It's A New Day

Well, That Was Rude!

As Kayla and I were heading to Callaway Gardens for our photo shoot, we were buzzing down what is sort of a bypass around Columbus. Although it's not an interstate, It is a divided four-lane...a very busy four-lane where most drivers take the speed limit signs as a suggestion, not a requirement. You have to pay attention.

And that's just what I was doing with the car ahead of me. What caught my attention was that the person in the seat behind the driver...he kept sticking his arm out the window. That in itself wouldn't be so weird but he had a cup in his hand. Well, really it was a tumbler...tall and orange. It wasn't a paper drink cup like you'd get from a fast-food place; it looked more solid, like one you'd bring with you from home. He'd stick the tumbler out the window for a brief time then pull it back inside. The size of the arm told me it wasn't a kid, unless it was a teen, but I couldn't come up with any reason why someone would be doing this.

Then the arm with the cup went out again and stayed there. Suddenly, the tumbler rotated 180 degrees and all the liquid inside went pouring out. Now that wouldn't have been a problem if the car had been sitting still but barreling along at 70 miles an hour, that liquid went flying back...all over my car. For a split second everything was a blur as I reached for the wiper button to sweep away whatever was in that glass. I had visions of my car being covered with some sticky substance but it must have been water as it swept away without leaving any residue.

I'm normally pretty mellow behind the wheel. Oh, I don't like it when people drive in the left lane or fail to use their turn signal but my reaction is usually just some muttering under my breath. This time, however, I laid on the horn. Road rage it wasn't but I wanted the driver to know I wasn't happy about the situation her passenger had created. Not only was his action rude, it was dangerous and I wanted the driver to be aware of it. I was trying to be charitable and think perhaps it was the careless action of a teen and the mother/driver had no idea it was about to happen but I also kept thinking about how Kayla, a fairly new driver, would have managed in this same situation.

We both got off at the same exit and I'm sure the driver was concerned that I was following her to confront her but it was really just a lane that fed three different exits. She took the first one, we went off the second one and we both went on our way. My first reaction is still the one I have today when I think about what happened: That was rude!

Have Memory Card, Will Travel

Six weeks ago I got a call on my cellphone. The conversation started with Hi, Grandma! and ended with Would you like to take my senior photos? OK, so there was more conversation after that request but you get the idea. A chance to spend time with my favorite girl and play photographer? I'm all over that!

Now I should explain that Kayla's school yearbook includes two photos of every senior. One is the formal one taken by the professional photographer hired by the school where the girls have the V-necked drape and the guys have on tuxes. The second one is arranged for and submitted by each senior and it's done by the photographer of their choosing. The overall vibe on the secondary photo is more relaxed and while most are another portrait in casual clothing, some include props that reflect the senior's interests or personality.

So yesterday was picture-taking day and Ieft the house bright and early for my drive to Columbus. Kayla is a planner so she had everything organized, including samples of senior photos she'd seen and liked as well as a couple of outfits for a quick change. She even had a destination in mind...Callaway Gardens. It isn't far from Columbus and offers a lot of variety for back drops so off we went. Despite the heat, we wandered around the gardens for several hours snapping photos.

I've only done the preliminary edits but here are a few of my favorite shots:

This one at one of the bridges on the lake is great of Kayla but the background is over-exposed, the hazard of a sun/shade combination. It's going to take some more work to bring that background out, if I can.

I love how relaxed and natural Kayla looks in this one. We were just looking for different textures in the landscape to give a little interest to the picture without taking away from her pretty face.

Good thing we didn't have Grandpa and his camera along with us yesterday. He probably would have taken a photo of us scrambling up and over a bunch of big rocks to get out to where we could take this picture.

When Kayla showed me this black dress with the tan belt yesterday morning (it was brand new), she said it looked awesome with her tan boots. And when we got to these old log cabins, she pronounced them the perfect background for that outfit. The girl's got an eye.

You'd never know looking at these photos that the temperature was 99 degrees and the heat index had to be 105 or more. While we both bemoaned the heat, she never complained or asked when we'd be done.

The girl just doesn't take a bad picture. I could easily post twice the number as I have and they'd all still be good...but then, I'm prejudiced too. Hopefully, there will be a few that meet with Kayla's approval and if not, we have another session planned. If everything works out right, we'll be taking pictures on the beach at the end of next week.

I think it's pretty cool that I get to be part of this experience with her...I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that Kayla will start her senior year of high school in two weeks. I'm not a professional photographer and have no desire to be one but it's easy to take a good picture when you've got such a pretty model. These are just the shots I liked; we'll see what catches her fancy.

They Win, I Lose

Our local newspaper and I have been at odds for months now. It has nothing to do with delivery...our carrier is dependable and while it arrives later than it used to now that it's printed in Mobile, it still there in a timely manner. Nor is the source of our contention the content, although I certainly could argue for more of it. Sadly, that's the state of all print media these days...not enough advertising dollars coming in to support more of what we all subscribe for.

Nope, none of those. The root of the problem in the bill or, in this case, the lack thereof. They don't send them. At all.

It all started four or five months ago when the subscription was about to expire and the customer service representative called wanting an updated credit card number. We had regularly paid the invoice online but the credit card we had used on the previous renewal had been compromised and cancelled. Send me a bill, I said, and I'll pay it, either with a credit card online or by sending a check.

