I love Phil...

 ... The Philharmonic orchestra that is.  They never disappoint.  This evening's concert was all Brahms' music.  First his Symphony No. 3 in F major, Op. 90, followed, after the intermission by his Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98.  It was beautiful music all the way through.  I was particularly pleased that the trombones had prominent roles in both symphonies.  My brother, and years later my son, both played trombone in high school band, so I appreciate the effort that goes into playing them as flawlessly as they were played this evening.  

I think I've said it before, but I like seeing my music.  I could have listened to these symphonies and enjoyed the music, but being there and seeing it makes it so much better for me.   Watching the drummers, seeing the violinists' arms moving in perfect synchrony, the concentration on some players faces and so much more.  It's all such a treat to the senses.

My favorite part this evening was the third movement of Symphony No. 4.  It was so lively and vibrant, joyful and exuberant!  Pure bliss.  You should have been there.  

Two laughs

 My west coast brother texted me twice today and each time his message made me laugh.  First he informed me that today is "Yodel for Your Neighbor Day."  Yodeling was a big deal when I was a child.  All the singing cowboys could do it.  Sadly, no matter how hard I tried, I could not yodel.  Yet another example of lack of musical ability. 

In his second message he told me that, at his annual checkup this afternoon, his doctor assured him that he is "healthier than a man twice his age."  This is actually good news.  A man twice his age would be 140 years old so, you know, dead. 

not so fast food

 This morning my west coast brother informed me that today is "Gnocchi Day" pronounced 'nyow-kee.'  Being curious, and knowing it had something to do with food, I Googled Gnocchi and discovered that they are basically potato dumplings.  They looked delicious in the pictures.  I started reading recipes, thinking maybe I would make some Gnocchi (forgetting for the moment that we don't have a kitchen right now).  As I read, I felt like I had gone down the proverbial rabbit's hole.  One recipe specifically said to use one whole egg and the yolk of a second egg, while the next recipe said never use eggs.  And so it went with just about every ingredient except potatoes.  They all agreed that there must be potatoes as the main ingredient.  

Finally I decided to see if there was another food being celebrated today and, guess what, today is "National Corn Chip Day."  Now there's a day and a recipe we could easily celebrate, even without a kitchen.  Put out a bag of chips, a bowl of salsa and a bowl of queso and dig in.  Happy Corn Chip Day everyone.  

ah, music....

 My west coast brother informed me that today is "National Blueberry Pancake Day."  We celebrated by going to Blueberry Pancake House for lunch.  But today is also "National Kazoo Day."  I'm not sure who invented the Kazoo (I'm sure you can Google it if you're really curious) but I applaud that person.  In my opinion the Kazoo is the very best instrument for a non-musical child.  I know this because as far as my musical talents are concerned, I make a really good audience.  I actually took piano lessons for a year or so as a child, no success there.  I never attempted a band instrument or marching band which would have required coordination, also not a strength of mine.  But I can play a Kazoo.  Anybody can.  I really appreciated the great blessing that a Kazoo can be when two of my granddaughters (sisters) were given violins at school and urged to join the violin orchestra (and I use that term very loosely) at their elementary school.  They practiced faithfully on those violins, often when I was watching them after school, (I think their parent planned it that way) and they performed in one school concert which I dutifully attended.  Everyone in the group seemed about equal in their violin virtuosity and the resultant performance is best forgotten.  Believe me, if they had all been playing Kazoos it would have been so much better.  I am happy to report that those granddaughters gave up their violins after one semester, much to their parents' and my relief.  They did, however, have Kazoos, which they didn't practice on nearly so much, but I really didn't mind it when they did. 

camping in....

As my faithful readers know, my spouse and I are in the process of having our kitchen remodeled.  Currently that room is just an empty shell, but we are making progress.  The city/county electrical inspector came today and approved the new wiring.  Now we're just waiting for the framing inspector to come, then the drywalling and painting can start.  Meanwhile, realizing that we simply couldn't keep eating all our meals out, we have moved our toaster and coffee maker to the basement rec room, along with a big supply of paper plates, plastic  and Styrofoam cups and plastic table ware.  

