for the night. It used to be very troubling but I have it under control pretty much, thanks to having studied it with my granddaughter when she studied for her MFT license. I started controlling it by calling the various things I was checking by horrible names, for instance I would stand in front of the stove and say, out loud, "You @#!!@, you are out." The kitchen faucet would get the same treatment, and the refrigerator. Thus I could walk off and leave the room, rather than being rooted to the spot, compelled to check over and over again. I have it so well in hand now that I can walk through the room and simply say to myself, "The stove is off, the faucet is shut off and the refrigerator door is closed." It makes it a lot easier for my husband, since being married to an obsessive-compulsive person is no picnic. I do tend to follow around after him picking things up and tidying up, but he has accustomed himself to it and actually it is to his advantage to have me do it. Since he never puts anything away, it is up to me to do it anyway.
I do see the disadvantage of being married to a neat freak, and I appreciate my husband's understanding. I was born this way and have been so since I was four years old. Most obsessive-compulsive people try to keep it hidden and many go for their entire lives never revealing the problem. But to get it under control, it must be acknowledged and if possible, discussed with an understanding therapist. Though I will never be free of the need to check, I can honestly say that it is no problem to me now. I still have to swiffer the oak floors every day and vacuum at least every other day but I feel no need whatever to clean the bathroom, which my husband compulsively cleans for me! So we live in harmony.
I hope this is helpful for others who may have the same problem. Some people wash their hands over and over again. I knew someone once who couldn't bear to touch doorknobs, telephones, faucet handles and wiped everything off with a damp tissue before she touched it. There are many manifestations of this disorder, but I really don't think that drugs are the answer, because it is easy to get addicted to them. Behaviour modification might work better, anyway.
But I must say here, that I sympathise with husbands of obsessive-compulsive wives and thank them for their understanding.

If I can't find it, it has been filed away

I have been sorting through old papers, files, useless pieces of old records, and I must say there is no limit to the amount of stuff one can accumulate over the course of fifty years or so. I have a file cabinet out in the workroom that has all of the paper ever generated by the many mortgage documents and expense accounts of the houses we have owned and I am too superstitious to throw any of it out. My theory is that as soon as you throw something away, you will very soon need that very document and of course it will no longer be available. I have another file cabinet out in the laundry room, jammed full with more documents. Filing has never been my strong point. So don't expect me to find anything that is filed out there - it won't be in place. Anyway, I kept my cool and actually got the top drawer of the china cabinet cleaned out and forced myself to throw away a few papers that I hope I will never need again.
I had a lovely day yesterday, going to Sebastopol to the clinic for a blood test to check up on my cumadin level, stopping at a little bakery for coffee and a roll, and then taking a side trip to the thrift shop where I saw a lot of things that other people have discarded. I didn't buy anything but it was fun to poke around at the odds and ends and the volunteers who work there are kindness itself.
I purposely refrained from watching TV but have finished reading a very good book titled "Water for Elephants." It is fiction but written so well that I felt I was right there throughout the whole thing. Then my Readers Digest came and I read the very good article about the race horse that broke its leg running its last race. I may break down and watch "Murder She Wrote" at eleven. It always puts me to sleep.
Goodnight All. Keep in touch.

Thank you, Saint Anthony

Had a small crises in the neighborhood yesterday, which ended happily I am pleased to say. What happened was that my friend and neighbor lost her wallet, containing her money, credit cards and driving license. She was worried about it, naturally, and came to borrow an extension cord to use to hold a light bulb to illumate the dark corners of her car. Partly in earnest and partly in jest, I suggested that we appeal to St. Anthony, and we said the St. Anthony prayer together. Believe it or not, she found it immediately. She came back all smiles, wallet in hand. I have always thought that the St. Anthony prayer was superstition, but time and time again it works. Being a recovering Catholic, I espouse all belief in Saints and angels, but sometimes even I have my moments of revelation.
We went down to my daughter's house for lunch, and had a delicious meal of roast pork, rice and green beans almondine.
There were scores of birds in the backyard and flowers coming into bloom everywhere. Tomorrow we go into Sebastopol where I will have a blood test taken to check on my coumadin level. We get out for short trips quite often, and each little excursion is a pleasure.
I used to say that I wanted to be laid out with a paint brush in one hand and a square of sandpaper in the other so I would feel at home in the afterworld. I have reflected and now want to have a piece of See's chocolate candy in one hand and a kleenex in the other. Or make it a box of See's candy and a box of kleenex. The way my allergies are going one kleenex won't be enough! I am now known as the old lady with the runny nose.
I am skipping any comment on the Tuesday primaries. I am busy with a good book, "Water for Elephants" and can hardly put it down. I highly recommend it for casual reading. Will write again tomorrow.

I am in a somewhat better mood tonight, having distanced myself from the television all day and anticipating the treat of chocolate pudding that my husband is going to make. He likes to head for the kitchen as soon as I have it all cleaned up (all wives all over the world know what I mean) but I have learned just to go with the flow and let him enjoy himself. Sometimes he cleans it up again and sometimes he doesn't but I like pudding and this will be a nice way to end the day.
This has been a most enjoyable day with a nice visit with my friend and neighbor who is up for the weekend, a nice walk, and warm weather for a change. Everytime we walk along the road we see more varieties of wildflowers blooming, some so small that you really have to look for them. I particularly like the tiny violets that bloom in the grass and the orchids that grow among the redwoods. The flowering quince is in bloom and the leaves on the apple tree are beginning to show. Before we know it St. Patrick's Day will be here and then in a week or two Easter will be here as well. I haven't colored Easter eggs for a long time but I think I'll do it this year, and maybe even bake a ham! But I draw the line at buying a new Easter outfit. I wonder where that custom came from?
My little cat has had her evening walk and is back in again, tucked up against the electric heater where she is very cozy indeed. Like all cats, she likes her comfort.
The chocolate pudding is ready! I remembered to thank my husband profusely. Take care, and goodnight.

Election blues

The little white cat that I wrote about yesterday is now gone, and it looks as though she somehow got poisoned. We always get paranoid here when this happens, and everyone is keeping their cats in as much as they can. This particular little cat was a wanderer and we often saw her out in the woods or fields when we took our walks. I doubt if it was purposely given to her, but sometimes cats eat rodents that have been poisoned and then they die as well. Anyway, that is the second cat that has died, if we count George, and it makes us all a little nervous.
We didn't feel particularly energetic so my husband and I took a nap this afternoon and didn't eat until seven, and then it was only leftovers. Now we are going to listen to a detective story on his book tape, and probably go to sleep early. I simply cannot listen to one more moment of election rhetoric from either of the candidates. If i sound cranky, it is because I am beginning to be bored with both of them. And we have until next November before the real election takes place.
Isn't Prince Harry a cutie? He somehow has more charm than all the rest of the "royals" combined. Prince William is very handsome, but Harry is cuter, I think.
Well, tomorrow is another day, and I send my love to all of you, and wish you all the best. Good-night.