vocabulary lesson

 The most recent vocabulary question on my page a day trivia calendar is "If you have nephophobia, what are you afraid of?" Well, my first guess was nephews, but that's just silly.  I have three nephews and four great nephews and they are all very fine people, not in the least bit scary.  Actually, nephophobia is the fear of clouds.  Over the last few days I have been enjoying the sight of white puffy clouds in beautiful blue skies and it's very hard to imagine them as fear inducing.  But. evidently, having experienced a traumatic weather event, some people do develop a fear of clouds and other weather related phobias.  Personally, I've always loved the feel of strong winds blowing (in the summer, not freezing cold winter winds) and the sight of dark storm clouds rolling in.  But I'm sure this is because I've never lived through a tornado or a hurricane or a flood.  I'm sure such an experience could change my attitude toward clouds, but I'm not in any hurry to find out.

another movie?

 This must be my weekend for movies.  Last night it was "The Princess Bride" and today it was "Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris."  I'm not sure if "Mrs. Harris.." will ever develop the cult following that "Princess Bride" evidently has, but it was an excellent movie in its own right.  Plenty of scenes of Christian Dior creations of the 50s and a story line that avoids being too predictable but still has a happy ending.  I recommend it.  I also saw in the previews that, in August, they are re-releasing "E.T." to celebrate the 40th anniversary of its first release. All in all, great fun at the movies this weekend but I am feeling kind of old.  The fact that my 60 year high school reunion is coming up doesn't help much either.    

such fun....

 My west coast brother informed me this morning that today is National Talk in an Elevator Day.  As it happens, I talk to someone in an elevator almost every day.  Living on the 10th floor makes it easy, but this evening was different.  My friend and I ended up in an elevator at the Embassy after an excellent show, and the elevator conversation was all positive.  The entertainment was a showing of the movie "The Princess Bride," one of my all time favorites.  Evidently it's a favorite of many other people.  The theater was full (we sat in the balcony) and people cheered and booed as various characters showed up on the big screen.  It was fun seeing the movie on the huge Embassy screen, and it just got better.  The finale of the evening was a live appearance by "Wesley" Cary Elwes, who answered questions for an hour about the making of the movie and all of the actors involved.  It was a very interesting and entertaining evening.  

Through a different lens

My 19 year old granddaughter is in town for the summer, working at Pandora's in the mall, sharing an apartment with her boyfriend, and generally having a wonderful summer.  Today was the first chance she and I have had to get together and we made the most of it.  She will be going into her sophomore year studying design, specifically dress design, so it seemed like a good idea to take her to the Bill Blass exhibit at the Fort Wayne Museum of Art.  It's a lovely exhibit, not huge but very interesting. We took a long time enjoying the clothes and comparing notes on our likes and dislikes.  Actually there were no dislikes when it came to the clothes.  We moved on to the contemporary exhibit, then the floral art, then the quilts and then my favorite, the glass exhibit.  I love the large glass sculptures.  In the last hallway, on our way out, we discovered a cabinet full of little glass items, some shaped like animals, some like little cut glass barbells.  It turns out that every item in that cabinet was a knife holder.  Evidently these were part of place settings at very posh dinners.  The purpose was to keep those possibly messy table knifes off the beautiful white tablecloths.  What a great idea.  After the museum we went across the street to a sushi restaurant.  The food was delicious, and I watched with a bit of envy as my granddaughter expertly used her chopsticks. Thankfully they also provided forks.  As we sat across the table from each other I had time to observe at leisure her lavender and turquoise hair, a couple of new piercings and at least one new tattoo.  Ah well, she's still beautiful, and she's my granddaughter so it's not up to me to try to control her fashion choices.  I just get to love her.  

an embarrassing reminder

 According to my west coast brother today is Take Your Pants for a Walk Day, Take Your House Plants for a Walk Day and also Walk on Stilts Day.  I'm fine with the first two.  I never walk anywhere without my pants.  That would be too embarrassing.  And, while it's not today, I actually take my one and only house plant for a walk twice a year.  Once to take it out to the balcony in the spring, to give it a taste of nature, and once in the fall to bring it inside, so it doesn't freeze.  The last suggestion though is just a cruel reminder of things I don't do well, or at all.  My middle name is definitely not Grace.  I have tried walking on stilts.  My husband built them for our children.  I never got beyond two steps before I fell off.  No success at all with a pogo stick.  I had similar results with down hill skiing.  I could do the bunny slope slowly, but never got the knack of using the tow rope.  And speaking of tow ropes, my one and only attempt to water ski resulted in a lot of time in the water, and no skiing whatsoever.  I could get up but I couldn't stay up.  We won't even discuss my dance attempts.  Some things are just best not remembered.  We will not be having dance music at our upcoming high school reunion.  

