It's like that itch...

you can't reach to scratch.

Yesterday afternoon during Bible Study, the phone rang.  I have a practice of not answering the phone if I have company, or if I am on the phone long distance with someone, so I let the call go to voice mail.  Besides, my phone tells me who's calling and I certainly didn't recognize the garbled name the computer generated voice said so I knew it was probably not an important call.

Then, of course, I totally forgot about the call all together. 

Later that afternoon I had a moment of recall and I checked the phone message list.  The last call was from...of all people...Birdlady...my itch I can't reach to scratch.  But, no message was left, so of course that got me to fretting over what in the world I could have done now to warrant her wanting to contact me.

I mean, I stewed and stewed about this until Frankie was about to throw me out of the house.  She suggested I simply call her back and ask what she wanted.  Oh, I don't think so, if she has a problem with me, I'm not going to just answer the door...no, she's going to have to keep knocking for a while.

Well, let me tell you I went to bed pondering and pondering.  I woke up pondering and pondering.  Mostly over the fact that since she called, she now knows from my message I have a company, and that I work from home.  Does she so dislike me she is going to check with the city to see if I'm licenced to operate a business out of my home?  I would not be surprised.  Especially since a few years back she reported me to the health department because I was feeding the birds, and thereby encouraging the rat population. 

And, although the guy from the health department said he could see no indication I was responsible for the rats in the neighborhood, and that I was not breaking any laws feeding the birds.  He suggested I might want to move my bird feeding activity to the back yard.  Of course I have no 'back yard' to speak of, so...and although it broke my  heart...I stopped feeding the birds all together.  Birdlady and I have not spoken since.

So, when I discovered she called yesterday, I was truly in 'a dither', that itch I can't reach to scratch was really itching.

Finally this morning I figured out why there was no message connected with her
call.  Birdlady and husband are in charge of the neighborhood watch, and believe me...they watch.  Anyway, they produced a 'telephone tree', so everybody on the street knows every body's number, and we are easy to contact.  Here's the thing...my neighbor across the street has the same first name as me...different spelling but the same.  And on the 'phone tree' we are right next to each other, so I suspect Birdlady was actually trying to reach her, not me.  Imagine, Birdlady actually making a mistake.

I'm breathing a lot easier this morning, although, in the back of my mind I have to wonder if she has in the back of hers the thought of wanting to check out my business status.  I guess time will tell.  However, I will not be surprised at all if someday the city shows up on my door step with a clipboard and a badge.

Ask anybody...

...and they will tell you I am a huge fan of Broadway productions.  And for years I had season tickets for the Broadway Across America series.  I stopped going when the plays began to repeat, or were ones in which I did not have a particular interest.

Then, a friend of mine started taking drama in middle school and she invited me to attend some of the plays her class was producing.  I excitedly accepted.  I was blown away to discover great amateur talent in my community.  These kids were fantastic.  One of the plays was the musical Oklahoma...really...middle school students presenting a musical...it was great...ambitious, you bet, in over their heads, not a bit.  Their production was every bit as good as if it had been presented by a Broadway Across America cast. 

Guess what?  New School, New amateur actors, New musical, I got to see another production yesterday.  This one presented by the Regis High School Student Center in Stayton, Oregon.  Oh my goodness, once more I was totally blown away.  The name of the production was "Back to the 80's...The Totally Awesome Musical."  These kids sang their hearts out, while the  plot delightfully, whimsically, light-heartedly, led us through a senior class year from the decade of the eighties.  I laughed, and...I cried...I was overjoyed to see the youth of today pour their hearts and souls into a project simply to delight their audience and community.  It was an amazing afternoon.

Sadly, not many people, except for families of the cast, school students, and perhaps anyone who might have heard 'word of mouth'; these exceptional productions come and go without notice.  What a terrible injustice...what a terrible loss.  I'm certainly not a critic by any means, but if I were I would say.

If you every get the opportunity support your local school drama department, by all means go watch a group of very talented young people preform a professional grade production on a minimal budget, limited costume department, and stage crew that will scamper around with the ease of any I have seen work with a Broadway Across America crew. 

