Boo!

 Well, I hope you've all enjoyed your Halloween or All Hallows Eve if you prefer.  It's also Reformation Day if you care to be more serious.  Evidently Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses on the church door on October 31 because he knew there would be a good crowd at mass the next day for All Saints Day.  Like many of you, my spouse and I spent the time from 5:30pm to 7:30pm opening the door and handing out candy.  We had ghosts, lots of skeletons, little 'pumpkins,' super heroes, nurses, a coal miner and my favorite costume from last year, a traffic cone.  It's actually a good safe costume to wear as you walk dark streets on Halloween, those orange and white stripes really show up.  The sweetest was a little 3-year-old princess who was so proud that she knocked on our door all by herself.  Her mother and little baby brother were right behind her of course.  Earlier in the day my west coast brother informed me that today is also "Sneak Some of the Candy Yourself Before the Kids Start Knocking Day."  I'm happy to report that we did just that.  

This explains a lot...

 My west coast brother has informed me that tonight is "Haunted Refrigerator Night."  I've always suspected that our refrigerator is haunted, so I'm not surprised that there is a special night for it and others of its ilk.  I have yet to catch it in the act but I know that mysterious things happen when I'm not looking.  For example, often, in the deep dark middle of the night, I have heard clunking and thumping from downstairs in the general area of the kitchen.  My spouse says it's just the icemaker making ice but I suspect that the refrigerator is taking its nightly stroll around the kitchen.  My sleep fogged brain would rather accept a haunted refrigerator moving around the kitchen than think that some suspicious character has broken in.  I'm pretty sure my spouse feels the same way.  More proof of the haunting is the strange disappearance of food.  It eats the good stuff.  One day our refrigerator will be nicely stocked with cinnamon swirl bread, molasses cookies, sugar cookies, apple bread and other tasty treats from the bakery and by the next day they will have started to disappear at an alarming rate.  Not the healthy stuff though.  Oranges, apples, celery sticks and tomatoes remain untouched.  I don't know where it keeps its arms (that's one of life's mysteries) but lately it has taken to raiding the pantry.  I know this because the three large bags of candy that I bought for tomorrow night's trick or treaters have diminished to slightly more than two bags full.  Maybe we'll have to hand out oranges.

a celebration of life...

 This may seem like a macabre thing to write about but it really isn't.  Today I attended a memorial service/celebration of life for an old friend from my church.  It was a lovely service with familiar hymns and Bible verses and the promise of life everlasting. She and I had served on several committees together over the years and I was amazed, at the service, at how many happy memories came back to me as her family remembered her with wonderful essays about her life.  I selfishly found myself wondering if my children or grandchildren would say such nice things about me?  I even thought maybe I should write out some little speeches for them, but I guess not.  It was interesting though, I found myself smiling through most of the service, when I had expected to be crying.  I was even reminded, at the reception following the service, of a crazy conversation about sea horses that we had had at a dinner I hosted 12 years ago.  I found myself wondering what my funeral will be like (hopefully not for 10 or 20 years) but then I realized that recently I experienced something better than a funeral.  Back in January I was very ill and wasn't able to go to  church for four months.  Happily, I felt up to going on Easter Sunday.  I've been a member at First Pres for 40 years so I know quite a few people there. Before and after that service I was greeted warmly and lovingly by so many old friends that I almost felt like a celebrity.  So I really don't care who comes to my someday funeral or what they say.  I've already experienced an excellent celebration of life.

yet another recollection...

 Here's another memory triggered by conversation with our house guest.  He's leaving tomorrow so then I'll need to resort to other sources of inspiration.  May I say here that having a conversation, over cups of mulled cider, with no TV or cell phone interruptions, is a rare and wonderful pleasure.  We got to talking, as grandparents are likely to do, about funny things our grandchildren, or children, have said or done.  Which brought this memory to mind.  The year was 1976; my son was five years old and my daughter was three.  A five year old neighbor boy from across the alley had come over to play.  This was a common occurrence and generally the three of them got along very well together.  On this particular morning I was in the kitchen and could hear their conversation from the next room.  Suddenly I heard little 'Bobby' (names changed to protect the innocent) saying to my daughter 'Betty' "Betty, Betty, come here a minute, I want to show you something in the bathroom."  Instantly, my Mom-dar went on alert.  I didn't yell or anything, but I walked to where I had a clear view of the little half-bath under the stairs, ready to pounce (I mean gently intervene) if they shut the door.  Then I heard him say "Look, I can turn this light switch on and off with my elbow."  Whew!!

a reflection on my housekeeping????

