Ah, the misery of mis....

To all of you who know Freddy, this is for him. He eschews the use of computers, so he will not read this himself, but those of you who have heard our contentious conversations (!) will be able to relay the information to him. Perhaps I will print it off so he can read it.

Our latest excursion into the world of "mis" was talking about mischief. It turns out that mischief is a word in its own right which is harm or trouble, especially as the result of an agent or cause.

We got into this whole discussion because I once said something about Fred's contentious demeanor. In other words, his argumentative behavior at the gym. Then I got to thinking about misdemeanor. Misdemeanor is somewhat the same as misbehavior. So demeanor could just mean behavior. Misdemeanor has come to mean something specific in law enforcement. As does gross misdemeanor.

I looked in the dictionary and there is a list of over 200 "mis" words at the bottom of the pages. "mis" is a prefix when applied to various parts of speech, meaning "ill,"mistaken," "wrong," or simply negating: mistrial, misprint, mistrust.

However, there are some words which simply begin with mis like mischief or miserable.

As you can see, I am hard up for a subject right now. The "chif" will say good night before she becomes miserably mischievous. Take care.

The Pressure, the Pressure!!!!!!!

The truth of the matter is that I sometimes have nothing to say. I know that to some of you that seems almost impossible, but there you are.

I suppose I could always take refuge in a memory post. I have lots of that written up which I have not yet shared.

Or, I could just talk a lot of blarney as I usually do. Then you could comment on the mindless quality of what I said, and we would all be happy.

Actually, having the new chair has given me such a comfy place to read, that I have been immersed in stories. I am rereading a series of mysteries by Nevada Barr in which the heroine, Anna Pigeon, is a park ranger. Each volume tells of her adventures in one of the National Parks. I am presently reading about Carlsbad Cavern and its environs. Fascinating. This is the sixth book in the series, so you can see I have been reading feverishly. The first five dealt with the West Texas back country, Lake Superior, the Anasazi, A wild-fire in a California setting, and an island off the coast of Georgia. She is a woman who has dealt with widowhood by escaping into the wild.

One of the fun sidelights of growing old and losing some of the memory synapses in your brain is that you can re-read favorite books without remembering the details. And so I am saving all my favorite series for later perusal. This series caught my eye about at Christmas time and I am gobbling up the adventures.

I suppose I have ten or more such series of books. I am well supplied into the future. New chair, lots of books, trips to the gym, friends that get on my case when I don't write my blog. What more could a woman want? HMMMMMMMMM? Take care.

What's in a chair? ME.

All Naomi had to do was sit in my chair and she promptly herded me to the furniture store so George and I could get new chairs. My chair looked ok but was broken. I had sort of brain-washed myself into putting up with it, but Naomi was absolutely appalled. George's chair wasn't bad but the fabric was wearing out, so we decided we could just as well buy two new chairs and be done with it. They are of the softest leather and JUST GREAT.

We consider it a Christmas present to each other. Lazyboys rule!

We're supposedly going to have some snow this weekend, so we will sit in our cozy chairs, eat pop corn and watch movies. Life is good. Take care.

Christmas memories... 10

I wish I were having a memory this year with this fellow. When we were with him last we gave him this owl - to bring the mail, a la Harry Potter. Sadly we have had to send his Christmas presents via regular mail ... but we hope to see him soon in the new year.

When I was a child, Christmas was a big deal. Before we could open our presents on Christmas eve, we had supper, the women would wash the dishes, I would lie on the couch - sick with anticipation - and then we would gather in the living room. Each of us had a special poem or song which we had learned for the Christmas program at church, dad would read the Christmas Story from the Bible, and then - finally - we would get to open the presents.

One year I opened all my presents when I was alone in the house. I very carefully removed the wrappings and then carefully rewrapped each present. What a mistake that was. It removed the anticipation and excitement. I never did that again and I caution all children to resist the urge!

I remember some of my gifts. When I was very small I got a beautiful pale blue cradle for my doll. I think my dad made it of orange crate wood. Mother had made a gorgeous pink silk quilt and pillow to fit in the cradle. While we were under the shadow of the depression, many of the presents were "homemade" items. Still the best of the presents one gets.

One of my favorite presents was a big fluffy "adult" pillow for my bed. I also got a bottle of lilac scent Eau de Cologne. The trouble came when the two collided. I spilled the fragrance on the pillow. I never appreciated perfume again and never used much even as a young lady. It took much airing out of the pillow before I could stand to use it once again.

I love the Christmas story. God's thoughts are not our thoughts. To send his son as a baby in a stable is so awesome. It's all turned so upside down. I love it. No kingly triumpant trumpets before a powerful potentate! No.. a baby in a barn! When we returned from Brazil, I complained that I didn't have a creche scene as I had left our old beat-up dime store version for someone in Brazil. The cry went out and I soon possessed a collection of creche scenes. But they are only important to us if the occasion they remind us of is part of our faith story.

I present to you God, the baby. The baby starting on his journey. If you have faith as of a mustard seed this journey can be yours. Take great care.

Wonders Never Cease

I ceaselessly read about the wonders in the electronic gadget world. i don't understand much about it, but I am amazed by the complexity and helpfulness of what is available for sale.

Then I have an age old problem and find a simple solution to it that tickles the socks right off my feet. I could never keep my blue hymbook open and on the rest made for it... it would collapse and fall onto the keys. Yesterday I amazed myself with my brilliance. I put the Minnie bag closer on the top of the pages. Yippee. No more problem.

It is small victories like this that keep me going. A non-electronic solution. It's amazing how thrilled I feel even just looking at the picture. All I have to do now is play the piano. That is an entirely different problem.. But now I can at least attempt it!

Take care.

snow not so bright

I woke up today with a high blood sugar count (for me). I tried to remember what I had eaten yesterday and realized in the furor of the day I had really eaten four meals rather than just three.

I had two teeth repaired with new fillings replacing those which were fast coming undone. George had the four new tires on the sweet buggy allined or something, and in the middle of all of that, I sat and enjoyed myself in Cherry Street Books. Book stores are so marvelous. I held myself back and only bought two new books. The one we are reading for book club and one other. I feel virtuous. I have my eye on two others, too, but they will have to wait awhile.

Anyway... I was thinking back over my day and realized that we had stopped for coffee between teeth and tires and I had an English Muffin. Then later, I still ate lunch. No, no. That is not permitted. Too many carbs for this little lady. It was really an adventure drinking the coffee, too, as my top lip was completely useless. I had to flop it over the cup and hope for the best. I did well, however, as I did not spill on my shirt as I usually do!

Anyway, back to the snow not so bright. Even when the sun is not "out" brightly, we have confidence that it is under the clouds waiting to wow us once again. Patience is what is called for. Patience is one of the qualities that is most difficult to develop. Some people have more trouble with it than others. I'm not sure, but I used to be much more patient than I am now. I seem to have grown into a feisty old lady. Wahoo. Here I come, so you better.. Take care.

Snow Bright

Absolute cold. No wind. Blinding white. Shadows are a welcome relief in the pristine landscape.

I do appreciate the view from this window beside my computer. When we lived in Brazil the houses on either side of us were three feet away, and our windows fronted on blank cement. I cannot feast my eyes enough on the vista from the window here in Minnesota. I love sweeping vistas.

I think Brazilians who come here to live probably feel isolated with our spaces on every side. They love to feel close to their neighbors. They probably feel safer clustered together. I feel claustrophobic without plenty of space in which to stretch out. They also must feel scared by the extreme cold that we accept with nary a shiver. I love the change of seasons.

To each his own. It's great to be able to choose a preference. Have a wonderful Christmas . Take care.

warning lights

Don't you love those warning lights in cars? We have been known to call them idiot lights, because they basically don't tell you anything and are often lit because of a little ice on the wire or just because they're feeling somewhat tempermental. I like the gauges that tell you a little bit about the function they are monitoring. Like the gauge for how full your gas tank is or how warm the engine is. That information is forthright and worthwhile... and you can deal with it.

