News Flash!
I've got company coming. They are staying overnight.
I'm happy and excited.
But guess what?
I'm not vacuuming, sweeping, cleaning or dusting. Oh, the place is straightened up, and all that...but, unless they actually write their name across the tables in the dust, I'm thinking they might not even notice...and what if they do....notice...
Oh well.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Okay...here's the thing.
I admit...up front...and, I've mentioned before, I enjoy the pictures of the guys on relationship web-sites. It's not that I'm in the market for a relationship, with a guy, young or old, rich or poor. However, I do like the pictures of the guys that appear on the right hand side of my e-mail page. These guys are gorgeous. Seriously they are real 'eye candy'.
Hey, there might be snow on my roof (dyed blond), but there's still fire (well, burning embers) in my furnace.
Anyway, trust me, I never go to the actual I've Got Just The Mate Connections web sites, I just browse the ads. Besides, Frankie won't let me. The truth is I worry more about her visiting these sites than me. I've watched her drool. I don't want her to find anybody, she might form a relationship with one of these guys and move out....move out! Move out? How would I survive without her?
Then, this morning, there was this picture...Oh, he was not my age or anything like that, but, boy, was he ever my type. Son of a gun. He was, chocolate covered cherry, pie al-a-mode, hot from the oven butterscotch cookie bee-uuu-ttt-ful. Salt and pepper grey hair, thin, not too muscular, wearing a white V-neck, short sleeved T-shirt.
You talk about drool...'scuse me, I've got to go get a towel. OMG. Put a pack of cigs' against the edge of one of those sleeves and roll the sleeve up and you've got, you've got...you've got... Oh, my, I think I'm getting the vapors.
Oooooooo, If I were only forty years younger. Forty years did I really say forty years?
This is so outlandish. What the heck is the matter with me? Earth to Sandra, earth to Sandra. Reality check, reality check!!!
Let's face it, no matter how good looking these guys are 'on paper', eventually I would have to do their laundry, cook their meals and clean their house. Oh, they might wine and dine me, send me flowers, warm my feet at night; and that all sounds peachy-keen, however, I could no longer be able to eat from a can, let dust collect on the furniture and work until the wee small hours. Hmmm, let me see.
Don't care much for wine, though an occasional dine I can do with friends, the dirty socks in the laundry are mine alone, I don't have to cook, and seldom do, (oh, I do eat from cans, [more often than I should admit], but do take it from the cans and heat it before consuming). And unless Frankie writes in it, mostly I can't see the dust, and no longer give a crap it's there.
Doing the weight's and measures, I'm afraid I have to say, "Sorry, good looking guy." I was tempted there for a minute. Truth be told, unless you've got a be-jillion bucks in the bank, one foot in the grave, and me as your beneficiary on insurance policies and will, I'm simply not interested.
However, if you do happen to have all those things, you can reach me at 1-555-5555, extension 555. Ask for Rambling Old Woman.
Hey, there might be snow on my roof (dyed blond), but there's still fire (well, burning embers) in my furnace.
Anyway, trust me, I never go to the actual I've Got Just The Mate Connections web sites, I just browse the ads. Besides, Frankie won't let me. The truth is I worry more about her visiting these sites than me. I've watched her drool. I don't want her to find anybody, she might form a relationship with one of these guys and move out....move out! Move out? How would I survive without her?
Then, this morning, there was this picture...Oh, he was not my age or anything like that, but, boy, was he ever my type. Son of a gun. He was, chocolate covered cherry, pie al-a-mode, hot from the oven butterscotch cookie bee-uuu-ttt-ful. Salt and pepper grey hair, thin, not too muscular, wearing a white V-neck, short sleeved T-shirt.
You talk about drool...'scuse me, I've got to go get a towel. OMG. Put a pack of cigs' against the edge of one of those sleeves and roll the sleeve up and you've got, you've got...you've got... Oh, my, I think I'm getting the vapors.
Oooooooo, If I were only forty years younger. Forty years did I really say forty years?
This is so outlandish. What the heck is the matter with me? Earth to Sandra, earth to Sandra. Reality check, reality check!!!
