Just watching the radar and waiting for the 6-10 inches to fall on us over the next two days. Reminds me of a time when we used to prepare for this with a little more zeal. Remember snow tires? Well, I do, which leads me to this interesting fact you may not know about me:
I can't do squat with cars...never could
Jackie and I were married about a year. I had a really neat 62 or 63 Impala convertible that had about a million miles on it. Or it could have been a 65 Chevy we bought from an ex cop. (That will be another story.)
Winter was coming, so I bought two mounted snow tires from Sears.
We went to Jackie's parents' house in Rolling Meadows and I decided to drive to her grandmother's about a mile away and use her driveway to mount the snow tires.
Her grandmother lived near Arlington Park....and for some reason, there was an event going on at the track in November. Those details are fuzzy. Important, but fuzzy.
So there I was at Bana's house, putting on my new snow tires. Took off the old tire, put on the snow tire, repeated the process on the second rear wheel and was done.
Packed up the old tires in the trunk and backed out of the driveway.
Now there was a lot of traffic on the road, so I had to wait a second or two to back up.
I saw my chance, backed out, put it in forward......and the car would not move.
I started to panic. I put it back in reverse and backed across the street to a parking space.
I went in and used Bana's phone to call Jackie and tell her the car was broken. The line was busy. She had two younger brothers and a younger sister, and one of them was on the phone.
I decide to run back to her house to ask for help.
In those days I could run.
I ran over, went in the back door and she stared at me.
'What's wrong?" my bride asked.
"Car....(gasp....gasp).....won't go forward....(gasp gasp).....tires are too big. (gasp gasp)" I managed to croak.
"Too big?"
"Yes....(gasp gasp)....can't go forward.......(gasp gasp) .... had to back across two lanes of traffic...(gasp gasp) .... almost got killed. Ran here.....help."
"Did you take off the emergency brake?" bride asks, as family looks in on this dramatic scene.
"Shit!"
I tear out of the house, race the nearly mile back, get into the car, take off the emergency brake and put it in gear.
It moved forward without any problem.
That should have been an indication not to mess with cars. But I continued to work on them, ruining two heater coils in the process, before I learned to not touch the car in any way except to drive it.
So when the snow comes, and we awaken tomorrow with snow covered roads, I will take comfort in the fact I don't plan to drive in the stuff.
Then again, if I had snow tires, maybe I would.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, January 30, 2014
As I wished....dammit!!
I finished assembling my Christmas present today
Yes, I know it is Jan. 30.
Yes, I know John W. and Kevin K. and Emily did the bulk of the work, leaving me with three drawers to put together.
Yes, I love assembling Ikea furniture. I don't have any problems with that.
No, this wasn't Ikea. It was a Kobalt steel work bench for the basement. And it was a royal pain in the ass.
John and Kevin assembled the majority of it Christmas Eve while Jackie and I were at church. All that was left was putting together two small drawers and one large drawer. They did mention it took a long time because the self tapping screws did not fit correctly.
Self tapping....sweet....just insert screw, turn, smile.
I spent 3 hours on the first drawer. Three!!!! The holes were not big enough for the self tapping screws. So when I finally managed to align 14 R (right side) with 19 (rear of drawer), because I could not see the holes to start with, when I finally aligned the holes the screws would not go in. Not only would they not go in, the threads would strip because the hole was too small.
After about 2 hours I gave up. I went to Moore's Hardware where friendly Mike found some small bolts with little nuts that I could use. But the holes were still too small. (This almost seems erotic!)
So I got a sheet metal screw and screwed it into the hole, hoping to open it just a little.
Not as easy as it sounded. I screwed, and screwed (can't believe I am actually using that in a sentence) until I could screw no more. (or that!!) I managed to open up the holes (16 of the little holes) and put the self tapping screws, and a couple of my new nuts and bolts, into place.
Then I put the stupid drawer in and it was half an inch out on the left side and flush with the right. I pulled. I tugged. I flipped the levers as directed. That sucker was in their tighter than a Payton Manning pass to a wide out.
So I moved on to drawer two. This time, I went ahead and screwed open the holes and it only took about 2 hours to assemble the drawer....but the bottom doesn't sit flat! It has a big bow in the middle.
I dreaded drawer three, the long one. But Eureka!! The first 7 screws went in....then nothing. I worked 90 minutes to finish that SOB.
Emily came over and I asked her to help me yank out the first drawer.
We went downstairs and I gave it a gentle tug to demonstrate that it was stuck and the damn thing practically flew out of the glides. Go figure.
Now I have my first ever real workbench. Now some people (named Beth!) would ask why I would need a workbench because I am not the handiest guy in the world.
Because I am a man. And that's what men do. We go to the basement and do stuff. And we need work benches to do it.
So bring on a project....I am ready!
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Let it bleed, let it bleed, let it bleed oh let it bleed
That was the Beatles with their hit, "Let it Bleed."
Oh wait, "Let it Be".....well, never mind. I have started this post already, so I am going to finish it.
I can't stand the sight of blood
My blood, your blood, blood on tv, animal blood, blood on ice.....can't stand the sight of it. Makes me woozy and light headed.
I have to have blood tests on a fairly regular basis because of a cholesterol medication I take. The first few times, they had to lay me down to draw blood. I can't watch them take blood, or look at the vials, so just to be sure, I take off my glasses and hum. Now I don't know how humming actually helps, but that's what I do.
I've tried to pull up my big boy pants, but it doesn't work.
I was about 8 and the family was on vacation at Dewey Lake in Michigan. A bunch of us, including my brother Dennis, were walking over to Cable Lake, just down the road from Dewey Lake. There was a drinking fountain and Denny said "Let's race." He hit a root and went flying into the stone fountain, cutting open his forehead.
He bled like a pig.
I took one look at him and hit the ground.
He had to carry me back to our cabin. My mother was panicked when he showed up with me in his arms and me covered with blood because it was dripping on me.
When I do get a cut, I hop around yelling and wrapping it in paper towels. Then I hop around some more. If I stand still, I will pass out.
When Jackie had Emily, the doctor asked if I wanted to go in the delivery room. I said I wanted to go for coffee, because I sure as hell would hit the floor at some point in the delivery process.
Even bloody movies...I have to hid my eyes.
I guess the one good thing about it, I know I am nor, nor will ever, be a vampire.
Oh wait, "Let it Be".....well, never mind. I have started this post already, so I am going to finish it.
I can't stand the sight of blood
My blood, your blood, blood on tv, animal blood, blood on ice.....can't stand the sight of it. Makes me woozy and light headed.
I have to have blood tests on a fairly regular basis because of a cholesterol medication I take. The first few times, they had to lay me down to draw blood. I can't watch them take blood, or look at the vials, so just to be sure, I take off my glasses and hum. Now I don't know how humming actually helps, but that's what I do.
I've tried to pull up my big boy pants, but it doesn't work.
I was about 8 and the family was on vacation at Dewey Lake in Michigan. A bunch of us, including my brother Dennis, were walking over to Cable Lake, just down the road from Dewey Lake. There was a drinking fountain and Denny said "Let's race." He hit a root and went flying into the stone fountain, cutting open his forehead.
He bled like a pig.
I took one look at him and hit the ground.
He had to carry me back to our cabin. My mother was panicked when he showed up with me in his arms and me covered with blood because it was dripping on me.
When I do get a cut, I hop around yelling and wrapping it in paper towels. Then I hop around some more. If I stand still, I will pass out.
When Jackie had Emily, the doctor asked if I wanted to go in the delivery room. I said I wanted to go for coffee, because I sure as hell would hit the floor at some point in the delivery process.
Even bloody movies...I have to hid my eyes.
I guess the one good thing about it, I know I am nor, nor will ever, be a vampire.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Now I lay me down to sleep
I have vivid, colorful, extremely weird dreams
I think I break every mold of the dream theorists. I dream in colors. Vivid colors. I remember my dreams well after waking.
Sometimes I dream, wake up, then go back to sleep and ..resume the dream!
I have gotten so angry, or scared, in dreams that sometimes I can't go back to bed....or get back to sleep.
I keep journals....sometimes I write down my dreams, as least as much as I can remember.
One time I accidentally picked up an old journal and thought I found a notebook written by someone using some pretty heavy hallucinogenic drugs, then realized it was my writing! If a shrink saw it, I would be institutionalized.
My dreams get inspired by tv...which was why I had to stop watching Law and Order. Every night I watched an episode I would dream some terrible dream about a terrible tragedy that would wake me up and leave me in a terrible mood the rest of the day. Terrible, if you missed that.
Not all of my dream is in color. Sometimes there will be a car, or a house, or a person's hair that is a wild, bright color.
Often I have fantastic dreams....I mean set in a fantasy world with flying horses and talking trees. Sometimes they are more mundane....like going trick or treating and ending up in the coolest house I ever imagined.
Lots of famous people have been in my dreams....and lots of friends too. I can't count the times I have had a dead relative in a dream.
The worst nights are the ones where I have a terrible dream that wakes me, only to fall back asleep and have another dream that awakes me again and then it's morning.
I tell Jackie some of them and she shakes her head and says, "Now I know why you are so tired in the morning."
I expend a lot of physical energy in my dreams, running, jumping, eating, laughing, avoiding death and danger, saving damsels in distress. All that is tiring business.
I remember one morning I was bothered by a dream, it was so hauntingly familiar. So I browsed through my journals and found a very similar dream, only months earlier. It might have been summer, so maybe I was into reruns.
I don't seem to see a trigger. Wine gives me happy and sad dreams. I actually cried myself awake one time.....blubbering like a baby when I woke up.....because of a dream that I could not even remember.
A guy I grew up with once told me, "Ah to sleep....perchance to dream."
I think he went on to write plays, but maybe that was also a dream.
I think I break every mold of the dream theorists. I dream in colors. Vivid colors. I remember my dreams well after waking.
Sometimes I dream, wake up, then go back to sleep and ..resume the dream!
I have gotten so angry, or scared, in dreams that sometimes I can't go back to bed....or get back to sleep.
I keep journals....sometimes I write down my dreams, as least as much as I can remember.
One time I accidentally picked up an old journal and thought I found a notebook written by someone using some pretty heavy hallucinogenic drugs, then realized it was my writing! If a shrink saw it, I would be institutionalized.
My dreams get inspired by tv...which was why I had to stop watching Law and Order. Every night I watched an episode I would dream some terrible dream about a terrible tragedy that would wake me up and leave me in a terrible mood the rest of the day. Terrible, if you missed that.
Not all of my dream is in color. Sometimes there will be a car, or a house, or a person's hair that is a wild, bright color.
Often I have fantastic dreams....I mean set in a fantasy world with flying horses and talking trees. Sometimes they are more mundane....like going trick or treating and ending up in the coolest house I ever imagined.
Lots of famous people have been in my dreams....and lots of friends too. I can't count the times I have had a dead relative in a dream.
The worst nights are the ones where I have a terrible dream that wakes me, only to fall back asleep and have another dream that awakes me again and then it's morning.
I tell Jackie some of them and she shakes her head and says, "Now I know why you are so tired in the morning."
