Stories Of My Life

STORIES OF MY LIFE (AND OTHER SUCH NONSENSE)

By Judith C. Kiser Proprietor of Judy’s Corner

Top Dog?............................................................................................................................ 3 I am a serial killer..and I'm not proud of it.................................................................... 5 Eye tests - DMV style and other nonsense...................................................................... 6 Thank Goodness I'm not Skinny any more...and other random thoughts .................. 7 Silly Story - Just for Fun .................................................................................................. 7 Another first husband funny -- true story ...................................................................... 8 So, I'm on Business Travel, but Bring My Personal Laptop with me, so I can keep up with my eBay selling!!!................................................................................................ 9 Today I took a Walk ...................................................................................................... 10 The Artist......................................................................................................................... 16 Chainsaw, Wench, and Bark ......................................................................................... 19 AMS Do you suffer from it?........................................................................................... 21 And then there was the time .......................................................................................... 23 Stew, you say???? ........................................................................................................... 24 Standing Tall ................................................................................................................... 26 Queen of Stale News ....................................................................................................... 27 My Opinion...................................................................................................................... 29 A Jarring Exercise .......................................................................................................... 30 A call to Arms (and Legs)............................................................................................... 32 Billboards and Blog Posts............................................................................................... 33 A Table and Chairs......................................................................................................... 35 Nursery Rhymes and Harmony..................................................................................... 36 For Every Thing.............................................................................................................. 38 When My Cats Are Old and Grey................................................................................. 39 I am getting the SILENT treatment!............................................................................. 40 The I Hate Jeannie Club ................................................................................................ 41 The transformation......................................................................................................... 43 Iron Rules ........................................................................................................................ 45 What if? ........................................................................................................................... 46 Growing Up and The Best Christmas Gift ................................................................... 47 Not so early on a Sunday morning ................................................................................ 49 When the Gardener is no more... .................................................................................. 50 Live Help On the Phone -- Not eBay ............................................................................. 51 My Personal Meeting with Bill Gates..... ...................................................................... 52 Who's the official WIZARD of Electronics in your house??? .................................... 53 A Gift to Mother ............................................................................................................. 55 Stories from my former life............................................................................................ 56 Color, Peace, FUN -- Hope you are having a great day! ............................................. 57 Stories from my former life -- Kindergartener Skips School ..................................... 59 Stories From My Former Life -- another entry ........................................................... 60 Stories from my former life -- Jennifer LOVES Daddy.............................................. 61

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Top Dog? Our family has been acquiring pets over the past ten 10 years. The first to join the family was Mel, the cat who masquerades as a lion. Regal he is and regal he looks...but don't let that fool you...he's not too bright. His biggest thrill in life is sitting on the exact piece of newspaper you are trying to read! We have to throw him "decoys"...yesterday's newspaper, placed casually on the floor, as if we are JUST ABOUT TO READ IT. He will come from afar to sit majestically upon it. Mel lives inside.

Next to join the family was Killian. When my husband and I married, my husband decided that getting a dog (something my daughter desperately wanted) was a good way to "bond" with my teenaged kids. Off to the pound they went, being careful to select a dog that Mom (me) wouldn't be allergic to. Schnauzers and Poodles are the least offensive to my allergies. So, there she was a two and half year old, super goofy looking dog, part schnauzer....other part ...STINK! Whew! Killian she was named and home she came, but she is an outdoors dog. She has a lovely back porch and heated dog huts, a tent and more, but she is an outside dog! She loves to run and play and has WAY more sense than Mel. (After all, she is my best fishing buddy!) Killian ruled the outside, Mel ruled the inside.

Next, because my daughter REALLY wanted another kitten, and, what the heck, we already had one, we returned to the animal shelter where she adopted a calico. She named her Miah. Miah is very pretty, and sneakier than Mel. She is also a LOT mouthier. She and Mel took a couple of days to work out the details, but it goes something like this. In the morning, Miah bays at the door, reminding us that she (and her silent buddy Mel are HUNGRY). I open the doors to the large closet that is their nighttime retreat, and feed them. Within 30 minutes they are chasing each other up and down the hall, making more noise than my children did when they were young! Then, they sack out for the day, waking up in time to remind us (yes, Miah does the reminding) that it is BEDTIME ALREADY!!! So, I feed them again, and tuck them in for the night...all is quiet on the home front.

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And so the story goes, the family lived happily together, humans and cats inside, dog outside. The children grew up and left home, and so, the animals now outnumbered the human residents. In July, my daughter decided to move to CA....WAY across the USA! She had a cat which she had adopted four years ago, and, since she was unsure of where she would actually be living once she arrived in CA, she decided to leave her cat with us....Hmmmm...this cat has been raised as an indoor outdoor cat....I decide that the best plan for our new family member, Dracula, is to keep her as an outside cat. So, we started her off in the enclosed porch with Killian. It took a few days for them to get used to each other, but it appears they have worked out an agreement. It goes like this: when I take Killian for a walk on the path through our woods to the lake each morning, Dracula walks 20 feet behind us. On our way back, Dracula walks right alongside Killian...without any hissing or other unpleasantries. They "hang out" together on the porch most of the day and then run free in the evening. They come back into the porch for "supper" and the porch door is closed for the night. In the beginning, Dracula kept to the high ground, perching on the table or the shelves. Killian had her pick of the sleeping quarters. This morning when I went out to take Killian on her walk I found that Dracula had taken over Killian's favorite travel kennel! Killian was sleeping in her tent! I think Dracula is now Top Dog! Tonight I took their pictures. Killian, now bows before the camera, while Dracula is comfortable in her Top Dog position!

I hope you have enjoyed this chronology. Perhaps I need to get a life?

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I am a serial killer..and I'm not proud of it I just got in from mowing my lawn and am, once again, suffering the guilt and shame of a serial killer. As always, I mounted the trusty Cub Cadet and began my whirls and swirls and dodging of trees and shrubs, trying to trim every blade of grass (ok, weeds) to my prescribed height. All was going well until I rounded the corner of the house. There, in the path of the lawnmower (not an SUV mind you, but a lowly Cob Cadet) were a bunch of impatiens...right out there in the "lawn". Oh, they were pretty, all colorful and happy showing off their beautiful little bonnets atop their clothes of lush green...but they were trespassing...had crept into the "lawn", and I had no time to adjust! Down they went! Nevermore to grace the side of my yard with their beauty. I looked at all the other impatiens, loads and loads of them bursting out from the side of the house, and I SWEAR I could feel their eyes on me...bearing down....accusing me, "SERIAL KILLER!!!" I thought about arguing my point with them, but in retrospect, had to admit they are right. Every time I cut the lawn, I kill a few of those beautiful flowers...the ones that dared to cross the "line" from the garden to the "lawn". Forgive me; I had to get this off my chest!

