Hunkering down.

Yep, I've been gone for two days.

The storm has come and gone.  It was not as bad in my neighborhood as it was in other parts of the city. 

A few twigs blew into my yard, but they were easy to break up and put into my yard debris basket.  There are leaves everywhere, but they are stuck to the driveway and sidewalks, so I'm going to have to wait for them to 'loosen' themselves, then I will sweep them up.

I was prepared for a power outage, a candle at the ready, and one of my battery operated lamps by my bed just in case.  Thank goodness I didn't have to use them, except I did light one candle last evening when the lights did flicker. 

I have to admit, I was pretty tense all weekend, hence that was why I didn't write, I was as jittery as a grasshopper on a hot tin roof.  You see, my sun room faces south, and that wall is a huge bank of windows.  Lots, and lots, and LOTS of glass.  Beyond my fence is a stand of trees.  The wind during these kind of storms comes off the ocean from the southwest...I'm sure you get my drift.

Anyway, it is difficult to stay calm when you fear a few sixty foot tall trees just might take a tumble into the back side of your home.  I'm thinking I should probably buy some tarps, just in case I have to cover a gaping hole until I can get repairs done.
 
Goodness knows I've seen a lot of pictures over the weekend of trees that have punched holes into peoples roofs.  Oh my, oh my.  I should go check my garage, I know there is a box out there with tarps and plastic in it, hopefully I am prepared.

I checked on the chickens sometimes, too.  Turns out I'm kind of fond of them.  Mostly they seemed to stay in the coop, and although some think they are kind of stupid creatures, I don't think so.  I've found them to have personalities all their own and am particularly pleased that Florence has caught up with them size wise and can take care of herself.

Now to all that food I prepared for myself.  I opened the refrigerator door this morning and was disgusted...what the blankity-blank-blank am I going to do with all that left over food...as it no longer is appealing and is just a reminder of how bad the weekend could have been.  I guess I will make Frankie eat it. 

Finally....oh, dear.........

........

........





yes, edjukated meteorologists...you were right...you were absolutely right.  The storm came in exactly when you said it would...it did exactly what you said it would...you were so dang right!!!!!

So this morning, and it kills me to say this...I apologize for all the terrible things I said about you.

THIS TIME.

One more time.

Once again, those edjukated guys and gals are promising us 'storm like conditions' we normally don't see until November.  A whole weeks worth.

I've been preparing.

Last week I put away all my outdoor summer stuff I expected to 'fly away' because the local weather authorities said the gusts and gales were 'a-comin'.  Boy, was I ready.

Then, this week I was told it was going to get into the 40's over night.  That information caused me to weatherize indoors and out, so as I mentioned in my blog yesterday, I brought in my houseplants and cleaned my heaters and standing fireplaces.  Now, I'm even more ready. 

Come on bad weather, put your dukes up...I'm ready to give you the one-two punch.

Checking my 'favorite list' weather page, I see the rain is supposed to start as early as 9 AM this morning....and pretty much not stop for seven days.  Tick, tick, tick.  It is now, according to my computer clock 8:37 AM.  Tick, tick, tick.  Is it gusty?  Is there a down pour?  A shower?  A sprinkle?  Nope. 

Oh, sure, the sky is grey, but that's pretty typical for the Pacific Northwest.  We are all used to that.  Over the last several years we've had some pretty good winter storms, but, (and I can't believe I'm going to say this, cause I hate when people do) they are not like the ones "we used to" get, have.  The kind that takes down stands of trees, wipes out power for days, makes us become creative in the ways we prepare meals, and has us washing up with boiling water from a large kitchen pot.  Ah, those were the days, my friend, those were the days.

I guess we could blame the changes on Global Warming...which I absolutely do believe in, or perhaps, El Nino, La Nina and even more currently La Nada, which is apparently the kind of year we are having. 

I didn't even know there was a La Nada until recently when I happened to see a map indicating the band of weather conditions across the Equator is lying flat, with very little activity, which in turn has those edjukated meteorologists in either a state of sober confusion, or drunken stupor.  Apparently they've not a clue what's going to happen next.

Okay, okay, I know....I rag on the weather people w-a-a-a-y to much. I simply can't help myself.  It's just they all seem so self-righteous, know-it-all-ish, egotistical, pompous...and when they are on scene...'LIVE AND LOCAL'...well, that's just down right stupid.  Not only are they putting themselves in harms way, by standing in close proximity to freeway off ramps and to four and six lane street intersections in freezing rain, 40mph wind gusts and blowing snow, they aren't telling us we can't know by simply looking out our living room windows. 

I know what you're thinking...Why do I watch them if it is such an issue for me?  Cause I can and cause it gives me a good giggle when the weather guys and gals are wrong.  I get all 'twitter-pated'.  It's fun. 

Oh, oh, here it comes...count down to 9 AM...5, 4, 3, 2, 1.  Tick, tick, tick.  No wind, no rain...Uh-oh...La Nada strikes again .

Is there a frost in my future?

Okay, I've got two unpleasant jobs to do today. 

I've already accomplished one.  It went something like this. First I went around the house dusting and sweeping around my standing gas fireplaces, and baseboard heaters.  Next, I went around the house and opened all the windows.  Finally, I turned on the heat in all the rooms.  I hate that icky, dusty, dry, smell that wafts through the house.  You know the one that is sure to set off at least one of my smoke detectors.  This year I decided to get the job done in one fell swoop rather than on a room to room basis when I need heat in that particular room.  To my amazement and delight, not one detectors went off, although now that the heat is off there is still that lingering odor in every room.  Since it is not particularly chilly at the moment I think I will let the house open for a while longer.  It might be the last time I can do that until about...oh, I don't know...maybe March, 2014.

