Ah love....

 A friend loaned me a DVD of a movie called "Love Actually." I had never seen it before and she felt that I really should.  It's not a movie I would watch with young children or even teenagers, but it is very good, with lots of twists and turns, and a very unusual nativity scene. I'm not sure when it was filmed but Hugh Grant looks young and it's showing in a square format on my TV.  If you haven't seen it, I recommend it.  But I may need to watch it again tomorrow to be absolutely certain it's as good as I think. Ok, they just mentioned something that happened in 2003 so it's old but not ancient.   

take a walk....

 Today is "National Take a Walk in the Park Day." That seems like an excellent day to me.  One of my great joys of living downtown is the fact that I can walk to four really lovely parks in less than twenty minutes.  One of my favorites, with the triple fountain and a view of the courthouse is only about seven minutes away.  Unfortunately, I couldn't walk today; too many other commitments, but I know my time is coming.  While I readily admit to my friends that I am a fair weather walker, my calendar tells me that it's only two days until April, when I should be able to depend on at least some sunny or at least not rainy days.  And here's another pleasure to look forward to;  when I take my longest walk, to Promenade Park, I can swing on the grown-up size swings. Yay!  I also readily admit that I am easily entertained.  A bit of history here, Fort Wayne is blessed with many beautiful parks thanks to generous donations from far sighted citizens over 100 years ago.

Puppy Love postscript...

 Continuing from yesterday's blog post, when the puppies were old enough to leave for their forever homes my father and step-mother took the little black dachshund who we had named Savage.  They renamed him Pepper, which was their right of course, and I'm pleased to report that he lived a long and happy life. I was glad that one of the pups had stayed in the family.  A few months after the last puppy left home my husband and I were having dinner with another couple and during the course of the evening, after we all updated each other on what our amazingly precocious toddlers were doing, I told them about our dogs and their puppies and what we had named them.  Suddenly the husband got very quiet. had a funny look on his face, and finally said "I have always wanted a black dachshund, and I always thought I would name him Savage." Had we only known.

time to share another memoir...

 

Puppy Love

When I was pregnant with our first child my husband and I traded in my trusty 1961 Corvair, with the rusted out floor boards and ’62 top, for a brand new 1971 VW bus camper conversion.  After bunny hopping around a large open parking lot, I learned to drive its stick shift, and when we weren’t traveling that bus became my car for the next 13 years.  

During that same spring the mother of one of my students brought a basketful of miniature dachshund puppies to school for show and tell. Clever mother.  They were about two months old and adorable.  I decided then and there that we needed a puppy and convinced my husband that the free puppy (free because he didn’t have papers) was a better deal than the shotgun he had been thinking about buying.  So we got the puppy and named him Remington.  It seemed like a fair compromise to me.  

After living and traveling with Remington and our baby (both very good travelers) for a year or so, we saw an ad in the paper for a female miniature dachshund “free to a good home” and decided that Remington needed a friend.  They hit it off right away, but it wasn’t until the first night of our first camping trip with both of them that Heidi came into heat, and they figured out all about the birds and the bees with great enthusiasm.  They truly kept that bus rocking for most of one night. A little over two months later Heidi had her litter of four perfect puppies, one blonde, one black and two reddish-brown.  Continuing the name game we had started with Remington, we named them Smith, Wesson, Savage and Winchester.  Heidi was a very good mother, and the puppies thrived.  Our son was entranced of course but learned to be careful with occasional quiet growls from Heidi.  

After two months we were able to place them all in good homes.  We sold the puppies for $20 each and thought we were in the puppy business.  Coincidentally, the last puppy went to her forever home the day before I went into labor with our second child.  

Sadly, some weeks later our vet discovered that Heidi had a congenital back problem and should not have any more puppies.  So we had her spayed and she and Remington became just friends.  When I told a cousin that Heidi couldn’t have any more puppies she asked if we were going to get rid of her and get another female?  I was shocked! You don’t give away family!  We all kept living and camping together for years after, and whenever we pulled out the camping gear to start prepping for a trip, Remington would jump on Heidi’s back.   Hope sprang eternal. 

over run with what??

I have never visited Taiwan, and probably never will have that opportunity, but, if you have the chance, here's something you might want to look into.  Once again this is information I would not have discovered if it weren't for my trusty page-a-day trivia calendar.  It seems that the tiny Taiwanese village of Houtong was once one of the country's major coal producers.  These days the mining industry has died off in that area but Houtong has become a tourist destination because they are, as the calendar says, "overrun" by cats.  Evidently cat lovers come to see all the cute kitties running around.  I have mixed feelings about this.  I am a cat lover, having had a few as pets over the years, but I think maybe cats, like so many other things are better enjoyed in moderation.  I remember once, on a bus ride through Portugal, we stopped at a charming village with an amazing view of some ancient walls.  We had time while there to enjoy refreshments in a local restaurant/bar.  We chose to take our drinks out to the arbor shaded patio.  It was a lovely cool place to sit and enjoy the view and the breeze, but there were a lot of cats roaming around.  They weren't bothering us exactly but there were a lot of them.  I'm not sure if I would enjoy a whole village full of cats.  