 We were reminiscing with a friend this evening about schools we had attended and schools we had taught at, and variations on that theme and I was reminded of an incident that happened when my son was in first grade.  We lived in the Southwood Park neighborhood of Fort Wayne, about eight blocks from Harrison Hill Elementary School.  My son and three other neighborhood kids walked to school together every morning and home again in the afternoons.  One day at noon I got a call at work telling me that my son had run away from school during recess after lunch.  I think my husband was also called. Needless to say I rushed to the school as fast as I could get across town, to discover, to my great relief, that the principal had gone driving around the area and found my son sitting on our front steps, just waiting for someone to come home.  He wasn't hurt or upset, he was just waiting.  The principal took him back to school and I came and picked him up from there.  This all happened 46 years ago.  No cell phones or tracking devices.  When I asked my son why he had run away from school he said it was because his teacher had told him that after recess he would have to clean out his desk and he didn't know how to do that.  I went with him the next morning with a paper grocery bag into which we dumped a whole semester's worth of papers.  He was a good student, most of the papers had As on them, but it seemed he just couldn't be bothered to bring them home. No one has ever accused me of being a good housekeeper (Mrs. Clean I'm not) but, in my defense, I had taught him to pick up his room, at least every once in a while.  I guess that training just didn't transfer to keeping his school desk picked up.  The reason his teacher had told him to do the clean up was that papers were starting to fall out on the floor.  After that incident he did start bringing his papers home almost every day.  Some ended up on the refrigerator but many more ended up in and on the desk in his bedroom.  I wish I could say that he has grown up to be a model of organization, but he is his mother's son.  It's true that his paper stacks aren't as high as they once were, but that's largely due to the fact that he does so much of his work on his computers these days.  If only he had had one in first grade.  

a merry chase...

 It all started out so simply.  We were invited to friends' house for wine and munchies, then planned to go on with them to dinner at a restaurant.  They live in a newer subdivision way out north off of Carroll Road.  My spouse and I were secretly amused at the lengths this couple went to assure that we could find their place - just today we received one phone call with directions, one email with detailed directions, and of course we had their address to put in our GPS.  We did appreciate being told that we could ignore the road closed sign when we came to it, which we did.  We drove along, marveling at how much things have changed since I used to live out that way, and blithely drove past the well marked entrance to their subdivision and into the next one where the street signs were not at all right, which we realized pretty quickly.  Our friendly GPS lady led us out of that maze by the longest possible route, we back tracked to the correct subdivision and finally made our way to their house, only about fifteen minutes late.  That wasn't so bad except that earlier in the day I had assured them that, with all their careful directions, it would be our own fault if we got lost.  It was.  After a lovely conversation over wine and cheese, we made our way to the restaurant, had a good meal, said our goodbyes and headed on our separate ways.  At one point in the dinner conversation my spouse said that he would have looked something up, but he had left his phone in the car.  It wasn't until we were all the way home that we realized he had left the phone at their house.  Just as we were texting them to say we were coming to get his phone, the husband of the couple called us to say they had found a cell phone and was it ours?  The good news is we made it back to their house with no mis-turns, got the phone and have now made it home to stay, at least for tonight.  The other good news is that we for sure know the way to their new house now.

another committee????

 I am not a meeting sort of person.  This statement may surprise those who know me well because I have attended many, many committee meetings in my lifetime.  A conservative estimate would be 1,800.  But my behavior doesn't always match that of my fellow attendees. I almost always arrive early and I do appreciate meetings that begin on time.  I am happy to chitchat with other committee members before the meeting but, once the meeting starts, I want it to be all business.  I don't appreciate people who feel compelled to explain why they're late in excruciating detail, unless it's a really exciting story involving a skunk in their back yard or a bird that got into the house. When I chair a meeting I am almost always able to keep it under an hour, start to finish.  But I think what really sets me apart from my fellow committee members is what happens after the meeting.  I leave.  I don't stand around in the hallway or parking lot hashing over everything that was discussed and decided in the meeting, or engaging in general gossip. I guess I just don't know how to play the 'meeting after the meeting' game. I suppose if someone didn't approve of my possible lack of meeting manners, they could ask me to resign.  No one ever has.

something lighthearted...