The second job is yet to be done, and that is to bring my house plants back in doors.  Don't like this job much either as it requires inspection of each plant for insects, and those awful, slimy, irritating slugs.  Plus, I have to hose off the pots, and clean the receptacles under them to make sure yucky, wet dirt and debris is not stuck to their under sides.  Somehow I always manage to get myself extremely wet during this process. 

I'm always amazed at how much the plants grow over the summer.  At the moment they are lush, full and sooo healthy looking I kind of hate messing around with them.  I  always manage to break off branches from the jade plants, and I know from past experience the trumpet plants are going to go into shock and lose 90% of their leaves.  However, I also know I HAVE to bring them in, or they will all die with the first frost.  What a bummer.

Finally, some of these plants are big, and heavy.  I'm no spring chicken any more, and I fear one of these years I won't be able to move a plant outside (that already happened this year with the avocado tree I've grown from a seed) or back in after a summer in natural sunlight and good, clean showers.  What if I dropped one?  First there would be a terrible mess to clean up, and second I would lose a wonderful plant that I've grown from tiny little starts. 

Where is my common sense?  Do the plants really care if they are moved outside every year?  See, the thing is I think they do, so how can I deprive them of their summer vacation?  I guess I can't. 

Well, I guess I'd better get a move on.  This is a job that won't do itself.  Wish me luck,  I'm going to need it.  I'm coming plants, I'm coming.

Time, memories and rocks

Man, I've been busy.  I don't know where the time goes.  Saturday time crept by, I looked at the clock thinking It had to be well after one in the afternoon, to find it was actually only a little after eleven in the morning.  How does that happen?  I love days like that, I accomplish a lot.

Then, some days there are not enough hours, and I seem to get side tracked.  Yesterday was like that.  I would start one job, only to get distracted, and wander around as though I had my head under my armpit.  I didn't accomplish anything substantial all day. 

Monday was a transition day from structure to chaos.  And, I even found time to do something completely unexpected:

Once upon a time there was a Woman who had a fondness for rocks.  Everywhere she went she was sure to come home with a sandwich bag with rocks in it.  Beach, mountain, stops made on vacation, it made no matter were this woman went, she would bend over and pick up a treasure.  Sometimes the rocks would be dusty, sometimes wet.  Sometimes they would be smooth and round, sometimes jagged.  To her it didn't matter, it was a lasting treasure of a special time.

Woman's children grew and went on adventures of their own.  She requested only one thing from their experiences, rocks, just bring her rocks from where ever their destination was.  These were not be be the shiny, polished variety, but from the byways, parking lots, gas stations and country sides.  And, lo, her children complied.

Year by year Woman's collection grew.

Before long she had rocks from across America.  Woman would place them in a container and neatly label them.  Soon unusual items began to appear and were welcomed.  White sand from Florida, black sand from Hawaii, tan sand from Oregon.

Then there was ash from Mt. St. Helens, and an ash covered twig.  A cobblestone from an Old Philadelphia street.  A chunk of step from the capital of Ohio...it has fossils in it.  A tiny piece of the Berlin Wall.  A tiny stone from the pocket of pair of  'stone washed' jeans that somehow missed final inspection. 

She has a piece of brick from the sidewalk across the street from the bar made famous from the show Cheers.  A bag of bituminous coal from her hometown in Pennsylvania and a chunk of concrete from the old Mulholland Dam.  So many memories, so many treasures.

After a time Woman found her collection had grown to the extent she had rocks and natural objects from six of the seven continents.  Western and South Australia; South Africa; England, France, Italy, Germany; South Korea; Brazil; and of course America.
She treasured every item and they sat on display on shelves of her three season porch.

But, time passed, and her children married and started families of their own, their travel itineraries changed.  Woman learned to live alone, her forty year old home needed work, remodeling was required she had to pack up her treasured collection and put it into boxes.  It was a sad, sad day.

Over time Woman would pass by those boxes almost every day.  They began to collect dust, and soon took on the appearance of forlornness. Oh, yes, they were very much neglected. 

Then, one day, a wet, chilly, September day Woman walked by the boxes on the bottom shelf in her garage.  She was compelled to kneel.  She took a rag and dusted the top of one of the boxes and took the lid off.  The jars had been discarded and each treasure was now in a plastic bag with a slip of paper inside stating where the rocks had come from, and who had given it to her.  She found index cards inside the box, she had forgotten she had made lists of each treasure in the boxes. 

Woman sat for a long, long time, lifting each treasure, inspecting every bag.  She went through every box, read every card.  Eventually she returned the boxes to their resting place and tried to stand.  How long has she sat there, legs tucked under her?  There was pain, quite a bit of pain.  But, oh, the memories that had flooded back as she relived the moments she had received each beautiful gift, they made up for the numbed and aching muscles.

What will happen to Woman's treasures I do not know.  Some think they should be ground up and be made part of her headstone.  Some think they should be sculptured into a piece of art.  I imagine some might just want to chuck them away.  I'm glad it is not my decision to make.

Now, how to end this little tale.  I think I will close like this:

 

Some are beautiful and rare.

Some have great value.

Some are useful,

provide fuel,

make weapons.

 

Some record time,

Some record history,

Some tell a story.

 

Some are round and smooth,

While others are sharp and jagged.

 

Each one unique.

 

Some have traveled far,

others from around the bend.

All first seen through eyes of the beholder.

 

Gathered together,

All treasured.

 

Given and got with love.

 

MY ROCKS

 

 

sh 8-2-88



Did your mom...

...ever tell you not to leave the house without your cleanest, newest underwear?  "What if you're in an accident." She would say.

As a result we never left the homestead without being in our very best undergarments.  I in turn told my kids the same thing.  Heaven forbid they should be in an accident, and they would be laying on the side of the road and emergency personnel would see them with holes in their underpants and bras that have stretched out, useless elastic holding their boobies in place.  What an embarrassment that would be to me.  What would that say about how I brought you up and clothed you?