It's a dirty trick....

 This afternoon two friends and I visited with a high school class mate, so obviously a long term friend, who is suffering from dementia. It was a sweet happy/sad visit.  On the one hand she was delighted to see us and knew our names and even introduced us to one of the nurses.  She was well dressed and looked good.  The facility she lives in is excellent.  We talked about old times and family and friends and laughed a lot.  But as we visited sneaky little clues would pop up that all was not as it seemed.  She talked a lot about family but couldn't remember names, which isn't that unusual.  I often forget names; but not of my deceased husband or nieces and nephews.  It became obvious during our conversation that she thought she was still living in Chicago, and was somewhat distressed that she couldn't find her car.  At one point she was trying to use her tv remote control to phone her brother and didn't understand why he never answered her calls.  Then a little later, having tossed the remote aside and forgotten about trying to make a call, she told us quite clearly that she didn't have a phone any more.  I'm very glad we went.  Overall, it was a good visit, but I'm beginning to dread the time that will come when she doesn't know us anymore.  I will miss her quick smile and quirky personality.  I will miss her.

spell binding...

 I saw the musical "Godspell" at First Presbyterian Theater this evening.  I have previously seen this play performed at a different theater, not in Fort Wayne, but this production was far superior.  From the stage set to the lighting to the high energy dancing, excellent acting and powerful vocals this was an award worthy production.  Lucky for you, if you haven't seen it yet, it's on tomorrow at 2pm and next Friday and Saturday at 7:30pm and Sunday at 2pm at First Presbyterian Theater, 300 West Wayne.  It is well worth seeing, and the current Gallery exhibit of art done by First Pres members is also a joy to behold.  

another list..

 The memoir I posted yesterday about the cross country travels of the jumping horse got me thinking about other family adventures we had in our VW bus.  We bought that camper conversion when I was pregnant with our first child, added the pop top during the first year, kept it for 13 years, and put more than 200,000 miles on it.  So I've decided to make a list of camping events I would like to write memoirs about.  They include: Travel Camping with a Baby, crossing the Canadian border, Puppy Love in a Bus, Apprentice possibilities, lost in the Organ Pipe desert, cooling off in the Oregon desert, Mexican food disaster, Viva Las Vegas, Traveling with Tarzan, Moving with a cat in a jungle, friendly campers waving at me, and more.  Stay tuned, these will be coming your way over the next weeks.  Feel free to let me know what you would like to hear about first.

getting it done

 I had my taxes 'done' today.  This is not nearly as much fun as having my nails done or having my hair done, but now it is done and I don't need to worry about it until March 25 of 2024.  That's three days before my next tax appointment and when I will start pulling everything together.  I could probably do my taxes myself but I like the feeling of security that comes with a tax preparer who seems to know what he's doing and offers a guarantee.  Doing it myself would be a little bit like cutting my own hair.  I could do it but the results might be a lot less satisfying.  Sadly, I do know from personal experience that I should never ever cut my own or my children's hair (but that's a different story).  Because of the ability to file on line these days, I had a text notice by the time I drove home that my state and federal returns had been accepted. Yay!  And, wonder of wonders, I am getting a refund.  It's only a teeny tiny refund but it might pay for a manicure.  Happy filing everyone.

a different travel tale...

 

The Well-traveled Bouncing Horse

When our son was three years old my husband and I gave him a bouncing horse for Christmas.  It was a big beautiful palomino in a galloping pose, suspended in a sturdy frame by four heavy springs.  The largest size in the Sear’s Christmas catalog.  We positioned it in front of the Christmas tree with a big red bow on its neck, brought him and his one-year-old sister into the living room, busied her with a package to open, and waited for his reaction.  It was a little low keyed.  He seemed to like it, walked around and around it, touched it, and stood looking at it.  Finally I said “Don’t you want to ride it?”  He looked at me and said “Can I?” I said “Of course, that’s what it’s for.”  To which he replied, “You never let me ride the one at the grocery store.”  Was I such a mean mother?  Or just often rushed? Once I assured him that this horse was his to ride whenever he wanted to, he was on it and riding.  He discovered that it would bounce and also rock back and forth.  We discovered that the springs squeaked, but not too loudly. 

Over the next few years, he put a lot of miles on that pony.  We put it in his bedroom and I could always tell when he was riding by listening to the squeaking of the springs.  I like to think that he was just loving the thrill of the ride but I’m pretty sure that at least sometimes he was working off some frustrations from dealing with his little sister.