 My west coast brother informed me today that it is National Crazy Day, National Bologna Day, and World Tripe Day.  He finished his text with the opinion that this "pretty much sums up the political season." I must agree with him.  I'll be very happy when this election is over.  

On another cheerier note, a friend of mine has twin granddaughters - Ava and Annalisa.  On the first day of Kindergarten the girls came home and Ava proudly announced that she had learned to spell her name, but that Annalisa was having trouble with hers.  What a surprise.  This made me think about the names we give our children.  One of my spouse's sons has three children, all with four-letter first names.  I applaud that decision.  One of my nephews, on the other hand, has four children, all with multi-syllabic first names.   I love them dearly, but I wasn't thrilled when I first heard their names.

One last name story.  I have a grandson whose last name is Austin.  When I took him to register for first grade (he was living with me while his mom was deployed) I had a really hard time convincing the person who was checking us in that his last name was Austin. She kept asking for last name first, and I kept telling her Austin. In her defense, it was a very popular first name at the time.

Enough of this name game, go hug your offspring, whatever their names.

Are you enjoying yourself?

 We have a guest staying with us this week, and today we decided to take him to one of our favorite restaurants for brunch, then for a drive into the country to check out Schmucker's market and the Taste of Tradition Bakery.  But first I had an appointment with my  dermatologist for what I thought would be a very quick check of a spot on my upper lip.  My appointment was for 10:10am.  I had followed instructions, the spot had disappeared, so I assumed that today would just be a quick in and out.  My wonder spouse drove and our friend came along so the three of us could go directly to brunch from my appointment.  The appointment took longer than expected, just a little scraping off of some skin so some testing can be done.  While I was with the doctor, my spouse and our guest waited in the car, and evidently played the radio and opened and closed the windows, and so forth, with the result that, when I hopped in the car, ready to go, the car wouldn't start.  My resourceful spouse used his portable battery charger but no go.  It simply wouldn't start.  I called AAA and was told that someone would be there by 12:45. It was then 11:00am.  Meanwhile my husband called his son who works in and around Fort Wayne, who said he could be there in about an hour.  Happily, before either of these helpers could get there, a kind lady in an SUV saw our predicament (the hood being up was a clue) and jump started the car.  We were on our way by noon, getting hungrier by the minute.  However, my spouse decided, very wisely I thought, that he would first get a new battery installed.  So off we went to Batteries Plus aka Batteries, Bulbs and More.  They very quickly installed the new battery and we were on our way.  The rest of the day went much more smoothly and our guest enjoyed the lunch and shopping.  He did remark at one point that we really know how to entertain company.  He also pointed out to me that this could have happened while we were driving through the wide open spaces of Canada a few weeks ago.  That put the whole day in perspective for me.  I always prefer to look on the bright side. 

Listen up...

 I heard a very interesting TED talk this evening.  It was a discussion of good listening and effective conversation habits.  Much of it I had heard before, in one form or another.  For instance, don't equate your experience with theirs, don't interrupt, remove distractions, ask open ended questions and try not to repeat yourself.  But one rule jumped out at me.  Stay out of the "weeds".  I knew immediately what the speaker meant because I have a dear friend who loves to ramble through the weeds conversationally speaking.  She will start to tell me about a recent incident in her life or something one of her grandchildren or her cat has done, and before I know it she is piling on facts about other people who I don't know and situations that have nothing to do with the original topic.  There have been many times when I have had to ask her, nicely I hope, to get back to the original point of the story.  Usually because we have been on the phone for an hour or so and my listening ear is getting sore. Having experienced this from the receiving end, I shall do my best to 'stay out of the weeds.'  The other really good piece of advice I got from this evening's talk was 'be brief' so I shall end this blog right here.

button, button...

 My west coast brother has informed me that today is "Count Your Buttons Day."  I have not yet counted my buttons, too many other interesting things to do.  But it got me wondering, why do I save buttons?  I have a little blue glass figurine standing on my dresser that opens to contain my button collection. Theoretically it's because the extra buttons that come with some clothes will be necessary if I lose a button. My very favorite clothes that button have an extra button sewn into the garment somewhere.  But there's a good chance a blouse will wear out before it's buttons pop off.  And I'm speaking as some one who has blouses that are 20 years old and still have all their buttons.  My actual favorite clothes don't have any buttons at all.  They just pull over or pull up.  Now that's convenient.  I think the true reason I save buttons is because my mother did it, as did my grandmothers and my mother-in-law.  I bet, if I never save another button, and (gasp) throw away the ones I have, I will never know the difference, and I'm guessing my daughter will thank me for it.

from screeching to sublime...

