A Butter Knife, a Wrench, and Bandages --- (Truly Grateful Series)

Last weekend, the menfolk in my family went to the big auto show in Detroit leaving me at home and up to my own devices.  I had work that I wanted to get done at my mom's house, so I stayed behind.  I am still sorting through the things left in her house.  My brother and I each have only so much room for the items we want to keep.  Once the snow gets completely melted and the temperatures get high enough that we can stand outside without our faces freezing off, we will be having an auction to sell off what remains.  Personal things, like her clothes, won't be sold, of course.

There is limited storage at the nursing home where my mother lives.  She shares one tiny closet with her roommate, and there is very little space for her clothes in it.  As a result, she still has quite a few clothes at her house that are in good condition and fit her but that there is simply no room for at the nursing home.  So I wanted to figure out a place to store her extra clothes at my house in case she needs or wants them sometime.

Our own closets are already full with no extra room to hang things in them.  I decided I would need to purchase a free-standing clothing rack to put in the basement so that I would have a place to store my mother's clothes.  I bought a garment rack that the box said was easy to assemble with no tools required.  That sounded like it was right up my alley.  It looked very similar to this picture.

Well, they lied to me right from the start because although it said "no tools required" on the outside of the box, I had to get a tool just to get the box open!  The ends were glued and then stapled shut with heavy duty staples.  Prying with just my fingers was getting me nowhere.  I went and got a butter knife out of the drawer in the kitchen to tackle the problem. (What?  Don't look at me like that.  A butter knife is a perfectly fine tool.)  After several minutes I finally got the flap on the end of the box , which was now quite raggedy-looking from my repeated jabs at it with the butter knife,  pried loose so I could take out the contents.

Inside the box I found numerous parts of various sizes and shapes and a single sheet of paper with a diagram of all the pieces on it.  The instructions on the paper said, "Assemble according to diagram."  Hmm...I raised one eyebrow at the oversimplified directions. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew (or at least more than I wanted to chew) with this project, especially since I was facing it all alone.

I dumped the parts out of the box and onto the living room floor.  I sat down next to the pile of parts to unwrap them from the plastic bags they were all encased in and try to sort them according to the diagram.  Max, my toy poodle dog, assumes that anyone who sits on the floor is there in order to play with him.  So when I sat down on the floor, he immediately pranced over to his toy basket to root around for the perfect toy.  He brought back a green stuffed bear, gave it a good hard shake, and then plopped it down on top of the pile of parts I had dumped out on the floor.

"Oh good," I thought, "just what I need is for the dog to help me with this project."  I gave the bear a toss across the room to get it out of my way, and Max, of course, immediately trotted off to fetch it back and plunk it right back down again on top of the pile of parts.

So we continued this little game.  I'd unwrap a couple more parts while the dog fetched the bear.  He'd bring it back, and then I'd throw it down the hall and out of my way again.  Finally, he got tired of fetching, and I got finished unwrapping the parts.  Max lay down on the floor next to me, and I arranged the parts on the floor in the order I would need them according to the diagram.

There were different sizes of pipes that were supposed to slide down into the pre-made holes of the plastic fixtures.  The pipes fit snugly out of necessity so that the rack would be sturdy.  Of course, since they fit snugly, they were also difficult to get pushed down into the holes.  I was having trouble getting them wedged down in where they belonged.  One particular pipe was giving me fits and just wouldn't go where it belonged.  I pushed on it as hard as I could.  The pipe slid sideways from my efforts, snapping off a small piece of the edge of the plastic fixture.  The broken piece of plastic flew out across the room and made a pinging noise as it hit against the wall.  Startled by the flying piece of plastic, Max let out a short yelp of disapproval and then gave me a sideways glance as if to ask, "What do you think you are doing?"

I began muttering under my breath, "Sassin, frassin, rassin, son-of-a-monkey," and got up to find the broken piece and throw it away.  With the missing piece of plastic removed from the fixture, the pipe now slid easily into the designated hole.  I was worried that it wouldn't be snug enough now to hold the pipe in position, but, miracles of miracles, it held.  All right.  Good.  Back to work.  Next step.

I picked up the next black pipe and noticed it had red on the end of it.  I looked at the diagram, but didn't see any black pipes with red on them.  There were just black pipes and white pipes, none with red.  I looked again at the pipe in my hand.  It definitely had something red on it.  Then I noticed my hand also had red on it.  

"Whatever that red stuff is, it is rubbing off on my hand," I said to Max who looked at me with a bit of disdain.  He had moved from his position next to me to lay by the heat register under the table.  He probably thought it would be safer there after I shot the piece of plastic across the room.  

Then I thought, "That's funny. That red stuff looks like blood."

I looked again at my hand.  I turned my hand over to look at the other side. 


