On First Impression Worth a Second Look

A few things have happened recently that have me wondering about the value of first impressions. I am not by any means saying they have no value. If something looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it's just conceivable that it might be an ugly swan. On the otherhand, it just might be a duck. There are people who rail against the unfairness of judging on first impression. Phooey. If you don't know someone or something, then first impressions are all you have to go by. And they should not be ignored entirely even if you find yourself unable to justify the impressions. While I'd never be intentionally rude, I'd rather trust my instincts and impressions than ignore them and pay a price.

That said, I want to tell you about something I witnessed at my home subway stop the other evening. Picture some guy, a big guy, in oversized, baggy trousers nearly falling off his hips, bandana wrapped around his head, dark sunglasses, head jerking to a rythym only he can hear. This guy just screamed 'urban cool.' He looked like a real bad ass who spent his grandmother's social security checks. Fifteen years ago he would have been carrying a boombox on his shoulder (think about that the next time you see someone hooked up to an iPod). Got the picture?

So there we stand waiting for the elevator to come. Normally I take the escalator but it was mobbed and I'd rather wait than feel claustrophobic in the crowd. So this guy is standing there too, right next to the elevator doors. A few other people walk up. The elevator comes and the doors open. This guy grabs the edge of the open door right away ... and then stands back to let in someone pulling a suitcase on wheels. He also lets me and everyone else get on before he does. So. Clearly not the bad ass of my first impression.

That came to mind yesterday as I was rereading Agnes and The Hitman. At the start of the book Agnes idealizes Brenda. Brenda is who she wanted to grow up to be, to the extent that she bought Two Rivers, Brenda's house. She even argues with Lisa Livia who, really, ought to know her mother better than Anges. And when Brenda does something even Agnes can't ignore, Agnes makes excuses for her until finally she sees Brenda for what she really is. Brenda, of course, went off the deep end at the end of the story; but what she was at the core really wasn't any different. What Agnes had really envied all those years was the mask that Brenda wore. Brenda knew how to say and do the right things to ... wait for it ... create an impression. And thinking about it, I've known a few Brendas, and you probably have too. Okay, maybe they didn't sabotage a wedding dress and try to kill you; but I'm betting you know someone who turned out to not be as great as you thought they were. And looking back, you can usually see all the signs you ignored early on. Just like Agnes did. So a first impression can conceal the bad as well as the good.

I was actually thinking about impressions before this, though. I have had the privilege of meeting several CBs now, and it's been amazing just how well we all click in person. A CB meet is just like hanging out at the Bar&Grill, except you probably laugh even longer and harder. I think many of us have marvelled at this. But is it so surprising really? We got to know each other long before we ever met, dispensing with that whole awkward first impressions thing.

And you know, I'd rather have the duck than the swan anyway. I've heard those big, fancy birds can be pretty viscious.

Happy Harriet Homeowner Rides Again

The thing with owning a home is that there always seems to be some little thing that needs doing/fixing/updating/tweaking ... you get the point. Just lately there are two items at the top of my list. When we run the dishwasher, water flows out of what I now know is the air trap. FYI, that's the metal thing on the corner of the sink. Water is not supposed to come out of there, but I think it will be easy enough to fix. From the Internet searches I've done (don't you just love the Web?) it looks like the hose just needs cleaning out. I think I have a snake (of the plumbing variety) thingie which they apparently call an auger. See I thought an auger was something you used to drill holes. Anyway, I think there's an auger snake (snake auger?) among the stuff under the stairs and I should be able to insert the snake through the top of the trap after removing the metal covering. If that doesn't work it might involve disconnecting the hose. I'm crossing my fingers but I might be able to handle this myself. In the meantime, we just line the edge of the sink with sponges to collect whatever overflow misses the sink.

The other item is a dripping bathroom faucet. I knew enough, thanks to listening to my Dad, to be fairly sure it was a worn washer or something of that nature. But I don't know much about the inner workings of a faucet so I checked my favorite homeowner's helper website, DIY, to find out what I didn't know. And one of the things I didn't know is that there are many different types of faucets but they fall into two basic categories: those with washers and those without washers. The kind with washers are also known as compression faucets. That's what I have.

The innards of compression faucets come in different shapes and sizes but have two things in common: the aforementioned washers and the "stem" on which they are fitted. Ideally you just replace the washers when they get worn; and being just little circles or discs of rubber, they wear out easily. But that is also a fairly easy fix compared to some of the other faucet designs so I guess it's a trade off.

The first thing every plumbing instruction tells you is to turn the water off. That seems pretty obvious, but you know there are all kinds of people out there and I'm sure many people don't think of it. After clearing a lot of junk out of the way I turned off the cold water, no problem. The hot water, however, was a problem. I could not get that knob to turn no matter what. Part of the problem might be that it is an awkward reach. The cold water knob was straight in, but the hot water is behind a pipe and it's a tricky angle to work from. After ripping up my hand trying I decided to save that one for later and just tackle the cold water. With luck, that was where the problem would be.

So with the cold water turned off under the sink I disassemble the decorative knob and use my wrench to remove the packing nut and take a look. According to the instructions I should be able, with a little twisting, to pull out the plasic stem that sits down inside. I tried. Bob knows I tried. I could get it to turn a bit, but no amount of twisting and tugging would get it out. There wasn't that much of the stem to hold onto anyway; two fingers was all I could use and I couldn't get a tight grip that way. So I found a pair of needle nose pliers and used those. I was able to get a better grip but it still took a lot of twisting and tugging to pull the stem out. Lo and behold it was damaged, more than just a worn washer. There was a crack in the stem and one of the two parts just fell out and wouldn't stay back in securely. This might or might not have been the source of the drip; but even if it wasn't, that stem clearly needed replacing.

I took the damaged pieces with me to the hardware store so I could compare and make sure I was getting the same thing. That's the other thing that all the instructions tell you: take the washer or other part to the store with you. You might think you'll know which one it is but, trust me, you'll get confused when confronted with the sheer variety of parts available.

I didn't used to like hardware stores much. They are huge buildings with rows and rows of towering shelves that intimidate me. I am getting better about it, though. I went right to the plumbing section and found that portion of the aisle devoted to little bitty replacement parts. Wow, what a selection. Fortunately I had brought the damaged stem with me and could compare. Also, fortunately, they had one. And just one. See, I had thought that as long as I was doing this I would replace both. But I got the one they did have and trotted (well, okay, actually I drove) back home. The new stem slid into the appropriate place with satisfying ease. Unfortunately there is still a slight drip.