 I've had two musical experiences this weekend, one excellent and one not so great.  Surprisingly, the one I thought would be great, a program in the Philharmonic Pops series, was very disappointing while the church hymn sing turned out to be beautiful.  The Pop performance starred the "Queens of Soul" a three woman singing group.  The program said they would be singing songs "as recorded by" Patti LaBelle, Aretha Franklin, Adele, Tina Turner and more.  I was all set to hear some of my favorites.  'Natural Woman', 'Respect', 'What's Love Got to do With It?' and 'Proud Mary' were all on the list.  And they did sing those and more and they had good voices.  Sounds great, right?  The problem was they were backed up by the full orchestra (who were great as always).  To compensate, they had mics turned way up so they could be heard over the musicians.  Not a bad idea except the singers seemed to think the had to sing even louder and the combination made for painfully loud music and lyrics that could not be understood.  I know I'm old and there were a few, very few, younger people standing up, as in a rock concert, and swaying and clapping to the music.  I was very disappointed in the whole production.  In case you're wondering, I have been to concerts, Lady Gaga and Maroon Five fairly recently, and they were never painfully loud. This morning I spoke to a friend who had also attended and had the same reaction. They were very disappointed.  Another friend, who ushered last night, said that many people complained that it was too loud.  I'm not surprised.

Happily, this weekend ended on a high note (no pun intended), musically speaking.  This afternoon, as part of their music series, First Presbyterian Church presented a program titled "Will You Come and Follow Me" the guest organist, choir director, preacher Tom Trenney put this program together.  It included several beautiful hymns, each preceded by short readings from the Bible.  The hymns included familiar classics such as "My Hope is Built on Nothing Less" and "How Firm a Foundation" and some I didn't know like "Spirit, Open My Heart" which was lovely.  Tom Trenney is nationally known, and has an impressive musical background.  I highly recommend him and this program to any group looking for a spiritually uplifting hour long service of simply beautiful music.  

 

According to my west coast brother today is Bridge Day (the over the river kind, not the card game). So here's a picture of one of my favorite bridges coming back into the states at Sault Ste Marie.

It's also "I Love Yarn Day."  Anyone who knows me knows that I do love yard.  Here's a picture of my current collection.  This isn't elegant wool yarn for socks and scarves; it's the inexpensive type I use for my weaving.  Nice and sturdy and it comes in glorious colors. By the way, the dark green, red, white and black yarn on the middle shelf is for my current project which has a Christmas theme.  Hopefully I will have it finished by Christmas.  

raise a toast..

 Fall is really here now.  We have beautiful yellow and orange trees in our neighborhood. I've stocked up on Halloween candy, the air is crisp and clear, and best of all, it's time for cider.  My wonder spouse and I have been drinking a lot of it lately.  It's good cold, but we like it in a mug, hot, with a cinnamon stick floating in it.  The very best cider I've ever tasted is what is available now at Schmucker's Produce Farm and Greenhouse on Doty Road.  If you go on a Wednesday you may be able to get some pressed that very morning.  Cider is just juice pressed out of apples.  At Schmucker's it really is just apple juice, no processing, no preservatives, no sugar added, no other additives, just pure juice, pressed from their own Honey Crisp apples.  I didn't really mean for this to turn into a commercial, but this cider is so good that I wanted to spread the word.  So go get some cider, while it lasts, and raise a toast to fall everyone.  

of cats and dogs

 Yesterday, according to my west coast brother, was "Global Cat Day" so my brother's cat spent the day sleeping to celebrate.  Evidently global sleeping takes a lot of effort, so today Ace made up for it by again sleeping all day.  This reminded me of the sleep habits of cats and dogs I have lived with.  Everyone knows that cats sleep, on average, 23 hours a day, dogs not quite so much.  I asked my veterinarian once if it was bad for my miniature dachshunds to lie around so much, but then put on sudden bursts of energy, to chase a squirrel for instance.  The vet said no.  Animals' hearts (cats and dogs) are adapted for long resting times interspersed with hard chases after prey.  It must be true.  A sparrow got into our house once, when I was home alone, and while I was trying to figure out how to lure it to an open door, my chubby old cat Athena leaped straight up in the air, caught the bird, flying at ceiling height, in her front paws, brought it down, snapped its neck, and that was the end of that bird.  It did not suffer.  My heart nearly stopped while all this was going on, but Athena quietly strolled away and went back to napping, her inner panther satisfied for the time being.    

doing some good...