What brought this to mind this morning is the fact I've had to delve into my underwear drawer and pull out my thermal underwear to find they are in very, very bad shape.  Holes everywhere.  I meant to buy new thermals over the summer and down grade the sets I have to my cleaning rags department.  But, out of sight out of mind, sadly, when I pulled it open, there was nothing but old, lavender scented thermals in the drawer.  I'm just glad I didn't cut my old ones up...apparently I never did buy new ones.

Sigh...I guess the old ones will have to do for a while, till I can get new ones.  I just have to remember not to leave the old homestead wearing them.  Goodness knows I would not want to embarrass myself or my mother should some kind of an accident befall me.

Now, here's the thing.

If you ever watch cop, hospital, emergency shows you already know the first thing emergency personnel  does is CUT OFF YOUR CLOTHES.  Am I right, or am I right?  By golly, I think I am!

So, I've come to the conclusion, mom may not have been right.  It makes more sense to wear your oldest, rattiest, most horrible undergarments when you leave the house.  That way if you are in an accident and the emergency personnel has to cut your garments off, you will only be losing the ones you don't give a dang about in the first place.  Your lovely new stuff will be safely tucked away in your lavender scented lingerie drawer at home.  Seriously, in my mind this makes a great deal more sense.

I'm definitely going to start spreading the word on this subject.  I think I've done my kids a great disservice, so, I'm retracting my lesson on leaving the house in your best undergarments.  I'm publicly stating it's okay if your underpants has worn out elastic, and a few holes, so what if your bra straps are limp and tend to fall of your shoulder, and that your t-shirt has a few paint spots or BBQ stains, I don't give a dang.  And, ya' know what?  Your emergency personnel doesn't give a dang either, they are simply trying to save your life and that's much more important to me.

By the way, old socks with holes at the toes or heels are okay, too.  I've heard in an accident there is a good possibility they'll be knocked off anyway.

Here, here, and rah, rah for old underwear.

Hum, dum, dum, ditty, dum

No one could say it better than Pooh Bear...thank him, Sterling Holloway, and Richard and Robert Sherman for today's post.

Hum dum dum ditty dum
Hum dum dum

Oh the wind is lashing lustily
And the trees are thrashing thrustily
And the leaves are rustling gustily
So it's rather safe to say
That it seems that it may turn out to be
It feels that it will undoubtedly
It looks like a rather blustery day, today
It sounds that it may turn out to be
Feels that it will undoubtedly
Looks like a rather blustery day today

 

From: Winnie The Pooh and the Blustery Day
Written by: Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman
Performed by: Sterling Holloway [Pooh]

 

Hello Autumn.

Don't waste your weekend!

Frankie was leaning over my shoulder as I began the clicking to get to my e-mail.

Frankie:  "Wow, that's one good lookin' bunch of men."
Me:  "Oh, for heaven sakes, hold on to your britches...this is just an ad for some kind of of relationship organization.  Those pictures have been there for years."
Frankie: (Leaning in for a better look)  "Oh, my...third one in, second row...I want him for Christmas."
Me:  "Frankie, if his picture has been in this ad for years, can he really be a winner?"
Frankie:  "Who cares, he's gorgeous."

I wheel around in my chair and give her a good bonk right in the middle of her forehead and try to explain these guys are probably models, and if you tried to find them on the match making website he and none of the other guys shown on this web page, or the web site would ever be found.  She is not deterred, and tries to get me to go to the web site...'just to see' who's actually there.

I refuse, and jump ahead to my e-mail. I scroll down to my I-Ching daily reminder and click on the mail.  There spread across the top of the page is the following:

Don't Waste Your Weekend, lalalady!

Love is both sexy and sweet all weekend, so make sure you're spending it with the right person!

Frankie: (Just about ready to bust a gusset and violently shaking me.)  "Go, back, go back.  We've got to check out those pictures and order one."
Me: (With all the patience I can muster.)  "Frankie...they are not real men looking for relationships...they are models...some are probably actors...most are probably out of work...they are not relationship material.
Frankie: "Are you sure?"

Well, damn, this is not something our 'Big Book' can fix. 

Me:  "Yes, Frankie, I'm sure.  Think about it.  If these, good looking, sexy, smiling, irresistible men were actually looking for someone, would their picture still be there for years and years....and years.  No, they wouldn't."

Frankie is getting that sad, disillusioned, doe-eyed look on her face.  You know, the one like the pictures of puppies and kitties, where their eyes are wide and take up most of their faces...the one where I 'cave' and give in.  Well, not this time baby, not this time.  I'm gonna' stick to my guns.

I start answering mail and try to ignore her.  She sighs.  Oh my gosh....so pitiful, so dang pitiful...I can't possibly work with that going on in the background.

Then I remembered something.  It's a doll I got several years ago.  He's about 10 inches tall, is stuffed with something or other, and used to talk if you squeezed him hard enough. He would say things like "Of course I'll go shoe shopping with you."  And, "You look thin, have you lost weight."  Okay, the battery died, and he does not talk anymore...but that is more like a real guy anyway.  However, the doll does come with an instruction booklet that tells you how to make the 'best use' of him. 

I take him off the shelf and hand the whole she-bang over to Frankie.  She's not exactly happy he does not talk anymore, but she is delighted with this wonderful new find.  She finds the 64 page manual quite intriguing, and disappears.

Whew! 

Ladies...if you  want one of these dolls, they might still be available somewhere 'on-line'.  And, 'in line' with keeping everything kosher, here are the particulars. 

Mr. Right
(When you need him)
by Karen Salmansohn
Running Press, Philadelphia, PA 19105

Includes model boyfriend and 64 page owner's manual.

So, if you're looking for a sexy, sweet weekend, Mr. Right is the perfect partner for you, however in spite of what my I-Ching says, my weekend is going to be very unromantic, but very, very fulfilling.  Better yet, I don't think I'll see Frankie for quite
a while.