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Eye tests - DMV style and other nonsense I was born with a fairly common DEFECT politely referred to as "cross-eyed". Lots of surgery, exercises and glasses since I was 10 months old resulted in the GREAT vision I enjoy today (yuck, yuck). Nevertheless, this has afforded me the opportunity to really enjoy life's little bits of nonsense. One of these is the trip to the DMV to get my new license. Arriving from FL with a valid FL driver's license, I PRESUME I can simply saunter into the local VA DMV and get a VA one...have my photo taken, etc., but not endure the humiliation of the dreaded VISION TEST. "Ok step up to the binoculars and tell me what letter is in the box" (Miss DMV) ""Hmmm, I'm not seeing a box here; did you turn on the picture?" (Me) "OK, SOOOOO, you are BLIND in your right EYE!!!" (You can guess who) "No, ma'am, I have a lazy eye -- my right eye, but if you close off the view in the left eye, I can see out of the right eye." (I explain) "I'm SORRY! You are BLIND in your RIGHT eye!" (Uh huh, her again) "So, what does that mean? Can I get my license?" (I hear your cry, "what, are you a glutton for punishment?") "The RULES say that if you are BLIND in one eye you MUST have an additional mirror." (Interesting, I'm thinking, where will this mirror be suspended? Can they really fake vision in an eye by placing an extra mirror in front of my good eye?) "An extra mirror? Where does this mirror go?" (I am really getting embarrassed now as the crowds of other not-so-patient patrons wait for their turn to be mocked) "YES, On the Passenger side of the CAR." (OK, now I have to start laughing) "My car has a mirror there. I think most cars do these days." (Am I nuts?) So, she finally tires of embarrassing me, or spots her next victim in the crowd behind me and grudgingly grants me the right to have a VIRGINA driver's license". Thought to ponder...does a mirror mounted on the right side of a car have any beneficial effect for a person who is BLIND IN HER RIGHT EYE?

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Thank Goodness I'm not Skinny any more...and other random thoughts I have no idea why I thought of this, but I did, so here it is. About nine years ago I lost a lot of weight. I didn't try to, I wasn't sick, I'm sure it was stress. Nevertheless, the weight was lost over a very short period of time. I'll admit, it wasn't a pretty sight. HOWEVER.... I was amazed at the fact that EVERY time I stood in line at a grocery store, or at the local Wal-Mart, people I did not know would comment on my weight and tell me I should put on some pounds. What amazed me was that I could never imagine telling another person, skinny or chubby, that they needed to eat more, eat less, or anything along those lines....ESPECIALLY if I didn't even know them! Thankfully, in the past year I have put back on some of the weight and no longer have to endure the well-meaning folks who feel compelled educate me on how to achieve normal weight! Now, how's that for a statement about something completely meaningless?

Silly Story - Just for Fun My first husband once went to borrow a circular saw from our landlord. He left our trailer and a little while later returned with a look of consternation on his face. -- He was holding a black umbrella. He said, "I think Frank must be drunk!" I asked why he thought so and he said," I asked him for a power saw and he hunted around and handed me this umbrella!” I laughed until I was crying...in my husband's DE accent, his request sounded like "parasol"!

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Another first husband funny -- true story My post yesterday about my first husband and his DE accent got me thinking about some other funny episodes. Every year, we had a big Halloween party for our friends in our local community theatre group. (They love to dress up anyway.) We lived in a house in the woods with a 1/4 mile private dirt/gravel road/driveway. My then-husband, James, decided the number of people coming to the party would be more than we could easily accommodate parkingwise. So, he asked the folks at the little church at the end of our dirt road if we could use their parking lot for our guests. They were fine with that and James devised a plan. Our guests would be directed to park in the church parking lot and then he and another of our friends would give them rides on the trailer behind the tractor up to the house. Everyone agreed. On the evening of the party our friend, Rich, arrived in time to help with the parking/chauffeuring duties. I opened the door to find this 50-something, very heavy, jovial friend of ours dressed as a ballerina...pink tutu and all! I said, "Rich! What a great costume!" To which he smiled and explained, "James said he wanted Ballet Parking!!!" I laughed until I cried! James's version of the English language always cracked me up! I could just see him having told Rich he wanted Valet Parking!

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So, I'm on Business Travel, but Bring My Personal Laptop with me, so I can keep up with my eBay selling!!! I wonder if I am the only person who carries two laptops when on business travel. Of course I have my laptop for work...how else could I perform the work for which I am paid?? But I cannot conceive of leaving my personal laptop at home, essentially cutting myself off from my eBay store! Therefore, I walk, a little stooped perhaps, under the weight of my luggage...my backpack containing my two laptops and all the power cords, mice, etc. and my purse, and my suitcase....now, here is a sad note...I arrived last night at the hotel, checked in, set everything up and started eBaying....at 10:30 I took my shower and went to get my change of clothing prepared for today...only to discover that, in my packing haste, I had forgotten to pack my undergarments!!!! Ooops...so, a late night run to get the required garments and back to the hotel room. I guess I should pay a little more attention to what is important when packing next time! All the electronics in the world won't help me show up to work in a presentable state if I forget to pack my clothes and toiletries! So, Here I sit, in the hotel room, forgoing supper in favor of checking out the eBay blogs!! (Maybe I'll grab a bite later, if hunger gets REALLY bad!) That's one of the things I truly like about eBay selling. I can "tend the shop" from almost anywhere. Unfortunately, my shipping is delayed by a couple of days when I am sent out of town on business, but I do contact my customers immediately to let them know of the shipping delay and specifically when I will ship their items. I have just started blogging (last week) so I am pretty new to it, but I can certainly see it can occupy me for HOURS!!!

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Today I took a Walk Posted Sep-30-06 15:53:46 PDT Today I did some yard work. I mowed the lawn and swept the leaves off the porch, driveway, walkway and deck. I was pleased with my work.

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I took a walk down the path to the “pond.” My outdoor critters accompanied me on my walk. The path is still nicely “canopied” since the leaves have not yet begun their fall ritual.

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As I neared the pond, I spied a bit of red. The brilliance of autumn is starting to burst out.

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I came to the pond and was amazed at what I saw. The pond, now dry since the dam broke three weeks ago, has sprung a new life. The pond floor is green with growth and the birds and critters have taken over, where the fish can no longer swim.

Dracula, my cat was very inquisitive, but leery of walking out on the soft muddy pond floor.

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Killian, my dog, was too excited to have any such reservations! She was off on an exploration of the new and different terrain!

We walked back up the path together, Dracula, Killian and I. Dracula and Killian chased each other and played like children.

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As we came past the side of the house, I saw the other reminder that it had been a week since I took a nice long walk on my property. The Impatiens had taken over, growing completely over the opening to the crawl space. I was reminded, once again, life doesn’t just happen…it happens FAST and if you aren’t paying attention, you’ll miss it!