This evening my wonder spouse and I helped pack meals for Project 216, an organization that sends packaged food all over the world.   This is an annual event for First Presbyterian Church.  It was an assembly line project, with several long tables set up in our large dining hall, each with all the ingredients and equipment needed to fill bags with the dry ingredients for a very nutritious soup.  Each bag filled and sealed (slightly larger than a quart size zip lock bag) contained enough to provide, when water is added, six meals.  Altogether we packed over 25,000 meals this evening.  This was our 10th year to sponsor this project, so in those ten years we have provided 250,000 meals.  We were told that at least some of the meals we packed will be going to victims of the recent hurricanes Helene and Milton.  At first, when I heard this, I thought, "Oh, they're not going to want this soup."  Because usually it's sent to third world or war-torn countries.  But then I realized that if I had just lost everything, and had to start putting my life back together, and really wasn't sure where my next meal was coming from, a bowl of soup might seem like a real treat.  In case you're wondering, I have tasted the soup and it's very good.  Kudos to the 85 people from First Pres who turned out, and special thanks to the volunteers from The Point Church who surprised us by showing up to help.  I think there were ten of them.  With all this assistance, the whole process was finished in an hour and a half.  Our efforts were rewarded with pizza before we went to work and ice cream sandwiches when the job was done.  It's nice to feel that we accomplished something good, and a bonus that it was fun.  But now I'm exhausted, so it's off to bed.  Good night.

sew on and sew forth...

 Today is "Sewing Lovers Day."  It's also "National Grouch Day," but since I don't know any of those, I'll concentrate on the sewing.  My west coast brother thought he might qualify as a grouch, but I assured him he doesn't.  I have so many friends and relatives who love sewing, and are masters of the art, that I can't begin to list them all, but I must give a shout out to some individuals and groups. I think that anything that involves some sort of needle and yarn or thread counts as sewing.  With that in mind here's my list.  My daughter-in-law and my west coast sister-in-law create absolutely beautiful clothing.  Many of my good friends create amazing quilts.  My daughter-in-law's mother, my outlaw, (we figure we're not in-laws but our families are definitely connected so we've dubbed ourselves out-laws) has won prizes for several of her quilts.  Members of my FFF (Faith, Fiber and Fellowship) group are absolute artists in knitting, crocheting, counted cross stitch and other forms of yarn work.  I know, I know, crocheting uses a hook, not a needle, but crocheters create beautiful clothing of all sorts, so I say that qualifies as sewing.  I also think that my stitcheries count as sewing.  Not necessarily the weaving part (although that does create fabric) but the needle work involved in the finished products.  In writing all of this down, I have realized that the majority of my favorite people are sewing lovers.  They are just really nice people and I'm lucky to know so many of them.  

at that age...

 Today is FRUMP Day.  When my west coast brother shared this with me, I asked him if FRUMP is an acronym for something and he informed me that it stands for Frugal, Responsible, Unpretentious, Mature Persons Day.  My husband and I agreed that it seems to be our day for sure.  We are all of those things, except maybe mature.  Our daughter in law scolded us for goofing around at breakfast in a restaurant recently.  When I told my brother this he assured me that we are at that golden age where we can embarrass both our children and grandchildren in public.  Speaking of which, we had a delightful, delicious dinner this evening at Casa's with my grandson and his fiancee.  We did not embarrass ourselves.  No utensils were dropped on the floor, no water spilled; it was a relatively dignified evening with good food and pleasant conversation.  No one even pulled out their cell phones except once to share a picture of an adorable new baby nephew.  I was brought abruptly face to face with my age though, at one point in the conversation.  My grandson's fiancee told us that she and her mother had been antique shopping recently and I asked her what kind of antiques she likes.  She replied "Oh, I really like things from the 70s."  That's 1970s not 1870s.  I'm sorry but things from the 70s don't feel like antiques to me.  They are the stuff I've had with me since my first marriage.  My daughter and son were born in the early 70s and they're not antiques.  I can't wait until she comes to our house for the first time.  She's going to love it.

watch out!