I expend a lot of physical energy in my dreams, running, jumping, eating, laughing, avoiding death and danger, saving damsels in distress. All that is tiring business.
I remember one morning I was bothered by a dream, it was so hauntingly familiar. So I browsed through my journals and found a very similar dream, only months earlier. It might have been summer, so maybe I was into reruns.
I don't seem to see a trigger. Wine gives me happy and sad dreams. I actually cried myself awake one time.....blubbering like a baby when I woke up.....because of a dream that I could not even remember.
A guy I grew up with once told me, "Ah to sleep....perchance to dream."
I think he went on to write plays, but maybe that was also a dream.
Monday, January 27, 2014
I have a past life.
Most of you know I retired from teaching....but I had a life before that.
I was once editor of the Rochelle News Leader
I started there as a reporter while still in school at NIU. I graduated with a degree in journalism and was going to be the next Bob Woodward. That did not seem to work.
I was an intern, and that developed into a full time job as reporter/photographer. I was with the company for 11 years....including time served at the Ogle County LIFE and at the News Leader.
And I did win an award for a photo....still have the plaque someplace. First place for shot of a 78 year old woman who was running in a Thanksgiving turkey trot at the old high school track.
At some point I worked a summer or two there, and still have friends from my newspaper days.
I am doing a monthly column in the paper.....just keeping in practice.
I was once editor of the Rochelle News Leader
I started there as a reporter while still in school at NIU. I graduated with a degree in journalism and was going to be the next Bob Woodward. That did not seem to work.
I was an intern, and that developed into a full time job as reporter/photographer. I was with the company for 11 years....including time served at the Ogle County LIFE and at the News Leader.
And I did win an award for a photo....still have the plaque someplace. First place for shot of a 78 year old woman who was running in a Thanksgiving turkey trot at the old high school track.
At some point I worked a summer or two there, and still have friends from my newspaper days.
I am doing a monthly column in the paper.....just keeping in practice.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Let's see, if north is that way, east is to my right....
I never was a Boy Scout. I never learned to tie knots, pitch a tent, or read a map.
That's right, I can't read maps
That little gap in the knowledge zone has led to some interesting quandaries.
Like the time on family vacation and Jackie was driving. We were near Niagara Falls and we were trying to cross from the U.S. into Canada. I told her to turn left, then right, follow that road....all based on the map I was reading in our Rand McNally Road Atlas.
Turns out I had the map for the Canadian side. That explained why we ended up in a parking lot in an industrial area, no where near the falls, or bridge, or road and lost in Canada.
And the time in Holland when I was riding my bike down a lane that had not seen many bikes. A huge tractor came barrelling along the same lane, forcing me off the road and into a weed patch and possibly sheep dip....my feet smelled for days. I misread the map. And missed my lane.
I can't tell you the times I read a map upside down, or had the wrong map, or misread the street locations.
Even those mall maps that say "Here you are" don't help. I ended up in a Pink store in Oakbrook because the Eddie Bauer store was supposed to be there, according to the map. But it wasn't, because the map, or me, was upside down and I should have gone left instead of right.
We were in Orlando on a family vacation and I thought we should go visit two aunts. On the map it was just an inch.....but in the car it was over 2 hours. And no, we were young and had a car that did not have AC and went in August because it is cheaper and we had two kids in the back seat. Talk about hot and uncomfortable! And then it rained, so we had to roll up (by hand) the windows, which made it worse.
We got there, had lunch, and left....because it was almost dark and we had a two hour drive back to the Days Inn.
Makers of Garmins and other devices know this...so they tell me to turn left out of my driveway to reach Skare Road, then turn left to take Flagg Road like I am some sort of flippin' idiot who can't find his way to the tollway.
I follow the cardinal rule for all male drivers, I never ask for directions.
I navigate by sense. And Memory. And touch.
When driving in Michigan I once drove past the road I wanted four times because the drive-in that was there 40 years ago was torn down and that was the only way I knew where to turn.
Sometimes it may take me a little longer to get there. Once in a while I have to reverse directions. Isn't it the journey that counts, not the destination? BS!! Getting there is important!!
So if you ever go with me and I am driving, be prepared to read a map and tell me where to go.
Several people have over the years.
That's right, I can't read maps
That little gap in the knowledge zone has led to some interesting quandaries.
Like the time on family vacation and Jackie was driving. We were near Niagara Falls and we were trying to cross from the U.S. into Canada. I told her to turn left, then right, follow that road....all based on the map I was reading in our Rand McNally Road Atlas.
Turns out I had the map for the Canadian side. That explained why we ended up in a parking lot in an industrial area, no where near the falls, or bridge, or road and lost in Canada.
And the time in Holland when I was riding my bike down a lane that had not seen many bikes. A huge tractor came barrelling along the same lane, forcing me off the road and into a weed patch and possibly sheep dip....my feet smelled for days. I misread the map. And missed my lane.
I can't tell you the times I read a map upside down, or had the wrong map, or misread the street locations.
Even those mall maps that say "Here you are" don't help. I ended up in a Pink store in Oakbrook because the Eddie Bauer store was supposed to be there, according to the map. But it wasn't, because the map, or me, was upside down and I should have gone left instead of right.
We were in Orlando on a family vacation and I thought we should go visit two aunts. On the map it was just an inch.....but in the car it was over 2 hours. And no, we were young and had a car that did not have AC and went in August because it is cheaper and we had two kids in the back seat. Talk about hot and uncomfortable! And then it rained, so we had to roll up (by hand) the windows, which made it worse.
We got there, had lunch, and left....because it was almost dark and we had a two hour drive back to the Days Inn.
Makers of Garmins and other devices know this...so they tell me to turn left out of my driveway to reach Skare Road, then turn left to take Flagg Road like I am some sort of flippin' idiot who can't find his way to the tollway.
I follow the cardinal rule for all male drivers, I never ask for directions.
I navigate by sense. And Memory. And touch.
When driving in Michigan I once drove past the road I wanted four times because the drive-in that was there 40 years ago was torn down and that was the only way I knew where to turn.
Sometimes it may take me a little longer to get there. Once in a while I have to reverse directions. Isn't it the journey that counts, not the destination? BS!! Getting there is important!!
So if you ever go with me and I am driving, be prepared to read a map and tell me where to go.
Several people have over the years.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
1,000 to 1 are pretty good odds
I had a motto growing up on the north side of Chicago: A coward dies a thousand deaths, a brave man dies but one; I think the odds 1000 to 1 are pretty damn good.
In the face of adversity, I flee. Fast
John, Billy G., and I were walking back from playing tennis at Waveland Park on the lakefront...or at least in that area. I had an old tennis racket. Wooden. Looked like a snow shoe without laces.
I must have been 1964, Mustangs had just come out, and it was summer....near the Fourth of July.
I swear this is what happened....although John said the details were not exactly the way he remembered. But it is my story.
We were walking along Ashland Avenue about one-half block from my street and pretty close to John's house and Billy's house.
A guy on the opposite side of Ashland yelled to us. I do believe he was selling firecrackers and asked if we wanted to buy some.
As we yelled, and gestured, a brand new Mustang drove past. The driver slowed and pulled to the curb. He may have backed up to be even with us. That I am not sure about.
The conversation went something like this:
Guy in car (GIC): You yelled at us. What do you want.
Me: We didn't yell at you. Why would we yell at you?
GIC: I dunno. Maybe you are some kind of smart ass.
Me: (Twirling my snow shoe tennis racket in my hand, like a real pro). (snickering) We aren't the smart asses.
GIC: You better shut up or I'm going to bust that f.....in tennis racket over your head.
Me: (Now strumming my tennis racket like a guitar, while singing and dancing a jig.) Oh big man's gonna get out of his car and bust this f....in tennis racket over my head. Oh, Oh, we are scared. Big man. Big man.
The Mustang's passenger side door opened and the small guy sitting in the front seat had morphed into a version of the Hulk, only he wasn't green. He must have been 7 feet tall and 900 pounds. Standing in the street, he towered over us. I swear his arms were like logs and he had fangs!
Then the other guy got out. He was bigger. Neither one had taken a liking to my snow shoe tennis racket guitar singing and impromptu jig.
Meanwhile, the firecracker guy came over to out side of the street and said something.
The two Goliaths turned toward him.....and we took off.
When we hit the corner at Belle Plaine John went to Billy's house, I headed toward John's, and Billy raced toward mine. We looked like a firework exploding, each dieing ember falling in a different direction.
My final glance backward revealed the two huge behemoths (redundant, I know, but I want to emphasize the point they were big) had the fireworks guy sandwiched between them.
We did manage to meet up later....keeping a wary eye out for the Mustang.
I don't know what happened to the guy selling firecrackers.....my guess is he wasn't real happy with us either.
I still have that tennis racket. It makes a great guitar.
In the face of adversity, I flee. Fast
John, Billy G., and I were walking back from playing tennis at Waveland Park on the lakefront...or at least in that area. I had an old tennis racket. Wooden. Looked like a snow shoe without laces.
I must have been 1964, Mustangs had just come out, and it was summer....near the Fourth of July.
I swear this is what happened....although John said the details were not exactly the way he remembered. But it is my story.
We were walking along Ashland Avenue about one-half block from my street and pretty close to John's house and Billy's house.
A guy on the opposite side of Ashland yelled to us. I do believe he was selling firecrackers and asked if we wanted to buy some.
As we yelled, and gestured, a brand new Mustang drove past. The driver slowed and pulled to the curb. He may have backed up to be even with us. That I am not sure about.
The conversation went something like this:
Guy in car (GIC): You yelled at us. What do you want.
Me: We didn't yell at you. Why would we yell at you?
GIC: I dunno. Maybe you are some kind of smart ass.
Me: (Twirling my snow shoe tennis racket in my hand, like a real pro). (snickering) We aren't the smart asses.
GIC: You better shut up or I'm going to bust that f.....in tennis racket over your head.
Me: (Now strumming my tennis racket like a guitar, while singing and dancing a jig.) Oh big man's gonna get out of his car and bust this f....in tennis racket over my head. Oh, Oh, we are scared. Big man. Big man.
The Mustang's passenger side door opened and the small guy sitting in the front seat had morphed into a version of the Hulk, only he wasn't green. He must have been 7 feet tall and 900 pounds. Standing in the street, he towered over us. I swear his arms were like logs and he had fangs!
Then the other guy got out. He was bigger. Neither one had taken a liking to my snow shoe tennis racket guitar singing and impromptu jig.
Meanwhile, the firecracker guy came over to out side of the street and said something.
The two Goliaths turned toward him.....and we took off.
When we hit the corner at Belle Plaine John went to Billy's house, I headed toward John's, and Billy raced toward mine. We looked like a firework exploding, each dieing ember falling in a different direction.
My final glance backward revealed the two huge behemoths (redundant, I know, but I want to emphasize the point they were big) had the fireworks guy sandwiched between them.
We did manage to meet up later....keeping a wary eye out for the Mustang.
I don't know what happened to the guy selling firecrackers.....my guess is he wasn't real happy with us either.
I still have that tennis racket. It makes a great guitar.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Wow, my head is getting bigger!!