It feels like we're camping out.  Years ago, my first husband and I owned a VW mini-bus camper conversion.  We kept that 'camper' for 13 years and traveled all over the contiguous 48 states in it, with our two children and two dogs.  Camping then consisted of staying in our camper in national parks or forests, city parks that allowed camping, and sometimes in KOA campgrounds, when we needed showers.  Did you know that the KOA in Las Vegas has slot machines in the laundry room?  It's true.

Anyway, it occurred to me that, right now we have a similar set up and experience here.  We have a comfortable table in the basement rec room at which to eat casual meals (I was never much of a camp cook) and play games.  We also have a refrigerator (in the family room instead of the camper), shower facilities (more private than KOA) and, while we're in that basement retreat, a blissful absence of TV or radio.  We talk, we play games, and we go to bed early.  All commendable habits I think.  So, while I will be thrilled to have our new kitchen finished, I am going to enjoy these few weeks of "camping in."

Ouch!

 Today, once again according to my west coast brother who knows such things, is "Dental Drill Appreciation Day."  Now I ask you, is that a day anyone really wants to celebrate?  Except maybe the inventor of the drill or a sadistic dentist.  It's also "National Peanut Brittle Day" which, if you eat enough of it, could land you in the dentist's chair.  

I actually have a good relationship with my dentist.  I've been going to the same dental group since I moved back to Fort Wayne 43 years ago.  At that time my parents recommended the dentist (he was working solo then) , so it was a family thing, although I do not remember getting a family discount. Of course things have changed a little in those 43 years. These days, the dentist who checks my teeth after they have been thoroughly cleaned is either the grandson of the one I started with or one of the three other dentists on staff.  

I do try to take good care of my teeth and I guess it's working.  The last time I was there, three months ago, the dentist who checked the cleaning said that I have "the teeth of a 30 year old."  I told him that I hoped she didn't want them back. 

dinner music

 My spouse and I went out to dinner again this evening.  This is part of our ongoing quest to enjoy good restaurants (and Fort Wayne is blessed with many) while we live a kitchen-less existence.  We have set up a pretty good breakfast bar in the basement rec room so we are no longer eating out all the time.  

This evening we went to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants, Dos Margueritas.  The food was excellent, as usual, but this evening, because it's Saturday night, we had the added pleasure of being serenaded as we ate.  The lone guitar player had a good voice, and sang a song in Spanish that sounded very romantic.  Unfortunately, he then chose to sing what I assume were the same lyrics in English. It was a recounting of what a great guy he was and all the ladies he had loved and left, really not very romantic at all.   Ah well, at least the food was good.

a strange night...

 My husband and I went to dinner and a play at Arena Dinner Theatre this evening.  The food was good - meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, salad and caramel apple cake - real comfort food.  Which worked well with the theme of the play - the last night on earth.  The play "The Last Quiz Night on Earth" takes place in an English pub on the evening that a giant asteroid is on a collision course with earth.  No attempts have been able to deflect it so the end is near.  Four people (the actors did an excellent job) spend their last night in a pub hosting a quiz show.  In one way it was a fun show with the audience involved in answering the quiz questions.  Our table got about half of them right.  On the other hand it was weirdly thought provoking.  I came away wondering what I would want to be doing if I knew it was my last night alive?  Certainly not sitting in a pub.  The play is on for one more weekend.  If you want a really different kind of play, I recommend it.

deciding what to wear...

 My west coast brother has informed me that today is "Clashing Clothes Day."  I have a hard time with that.  I like my clothes to coordinate, but I do admire people who are more free-wheeling about their clothing choices.  Children are the best at this.  My daughter, for example, loved to wear bright colored, patterned tights with just about any skirt and sweater.  Except, of course, in middle school when she went through her 'grunge' phase.  Of course that was a very inexpensive phase, so I didn't complain.  My son, when he was in kindergarten, wanted to wear only navy blue.  That was his "I want to be a fireman" stage.  When my granddaughters were younger, pre-teens, I would take each of them on a shopping spree as a Christmas gift.  That was always interesting.  One loved to shop at Goodwill, where she could get lots of outfits for her money, another shopped by feel.  Pants and skirts had to feel soft and look comfortable before she would even try them on.  The third granddaughter would bypass the clothes all together and head straight for the book stores.  A girl after my own heart.  After all of this reminiscing about clothes, I've just realized that my clothes clashed today.  In my defense, this is because of the cold snowy weather.  Today I wore my brown and blue Alaska moose socks, red ankle boots, black jeans, a red turtle neck, a black and tan plaid flannel shirt, a gray puffy hooded coat and turquoise gloves.  I guess I can clash with the best of them when I'm too cold to care.  But it just occurred to me, if you want your clothes to really clash, wear a suit of armor.

