More than a little delay here...

I have been derelict in my duty to my blog, I know. But I just am too distracted. Too worried about the housing situation, as yet unresolved.

But - I made some progress on other fronts. The long battle with Kentucky's Motor Vehicle agency over getting the title to my car is finally over, title received, so I spent the day getting Washington vehicle insurance, emissions inspections and new titles and registration for our two vehicles. I got lost trying to find all the places involved in getting those things done, of course, but that just meant I found a bunch of other places I might want to know the locations of later. Managing the standard transmission on Mark's truck put a few more gray hairs on my head, but, all total, who could notice? Mark put the new plates on when he got home, and we are now official, if homeless, Washington residents.

I spent the day on Monday wringing my hands and otherwise being despondent and stupid, but finally got over that by the end of the day too, and looked up the Seattle version of Craig's list for apartment rentals and printed up a bunch of possibilities and so am armed and ready to wage that battle if it comes to it - and it surely will, if not this week, then in a few more weeks. Because once again the weekend went by without a word from the Kentucky real estate agents, so there is no progress on that.

And my poor Mark has been sick too - and that is much worse than being sick myself. Not much else going on here then.

So, somehow there haven't been any comments on the blog lately, and that is very disappointing since I am pretty isolated as it is. But I can see that I'm not exactly putting up much to comment on either... Oh well. I feel like Tinkerbell, who needs people to clap and say "I do believe in fairies; I do believe..."

Am I still here?

Head Colds, and State of Mind

I thought I was getting over my cold finally. But either I’m having a relapse, or I am getting another one. And I know why. We are living with too much uncertainty. Health is a state of mind first and foremost – else why would all those people think all those scientifically ineffective ‘supplements’ and herbal cures work?

My dad used to attribute his good health and well-being to his positive attitude – or sometimes to drinking milk, of course. Whatever. When I’d point out that other ‘seniors’ just as readily credited such things as a daily glass of whiskey (scandalous, in his world, of course) or the cigar they smoked every night on the porch, or their regular bowel movements, or cheese, he’d just respond with the twinkle in his eyes and a quick grin. I guess it doesn’t matter what you believe, as long as you believe it.

A positive attitude would be good, in any case. We currently have a deadline of March 9 to be out of this fully furnished apartment, with its rented towels and forks and TV and phone and lamps and EVERYTHING – and are still trying to get an answer about whether they will extend our stay here. This is a short month. We may need to find another place pretty quick. Such uncertainty. And if we do have to find another place, we have none of our household goods with us – everything is still in our house in Kentucky. (My mother pointed out that this would mean it wouldn’t take us very long to actually move out. See – positive attitude???) So I’ve been going through this mental exercise about how little we could get away with buying (everything would be unnecessary, once we actually move our stuff here) and how short a term we might be able to get on a lease, and what sort of place we could get with only a short term lease, and just how long will it be before Kentuckians come out of their complacent winter funk and start looking to buy a house… OUR house.

And now I think my cold is back. My state of mind is not healthy. And neither am I.

The ups and downs, ins and outs of the Olympics

It's been many years since we actually watched the Olympic games - but this time around we got engaged in them again (probably since we don't really have anything else to do at the moment.) I have to say, though, that it's a good thing it is just the two of us watching here - we'd surely drive any real fan right out of the room. We find ourselves disagreeing with the judges vehemently, even though we really don't know jack about the sports or the rules or the scoring. We have our favorites, of course, and mostly they are based on how polite or friendly someone is in after-event interviews, or whether they have a chin or their eyes are too close together, or because we like their mother. We thought at first the snowboarders were all punks but then were completely captivated by the redhaired kid on the USA team. We laughed at 'Curling' and at all the men on the bobsled who are just there to provide ballast, and we couldn't understand why the speed skaters weren't at an all-out sprint through their 4 minute races.

It's a good thing the games are almost over. We can be insufferable about something else.

