Happy New Year????

Well, how about this for a downer? Someone just sent me an opportunity to join a new group.........It was called, "EVERYTHING Vintage and Shabby". Who sent me this?? Were they hinting at something? Oh, My Golly. 

I ran to the full-length mirror. Standing there, I checked out the reflection. Yes, I think I would agree with vintage. After all, the calendar and the mirror, don't lie. Mid-seventy doesn't resemble mid-forty, does it? But shabby, not so much. Only about half of my wardrobe, I estimated, is showing a bit of wear.

Time for a change. Beginning today, I am going to start a major overhaul of my personal clothing collection. I am going to eliminate any possibility of shabby.

        #1. Anything bought before 2000, has to go. (that's 24 years old folks) Anything that old just              smacks of VINTAGE, which is a Fancy Nancy word for OLD.

        #2. Greys and blacks are probably not the most attractive colors for seniors. If I can't jazz it up with     Red or Hot Pink, it's gone. Anything that screams dull, just doesn't work. Dull is absolutely SHABBY.

        #3. If I haven't worn an article in 5 years.......OUT. (And that goes for shoes, too.)

It's a New Year, and instead of old and drab, I'm aiming for Mature and Marvelous. Or how about Elderly and Elegant? Do any of my readers want to join my new group......"Seventies.... Sensational and Savy!

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Dear God. Faith is necessary for a complete life. Change is inevitable. You are our Constant.

  

"Caroling, Caroling Through the Snow"

 "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year", or so the song goes. It's that time of year, when I expound on Christmas tunes. I've written before about my unmarketable talent for recalling song lyrics, and of course Christmas Song Lyrics are some of my favorites. I've gone on and on about how I dislike anyone singing any version of "O Holy Night" and that my favorite Christmas Song is "Here comes Santa Claus". Especially, when it's sung by one of my childhood heroes, Gene Autry, the Singing Cowboy. 

This year however, I'd like to focus on mis-quoted or humorous interpretations of these classic songs. The Internet is great for this kind of thing. Yesterday, someone sent me a photo of one lonely reindeer peering out over a fence, at hundreds of other frolicking reindeer. The caption read, "Proof that Rudolph was not allowed to join in any reindeer games." Then, I received another picture of a bowl of tater tots, each sporting neon green alien eyes. "Tiny tots with their eyes all a glow, will find it hard to EAT tonight." I laughed. 

Well really. Who can remember all of the 12 days of Christmas Gifts? And, just who would want to receive any of them, anyway? Birds are downright messy. I'd like a show of hands for every high school holiday band concert you've attended, where the cracking whip sound in "Sleigh Ride" was played on the right beat! Did Frosty really have a "broom stuck in his head"??

So folks, whether you sing "round yon Virgin" or "Round John Virgin", or belt out "Up on the housetop, reindeer PAWS or pause", just remember to have a very happy Christmas and a joyous holiday season.

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Lord you are the reason for this season. Let us all be in the spirit of joyfully giving and graciously receiving. Remind us to sing a little.

Winners??????

  I am a proud graduate of the University of Kansas. I follow Jayhawk Basketball, fairly closely. Kansas has been a winner, on the court, for ages. After all, James Naismith, the inventor of the game, taught and coached at Kansas for decades. Kansas Football Teams have been much less successful. Since the early 1970s, they have rarely had a winning season. 

Recently, things have been looking up for the Hawks. I mean, they have actually won some games. They finished their 2023 regular season with 8 wins and 4 losses. Definitely an improvement, but not spectacular, in my opinion. 

Now, imagine my surprise when I heard, via radio, that in spite of such a mediocre record, the Jayhawks are scheduled to play in a College Bowl Game. The school will be in the post-season "Big Time", along with long-time rivals, K-State (8-4) and Mizzou (10-2)

With that snippet of knowledge, I decided to do a bit of Bowl Research. After all, I have, in past years watched parts of the Sugar, Rose and Cotton Bowls. Those bowls have been around, forever. This year, there will be approximately 20 major Bowl Games. They'll be played from December 16th to January 8th. And, yes, you can have a losing season and play in a Bowl Game. Do the math, folks. You have to have 40 teams, to play in 20 games. Some of them are bound to be losers!