"YIKES!!  I'M BLEEDING!"

I suddenly realized what had happened.  When the pipe slid sideways, not only did one end break the plastic fixture, the other end also clipped my finger and removed a piece of it. A chunk of flesh roughly the size of the eraser on the end of a pencil had been neatly gouged and removed from the knuckle of one of my fingers and my finger was bleeding profusely.  It wasn't hurting.  It had smarted a little when the pipe slid sideways, but I was distracted with the piece of flying plastic.  I didn't look down at my hand and didn't even realize I had been cut until I saw the blood.

I temporarily abandoned my partially constructed garment rack to head off to wash the blood from my hand and bandage my wound.  However, as soon as I returned, I noticed that my finger was still bleeding heavily, so heavily, in fact, that it had already bled through the bandage I had just applied.  I grumbled and muttered some more.  I headed to the kitchen to get some ice to apply to the finger to try and get the bleeding to stop.  I applied gauze and more bandages and pressure to the finger trying to get the bleeding to stop.  The bleeding wouldn't stop.  Just as I was beginning to think I was going to have to go to the emergency room, the bleeding finally slowed down.  I put a couple more bandages on top of what was already on my finger just for good measure.

I returned to the project at hand having lost all of whatever little bit of enthusiasm I had begun with for getting it done.  With the thick gauze and numerous bandages on my finger, I gingerly tried to push the next pipe into the designated hole.  To my surprise, it slid in easily.  The one after that, however, did not.

I tried to force it in, but I was afraid to put much muscle behind it.  I decided that no matter what the directions said, I needed some kind of tool to bang that pipe into the hole.  I went to the garage looking for a rubber mallet, but didn't find one.  I'm not sure if we even own a rubber mallet.  I didn't find a hammer either.  (Note to self--somebody needs to clean out the garage.  Of course, by somebody, I mean anyone else but me.)  I did finally find a big metal wrench that I thought might get the job done.

So I came back in from the garage armed with the big metal wrench.  I was tired of the whole mess at this point, but I really wanted to get it finished.  I put the next pipe in where it belonged and banged away on it with the wrench.  Max barked at me, apparently not pleased with the clanging noise that I was making. I guess he was tired of the whole mess, as well.  I ignored him and kept it up.  To my relief, it worked.  I clanged away and clanged away until I finally finished getting the rest of the pieces together.  I had the garment rack assembled in front of me at last.

Now, all I had to do was carry the rack down to the basement, drive to mom's house and load her clothes up in my car, bring them back, take them downstairs, and hang them on the garment rack.  I wheeled the rack over to the stairs, picked it up (it was fairly light, so that wasn't a problem) and started to take it down the stairs.  I got about three steps down when I realized that the rack was caught.  Because of the slope of the ceiling above me, the rack wouldn't fit if carried down upright (more muttering and grumbling...sassin, frassin, rassin, son-of-a-monkey!!).  I brought the rack back to the top of the steps.

At first, I thought I was going to have to take the blasted thing back apart and reassemble it in the basement, but I studied the situation for a moment and finally realized that if I turned the rack on its side and carried it down top first, it just might fit.  I tried it, and thank goodness, that worked.  I got the clothes from my mom's house, carried them all down the stairs too, and got them hung up on the rack.  A project I thought I could finish in an hour ended up taking me most of the afternoon.   I couldn't have done it without the butter knife and the wrench, of course, but I did accomplish what I set out to do.

Lord, for supplying what I needed: a butter knife,  a wrench, and bandages, please let me be truly grateful.

Confessions of a Wimpy Mom

At the library where I work, I have noticed a series of books that have become quite popular with the middle school aged kids (especially the boys!).   The books in the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series written by Jeff Kinney have been on a lengthy request list for some time now. 

It makes me smile to see a kid's face light up when I hand him a book from this series.  More often than not, he has been waiting for the book for a while because it is so popular, and it has been requested by so many other kids just like him.  It always does me good to see kids who are enthusiastic about reading, especially at that age, and especially boys, who often seem less interested in reading than girls.   There are currently four books out in the series and a movie based on the series is in the works and is scheduled to be released April 2, 2010.  Here's a trailer for the upcoming movie.

 

One interesting fact about the first book in the series is that it was originally published in the form of daily entries on the website, Funbrain.com.  You can read it here if you are interested.  The many fans of this series are attracted to the unique humor in the book and to the format, which is described as a "novel in cartoons."

Anyway, I was thinking about that children's book series last night as I was sitting in the bleachers at the high school gym watching my son's high school wrestling team tournament.  Seated a few rows below me in the stands was a mom wearing a sweatshirt that said, "The only thing tougher than a wrestler is a wrestler's Mom." across the back of it.  I could never wear a sweatshirt like that because, well, in my case, it simply is not true.  It would be a boldfaced lie if I wore a shirt like that.  I must confess I am a wimpy mom. 