A Chinese culture mix-up

When my niece (in-law) Carolyn read the blog entry about our day in the city with Mark’s co-worker from China she was excited to think that she might be able to get some authentic help with finding a Chinese middle name for her soon-to-be-adopted-from-China baby girl. She was finding ‘naming’ in Chinese to be a bit of a challenge because of the nuances of this very difficult (for us) language. The name had to have the right meaning, and the written form had to be accurate Chinese characters (for the quilt and the album and the wall hangings and all the other wonderful stuff we make for our darling babies that features their names…) Anyway, finally they had picked out a name and matching Chinese characters and wanted to ask Dawei if the characters were right for the name, and if the name meant what they thought it did. OK – should be simple…

Maybe it was our own ‘transposition of the problem space,’ or maybe Dawei just had a different notion of how you name a baby, or maybe we just got caught in that “a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing” problem, but before we knew it, the simple request had become a bit complicated.

Dawei’s first response was that it seemed like the name had been picked out of a book. Well, yes, how else would an American couple pick out a Chinese name? Isn’t that pretty much how we go about picking American names too? Oh well. Not so, the Chinese, I guess. It appeared that the first choice was, to Dawei, an ‘old fashioned’ name – used in excess in the 70s but not much in use now. So suddenly we’ve stepped a bit away from ‘information’ to ‘taste.’ But our interest was piqued so we gave him the additional information that the intent was to find a ‘flower’ name, like the other little girls in the family had for their middle names – like ‘Rose.’

Well, at this point, I think Dawei’s own interest was piqued and he was determined to give this baby the perfect name himself. He needed to know the baby’s last name, “so it will go with the middle name” leaving us wondering how any Chinese names could go with ‘Jester’ but, you know, we were in to it for the long haul by now, so…

By this time Carolyn and I had been exchanging a flurry of emails and she mentioned that there was a hint in what she had learned that the name had to be ‘balanced’ or something – that there are numbers to names that had to 'add up.' Or something. Huh? (I’m not sure I got that right, but it doesn’t really matter, at this point!) So she provided a list of the other names under consideration, along with their corresponding ‘numbers.’ Mark showed this to Dawei. “No numbers,” he said. “Numbers not important.” More thought.

The next day inspiration had struck our Chinese friend. “Xiulan,” correct Chinese character drawn, would be perfect.

Now here is where the English communication got a bit mixed. I thought Mark said that the English translation for Xiulan was “Shirley Temple.” Sarah Shirley Temple Jester, she would be.

(A pause here… to let you think about that one a bit, especially in light of the fact that the first name suggested was deemed “old fashioned” from the 70s…)

Additionally, Mark said, there is a Shirley Temple Rose, registered with the rose society. Does that make things any more clear?

But it turns out that the Chinese hold our dear Shirley in considerable esteem and that Xiulan is simply the Chinese name they gave her – evidently along the line of ‘Beautiful Flower’ or something - instead of the actual translation of ‘Shirley Temple’ from English to Chinese.

Really, at this point, Mark and I are reluctant to ask any more questions, fearing an inadvertent cultural ‘slight’ to our new friend, after he obviously put so much care into his selection. (We hope we haven’t committed him to be the godfather or something!) So sure was he that he had found the perfect name, that we can’t really go back to him and say “well, OK, but, getting back to the original question…” We may never know.

Maybe we can find someone a little less ‘new’ from China to help.

(Thank you, Carolyn, for giving me permission to tell the tale!)

Health advice

I wish I had been keeping count, over the past couple of weeks, of the number of articles in the news about how current popular health advice is now looking 'wrong' based on new evidence.

Apparently we don't get the benefit from high fiber or low fat diets that we were told we were getting; an-aspirin-a-day doesn't seem to help; the glucosamine and chondroitin sulfate that we were taking for joint pain turns out not to be effective. Palmetto doesn't reduce symptoms of an enlarged prostate after all. Calcium and Vitamin D supplements don't appear to help strengthen bones or protect from colon cancer. And last year a study indicated echinacea didn't prevent or treat colds.

Study designs were flawed, results faked or misinterpreted, benefits overstated or 'subtle but important nuances were lost when trying to communicate the results to the public.' Subjects of some studies were too old, too healthy, too inconsistent in their health habits. Researchers lied, or simply didn't understand what they were looking at.

Good grief.

I'm glad I wasn't bothering to follow all that advice anyway!

Those embarrassing personal problems

Look through a magazine these days (or actually watch a few TV commercials) and you will be faced with a reality too horrible to contemplate: the stakes for social acceptability are appreciably higher in America these days.