I guarantee, a School Amateur Production will present any audience with the opportunity to see budding thespians at the beginning of their careers, for it is obvious any one of them could easily become a star of tomorrow shining brightly on Broadway NYC.  Nowhere will you find a more impassioned group of young people eager to please a group of strangers, silhouettes, just beyond the spotlights of the stage.  Even though stage fright probably is an affliction they all possess, they preform with great aplomb through perhaps a mistake in dialogue, or a missed cue here and there; trust me, you will not care, for you will be caught up in the mystery that is theater. 

Finally, here's the best part of local productions...chances are you will know at least one person in the cast or crew, as in my friend at the local middle school.  So it was yesterday, when I got to watch my granddaughter in her deput as an actress.  She danced, she sang, and even had a speaking part.  I was so, so, so proud. 

Well done, Hannah Koellmann, well done.  And for the next performances...break a leg, kiddo.

The Regis High School will have performances during the rest of this week.  March 14, 15, 16...if you have the chance to see this production, I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

Woof, woof

I'm in the bedroom sorting clothes, laundry day...what fun.

Suddenly there is a screeching sound and sputtering from the kitchen.  More screeching.

I dash to the ear shattering sounds yelling, "What's the matter, what's wrong?"

I hear a drawer open, drawer close, water rushing...what the heck?

As I turn the corner I find Frankie standing at the sink pulling a clean, unfolded dish cloth across her tongue.  She has a look of horror on her face, her eyes are bulging.

Me:  "Oh, Frankie, what happened?  I'm looking for blood, perhaps she has bitten through her tongue and it is hanging by thread.  Should I call 911?" 
Frankie: (Still wiping) "...ooww,bup, u mipe kall the poisum compol centa."
Me:  "What?" 
Frankie: (Taking time to refresh her wash cloth.)  "Call the poison control center."
Me:  "What on earth for?"
Frankie:  "I just ate dog food."
Me: (Trying very hard not to laugh)  "How on earth did you do that?"
Frankie:  "Well, I knew you had just given Zorro his peanut butter, and there was this brownish blob on the kitchen counter, so I scooped it up and put it in my mouth.  In that brief second of understanding...my taste buds told me this was not peanut butter, it was too salty and very beefy.  My brain finally caught up and said...'red alert, red alert...that's dog food...that's dog food...do not swallow'.  But, it was too late, I  already had."
Me:  "Frankie, you're not going to die, you won't even get sick."

I fixed us both a cup of 'Java', and we retired to the hearth to 'sit a spell'.  I explain to her that I've heard that some Seniors on very limited incomes and the homeless
sometimes dine on canned dog (and I suppose) cat food.  I tell her I don't know this to be fact, but that I believe it could be a true so...not to worry, she will be alright.

After a few swigs of vanilla flavored coffee Frankie is relaxed.

Me:  "You okay now?"

Frankie nods and takes a long draw on her coffee.

I tell her I'm going to go finish sorting the laundry.  As I get ready to start down the hall, I call back...

"By the way...you have 'doggie breath' "

...then run like crazy.  I love doing stuff that to Frankie.

Spit tacks

Have you ever been so angry with yourself you want to, to, to...well, spit tacks.

That would have been me last night.

Generally I can get a lot of Gues Who stuff done between 10-11 PM. and 2-3 AM.
So, I was humming along nicely last night, collating illustration files in an effort to publish a new catalog.  Cut, paste, delete old file; cut, paste, delete old file;  cut, paste, delete old file.  I mean to tell you my fingers were on fire.

To bad my brain had ceased to keep up.  I just got done with a five page transfer, that involved 45 illustrations, and I thought I was deleting the last old file, when 'poof', my brand new file vanished.  No sweat, it probably went into the recycle bin I can retrieve it from there.  I go to the recycle bin, there is no sign of the file, uh-oh.  I had not given this file a name. I don't know what the heck I'm looking for.  Plus, I was so cocky, when I was putting the old files in the bin, they were empty, I did not save the illustrations in the file when I deleted them. 

S--t!  S--t!  S--t!

I was seeing red, it has been a loooong time since I have been so mad at myself.  I wanted to vent, but it was almost 3:00, and I didn't want to wake Frankie, because I knew she would not be sympathetic to my plight.  Eventually I gave up looking for the file, and sadly, dejectedly, miserably, defeated and angered I went to bed.