All modern era Bowl Games include the name of the "big money" sponsor, in their titles. Kansas State will not play in the Tony the Tiger Bowl, but instead will play in the Pop Tarts Bowl. Kansas will play, December 26th, in the Guaranteed Rate Bowl and Mizzou will play in the Goodyear Cotton Bowl, not the Cheeze It Bowl. The other bowl games include the Chick fil a Bowl, the Isleta Bowl, the Famous Toastery Bowl, and the Scooter's Coffee Bowl.

That's the truth, folks. Congratulations to all the teams. I hope all of the players get free samples.

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Lord. Show us the humor in our life's journey. Bring peace to our souls. Be our strength and our salvation.

I'll be with you, Shortly.

As I look up at them, I often amuse folks by telling them about a mistaken belief of mine. Well into my adult years, I thought I was a tall person. After all, in school pictures, sometimes I was on the second row. Many of my classmates were much shorter than me. No one teased me about being a shorty. Adults, by the time I was around 14, looked me in the eye.

When I left my hometown, I realized the truth. I was vertically challenged. Because no one, from where I was reared, was tall. Most of my classmates, if they were Southeast Kansans, born and bred, with first generation American parents, were the grandsons and granddaughters of European coal miners. Deep shaft mines were abundant in that area, and miners tended to be on the shorter side. Therefore, with the exception of a few outsiders, we were all a bunch of shorties. 

Well, five foot, two inches isn't tall. I soon learned that. However, being short does have its advantages. I can easily reach down and pick up dropped stuff. I'm good at finding lost articles, stored away on bottom shelves. Short people are great at tying shoelaces, their own and those of others.  Decorating the lower branches of Christmas Trees, has always been my specialty. Tall people are normally eager to reach high things, for me. Crawling on my hands and knees is easy, getting up, not so much.

I do, unfortunately have a couple of very tall, cheeky friends who make a habit of resting their elbows on my head. Just part of the "short people" experience. As Popeye always said, "I am what I am. and that's all that I am." Some things can't be changed.

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Lord, I am thankful for who and whose I am. I will strive to be the best person I can be, within a few physical limitations. I am blessed. You are my strength.

Three Feet in a Yard

There is a terribly funny, Saturday Night Live Sketch about the Founding Fathers of the United States and how they set up "OUR" system of measurement, versus the way the rest of the world measures stuff. I particularly remember the George Washington character relating how logically all of our numbered distances were, especially the fact that there are 5,280 feet in a mile. That number was chosen, he related, because it was such an easy number to remember. How bizarre is that?????

Now, frankly, I have never understood math. Well, I can add, subtract, multiply and work long division. Not easily, in my head, but I can do it. I taught elementary school, for goodness sakes. I can also tell time, both on an analog clock and a digital device. So, imagine my surprise when I got a text telling me to report to the local hospital for tests at 15:00 and 16:00.  Military Time for goodness sake!

I have never saluted anyone. I couldn't tell you who has more stripes, a Private or a Corporal. I can't tell time using the Military System. Who do they think I am?????

Praise the Lord, for the Internet. You can have almost any question answered. The Internet explains obscure knowledge. If my research is correct, I have one appointment at 3, and another at 4 p.m. Easy Peasy. The next thing I plan to conquer is a Sun Dial.                                                                         

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Great God: Our knowledge is limited. Help us have the sense to ask for Your help when we need it. Life is too hard to do it by ourselves. 

The Wintle Boys

 Before the turn of the last Century, when almost everything in this country was fueled by coal, miners from around the world flocked to the mines of Southeast Kansas. My grandfather, Walter Wintle, a seventeen-year-old English miner, came to America, landing at Castle Garden, NY, in June of 1882. He was accompanied by his father and a brother.

Walter married Jennie Stanley, who had arrived in Kansas, by covered wagon. They produced seven sons and one daughter. The "boys" as they were called, were a gregarious bunch, close in age, and understandably a handful to corral. None of them seemed particularly eager to leave their 2-bedroom family home on Rouse Street in Pittsburg, Kansas. And, the large family stayed together in that house, even after some of the older boys married. My mother was actually born, in that house.

As they became adults, the boys all worked shifts in the mines. Their sister, Hazel, played the piano at local silent movie houses, of which there were several. Then, along came World War I. Three of the "boys" were of draft age and in 1918, they all found themselves in uniform. Thomas, the eldest of the three, my grandpa, was drafted and trained, but never made it "Over There". Harry and another brother,Walter, both served in the terrible trench warfare in France and Belgium. All three were discharged at the end of the conflict.