Years ago we never realized we had dirty pores to clean out, or yellowed teeth to whiten or nail fungus to be rid of. What were we thinking? I never even knew I HAD to exfoliate. Now look at the array of products and services I have to buy to ‘keep things up,’ as it were. Pore-cleaning strips, teeth whitening strips, loofahs, creams, ointments and waxes. You can’t shave without 5 blades in your razor any longer – where will it end? Gray hair, dull hair, thin hair, curly hair, straight hair – all are ‘problems’ that can be fixed with the ‘right’ stuff. Heaven forbid someone should show up in today’s world with dandruff or sweat stains or wrinkles in their shirts. If you spill soup on your tie at lunch, it can be gone in a minute – but only if you have your handy laundry pen in your pocket. Wouldn’t want to be embarrassed…

And as if that isn’t enough, we must, by now, realize the need to botox our wrinkles, lazer our eyes, liposuction our fat, and surgically lift our jaw lines (and other parts as well.) As soon as problems appear! Early and often.

I blame advertising. Describe the need, present the solution. And, when all the needs have been met, up the ante by creating new ones. Then, sell, sell, sell.

(Before we had so many lawyers, we didn’t realize we had so many causes to sue other people when we got fat, either. We ate french fries at our own peril.)

Don’t forget to ask your doctor about getting a prescription for smoother joints, better memory, or ‘Happiness!’

I can hardly wait to see what I need next.

More cat trauma

We had been notified by the apartment folks that we needed to be out of the apartment all day today so that they could fix the bathtub – a maintenance worker had determined that it needed to be resurfaced, evidently. Since there would be serious fumes involved, we couldn’t return until evening. That’s all well and good for Mark and me, but for the cats… not so much.

The only plan we could come up with, outside of boarding them at a kennel, was to take them in the car with me for the day – and if it was warm enough, just sit in a parking lot somewhere and read (they really DON’T like to be in a moving vehicle) or if the heater was necessary, drive around periodically – all day. Not a great plan, but adequate to the requirements. (Besides, I found a great outlet mall on the internet, north of Seattle that I could ‘drive’ to, and whose parking lot would surely do nicely…)

So we got up early, cleared the bathroom of personal items and cleaned the tub, loaded the cats in their carriers, loaded the car up with a litter box, water and food, warmed up the car for them, and finally moved the carriers down to the car. And waited for the ‘workers’ to come. Of course they were late, and when they finally did arrive they announced that they had a work order for the ‘surround’ not the tub, and so the ‘surround’ was what they were going to fix. Now there wasn’t really anything wrong with the ‘surround’ but they searched and found a little crack, peeled it to make it bigger, agreed that it would only take them 10 minutes to fix it, and that fumes wouldn’t really be a problem. I could just stay. No need to be gone all day.

Paperwork is paperwork, I guess. Must follow the work order, after all.

Doesn’t it sound like we are doomed to repeat the whole drill sometime soon, when the apartment people realize they used the wrong terminology – ‘surround’ instead of ‘tub?’ I don’t even want to think about it.

When the workers left, I went back to the car to bring the cats back inside – Maddie first. I brought her in, opened the carrier door so she could get out, and went back to the car for Frik. By the time I got back to the door with him, Maddie was meowing her little heart out. Heaven help us if she is ever really separated from her Frik.

Now they are clearly disturbed, nervous and ‘contemplating’ the incomprehensible again. It’s going to be a long day. But at least we aren’t spending it in the car.

This was traumatic enough.

That elusive mountain

Yesterday we took Mark’s Chinese friend, Dawei, to Pike’s Place Market in downtown Seattle. It was clear and sunny and bright (and cold) and we thought for sure we could see Mt. Rainier from downtown. It was there – sort of floating in the distance – but not really the standout I was hoping for.

In the market you see all kinds of photos and drawings and watercolors of the Seattle skyline with this most beautiful of mountains in the background – and I keep expecting to have that sort of day – so we can get that sort of picture. Ha! Of course, to actually get that sort of picture, you’d have to be in an airplane or hot air balloon or something, floating over the Sound – not exactly likely for us.

Elusive mountain. Uncooperative weather. Wrong place at the wrong time. The picture will never happen, but I am fascinated, nevertheless.

