Happy Halloween

The pumpkins are carved, but it is really hard to get a good picture! Hope you get the idea, at least. Happy Halloween!

Daylight Savings Time

It always seemed an odd concept to me - Saving Daylight by changing the clocks. In Arizona, many years ago, they tried it once and have never done it again. Growing up in Arizona, I always thought it was an alien notion and disregarded it. And now, even though I've lived in places for almost 25 years where Daylight Savings Time happens without question every year, it always puzzles me. I'm never sure when it is supposed to be - a sure sign that I'm just not invested in the question. It's just too weird. I always have to call my mother - who lives in Arizona - to find out when it is supposed to happen.

Then this year there was a lot of legislative discussion in the national arena about staying on it for some extra period of time, and I thought that had passed - another sure sign that I'm not really paying attention to this 'issue.' Once again, I really wasn't expecting the time change this weekend.

(My computer used to tell me when it had adjusted the time, but it doesn't even do that anymore - just makes the change without notice. There's something sinister about that too.)

So here I am with an extra hour on my hands that seems like it ought to be put to good use. Mark is putting HIS hour to good use - he rolled over and went back to sleep. But I couldn't do that (since I have this 'cat' problem, as I've discussed before - they are too heavy and too hot and I can't really sleep well with 2 cats on top of me, purring their little tails off) so here I am, wishing there was something really great to do for an extra hour.

I could create more pumpkin carving patterns - we have 26 pumpkins to carve today, after all.

Or I could call someone I don't usually get to talk to for an hour.

I could practice playing Moonlight Sonata and try to keep the tempo even (no - never happens...)

Go for a long walk? Maybe.

It should be something really special...

Actually, Mark says it isn't really an extra hour - we are just getting back the one they took away 6 months ago. I'm bummed. I guess I've already used mine.

A Fall Day in Cumberland Gap

We drove south and east to the Cumberland Gap today - a wonderful trip in beautiful fall weather. I've been so afraid that we missed fall entirely, but clearly that was not the case. The color was wonderful, the views clear and crisp, the company (Mark) entertaining and endearing as always.

But into each life a little rain must fall... I had two nearly dead batteries - the main and the spare both! Can't believe I didn't manage to recharge at least one of them. So the side trip to Pine Mountain and the beautiful hike to Chain Rock went undocumented. Alas. Since that trail was straight down and then (obviously) straight back up, there would have been plenty of time for pictures too, as we sat on conveniently placed benches to catch our breath!

Teaching Maddie

We’re trying to teach our little Maddie-kitty to open doors. She should be able to learn this simple thing that all our other cats have always been able to do. Just stick your paw in the crack and pull it back. Simple. Especially for a cat with lots of extra toes. (She practically has thumbs!) Frik can do it. She’s probably WATCHED Frik do it. But she won’t try it.

She’d rather stretch up and reach for the doorknob – for that is how WE do it. Doors open with doorknobs. That’s how it is. Never mind that her action closes the door entirely with a 'snap.'

So, that either makes her very bright or very dumb. I’m not sure which. But I suspect there is a lesson in there somewhere about Life that I could take to heart.

Job Hunter Hell

A few years ago a hilarious discussion with a friend of mine about job interviews turned up the notion that interviews are a Darwinian process – survival of the fittest – if you look at it from the job seeker point of view. (The job ‘giver’ would like to also fancy that the ‘fittest’ survived the process and took the ultimate reward, but that’s not our point of interest for this discussion, and is seemingly an unlikely outcome anyway given their processes!)

Between us, my friend and I had quite a list of stories about the interview-from-hell where, for example, window washers fell from the sky behind the interviewer’s back while we were trying to formulate just the right answer to a question. Or where the interviewer couldn’t talk and see at the same time so we were left facing a person with eyes tightly shut. There were multiple times where the questions seemed to be out of some joke book and we were supposed to provide the punchline (i.e. Why do you think manhole covers are round?). My friend even had one where she was on Darvon following oral surgery and the interview couldn’t be put off (who knows what happened in THAT one?) Have we all had interviews where none of the questions asked seemed to have anything to do with job performance but everything to do with the interviewer trying to ascertain on which side of an office dispute the new applicant would be likely to land? Well, I have.

That's only the start of it. I once had to go through a job screening process that covered a 4 month period of time and included a written test, an interview in which candidates were asked to prepare and present a 15 minute 'class' on a subject related to the job, followed by a personal interview with 5 'team' members and a series of prepared questions. I was finally offered the job, but turned it down. Frankly, I'd lost interest by that time.

You get the idea. Job Hunter Hell. It’s only funny after the fact. But then it is VERY funny. So – I’d like to collect those stories and am hoping that anyone reading this will provide me with one from their own experience.

Who knows? Maybe we can write a book together.

Maybe we can cheer up Mark, who is in his own Job Hunter Hell.

Magazines

As part of my campaign to rid my house of excess stuff, I decided today to tackle the accumulating magazine collection that is spilling artfully out of baskets all over the house. I love magazines and have subscriptions to lots of them – mostly decorating magazines but also (in an irrational fit of I-don’t-know-what) Conde Nast Traveler and Newsweek. (I at least have the sense to blush at that last one!) Every time I’m in a bookstore I end up in the magazine isle after perusing the new fiction releases. I’m addicted.

So today I picked up a stack from a basket by my bedroom rocking chair (very ‘artful’, right?) and started flipping through them to see if there was anything I wanted to tear out to keep before I throw them away. I might have had reason to pause a bit when I realized that the top one was dated March 2003…

But I carried on. Took me all afternoon to get through just that one stack. I couldn’t bear to part with two of them anyway. And I tore out a lot of wonderful pages – you never know when you will be called upon to redecorate a bungalow or something.

So, 10 down, and probably 100 to go! What a wonderful way to completely waste time. Ah, Bliss!

Winter arrived!