The "boys" came home. They were definitely not "boys" anymore. They "had seen Paree", electrified cities, the ocean and probably learned a few words of French. Harry had received some serious wounds, and we were cautioned, during his entire long lifetime, not to make any loud sudden noises around Uncle Harry, because he had been "shell shocked".

World War I, "the war to end all wars", wasn't. It has become a mostly forgotten conflict and rarely even mentioned in today's public-school curriculum. But, 9 million combatant lives were lost, in the trenches, in the air and on the ocean. The conflict changed the identity of world powers. My three relatives returned to their pre-war lives, married, raised families and a couple of generations later, my cousins, my sister and I arrived.

Veterans Day is approaching. It was originally established to celebrate the combatants, dead and surviving, who fought in World War I. There is a small brick in front of the only National WWI Museum and Memorial, in this country, that honors the service of the "Wintle Boys" of Pittsburg, Kansas. Their family has not forgotten. 

Please, remember all those who have served their country.

                                                The Wintle "Boys" and baby Nancy (1947).

OOOOOOH NO!!!!!

 

I am my worst own enemy. Sometimes my vanity (I am rather deaf and I pretend that I am not) or maybe my stupidity, gets me into a lot of trouble. 

This tale might seem familiar to some of you. 

Out of the blue, my short hair is suddenly too long. I need a haircut, immediately. If it is late at night, I have been known to take a pair of scissors and cut it myself (often with disastrous results) or rush to a salon ASAP. 

Tuesday morning, I walked into the salon, near me. I'd been there before. The woman at the counter asked my name (I think), she pulled out a card and looked it over, presumably to find out what they had done, for me, in the past. Then, she asked me something that sounded like "the same as last time". I replied, "Sure." I sit down, take out my hearing aids (now I am completely deaf) and she begins. Her first move was to take an electric razor and carve a path through my hair. Too late to stop her, at that point. I was sporting a reverse Mohawk!!!!!

So, I now have the almost shortest haircut of my life. I've had Chemotherapy, and I lost all of my hair. That was the definitely the shortest. My hair will grow back, it always does. Someone once said that a bad haircut only lasts a couple of weeks. Let's hope. It's just such a shock when I look in the mirror. It's really bad.

I'm almost afraid to leave the house. 

Lesson learned. I have to make sure that I really listen. Look before I leap! Pay attention. Don't make any stupid moves. Don't trust anyone. Be sure. Ask folks to repeat themselves....often.

Have I forgotten anything?????????

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Lord: We are foolish. Rescue us from the damage we do to ourselves. 

WARNING!!!!!!

I have, in my house, a tiny computer room. Last night, my adult daughter was standing over my shoulder, watching me attempt to post a message, when her sight must have wandered, beyond my back, towards the doorway. She says, "So, dad must have changed the way the door opened, at some time?" I finish typing and turn around. "No, I reply. I put a door lock on the inside, at the top of the door, to keep you kids out." Now, I haven't had any really small children in my care, for months. My youngest local grandchild is 11. So, imagine my surprise when the following astonishing thing happened, in my "child proofed" office.

After my announcement, I stand up, reach up and casually flip the lock into a closed position. "See." I told her. Well, the lock had not been used, in perhaps 40 years, so it was stuck. I couldn't open the lock. Right away we realized we were hopelessly confined.  And, for some reason, both of us were immediately doubled over in hysterical laughter. Two adults, locking themselves into a 6 by 6 room, was ridiculously funny. After we failed, several times, to release the lock at floor level, I climbed on a chair. But, I still couldn't get the darn thing to open. Probably because I was laughing so hard. Climbing down, and still laughing, I searched for something, big enough to force the lock to open. I grabbed a stapler.

Back up on the chair, I whacked the lock a couple of times, and it finally slid into the open position. We were free. Thank goodness. We did have a phone, in the room with us, but of course we were locked in......not out. Who does that? The whole episode was a bizaare blend of an Agatha Christie "Who-Done-It", and a touch of "I Love Lucy" chaos. 

The moral of this tale is.....Retirees: Check your homes for any old "Child Proof" items that you may have installed 40 or 50 years ago. Get rid of them. They can be dangerous and perhaps deadly to Senior Citizens.

