"A" is for either Alligator or Annoying Bull Frogs

Since I have very little alligator experience, I decided to write about bull frogs.  We live by a pond, well people here call it a lake, but it's really a pond.

 In southern Indiana it gets hot in the summer. So most of the time the windows are closed and the air is on.  Anyway, May offers the opportunity to open windows; I like to open our bedroom window at night.  I love the cool breeze of spring on my back.  Too bad the damn frogs have to croak!  

I saw a dead one once on the side of the road.  Those babies are huge!  We have at least three in the pond right now.  They sound like they're playing bad bass instruments.  I have to give them credit for their rhythm though.  They keep a steady beat.

Counting the croaks just happens; it can't be helped. When it's quiet I count the seconds while I wait for the noise--it's like waiting for a hiccup.  This is not conducive to sleep. So after awhile, I begin an internal debate.  Do I want the pleasant breeze or do I want quiet?  If the ducks join in, that settles it.  The window is closed.

We used to hear coyotes, but it's been awhile...

"B" is for Braving the Storm

I'm sitting in my closet as I type this.  Why am I sitting in my closet?  Because we don't have a basement.  My daughter has a guy friend over and they're watching a movie in our other closet.  It just feels silly, but not going in the closet or taking cover is just dumb.

 We live close to where the tornado hit a few years ago. My husband and I went back to bed that night thinking we had just a little bit of rain, hail, and wind, but nothing more.  When I woke up that Sunday morning, I found we were without electricity.  This was unusual because all the power lines are underground where we live.  The storm had passed and it was a beautiful day.  The sun was shining and the sky very, very blue.

  I decided to go for a milk run or was it a McDonald's run...  As I drove along I began to see signs of the storm. The Apple Center near us had a parking lot full of emergency vehicles.  And...what was that in the road?  A refrigerator?  The storm was a little more wicked than I'd thought.  A tornado hit Newburgh and some of Vanderburgh County.  People died.  I take cover when I'm told.

"C" is for Carmel

Gotta love Carmel--it's sweet, creamy, and wonderfully fattening.  My husband gave me the recipe for making my own Carmel early on in our marriage.  He learned this technique from his Spanish teacher in high school.  Here goes:

Take the paper off a can of sweetened condensed milk
Put the can in boiling water for 3 hours.  (If you bring water to a rapid boil, you can turn the temp. down keeping a lid on the pan.)
After 3 hours, open up the can and see the Carmel!  It is spread easily on apples or another treat idea is to put the Carmel between two vanilla wafers, squeeze, then roll the gooey edge in coconut.  Yum.  Kids love making these treats.  Just give them a plastic knife (or something lacking sharp points) to do the spreading with.  The treats look like  wreaths when  finished.  They look pretty and kids are proud to have made something so nice.

"D" is for Door

I'm glad we have a friendly doorbell.  Knocking on the front door, or I should say, banging on the front door sounds so ominous and I hesitate to answer it.  If a person chooses to knock on our door, they knock hard for some reason.  The front door has two glass panels and in the afternoon shadows are cast by the souls in front of it.  This can be sort of funny, but it can also be scary.  One time my oldest daughter's boyfriend's parents dropped by on their motorcyle.  His mother just wanted to drop something off so when she approached our front door she didn't bother to take her helmet off.  I can tell you that was a pretty interesting shadow.  I didn't know whether to laugh or run.  She looked like an alien with a tiny body and huge round head.  It was tough keeping a straight face when chatting at the door.

 Another time it was a bright moon that cast a shadow.  My younger daughter couldn't sleep.  It was three or four in the morning; not a time you would expect visitors.  She wandered down to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  As she pondered what to eat the knob on the door to the garage rattled.  Gulp.  She made her way back upstairs to my room and shook me awake.  My husband didn't wake up.  Anyway  I sat on the stairs with her to listen for the door rattle.  Jumpy as we were we were staring at the front door.  A man's shadow appears followed by a knock and we shot up the stairs to wake my husband.  With both of us shaking the life out of him, he woke up.  As he stumbled downstairs to check things out, my daughter turned her cell phone back on and it rang.  It was her boyfriend outside the house.  She had told him about the doorknob jiggling and then shut off her phone.  He was worried so he came over.  It was his shadow at the front door.  The next day we discovered our garage light on.

"E" is for bursting with Enthusiasm!