I thought it was a reasonable request. We get e-bills for things like power and phone that fall under the heading of Necessities; why wouldn't I get a bill for something discretionary like a newspaper? Besides, sometimes I pay for six months and sometimes I pay for a year; I like options. No problem, was always the reply; we'll get a bill right out to you. And it never came.

Every few days, the phone would ring again and a different customer service representative would be on the other end and we'd have the same conversation. They'd want a credit card number; I'd want a bill. They'd promise to send one; it would never appear. You'd think after a dozen such conversations (and that is not an exaggeration) they'd get the message but it didn't happen. By the time we reached the end of the subscription period, my patience was exhausted and I was fine with letting it lapse.

But the paper was such a part of our morning routine that we missed it. I'm not sure that we really missed any news as the paper isn't our only source of local information but we missed flipping through the pages over breakfast, reading the comics, and seeing the local golf results. We'd buy the Sunday paper at the new stand but Monday through Saturday were paper-free insofar as local print was concerned.

Then we started getting promotions to resubscribe...with a discount, of course. I could write a whole other blog post on how loyalty is penalized by having to pay more while new customers are rewarded for signing up. And it isn't just newspapers...it's everything, it seems. But that's another day.

So I called to inquire about the most recent offer, asking again about billing and payment. They don't bill...period. You have two choices: A charge on your credit card every month or a draft against your bank account every month. You can't write them a check or pay in cash even if you wanted to. It's credit card or bank draft period. End of story.

They win, I lose. I handed over my credit card information and the paper was resting comfortably in the middle of my driveway when I went outside this morning. The only consolation is it's half-price for the next few months. And while I may not like the payment arrangements, I certainly enjoyed lingering over that black-and-white bundle of words this morning.

Like Hearing From An Old Friend

I have a new toy.

This little cutie is now sharing treadmill-time with me and I couldn't be happier. Music, I've found, makes the miles go faster and tunes out the TVs overhead that I have no interest in. Although I have to say with more and more of the Silver Sneaker seniors showing up, the channel is seldom on ESPN when I'm there now. And it's amazing how much you can get out of Rachel Ray even without the audio. But I digress.

I shook the dust off my antique iPod when the treadmill became a twice-a-week (or more, depending on the weather) part of my regular walking schedule, and it served me well for a while. It didn't take long, however, for its age to show and I had trouble getting it to charge. Enter this new Shuffle that's tiny but has a big sound and, best of all, clips to the bottom of my T-shirt.

So we spent some time Sunday night and Monday getting music uploaded to it. The old iPod had a couple of hours of music on it but at some point after buying it, I went through most of our smooth jazz CDs and marked the songs I really liked then Wayne loaded them into his computer. I don't remember what happened to the process but they never made it to the iTunes library or on to the iPod so we tracked those down and finished that process. And I found a half dozen CDs that hadn't been done and we added them to the mix as well. One of those CDs had never been opened, I'm guessing it was purchased just before we bought our last car which came equipped with XM Radio. Our primary CD listening time was on trips so when XM helping the miles roll by, the CDs became relegated to the entertainment center. It was a good CD though and now part of it is on the new little Shuffle.

My little buddy and I covered four miles together this morning and I have to say it was delightful having all that new music to keep me motivated. I caught myself smiling on more than one occasion as a favorite song I haven't heard in a while began to play...it was like hearing from an old friend. And a walk down memory lane, too. Many times we bought a new CD at the start of a trip and listened to it over and over so I associate those songs with the places we visited. The awe-inspiring arches, canyons and colorful rock formations of Utah instantly come to mind when I hear The Rippington's Topaz album. When the linked song came on early in my walk this morning, I was right back on the hiking trails at Canyonland or Bryce...at least in my mind anyway. (Skip the ad, give it a listen and see if you aren't transported to the desert Southwest too.)

There's enough music loaded on my new toy to keep me going for a marathon. I'm not sure my legs would hold out that long but my ears would definitely enjoy the trip.

Old Dogs, New Tricks

We've had a chuckle at our house over Wayne's last telephone conversation with Dr. Dale. Our friends are on their annual spend-the-summer-in-Ohio-and-avoid-the-heat escape but it hasn't exactly worked out that way this summer. The guys are forced to catch up on neighborhood gossip news and their friendly harassment they dish out to one another by telephone until fall.

It seems Dr. Dale has taken up sweeping...as in house-cleaning sweeping. He/she/they (I'm not sure which) decided he should do more to help Carol around the house and, as a result, running the vacuum is now in his job jar. He was, in fact, making the floors clean and pretty when Wayne called. The chuckle came not because Dr. Dale was on the working end of a vacuum cleaner...Wayne has run ours for years. It was that he was doing it while Carol was gone because they didn't necessarily see eye-to-eye on how it was done.

So we got to talking about the trade-off between being freed from a job and having it not done the way you would do it. As parents, we've all been through it in the process of raising our children but it happens with spouses too. I'm sure the yard didn't get mowed and edged in quite the same manner as Wayne had done in those years I did it before he retired. There's a learning curve for the novice whereas the veteran has figured out all the shortcuts and perfected the technique.