I did check on the hot water tap after shutting off the water at the main water shut off valve. Thank you, GP and Louis, for assuring me that this would work. The hot tap came apart with much more ease than the cold, and I'm not sure whether or not that is a good thing. This stem was not damaged that I could tell. The washers looked okay, but since it was just a little drip, it might involve just a little wear. In any event I'm not giving up until I get the stem replaced in the hot water as well as the cold. And if that doesn't work I'll call for a plumber. I know my limitations; I may someday be up to the task of replacing the whole faucet contraption but not just yet. Also, by that time we might have decided to replace the sinks anyway because the bathroom sinks all have nasty cracks in them and will need replacing at some point.

This is much longer than I had intended, but before going I did want to let you know that I did tackle snaking (auging?) out the air trap in the kitchen. It didn't entirely fix the problem but I do think it's much better now than it was. My plan is to keep cleaning in out periodically and hopefully it will continue to improve. For now, while we still place the sponges around the edge of the sink, there doesn't seem to be as much water for them to absorb. So that's good, right?

Apropo of many things

I am seriously sleep deprived. I'm saying that right up front so you'll understand if this blog sorta bounces off the walls. Why am I sleep deprived? Several reasons, not the least of which is my trip to Dayton. Dayton, OH. Who knew it was such a fun place? Or at least it is when the Cherrybombs are in town. Come to think of it, we weren't actually in Dayton but rather in Beavercreek, OH, a suburb of Dayton. Beavercreek ... it's Ohio so they have towns named after the local fauna. There's probably a Possumcreek too. I do know this much about Ohio, they've borrowed a lot of town/city names from other cities. Shows a distinct lack of creativity on their party. Which I would worry about except Jennifer Crusie lives there so maybe they are plenty creative in Ohio, they just didn't bother making the effort for place names. Seriously, I was looking at an Ohio map on the drive back and they've got, just to name a few, Newark, Philadelphia, Washington, Ottawa and I believe Richmond. That could be confusing, don't you think?

The people in Beavercreek were really great. The CherryBombs descended like ... I can't think of an appropriate simile. But we never encountered one glare or frown. Bemusement, amusement and astonishment, yes; but no negative reactions, so we're talking about a pretty laid back population. I liked it that they just went with our flow. I could be happy there I think. Also they have good shopping. That's important.

However, during the drive back, somewhere around Columbus I think it was, we had the radio on and there was a report of a murder. Not that Ohio can't have murderers, too. Equal opportunity for all, I say. It's okay, though, because they got the guy who did it. They found him not far from an abandoned car which contained several knives and an arm. Ohio. Nice place, but don't pick up hitch hikers.

What else? Oh, it took me two hours to get home last night. An undefined 'incident' at one of the stations on my subway line. And I was trying to get home early too. See it was my mom's birthday. That morning I had scattered around the house 3 packages and 2 birthday cards. Not hidden, mind you, just placed strategically so that she would encounter them during her daily routine. One gift by the stairs, one next to her chair and one on the bathroom sink. One card was inside the microwave and one next to the milk in the fridge. Apparently she was in and out of both her chair and the bathroom a few times before she noticed the gift bags. And this morning I discovered that the card was still next to the milk in the fridge. The milk she would have used in her coffee yesterday. Coffee I know she had at least two cups of. I wonder if she found it this morning?

Anyway, as I said, it was Mom's birthday and I was taking her out to dinner. My best friend went with us and we had a really nice evening. We laughed a lot and drank wine and ate really good food. I had the chicken Marsala. Oh my Bob was that good. It made me feel like Min in Bet Me.

And on the subject of books, one of mom's gifts was a bag of books, two of which I got signed while in Dayton - excuse me, Beavercreek. One was Bones to Ashes by Kathy Reichs, and one was Hard Row by Margaret Maron. Both are favorite authors of mine, but because it was her birthday I'm letting Mom read them first. Aren't I nice? The other two, however, the ones I got signed, were Agnes and the Hitman by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer, and Lost Girls by Robert Doherty who is actually Bob Mayer. These two I did read because I was going to the signing and I wanted to sound intelligent about the books.

And Mom invited the Aunts over for dinner tomorrow night. We're having what Mom and I call Jasper's Pasta because that's the restaurant where we used to get it. They closed though. A crying shame because it was a good restaurant, and popular. Now it's a sports bar. Anyway the dish includes hot capellini tossed with roasted garlic, zucchini, onions, tomatoes, basil, sun-dried tomatoes and grated parmesan cheese. Served with marinara and pesto sauces. Fabulous.

I don't think I'll be doing any more shoe posts this year. Well, never say never; but I do think I've probably shot my shoe budget all to heck for the year. But I do love my shoes. Sigh. I also have a fabulous new purse which I picked up in Da..., uh, Beavercreek. I told you they had great shopping.

And my friend, the one who joined us for dinner last night, might come over tonight to return/borrow some books.

So I've got great shoes, a fab new purse, a stack of books by fav authors waiting to be read, good memories, a tummy full of yummy food, and time spent with great people.

Life is good.

I Blame Genetics

I just bought two pairs of shoes on-line. Are these cute, or what? And they had them in black as well, which is why I had to get two pairs, really I did. Actually they had them in two other colors, but not in my size. Which is probably just as well. In my defense, however, they were only $20 each, and for $20 I think I really did have to get at least two pair, don't you? And most of my cuter shoes are sandals which will have to be retired for the season once cold weather gets here, so really getting them now is very foresighted of me. Why yes, I am rationalizing, why do you ask?

I'm not a shop-a-holic, I swear. I don't even shop that often, really. I do, however, enjoy nice stuff just like anyone else, and sometimes I get on these jags, usually brought on by the sight of that one perfect thing that happens to be on sale. If it were just that one thing, then there would be no problem. Shopping, though, is like eating potato chips; one just leads to one more.

A large part of my problem is genetic. No, I don't mean a genetic predisposition to shop. Rather, I am both short and, well, proportionately not in sync with today's fashions. Short runs in the family, although I am somewhat at the extreme end. What this means is that I can't just run out and pick something up when the need arises. Clothing is a source of frustration for me because my body type doesn't go well with whatever the current latest trend is. So if I find something that really works, I buy it. Especially if it is on sale. And if it comes in more than one color, I get two, like with the shoes. This is also why I do a fair amount of my shopping on line. Most stores, having limited space for inventory, naturally try to stock the more popular sizes to accommodate the greatest number of customers. They are not stocking their racks with me in mind. I have discovered, though, that this does not mean that the same item my size doesn't exist, it's just back in the warehouse somewhere.