my first car

 I've been thinking a lot about cars recently, probably because I'm participating in a memoirs writing class and also have been dealing with getting repairs for my Fiat since my recent little side swipe accident.  My first car, a 1961 Corvair, also involved me in my first accident.  You remember the Corvairs, there was a book written about them, "Unsafe at Any Speed."  They had a tendency to roll over. The Corvairs had the engine in the back, which, as it turned out was great for driving on snowy, hilly streets in upstate New York.  But, before I drove it to New York, I did roll it over.  Happily, my mother had insisted that I have seat belts installed, and I walked away from that accident with just a tiny scratch on one knee.  I have been a true believer in seat belts ever since.  I bought that car, used, for $800 in July of 1965, the summer before I started my first teaching job.  I knew I needed to have a car to drive.  I got my driver's license after I bought the car, and rolled it over in August.  I was insured on my father's insurance at that time, so he took care of negotiating with them about repairs.  They wanted to call it totaled. It had rolled over and up on it's wheels again, popping the windshield out on it's way over.  The insurance company offered to pay me $400.  Daddy didn't think this was fair, since I had just paid $800 and he had never had a claim on his insurance in his life.  They told him the other option would be to fix it.  Daddy said "Fix it."  And they did.  $2500 (estimated repair costs) and a new 1962 top later, my Corvair was returned to me, probably as good as new.  I drove that car for the next six years, to and from New York state twice, to work every day and on many short trips.  Three years after we married, my husband and I traded it in to buy our brand new VW bus/camper conversion.  By that time I could see pavement through the rusted out patch in the floor in front of the driver's seat, so I wasn't too sorry to let it go.  

What are they doing?

I've heard stories of soldiers in basic training being ordered to dig large holes, then told to fill them in again.  This may or may not be true but I thought of it when I saw what was going on at the bridge today.

Early this morning they were scooping big bunches of gravel out of the river, maybe it got washed off the layers of gravel they had laid down last week, and spreading it under the bridge.  
 

By the time I got home from grocery shopping later in the morning they had scooped all of the gravel out from under the bridge, and seemed to be reversing the whole process.  No idea why.  Curious to see what they will be up to tomorrow.  Whatever they do, they will start doing it, with an amazing variety of noises, at 6:30am.  

LOL

 Today, according to my west coast brother, is National Tell an Old Joke Day and so I will.  I hope all good Catholics will forgive me, but I was told this by a Catholic priest so I think it's ok.  

One day, some Pharisees brought a woman to Jesus, declaring that she had been caught in adultery, and asking what should be done to her.  This was a test.  Everyone knew that the penalty for a woman caught in adultery was to be stoned to death. After some thought, jesus responded "Let the person without sin cast the first stone."  Suddenly, an old lady came out of the crowd and heaved a rock at the woman on trial.  Jesus looked at her and said "Mother, some times you make me so mad."

but what if???

 Over the last month, off and on, of sorting through lots of paperwork, minutes of various church meetings, old medical records, old tax receipts, etc. I had accumulated quite a lot of paper that needed to be shredded.  I honestly can't imagine why anyone would want to go through my trash looking for info they could use to steal my identity or use my credit cards or whatever the current scam is, but I have been in the habit of shredding lots of documents for many years now.  And I have a sturdy little shredder that will easily shred two or three sheets at a time or even a credit card.  But after the amount of paper I had accumulated over the last month, I knew I needed a better solution, unless I really wanted to spend eight hours a day for a couple of weeks shredding.  I didn't.  But hooray!! Last Monday a message showed up in my email announcing a free shred morning, 9-11, sponsored by my credit union, this Saturday morning.  Well, there was the obvious answer.  I made my plans, crammed all of the paperwork into two large sacks, and was awake before 8:00am, planning to get there early so I wouldn't have to wait in a long line.  What I wasn't planning on was a booming thunderstorm with warnings of 70 mile an hour winds.  Not my favorite kind of weather to drive in.  So I waited 'til things quieted down a little, but I had to head out while it was still raining to get there before they closed.  It was a twenty minutes drive each way, in a steady downpour, and half way there the thought crossed my mind, as negative thoughts will, what if they have cancelled this shredding event?  I was greatly relieved that they were still there and there wasn't a long line, hardly any line at all actually.  The volunteers (probably actually credit union employees with no choice) were milling about in the pouring rain wearing bright green rain parkas and holding umbrellas.  They were very quick about unloading the bags of paperwork and sending me on my way.  So, mission accomplished.  Of course, on the still rainy drive home, the thought flashed through my mind, as negative thoughts will, what if I've just destroyed a paper I really need?  Ah, well.