Now you see it....

 ...now you don't.  They say that a picture is worth a thousand words.  Here are two pictures that should make things easier to understand.

The picture above was taken at 8:00am today, just before the crew showed up to demolish (their words) our kitchen.  They had scheduled a possible two days for this procedure. 

This picture was taken from the same corner of the kitchen at 11:00am.  These guys did not waste any time.  At this point it is hard to identify the room as a kitchen.  In case you're curious, the refrigerator is in the family room, still plugged in, and the stove and dishwasher, as well as all the reusable cabinets, are in the garage.  Sadly, reassembling the kitchen will not be as quick, but I will be patient and reassure myself that it will all be worth it.  Actually, having a working refrigerator in the family room is not all bad. 

To be worn again...

 This evening my granddaughter, the artistic one who is a senior at the Columbus College of Art and Design, sent me a video clip of her wearing a very special dress, a dress with a history.  Several months ago I had given her a dress that I had had since 1965.  I had woven the fabric from fine wool yarn in shades of blue, teal and green while I was in college. After I graduated I asked one of my cousins, who was a very good seamstress, to make a dress from a pattern I provided - a fitted sheath with a short skirt and cap sleeves. I wore it as a jumper with a silky blouse.  It was a nice teaching outfit. After I got married and had children the dress didn't fit anymore so I hung it away, tucked away in the back of my closet until last year.  I decided that the time had come to part with it. So I offered it to my granddaughter, telling her she could cut it up and use the fabric any way she chose. Instead she chose to wear the dress over a black long sleeved top and black tights. The video she sent shows her in the dress at a party she went to yesterday where, she said, she explained the history of the dress. It fits her perfectly, and I'm thrilled to know it's being worn again.

An interesting day...

 Today was Inauguration Day.  My spouse and I watched the news coverage of the event for several hours.  Regardless of your political persuasion, it was a chance to watch the peaceful transfer of power played out as it has been in our country for over 200 years, with pomp, ceremony, peace and civility. 

Today was also MLK day, a day to honor a great man who died too soon.

On a less serious note (thank you to my west coast brother) today is Penguin Awareness Day.  My husband and I are very aware of penguins because we hope to see many on our upcoming cruise. 

It is also National Cheese Lovers Day.  We would have celebrated with some of my husband's fabulous toasted cheese sandwiches, but, alas, the electric frying pan is hidden in the muddle of stuff removed from our kitchen for the remodel, which you have already heard about.  So we ate cold cheese sandwiches.  

And finally, today is Take a Walk Outdoors Day.  Since the temperature early this morning was minus one degree (it eventually got all the way up to ten degrees) we decided not to walk outside, at least not for long.  My wonder spouse did put the garbage and recycling bins out.  The high tomorrow is supposed to be six degrees.  We won't even talk about the wind chill.  The only walk outside will probably be bringing those pesky bins back in again.  

Tomorrow should be Honor the Garbage Persons Day.  

It's snowing...

 Traditionally January days in Fort Wayne, Indiana are gray and blah, with lots of clouds, cold rain, sometimes sleet, but no snow.  This year we do have snow, however, and some sunny snowy days.  Very pretty. A local weather person said that we have had twice as much snow as we had last winter at this time.  That's fine with me because, so far, this is being very well behaved snow, falling enough to cover the grass with two to three inches and additional one inch falls as needed to keep things looking fresh.  But offering enough time between snowfalls to clear the roads easily.  In case you're wondering, my west coast brother, who only has snow in the mountains, has informed me that today is "World Snow Day."  In unanticipated celebration of this special day, I had the most beautiful drive to church this morning.  It Was 9:30 in the morning, the sky was a light pearly blue gray, the ground was covered in white and it was snowing softly; just enough to make everything feel a little fuzzy around the edges.  There were very few cars on the road and it was an enchanting drive.  Everything blended together.  When I got to church, I met out organist just walking in the door and blurted out "Wasn't that a lovely drive this morning?"  He understood exactly what I meant and agreed completely.  It was good to know that someone else had shared my blissful snowy drive.  