Geologists predict that Mt. Rainier (the Indian name is Tahoma, and that is how it is referred to – like Mt. McKinley, in Alaska, is really Denali) will erupt catastrophically again in ‘near’ geologic time. And when it does, it will wipe out most of Seattle, supposedly. It figures. Just when we get here. It is really many miles (100+?) from Seattle – but is so large (14,000 ft. from Seattle’s sea level elevation!) that it looms on Seattle’s horizon anyway. Even the distance isn’t expected to save Seattle – too much of a blast is anticipated, or too much lava flow? No one seems to take it very seriously though – as people tend not to do.

Maybe in the summer, when some of the snow is gone, I’ll get the picture I want. Perhaps from the deck of the Bainbridge ferry, or the bluffs of Discovery Park or some other yet-unidentified site I’ll have just the right vantage point. I’ll keep trying.

In the meantime, we enjoyed our visit, enjoyed Dawei’s company – learned about McDonald’s restaurants in China, among other things – and, of course, enjoyed another dinner at Ivar’s. (Maybe we should invest in them?)

More on Ryan’s pictures

I’ve been working on picture pages to print for my mother and enjoying some of Ryan’s choices. He was asking everyone to make a funny face for the camera – and there are some pretty interesting ones in his collection, for sure.

Anyway, there, among Ryan’s pictures, was one of a section of my mother’s bookcase that holds a picture of my dad in his WWII pilot’s get-up, next to a bear in the same garb – leather jacket and helmet, white silk scarf and goggles. That isn’t a typical smile for him (my dad, not the bear); he usually had a more grim look on his face in his pictures, a result, he claimed, of teasing by all his older siblings about his smile or his nose or his ears or something every time a camera appeared in his youth. But my mother says she loves the picture now, because he looks happy and hopeful.

I’m glad Ryan asked people to make funny faces. We’ll look happy and hopeful for years to come. Well, OK – silly is as good, isn’t it?

Perspective

As promised, my nephew Ryan sent a CD of his pictures of the 80th birthday party. And he had some very nice ones – much better than mine! (Thank you Ryan!)

But here’s the thing: I am barely 5’ 4” tall, and Ryan stands at least 6’ 8”. (Forgive me if I’ve actually ‘shorted’ you by several inches, Ryan – to me you look like 7 feet 20 inches or something!) Obviously he took a few of his pictures standing up – from his eye level perspective. Which is at the ceiling looking down; looking down at light fixtures and the tops of door frames, not to mention the tops of people’s heads. The perspective is peculiar to me. I had no idea the world could look like that. I am used to looking at people from straight on. From above they look slightly misshapen. And far away.

So today I am thinking about perspective – not so much regarding the literal view of the world, as in the difference between Ryan’s and mine – but the views that separate people and make them appear different to each other. The perspectives of age, position and attitude.

(I was reading an article yesterday about aging baby boomers who are, for various reasons, back in the ‘dating’ world. It described how the women, at least, are finally realizing that it should be OK that they don’t look like models or movie stars any longer. “Hey,” one said, “If I’m naked and smiling, shouldn’t that be enough?” Perspective.)

My view of the world – my perspective – has certainly changed over the 10 years I have been with Mark. I’ve seen more, done more, thought more, challenged more… and loosened up a lot. That’s a lot of changes for a person of my age. (Ahem.) A lot of ‘attitude adjustment.’ And with all of that, people look better to me – fascinating, more attractive, more appealing. Over the years I’ve learned how pointless, and damaging, it is to judge others – and how much more interesting it is to just marvel at their choices, their opinions, their attitudes.

Yet I know people (and know OF people) whose perspective hasn’t changed a bit over years of living. And who evidence no awareness that another’s perspective could be valid – or at the very least, could not possibly matter to them at all. The news is full of them – Muslims angry at cartoonists, athletes angry at referees, politicians angry at the press, Jesse Jackson angry at everyone. How could that be? How could you live a life that sure of everything?

Would that everyone could be a foot and a half taller, taking pictures of a world from a different view.

Is anyone out there?

I haven't had access to my email account all day - and through most of yesterday. Don't know what is happening with it - it just won't load. I either get an error message or a 'time out' message. Everything else on my internet service works so I can only guess it is something peculiar to their server. But it really unnerves me, to be without that contact.