Enthusiasm Is Explosive

 Enthusiasm is one of those pregnant words.  It's an "E" word that gives birth to other "E" words like excitement, energy, enjoy, and embark.  For a club, an idea, a committee... to be truly successful there has to be some enthusiasm behind it otherwise it's bound to be flat like another spot on the road.   Sports teams have cheerleaders riling up a crowd; they are important because an excited crowd riles up the players.

Writers need that magic called enthusiasm, too. We need to find our inner chearleader.  Working alone and reading rejection letters has a way of keeping enthusiasm at bay.  Unless, of course, writing is just what you do.  Focusing on the process of writing is what keeps me going, and weird as this may sound, I don't mind being alone.  Still-- I'm happy to go out into the world to live and talk to others.  If I didn't, I wouldn't have anything to write about.

"F" is for flush and I'm so glad that I can



Model (made by Ordean Synstelien) of the outhouses outside the country school my dad attended as a kid. 

 My children will soon be taking off for the BWCA (Boundary Waters Canoe Area) with a few of their friends.  I'm pretty certain everyone that is going along on this trip has had experience camping.  There will be no flush toilets, showers, or beds.  It's a little tough on people if they aren't used to roughing it a bit.  I recommend camping like that anyway.  How can people learn to appreciate the great outdoors if they're never out?  We've sort of settled in our boxes behind our desks in front of  electronic devices. It's comfy there.

 People used to spend a lot more time outdoors.  My father, like a lot of people on farms then, even had to use an outhouse as a kid --no flushing for them. Imagine that. Think of all the times people get up during the night to use the bathroom and even more so if they have the flu... 

I'm reading one of Diana Gabaldon's books, A Breath of Snow and Ashes.  She does an excellent job of bringing her readers back in time where a bath is a luxury and flushing is unheard of.  I believe in at least one of her books the people kept bedpans under their beds.  They threw the night happenings out the window in the morning. 

"G" is for Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts

 Great, green gobs of greasy, grimy, gopher guts,

Mutilated monkey meat, itty bitty birdie feet.

Great, green gobs of greasy, grimy, gopher guts,

And me without a spoon...

Do you remember that song?  I used to sing the chorus at top of my lungs.  It was especially funny to me when the adults in my world looked horrified by what I was singing.  I'm not sure where I learned this silly tune; probably not from my teachers at school or in church.  I may have learned it at camp, though.  I doubt it was one of the songs we sang around the campfire. Most likely we sang it on our own in the cabin or walking along a trail.  I think we kids felt tougher than the wimpy adults when we sang it. They always scrunched up their faces when we came to the mutilated monkey meat part.
 
 In general a lot of singing as a kid.  My parents sure were good sports about it.  Those long car rides clapping with camp song after camp song...
 
 
"The (Greasy Grimy Gopher Gut) song derives its power to amuse children through alliterative description of disgusting foodstuffs, usually parts of human or animal bodies not customarily eaten in the areas in which it is sung. The song appears on the Smithsonian Folkways collection A Fish That's a Song, a collection of traditional children's songs from the United States, where it is performed by Mika Seeger.^[1] The Smithsonian recording came from an earlier recording called The Sounds of Camp, originally released in 1959." Wikepedia

"H" is for Hank

We loved an eclectus parrot named Hank (the males are green, the females red)

Our parrot, Hank, lived with us for ten years.  He was a sweetheart; quiet and kind.  I'm writing in past tense because this is a sad story.  Hank is no longer with us.  He's still alive and everything, but with another owner. We all still think of him.  When I do, I like to think that Hank has made some other bird friends where he lives now.  We decided, after trying everything we could think of, he would be happier in a home with other birds.  Hank  never really adjusted to living in Newburgh.  When an eclectus parrot becomes upset, feathers are picked out.  All that beautiful green plummage, gone.  He looked pretty war torn the last few years he was with us.  'Sigh'  There are probably a million reasons for his anxiety/depression, it could be he needed a mate, or maybe it was because the kids grew up -changing his life.

When the kids were young, Hank was always on someone's shoulder.  He played where they played, sat at the supper table with us, and even took showers with them.  He was very happy.  As time went on, the children became involved with sports, music, academics, and going out with friends.  Hank still received a lot of attention, but life did change.  I never thought about that when I bought him.  I knew birds were sensitive, but I never thought about how the natural growth of my family could affect him.

Parrots live a long time; they are very intelligent and social.  I guess my advice is to keep this in mind if you are thinking about one for a pet. 