My sons aren't wimpy.  They don't seem to be afraid of much of anything.  They are strapping, rough and tumble lads that aren't afraid of a challenge.  Both sons have been playing sports since they were four or five years old starting out with T-ball and pee wee soccer leagues.  They played little league baseball down through the years, one played football, one ran on the cross-country team, both boys participate in track now--one is a pole vaulter in college, the other is a discus and shot put thrower in high school, and one is on the wrestling team now, as I have mentioned.

They have both given their all for the teams they have played for.  They have trained and conditioned and practiced in all kinds of weather and conditions.  They have played even when they were exhausted, sick, or injured.It's the injuries that get to me.  The injuries are what make me a wimpy mom.


It bothers me when I am watching kids play sports and one of them gets injured there in front of me.  It bothers me a lot---A LOT!  My kids have had their share of injuries from the sports they have played.  Some of the injuries required stitches or trips to the emergency room or to the dentist or several weeks of physical therapy to help them heal.  Perhaps it is those injuries of the past that have turned me into the wimpy mom I am today.  I've seen them get hurt.  I don't want to see them get hurt again.


So, I'm sitting at the wrestling meet, and my son lets me know that he just found out from his coach that he won't be wrestling that day.  There are several boys in his weight class and only so many slots to fill.  Since he is a freshman, he will be sitting it out this time around for the tournament.  I can't say that I am disappointed that he won't be wrestling.  I try to support my sons in what they want to do and help them toward their goals, but I am relieved that he won't be wrestling because I cringe and flinch my way through every match that he has as it is. 


The injury count for this tournament is three: two bloody noses and one pulled thigh muscle.  The two noses are from boys on my son's team, the thigh muscle belongs to a member of the opposing team.  Not that it really matters.  I cringe no matter who it is that gets hurt in front of me. One of the bloody noses is an instant gusher getting blood all over not only the injured boy, but also on his opponent andon the wrestling mats.  While the team doctor and coaches tend to the injured boy, others wearing rubber gloves move out to the floor with spray cleaners and towels to clean up the spilled blood.  Meanwhile, I'm sitting in the bleachers thinking about the fact that it cost money for me to come into this gym just so I could sit and watch this blood bath that I don't want to see.


My older son still has two more years of college, which I am guessing will mean two more years of pole vaulting for him.  The younger son still has the rest of wrestling season to get through plus track season for this school year.  Then he has three more years of high school sports after that.  I don't know if he will play sports in college.  I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it if it appears.  

In the meantime, I guess I will just have to continue to hold my breath and cover my eyes and wince and duck while I watch my sons try their best to be the best they can at their sports.  I love my boys, and I want them to be happy.  For them, part of being happy means participating in sports.  So I will be there cheering them on, applauding their wins, and hoping their dreams will come true.  I don't have to like it, and I'm absolutely certain I am going to continue to be a wimpy mom, but I'll be there.

Oooooh--Sparkly!

First of all, let me just say that I don't get dressed up very much.  It isn't practical to get dressed up to go to work at the library where I have to spend a lot of time bending over, leaning down, reaching up, and climbing on a step stool to shelve books.  I also am frequently required to lug canvas bags full of books one or two at a time that weigh between 20 - 40 pounds each up and down stairs to and from the cargo department.  None of this lends itself to wearing a dress. 


At home, I generally wear jeans or other casual comfortable clothes.  In fact, that is what I wear just about everywhere.  The only exception being attending church on Sunday mornings or when invited to a wedding or other such special occasion.  As a result, I rarely wear makeup or much jewelry either.


I've never had much luck with wearing makeup.  Mostly it just feels fake to me.  On the few occasions I have tried to wear makeup, I have not liked the results.  Usually I put on the bare minimum.  A swipe of mascara on my eyelashes, perhaps the tiniest amount of blush, and a bit of either lip gloss or chap stick, and I'm good to go.  When I do that, though, and I look in the mirror, I always think well that doesn't look much different.  I probably needn't have bothered with it.  Most often, it is just the chap stick that goes on and that is just as a defense to keep my lips from getting dried and cracked in the cold Ohio winters.

Whenever I try to use more makeup than the bare minimum, I feel like I have one of two results.  I think I either look like a circus clown or a "lady of the evening," as my grandmother used to say--neither of which is the look that I was going for.  So like I said, most of the time I just don't bother with the makeup.

I don't wear much jewelry either.  Once again, it isn't practical to wear at work, and  I don't bother with it at home.  Although I do have some pretty pieces, most of the time, I just forget to wear them even though I do really like them.  I will wear earrings or perhaps a necklace on those rare occasions when I do dress up.