I just checked the stats page and this blog has over 1,000 page views! That means people have looked at the pages over 1,000 times!! And my mother isn't even alive to add to the totals.
Which brings me to this fact you may not know about me.
I like it when people compliment my writing
I am like that little puppy craving a bit of attention and a treat for doing a small trick. When people say, "I liked that article/entry/story/thing you wrote," I feel happy inside. I don't show it. Sometimes I get embarrassed but inside my little ego is jumping up and down and doing cartwheels and headstands. (Which could also explain the bouts of dizziness. Or maybe it is the wine.)
I especially like it when people tell me I remind them of someone famous....like an Andy Rooney (thanks, John) type person.
I do put effort into what I do. For instance, I had to look up compliment/complement to be sure I was using the right one. (Thanks Shari for the dessert tip......I want second helpings of dessert...2 esses) When writing about The Great War I made sure the places were spelled right and the information was correct and not a product of my imagination.
So for all those who have read and commented either in person or on line, thank you.
And if you are the person in Russia who has visited this site, I would love to hear from you!!
Which brings me to this fact you may not know about me.
I like it when people compliment my writing
I am like that little puppy craving a bit of attention and a treat for doing a small trick. When people say, "I liked that article/entry/story/thing you wrote," I feel happy inside. I don't show it. Sometimes I get embarrassed but inside my little ego is jumping up and down and doing cartwheels and headstands. (Which could also explain the bouts of dizziness. Or maybe it is the wine.)
I especially like it when people tell me I remind them of someone famous....like an Andy Rooney (thanks, John) type person.
I do put effort into what I do. For instance, I had to look up compliment/complement to be sure I was using the right one. (Thanks Shari for the dessert tip......I want second helpings of dessert...2 esses) When writing about The Great War I made sure the places were spelled right and the information was correct and not a product of my imagination.
So for all those who have read and commented either in person or on line, thank you.
And if you are the person in Russia who has visited this site, I would love to hear from you!!
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Slowing down....in more than one way
Perhaps slowing down is not the correct expression. Being more careful? Not being so stupid?
I am getting more cautious every year
Now I read labels for expiration dates. I check to see if the extension cord is frayed before I plug it in. I walk more carefully on slippery surfaces....don't want to break an ankle/arm/hip now.
Take tomorrow as an example.
Tomorrow is a zoo day for me. These are one day vacations that I take every other week. I make a leisurely drive to Brookfield Zoo, visit with some adults, play with kids, have a quiet lunch overlooking the east mall at the zoo, grab a cup of coffee and an oatmeal raisin cookie for the drive home. Sometimes I stop at Oakbrook to shop. Zoo days are a mental break for me.
But I am not going tomorrow. The forecast is cold. With strong winds and blowing and drifting snow. Plus a snow "event" starting in the afternoon. (I don't know what a snow event is. I do know I don't have to RSVP for it and food is generally not served.)
Now I have a winter survival kit in the van. Blankets, candle, matches, bottled water, energy bars, all in a Tupperware box. (I used to have chocolate bars....but I would eat them the first day. I don't like the energy bars.) I was going to throw that in the car for tomorrow, just in case.
The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to go.
Now understand there was a time I would have gotten up, dressed and left.
One year my mother was visiting us. My brother Dennis had invited us to his house in Spring Grove for New Years Eve.
We must have had 20 inches of snow on Dec. 30. The morning of Dec. 31 it was still snowing and I loaded up the car: Jackie, two kids, mom.
As I put my mother in the back seat I said, "We are going. Don't say a word. Buckle up."
Usually we could make it to that part of the state in 90 minutes.
It took us over 4 hours.
Some roads were barely plowed. Others were one lane and drifted. Yet onward I plunged.
We actually hit a stretch near Woodstock where the snow was piled about four foot high on the right hand side of the road. At least I thought it was the right hand side. I was going about 25 when a police car passed me on the other side of the snow! Turns out, I was on the wrong side of the road and no easy way to get back to the right side (literally).
Luckily no one else was on the road. They were too smart.
We managed to get to Denny's house. They were surprised to see us. They tried calling the house and when no one answered, they wondered where we were because no one in their right mind would drive 100 miles in crappy conditions like that.
I have ventured out in snow events, blizzards, near blizzards, ice storms and whatever else nature decided to throw at us.
But I was younger then. Young people tend to view themselves as indestructible, immune to danger, competent to withstand any challenge.
I'm no spring chicken anymore, and the dangers are increasing all around me.
But maybe tomorrow, when it is cold, and snowy, and with a snow event, just maybe I'll work up the courage, the what the hell attitude, the nerve to drive into town and get my Friday coffee at Cypress House.
I may be getting cautious......but life has to have adventures, no matter how small.
Heck, maybe I'll even meet some people there to talk with!!
I am getting more cautious every year
Now I read labels for expiration dates. I check to see if the extension cord is frayed before I plug it in. I walk more carefully on slippery surfaces....don't want to break an ankle/arm/hip now.
Take tomorrow as an example.
Tomorrow is a zoo day for me. These are one day vacations that I take every other week. I make a leisurely drive to Brookfield Zoo, visit with some adults, play with kids, have a quiet lunch overlooking the east mall at the zoo, grab a cup of coffee and an oatmeal raisin cookie for the drive home. Sometimes I stop at Oakbrook to shop. Zoo days are a mental break for me.
But I am not going tomorrow. The forecast is cold. With strong winds and blowing and drifting snow. Plus a snow "event" starting in the afternoon. (I don't know what a snow event is. I do know I don't have to RSVP for it and food is generally not served.)
Now I have a winter survival kit in the van. Blankets, candle, matches, bottled water, energy bars, all in a Tupperware box. (I used to have chocolate bars....but I would eat them the first day. I don't like the energy bars.) I was going to throw that in the car for tomorrow, just in case.
The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to go.
Now understand there was a time I would have gotten up, dressed and left.
One year my mother was visiting us. My brother Dennis had invited us to his house in Spring Grove for New Years Eve.
We must have had 20 inches of snow on Dec. 30. The morning of Dec. 31 it was still snowing and I loaded up the car: Jackie, two kids, mom.
As I put my mother in the back seat I said, "We are going. Don't say a word. Buckle up."
Usually we could make it to that part of the state in 90 minutes.
It took us over 4 hours.
Some roads were barely plowed. Others were one lane and drifted. Yet onward I plunged.
We actually hit a stretch near Woodstock where the snow was piled about four foot high on the right hand side of the road. At least I thought it was the right hand side. I was going about 25 when a police car passed me on the other side of the snow! Turns out, I was on the wrong side of the road and no easy way to get back to the right side (literally).
Luckily no one else was on the road. They were too smart.
We managed to get to Denny's house. They were surprised to see us. They tried calling the house and when no one answered, they wondered where we were because no one in their right mind would drive 100 miles in crappy conditions like that.
I have ventured out in snow events, blizzards, near blizzards, ice storms and whatever else nature decided to throw at us.
But I was younger then. Young people tend to view themselves as indestructible, immune to danger, competent to withstand any challenge.
I'm no spring chicken anymore, and the dangers are increasing all around me.
But maybe tomorrow, when it is cold, and snowy, and with a snow event, just maybe I'll work up the courage, the what the hell attitude, the nerve to drive into town and get my Friday coffee at Cypress House.
I may be getting cautious......but life has to have adventures, no matter how small.
Heck, maybe I'll even meet some people there to talk with!!
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Great War.....what was so great??
I am reading "The Last of the Doughboys" by a man named Richard Rubin.
For you youngins', Doughboy was the name given soldiers from the U.S. in World War I. But they didn't call it World War I, they called it The Great War. I imagine the death and devastation experienced by our European friends was so great, it was an apt way to describe what happened. It was also called the War to End All Wars....but we know that didn't work out.
Which brings me to something you may not know about me:
I have a direct connection to The Great War
My father was German....his entire family, all my aunts and uncles from his side, were from Germany. My pops came over in 1902...he was one year old. Or he came in 1901, I have it written down somewhere.....heaven help me.
And if you are doing the math, I was born when he was 48. By the time I was 10, he was in no mood to go play catch, ride bikes, or be a pal. He was tired and grumpy, mostly grumpy. But I digress.
He was also a soldier (for our side) in The Great War. As far as I know, he went into the army, was sent to Camp Grant in Rockford and went through training camp....and the war ended. He was mustered out and went back home to Chicago.
One time on our annual visit to our Swiss Miss, we went to some battle grounds and museums from the Great War. Based on what I saw, the only thing great about it was the number of people who died and the destruction it caused. We stayed in a villa which was now a bed and breakfast. The villa had been French, captured by Germans, bombed, recaptured by the French, bombed again, and eventually rebuilt.
Walked the battle ground at Verdun. This battle on the Western Front was fought from February to December in 1918. 300,000 men died!! Almost 1 million more were wounded. When the French finally claimed victory, they had advanced the lines maybe one half mile. We visited a monument for Australian troops. The names of 10,000 Aussies who died in France are listed on the memorial. There are also monuments for Newfoundland (which still has extensive trenches), Canada, and other sites we did not get a chance to visit.
Every small French village had a memorial to their dead in The Great War.
I don't think we can comprehend what those people went through.
I've always liked history. I have enjoyed reading about the world and its past. "The Last of the Doughboys" is a really fascinating look at the survivors. The author interviewed men who were 103-109 years old in the early 2000s. He said he spent a decade tracking down and interviewing the former Doughboys.
Maybe because of my dad, and the fact I know so little about him, that's why this book really grabs my interest. Makes me wish I had taken some time to talk to him about his life....I have a feeling he had a few surprises hidden away.
For you youngins', Doughboy was the name given soldiers from the U.S. in World War I. But they didn't call it World War I, they called it The Great War. I imagine the death and devastation experienced by our European friends was so great, it was an apt way to describe what happened. It was also called the War to End All Wars....but we know that didn't work out.
Which brings me to something you may not know about me:
I have a direct connection to The Great War
My father was German....his entire family, all my aunts and uncles from his side, were from Germany. My pops came over in 1902...he was one year old. Or he came in 1901, I have it written down somewhere.....heaven help me.
And if you are doing the math, I was born when he was 48. By the time I was 10, he was in no mood to go play catch, ride bikes, or be a pal. He was tired and grumpy, mostly grumpy. But I digress.
He was also a soldier (for our side) in The Great War. As far as I know, he went into the army, was sent to Camp Grant in Rockford and went through training camp....and the war ended. He was mustered out and went back home to Chicago.
One time on our annual visit to our Swiss Miss, we went to some battle grounds and museums from the Great War. Based on what I saw, the only thing great about it was the number of people who died and the destruction it caused. We stayed in a villa which was now a bed and breakfast. The villa had been French, captured by Germans, bombed, recaptured by the French, bombed again, and eventually rebuilt.
Walked the battle ground at Verdun. This battle on the Western Front was fought from February to December in 1918. 300,000 men died!! Almost 1 million more were wounded. When the French finally claimed victory, they had advanced the lines maybe one half mile. We visited a monument for Australian troops. The names of 10,000 Aussies who died in France are listed on the memorial. There are also monuments for Newfoundland (which still has extensive trenches), Canada, and other sites we did not get a chance to visit.