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The Artist My grandfather was the 20th Century man. Born in 1904 in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania, he was the eldest of five children. He was somewhat sickly, took a little longer to get through school than was normal, lost his mother at age 16 and was required to help raise his younger siblings. His father worked long hours at the mill. Larry, my granddad, took over as the other parent. Larry did graduate and went on to attend and graduate from the Pennsylvania State College (Penn State) in the mid 1920’s. His degree was in landscape architecture. Jobs were scarce but Larry found work in Washington, D.C… He met my grandmother there, where she was also working. He fell in love with this lovely southern lady, transplanted from her home in Sumter, SC. Married some time later, and with a young child, Larry found himself out of work. It was the depression and he had to do something. He wrote a letter to Frank Lloyd Wright asking about the possibility of coming to apprentice with him. Larry had a great deal of admiration for Mr. Wright’s work. He was accepted and the family moved to Arizona where Larry worked with the other apprentices on Taliesin West. Ruth (my grandmother) worked as a cook on the project, and Ruthie (my mother) played amongst the construction, carefree, as only a two-year old can be. Through the years, Larry had interesting jobs, and then the jobs dried up, and he had to find a new way to support his small family. When my mother was in her early teens, Larry decided to start an earthworm farm. He was the original. Articles were written about his earthworm farm, and made magazines and newspapers all over the world. Headlines such as, “Turn Dirt to Gold” brought letters from people far and near, hoping to get a “hand-out” from this wealthiest of men! Of course, he was barely squeaking by, and, though his concept was unique at the time, it was so readily duplicated with the purchase of just a few buckets of worms, his income from this enterprise died as quickly as it had begun. During these years the family had returned to northern VA, and Larry eventually landed a job with the federal government, one that he would keep until he retired at age 71. He was one of the architects who planned the Pentagon. In his later years, he served as the director of the Parks in the District of Columbia. In the early 60’s, at age 55, when many have stopped taking on new challenges, Larry decided he wanted to learn to draw and paint. He took classes and the teacher immediately saw his potential. He was a wonderful artist. He drew and painted everything. My grandmother, Ruth, was his favorite model. But, sitting those long hours was hard for her. So Larry took photos of her, intending to paint from the photos. When the photos were developed, he looked at his wife’s image in shock. She was so thin. He had not realized until he looked at her photograph.

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It turned out that she had cancer and lived less than a year after he took those photos. He never painted again, after she died. He became somewhat of a recluse, going to work, but nothing else, for one year he kept quietly to himself, writing a book of their life together. He titled his book, “The Golden Years.” Once completed, he was able to take on the world again. Before long he met and married my grandmother Evy. Together, they moved to Maryland to be closer to Ruthie and our family. At age 71, Larry retired and turned his focus on “hobbies.” He built a dark room and took up photography. He worked alongside my brothers and me as he directed our transformation of a quarter acre, very steep hill into a terraced series of good sized vegetable gardens, with earthen stairs down the center. And he took up Genealogy. At age 80, my grandfather decided he wanted to learn how to use the computer. He went to classes at the local college and purchased a Kaypro. It was on this computer that he wrote his book of the Lemmon family. He traveled to Scotland to research the family tree. At age 90, he decided to write another book about his life. He titled it, “A 20th Century Sojourn.” His second wife passed away at age 82, when Larry was nearly 94. He was devastated. They had moved some years earlier into a retirement home, where he was the “Social Director.” In much the same way he had mourned the loss of Ruth, so did he Evy. Unable to see very well, due to advancing macular degeneration, he put his focus on creating a lovely, finished room in the penthouse of the retirement home. This room was now suitable for movies, lectures, crafters, or anything. He dedicated the work to Evy. Every day Larry sat in front of his computer, writing letters to congressmen, presidents, senators, and local politicians. His large magnifying screen worked acceptably to allow him to continue, almost until his death. When Larry was 95, his accountant sat down with him and said, “Larry, you’re a millionaire.” My grandfather looked him right in the eye and said, “No, I’m a poor man, I’ve always been a poor man.” His accountant showed him the proof. My grandfather's practice to which he had adhered no matter how little income he had, had resulted in a wealth beyond his comprehension. I will always remember Granddad telling me, “The first 10 percent of your earnings are to be given to help others, either the church or charity. The second ten percent must go directly into savings. And you must learn to budget the rest of your earnings and live within those means.” And so it was, that at age 95, the man who had always lived as if the dollar in his pocket was his last, found out he was a millionaire! One month before his 97th birthday, in fact, on my birthday, my granddad passed away. I was with him his last waking moment, and he went peacefully in his sleep. As I watched this tiny man, bent quite badly from osteoporosis, who had spent so much of his life toiling out in the beating sun, I was impressed with the smooth, beautiful skin of his face.

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My granddad lived a full life, and saw beauty everywhere he looked. He was an avid horticulturalist, ecologist, and believed completely in giving back to the earth everything he had been given. I am the richest of all, for having known this man. Some of his art work hangs on my walls today. Every room of my house holds one of his paintings. It is the same for my brothers and sister, and of course, my mother’s house. The paintings serve a dual purpose. They remind me of where I’ve been, and they remind me that Granddad is still living through them. I share with you some of Granddad’s Gallery.

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Chainsaw, Wench, and Bark

Chainsaw lesson 101 Judy lives in a house in the woods on a pond Judy wants to see the pond from the house. Judy decides to cut down some trees. Judy takes the electric chain saw and starts her work • • • •

BUZZZZZ --- Down goes the first tree BUZZZZZ --- Down goes the second tree BUZZZZZ --- Down goes the third tree BUZZZZZ --- Down goes the fourth tree..well, almost..

Tree number four gets hung up in the other trees in the woods, only falls part way Judy surveys the situation The tree branches in two a few feet up Judy decides to cut through each branch, then the tree will fall all the way • • • • •

BUZZZZZ --- down goes the first branch BUZZZZZ --- down goes the second branch WHACK!!! --- Up goes the bottom of the tree trunk, hits Judy SMACK in the mouth BOOOOOM!!! --- Goes Judy, to the ground THUMP!!! --- Goes the chainsaw to the ground OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!!!! Judy comes to, on the ground EWWWWW!!! Blood everywhere, in mouth, bad taste, BIG PAIN

• • • •

Judy gets up Judy picks up chainsaw Judy puts chainsaw away Judy goes into the kitchen John looks at Judy John says, “What did you do?”

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Judy ignores John Judy goes to bathroom Judy examines damage Judy has BIG hole in face Judy has much crap in hole in face Judy cleans out crap as much as possible John suggests emergency room – stitches Judy decides not enough time to deal with stitches Judy holds paper towel with ice on hole in face. Bleeding stops in about 3 hours Huge, ugly black “thing” still in hole in face On closer inspection, “thing” is hunk of bark from bad tree One week later Inside hole is healed Outside hole is healed Big Bark Band-Aid left nicer scar than stitches would have Two months later Feeling has returned to lip Scar is barely noticeable Judy still cuts trees But Judy makes sure she cut ALL THE WAY through the trunk BEFORE cutting off the upper part!

And now you know the saga of the CHAINSAW, THE WENCH and THE BARK

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AMS Do you suffer from it? Do you have a cell phone that you carry with you everywhere you go (even to the bathroom?) Do you have a Blackberry that accompanies your every move in a similar fashion? Is your T.V. turned to the 24X7 headline news 24X7? If so, you may be suffering from a new disease I have coined AMS.

Afraid of Missing Something Yes, I suffer from this disease. I recognized my complete failure this morning as I ascended the stairs to my office, • • • • •

juggling the cordless phone, the cell phone, the blackberry, my bottle of soda, and my laptop

so that I could • • • •

connect into my VPN for work, while my personal laptop spun away in eBay Blogville, my personal desktop refreshed the 24X7 headline news and I was still in my “jammies!”

Geez, Louise! I need a support group FAST!! Please note..at least I do get exercise in my world of AMS..cell phone in ear, laptop on treadmill bookstand....