A lot of people blanch at the idea of shopping on line. If you think about it, though, it's not all that different than shopping via catalogue. In times past people did a great deal of their shopping for the season through catalogues. Today they are usually skimpy affairs put out by specialized boutique stores - shoes, electronics, and so forth. They arrive in the mail with the rest of the junk and while you might flip through and admire the wares, the catalogues usually end up in the recycle bin in fairly short order. In our grandparents' time, though, the arrival of the seasonal catalogue from Sears or J.C. Penny was a big deal. In size it could be compared to the white pages for your average city. And it contained everything. You could shop for clothes for the family, household goods, sewing needs, farm equipment ... you could spend days browsing the book and you kept it handy through the whole season. By the time new one arrived, last season's book was looking pretty tattered. They were still sent out pretty regularly when I was kid. So you see, getting my clothes through mail order isn't such a startling idea after all. Heck, my grandparents did it. The main thing with Internet shopping is to know your brands, which labels/stores you can trust for fit and quality, just as my grandmother might have had a preference for clothing from the Penny's catalogue, while preferring household goods from sears, I too have preferences. So the genetics theory still holds water.

So when my credit card statement arrives next month, I'll know who to blame. My grandparents. It's not my fault, it's genetics.

You May Save a Life

A friend of mine moved into a new house last year. This year she discovered something growing fairly rapidly in her backyard. I told her that if it was growing that well in this drought, chances are pretty good that it is a weed. Last week she told me it was sprouting berries. I told her "It's a weed. Don't eat it, get rid of it." Today she told me they looked awfully tasty and would I please look at the pictures she took and tell her for sure if it's a weed. I told her that if they were okay to eat the birds and the squirrels would have had them gone by now because it's probably a weed. I should tell you that she is not native to the U.S. and so these questions arise periodically. Anyway, she sent me some photos and I sent her back an email saying that I'm even more sure that IT'S A WEED, and ALMOST CERTAINLY POISONOUS. In fact it looks familiar. I was thinking sumac, but it's been so long I don't remember for sure what it looks like.

So if you folks would please take a look and identify this for me, I would appreciate it. See, the thing is now almost taller than she is and she's a tall woman. I figure if she's let it grow this long I'm going to have my hands full convincing her. Of course if it's really that tall, she's going to have her hands full getting rid of it.

Lost Girls by Robert Doherty aka Bob Mayer

I'll say straight out that I haven't read this particular book yet. That's me being honest. However, I have read BODYGUARD OF LIES by Doherty and thoroughly enjoyed it. I was very much pulled into the story to the extent that when I learned he was writing a sequel, LOST GIRLS, I knew I was going to get that one too. It hasn't hit the shelves yet (August 21) or I would have it now. I do, however, have it on order with Amazon.

I did so based on expectations that it would be at least as good as BOL. In the meantime, two people whose opinions on literary matters I really respect have since got their hands on early copies of LOST GIRLS and have reviewed it on their own blogs. To be frank, I'm stunned by their glowing reviews. I knew they would probably like the book, but they are both pretty tough critics so I really didn't expect too much hype. Well they do hype it. Which has me pretty excited and really really happy that I've already placed my order. Check out what they have to say about Robert Doherty's (aka Bob Mayer) latest book LOST GIRLS,

http://bcb-blog.blogspot.com/2007/08/book-review-lost-girls.html

http://jen-t.blogspot.com/2007/08/lost-girls-by-robert-doherty-aka-bob.html

and if you are as intrigued as I am, follow the bouncing ball to http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Girls-Robert-Doherty/dp/0765311275/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-7984986-6126517?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1187296203&sr=1-1 and order your own copy.

Happy Harriet Homeowner - Part Two

I've been keeping busy with various projects lately. I'm not normally someone who needs to keep busy; in truth I love lazy days with a good book and there's not much that I don't think can be put off while I read. I'm still doing some reading, and in fact I've promised myself a week or two down time to catch up with my TBR pile. But I've had stuff that had to get done, or maybe I just felt like I needed to be doing. Things like installing a new shower head. The old one was ancient and getting a bit grungy. New one is really sleak. I'm pleased.

I also put up a new thingie over the back of the basement door to hang the ironing board on. Used to keep it in the basement washroom, but it was way to easy to let it pile up and tell myself I'll catch up on it later. Plus this way it's convenient and easy for mom to use as well. Along with that, I hung another thingie (are these technical terms too much?) to hold our brooms and dustmops just inside the basement door. I even used a level and everything.

It hasn't been all dirty chores though. Or I guess I should say that a few things other than chores did involve actual dirt:


Finally got around to sticking a few more things in the ground. It was a little late in the season and we haven't had much rain but they're doing okay, I think.





And this is my CherryBomb plant that Dee and RSS delivered. Isn't it gorgeous? The tag doesn't actually call it that; according to the tag, it's a hibiscus. But I know the truth. And along with it I received a lovely dinner out that included margaritas and much laughter. I've got really good people in my life.



But you know how it goes with gardens. Sometimes a few things turn up that you don't remember planting.





And some things start turning up as a side effect of planting.


And along the way I finished two afghans that I had deadlines for. One for a wedding that was only a little bit late (the gift, not the wedding. As far as I know that went off as scheduled). And one for a really new neighbor. But I showed you those already in a previous post. I'm well pleased with both of them. I made the mistake of browsing through some other patterns, though, and now my fingers are just itching to hold a crochet hook again. But I've promised myself I would get to that TBR pile, so I'm going to hold off just a little bit longer. Harry and the gang have waited for me long enough.

I don't knit

I crochet. It's different, sort of. Okay, same basic idea ... long piece of string and lots of fancy knots. But knitting uses two long pointy needles. You work your stitches onto one of the needles until you have a long row of them hanging there. As you work your second row, you pass the stitches from that first needle onto the second needle, and back to the first needle for the 3rd row, and so on. Crochet is like the orphaned stepchild of sewing: there's a ton of info on knitting, but very little on crochet. But I think that's starting to change, largely thanks to the Internet.

Crochet (silent "t" folks, French style pronunciation) uses only a hook, and only one of them. You add on to your work by using the hook to grab the yarn, thread, or whatever and pull a loop of yarn - or series of loops - into the next stitch. But as a general rule, you only have one stitch at a time on your hook.

The exception to this rule is the afghan stitch, also called the Tunisian stitch. It's a cross between knitting and crocheting. Here is an example:



Notice that each row looks woven. With this stitch, each row is actually worked twice: once forward and once backward. The "posts" you see in the above picture are the row of loops formed on the hook as you work forward. The yarn that appears to be threaded under them was then pulled through, a little at a time, during the second, backward, pass. Confused yet? It's easier than it sounds and leaves you with the nifty grid pattern you see. Here's what the finished product looked like:

I just love this blend of colors. It was a wedding gift for friends of mine. Since it was a gift for two people, neither of whom is the fussy type, I wanted something colorful yet gender neutral. I think the woven look of the stitches also keeps it from looking too feminine. I don't think a guy would shy away from using it, do you? As you can see, the stitches are very close and tight, not lacy at all. So it's also a very warm afghan. Of course they live in Florida, and it's July, so they probably won't get much use out of it for a few months.