maybe????

My west coast brother has a theory about the gravel path that's being built up in the river (see yesterday's pictures).  He suggests that they are improving the crawdad habitat.  Maybe so.  It makes as much sense as anything else. The gravel extends all the way under the bridge now and they are using a cute little plow to smooth out the gravel because the big scooper won't fit under there.  But thinking about those crawdads, I'm not sure what kind of sound crawdads make.  Do they make any sound?  Google says they do.  So now I'm wondering.  Every night during what I think of as high hot summer, July through September, I am treated to a symphony of sounds - buzzing, clicking, chirping, croaking - which goes on far into the night.  There are evidently lots of critters living along the river bank.  I have always supposed that they are frogs and crickets and maybe, sometimes, locusts. I suppose some of them could be crawdads.  So the next big question is do crawdads live on gravel?  So many unanswered questions.  

it's a mystery.

 

For some months now construction has been going on to renovate, rebuild the bridge over the St. Mary's River.  I have a great view of the action from my balcony.  I can also hear the construction noise very clearly.  While I've seen the progress on the roadbed of the left two lanes of the bridge, layer by layer, I am completely surprised by what's going on this week.  Starting very early (6:30am) Monday dump trucks started pouring gravel into the river on the east side, where I can watch.  When dump trucks dump gravel there is first the sound of rushing roaring gravel pouring out of the truck box, then the box is lowered back down. This is accompanied by at least four loud bangs as the back flap settles into place.  This is what I've awakened  to every morning this week.  I've lost count of how many loads of gravel have been dumped in but it's enough to have built up a gravel road dense enough to hold up very heavy construction equipment.  After building this pathway out from the river bank to the first pier, they have now turned the corner and are going under the bridge.  You can see that in the top picture.  Now the big question is why.  I don't know. and that's very frustrating.  Any engineers out there want to give me a clue?  

memories

 Today is Nap Day which is perfect because today is also my west coast brother's birthday.  He is ten years younger than me and a bit of a surprise addition to our family since our mom was 45 when he was born.  My memory of his very early months was folding lots and lots of clean diapers.  This was way before the disposable kind.  But about those naps, when he was a toddler and my other brother and I were home from school for the summer, Mom insisted that we take a 30 minute nap after lunch.  Or as she called it a quiet time, each of us in our own rooms.  We didn't actually have to nap, we could read but we had to be quiet so the little one could fall asleep for his nap.  It wasn't until I was a mother myself that I appreciated that our quiet time was also Mom's only break for the day.  But I really want to write about another birthday memory.  When I was at home for the summer after my first year of teaching, I decided, as a birthday treat, to take my 11 year old little brother to the big city (believe me, compared to Woodburn, Fort Wayne was the big city) for lunch and a movie.  The movie was "The Sound of Music" and when we got to the theater, across the street from the Embassy, for the 1:00 show. all that was left was standing room only.  How long has it been since you saw a movie theater that full?  We decided to get tickets for the next show at 4:00pm instead and wiled away the hours window shopping.  There were lots of down town stores back then.  We finally got to see the movie, and it was amazing, especially on the really big screen.  We both loved it.  Happy birthday, and happy memories little brother.  

with relish..

 July is National Hot Dog month which is perfect for me because I just got the world's best relish.  I don't have any hotdogs right now but I will be buying some on my next trip to Kroger's.  

