Thursday, September 28, 2017

Still Kickin' :)

Wow, it's been a long time since I blogged last. I know everything I read says if you are going to blog, you have to be consistent...does consistently bad at it count?

Babysitting has pretty much ended until the holidays hit, so I hope to get back on track soon. After all, there was no reason to start this if I'm' not going to buckle down and stick with it. So....if you are one of the few who've been wondering where I am...I'm ok and I'm almost back :)

Can I get at least a small...yay?

Monday, March 27, 2017

Bathroom Blues

(Copied from my earlier post on WordPress)
Every now and then I read something so well written that I am ashamed of myself for not having


(Published by me originally in WordPress.)

Interesting birds, buzzards. I've seen them soaring aloft for most of my life but never in the numbers I have since moving to my current home. I remember hearing about the buzzards circling


Originally posted as a page on 3/21/2016 at 17:06

Over eleven years ago I spent nearly a month having a visitor every night after I'd gone to sleep. It felt as if I was falling asleep and immediately being met by a beautiful little girl with dark golden curls and grey eyes who

1880 or 2016? 136 years of women's exploitation?

(Copied here from my original post in WordPress to make it easier for you to use.)

In this cool old book, "Buckeye Cookery and Practical Housekeeping"  the preface starts off with "Fortunately it is becoming fashionable to economize," In my local community, in the past couple of years, there have been several events started that aim, or aimed, at helping homemakers learn how

Prince...a farewell.

(Originally posted in WordPress.)


I never met the man, never attended a live performance, and yet... even so.... there is a deep sadness in my heart at his passing. This surprises me a little. Why would I feel so sad, and

Whistle While You Work...

(Copied here from the original post on WordPress.)
When I was a kid I used to love that first week of summer vacation. It was the best of all the weeks of the year. Even though I missed my friends at school and my friends on the bus there were things that I only got to experience fully during that first few days of summer vacation and that made that week so special.

We lived at the top of a long hill. Even most of the back yard was downhill. Down the hill from us on the other side of the house, was a barn full of smallish wooden crates (that we used to play in even though we were told repeatedly not to) and a small room where powdered chemicals in big paper bags were stored until they were needed to spray the fruit trees. That room had a very distinctive smell that I can still recall all these years later. But, I digress…continuing downhill were a cold-storage, various outbuildings, a church, a very small community library, several homes, another fruit farm with a barn and cold-storage, etc., and other homes and buildings and land and a small road before the main road about two miles away where the land flattened out for a while before going back uphill again.

We had single-pane, single-hung windows in our old farmhouse. That meant that in the winter, as often as not, I'd wake up to snow on the foot of my bed. We had a coal fed hot water furnace. Every night just before going to bed, Grandpa would "bank" the fire so that there would be hot coals in the morning to quickly start a new fire in the furnace. So, while it meant that the house got warm faster in the morning, it meant that the house, and the radiators, got really cold during the night. As I understand it, “banking the fire” meant that he would keep less oxygen from reaching the fuel supply (coal) either by partially covering the coals with ash or by adjusting the flue grates or maybe it was a combination of both. Now that it’s far too late, I wish I’d asked him about that. Grandpa would get up at 5:00 A.M. (at least that’s what I thought, but to be fair to him, it could have been three in the morning for all I knew) to go down into the basement and fuel up the furnace so that the radiators would feel warm to the touch by the time I got up. Even though the air would still often be frigid, at least I could sit on the radiators and put my clothes on them so that when I got dressed, the clothes were warm. It also meant that when I got out of bed I would need to brush the snow off of the bed so that it couldn’t melt on my bed and get it wet all the way through to the mattress because that would still be wet when the house went cold again. I think I was about twelve when we got the gas furnace and the days of coal were done. I remember how luxurious it felt at first to have warmth all the time, and then I missed the cold while I slept. And now, I find myself returning to my childhood roots by going into a spare bedroom and closing the door on those cold winter nights and opening a window a crack and snuggling down into a ton of blankets and sleeping in there. I love being all burrowed into a pile of warm blankets and quilts with cold air in my face. I sleep the deep sleep of youth without a care in the world. It is such a restful and wonderful slumber.