Let's face it, no matter how good looking these guys are 'on paper', eventually I would have to do their laundry, cook their meals and clean their house. Oh, they might wine and dine me, send me flowers, warm my feet at night; and that all sounds peachy-keen, however, I could no longer be able to eat from a can, let dust collect on the furniture and work until the wee small hours. Hmmm, let me see.
Don't care much for wine, though an occasional dine I can do with friends, the dirty socks in the laundry are mine alone, I don't have to cook, and seldom do, (oh, I do eat from cans, [more often than I should admit], but do take it from the cans and heat it before consuming). And unless Frankie writes in it, mostly I can't see the dust, and no longer give a crap it's there.
Doing the weight's and measures, I'm afraid I have to say, "Sorry, good looking guy." I was tempted there for a minute. Truth be told, unless you've got a be-jillion bucks in the bank, one foot in the grave, and me as your beneficiary on insurance policies and will, I'm simply not interested.
However, if you do happen to have all those things, you can reach me at 1-555-5555, extension 555. Ask for Rambling Old Woman.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
I didn't know learning can be quite disturbing.
Last night I learn something disturbing about America's history. It was on the Investigation Discovery channel. The show was called "Sundown Towns". Towns, that before integration, made it clear to black people they were not wanted, and for their own safety, had better be out of town before dark, or something bad was going to happen
A young black man was doing research on these "Sundown Towns", and was curious as to whether these towns still existed. He had a copy of an old book, written back before the end of segregation, it was a travel guide for black people meant to safely guide them around these northern "Sundown Towns". His findings were astonishing. He first traveled from New York City to the state of Indiana. At the beginning of this journey he had a professor with him who was an authority on these towns and as they reached a certain point on his map, they stopped the car and began examining the countryside. They spread out a map, across which was a long highlighted line indicating they were about to cross into "Sundown Town" territory.
As they traveled deeper into this territory, they began to see subtle signs that indeed these towns did at one time exist. In one town they looked for a motel that once housed black people as they traveled, the building itself had been torn down, yet strangely the motel sign, rusted and unpainted still stood in its original spot. A permanent reminder...there was a time blacks were not really welcomed here. They traveled further north to a second "Sundown Town". Here, they could intuitively feel they were not welcome. Still, one of the producers, hungry, entered a local diner prepared to order himself a meal. He began to talk to patrons about what he was doing in town, and the atmosphere in the place changed. People stopped talking to him, apparently some folk actually left the diner. Eventually, the owner approached him and asked him to leave the building. He did, but was quite disturbed by the incident. Later in the show, another member of the team entered the men's room of an establishment, and was shocked to find the walls of the stall had not been painted in eons, for on them had been scratched the 'n' word, swastikas, Jewish stars of David, and other questionable remarks. It was stunning.
Eventually, they came to a small Indiana town where a young black woman had been murdered, in 1968, I believe. She had been selling encyclopedias door to door, and for some reason was not able to get out of this particular "Sundown Town" before dark. She became quite frightened when a car with two white men in it began to follow her. She knocked on the door of a white couple and they, seeing her fright, invited her in, and called the police. The police apparently showed no interest in the young girl's plight and did nothing.
This young girl realized she was putting this couple in grave danger, and even though they asked her to stay, she decided she had to try to get out of town. In the show, the couple walked with the young man doing the show, to the spot a few blocks away from their home, where she had been found murdered, lying on the sidewalk. She had been stabbed to death. Today the scene is eerie and quite disturbing. Her killers were never found, until recently when a young man phoned the police and told them he believed his father had been one of the men who had attacked her. He was about ready to go to trial when he passed away from a terminal illness. The other man still believed to be alive and at large.
As the show moved along, the moderator and his crew slowly headed back east. As they went, using the book of 'Sundown Towns', they constantly saw evidence of the past, old, old dilapidated signs with the only visible word "Sundown" on them. While in one spot a black donkey is painted on a hillside, shorthand for "get your black ass out of town, before dark".