Every small French village had a memorial to their dead in The Great War.
I don't think we can comprehend what those people went through.
I've always liked history. I have enjoyed reading about the world and its past. "The Last of the Doughboys" is a really fascinating look at the survivors. The author interviewed men who were 103-109 years old in the early 2000s. He said he spent a decade tracking down and interviewing the former Doughboys.
Maybe because of my dad, and the fact I know so little about him, that's why this book really grabs my interest. Makes me wish I had taken some time to talk to him about his life....I have a feeling he had a few surprises hidden away.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Is it really bedtime?
I know they are comfortable.
I know they are something to wear for a quick trip to the store.
But, really?
I don't like seeing people in public in pajamas
Pajamas are pajamas. Wear them at night, or while lounging around the house. But spare me from seeing you in them at the store.
And believe me, wearing some with the word "Pink" or "US Naval Trainee" does not make them sexy or attractive.
And speaking of that, am I supposed to read the writing on someone's butt?
I mean, it's there.....if people didn't want me staring at their butt, they should not have words on their bottoms.
But I do feel guilty..... and heaven forbid I get caught! What do you say in that obviously awkward situation?
I mean with some people it is PINK...and with others it is P I N K......if you know what I mean.
And guys wearing sweatpants? That look is not attractive if you are overweight or over 60. Or even 40. And it sure doesn't work if you are overweight and over 40 and the sweats are obviously too tight for certain parts of your body to look attractive.
Wearing them to the gym or excercise center may be ok....but please spare us!!
And if you think it's ok...check out the pictures of shoppers at Walmarts around the country.
That's it.
I know they are something to wear for a quick trip to the store.
But, really?
I don't like seeing people in public in pajamas
Pajamas are pajamas. Wear them at night, or while lounging around the house. But spare me from seeing you in them at the store.
And believe me, wearing some with the word "Pink" or "US Naval Trainee" does not make them sexy or attractive.
And speaking of that, am I supposed to read the writing on someone's butt?
I mean, it's there.....if people didn't want me staring at their butt, they should not have words on their bottoms.
But I do feel guilty..... and heaven forbid I get caught! What do you say in that obviously awkward situation?
I mean with some people it is PINK...and with others it is P I N K......if you know what I mean.
And guys wearing sweatpants? That look is not attractive if you are overweight or over 60. Or even 40. And it sure doesn't work if you are overweight and over 40 and the sweats are obviously too tight for certain parts of your body to look attractive.
Wearing them to the gym or excercise center may be ok....but please spare us!!
And if you think it's ok...check out the pictures of shoppers at Walmarts around the country.
That's it.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Spelling bees and memory
Some words are difficult for me to spell
I don't remember the correct spelling, or I get them confused.
Desert and dessert. One is sandy and dry, the other is moist and delicious. I always have to look one of them up to see if I am using the right one.
Calendar is another. I want to put spell it der, like colander.
Cemetery gets me sometimes. I try to remember one day I will die and be buried in my name. Tery. OK, maybe it isn't a perfect way, but whatever works.
Jiminy Cricket helps me every time with encyclopedia. I have to sing the song when I spell that and I always picture him sitting on the edge of a book.
A rat in the house may eat the ice cream......arithmetic. I have to remember the rat eats the ice cream, or I spell the word with an A. But then again, sometimes I just use math.....even then, that can cause problems. I mean, the a and e mean a great deal! I like meth? Worlds best meth teacher? You have to be careful.
I consider myself a good speller, but every once in a while, I get stumped and just get it wrong!
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Where's that ringing coming from??
Technology sometimes baffles me
I have Bluetooth in my car. My phone is synced to it. I go to Emily's house tonight to pick up a backpack someone forgot, and called her cell phone.
Now, I had left my car on and running in her garage, cause I was only going to be a minute.
I pull out my cell phone, in her house, and call.
Number rings, then the line goes dead.
But I can hear John talking.
So I hang up, and call again, thinking it must be the volume on my phone.
Same thing happens.
So I call my house, hoping Jackie can call Emily.
I can here the phone ringing, but not in my ear.
So I put my cell phone down and start walking around.
Suddenly I hear Jackie answering the phone, but it's coming from the garage!
That's when I realized, the phone was routing through my Bluetooth in the car. People kept answering, but I could not hear them because I was in the house.
Sometimes I am just no smart enough to use these modern things!!
I have Bluetooth in my car. My phone is synced to it. I go to Emily's house tonight to pick up a backpack someone forgot, and called her cell phone.
Now, I had left my car on and running in her garage, cause I was only going to be a minute.
I pull out my cell phone, in her house, and call.
Number rings, then the line goes dead.
But I can hear John talking.
So I hang up, and call again, thinking it must be the volume on my phone.
Same thing happens.
So I call my house, hoping Jackie can call Emily.
I can here the phone ringing, but not in my ear.
So I put my cell phone down and start walking around.
Suddenly I hear Jackie answering the phone, but it's coming from the garage!
That's when I realized, the phone was routing through my Bluetooth in the car. People kept answering, but I could not hear them because I was in the house.
Sometimes I am just no smart enough to use these modern things!!
Saturday, January 18, 2014
No seconds for me, please.
I don't like finishing second.
There could be 1,000 people competing, and I am ok with 999, but second? Really ticks me off. If there are only four people, or 10 people, or whatever, I am ok with finishing anywhere, even last...which has it's own bragging rights.
But second? That can mean one error I made, 1 step I didn't follow, 1 second I did not go fast enough, 1 card I did not play right.......all sorts of ifs, ands, or buts. (Or butts, in my case.)
Like getting beat in a one run baseball game, or a 1 point football game, or basketball game....so many ifs bring that victory tantalizingly close.
But finishing last? I probably made all sorts of mistakes. The competition was much better than me. I was over my head. That I can laugh off.
But second place? No thanks, I'll pass on that.
There could be 1,000 people competing, and I am ok with 999, but second? Really ticks me off. If there are only four people, or 10 people, or whatever, I am ok with finishing anywhere, even last...which has it's own bragging rights.
But second? That can mean one error I made, 1 step I didn't follow, 1 second I did not go fast enough, 1 card I did not play right.......all sorts of ifs, ands, or buts. (Or butts, in my case.)
Like getting beat in a one run baseball game, or a 1 point football game, or basketball game....so many ifs bring that victory tantalizingly close.
But finishing last? I probably made all sorts of mistakes. The competition was much better than me. I was over my head. That I can laugh off.
But second place? No thanks, I'll pass on that.
Friday, January 17, 2014
A little planning goes a long way
This may come a a shocker to some of you.
I don't plan well....or sometimes at all
And this is a follow up to Jan 16, It's a French Tradition, entry.
Basically, Jackie and I were on a train from Paris to Normandy to see the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach.
We went to Bayeux, if my memory is correct. According to the guide books there is a bus right across from the train that goes to the cemetery. So I was a little surprised to not see a bus, or a company that supposed to have an office, where it should have been.
I stood looking around and met four young Americans. They too were going to the American Cemetery, so we decided to share a taxi. It was 20 Euro, so we split the cost.
The youngin's said they were going to hike from Omaha to Pointe du Hoc and then to Utah Beach, sleeping on the beach at night. They also heard of the beach to beach bus.
We reached the cemetery and everyone got out. We were there probably 45 minutes when a fog rolled in. This was a very thick fog. You literally could not see more than 15 feet ahead of you.
I figured it was time to find the bus and motor up to Pointe du Hoc.
Pointe du Hoc is a high bluff overlooking the English Channel. On D-Day, a group of 225 Army Rangers were given the task of scaling the 100 ft bluff and capturing the huge German guns that were there. The guns were capable of blowing up the boats as they neared the landing zone. When they did finally fight their way to the top, the survivors found the guns were really telephone poles painted black. 135 of the Rangers were killed or wounded. The Germans had already moved the real guns. Faulty intelligence is not a modern problem.
So, looking around, I did not see a bus stop. I went into the cemetery office where the American woman looked at me with a blank stare when I said I was looking for the beach bus. It finally dawned on her that I wanted the summer bus that ran on weekends and made unscheduled stops along an undefined route. This was Thursday. When I asked how I can get to Pointe du Hoc, she suggested a taxi.
I said to Jackie, "We are going to take a taxi there."
"How much will that cost?" she asked.
So I asked the taxi driver, the same guy who brought us out, and he said, "Maybe 20 Euro."
So we got in.
As we are heading down the roads, small roads, through small villages, I check my wallet. I have 30 Euro plus some coins.
We had been on the road 10 minutes, the meter hit. 15 E. 20 minutes hit hit 23 E. When it hit 30 Euro, Jackie asked, "How much money do you have?"
"No problem there has to be an ATM there."
When it hit 30 Euro, she started to cry. "We are going to be in trouble. How will you pay? How will we get back? What if there is no ATM?" And she cried some more.
We arrived at Point du Hoc, with a 32 E tab on the meter. There was not an ATM in sight. We had not passed through a town, village, intersection that had one. We were in deep do do. or merde as the French call it.
She looked at the meter and began crying again. "How will we get back? We don't have any money?"
The driver turned around and looked at us. His face honestly softened. "For you, I wait here 45 minutes. You get out, come back. I take you back to Bayeux. 30 Euro."
I gulped. "You mean this 30 plus another 30?"
He smiled. "No, 30 Euro. Total. That's all."
It was with great relief that we got out of the car, wandered around the battle ground, checked out the German bunkers, looked down the bluff, and got back into the cab.
Back in Bayeux, I gave him my 30 Euro....and Jackie had another 5, so we gave him that as a thank you.
I did say I was sad we did not get to Omaha Beach. Jackie looked at me and said, "We were right above it. Didn't you see it?"
The fog and obscured the beach. I didn't even know it was there.
By now it was about 4 p.m. We had not eaten or had anything to drink since getting on the train that morning.
I had some change in my pocket....Euros come in 1 and 2 Euro coins....and managed to buy one Coke and two ham and cheese (jambon au fromage) sandwiches from a shop across from the train station. We wandered around the town for a while, I never did find an ATM. Luckily, I bought round trip tickets.
We went back to Paris and our hotel and once in the City of Lights, I hit the cash machine.
Now when we do a trip, I take plenty of Euros...or Francs.....or dollars.
But I still am a little weak on planning.
I don't plan well....or sometimes at all
And this is a follow up to Jan 16, It's a French Tradition, entry.
Basically, Jackie and I were on a train from Paris to Normandy to see the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach.
We went to Bayeux, if my memory is correct. According to the guide books there is a bus right across from the train that goes to the cemetery. So I was a little surprised to not see a bus, or a company that supposed to have an office, where it should have been.
I stood looking around and met four young Americans. They too were going to the American Cemetery, so we decided to share a taxi. It was 20 Euro, so we split the cost.
The youngin's said they were going to hike from Omaha to Pointe du Hoc and then to Utah Beach, sleeping on the beach at night. They also heard of the beach to beach bus.
We reached the cemetery and everyone got out. We were there probably 45 minutes when a fog rolled in. This was a very thick fog. You literally could not see more than 15 feet ahead of you.