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And then there was the time And then there was the time when my (ex) husband decided to cook the squirrel he’d shot and serve it up for supper. A mighty hunter, and a fledgling cook, he called me at work to get my “opinion” on how best to cook the little lovelies. I told him I had been OK with the last batch, which he had pressure cooked, but that I wasn’t particularly crazy about the lead in my mouth (or whatever it is they shoot those squirrels with!) When I arrived home, he had supper almost ready. He told me he’d decided to “fry” the squirrel parts and serve them, telling the kids it was fried chicken. I was skeptical, because I was pretty sure my kids, even as young as they were, would recognize how small these “chicken” legs were. But, I was sworn to silence and the meal began. Stephen, always my slow, careful eater, was the first to get a look of “YUCK!” on his face. But, knowing his dad had made the supper and was NOT known for his charitable nature when complaints were “filed with the management,” he simply put his “chicken down and moved on to the beans…one by one. Jen was enthusiastic, two years younger, and her mother’s daughter. Never afraid to speak her mind, when she bit into her “chicken,” she revolted in alarm. “WHAT IS THIS, DADDY????”

“Its chicken, Jen, EAT IT!” I had not yet been brave enough to try mine, but since my children hadn’t actually keeled over from their experience, decided it was time for me to take the plunge. It was AWEFUL!!! With the best smile I could muster, I asked (how many times have I asked this question?) “So, how DID you make it?” “Well, I didn’t have a recipe, but I saw how you make fried chicken…I washed the meat, dipped it in egg and milk, and rolled it in the white stuff. Then I fried it.” 23

Hmmm..the white stuff…what, pray tell, is “the white stuff?” “White Stuff?” “Yeah, you know, in that jar on the counter.” My chef d’maison pointed in the direction of the counter, and my canisters filled with dry goods….. I followed his pointing appendage and there it was…the white stuff… NON-DAIRY CREAMER!!! Now, I ask you, have you ever had a wild notion of rolling your chicken (or squirrel) in a big bowl of non-dairy creamer, and then dropping it in to fry. Just in case you have, I am here to ADVISE AGAINST IT!!! I laughed my head off, as I quickly cooked a batch of hotdogs and tried to offer the “chicken” to the dog…..even she was NOT IMPRESSED!!!

Stew, you say???? Another story from the “my former life” series. When I was a newlywed, living in a trailer park in Tallahassee, FL, we owned one car. My husband drove it to work and I, working as a seamstress at the time, took the bus to the mall where I made custom clothing. My husband and I worked different shifts…I worked days and he worked nights. Those were the days…we were in love…I was pregnant with our first child…my husband was helpful…life was bliss…. One day, I got off the bus just across the street from the trailer park. My nostrils were immediately thrilled to smell the lovely aroma of a fresh baked apple pie! Yummy! I loved living in that trailer park, so close to my neighbors I could smell all their great cooking, even if I couldn’t have any! As I walked the dirt road into the park, toward my trailer, the aroma of the pie grew stronger. I was loving it….the lady next door must have been baking all day! She liked me…I bet she’d give me a piece of that pie….

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When I got to my own door, I used my key and entered my empty home….OH MY GOODNESS!!! The apple pie smell was GAGGING me now! It was coming from MY kitchen! What the heck was going on??? The phone rang, as I began to try to find the source of the now overpowering aroma. It was my dear, sweet, loving husband. “Hi Judy, I made supper…it’s in the crock pot!” (I heard the pride in his voice) So I go to the crock-pot, lift the lid and YEP!!! That’s the source! WHEW!!! HELP ME!!! OPEN A WINDOW!!! Of course, this is not the correct response to such a loving and caring husband. So, I asked, “Really, what did you make?” “Irish stew!” Was his proud response!

Well, I don’t know about you, but I have never had Irish stew that smelled like apple pie before. So, of, course, “Wow, where did you get the recipe?” I asked. “Oh, it was on one of those cards in your recipe box. I went to the store and bought all the ingredients. It said to use two stalks of celery, but I thought one was plenty. It said to use two cloves, but that seemed too little, so I figured it was a typo, and it meant two tablespoons of cloves.” Well, there you have it…the source of the apple pie smell…..and should I mention that this dear, sweet man did not know the difference between a stalk of celery and a head of celery? You guessed it…that Irish stew was chock full of celery (thankfully he stopped at one head) and overpoweringly favored in cloves. And that, my dear friends, is the true story of the first ever (and last, I hope) Irish Cloved Celery Stew!

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Standing Tall My son was always small. He was the shortest in his class in grade school, the shortest in the school in middle school, and high school, until his junior year. He was never picked on for his size; rather, he was treated as somewhat of a “mascot.” To say he was happy with his stature would be to lie. He wanted to be tall, like the other kids. Heck, he wanted to be able to stand taller than his sister, two years younger, who had passed him in height at age 3. His big wish, when in middle school, was to be able to get sneakers that didn’t have super-heroes on them! Still, he didn’t let his size get him down. He played flag football with the Parks and Recs in Tallahassee, FL at age 7. He used his size to zip past they others…they never saw him coming! But, football was really never his love… (He’d just as soon stop on the field to pick a buttercup.) He was always an avid reader and a smart kid. He excelled academically. He actively participated in Boy Scouts, community theatre, marching band, and tennis, and a zillion technology clubs. When he was in seventh grade he was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society. He stood solemnly with his peers and accepted the recognition of his achievements to-date and affirmed his dedication to excellence in the future. As I looked at the young men and ladies, their backs to the audience of proud mothers, fathers and teachers, I saw my son, standing tall with assurance beyond his tiny height.

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Queen of Stale News When my daughter was about three, she LOVED company. It didn’t matter who or why they had come to the door, once in the house, they were regaled with ALL the important things this little child with a big vocabulary could remember…she reeled off her list, as if she were the news announcer on the T.V. One day, my brother Tim, having visited only the night before, came over for dinner. He rang the doorbell (which apparently was my daughter's countdown…OK in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..) I opened the door and his foot barely crossed the threshold before Jen launched in. “Hi Uncle TIM!! Mommy took Stephen to the doctor, cuz he can’t walk cuz he hurts Daddy took Lady to the farm so she can run We got a new car Mommy made me a new dress Mommy made cookies Daddy got mad at Stephen, cuz he wouldn’t eat his peas…” My poor brother, smiled as he endured the current round of, “as Jen sees it” (an almost word-for word repeat of the night before) and when she FINALLY paused to catch her breath, he tousled her hair and said, “Hey there, Jen, how is my little Queen of Stale News?” She BEAMED up at him and said, ever so politely, “fine!” I remember being driven crazy by this greeting method! Today, I LOVE talking with Jen on the phone…she still is great about updating me on her news, but I rarely get the repeats of yesterday’s news! If you have such a queen living amongst you, enjoy her! One day, she is sure to become a lot less willing to share….but then….she will cross that magic line and become your Queen of Current Events!

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My Opinion I am paid to give my opinion. Yes, though is seems strange, that’s what I am paid to do.

Now, to be honest, I am what is referred to in the industry as a "Subject Matter Expert" (SME). What this means is that I must attend lots of very long boring meetings and answer lots of questions relating to the subject upon which I am the SME. Skills needed for this task are: 1. Being able to stay awake throughout the meeting 2. Being able to appear INTERESTED in the same discussion the 50th time around 3. Keeping current on my subject 4. Being confident in offering my opinion, knowing that decisions will be made based upon it Now, one would think if a multi-billion dollar industry is willing to accept my opinion, then my family would also be willing to accept my opinion. Right? Well, I am here to report that this is NOT right! My opinion is challenged on a regular basis by my children, my husband, and yes, my pets! So, I ask you, how is this possible? Do they not recognize that my opinion COUNTS???? OK…now I have THAT off my chest! Thank you...now, I'll sit down and be quiet! (For a little while...until someone asks my opinion...)