 

"I" is for inventor

My father is the kind of person that always thinks about how to fix what's broken.  This is often done by taking the object apart and putting it together again.  I think he actually enjoys the challenge and rarely gives up on problems of that sort.  He, being born and raised in Minnesota, is also a fisherman. And so one day, of course, the problem solver part of him decided to get together with the fisher part.  He was going to make his fishing life easier.

  Back when he was fed up with his tackle box I was in high school so I saw first hand what was annoying him.  He'd go fishing with us kids and have to replace one of our hooks because a Northern Pike bit the line or it was stuck on a log or motor. There was only one tackle box and he was in charge of it. The trouble came from the leaders stored in his box; they had line.  The fishing line would go every which way until it resembled a miniature plastic tumbleweed.  When a guy is trying to catch a "Big Jack", it can be frustrating working on a knot like that, but bait had to be put on the rod.  "Can't catch fish in the boat."

Fishing was important.  This problem had to be solved.  One day when he was eating Pringles Potato Chips , he got an idea.  He spent quite a bit of time down in his workshop with the Pringles Potato Chip can.  Then, one day, he showed us his proto-type. This was how he was going to solve the tangled tackle box.  Each leader would be stored separate from the others.  His device would be compact and float too.  And that's just what it did too.  These Leader Eaters as he called them are great for camping and backpacking.  A hiker can just throw them in the backpack without worry.  He has a patent on them, but they were only sold locally and now not at all.

"J" is for Jacks

Remember the game Jacks?  I loved it.  In fact now that I'm thinking about it, I'm in the mood to try my hand at it again.  It was my cousin, Lynnet, that taught me how to play this game.  She was good at it, too. I suspect she practiced a lot.

 Here's Wikepedia's definition of the game: " 1.a game in which jackstones are thrown and picked up in various groups between bounces of a small rubber ball


2.plaything consisting of small 6-pointed metal pieces that are used (along with a ball) to play the game of jacks"

I'm thinking of definition number two.  We played with a red rubber ball (like a super ball) and used the 6-pointed metal pieces as it says in the definition. There were either ten or twelve of the metal pieces altogether. The object of the game is to pick up the correct number of pointy (not sharp) metal pieces after bouncing the ball and then catching the ball before it bounced again. The pieces are dropped and the ball is bounced and then a fast hand juts out swiping the table or floor to collect the correct number of pieces.

I think Jacks would be great to relieve stress.  When life gets hectic, pull out the jacks and think only about getting the pointy pieces, breathing in and out.  Letting the mind settle on the bouncy red ball and forgetting about the house that needs cleaning, the work that needs to be done, fussy children, barking dogs, the fight with your daughter...  Take just 15 minutes and bounce the ball...

"K" is for Kitty

The first kitty I owned was all white.  I walked a mile to the house that had that litter of kittens.  I was so excited about finally getting a little furry, cuddly pet I probably would have walked ten miles.  When I saw the little kitties mewing everywhere, I just felt all the pent up pet love come spilling out.  Which one should I pick?  They were all so cute.  As I stood there holding kitties and debating which one to pick, the father of the household said, "We have one more."  He opened the door of a nearby room and sure enough there was another kitten.  Beautiful; all white with a ringed tail.  I was told, "He has a little mean streak in him, but he'll grow out of it."  Of course that's the kitten I chose; the one all alone in a room away from the others.  It clawed my hands so they were bleeding by the time I got home.  I didn't care.  I had my little kitten and everything was going to be alright.  It turned out that he didn't grow out of his mean streak. He was horribly mean.  He loved using his teeth and claws.  The pretty white cat with blue eyes and a brown ringed tail  liked jumping on my sisters backs when they walked down the basement stairs.  I went to camp and when I got back home Tarzan was living on a farm.  

"L" is for Lola

I was really tempted to write about lipstick.  If you look lipstick up on Wikipedia, you will find some interesting facts on the history of lipstick in the United States.  For example, in the 1960's lipstick was seen as a display of femininity so if a woman didn't wear lipstick, she was likely a lesbian.  I also found that in the 1920's red lipstick was very popular and the outline of a womans lips represented cupid's bow.

My daughter, Suzanne, convinced me to write about my name instead as I have had many a man and sometimes women serenade me because of it.  I've always been quiet and somewhat shy which probably encouraged singers.  They were singing, but I was the one squirming with discomfort.  People don't seem to care about whether they belong in a choir or not when they serenade me.  I should personally thank Barry Manilow for the song he made popular, "Her name was Lola . She was a show girl with yellow feathers in her hair And a dress cut down to there..."   The Kinks made L-O-L-A  popular as well, but the song ends in a strange way so Barry Manilow's song is more popular with my serenaders.  Older people remember the song "What Lola Wants Lola Gets"  I learned the first couple lines of the song from them.  I see there is a Pepsi commercial using that song now.  I'm no longer in my twenties so maybe I'll escape the singing. 