I figured it was time to find the bus and motor up to Pointe du Hoc.
Pointe du Hoc is a high bluff overlooking the English Channel. On D-Day, a group of 225 Army Rangers were given the task of scaling the 100 ft bluff and capturing the huge German guns that were there. The guns were capable of blowing up the boats as they neared the landing zone. When they did finally fight their way to the top, the survivors found the guns were really telephone poles painted black. 135 of the Rangers were killed or wounded. The Germans had already moved the real guns. Faulty intelligence is not a modern problem.
So, looking around, I did not see a bus stop. I went into the cemetery office where the American woman looked at me with a blank stare when I said I was looking for the beach bus. It finally dawned on her that I wanted the summer bus that ran on weekends and made unscheduled stops along an undefined route. This was Thursday. When I asked how I can get to Pointe du Hoc, she suggested a taxi.
I said to Jackie, "We are going to take a taxi there."
"How much will that cost?" she asked.
So I asked the taxi driver, the same guy who brought us out, and he said, "Maybe 20 Euro."
So we got in.
As we are heading down the roads, small roads, through small villages, I check my wallet. I have 30 Euro plus some coins.
We had been on the road 10 minutes, the meter hit. 15 E. 20 minutes hit hit 23 E. When it hit 30 Euro, Jackie asked, "How much money do you have?"
"No problem there has to be an ATM there."
When it hit 30 Euro, she started to cry. "We are going to be in trouble. How will you pay? How will we get back? What if there is no ATM?" And she cried some more.
We arrived at Point du Hoc, with a 32 E tab on the meter. There was not an ATM in sight. We had not passed through a town, village, intersection that had one. We were in deep do do. or merde as the French call it.
She looked at the meter and began crying again. "How will we get back? We don't have any money?"
The driver turned around and looked at us. His face honestly softened. "For you, I wait here 45 minutes. You get out, come back. I take you back to Bayeux. 30 Euro."
I gulped. "You mean this 30 plus another 30?"
He smiled. "No, 30 Euro. Total. That's all."
It was with great relief that we got out of the car, wandered around the battle ground, checked out the German bunkers, looked down the bluff, and got back into the cab.
Back in Bayeux, I gave him my 30 Euro....and Jackie had another 5, so we gave him that as a thank you.
I did say I was sad we did not get to Omaha Beach. Jackie looked at me and said, "We were right above it. Didn't you see it?"
The fog and obscured the beach. I didn't even know it was there.
By now it was about 4 p.m. We had not eaten or had anything to drink since getting on the train that morning.
I had some change in my pocket....Euros come in 1 and 2 Euro coins....and managed to buy one Coke and two ham and cheese (jambon au fromage) sandwiches from a shop across from the train station. We wandered around the town for a while, I never did find an ATM. Luckily, I bought round trip tickets.
We went back to Paris and our hotel and once in the City of Lights, I hit the cash machine.
Now when we do a trip, I take plenty of Euros...or Francs.....or dollars.
But I still am a little weak on planning.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
It's a French tradition
In case you missed the news, the leader of France is in hot water because of a supposed affair he is having. That is so typically French. I have been to France. So, fact 16:
I once slept with a French woman
And it was all Jackie's fault! She made me do it!!
It was our first trip to visit Julia. On the first two trips, we scheduled four days in the middle to get away so Julia could regroup. We went to Paris.
I had read the guide books. I knew what to see. There was a yearning to see Normandy, so I suggested we go to Normandy for the day and see the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach, The hotel gave us directions, we boarded a train and headed out of the City of Lights.
I like to travel second class. One reason, it's cheaper. Another reason, you get to see and possibly meet "the common people," people like us.
Unfortunately, second class was pretty full, so I sat on one side, next to a man about my age. Jackie sat next to an incredibly beautiful young woman....long dark hair, complexion the color of a honey dew melon. She was attractive.
Now Jackie had asked about my plans. My plan was to get off the train, cross the street by the station, hop on the bus to the beaches, then take the bus that went from beach to beach.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
It seems the train ride was somewhere close to two hours. After 15 minutes, Jackie looks over at me and says simply: Change seats.
Huh? I thought to myself. She wants me to sit next to the Most Beautiful Female on the Planet?
So I pretended I did not hear her.
She glared at me and hissed: Change seats, now.
Fantasy is good. It provides a relief to the daily stresses of life. Fantasy, and fantastic thoughts, allow us to renew our creative side, stimulate our minds....and the thought of sitting next to The Most Perfect Woman Ever Born To Walk the Planet Earth was indeed very stimulating.
So I moved. I did have to wipe the drool off my mouth several times, but I managed to sit down. She looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back. I said Bonjour. She replied Bonjour. Then she turned her head toward the window and went back to sleep.
Summer in Paris can be warm. The train was warm. I was warm. I started to sweat. But I did not sweat any where near the amount the sweet young thing produced. And while I used Old Spice, it was apparent riding second class was one way to save money, skipping deodorant was another.
I turned to my wife who was grinning very happily two seats back and out of the odor zone.
So, what to do?
I looked and saw The Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sweat Glands was out like a light.
So I closed my eyes and let the rocking of the train lull me into a dream filled with good scents.
So, you see, I slept with a French woman.
And day 17 will continue the trip.
I once slept with a French woman
And it was all Jackie's fault! She made me do it!!
It was our first trip to visit Julia. On the first two trips, we scheduled four days in the middle to get away so Julia could regroup. We went to Paris.
I had read the guide books. I knew what to see. There was a yearning to see Normandy, so I suggested we go to Normandy for the day and see the American Cemetery and Omaha Beach, The hotel gave us directions, we boarded a train and headed out of the City of Lights.
I like to travel second class. One reason, it's cheaper. Another reason, you get to see and possibly meet "the common people," people like us.
Unfortunately, second class was pretty full, so I sat on one side, next to a man about my age. Jackie sat next to an incredibly beautiful young woman....long dark hair, complexion the color of a honey dew melon. She was attractive.
Now Jackie had asked about my plans. My plan was to get off the train, cross the street by the station, hop on the bus to the beaches, then take the bus that went from beach to beach.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
It seems the train ride was somewhere close to two hours. After 15 minutes, Jackie looks over at me and says simply: Change seats.
Huh? I thought to myself. She wants me to sit next to the Most Beautiful Female on the Planet?
So I pretended I did not hear her.
She glared at me and hissed: Change seats, now.
Fantasy is good. It provides a relief to the daily stresses of life. Fantasy, and fantastic thoughts, allow us to renew our creative side, stimulate our minds....and the thought of sitting next to The Most Perfect Woman Ever Born To Walk the Planet Earth was indeed very stimulating.
So I moved. I did have to wipe the drool off my mouth several times, but I managed to sit down. She looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back. I said Bonjour. She replied Bonjour. Then she turned her head toward the window and went back to sleep.
Summer in Paris can be warm. The train was warm. I was warm. I started to sweat. But I did not sweat any where near the amount the sweet young thing produced. And while I used Old Spice, it was apparent riding second class was one way to save money, skipping deodorant was another.
I turned to my wife who was grinning very happily two seats back and out of the odor zone.
So, what to do?
I looked and saw The Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sweat Glands was out like a light.
So I closed my eyes and let the rocking of the train lull me into a dream filled with good scents.
So, you see, I slept with a French woman.
And day 17 will continue the trip.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
What time is it?
I seem to have a computer addiction. I just spent two hours looking at pictures from my trip in 2011. Two hours!! I got a little lost in the memories.
Sometimes I have no sense of time
I know I sat down for just a little while, and two hours flew by. Same happens when I play solitaire. I want to play one game and an hour later I am still wasting time.
The concept of time eludes me. I am often late for appointments, or meetings, or get togethers with friends. I live 10 minutes from town. So if someone calls, I always say, "I'll be there in 10 minutes." But I have to brush my teeth, take out the trash, put on shoes, finish breakfast....and it's 30 minutes before I get there.
So if I happen to be late for a date....forgive me in advance.
Sometimes I have no sense of time
I know I sat down for just a little while, and two hours flew by. Same happens when I play solitaire. I want to play one game and an hour later I am still wasting time.
The concept of time eludes me. I am often late for appointments, or meetings, or get togethers with friends. I live 10 minutes from town. So if someone calls, I always say, "I'll be there in 10 minutes." But I have to brush my teeth, take out the trash, put on shoes, finish breakfast....and it's 30 minutes before I get there.
So if I happen to be late for a date....forgive me in advance.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Cross words can be a good puzzle
I have a major in journalism. I write. I read. Words are important to me.
I love to do crossword puzzles
I admit I don't always finish them (again, the reason for my blog in the first place...completing projects). I also don't throw them out, so I have about the last two months of Sunday Tribune crosswords on my computer desk. Most of them are finished, but some are really hard and I did not know the answer, so I opted to finish it later.
In Italy, I had a book of crosswords that were very difficult because of the cultural references. Who starred in what movie, appeared in what TV show. The crossword book was printed in the early 1980s! Crap, I can't remember what I had for breakfast today, let alone what was popular in 1980! I was only 10 then anyway.
I tried Sudoku a couple of times, but I am not very good with numbers, number patterns and my patience is a little thin.
But crosswords.......they are celebrating their 100th year. First one was in 1913 right before Christmas. It was a diversion for people bored with reading. I tried that one, and it was impossible. The language and words have changed a lot in 100 years.
I sometimes do them while sipping a liquid refreshment of the grape variety. If I have had two glasses, I usually have to redo a lot of answers. For example, the Meatles were not a rock band. Shovy is not the nickname for a popular American automobile. The wine does allow me to work faster, but the accuracy diminishes the more I consume.
Hell, some crosswords I can't even read when I am done!
I do mine with a special pencil. A blue mechanical pencil that I bought when I was teaching. It is so worn, I can barely make out the name on the handle. But I have a lifetime supply of lead, and I'm dealing!!
Sometimes the clues puzzle me: A six letter response to "like licked lollies." I think it is sticky, but maybe it's an x rated response! Or: "The Flowers in my Heart in an old song"......what in heavens name is that? And all the time I have spent in France and Switzerland, you would think I would know the 6 letter name of a French card game.
But I don't. Those will perplex me until next Sunday, when I get the Tribune and a new set of puzzles.
Emily got me a New York Times crossword puzzle book. I thought they would be super hard, but they are actually easy. I have never heard of qatz, woti or espenrich before, but they fit, dammit!
And some times I do use a dictionary or the Internet to find an answer. I don't consider that cheating. I am using a resource, helping to fill in the blanks that have been created in my mind.
Now, I am going to a three letter word that means an act and a piece of furniture.
No, it is not med!
I love to do crossword puzzles
I admit I don't always finish them (again, the reason for my blog in the first place...completing projects). I also don't throw them out, so I have about the last two months of Sunday Tribune crosswords on my computer desk. Most of them are finished, but some are really hard and I did not know the answer, so I opted to finish it later.
In Italy, I had a book of crosswords that were very difficult because of the cultural references. Who starred in what movie, appeared in what TV show. The crossword book was printed in the early 1980s! Crap, I can't remember what I had for breakfast today, let alone what was popular in 1980! I was only 10 then anyway.