Life is somewhat the same. We are either hooked up to warning lights or information gauges. The warning light type thing is just a twinge that doesn't indicate much of anything but a sort of malaise. However the gauge thing is much easier to handle. You can check your blood sugar and it actually tells you you need to eat something if the reading is low.

We so often misinterpret the little warning lights in life. We read too much into an off hand remark, when really the person who is making the remark is on a different wave length entirely. But it is good to ask so that the problem can be cleared up. Or a little twinge in my heart probably indicates a heart attack, but further research indicates heart burn.

Naomi is driving back to Mpls. from Evansville and there is a warning light on the dashboard that no one can discover its meaning. She has stopped at three different places and everyone tells her to go ahead if there is no more indication of a problem. The book that should fill her in is large, black and not very understandable. Sigh. She has asked enough. Now she must drive the car with the hope that all will be well. As her mother I would like to wave my magic wand and make the blessed light go out.

She says she has seen several cars in the ditch. Great. Maybe the little light on the dashboard is the least of her worries. Sigh. God bless her and help her on her way. I've worried enough.

Take care!

slight correction

After reading the comments on the last blog, I can see I need to make a slight (!) correction. When i say I love DRIVING in bad weather, I must hurry to enlighten you that I meant RIDING with George in bad weather. The two of us have managed to drive through the most horrendous snow storms and it is exhilarating. Whether I would be quite as fearless if I myself were at the wheel is another story. When the weather is good I am probably too fearless at the wheel.

I am of the old school. Usually, if George is in the car, he does the driving. I supposedly do the navigating. I have found that with the deterioration of my eyesight, navigating is more difficult. The size of street signs leaves a bit to be desired, and saying "turn here" as you whistle past a street just doesn't do the trick. I suppose this is one of the reasons old people creep along, driving the others on the road furious. So far I have never had to endure "road rage" but there will be more opportunities, I'm sure. It would be interesting to see my reaction to road rage. Would I rage in return or conciliate? It might depend on the situation. Ignoring the rage would seem the safer option.

Stay cozy as the wind and snow rage. We're having some good old fashioned Minnesota weather. Wahoo. Take care... and curl up with some cocoa and a good book.

Winter's a'comin!

Well, if you aren't convinced by the reading on your thermometer, you will be when the big snow storm comes on Saturday. I'm convinced it's coming as it is approaching from Colorado and will be roaring down on us in the afternoon on Saturday.
We will have to get reacquainted with the concept of emergency kits and blankets in our cars. We need to be sure our cell phones are well charged (Maybe it would be a good idea to bring the plug in charger with... hmmm.). The hardest thing for me is to refrain from just driving somewhere for the thrill of the inclemency of the weather around me. I do love driving in terrible weather.

I attribute this to my Viking blood. Any kind of big challenge rouses my fighting instincts. I even wrote a poem to that effect that was mercilessly made fun of by my instructor. He was sure that I didn't have that fighting instinct in me that made it reasonable to compare myself to a Viking. Hmmmm. Obvious to my friends that he REALLY didn't know me very well.

Of course, my cooler head usually prevails. But the look in my eye of absolute ferocity usually does the trick. I love living in the area that has four distinct seasons. Without the awfullness of winter, spring wouldn't be nearly as appreciated. At least, that is my position!

Take care.

Ring around the Rosy

The first snow is always fun. I especially like it because it highlights certain as yet unforseen things. This is a picture of the first snow highlighting how George did his final tilling of the garden. I hadn't realized that he did it in this neat rotary motion. Too cool.

I remember being on a trip with him. He was fishing in the Snake River, and I was just doing my thing waiting for him to return. I made a mound of dirt with a miniature road snaking around and up it. At the top of the mound I put an opened oreo cookie, imitating a volcano. Somewhere I have a picture of this master piece. Very convincing except that you can see my toe in the bottom corner of the picture. Now I would simply crop the picture, but at the time doing that to a slide was next to impossible.

That was one of the events during a five week camping trip that we took in 1956. We went out west to California, north to Canada and returned through Canada and the Dakotas. It was a blast. We stayed in a motel either 4 or 5 nights, but the rest of the time we camped. The camping craze was just getting started in America. We had a little umbrella tent, a station wagon and a camp kitchen that George had made for the back of the station wagon. When we would be getting set up, all the campers would come over to ooh and aah over this innovation. When we sold that station wagon, we tried to burn the camp kitchen as it no longer fit in the new station wagon. Now THAT was a job. It did NOT want to burn. It only finally gave up after a struggle.

I love to camp. Some of my friends consider it torture. To each his own! Fer sure.

Take care.

Blue

Your urging to display a recent art work got me to photographing this start of a new art work. If you notice the background of my blog you will see - BLUE. It seems to be a trend.

Fran has been taking a course at the Loft in writing a memoir. As a result I have been following suit and dredging up some memories. What I have discovered, however, is that things that I remember as clear as a bell have been altered by having gone into the family lore. Then I begin to doubt by memory, as I was a particularly obtuse teenager. I was smart, but I was also somewhat isolated. I should start to relate some of my activities as a teenager at East High in Madison, Wisconsin, to see who would come out of the wood work to challenge my memories. I am also trying to protect those who are in my memories before I include them in my blog. So I probably fudge a bit here and there.

Memory is such a tricky thing. Fran has done research and is doing her work based on a superstructure of history. My memories are just memories. Not based on anything but my failing remembrance of things past. So those of you who are part of that memory time will just have to give me a break! And point out differences when there are some!

Have a great Sunday. Take care.

Thanksgiving

It just goes to show you that I am a bit slow these days. I am writing about Turkey day the day after Thanksgiving. I am really immensely thankful for my friends and family. Carol and Carl had us over yesterday for a sumptuous feast. I appreciated the feast, of course, but the better part of it all was the get together part with good friends and their family.

The sparkle of friendship is just the best thing in the world. To be with people who are fun and with whom you can speak your piece as you wish is so wonderful. As I grow older, I find that I speak my piece a bit more than I used to. (Hey, what if I spoke my PEACE - that would be better maybe!) But to be able to share that which bubbles up to the surface of your mind with those close to you is a great blessing.

During my life time I've thrown kisses on occasion. Surely you have done the same? Where you kiss the palm of your hand and throw the kiss to the person who is leaving. The person catches the kiss and presses it to his heart.. then does the same back to you? Consider yourself the recipient of SEVERAL thrown kisses. The fact that you soldier on and read this blog means that you are worthy of those kisses. Thanks for everything! And Thanks Be to God!

Take care.

Memories - 9

Dad knew a car dealer who was extremely proud of his accomlishments. Dad was the sort who didn't believe in putting on the dog, so he took delight in playing gin rummy with Ted and beating him. They both thoroughly enjoyed the contests. They kept meticulous records on lined yellow legal sized pages. There was some way they could play so that each game would contribute the scores in the next game.. all way too complicated for me to care to figure out. But they would play hour after hour. My dad the peasant with Ted the bon vivant sophisticate. It was an entertaining time. Mom would make great meals and they would talk and play gin rummy.

One Sunday Ted took us (Dad, Mom and me) out to dinner at the fanciest hotel in Madison. He ordered the best steak, I think it was chateaubriand, for us. As we were teetotalers, he couldn't impress us with his knowledge of wine, but he did the best he could. As we finished the meal, he asked, "Well? How was it?" Dad paused, patted his mouth with the linen napkin, and replied, "Well.. It was filling."

At that reply, I got the giggles, Ted joined in, and we laughed until we cried. Somehow, Ted always tried to impress and Dad always impressed without trying. The people around us looked at us with disapproval, but we were beyond caring.