Hooray for music!

 After all the hubbub of getting ready for the big kitchen remodel my spouse and I needed a break.  It happens that we have season tickets to the Philharmonic Masterworks series and this evening was the first performance of their spring series.  When I saw the word SPRING on the program booklet I wanted to cheer.  We thought we would enjoy a nice relaxing evening just sitting still and enjoying the music.  We did sit still of course, we are adults after all, but it was not at all what I would call a relaxing evening. More an edge of your seat kind of evening, especially during the second half.  The first music performed was Sibelius's Concerto in D Minor for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 47.  It was moving and brought back images of Finland.  As it said in the program notes, the music was evocative of "the bleak, cold, primeval landscape" of Finland.  I've been to the far north part of Finland (their part of Lapland) and it was cold, and the temperature here is about 15 degrees this evening so I was not thrilled with this selection.  I must say though that the guest solo violinist, Paul Huang was absolutely fantastic.  

The second half of the program was Shostakovich's Symphony No. 10 in E minor, Op. 93 (said to be his best symphony and I believe it).  Shostakovich was a Russian composer who lived during the time of Stalin's brutal rule over Russia.  He wrote this symphony after Stalin's death when things began to get better in Russia.  It's a narrative in music of life under Stalin's rule and the relief felt after.  It was not easy listening.  The first movement was dark, sad and somber.  The second movement frankly scary, then the third started to lighten up, and by the end of the final movement the music was positively joyous.  I must commend the flautist who had a huge part in this symphony.  All in all, a wonderful evening at the Phil.  They never disappoint.  

However, after 

Flash back...

 I saw this stove at Stuckey's while we were shopping for a microwave earlier this week and it brought back a flood of memories. Not because I've ever owned a big six burner stove, but because of the color choices.

Notice the colors across the top of the range.  You can get this wonderful six burner stove in six different colors and I have lived with most of them.  Black is what we have now, and I like it.  Yellow (you certainly remember Harvest Gold?) is what I had for 25 years before I remodeled the kitchen in the last house I owned.  I must admit I've never had dark blue or bright red appliances, although I did have a bright red toaster.  But orange was a dominant color in my Ohio house.  Actually, in that house the kitchen counter tops were bright orange and the appliances were brown.  I think they called the color copper but it was brown.  So seventies.  There is a high school here in Fort Wayne, built in the 70s, whose colors are brown and orange.  I actually really liked that kitchen.  It was very bright and cheerful.  White was the color of the appliances in my apartment, my last home before moving here.  Not very exciting but they worked.  In case you're wondering, our new kitchen will be in very neutral colors, clean, serene, and not easily identifiable with any particular decade, although it will look NEW.  

A flea market???

 My husband and I have embarked on the adventure of having our kitchen remodeled.  It sounded fairly straightforward when we started planning the project.  In consultation with our contractors, we selected new flooring, cabinets, counter tops, paint and trim colors, drawer and door pulls, sink, faucet, over the stove microwave and other details.  We decided to keep our refrigerator, stove and dishwasher which are fairly new and work well.  Next Tuesday they will come and start to tear out the old cabinets.  This is sooner than we expected, so we spent most of yesterday and today taking everything out of our current cabinets.  We decided that the best way to handle this was to pile everything on the big table in the formal dining room.  As I write this we have about three quarters of the cabinets cleared out, and have stuff piled high on the dining room table, chairs and two card tables, plud some overflow in the family room.  This is only the stuff we decided to keep.  Some things got pitched.  We are trying to be thoughtful after all, and some things still in good condition were donated.  I mean, how many spaghetti strainers does one family need?  We even discovered some things that neither of us remembered ever seeing before, so no sentimental attachment there.  Would anyone like a "Bob the Builder" child's plate?  Right now our dining room looks like a huge stall in a flea market.  i am trying to reassure myself that we are getting the same number of cabinets (some with nice pull put drawers) that we have now so we will be able to fit in everything that has come out.  What goes up must come down, so what comes out must go in, right?

