It Wasn't my imagination.

 I always suspect that when I take my car in for an oil change and mention that there might be another problem, the mechanics look at me and wonder.  Is this for real or is this old lady imagining things?  For example, yesterday I took my car in for a basic oil change and mentioned that I thought there might be a problem with my brakes.  It was hard to explain, but sometimes, when I step on the brakes  they stutter before they stop.  Little hesitations.  This didn't happen frequently but it did happen often enough to be a concern.  They checked and discovered that the right rear caliper needs to be replaced.  Turns out that break was sticking, causing the unusual wear.  Happily, the mechanic agreed with me that that really shouldn't have happened on a car with only 23,000 miles on it.  So he contacted the company, explained the situation, and even though I'm out of warranty, they will cover most of the cost of repairs.  Thank you, Fiat.  Of course, because I'm just a little suspicious, when I got home I googled the cost of replacing a caliper and their estimate was just what the mechanic told me.  So it's all good or will be when the parts come in.

no surprises

 Well, I did it.  I watched the presidential debate this evening all the way through.  No surprises.  It certainly didn't change my mind about who I plan to vote for.  It was a much more lively debate (aka shouting match) that they usually are.  It will be fun to watch the VP debate next week, just for the contrast.  The only definite thought I came away with is that I would not like to be the moderator if the presidential candidates debate again.  Someone commented that the moderator should have the power to turn off the mike of the person who is not supposed to be talking.  I think he needed a gavel.

best joke

 Here's the best joke from today's exercise class:

A German Shepard, a Doberman and a cat have all died and gone to heaven.  As they stand before God he asks them to state their beliefs.  The German Shepherd said "I believe in loyalty, strength and obedience." to which God responded "Excellent, sit here on my right side."  The Doberman responded "I believe in dedication, love and faithfulness."  God said "That's good.  Sit here on my left side." Then he turned to the cat and said "What's your belief?"  The cat responded, "I believe you're in my seat."

Personal note, anyone who has ever lived with a cat is not surprised at this response.

using my teacher voice

 This morning it was my turn to facilitate our adult Sunday school class.  We are still meeting by Zoom and sometimes that creates some awkward moments.  Ours is a discussion class with everyone chiming in.  We are a very opinionated group.  After last week's class (I didn't lead last week) someone complained to me that one particular person had monopolized too much of the conversation (she had) and asked me if I could get her to talk less this week.  Zoom is a wonderful program when you can't meet in person but sometimes it's hard to keep things equitable.  So I gave it some thought and decided to take the class back to the basics.  At the beginning of the class I told them I had some ground rules for our session today.  I told them, very nicely of course, that it would help me if they would raise their hands when they wanted to speak.  I also reserved the right to cut someone off when they had made their point to give others a chance to comment.  It worked like a charm if I do say so myself, and hopefully no one's feelings were hurt.  The person who is leading next week called me this evening to tell me she plans to use the same guidelines.  Isn't it fun when grade school rules still work with adults?

About those pink shoes

 Once upon a time, when I was young and, if not hot, at least relatively attractive, I owned a lovely pair of two-tone pink shoes with three inch heels.  Since I am five feet 10 inches tall and skirts were short back then, those shoes, worn with a matching pink suit (short skirt of course) made my legs look pretty good.  I wore that outfit to a job interview in Monticello, New York.  I was applying for the job of junior high art teacher.  As I was driving across New York state, a much longer driver than I had anticipated, on a well paved four lane highway, through a very thinly populated area, I had a flat tire.  Happily, I was able to pull into the median.  As I stepped out of the car to assess the situation, long legs first, two pickup trucks stopped and two very nice young men had that tire changed in nothing flat.  Then they led me back to a bar/service station where they treated me to a drink while I called the superintendent of schools who was expecting me in an hour to explain why I would be late.  He agreed to wait for me and I did finally make it to my appointment.  He and the principal were waiting for me, the interview went well, and I got the job.  It wasn't until a few months later that the principal told me that before I showed up he had told the superintendent that he wasn't going to hire another woman art teacher unless I was at least six feet tall.  Thanks to those lovely pink shoes I was.  A friend told me later that I was the only person he ever knew who had been hired by the yard.  