Eventually they made a stop in Ohio, where long ago a young black doctor opened up a clinic. They interviewed a couple who were patients at the clinic who reported the town's folk made the doctor's life so miserable, even slandering him on trumped up charges, that he lost his license to practice medicine in Ohio. For safety sake, he closed his clinic and left town and apparently the State. When asked what the black population of the city is today, the couple said (guessing) 95% white, 5% other races. Are blacks welcome? "Yes", was their reply, "if they keep their place".
I tell you this show was shocking to me. I wonder how many towns there are across our country today that still tolerate the "Sundown Town" mentality? Oh, they no longer tar and feather folks, or hang them from trees, or burn their homes. They, by law, cannot refuse them service in public places, and they don't have to ride at the back of buses. Yet, these towns have apparently found ways to skirt the law, to me it is very clear blacks, and I'm supposing other minorities, are made to feel quite uncomfortable, out of place, and unwanted in these towns; the minorities have got to be living in turbulence and constant fear, yet by being law abiding citizens, they are also showing amazing bravery as well, as they are free to live where ever they choose.
Supposedly we've come so far...yet, apparently we haven't. I grew up in the north and east and now I wonder...I don't think my hometown was a "Sundown Town". Or, was it and I just didn't know.
A young black man was doing research on these "Sundown Towns", and was curious as to whether these towns still existed. He had a copy of an old book, written back before the end of segregation, it was a travel guide for black people meant to safely guide them around these northern "Sundown Towns". His findings were astonishing. He first traveled from New York City to the state of Indiana. At the beginning of this journey he had a professor with him who was an authority on these towns and as they reached a certain point on his map, they stopped the car and began examining the countryside. They spread out a map, across which was a long highlighted line indicating they were about to cross into "Sundown Town" territory.
As they traveled deeper into this territory, they began to see subtle signs that indeed these towns did at one time exist. In one town they looked for a motel that once housed black people as they traveled, the building itself had been torn down, yet strangely the motel sign, rusted and unpainted still stood in its original spot. A permanent reminder...there was a time blacks were not really welcomed here. They traveled further north to a second "Sundown Town". Here, they could intuitively feel they were not welcome. Still, one of the producers, hungry, entered a local diner prepared to order himself a meal. He began to talk to patrons about what he was doing in town, and the atmosphere in the place changed. People stopped talking to him, apparently some folk actually left the diner. Eventually, the owner approached him and asked him to leave the building. He did, but was quite disturbed by the incident. Later in the show, another member of the team entered the men's room of an establishment, and was shocked to find the walls of the stall had not been painted in eons, for on them had been scratched the 'n' word, swastikas, Jewish stars of David, and other questionable remarks. It was stunning.
Eventually, they came to a small Indiana town where a young black woman had been murdered, in 1968, I believe. She had been selling encyclopedias door to door, and for some reason was not able to get out of this particular "Sundown Town" before dark. She became quite frightened when a car with two white men in it began to follow her. She knocked on the door of a white couple and they, seeing her fright, invited her in, and called the police. The police apparently showed no interest in the young girl's plight and did nothing.
This young girl realized she was putting this couple in grave danger, and even though they asked her to stay, she decided she had to try to get out of town. In the show, the couple walked with the young man doing the show, to the spot a few blocks away from their home, where she had been found murdered, lying on the sidewalk. She had been stabbed to death. Today the scene is eerie and quite disturbing. Her killers were never found, until recently when a young man phoned the police and told them he believed his father had been one of the men who had attacked her. He was about ready to go to trial when he passed away from a terminal illness. The other man still believed to be alive and at large.
As the show moved along, the moderator and his crew slowly headed back east. As they went, using the book of 'Sundown Towns', they constantly saw evidence of the past, old, old dilapidated signs with the only visible word "Sundown" on them. While in one spot a black donkey is painted on a hillside, shorthand for "get your black ass out of town, before dark".