This morning I sit here, sad, dejected, miserable, defeated, but not so much angry any more.  You can only nurse anger for so long, and then 'stupid' sets in.  So, the lesson I learned is don't get cocky...that just makes you a 'Dumb A--.  (I guess there is a little anger left.)

I'm not sure how I am going to retrieve the missing files, and more importantly all those illustrations. I know they are on my computer somewhere, funny thing is, I was back-upping my files on a flash drive for Karen, and that was going to be the very next thing to do when the 'poof' thing happened.  That makes me even a "dumber-a--".

Grrrrrrr.

Frankie:  "Morning, what's ya doin'?"
Me:  "Contemplating."
Frankie:  "I probably shouldn't ask, but, contemplating what?"

I proceed to tell her what had happened.  I can see her eyes glaze over...she does not give a crap. 

Me:  "You do know I love you, don't you?"
Frankie:  "Sure."
Me:  (In a loud, cranky, unkind voice.)  ''GET OUT OF HERE....GRRRRR.....OR I'M GOING TO SPIT TACKS.  BUST A GUSSET, POP A VEIN.  You want to be responsible for that?"

Silence.

Frankie:  "Spit tacks, baaa,haaa,haaa, bust a gusset...tee, hee, hee..  pop a vein ha, ha ha...can I watch.

She tousles my hair, and leaves the room. 

Silence.

Okay, maybe I have over reacted.  It isn't like I can't eventually replace the file.  I do have hard copies, pictures downloaded from my camera on the computer, and hundreds of other illustrations I can use.  I guess losing one file is not the end of the world...

And,  reality is, it isn't really about the loss of the file, it's about me, I had allowed myself to become what I thought was so computer savvy I was beyond making such a 'rooky mistake'.  So, as a reminder, I'm going to put a sign on my computer.

Pride goeth before a fall. 

Idiot!!!!!!

 

Yep, that would be me, that would be me.

The faster I go, the behinder I gets

Clocks, they come in all sizes, all shapes, all colors, most are digital that cast eerie light during the darkest hours and simply show the time numerically.  I personally like the ones you have to wind, that softly talk, tick, tick, tick, or sometimes tick-tock, tick-tock.  Each tick or tick-tock erasing another moment of your life.

Where, oh where does time go?  Not only is this year moving at warp speed, can you believe spring starts in a couple of weeks?, so are the days, hours, minutes and seconds.   Tick, tick, tick. 

I know I'm trying to cram too much into my days, hours, minutes and seconds, I'm old and can't do warp speed, still, my little legs and moving as fast as they can. I remember the days when I would spend weekday afternoons curled up under an afghan, fighting to stay awake, watching ID, learning how to commit the perfect murder, time was so...so, dull, boring, dragging.

Now, I have no time for dull, boring, dragging.  Every minute I'm busy as those tiny ants that zip along my kitchen counter top.  About the only time I have now for TV is in the evening, when I find I have dozed off, missed the end of one show and have not a clue what show I am watching when I wake up.  At this point I turn off the TV and go to work until about two or three of the A of M. 

I'm telling you, there are not enough hours...not near enough.

For instance, for the last two weeks I have been trying to find time to assemble the paper work to prepare my taxes.  I've been interrupted so many times, the task so taxing and time consuming,  that finally yesterday Frankie had to tie me to the sofa and make-shift desk to force me to get the job done.  I told her if she did not allow me to watch TV at the same time, I could not vouch for her safety, and would take away the last of her pudding cake and never, ever, buy her another.  She loosened the chain, and lengthened it so I could get as far as the bathroom.  She's a gem, isn't she?

So, set to work I did.  I cleared all the files from last years boxes, separated them into piles, one for tax purposes, one for filing in the credenza, (where I store them for the suggested time frame...seven years, I believe); then started to fill the just emptied boxes with this years files.  Along the way the floor got cluttered (ankle deep) with all sorts of riff-raff who's next phase of life is the recycle bin.  Jobs done, done, done and done.

However, along yesterday's hours, I also took some pictures for future Zazzle projects, made my Zazzle page more user friendly, prepared pizza for dinner, vacuumed the carpet, and made frequent trips to the door to allow Zorro out and in, plus... I marvelled at how dull, boring, and uninteresting a murder case can be.  If they let her off with a slap on the wrist, I'm moving to a mysterious island...somewhere...I don't really care where.