Doing it different isn't always wrong; sometimes it's just a by-product of our individual strengths and weaknesses I told Wayne. When it comes to running the sweeper, he's much better than I am at moving furniture and getting into hard-to-reach places but he never gets the wand off the Dyson to sweep in the track of the sliding glass doors. It's that trade-off...when it bothers me enough, I get the little vac out and do it myself.

Today was Monday and that means time to shine shack. Me on the mop, Mr. A on the vac. And when I looked up, he had the wand out cleaning the track of the sliding glass door. All on his own. If I'd known that was all it took, I would have mentioned it years ago; and probably if he'd known he was supposed to be doing it, he'd have done it years ago too.

So the lesson of the day is you can teach an old dog a new trick. There's hope for Dr. Dale yet.

Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries

There are a lot of good things about summer produce but one of the best is fresh cherries.

Maybe it's the fact that they aren't on the shelves for long so you have to enjoy them while you can. And for us, that's often. We've been buying two bags of them every week and devouring these juicy morsels at lunch every day. The fact that they leave our fingers stained red from handling the pits is a small price to pay for the sweet burst of flavor we get when we bite into them.

Or maybe it's because they don't grow anywhere close to here so summer is when they're plentiful enough to be reasonably priced. And they must have really been plentiful this year as not only does it seem they've been in the stores for longer than most years but at a cost lower than we remember too. They were $1.98 today, down from $2.28 last week. Each Saturday we keep expecting they'll either disappear from the shelf or shoot up in price as the season nears its end but so far that hasn't happened, much to the delight of my cherry-loving husband.

And just maybe it's because they make us think of happy places. We've vacationed both in Michigan and in Washington/Oregon in the heart of summer when cherries were available straight from the tree. We'd stop at roadside produce stands and pick up a container which later became a part of an impromptu picnic lunch at some scenic overlook or peaceful park. Our kitchen table doesn't offer quite the same ambience but we've had more than one conversation about those trips as we're munching on these little red orbs. The memories those conversations have triggered have brought smiles to our faces and while I'm loving the fresh cherries, I could go for a piece of cherry pie from The Cherry Hut just outside Traverse City...ala mode, of course.

Yep, summer and cherries go hand in hand. Around our house right now life isn't the pits...it's just a bowl of cherries.

It's Lonely Here In The Bottom

I love my USA Today. It's my perfect little wind-down at the end of the day. I can read serious news and gain deeper insight than the fraction of a minute my local television station will devote to the same subject and then turn the page and read total fluff. Yes, I know...it doesn't reach the same literary standards as say The Wall Street Journal and it's often criticized for synthesizing the news to make it more understandable to the masses but, hey...I'm part of the mass.

And it's amazing the variety of things you can find within its pages, some more useful than others. For instance, there's always a little box in the lower left corner of each section called USA Today Snapshots. It's some bit of trivia shown with a graphic, like the Top 5 music downloads of the past week in the Life section (none of which I could hum) or the players with the most British Open sub-70 rounds in Sports. Nick Faldo leads with 37 in case you were wondering. Sometimes they relate to current events and sometimes they're just random.

I particularly like the one on the front page the other night. It was a rather contemporary looking bar graph representing the the times when adults say they go to bed. More than half (54%) claimed Between 10pm and midnight with 22% falling in the Before 10pm slot and 24% in After Midnight. It would seem that I have plenty of company in that night owl category, right?

Then I got to thinking. There are eight of us in our little circle of friends and we've been friends long enough I pretty well know their habits. Half of them crawl under the covers between 10pm and midnight just like the survey said but we're not doing too good on the extremes. Three of them turn in with the chickens...well, maybe not quite that early but around 9pm, my sweet hubby included. And that leaves only me to lap the Internet at night and see what late night TV has to offer. Midnight is when I start thinking about going to bed although I have been known to fall asleep on the couch once or twice. *wink*wink

It's lonely down here on the bottom row of the graph, just me trying to represent my 24%. Good thing I have my USA Today to keep me company.

Keep This, Toss That

We all have them...those items on the To Do list we put off for a rainy day. They're usually too big or too much work (or both) to take on until we have to. It should come as no surprise that a constantly-appearing message on the screen warning that the hard drive is too full is one of those "have to" moments.

It wasn't my dilemma; last fall's computer woes in my corner of the house were solved by a slick machine with mega-memory. No, it was my bit-loving buddy and his laptop. It's probably a sign of true love that my own personal computer guru has favored me with the newest technology while he gets by with the older, slower machine. And, apparently, the fuller one...at least relatively speaking.

So today was clean out and organize, digitally speaking. While I can't sit down and decide what to keep and what to toss from his hard drive, I was game to help. And as it turns out, there was a job right up my alley...photos. Me and my powerful machine would be the headquarters for all things pictorial with the external drives for backups.

Sounds simple, right? And to a degree it was. My computer already contained files organized by year from the very first year we owned a digital camera and those files were backed up on one of the external drives we have. But with two computers, three external drives, four cameras and who knows how many drives that have been re-purposed from old computers and used as temporary storage it got complicated in a hurry. Throw in a dozen memory cards of varying sizes and shapes not to mention in a variety of locations and you have...well, a day's work.