My relish obsession started back in 2009 when I first went to work as the Communication Editor at First Presbyterian Church.  Each year, at Christmas, we had a White Elephant gift exchange.  The first year the gift I ended up with was sweet pickle relish made by one of the staff members.  It turned out to be delicious, and for the next four Christmases (before I really retired) I did everything in my power to make sure I ended up with the relish at the end of the exchange.  And I always managed it.  Bill eventually caught on to the fact, believe me I was not subtle in my praise, that I was quite fond of his relish.  Now I am retired but still doing quite a bit of volunteer work at the church, and every year, Bill gives me a jar of his relish.  And the real joy is, I don't need to wait 'til Christmas.  In fact this year it's Christmas in July.  A few days ago Bill told me he was working on something for me and I knew right away what he meant.  Yesterday I went to the exercise class I attend there twice a week, and there on my chair was a jar of relish with my name on it.  Hooray.  Can't wait to get those hot dogs.  Although the relish is also very good on porkchops and some fish and hamburgers.  But this month I'll have it on hotdogs.  

Perfect?

 

Today is Global Hug Your Kids Day and also Perfect Family Day.  The two seem to go together to me.  If there is lots of hugging going on in your family, it's likely to be a perfect family.  Now I'm not going to claim that I grew up in an absolutely perfect family.  If a perfect family depends on beautiful clothes, a fancy house, nice cars then we were not perfect.  But, if a perfect family is one that hugs a lot, cheers you on when you do well, comforts you after a bad day at school, and loves you no matter what; if it's a family where loud voices mean you're laughing with, not yelling at each other, and thoughtful conversation is commonplace, then yes, I grew up in a practically perfect family.  I certainly hope my children feel the same way.

Snakes!

 Yesterday was National Snake Day and, since I have some history with snakes I feel compelled to acknowledge the snakes in my life.  

When I was home for the summer after my first year of teaching, my 11 year old little brother (aka my west coast brother) decided to tease me (lovingly, I'm sure) by wrapping a dead snake around the gas pedal in my car.  If it was an Olympic event, I would have won gold in the 'getting out of a car quickly' category.

Fast forward several years and my husband has taken our five year old son for a desert walk during one of our western camping trips and, when they came back, excitedly told me about the rattlesnake they had almost stepped on. We spent the rest of that evening safely inside our VW camper.  

And then there was Charlotte.  My college junior daughter invited her then serious boyfriend, future first husband, to spend some of the summer vacation with us, no problem.  But the reason behind this invitation showed up as a surprise when they came home.  They had adopted Charlotte, a four foot long boa constrictor.  Turns out my future first in-laws had refused to have a snake at their house, so she came to stay with us.  Actually, Charlotte wasn't too bad.  When they let her out of her terrarium she would slither around and liked to tangle herself around the rungs in the back of my dining room chairs.  She also would curl up on my lap and let me stroke her.  Still, they took her back to the pet store when they went back to college, and I was not sad to see her go.  

And that's it.  Those are my snake encounters. 

the adventure continues....

 

Top picture is one view on the deck of the USS LST 393, our first stop on Thursday.  After our first full day of adventures (see yesterday's blog) we stayed at the Lewis House, which was beautiful inside and out.  

On day two, heading back to Indiana, we stopped in Grand Rapids to visit the Gerald Ford Presidential Library and Museum.  I have never visited any presidential library and it was actually very interesting.  But the surprise, the second unplanned pleasure on this trip, was the exhibit in the museum which was life size panels, copies of all of the sections of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.  I have never been to Rome but the Sistine Chapel is still on my bucket list.  It was a beautiful exhibit.  Fascinating to get a close up view of the various parts of the ceiling.  

Then we continued on our way, planning to stop at the Essenhaus for an early supper.  What we hadn't planned on was the pouring rain all the rest of the way home.  I think Michigan has had enough rain for a while.  The supper was delicious in an old fashioned, comfort food sort of way.  I had beef and noodles on mashed potatoes and pickled beets.  Memories of my Aunt Dora's cooking.  So good.  Then a quick stop at a roadside produce stand where I bought tomatoes, sweet cherries and cucumbers.  Finally made it home, just as the rain was letting up.  So that was our great two day adventure.  My next planned trip is a cruise on the Rhine River in September.  While I'm sure it will be fun, I doubt if it will be more fun per minute than the last two days.  

surprise, surprise...