My next project is a baby afghan for the neighbors who are expecting their new little one in a matter of days. Yikes! I guess I'd better get cracking on this.

This is being worked in 3 very basic stitches: single crochet, double crochet, and chains. Do you see they way the colors seem to fade into each other? I'm working each row with two strands of yarn at the same time. It's a baby, or sport, weight yarn so the strands are finer, more slim, than in a typical afghan. With a heavier weight of yarn it's a little more tricky to keep two strands on your hook at the same time. As I go from one color to the next, I do two rows inbetween using one strand of each color. This way there is no clear line between one color and the next and they just sort of blend together, rainbow fashion. I hope Baby will approve.

Book Review: The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

If you've come to my blog before, then you know: I LOVE books. I love to read, period, and have been known to make do with cereal boxes and soup cans if nothing else is available. But my first love is books. Fiction, nonfiction, mysteries, thrillers, comedy and romance. I'll read them all. I visit the library every 3 weeks like clockwork and take books home by the bag. I don't get them just from libraries, I also buy books. But at the pace I read them, I have to limit my purchases to a handful of favorite authors or I'd never make the mortgage payment every month.

Enter Jennifer Crusie, Eileen Dreyer and Anne Stuart; three fabulous authors each of whose books I snatch up as soon as they come out. These ladies are GOOD. However, to my mind their writing voices are distinct so when I heard they were teaming up to co-author a novel I was a little curious, and yes wary, of how well it would work. I mean, I read a lot but I also have high expectations. The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes lives up to every one of them. I have to stress here that this book is a single novel, not an anthology. This is not three seperate stories, but rather a single story woven together by three best selling authors. And the results are seamless.

Here's the scoop: Three sisters - Dee, Lizzie and Mare - are witches. Dee is a shape shifter, Lizzie can transform objects, and Mare is telekenetic. However the girls have been on the run from their deliciously evil Aunt Xan since they were very young and have never learned quite how to handle their individual powers.

Now Aunt Xan has found them, and she has found the perfect way to lure the women out into the open, with or without the assistance of her hapless minions: True Love. She has located three perfect men for her neices, and all they have to do in return is ... well you'll have to read the book to find out.

Crusie, Dreyer and Stuart have given readers a book that mixes magic and mayhem, supernatural and sexy, humor and havoc. Its a fun ride the whole way around. And you'll never look at cobblestones in quite the same way again.

The Worst of Times, The Best of Times

My dad passed away on Father's Day. That should freak me out, but oddly enough it doesn't. Next year might be another matter but I'll deal with that then. There have been some very bad spots and I'm sure they will continue to crop up, catching me unawares. I want to say that we lost him too soon, but even if it had come 20 years from now instead, it would still have been too soon. Sometimes the sense of loss is just overwhelming. But I know that all of this is to be expected: it's part of the process I have to go through as I learn to let go. Underneath of all that, though, is an odd sense of peace. He wasn't in pain or distress and didn't leave behind loose ends, things undone, or words unsaid. I know with absolute certainty that he loved his family beyond measure. That he thoroughly enjoyed being a father and husband. He has left us, but without doubt or recriminations and with many wonderful memories. There are much worse ways to go.

My sister flew up from GA right away. Miraculously we actually got along for an entire week. In fact, as a family we were in unusual harmony when it came to the decisions that had to be made. I think Dad would have approved of the way we handled things, always keeping him in mind, how he felt about things and what would capture his spirit best.

Many years ago, Dad had this brown shirt that he wore all the time, every single weekend. It wasn't a very attractive shirt to begin with and didn't improve with age. We kept buying him new shirts, hoping he would take the hint but still that damned shirt would come out. It made my sister especially nuts and she used to give him a hard time about it. He just laughed and told her that he was going to leave it for her in his will. That was years ago and eventually we stopped seeing the shirt. This past week, my sister had asked my mom for something of Dad's that she could have. As Mom rummaged for his watch a memory hit me from out of the blue. "Well," I said, "I'm sure if we look through his drawers we'll be able to find that brown shirt. Dad always wanted you to have it." They both knew instantly what I was referring to and we all laughed. It was a shared memory and a good moment. I think that somewhere Dad was having a good laugh too.

My dad's family has an odd propensity for nicknames. My Aunt Pooks passed away some years ago, but my Aunt Sis is still with us. My grandmother was known to all her friends and neighbors as Birdie her whole life. My cousin Butch got his real name from his father, but I have no idea what Rocket's real name is. I do know how he got the nickname, though. My dad was driving Aunt Sis to the hospital as she was going into labor and they barely made it there in time. Dad said that the baby came out like a rocket, and the name stuck. Last week I had a phone call. "Hi, its Darlene." Darlene? I don't know anyone named Darlene. But there was something in the voice that struck a chord. Then she said, "Podie" and I knew immediately. Later when I saw her in person I told her not to use her real name if she called again because it just confused me. Hmmm, shades of the Bar&Grill in that.

We had a graveside service and it was just about perfect. The weather cooperated, the view was fabulous - mountains as far as the eye could see - and everyone turned out. Even an aunt and uncle of my Dad's. I'm not sure how old the aunt is but I know the uncle is about the same age as my dad. As I explained to my nephew later, my grandmother was the oldest of 21 kids! I have a newspaper clipping somewhere that dates back to WWII and gives details about the family, discussing the different ways they all contributed to the war effort. I have to dig that out and send it to him. By the time Gram's baby brother came along she was already working on a family of her own.

We all gathered again later at another aunt's house. Food and drink were plentiful and we shared some memories and some laughs. My youngest nephew and a cousin's boy went fishing and got good and wet as is only fitting for growing boys. Later on an uncle by marriage took the two of them for a long drive over and around the mountain where they got to see a few elk and even a black bear. My nephew was thrilled and I'm sure he will carry that memory with him for a long time.

My mother doesn't drink much, but she does enjoy her cider ... hard cider that is. Well there was beer aplenty at the house, but no cider. My BIL, bless his heart, is a born and bred flatlander, as they say up in those parts. An urban yuppie if there ever was one. But he bravely set out towards the local redneck bar in search of cider for Mom. I can just imagine the look he must have got from the locals when he asked for it. No, they didn't have any; but they did have Mike's Hard Lemonade which he brought back for Mom.

As the afternoon wore on, two decks of cards were brought out and we gathered around two tables - one in the kitchen and one on the covered deck - for a marathon session of 500 bid. My mother hadn't played since I was a kid, but she and my aunt skunked my cousins no less than four consecutive games. We laughed about the pairing off: girls against boys, aunts against nephews, sisters against brothers. Then we started switching off, the winners of each table playing against each other and new teams forming at the other table. My older nephew eventually got pulled into the game and, never having played before, still pulled off two fairly tricky hands. He and another cousin eventually brought Mom and my aunt down to earth before the evening ended.