It turns out the files from 2001 through 2008 were is great shape, the ones from 2009 and 2010 were pretty good and 2011 needed some attention. Most of that comes from the fact that the system for keywording all the photos was on a computer that died a slow and painful death in 2009 and while it's still on the drive recovered from that machine, we haven't quite figured out how to transfer it to a new computer. Add in the fact that we bought a small compact camera we don't use often so we don't think about getting the pictures from it into the files with the ones from the big cameras and you've got an idea of what we faced.

The overriding focus was not deleting any photos that weren't somewhere else so it was a lot of looking and checking file numbers. It's a job we normally do in January...you know, part of that first-of-the-year burst of organizational energy but somehow we didn't this last year. There must not have been any rainy days. : )

At one point we were down to missing 50 photos from Wayne's camera between July and October of last year and despite looking at every card we had and in every bag and drawer for cards we didn't have, we didn't have those pictures. Have you looked on the card in your camera? I asked. I didn't really think year-old photos would still be in the camera but you never know...we haven't been taking as many pictures lately as some years. Sure enough, there they were.

Everything is copied and complete now; categorized and backed up too. He's got some working room on his laptop now...good thing because he's going to need it to organize and sort everything else that has accumulated there. If he was waiting for a rainy day, the forecast says we have seven of them coming. I'm just glad the part that's left can be done by him and him alone. My part's done.

Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut

Don't you just hate it when one of your favorite products disappears from the grocer's shelves? Oh, I understand...we're a nation with a short attention span, always looking for the new and improved. But there's something to be said for the tried and true as well and I can't help but be disappointed when something I really liked is no longer available.

That's how I felt when the Honey Almond yogurt went missing from the dairy section at Publix. I didn't start out as a fan of yogurt but since it's an easy source of calcium for my skinny bones, I've learned to love it and Honey Almond became my favorite flavor. In fact, it became the only flavor I was buying and each week I'd walk out with eight or so containers of this nutritious snack. And I knew I wasn't the only one who liked it because I'd often have to scour the shelves to find some hidden behind other flavors because my favorite was in short supply.

Then one day it was gone and the space it once occupied was overtaken by some new kid on the block. I searched every label, hoping to find its new location but alas, it was not to be. The boy stocking the dairy aisle delivered the sad news: It was discontinued. Sigh. No more Honey Almond...whatever will I do?

I was forced to experiment...but not too far. All those dessert-like, overly sweet yogurts sound revolting and I'm not really a fan of "things" i.e. fruit in my yogurt. So I've been sampling and hit upon a pretty good substitute:

Now ordinarily I'm not a big fan of coconut...I can take it or leave it, but this doesn't have a strong coconut flavor. More importantly, it doesn't have any coconut pieces mingled in with the yogurt. If it didn't have the picture of the coconut on the container I'm not sure I could identify that as the predominant flavor. It's just...well, tropical. I'd rather it was light but I'll overlook those few extra calories for something that leaves me regretting the fact that I've scrapped out every last bit of creamy goodness my spoon can get.

Apparently I'm more into coconut than I realized as here's my newest body wash:

Who knew this would be the summer of coconut. Maybe I'm craving an island getaway...inside and out.

Neighborhood Color

The crepe myrtles in my yard are in full bloom and they couldn't be prettier. Every branch is topped with a cluster of pink fluffiness that reaches skyward, and in today's breezes, they bobbed like a cork on some invisible wave. On our walk the other day Bonnie and I agreed the crepe myrtles might be the prettiest they've been in several years. Whether it was the mild winter, an early spring or all the recent rains, I don't know...probably it's all three but we're certainly enjoying the color they provide in the neighborhood. Every house seems to have at least one crepe myrtle and most have more.

Mine are the soft pink in the first photo but I can enjoy these snowy white ones that line the side of my neighbor's house too. Every glance out my breakfast room windows is filled with their soft whitness. Those trees are quite large and so are the blooms. I could cup both hands together and the flower cluster on his trees would spill over my hands.

But Bonnie has the color I really wanted...a deep reddish pink, watermelon really. It's what I set out to buy all those years ago when the landscaping first went in. The nursery was out of that color at the time so I settled for the softer pink; they're still pretty. They bloom a little later than most of the others around so while mine are just hitting their stride as far as color is concerned, most in the neighborhood are on their last gasp.

Carol has a pretty deep lavendar one in her yard. Well, actually, it's bi-color. The lavendar bloom and the red/pink one behind it in the photo above are on the same tree. I'm not sure how that happens but it's interesting. You can see the seed heads forming where the bloom to the left of the big purple one has faded. We wait until February to trim back our trees and the bare branches fill up with goldfinches snacking on those seeds.

With all the rain we've had lately, the neighbor is lush. It's nice to have abundant splashes of color among all that green.

What A Wonderful World

I suppose if I told you we made a two-hour drive one way with the last 30 minutes of which was on a twisting, under construction two-lane during a thunderstorm then waited more than an hour outside with no place to sit before finally getting a table in a room so packed it was difficult to walk through, you'd think we had a nightmare of a dining experience. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

We decided to drive down to the Red Bar for dinner last night; there was, after all, an anniversary to be celebrated. We knew how far it was, we knew there were scattered storms in the area, and we knew on a Friday night in the height of tourist season it would be busy. We put our mellow on and went anyway.