With all of that in mind, I was a little surprised when I received an email from an online jewelry company recently.  Since I rarely wear jewelry, I also rarely buy it.  In fact, most of the jewelry that I own came as gifts to me.  So when I opened my email to see a message from a jewelry company, I was curious as to why they were writing to me.

They wanted to know if they could send me some complimentary jewelry from their company.  In return, all they requested was that I might give my opinions, good or bad, of the jewelry that I had received from them on my blog. I thought it sounded like fun and couldn't think of any reason why I should say no, so I wrote back to them that I would be willing to do that. 


The jewelry company, LuShae Jewelry, then sent me a gift certificate via email which allowed me to choose any one item I wished for free from their online catalog.  Wow!  How cool is that!?!  I looked through all that they had to offer, and it wasn't an easy choice because they had so many beautiful pieces, but I finally decided from their selection of earrings to choose the pair pictured below. 

They are called Sterling Silver Flower Bud Earrings.  I thought they looked like little daisies. 

I absolutely love them.  They are "White Gold Rhodium Bonded .925 Sterling Silver Flower Shaped Earring Studs Featuring Marquise Cut Flower Pedals in Silvertone.  As delicate as a flower bud, the Sterling Silver Flower Bud Earrings have successfully meshed CZ with .925 sterling silver to personify a gorgeous flower." according to the website.  I think they are very pretty, and I love how they sparkle. 

I had them sitting here in their little box on the desk next to the computer so I could blog about them, and my son's girlfriend was over visiting.  She noticed them right away.  She admired them and liked how they sparkle too.  Next time I have an occasion to get gussied up, I'm sure I'll be wearing them (unless my son's girlfriend wants to borrow them to wear first).  Thank you to LuShae Jewelry for the lovely earrings.

To those who are reading this, don't forget Valentine's Day is coming up very soon!  (No, I don't get a commission or anything if you buy some jewelry from them, but they do have some very pretty items.)  Ladies, perhaps if you mention this post to your fellows....well, you never know what might happen!  And to any fellows who happen to be reading this, remember most ladies like things that sparkle even if they are like me and only wear them occasionally. 


Free sparkly earrings make me feel pretty, and they make me feel like dancing!  I hope you have something sparkly in your day today to make you feel like dancing too!

Do You See What I See? Oh. Wait. That's Right--You Can't!

I recently posted a video on my other blog about an optical illusion of a 3-D cube floating in the air.  (If you haven't seen it, go ahead and click on that link.  I'll wait right here until you get back.  I promise!)  Lines on the walls were placed in a certain way so that if you were standing in just the right spot in the room, you could see the floating cube.  If you stood anywhere else in the room, you could only see the lines on the walls.

I've been thinking about that cube illusion and how the principle behind it can be applied to the way two people can have very different views of the same situation.  We each of us see the world around us through our own filters and prejudices.  We make judgments and decisions based on our past experiences, on what we have been taught, and on what we think we see.  The trouble is we can only see a very small part of what is the total reality.

As a result, there may be times when we are absolutely certain that we are right about something while others we disagree with are also absolutely certain that they are right. It is entirely possible both are correct, or that both are partially correct, or even that both believe they are right, but in actuality, they are completely wrong.

I am reminded of  the story about the blind men and the elephant.  In that story according to Wikipedia, "In various versions of the tale, a group of blind men (or men in the dark) touch an elephant to learn what it is like. Each one touches a different part, but only one part ... They then compare notes on what they felt, and learn they are in complete disagreement. The story is used to indicate that reality may be viewed differently depending upon one's perspective, suggesting that what seems an absolute truth may be relative due to the deceptive nature of half-truths."

More from Wikipedia: "The blind man who feels a leg says the elephant is like a pillar; the one who feels the tail says the elephant is like a rope; the one who feels the trunk says the elephant is like a tree branch; the one who feels the ear says the elephant is like a hand fan; the one who feels the belly says the elephant is like a wall; and the one who feels the tusk says the elephant is like a solid pipe."  Each man is correct from his perspective, but none of them can see the whole picture.

The cube illusion is the same way.  Unless you are standing in the correct spot in the room, you can not see the cube, you can only see the lines on the wall.  When I am in disagreement with someone, I try to remember that they view the world through their eyes and from their vantage point, not mine.  Their frame of reference for any given situation is bound to be different from the one that I hold.


When in disagreement with another, the best possible solution is to communicate with one another and share the information that you have.  Shared experiences through communication shed light on things we haven't or can't experience for ourselves.  For many people, the initial reaction to someone who disagrees with us is to be angry.  Perhaps instead of becoming angry because they are different than we are, it would be better to look at the situation as a possible learning experience where we can broaden our horizons and deepen our compassion for others by discovering more about them.