Memories 8

Fran went off to St. Olaf College when I was only six years old. She got the starring role in a play, and mother and some other ladies and I went up to take it in.

She was great. I didn't quite get what was going on, because when she paused at the steps contemplating going up into the attic where Rochester's wife was hidden away, I shouted, "Don't go up there!" I took her welfare very seriously even then. After all, she is my sister.

When we got back home we discovered that Bud had broken his arm while we were gone, and the tin pan that was used for rinsing the dishes had rusted. Dad was not as good a housekeeper as mother. He was NOT, however, responsible for the breaking of Bud's arm. That was entirely Bud's own fault. He wasn't able to jump as far as he thought he could.

Bud had rigged up the closet in his front bedroom as a little office. He had made himself a crystal set radio there. That was how we heard the news of Pearl Harbor. I can see the scene yet - as can anyone who has been involved in the news of a great disaster. I was standing behind him as he sat at his small radio set. I didn't understand all the ramifications of the news, but I knew we were in great trouble as a country. Bud and I took the news to mom and dad.

Take care.

Brrrrr.

This time of year is a mixture of cold and not so cold. It's a difficult decision deciding which coat to wear. Should I wear my honest-to-goodness winter coat which looks as though i am Mrs. Santa Claus, or should I settle for a fall coat? The last couple of days I have opted for the Mrs. S. C. coat. Better safe than sorry, eh wot?

Those of you who like to chat with Naomi should take a chance and take a peek at her blog. The link is on the side of this page. It is entitled "Naomi." Such a surprise. And now that you have mastered the fine art of leaving a comment on this page, you could do the same on hers! The other links I have on tap are sort of dated, but she is trying to get hers going again. Give her a look-see. The last two blogs have awesome pix of her new house.

She is the one who got me going writing this page. It has been so much fun. Now that she has moved away to Portland, it is one way we can stay connected. We also talk on the phone. I must say, however, I miss her close proximity. Such a sweety.

Take care. And DO check out Naomi's blog... pleeeeeeeeeeeeeez.

Memories 7

All through my childhood, I slept in the upstairs back bedroom and Bud had the upstairs front bedroom.

"Beau Geste" was the first book I stayed up all night to read.
I was reading away when the alarm clock woke Bud to go on his early Sunday morning paper route. I had the lamp on, so he came back to see what was happening. I feigned sleep, and he gently took the book out of my hand, pulled the quilt up to my chin and turned out the lamp. He was such a sweetheart of a brother... and still is, actually, my sweet brother.

I have always been a voracious reader. One day, when I was supposed to be helping my mother with Spring cleaning, I was hiding out in the attic reading "Gone with the Wind." The attic was a portion of the second floor. At the head of the stairs if you turned right and opened a door, you entered this wonderland. All sorts of marvelous things were stored in the attic including a large collection of Big Little Books. Because I was supposed to be helping, mother called and called, but I sat as still as a mouse in the attic reading. I imagine mother knew where I was, but knew she could get more done if I wasn't trying to help.

I am amused at myself that I still have these very books in my hands. After sixty some years, I still feel an attachment to the books and the memories they evoke. Now, if only I had that collection of Big Little Books... that would be a treasure trove. Do you all remember what they were like? Great fun.

Take care.

Bellyaching 1

NEVER hesitate to beat the drum for a new blog. I depend on your feedback for encouragement. I am having a bit of trouble with the blog master, so this is not Memories 7, but bellyaching 1.

We are home. Fall approaches. George is recovering just fine from his gallbladder surgery, but now his sciatica/herniated disk in his spine is acting up as he has been unable to do all of the exercises he was assigned and which were really helping him. He cannot at the present moment get out of his recliner. Hmmm. I'll let you know how this progresses.

I have figured out how to upload a picture (download?) from my camera. It was necessary to give my little sweetie, the computer, a different command and there it was. Now I am having difficulty getting the blog to download the picture. Endless irritations. As long as I have ultimate success, I don't mind a few bumps along the road.

Remember to beat the drum. Multiple drums are just the greatest! Take care

Memories 7

Tah Dah!!

This is a picture from a year ago or so. We never made it to Virginia. We got to the Holiday Inn and George was stricken with GREAT PAIN about 2 am. So all of our flight plans got cancelled on the spot and in the morning we found a hospital which had walk-in-care. We entered at 8:45 am and left at 4:15 pm. George had every diagnostic test until they determined that his Gall bladder had to be removed NOW. So the doctor called MeritCare and a surgeon there (Blessings on all the doctors and nurses) and by 6 or so, George was having his gall bladder removed by laproscopic (sp.) surgery. Voila. He's doing well today and we trundled home to Evansville. Ah, the miracles of modern surgery. I had my gallbladder removed some years ago, and it was a major slicing deal. This new way is really slick.

We will have to trundle off to Virginia again soon, but, for now, we are content to sit in our recliners and recover. Oofta.

Take care!

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

This is a picture of George and Matthew contemplating the chess board when we were at Lake Anna.

I am interested in your comment, Naomi, about Grandpa's temper. He was "risible." The quality that made it easy for him to be funny and laugh, also made it easy for him to "fly off the handle." I remember his taking us out into the yard to pick a slender branch that he would devest of its leaves and make into a "switch." He would hang that switch in the kitchen above and behind the mirror that hung above the sink. Then when we were being difficult, he would look at the switch with a great and horrific scowl, and we would laugh. He never actually used the switch, he would just use it in that good humored way to help us change the activity, whatever it was.

I found myself using this technique in teaching. I would make a hideous face and slam a book on the desk to shock the students out of bad behavior. Never had to do any more. They would laugh because the faces I made were so awful, they were funny.

We kids learned that dad would "blow up" about small things, but when real emergencies arose he was always there ready to do whatever was necessary. Broken bones or illnesses were handled with great care and attention. He always "had our backs" as the kids say now.

I have an endless store of stories about my dad. I will trickle them out for your amusement and amazement as time goes on. And then there's mom. Wow. You will have to stay tuned to get all of these memories into your own memory box.

Take care.

Memories - 6

I am the baby of my family. My sister Fran is 10 years older than I and Bud is 6 years older.
Our family has always had a love affair with Lake Waubesa outside of McFarland, Wisconsin. Now people have all kinds of fancy speedboats and sailboats, but when I was a child we seemed to have lots of "make-do" boats.

Dad was always patching up rowboats and I have the vestige of a remembrance of his building a boat in the basement.

One summer day, Bud and I took one of our fabulous leaky rowboats for a trek around the lake. We went for quite a ways before we realized that the boat was leaking badly. Turns out all we had to bail with were two little coasters. We made sure to stay close to shore so we could abandon ship if necessary without drowning. We worked like mad, I bailing and he rowing, and we finally got home safely to the lagoon.

Dad had two trailers set up down on the lagoon which fed into the lake. In that way, Fran and her friends could stay in one trailer, and Bud could stay in the other trailer to stand guard! There was a little store on the lakeshore where Mrs. Barr would make us small pies as a special treat. I didn't get to go with Fran, of course, but when she was gone off to college and grown up, I got my chance.

Dad would always take me to do things once. He took me hunting rabbits out around Mud Lake, once. He took me fishing over by Hog Island, once.

The time we went fishing, we were over on the other side of Lake Waubesa when the motor ran out of gas. He had to row all the way home. He was fussing and fuming. I was sitting quiet as a mouse. When we got back, we rushed home, he rushed up the stairs and woke Bud from a sound sleep to accuse him of not putting gas in the motor on purpose. Of course, on cooler consideration, he knew that was foolish.

The adventures of our family on Lake Waubesa continue to this very day, as Bud's offspring continue to live on the shores of Lake Waubesa. Living on the lake is lots of work, but the fun seems to outweigh the chores. Boating of every kind is in our blood.

Take care.

yippee

Did you notice the second comment on the last blog? Izzy is back in this cyber-space world. I was so ecstatic to hear from him and Enid that I'm sure I shouted a little shout!