Fried Green Tomatoes

My next door neighbor has a vegetable garden every year.  I'm blessed because she always gives me extras, and I have been told I can pick anything I want at any time.

The other day I noticed lots of ripe tomatoes hanging on the vines and thought I ought to go over and pick a few to make a sandwich...but, of course, I forgot.  Then, yesterday I got to thinking about the seasons changing and how it is the time of year tomatoes stop ripening.  Oh...there have got to be lots of unripe ones there as well.

I love fried green tomatoes.  Lucky me, last evening I happened to be outside when my neighbor returned from work and we chatted for a while.  I happened to mention that I had thought about picking some of her tomatoes for a sandwich, but didn't.

She in turn told me I should certainly do so, any time...especially the green ones.  So, guess what I am going to do today?

I know she has told me I could help myself any time, and I occasionally do, but it is also very nice to hear from her lips it is okay to go in her yard and help myself.  She told me the prune plums were ripe as well and to help myself to some of those as well.
I just might help myself to a few of those today, too, if I can reach them. 

Those of you who check my blog from time to time know how I feel about fruits and vegetables...I don't particularly like them...but, by the same token, there is something about the home grown variety.  Plus, how can a person give up something that's free?  That would be foolish, wouldn't it?

So, later today I'm going to visit my neighbor's garden.  I'm going to pick a couple red, ripe, juicy tomatoes and a few green ones, too.  Then, I'll take a look at the plum tree, and might help myself to a few of them, if they're in reach. 

Ya' all know what I'm having for dinner tonight. 

Yesterday I told you how autumn is my favorite season, by golly, here are two more reasons.  Prune plums and fried green tomatoes.

Oh, and huckleberries...yes in deed-y, plump, juicy, purple huckleberries.

Autumn

I've always said spring is my favorite season followed by summer and then autumn with winter bringing up the rear. 

However, I think I'm a 'closeted' autumn person.  I seem to like its colors best, yellow, red, orange and dozens of shades of brown.  Chrysanthemums are probably my favorite flower, I like their musky, spicy smell, and oh, the colors, gold, white, yellow, bronze, red, burgundy, pink, lavender, purple, then there are the varieties, quill, spider, pompom, single and balled each one unique and a thing of beauty.

Of course, there are the autumn leaves.  Driving along a highway, you will see hillsides ablaze of color.  Here in the Pacific Northwest, the red, orange and yellow deciduous trees nestled among the dark green Douglas Firs, make huge patchwork quilts, running for miles in the bright sunshine.  It's a scene to take your breath away. 

A slow meander on a warm October afternoon reveals the true marvel of this time of year, when the leaves begin to fall.  There are deep burgundy oak, brilliant red maple, bright yellow tulip and cottonwood leaves drifting, floating, falling hither and yon.  Oh, the joy of scuffing your feet through the leaves of a strand of alder, ash and sycamore trees their musty odor awaking your sense of smell, making you want to sneeze.

Squirrels scamper, birds migrate from their summer mountain living quarters heading for milder climates, geese fly over head in gaggles large and small, day and night.  Nature slows, preparing for months of sleep. 

Warm summer breezes give way to chilly wind gusts and bluster.  The smell of smoke wafts over the neighborhood as neighbors stoke their fireplaces and wood burning stoves.  It's time for shorter days and longer nights, afghans, wool sweaters, hot chocolate or toddies, soups and stews, pumpkin bread and pies...can you smell them, are your taste buds waking?

It is easy to paint a picture of autumn, nature provides the color and does work.  All I have to do is provide the words, no wonder I like autumn best.

So,

last night I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror.  Actually, I was leaning over the sink as far as I could.  I was checking out my tongue in the medicine cabinet mirror.

Frankie:  "What's ya doin'?"

As soon as I could zip up the skin I had just jumped out of...I hate getting snuck up on, don't you?  I try to pretend I was not doing anything.

Frankie:  "Something wrong with your tongue?  You not feeling well?"  She reaches out and touches my forehead.

Me:  "I'm fine."  I grab my toothbrush and spread the paste on it.

Frankie is not about to give up...she knows she has caught me in something.  Shoot!  Am I going to have to confess?

One day...long, long ago...well, months really, I somehow managed to scrape all the taste buds off the left side of my tongue.  Seriously.  It was like someone had taken a razor blade, and in one fell swoop managed to remove them from the top of my tongue.  There was no bleeding, not open sores, nothing...but the taste buds were gone.  My tongue was sore for several days, and I kept checking to make sure I was not getting an infection, but the taste buds showed no signs of returning. 

What the heck had I done? 

For weeks I kept looking at my tongue, and I eventually decided the buds were gone forever and I even stopped looking for them.  Then, one day last week, I got to wondering about those missing buds and looked at my tongue.  Well, son of a gun...I noticed the smooth surface was gone, there were almost microscopic size bumps on my tongue.  I was amazed.

My tongue was going to heal, and I was not going to have to tell a soul I had somehow removed the taste buds from its surface.  I was ecstatic.  Every evening before I hit the sheets I would check to make sure it was not my imagination, and that the buds really were returning.

Last night I could see my tongue was pretty much back to normal, but to make sure I was leaning r-e-a-l-l-y far over the sink so I could get a good look. 

Frankie: "What's ya doin'?"

As soon as I could zip up the skin I had just jumped out of...I hate getting snuck up on, don't you? I try to pretend I was not doing anything.

Frankie: "Something wrong with your tongue? You not feeling well?" She reaches out and touches my forehead.

Sigh....

Guilt ridden, I confess.

Frankie:  "Idiot."

Brrrrrr...

and just like that, (snap) summer was over.

Last week, I was running around in shorts, with every fan in my house humming at full speed.  It was lovely.  The summer sky had waned weeks before, but the temperatures still hovered in the eighties.  Perfect, perfect summer weather.  I loved it.  Yeah, it was quite noticeable it was getting dark earlier every evening, but that was nice because by  the time I went to bed the house had cooled nicely and I could turn off all the fans.