The next time I disagree with someone, I am going to try to remind myself to think of that cube illusion.  Perhaps if I "switch places in the room" with the person who disagrees with me, we will both view things in a new way.  When it comes to trying to figure out the big picture, I think that tolerance and acceptance of and patience with others will be much more beneficial to me than being angry about the fact that they think differently from me.

Smile Moments

I thought I'd share a few moments with you that made me smile recently.

My Mom

Wow man at the nursing home seems to have taken a shining to my mother.  My mother finds him annoying, and she avoids him as much as she can.  The other day I was pushing her down the hall in her wheelchair and Wow man was coming towards us from the other direction. There was no way to avoid him, so we kept going, but he leaned way over towards her, talking to my mom and making funny faces at her trying to get her to laugh.  My mom just scowled at him. 

Many of the residents at the home have personal alarms attached either to their wheelchairs or to their clothing.  These residents are at risk of falling if they try to stand on their own.  The alarms go off if they move too far out of their chair which warns the aides to check on them.

Anyway, Wow man was trying to make mom laugh when he leaned too far out of his chair and set his alarm off.  It was very loud and sudden, and Wow man was very visibly startled and nearly jumped out of his skin.  THAT made my mom laugh.  I had to laugh with her. 

*   *   *   *   *

The residents at the nursing home are given menus to circle the items they prefer for their meals.  When I visit my mom, I go over the menus with her and mark her choices for her because she has difficulty doing it for herself.

When visiting mom yesterday, I started going over her menus with her.   Before I could even tell her the choices for the first meal, she said she wanted the turkey sandwich.  I looked at the menu, but there was no turkey sandwich listed.  I told her the choice was between a tuna sandwich and beef stew.  I showed her the menu.  

She looked at it, looked at me, and then said again that she wanted the turkey sandwich.  At first, I thought that she was just having trouble communicating with me because she often struggles to find the words that she wants to say, but then I looked at her eyes.  They were twinkling, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh.  

I smiled at her and she went into a giggle fit.  I told her again that there was no turkey sandwich on the menu, and she said, "I know."  Then she went into a full on laugh.  She was just messing with me---being ornery.  It was a very little moment, but that little glimpse of her sense of humor did me good.

My Coworker

One of my coworkers is a floater.  She works some of the time at the main library with me, but she also "floats" around and works at our five branch libraries when she is needed to fill in for someone elsewhere.  She was upset the other day because of a comment that one of the supervisors had said to her.  Although procedures are basically the same at the main library as they are at the branches, each branch has its own little rules and idiosyncrasies about how things are done.

She had done something at one of the branches the way we would do it at main, but the supervisor at the branch pointed out to her that it was done differently there.  She was upset about the incident and said, "It just fries my taters!"

I broke out in a laugh at her figure of speech and told her I had never heard that before.  She paused her story with kind of a blank look on her face and then smiled when she realized what I was laughing at.  That moment kind of put her more at ease and she relaxed a little bit.  She calmed down some then and finished telling me about what had happened.  When she had finished relaying it, she said, "Thanks.  You know, you're a good listener."  That made me smile too.  It made me feel good to know that I had helped her somehow, if only by being quiet and letting her speak her mind.

Colors in the Sky

Winter tends to make me feel depressed.  I miss the sunshine.  I get tired of looking at everything being gray, white, or black.  I miss color.  I always look forward to spring with its explosion of color and light.  

However, it seems lately, although there is still plenty of white to see in the snow on the ground, we have been blessed with beautiful colors in the sky.  I have been trying to take note of that whenever it happens and celebrate it because I do find much joy in looking at the colors I see in nature.  

This morning there was a fantastic sunrise.  Seeing that sunrise made having to get up early for other reasons seem worthwhile.  This is what sunrise looked like this morning out my front door.  It made me smile.

Old Photos

I still have a lot of things from my mom's house that I have to sort through.  It has been a very slow and tedious process for me.  This week I've been going through boxes of old photos.  I found this one of my nieces and nephews.  It made me smile because it was taken many years ago when they were much younger, but they are sitting all lined up on a couch in much the same way as they were in another photo I took recently and posted not too long ago on this blog.

 Here's the photo I posted not too long ago of those same kids.

 Here is another old photo that made me laugh.

Yes, that's me.  I think that was taken in 1977 or 1978, but I'm not sure.  My hair pulled up in those two high ponytails on the side of my head made me laugh.  It must have been a hot day, and I was trying to get the hair off my neck to cool off.  Actually, the photo above was cropped from the one below.

That's me, the maple tree monkey climbing in the maple tree in the back yard of the home I grew up in as a kid.  I used to climb up there to read or just to sit and think.  Yes, I know I used to be a little on the strange side. (Used to be?)   I don't remember who took this picture.  It must have been either my dad or my mom.