 When a well planned road trip goes according to plan, that's good.  When a couple of unexpected treats are added to the mix, that's truly excellent.  A friend and I took off yesterday morning for a two day road trip in Michigan.  He had planned everything and I was just along for the ride.  We headed for Muskegon, on the west side of Michigan, on the lake.  The drive took the anticipated less than three hours and, after lunch, we made our first stop, a visit to a WWII LST ship.  If you aren't sure what an LST ship is, it's the kind of ship that pulled up almost on the sand at several locations like Omaha Beach and off loaded tanks.  It was interesting to see with explanations by my companion, a former Navy officer.  Next stop, the Muskegon Museum of Art, and here was our first surprise.  In addition to their permanent collection which has some really nice pieces, they had a traveling exhibit of 35 costumes from the Downton Abbey series.  I'm a big fan and it was really fun to get a close up look at some of the beautiful dresses worn by the stars of the show.  After the museum, we walked down the street to tour two historic homes.  I definitely got my steps and steps in yesterday.  The Hackley and Hume homes, side by side, built at the turn of the last century, by partner lumber barons, were filled with amazing hand carved wooden details and a few 'modern' amenities like a rain shower in one house's bathroom.  No matter how large and lavish, they each had only one bathroom. Coincidentally, it was a perfect day for all this site seeing, sunny and warm with a cool breeze.  Then on to supper in an excellent local restaurant on the lake in Whitehall, just a few miles north of Muskegon.  Whitehall was also the site of the B&B where we had reservations.  If you ever want to stay anywhere near Muskegon, I highly recommend The Lewis House, a beautifully restored historic home with every amenity.  My bed was comfy, the shower was great, the view of White Lake was beautiful and this morning's breakfast, with blueberry pancakes and three kinds of bacon, was excellent.  But the most fun part of our stay in Whitehall was the play we attended at the theater just down the block from the B&B.  The play was a very funny, and very well acted, political farce called "The Outsider."  

That was day one, day two, the trip home, and pictures tomorrow.  

memories

 Today is (or would have been) my 54th wedding anniversary.  It's also coincidentally Beans and Franks Day and National French Fry Day.  How did they know?  These were among my husband's favorite foods, although tacos always topped the list.  Actually, I imagine they are many men's favorite foods.  Hence the special day.  

Also coincidentally, I started taking a memoirs writing class today.  This class had actually started way back in 2020, one week before the pandemic shut everything down, so I was able to share the memoir I had written after that class.  It was the chickens/small tornado story that I posted on this blog later in 2020.  It did get some laughs which pleased me, but now I have to write something else for next week.  Happily, listening to the other readers, all very interesting, several ideas have come to mind.  Should I write about the summer that the song "Henry the Eighth" was a big part of my life, or my brief stint as a bartender, or the fire in our basement, or camping on our honeymoon, or the cat in the ceiling, or the hunt for red thread?  Decisions, decisions.  If I come up with something good, I'll publish it here next week.   

there may be a reason....

 According to today's entry in my page a day trivia calendar 'smicker' is an archaic verb that means to look at someone amorously.  It's probably of Scandinavian origin.  Ever since I read this, I've been trying to think how I would use it in a sentence.  A verb is an action word right?  You remember grammar.  Nouns and verbs are the basics.  So "I smicker you?"  It would be shorter than saying something like "I look at you adoringly."  But still, smicker?  On the other hand, it might sound nicer that "He's checking her out." or in fairness "She's checking him out."  "He's smickering her."  She's smickering him."  Nope, it just doesn't sound very amorous.  There may be a reason why it's use died out.  But tonight, just for fun, tell someone you love that you smicker them.  

What would you buy?

 Over the past several days, I have seen news reports about a complete dinosaur skeleton, over ten feet tall and 20 feet long, that will be auctioned off later this summer.  They expect it will sell for about eight million dollars.  Now I really don't have any desire to own a dinosaur skeleton, although it would be an interesting conversation piece.  "Nice dinosaur!"  "Love the color."  "Big, isn't it?"  "It looks great in this room."  You get the idea.  I'm also wondering, where would you put it?  By the pool?  If you have a spare $8,000,000, you have a pool.  In your son's bedroom? He would be the envy of all his friends.  In the foyer?  The tail could work as a coat rack.  But, as I said, I don't want a dinosaur skeleton at all.  But what do I want?  What do you want?  Assuming you had an extra eight million lying around, what would be the item that would call out to you?  What do you want more than anything?  If you're playing this game with me, no altruism.  Assume that if you have eight million to spare, you have already given great gobs of money to charity.  So what will it be? A boat, a plane, a mansion, a great car, fabulous jewelry?  I think I would like to travel first class all over the world.  And spend weeks or months in some of my favorite cities.  Barcelona comes to mind.  Sweet dreams.  