shoes then and now

 My daughter and I went shoe shopping yesterday.  I wanted a new pair of fall color shoes, brown or tan or black.  How boring is that?  I found the perfect pairs (yes I bought two pairs, one black, one tan) and they are very comfortable and will serve me well, but sometimes I miss the good old days.  Before we were married my soon to be husband and I spent a weekend in New York City.  We had a lovely time, ate at some great restaurants, and did some window shopping.  Sometime on Saturday afternoon he bought me a pair of shoes.  They were wonderful shoes, beautiful teal blue paten leather with three inch heels, a thin strap and pointy toes.  It was the style.  They were wonderful and I wore them when we went out that evening.  By the end of the evening my feet were killing me, but they looked great and that's all that mattered.  There have been other memorable shoes in my life - strappy red sandals and an amazing pair of platform shoes with four inch heels and some lovely pink on pink heels that matched the pink suit I wore for a job interview..... to be continued.

my kind of job

I like mushrooms so I was delighted to learn that September is National Mushroom Month.  Hooray, they get a whole month.  I include mushrooms, preferably fresh, in lots of dinners, especially in casseroles.   Many years ago when I was a child (many, many years ago) while visiting relatives in Pennsylvania. my brother and I were taken to visit a mushroom farm.  I remember being inside cool, damp buildings with mushrooms growing all over the floor.  Years later, and I don't remember the exact circumstances, I was in a meeting with several other women discussing our jobs.  At the time I was working as a mortgage loan officer, a job that kept me talking to people all day long.  I also had two pre-teen children who needed lots of my time. Not to mention a loving husband and two cats.  One lady in the discussion group told us that her job was raising mushrooms in her basement.  I instantly remembered those cool dark very quiet mushroom barns and thought "What a great job."   Now it occurs to me that this could be a good retirement job.  All I need is a basement.  

wash your hands

Recently I watched a rerun episode of the old show "Monk."  I always liked the show but it occurred to me, as I was watching, that it's a perfect show for the pandemic.  Monk, if you will recall, is obsessive compulsive.  He could be the poster child for thorough hand washing and social distancing, and no one could clean more completely.  If he was wearing a mask it would be a perfect show for 2020.  

I don't mean to seem ungrateful but....

 What do you do with pictures that people send you?  I mean the real, printed on photo paper, glossy prints.  It's easy to deal with pictures on Facebook.  You can enjoy them for a while and then they go away.  I also find it easy to deal with pictures I take on trips.  Either they're on my phone and live in 'the cloud' somewhere or I take them with my camera and save the little memory cards.  From there I can look at them on my computer or even run a little slide show on my TV.  I don't do this very often, probably as often as some people pull out their albums and look at them.  In the meantime they only take up a little space in my desk drawer, and someday, when I die, my children can easily throw them away.  But back to my original question,  I know that the obvious answer is, if I receive pictures that I don't particularly care to save (for instance the picture of a cake that I received today) I should just throw them away.  But somehow I feel guilty about pitching something that someone has taken the time to mail to me.  So I do what seems natural to me.  I stuff the gift pictures in little cubby holes and drawers in my desk and let them mature there.  Then, and this is a little like leftovers in the refrigerator, a year or so from now, when I'm searching for something, I'll come upon a picture, wonder why I kept it, and then I can throw it away.

learning new tricks again

For the past five years I have spent most Monday afternoons of the school year tutoring a young child through the Fort Wayne Community Schools Study Connections program. I've really enjoyed the experience, especially the last three years when I had the same boy each year, watching him grow and improve in reading and math through third, forth and fifth grades.  It was all so pleasant.  We would sit at a table together  in the large dining hall of our church while other student tutor pairs sat at other tables around the room.  Snacks were provided for the kids who were always hungry after school and we usually had time for at least one game.  We had books to read and math pages to work on and it was all so comfortable.  Comfortable for me I mean.  I know how to work with books and papers.  But this year will be different.  We will be tutoring via Zoom.  Today I took a class to learn how.  I've been attending Zoom meetings for six months and I am pretty comfortable with that but suddenly I need to be able to work with split screens and white boards and all kinds of other new tricks I didn't know about.  It all worked pretty well during the session today but I think I will need a refresher session before I actually start working with a student.  That probably won't be for a while.  First the  people in charge need to find students who need help but also have internet and Zoom capabilities.  Just thinking about the difficulties of putting together this one hour a week program makes me feel really sorry for teachers this year.  

Rain, rain....