 I took these pictures this morning.  There's much more stuff there now.  

the perfect hat...

My west coast brother informed me that today is "National Hat Day." While I don't regularly wear hats these days (fake fur trimmed hood yes, hats no) there was a time in my life when hats were a really big deal.  When I was in my pre-teen and early teen years my mother and I would make at least two trips a year to the big city of Fort Wayne to do some shopping.  This almost always involved buying new hats for the season.  Spring and fall each year the stores introduced the 'color' for that season.  One year the fall color was royal blue, very pretty.  I believe my hat that year was a pill box style.  Every Sunday all of the women from toddlers on up came to church wearing hats and gloves, and carrying purses of course.  Even in the summer time.  In fact I remember my father teasing us once about wearing gloves in the summer.  White sheer light weight gloves of course, with little ruffles at the wrist. As I've grown older, I think I've come to understand why hard working women of my mother's era and earlier wore gloves to church and other fancy occasions.  It was to cover up those aging work worn hands.  Hummm.  Just looking at my hands here in the bright light of my desk lamp, perhaps I'll go back to wearing gloves to church, and, while I'm at it, why not a hat?  Does anyone know where I can buy a hat?

really fine...

 My spouse and I eat out fairly often, probably once a week at least, but that's just eating out.  This evening, to celebrate our first anniversary, we indulged in $$ FINE DINING $$.  Instead of our usual haunts, which all have really good food, we went to Eddie Merlot's.  We dressed up and everything.  The food was excellent (best filet I've ever had), the service impeccable, soft lighting, beautifully set tables and a very nice but not overly attentive waitress.  We were seated at a U shaped booth where we sat side by side and observed all the action.  No scooting around the bench seat though.  When we were led to our table, the hostess pulled the table completely out, so we could be seated, then pushed it back in place in front of us.  The procedure was reversed when we were ready to leave. It was all in all a delightful experience with only two jarringly funny notes.  The carts laden with meals that were pushed around the room were loud.  It sounded like they had wooden wheels reverberating on the lovely hardwood floors.  My husband said it reminded him of scenes in old movies where people in carts were being hauled off to the guillotine.  It didn't happen often but we thought it was pretty funny in that oh so lovely setting.  The other incident happened as we were getting ready to leave.  We realized that we didn't have anything smaller than a ten dollar bill with which to tip the coat check person, so we asked our waitress if she could get us change - two fives for the ten.  Poor lady, I think she thought we were going to leave her a $5 tip.  But my wonder spouse came through with his usual generosity, so she probably brightened up after we left and she saw her actual tip.  After all that, we came home and had champaign to toast our new year.  Cheers everybody!!

cheers...

 This evening my spouse and I drank a toast of delicious champagne in beautiful Waterford crystal flutes that we received as wedding gifts last year.  The toast was to a year just finished (our first as husband and wife) and to a new year, beginning tomorrow, with just as much joyous fun but, hopefully, a little less drama and better health.  Last year at this time, I was so sick that I could barely stand up for our wedding vows.  I know I was there.  We have pictures to prove it, but two days after the wedding I ended up in the hospital for ten days with acute kidney injury and covid.  Three months later, I came out of the brain fog of long covid and and was able to function normally.  During all this time my spouse took care of me, while moving all of my belongings from my apartment to our house.  No surprise that I call him my Wonder Spouse.  So here we are now, on the brink of year two - our anniversary is actually tomorrow - and we are both healthy and excitedly looking forward to taking this next year a day at a time, because what else can you do? 

memories of home

 My west coast brother informs me that today is "National Glazed Doughnut Day" and "National Hot Tea Day."  Two absolute staples of my growing up years.  My mother made the world's strongest coffee, which my father seemed to love, but she was convinced that coffee was only for adults (and hers probably was).  Tea, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable for children to drink, so our morning brew was hot tea with milk and sugar.  I'm proud to say that I was able to continue the tradition with my children, and even my grandchildren when they lived with me.  And they seem to have suffered no ill effects. Glazed doughnuts, on the other hand, were a summer treat.  