And it was worth it. While the rain had driven everyone off the beach early and therefore all ready to eat at the same time, it cooled the air so standing outside wasn't an issue. There were, of course, plenty of people to watch for entertainment. The wait was an hour and 15 minutes when we got there but almost two hours for those arriving as we were leaving. Yes, the food is that good. Wayne had blackened grouper and I chose crab cakes...I think we both moaned in delight with every bite. Our friends Tom and Durlene introduced us to this dive beach bar/restaurant last January and you can read about the tacky eclectic atmosphere in this post. We've been looking for an excuse to go back ever since.

We had a little toast to 44 years of happiness and to continuing it for 22 more...what can I say, we're into double digits. And then the little jazz combo that was playing rewarded us with a rendition of What A Wonderful World. While Ray Charles made a later version, I always associate the song with Louis Armstrong. And in the small world category, that song was released as a single in 1968, the year we got married. It wasn't "our song" but hearing it last night seemed very fitting. It really is a wonderful world.

Growing Heat

We're picking a few peppers in our parts these days but judging from the plants, we're going to have more before long.

These beauties are beginning to look like their namesakes...cowhorns. There aren't a lot of them on the plant at this point but the ones that are there are looking good. While the name cowhorn is certainly descriptive, the more familiar name is cayenne so they'll turn red...and HOT! I think I'll be saving these for Wayne...LOL.

These, however, will be mine. The bell peppers are the prettiest color of red and I can just imagine how sweet and crisp they're going to be. I love them in salads but we eat a lot of grilled vegetables too and red peppers are a staple in those. I'm looking forward to picking this baby.

We have already been picking lots of these little guys. Last year it grew in a pot after Dr. Dale started it from seed and this spring I cut it back and planted it in the ground. It obviously likes that as it's more than waist-high now. And covered with peppers and peppers-to-be. Wayne goes out and picks a couple of dozen at a time then we let them shrivel and dry up to grind later. The peppers aren't big, about the size of the end of your little finger, but they pack a punch.

The poblano finally has blooms that are open so maybe it's going to reward us with some peppers here soon. Chile rellenos, anybody?

When I was looking for a good spot to photograph on the big plant with the little peppers, I kept feeling like I was being watched. Turned out, I was:

We have a lot of anole lizards that hang out on the back patio and since their primary diet is bugs, I'm perfectly happy to have them there. They come and go under the doors to the screened enclosure and we frequently see them basking in the sun on the "ribs" of the pool cage. I try not to startle them and hope they'll return the favor. This one had the prettiest eyes as he watched to see what I was doing but he never moved.

The pepper plants all seem happy with our high temperatures and typical afternoon thunderstorms. Guess it takes a little heat to grow some heat.

Testing. Testing. Testing.

Tomatoes. Radio. Children. Secretary. Eagle. Knee. Floor. Hammer. Shoes. What do those words have in common?  If you answered nothing, you'd be only partly right. There is a connection...but let me start at the beginning.

After weeks of research, contemplation and everything but flipping a coin, we've finally decided to purchase long-term care policies. It hasn't been an easy decision because there are compelling arguments both for and against them but past experiences, both in our family and the families of friends, tell us being prepared in a good thing. So last week we filled out a long, detailed application that dealt primarily with our personal and family medical histories and today was the appointment for the telephone interview.

The first few minutes were pretty easy...some personal information, more medical details, nothing too difficult. Then we came to the cognitive part. With the number of cases of Alzheimer's disease being diagnosed on the rise, long-term care insurers have become more choosy about who they take on as policyholders. They're going to be sure you've got your wits about you.

Some questions were obvious and not difficult at all, like what day was it and in what state did we live. We knew them. : ) And there were some "what would you do" scenarios, as in you overslept and missed your appointment at the doctor's office...what would you do. I think we knew all those too.

Then there was a whole series where it would have been nice to use a pencil and paper...but you couldn't. Math problems to do in your head. Repeat a series of numbers she gave you with the trick that the string kept getting longer. And those words. Without looking, home many can you remember? Yeah...I thought so.

The first time she gave them, she simply asked you to use them in a sentence so it seemed she was looking to see if you used them appropriately. Then she went on to one of the other tests, coming back to the words four or five minutes later. Use them in a sentence again; it could be the same sentence or a different one. Was she testing to see if we remembered the original sentence? By this point in the test, the anxiety was rising and I wasn't sure I was remembered anything correctly.

Off we went then to more tests involving following directions and seeing how many items in a given category you could name in 30 seconds. Then the pressure was on: Name the ten words. Ten, you're saying; there are only nine at the start of the post. That's because nine is all I can remember...and it's driving me crazy wondering what #10 is! It will probably come to me in the middle of the night if past experience is any indication...or three days from now.

Did we pass? I have no idea. We'd both probably do better on a test like this if taken in the future, if for no reason other than we have one under our belt and know a little about what to expect. There are multiple components to getting the policies issued and this is just one of them. Now if I could just remember the rest of them.....

And The Battle Rages On

High on Wayne's morning routine list would be time in front of his computer. In fact, it probably falls right behind getting dressed and opening a can of Diet Coke...it's his start to the day.

And that's just where he was bright and early this morning when he started hearing strange noises in the wall beside him. They started...then stopped...then started again. A kind of scratching. Puzzled he walked outside to see if he could spot the source since the strange noises seemed to emanating from the exterior wall. But nothing seemed to be amiss so back inside he came.