It was a very difficult week, but the memories aren't all bad. I think Dad would approve.

Recent Reads

Because I know that most of you enjoy books as much as I do, and also because I can't think of another topic, I thought I would give you a run down on books I have recently enjoyed.

Currently I am reading a new author and I'm a little excited because the book is really pretty good. A new author is cause for excitement, don't you think? The book is A Faint Cold Fear and the author is Karin Slaughter. Yes, she does spell that with an "i." It's a mystery/suspense and I think part of a series. The character is a doctor in a small Georgia town who also doubles as the coroner. The body of a student from the nearby tech college is found by a bridge and it looks as if the kid commited suicide by jumping. But something just doesn't add up for the coroner and chief of police - who just happens to be the coroner's ex-husband. Then the coroner's pregnant sister disappears from the vicinity. So far it's a pretty good page-turner. The characters are fleshed out nicely and the plot is keeping me interested.

The last book I read was Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett. I liked the book a lot, as I do all Pratchett's books, but not as much as I like his City Watch series. This book involves the witch Granny Weatherwax who takes on the job of educating a young girl with powers. However, the girl's powers are not that of a witch, but that of a wizard and "the lore" says that women can't be wizards. Tradition and discrimination are the obvious themes in this book and Pratchett handles the subject in a fairly charming way. But it comes across a bit too strongly as a moral tale.

Much better are his City Watch books. Pratchett uses a lighter hand in these books, letting the characters drive the story. And in spite of their mythic quality (trolls, dwarves and werewolves to name a few) the characters have a familiar feel.

Also recently read was Bill Bryson's Neither Here Nor There. An adult Bryson tramps across Europe, revisiting locales from his backpacking youth. I think this book is shelved in the 'travel' section in bookstores (I got mine from the library) but I can't say I learned much about Europe from it. However Bryson's trademark humor comes through nicely and makes it all worthwhile. It's not up to the standards of his A Walk In The Woods but is a good read just the same.

Just before that I read Carl Hiaasen's Lucky You. I really have no idea how to describe Hiaasen's books. I guess you could call them 'suspense' for the sheer "I have no idea what is going to happen next" quality. In this book there are two winners of the Florida lottery. The heroine wants to use her share to purchase local acreage and keep it from being developed. The hero is a newspaper columnist sent to reluctantly interview her. And the other winner? A pair of racist, militia wannabe's that give rednecks a bad name. They decide that half the winnings aren't nearly enough. When they steal the heroine's lottery ticket, she and the columnist team up to track them down and it's a very wild ride. Where Hiaasen gets the inspiration for some of his characters is anybody's guess. They are so far out there that they might even be cartoonish if they weren't so well handled. I sometimes think of his books as being like driving past a particularly gruesome car accident. Part of me shies away from looking while the other part can't resist peeking.

The new Amanda Quick (AKA Jane Ann Krentz) book, The River Knows was very good. Unlike her other recent books this one did not center on the mysterious Arcane Society and I think I liked it all the better for that. It's a historical romance featuring the strong heroine and urbane heros that she writes so well. There is of course mystery and suspense mixed in but I mostly read her books because they are so much fun.

And lastly (well not my last book, but the last one I'm going to mention here) is Jane Haddam's Glass Houses. It's the most recent in her Gregor Demarkian series, but could easily stand alone if you aren't caught up. Gregor is acting as a consultant to the Chicago police departon on a serial killing dubbed "the plate-glass" murders by the press; but he is distracted by the return of his errant lover Bennis Hanniford. Haddam tends to give a lot of backstory in her books but she does so with skill. In this respect her writing reminds me of Ngaio Marsh. She writes a good mystery and this one is no exception. But really I read her for the characters that populate Gregor's world, the mostly Armenian neighborhood of Cavanaugh Street. As I said, this book stands alone very nicely but it is worth reading them in order (starting with Not a Creature Was Stirring) to watch as Gregor and his relationship with Bennis arc throughout the series.

That's it for now.

Hear me roar

I cut the grass in the backyard today. Oooh, you say. Big news. Thanks so much for sharing that. Smartass.

Here's the deal. When I bought the townhouse years ago my parents moved in too. This would be a major trauma for a lot of people but it works for us. The reasons are too complicated to go into here, but the main thing is that it works for us most of the time. And part of this arrangement is that my dad handles most of the 'guy' things, like bugs in the house, leaky pipes and the lawn.

So fast forward to present day. As you all know my dad has been going through some tough stuff. We're dealing. But I am now faced with doing all those little things that I had taken for granted before. Bug in the house? "Dad!" Leaky pipe? "Dad!" and so on. A few weeks back I realized that I was going to lose the cat in the backyard one of these days if I didn't do something about it. No problem, I'm a modern woman, right?

Turns out there's this little part of me deep down in that still believes some things are meant for men to handle. Like bugs in the house, for instance. Also lawnmowers. Some primeval thing inside of me insists that it's a 'guy' thing. This thing was so strong that I couldn't even bring myself to remove the cover from the lawnmower, so I improvised with the weed wacker. Okay, go ahead and laugh; but it worked. In fact it's worked twice now and if it was a little ragged it was also not bad for a make-do job, if I do say so myself. But ...

Couldn't go on that way indefinitely. For one thing even with such a small yard it takes time. Plus the damn weed wacker kept coming unplugged. They should elasticize the electrical cords, that's all I'm saying. Why nobody has thought of that yet is beyond me. And it's not as though I am inept when it comes to household stuff. I don't say I'm good at it, but I'm not completely helpless.

So anyway I finally bit the bullet tonight. I waited until late in the day when it was cooler (and coincidentally a lot fewer neighbors around to watch me make a fool of myself) and uncovered the mower. After dragging it into the middle of the yard I stood back and assessed the situation. What did I know about this mower? It ran on gas. So the gas must go someplace, right? And um, maybe we should make sure it has enough to do the job before we go forward? Ya think? Found the cap and unscrewed it and something sloshed around in there so I decided I had gas. Next I knew I was supposed to yank on the cord thingie and, theoretically, the mower would, hey presto! start. So I pulled. And literally pulled up short. Couldn't make it budge more than six inches or so and the mower showed no signs of life. Back to assessing. My thought process went something like this:

What's this wire thingie up here by the handle? There wouldn't be a wire there if it weren't supposed to do something right? Okay, mower = guy thing, so who knows? But the wire is attached to a line and it looks like that runs down the handle to the where even I know the motor is cased. So it must do something.

So I pulled back on the wire thingie and pulled back on the cord thingie and hey presto! still nothing happened.