I tried Sudoku a couple of times, but I am not very good with numbers, number patterns and my patience is a little thin.
But crosswords.......they are celebrating their 100th year. First one was in 1913 right before Christmas. It was a diversion for people bored with reading. I tried that one, and it was impossible. The language and words have changed a lot in 100 years.
I sometimes do them while sipping a liquid refreshment of the grape variety. If I have had two glasses, I usually have to redo a lot of answers. For example, the Meatles were not a rock band. Shovy is not the nickname for a popular American automobile. The wine does allow me to work faster, but the accuracy diminishes the more I consume.
Hell, some crosswords I can't even read when I am done!
I do mine with a special pencil. A blue mechanical pencil that I bought when I was teaching. It is so worn, I can barely make out the name on the handle. But I have a lifetime supply of lead, and I'm dealing!!
Sometimes the clues puzzle me: A six letter response to "like licked lollies." I think it is sticky, but maybe it's an x rated response! Or: "The Flowers in my Heart in an old song"......what in heavens name is that? And all the time I have spent in France and Switzerland, you would think I would know the 6 letter name of a French card game.
But I don't. Those will perplex me until next Sunday, when I get the Tribune and a new set of puzzles.
Emily got me a New York Times crossword puzzle book. I thought they would be super hard, but they are actually easy. I have never heard of qatz, woti or espenrich before, but they fit, dammit!
And some times I do use a dictionary or the Internet to find an answer. I don't consider that cheating. I am using a resource, helping to fill in the blanks that have been created in my mind.
Now, I am going to a three letter word that means an act and a piece of furniture.
No, it is not med!
Monday, January 13, 2014
13 out of 365....so far, so good
I started this because I have a hard time finishing projects. This is a test of my will power. If I can do this, I can lose weight. If I lose weight, I can go hiking. If I go hiking, I can scratch another item off my bucket list.
I have a list of things to do before death
Yes, a bucket list. I have one, and if you don't, you should.
I do have some items scratched off my list. Without going into detail, living in France for a month, staying in a villa in Italy, seeing the Grand Canyon, dating a super model, biking through Holland, learning a foreign language (ok, only half done...or one fourth done, but I'm counting it); being in an improv comedy group, getting published in the Chicago Tribune, staying on Cape Cod, driving the Alaskan Highway. All of those are scratched off my list.
In case you missed it, in 2012 I had an article in the travel section of the Tribune. It was about Arles, France, and it was a damn good article. It came about because Dan G. and I spent a month in France, another scratch off. Jackie and I have made trips to Cape Cod, the Grand Canyon and we drove the Alaskan Highway.
So what are some other items on my list?
Hug a redwood tree or a giant sequoia
Visit Cuba
Write a book that gets published and people buy
Stay at the Prince of Wales hotel
Meet Tom Hanks
See the polar bears in Churchill, Manitoba
Stay in an igloo hotel in Finland (Thanks, Sarah, for pointing this one out to me!) and watch the Northern Lights dance overhead
Go on safari in Africa to see lions, elephants, giraffes, gorillas and wildebeest in their natural habitat
Find out more about my father and his life before he married my mother
Hiking from hut to hut in the Alps
These are not all the ones on my list, but the bigger ones. Some are maybe doable.....if I can lose the weight, I can go mountain hut hiking this year. Kind of a reward/incentive that is dangling out there. I certainly can get to California and hug a redwood...... I hope.
Anyway, that's a little of my list. What's on yours??
I have a list of things to do before death
Yes, a bucket list. I have one, and if you don't, you should.
I do have some items scratched off my list. Without going into detail, living in France for a month, staying in a villa in Italy, seeing the Grand Canyon, dating a super model, biking through Holland, learning a foreign language (ok, only half done...or one fourth done, but I'm counting it); being in an improv comedy group, getting published in the Chicago Tribune, staying on Cape Cod, driving the Alaskan Highway. All of those are scratched off my list.
In case you missed it, in 2012 I had an article in the travel section of the Tribune. It was about Arles, France, and it was a damn good article. It came about because Dan G. and I spent a month in France, another scratch off. Jackie and I have made trips to Cape Cod, the Grand Canyon and we drove the Alaskan Highway.
So what are some other items on my list?
Hug a redwood tree or a giant sequoia
Visit Cuba
Write a book that gets published and people buy
Stay at the Prince of Wales hotel
Meet Tom Hanks
See the polar bears in Churchill, Manitoba
Stay in an igloo hotel in Finland (Thanks, Sarah, for pointing this one out to me!) and watch the Northern Lights dance overhead
Go on safari in Africa to see lions, elephants, giraffes, gorillas and wildebeest in their natural habitat
Find out more about my father and his life before he married my mother
Hiking from hut to hut in the Alps
These are not all the ones on my list, but the bigger ones. Some are maybe doable.....if I can lose the weight, I can go mountain hut hiking this year. Kind of a reward/incentive that is dangling out there. I certainly can get to California and hug a redwood...... I hope.
Anyway, that's a little of my list. What's on yours??
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Camels: One hump or two?
I was young and everyone was going to prom. So instead of asking a girl I liked, I asked a girl I knew. She said yes.
We quadruple dated. That's right, four guys and four girls in formals. Laugh if you must. We rented a station wagon but we looked like a clown car when we parked and everyone climbed out.
The dance was a disaster. She wore her hair in a bouffant and was at least 10 inches taller than me. I had so many zits I looked like a connect a dot waiting to be filled in. Neither one of us danced and oddly, I discovered we really didn't have anything in common except we knew each other.
The following day we were all going on a picnic to a lake in Wisconsin. Of course, my date did not know that, so when we pulled up in front of her house at 6:30 a.m she was sound asleep. When she finally made it to the car, she carped the whole time.
Being chivalrous, guys sat in the back end of the station wagon so the girls could have an actual seat.
It was warm. I remember the windows were open. Even the back window on the wagon, which must have been before we were concerned about carbon monoxide poisoning.
The guy who rented the car, Bob, had recently taken up smoking. It was cool looking, at least that is my guess why. He was the only one in the bunch who smoked.
And he smoked Camels....pure, unfiltered cigarette tobacco. He kept the pack rolled up in his sleeve. And I suspect he had one behind his ear. Let's pretend he did. That's called embellishment.
We had turned up some small road in Wisconsin, on our way to a lake....maybe Powers Lake, but that isn't important.
For the last 90 minutes we had put up with, "Anyone want a smoke?" as he tooled down the road. He was always met with silence.
For some reason when he turned and asked again, I said, "Yeah, I think I'll have a cigarette now."
People were shocked, shocked I tell you.
He passed me one of his Camels and said, "Hey you are going to need a light."
In a matter of fact manner I replied, "No, I just chew them."
I put the Camel in my mouth and bit off a huge chunk. I began chewing when my mouth, throat and stomach literally erupted in cataclysmic convolution revolution that turned me inside out and a pale green.
"Bob, Pull Over," somebody yelled.
By then my head was out the back window and I was gagging up and out, brown spittle running down my chin and the back of the car. And my shirt.
I got some pop, and drank it. That did not help.
My date stopped talking to me. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. She spent the entire day sleeping. ... Methinks I was possibly the worst prom date ever.
So that is the fact you may not know about me.
I once ate a cigarette......once.
Years later I ran into my date at a reunion. I still had our $25 prom picture package. I asked her if she would like me to send them to her, as a reminder of her high school days.
She said it was an event from high school she really didn't want to remember.
I think she could still see the brown tobacco juice on my shirt.
We quadruple dated. That's right, four guys and four girls in formals. Laugh if you must. We rented a station wagon but we looked like a clown car when we parked and everyone climbed out.
The dance was a disaster. She wore her hair in a bouffant and was at least 10 inches taller than me. I had so many zits I looked like a connect a dot waiting to be filled in. Neither one of us danced and oddly, I discovered we really didn't have anything in common except we knew each other.
The following day we were all going on a picnic to a lake in Wisconsin. Of course, my date did not know that, so when we pulled up in front of her house at 6:30 a.m she was sound asleep. When she finally made it to the car, she carped the whole time.
Being chivalrous, guys sat in the back end of the station wagon so the girls could have an actual seat.
It was warm. I remember the windows were open. Even the back window on the wagon, which must have been before we were concerned about carbon monoxide poisoning.
The guy who rented the car, Bob, had recently taken up smoking. It was cool looking, at least that is my guess why. He was the only one in the bunch who smoked.
And he smoked Camels....pure, unfiltered cigarette tobacco. He kept the pack rolled up in his sleeve. And I suspect he had one behind his ear. Let's pretend he did. That's called embellishment.
We had turned up some small road in Wisconsin, on our way to a lake....maybe Powers Lake, but that isn't important.
For the last 90 minutes we had put up with, "Anyone want a smoke?" as he tooled down the road. He was always met with silence.
For some reason when he turned and asked again, I said, "Yeah, I think I'll have a cigarette now."
People were shocked, shocked I tell you.
He passed me one of his Camels and said, "Hey you are going to need a light."
In a matter of fact manner I replied, "No, I just chew them."
I put the Camel in my mouth and bit off a huge chunk. I began chewing when my mouth, throat and stomach literally erupted in cataclysmic convolution revolution that turned me inside out and a pale green.
"Bob, Pull Over," somebody yelled.
By then my head was out the back window and I was gagging up and out, brown spittle running down my chin and the back of the car. And my shirt.
I got some pop, and drank it. That did not help.
My date stopped talking to me. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. She spent the entire day sleeping. ... Methinks I was possibly the worst prom date ever.
So that is the fact you may not know about me.
I once ate a cigarette......once.
Years later I ran into my date at a reunion. I still had our $25 prom picture package. I asked her if she would like me to send them to her, as a reminder of her high school days.
She said it was an event from high school she really didn't want to remember.
I think she could still see the brown tobacco juice on my shirt.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
How did you spell that disease??
Every time someone gets a disease, I get it too.
A woman with PMS? Count me in.
I can't watch medical shows. Once, when ER was in its prime and George Clooney was a young guy, a man came into the emergency room with a hatchet stuck in his head. I got a headache. Having knee surgery? My knees will start killing me.
And the C word....don't even mention it to me because every mole, cough, muscle spasm and headache become fatal conditions.
I once went into labor.......no kidding!! Bethie probably thinks I will again based on the size of my belly....but that is a goiter!!
Every sneeze nets me a cold, every fever nets me the flu. Every tale ever told about some weird disease or allergy makes me itch, hurt, pant, perspire, or spend endless hours laying awake in bed.
A friend recently told me about having screws removed from her fractured arm. I could hardly stand the pain and almost passed out.
I don't know why I am like that. It's probably some kind of mental condition to go with my ADD, OC Disorder and athlete's foot, that burning, itching sensation that only shows up after commercials.
And Viagra commercials? I can't lay on my stomach for at least four hours.
Me in 10 words?
I worry too much about non issues concerning health.
And I have to quit now. I just read a report that people who spend a lot of time on the computer develope carpel tunnal sindrome witch makes it hard ttwo type.