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                                   All Knowing God, protect us from ourselves.

A penny for your thoughts?

For years, I have joked about my unusual ability to recall song lyrics......whether  the occasion calls for it, or not. In fact that this incredible but totally useless talent has never, ever earned me one penny! Well, last weekend, that all changed.

Over the weekend, my patient traveling companion and I were visiting a 19th century, beautifully restored mansion, in a nearby city. The house has 26 rooms, all filled with period furnishings. We were led through the house by an excellent guide, who surprised us in the home's music room He sat down at a very nice, but tinny sounding Steinway, and hastily played a pretty little tune. Then, he stood up and boasted, "I'll give a dollar to the first person who can name that tune." So, I say "My Wild Irish Rose". Surprised (actually stunned) he whips out a bill and gives it to me. Saying, that he had not expected anyone to know that tune. (I would have sung the words, correctly, if he had asked me.)

Rare, you're thinking. Well, not really. The weekend before, at a Fall Festival, my same companion and I stopped to hear a 1850's pioneer re-enactor, tell the history of and then play a cute tune, "My Grandfather's Clock" Well, I sang along to that, knowing most of the words. My memory faulted at several of the verses. Unfortunately and as usual, no money was offered, for my talents.

My poor traveling companion has ceased to question whether I know the words to even the most obscure song. He just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. There you go.

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Lord. Life is full of small joys and blessings. Our talents, large or small come from You. We are truly thankful. 

Wait a Minute.......

 Late at night, you can often find me sitting alone in my bedroom, watching TV and crocheting.  I've never been able to sit still for long, and I find that when my hands are busy with a yard and needle, I am less likely to be stuffing my face with junk food.

Anyway, I was watching some silly show (most shows these days are just silly) when a reality character voiced something, I thought, was rather profound. The speaker was a non-sighted person, that we would consider handicapped. He said, and this is a rough interpretation, that most of us see our adversities and those of others, as tragedies. We view overcoming those tragedies, as triumphs. But life, he continued, is not really a series of tragedies and triumphs, it's just about "getting on". Accepting and moving forward. Doing the everyday things. 

Stuff happens. It happens to all of us. The real triumph is being able to get up every morning, and do the best we can. Life involves taking care of ourselves and helping others to succeed. If we have some spectacular successes, on this journey, GREAT.  Otherwise, keep on traveling.

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Gracious God. Our blessings are many. Keep us focused on what we can do, not on what we can't do. We are thankful. We praise Your Holy Name.

Princess Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring

I remember studying about the process of POTLATCH, in a Social Studies class, sometime in my youth. Now, that's been a long time ago, but as I remember it, one or more native American tribes of the Northwest, practiced this method of giving away their possessions, and therefore kept what they personally owned to a minimum. After all, Native Americans did not have three bedroom teepees. or wickiups. Did they?

POTLATCH always included an elaborate ceremony of sort. The tribe shared food and danced as they celebrated something special, like a birth, death, wedding or a battle victory. Then the host family gave away their possessions.  Well, I don't think they actually gave away what they needed to survive. Just the EXTRA stuff a family accumulates in their daily life.

So, I've decided to do a 21st Century, non indigenous, unceremonious, old lady Potlatch. I'm getting rid of all my EXTRA stuff. I am scheduled for every "Big Trash" pick-up Kansas City, offers me. The local Thrift Stores have begun to recognize me. My friends and family, however, are starting to avoid me. I'm learning that one woman's treasure can be another person's trash!!!!! Giving away my treasure is not always a welcome gift.

But, I'm going to continue. If all else fails, I've purchased some "extra" bag stickers, so that I can put out, by the curb, more than my two-bag-week trash limit. 

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Dear Lord: Why do we think we need so much stuff? Shelter and food are really the basics. Thank You for giving us so much. Our lives are full. Help us to make good decisions.

Punkin' Head

 September, went out like a hotcake and October, has come in about the same, but the calendar says Autumn is here. I've decked out my home in ceramic and crocheted pumpkins. I've probably got at least a half dozen food items in the cupboard, that include "pumpkin spice" in their labels. Fall has fallen upon my old ranch house!