And, because I have trouble multi-tasking, some of yesterday's things didn't get done.  I won't elaborate...'cause I don't want to admit...'I forgot' to do them and will simply say I didn't have enough time for them.  They will get done today...I hope.

Oh, you nasty, sneaky, miserable, unrelenting, unforgiving tick-tocking time.  I hate you...the only good thing about you, the alternative....no time at all. 

Tick, tick, tick...tick-tock, tick-tock.

Busy, busy, bumble bee.

I've been a very busy girl over the weekend.  Working on items for my web page on Zazzle.  With spring just around the proverbial corner, and Easter coming shortly there after I have been trying to get some merchandise ready for both.

Karen tells me that (at least in California) girls have taken up skateboarding, and guess what? Zazzle actually has skateboards.  So, that is what I have been working on so diligently over the last 48 hours.  Karen actually designed the first one, and it turned out great, so I decided to 'give it a go' myself.

If you would like to check it out, there are two ready for purchase at Zazzle:

gueswhopubs.att.net

There you'll see the patterns on the boards are designed strictly for girls.  One is pink with the word Spring sprawled across it, while the other has a picture of a foxglove with the words "You go girl! overlaid on it.  I think they are both quite spiffy.

The two I am working on are equally feminine, with lovely pictures, overlaid on one are the words "Yes you can" while the other states "Girls just want to have fun".  As you can see, I find this project intriguing, and think there might be a huge market out there especially among the college crowd.  No more having to lock down your bicycle and worrying about it being stolen, you simply take the board with you to the class.  Plus, the board can be leaned against the wall behind the dorm door, eagerly awaiting the next run to a favorite coffee shop or pizza place. Most students carry everything in a backpack, so toting a skateboard should not be terribly inconvenient.  I'm telling you...I think this is a good idea, I just need someone to market this.  Creativity is my long suit...dealing with the public, not so much.   

What I would like to do is have some prototypes, and a salesperson, who could go to skateboard stores and show them what can be done to include girls in the skateboard sport, hobby...or whatever skateboarding is called.  I will design the boards, Zazzle will make the boards...the store owners will buy the boards through Zazzle who will ship the boards to the stores, and I get a percentage of the sales through Zazzle. Oh, the possibilities.

Also, what I like about the Zazzle skateboard is, a person can buy just the board, and purchase wheels at a skateboard store, or you can purchase the board and the wheels as a complete package from Zazzle.  Oh, there are times I wish I was rich...so I could really make a run for even more money...I think this could be my real shot at a million dollar idea. 

Hmmmm, maybe I should delete this entry...with the luck I've had all my life, now I've written this, somebody else is going to come along and steal my idea and make the million...Damn you, Sandy, Damn you!

P.S.  Girls, if you already have a bicycle, you will not need to purchase extra equipment, you probably already own a helmet, knee and elbow pads.

Here's to the boys in blue.

It was just about a week ago that I wrote about my Uncle Sonny.  And how he has been on my mind quite a bit.  Even more so when my daughter Bonnie said she is taking a class about WWll and she couldn't find her copy of his service record, and could I make her a new copy.  So it was I spent two days, scanning in the file, printing out the file, and putting it into the mail for her yesterday.  I am so happy he is in someone else's memory as well.  I'm sure we have made him very happy, too. 

This morning, again, he was in my mind, and a song, slowly made it's way through the clouds of my mind, and there he was, in his plane soaring into 'the wild blue yonder'. 

I want you all to see him too.  So, my blog today is about the infancy of military flight, and all the brave men who have given their lives over the years.  This is for all of you guys....ALL of you.

The Air Force Song

Words and Music by Captain Robert Crawford ©1939 as the "Army Air Corps Song," reportedly renewed 1977 by the USAF.

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one helluva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder,
Sent it high into the blue;
Hands of men blasted the world asunder;
How they lived God only knew! (God only knew then!)
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings, ever to soar!
With scouts before And bombers galore. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Here's a toast to the host
Of those who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the U.S. Air Force!

Zoom!
Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true;
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder
Keep the nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men, guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more!
In echelon we carry on. Hey!
Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!