 Today is National Kitten Day.  May I have an "Awe."  Every body loves a kitten, right?  Well, everyone except my mother-in-law.  Now don't get me wrong, my mother-in-law really was a lovely person, and mostly very kind, but she did not like cats.  And kittens simply grew into cats so no thank you.  She considered cats to be evil looking and was positive they could steal a baby's breath.  Did I mention she was born in 1898 so she did have some old fashioned ideas.  When we were first married, and when out children were very young we had two small dogs but when we lived in the country in Ohio a kitten came into our lives.  Our neighbor girl found her abandoned along the road and begged me to take her because her family's two big cats did not want an intruder.  So we adopted the kitten and named her Buckeye.  Because we were in Ohio an because she had a black spot on one shoulder the size and shape of a buckeye.  Our vet, an Ohio State grad, assumed she was named for the college and I never told him otherwise.  He loved her.  Our miniature dachshunds adapted eventually to the newcomer.  My mother-in-law, not so fast.  In my defense, I never knew she didn't like cats until we got one.  I must say here that she was never mean to Buckeye, she would just shoo her away whenever she came near.  Now it is a peculiar thing with cats, they can sense who doesn't like them, and are evidently determined to correct the situation.  Whenever Mom came to visit, Buckeye made sure to spend a lot of time trying to get in her lap.  It never happened, but cats do not give up.  

I wasn't going to go.

Three Rivers Festival is back and I woke up this morning to a local news caster talking about what a wonderful day it was, perfect for a parade.  I wasn't planning to go, I had plans to meet friends for lunch, and didn't want to be all hot and sweaty, but the more they talked about it on TV, the better it sounded.  While the Three Rivers Festival has been an annual event since 1969, this was the first parade in four years because of Covid.  Last year they had the Festival but without the parade.  I know it started in 1969 because it was my husband and my first anniversary month.  We were married on July 13, 1968 and every year since the dates of the Festival have included the 13th.  It was our festival and we went to at least some events every year.  And so, for a multitude of reasons I walked three blocks from my apartment to a spot near the end of the parade.  It was a good parade; dancers, several excellent marching bands, veterans, fire engines, people on roller skates, the corvette club, lots of commercial entities, many police cars and anything else that could make a loud noise.  There was one tense moment.  I was watching from a park like area on one side of a railroad overpass over the parade route when I saw the next float coming.  The main feature on this float was a large tall floppy inflated figure (like you see waving at the world from car dealerships).  I watched with bated breath as the float got closer and closer to the overpass.  The figure was obviously too tall to make it under the overpass.  But, at the last possible instant (don't you love the drama) one of the human riders on the float bent the floppy figure over so it could pass safely under the overpass.  It's a good thing too.  There were lots of little kids along the route who would have been traumatized if the floppy guy was beheaded.  Disaster averted! 

I tried.

Today is Be a Kid Again Day, and also National Ice Cream Sundae Day.  I think that's a wonderful combination because eating an ice cream sundae, especially one with chocolate sauce and sprinkles, seems like a very childlike thing to do.  No worrying about calories or cholesterol, just eat that ice cream.  And wasn't that the essence of being a kid.  At least the idealized essence, to do what you want, enjoy the fun times, and depend on your parents to guide you and keep you out of trouble.  Of course you had chores, and rules to follow, but the big responsibilities were left to the grown ups.  I really tried to 'be a kid' today, reading, relaxing, napping, but life kept getting in the way.  More recorded interviews about my ridiculous little accident; finding out that the repairs will cost about $4,900, the work probably can't be done 'til October, and will take about three weeks.  Such fun being a grown up.  

 According to my west coast brother today is National Dive Bar Day. I'm not sure if that refers to a bar for deep sea divers or a 'dive bar' in the old fashioned sense of being a sleazy hang out.  Now I am not a deep sea diver but I do know a little something about sleazy bars.