Eventually they made a stop in Ohio, where long ago a young black doctor opened up a clinic. They interviewed a couple who were patients at the clinic who reported the town's folk made the doctor's life so miserable, even slandering him on trumped up charges, that he lost his license to practice medicine in Ohio. For safety sake, he closed his clinic and left town and apparently the State. When asked what the black population of the city is today, the couple said (guessing) 95% white, 5% other races. Are blacks welcome? "Yes", was their reply, "if they keep their place".
I tell you this show was shocking to me. I wonder how many towns there are across our country today that still tolerate the "Sundown Town" mentality? Oh, they no longer tar and feather folks, or hang them from trees, or burn their homes. They, by law, cannot refuse them service in public places, and they don't have to ride at the back of buses. Yet, these towns have apparently found ways to skirt the law, to me it is very clear blacks, and I'm supposing other minorities, are made to feel quite uncomfortable, out of place, and unwanted in these towns; the minorities have got to be living in turbulence and constant fear, yet by being law abiding citizens, they are also showing amazing bravery as well, as they are free to live where ever they choose.
Supposedly we've come so far...yet, apparently we haven't. I grew up in the north and east and now I wonder...I don't think my hometown was a "Sundown Town". Or, was it and I just didn't know.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Ordinary Sunday
Here it is Sunday morning.
I'm sitting here waiting for inspiration to whomp me up-side the head. I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. So.
Sunday
Funny, isn't it? You never know when you open your eyes whether a Sunday morning is going to be ordinary or not.
You stretch, leisurely pet your dogs and linger under the warm blankets before getting out of bed. (So far, so good.) Thanks to the automatic timer, the coffee is hot and ready to pour. You feed your hungry four legged children and head for a bath.
The bubbles smell like lilacs, you submerge yourself up to your armpits in the 'pink skin' hot water, sip coffee and let your mind wander.
How is your husband feeling? He had felt poorly all week and had not wanted to go to work last night, even called the company to see if they could find a replacement to take his place as a night security guard. They could not, and you watch him, with worry, take his lunch and walk out the door.
You're grateful he'll be home in a few hours, around noon.
You step out of the tub and begin your morning ritual, make-up, dressing, walking to the curb to get the paper. You separate the paper just the way your husband would. Stack of advertisements and coupons, comics and inserts, and the newspaper itself. (Everything is copasetic.)
Then you busy yourself getting a second cup of coffee and head for your office. There is always e-mail to answer, there are some birthday cards to make. Oh, and Christmas cards, should you make one, or buy this year?
After a bit, the comics call and you head for the living room, re-light the wood burning stove, curl up on the sofa with your furry friends and relax. You glance at the clock, it's almost 11, in an hour or so your husband will be home. You hope he's feeling better.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, your phone rings...and even before you answer it...you know...you sense something is amiss. It's your husband's boss. Her voice is warm---friendly---but, strained---tense. Odd, she had never called before...suddenly you know, this is not going to be an ordinary Sunday.
November 2002
I'm sitting here waiting for inspiration to whomp me up-side the head. I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. So.
Sunday
Funny, isn't it? You never know when you open your eyes whether a Sunday morning is going to be ordinary or not.
You stretch, leisurely pet your dogs and linger under the warm blankets before getting out of bed. (So far, so good.) Thanks to the automatic timer, the coffee is hot and ready to pour. You feed your hungry four legged children and head for a bath.
The bubbles smell like lilacs, you submerge yourself up to your armpits in the 'pink skin' hot water, sip coffee and let your mind wander.
How is your husband feeling? He had felt poorly all week and had not wanted to go to work last night, even called the company to see if they could find a replacement to take his place as a night security guard. They could not, and you watch him, with worry, take his lunch and walk out the door.
You're grateful he'll be home in a few hours, around noon.
You step out of the tub and begin your morning ritual, make-up, dressing, walking to the curb to get the paper. You separate the paper just the way your husband would. Stack of advertisements and coupons, comics and inserts, and the newspaper itself. (Everything is copasetic.)
Then you busy yourself getting a second cup of coffee and head for your office. There is always e-mail to answer, there are some birthday cards to make. Oh, and Christmas cards, should you make one, or buy this year?