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A Jarring Exercise Today I will take yet another jar of coins to the bank. The jar is heavy; it is one of more than twenty such jars. My bank offers a cool money counting machine that takes my coins and produces a receipt, which I then take to the teller for deposit into my account. I have been taking these jars to perform this activity every day for the past few days. Yesterday, as I lifted the heavy pickle jar up to pour the coins into the mouth of the beast, I was caught by the realization of what I held in my hands, and was pouring from the jar. These jars of coins are the fruit of probably 50 years of exercise. Every day of his life, my father-in-law took his “walk”. His walk took him through the small streets of Woodruff, SC, down through the parking lots, and past the shops on Main Street. And always, though he looked all around to greet those he met along his route, he never let a coin miss his eye! When he returned home each day, he slipped the coins collected into his “current jar.” Sometimes, though rarely, dollar bills were found and even the occasional $5, $10, or $20 bill. All went into the jar. Each jar was filled to capacity before being stored in his “safe” (home-made within his basement work table) for a “rainy” day. On rainy days, when gardening was not an option, Bud would go into the basement and spend some time sorting through his coins, putting his collectible ones into a special container, separating nickels and dimes, from pennies and quarters, and generally “working” his coins. On August 30, 2006, Bud passed away. He was 81 and was still going strong, when his doctor told him he needed stents put in his heart. Upon arriving for the procedure, they discovered his blockages required open heart surgery (double by-pass), which he underwent on August 28, 2006. Though the surgery went as well as could be expected, the reality of his heart was revealed. He should NEVER have been able to live for the past 20 years. His heart was in no condition to sustain life. And yet his had. With each step, and each stoop to pick up a coin from his path, Bud lived the old adage, “See a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck!”

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So far, the monetary value of his daily exercise has tallied over $5000.00. What the teller at the bank sees as I make these deposits is a listing from the machine of pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, half dollars and dollars, tallied and totaled on a single receipt. What I see is the years of exercise, the smiles and words shared with those he met along his way, the care tending to the coins accidentally discarded by others, the jingle in his pocket and smile on his face as he returned from his daily walks and the love he had for his family, ensuring he saved every penny he found, making him lucky enough to share years with them his heart was not equipped to live.

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A call to Arms (and Legs) This morning when I awoke, my arms were asleep. I can't stand waking up before my arms do! I don't see why they need to sleep longer than the rest of my body! OK, to be honest, my legs take turns being the last to awaken from time to time. But I digress. This morning it was the arms. I know I NEED my arms to wake up so that I can get on with my day. I mean, I can't even do the morning potty run without them! The cats and dogs will starve without them..and, I will not be able to BLOG without them. So, as is my typical approach to raising these weary appendages on mornings they want to sleep in, I lay in the bed and WILLED them to wake up! That did not work. Rolling over is a little difficult without the help of the arms, but I managed to get to a sitting position and then started shaking the sleepy creatures. The buzzing that was their indication of sleep began to subside and normal feeling returned. I won't say they awoke with excitement to greet the day, but, once fully awake, they were happy and willing to do my bidding! And so it was that I have decided that, each morning, I should make a call to arms (and legs) and make certain everyone is ready for the task of GETTING ON WITH LIFE!!! I hope your day is a great one. I'll check back into the blogs this evening...I have a full day today... (Thank goodness the arms kicked in!)

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Billboards and Blog Posts As I was reviewing the "top ten" on the recent posting's list, I found it a little amusing. The titles blared out, much like billboards. Read in quick succession, the "message" is amusing. • • • • • •

God is awake already? Child endangerment!! Add little calorie to your life See, there's something out there for everyone New WORK: Denver & The West Cowboy Sock Monkey

It brought mind a silly old song we sang as children...origin unknown. I thought I'd share the lyrics with you.

The Billboard Song As I was walking down the road one bright and windy day, I came across a billboard and much to my dismay. The sign was torn and tattered from the rain the night before, But clearly I could figure out the message that it bore. "Smoke Coca-Cola cigarettes Chew Wrigley Spearmint Beer Kennel Ration dog food makes your wife's complexion clear Simonize your baby with a Hershey candy bar And Texaco's the beauty cream that's used by every star! SO, take your next vacation in your brand new Frigidaire, Learn to play the piano in your winter underwear, Doctor's say that babies should smoke when they are three

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And people over 65 should bathe in Lipton Tea!"

I thank you for your time and indulging my silliness!

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A Table and Chairs A perfect gift for every young child is a table and chairs. I was looking through a photo album today. These photos are from my mother's growing up years. I had to smile when my eye lighted upon this photo of my preschool-aged mother and her cousin...happily enjoying a meal at my mother's very own Table and Chairs! This photo was taken in the late 1930's...funny how things really haven't changed that much. We keep discovering what we already knew.

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Nursery Rhymes and Harmony Every child I know learned nursery rhymes, most of them little jingles or chants that young voices could accommodate nicely, allowing the expression of joy in a somewhat controlled manner. I have written about the music gifted to me and my siblings by my father for whom music defines life. So it was, at age 14, as I prepared my song for the school talent show, that I learned the "song" that would help me introduce my own children to the world of music and the beauty of harmony. My friends, four girls, all age 14 as well, were practicing their entry. I was intrigued. Joanie started out first (a capella). She sang a NURSERY RHYME!!! That's right, she sang, "sing a song of sixpence.." Her soprano voice was clear and strong and still..a NURSERY RHYME??? What were they thinking. When she finished, Kelly started...in her lovely alto voice, again, a nursery rhyme! "Little Jack Horner...". Good grief! Were these girls nuts? Then it was Becky's turn..lower soprano..."Little Bo Peep...," I'm dying here, listening to these girls. Finally, Pam begins to sing her deep, almost tenor voice, "Rock a bye Baby". I was astounded. My four 14 year old friends were going to make fools out of themselves. They were getting up before the toughest audience (their peers), dressed in silly childish costumes, and singing nursery rhymes. And then they pitched a note and began singing...all at once, each her own nursery rhyme. The harmony was incredible! I had never heard anything like it! Of course they didn't win the talent show (neither did I, but that's beside the point.) Their song, their harmony, stuck with me forever. When my children were knee-high to a grasshopper, having been singing all their very short lives, I decided it was time teach them harmony. It did so with this song. With only two children, and a husband who did not sing, were had to modify the song a bit, selecting only three rhymes at any particular singing. However, the three chosen were not always the same! Today my children are grown and still, at family gatherings, it is this song that everyone wants to hear and which we sing. I recorded the three of us singing this song two years ago as part of the gift I made for my dad that year. If you care to listen, I am including the link.

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http://www.esnips.com/doc/82825684-8285-49dc-a355-3af3e9fc0aed/NurseryHarmony.mp3 Music, nursery rhymes, harmony, giggles and tears...they are the never changing parts of life. Teach your children well....