I was named after my mother's mother and never thought of my name as being spanish.  When I lived in Illinois, I went for a job interview-- a social service job.  I  remember sitting in a waiting room feeling very scandinavian.  Everyone that walked by me spoke spanish and didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes like me.   I was called in for the interview and was shown to a chair in front of a panel of dark haired brown eyed people.  Blink. Blink.  How was I to explain why I was right for the job?  I asked myself how I got myself in that mess.  Then it dawned on me, they assumed I was hispanic because my name was Lola.  Talk about awkward...

"M" is for Moo

I was thinking about "M" words and the word "Moo" entered my brain and for some odd reason wouldn't leave it.  I began asking myself  questions like why do cows "Moo" instead of "Meow" or "growl" or "howl"?  I suspected it was probably due to their size and the shape of their mouths.  Horses are about the same size and they don't "Moooooo", but they don't chew their cud either so their mouths are probably different.  You'd think a horse and a cow would sound more alike, though.  So I typed the question in my search engine and found that others asked why cows "moo", too.  I found the explanation below to be somewhat satisfying.


Cows need some form of communication. Their sense of language isn't adapted as ours is, and their tongue is not shaped the way a human's tongue is. The shape of their tongue and throat prevents them from doing much more than make the sound they make. And cows don't actually say "moo". It is just that our own language is limited, and that is the best approximation that people can come up with.  http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Why_do_cows_moo

It's amazing what we finally accept for answers as children.  Most adults don't know why a cow "moos" either so when the question is asked I'm sure the response is something like "because that's what they do, honey."  The adults around me spent a lot of time telling me that cows "Moo" when I was young and I'm sure that I heard their sound first hand as I lived in farm country.  It would be fun to hear a Vet speak about why cats "Meow", cows "Moo", horses "Winnie" and bears growl.  Wouldn't he/she make a great guest speaker in the elementary classroom?

My son, as a preschooler, was very fascinated with how things worked and wondered what it was we couldn't see inside things--cows--even a piece of lettuce.  His drawings reflected his curiousity.  His pre-school had a trip to the hospital planned so they could see the newborn babies and what it was like inside a hospital.  He was very excited about the whole thing and hardly touched his breakfast the morning of this outing.   At the hospital he was very hot because of being bundled up.  That mixed with very little breakfast caused him to faint.  It was a big deal to everyone seeing a little 4 year old faint on his tour of the hospital.  He was in good hands.  They immediately took his coat off and gave him some orange juice.

 My four year old son, the intense child that he was, did not forget about it.  I'm not sure how much time passed, but the fainting experience was on his mind for quite some time.  He was sure something was wrong with his heart.  I took him to the Dr. when he drew a picture of himself. He drew what he thought things looked like inside his body.  He had red lines for arteries and blue for veins.  He pointed to the heart he'd drawn and said, "I think the problem is right there."  The Dr. listened to his heart and told him he was fine, but asked if he could keep the picture he'd drawn.  Now this is a kid that really wanted to know important stuff like why do cows  "moo".

Kids think about things...  "Moooooooo..."

N is for Nasty

Janine (my youngest) has always been an animal lover.  As I type this she sits in an easy chair holding her seven month old (40 lb) dog, Annabelle.  Anyway, she told me a story a couple weeks ago that one of her guy friends shared with her.  It was a nasty story especially if you have any kind of imagination.

 Some time ago this boy owned a Mini-Lopp bunny .  You know one of those completely adorable bunnies with the long ears.  They're tiny and sweet--you can't help but love them.  One day, being the great pet owner he was, he had the little bunny out in his back yard to hop around a little. He was  focused on the bunny who suddenly stopped moving. He stared at the bunny when he should have had one eye on the sky.  A large bird of prey dove with speed, picked the little bunny up, and flew away with it.  Imagine this teenage boy looking up to the sky with his mouth hanging open, in shock as he watched an eagle or hawk fly away with his pet.

 Janine said, "Mom that isn't a nasty story.  The bunny wasn't hurt, it was just being carried away."  Optimist that she is added, "It was probably okay."