I functioned just fine over the years with 'snail mail' and the telephone being my only substitutes for personal contact. And then email and cell phones invaded my life and ratcheted up the stakes for personal communication. Now, here I am, reduced to near-panic because someone might have sent me a message and I can't see it. Good grief. How 'in touch' do I need to be? It would appear that the level is pretty high. Chances are very good that the only email I've received is 'Travel Buddy' updates (air fares to Brussels might have dipped a bit, after all) and notices from Eddie Bauer about their clearance sale. I know that intellectually, but emotionally I am just as sure that there is a 'treasure' in my In-Box that I must have right away.

Is there a cure for this? Even a distraction? I can't seem to find it. The longer I am 'out of touch' the more obsessed I become.

Is anyone out there? I may never know!

And speaking of ‘sweet’…

I’ve been getting quite a few calls from my son Todd lately – always fun – because he's been planning to cook an elegant dinner for his girlfriend for Valentine’s Day. We've been exchanging recipes, I guess. First it was about ‘menu planning’ then the actual recipe (had to get MY mother involved in that one since my recipe books are home in Kentucky along with everything else) then shopping considerations, then back to menu (appetizers, this time) and the corresponding recipe for the appetizers. There were calls about quality and source of ingredients (halibut and crab) and whether to add dill to the salmon spread since she likes dill. Does it get cooked with the lid on or off? How fine should the onion be chopped?

We had a grand time. I hope she appreciated it (and him) and that they had a nice evening. I’ll probably never know.

Which is fine.

We may not be living in the same state (haven’t done so for 6 ½ years now) but we connect on the little things that make it seem like the old day-to-day contact we had when he was younger. He calls when he has something funny to say, or has a success to report, or when he is sick or bummed about something. He calls with all kinds of questions that probably anyone else could answer, and I know he is just letting me be involved – because he knows I want to be. He’s asked for driving directions– “I’m at X intersection and know there should be a ‘Target’ store nearby – could you look it up on the internet?” Which is better, liquid laundry soap or powdered? Should I still try to have a one-page resume, leaving out some internships, or is it OK to go to two pages? Or one of my favorites: “Guess where I am right now?” He’s called from mountaintops, concert seats, hot dog stands, museums. Great fun.

(And I guess I have the invention of the cell phone to thank for some of this, much as I hate to give credit to the evil device...)

There is a job fair on his campus this weekend - I'm bound to get some calls around THAT topic. Can't wait!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

We don’t usually go too much for the “Hallmark” holidays but there is something about Valentine’s Day that is sweet and irresistible. So we at least do the card thing – and some years even the jewelry thing. Most years we do the dessert thing, of course. Any holiday is an excuse for sweets. Hope yours is sweet too.

For Brandon, on growing pumpkins

My little nephew was looking at our pumpkin pictures and wants to know Mark's secrets for growing big ones.

Well Brandon, the secret must be in a bunch of things, but first it is in the seeds. Some kinds of pumpkins just grow bigger than others. So you have to look at the seed packets and decide which one you want to grow. We bought our seeds in the spring when there was a good selection in the stores. But we didn't plant them until July, so they would be ready in October. We had a hilly backyard so they were planted on a slope and had good drainage. But we built up little mounds of dirt to put the seeds in. (Be sure to keep the empty seed packets after you plant the seeds - you might want to look at the directions again!)

The seeds have to be planted in good soil.

And they have to be watered.

First you'll get a few little leaves, and then the leaves will get bigger and start to grow into vines with big orange flowers.

And when little pumpkins start to come out (you'll see them on the back end of some of the flowers) they have to be thinned so that only a few try to grow on a vine at one time. (That's another secret to growing BIG pumpkins.) Too many pumpkins on one vine, and none of them will grow big. We thought that was the hardest part - picking some off so that others could grow better!

Mark gave them some fertilizer and watered them often - it seemed like their very big leaves got very droopy and limp when they needed water.

When the pumpkins got bigger we were supposed to lift them up a little and put a flat piece of wood under them to protect them from the soil. But we didn't have any wood so we didn't do that part. Oh well. Ours turned out OK anyway. Once they start to get big, you want to protect them so they don't rot away before they grow to their full size - so try to find some flat wood!

And then we just took a lot of pictures. I don't really think the pictures helped them grow, but it sure helped us have fun growing them! I hope you have fun growing them too.

NW Flower and Garden Show

This is the premier garden event in the Northwest – a huge display of demonstration gardens and garden product vendors – and we are actually here and were able to go! (In spite of my still-bad cold. I just took my box of tissues and cold medicine along.)