 Today is "International Day for Disaster Risk Reduction."  My west coast brother sent me this information and informed me that he avoided disaster by not eating marinara sauce at dinner.  I somehow think the 'day' is referring to bigger disasters than that.  Although I will readily admit that some reactions to food can be pretty disastrous.  There has certainly been enough in the news about disasters lately, especially the recent hurricanes in Florida and adjoining states.  I really can't imagine what it must feel like to have everything you own washed away or destroyed.  Good friends of ours did have their home destroyed in a tornado here in Indiana last year, and it was a terrible thing to go through.  They were in the house at the time.  But the big differences between their experience and those of the Florida victims that I'm hearing about was that they were able to salvage many of their possessions, and they had excellent insurance coverage.  They are now totally recovered and living in a very nice condo.  The more I hear about what goes on in other locations, the happier I am that I live in Indiana.  I think that living here is a form of disaster risk reduction.

It's inevitable...

 On Sunday mornings, in place of a more traditional Sunday school curriculum, a church groups I'm in uses a program called Wired Word, which provides contemporary topics for discussion. I highly recommend it.  Our topic for tomorrow, which I will be leading (we take turns) deals with how we face death and presents the idea of writing our own obituary.  This topic is not intended to be morbid and is based on a recently published article by a woman who writes, and rewrites yearly, her own obituary, which, she says, gives her a chance to look at her life and see if she likes where things are going.  Since I'm leading the discussion tomorrow I decided to try my hand at writing my own obituary.  I know this sounds weird, but it actually was fun.  I wrote much more than would probably ever be published and included names of all my relatives, all the jobs I ever had, and so much more.  I even included a space for future great grandchildren (wishful thinking). It was nice to think about all this stuff.  When I told my wonder spouse that I was writing my own obituary I expected him to laugh or at least ask why on earth I would do such a thing.  Instead he asked to read it, then asked me to email a copy to him so he could store it on his computer.  I'm pleased that he wants to keep it, know that I can make changes whenever I want to, and plan to revisit it at least once a year.  Try this exercise.  I think you might really enjoy it.  By the way, in case you're wondering, I'm in great health, and don't expect to 'kick the bucket' any time soon.

all those arms...

 You're going to love this. My west coast brother has outdone himself.  Today is Kraken Day, Myths and Legends Day and Cephalopod Awareness Day.  You've probably all heard the phrase "Release the Kraken."  It evidently dates back to a horror movie made in the early 1930s.  Before we go further with the myth, here's the definition of a cephalopod.  It is any of a class of mollusks such as squids, cuttlefish and octopuses that have highly developed eyes (the better to see you with, my dear), a group of muscular, sucker bearing arms (the better to hug you with), and usually a bag of inky fluid.  The myth is that krakens are gigantic many armed sea creatures that could grab ships and pull them to the bottom of the sea.  Myths are often based on a kernel of truth, and I can imagine how this one grew.  The truth of an octopus appearing in the ocean beside your ship one day, and maybe even waving a tentacle menacingly, could easily grow, like any good fish story, to a kraken of monstrous proportions by the time the sailors got back to port.  Or maybe, just maybe, there are krakens lurking at the bottom of the sea.  Is it any wonder I prefer river cruises?  Sweet dreams everybody.   

October 10th...

 Today is 10/10 Day or Metric Day or Shift 10 Day or Powers of 10 Day.  This information, supplied by my west coast engineer brother, does not excite my very much.  I have nothing against 10.  Mathematically speaking it's definitely the easiest row in the multiplication tables. I would like to be a perfect 10 as much as the next person and wouldn't mind at all if my savings increased by powers of 10.  I'm also very happy when my pressure is a 10 in each eye when checked by my ophthalmologist.  That's as close as I've ever come to being a perfect 10, although I do wear size 10 jeans.  I'm not thrilled that I will be 80 (a multiple of 10) on my next birthday, although, as some wise person once said, it does beat the alternative,  Humm, maybe I'm more excited by 10 than I thought I was.  

Really??