O is for Oriole

When our children were younger, they were involved in a bird club for kids.  They read about birds, dissected owl pellets, listened to speakers, and went on field trips.  One of the field trips we went on was to a place called Hawthorne Hollow a wild life preserve near Kenosha, Wisconsin.  The morning we arrived for our birdwatching hike, there were two trees filled with Orioles.  They had sliced oranges and stuck them on the tree branches. We learned Orioles love oranges!  I can tell you it was quite a sight.  Between the Orioles and the oranges, there was a lot of color. They were beautiful orange and black birds.

  Hawthorne Hollow was very supportive of our little group.  They had a public gathering and allowed the kids to sell bird houses at the event to make a little money for the club.


Answer to the Math Problem from P is for Problem:    Cut the cake horizontally through the middle then make an X on top.  That will give you eight pieces of cake.

P is for problem

I just love this math problem because I got the answer very quickly and more importantly before my husband.  That doesn't happen very often so I cherish the few times it does.  We saw this math problem in the Evansville Courier years ago.  Here goes:  How do you get eight pieces of cake by slicing just three times?  I probably got the answer in seconds because it was about cake. 

 One year I told the kids that came to our house for trick or treating that if they solved this problem they could have all our candy.  There were kids sitting on our front porch with pencil and paper working away while other Trick or Treaters came and went.  Unfortunately no one was a able to solve this problem so they each walked away, one by one, with one piece of candy and the answer to a problem that stumped them whispered in their ear.

For awhile I was doing Kumon Math.  I think the biggest problem for me with math is my horrible memory.  Anyway, Kumon was daily repetition and I had fun with it.  My daughter, Janine, did it as well.  Back then we drove to Terre Haute once a month to turn in our work and to get a box full of new problems to tackle for the next month.  They allowed us to do that because  the closest Kumon Center for us was in Terre Haute (2 hours away from Evansville).  Now there is a Center in Newburgh and one in Evansville as well.   : )

I'll post the answer to this problem in my next blog. 

Q is for queen

     I wonder if I was the only little girl in 1968 that thought being a queen would be a dream come true?  There's a lot of talk about princesses when you're eight.  The idea of being a princess didn't sound horribly bad to me, but being a queen sounded better.  Princesses were always getting in trouble.  Queens had long gowns and big crowns.  They had extra long hair, too, and they ruled the land.  Now, that was cool.  I thought a lot about being a queen when I lived in southern Minnesota.  I was in early grade school and played in my bedroom closet.  The closet had a big white wall perfect for drawing on.  It didn't even cross my mind that my parents might not appreciate my art work.  With crayons I took great care in drawing the most beautiful queen ever.  She was blue (my favorite color) and had a long trailing gown and a huge spikey crown.  When I was finished, I ran downstairs and told my mother.  I found out she didn't appreciate queens the way I did.

R is for Reality

I took an ethics class in college and still remember that first day when the teacher wrote: "Ninety percent of what we see lies behind our eyes.  How we perceive the world determines the way we react to it."  on chalkboard.  That makes sense and seems really obvious.  However, way back then when I was in college I hadn't really thought about that before.  There is no one reality.  We all have different perceptions.  I think we spend a lot of time trying to alter perception whether it be by debate, drugs, brain washing, hypnosis, reading, television, super interesting blogs, math, or education in general. 

A mental illness is a psychiatric disorder that results in a disruption in a person's thinking, feeling, moods, and ability to relate to others word IQ.com

Statistics About Mental Illness:


According to the World Health Organization (WHO), 1 in every 4 people, or 25% per cent of individuals, develops one or more mental disorders at some stage in life.

Mental illnesses are more common than cancer, diabetes, or heart disease.

Mental disorders can now be diagnosed reliably and accurately as the most common physical disorders; some can be prevented, all can be successfully managed and treated.

Treatment works. Yet, as many as two-thirds of all people with a diagnosable mental disorder do not seek treatment, whether for fear of being stigmatized, fear that the treatment may be worse than the illness itself, or lack of awareness, access and affordability of care.

Mental illness is a serious public health challenge that is under-recognized as a public burden. The toll of mental illness is tragic: http://www.myasha.org/node/12

No one wants to be mentally ill.  We want to believe what we perceive is true and we defend that truth.  In an argument other people can be so irritating and blind, right?  Think of all the religious and political debates we have with our friends and relatives.  We want to be right.  We want to win the argument.  They are wrong I am right.