After a bit, the comics call and you head for the living room, re-light the wood burning stove, curl up on the sofa with your furry friends and relax. You glance at the clock, it's almost 11, in an hour or so your husband will be home. You hope he's feeling better.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, your phone rings...and even before you answer it...you know...you sense something is amiss. It's your husband's boss. Her voice is warm---friendly---but, strained---tense. Odd, she had never called before...suddenly you know, this is not going to be an ordinary Sunday.
November 2002
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Do you remember?
Well, I remember. All those old television shows where the parents and grandparents would tell the whining kids how "they had to trudge for miles through the icy, snowy, weather to and from school every day, and both ways were up hill". Of course this always brought great laughter (whether canned or live) from the studio audience. The kids would shudder in false horror, roll their eyes and walk away.
Oh, I remember an occasion we had to trudge home from school one very snowy afternoon when an unexpected snow storm closed the school early. (I say unexpected because we didn't have edjukated metrolgists in those days.) We were told the busses were coming, and we patiently waited, and waited, and waited, but all we got was colder, and colder, and colder. So all of us from our neighborhood decided it was time to start walking. Fortunately, the miles to go were all down hill. Man, it was cold, blustery and blowing.
There was absolutely no traffic, so we walked right down the middle of the highway. All the while in the back of my mind, I'm thinking if that dang school bus goes by loaded with snuggly warm kids, I'm going to kill whoever it was that thought this was a good idea. We never saw a school bus.
It took quite a while, but we all made it home. You talk about a bedraggled, soggy, tired, bunch of kids. It's funny, now that I think about that event, I don't recall how my mother took our grand adventure. I don't think she was angry we didn't wait for the bus. But, I also don't remember being heaped with sympathy, understanding and a cup of something hot. The greeting probably went something like this.
Get out of those wet clothes and take them to the basement.
Go to the bathroom and towel dry your hair.
And, go sit by the radiator.
Which, I'm sure we dutifully did.
Exactly why my mom did not consider this a big deal? Let me remind you...she was from the era where you had to walk home, regardless of the weather. Please...we walked home one afternoon! That was not a big deal.
Did we ever walk home again in an unexpected snow storm? I don't recall we ever did.
Did we do it on that first beautiful, warm, sunny, Robin singing day? Yes, yes we really did.
Now, let me tell you about the time I had to trudge for miles through the icy, snowy, weather home from school, it was all down hill. A bunch of us......
Oh, I remember an occasion we had to trudge home from school one very snowy afternoon when an unexpected snow storm closed the school early. (I say unexpected because we didn't have edjukated metrolgists in those days.) We were told the busses were coming, and we patiently waited, and waited, and waited, but all we got was colder, and colder, and colder. So all of us from our neighborhood decided it was time to start walking. Fortunately, the miles to go were all down hill. Man, it was cold, blustery and blowing.
There was absolutely no traffic, so we walked right down the middle of the highway. All the while in the back of my mind, I'm thinking if that dang school bus goes by loaded with snuggly warm kids, I'm going to kill whoever it was that thought this was a good idea. We never saw a school bus.
It took quite a while, but we all made it home. You talk about a bedraggled, soggy, tired, bunch of kids. It's funny, now that I think about that event, I don't recall how my mother took our grand adventure. I don't think she was angry we didn't wait for the bus. But, I also don't remember being heaped with sympathy, understanding and a cup of something hot. The greeting probably went something like this.
Get out of those wet clothes and take them to the basement.
Go to the bathroom and towel dry your hair.
And, go sit by the radiator.
Which, I'm sure we dutifully did.
Exactly why my mom did not consider this a big deal? Let me remind you...she was from the era where you had to walk home, regardless of the weather. Please...we walked home one afternoon! That was not a big deal.
Did we ever walk home again in an unexpected snow storm? I don't recall we ever did.
Did we do it on that first beautiful, warm, sunny, Robin singing day? Yes, yes we really did.
Now, let me tell you about the time I had to trudge for miles through the icy, snowy, weather home from school, it was all down hill. A bunch of us......
Friday, February 21, 2014
Things they never tell you.