Those short shorts and my long legs hanging out there made me laugh.  YIKES!  Did we really wear shorts like that back then?  I guess we did! Apparently I did, anyway. Seeing this picture reminded me of that old Nair commercial where the girls sang, "Who wears short shorts?  We wear short shorts."  Do you remember that?  Here's one of them.

 

I hope you find some moments that make you smile in your day today.  Thanks for letting me share some of mine with you.

Peppermint Sunset

 Peppermint Sunset

Black tree branches

streak 

across the swirls of pink and white sky

of the winter sunset

like chocolate sauce

drizzled 

over ribbons of peppermint

in a candy cane ice cream sundae.

The cold 
takes my breath away.

You Could Be a Winner!

One of my blogging friends, Becky, is holding a giveaway on her blog, and she asked if I would mention it here.  She is giving away the winner's choice of one of these two books written by Kelly Stone, either "Thinking Write: The Secret to Freeing Your Creative Mind," 

or "Time to Write: Professional Writers Reveal How to Fit Writing into Your Busy Life".

If you have a minute, why not stop over and say "Hi" to Becky and enter her giveaway while you are there.  If you win, it just might make you feel like dancing!

If you already feel like dancing, here's some music to get you started.

What's Black and White and Read All Over? (Truly Grateful Series)

I frequently wonder about how decisions are made when it comes to running a local newspaper.  I am often puzzled as to why some stories are told and some are not.  Why are certain bits of news deemed important enough to go on the front page while others are relegated to pages further back?  I really have to question the thought process involved with these decisions sometimes. This seems to be especially true of the small town newspaper that is published here. 

As an example, when the huge earthquake struck Haiti this week, that news was on page nine of our local newspaper.  On the front page was an article full of tips on how college students can use their time wisely. (!!?)  I have nothing against college students using their time wisely.  In fact, I think it is a very good idea for them to do that.  I have a son who is a college student, and I certainly want him to use his time wisely.  However, doesn't it seem like the news from Haiti should have ranked higher in precedence than an article about time management tips for college students?  It certainly seems that way to me.  I realize that the earthquake in Haiti is classified as "world news" rather than local news and that is why it was further back in the paper, but the priorities still baffle me.

*   *   *   *   *

My comments about the priorities of the local paper aside, some of you have asked or emailed me regarding a follow up to some news from my little town that I posted about here at the end of December.  Some of you may remember that an elderly lady was murdered in her own home just a few blocks from where I live here during the last week of December.  The toxicology report is in.  They found no alcohol or drugs in her system.  The official autopsy states that she died as a result of blunt force trauma to the face and head.  The authorities have not released any further information with regards to a suspect or motive.  The news of the autopsy report made the front page headline of Friday's paper.

This is very sad news, of course.  We don't know what caused someone to commit such an act of senseless violence against one of our own.  Not knowing, doesn't keep the local folks from guessing and surmising and spreading rumors about it, though.  I have heard the rumors about what the police suspect, but since they are only rumors, I prefer not to spread that news here.

Murders are rare occurrences in this town.  We seldom have such shocking news greeting us on the front page.  That's certainly a good thing, isn't it.  After the autopsy report news blazed across the headline in Friday's paper, things were apparently back to "normal" here on Saturday.  On Saturday, the big news that made the front page headline of our paper was an article that gave people advice on clearing away the clutter in their closets and garages.  Seriously.  That's what it was.

Obviously, Saturday was a slower news day than Friday.  Although it doesn't make for very exciting reading in the local paper, I definitely prefer that we have slower news days.  I am glad that we have many, many more of those kinds of days here than we have of the "big" news days like Friday.

Lord, for the abundance of slow news days here, please let me be truly grateful.

Time Marches On! (and drags me along behind it, kicking and screaming)

Today's post is a rambling, random mishmash of things that have happened recently and thoughts that have been in my head.

*   *   *   *   *

I can think of a whole bunch of things I'd rather do than spend two hours on a Tuesday morning at the eye doctor's office trying to determine whether or not I have glaucoma.  They used to do that puff of air blast to check the pressure in your eye.  I was never a big fan of that test, but at least it was quick.  

They have newer tests now.  I have had enough of stinging yellow drops and focusing on the blue light.  I've had enough of staring at the red light and the blue ball while cameras zoom in and make a video and take pictures in an MRI, of sorts, of my eyeballs.  I've also had QUITE enough of the tedious side vision, video-game-like test where I have to push the button on the clicker in my hand every time I see a flash of light---thank you very much.

Good news is that the doctor found lots of green in my eyeball photo shoot pictures.  Green is apparently a good thing.  Lots of green means my retina isn't thinning...yet.  I really didn't need or want to hear my ophthalmologist add that word "yet" on the end of the sentence, but he added it anyway.