Back in the day we lived in the country, and quite a few delivery trucks were part of our routine.  If Mom put a certain card in the front window, the dry cleaner's truck would stop and pick up whatever we needed cleaned.  The "Jewel Tea" truck would stop by regularly with spices, teas, coffee, extracts and other items.  We even had a truck that would stop by a few times a year with fish on dry ice for sale.  But most wonderfully, the Nichol's Bakery truck would come once a week.  During the school year we bought bread but in the summer, when the Nichol's Bakery truck came, Mom would buy the usual bread order, but also a box of one dozen sugar glazed doughnuts.  In my memory this was always on a Wednesday morning.  As soon as the truck left, we would have a midmorning snack of milk (it was too hot for tea) and doughnuts.  I would like to think that we saved one for my father, but between the four of us (Mom, my two brothers and myself) we ate the whole dozen.  I don't know if Dad even knew they existed. In case you're wondering if we were all fat little piggies, no we weren't.  We all grew long and lean and worked and played outside enough to burn off all the calories.  In fact, I'm not sure if we had even heard of calories back then.  Such a blissfully ignorant existence.  

A snowy day

Today was a beautiful sunny day with a fresh three inch cover of snow all over.  Simply sparkling!  It was also, according to my west coast brother, "Girl Hug Boy Day."  Now, I'm far beyond considering myself a girl but there was a boy I would have liked to hug today.  Not my spouse.  Don't get me wrong, my spouse is very huggable and we hug often but this was different.  After breakfast this morning my spouse announced that he was going to go out and shovel the snow from our walks and driveway.  I was reluctant to see him do this, even though I know he's in great health.  I was unable to help due to my recent sternum injury.  He assured me he would take frequent breaks and off he went to get his coat and boots on.  Just then the doorbell rang, and there stood a strapping youth (the boy I wanted to hug) who offered to shovel all our walks and the driveway for $25. I'm not sure what the going rate for snow removal is but this seemed reasonable to us and we accepted his offer.  An hour later he was finished.  He did such a fine job that we asked him to come back anytime it snows again this winter, and he suggested that he also come back and rake our leaves in the fall.  We have his name and phone number, know that he lives about a block away from us, and best of all, he's a freshman in high school so he will be around for a while.  Isn't it good to know that there are hardworking teens out there?  

before

                                                                        after

It's thriving...

 Today (thanks again to my west coast brother for the information) is "House Plant Appreciation Day."  It's also "Peculiar People Day" but I don't think that means that people who have house plants are peculiar.  I have a house plant (singular) while my spouse has five house plants.  Just one more way that we are a blended family.  I have had my house plant since 2006.  I'm not sure if that is a good life span for a house plant but it seems to be doing ok.  It's been with me through home ownership and apartment living, where it spent summers on the balcony, and now in a house again.  Actually, my house plant is really living the good life here.  My general philosophy of plant care amounts to watering them if they gasp as I walk by.  This may explain why I was down to one house plant when I moved here.  My wonder spouse, on the other hand, is a very conscientious plant care provider.  He waters them all, two times a week, and adds plant food to the water on a regular schedule.  My house plant has never had it so good.  For that matter, neither have I.  Except for his irritating habit of winning at Scrabble (yes, again this evening) my spouse really is a good guy. He may be a little peculiar at times, but aren't we all?  

 My west coast brother has informed me that today is "National Word Nerd Day." It's also "National Static Electricity Day" but I don't know where to go with that. So let's think about words instead.  I am blessed with many friends who I would certainly consider Word Nerds.  Just this morning, for instance, a friend texted me using 'diabolically' and 'diverse' and she was just talking about Wordle.   You must admit those are good words. My spouse is, if possible, even more of a Word Nerd than I am.  The big clue is that one of our favorite games is Scrabble.  I knew for sure though that he was a Word Nerd when, as he was getting out of bed one morning, he announced that he had "achieved verticality."  After I figured out what he meant I rolled over and went back to sleep.  But I did admire his verbosity. 

Kicking the habit...