Eventually, as these things happen, he out grew the wonderful horse, his sister rode it sometimes, but never as much as he did, and finally they were both too long legged for it.  Happily, just about that time my ten year younger than me west coast brother and his wife had children the perfect age and size to ride the horse.  So one summer, we loaded the horse in the back of our VW bus, and took a trip west.  We left the horse at my brother’s farm, a perfect setting for a galloping pony, and went on our way.  Eventually, his children also grew too large for the horse, but just about that time, we had young grandchildren, so my brother shipped it back to us, partly disassembled.  We reassembled it and our grandchildren enjoyed it in our basement family room for a few years.  The springs still squeaked.  It has occurred to me that those big springs are probably not allowed on children’s toys these days, too dangerous, but as far as I know, none of our riders were ever hurt. 

Finally, the time came that our grandchildren were too large and too old for the bouncing horse, but, you guessed it, my brother now had grandchildren, so we loaded the horse into the back of our van (we were driving a Toyota mini-van by then) and headed west once again.  Always one of our favorite destinations.  By this point the horse had picked up some sparkly decorations thanks to my artistic granddaughter and these appealed to my brother’s oldest granddaughter.  That was the end of the horse’s travels, as far as I know.  In case you weren’t counting, that horse traveled cross country four times between Washington State and Indiana.  It traveled a lot of miles and was ridden for many more, but never so persistently and energetically as those first years in our son’s bedroom.

tea for six...

 I went to a tea party today.  A friend hosted us to a "high tea" to celebrate her 70th birthday.  The last time I had tea with such fancy dishes was at Harrods in London, and there it was just tea, not a high tea.  In case you're fuzzy on the distinction, a tea is tea and a sandwich and maybe a sweet roll or cookie.  A high tea is all of that in abundance.  Today did not disappoint.  The place was the Parker Grace Tea House, a beautifully converted old house in Roanoke.  When we were taken to our table we saw that it was set with a lovely variety of china cups, saucers and cake plates on chargers.  None of the dishes matched but that just added to the charm.  The tea was served by letting us select our favorite flavor (I had Earl Gray) then bringing us a cup and saucer, tea bag and large teapots of hot water.  This was ok but I would have liked brewed tea better. But the food more than made up for the tea bag tea.  There were six of us at the table so they brought out three pyramids of food to be shared.  At a high tea the food is served on a three tiered serving device.  The bottom layer consisted of cucumber and cream cheese on rye open faced sandwiches, chicken salad sandwiches on good white bread cut in a scalloped shape and a really tasty cranberry/orange salad.  The friend I was sharing with could 't eat cucumber so I had to bring her portion of those goodies home.  So sad.  The second level, moving up consisted of delicious fruit filled frosted scones, little corn muffins and tiny containers of butter and jam.  The top level held little chocolate cupcakes and sweet rolls.  Needless to say we were all quite full when we left there.  It was a great place to celebrate a birthday, quiet enough for conversation and fun food to enjoy.  I recommend it.    

feeling happy...

 My west coast brother sent me a long list of special days celebrated today including Crawfish Cravers, Alien Abduction and Nowruz (the Persian new year which marks the start of spring), and World Story Telling Day.  I do like the idea of the new year starting with spring because, let's be honest, that is when everything comes alive.  But the one that appealed to me most is National Wellderly Day, always celebrated on the third Monday in March.  It was started, as you might guess, to celebrate senior mental and physical (and financial) wellness. When I Googled it I discovered that this is also Wellderly Awareness Week.  So you have all week to appreciate the good stuff in your lives. Of course we should be celebrating the positives all the time but it's good to have a reminder now and then.  I have never liked the term elderly, it sounds so old.  But wellderly has a much more positive spin.  Of course youthful would be even better but, hey, that ship has sailed.  

thoughts of Easter...

It's almost spring and only four weeks until Easter.  I will be hosting the family this year and am beginning to make plans.  But, as I plan ahead, I can't help looking back a little.  My four grandchildren are all nearly grown up now but when they were younger I would hide plastic, candy filled (and some money filled) eggs inside and out side my house so they could enjoy an Easter egg hunt.  There were rules with my hunts.  I used four different colored eggs, and each child was to hunt for their own color.  Once they had found all of their own eggs, usually eight or ten, they were allowed to help the others find theirs.  I was a pretty good hider and there were usually one or two eggs that they really had to hunt for.  I think they enjoyed it, but one memorable Easter my oldest granddaughter, maybe ten at the time, said to me "Is all our candy hidden or is there some already in our baskets?"  When I assured her that there was some in their baskets, she replied "Oh good! I wouldn't want to have to work for all my candy."  

well that's awkward...