Once upon a time, when I was 22, I traveled to upstate New York to start a new teaching position.  After finding an apartment I realized that I was running low on money and, six weeks 'til school started, needed to find a job.  I answered an ad "Wanted, attractive bar maid. No experience necessary."  Back then they could get away with ads like that.  So wrong on so many levels, but that was then and I was somewhat attractive and certainly had no experience so it seemed like a good chance.  I got the job, plus a suggestion from the little old man who owned the bar, that I might like to spend the winter in Florida with him.  I was vague but did not tell him that I would only be there for six weeks, until school started.  I really needed the job. Turns out the bar was only open in the summers, during tourist season.  This was in the Catskills, a popular resort area.  Now, I wouldn't say it was actually sleazy.  It was dark, but clean, and mostly great jazz played from the Juke Box.  It certainly wasn't a ritzy place though.  The clientele was almost one hundred percent the workers in the resort hotels.  They would come in on Friday nights, have the owner cash their pay checks, drink well and tip well,  During the rest of the week they still came in to drink after work but the tips dwindled as the week went on.  Lucky for me it was an easy bar to work in; we only served straight shots and chasers, so no mixed drinks for me to learn to make.  However, there was one woman who came in who drank rum and milk.  That much I could mix.  There was always a carton of milk in the frig because she was a regular.   I quit a few days before school started, transformed back into my teacher persona.  One nice surprise, the custodian who came in to clean my classroom after the first day of school turned out to have been a regular at the bar.  He thought it was hilarious.  I was happy to see a friendly face.  

cluck cluck

 Today, according to my west coast brother, is National Fried Chicken Day.  He suggested that he might threaten his laying hens with that fact to encourage them to lay more eggs.  I shall have to wait 'til tomorrow to see if the threat worked.  In the meantime, lets hear it for fried chicken.  My parents raised chickens for a few years when we first moved out to the country; 1500 at a time, sold at eight weeks old for fancy fryer prices.  Out of each sale we kept some butchered chickens for our own use.  It was chicken every Sunday, for sure.  Fried in the winter and barbequed in the summer.  My father made wonderful bbq chicken.  And we always had plenty.  A half chicken per person was the typical portion.  So imagine my shock, as a young lady, to discover that the wonderful man I had married had a fatal flaw.  He hated chicken, could not, would not eat it.  He also wasn't too keen on vegetables but I got around that by smothering them with cheese.  It didn't work with chicken.  But there were lots of other meats available so we got along.  The only time he ever had to eat chicken was on a visit to a dear old lady I had become friends with when I taught in upstate New York.  We went to visit her on a trip east one summer and she insisted we stay for lunch at which she served boiled chicken.  Just boiled, no seasoning, very little if any salt.  Even I had a hard time eating it, but bless my husband's heart, he ate a helping of that chicken.  True love, indeed.

accident update

 Today I was contacted by Jasmine, a charming sounding young lady from my insurance company so she could take a recorded statement from me about my mini accident on July 1.  It all went very well. I was able to answer all of her questions.  She started with the easy ones like "What is your current address?" "Was anyone in the car with you?" Was anyone injured?"  One question made me laugh though "What is your current birthdate?"  Current?  Is that a changeable thing?  If so I might shave a few years off.   After I answered all of the questions to her satisfaction and reaffirmed that yes, I knew I was being recorded, she told me what to expect next.  I will receive instructions on how to take my own pictures of the damage and the link to send it on to an appraiser.  Then, after a damage estimate is done, I can take my car anywhere I want to to get the body work done.  I like that last part.  If it is decided that the accident wasn't my fault I won't have to pay my deductible.  I like that too.  The fact that he opened his card door and hit my car while I was just innocently in my own lane, slowing down for the stop light, makes me feel pretty confident that he's at fault.  I did make one more unpleasant discovery today.  The back right side door, where most of the damage is, won't open.  It looks like the lock is jammed.  This just gets more and more fun.  

Ooooo...Ahhhhh...

Well, I did it.  Carried my camp chair down to the parking lot and enjoyed the show that the pros put on.  They did not disappoint. After I took this picture, at the very beginning of the show, I put my phone away and just relaxed into the magic.  And it was still magical.  20 minutes (it used to seem longer) of beautiful sprays and canopies and spirals of stars and sparkles and spires of color and brightness. Then, when it was all over, and the smoke was drifting away, I came back upstairs and went out to sit on my balcony and enjoy the second show.  I have a north facing view of fireworks all around the horizon, from distant small town celebrations to nearby neighborhoods.  It's really quite amazing, and goes on and on.  Happy Independence Day everyone.  Rejoice that these 'bombs bursting in air' are just for fun. 