*sigh* It looks so easy when Dad does it. Alright, I'm a reasonably intelligent adult, I should be able to figure this out. Back again to the assessing. What's this little red button down here by the motor? Hmmmm. Looks promising. There's some writing next to it. Most of the writing is worn away but I think I can read the word "prime." Prime what? Prime time? Prime of life (well it's a fairly young mower)? Prime cut (now wouldn't that be a neat play on words?)

Prime cut, lawn mower ... get it? Never mind. Then it occurs to me that the mower has been sitting there since last fall which means no fuel has passed through the whatzit, the thing that burns the fuel. So ... could this be prime as in "priming a pump"? And what do I know about priming a pump? Not much. Never done it. But I've heard of it, I mean I READ so I know lots of bits and pieces of mostly useless information one of which is that sometimes pumps need a running start, so to speak. I don't know why this is necessary because though I am well read, I am also an urban child.

Anyway I looked all over the mower and that red button was the only thing I could see that I hadn't tried so ... I pushed it. And nothing happened. So I pushed it again and still nothing happened. Then I went back to the other end of things, pulled back on the wire thingie and gave the cord another go and ...

IT STARTED! Of course I got so excited that I let go of the wire thingie and the motor shut down. I guess it's a safety thing, since it pretty much forces you to be behind the mower when you are running it. But at least this time I knew what to do. In fact I didn't even need the little red button this time because there's already fuel in the whatzit. So at last my backyard got cut and it is ever so much neater than the weed wacker job. Although I do still need to get out the weed wacker. At least I already know how to use that one. But first I need to invent an elastic power cord so I'll have get back to you.

Something else to look at

Here are a few pictures from my yard, in case you are at all interested. I would say my "garden" but I haven't done much with that this year. But I do have a few things blooming. Notably my climatis which has really staged a come back. Last year I cut out a lot of old stuff and then spent the winter biting my nails worrying that I ruined it. I guess not. Normally I make an effort to train it as it grows but, again, my head just hasn't been in it this year.

This is a close up of some pansies I had put in just before winter last year. I like to do that, put in the pansies at the last minute, because they winter over so nice. Sometimes I can spy the odd bloom even in January. And then come spring they really take off. But they don't like the heat much so they'll need to come out before too long. Still, its nice to look out and see those colorful faces when everything else is still brown. And you get a little bit closer look at the climatis in the background.

I bought some big pots last year and put in a few plants, some more pansies and something ... I forget now but some kind of perennial. Except I think the squirrels got to them over the winter. So a few weeks ago I went and got a flat of snapdragons to fill up all that empty. I just wanted some quick and easy color. They seem to be doing well. Just today I did some deadheading, snipping back to encourage new growth and blooms. Hopefully they'll fill out

Here's What's Up *updated*

**Update at the bottom**

Okay, I know some folks have been wondering what's been going on with my dad. I wasn't deliberately keeping it from ya'll, just that I wasn't sure for a few days what to tell you. Plus most of you have been on this ride with me from the beginning and might have needed to step off the roller coaster for a bit. I know I've been feeling that way. Here's what happened.

Dad was home from the hospital following a brief return because of swelling around the area of his surgery which was making him loopy. You may recall that at the start of our story Dad was having a tumor removed from his brain. Surgery went well, a few set backs then to rehab then home where he was doing fabulously until the swelling episode.

So Dad was home and doing okay, though not great. We know this is going to take time. But then he seemed to be getting weaker plus had this cough so we were going to take him back to the docs. The night before this was to take place he took a bad fall. I won't go into that nightmare but I will tell you that there was no damage done to his brain. In fact considering how awful things appeared he did relatively minor damage, but it did mean a call to 911 and a trip to the emergency room. While there they of course did head scans and then when Mom noticed Dad grabbing his side when coughing they did chest xrays (yeah, Dad was going to tough it out and not mention that his ribs hurt) and discovered cracked ribs. They also discovered what appeared to be a small spot of pneumonia. Well we knew he had the cough, but we didn't know he was that sick. Turns out he wasn't, yet, but it probably would have turned worse quickly so the fall was a blessing in disguise. Anyway they decide to keep him but the hospital that the emergency people took us to was not contracted with their insurance and the insurance requested he be moved to a contracted hospital. This is actually not the biggie it sounds like because the hospital he ended up at is not terribly far from home and actually a very nice hospital with a really good reputation. So it's okay that this happened, really. And they took care of the transfer and everything, it didn't require us to do anything.

Anyway, at the new hospital they checked everything over again, of course, and asked about his meds and the fall and yada yada. They decided that the steroids he was taking for the swelling in the brain probably caused the weakness that led to the fall. So the started weaning him off of it but then he started getting loopy after a few days. Also his breathing was becoming very labored. Lots of tests followed: new CT scan, eeg, xrays, blood work - you name it. Everything came back looking good except for that spot of pneumonia in the xray and they were treating it with antibiotics.

They moved him from a regular room to CCU in order to keep a closer eye on him. They decided that the loopiness might have been caused from taking him off of the steroids too quickly so he's on a small dose, partly for that and partly for his breathing problems. Plus the antiobiotics via iv. Plus he gets this nebulizer thing to breath from every six hours. (Literary reference: I told him it makes him look like the caterpillar from ALICE IN WONDERLAND.) In the meantime they also did a swallow test which came back inconclusive. The test was because he still has this roughish cough but nothing much coming up, and they want to determine whether his swallow/breath reflex is off and maybe something worked its way into an air passage. But as I said it was inconclusive. So they put him on intrevenous diet for two days and ran the test again to get a better idea. That went pretty well so they moved him up to soft foods and he's been doing well on those so maybe back to regular food today. We shall see.

He is still very very weak and tires easily but his oxygen levels are much better and the xray he had yesterday morning shows his lungs are looking pretty good. Two days ago he was moved from CCU to a 'step down' room which is something between CCU and a regular room for a few days and now it looks like he's ready to go to a rehabilitation facility for a bit to get his strength back. There's a really nice place near home, quite upscale, that the insurance will cover so we're hoping for that. As I said, he's still terribly weak and tires very easy, which worries Mom and I; but no new health issues are coming out, so they feel the next step is recovery and rehabilitation.

It's still a one day at a time deal and that's how we're trying to take it. Mom and I are very tired but make a pretty good team.

**Update**

So we got Dad checked into the rehabilitation facility this afternoon. These things don't move quickly so it was late afternoon before he was picked up for transport and evening by the time he was settled in. Mom and I both had a pretty good feel about the place. Staff was friendly and Dad has his own room, small but private. Hopefully our first impression will bear out. It's only about 15 minutes from home, as the crow flies; a little bit more at rush hour but still pretty darned close.

Thanks for being there, all of you. It means a lot to me.