As to why a dill pickle would be bad if you had mumps. I can't explain the technical reason, but I think because the glands in your neck are all swollen that when the dill pickle (which is acid and vinegar) hits those glands, WATCH OUT. You will just have to take my word for it that it hurts big time.

My camera does not want to connect to my computer at the present, so I am going to have to go shopping for a new one. I'm shopping the internet, but I will wait until we visit out east to go shopping with the expert advice of my son. For the present, I cannot include pix of stuff I have collected which give me memories of the past.

At our book club we talked about the book, "Catseye" or "Cat's Eye." Margaret Atwood is the author of this fantastic book. It takes real courage to read, as the plight of the young girl is so traumatic it is almost painful to think about. Actually, it is not "almost" painful, it is excrutiating. I have been remembering the moments of the past in this blog, but she is such a master of the details of each thing. She describes how they washed clothes, and each of us four members of the book club lit up as we went through each detail. We can remember all of the things she describes. Of course, we are all old enough to do so!

The air is crisp, the sun is shining, the leaves are almost all off the trees, it is a beautiful fall day. Take advantage of this short hiatus before the snow flakes fall. Wahoo.

Take care.

Memories 5

This is a picture of my brother and his wife, Elaine, with their great-grandchild, Mattias. I have lost track of how many great-grandchildren they have.

Many of the memories I have of my early childhood involve my brother. I always called him "Bud" so that is how I will refer to him in these blogs. He has been an inspiration to me throughout my life. The sad thing about aging is that it is difficult to get together with those who mean so much to you, but memories perhaps will bridge the gap.

As an adult he has become famous in the family for his "Laughing Man" stories. A story with many convolutions as the heroes (mysteriously resembling those to whom he is telling the stories) find their way through the jungle/woods filled with shadows and incipient terror. And then ---- the terrible laugh of the "Laughing Man"... and finally, a way out.

Bud was and has always been my hero. He was the greatest brother a girl could ever have. The only really mean trick he ever played on me was when he experimented with giving me a dill pickle when I had the mumps. We discovered that it REALLY DID HURT. I must admit that I probably would get the prize for being the peskiest little sister possible. I always wanted to be right in the middle of everything.

Bud has always been very involved in the Boy Scouts and he was going for a merit badge for camping so he took me with him while he set up his campsite near Lake Waubesa. He had the tent up and the little ditch dug around the tent, when all of a sudden he realized he had done all these preparations in the middle of a cow pasture. All had to be moved to the other side of a fence. He sent me out to hunt for a spring, and I proceeded to look for a long time thinking he meant a bed spring, not knowing what a water spring was.

More about my dear brother next posting. Take care.

Memories - 4

I was very cute as a small child, and my brother made a big fuss over me. He would take me to his Boy Scout meetings in his wagon, and I became a sort of mascot. Later, when I wasn't so cute anymore and had graduated into the pest category, he no longer took me along. This infuriated me, and I would chase after him until he outdistanced me.

I seemed to make it a habit to be infuriated. I remember having a temper tantrum lying on the floor between the kitchen and dining room. Mother was setting the table and she ignored me completely by just stepping over my screaming, kicking body. Now there was a woman who knew how to handle a kid!

I remember my father coming home from the bank for his noon meal and a short power nap on the couch. The couch was a black mohair affair. When it was time for him to return to work, mother would tell me I could awaken him. I would go and try to pull him off the couch. After about three tries, he would roll off the couch with great moans and groans, roll out into the room and give me a big thrill.

My father had a favorite red oblong eraser. He misplaced it and I found it. He made a big fuss about my great feat, and after that, whenever I wanted a favor, I would scootch up to him, bat my eyes and say, "Raser, daddy" and he would laugh and give me what I asked for. Another thing he would do is lift me up high, hug me tight with my face up close to his and say, "Hearts are flying!"

My heart is flying out to all of you today! Take care

Memories - 4

Memory - 3

This is a picture of me on a tricycle. It is staged at the photographers, but I certainly DID have a great trike at home. Our house was organized in such a way that I could ride round and round through the rooms in a circle if all the doors were open. Mother would play Billy Goat Gruff with me when I would ride under the ironing board.

One day I inadvertently rode my trike down the basement stairs. There was a landing half way down where the stairs changed at right angles. I arrived at the bottom of the stairs still upright on my trusty trike, none the worse for wear.

Right there at the bottom of the steps, if you turned left, you would find the big bin for keeping potatoes. Every once in a while we would investigate to be sure there were no rotten potatoes, as they would spoil the whole thing.

There were also lots and lots of shelves for the glass jars in which my mother spent many a long day canning tomatoes and green beans. Because of the war (I suppose I was 1o by then) my dad had a victory garden. We had a super abundance of tomatoes, especially. I would go with him early in the season to help. He had a small man-pushed plow. He made it into a small girl-pulled plow that the man guided. The trouble with being patriotic and having this victory garden was that everyone in our small town was doing the same thing. When the produce came in, you literally couldn't give a tomato away.

Dad solved that problem by taking the harvest to Madison to the back door of restaurants and selling them the sweet home produced fruits of his labors. I can even remember the clothes that I wore on these excursions. I both admired him for his chutzpah and was humiliated at having to make these inquiries at the back doors. It did instill in my being the idea that nothing should be wasted.

A side issue of this was that we would often be eating in the kitchen and be entertained by the sound of an exploding jar of tomatoes in the basement. Then would follow the clean up. We could never eat enough tomatoes to catch up with the shelf life of the jars.

I wish I could figure out how to make the tomato sauce that my mother made. It was slightly sweet with a touch of lemon. Fantastic, but not easy to duplicate. Perhaps it cannot be duplicated because nostalgia has added to the memory of its taste.

Take care.

tah dah!

Naomi has way too much time on her hands, so she decided she would change her blog appearance and I should do the same. Please check her blog out. The link is here on mine.
I actually got to the gym for some rudimentary excercise, but I faded fast. It will take me a bit to get my corpuscles up and running at top speed again. I was disappointed that Fred wasn't there so that we could delve further into the great spider mystery. Soon.

As to the ingredients for my egg salad, they change every time, and I just throw in a bit of this and that. Plenty of finely chopped up onion and dill pickles, a bit of dill pickle juice and lemon juice, some horseradish and REAL mayonaise, none of this diet stuff. oh, yes.... mustard, salt and plenty of pepper. Onion powder. Hmmmm. AND, OF COURSE, HARD COOKED COOLED EGGS mashed up. Whatever else occurs to me. But I like it very tasty, not bland. I love it so much that I don't make it very often because I would eat too much.

This next week I have the book club at my house so I have to start planning our repast. We have come so far that we do variations on the pattern set by Fran. I will probably do the deviled eggs, muffins, sugar free jello. All according to pattern. Carol figured out the greatest topping for the jello. She threw cottage cheese in the blender and let 'er rip until it got to the consistancy of whipped cream. Very tasty and healthy. Yahoo. If I change my menu I will be sure to let you know!

How do you like the new look of my blog? Certainly plain enough. Hmmmm. I'll have to see.

Take care.

tah dah!

Church Bazaar

Because of the state of our health we had to miss our church Bazaar this year. There are certain things we especially missed: the great soup and the egg salad sandwiches. I found myself attempting to make a great soup, and although it didn't measure up to bazaar standards, it was pretty good. Today I boiled up a dozen eggs and made egg salad sandwiches. I actually like my recipe better than almost any other, so that was satisfactory. Now we have to forgo the great pies, lefsa and other goodies. All to the good for little ole diabetic me. George would eat them all, but he is supposedly on a diet.

I love it when men go on a diet. 15 pounds off the first week, no problem. "What have you been moaning and groaning about?" they ask their wives. "Dieting is a snap." Then they get older and get that belly and there is no longer the glibness about dieting. The law of flab has caught up with them. We try not to snigger into our hands but it takes great restraint.