 Today is, according to my ever helpful west coast brother, Awkward Moments Day.  There are so many of these days in my past that it's hard to know where to start.  So I guess I'll start at the beginning.  The first truly awkward and embarrassing moment I remember was on the school bus coming home from kindergarten. I stood up to get off the bus and managed to spill my crayons all over the floor of the bus.  Another awkward moment came, while living in that same neighborhood.  I was five and my true love was seven.  I was invited to his birthday party one sunny summer afternoon.  I was wearing a beautiful little yellow knee length dress with a hoop skirt kind of slip under it.  I got to little Tommy's house, went inside, sat down on the sofa and my hoop skirt flipped up hiding my face and revealing my ruffled panties.  Another awkward moment happened about 12 years later when we went back to visit friends in the old neighborhood.  Tommy and I had the chance to talk for a while and we managed to stand at eye level while we chatted since he was standing two steps up from me on his front stoop.  He had grown up to be 5'2" while I hadn't stopped until 5'10".  Happily we had both found other love interests by then.  As I think about this I'm realizing that childhood awkward moments are cute but as one gets older the just get, well, awkward, so I'm going to stop right here. 

green

 Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone.  I hope you found suitable ways to celebrate.  A friend and I celebrated by going to a fish fry at St. Aloysius Church and school.  The dinner was held in the gym/lunch room of the school which was spacious enough to hold several rows of long tables end to end, all covered with bright green plastic table cloths.  The event started at 4:30 and we decided to arrive at least by 5:00 to beat the crowd.  Well, evidently everyone else also thought that was a fine idea.  We found a parking place and got to the right door by following a couple who looked like they knew where they were going.  Once we were in the gym we got into a short line to pay for our meals, only to be kindly told that we were in the line for carry out, and pointed to the line for those wanting to dine in, which we did.  That line stretched around three sides of the room.  We moved forward slowly but surely, as the line grew ever longer behind us.  After twenty-five minutes we had paid for our meals, selected our yummy deserts, were served with fish, scalloped potatoes, coleslaw and a drink, and found seats at one of the long tables.  The food was delicious, really good fish, and we were served with second helpings.  As I ate, and chatted with others at the table, I heard one person comment that they had gone to the fish dinner at St, Vincent's last Friday, then someone else commented on another fish dinner two Fridays ago.  It took me a minute to figure out that fish fry dinners were more about Lent than St. Patrick's Day.  All in all, it's an admirable way to enjoy fish on Fridays.  

so close...

 The question in my page-a-day trivia calendar today states that most people know about the Northern Lights or Aurora Borealis, but who knows what the Southern Lights (yes they are real) are called.  The answer is Aurora Australis. While this was very interesting, it only served to reminded me of a triple frustration in my travels.  Three times I have been in places where Northern or Southern Lights are supposed to be visible and I have never seen them.  I will admit that I knew it wasn't likely in Alaska or New Zealand because in each case the time of year wasn't the best.  But it could have happened and it didn't.  But the third time was during our trip to Finland (a lovely country full of friendly people).  During that trip we spent a some days north of the Arctic Circle in the part of Lapland situated within Finland's borders.  We were led to believe that March is an excellent time to see the Northern Lights.  It may be true, there were many beautiful photographs on the walls of the dining room.  We stayed in a little cabin with a glass half dome over the bedroom area.  The theory being that when the Northern Lights were shining an alarm would sound, waking everyone in the resort so we could gaze up at them through our glass roof.  It never happened.  One evening they loaded us all in a bus and drove us way out in the dark for a sighting but all we saw were stars.  It was a glorious view of the stars, but not a glimmer of any other heavenly lights.  The most memorable night was when we took a sleigh ride.  Let me tell you, riding through the sub-zero night in a one-reindeer open sleigh (even with deer skin blankets) was the coldest I have ever been in my life.  I survived, but alas, no Northern Lights.  Ah well, at least I got to meet the real Santa Claus.  

watch out...

 Today is the Ides of March, aka March 15, not to be confused with Pi Day which was yesterday (3.14).  So much excitement in one week!  But wait, there's more.  Today is also "Dumbstruck Day" and International Eat an Animal for PITA Day."  I must admit that last one left me dumbstruck.  But never fear, I'm sure I'll think of something else to write about tomorrow.  In the meantime, Beware!!!!

the third installment...

 I know you've been waiting for this:

Honeymoon, part 3 dealing with The Rio Grande, quicksand and running out of gas.

We spent another day at Big Bend National Park enjoying the desert landscape and strolling barefoot on the beach along the Rio Grande.  I’ve since been told that the Rio Grande can be a raging river at certain times of the year, but having crossed the Mississippi on our Honeymoon drive, I continued to be underwhelmed. 