During warm weather, I would slide the bottom pane up and insert a wood-framed metal screen in, the screen would adjust side-to-side to fit the opening and the window sash would come down to hold the screen in place. This allowed me to let in the fresh air while keeping out the bugs. My bedroom was on the second story in the southeast corner of the house. One window was over the front porch roof and faced the road, the other faced east and was a long drop to the ground. My bed was against the wall so that I looked out the east window and it was the one that was usually open when the weather allowed. Just down the hill between my room and the storage was a beautiful old Russian Olive tree. It had long, silvery green leaves, tiny black berries in summer but in the spring, and during that first week of summer vacation, it had flower blossoms.

On summer vacation, those first few mornings when I was allowed to wake up on my own, I can still remember coming back to consciousness, s-l-o-w-l-y. First, was the awareness of light on the other side of my eyelids; then the awareness that the light was warm and that the warmth was on my nose, my lips, the mountain fold where my lips meet my facial skin; my cheeks; the valley hollow where my cheek skin transitions toward the rim of my lower eyelids. Then as my awareness expands the light and its warmth is also brushing against my forearms, right calf and foot. My toes wiggle in delight of the warmth and freedom inviting the toes of my left foot to join them.

As I continue to wake, along with the warmth of the sun against my skin comes the further awareness of a coolness brushing along my skin here-and-there as if under the control of a master water-colorist whose light touch flits across the surface, and with it comes the most delicious aroma as the sense of smell awakens…that wonderful scent of the Russian Olive tree that to this day I still remember with great love.

Immediately upon that realization comes the sense of hearing waking up as I hear the bees buzzing, the birds singing their greeting into the morning, a tractor in the distance roars into life and there, in the distance, a sound I realize I am very happy to hear. It is a spluttering, chugging, purring sort of sound…the milk truck! Oh wow! The milk truck was coming! Back in those days, our milk was delivered by the milkman. Yes, seriously. As an adult, I learned that my babysitter had been, of all people, the milkman's wife. Yes, I know that would be amazing fodder for Whoopi Goldberg and I am sure I would love to hear what she would/could do with all that. I am not a comedienne so anyone reading this who knows Whoopi, feel free to send her a link to this blog post, I'll be happy to sign a release for her to use the info. But, for the time being, I am simply going to share the lighter, sweeter side of the milk man's tale. On our ample front porch (which ran across the entire front of the house) was a silver box, not noticeable from the road because of the bushes that grew in front of the porch. This silver box, well, more accurately perhaps, I should call it a metallic box because it was dull silvery color, because then, as now, silver wasn’t cheap. It was, most likely tin. So, our silvery tin box was insulated, and the milkman would put our order in there so it would stay ‘fresh’ until someone could bring it into the house and fridge a.s.a.p.

As I lay there, still with my eyes closed, I heard the truck come to a stop, the brakes made a  squealing noise, there was a thumpety-thump-thump as the milk man exited the truck, and then his whistling, and then the sound of the back door of the truck sliding open the clinking of glass, then the clinking and jangling of glass against metal as he walked, whistling a tune and the thumpety -thump-thump-thump up our four steps and more jingling-jangling as he took the empty bottles out of our milk-box and put the full ones in, then the same sounds in reverse as he left, all the while whistling.

Whistling! And not just random whistle sounds, either...songs! Melodies and harmonies and stuff you could've sung along with. Whistling while he worked! The whole time! Everyday! I never heard any other grownups whistle while they worked. Ever! Much less every day. Well, except Cinderella and even though I was a kid I knew she wasn’t real. The milkman must be the happiest person on the whole earth! And being a milkman must be the best job on the whole earth! When I grew up, I was going to be the first milk-woman in the world.

I couldn't wait to get up and run downstairs to see what goodies were in that box! Milk for sure - for cereal and cooking. Usually there would also be eggs and butter, and cream for coffee. Sometimes there would be orange juice and whipping cream or even ice cream when they knew I would be awake to bring it in right away. Such great times.