We are looking out at the great weather. Sun makes such a difference. There are still some trees that have kept their colorful leaves. We're feeling better, the weather is great, our spirits are soaring. Wahoo.

Take care.

Memories - 2

Okeedoakee. I'm deep into remembering the basement. I have my studio in our basement, but it is such a different animal than the basement of my youth.

That basement was a wonderful place. Cement floors and unfinished walls were divided into various rooms. The great furnace was endlessly fascinating. It was filled with coal, the ashes had to be cleaned out periodically, and it was controlled by a simplistic little lever in the dining room wall just above.

Dad used it to melt lead in a long handled deal. Then he would pour the lead into molds to make lead soldiers. Now there is so much fuss over lead, but we didn't know the perils of that substance at the time.

I think I was about fourteen when I remember his taking a lump of iron and heating it in the furnace. He held it in a plier and put it as a red hot lump on an anvil. He hammered it, heated it anew and hammered again, until he had fashioned a knife. It took a long time to get it just right and to his requirements.

Now he had a hunting knife blade attached to an elongated piece. He cut circles of thick leather and threaded them over the elongated piece to make the handle, topping it off with a bolt that he told me was from his son-in-law's submarine. It was a hunting knife. He incised "L. Vick" on the side of the handle and gave it to me. It is one of my most valued possessions. I realized that people could make things for pleasure, but also for use. I must admit I have never actually gone hunting or used my knife, but every time I look at it I know the pleasure of being singled out for a gift. A gift that I had seen made from start to finish.

Take care.

Memories-1

I was six years old during the summer of 1936, which was one of the hottest summers on record. We moved cots to the basement and slept there, as it was long before the advent of air conditioning. We took most of our meals down there as well.

I have in my possession this creamer. I was responsible that summer for breaking the sugar bowl that went with it. It is interesting that I keep it, even though I still feel ashamed of my uncontrolled actions that caused the sugar bowl's demise. Nobody bawled me out or anything, but I felt a deep regret that now there was only one of the pair left. So I keep it as a sort of penance and a remembrance of the fun of living in the basement.

Conversely, the winter of 1936 was the coldest and snowiest for many years. One day I walked home from school and got stuck in the driveway. The snow came up to my waist and I could not get out. Eventually someone heard my cries and rescued me. My brother made many tunnels through the yard and would pull me on my sled through them all. They were not really tunnels, but more like halls in the snow, as they had no ceilings.

Be prepared for more memories, as I am in a remembering mode. I hope I trigger some memories in you. Take care.

The Great Big Spider Mystery

I do not have a picture yet for this story. I hope to be able to include one at a later date. I have a note on my computer that says "Fitness Spiders." Lynette swears that when she comes in to open the gym early in the morning, she turns on the lights and huge (saucer size) spiders skitter across the floor, racing to hide. I tried to do some research on the net for this story, and the experts say that there is no such spider possible in Minnesota.
However, several other members swear that they have seen such spiders in their barns. There is even a rumor of such a huge spider that is PINK that has been seen. At present we think that the pink spiders stay in the beauty parlor that adjoins the gym. That would seem to be segregation because pink is a feminine color?
Someone else says she presently has such spiders in the outbuildings of their place.
To date, no one seems to have been able to catch one of these spiders. Freddy makes unmerciful fun of Lynette for having such a phobia of spiders that she sees one spider and magnifies the size by 100 percent merely because of her fright.
I come down on the side that I agree that Lynette sees something of the size she reports, I just doubt that it is technically a spider.
I have been forced by ill-health to be absent from the gym for a bit, so I am not too up to date on this controversy. Can someone bring us up to date?
Take care.

fair weather friends?

Does this picture satisfy better? Hmmmmmmmmm? Both George and I are struck down with coughing and fever. Not fun, but we go to see the doctor tomorrow. hopefully he will have some magical elixir to help us out.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time in my awesome recliner as I start to cough the minute I lay down flat. I do wonder how long the recliner will survive this overuse... oh, well, I can always go hunting for another one. I have been missing the fun at the gym, but I am trying to be a wise person and stay home until I feel better for sure.

Now. Send me an upbeat comment not a belly-aching one. I need positive vibes! Take care.

woe's me

Just thought I would include this sprightly picture to make your day brighter! My kids would recognize the scarf and realize that I have a sore throat. I really do not feel as bad as this picture would indicate, but I can't resist the drama!

I discovered a new book store yesterday in Alexandria. The Cherry Street Book Store. Heaven. I spent three hours there perusing the many volumes and sitting in a very comfortable leather chair. Coffee available. Heaven.

Then I came home and realized that I was getting sick again. sigh. I had had a sore throat the night before, but by the morning it had disappeared. I sighed with relief only to be reattacked later. I should have remembered my mother's dictum: 24 hours without fever before you go out. Oh, well. I now have several books that I got yesterday to entertain me. And, with some chicken broth, I should feel better soon.

Y'all, take care. Luckily the bug will not attack over cyberspace.

Encouragement...

This is a painting of mine that Fran has. It gives us encouragement as we see the plants going into their winter sleep. Spring will come.

I have a friend who does not seem to value her art. She often says that it is just a piece of paper after all. I try to convince her that the paper is not the point. It is the part of her soul that she places on the paper that makes it worthwhile.

The truth is probably in the middle somewhere. I get freedom in my painting by thinking that it is, after all, only a piece of paper. If I screw up, I can start over. It is, after all, only a piece of paper. But then, after the painting gets started and is complete, it is so much more than just a piece of paper. To me it is a sort of miracle. I start out on the clean piece of paper, make some marks and add color, and it becomes something that has not been before. Great fun.

During the last year of his life, when Paul Klee knew he was dying of scleroderma, he painted over 1200 paintings. He just went at it hammer and tongs. One of his paintings looks like a kid with a brown grocery sack over his head. I've thought about the tragedy of that painting. How that must have been how his face felt to him. His face had become a hardening mask. If one does not know the story of his life, the painting is still interesting. Think... He painted over three paintings, on average, each day. It encourages me to just let it rip. Eventually, you will have the courage to let your soul out and onto the paper. Then the paper becomes a painting. And a painting is much more than just the paper. A painting is a life.

Take care

wow! a pair of fours!

Another case of putting a picture in just for fun. This is a picture of an acquaintance of mine. I don't even know which of the girls is my acquaintance, but it's a great picture!

I read over my blog to see what all the fuss is about. What I MEANT to say is that it is hard to know when to stop painting on any particular painting. When the PAINTING is done... but what I did say was something completely different. Sorry about that. Maybe it was my subconscious taking over, as I have had a hard time getting into the painting mode, and perhaps I am pondering whether just to pack it in and sit in a chair and read. Sob, sob. Nope. Not quite yet. Too much to do yet.

We went to the play at the AAAA Theatre in Alexandria. Carol Jean picked me up, we met Karen for a bite to eat at the new Bella's, and then separated. Karen plays flute in the orchestra, and Carol Jean and I had seats P3 and P4 Left to see a rendition of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum."

Right away we could see the awesome set. It was designed by Roxanne Sorenson, a fellow artist, and constructed by Quincy Roers. Stellar.

Because I am "hearing challenged" I was concerned about sitting 3/4 of the way back and on the side. The accoustics and sound system was such that I heard 99 percent of all that was said. Fantastic. And the acting was surprisingly good. The main characters were as good as one might see in any of the big city venues. Pete Woit was Pseudolus. His character holds the play together and sings several solos. Excellent. Joe Korkowski was Hysterium and he stole the show. Fabulous acting and good singing. I must say I was surprised at the quality of the production. Hats off to the director, Merlin Peterson.