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For Every Thing Today I was practicing with the rest of the choir for my best friend's upcoming wedding. One song she has requested is the Parable..the one from which the Byrds made their hit, Turn, Turn, Turn. The words hit me today, in a way I least expected and I could not sing. I could still play, but the tears, choking off my voice and running down my face made it impossible to sing. Why is it that sometimes a song, one which I have sung a thousand times, can bring me to such depths of emotion? Yes, the week has been a hard one, and perhaps I should have anticipated this, but it caught me by surprise, nonetheless. I have found over the years that even little nursery rhymes can hit me and make me choke up. One such is a little piece from Winnie the Pooh, When We Were Six. I used to love to read it to my brothers when we were all very young, and can remember it to this day...with cadence and all: "King John was not a good man He had his little ways, And sometimes no one spoke to him For days and days and days. And men who came across him While walking in the square Gave him a supercilious stare Or passed with noses in the air And poor King John stood sadly there Blushing beneath his crown." I know I had to have been about eleven the last time I read that, and yet. The words often run through my head, and choke me up. He was so sad, King John...but then I remember the good ending and I can smile again. What is it about the words, so tightly tied to memories that stir emotions so deep and yet seemingly forgotten?

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When My Cats Are Old and Grey I wonder if I'll ever see My cats looking older than me By all accounts they are quite old Their years are ours times seven (I've been told) I have three cats ten, eight and four And they ALL beat me to the door! They race up stairs two at a time While I must hold on, as I climb! Why yesterday just to show me The four-year old climbed up a tree! If I must age with wrinkled skin And wiry hair, white and thin I'd like to awaken one fine day To find my cats are old and grey!

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I am getting the SILENT treatment! I spent the morning dusting, vacuuming and mopping, getting packages shipped and doing laundry. I also took the opportunity to take the kitty litter boxes out and bleach them (a once every other week chore). With everything done, and back in place, I looked at my work with pride. I had done more than I had originally intended and I had done it in record time. Then I felt the eyes watching me and I turned. There he was.....Mel! He is NOT HAPPY with me!!! How dare I • • •

take his sacred box and pollute it with foul smelling bleach?? fill the box with perfumey litter??? mop the floor in HIS room, taking with me all his good drool???

This cat is so strange. He is actually giving me the silent treatment. He doesn't just walk away, though, he sits and stares at me with that, "Now look what you've done!" look on his face! I'm going to have to cave and give him some kitty treats to subdue his pea brain. Miah, on the other hand, just as annoyed with my morning activity, is expressing herself vocally...in no uncertain terms! What I don't understand is this....if they think me such a bothersome groundskeeper, why did they hire me??

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The I Hate Jeannie Club I was born number two child, number two daughter, 14 months after my sister. In quick succession followed four boys. My parents had six children in seven years. My sister was the bane of my existence. • • • •

She got to do everything first, she was the "pretty" one, she was the bossy one, she was "miss perfect"

My brothers copied me. Everything I did, they did. My sister's diction was great; I and my four brothers all had a lisp. By about age eight I recall really formalizing the idea in my head that I HATED my sister! So, as was the natural way of things, my brothers joined me in the "club". Yes, it had a name, the "I HATE JEANNIE CLUB." We even had a "secret" club house. OK, so it consisted of two metal lawn chairs, tipped up against the chain link fence to form a sort of lean-to. The five of use would huddle under our structure and chant, "I HATE JEANNIE, I HATE JEANNIE." (But never loud enough to get caught...Jeannie could really put a hurting on us!) Of course we grew up, but my sister and I were still at odds. We always shared a room and she was miss "neat stuff" and I was misfit "garbage collector." Her half of the room was always clean; mine was clean enough, once you dug through all the piles of "stuff". My mother used to threaten the shovel to clean my side. I had two typical methods of cleaning. • •

pay my sister to do it (she got to keep whatever loose change she found under the pile) or "invite" my brothers to enjoy some of my items...they always wanted my stuff, so, they cleaned me out!

My sister went to college a year ahead of me. I had my own room for the first time in my life. I painted and decorated and (ahem) kept it spotless..... The following year, I headed off to the same college my sister was attending -same dorm! My sister was so appalled by the fact that her goofy sister was coming to the same dorm that she moved out and got an apartment. But, on the day my father drove me from Maryland to Tallahassee, FL, my sister was

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awaiting our arrival at the dorm. She told my new roommate to be on the lookout for a goofy looking girl with glasses, probably carrying three violins and a guitar. (Oh, how she did exaggerate...only two violins and a guitar.) Things seemed to change a little though, once I was down there. My very presence was enough to drive her away. She lasted not six months before she left FL and returned to MD. (In reality, she decided to quit and go back to live with her boyfriend.) I graduated 2 years later and moved back to the DC area. Somehow, in the two years of separation, things were different. My sister, the one I had hated all my life, and who, I might add, reciprocated 100%, became my friend. I don't know what happened, whether there was no longer a competition, or what, but we grew closer and closer. We now live in different states, but in the entire world I can declare, she is my best friend. I'm thinking about starting the "I LOVE JEANNIE CLUB", but the metal chairs are long gone, I have no fence against which to erect them, and I doubt the "boys" and I could bend sufficiently to huddle under them!

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The transformation At 21 years old, my daughter knew what was what and what she wanted. She had landed a great job (by her standards, not mine) in Charlottesville, VA. She wanted to find a place to live, where she could have her cat and maybe a dog. She wanted some room, some space. One day in January, she told me she'd found a cabin she could rent for, well, a reasonable monthly rent. I was happy for her. I helped her pack all her belongings from the tiny townhouse in Richmond into the U-Haul, and off we went. Now the early part of the year in Charlottesville can be downright chilly, and I'm thinking, cool, log cabin, rustic, in the woods...so nice...one mile from work, but remote...probably has a wood burning stove...need to remind her of fire safety...etc, etc, Imagine my surprise when she directs me down a barely passable road, past a fair number of ”shacks" to her "cabin"....the second to smallest of the 12-14 structure in them there woods! Now, I must say, I have seen better structures at Boy Scout Camp, but, she was all excited and who was I to tell my grown daughter that maybe a door that had a handle (rather than an eye bolt with a hook on the inside and a padlock in the outside) was more the defining characteristic of "home" as opposed to "camp?" I took photos, and we laughed as we unloaded all her junk. I left her in a SEA of "belongings", and headed back to Gloucester. One month later, I took the three hour trip to see her, and was amazed at the transformation.

Cabin front door

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cabin "living room"

Transformed living room living room taken from loft

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Iron Rules I remember when I was a little girl...very little...I couldn't wait to be ALLOWED to iron, just like my older sister. I was 5, she was 6. Yes, my mother believed in teaching her youngsters ALL the necessary skills, at an early age. IRONING RULES FOLLOW • • • • • •

Age 6 - Daddy's handkerchiefs Age 7 - Pillow cases Age 8 - Linen hand towels and dish towels Age 9 - Skirts Age 10 - Shirts Age 11 - Everything under the SUN

OK, I suppose this might have been typical (if early) for a lot of young ladies learning the fine art of ironing. But my mother didn't limit this FUN to her two eldest (girls). Every one of the four boys was indoctrinated into the Hallowed Halls of the Ironing Board. Ironing was just one of the many chores my mother hoodwinked us into believing was FUN. She had an official JOB board which consisted of a bulletin board to which she had thumb tacked ALL the household and yard chores. These were pretty small pieces of paper and, in two columns, stretched from the top of the board to the bottom. Every day when we got home from school, we had to first check the JOB BOARD to see whose name she had assigned to which chores that day. In the early days, my mother enjoyed a fair amount of success with her FUN EVENTS.... It wasn't long before we figured it out...she was our boss and work wasn't really all that fun