Well, I never drove a milk truck, but I have done some jobs that I really loved and if I'd ever mastered the art of whistling a tune, there are some that I certainly would've whistled through all day long. And as unbelievable as it may be, one of my very favorite was literally shoveling sh**. Yes, I did a stint as a stable hand and that meant cleaning (such a ladylike term for using a pitchfork to pick up) horse dung and wet spots out of the sawdust in the stalls. I loved the animals and I loved giving those magnificent beasts a clean place to live, eat and sleep. Most of them were very appreciative. I loved them all.
I don't know who this fellow is, this is a photo off the World Wide Web,not one representing my particular milk man or the dairy that was local to us.

Plagiarism? Who?...Me?

(Originally posted on WordPress. Copied here for ease of access by non WordPress.)

When I was quite young there was a movie that came on the television that had a very pretty lady who was very mysterious and Jimmy Stewart was the leading man. I recognized him from other movies I liked. I didn't know the name of the movie but it was about a lady who had a little

Easter...and such...

(Originally posted on WordPress. Copied here so you don't have to join WordPress to read it. )

What makes Easter sweet for you? Are you still following time honored family traditions or


By way of introduction...(it seems like I already wrote this somewhere before - maybe here), but, in case I only thought I wrote it...

Many friends have told me I should write about my life, that it isn't "normal" whatever

Old Dog, New Tricks...or...grrrr

(Original post was over on WordPress.)

You can't know what you don't know. I live by those words.

And I also am a firm believer in speaking positive words to people. I think it helps them reach their full potential.

I know that I have been blessed with a lot of people who tell me how smart I am. Today, I think I learned that maybe that isn't such a good thing

And THIS is why...

(I originally posted this on WordPress.)

I had to create a "Health & Politics" slot...with this being an election year there will be many blood pressures rising, mine among them.

We need to be vigilant, ladies and gents, because if we aren't, we will be surviving in a wasteland

Is It Grandma Magic?

(Originally posted over on Wordpress. Copied here so people won't have to join a site just to read my work.)

There is very little that is better in life than being a grandparent. You parents out there have so much to look forward to. It always made my heart ache a little to see my children growing up. 'Empty Nest' syndrome scared me. I'd been a mom so much of my life

Pipe Dreams

(Originally posted over on WordPress. Moved here so people who want to read it can do so without being forced to join something they aren't interested in.)
Do you remember when grownups would ask you,
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
That puts a lot of pressure on some children, those serious little souls who contemplate adult matters at a very young age. Some children look back blankly because

Attention! Calling All Inventors...

(This was originally posted over on WordPress...I've placed here so that those who don't want to join WordPress won't have to join just to read my stuff.)

As I sit here, suffering from a summer cold (blechkt! the worst!)

Monday, March 20, 2017

Square Nails and Deck Shoes

In 1963 or so there was an abandoned school house just a few yards from where I lived. Far enough away to be safe from the prying eyes of adults if we were careful, but close enough that we kids had to keep our exuberance under control so as not to be heard. The old yellow schoolhouse was “off limits” to us. We played there a lot, in complete secrecy, when we were children.

It was slated for demolition

Sunday, March 5, 2017

An Elephant Tale

Serendipity plays a large role in my life. And on a warm August day several years ago, it entered, stage left, again.

As I stood pumping gas I noticed a large Circus sign

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Stomach Flu

After 24 hours of violently expressing every possible fluid from my body via every possible orifice, I was weak and still feverish. I lay abed for two more days. Then, I felt pretty good, though weak, so I got up and made some chicken noodle soup, yes comfort food to a troubled tummy. It stayed put. Eureka! But it took everything I had in me to do that. Back to bed for me.

The next day I felt pretty good, a little stronger. I stripped

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Entitlement Attitude

While lying in bed, recovering from a severe flu, it dawned on me that we are responsible for an entire generation of spoiled and lazy young people...and by "we" I mean you. That may sound harsh and judgmental but my kids are grown and highly responsible, gainfully employed, hard working individuals. So, it wasn't me,

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Jackson Pollock

While some of his work is very pretty, I find that the chaos of the majority of his work  disturbs my energy field. The one below I find most disturbing of all. Just personal preference I imagine, but...geesh.....
Perhaps I just don't get it, everyone has a different take on what they find artistically pleasing but most of his work is not that for me.
What do you think?