A shield bug appeared one morning and I was delighted.  I wish I had brought it into the house.  I didn't and I've not seen it since, but I'm hoping some day I will see it in my morning room sunning itself.

The huge spider that hung on its web just outside my bay window did not appear last night, I have to confess it was like losing a friend, I'd become so used to seeing it every evening.

Yesterday morning I found a beautiful dark red oak leaf in the front yard...can it be...no, it's too early for leaves to be falling.  I looked for acorns on the tree, I could find none...not a one...but I did see plenty of their caps sprawled under the tree.
Apparently the neighborhood squirrels have had quite a feast.

And, then there was the rain.  The day started with a gentle mist that barely wet the sidewalk.  Then, there was an electrical storm followed by more and more showers.  By late afternoon I abandoned my shorts and t-top for sweat pants and shirt. Surely it's too early to change my wardrobe plan.  But, maybe not.

I'll tell you what.  I won't put my fans away quite yet, and will continue to check on my spider every evening, and even buy some green beans in the hope my shield bug brings a bag and moves in for the winter. 

I can't stop the leaves from falling, but I can collect and press them between the pages of my big book. 

Actually, I can't wait for next Sunday when fall officially begins, I can put away my summer decorations and bring out my pumpkins, scarecrows, gourds, Indian corn, chrysanthemums, and brightly colored leaves.  Stop by some day, you'll find my house a kaleidoscope of color.

Under the weather

Okay, the last two days have been really sucky.

I  won't go into to the details, who like to hear about that kind of stuff.  I'll just say I don't like those days and would give anything to feel good when icky stuff creeps up on me.  About the only time I wish I could go back in time is when yuck happens and I wish I was twenty again.

You don't realize just how many commercials there are for old people telling us how badly we need medical insurance, and which company is the best, until you are under a blanket on your sofa watching crime shows because you are too tired, miserable and feeling sorry for yourself to even want to walk to the fridge to get a bite to eat.

And, except for the commercials that tell you you need to get up of your a** and go for a walk, run, or bicycle ride that make you damn mad at yourself, you'd probably make that extra stretch for the remote control and turn the damn set off.  But even that takes too much energy.

So you lay there and wallow.

wal·low
/ˈwɒloʊ/ Show Spelled [wol-oh]    

verb (used without object)

1.

to roll about or lie in water, snow, mud, dust, Or, self pity: Goats wallowed in the dust. 

2.

to live self-indulgently; luxuriate; revel: to wallow in luxury; to wallow in sentimentality. Or, self pity. 

3.

to flounder about; move along or proceed clumsily or with difficulty; as in, self pity: A gunboat wallowed toward port. I wallowed toward the refrigerator looking for sustenance. 

4.

to surge up or billow forth, as smoke or heat: Waves of black smoke wallowed into the room, or my head in self pity.

 

Wallow, wallow, wallow.  Maybe my autumn melancholy is starting early.

 

Actually, what I've been suffering from is anxiety.  Yes, my enemy has returned.  Yesterday morning I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  The first thing I did was pray.  Then I reached for my aspirin and blood pressure medicine, and just laid there for a while, wallowing.

 

Eventually CC and Zorro lost all patience, and I had to get up.  There are days they are my saviors.  Once I got up and got moving things got better.  I took my anxiety medicine, and felt even better.  Oh, the wallow was still there, but my outlook was better.  I got busy with laundry, checking on Florence, and even pulled a few weeds while exploring the back yard.  I found a few flicker feathers, finding feathers is always a special sign from my God things are going to get better.  I was thankful.

 

This morning, I would like to tell you the wallow is gone.  It isn't, but I'm feeling better.  My rose colored glass is still a little less than half full, but, things are looking up.

 

I grew up in an era where you pulled yourself up by your boot straps, and medications, alcohol, and so on were not acceptable crutches when things got you down, or overwhelmed.  And, for the most part I have to agree with that, it builds character, self sufficiency, stick-to-it-tivness,  and fortitude, a sense of accomplishment to have worked things out on your own.  However, sometimes, doctor's orders, a little pill helps once in a while.  I've got to learn to use them before I start to wallow, wallow, wallow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guess what...

...is clinging to my sliding door screen?

Could an old friend be trying to return?

Fall is almost here, and winter just around the corner.

Hmmm.

Lights on my Piazza

Last night there was a party on my Piazza, it was a big one.  The street on which the Piazza is located is a dead end, with very little parking available, so my street (both sides) was loaded with parked cars from the top of the hill to my house.  I watched couples, singles, and groups walking up the street.  I wondered where they were going. 

Not long after I could hear voices, and (let's face it) I am nosy, so I followed the sounds until I discovered from whence they came, it was my Piazza.  Oh, it was lovely, pockets of people chatting here and there.  I wish I could have heard the conversations, I wish I could have seen the food, tasted it, I wish I could have drunk whatever it was they were drinking. 

What fun is it to have Piazza so close and not be invited?  If they only knew my envy.

The party lasted for hours, finally, long after dark I could hear voices outside my house, and car engines start; I knew the party had finally broken up.  Shortly after, I was closing up my house, and walked into the office with the window I can best see my Piazza.  The lights were still on, but there was not a person in sight.  I bet the lady of the house was in her kitchen packaging left-overs and washing wine and cocktail glasses.

I kind of had a warm and fuzzy feeling.  Funny, isn't it, how such simple things can give us pleasure, an umbrella, chairs and streamers of twinkling lights.  The best things in life really are free.

My final words

Yesterday I lost my cool and went 'off' on facebook about something I learned about pro football.  That players sometimes fake injuries to take time off the clock.  I'm not exactly sure why that infuriated me, but it did.  Still does.