I don't usually blog about the weather, especially Indiana weather, because it's not that exciting.  Oh, we do get an occasional tornado, and today one TV weather person mentioned that we sit on two fault lines so earthquakes could happen.  Now that I think about it, the way 2020 has gone so far, an earthquake wouldn't surprise me that much. But the weather that has caught my attention lately is the lack of rain.  Actually, not so much the lack of rain but the water level in the river.  I don't know if someone pulled the plug somewhere or waters are stacking up behind a dam up river, or if it actually is a result of low rainfall, but I have never seen the water level as low in the St. Mary's River as it is right now.  I saw a kayak floating by earlier today and it looked like the paddler could touch bottom with his paddle.  Maybe not but I have lived with a view of this river for five years and I have never seen so much mudbank showing.  It's not pretty.  I haven't seen any party boats on the river for several days now and it's not because they can't get under the bridge.  If this keeps up much longer it will look like the Rio Grande.  I'll let you know when I can jump across it.  Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.  

it's in the mail

 A few days ago, as a favor to a friend, I addressed and mailed one hundred letters for a local candidate.  The reasoning behind this exercise was that people are more likely to open letters that are hand addressed that those that are machine addressed.  This may be true, and as I said I only did this because a friend asked me to, but the truth is I don't appreciating opening mail that I think might be personal only to discover that it's a plea for something.  It might be for a charity or for a politician or to offer me some amazing savings on something I don't want.  Whatever, my first reaction is annoyance.  While it's true that I do open the envelope. I almost always pitch whatever is inside without reading it all the way through.  In my opinion, assuming these mass mailings are effective at all, a post card is a better bet, hand addressed or not.  People will almost always look at both sides of a postcard and, if we're thinking politics here, are bound to at least read the candidate's name.  People are also more likely to keep post cards and glance at them again.  They do make handy little book marks after all.  And speaking of postcards. I received a good one today.  It was machine addressed to "a registered voter" at my address, very impersonal, and yet I flipped it over to look at the other side.  There I discovered a list of the dates and locations for early voting.  It's not just at the coliseum as I had thought from TV news reports.  Starting October 26 I will be able to walk to a site near my home to cast my early, in person ballot.  So hooray for postcards bearing good information.  

Flash back

I watched a new show on TV this evening called "World's Funniest Animals." It was a cute show, as you would expect but the scene that jogged a memory was that of a dog howling while a man played a guitar.  Many years ago when I was somewhere in the middle of my high school years and experiencing relationships of the romantic kind for the first time, I was sitting on the picnic bench in our back yard with my first true love.  It was a warm spring night and he had brought his guitar along.  He was still fairly new at playing the guitar but wanted to play for me.  That was fine with me.  Any excuse to sit by ourselves in the dark away from pesky brothers and concerned parents was fine with me.  He started strumming and immediately our old farm dog who was keeping us company started howling.  It wasn't a soft little howl.  She was really getting into it.  Immediately my boyfriend, who was after all a teenage boy, got into the game.  He played and the dog howled.  It was quite a duet.  The final blow to my romantic fantasies was hearing my father laughing in the kitchen.  

Don't call me....

 Earlier this evening, about 6:15 to be exact, I placed a call to my insurance company to verify coverage on a procedure I'm having done.  I really don't have any concerns about the coverage but it was a suggestion from the doctor so I thought I would do it.  I was even given a list of questions to ask.  I called the 800 number on my insurance card and worked my way through all the prompts til I got to the place where I was assured that I was in line to speak with a real live person and the wait time was approximately eleven minutes.  Or, if I didn't want to stay on hold I could hang up and they would call me back when it was my turn.  I was assured twice that I would not loose my place in line.  So I hung up assuming that I would get a call back in about 15 minutes or so.  I did get a call back, at 10:07 pm.  It was a robo voice assuring me that my call was important to them and someone would be with me shortly.  Actually I was assured repeatedly over the next ten minutes how important my call was to them, then I hung up.  Maybe I'll try again tomorrow, maybe not.

glad to be a Hoosier

 According to my west coast brother today is National Stay Away from Seattle Day.  Considering the smoke hanging over the entire west coast that seems like a really good idea to me.  My brother, same brother, lives in Spokane way across the mountains from Seattle on the eastern edge of Washington state and the smoke is so thick around there that he described it this morning like this "Picture the foggiest, smokiest camp ground you ever woke up in.  It's like that but it goes 300 miles in every direction." he went on to say that the city has opened "cleaner air" shelters, schools are calling smoke days, garbage pickups are postponed and masks are definitely doing double duty.  Hearing that plus reports of flooding in the gulf states makes me more glad than ever that I live right here in not so exciting but oh, so comfortable Indiana.  

meeting muddles

 I have attended many meetings in my life - church committees, charitable committees, work related, study groups - I've done them all. Most of them have been in person meetings, but recently I've attended several Zoom meetings and they work pretty well.  What doesn't work well is a combo meeting.  This is a meeting where some members attend in person and others attend by Zoom.  Consider the meeting I attended this evening.  Take 20 people socially distanced around a large room, everyone wearing a mask of course.  Add to the mix six people who can be seen on a large screen TV and hopefully heard if they want to contribute and comment.  Spend five minutes explaining to one of the Zoom attendees how to mute himself so we don't hear his dog barking. Now we're ready to start.  Even with microphones strategically placed there are problems hearing mask muffled comments.  Even more problems if you're listening from a distance.  Amazingly, we did get some work done, but toward the end of the two hours one Zoom participant commented that he could hardly hear anything that was said during the meeting and he is an attorney whose opinions we value.  To Zoom or not to Zoom, that is the question.  But please choose one or the other.  