The venue is the WA Convention Center, an amazing place in downtown Seattle. The event attracts all kinds of folks – and people-watching is certainly one good reason to go. The big garden displays always include patios, water features, bridges, trellises, art, patio furniture, massive amounts of plants – tulips were quite prominent this year – and trees. And, of course, everything is identified so you can rush out to your local nursery and place your order! They have all kinds of information and gardening assistance available – we found out about native bees and signed up for emails about baskets (that might have been a mistake, but you know how it is when you get to talking to someone…) and got some information about the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival in April. Mark got a 'bee' cap. We wandered down to the market when we were done and I got some fresh roasted cashews. All very exciting stuff. It was wonderful. Sigh.

Spring might be around the corner. We might eventually sell our house and get out of this apartment. I might, at some point, even get over this cold. It could all turn out OK after all.

It didn’t rain today either!










(Is this a garden nymph?)


You can click on the pictures to open a larger version of them if you'd like a closer look.

Kurt Vonnegut, again

In spite of promises that he had written his last, Kurt Vonnegut has done it again. I am reading his newly published book, “A Man Without a Country,” with mixed feelings. I don’t always like his politics… but sometimes I am crazy about his politics. I love his ramblings but am tired of hearing about Powers Hapgood, and Sacco and Vanzetti. I am amazed at how much ‘territory’ he has covered in his books, inspired by how much of himself and his personal history is written into his crazy stories. Agree with them or not, there is no mistaking his issues. Whether you agree with the point or not, there is no mistaking the mastery of the English language that puts it together.

I’d love to give you some quotes. But I keep looking at the copyright statements and thinking that probably I can’t. Alas. You’ll have to read it yourself. But if you do, you have to start with him from the beginning – he carries his baggage all the way through his books.

My favorite little story is about him deciding to sue the manufacturer of Pall Mall unfiltered cigarettes, the brand he has smoked since he was 12. They have been promising for years, right there on the package, that they will kill him. And here he is, eighty-two years old…

Well, just one little quote:
“The last thing I ever wanted was to be alive when the three most powerful people on the whole planet would be named Bush, Dick and Colon.”

The book is, unfortunately or not, a diatribe against George Bush and all the others who he sees as leaders without a conscience. It is an old man’s ramblings about a world gone wrong and sadness at what we’ve lost.

I’m glad, at least, that we haven’t yet lost Kurt Vonnegut.

Ceremonies and Symbolism

I just read the description of the Olympic Games Opening Ceremonies that are supposed to be happening today. I don't think I'm going to tune in. For example:

"Rollerbladers in red body stockings with giant flames shooting out of their heads will zoom around the oval stage at speeds of 40-plus mph. Their odyssey is meant to symbolize the passion, speed and energy of both Italians and Olympic athletes."

I'm just not enough of a sap to find that inspirational. Red body stockings? Flames? I will undoubtedly get the giggles instead. When there are fake cows on rollers, and dancing trees, and some super-model in an Armani gown parading around with a flag - of all things to do in an Armani - I have to blush and turn off the TV. And hopefully that's before they get to the "performers suspended by wire in mid air" who are recreating a flying version of Boticcelli's Venus. Humph! Italians.

(And I say that in the same spirit as California Happy Cows said "Humph - Poultry" when making disparaging remarks about chickens.)

Actually, the Italians aren't to blame. I don't know why we can't let sports be sports and art be art. (Well, OK, that's a lie - I do know why - always follow the money. But still... ) The modern Olympic Games are pageantry, and perhaps such stuff just doesn't lend itself to description. It should be experienced. To the fullest, evidently.

The only things is, these are the winter games - and there is no snow in Turin?

Re: Bad Pictures

For everyone in the family who has pictures of the birthday celebration from last weekend and is willing to share - YES! Thank you!! I'd love to have them and will compile a little album for "Grandma" if I get some good ones. Thank you!

Photo mistakes and un-mistakes

I just got back from Arizona and my mother’s birthday celebration. I had a wonderful time except that I caught a really bad cold (from the airplane, evidently) and came home sick and feeling like Typhoid Mary.