I want to rant and rave here, but what's the point.  I don't think anybody cares.  Cheating, misconduct, drugs, murder, illegal dog fighting, child abuse, doesn't matter.  Americans love their sports figures, and don't care what they do.  Fine role models, aren't they?  Great legacy to leave the little boy or girl starting out in the little and junior leagues. 

It's great you have talent kid...you could...go...all...the...way.  Doesn't matter if you're good, what matters is how much money can you get...and how much you can get away with.

Toot, toot, Nine

Riding the rails

Or

Riding the Rails

Sadly, our cross country excursion is coming to a close, we spent the last leg of this trip relaxing in our temporary home, sipping the favorite drink of our choice, and getting to know each other better. 

We learned that Rosy and Vince are going to travel north, heading for Niagara Falls, where they hope to wed, honeymoon and possibly even settle down.  Of all the people I’ve encountered over all the years of my life, these two delightful folks would be the last I’d have thought would find each other, and of all places in a box car.

Tall Dude, after stating he “ain’t never been to New York.”  seems quite excited to be going there.  Frankly, I think he kind of has a crush on Linda, and she does seem to be particularly fond of him.  He’s a little to old to be her son, and she a little too young to be his mother, but none the less I think they are forming a friendship that will likely last their life time.

As for Marie, I never really imagined her riding the rails, and I think she is surprised at how much fun spontaneity can be.  She seemed to enjoy the cooking, setting up our make-shift meals, and even cleaning up after.   She has lots of things she wants to do, and places she wants to see in the ‘city that never sleeps’, and has been talking about all the things she wants to buy along the way. 

As for me, this is a longtime dream, and if I never sleep while there...well that’s okay with me.  I want to see the Great White Way, walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, go to the top of the Empire State Building, see the Chrysler Building, and sit in Central Park.  I want to take in a play or two, have lunch at the Crossroads of America, and have my picture taken with Naked Cowboy.  Who knows, maybe we will even run into Regis and Kelly, or perhaps David Letterman.  Shoot, I may not even want to go home and maybe I won’t.

Well, it won’t be long now...excitement is on the rise.

OH MY GOSH!  We are actually here!  What grand adventures await.  We bade farewell to Rosy and Vince and wished them well.  I hope we all hear from them in the future, at least at Christmas time. 

The rest of us (the bedraggled group we are at the moment) are going to look for a homeless shelter and donate our ‘bindles’ there.   However, the first order of business is to find a pet friendly Hotel and settle in.  Tall Dude, says he probably can’t afford to stay where we are, but will be ready to join us for activities and meals.  Such a sweet guy, he has added much to our trip.  For now I think we all just want a hot shower, and a comfortable bed. 

We have decided to splurge and stay at the Marriott, Court Yard, Time Square South.  With three of us sharing the expenses, (but each for our own pets) we figure for a once in a lifetime experience it will be worth it.  All Linda asks is we save enough money to fly home first class...is she saying she’s done with box car travel?  Well, THAT was fun, but I have to agree, flying home is the only option as far as I’m concerned, too.

I don’t, and won’t have more time to write, but will fill you in on some of the places we have added to our sightseeing adventures.  Tiffany’s (for coffee and a donut, like the movie) Wall Street and the Big Bull, Ground Zero, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, St. John’s Cathedral, Grand Central Station, Flatiron Building, SoHo, Chelsea, Harlem, and on and on till we drop. 

We will be here till Monday the 25th.  We want to walk 5th Avenue on Easter Morning, and then simply hang out around Time Square the rest of the day.  Maybe eat at Friday’s, and wave to people back home from the camera located there. 

Exactly where Tall Dude will land after this week is over is still up in the air, although I’m sure he knows he will always welcome in Oregon or California.  I’m sure he could find work either place.  Regardless he will always have a special place in our hearts.

Well, I’ve got to go.  Hope you enjoyed our adventure Riding the Rails.  Bye, bye.

 

The end                                       (The End)

All the places I mentioned within are real places I found while exploring the Internet.  They are intended to be shown in the best light, with the hope that given the opportunity anyone reading this story will stop by and visit these places themselves.  I learned a lot, and had great fun exploring the country from...my boxcar.

Published by:   Gues Who Original Publications

                         3922 SW Comus Street

                         Portland, OR 97219-7422

First edition, May 2011

With grateful appreciation to my sister Linda and dear friend Marie in allowing me to use their likenesses in our imaginary trip across America, Toot, toot.

 

Toot, toot, eight

Riding the rails

Or

Riding the Rails

Great disappointment, we couldn’t even get off the train in Columbus, Ohio.  We took on fuel and were out of there.  It would have been lovely, while in Ohio, if I could have taken my friends to meet my cousin Vivian, but you have to go where the rails take you, and so a visit with her was not possible.

So, we chugged along to our next stop, Pittsburgh, PA.  We will be there for a while, and will have some time to eat and at least get some shopping done.  I have been to Pittsburgh many, many times, and kind of feel a pull on the old heart strings. 

Since Pittsburgh is our last stop before our destination we decided to stick together.  Our first stop was Cherries Diner for lunch, which was delicious.  I had a “Big Bill”, my first Philly Cheesesteak sandwich of the trip.  Prices very reasonable by the way.   Then we strolled around Market Square to get the feel of Pittsburgh, and simply to get some exercise for us and our four legged creatures.   Unfortunately we were not watching the time and...we...almost...missed our train. 

Believe me it is not a pretty sight watching a bunch of people in various stages of Senior Citizen-ness stumbling, and bumbling through a Railroad Yard with our ’bindles’ making clunking sounds as we run.  If indeed you could call what we were doing running.  Remember, we are supposed to be as inconspicuous as possible, blending in…  At this point we are not even looking for our regular car, but for one whose door is open.  Tall dude was the first to spy one, and leaped onboard.  Followed by Rosy (I’m still amazed how-for her size-she can be so agile) and Marie.  Linda is next, and I’m in awe of the ease she had swinging herself into the car.  Vince and I are the caboose of this train, and I hate to admit that by now we are both puffing and huffing like a steam engine.  The train lurched and,...oh...my...gosh...it’s moving. 