He'd barely sat down and the scratching started again. His concern grew at this point because he was pretty sure the source of the noise was a squirrel and he was afraid it was either in the attic or, worse yet, the wall. Then he heard the little squeaky noises that only a squirrel can make and he knew the little rodent was somewhere he didn't want to be. Back outside he went but this time he banged on the metal downspout that runs down the front of the house at that point. The scratching resumed at a frantic pace...there was a squirrel stuck in the downspout.

So the first thought is how did he get there? You wouldn't think he'd just make a misstep and fall in there, would you. And the way ours are configured, even if he did, he wouldn't fall far initially.  They only drop a few inches from the eave before they make a sharp turn back toward the house for about 18" then another sharp turn downward. Even a clumsy squirrel could have recovered before he headed down toward the bottom. No, he must be a dumb squirrel and climbed in intentionally. Either that or he thought he found the perfect spot in the morning game of squirrel hide-and-seek.

And if you're wondering why he didn't just run on out at the bottom end, there's a reason. All of our downspouts connect to underground drain pipes that carry the water to the back of the property. I suppose he might have eventually found his way through the maze and escaped but I'm glad he didn't try.

He was still banging and scratching when I got up an hour or so later and out we went to investigate. Beating on the bottom of the downspout as we debated out to handle the problem, Wayne said he's clear down here. No he's not, I replied; the scratching is coming from up there as I pointed to the curve toward the eave.

About that time the little rodent ears and nose poked up from the edge of the gutter. Somehow the squirrel had figured out how to either turn himself around in the very confined space of the downspout or go backwards and climb his way out. That can't be a small feat since he couldn't dig his claws into the metal but there he was...wide-eyed and staring at us. For about half a second before he shot out of there, down the side of the house and off for the safety of the bushes of the house next door.

Is it any wonder that I'm trying to get rid of these varmints!

The Things You Learn

I'm continuing to climb my way around the branches of the family tree as time permits. Some days I only carve out a few minutes but on others, like today, the block of time is measured in several hours. The fact that I am still finding a wealth of information is both rewarding and motivating.

And fascinating too. For part of this afternoon I was deep into medieval times, tracing one line back to 1327. I was lucky enough to find a book written about Daniel Shed who was one of the earliest settlers of Braintree, Massachusetts, arriving in 1643. Some energizing soul...well, Frank E. Shedd, to be exact...traveled to England and spent untold hours looking in church and manor records to come up with three centuries worth of Daniel Shed's ancestors and then he wrote a book to share his findings. I have a hard time getting my mind around records that old still existing but then it's been almost 100 years since he wrote the book too.

I learned about John Schedde, as the early spelling of the name existed, who on April 5, 1445, was fined 3d for allowing his eaves to drip on the land of his neighbor. Despite the best efforts of Google, I wasn't able to figure out what amount 3d would be but John's wife Alice paid twice as much in 1456 when she was charged with assaulting the maid-servant of George Prentys and drawing blood. It would appear that one should not mess with Alice.

That wasn't the only fine imposed on John, my 15th great-grandfather. His estate paid one in 1467 for him dumping manure under the wall of the Friary to the damage of his neighbors. Perhaps it was a common fine as his son paid one as well for leaving manure on the King's highway to the damage of the Lord of the Manor. That was 1472; don't you just feel Chaucer's Canterbury Tales coming to life here?

One thing Google did help me on was understanding what a "fuller" was. Both John and his son were identified as "fullers" in their will and I had no idea what that meant. A fuller is one who removes the dirt, oils and other unwanted substances from wool and processes it into cloth for clothing. In really ancient times it involved slaves tromping on it in stale urine but the procedure seems to have become a bit more refined by the 1400's. I'm guessing that many of the court proceedings John Schedde was a party to involved money owed to him for wool he provided to others...and with all that wool, he was bound to have sheep manure to dispose of too.

Apparently there's a lot of lawlessness in my heritage because when I finished with the Daniel Shed branch, I climbed out on the Child limb. It's a similar situation in that there is a book detailing the descendants of those with the Child, Childs and Childe names who were the first to come to America from England and fortunately, the book also contains some genealogy of the women who married into the Child families. Like Mary Warren, granddaughter of John Warren who came to America in the Arabella with Governor Winthrop in 1630. 1630. That amazes me in itself. In 1654 John Warren was fined 3 pounds 10 shillings for "neglect of public worship, fourteen Sabbaths." Back then the church was the government and skipping services was an expensive proposition.

Finally, here's a photo I uncovered in my recent forays among the leaves of the family tree.

That's Tarlton Logan, my 3rd great-grandfather on my mother's side. Scary looking dude, huh? Although I haven't uncovered any lawlessness in Tarlton's past, he does look like he should be an ancestor of Charles Manson instead of my easy-going Grandpa Hedrick. It's the eyes, I think, although the hair and beard definitely contribute to the crazy look. My nephews are hopeful enough generations have passed that they won't be inheriting any family resemblance.

As I was explaining to my sister-in-law on the phone the other day, family history is a lot like working a jigsaw puzzle when you don't know what the picture is supposed to look like. The mystery of it all is part of the intrigue in doing it. And I'm fascinated by what I'm learning along the way.