And I was upset about my photos - which are very important to me! I thought I’d gotten a bunch of bad photos of the occasion – out of focus and, in several cases, blank shots where the ‘subject’ had already moved out of the picture space by the time the camera managed to record the shot! I also thought I’d lost some of the photo files, though I managed to recover them finally. Bad lighting, focus issues, too much movement, too many people – this amateur just wasn’t up to the task! I’ve spent the whole morning chastising myself over stupid mistakes, and then making more of them and then figuring out that maybe I could fix them… And then trying to write a blog about that, and then deleting it as I solved various problems. Very confusing. I need to have more confidence. A more positive attitude. It’s hard with this bad cold.

Anyway, a picture that I thought I lost, but didn’t, was of Daisy-the-wonder-dog, all caught up in a mass of balloons and strings the day after the party. We had 80 balloons tied in large bunches all over the living room, and by the next day they had drooped onto the floor and Daisy was avoiding them. We thought they would be just the thing for a dog to jump into, but she wouldn’t do it. Did they taste funny? Whatever her reluctance, we finally got her caught up in them and she rolled over and twisted around and ultimately ended up looking like a parade float as she tried to move around surrounded by dozens of balloons whose strings were tied up in her legs.



Daisy knows how to have a good time. It didn’t bother her that some balloons popped. She didn’t really care that we were laughing at her – or that she was sort of stuck. She just went with the moment and made the best of it. Which is what I should have done this morning!

Maybe this afternoon I can work with what I DO have and make it come out OK. Take a page out of Daisy’s book, as it were.

Not a big fan

We sort of watched the Super Bowl this afternoon - you know, turning the sound down until the commercials came on and then paying attention just to those. Not very inspiring, I thought. Although the one with the wannabe Clysdale pulling the Bud wagon was nice.

As for the game itself, I just didn't understand how the Steeler player was able to get away with pushing the ball over the end zone line after he was down, and making that into a touchdown. Or how professional athletes could be so fat. Or why so many of the camera angles were of someone's butt. Or why Mark thinks the Steeler's coach has a 'sockable' face.

Actually there was a lot I didn't understand - starting with why all the players had their shirt size emblazoned so boldly on the front of their shirts - extra large. (Until I realized that it was Super Bowl XL.)

I hope Seattle lives to fight another day. But I have to say, overall, that I'm just not a big fan.

Walking with Daisy

I took a couple of short walks with my mother's golden retriever today. She's a young dog and full of excitement and it is quite a thing to get her to stay with you and not run off to her preferred destination - my sister's house and dog, Kita. I thought that I could get her to double her distance by letting her get out ahead and then call her back to me, but she wouldn't give up any ground by coming back. She was determined to reach her friend Kita and nothing would stop her. Nothing, that is, except a rabbit caught scampering across the lane and into a hole under a mesquite tree. Daisy was off like a shot. And boy can she dig! It took some doing, but I finally hauled her back home.

Arizona has blue sky. No rain. Fresh air. I'm really enjoying it.

Ring tones, songs and memory loops

While visiting with family yesterday, we got to talking about cell phone 'songs' and my sister-in-law allowed as how she finally set hers to play 'Stars and Stripes Forever' because she kept thinking she was hearing the radio when her cell phone rang with a more conventional tone. She figured she wouldn't make that mistake with 'Stars and Stripes' because you aren't very likely to hear that on the radio - nor are you likely to mistake someone else's phone ring for your own. Good thinking.

But today, in a public space, I heard a cell phone ring, several different times, playing 'Stars and Stripes' - and it wasn't hers, although I had to look around for the source because I thought it surely would be! So much for exclusivity.

Anyway, that made me think that what was really needed was unfamiliar and unmelodic tones - because I always manage to get a song 'stuck' in my head. Frankly, 'Stars and Stripes' playing as a background process in my brain all afternoon hasn't been pleasant.

How is it that I can get stuck on something like that? I never seem to hang up on a lovely melody - just things like the theme song to 'Green Acres' or 'It's a Small World After All.' And it can run that as a loop for days on end. No amount of concentration on 'The Blue Danube" or the 'Alaska State Song' ("Eight stars of gold on a field of blue, Alaska's flag, may it mean to you...",) or any other obscure piece that I am not likely to hear in public, will knock out some really dumb songs from my brain. The more insipid, the longer it stays.

So now it is 'Stars and Stripes.' I wonder how long I'll be stuck with it?