Ten years ago I was feeling pretty good.  I was in good shape and just earned my black belt. I felt in charge of my life.  Our three kids were young and very involved with extra-curricular activities.  I won't go into the details, although it is a pretty interesting story involving a sparkly green dress, but I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  Not something I wanted to hear.  Not something I believed at first.  I was right and everyone else was wrong.  I resisted and was in the hospital for a couple weeks.  (Now that's something to write about.)  I realized my thinking was off when the medication kicked in.  They told me this condition was treatable.  Basically they needed to play around with my brain chemistry until something worked right.  Lucky for me, I have a doctor that I get along with and medication that works.  I've had some ups and downs since then, but nothing major.  I take my medicine.

Not everyone is as fortunate.  And there is this law out there that states if a person is 18 years old and older they cannot be hospitalized against their will unless they are a danger to themselves or others.  I understand why we have a law like that, but it really gets in the way of treatment sometimes.  Families feel helpless.  They know their loved one is sick, possibly getting themselves in huge debt, but there isn't anything they can do about it.  They pretty much have to sit back and watch them destroy their lives because they don't think there is anything wrong with them.

One book that was a huge help to me was "Taming Bipolar Disorder" by Lori Oliwenstein.  She wrote that book in honor of her father.  It's a great book for becoming more informed about the disorder and there are many other resources noted including websites.

S is for Suzanne

Suzanne Joy Perkett has graduated!!!  Yay!!!!  She is ready to take on the world and, believe me, the world is lucky to have her.  The question is "What's next?"  She has a masters degree in secondary education.  Her areas of expertise are Math and Spanish.  Will she go to Spain for a year?  Or will she stay in the states?  If she decides to go to Spain, what will she do?  Young, intelligent -- her whole life ahead of her.  It's exciting!



 You'd think by now the sibling rivalry would have eased up. No such luck.   Matthew and Janine were very jealous of Suzanne's accomplishment.  She may be small, but don't let that fool you.  She knows how to defend herself.  The ju-jitsu does come out.

Just kidding.  Suzanne and her siblings have always been close.  They still have a lot of fun together. 

For example when we went to Oliver's Winery to toast her victory, the frog in the pond outside the building was somehow inspiring to them all. They pretended to be frogs for quite sometime.  We older folk managed to persuade them to follow us eventually.

There was plenty of wine. After the kids proved their age, we toasted to Suzanne's success, and bought some wine to take home. But, was our celebrating over and done?  No Siree.  We also celebrated at a Japanese steakhouse where they dazzeled us with their fine food, fire and juggling abilities.

Suzanne has been a fan of Japanese food ever since she went to Japan.  She loves sushi.  She and her boyfriend, Adam, frequent sushi bars.  Well, as much as they can...they're kind of expensive.  We all enjoyed our food that night.  Sushi was consumed.

Suzanne is ready to begin a new chapter in her life and her siblings are right by her side.  We parents may not always be seen, but we will always present, too, supporting her along the way.  SUZANNE WE'RE PROUD OF YOU!

T is for Today

T is for TODAY because it's Mother's Day.  And what a beautiful Mother's Day it is here in southern Indiana. The sun is shining and birds are tweeting (I'd normally say singing, but since I'm honoring letter T I went with tweeting).  I'm glad we, as a society, have set aside a day for mothers.  Mothering is a very important job.  Most of us, women folk, take it very seriously; that means work.  Work we love and cherish.  My mother has five children.  I am the oldest and remember her hanging clothes on the line, boiling baby bottles, washing cloth diapers, canning fruit and pickles, doing a whole lot of vacuuming and on top of all that she made time to sew us clothes and take us to music lessons.   I marvel at what she was able to do and wonder where she got her energy.  The picture below is of my mother on the left, my daughter Janine, and my father.

My parenting was different from hers; we are from different times.  I didn't have to boil bottles or use cloth diapers.  I had a microwave and pampers.  I spent more time with my children; reading to them, teaching them things, and having fun. I was able to. 

All three of my kids are home this weekend.  Matthew lives in Boston so it's a real treat to have him here.  Suzanne lives in Bloomington and Janine here in Evansville.  We all still enjoy spending time together.  Last night was filled with playing cards/games and lots of laughter.  I feel so fortunate.

                             Matthew                                       Suzanne                                 Janine


Matthew will be getting a PhD in Physics, Suzanne just received her Masters in secondary education (Math and Spanish) and Janine is striving for a degree in Landscape Architecture.