Bright and Shiny People

Life has been a little rocky for my family the last few months. As some of you know, my dad had surgery at the beginning of February to remove a tumor from his brain. It went very well and his recovery was well underway when suddenly there was a bump in the road that set him back. Mentally he's good, thank you, God. But physically he is very weak and has a long recovery road ahead of him. Things were very scary for a few weeks, and I'm still not able to relax at all. It may be a long time yet before I can. But this week so far has been fairly smooth. Infinitesimally small signs of progress.

It been a very hard couple of months, and I've had some tough days. One particularly bad one when I just sort of lost it. But even through the bad days and the exhaustion there have been some bright moments. Actually there have been some wonderful people who made the moments bright. And this is my little homage to them, in no particular order.

To the friends who listened and delivered hugs and distraction and were just generally there when I needed someone to just, well, listen and be there. That is not a little thing, let me tell you. If someone out there that you know is going through a tough time, and maybe you feel helpless to be of practical assistance, please don't hesitate to LISTEN. You don't have to fix things for them if you can't. The therapeutic value of a good listener is beyond price.

To the social worker at the VA who will always be in my family's prayers. She did her job and beyond. She was a guiding light in our time of trouble. You tend to only hear the negative about certain professions and I certainly didn't know much about this one before. I can tell you now that there are really really GOOD people in that profession. How they manage to keep from burning out is beyond me.

To my coworkers, bosses and supervisors who took a huge weight from my shoulders. You trusted me to be there and to do my job well when I could. And when I had to be elsewhere you understood. Not by one word, deed, thought or implication did I ever feel pressured. This whole thing would have been unbearable if I had had to choose. I didn't.

To the folks who have come into our home for nursing and therapy. Yeah, its your job. But you do it well and with compassion. You do it with understanding too, helping us find ways to make this work. And you did so with so little fuss that it felt almost seamless.

To the family members who took time to help us meet appointments, make things safer in the home, gave us a needed break from responsibility now and then, or just called to say that we were all in your thoughts and prayers ... we are blessed to have you in our lives.

To the guy who fixed that dent in my car and while he was at it fixed the squealing in my brakes without even saying anything ... yes I noticed, and yes it was appreciated. A moment of your time, maybe; but another small weight from my shoulders.

To the squirrel guys who walked into more than they expected when they came to deal with our little problem in the attic. You not only showed up when we needed you, you acted with grace and compassion. You'll get paid in cash for the job you came for; you'll get paid in memories and prayers for the rest.

To Kelly, my cat, who put up with benign neglect while everything was going on, things you didn't understand. And even though you HATE change and upheaval, you have stayed sweet and affectionate.

There are so many more people who did little things, things so small that they've probably forgotten about them. But those small things, person by person, action by action, have added up. Truly there are angels, and they walk amongst us.

Pictures and Other Stuff

First and foremost, a picture of the April 1 (no foolin'!) CB meet in Crystal City, VA. Starting at the left and going around are Dee, RSS, Moe (CC's sister), CC, her friend Karen, JenB and Moi. I take extremely bad pictures so please ignore that corner of the photo. We met up at a restaurant called King Street Blues in the Crystal City Mall. It was nearly the only thing open since the Mall normally caters to the office crowd and this was a Sunday. So if you are planning to visit there sometime, go on a weekday. But we had a great time. Dee, CC and JenB provided presents!! In the form of books, chocolate and bookmarks. Boy do those girls know their CBs or what? Also margaritas were consumed as was bread pudding. We'll be remembering that bread pudding for a long time to come.






Second, take a look at the plant on the right and the close up below this paragraph. This is a plant that my mom grew from a cutting, taken from my sister's plant which she in turn grew from a cutting taken from my aunt. Nobody remembers for sure what its called anymore. I can tell you that mom has been nursing this plant along for a lot of years and it only just recently decided to bloom for her. The flowers are tiny star shapes, as you can see, that bud in the form of a pentagon. They are real as can be but have a waxy feel to them. Also a very strong, kinda spicy smell. If anyone recognizes it we would appreciate it if you'd let us know what its called. My aunt thought it was something like hoya but she's not sure.




















Lastly, and completely unrelated to the photos, I recently reread Tom Clancy's The Hunt for Red October. I'd read it waaaay back when it first came out in the 80s and enjoyed it. Don't know what possessed me to check it out of the library recently but I'm glad I did because its a darned fine read. Okay, a lot of info dump. But even that doesn't bother me so much because it helps set the mood of the story for me. In fact I would have said that I really didn't care for info dump in a book but I have to say Clancy did a fine job with it. It reminds me of watching CSI on tv and watching them use cool gadgets and mix chemicals and stuff. I have no clue what they are really doing, but I like watching it. Oh, and as an aside, my mother once met a guy who claimed he was Tom Clancy's brother. Mom says he was very convincing so maybe he really was. I don't suppose that's really all that interesting is it?

Family, Gotta Love 'em ... I Suppose

I'll start this blog entry by saying, very sincerely, that I have a wonderfully close and caring family. I'm very lucky in this respect. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, that I might not appreciate how blessed I am. I do know. Honest.

But nobody has the power to make me crazy faster. And nobody else thinks they have a God given right to do so. Why is that? Why is it that the people who love you most seem determined to send you to the funny farm? I sometimes find myself wishing for a nice dysfunctional family that ignored each other. Okay, not really. *sigh* Its just a little fantasy I indulge in once in a while.

I was having a conversation with my mom, with whom I really do have a great relationship - she's the best - and we were talking about how mom is still friends with girls she knew when she was a kid. I mean they've been friends for more than 50 years, how cool is that? Well I don't have 50 year friendships, mostly because I'm not 50 yet; but I do have one really tight 25+ years friendship. Maybe its been 28? I've lost count. And I have in the last few years collected a few more friendships of the type I really hope will last a good long time. You can never tell about that.

So talking to mom about her friends and talking about my friends, old and new, and I realized that a close family relationship is important but the person who doesn't have other good people in their life is the person who is really missing out on something. Because as great as family is, well they all have too much emotional baggage invested of their own. And family feels way too comfortable with their status so they feel free to be annoying. Plus which having known you your whole life they think they know you when in reality they know you just well enough to punch your buttons.

But friends ... friends care just enough to listen without telling you what to do. Or just enough to know when you need to not talk. The best situation is to have many different friends, to varying degrees. That way you aren't dumping too much on one person all the time. That's important. Because unlike family your friends are there by choice so they are relationships you have to be careful not to take for granted.

But I do love my family. I just need my little fantasy once in a while.

So anyway

Recently I decided that I would like to learn something new. I like to learn things, even if I never use the information. These days things I learn have a distressing tendency to leave me pretty quickly. This is a new experience for me. I used to have a mind like a ... you know those thingies they put out to catch wild animals. Except I think they've been outlawed as being cruel. Which may be why I can't think of it.