Watching Joe become convinced that he was "lovely" as Pete had him dressed in a dress was hysterical. The realization of his loveliness that shone from his eyes was so much fun. We had a lovely night out thanks to the Quad A Theatre!

Take care.

When action is best - or not...

I am including a picture just because I like the looks of my blog best when I have a picture included. This is a painting that I entitled "You, too." It belongs to Naomi and Tony as a gift from Tony's mom.

As an addendum to the question that I posed to you in my last blog, when is it best to act and when is it better to contemplate and wait a bit? The most difficult thing about painting is when is the painting done? When should one quit? That is a sort of corollary to the question I posed about life - and collar bones.

Sometimes the need for immediate action is obvious. Someone gets hurt right in front of us and we are obligated to assist. But sometimes the need for playing a waiting game should be obvious. When a teenager gets in to trouble, should his parent rush to assist him/her, or let him/her stew in the difficulties to learn that there are consequences to actions. It is easy to rush in too soon. We all have needed the wisdom of Solomon during the growing up years of our children.

Now, I have the luxury of worrying about whether it is time to stop painting... the painting is finished.... or not???????? And the endless little things related to health issues. Should I go and have my symptom checked out or wait awhile. Hm? Each thing should be decided on its own merits is what I have decided. Hopefully we all make the right decision. Take care.

customs

There are various differences in the treatment of injuries in each country. When we were living in Brazil, John broke his collarbone. I wish I had the patience to hunt up a picture of how he looked after his treatment. He had a full torso cast with his arm also encased at a right angle to his torso. For many weeks he existed in this manner, unable to do much of anything except walk and sit. As I remember it was his left arm, so at least he could write as he is right handed. It was a major health issue.
When we had returned to the States, he once again broke a collarbone playing football, I think. He went to the doctor and returned in just the same state as when he went. They had done NOTHING to the boy. I went and inquired as to what the treatment was. They said, oh, it would heal itself, but if I was not satisfied with that, they could rig up a sling that he could wear.
I was simply amazed at the difference in the treatments for the same injury. The collarbone did mend itself and all was well.
The trouble with the Brazilian treatment is that it affected so much of his boy-life. It kept him from sports and any other activities. Even sleep was difficult. Amazing.
When no treatment was probably the best way. At least, it seemed to work perfectly later.
I wonder if we complicate matters in other ways, when if we would just wait awhile, things would correct themselves. What do you think?
Take care.

Yeah, right

That's four comments? Two people chatting back and forth? C'mon. The comments were entertaining, however, so I'll allow it this time. Right.
I am doing more and more things as I feel better. Drove to Battle Lake yesterday for a board meeting. Sat through the board meeting! Ate lunch and chatted with my friends and drove home. Went to the doctor in the afternoon. Came home exhausted and fell asleep in the comfy recliner for three hours. Oh, yeah, I'm really frisky!
I looked up the word "chatelaine" which describes a type of adornment worn by women who were heads of households or castles (!) to hold the household keys or instruments needed for needlework, etc. So it would be more romantic, perhaps, to call my deal a chatelaine. The lanyard is a nautical term for the neck rope used for the suspension of a whistle. I do have a whistle I could suspend on my deal, I suppose, but for what purpose? To defend myself from the ravening hordes at the gym? When they get out of hand I could blow my whistle? But who would come to rescue me? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM? Who?
Well, enough nonsense for one day. Hope to get to the gym this morning to laugh with the hordes of hula hoopers there. After my illness they have at least stopped pestering me to try the hula hoop. I must be thankful for small favors.
Take care.

wow

Six comments! I'm absolutely agog.

I forgot to tell you about something from the stay at Lake Anna... in Virgina. One of the women who was there was injured in a waterski accident. She wiped out and hurt an already chancy hip condition. So for most of the time she was hobbling around with crutches. Her name was Gina, I thought, but it turns out it was Jeanna. She works with horses and had some stuff with her put out by Mane and Tail called Hoof Maker! It can be used by people like me who have disappearing fingernails. I've griped about this for many a long year with no help in sight. THIS STUFF SEEMS TO WORK!.... I haven't been able to find Mane and Tail products locally, but I found Farnum Hoof Saver at Fleet Farm. We'll see if that is as good. I am so excited. If any of you know where they have Mane and Tail products locally please let me know.

It's so much fun for me to read Fran's memoir of her life. I suppose she was 12 years old before I would have any chance of remembering anything of our family life, so her memories are very cherished by me. I will try to start writing to match her assignments. We'll see the differences that occur! Fun.

Take care... and remember the magic of four.

Hallelujah!

Well. I am busy losing things. yesterday I lost my favorite turquoise ring. I carefully surveyed the entire main floor of the house. No ring. I then went to the gym and complained loud and long about it. I got home and tried my best to remember if I could possibly have lost it in the car or in Alexandria. It was a bit loose on my finger so it might have dropped off. I decided to look around the house once again... and, there it was, innocent as a new-born babe next to the stove. I must have taken it off while cooking for fear it might slip into the komla.

I decided I better call Karen w and let her know as I had complained loud and long to her. I called and she said, "Oh, I'm so glad. I prayed that the Holy Spirit would show you where to look.. both for the ring and for your swiss army knife." Wow. I had been praying for the same thing, so I was encouraged.

That made me decide to look for the knife again. I had given up on that, as I had convinced myself that the suitcase was clean as a whistle and knife-less. I had had a niggling sensation the last couple of days that I should look in the shoes that I had had in my stuff. I show you above a picture of my Birkenstock with my swimming shoe stuffed inside. i took them apart and looked in them thoroughly... and THERE WAS THE KNIFE. Hallelujah.

Wow. It's hard to express the joy that I have. I can now snip threads, file fingernails, unscrew screws, cut open packages, etc., etc. without having to look for tools. I am a happy camper.

Take care and give glory to God for his attention to the little stuff. Hallelujah fer sure.

Book Club Books

As my loyal readers know, I belong to a book club. The last two books we have read were extremely fun for me. Fun isn't just the right word... rewarding might be better. The first was "Broken for You" by Stephanie Kallos. This was a first novel for the author... but she certainly hit the jackpot as far as I was concerned. One of the things brought out was the care with which the Nazis in WWII kept records of the confiscated possessions of the conscripted Jews... and the raw destruction of the Jews themselves. The novel is a tour de force.

The second was "Astrid & Veronika" by Linda Olsson, also a first novel. A very interesting read, but not quite the tour de force of the other. It gave us lots to talk about, though.

We are now reading "Cat's Eye" by Margaret Atwood, the Canadian author. This is a novel that I like, although some of the others by this author are not favorites. The conversations we have around it should be a blast.

Take care.

Hollow Head

Well, the magic of four is pushing me to blog even though my head feels hollow. So I will tie up a few loose ends. I think Karen l thinks Karen w gives me a hard time because it seems worse in print than it is in person. We tease each other loud and long at the gym and I love it. The exercise I get at the gym is sometimes (!) minimal, but the belly-laughs are great.
I was all dressed and ready to go to the gym this morning when I realized I didn't have a car at hand and it had gotten late. George had an early dentist's appointment. I would ordinarily have called Karen w but the time had gotten away from me. (All this fuss when the gym is only four blocks from my house. For pity sake,,,, why don't I walk?)
I am trying to get used to Naomi living on the West coast again. She has some entries on her blog, so check it out.
The hollow sound from my head is drowning out all thought, so sayonara. Take care.

lanyard

I'm not even sure that is what this affair I wear around my neck is called. I remember making a deal like it from plastic strips at girl scout camp when I was young. You could put a whistle on it for use in games... or whatever you wanted. Now they are offering them as mementos of places. I had one I liked with two pens on it that I lost in the airport shuffle of taking off my shoes, jackets, purse, etc., etc... and finally the lanyard. I didn't put the lanyard back on for some reason and it was lost.