After all those months of summer, dragging into what should have been fall but wasn’t; after temperatures just last week in the mid-80s, with the A/C running all night… today winter happened. Oh, we still have a little fall color, but it finally started to rain and blow and the temperatures dropped and, wonder of wonders, I was able to turn on the fireplace! The cats are hanging out close by. I’m so relieved! Time for some serious reading and cookie baking.

Technology run amok

I keep hearing about how they are expanding cell phone use to connect to the internet and email. Good grief. I don’t want to be that connected. I don’t want my cell phone taking pictures, playing games with me or reminding me of appointments. I don’t even want it to ring, actually. I think phones are for making phone calls. Preferably me, making phone calls, not other people making them to me.

When I first moved to Oregon from Alaska, Mark suggested that I get a cell phone in case I got lost and needed help finding my way home. This seemed like a good idea, since my little Alaska town didn’t even have so much as a traffic light much less a full freeway system. I was a bit overwhelmed as I tried to get around. And it was a good thing I had it – I can’t tell you how many times I had to call Mark to say “As far as I can tell, I’m at the corner of ‘Walk’ and ‘Don’t Walk’ – how do I get home?”

So OK – I got a cell phone, which I kept in the car, usually with a low battery (and a car charger) and I used it for emergencies. I never got over that view of cell phones. Even today the only people who use my cell phone to call me are Mark and Todd. At least I keep it ‘on’ now, in case they DO call, but each time it rings it startles me into a jump and a gasp.

I don’t do much better, attitude-wise, with my other technology. I have a laptop computer and a wireless network connection so I could work anywhere in the house but I almost never unplug the computer, mouse and printer and move away from my desk. It just doesn’t occur to me. When I first started using computers they were big desk versions – and I guess I’ve never gotten over that view of them. (When I first started using them it was with DOS as an operating system and no browsers to explore the internet, which didn’t have any pictures on it yet anyway – it’s been a long time.)

Obviously I have trouble not only aligning my mental picture of technology with the actual technical state of technology, but with using something new at all! I never even use my microwave for anything besides thawing things out – just because I learned to cook on a stove and can’t get away from that. (The ONLY reason I got a microwave the first time was because there was a hole to fill in the cabinets of the kitchen in the house I had just moved into.)

I think technology should fit us, not the other way around. Just because there are bells and whistles, doesn’t mean I have to ring or blow them. I’m very firm on that.

It just leaves me with a problem every time I have to get a ‘new’ something and figure out how I can make it work for me – the old way.

Advertising in Bad Taste

Watching Hurricane Wilma coverage has subjected me to new ads that I probably wouldn't see otherwise - there is one for a new Charmin "wipes" product that surely is over the line of good taste. They are showing some smeary white stuff that someone is trying to wipe off their hands with dry tissue, leaving quite a bit of the stuff on the hand. Of course with the wet wipe all of the smear is gone. Is it just me, or is that a little more obvious than it needs to be? Surely the American consumer generally knows what happens in that 'situation.' (IS it a 'situation?')

Maybe it IS just me. I was mortified with the increasingly graphic advertising of feminine products - but then of course they moved on to the specifics of ED - good grief!

Is there no decorum left?

Is this as clear a sign that I might be 'over the hill' as I suspect it might be?

All alone in Kentucky

Mark had to go out of town for a few days. These are the times when being a recluse doesn't seem like such a great idea. (These are the times when I typically fall off a ladder or something.) I'll either binge on cookies or decide there is no point in eating at all. Or I'll start some major project and run into something I can't do - lift something, or move something, or unscrew something - and get terribly irritated that I can't do everything myself. I'll lose track of time. I'll play my piano until the cats cower under the bed...

Oh good grief - it's only 3 days!

But there is something about being so far away from those you love. Something about feeling that you are at least a day away from 'rescue' should something happen - and so are they - that unsettles me all out of proportion to the actual situation.

I think I'll go bury my nose in a book.

Ladybugs

There was a ladybug flying up to my window this afternoon. That might seem like a pleasant thing to anyone with rose bushes and aphids. But I know better. She was just a forward scout for the full-scale invasion to come – if last year was any indication.

I had heard that ladybugs ‘swarm’ as they settle in for the winter, having known someone in Oregon whose house-in-the-woods was a winter home for them. But I didn’t realize I might have the same problem here. Last year I was surprised by them – but this year I just know I'm doomed.

They sneak in through the cracks in the French doors in my living room; they fly in any time I open the door; they seem to appear through the vents in the floor, if that’s possible. They like to be in the ceiling lights and on the ceiling itself, although they might be anywhere. And if you try to gently pick them up and remove them to the outside they leave a stain on your walls and a noticeable stink in the air. Who knew?

The University extension service suggests that you vacuum them up – which, I can tell you from experience, just intensifies the not-so-pleasant odor that an individual makes on it's own. I did order a whole bunch of new vacuum cleaner bags.

Last year I had to seal the doors with blue painter’s tape. Do they make it in white? It really didn’t add to my décor…

So get ready – another infestation is coming!

News, Entertainment and Advertising

There was an article in our paper the other day about a new TV show – the one with Gena Davis playing the first woman president. It wasn’t in the ‘entertainment’ section; it was in the news. It appeared to me that it was a seriously written article, seriously suggesting that at long last, this show would pave the way for the real first woman president.

It was an advertisement for a TV show that was disguised as ‘news.'

Today, again in the paper, there was a guest editorial about the how blurred the lines are becoming between news, entertainment and advertising that furthers this point. Sarah Renfro of Lexington, a senior in Communications at the University of Kentucky, wrote that CBS chairman Les Moonves “announced recently that CBS is changing its national news to be more attractive and amusing because audiences prefer to be entertained, not depressed by tragic events.” She also cites the not-inconsiderable amount of time given by NBC, on their Dateline news show, to the ending of two of their own network comedy shows, Friends and Frazier. And she asserts that the attention given to such news as President Bush falling off his bicycle, Clinton’s penchant for Big Macs, and Reagan’s one-liners, is all out of proportion to the time and space given to hard news.