Growing old is a funny thing. Funny as both peculiar and funny, (ha, ha, ha). If you want to view the end of the tunnel of this phase of your life you might as well enjoy both of them, because they are interconnected and certainly related.
Take for instance a talk I had with my sister this morning. Out of the blue she mentioned how hard it is now for her to cut her toe nails. I was over come with giggles. Of course I know how hard it is to cut your toe nails. I've had that problem for quite a while now. I used to be able to fling one leg over the other, turn my foot into any position I wanted, and have those suckers trimmed in minutes flat. Now, not so much.
One of my daughters a couple years ago suggested I put my foot up onto the toilet seat cover and lean over to trim my nails that way. Good idea, just didn't work for very long because of my eyesight which is 'not so good'. I need a closer observation as to what I'm doing, and finding the best position in bending over from the hips, and bending my leg from the knees...well, let's just say my body does not bend so well any more.
So, the nail trimming job that used to take just a few minutes takes quite a bit longer. In addition to the bending problem is the fact that my nails are now hard as nails (yes, I mean the kind made of metal). You see, another thing they never tell you about getting old is that your toe and finger nails get tough. Oh...so...tough. I can no longer depend on the little clippers to do the job anymore, I had to go and buy the giant size clippers to do the job.
Oh...and here's a bummer thing, too. After decades and decades of wearing shoes, my toe nails have taken on shapes I cannot describe. Seriously, I've no words. Of course, these hard to describe shapes are part of the reason they are difficult clip. Oh dear, I'm starting to giggle. Shapes? Toughness? This is all so ridiculous because in addition to the shapes and toughness I barely reach my toes, shoot, I can barely reach my foot. Is this a sad state of affairs or what?
Anyhoo, as my sister and I continued conversing, I happened to mention there is an alternative, as my local Community Center monthly newsletter points out. In it there is always a schedule of events, one of which is a nurse who comes to trim old peoples toe nails. How embarrassing! In addition to needing help to do a job I've done for myself all my life...to have a stranger see my OLD FEET is simply put, disgusting. Dear Lord, never let me come to the point I must have someone to do that job. My sister agrees.
In conclusion, I'm simply putting this out there as another thing you can add to the list of things I'm telling you are going to happen as you age, so you won't be surprised when the day comes you have to buy your own giant sized clippers, and realization hits your hips and knees don't bend the way they used to. This is all part of the growing old joke, mean-spirited and unsettling as it is.
What can I say, welcome to the club. Oh, and keep laughing.
Take for instance a talk I had with my sister this morning. Out of the blue she mentioned how hard it is now for her to cut her toe nails. I was over come with giggles. Of course I know how hard it is to cut your toe nails. I've had that problem for quite a while now. I used to be able to fling one leg over the other, turn my foot into any position I wanted, and have those suckers trimmed in minutes flat. Now, not so much.
One of my daughters a couple years ago suggested I put my foot up onto the toilet seat cover and lean over to trim my nails that way. Good idea, just didn't work for very long because of my eyesight which is 'not so good'. I need a closer observation as to what I'm doing, and finding the best position in bending over from the hips, and bending my leg from the knees...well, let's just say my body does not bend so well any more.
So, the nail trimming job that used to take just a few minutes takes quite a bit longer. In addition to the bending problem is the fact that my nails are now hard as nails (yes, I mean the kind made of metal). You see, another thing they never tell you about getting old is that your toe and finger nails get tough. Oh...so...tough. I can no longer depend on the little clippers to do the job anymore, I had to go and buy the giant size clippers to do the job.
Oh...and here's a bummer thing, too. After decades and decades of wearing shoes, my toe nails have taken on shapes I cannot describe. Seriously, I've no words. Of course, these hard to describe shapes are part of the reason they are difficult clip. Oh dear, I'm starting to giggle. Shapes? Toughness? This is all so ridiculous because in addition to the shapes and toughness I barely reach my toes, shoot, I can barely reach my foot. Is this a sad state of affairs or what?