This is not good, and I have the horrible flash back from when I was a kid and I tried to get myself onto the back of a moving hay wagon.  I was sooo not good at that.  I remember grasping handfuls of hay, only to have them fall away and I would stumble and almost fall.  Oh yes, this train was moving, and to make matters worse, I see two men, at the engine end of the train pointing at me.  Tall Dude is waving violently...I scoop up Zorro and throw him through the open door.  I make a grab for Tall Dude’s hand...and miss...please train...don’t pick up speed.  My second attempt was better, I almost made it.  The two men are on the move.

My third attempt, ugly as it was, was successful, and I can feel hands grab me by the waist and haul me in.  “Close the door, close the door” scream the women.  Good thinking, perhaps the two men will not recognize the car we are in, plus the train is moving more quickly, I think we made it.

New York City...

HERE WE COME.

Toot, toot, seven

Riding the rails          Or        Riding the Rails

Here we are in Indianapolis, Indiana, Ernie promised to show me around the town before our new the train leaves; and will see we are all safely on board before he takes off on his new adventure.  I will miss him.

Rosy and Vince are going exploring on their own, and Marie and Linda have no interest in the race track, so are going to spend their day together as well.  I will write more later today.

Turned out Tall Dude didn’t want to hang with Vince and Rosy, nor Marie and Linda, so he joined Ernie and myself, and did ‘guy things’.  Both found it unusual and an old broad of 73 (who does not even drive) would be interested in all things racing, but I guaranteed I would not be bored, or uninterested in what could be seen and done at the Indy raceway.  It was great.

That place is huge, and for the money ($25), you get a lot, entrance to the museum, and a bus tour around the track…can you believe it, I was actually on the track.  While on the tour the bus stops at the finish line for around five minutes, and for a few bucks more you can get off and walk around the finish line.  What a thrill…I actually got down on my hands and knees and kissed the bricks, which I’m sure, is 1,000 times better than kissing the Blarney Stone in Ireland.  Too bad I didn’t have a camera.  Plus, the museum is something else, a beautiful structure filled with unbelievable racing history.

We were so enthralled, we didn’t realize how much time had passed, and before I knew it we had to head back to the Railroad Yard.  Where did the day go?

Time to say goodbye to Ernie, he was true to his word, and would not leave until everyone had reassembled at the train.  I thanked him profusely for a wonderful day, and said I hoped if he ever got to Oregon again he would come by to see me.  Watching him walk away brought tears to my eyes. 

Once aboard our car we decided what we were going to eat, Vince and Rosy were the shoppers, and purchased chicken noodle soup, grapes, potato chips, and a greens salad, with ranch dressing. For breakfast they had bought apple sauce, trail mix, orange juice, and peanut butter/toast crackers.  Not bad for two people mooning around in puppy love.

We inquired into our day’s activities.  Marie and Linda had a good time taking in some of the more popular sites that included a stroll along the canal followed by a gondola ride (with singing gondoliers) in the downtown area, then the Artsgarden plus a stroll along shopping area, Massachusetts Avenue, ending with a high end lunch at a place called Mesh on the Mass, that was very, very posh according to the ladies. 

Finally we asked where Vince and Rosy spent the day, and we were greeted with nothing more than teenage giggles...enough said about that I guess. 

We took turns walking our dogs one last time before the train left, then settled in for dinner and a quiet evening, hopefully we will also be entertained with some delightful harmonica music.  Next stop, Columbus, Ohio.

Toot, toot, six

Riding the rails

Or

Riding the Rails

Well, once again Rosy was late; she almost missed the train again.   I had such a good time yesterday, I forgot to think about breakfast, so did everybody else...  We rolled through Topeka sometime during the night, and will soon be arriving in Jefferson City.  Ernie says he doesn’t believe we will be here long, and since he’s been here as a trucker, that he and Tall Dude will make a quick run to a neighborhood store for some ‘grub’.  That sounds good to me.

We got a couple of good chuckles last evening.  The first one being Vince came through big time.  After our sandwiches we were ‘chewing the fat’ and mentioned how we wished we had some kind of cooking device.  Vince burped and says, “How about a sterno stove?”  Strange looks went around the group…’do they even make them anymore?'  Turns out they do.  We fell all over each other in fits of giggles…of all the contraptions we had thought about…the answer was right under our noses.  Over thought this for sure…while they are out we’re hoping Ernie and Tall Dude find a Camping/Outdoor Supply Store that sells Sterno Stoves.  We will all gladly chip in for this life saver.

Next, it looks as though spring and love is in the air.  Vince and Rosy are acting worse than teenagers.  She finds him and his stories adorable, and he, like a high school ‘jock’, enjoys entertaining her with them, and his antics.  This morning is a good example.  Since most of us crave coffee in the morning, and water is at a premium; Vince decides he can solve the problem, and promptly puts some instant coffee in his mouth and begins to chew.  First a peculiar look comes over his face, he chews and chews.  Then he starts to sputter and choke, coughs, bits of instant coffee powder emits from his mouth…he coughs again, inhales deeply…covers his mouth, and... if you’ve never seen instant coffee come out someone’s nostrils…I guarantee it will have you on the floor.  Rosy, gives him a good whomp on the back, nearly knocking him over, and somebody offers him some water.  Whatever coffee was left in his mouth was eventually swallowed, and it’s safe to say he had his coffee fix for the morning.  Meantime, we are all in the throes of hysteria, great way to start the day.  It can only get better from here.