Jackson Pollock

On Getting Older

When I was a child, I had younger siblings, I also had neighbors who hired me to babysit, so I had a vague idea of what parenting was about. There were many surprises, don't get me wrong, but I had the basic concept. Plus there are magazines galore, movies, documentaries, self-help books by the score on parenting and...people talk.

Old age is different. There weren't a lot of books on the process, and very few magazines, and not much in the way of documentation and hey, let's face it, what is out there is scary or boring and who wants to be bothered? I mean, I'm not going to ever get O-L-D anyway, right? Well, I hope to share the truths (at least the ones I know about) here with enough humor that learning will be fun. this dimension, if we are lucky, we will be old people, and that my friend, is no job for sissies.

So please revisit this section of my blog as I share with you what it means to get old from the perspectives of my friends and I.

Friday, January 20, 2017


Do you remember the TV show Airwolf? It was one of our family favorites with fairly clean language, adventure, clothing, and the star was a flying machine. A parents dream program...something for every age group. With the characters played by the easy-on-the-eyes Jan Michael Vincent and the lovable Ernest Borgnine, it was a pleasing program.

The sound of that state-of-the-art helicopter was absolutely unforgettable...we all loved it. Not so much, however, in real life...

Together Into That Dark Night...

It is with some misgiving that I greet this day. The person taking oath as the president of the United States today does not inspire me with confidence.  Just the opposite; I've heard him say things

Age Changes Things.

I know it isn't just me, although there are times when I wonder, noticing how time changes things...behaviors, physicality, beliefs, ideas, what seems important....etc.

A friend texted me today. It's been a long time since I've heard from this friend. I contacted her a year and three months ago regarding the death of a mutual friend's husband. She said they had grown

A Feeling of Dread

Only one (1) more day can I wake up with the comforting thought, "Obama is still my President." On Saturday morning I will not be able to think that, and that thought alone makes my chest grow tight and breathing becomes difficult.

I believe in the power of energy, words and thought so I try to keep my thoughts, my words

Sexual Assault

In 1973, when I was still a young wife and new mom, I had a very unpleasant experience that qualifies as sexual assault even though it was not nearly as invasive as the assaults other girls and women have suffered. With that said, it has still affected me emotionally and psychologically for over 40 years, and that just isn't fair. I'd be willing to bet that the man who perpetrated this act

Do ALL Republicans Have Short Memories?

Seriously! I watched Paul Ryan give a very heated speech about the 1000+ pages of "Obama Care" and actually give the democrats and the still President grief over all the extra garbage attached to the Affordable Health Care Act AS IF they put it there!!!!

HOLD ON a cotton pickin' minute here Mr. Ryan!!!!!

The Old Yellow Brick Schoolhouse

In 1963 or '64 there was an abandoned school house just a few yards from where I lived. Far enough away to be safe from the prying eyes of adults if we were careful, but close enough that we kids had to keep our exuberance under control. The lot was fenced along three sides, but the front was open and there were huge gaps in the fence along the back allowing easy access to small bodies. The lot was overgrown with tall grasses and weeds

The Enlightenment Project

It took 61 years for me to reach this age and now...only now, do I learn that there has been an "Enlightenment Project" going on for hundreds of years! Why hasn't the lame-stream media covered this? I began reading the

Shabby Practice!

Welcome 2017!

Happy New Year! A new year. Another year. An uncertain year perhaps...but isn't every future uncertain?

The blog I began a year ago, this blog, did not see me every week as I had planned. My writing practice went by the wayside thus this post title. I promise to do better this year...even if it kills me. Not to be facetious and certainly not to cause any further heartbreak I do not speak those words lightly.

My heart goes out to all who have lost loved ones in 2016. I lost celebrities who have unknowingly shared my journey. While I was impacted by them, they wouldn't know me from any

42 years...

...that's how long since I turned's also how many years I've been voting.

Today, for the very first time, the polls were packed. I've never seen the voting locations


Some of you will be too young to remember taking a crisp white piece of paper and rolling it into

I'm RIGHT!!! Why can't You SEE that?!?!?!

Wow! Election year certainly seems to get a whole lot of people fired up emotionally, doesn't it?

Every four years I go into this thinking, "This year it'll be different, people are older, wiser, and no

Orlando...Kalamazoo...and all the condolences

Tragedy strikes again.

People killed.

People injured.