A Pleasant Surprise

I've been known to get a variety of surprises when I've visited the grocery store. Like the one thing I really needed was out of stock or that they've quit carrying my favorite brand. We're talking Walmart here, folks...at least for the everyday groceries that come in boxes, bottles and cans. Meat, some dairy and even fresh produce are likely to come from somewhere else. I don't have high expectations for the giant retailer; it's a necessary evil in my life.

So when Wayne came home from the produce stand with fresh peaches, not only did I do a little happy dance because I've been craving them, but I also needed to make a quick run to Wally World. Peach crisp was now on the menu for the Fourth and I needed a couple of ingredients to make that happen. Like vanilla ice cream that would melt into a delicious puddle all around the warm, sweet peaches. Thinking about it makes me drool and it hasn't been that long since I consumed some!

Purchases in hand, I surveyed the 20-or-less lines and guessed which one I thought would move the fastest. That usually guarantees the person in front of me will divide her few items up into three separate transactions but it was smooth sailing this time.

The cashier was friendly and we exchanged pleasantries as she started ringing my items. When she picked up my ice cream, she started mumbling something about it being on sale somewhere. I wasn't paying too much attention to her because I don't study the grocery ads when they come out in the paper. Oh, I look through the ones for Publix where I do the rest of my weekly shopping and will take advantage of their sale prices but as far as noting who has what on sale for what amount...I'm just not into that. We were behind a lady at the checkout just a week or two ago who had two pages of prices she was asking Walmart to price match...and they did without so much as the first question, even though she was simply quoting the lower price to the cashier rather than showing her the ad itself.

The next thing I knew, the cashier was saying she thought the ice cream was 3/$10 or 3/$11. Let's just say it's 3/$10, she says as she pressed the price override button. Go, me...a bargain I didn't expect on something I was going to buy anyway. I should have studied the cashier's face so I can get in her line more often.

I doubt Walmart lost any money by the cashier giving me the lower price; they didn't become the powerhouse they are without commanding deeply discounted prices from those they purchase from. What they gained though was a little customer satisfaction and what business doesn't want that. I'm quick to criticize Walmart, and they usually deserve it. It's only fair they get a pat on the back when the surprises they provide are pleasant ones.

The Red, White and Blue

We had a quiet Fourth, for the most part, choosing to stay around the house instead of venture out to the many celebrations in the area. While the firework displays are nice, we just weren't in the mood to fight the traffic and the summer weather pattern we're in now means afternoon and early evening showers can pop up anywhere. We chose to stay inside where it was cool and dry. We celebrated with BBQ ribs, corn on the cob and fresh peach crisp...yum!

And we did a little flag waving too. Well, technically we just stuck it in the ground; Mother Nature did the waving.

The flag itself appeared in our mailbox Tuesday evening, a gift from a local realtor. He drove through our neighborhood placing a flag in every mailbox, all 600 or so of them. It was a nice flag, too...about a foot long on a sturdy 2' stick. Old Glory was carefully wound around that stick and secured with a little sticker saying it was a curb flag, identifying the benefactor, and wishing each recipient a Happy Fourth of July. Implied was the message that you should display it at your curb in honor of the nation's birthday. I thought it was a delightful idea and appreciated his generosity even if I'm sure a secondary motive was to promote the giver's business.

The neighborhood participation rate? About 50% by my unofficial survey on my evening walk. There would be a cluster of homes, each with a flag waving proudly at the curb, followed by a series of homes with nary a hint of red, white or blue to be seen. And, surprisingly, there were a number of flags still resting in the paper slot of the family mailbox. It's a shame, really...it doesn't get any easier than someone delivering a free flag virtually to your door and still you can't plant it in the ground for a day? It made me appreciate all that much more those would purchased extra flags on their own and lined the curb with six or eight of them.

I'll be retrieving my little flag in the morning before we tackle the mowing. It's such a nice little flag...I think it deserves to celebrate Veteran's Day too.

Who Knew?

My usual lap around the Internet frequently includes at stop at one of the big scrapbooking message boards. It's not that I'm joining in on the discussions that take place there; I just lurk. And it's amazing what you can learn there. Sure, there are plenty of scrapbooking and photography questions and tips on there, but over to the non-scrapbooking board, they talk about EVERYTHING!

Take tonight, for instance. I learned all kinds of things you can do with a bottle of plain old Listerine mouthwash...besides the reasons you'd normally buy it for, of course. Like sunburn relief. That one might be timely given tomorrow is a holiday where a sunburn is a real possibility. The recommendation was to soak several cotton balls in Listerine and wipe them over the reddened skin. I'm not sure I'll give up my aloe gel but I can see where the alcohol and eucalyptol (the primary ingredient) in Listerine might provide some cooling relief. It's supposed to work on all kinds of burns.

And some swore Listerine was an effective mosquito repellant...another timely tip for tomorrow night's fireworks. It would definitely be an improvement over the last repellant I bought. It was effective on the bugs but left an oily residue on the skin.

You probably wouldn't have thought to put Listerine on bug bites and stings either; I know I wouldn't. I haven't a clue why this works (or if it really does) but it reminded me of a conversation we had before yoga class a couple of weeks ago. One of the ladies said she had been bitten by a yellow fly, a local pest with a mean bite that hurts for days. She put a dab of honey right on it and said the pain and itch went right away. Out of curiosity, I whipped out my trusty Google screen and put it to work to come up with these home remedies for bee stings that does include honey. No Listerine but its close cousin toothpaste is there. And that last one...deodorant? Someone mentioned that on the Listerine message board discussion too.