Until the river tried to get its revenge.  As we strolled along the sandy shore, I saw a clear shallow pool of water and decided to rinse my feet off. I dipped one foot in and suddenly found my leg sinking deep into the water.  It was the strangest feeling, there simply was no bottom.  Happily, my quick-witted new spouse still loved me and pulled me out. 

Not long after that we started our long drive back to Indiana, looking forward to our newly rented apartment and the delivery of some furniture after we got home.  My husband had actually spent the night before our wedding in the apartment after accepting delivery of our new bedroom furniture and getting things set up. 

All went smoothly until somewhere in Illinois.  I don’t think Illinois likes me.  You may remember that was the state where I got my first speeding ticket.  It’s also the state where I got turned around on the Dan Ryan Expressway, but that’s a story for another time.  I wasn’t driving and I don’t know why my husband wasn’t paying attention to the gas gauge but suddenly there we were, stopped at the side of the interstate, out of gas.  Happily, we had passed an exit with gas stations less than two miles back.  While he walked back to get gas, I sat in the car, windows wide open (still no AC) and wrote thank you notes for wedding gifts.  I don’t know why I thought I would have time on my honeymoon to write thank you notes, but I had brought along the list and the note cards and I passed the time productively. 

Every summer after that for 37 summers we took a driving trip, gradually adding kids and dogs to the adventures and eventually seeing all 48 of the contiguous states.  A truly grand tradition. 

 

 

makes sense to me

 My west coast brother has informed me that today, the first Monday after Daylight Savings Time begins, is "National Workplace Napping Day."  I certainly understand that, and it seems like a great idea to me.  Of course I've always been a believer in a nap after lunch. A quick 20 minute snooze can make all the difference in my productivity for the rest of the day.  I'm busily retired now, but when I worked I often did sneak in a 20 minute nap after lunch.  It helps if you have an office door you can close.  A friend of mine recently confessed to me that if she tries an after lunch nap she's likely to sleep for three hours.  That's not a nap, that's a siesta (which, by the way, is another great idea).  There are whole countries, like Spain (one of my favorites) and Mexico that believe in afternoon napping.  So nap on America, you now have all those extra evening hours of daylight to get things done.  

Really??

 This morning several of my sleepy eyed friends were complaining about turning the clock forward, so I thought you might find this interesting.  The question in my page-a-day calendar today is "In what year did the United States first adopt Daylight Savings Time?"  I was surprised at the answer and the reason.  Are you ready for this?  In 1918 the United States followed the lead of Germany and other European countries in adopting DST.  This was done to conserve energy in WWI.  The reasoning being that an extra hour of daylight at the end of the day meant less energy used for lighting.  That may have been true in 1918 but I'm wondering if it still holds true.  I found myself turning on more lights this morning than I did yesterday morning, and this evening I'm watching the same hours of TV shows.  Am I really saving energy?  Are we all saving energy?  I would be curious to see some statistics from the electric company.  

Forward March...

 Years ago, when I was a Junior High art teacher in up-state New York, early in the year, I realized that the principal was putting up a different display each month on the bulletin board in the hallway at the main entrance to the school.  I hadn't given much thought to who was decorating that bulletin board until I saw him struggling one day to pin some stuff up.  I asked him if he would like me to take over doing the monthly display.  I had worked in the library at Ball State for three years to subsidize my college income, and my job for the entire three years was to created bulletin board packages that teachers could check out and use in their classrooms, so putting together one display a month was really not a great challenge.  He was delighted to accept my offer.  I learned some things along the way.  For instance you do not put a white Star of David on a green background.  In keeping with the Holiday tree in the entry and the heavy emphasis on both Jewish and Christian traditions in December, (our school population was about 50/50) I had made a bulletin board with a green background, white Star of David, and over that a wreath.  I thought it looked great, till my good friend Sam, the science teacher who happened to be Jewish, told me kindly that I needed a blue background.  I was able to make the change before many people saw it so all was well.  But since we are in March, I was reminded of my March bulletin board, one of my favorites.  It said Forward March across the top, Welcome Spring at the bottom, and featured a colorful toy soldier marching across the middle.  I thought it was cute.  As I was leaving one afternoon, I saw my principal taking a picture of it.  I asked him if he like that one particularly and he said yes but he also said he had been taking pictures of them all year, just in case he ever had to do them again.  High praise indeed, and a happy March memory.

Happy Birthday Mom....