 Reminiscing about dolls yesterday reminded me of another incident from my childhood that I want to share.  When my younger brother (not my west coast aka baby brother, but the one who was two years younger than me) was almost eight years old and I was ten he was still sucking his thumb.  It was his left thumb and he had quite a callous on it.  I don't think he sucked it at school, or if he did he was large enough that nobody picked on him about it.  This was during the era of Roy Rogers and the Lone Ranger ("Happy Trails" and "Hi Oh Silver, Away") on the radio, and my brother and the neighbor boy and I played cowboys and Indians (please don't be offended, we didn't call them Native Americans back then) in the orchard located conveniently half way between our two houses.  The trees were old and gnarly and very easy to climb.  I, being the oldest, usually got to figure out the story line and frequently played the starring role.  I especially like being the Indian princess, but sometimes I was Dale Evans.  The only thing lacking were guns.  My mother was really opposed to guns of any sort, but that didn't stop us.  We crafted pistols out of sticks or clothes pins.  Finally my mother realized she was fighting a loosing battle but decided to use her capitulation to her advantage.  She made a deal with my brother. It was spring, school was out for the summer and his birthday was coming up in July.  She told him that if he would stop sucking his thumb he would get a set of two cap pistols with fancy belt and holsters for his birthday.  His dream come true.  You have never seen a child kick a habit so quickly and so completely.  It should be so easy for smokers.

Hello Dolly!

 The mystery is solved.  Our son and daughter-in-law left the 1943 card for us to find thinking I might know someone to give it to, and I think I do.  They bought it at a 'discount bin place' for 50 cents and worth every penny.  But even after I knew this, one part of the card kept running through my mind - the reference to a Betsy Wetsy doll.  I had a Betsy Wetsy doll.  Very "realistic" - you put a tiny bottle with water in it into its little open mouth and squeezed.  The doll 'drank' the water and pretty soon it came leaking out the other end into its little diaper.  I don't remember why that seemed like so much fun.  Dolls were a big part of my childhood.  When I was five my father built me a beautiful little cradle and Christmas morning it was under the tree with little twin baby dolls in it.  They didn't do anything but they were so cute.  I had a cousin just a year older than me and we played with dolls whenever we got together. I had one beautiful doll, a forerunner of the American Girl dolls. We had to replace the wig on that one after my younger brother (not my west coast brother) plucked all the fuzz off its head to rub under his nose while he sucked his thumb. There's nothing sadder than a beautiful doll with a big bald spot on the top of her head.  That doll went from being a curly red head to a blond with long braids.  There was a doll hospital in New Haven where the transformation took place.  In addition to real dolls, my cousin and I spent a lot of time playing with paper dolls - the little dolls with lots of cute clothes that came before Barbies.  We spent hours dressing those dolls in the costumes they came with, usually in book format where all the clothes needed to be cut out.  Being very careful not to cut off the tabs.  We also traced around the dolls and created our own fabulous styles.  Another wonderful source of paper clothes were the Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogs.  Those big fat books contained pages and pages of women's fashions and we could always find some that would fit our paper dolls.  Those dolls didn't come with beach houses or pink cars but I'm pretty sure we had just as much fun with them as little girls playing with Barbies do now.    

the mystery gift

 Today, as my spouse and I were packing away the last of the Christmas decor scattered around the house, we found a clear plastic wrapped flat package which had slid down between the family room couch and an end table.  When we opened it we discovered a large tri-fold card titled "Back in 1943."  Neither of us had seen this before.  We think that someone may have brought it to my birthday party earlier in December (because we had said cards, no gifts) and while here realized that, since I had just turned 80, I must have been born in 1944 not 1943.  So, our best guess is they just left it behind??? However it happened I am enjoying looking at it.  It lists all sorts of things that happened between 1948 and 1968, from the time I started kindergarten to the year I got married the first time.  Definitely my formative years.  Here are some of my favorites - Sky King and Lassie on TV, also Leave it to Beaver and Gunsmoke, my Betsy Wetsy doll, the "Little House" books, Bazooka Bubblegum, Tootsie Rolls, proms, and Elvis Presley (I saw him in concert when I was 13).  Thank you, thank you to the mystery person who left this behind.  It's being lots of fun.  

Good times...