Sex scandals are always big news. Articles about pork barrel spending are not. Which do you suppose we actually hear more about? Which has bigger impact on our nation?

Our guest editorial further makes the point that “The purpose of the press is to empower the public by disseminating information through democratic processes.” Instead, we are getting “all entertainment, all the time.” Just scan your internet news headlines to see that this is true.

Do we still even have the means to be well-informed voters?

MVP

My son Todd informed me with a chuckle that he was voted MVP of his softball team at the end of their season last week. I wasn't surprised. He is not only very athletic himself, he is going to a ‘geek’ school where very few OTHER people are athletic. I just hope he had fun. (He also says that he tore up the same patch of skin on his leg, sliding into base, in every game. I’m glad the season is over so he can heal. Even a thousand miles away I can worry!)

That said, I understand that ski season opens this coming weekend! And he was just playing golf 2 weeks ago. And plays in a weekly basketball game. Good grief.

So here’s my ‘congratulations,’ Todd. You always were my MVP anyway.

Sleepless

I haven't been able to sleep for the last 2 nights. But not for any reason that I can figure. I get comfortable, start to drift off and then something happens to make me come fully awake - what? - and that's it for the night. Inexplicable. And frustrating. It doesn't help that the nights are finally getting a little cooler and the cats are snuggling closer and trying to ride out any effort I make to disentangle myself from them. Hard to get comfortable with a 12 pound cat on your stomach and a bushy tail waving majestically in your face.

I had to get up early this morning, it being Thursday and my day to volunteer at the hospital. So I did my hospital rounds and came home and now am so very tempted to take a nap. That would be just lovely...

And a big mistake! I've had bouts of insomnia before, of course, so I've tried various methods over the years to get over it - and I know that napping will sabotage the next night too.

I think my brain wants to carry on the day's conversations, or rehash old mistakes or embarrassments, or otherwise play reruns. The trick is to turn that off entirely, something I'm not always successful doing. Alternatively, I try to think of something completely routine and devoid of any intellectual or emotional content - like what to wear to work the next morning, except I don't work anymore... Similarly, textbook reading used to put me to sleep but I don't have any at hand any longer that are actually dull enough. This is a serious case!

Some might point out my considerable caffeine intake as sufficient causation but, in true junkie fashion, I'd counter that my Diet Coke habit didn't affect me 3 days ago so I can't conclude that it did me in yesterday, right?

No, I just think the problem will go away as mysteriously as it came. Or at least I hope so. In the meantime, I'm not going to operate any heavy machinery!

I am SO sleepy.

Fall in Kentucky

I'm always hopeful for the next great picture, but this area really presents challenges to that goal! Whenever I find a beautiful tree, it is wrapped around a telephone pole and big thick wires. The sun isn't right over the river. Or there isn't a place to pull off the road... Is this one of those "life" allegories? Anyway, these are today's efforts, and that's the beautiful Kentucky River.

Lessons in “saving” from Grandma

There was an article on the internet news about saving money that I read with amusement yesterday. They were suggesting, among other things, that you use only a pea-size dollop of toothpaste when you brush your teeth. With the cost of toothpaste – and anything else these days – that is probably a big money saver right there!

Anyway, it got me thinking fond thoughts again about Grandma.

She once left a chicken leg ‘leftover’ in a motel bathroom window, between the screen and the glass (keeping it ‘refrigerated’ so she could take it along the next day for lunch) while traveling with my folks. They’d eaten in a restaurant that night and she hadn’t been able to eat all that they served. Not wanting to waste it, she put the chicken in the little plastic baggie that she always kept in her purse for just such a purpose. That she actually forgot to retrieve it in the morning pained her greatly, but we always thought it must have pained the motel owners even more till they actually found it themselves.

One year she was staying with my parents in Arizona around the holidays. I went to visit and noticed right away that there were orange peels hanging from the trees around the front of the house. Knowing that my mother was never in the habit of flinging garbage out the kitchen window and finding no other logical explanation, I just had to ask. Grandma was drying them so she could throw them in the fireplace as an air freshener.

That same visit found her sitting at the dining room table with a big bunch of pecans in front of her that she was shelling into 3 different piles: the nuts that came out whole went into one pile for putting on top of cookies; the ones that were broken were collected in another pile for cranberry relish; the crumbs were going to go out for the birds. Now that I think about it, she must have had a use for the shells too, though I don’t know now what it was.

Maybe someone else in the family can add to this story?

Feline Spatial Perceptions and Thought Processes

(I just need a few subtitles to have that sound like a dissertation topic! Anyway...)

Two of the bedrooms in our house share a bathroom; there is a door into each of the bedrooms from that bathroom; there is no access from the hallway - bit of a confusing floorplan. Our little cat Maddie went into the first bedroom, then into the bathroom, and started scratching on the door to the second bedroom. Since I was in the 2nd bedroom, I simply got up and opened the door for her. She looked up at me, craned her neck to look into the room, looked back up at me... Clearly she had no idea where she'd be if she scratched at that door and it opened, and was expecting something completely different. That door isn’t usually open, and she isn’t often in that corner of the house. She was exploring, and was totally surprised to find a familiar person and a familiar place on the other side of that door.

A few years ago Frik had a similar moment of spatial confusion. He likes to sleep “under the covers” on top of my long body pillow, but this time our other cat was on top of the covers in the same spot. Frik kept pawing at the sheets – let me in! – clearly not realizing that with the other cat on top, there was no space for him underneath. No understanding of the concept of ‘potential’ space. For him, the space was there - he'd been in it a hundred times.

Mark, the Cognitive Psychologist, says cats probably don’t create ‘maps’ in their thought processes, mostly because smell is their biggest navigational tool. He thinks their litter box must be a ‘beacon’ to them, but they can’t, otherwise, find their way out of a paper bag. (This is certainly true of Maddie, I’ve observed.)