Bad news is that the pressure in my eyes is still too high, higher than it should be for someone my age.  I'm too young to have such a high pressure, he says.  So in three months I get to go back and see him again and have more drops and tests and such.  Oh boy. Thanks, Doc.  I can't wait (pardon my lack of enthusiasm).


While I was there I also got new lenses with a changed prescription put into my glasses frames.  With luck, it will help with the trouble I've been having lately seeing things clearly on the other side of the room.

I still have bad vision---no news flash there.  The eye doctors have been telling me that nearly my whole life.  My vision can be improved and corrected though. It can't be corrected to 20/20 vision, but pretty close.  So I can see.  I can see just fine, as a matter of fact. (Well, I don't see very well to drive at night, but things could be much worse.)  There are so many people who are blind who would probably love to have my old myopic eyes.  I really have no right to complain, do I?  I am actually quite lucky.

*   *   *   *   *

As a related note, on my last birthday, I turned fifty years old.  Because of my eyes and because of the genetic history in my family, the special vitamins for the 50 and over set were recommended to me by my physician.  You can't make me.  You can't make me.  You can't make me!  Oh, all right, I'll take the "old people" vitamins.  Whatever.  I take a multivitamin every day anyway, so I guess I can switch and take the ones in the bottle labeled "Silver" for adults 50+.  I don't have to be happy about it, but I will do it.

So I buy the drugstore version of the "Silver" brand of vitamins and take them home.  I open up the bottle and find these inside.

Can you believe this?  The vitamins, themselves, are colored silver.  Or to be more exact, cloudy day gray.  Seriously, is this necessary?  Did they have to make the actual pills silver?  How depressing is that?  They look as if they are old and stale and spoiled.  They certainly don't look like they are designed to improve my health or like they are anything I should willingly swallow.  I think they should have made them a bright red or a sparkling blue or hot pink or green like spring grass.  Some color that represents life and living would have been a much better choice instead of this dreary hue reserved for cement and tombstones. 

*   *   *   *   *

I had to go buy crickets today for the lizard.  If someone had told me years ago that someday when I was older I'd go every week to buy crickets to feed a lizard, I would not have believed them.  Care of the family pets, no matter who the pets actually are supposed to belong to, has always eventually fallen to my shoulders.  Just part of my lot in life that I care for the creatures, I suppose.  They do give me a lot of love and entertainment in return, so it seems like a fair enough deal.

*   *   *   *   *

I can tell you one thing that I know for sure.  I have had my fill of static electricity.  I am tired of my hair sticking out every which way in the air above my head.  I am tired of it sticking to my face and my clothes.  Even more than the static in my hair, I am fed up with the static charges that are zapping me with every thing I touch: the lamp, the kitchen sink, light switches, the dog, the telephone, and other people. 

*   *   *   *   *

I am also tired of the window on the driver's side of my car door being frozen shut.  Have you ever tried to go through a drive through (doesn't matter what kind: bank, fast food, post office mail box, turnpike ticket machine) when your car window is frozen shut and you can't open it.  Do you know how annoying it is to have to open your car door and get out of the car when you are at a drive through window because your car window won't open?  Take it from me, it is very annoying. 

I know,  I know. I live in Ohio, and it is January, and it is supposed to be cold here in the wintertime, and I should expect my car window to be frozen as a result.  Well, I know all of that, but I still don't like it!  Is it really too much to ask to have the temperature get up above freezing just long enough to thaw out my car window?!

*   *   *   *   * 

My son and his girlfriend went to the winter dance at the high school this past weekend.  This picture makes me smile.

*   *   *   *   *

Woot!  Woot!  My older son made Dean's List at his college, and my younger son is on the all-A honor roll right now as a freshman in high school.  My hands are in the air, and I am doing a happy dance.

*   *   *   *   *

There was some good news on the work front for me today too.  Our computer tech guy set up our phones at the library on an answering machine type of system that will answer the phone for us and direct calls to the proper person or department. This used to be part of our job at the circulation desk.  Now the phone will only ring for us to answer if it is for our department, and we don't have to play switchboard operator by fielding all the calls that come in to the building and transferring them to the proper person or department.  This will be a huge time saver for us and make our job easier to handle without having the constant interruption of the ringing phone to deal with.

*   *   *   *   *

Max is barking.  The mailman must be going by outside.  Probably nothing but bills and letters from AARP wanting me to sign up (as if  I don't have enough reminders lately of the passing of time!)  I don't know how they found me so fast.  They sure are persistent.

*   *   *   *   *

I won't end with a video of dance music this time around, but I do want to end with this little bit about dancing that I read somewhere recently.  