Testing 1, 2, 3

 This morning I continued my annual wellness checkup with three diagnostic tests.  The very good part of this experience was that all three tests are done in the same building that houses my doctor's office, very convenient. The first test was just a quick stab and the drawing of a little blood.  No problem except that I had been fasting since last night and was feeling a little caffeine deprived.  The second test was a dexa scan, my favorite test.  I just recline on an admittedly very hard table while a scanner zips back and forth above me checking my bone density.  They carefully avoid my bionic hip because that would really skew their results.  Finally, the last, and my least favorite test, the dreaded mammogram.  Just in case it wasn't uncomfortable enough before, they added two new steps to the process since the last time I had one.  First of all, because of Covid precautions I'm sure, when I assumed the position my face was twisted sideways and smashed up against a plexiglass shield. The other surprise was that they can now do 3D mammograms which means twice as many pictures taken from top to bottom as well as side to side. Ouch, ouch and ouch.  

Days to remember

 There are two historic days that are sealed in my memory.  It's true I think that there are some events that are so world shaking that you always remember where you were when the event happened.  For me it's John Kennedy's assassination and 9-11.  I was working in the basement storage area of the library at Ball State when my boss came hurrying down stairs to tell me that Kennedy had been shot.  My first reaction was incredulity.  Such a thing simply couldn't happen in the United States.  On 9-11 I was rushing around getting ready to go to work when my husband, who was watching the morning news in the family room, said "Come in here, something is happening."  To which I responded "I can't. I've got to get to work."  But he insisted and finally I went in to see what was going on, just in time to see the second plane hit the twin towers.  My first reaction was the assumption that it must be a terrible accident.  Terrorist attacks just don't happen in the United States.  Needless to say, I was very late to work that day, and I might as well have stayed home.  Everyone was glued to TV screens or radios.  This year's big event, the Pandemic, while every bit as devastating. just kind of happened.  I can't point to a particular moment when it started.  The whole year gets the credit. I will always remember 2020.  

I'm back

 For the last four days a friend has been visiting with me, actually staying over night in my apartment.  My first overnight guests since early March.  We were careful.  I kept the windows open as much as possible for lots of fresh air circulation.  We sat at least six feet apart and spent a lot of time on the balcony.   Another friend visited during the days and all of us wore masks when we went out.  We ate at outdoor restaurants which was fine except it was really chilly on The Deck yesterday.  All in all I could almost convince myself that things were nearly back to normal.  Almost, but not quite.  I just found out this evening that my daughter was exposed to Covid at work two days ago and has to self-quarantine until the 22nd.  She feels fine but still it is a reminder that things are not back to "normal."  Be careful out there.

extra preparation

 Tomorrow a friend is coming to stay over for a few nights.  We've been friends since high school and haven't seen each other since February, for obvious reasons, so I'm really looking forward to her visit.  A third friend will be joining us for most of each day, although she lives here in town so won't be sleeping over.  We are all still apprehensive about Covid 19.  We all feel well but keep hearing about asymptomatic carriers of the coronavirus.  None of us wants to infect the others but we do want to spend time together.  So I find myself doing some extra prep work for this visit.  I've done all the usual - dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, mopping floors, etc. But I also have made sure I have plenty of clean masks and I've measured to make sure we can sit six feet apart in the living room and in the dining room and on the balcony.  I've also opened lots of windows to let fresh air circulate and found several restaurants where we can eat outside.  Beyond that I guess we'll just have to take our chances, which seems to be what the rest of the country is doing.  

off to the races again.