When we first got Maddie, Frik was very unhappy that we'd added her to the family. He hissed and growled and batted at her and we had to keep her in a kennel by the bed at night, just to keep the noise down while we slept. (Even so, he crouched under the bed and growled at her all night.) When she had to go to the vet for a few days he worked hard to express his delight that we’d seen his point and gotten rid of her. He purred, rubbed against me, ‘talked’ to me, did everything but a song and dance routine to let me know he was happy she was gone. Then of course she came back, and he just as clearly gave me the cold shoulder and pouted for days. It was an interesting experience, having him communicate his feelings as clearly as that. His point couldn’t have been more certainly made if he’d held up a sign!

I’m so intrigued by these glimpses into cat minds. We live with these amazing little guys and give voice and interpretation to their actions because we can’t help but ‘humanize’ them. But we know that this is just what we imagine or want them to be like. Rarely do we really see what they are actually thinking, in their little cat selves.

Wonderful creatures.

“Court Days” in Mt Sterling, KY

There’s a little town east of here that has continued a pioneer tradition over the last 200 years or so – holding annual “Court Days” as a gathering/market place for fall trading before winter sets in. So yesterday we went to Mt Sterling to see what it was all about. Since the ads said “You haven’t lived until you’ve been to Court Days” we were pretty hyped. Hmmmmm.

We’ve long been fans of small town celebrations and goodness knows we enjoy a craft fair as much as the next person. But this one? Not so much.

As we drove in to town we were assaulted every 100 ft. or so by someone hawking parking spaces. All public parking was closed off for the many, many vendor booths, but it seemed like that must have been designed to create an opportunity for local entrepreneurship. And boy did the locals take advantage. We finally found a spot, in someone’s backyard under a tree, and set off on foot to find out what “Court Days” was all about.

We thought it was a craft fair which also was a gun trading expo – and I guess it was. Goodness knows there were tons of people walking around with shotguns and rifles and racks-on-wheels of handguns, hoping for a trade. Little signs, providing the desired price or trade, stuck out of most of the rifle barrels slung over various shoulders. There were tables, next to tables, next to more tables, all along both sides of several narrow streets with hunting rifles laid out and serious looking men standing behind them hoping for business. Mark asked one guy about the paperwork that usually is required for a firearm to change hands and the guy looked at him squarely and said “We got our 2nd Amendments rights. Where are you from, California?” (I think Mark is having serious second thoughts about ever leaving this state!)

Crafts were a bit scarce. But somehow, and improbably, booths selling socks were in great abundance, as were booths of hardware surpluses, sunglasses and a wide variety of camouflage-printed articles of clothing. It was as if people had bought out inventory at “going out of business” sales all across the country and were trying to make their fortunes unloading the excess at “Court Days.”

But what struck us mostly were the food booths, and the conflicting smells they produced. Within one substantial section of real estate, people were barbecuing pork chops, frying corn dogs and onion “blossoms”, squeezing lemonade, sprinkling funnel cakes with powdered sugar, and grilling burgers. There were fancy “circus” style food-vendor trailers, paper-covered folding tables with a church name written on the front and a gas grill in the back, several traditional “roach coach” sorts of rolling kitchens. All those smells mixed in with sautéed onions and peppers and sausages... and kettle corn... “Are you hungry?” Mark kept asking. “No…”

We came home with a t-shirt advertising the locally famous soft drink Ale-8-One and empty stomachs.

Fried dill pickle, anyone?

Some things are just too weird, even for us.

Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill

When we were playing tourist last week, we visited Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill, the beautifully restored buildings and grounds of one of Kentucky's more interesting groups of settlers. They have buildings furnished with Shaker furniture and they are gardening and farming for 'exhibition' also on the grounds. It is beautiful, serene, fascinating.

But one visitor wanted to know if the brown sheep with the horns and the long ears in the middle of the other sheep were the males - is that why they look different? Ok. At least she knew that often it is the male of the species that grows the horns or antlers. But, really - those are goats. No extra credit for her.

The quilt exhibition was worth the trip!

Instructions

I don’t ‘do’ instruction manuals well. I can’t understand them when I first read them, if I read them at all, which is rarely, and then I lose them as soon as I’m done so I can’t refer to them again later. So over the last 6 months I’ve had a pilot light on my gas fireplace that I can’t get re-lit, a light blinking on my battery charger whose message is lost on me, a “time to replace the filter” light going on in my refrigerator when I didn’t know where the filter was (I didn’t even know WHAT the filter was until my sister explained, when she was here) and two Adirondack chairs that got put together crooked at first because I put ‘tab A’ in front of, instead of behind ‘slot B.’ Good grief.

You’d think that reading instruction manuals would come easily for me. I am somehow compelled by habit to read everything else I come across – road signs, ads, box tops, the privacy policy they give you at the doctor’s office. (Well maybe in that case there just wasn’t anything else but 'Field and Stream' in the office, but you get the point.)

The problem is that ‘instructions’ aren’t really readable. They don’t have plot or characters or setting and they don’t even have coherent sentences. I figure that I can make a reasonable guess (in the case of the chairs) or just ignore the possibility of a problem (unidentified blinking lights?) and get away with it. Or have to redo it several times until subsequent guessing turns out to be right. Or until Janet comes to visit – she who CAN read instruction manuals.

Life is more interesting this way, after all.

Yet Another Pumpkin Update

It’s been a while, huh?

Bet you were wondering…

We have 14 of them already – with another 12 still growing! (The ones still growing are going to be smaller though…)

I’d say that was quite a success for Farmer Mark, although there'd be an argument against, as well. For this agricultural experiment we bought a tiller, some top soil, seeds, fertilizer… and then we watered and watered and watered through the drought...

Gee, if we hadn’t grown our own, we probably would have saved hundreds of bucks.

But the entertainment value was, as they say, priceless.

Stay tuned for the final carvings!

Additional thoughts

I had some "trivia" on the Nada Tunnel that somehow just couldn’t seem to get into the last posting about the thing, in spite of myself – sometimes writing is like that.