"The Hokey Pokey really IS what it's all about." 

Makes perfect sense to me!

Oh, Come On! Put On Your Happy Face!

The icicles are back. They are hanging lined up in a long row along the eaves of my house.   However, there is something else I want to point out to you, something very IMPORTANT.

Do you see that almost all of the snow has melted off of the roof?

There is something else I want you to see too. Do you see it?  Look beyond the icicles.  Do you see all that blue?  The sky wasn't gray today. It was BLUE!

AND...THE SUN WAS SHINING!!

 

Can you see how it is making the icicles sparkle?

 

 

 

 

Yes, I can see that there are spots on my kitchen window, but we're just going to live with that.  I'm certainly not going out there on a step ladder to wash the windows today!  Are you kidding me?

 

It's only 18 degrees out there!  Come to think of  it, that's another thing to be glad about, isn't it?  Let me just say that one more time.  It's too cold to wash windows today. That's a good thing, because I HATE washing windows.

So, we have blue skies, sunshine, melting snow, and we don't have to wash windows today.  Those all sound like really good reasons to dance to me.  Come on!  The gray skies are going to clear up.  Put on a happy face!

A New One For the Football Playbooks!

I'm giving it all I've got with vitamins and copious amounts of chicken soup, hot tea, and orange juice, but I'm still losing the battle right now with the cold that has taken residence in my head.  It's not just renting space.  It has moved in.  In fact, I think it just had new carpet installed, is hanging new drapes, and is unpacking the boxes.

I am bundled up in sweatshirts and afghans, but still can't get warm.  Looking outside at the snow that continues to come down isn't helping to warm me up much either.  The weather man is predicting up to six inches in accumulation for us from this storm.

I obviously am going to need to clean my car off again before I can go anywhere. 

The snow on my car is all new snow just from today.

 
This video made me laugh today, though, and everyone knows laughter is the best medicine. Hope you are healthy and staying warm wherever you are.

Did You Hear the Shout?

Did You Hear the Shout?

WOOT WOOT WAHOO!

Did you hear the shout?

School's been canceled.

No one's going out.

The report is in

from the morning scout.

The kids are cheering

without a doubt.

Freezing rain 

has iced the roads.

Go back to bed now.  

School is closed.

No buses will travel

on that icy route.

Too much risk 

of sliding about.

WOOT WOOT WAHOO!

Did you hear the shout?

School's been canceled.

No one's going out.

One Last Holiday Weekend

My brother and his family came up to see us yesterday from their home in Dayton, Ohio.  We got together for a belated Christmas celebration.  It was nice to see them all.  Although it was very cold and still is today, the roads were clear and no new snow was coming down, so they had no troubles with the drive here. We picked up my mom from the nursing home and all went out to eat at a local restaurant.  We sat and ate and talked there for quite a while.

My brother and my sister-in-law

After we left the restaurant, we took my mom back to the care center, and then went back to the house to visit some more.  My older son had been given the movie "Up" on DVD for Christmas, so we thought it seemed like a good time to all watch it together.  

If you haven't seen it, I recommend it to you.  It is both moving and amusing.  Parts of it are so touching that tears will spring to your eyes and other parts are laugh out loud funny.  It is also appropriate for, and enjoyed by, all ages.

My nieces and nephews range in age from 13 to 22 years old.

As always, it is nice to share the holiday season with family members, if for no other reason than that I get to wear the Santa hat for one more day. HA!

Max, was underfoot, as usual.  He thought while everyone was there just sitting around, they might as well be doing something useful like playing fetch with him, so he kept bringing his hot dog toy that is missing the squeaker and dropping it unceremoniously on the feet of our guests.

 

*   *   *   *   *  

My sons have both been off from school for the last two weeks, although for the last week neither was here at home.  My younger son went to Orlando, Florida with the high school wrestling team for a wrestling tournament there.  They combined the trip with visits to area attractions and amusement parks while they were there.  One of the memorable moments of his trip was that he tasted alligator tail meat for the first time.  He said it tasted a little like chicken or maybe like frog legs to him.  They went down and back, a 20 hour ride each way, on a chartered bus.  I was glad he had the opportunity to go, but also glad to have him return back home again safely too.

 

My older son spent the last week in Indianapolis, Indiana at the Campus Crusade for Christ winter conference.  Today he returns to his dorm room at Ohio Northern University.  Here he is working on a school paper on his laptop before packing up to leave today.

I baked some chocolate peanut butter brownies for him to take back to the dorm with him.

*   *   *   *   *

If you'd like to know a little more about the movie, "Up," and the making of it, you might enjoy this video.

This next video I also found amusing.  It shows how they worked with Jordan Nagai, the young man who did the voice of Russell in the movie, to get the best results for the production.