 Two weeks ago I watched the pandemic version of the Indianapolis 500 and today I watched the pandemic version of the Kentucky Derby.  No fancy hats, at least not on site, but the race did go on.  They are both great races and I enjoy them. I love the roar of the engines and the grace of the horses.  As I said, both great races, but the Kentucky Derby has better names.  Authentic won, Tiz the Law came in second and Mr. Big News was third.  I'm not sure where NY Traffic and Storm the Court ended up.  I think the winning car at Indy was a Honda but that's all I remember.  The Indy 500 cars are really colorful and plastered with the ads of their sponsors.  Evidently Kentucky Derby winners do something similar.  I noticed the name 'Jeff Ruby's Steakhouse' printed on the winning jockey's pant leg.  Kind of ironic when you think of how carefully jockeys have to watch their weight.  The KD winner didn't get milk but he and the horse got roses.  Another fun fact, today was the 146th running of the Kentucky Derby, making it the oldest continuous sporting event in the US.  

strolling through the museum

My friend and I spent a lovely, quiet afternoon at the Fort Wayne Museum of Art today.  I love the glass sculptures.  There was one I would gladly have brought home with me, a lovely smooth sort of leaf shaped piece in shades of blue about 18 inches long and 12 inches high.  Unfortunately it's not for sale and if it was I probably couldn't lift it.  I couldn't check the weight because of all the pesky 'do not touch' signs all over the place.  Why is it that, when I read do not touch, I immediately want to touch whatever is in front of me.  I know perfectly well what smooth glass or rough stone or fired clay or cool metal feels like but still, the urge to touch is almost irresistible.  Almost, but not quite.  My friend watches me like a hawk.  I think he's afraid I'll get arrested or something.  So I walk around, with my hands clasped behind my back and use my eyes and imagination.   One of these days I'll go by myself and when no one is looking.............

advanced notice

For a change I am giving you a heads up so you can celebrate tomorrow's special day all day long.  Tomorrow is Newspaper Carrier Day.  My husband was a newspaper carrier, aka a paper boy, many, many years ago.  He used to reminisce about picking up his papers at a common drop off point early each morning, rolling them properly and loading up his bike to make his deliveries.  Just like a mailman neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor dark of night kept him from his appointed rounds.  Miserable weather was part of the job and they didn't even have nifty plastic sleeves to put the papers in.  The only thing worse than delivering the papers in miserable weather was making collections in miserable weather.  Most people were very good about paying their weekly bills but there were always a few who didn't have any cash handy or pretended they weren't at home.  My husband's proudest possession from that era was his change maker, a nifty little device he could put on his belt that held pennies, nickles, dimes and quarters which could be released one at a time by pressing the right lever.  It stood on our dresser collecting spare change for many years.  My son has it now.  In contrast, I think my current paper person has one of the best paper routes ever.  He goes from floor to floor, door to door, delivering papers in these two apartment buildings, in little plastic bags that he hangs on our door knobs, and of course he never needs to knock  on a door for payment.  He's actually a little old man so I guess he's earned the easy route.  He never misses a Sunday so I'm not complaining.  Let's hear it for Newspaper Carriers everywhere.  

a creative day

 Today is Bison-Ten-Yell Day.  When I received this information from my west coast brother this morning I assumed it had something to do with an ancient Native American ritual.  Maybe, long, long ago ten bison were running into a village and the women (the men were out hunting) yelled at the bison until they ran away.  Maybe they chased them over a cliff, starting that method of hunting.  But no, that's not what it means at all.  bison-ten-yell said quickly is bicentennial and today is a day to celebrate the 200th anniversary of your favorite imaginary animal.  I have two, the Hodag, a monstrous assembled creature which fooled naturalists for a while and which I first learned about on a trip to Wisconsin, and the Jackalope, a mythical creature of the great southwest.  It looks like a large jackrabbit with antlers.  So what's your favorite mythical creature? I'm sure you have one.  

At last!!!

 I live on the tenth floor of a 55 year old apartment building.  It's a very solid building but some of its systems are getting a bit worn.  For instance the elevators.  We have three. I have never been trapped in one but I have experienced some unexpected rides (up when I push down or the reverse, stops on floors where only ghosts get on and doors that are reluctant to open, not to mention very slow response times). You get the idea.  For the last several months (it's not a speedy process) a crew has been working to replace the first of our three elevators. and today, joy of joys, our new elevator was working for the first day.  It happened to be laundry day for me which means six elevator rides,  three down, three up.  I rode down the first time in one of the old elevators because I didn't know til I got to the ground floor that the new elevator was ready to ride.  A group of workers were admiring their work and assured me it was good to go. I took the next five rides on the new elevator and it was wonderful.  It came when I pushed the button, it was light and bright inside, it pings at every floor and said "tenth floor" when I got there. I know I'm easily entertained but believe me this elevator is a treat to ride.  And better yet, they were starting work on the second one this morning.