Anyway, FYI, it measures 13’ by 12’ by 900’ and was built in 1910-11 to haul timber out of the Red River Gorge area. Dynamite, steam drills and hand tools were used to build it and the first load of logs got stuck in it and had to be dynamited out. It was built by the Dana Logging Company, and Nada is an anagram for Dana, not, as those of us from the west might assume, the Spanish word for ‘nothing.’

Say “Nada” out loud to yourself. Then ask why “if it’s ‘nada’ tunnel, what is it?” (Credit to my friend Eve for that one.)

And did anyone look at the hyperlink to Penn's Store, from the 'catalog' posting? I was thinking about Penn's store because they just recently had their annual Great Outhouse Blowout Event - which draws thousands (if they are to be believed) and celebrates their decision to finally install a public restroom at the store a few years ago - you guessed it - an outhouse. (The 'event' is a race, not, as the name suggests... well, something else!) Penn's Store is in Gravel Switch, KY (I don't make this stuff up!) It opened in 1845, and with the exception of the outhouse which was added in 1995 or thereabouts, they haven't seen the need for any updating. The sagging floors attest to that. You should see this place - Mamie Yokum should be settin' on the front porch.

I love Kentucky!

Insincere or unlucky?

Mark informs me that somehow, and improbably, we haven’t yet won the lottery. I can’t imagine that. If anyone was ever sincere about it, it was us. But Powerball is now up to $290,000,000 and he says “that should be enough” and is going to buy more tickets. We shall think positive thoughts once again.

The only “up” side to this lottery letdown is that he explains it by saying he has used up all his good luck on finding me. Come to think of it, that’s a pretty big “up” side.

See why I'm crazy about this man?

The best thing about blogging is…

There have been some very nice side-effects to the blog writing, the best of which is connecting with people I wouldn’t otherwise have contact with – new folks I’d have never met in person and relatives and relatives-of-relatives that I don’t usually have contact with. You can’t imagine how nice it is to get that email notice that someone has posted something on my blog! I’ve acquired a wonderful new cyberspace friend, received comments from cousins I haven’t had contact with in many years, heard from one of my favorite people, my nephew Ryan. What fun! And I hope that the address keeps getting passed on and that this gives us all a chance to stay better connected.

Thank you all for taking the time to read and comment! That really IS the best thing about blogging!

Catalog season

It’s catalog season. My mailbox is spilling over with them. Gifts, clothing, specialty tools, fruit – you name it, it’s still being sold by mail, even given internet successes. I love getting catalogs. I used to pour over Lillian Vernon when that mail order business first started back in the 60s. I love to get Harry and David catalogs – just for the beautiful and abundant displays. Levenger has wonderful stuff and Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel are worth their weight in entertainment value. But in this season – Catalog Season – there are also the specialty things that you’ve never-heard-of-but-possibly-can’t-live-without to look at. Ah, bliss!

I don’t actually buy much of anything though. That isn't really the point. Not MY point, at least.

Todd grew up in Alaska without the benefit of Toys R Us or any of the big chain stores with isles and isles of toys and games. So catalogs were our connection to the Christmas possibilities. Every year when the JC Penney and Sears Christmas Catalogs arrived we’d settle down for long hours of looking and developing a list of ‘potentials.’ Since all his friends did the same thing, there were intense discussions among them about what the hottest toy might be. For several years radio-controlled cars were the coveted item – and hard to find. Or the big Lego sets (many of which are still in boxes in my basement, but we’ve talked about that before…)

When I was little we’d use catalogs to cut out clothes to dress paper dolls. And I guess the thin paper is still coveted for use in the outhouse at Penns’ Store here in Kentucky.

Catalog season! I’m so excited.

Economics of family

When I was at the hospital doing my volunteer assignment I noticed that nearly every room I entered was full of family, there to watch over the patient and keep him/her company. Little old ladies whose sons have taken time off work to be with them; whole families stuffed into a room, laughing and joking and keeping the spirits up; loving husbands bringing flowers to sick wives; even distant nephews who traveled miles to be with aunts who would otherwise have been alone. The whole hospital, full of caregivers; only a fraction of whom are actually being paid to help.

I recently read an autobiography by Jill Ker Conway, the first woman president of Smith College. Her area of study is the role of women in the development of this country (although she is Australian herself!) and she makes the point that the 'behind the scenes' work of unpaid caregivers, cooks, housekeepers, organizers, and transportation providers is a huge but totally uncounted segment of our national economy. My observations in the hospital made me wonder about that - what would the hospital's costs actually be without those family members to straighten pillows, fetch ice chips, help with bathing and walking; keeping an eye on fevers and pain levels and medications? What would the cost in human life be without ever-vigilent family watching for signs of distress in those people they know so well?

What would the GNP of the United States be if those services were tallied and included?

But that's really beside the point. What value could we give to love?

Frustrations

I think I’m running out of things to say.

I thought from the beginning that I’d ‘blog’ along for a while and then not have anything else to say, and maybe that’s happened! I thought my last blog would be something like:

“That was fun. But now I’m done.”

But I’m not really done. I just haven’t taken time much lately to listen to the mental processes. And that is important to do. You can’t just float along doing the things that need to be done and consider that to be enough. You have to analyze, evaluate, consolidate, categorize, elaborate, humor-ize, re-configure, remember, relate, fantasize and dream about. All those things. And probably more. Otherwise you are just “led to the drinking of beer.” (That’s an old inside joke, not really worth repeating in its entirety but suffice it to say it is just the worst thing that can happen to an idle mind.)

So I need to shake off my frustrations and get back in the game here. Thinking.

Besides, there are always cat stories… and Todd stories, and Mark stories, and Grandma stories.

Getting the fundamentals

Yesterday we got stuck in the Nada Tunnel on our visitor's tour of the Daniel Boone National Forest with our 'visitors,' Carl and Kathy.