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What if? My favorite question, asked by my children at least 1 million times through the years, was "what if..." It took on a variety of endings, such as, "what if the moon really is cheese?" (the young and innocent "what if") "what if a huge airplane flew RIGHT into the front window??!!!" (the paranoid "what if") "what if I promise to clean my room RIGHT after I play King's Quest?" (the manipulative "what if") "what if you crossed a baboon with a banana, would he still have to eat?" (the down-right silly "what if") But my favorite of all, the one that tucks me in at night and warms my heart forever, "what if I give you a GREAT BIG HUG?" (the carefree, compassionate "what if" -- that I still hear today, though my children are grown)

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Growing Up and The Best Christmas Gift For my father's Christmas present two years ago, he was 70, I gave him a homemade gift. I compiled a notebook of songs, with guitar chords. For the cover, I made a collage of photos taken at the family reunion four months earlier. I slipped into the front of the song book two things. A CD I recorded with my two children of my father's favorite songs, and a "poem" which I hoped would convey my appreciation for the gift of music my father had given us growing up. On Christmas Day, when Dad called, he was choking back tears. He loved the present and was happy I had understood what he had tried to give us all those years. I thought I'd share the poem and the collage, as I think the idea is an inexpensive gift of love, that others might find just the right type of thing for that PERFECT CHRISTMAS PRESENT. Songs of Our Youth Songs were sung in the dark -- children sang with freedom Encouraged by their father -- For whom music defined life. I recall those years in my brothers’ room The door closed, the lights off, the shades drawn Six children and Dad sitting on four beds Dad leading us in song. Song was how we passed the time on long car trips Song was how we shared our love with grandparents, who were dying. Singing together was attractive To other children, not blessed with our family love of music Audiences formed out of nowhere when we sang together Children eased up to join us– eager to feel part of the song. What we learned as children has served us in our adult lives well We are not afraid to sing out -- eager to listen to others’ song We choose to harmonize with those willing to sing along. Our children have heard our songs --They have learned the tunes we’ve taught them They have added harmonies of their own -- And they have added songs to our collection. On a cool summer night in Pennsylvania We all gathered around a roaring campfire Dad, two of his brothers, the five surviving children, the youngest brother, not part of the original mix, our nine children and husbands and wives and friends Three of us had guitars; all of us had eager voices

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And we sang. We sang the old songs, learned in the dark We sang some new songs, acquired along the way We laughed as we sang verses out of order Or when the chords we struck were in discord with the voices. The children displayed the freedom of youth, as they danced in the light of the fire. Those of us with some age enjoyed their enthusiasm, as we sang the songs of our youth.

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Not so early on a Sunday morning I went to bed early (by my standards) last night at midnight. I awoke, as I typically do, four hours later. I have knocked out some dry, but necessary work for my "day job" and am now awaiting my husband's awakening. Early on a Sunday morning, with no TV running, in fact, no sound except that made by the general hum of electricity in the house, is my favorite time of the week. I can look out on the porch and see the dog and cat haven't even yet stirred. I hear no movement from the two indoor felines, still sleeping in their "night room". The world is mine and the peace is complete. In a few minute (30 tops) my ears will be challenged by the blare of the TV, the yelp of the dog, the mewing of the cats (from all corners) the thumping down the stairs of a still sleepy and groggy husband. And I will again be greeted, as I am every morning by this husband of mine, with, "Do you EVER sleep???" And then I will add to the din, with the running of water, whirring of blender, and clanging of dishes and pots and pans as I prepare breakfast and jump-start the day. I do so enjoy my quiet time, but my favorite by far is early on a Sunday morning.

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When the Gardener is no more... On August 30, 2006, my favorite Gardener passed away. At 81 he worked the red South Carolina soil, producing more vegetables, grapes, apples, figs, and peaches than anyone I have ever seen! His garden covered about one acre and he worked it by hand...a dawn until dusk kind of guy. He battled the fire-ants who challenged his every move! Every visit to SC was a visit to my idea of culinary heaven! My mother-in-law is a fabulous (southern) cook and the corn, field peas, beans, greens of all kinds, okra, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, cabbage, grapes, apples, figs, peaches, onions, cucumbers, melons, peppers (should I go on) were always served in plentiful portions! Bud (my FIL) produced so much from his garden that he had a regular stream of customers, ready to buy the surplus bounty he had picked. It was a standing joke that my MIL was the "receptionist, and chief order taker!" She grumbled about this. My husband grumbled about not being able to pull into their driveway, for all the customers' cars. In the days, and now weeks since Bud passed away, his garden, so full of bounty, has stood as a testament to his labors of love. My MIL looks out the window with a tear escaping from her eye, as she watches the "customers", now "harvesters", pick their own vegetables and fruit. They pay her for their gatherings...the same prices Bud charged. She knows Bud would want all this food to be used, not left to rot on the vine, and yet... For me, I know the days of the "care packages", bushels of fresh produce, which Bud always insisted we carry back to Virginia with us, are gone forever. My mother-in-law will no longer make her fabulous dishes from the fruits of his labors. Next year, the garden will sit idle. It will soon turn to weeds and be mowed like the lawn. As the Gardener is no more, neither, then, is the Garden.

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Live Help On the Phone -- Not eBay I found this amusing. My friend Simon, who is from India, had a problem with his computer. (DELL, I think, but don't hold me to that). He called customer support and, after waiting the requisite length of time on hold, was welcomed by the NEXT AVAILABLE SUPPORT PERSON. He recognized the man's accent, as being Indian and inquired as to which part of India the support guy was from. They chit chatted a bit about good old home boy stuff, and then the subject turned to the purpose of the call. Simon was having some difficulty understanding the support guy's English, and suggested they use their native tongue to complete the session. He was told that this was not allowed. (Company policy) And so, two men, from nearby hometowns, separated by thousands of miles and telephone lines, spent the next 45 minutes asking each other, in heavily accented English, to repeat himself..... And yet, when I call my credit card company, I am greeted in three languages and offered an option as to which I prefer to do business in....I can transact business with a computer in my language of choice, but my friend could not conduct a TECHNICAL HELP SESSION in the language best known to both parties on the call! GO FIGURE!!!!

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My Personal Meeting with Bill Gates..... OK...It wasn't really personal at all, in fact, I was just one in a crowd of 40,000 or so computer geek types who attended CA World in New Orleans that year. However, I will tell you I was stunned by his performance: • • • • •

The crowd sat and waited..while they worked out "TECHNICAL ISSUES" with the presentation The minutes ticked by....the crowd grew restless...nearly an hour passed And STILL, they were working out "TECHNICAAL ISSUES" The computer programmers and database administrators were getting antsy.... They started to do...

THE WAVE!!!!! Now, I don't know about you, but we computer types (aging at that) are not WAVETYPE people! But, of course we are all just sheep and the wave they did, so the wave did I! FINALLY...An hour and a half after BILL GATES was supposed to begin his speech and presentation...they were ready (I believe they had called the help line -- to India, and tech support had helped them work it out --- REBOOT) BILL turned around to address the audience...his hair awry, as is his typical appearance. • • •

He stumbled on his speech, clearly not at ease with these public appearances He started his OH-SO-COOL video that had been the source of their earlier consternation And he presented the GOOFIEST "Home Movies" I had EVER seen!