 Today was my mother's birthday.  And, since she was born in 1910, it seems fitting to honor her during Women's History Month since she lived through some exciting and restrictive times.  Looking back, I think she would have been an excellent minister but that was not an option.  When she was young she wanted to be a nurse, but her mother (a pastor's wife) insisted she become a teacher.  It was a respectable profession, nursing was not.  She earned her bachelors degree and taught first in a one-room school house, then 5th grade in a large city school.  She was off and on for years a truly great teacher but when I said I wanted to be a teacher she tried to talk me out of it.  She said it was the hardest job.  For ten years she taught and worked at a variety of other jobs including being a buyer for a department store and a beautician.  One memorable summer she chauffeured a professor and his wife all around the west, leaving from Pennsylvania.  One of their first stops was the Chicago World's Fair.  As I grew up I heard many stories of the places they visited including Yellowstone, Carlsbad Cavern and the Grand Canyon.  I have since visited all the sites she ever talked about.  No doubt she planted my love of travel.  In 1942 she was accepted into the nursing school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.  She still longed to be a nurse.  But fate intervened again.  During her first year at Johns Hopkins she met my father, an Army Master Sargeant stationed at nearby Aberdeen Proving Grounds.  They fell in love and were married in May of 1943.  Sadly, that was the end of her dream of nursing.  Married women were not allowed to be nurses at that time.  There's much more to the story but that's enough to give you a glimpse of my remarkable mother.  

Happy anniversary...

I found today's anniversary interesting, if not particularly liberating.  This is Women's History Month and yesterday was International Women's Day, both very worthy of celebration.  Today, on the other hand is the anniversary of the first release of Barbie Dolls, March 9, 1959.  A doll that led generations of young girls to believe that true beauty meant being super skinny with big boobs and poofy hair.  Of course, I went through childhood during an era of Debbie Reynolds, Marilyn Monroe and other glamorous movie star paper dolls, so we probably also had misguided visions of what realistic beauty was.  I do have one sweet memory of Barbie Dolls.  When I was pregnant with our first child, due in September, I spent much of that blissful summer painting walls and arranging furniture in the smallest bedroom in our three-bedroom ranch starter home.  It was becoming the nursery.  For much of the time I had the window wide open enjoying the breezes and the voices of the two little girls who lived next door.  They must have been about six and eight at that time, and they loved to play with their Barbie Dolls.  Their mom had sewed lots and lots of cute clothes for their Barbies, and their shady patio held a Barbie house, car and other must have accessories. As I worked, and listened to their chatter, I day dreamed of my coming baby.  What if she was a girl? It wasn't something we knew ahead of time back then (hence the yellow walls in the nursery). Would she love to play with dolls? Play dress up?  Play house?  Sweet dreams that carried me through that summer.  As it turned out my first child was a boy.  He was a bright, wonderful boy but had no interest in Barbies.  A couple of years later, our second child came along, a beautiful little girl who, it soon became obvious, had very little interest in dolls, Barbie or otherwise, and, as an adult, was an Army helicopter mechanic, an Air Guard bomb builder, deployed twice, and, more recently a surgical technologist.  She's also a loving wife and mother. Maybe she didn't play with Barbies, but she is definitely a woman worth celebrating, way better than any day dream.  

part two...

 Today is "Girls Write Now Day" and so I have.  Here is the second installment of my honeymoon memoir:

Honeymoon, part two: Dealing with Mexican food, the flash flood, Big Bend National Park and spiders.

We spent a delightful three days in San Antonio enjoying the Hemisfair.  We rode the monorail and strolled the brand new River Walk.  I discovered that my new husband did not like Ferris wheels.  I thought this was interesting because I had a boyfriend in high school who also wouldn’t ride Ferris wheels.  He claimed men and women had different centers of gravity and that made him feel unbalanced.  But I digress.  I discovered that Mexican food prepared in a southwestern restaurant was absolutely delicious and I became a true fan.  Washed down with Sangria it’s even better.  When we were dating, my now spouse had cooked a Mexican meal for me once which consisted of canned tamales and left me thinking that I really didn’t like Mexican food.  I’m so glad he insisted I try the real thing.  We explored all the exhibits from North and South America and I remember being amazed at the German influence on Texas history.  Almost all of my ancestors were from Germany, but I had never heard of any of them moving to Texas, all over the mid-west of course, but Texas?  I don’t remember the numbers now but many many Germans had settled in Texas. 

But soon it was time to move on.  We were heading to El Paso and Big Bend National Park.  It was hot, after all it was July in Texas, and no AC in our car.  We saturated some wash cloths (our own not from the apartment) with cold water, made sure we had plenty of drinking water, and headed west. As I remember it, it was one long straight road, with no speed limit.  After some hours of driving, we came upon a river (well at least a stream) running across the road.  My husband was driving.  He stopped at the edge of the little flash flood and casually said “Why don’t you walk across first to see how deep it is?”  Since I had no experience with water running across roads in Texas, I got out of the car, wearing shorts and flipflops, in case you’re wondering, and waded across the stream.  As I recall, it was never more that ankle deep and actually quite refreshing.  Later Tom said he didn’t really think I’d do it, but I was across before he realized I was serious.