The single lane Nada Tunnel was built by hand, through solid rock, for a narrow gauge railroad many years ago. It is, in itself, a 'tourist attraction.' The tunnel is quite long, and the approach to it is not in a straight line so you have to drive right up to the entrance to see if there are cars coming through already from the other direction before you enter. If there are, you have to back up and wait; if not, you better have your lights on because it is a very long and dark little tunnel! Of course, you'll want anyone approaching from the other direction to know you are in there!

So yesterday there was some considerable confusion on the part of an elderly man and his wife who tried to enter the tunnel from the west while 4 cars and 2 bicycles (including us) were coming through from the east. He must have felt strongly that he had the right of way, because he just drove on in anyway, and then we all had to stop because there isn't an extra 2 feet in that tunnel, let alone space for cars to pass.

It took quite a while to get it sorted out, but finally the old guy slowly backed up and stopped just outside the tunnel entrance, where we all managed to just slide by him on our way out. He was obviously disgusted with us all. Since we stopped to take pictures on the other side, we had a chance to watch the aftermath of the confusion. (Right behind all this mess was a police car, also stopped, watching the entertainment but not really offering assistance.) Anyway, the old guy sat there for a long time, while other cars from the east side kept approaching the tunnel and driving on through, where they had to maneuver around him at the end.

Finally he got out of his car and approached the police cruiser. "So what's the deal with the tunnel?" You could tell he was completely stumped about why HE couldn't get through. (I suspect that most of the people who had to try to get around him had let him know how much they appreciated having to do so, possibly adding to his overall attitude.) The cop gamely tried to explain the "one lane" concept and then suggested he "have a nice day." The man finally got back in his car and drove through the tunnel.

Kathy wanted to know why the policeman hadn't just asked the guy for his license and keys on the spot as he was evidently too stupid to drive.

Isn't "right of way" a fundamental concept, the understanding of which is a pre-requisite for driving a car? Perhaps the concept of "single-mindedness of purpose" explains the situation, but certainly doesn't justify this man having a driver's license.

And I was just 'blogging' the other day about "high social commentary" in cartoons.

Digital Photography

I'm encouraging people not to give up the pleasure of photo prints when they go ‘digital’ with their cameras. Yes, the pictures are beautiful when lit up on a computer screen, but they don’t really get seen easily that way – and too many people lose them in their file system and then can’t recover one anyway. (That’s assuming they downloaded them from the camera in the first place, which apparently many people also don’t do!) I don’t get why one would print up photos in a 4x6 format, when photo paper comes in 8½ by 11 sheets, which is the best way to include them in photo albums. So my method is to create a collage of pictures and text on a single sheet – an album page – and print them out.

I use several photo processing programs to work on pictures because I like features on one that another just can’t match. But my primary tool is ‘Picture It!’ (by Microsoft) which I use to crop and otherwise doctor up my pictures, and then place several of them on a page together in a ‘pleasing manner’ (yes, I am the arbiter of that) to print. I might take 150 pictures on a hike, for example, and then actually print up 7 or 8 'pages' with 3-8 photos on each page. I take both close-up and long shots so that I have some variety to place on the page. I vary the size and dimensions of the photos, usually leaving a narrow strip of white space around each photo to set it off from the others. I can include the date, place and description of the hike – or describe some amusing anecdote if I want. I can add clip art or colored boxes or even lines and arrows (following the old “Alice’s Restaurant” song) if I want. Taken all together, I have a perfect image of the day.

And, of course, ‘taken all together’ I have cupboards and shelves overrun by photo albums. My computer runs through literally tens of thousands of photo files every time it does a virus scan. I devote many happy hours to my little hobby and more photo paper and ink products than I care to admit.

But I really like them. Really.

On Being Recognized and Remembered

We were sightseeing yesterday and visited "White Hall" the restored mansion of Emancipationist, Friend of Abe Lincoln, long time Ambassador to Russia, Cassius M. Clay. I've been on 'the tour' twice before, when my mother and sisters were here early in June, and both of those times I had the same tour guide - a young woman who said "whenever" instead of "when" ("Whenever Lincoln died..." as if it was several times.) So we get in to the tour, just the 3 of us, (it is a nice tour and beautiful building but not really on the main tourist road, so to speak) and there, sure enough, is the same tour guide. I know there are others but I keep getting the same one. (What are the odds? Why can't I win the lottery?) Anyway, as I said, the same tour guide...

"Has anyone been here before?" she asks. I fess up - yes, I was here two months ago - and she looks at me a minute and says "Oh yes, I recognize your shoes!"

Sorry. We couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped before decorum re-established itself. But we got over it; we carried on, and so did she. Over the next 28 rooms or so. Until the 3rd floor. When she finally tried to explain that she only noted them because my mother and I wore the same shoes.

I guess that explained it.

A little bit of Trivia: While it is Seward who gets the credit for the purchase of Alaska from Russia, it was really our own Mr. Clay who brokered the deal with the Tsar.

Quality Social Commentary

Years ago the adult cartoon TV show Beavis and Butthead took center stage of American pop culture. I thought it was awful. Mark saw it as high social commentary. When it was replaced with South Park, I started to go to bed earlier just to avoid watching the awful thing. Mark howled with laughter; evidently the high social commentary carried this show too? Sorry, but I couldn't get past the low social insults.

But finally he explained one particular episode, The Underpants Gnomes, and the light dawned. It seemed that the South Park boys were missing underwear and, investigating, found that Underpants Gnomes were stealing it for profit. This was very interesting. The boys wanted to 'profit' too and asked how this scheme worked. It seemed there was a 3-step plan:

Step 1. Collect underpants
Step 2.
Step 3. Profit

But what is Step 2?, the boys wanted to know. The answer was to repeat "Step 1 - collect underpants, Step 3, profit." I guess they never did get Step #2.

I still didn't really see how that was all that funny until Mark explained that this was exactly the business model his then-employer appeared to be following.

This was before the tech bubble burst. We soon found that many American businesses were following that same model: Do some stuff... expect profits to follow. I'd say this is the model the government follows as well: Spend a bunch of tax money... get re-elected... start spending money again.

Very high social commentary.