At book club I was roundly roasted for wearing my Yorktown lanyard. I had never really thought of what it looked like, I only thought of its utility. I have now made one from black grosgrain ribbon. Black should be chic, right? Can all those Parisians be wrong?

I find that it is a great thing to have a pen at hand during the day. I suppose I have at least 200 pens collected around the house, but when there comes a sudden idea or the thought of something I need at the store, having a pen around my neck is a great stress reliever. I don't have to start the hunt for a pen or pencil... it's right there, around my neck.

I have also discovered that I don't think much about how things look as long as they are utilitarian. I'm sure that is a character flaw, but at 77 I am not going to worry about that particular flaw. There are many others that take precedence. Not being able to hula loop is surely more serious. Or my aversion to dusting. Or.........

Another thing that I had on my old lanyard was the adorable small Swiss army knife that George gave me last Christmas. I knew I couldn't go through the airport with a knife so I tossed it in my suitcase... the one that was to be sent. No can findee. I am desolate as I loved it. It had a tiny scissors that I used constantly, and a small screwdriver. I will have to find another one.

Enough, already. Take care.

The magic of four

It was that fourth pathetic comment from the last blog that got me off the dime! The picture is a showing of the only artwork that got accomplished on the trip to Virginia. I was addressing the envelope of the card for Matthew's birthday - with the ubiquitous marking pen I wear on the lanyard around my neck - when I realized I had printed "John" instead of "Matthew." Hmmmm. So I constructed this concoction to mask my mistake.

I think back to the times when my mother would call me Anna first. (Anna was her little sister.) Then Fran. (Fran was her older daughter, my sister.) Then, finally, Loretta.. my actual name... which everyone used to designate me even though it was really my middle name. I have a long and checkered tale about my name which I won't bore you with here. (Do I hear sighs of relief?) I advise you all to get a name and then stick to it.

I managed to complete the talk on Chicano/a art (sometimes it's called Chicana/o art... you can chose which you like the best.) at the Art of the Lakes meeting. (In Spanish a woman would be Chicana and a man, Chicano.) It is such a large and varied subject that I just managed to touch on a bit of it. But I did it. That's the important thing. People were complimentary.

I get tired quicker after my health adventures of the summer, but I seem to be able to do very well in a slower and more measured way. Well, remember the magic of four! Take care

Well, my body's back....

No. That's not me behind the boat, but dear Matthew a few days before his 6th birthday. We spent a a few days at beautiful Lake Anna in Virginia. Quite a different experience from camping out in Northern Minnesota. The "kids" rented a house with three full baths... just to give you an indication of the size of the place. The culture shock was great! A horde of young kids (Under 13) and old kids (Under 45) and young old kids (Under 85) had a ball together. Lots of water skiing, tubing, just riding along to shout encouragement... and then our marathon watching of "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. All in all a wonderful few days of fun in the sun.

We got back to Yorktown on Sunday, the day before Labor Day, so we had time to do laundry and rest up after our vacation.

Now that I have pictures available for posting, I feel so much more like chatting. As we always say - nice to go, but great to get back home, too. I'll share more pix as time progresses and the grey cells in my brain allow! Take care.

Last Gasp from the East

I am all packed and ready to go. As usual, I get all ready and then come down and sleep in the recliner, just like I do at home. We are starting to the airport at 3:45 am. sigh. We should get home in the mid afternoon tomorrow if all our flight connections go well.

Matthew has been celebrating his birthday for several days now with all kinds of meals out and parties. The big party is tomorrow, but we will have to miss it as we will be winging our way home. All is going well with him and we have had lots of fun with his gifts. We gave him a microscope and an owl and several other small gifts one of which was the movie "Charlotte's Web" which we watched tonight. Friday night is pizza and movie night. Fun. The star gift so far, I think, is probably a pair of remote controlled helicopters which he is having a ball flying. He has gotten the gist of it already and they go zooming around the 20 foot high living room like real zoomers. Fun.

Thanks for your comments. I will be back at a more reasonable rate after I get home. Take care you darling people you.

Tuesday

I have nothing much to say, but I will try to say it in an amusing fashion.

My cell phone works in a highly suspect fashion on the east coast. What I do hear is interrupted by static and spaces, and the calls automatically quit after just a bit. I heard (in this bizarre fashion) from Karen W. She says the trip to Mpls was awesome fun. Not only hearing and seeing Joyce Meyers, but going shopping and having slumber party time with the girls. Such fun. Joyce Meyers is a woman who speaks on TV and has her own conferences and broadcasts each day. She's great. I tuned in to hear her this morning and got a good word.

I also heard from Naomi. She heard from John, and they were surprized to realize that they were both in Mpls. That is the joy of the cell phone. It is always the same phone number no matter where you are. They didn't have time to get together, but at least they breathed the same air. John is gone for the week to North Dakota and Naomi just finished attending the wedding of a friend. She will soon be back in Portland.

All those of you out there whom I love... take care!

Thursday

I haven't figured out how to do pictures on this computer, so you will have to wait for those until I get back to my own stuff.

I forgot to mention that I sat through a Lord of the Rings Trilogy showing at the lake. Wow. Five of us sat glued to the set for the whole thing. Such fun.. and then I had the additonal plus of watching tennis when I got here. I tell you, I am a world class couch potato. I will REALLY need the gym when I get back. I was going to say that I was BECOMING a world class couch potato, but I think I have arrived.

Took Matthew to the bus this morning. I am to put stew in the crock pot this afternoon. You understand, it is all ready to go.. all I have to do is turn it on. I have a rough life.

I am envious of those of you who are heading to the cities for Joyce Meyers. Have a blast. I can watch her here each morning... so I see the announcement of the get together in St. Paul. You lucky ducks, you. I will expect a detailed account when I get back.

Take care.

State of Virginia

We are happily ensconsed in the great family home of our son and family. We had fun at Lake Anna, two plus hours away, for a few days with lots of waterskiing and boating of every kind. i don't suppose I have to mention that I didn't waterski, but to relieve some of your worrisome minds... I DID NOT WATERSKI. It was tempting, though. Everyone was either trying or succeeding or using a tube.. but us old folks, we kept our heads, and stayed in the watching category.

Beautiful territory. Brought back memories of the first time I waterskiied as a teen-ager. It took me two days to succeed, but I kept at it until I got up. I am amazed at the patience of my cousin who also kept at it until I did succeed. Thanks again.

Naomi et. al. have successfully completed their trek to Oregon. Happy that they had a safe trip. Now it is to get busy and find a job! Ah, the energy of the young.

Youse guys need to comment, now, so I have encouragement to keep posting! take care.

Tuesday

Last week this time we were at the campground in northern Minnesota. Today we are getting ready to fly to the State of Virginia. The rapidity with which we can change our spot on the earth is amazing.

A few years ago a pastor recounted his trip to speak to us at a pastor's wives retreat. He had flown from the State of Washington to Minneapolis, hired a car and driven to central Minnesota, all within a few hours. His location was completely changed so quickly. He could remember when, as a child, his father would hitch up a team of horses and they would travel several miles into town, do some business, and then travel back home. It might take them the whole day... but during that time, they had an opportunity to look at the nature around them, talk to each other, and think about things. Life at a slower pace had many advantages.

When do people have an opportunity to just THINK and PONDER? So many people seem to be constantly connected to some form of technology. I don't even know what all these plug in things are called. Of course, there's the phone. The cell phone is a wonderful invention, but some people find it impossible not to stay "plugged-in" every minute of every day.

I have always been a "ponder" sort of person. So much so that I would drive my spouse completely crazy at times wondering what in the world I was doing! Hard to explain that you are just thinking as you stare into space.

Well.. off to my day of packing and getting ready for a trip to the coast. Talk to you as soon as I can get to a computer. Might be a few days. Take care.

double oofta

Okay. We had a wonderful few days camping and are home. Lots of work for just a few days, but this view should give you a small taste of why we go. Naomi and Tony are here overnight to say good bye before they move to Portland, Oregon. The sun is setting on an era.