U is for Ugly

ug·ly   /ˈʌgli/

[uhg-lee]
–adjective, -li·er, -li·est.

1. very unattractive or unpleasant to look at; offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance.
 dictionary.com.

I read that dictionary definition and yet I can't help but think the ugliest people are the ones stomping around with a bitter attitude.  Those people out there that get pleasure from making others suffer.  Their outer appearance doesn't matter, they are the warts on society.

 People who are made with ugly outside appearances had better have a pleasing personality.  They aren't able to get away with being ornery.  If they do have a hideous attitude, they are ugly to the power of two.

Whether ugly is in a person or an animal, life is bound to be more difficult for them.  We associate looking ugly with being bad and beautiful with being good.  We're automatically repulsed by physical ugliness
and attracted to physical beauty.  So which puppy is liable to find a home?  Which one would be blamed for chewing on the shoe or peeing on the carpet?  There are many studies that find jurors and interviewers are persuaded by physical appearance.  I guess that's one of the reasons people dress up when they're going to a job interview or put on the stand.  Looking for a job is tough for us average people.  Think about how tough it is for someone that is real ugly.  They can put on interview clothes, and not look dressed up.  Maybe this is the next group of people that will unite and demand benefits.  They wouldn't be coming out of the closet--they are denfinetly out already there.  They may demand the right to cosmetic surgery.

A while back I went to a hardware store to buy something small like batteries.  I was in a hurry (like usual) and forced to stand in line.  The man at the cash register was nice looking and probably my daughter's age.  Still I was tapping my foot wishing the kid would hurry up as I had tons of important stuff to do.  Finally it's my turn.  I chit chat with him while I'm signing the receipt and then I notice what I was so blind to see before.  He was using only one hand because his other hand was the size of a small bowling ball!  It was sitting on the counter not being used.  My attitude changed to one of pity, patience, and amazement.
                                                                                             

V is for volunteer

  V is for Volunteer. Volunteers make our society a better place.       

                                                                                             

When we moved to Newburgh in 1999, our children were young.  Matthew, the oldest of our three, was going into 8th grade.  Being a little old fashioned, I felt it was important for one of us to be home with the kids.  Since my husband, Bruce, liked his job and made more money than I ever would, I was the one that stayed home.  Our children were very active in sports, music and scholastics.  It was nice to have the flexibility to go to their games and be more deeply inolved in their lives.  My "volunteering" was devoted to my family. 

As I type this, I'm on my way to my daughter, Suzanne's, graduation.  She will be awarded a masters in secondary education.  Her area of expertise is Math and Spanish.  Needless-to-say, my children are older now.  They are independent.  Where does that leave me? 

   I decided that I should do something more to contribute to society.  Volunteering sounded appealing because of my interest in writing. Altrusa International of Evansville and The Women's Club of Newburgh are  two organizations I chose in my area (southern Indiana).  It's been a blast and I'm proud to be part of something positive.  After all, a person doesn't have to have a paid position to make a difference in life.

W is for Whatever

I gave a talk with food in my teeth, whatever...

I road my bike to church and when I got there saw a hanger sticking out my hat, whatever...

When I was asked how old I was, I forgot, whatever...

I sat in the wrong class on the first day of school, whatever...

The lady that cut my hair kept going, whatever...

I went to buy a soda and the machine vomited coins instead, whatever...

I forgot my neighbor's name, whatever...

 

 I asked when she was due.  Guess what?  She's not.  Whatever...


Sometimes I  shrug my shoulders and say "whatever."  Life is full of embarrassing moments, if we let the embarrassments stick, we'll be cranking out tears and moans all day long.  Laugh at the embarrassment and awkwardness of these experiences and let "Whatever"  be there instead. 


If you have a whatever moment you'd like to share, please share in the comments.  I would love to know I'm not the only one in the world that has had experiences like these.

X is for kiss

When someone signs a card with xxxxxx and ooooooo's, what does the x stand for?  I looked online and wouldn't ya know it, someone posted this very question on http://answers.google.com/answers/threadview?id=450133.  The answer: X is for kiss.