Ernie was right, we were not to be in Jefferson City very long; so his suggestion that he and Tall Dude do the shopping, and look for a Sterno Stove was a good one, but I was terrified that he and Tall Dude would miss the train.  While they were gone, we took turns taking our dogs out to do their duty.  It is quite tricky, looking as though you are a citizen of Jefferson City just out for a morning stroll.  For the most part there are few employees around, unless there is activity in the vicinity of a train pulling in or out.  In our case today, there are people around, so, looking as though you belong is very important.

I was delighted to see our male companions return, and they were loaded with good stuff, food, post cards, a few small mementos, and yes, they did find a one burner Sterno Stove.  Cost about fifty bucks, but we ladies figure it’s worth every penny.  We will be having some foods warm from here on out.  Now I know why it has been so important to carry a book of matches wrapped in plastic in my purse all these years, they will finally come in handy.

Looks like we are ready to roll, but before I sign off, I have a confession to make…this train is not really going to Clarksville, Indiana, but I like the song ‘Last Train to Clarksville’, and it was a great way to get our excursion underway.  However, our next stop is Indianapolis and Ernie says that’s where he’s getting off the train.  That news was very disappointing.  He says, with the Indy 500 coming up next month Indianapolis is a good place to get temporary work, and goes there every year.

Bummer, wish now I would have put this vacation off for another month, I’ve always wanted to be at an Indy 500.  Boo, Hiss.  Could have made a ‘pit stop’ there for a week or so and then headed to NYC.  Oh, well that’s life.

Ernie will be missed, he’s been the cool, calm voice of reason on this trip, but we all have destinations where we want to end up.  I asked Tall Dude if he was getting off with Ernie, and he shook his head no adding “Don’t know how old you ladies are, but kinda like lookin’ after ya.  Besides, I ain’t in no hurry, don’t got to be nowhere.  An’ ain’t never been ta New York.” 

Well, God bless him.

Toot, toot, five

Riding the rails

Or

Riding the Rails

Up and at ‘em, everybody, I think this is going to be a fun day.  After ‘sticky buns’ and cold coffee, (or other drinks), we each got our assignments, and parted ways to enjoy the sights and sounds of Lincoln, Nebraska.  Marie, Linda (it’s supposed to get up to 76 degrees today) and I decided to hang out together.  Rosy, who says she is a true ‘Road Sister”, is going out on her own, while Ernie and Tall Dude are going to do whatever it is guys do while on the road. Leaving the car was difficult, as we had to take all our things with us, not knowing for sure we would be able to get the same car back later today.  Moving around the yard in daylight is difficult, always in the back of my mind is the fact we could get caught and thrown in the slammer.  Thank goodness for ATM machines, and credit cards, at least we will be able to bail ourselves out.  More to come.

It immediately became apparent to us ladies, we had to come up with a plan, and made some unanimous decisions.  First, in order to enjoy this unexpected gift, we had to rent a car, then we had to find a pet friendly motel, and finally decide what we wanted to do during the day.  Once at the motel, we quickly showered (…forget the make-up…that was gone on Sunday…yes, folks, I am without my ‘vanity’ crutch), fed the dogs, and went to look for a place to have an honest to gosh breakfast…and finally a hot, strong, mug of coffee.   According to our motel manager, the best breakfast in town is to be found at Tina’s Café and Catering, so off we go.

No joke, best breakfast ever at Tina’s; while there we decided how we wanted to fill our day with adventures.  Using the “What to do and See in Lincoln, Nebraska” booklet, our first stop was the State Capital building, mostly to see the imposing figure of President Lincoln, standing by one of the capital doors.  Story is that school children helped pay for its construction by having a ‘Pennies for Lincoln’ campaign.  After that Marie wanted to see the International Quilt Study Center and Museum, showing quilts dating back to the 1700’s.  We were going to stop for lunch, but discovered that the WunderRosa Winery Linda wanted to see boasts picnic lunches, and THAT we could not resist, plus, since I was sure Marie and Linda were not thrilled with my choice of a memorable place to see, I figured a few glasses of Nebraska wines, might endear them to the Larsen Tractor Museum.  And, that dear friends was the last stop for sightseeing.

Imagine our surprise when who should we see at the Tractor Museum, but good ole Ernie and Tall Dude.  They had done and seen much too, and had even met an interesting looking gentleman.   A term I use loosely.  Anyway, we met Vince.  Now, I don’t like to stereotype, but…please.  Vince is short, balding, middle-aged, and looks like he came out of the late 1930’s…a mob boss maybe, or at least a hit man.  He wore an old dark blue, pin-striped suit that had an actual linen handkerchief in the breast pocket.  A badly chewed toothpick appeared to be a permanent appendage at the corner of his mouth.  I asked what he did for a living, and he replied he was “currently unemployed, but that was okay, because he was in the ‘witness protection program’.”  What???

Vince was intrigued with our adventure, and asked if he could join our little party.  Well, what the heck, why not.

Time to head back to the train; it has been a lovely day.  We ladies have to return our rental car, pick up our dear, sweet pups, pay the motel, and …well, didn’t Linda get lucky, we discovered a local chain called Runza Restaurants that make sandwiches, and while we were at the tractor museum she asked everyone what kind they would like and we will pick some up for dinner.  So, it looks like she got out of shopping, until her next rotation, whenever that might be.  Of course she has great reservations about Vince joining our little family; ah, our little ray of sunshine, I think she suspects he might be planning bodily harm when we fall asleep tonight.  Hey, Tall Dude and Ernie can handle a puffy, old guy, no problem.  Plus, Vince does not strike me as a person with a long attention span, and suspect he’ll jump off the train as soon as it starts to pick up speed.  Or, maybe he’s one of those rich guys in disguise that goes around giving people a million dollars.  Linda’s glass is half empty, mine’s half full.

We are all back on the train, except for Rosy, so far she is a no show.  There seems to be a lot of activity in our section of the Yard.  I suspect they are getting ready to move us to hook up with the cars coming from Canada, and then maneuver us back on to the main track.  I’m tired yet eager to get underway.  Sure hope Rosy makes it.