A woman with PMS? Count me in.
I can't watch medical shows. Once, when ER was in its prime and George Clooney was a young guy, a man came into the emergency room with a hatchet stuck in his head. I got a headache. Having knee surgery? My knees will start killing me.
And the C word....don't even mention it to me because every mole, cough, muscle spasm and headache become fatal conditions.
I once went into labor.......no kidding!! Bethie probably thinks I will again based on the size of my belly....but that is a goiter!!
Every sneeze nets me a cold, every fever nets me the flu. Every tale ever told about some weird disease or allergy makes me itch, hurt, pant, perspire, or spend endless hours laying awake in bed.
A friend recently told me about having screws removed from her fractured arm. I could hardly stand the pain and almost passed out.
I don't know why I am like that. It's probably some kind of mental condition to go with my ADD, OC Disorder and athlete's foot, that burning, itching sensation that only shows up after commercials.
And Viagra commercials? I can't lay on my stomach for at least four hours.
Me in 10 words?
I worry too much about non issues concerning health.
And I have to quit now. I just read a report that people who spend a lot of time on the computer develope carpel tunnal sindrome witch makes it hard ttwo type.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Day 9..... is it really a disorder??
What you may not know about me:
I may have attention deficit disorder.
Here is what I mean. I went to clean the blue bedroom, when I noticed the dishes needed to be done. So I filled the sink. Washed some dishes, found some receipts to shred. Took the receipts to the shred bucket, decided to check Facebook. Played a game of solitaire. Played a second game. Looked up some information about wooden clocks from Volterra.
20 minutes pass and: dishes not done, receipts on computer desk, three games of solitaire played and I am cleaning the blue bedroom.
I go into the kitchen, notice I have not finished the dishes, but the trash is full as is the recycling, so I take those out.
THEN I got distracted!
I eventually get things done. But it takes me a while and several false starts. I also spend a lot of time looking for things I did not put away but put someplace.....usually my phone or car keys.
This is constant. I frequently have five or six things going on at one time. The bright side is, when I finish things I finish a lot in a little time!
But it is frustrating.
I may have attention deficit disorder.
Here is what I mean. I went to clean the blue bedroom, when I noticed the dishes needed to be done. So I filled the sink. Washed some dishes, found some receipts to shred. Took the receipts to the shred bucket, decided to check Facebook. Played a game of solitaire. Played a second game. Looked up some information about wooden clocks from Volterra.
20 minutes pass and: dishes not done, receipts on computer desk, three games of solitaire played and I am cleaning the blue bedroom.
I go into the kitchen, notice I have not finished the dishes, but the trash is full as is the recycling, so I take those out.
THEN I got distracted!
I eventually get things done. But it takes me a while and several false starts. I also spend a lot of time looking for things I did not put away but put someplace.....usually my phone or car keys.
This is constant. I frequently have five or six things going on at one time. The bright side is, when I finish things I finish a lot in a little time!
But it is frustrating.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Day 8....I think I see the Lights!!
I am being optimistic. But maybe some of you know this about me:
I want to see the Northern Lights again!
I think I have seen them twice in my life. I might have a chance tonight and tomorrow night, because Tom Skilling of WGN said a huge solar flair would probably trigger a display visible in our area, away from the city.
We were camping on Sisquite Bay ( I know that may not be spelled correctly) on Isle Royale in Lake Superior, just off the Minnesota side. It is one of the few areas on the island where you can have a campfire. Some Boy Scouts had a fire going, and we joined them just as they were heading off to bed. We took over the fire and sat around and talked.
As the flames were burning down to embers, we noticed "headlights" in the sky. Sometimes one, sometimes two, even three. They were bright, then dim, then bright, seeming to be floating in the sky. At first we thought they were planes approaching an airport, but we could not figure what kind of plane would basically hover in the sky for so long. We also considered UFOs. (OK, I considered UFOs. Had the invasion begun?)
Then the sky erupted in a wave of bluish green lights. They undulated across the sky, going from blue to green, to purple.....with the headlights turning on and off at will. We figured then what was happening, and as the embers glowed behind us, we kept watch on the sky above the bay in front of us. I don't remember us talking much, besides an occasional wow, or holy cow. We don't know if the Scouts or other campers saw them, after all, it was late. (I wanted to go personally to waken the two young females we spotted earlier, but there were some concerns about screaming and yelling so I abandoned that plan.)
I saw the lights the first time when I was living on Mill Pond...so that could be 25 years ago, or so. We had a deck, and it was late at night in the summer. I watched the sky above Rockford turn the weirdest colors of red, and green.......but I don't remember much else. Somewhere Bob Z. is in that story, telling me the next day that those were the Northern Lights.
I have been to Alaska twice, been camping up north a dozen times, and `only those two times did I get a glimpse of them.
If you see them, you will be amazed.
Best viewing times are between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m., which will be difficult.
Maybe I'll get out my book of Robert Service poems and read "The Creamation of Sam McGee" to while away the hours. And put me in the mood to witness one of nature's great displays.
I want to see the Northern Lights again!
I think I have seen them twice in my life. I might have a chance tonight and tomorrow night, because Tom Skilling of WGN said a huge solar flair would probably trigger a display visible in our area, away from the city.
We were camping on Sisquite Bay ( I know that may not be spelled correctly) on Isle Royale in Lake Superior, just off the Minnesota side. It is one of the few areas on the island where you can have a campfire. Some Boy Scouts had a fire going, and we joined them just as they were heading off to bed. We took over the fire and sat around and talked.
As the flames were burning down to embers, we noticed "headlights" in the sky. Sometimes one, sometimes two, even three. They were bright, then dim, then bright, seeming to be floating in the sky. At first we thought they were planes approaching an airport, but we could not figure what kind of plane would basically hover in the sky for so long. We also considered UFOs. (OK, I considered UFOs. Had the invasion begun?)
Then the sky erupted in a wave of bluish green lights. They undulated across the sky, going from blue to green, to purple.....with the headlights turning on and off at will. We figured then what was happening, and as the embers glowed behind us, we kept watch on the sky above the bay in front of us. I don't remember us talking much, besides an occasional wow, or holy cow. We don't know if the Scouts or other campers saw them, after all, it was late. (I wanted to go personally to waken the two young females we spotted earlier, but there were some concerns about screaming and yelling so I abandoned that plan.)
I saw the lights the first time when I was living on Mill Pond...so that could be 25 years ago, or so. We had a deck, and it was late at night in the summer. I watched the sky above Rockford turn the weirdest colors of red, and green.......but I don't remember much else. Somewhere Bob Z. is in that story, telling me the next day that those were the Northern Lights.
I have been to Alaska twice, been camping up north a dozen times, and `only those two times did I get a glimpse of them.
If you see them, you will be amazed.
Best viewing times are between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m., which will be difficult.
Maybe I'll get out my book of Robert Service poems and read "The Creamation of Sam McGee" to while away the hours. And put me in the mood to witness one of nature's great displays.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Jan 7.....still
Some days I am a blubbering mess.
Jackie and I took Julia to O'Hare today. She is enroute to Switzerland and I am sad. Enough said.
Monday, January 6, 2014
The tree is down and gone....
I hate taking the Christmas trees down!
I like a live tree. And yes, they are environmentally sound. I go to a cut your own field and, duh, cut my own. No wasted trees cut and not sold. No trees cut in November then spray painted green to make them appealing. I get a tree for us. And I bring it home and kvetch about putting it up, decorating it, watering it.
But when we light it at night, I get hypnotized. I've cut trees that were bare on one side, trees that had lopsided trunks, a tree that was rounder than it was tall and last year a 12 foot tree that was bare on the bottom six foot, which made for a nice tree. Put the lights on, and the ornaments, and it is always beautiful.
I get a little sentimental at Christmas. (Which is like saying the Titanic had a leak.) I love the season, love the reason, and I always feel I am not doing enough for the less fortunate. And there are a lot of them in our world these days.
I also remember family. My mother, father, brother, the crazy aunts and uncles, the cousins and second cousins. I remember the huge family gatherings. Then I look around and realize now our gatherings are not that large.
I had a relative named Minkie. I am not sure kind of relative she was. She may have been my uncle's mother. Or cousin. Or his aunt. I only knew her as Minkie. She always made Scottish shortbread at Christmas. Made it in a pie plate so each family would get a round of lightly browned, crisp, sweet shortbread. She made dozens of them each year. I asked her for the recipe, and she told me. She didn't have it written down, she just knew how to make it.
It's funny, in a way, how little I know about her. She was Scottish, had an accent, and taught me how to drink pink tea. Her way: pour tea in a cup from the tea pot, add some sugar and milk until it turns pink, then pour a little into your saucer and slurp it noisily from the saucer.
She was an expert at it. My mother complained about the stains on my shirts.
I lost Minkie when I was about 20.....and I lost her recipe. Try as I might, I could not quite get the taste right. Then one year in fifth grade a little girl named Mae brought me some home made shortbread and it was just as good as Minkie's. I asked for that recipe, and now I make a couple of batches each Christmas.
I know I can conjure up those memories on any other day of the year, but at Christmas all those people come alive again. I can hear them, see them, smell them. And I can taste Minkie's shortbread.
In recent years, Julia has come home for Christmas and leaves shortly after. This year she stayed an extra week and is leaving Tuesday, Jan. 7, if the forces of nature cooperate.
I keep thinking of Christmas stays up, she'll still be here. And I won't feel so sad.
So when Jackie said it was time to take the tree down.....needles were falling like crazy and it had long since stopped taking up water...... I didn't. I waited, hoping to keep Christmas around just a little while longer. I wanted to hold those memories just a few hours more.
But now it is down. And recycled. And I am just a little bit sad that it will be almost one year before I go to a cut your own field, find a misshaped tree, bring it home, decorate it, light it and be with my entire family again.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Day 5..........and still there is more!
I may have been a criminal accomplice, once.
When I was in high school, records were popular. For those under 45, those are vinyl disks that contained music. You played them on a record player. If you were really talented, you could put the hole on a pencil point and spin it rapidly with one hand and then put a sharp needle on the groove and hear music. Well, not really. But it took me several records to learn that.
We would go to music stores to buy records. This was pre Walmart times, and there were actual stores that sold items like records, or books, or clothes. I know, it was a strange and subversive world.
Larry T was a guy from the neighborhood. He was a natural athlete, an outgoing kid, everyone liked him and he liked everyone. OK, downside, he may have been the first of my "posse" to actually smoke a cigarette, and for sure he was the only one to mainline heroin, but he was a nice guy.
Actually the heroin thing was a learning experience. I was riding around with Billy G., another good guy from the neighborhood, when we saw Larry standing on a corner by a park. We stopped and offered him a ride.
When he got in the back seat he sort of mumbled and looked spaced out. Plus he kept flexing his arm and mumbling. Did I mention he was mumbling? Well, he was. He also did not recognize Billy or me, and Billy was his best friend.
"He's shooting up!" Billy said. "We've got to get rid of him."