 These days when speaking to people by texting on our cell phone or using the internet, there are many symbols used to say good bye and hello.  I think most of us know that xxxx's and oooo's mean kisses and hugs, knowing which is which is another thing. To make sure we're all on the same page, here is a key for some of the common symbols used to express affection today.

ooo = hugs


xxx = kisses

OOO = big hugs

XXX = big kisses

oo = hugs for everybody but you

OO! = big, excited hugs

CCC = hugs for people you can't quite reach around

OOQ = hugging with tongue

xx@ = kisses and earlobe nibbling

zzz = snoring

yyy = anything that occurs between kissing and snoring"

http://www.netfunny.com/rhf/jokes/90q4/hugsf.html

One theory of how the X became the symbol for kiss is looking back to the way of people in the Medieval times. Back then, illiterate people would sign documents with a cross to show their sincerity and then to seal the deal, this cross was kissed.  People hurried the t signature, so the cross would often end up looking like an X.  And also back in the day, Jewish people signed their documents with an O. Now it is used as a symbol of arms embracing.
 

The quote below is sort of gross to think about.  I've seen one too many Saturday Night Live shows displaying the sharing of food in this manner.   I'm thankful that I went to the grocery store to pick up jars of baby food when my children were young. But hey,  it makes sense that the origin of kissing would begin this way. I'm thankful for the evolution of the kiss X.

"Anthropologists think kissing’s origins are to be found in primitive times when mothers chewed food and transferred it directly from their mouths to their babies’ mouths, a method of preparing baby food that is still practiced in some cultures today."    Jul 25, 2004 - © Sharon K. West

freeclipart.com

Y is for Yum

This is a picture of some yummy Ethiopian food.  My friend, Chef Aimee Blume, was with me when I took this photo. Like I said she's a chef and she writes for the Evansville Courier & Press Food Page.  It's fun having a friend like her because I find myself in restaurants I normally wouldn't think to try.  I can be squeamish about trying new foods, especially if there is slime involved.  However, even if I don't eat all the food placed before me, I enjoy hearing someone as knowledgeable as Aimee talk about it. 

The grey bread rolled and piled on that plate wasn't half bad.  It is very soft, almost doughy, and used like a wrap.  The food on the big plate is put on the unrolled bread and then rerolled like lefse.  There are no eating utensils since all the food is eaten using the bread.

As we ate, Ethopian music and dance played on the t.v. screen mounted up high.  The dance movements were subtle meaning slight and the music soft and pleasant.

Someone once told me that what a pregnant woman ate would determine what the unborn child would like later on.  I'm not sure that's true.  It makes sense in a way.  What is yummy in one part of the world is not necessarily yummy everywhere.

Aimee is pictured here Saturday evening at our table full of Korean food.  We cooked our food on that little grill and ate with chop sticks.  This restaurant is in Indianapolis (I forget the name). Aimee and I attended a wonderful writers conference at the Hilton Garden Inn in Indy near the airport.  The food at the conference was yummy too.  It was a great time both at the conference and in restaurants away from where all the writing action took place.

Z is for Zipper

 Just  back from a writers conference. I have very recently measured myself against other writers; people hoping to find a publisher.  How am I doing I ask?  Well, if I was spectacular and awesome,  I would have left with the promise of an agent.  If I was super fabulous as well as spectacular and awesome, I probably would have been on the panel.  I was/am none of those things at least not yet, so I have to remember the importance of the metaphorical zipper.  A "zipper" on my mouth (ears sometimes too) is important for learning.  I'm not sure how the other attendees feel at these conferences, but I attend as a student.  The panel that sits in front of the room with the microphones are the experts, and they are looking out at a living, breathing slush pile.  These experts have traveled, sometimes a great distance, to talk to a pile of slush.  Speaking with slush in my mouth, I am thankful they have taken the time away from their busy jobs to speak to me (drip, drip).

I bet a zipper will help me crawl out of the mush or slush.  Keeping my mouth shut and ears open should help me learn, right?  It's easy to get defensive when my baby is being examined with a critical eye. That's when my own personal mouth zipper would come in handy; my mouth needs to stay shut and locked.  Listen.  Learn.  However, always consider the source. Who is telling me this thing I don't want to hear or I really, really want to hear?  Is it an editor from a major publisher?  Or is it someone who is new to writing.  I'm not saying the expert is always right and the rookie is always wrong.  I'm just saying my plan is to remember the zipper, and to use it wisely.

This conference helped me with the first page of my manuscript (too much back story).  I also learned the importance of an elevator pitch.  I should be able to tell someone what my book is about without torturing the person that asked.  I'm like "Oh it's about blah, and blah, and oh yeah blah, blah, too.  But there's more blah, and blah and yeah I forgot blah, blah."  I think I stunned the table I was sitting at.  They all looked at me with big round eyes like what the heck was that?  I wondered myself.