Anyhoo, as my sister and I continued conversing, I happened to mention there is an alternative, as my local Community Center monthly newsletter points out. In it there is always a schedule of events, one of which is a nurse who comes to trim old peoples toe nails. How embarrassing! In addition to needing help to do a job I've done for myself all my life...to have a stranger see my OLD FEET is simply put, disgusting. Dear Lord, never let me come to the point I must have someone to do that job. My sister agrees.
In conclusion, I'm simply putting this out there as another thing you can add to the list of things I'm telling you are going to happen as you age, so you won't be surprised when the day comes you have to buy your own giant sized clippers, and realization hits your hips and knees don't bend the way they used to. This is all part of the growing old joke, mean-spirited and unsettling as it is.
What can I say, welcome to the club. Oh, and keep laughing.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
It's going to be wonderful
I'm finding it difficult to tear myself away from my computer today. I keep going to the eagle nest in Decorah, Iowa. You see, mom is about ready to start laying eggs. Last night the folks who are in charge of looking after the nest let us know mom was on the nest during the night and in years past when she did this, the first night she also laid her first egg.
Needless to say, last night I was glued to my computer monitor. Seriously, I watched, and watched and watched. Most of the time she preened, rested or napped. Still I was mesmerized. I wanted to be there to watch this marvelous event hoping against hope I would be lucky enough to be on-line when that first egg made its appearance.
However, I was also exhausted, I've had a week of long hour days. I've been working diligently making merchandise for my store and have approximately 60 items to move from 'in progress' to my departments for sale. In addition, there's been Bible study and research, taxes to prepare and day to day stuff that needs be done. So, by 9:30 last night I had to throw in the towel and admit I could no longer keep my eyes open. Fact is, I was so tired I didn't even attempt to play my Lumosity games.
First thing this morning I could hardly contain myself long enough to feed my lovable pets and make my coffee wanting so badly to check and see if I missed mom's
birthing. Oh, she was on the nest alright, but she had not laid an egg. I was dejected but delighted at the same time...maybe, just maybe I will catch a birth today.
I think I now know how dads used to feel when they had to wait in a special room when moms gave birth in hospitals. Yeah, they were there, but not involved. I'm antsy, anxious, excited, still I might be away from the waiting room when baby arrives. I want to be at my computer. Fact is, in all the years I've been watching the Decorah eagles, I've yet to be lucky enough to see a birth. Maybe this year, I hope.
In the mean time, everything else in my life has gone to wrack and ruin. I don't even care, I just want my little eagle family to begin their new cycle of life. It's going to be an exciting fun filled couple of months.
Come on mom...do that thing you do so well.
Needless to say, last night I was glued to my computer monitor. Seriously, I watched, and watched and watched. Most of the time she preened, rested or napped. Still I was mesmerized. I wanted to be there to watch this marvelous event hoping against hope I would be lucky enough to be on-line when that first egg made its appearance.
However, I was also exhausted, I've had a week of long hour days. I've been working diligently making merchandise for my store and have approximately 60 items to move from 'in progress' to my departments for sale. In addition, there's been Bible study and research, taxes to prepare and day to day stuff that needs be done. So, by 9:30 last night I had to throw in the towel and admit I could no longer keep my eyes open. Fact is, I was so tired I didn't even attempt to play my Lumosity games.
First thing this morning I could hardly contain myself long enough to feed my lovable pets and make my coffee wanting so badly to check and see if I missed mom's
birthing. Oh, she was on the nest alright, but she had not laid an egg. I was dejected but delighted at the same time...maybe, just maybe I will catch a birth today.
I think I now know how dads used to feel when they had to wait in a special room when moms gave birth in hospitals. Yeah, they were there, but not involved. I'm antsy, anxious, excited, still I might be away from the waiting room when baby arrives. I want to be at my computer. Fact is, in all the years I've been watching the Decorah eagles, I've yet to be lucky enough to see a birth. Maybe this year, I hope.
In the mean time, everything else in my life has gone to wrack and ruin. I don't even care, I just want my little eagle family to begin their new cycle of life. It's going to be an exciting fun filled couple of months.
Come on mom...do that thing you do so well.
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