I hope your Fourth is festive and fun and doesn't include the need for sunburn, bug bite or bee sting remedies. But should you encounter a problem and need a home remedy, check out the scrapbooking message boards...you just never know what you're going to find there.

Adventures in Dining

If you were looking for a place to eat in a strange city, you'd pick the one that had a bowl of plastic flies by the front door for you to reach in and take a few as souvenirs....right? Fitting since the name of the restaurant was the Blow Fly Inn. I sense more than one of you might be cringing and thinking that would be the last place I'd pick.

Well, what if the restaurant had been featured on Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, showcased on one of Emeril Lagasse's television shows and named a favorite seafood restaurant by Southern Living magazine. Aha...you're feeling different now, aren't you?

We're always up for an adventure when it comes to dining and so was our oldest son Brad when we picked him up for dinner this evening. He's been in Biloxi for a short time but between long hours at work and frequent trips back to Columbus, he hasn't had a lot of time to explore the dining scene. That's alright...we came prepared. Wayne had done a little Internet search and selected the Blow Fly Inn.

High on stilts, the restaurant overlooks the water and was the perfect setting for a relaxing family dinner. Little did we know when we ordered that we were selecting two of the three dishes they're known for...crab cakes for me and a hamburger steak for Brad. They were delicious.

The restaurant didn't always have the Blow Fly name; it was originally Hickory's BarBQ. The story on the menu said people kept asking one of the restaurant's nearby competitors how to find it and frustrated that people were choosing barbecue over his location, he told them to go down the road and follow the blow flies. Apparently the description it didn't discourage the diners and the name stuck. For many years the phone company wouldn't accept the listing with that name, claiming it was inappropriate, but finally relented when everyone in town referred to the restaurant by that name. No flies were in sight when we were there, except for the plastic ones in the bowl, of course. And the BBQ menu has given way to steaks, burgers and seafood.

It's located in Gulfport, Mississippi, which took the brunt of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and the original restaurant was destroyed by more than 28 feet of water. That's just hard to imagine but as we drove back along the coast, we could still see a large number of vacant lots where everything was washed away and hasn't been rebuilt. Sometimes recovery takes a long time.

Taking a little liberty with the adage Don't judge a book by it's cover, I guess the lesson of the day is don't judge a restaurant by it's name.

Reminiscing

Mr. A and I are rolling up on our wedding anniversary. It's still a few weeks away but the recent fires in Colorado brought it to mind. I know...that's a strange connection but it will make more sense as the story goes along.

We got married on a Saturday and he left me on Sunday. It didn't come as a surprise; we knew it going in. Off he went to a two-week class on some new computer language in Dayton, Ohio, and I went back to work on Monday just like usual. I suppose you could make a valid argument that we aren't exactly hopeless romantics but we had bought a house and were ready to get married; postponing the honeymoon just seemed like the logical thing to do.

So six weeks later we packed our bags and headed to Colorado. I'd never been, and Wayne was eager to show me all the sights in one of his very favorite places. His family spent two weeks in the Colorado Springs area every summer while his dad did summer camp for the reserves so he knew all the fun things to see and do. And we discovered some new ones of our own too.

There are so many stories from that trip that have become "classics" in our family lore. How I almost became a widow when he slipped at the top of Seven Falls and I thought for sure he was going to plunge clear to the bottom. Fortunately, he only went a few yards. Or our adventures on horseback at the Garden of the Gods. A word of warning if you go: Don't let the horses make any turn in the direction of the stable until you're ready to go in. They're going to make a bee-line for the barn and there's no turning them around. We still joke about Wayne being like a Garden of the Gods horse when he's ready a trip is coming to an end. And there's the wind chime we bought at a shop near Patsy's Saltwater Taffy stand. We laugh and say as long as it holds together, our marriage will too. It's still chiming away.

One night during our stay there we headed for the Flying W Ranch for an old fashioned chuckwagon supper. The families that owned the ranch had ties to our hometown and it looked like a fun way to spend an evening. There were some western buildings and a cowboy shoot-'em-up to entertain us before it was time to work our way through the food line. As they handed us a tin pie plate, they began the explanation of how the line would work. Down we'd go, stopping at each station to get steak, baked potato, beans, bread and a peach. Grab the plate by the peach, they said, because everything else would be hot and you'd have a cool space to hang on to the metal plate. It was both practical and silly at the same time and I suppose that's why it stuck with us.

For 60 years the Flying W Ranch served those chuckwagon dinners, dishing up more than 1,000 a night during the summers, although it looks like the tin pie plates and the peach have disappeared over the years. And in a sense the Flying W Ranch has disappeared too, a victim of the Waldo Canyon fire in Colorado Springs that burned it to the ground. They've vowed to rebuild so those memorable chuckwagon suppers will be back one day for a new crowd of tourists, even if the diners don't come away chuckling over grabbing the plate by the peach.

The fires and accompanying loss of homes, iconic businesses and natural beauty fills me with sadness for all involved. But it's tempered with a lot of good memories too. Colorado in general, and the Springs in particular, is such a special area and I hope it comes back better than ever.