We did something I am not proud of. We drove Larry to his house, let him out, and went on our way. We should have told someone...his parents, a school counselor, a family member, his priest. But we didn't. We also went out of our way to avoid him, even to the point of leaving a bowling alley, or restaurant when he came in. I didn't want to be guilty by association....again.
Before Larry T got into drugs, we hung around a lot. One day I said I wanted to buy an album, so we went to the record store. We were flipping through the records when Larry said, "Go ask the guy about a record over in the back."
So I did. The clerk showed me something, I nodded, and noticed Larry had skedaddled pretty quickly. I found the record I wanted, paid for it and left.
I caught up with Larry about two blocks later and he showed me the reason he left. He put a 78 album under his coat and walked out with it.
He used me as a decoy, a stooge, a set up guy so he could steal the record.
I was probably 15 and it was a shock to think someone I trusted used me. I was always a little careful with that friendship from that point on, but we still were buddies two years later, when I helped take him home from that park.
That was the last time I saw him.....stumbling toward his house, mumbling and flexing his arm.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Day 4 of Little Known Things About Me
I don't like scary or bloody movies.
Plain as day...enough said!
Plain as day...enough said!
Friday, January 3, 2014
Georgie Porgie pudding and pie........we are one!!
I had a fairly normal childhood. Went to a neighborhood school in Chicago, Ravenswood....but it was a long walk. Had friends. Watched a black and white TV in the apartment at 4059 N. Greenview. Played with toys. Like I said, all normal.
Until the day the kindergarten teacher called home.
There was a girl, Barbara Alice. She was adorable. Blond hair with terrific curls. Blue eyes. I was smitten. So every day at nap time, I would unroll a mat by her and after the teacher turned off the lights, I would roll over and kiss Barbara Alice. Every day. Mats out, lights off, kiss Barbara Alice. I was pretty predictable. One day she mentioned it to her mother, who called the teacher, who called my parents, who talked to me and I never kissed Barbara Alice again.
I would unroll my mat and then just watch her, bemoaning the fact my lips would no longer touch her creamy face, or rosy cheeks.
That was my first rejection by a female. I was only 5! Crushed. Destroyed.
But I recovered and by third grade was ready to jump back in the love saddle. I met Thea. She was a dark haired Greek beauty, with luscious brown eyes. I worshipped the ground she walked on. When story time came and we all formed a circle around the teacher, I always worked my way in beside Thea so I could share the story with her, laughing with her, smiling with her. Then one day, the story was extremely interesting, she had an accident and a little puddle formed underneath her dress. She was embarrassed, and somehow she lost a little luster that day. I found myself no longer sitting next to her during story time. I never made fun of her, or teased her, but he romantic bloom wore off.
Which brings me to fifth grade and Linda. She lived two houses away from me, on the second floor of a white stucco apartment that sat next to the alley. We walked to school together, played together. I would go to her house after school and we would watch TV together.
For some reason, maybe watching a romance, or movie, we decided we needed to learn to kiss. So we practiced on our hands. That was ok, but hands generally don't respond. So we practiced on each other. I would dip her halfway to the floor and kiss her. We practiced holding our heads at certain angles and kissing. We were fifth grade kissing fools.
During one kissing session, we heard the door open and heavy steps coming up the front stairs. Now I don't remember much about her father, only that he scared the daylights out of me and somehow I knew this was not good.
So I hid under her bed. The bedroom had a hardwood floor, which was not dusted very often. My nosed itched.... a lot. I know I was sweating, and the fuzz was sticking to my arms.
The door opened, and a voice thundered, "Out of my way, Squirt. I'm in a hurry," and her 17 year old brother stormed through the house.
"I just came by for a snack," he yelled from the kitchen at the back of the house. "And why is goofy Terry hiding under your bed? Dad will kill you if he finds him here again."
He vanished out the back door and down the steps. I took one look at Linda, gave her a farewell kiss, and followed him down the back stairs.
Linda moved shortly after that. Back in the days of telephones and letter writing, it wasn't easy to keep in touch with people who moved.
I never saw her again.
So the fact you may not know about me:
I was a grade school serial kisser!
And all that practice kissing? Well, it was many years before I got the chance to use my newly honed talent.
Until the day the kindergarten teacher called home.
There was a girl, Barbara Alice. She was adorable. Blond hair with terrific curls. Blue eyes. I was smitten. So every day at nap time, I would unroll a mat by her and after the teacher turned off the lights, I would roll over and kiss Barbara Alice. Every day. Mats out, lights off, kiss Barbara Alice. I was pretty predictable. One day she mentioned it to her mother, who called the teacher, who called my parents, who talked to me and I never kissed Barbara Alice again.
I would unroll my mat and then just watch her, bemoaning the fact my lips would no longer touch her creamy face, or rosy cheeks.
That was my first rejection by a female. I was only 5! Crushed. Destroyed.
But I recovered and by third grade was ready to jump back in the love saddle. I met Thea. She was a dark haired Greek beauty, with luscious brown eyes. I worshipped the ground she walked on. When story time came and we all formed a circle around the teacher, I always worked my way in beside Thea so I could share the story with her, laughing with her, smiling with her. Then one day, the story was extremely interesting, she had an accident and a little puddle formed underneath her dress. She was embarrassed, and somehow she lost a little luster that day. I found myself no longer sitting next to her during story time. I never made fun of her, or teased her, but he romantic bloom wore off.
Which brings me to fifth grade and Linda. She lived two houses away from me, on the second floor of a white stucco apartment that sat next to the alley. We walked to school together, played together. I would go to her house after school and we would watch TV together.
For some reason, maybe watching a romance, or movie, we decided we needed to learn to kiss. So we practiced on our hands. That was ok, but hands generally don't respond. So we practiced on each other. I would dip her halfway to the floor and kiss her. We practiced holding our heads at certain angles and kissing. We were fifth grade kissing fools.
During one kissing session, we heard the door open and heavy steps coming up the front stairs. Now I don't remember much about her father, only that he scared the daylights out of me and somehow I knew this was not good.
So I hid under her bed. The bedroom had a hardwood floor, which was not dusted very often. My nosed itched.... a lot. I know I was sweating, and the fuzz was sticking to my arms.
The door opened, and a voice thundered, "Out of my way, Squirt. I'm in a hurry," and her 17 year old brother stormed through the house.
"I just came by for a snack," he yelled from the kitchen at the back of the house. "And why is goofy Terry hiding under your bed? Dad will kill you if he finds him here again."
He vanished out the back door and down the steps. I took one look at Linda, gave her a farewell kiss, and followed him down the back stairs.
Linda moved shortly after that. Back in the days of telephones and letter writing, it wasn't easy to keep in touch with people who moved.
I never saw her again.
So the fact you may not know about me:
I was a grade school serial kisser!
And all that practice kissing? Well, it was many years before I got the chance to use my newly honed talent.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
I just hit 200.....
The darkest number for me....200. As in pounds. In about an hour I will be heading off to the gym to work out. Seriously. 200.
Of course, some of you may know that already, but I am counting this disclosure as my day 2 fact in 10 words or less.
I weigh 200 pounds and don't like it.
Enough said.
And the name of the site is tdinten.blogspot.com.
Of course, some of you may know that already, but I am counting this disclosure as my day 2 fact in 10 words or less.
I weigh 200 pounds and don't like it.
Enough said.
And the name of the site is tdinten.blogspot.com.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
A new year....a new me??
Welcome 2014. I was sad to see 2013 go, because it means we all got a little older. For you people under 50, that is not a pushing issue. For us over 60, it can be.
I want to recreate, hone, fine tune, improve my life in 2014 and maybe a blog will be one of those learning aids. So bear with me.....this may be good, it may be terrible, it may be pretty boring, or it may be something that carries us all to a new level of stupidity. You know the kind of stupidity that forces me to root for the Bears against the Packers in a must win game. Or follow the Cubs. Or buy lottery tickets.
This will be a challenging blog.....I will attempt to tell readers a daily tidbit about me in 10 words or less. Some days I will follow that up with an explanation. Most days I won't.
Why? I read somewhere that blogs were therapeutic for the writer.....and we all know I need therapy! I am just not sure what kind.
So here goes.
Jan 1.....a fact about me in 10 words or less:
I have trouble completing projects.
If you are family, you already know that. When I was a kid I had a paper route and a love for cars. I would buy plastic model car kits. When I got married and my father cleaned out the attic, he threw out about 30 kits....none of them complete. Most had parts missing.
I have a stack of crossword puzzles from the Sunday Tribune.....7 weeks worth....of mostly unfinished puzzles. To be fair, there are three in the Sunday paper and I can generally complete one, partially complete a second and start a third before the end of the week. But I keep thinking I will go back and finish the ones I haven't but I never do!
I went to France with Dan G. in 2011 and still have not put the pictures in a format that I can look at and reminisce. Won't even bother to mention the 2012 or 2013 trips. Some day when I am in a chair on a porch wrapped in warm blankets when it is 90 degrees outside I might want to look at those pictures and remember I had a life!
I have 15 episodes of Masterpiece Theater on the DVR......
Maybe I am biting off more than I can chew. After all, if I post some minor tidbit about me every day that will require a dedication and effort to complete. Perseverance!! A skill I need to hone.
On the other hand, this may also force me into telling embarrassing stuff. Or even...gasp...fail to complete yet another project.
Only time will tell how this remake goes.
Happy New Year my friends!
I want to recreate, hone, fine tune, improve my life in 2014 and maybe a blog will be one of those learning aids. So bear with me.....this may be good, it may be terrible, it may be pretty boring, or it may be something that carries us all to a new level of stupidity. You know the kind of stupidity that forces me to root for the Bears against the Packers in a must win game. Or follow the Cubs. Or buy lottery tickets.
This will be a challenging blog.....I will attempt to tell readers a daily tidbit about me in 10 words or less. Some days I will follow that up with an explanation. Most days I won't.
Why? I read somewhere that blogs were therapeutic for the writer.....and we all know I need therapy! I am just not sure what kind.
So here goes.
Jan 1.....a fact about me in 10 words or less:
I have trouble completing projects.
If you are family, you already know that. When I was a kid I had a paper route and a love for cars. I would buy plastic model car kits. When I got married and my father cleaned out the attic, he threw out about 30 kits....none of them complete. Most had parts missing.
I have a stack of crossword puzzles from the Sunday Tribune.....7 weeks worth....of mostly unfinished puzzles. To be fair, there are three in the Sunday paper and I can generally complete one, partially complete a second and start a third before the end of the week. But I keep thinking I will go back and finish the ones I haven't but I never do!
I went to France with Dan G. in 2011 and still have not put the pictures in a format that I can look at and reminisce. Won't even bother to mention the 2012 or 2013 trips. Some day when I am in a chair on a porch wrapped in warm blankets when it is 90 degrees outside I might want to look at those pictures and remember I had a life!
I have 15 episodes of Masterpiece Theater on the DVR......
Maybe I am biting off more than I can chew. After all, if I post some minor tidbit about me every day that will require a dedication and effort to complete. Perseverance!! A skill I need to hone.
On the other hand, this may also force me into telling embarrassing stuff. Or even...gasp...fail to complete yet another project.
Only time will tell how this remake goes.
Happy New Year my friends!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)