It's Raining!

Of course we have out-of-town company and were planning a full weekend of sightseeing. Why would it choose now to rain, after all the months of drought? I can't even say I'm glad for the rain this time. And I usually love rain. Alas.

So, we will try indoor things today - off in search of Kentucky crafts and history, I suppose. I wonder if it will rain tomorrow?

Lottery

Mark’s father informs him that PowerBall is up to some astronomical figure again and we should buy Lottery tickets. This always produces much hilarity at my house as we have a running joke about how to win the lottery that will never get resolved until we win it!

Mark has this convoluted theory about being Sincere (as in not sarcastic or disbelieving,) and buying just the right number of tickets, as the technique to winning. $10,000 worth would be about right, he jokes. I get nightmares about him gambling the family’s future earnings… he laughs heartily and will never actually say whether he thinks he could do that.

I think the right number of tickets is One – on the theory that that’s all it takes and the odds don’t increase appreciably with 2 or 10 or even 100. Mark counters that the odds actually double with 2 tickets, increase 10-fold with ten etc. Of course he is right, mathematically. But I am right financially.

We also have to have the discussion about whether to claim our winnings in a lump sum or payments over time and whether he should even bother to go to work the day after we buy the tickets (all part of the ‘sincerity’ requirement – if you really believe, you have to act as if you do!)

So, until someone wins this big payoff (oops – was that insincere?) we’ll be here laughing about winning theories and the Easy Life.

An Arizona Bobcat

My brother and his wife shared this picture of a bobcat who ambles through their backyard on occasion - and now I'm 'sharing' too. He (she?) is so beautiful! What a great shot!!

It reminded me that it's been months since I've seen deer in my own backyard; another reason to look forward to fall - which STILL hasn't arrived! Maybe this weekend - when my bobcat-picture-taking-brother-and-sister-in-law will be here visiting!

Baseball

I’ll admit right off that writing about a sport – any sport – is a bit out of my element. I am the least athletic person I’ve ever known and, in spite of having a son who is a rabid sports fan and participant, I generally know nothing about sports of any kind. And my interest level pretty much matches my knowledge level.

But even I know that this is the time of year for the World Series. I know this because it is also the time of year when journalists, commentators and sports announcers wax eloquent about the great American Pastime that is Baseball. Over the years some of the funniest essays I’ve ever read have been attempts to explain to the ‘unbeliever’ why Baseball is such a great sport. The thing is, actual reasons elude people.

True Baseball allure seems to be more about the stadiums and the hot dogs than anything. Or maybe it is the ‘crack’ of the bat when it finally connects with a ball. People give vague references to childhood visits to major league parks and how they thrilled to the sounds and smells, the green of the grass, the glare of the sun, the yells of the crowds, the brightness of the scoreboard. Even the memorabilia and the convoluted statistics records are cited by some as part of the attraction. No one seems to really talk about the game itself – but that doesn’t seem to matter. I guess you either get it, or you don’t.

And the funny thing is – I think I do! Play ball!

Sharing a little bit of my Kentucky day

I'm not sure fall color is going to happen - but the flowers sure are nice.

Cronies

Have you ever noticed how some men seem to easily pick up Cronies as they wander through life? My husband is one of those. Everywhere he goes he seems to find some random person in whom he sees sparks of Having Something In Common and off they go, on a wild conversation that defies social convention and leaves them both with eyes twinkling and a lift in their step. They never get to any of the niceties of meeting and introductions. Not necessary. There is just some instant recognition of commonality that makes them old Cronies.

We were hiking in Pt Reyes in California once when we ran across a previously unknown Crony. Before I could catch my breath from an uphill climb Mark had spotted some other middle-aged hiker sitting on a stump in the woods and they were off and running-at-the-mouth about whether Peter Jackson’s interpretation of the Lord of the Rings should have been more faithful to the books – specifically as far as some minute point about Frodo’s responsibility to the fellowship was concerned. Huh? I had a lot of time to catch my breath before we finally broke away – lifelong friends, but probably never to see each other again.

There was another time when it was a t-shirt – from South Park, I’m embarrassed to admit – that was the spark that got the conversation going. And another when his walking stick triggered a lengthy discussion about survival gear. He somehow finds just the right person with whom to launch into an elaborate discussion about powder loads for bullets, about lawn tractors, about a graphic novel series (Lone Wolf and Cub, of all things) and it’s meaning in today’s corporate world…

I’m amazed. But by now I shouldn’t be. My father was one of those men. I think my brother is too. Are they all Cronies?

Caution and the Golf Cart

My mother just bought a golf cart to use to scoot around between the four houses and the mailbox area that comprise the family ‘compound’ in Arizona. We all thought it would be a great idea – easier for her to bring her dog along, save wear and tear on her car, and just fun to do. It has a “Go” pedal and a “Stop” pedal, evidently, and it is, by her first report, quite “zippy.”

I related all this to my 20-something son on the phone the other day and he immediately wanted to know if it had a seat belt and if someone was going to keep the dirt roads between the houses graded so they weren’t bumpy and if there was some way to restrict the speed on it so she couldn’t go too fast. “I don’t want Grandma falling off!” he exclaimed in total exasperation that we could have been so reckless on her behalf.

As the daughter/mother in between, I found it to be a surreal moment.

October!

Driving home through our neighborhood yesterday, we saw the first of what will likely be many Fall-themed outdoor decorations – if last year’s displays are to be repeated. Being mostly from the west coast, we weren’t prepared for the enthusiasm with which our eastern neighbors greeted the change of season last fall. Everyone had elaborate vignettes set up in their yards – hay bales, wagons, scarecrows, pumpkins and other gourds, mums in pots… What a treat! What a surprise! It seemed like every time we went out for a walk around the neighborhood another display had been augmented and ‘touched up’ some more. These people were Serious Season Celebrators!