Now, George and I are setting out on a trip to the state of Virginia to see John, Beth and Matthew, so we have to whip ourselves into shape by EARLY Wednesday. When I say early, I mean early. We have to leave the house about 3 am and travel to Fargo. Embark for Chicago and then Richmond... on stand by, yet. So you can see why I call this double oofta.

More another time. Take care.

The picnic

We are at the Foster Street Beach in Chicago. Both Dianna and Mary are about to go swimming. The others of us are just content to look at all of the other people at the beach, take in the skyscrapers in the distance, and veg out. Wonderful. The thing I liked best about it was not only getting to know these members of my family better but also to take in the wonderful vista. Wow. To think this is right in the city of Chicago.

Today is Saturday. It is raining. We are preparing for our camping trip to Northern Minnesota. I will attempt to take pictures of our camp to share with you. Hopefully the weather will cooperate. Everybody around here needs rain so I hesitate to hope for a rainless week, but I hope for some rainless days, at least. We'll see how it goes. It will all be wonderful because the company will be the thing that makes it so.

I was so amused by Karen's telling me about her encounter with Izzy and Enid at the super market. She looked up and there was our blogger and his girl friend in the living flesh and pink t-shirt in Alexandria, Minnesota. Note Izzy's comment on the last blog. Izzy is large even here in Minnesota. Izzy is hard to miss. I still have difficulty wrapping my mind around what his impact must have been on the Japanese kindergartners. We are glad you are back, Izzy, and await your blog from Texas. Thanks for your comment! Hi to Enid, too.

Off to the packing. Take care.

Millenium Park

I have a sort of foggy remembrance of this spectacular fountain and the great park which leads up to the ART MUSEUM. Fantastic outdoor restaurants and statuary. As it was a very hot day, I was too eager to get inside to fully appreciate it. Ahhhhhhhhhh. Air conditioning... and ART. Now we're in the right place.

Naomi and Steve took very good care of me that day in Chicago. We looked at paintings and other forms of art until I was obviously starting to fade away, and then they steered me to a restaurant. A lovely restaurant right in the museum. We were waited on with all the obsequiousness necessary in a first class place, and by the time we were done I was ready to rock and roll once again! Not only were the waiters attentive, but the food was also good. Great!

We saw some great art and about four pm my eyes started to glass over and we headed back to the el and the bus. Fantastic day. Thanks to you, Steve and Naomi, for your great care of moi. I had a blast. And we had another day to look at art in the galleries! More yet! Wow.

Take care

Would you believe it?

This is a photograph of my picture in the 1956 yearbook from Roland. I am listed as the English, Speech, Journalism and Dramatics teacher. As I remember it, I did everything but sweep the floors. Five preparations, plays, newspaper and yearbook. I think I took care of the library, too, when it was also a study hall.

The kids were great. I looked through the book and had very distinct memories of many of them. What a wonderful bunch!

Memories are great. They enrich our activities in the present. I think one has to be careful not to become enmeshed in memories to the point that one has difficulty returning to the here and now. I can remember my mom taking photo albums from dad because he would become too involved in them and not be able to return to the present. This was when he was about George's age. It is rather interesting to attain ages that compare to the ages of your memories of your parents.

One of my clearest memories of mom and dad in Florida is their reclining in their recliners watching TV. They would both be asleep, so I would turn off the TV, which would wake them up and then they would protest that they had been watching a favorite show. The show was no longer on, though, and they would laugh at themselves. What a picture of us, now, that is. We in our recliners, watching TV. We have become our parents. It's inevitable, I think, if one lives long enough.

I do have one claim to fame, however, that is mine alone. I have a rowdy group of friends at the gym. They will never let me lapse into the past! Right, girls? See ya soon! Take care.

happy day

Life never ceases to amaze with its twists and turns. One day this week I received a visit from a student I had over 50 yeats ago! Turns out that she and her guest were also graduates of St. Olaf College. Naturally I took them down to the Coffeehouse Art Center and we had a picture together. Carolyn also has a connection to the MaeSae Lutheran School in Tanzania where Naomi and Tony spent three months recently. The connections are amazing. We all had much in common.

I was amazed at how much Carolyn still looked like her highschool yearbook picture. Because I taught in Roland only one year, their junior year, there was no picture of me in the year book. I can testify, however, that I do not look much like I looked back then. I should dig out a picture from that time for you to compare. I was so saddened not to be able to attend their highschool reunion in early June because of my health adventure, but her visit to me was very invigorating. It was amazing how many things I recalled from that one year.

Fran: do you recognize the jeans I have on in this picture? That is your green paint spot on the leg! The jacket is one that went with the dress I had for Naomi's and Tony's wedding up at Scenic State Park. The T Shirt is one Naomi had in highschool.

The necklace is a style statement that I have recently adopted from memories of my teaching years. I never seem to have a pen when I need one although I am sure I own about 2000 pens which are distributed around the house... so I have begun wearing one! Along with a marker for marking down dates IMMEDIATELY on my calendar and the nifty small Swiss Army Knife I got from George at Christmas. You never know when you might need a small scissor, a screwdriver, a toothpick or a tweezer. Many times a day I use one or another of the instruments I wear hanging on my neck. I feel it is a method of minimizing frustration. At my age that can only be good.

Take care.

At the beach!

This is the fabulous Foster Beach in Chicago. It is quite a contrast to the Lake Moses access, or throwing a stick to JYY at Moon Lake. I especially like the skyscrapers in the distance. Do you recognise them, Karens?

This is where we had our great evening picnic in Chicago. Both Mary and Dianna went swimming. As the note from Fran pointed out, Dianna is a rabid athlete! She has even encouraged her mother to begin swimming, biking and running. The swimming part I can document! Kudos to these valiant ladies! Steve goes at it in his own way. He is a dedicated walker! I really liked the atmosphere of the city, and the beach sealed the deal.

Of course, the art stuff didn't hurt, either. We took buses and the el to go to the art museum. I managed all the walking and returned to the apartment happy and ready to lay in the movie sac chair which is not difficult to get out of at all. The second day Andrea and Steve picked us up and drove us to a spot in the city where there was a gigantic art store. I DIDN'T BUY ANYTHING!!! One of the high lights of the trip was my control. It's interesting when you have all the supplies you need at the present moment and the only thing you want they don't have! Wow.

Then we began a series of visits to art galleries. Wow. I loved it. We stopped for lunch and visited more art galleries until my energy level bottomed out. Andrea drove us back to Dianna's apartment. I went in and took a nap to prepare for the above mentioned picnic. One of the best parts of my trip was getting to know my relatives better. They are the bomb!

I thank God I was able to enjoy this trip and have the energy to do all of the things we did! The memories I have are the greatest. Thanks to all who provided the wherewithall.

Take care.

All relaxed!

This is a picture of me on the movie sac chair that Dianna had in her apartment. What a fabulous chair. It is covered with corduroy and fits the sitter perfectly. Both Naomi and I became fans. It is also so large that it would take up the better part of any room you decide to put it in. Fantastic but large!

I am slowly recovering from the trip. I have painted a bit, read a bit, done a bit of acrostics, cooked a bit, cleaned a bit ( a very little bit), and slept a lot. George has a very painful leg - from the hip to his foot - so we are trying to find out what to do about that. Tomorrow he goes to a doctor that his doctor referred him to, to look further into the causes of the pain.

I received a phone call from Caroline (Carolyn?) in Iowa. She will be dropping by for a chat tomorrow, too. She was a member of the class that I taught mega years ago in Roland, Iowa. I was planning to attend their reunion but had to cancel the plan when I had my health adventure. I hope to get news of their get together from her and catch up on old times.... It is always a surprise to realize how old the times are getting. Ooofta. Take care.