What was I saying? Oh, yes. Learning stuff. The other problem is lack of time. After work I just want to go home and relax. Weekends are usually full of chores and errands. If I have free time then I usually spend it with friends or enjoying doing nothing. I'm really good at doing nothing. Well not really nothing because that would be staring out into space. Which I can be good at also. Except even then I'm usually doing something even if you can't tell. But trust me, my mind is busy. With what? Um ... let me get back to you on that.

I have friends who are writers, and they are always talking about people talking in their heads. I have that. And no they aren't just voices. I have whole story lines going on inside my head. I just don't have the ambition to write them down. Those writer friends talk about the people in their heads bugging them to put it all on paper. Well not on paper, really. Who does that these days? But they put it in their computer. The people in my head seem to be quite content to stay there. I guess they don't have much ambition either.

I guess I don't have much ambition in general or else I would be moved to actually "get out there." Well, I'm not. Out there is too demanding. Out there requires a schedule that you have to stick to which leads to rushing around which feels too much like a job. I have one of those already. And you end up missing TV shows. Not that there's anything good on right now anyway, unless you like basketball. Not a huge sports fan here. I used to go to games in school but that was school spirit stuff. Most of the time I had no clue what was going on.

And speaking of which, where was I? Right, right. Learning stuff.

And I don't even watch a lot of TV either. But I have certain shows I do enjoy and it ticks me off that I only watch a handfull of hours during the week and they've taken that from me.

Huh? Oh yeah. Learning stuff.

See, I don't watch a lot of TV because most of the time I prefer to read. And then there are all those story lines in my head. There's this one in the 13th century. Or maybe 14th? Would it really matter? Its pretty good, if I can only figure out why an intelligent woman would be out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a storm. But I'm working on it.

Okay, OKAY! Geez. So I decided to learn a new language. I took Spanish in school but that was a long time ago. And besides which, what's the fun of learning a language a lot of other people already know? I debated between French and Italian. Italian I thought would be really cool, because who else speaks it? Except Italians, I mean. But then I thought of all the Dorothy Sayers books I've enjoyed and they often have bits of French in them because Lord Peter, that's the character, is both well educated and well read. I'm not sure why knowing French equates with being well read. Anyway I thought it would be cool to learn some French and then when I see stuff like that in books I'll know what they are saying.

So I want to learn French but I don't want the hassle of a scheduled class. Plus which I remember those long ago Spanish classes and they made you learn grammar and other boring stuff. Not that grammar isn't important. Bad grammar bugs me. Bad punctuation bugs me even more. And this deal with text messaging where they type everything lower case and abbreviate everything ... very annoying.

Sorry. Back to learning something. I figured out that what I really wanted was more of a conversational French. I do audio books, downloading and stuff, and I found one that will teach you basic conversational French. And so far its not boring. Also, if I ever get to France I can now order coffee. With milk. Heck, I can even do tea with sugar. I'm still working on bread, cheese and wine. I'll get there.

And speaking of wine, can you tell that I was writing this while drinking a big glass of white? Well I did put the glass down while using the keyboard. Except for those words that only required the right hand.

*sigh* I almost put this under the Midless Rambling category. Put the glass DOWN, McB! And I didn't even have one of those. Categories, I mean. The glass I had. Its empty now. So I guess this blog is done.

On your FM dial ...

I've spent more time than I like to think about sitting in a car the last 6 weeks or so. Really I don't mind long drives as a rule because I'm not a person who needs a lot of distraction and I'm very happy lost in my thoughts, listening to an audiobook or singing along with the radio. Which brings me to the title of this blog.

I don't usually use my iPod in the car unless its a longish trip, like two hours or more. I dislike getting out my iPod only to have to tuck it away, along with the thingie that allows me to listen to it through my radio, when I arrive at my destination. I'm not dumb enough to leave them in full view of anyone who wants to test their carjacking skills. So rather than getting everything out just to put them away again a short time later, I usually just listen to the radio if I'm only running errands and so forth.

As it happens most of my in car time lately has been just under the one hour mark which is why I was searching desperately for a good radio station recently. This really should not have been a problem because my taste in music is pretty eclectic. I enjoy jazz, oldies, C&W ... lots of stuff. Unless its all thumping bass ... can't stand that, makes me feel postal. But it seems like your standard stations these days all have a playlist of about 20 songs, whatever the most recent big hits are, and they play them over and over again. I start out liking a song well enough but if I hear it too often I'm going to burn out on the song. Was radio like this when I was a teenager?

Anyway I was getting desperate and flipping up and down the dial trying to find something that I would enjoy listening to for more than a few minutes at a time. And 'lo and behold I found two stations. One is a smallish station that I lose if the wind is wrong or the road dips. But the other is a fairly big deal, as far as I can tell. They're not based out my my 'home city' which is why I didn't know about them before - no local advertising. But I can get the signal pretty well so I'm happy.

In fact I'm really really happy because although both stations advertise as playing 'lite' music, what they really play, both of them, is a very nice mix of music from the 60s on up to present day including some decent rock, the good stuff before everyone tried to reinvent it. But its basically a mix and includes some of everything. You can go from Billy Joel one moment to Tim McGraw the next. Eclectic ... like me.

In fact the one station, out of Baltimore, has "flashback weekends" which are a blast because they are playing all music from the 60s and 70s which is what I cut my radio teeth on, those being my formative years. Say what you will about the music of yesterday, but you can't beat it for singing along with on an open highway. As a bonus, you can listen through your computer as well. And as my little gift to you, I'm including the link here ...
http://1019litefm.com/index.php.

Go ahead, turn it up and roll down that car window, metaphorically speaking, and enjoy some "real" music for a while.

Because Dee Told Me To

And if you know Dee then, really, 'nuff said. But seriously, I've read several of Lani's books now and they are all GREAT. She's a fabulous and funny author. Read the book, you won't regret it.



http://deeanddeedish.blogspot.com/2007/03/fab-many-faces-of-romance-week.html

The Fortune Quilt by Lani Diane Rich

Carly McKay's life is going just fine until she produces a television piece on psychic quilt maker Brandywine Seaver and receives a quilt with an enigmatic reading telling her that everything is about to change. Carly blows off the reading until it comes true. Her boss runs off with all the station's assets, leaving her jobless; her best friend, Christopher, proclaims his (unrequited) love for her, leaving her friendless; and her mother, who deserted the family seventeen years ago, returns, sending Carly into a serious tilt.Convinced it's the quilt's fault, Carly races down to the small artists' community of Bilby, Arizona, to confront its maker, and ends up with an unexpected friend in Brandy - and in Will, the laid-back painter who rents the cabin next door. With quirky new buddies and no more deadlines, Carly starts to enjoy her reimagined life, until her old one comes calling. Now Carly has to decide what parts of each world she wants to patchwork in.. and how much she's willing to leave to fate.