What a day!

I was curious about July 3.  I mean we all know that July 4th is Independence Day, a really officially big deal.  But what about the 3rd? According to one of the lists of such things, it's National Eat Beans Day (is this for more noise on the 4th?).  It's also National Chocolate Wafers Days, National Stay Out of the Sun Day and Disobedience Day.  That last might have had something to do with those naughty colonials. 

However, based on the noise outside my window and the fireworks being set off everywhere I can see on the horizon, I'm pretty sure today is "I Just Can't Wait for the 4th Day."  When I was a child fireworks were a really big, once a year, deal.  On the 4th, after the parade in the morning, and time spent at the fair during the day (our little town did it right) we would spread our blankets on the ground in the park, lay back and wait for the fireworks to start.  It was always a grand show that seemed to go on for a long time while we ooohed and aaahed to our heart's content.  

Now, don't get me wrong, I still enjoy fireworks, and I will carry my camp chair down to our parking lot tomorrow night (my blanket days are over) and watch the display that Fort Wayne provides, and they will be beautiful, but it's just not as rare and magical as it was when I was a child.

ancient history

 One of my sneaky little pleasures, when I have time, is to watch old Perry Mason reruns.  I enjoy the stories but I also enjoy seeing the fashions, women wearing hats and gloves, men in suits and ties, and always wearing hats, and the huge old cars from the 50s and 60s.  I dated some of those cars.  My favorite was a 1957 baby blue and white Chevy.  The guy was nice too.  The other day I was watching what, when I did a little research, turned out to be the first episode every filmed.  It was filmed in October of 1956 but didn't air until September of 1957.  What caught my attention in this episode was one quick scene when Perry is making a phone call in a phone booth.  Instead of the typical box with a receiver style phone I had always seen in phone booths, the phone he was using had a separate receiver (earpiece only), with the part you speak into built into the box.  I was interested to see this because it reminded me the first phone I ever used. When my family moved out to 'the country' near Woodburn in 1953 that was the kind of phone we had. Not a pay phone, obviously, but a big box phone that hung on the wall in the kitchen.  We were on a party line of course and our ring was two longs and a short.  The thing with a party line was that there was nothing to keep anyone else on the line from picking up their receiver and listening in on your conversation.  This didn't allow much privacy for business calls, but it was great if you and three or four girlfriends wanted to talk at the same time.  Sort of an audible group text.  Ah sweet memories.  

apology and accident

 First an apology.  I had promised to share the answer to Wednesday's riddle with you yesterday and forgot so here it is.  The question was 'can you write down eight eights so they add up to 1000?' And the answer is (drumroll please) 8+88+8+888+8 = 1000.

But now on to today's news.  This afternoon I was driving on East State, heading to a drugstore to get my second Covid booster shot.    I was driving in the left of the two through lanes, innocently minding my own business, slowing down, almost stopped at the traffic light at Carew, when I felt something bump the passenger side of my car and a voice from the car slightly behind and to the right of me say "Oh shit."  I pulled into the right lane in front of him, put on my flashers, turned off the engine and got out to access the damage.  Nothing that would keep me from driving my car, but some nasty scrapes and scratches, with bits of red paint (my car is blue) from the rear seat door back to the fender.  The driver of the other car also got out, explaining that he had opened his car door to toss out, or look for, a cigarette, and it banged into my car.  So I called 911, the officer came in reasonable time, took all our insurance information and we were on our way.  The officer did make the comment that he had never seen an accident like this (I love to be unique) and that if it had happened on any street but State Street, which has very narrow lanes, his car door wouldn't have touched my car.  

OK, keeping my total innocence in mind here, this evening I received a call from one of my insurance company's adjusters asking for my side of the story because the other driver had filed a claim against me saying that he was stopped at the light with his door opened and I banged into him.  This is so wrong on so many levels that I can't wait for his adjustor to call me, which I'm told might happen.  First, he opened his car door as I was passing him. Second, he wasn't near the corner.  I had room to pull over into the right lane in front of him after the accident.  Third, if I had banged into him, wouldn't the damage be on the front of my car?  You get the picture.  Stay tuned, I'm supposed to hear back from someone by next Thursday.  If all goes well, I won't have to pay my deductible, so fingers crossed.

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