 My west coast brother informed me that today is "Curious Events Day."  He then went on to tell me that he had heard a report that Amelia Earhart spotted the Loch Ness monster in the Bermuda Triangle.  That would indeed have been a curious event, even if it had occurred while Amelia Earhart was still alive.  I know, I know, no one ever proved she died, she simply disappeared.  But even if she didn't die when she disappeared somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, she was born in 1897, so I feel safe in assuming that she's not still alive.  But thinking about curious events, I think it is safe to say that many of the 'special days' of which my brother has made me aware, are certainly curious.  For example there was National Find a Four Leaf Clover Day (you must be curious to search for 4-leaf clovers), National Water Balloon Day, (someone will wonder who threw that), World Beard Day, (there are contests to see who has the longest bushiest beard) and my favorite - Wiggle Your Toes Day.  I love to wiggle my toes.  My first husband often asked me why I wiggled my toes so much?  He usually observed this curious event when I was relaxing, watching TV or reading, sitting in a recliner with my feet up.  The simple answer, then and now, is because it feels good.  So if you were curious about toe wiggling, now you know.

Recess...

 Today, according to my west coast brother, is American Touch Tag Day. I did not feel compelled to run out and play touch tag today, but the idea did stir some memories.  I attended a small Lutheran school for most of my elementary school years, and one of my most vivid memories of those days is recesses and the playground equipment we were provided with.  I'm sure it was similar to public school playgrounds of the time, but looking back on it, it's lucky we didn't kill each other.  We did some running games like touch tag and Red Rover, but much of our time was unsupervised play on the equipment.  I remember most clearly swinging on the swings, with hard flat seats suspended by chains.  We loved to swing as high as possible and try to go over the bar.  I never quite made that but a couple of my friends did.  We also liked to swing double.  One of us would stand on the swing, feet apart, while the second person sat.  The sitter would push with her feet while the stander would pump.  We could go high and fast that way.  We also had a teeter totter (or see saw if you prefer).  This was great fun unless you were up when your partner decided to hop off, allowing you to crash to the ground.  We had a wonderful fast metal slide with a hump in the middle, which gave one the feeling of flying for a moment.  And finally there was the maypole.  Not the beribboned, flower festooned May Pole that children dance around at festivals.  This maypole had five or six chains hanging down from a rotating top piece.  At the end of each chain was a rectangular heavy metal handle with sharp corners.  Picture a letter H with a bar across the top and bottom.  If you ran fast enough around the maypole, hanging on to one of the handles, you could swing out and up, leaving the ground for long laps around the maypole.  It was better if several children were on it at once.  You could go faster and higher.  The only drawback was if one of the children let go suddenly, the handle they had been holding could swing forward and smack another child in the head.   It's a wonder we survived.  

Here's a weaving/stitchery project I finished recently called, you guessed it, "Recess."

Turn it on....

 Today is National LED Light Day.  Thank you to my west coast brother who provided me with this info.  He is not sending me food-related special days until I have lost the weight I gained on our recent trip.  LED lights are not to be confused with laser lights, which, if you have one to use as a pointer when doing an illustrated presentation, are wonderful for playing with your cat.  But I digress.  LED lights, as they have evolved over the last several years, are bright, don't put off heat, and last a long time.  They come in shapes and sizes from tiny little Christmas tree lights to large globes and even rectangles.  My brother-in-law still decorates his Christmas tree with the old style incandescent colored bulbs.  When I saw his tree for the first times last year I realized that I like the new LED lights so much more, for looks, and because they don't get hot.  The last time I had one burn out (they actually do sometimes) I had to search long and hard to find where I had stored the replacements.  They do last a long time.  My very favorite LED light (with three long narrow bulbs) is in my desk lamp.  Sadly, even the finest bulbs don't provide light if you can't turn them on.  Some weeks ago the push-button style switch on my lamp started sticking and it took several pushes to turn it on or off.  Finally, two days ago, it wouldn't turn on at all.  Happily, my wonder spouse, who is an Electrical Engineer, knew just how to fix the problem.  He ordered a new switch.  It should be here any day now and he assures me that it will be an easy matter to 'pop in' the new switch.  Then I can stop writing these blogs by candle light.  

Speaking of lights, these are the rectangular LED lights recently installed in my bathroom.  So pretty, and dimmable when I don't want to be shocked in the morning.  

an interesting solution...