My kids did a better job at making "movies" as part of their 6th grade assignments! From that day forth, I have understood genius...for I believe Bill is truly gifted..... GENIUS is that affliction which allows us to believe that because we are talented in a particular area, we are talented in GENERAL!!! I laugh every time I see Bill in an interview. I always think of the WAVE in the superdome in New Orleans!

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Who's the official WIZARD of Electronics in your house??? Are you the electronic WIZARD in your house? I am! Do I want to be? Not really. Can I officially claim the title? Well… Of course, in our house my HUSBAND is the official WIZARD of electronics. After all, he is the one who spends his EVERY WAKING HOUR looking for the NEXT BEST thing! I'm the one who asks, "Why do we need that?" Well, as things usually go, the POWERFULLY PERSUASIVE arguments my husband presents always result in the acquisition of the new piece of technology. (What I mean by this, of course, is that he just goes out and buys what he wants.) So, here we are...boxes and packing materials strewn from hither to yon - cables and batteries, remotes and instructions (these are usually buried under the pile of "trash"). I sit quietly nearby, watching the master at work. • • • •

Out comes the TVcabinet Out comes the flashlight Off comes the shirt In goes the stomach (gotta suck in that gut to squeeze back there)

Now, the master is poised to create the masterpiece. • • • • • • • •

He adds the unit to the others in the TV cabinet He plugs in the power cord He curses -- glasses are in the pocket of the shirt he took off as he prepared for this "trick" He decides squeezing back out to get the glasses is too much work He connects all the cables to the "holes" He squeezes back out He grabs the REMOTE He heads to the couch

And here is where the MAGIC really begins • • • • •

He pushes the button on the remote He curses (the sound isn't coming through) He pushes another button on the remote He curses again (still no sound) He gets UP from his throne (oh, I'm sorry, the couch) and moves CLOSER to the TV 53

• •

He pushes the button on the remote He curses again (still no sound -- even though he is now only 12 inches from the TV!)

Three is the MAGIC number • • • • •

I spring into action "I'll just check to make sure the connections are tight" I squeeze behind the TV cabinet I look at the curiously (but improperly) configured cables I rearrange the cables, and

PRESTO!!!! • • •

He pushes the button on the REMOTE He WHOOPS with GLEE HE HAS DONE IT!!!

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A Gift to Mother My mother turned 70 years old last year. She is a hard person to shop for, in some ways, because she collects junk...OK, I understand, one man's trash..suffice to say, she could make a KILLING on eBay! But I digress. I wanted to get Mom something special. I started looking on eBay and found the perfect gift.

Magazines...all different ones...all published in the different decades of her life, of course, each from her birth month, April. I was excited over the next few weeks as my magazines arrived....yes, I had to read every one! What a wonderful history I held in my hands! I wrapped her present with care and when she opened it, she was speechless, but only for a moment. Who would have thought someone's old magazines would bring such enjoyment to a person! She spent the whole evening going through the magazines, telling us stories that were triggered by each. The whole famliy enjoyed the evening. The same year, for Mother's day, I gave her a single magazine from the month and year of each her six children...the mother's ring has nothing on those magazines! I don't sell magazines, but I am certainly happy there are eBay sellers who do. They make a fabulous gift for everyone, collector or not!

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Stories from my former life When my son was in 9th grade (freshman in high school) he went to NYC with the high school marching band. I went on the trip as a chaperone...more stories about that later.... The trip was great. We saw Les Mis and Phantom on Broadway. On the last full day in NYC, the kids all had to decide which of the two busses they wanted to go on... Bus A -- Heading to FAO Schwartz Bus B -- Heading for the Metropolitan Museum of Art 75% of the kids decided on FAO Schwarz. My son chose the MET. I was surprised (and secretly proud of my son, who clearly understood the importance of what he was going to see). Well, we had a great time, but I kept wondering why he had made the selection he had. When we met back up with the other bus, the kids all had tons of toys and Steve turned to me and asked, "where did they go?” I told him it was a HUGE toy store....FAO Schwartz... He looked at me and said, "I thought they said FAO SHORTS! I didn't think I was interested in going to a store that sold SHORTS!!!!"

Yeah, my son...yeah, I know...the apple doesn't roll too far from the compost pile!!!

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Color, Peace, FUN -- Hope you are having a great day!

Color:

Peace:

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Fun:

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Stories from my former life -- Kindergartener Skips School When my children were 5 and 7 we moved Florida to Virginia. It was Christmas time and we had lots of snow, which was a new and fun experience for the children. We also got a new puppy for the children to help they acclimate to their new home. All went well and January came and the kids began school in their new school. My husband and I both worked and my mother-in-law was living with us temporarily to help with the children. As she was missing a leg, she could not walk the dirt road to the bus stop with the kids, but my son and daughter walked together and met two older children along the road. The four of them caught the bus together in the mornings. On the third day of school at about 10:30 a.m., I received a phone call at work from my mother-in-law. Here is what she said: "Judy, I heard some scratching at the door. I went to the door and saw nothing. I went back to the couch and again I heard the scratching at the door. I went back to the door and looked down...there was Jen (my 5 year old). She was cold and crying. I asked her what she was doing and she said that she had decided not to get on the bus!" It turns out that my daughter had not gotten on the bus, (my son had told her that she was NOT going to make him late by having to try to convince her to get on the bus) and had crawled into the doghouse with her puppy, thinking she would spend a lovely day skipping school! But she got bored and cold....she ate her lunch from her lunchbox...played with her puppy, and eventually, decided she had to get inside to warm up. She was trying to get in the front door without alerting my mother-in-law, but every time she got up to the door, she slipped...this kid was not used to snow! When I got home from work that night, I asked her why she had skipped school. She said she wanted to go back to Florida. (She was really homesick for her babysitter, who she thought of as a grandmother). So I called her babysitter (Mamaw) and let her talk with Jen. We never had another day of skipping kindergarten! (Now high school might have been a little different, but, that's another story).

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Stories From My Former Life -- another entry When my children were very young, I made most of their clothes. In the evening, after putting them to bed, I would sew an outfit for my daughter or a shirt for my son, etc. I usually completed the item I started before heading to bed myself, as I was never sure how soon I'd get back to it, should I leave it incomplete. So, one night I made a cute little blouse and skirt for my daughter...then four years old. I laid it out on the coffee table, knowing that she would see it as soon as she passed through the living room on her way to our bedroom in the morning (this was her routine...please read related entry Stories From My Former Life). Sure enough, the next morning, Jen came padding into our room, entirely delighted. "Mommy, Mommy!" "Wake UP!!!!" "YOU WON"T BELIEVE WHAT YOU MADE ME!"

I had to laugh! I still think of that day when I make her items (now by special request, of course)!

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Stories from my former life -- Jennifer LOVES Daddy When my daughter was very young (about two) she would awaken very early every morning, climb out of her bed and would come crawl into our bed (on my side). Every day my husband would complain that she favored me over him. Every day I assured him that this was not true...she would crawl in on his side one day. Happy was I one fine morning when Jen came padding into our room and headed for Daddy's side of the bed. Happy was I when she said, "Daddy?" Happy was he as he reached to pick her up to help her crawl in.

UGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!! Unhappy was he when she puked on him (right in the face)! (Happy was I that she had selected DADDY to take care of her that morning!) HAHA...I still laugh when I think about that morning.

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