We eventually arrived in El Paso, spent a night and day there, saw all the highlights he wanted to show me and even walked across the bridge into Juarez.  You didn’t need a passport and it was all very casual back then.  I bought a beautiful, tooled leather purse which I use for many years.  Then we moved on to our next camping site, Big Bend National Park.  Tom decided that it would be cooler down by the river, so we camped in one of the campgrounds there.  I should mention here that I was not overwhelmed by the Rio Grande. At that time of year it was more of a Rio Trickle. There were other campers around but not too many and public restrooms with showers, very welcome.  As we settled down in our little tent on top of our sleeping bags (it was too hot to sleep in them), we were lulled to sleep by the sounds of frogs and a champion snorer camped on the far side of the campground.  Some time after we fell asleep, I woke up to something crawling down my back and started screaming.   Evidently, I yelled “Get it off! Get it off!” several times quite loudly.  My poor sleep befuddled husband woke up, lit a flashlight and searched all around to see what was tormenting me.  Finally, he realized that there was no rampaging spider or scorpion, just a trickle of sweat running down my bare back.   The next day we moved our tent up hill to a higher and slightly cooler elevation.  Not too surprisingly there were lots more people camped up there.

To be continued -

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home sweet home

 Sometimes I am guilty of feeling smug when my friends who are still home owners talk about the repairs they are dealing with.  Recently I've sympathized with people putting on new roofs, replacing or repairing furnaces, dealing with a refrigerator break down, broken pipes and needing to replace flooring.  Since I downsized seven years ago and became a tenant, I have not had to deal with such things.  But sometimes, like this week, I still get a taste of it. Last week we received an email notice that roof work would be done, starting Monday, on my building and it might be noisy.  Actually, since I'm on the 10th floor and there are three more floors between me and that roof, it wasn't too bad.  Today we got another email advising us that they will be power washing the roof tomorrow and we may get some water on our balconies.  We shall see.  Then, this afternoon we received a text that the laundry room is closed temporarily because of a plumbing problem.  This surprised me a little because earlier this year they did a lot of plumbing work before they installed the new washers and dryers.  So right now I'm experiencing a little de ja vu, or been there done that if you prefer.  

floss those teeth...

 I hope you like sweet stuff.  Today is National White Chocolate Cheesecake Day, National Oreo Cookie Day and National Frozen Food Day (like ice cream and popsicles, I presume).  I suspect a plot here because it's also National Dentists' Day.  Coincidence? I don't think so.  So go on out there, eat lots of cheese cake and cookies, and support your local dentist.  In the meantime, I'm supposed to bring dessert to a carry-in supper on Wednesday evening and this has given me some desserts to think about.  Notice I didn't say anything about baking a dessert, but i should be able to find something yummy to buy.  Everybody likes Oreos, right?  And that reminds me of the one  great debate my husband and I never resolved.  He insisted that Oreos should be eaten as they came out of the package, like little sandwiches, while I, and I think most of the world, know that Oreos must be twisted gently 'til the two layers come apart, then you eat the creamy middle, and last  the cookie layers, right?  Feel free to weigh in on this.   

I wish I had a camera....

 This evening I was watching AFV (America's Funniest Videos) and I realized that if I had had a phone that took movies, back in the day, I could have had some videos as funny or funnier than the ones they were showing,  For example my grandson riding downhill on top of a yellow and red plastic car; he fell off of course, but jumped up laughing and did it again and again.  Then there was the snowy afternoon when my red headed granddaughter sledded down the same hill and into the creek.  The funniest part of that afternoon was probably me racing down that snowy hill (the fastest I've ever run) to rescue her from the 12 inches of cold muddy water.  Or the summer afternoon when two of my grandchildren asked to play with the hose 'a little' while I was doing some weeding around the corner from where they were playing and ended up covered in mud from head to foot.  They had too much fun to get angry with them.  And then there was the great banana caper (but that's worthy of it's own blog).  It's probably lucky for all of us that they survived my grand-mothering, but we did have a really good time. 