As October wore on the displays became decidedly more focused on Halloween specifically, and we had competing, gaily colored, inflatable cartoon figures (Scooby Doo?) and Halloween ghosts and ghouls as well. It was almost as if there was an unannounced competition for the largest, most conspicuous Thing. They were lit from underneath besides, so that they glowed in the dark.

I might be looking forward to that this year… Yes, I think I am.

Expressing opinions

I quite enjoyed a link that was suggested to an excellent blog called “World Scott” that I’ve been reading; and MJ has worked on her home page and added to her blog and that’s been inspiring too… Great, deep, thoughtful expressions of strongly held beliefs.

I’ve been nervous all along about my own commentary – wondering if I should simply stick to the everyday stuff that I just have fun with, and try to make ‘fun to read’ as well – but I am so interested personally in other people who express themselves boldly and unequivocally that I’m trying to talk myself into moving steadily in that direction myself; make myself more comfortable with actually expressing, not just holding strong opinions. (Not that I’m done with pumpkin pictures and turtles and other ‘observations,’ mind you. This blog has been a means of connecting with family and friends by at least half, and will continue to be.)

My father was a ‘bold opinion’ man, and I grew up – I’m embarrassed to admit – cringing at that! I would just know that the person he was about to pontificate to wasn’t going to agree with him, and I’d silently wish he’d just keep to some neutral subject. I guess I don’t like conflict… And I also grew up in a small church environment where every year there was a Congregational Meeting where everyone had strong opinions about the most ridiculous stuff – I’d be mortified and literally shrink down in my chair to think that someone – anyone! – could make so illogical or irrelevant or just-plain-silly a point, in public, as some of those people did. And having lived in a small town in Alaska for so many years, I was involved, reluctantly but necessarily, in school board and city council meetings that more often than not would result in some pair of combatants "stepping outside to settle this.” Now that’s mortifying!

My husband has strong opinions about practically everything and I disagree with the extreme-ness of them often, but equally often agree with the underlying principles, once I disassemble much of the radical rhetoric and often inflamatory 'bent.' Having been also married too long to a man who could only talk about the weather and sports, I am hopelessly attracted now to people with strong, viable, rational, compelling opinions on practically everything. Even when they make me feel uncomfortable and ‘inadequate.’

I long ago found that ‘liberal’ politics lends itself to quick, easily memorized ‘sound-bites’ that make a political discussion pithy and successful. It is hard to argue, in the short term, with the humanitarian, noble sounding rhetoric of the political left. It is so very simplistic. My opinions are based on more layers of reasoning – and are harder to make understood in the 30-second cocktail party sort of conversation. They are based on years of reading, observing, questioning, rationalizing, and ‘following the money’ sort of conclusions. I can’t make a point about them briefly at all. My liberal friends lose interest long before I can even come back to their original discussion! And now that 'right-wing' politics have gotten so far off from what I believe, I can no longer even label my views with a known identity.

But I’m going to keep trying, occasionally, and hope that those of you who are reading my blog for the pumpkin pictures will humor me and hang in there too – there will still be plenty of that sort of thing!

Goldenrod vs. Ragweed

I’ve been enjoying the long, waving yellow blossoms covering the roadsides and the edge of our woods – goldenrod, I think. The Kentucky State Flower. The pronouncement of fall. Thoughts of poetic musings about its beauty fill my heart, so to speak.

But today someone said “No, I think that’s ragweed.”

Bit of a letdown there…

But it’s OK. I looked it up. It is, in fact, goldenrod; ragweed being a plant that relies on the wind to carry its pollen, making it a less attractive, smaller, greener flower that just blooms at the same time that goldenrod does.

Funny, that we wouldn’t blame goldenrod for our allergies but would confuse the beautiful flower for ragweed. What’s in a name?

Right to Privacy

Today I did a little internet research on Disney’s ‘biometrics’ admission practices – sort of an 'after effect' of my trip – and found quite a discussion about privacy issues. It seems that Disney has found a way to ensure that customers who purchase season passes cannot transfer their passes to someone else – by scanning the first two digits of the right hand and loading that ‘geometric’ profile onto the pass card. There is a small enough chance of two people having the same two-finger profile for this to be good ‘card security’ for them – so they say. Is this another case of “little by little… until it is so big it can’t be stopped?” Do we want Disney collecting even this information? The general consensus was that it probably isn’t a big deal – just takes people by surprise and makes them think twice about going again! But still…

When I was growing up, through the duck-under-your-school-desk-and-cover-your-head School of Thought on Nuclear Attacks in the Cold War (today's version is duct tape,) I heard often of the plight of the Russian people under Communist rule who always had to stop at check points and provide their official ‘documents’ to the authorities on the rare occasion that they were actually allowed to travel. (Was that in James Bond movies?) It was depicted as a ‘near thing’ every time – much could be wrong with your papers, or some new rule might be violated in some unknown way. You'd be hauled off to rot in political prison for the rest of your life. Somehow that had a strong effect on me.

I’ve been uncomfortable for years about steps we take to ‘ensure national security.’ Having to provide ‘travel documents’ when I fly a commercial airline bothers me deep down. I want my anonymity back. I’d like to drive down the road without traffic cameras recording my progress or my cell phone tracking my location or ‘On-Star’ calling me to see if I need an oil change because my odometer just went over another 1000 mark. I don’t like it that my doctor won’t treat me unless I give her my social security number, or that ChoicePoint can sell all my personal data to crooks just because they can collect it in the first place.

The medical profession thinks it would be just swell if we’d all have ‘chips’ implanted with our medical histories. And child protection agencies recommend that we fingerprint our children in case they are ever lost or kidnapped. My husband’s work place has security cameras in every hall and meeting room – who are they looking for? In the name of workplace safety we’re asked to pee in a cup, get fingerprinted, authorize personal credit checks. We're even willing to be searched to go to a baseball game! Are we still paying attention?

"It’s all for our own good." Each little step up of security is just a little invasion of our privacy and our rights, and who could complain about it, really, in the face of the threat or the fear or the ‘whatever.’

When will we have gone too far? Certainly when it is too late to turn it all back.