 In one of our daily text exchanges earlier this week my west coast brother told me that he was going to be taking a truckload of junk to the dump.  He and my sister-in-law, and various kids and grandkids from time to time, live on a five acre hill-side farm with an amazing ten mile view.  They raise goats, sheep and chickens so I wasn't too surprised when he mentioned hauling some junk away.  I was surprised, however, when he told me that the junk they were taking to the dump this time included an old mattress, an old couch and an old chair.  After the recent marriage of their youngest daughter they didn't need them, and she didn't want them.   But what really interested me was the method of disposal.  Their nearest large city has a waste to energy incinerator.  I had actually never heard of such a thing but it sounds like a great idea.  According to Google, where you can learn all sorts of facts about such a system, it basically burns trash to heat water which produces steam in a boiler and ultimately generates electricity, and in so doing reduces the volume of waste by 87%.  Sounds like a win/win to me.

They're back!!!

 This evening we attended the opening performance of the Fort Wayne Philharmonic's 81st season and it was terrific.  From the rousing traditional opening with the Star Spangled Banner to the final notes of Mahler's Symphony No.5 in C-sharp minor it was a night to remember.  One thing I really appreciated and enjoyed was the use of the full orchestra.  In both the Mahler piece and Prokofiev's Suite from Lieutenant Kije which preceded it, the entire orchestra was involved.  You may be thinking "Well, aren't they always?"  Yes partially, but in these two pieces every section, brass, woodwinds, strings and percussion, had several bold major parts.  The Suite also featured an excellent baritone soloist.  All in all, an exceptionally fine opening of the season. 

Say cheese.....

 Today (and I found this one all by myself) is National Smile Day.  It's also Cinnamon Roll Day.  My west coast brother told me about that one, but I'm choosing to ignore it because I'm still trying to loose the five pounds I gained on our recent vacation, and everyone knows that just sniffing the aroma of 'Cinnabons' can cause you to gain at least a pound.  But I do like the idea of Smile Day.  Friendly smiles always brighten my days.  But people aren't the only ones who smile.  My dogs used to smile at me when I gave them treats.  Cats not so much, but I did see an interesting report on dolphins on the news this evening.  Evidently they have a facial expression that really is a smile.  They have been observed smiling at each other.  However, they don't seem to smile at people.  I can understand that.  People they encounter most often are observing them in captivity situations.  That would probably not evoke a smile in me either.  Don't get me wrong, I really do like dolphins and I have seen stories of friendly interactions with humans and watched them perform.  But enough about dolphins.  Give someone a big smile before you go to bed tonight.

technical difficulties...

Today is National Techies Day.  One of my favorite techies supplied me with that information.  Lucky for me I'm married to an electrical engineer.  You can't get much more techie than that. And boy do I need him.  This evening, while trying to write my blog I have been frustrated by a sticky light switch, a problem with my tablet, and some hesitancy in how this laptop is behaving.  Therefore, this blog is done for now.  Perhaps tomorrow night, after my favorite techie has time to ponder my problems, I'll blog more cheerfully.

What's in a name?

 Today, according to my west coast brother, is "National Name Your Car Day."  I don't know your feelings about this, but I have always named my cars. It makes them seem friendlier somehow.  I'm the first to admit that my car names aren't particularly original but I'm not the only car- naming person. When I bought my current car, a pretty blue Fiat 500L, there was a large board in the showroom where buyers were encouraged to write the names of their new cars.  The name of my car is "Blue."  As I said, not wildly original, but it suits it.  At this point I couldn't change the name if I wanted to.  In Indiana we only have license plates on the back of our cars leaving the front space common to most cars available for decorative plates. Thanks to a gift from one of my granddaughters soon after I bought the car, the plate on the front of my car proudly pronounces "Nana's Blue."  I'm not sure how my spouse feels about naming cars but I've named it "Red." I will not, however, be giving him a decorative plate. 

another great day...

 Once again my west coast brother has lightened my mood with his humor.  I watched the VP debate this evening which was not fun, but, while watching, I was able to celebrate International Day of Older Persons (that's me), Homemade Cookie Day, and World Vegetarian Day by simply being older, enjoying a cup of warm cider (that's certainly vegetarian) and eating a homemade cookie.  Ok, I must admit that the cookies were not made in a home but rather in our church kitchen.  However, I do know, because I have helped bake them in other years, that they are made from scratch with all of the same ingredients you would use at home.  My husband likes the cinnamon sugar cookies while I favor the molasses cookies.  My mother used to bake really excellent molasses cookies and these come as close as any I've tasted since.  As far as being a vegetarian is concerned, my brother informs me that he is a 'virtual vegetarian.'  He only eats vegetables or things that have previously eaten vegetables.  It works for me.