 Recently I've received emails from high school classmates reminiscing about the "good old days."  I've also seen similar posts on Facebook with pictures questioning if I remember certain devices and how we used them.  Yes, in case you're wondering, I do know how to use a dial telephone and I know what a 'church key' was for.  However today I realized that there are a lot of things to celebrate about the Good New Days.  For example, this morning my spouse and I chose to stay home and attend church on line.  It was a very cold morning.  The service was lovely, the sermon was excellent, and we even had our choice of wine for communion.  I don't do couch church every Sunday, but it's a nice option to have available.  Later in the day when we had to go out, we enjoyed the luxury of seat heaters in our car.  My father's Chevy never had those, let alone my grandpa's one-horse power surrey.  Can you imagine what a cold ride that must have been?  Just writing this on my laptop I remember the frustration of learning to type using carbon paper to make copies.  There's a reason I never became a secretary.  One more example - on Tuesday evening I will be attending a committee meeting by Zoom.  Now there is an excellent modern invention.  We all agreed it would be more convenient that way.  Yes!  Let's hear it for the good new days.  

tree down...

Here's a picture of our Christmas tree as it looked in all its glory  when we set it up in December.

And here is how it looks this evening after being totally de-constructed.  All branches removed and stored in a large bin, and the top covered with a large trash bag to keep it dust free in the basement until next year.

About half way through the deconstruction process each year (especially when I'm fighting with the lights that have somehow gotten tangled while just being on the tree) is when I start to think that I really should get a new tree.  This one is, after all, over 40 years old.  My kids and grandkids have grown up with this tree.  I could get a nifty, easy to fold away pre-lit tree, possibly less than seven feet tall.  Just unfold it and add some ornaments.  I could do that and I might do that, maybe next year? Or maybe not.  
 

Really???

 Imagine my astonishment when my west coast brother told me that he cooked aebleskivers and bacon for his grandchildren this morning for breakfast.  Who knew that he knew how to prepare such a delectable dish?  I certainly didn't.  But then, to be perfectly honest, I had never even heard of aebleskivers until today.  It's not part of my German heritage.  My west coast brother further assured me that he does indeed have the proper pan for baking aebleskivers.  It seems that his daughter (the mother of the grandchildren for whom he was cooking today) gave him the pan some years ago.  That was rather clever of her I think.  The pan he has can make waffles, pancakes or aebleskivers, but only one at a time.  Hummm??? My wonder spouse is a very good cook. Perhaps I should get him an aebleskivers pan as a belated Christmas gift?  The kind of gift that keeps on giving.  Perhaps I'll sleep on it.  Today is, after all, "Festival of Sleep Day."  I think it's not a coincidence that this comes right after the holidays.  Good night.  Sleep well. Perhaps you'll dream of aebleskivers

What goes up...

 ..must come down. I'm sure you are familiar with that wise old saying.  I first learned the truth of it as a child while tossing a baseball up in the air.  One missed catch smacked me in the nose. 

But now I am confronted with a different kind of coming down. Emotionally, my spouse and I are coming down from the high of holiday entertaining and travel to face the grim reality.   It's time to take down my good old tree.  It is not a throwaway.  We will box it up until next year.  We're making some progress.  We actually hauled up all of the Ornament boxes from their storage space in the basement.  

We were getting a start on the undecorating when my spouse's son stopped by to pick up a dish left behind on Christmas day.  We visited for a while and munched on some leftover Christmas candy, before finally deciding that we really should go out for pizza. That is what you do, after all, when all of the Christmas leftovers have finally been consumed. 

And so we did, and so we shall take down the tree tomorrow.  And if that doesn't work out, there's always Saturday. 

No thank you...

 Well, 2025 is off to a good start for my spouse and myself.  We have enjoyed not going anywhere or doing anything except relaxing.  I did get a few thank you notes written and we both ate more than we should have of gift cookies and rum balls.  What we did not do, however, is take the Polar Plunge.  Many people did.  It looked like a big crowd on TV.  My west coast brother informed me that people in Washington state were also stripping down to their bathing suits and jumping into frigid water.  Evidently the water around here was about 40 degrees.  Burrrrrr!!  One young man being interviewed explained to the well bundled up reporter that it was "fun and exhilarating."  At least I think that's what he said.  His teeth were chattering so much it was hard to tell.  Not only do I not want to take the Polar Plunge, I don't even want to go stand around and watch as others do it.  Not sure if that makes me old, or just sensible.  I can live with either label.