taking a new walk

 Today I took a walk in a new direction.  One of the things I like about living downtown is being able to walk places.  Only in nice weather of course, I have always admitted to being a fair weather walker.  When I do walk, I most frequently walk to the library or church which are both in the same direction.  But today, which was a chilly but sunny day, I headed north, around multiple construction sites across Clinton Street and north over the MLK bridge heading for Science Central.  When I got across the bridge I needed to get back to the east side and thought I would get there by taking the walkway under the bridge, but when I looked down I saw that the sidewalk under the bridge was under water (we did have a lot of rain yesterday) so I decided to cross at street level. I was feeling more winded that usual as I closed in on my destination. Possibly a lack of exercise? But as I got closer, I saw an ambulance parked at the entrance.  How nice of them.  Then I remembered that it was Doctors' Day which is why it was a free day at Science Central and why I had come.  I know someone who works there and he wanted to show me around.  I love to go behind the scenes in public places.  One of the fun parts of acting in plays is knowing about everything that goes on behind the scenes.  At Science Central we walked through many new displays since the last time I was there.  An instructor was slicing open cow eyes for fascinated children.  I did not linger.  I saw the class rooms and a suspended sphere that can project moving images of amoeba and other things, a sand box that creates topographic 'maps' from sand hills piled up by the children.  I wanted to play but though it would be rude to push all the little kids out of the way.  Another fun area allowed children to color pictures of animals, then put them on a tray under a projector, and watch as their animals (I particularly liked a purple giraffe) came to life in a jungle scene projected on a large TV screen.  Those were all in the public areas, but I also got to see where all the offices are, the break room for employees, and the huge storage area with bins and bins full of mystery items for field trips to schools and summer camps and more.  I also was able to see where the planetarium will be installed, due to open in 2024 or 25? It was a fun afternoon and reminded me what a great asset Science Central is to our city.  When my great nieces and nephews come to visit this summer, I will certainly be taking them to Science Central.

speculation

 Yet again, my west coast brother comes through.  Today is "What if Cats and Dogs had Opposable Thumbs Day."  My brother's guess is that cats would still sleep 23 hours a day and dogs would still eat anything that falls on the floor, and he's probably right.  But I thought of a few other possibilities.  They could button their own clothes, but I know from childhood experience that cats do not like to play dress up.  I tried to put some doll clothes on Heathcliff, but he made it very clear that that was not going to happen.  It looked so cute in the picture of Sally's cat dressed up and riding in a doll carriage in my Dick and Jane reader, but evidently Heathcliff didn't read the same book.  He could have done if he had opposable thumbs to hold the book.  Actually, if cats and dogs had opposable thumbs we would probably expect more from them.  Open your own cans of food, open the door to let yourself outside.  Bring me a snack (actually I've seen some dogs trained to do that).  But now that I think more about it, with opposable thumbs, they could snap their little furry fingers when they wanted our attention - food, drink, play time, car rides, etc.  Not nearly as cute as giving us big eyed soulful looks or cheerful tail wags to get what they want.  They are probably leading a better life without thumbs.

Cats, cats, cats...

 Today, once again thanks to my west coast brother for the info, is "International Rescue Cat Day." While I have no intention of rescuing a cat at this point in my life I do have a long history with cats.  I really don't know if my first two family cats, Heathcliff and Hercules (my father was the one who named the early pets in our family; our first dog was named Mable) were rescue cats but I suspect they were.  Cats had my mom spotted as a softy from day one. When I was a little older and we moved to the country we had barn cats, at times many, many barn cats.  While they didn't come in the house they were tame-able.  Especially since Mom put food out for them. For a while my brother and I had Mike and Yerk, short for My Kitty and Your Kitty.  Mine was My Kitty, obviously.  Then came Midnight, all black with a tiny white spot on his chest.  Eventually the barn cat population declined and I moved on to college and beyond.  Fast forward to married life.  From fairly early in our marriage, we had two dogs but cats didn't come on the scene until we moved to a country place in Ohio.  Our next door neighbor girl came knocking on my door carrying a little kitten.  It had been left along the side of the road and she couldn't keep it because their cat didn't like it.  Well, how could I resist that little tear streaked face?  I took the kitten (a rescue if I ever heard of one) introduced her to the dogs and the rest of the family who all accepted her and she became Buckeye, because of a black spot on her left shoulder just the size and shape of a buckeye.  Our vet, an Ohio State grad, loved her.  We moved Buckeye with us back to Fort Wayne.  Then followed Olympia, Athena, Clair and Frances; all rescues, all with their own stories, but never more than three at a time.  So there you have my cat history.  I loved them all but feel absolutely no guilt about not rescuing any more.

conflicting views

 First, congratulations to all of us.  We have made it to March, the month of spring and Women's History Month.  But, if we can focus on today specifically, today is "National Peanut Butter Lovers Day." Actually, it seems to me that Peanut Butter should have been celebrated sometime last month.  February was "Black History Month" after all, and George Washington Carver is one of my heroes.  But enough about that.  I will celebrate my holidays as they come.  Admittedly there is a lot of controversy surrounding peanut butter; smooth vs crunchy, with pickles (or olives) vs jelly (or banana slices).  Should you spread it on toast or a bagel or bread? Being faced with all these decisions at the grocery store today, I am now well supplied with crunchy peanut butter (sorry, but it is the best), jelly, bananas, olives, pickles, bread and bagels.  I may be celebrating peanut butter all week. Cheers!