So, imagine my glee when the computer offered me a DIY Video, on how to display a colorful live  chrysanthemum, potted in a live pumpkin. Easy Peasy, said I, after watching the video a couple of times. I can do this.  So, just as directed, I cut off the top of the pumpkin and removed the pumpkin "snot" and seeds. Next, I drilled holes in the shell for drainage. Then, I pulled the mum out of the plastic pot, that it came in. Carefully, I added soil to the empty, now holey, pumpkin. I filled that pumpkin shell and the empty pot, to the brim with potting soil. Finally, I removed the plastic pot and popped in the mum. Added some water and Presto. Beautiful!!!!!

Wellllllll. It took much longer than I expected. About an hour, not including a trip to the local plant emporium, to buy a potted plant and a similar sized pumpkin. My kitchen counter, sink and floor were dusted with black dirt. Dirt was everywhere! That had to be vacuumed and swept. Then, it took quite a bit of extra time to clean off my electric drill and bit. They'd gotten really messy. So messy, that my drill may never work again! The outside of the pumpkin, kept getting smeared with black soil. And, of course every time I added a bit of water to the pumpkin shell, mud ran down the shell, again. What a mess I made.

Finished, at last, I put the thing on a table, on my porch. It looks very nice. To quote Edgar Allen Poe ....."Nevermore."  This will be my one and only, not to be tried again, attempt at pumpkin/flower  art. 

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Holy Lord. Help us to work on our common sense. Remind us that real life is not a Video. Always give us guidance. 

You had the right idea, Tina.

 My friend and I visited Weston Bend State Park, over the weekend. Both of us had been there before,  but certainly not recently. It's a beautiful woodsy spot, with overnight camping, meandering trails (some of them conveniently paved), an ancient tobacco barn, and a beautiful, high viewing spot, overlooking the fertile river valley. 

This overlook gives the viewer a panorama of golden, Autumn corn fields, roads, farm houses and a distant view of a long stretch of the Missouri River. Now, as you all know, or maybe don't know, the song lyric, "across the wide Missouri", is pretty darn accurate. The river is wide, but it is pretty long, too. The headwaters of the Missouri, are near Three Forks, Montana, and, I think I remember it as a bunch of little rivulets. It's possible to very easily walk across the entire river, hoping from rock to rock, across a very shallow, very cold series of streams. Then, after traveling down through Nebraska, the river chews a chunk off the Kansas rectangle and slips across the middle of Missouri, dumping into the mighty, muddy Mississippi River.

But, the most interesting fact about Weston Bend State Park, is the realization that this beautiful view was once very different. In fact, had that viewing spot been erected in 1804, you might have observed Lewis and Clark, poling and rowing up the fast flowing Missouri, toward the West Coast of the  Washington/Oregon Territory. But, the river isn't where it was, in 1804. The State of Missouri has conveniently provided park visitors, with a Missouri River Map, and its ever-changing course. One line on the map looks like a snake, then another line changes into a different snake and again and again. Before the U.S. Corps of Engineers got their hands and machines on the river, it changed course with every major flood. 

The Missouri River that once made Weston, Missouri a thriving river port, and a haven for commerce and the budding Tobacco industry, is now many miles from the edge of the town. Today, you can't even tell that this cute little tourist attraction was ever located on the wide Missouri River.

Talk about metaphors! The Missouri River and Weston Bend State Park are about life.  Are you able to change course, survive and keep rolling?

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Lord of all Creation: Life is a "Journey of Discovery". Life is a meandering, ever changing river. It's full of floods and soft flowing moments. Sometimes we have torrents, waterfalls, eddys and swift currents. Keep us "Rolling on the River".You are our constant. You never change.

 

Benedict, What's His Name?

I've got loyalties folks! Real loyalties. Some of them may not be terribly reasonable, but honestly, you can call me "loyal to the core"!

Sometimes in my volunteer position, I get paired with someone I haven't met before, and that happened just the other day. Within 5 minutes of making this gentleman's acquaintance, I belted out the Jayhawk fight song, complete with long and confusing mascot-listing introduction. The reason I did this??? Well, he said he lived in Lawrence, Kansas, home of the University of Kansas (my alma mater) and the fighting Jayhawks!!!. Obviously stunned at my performance, he added that he knew nothing about Lawrence, as they had just moved there, only six months ago. Oh, I replied, sheepishly keeping my mouth shut for the rest of our hour together. 

I'm loyal to Kansas City, too. Just mention that there's nothing to do in such a flat, dull, minor city, and I'll be all over you. "Everything's up to date in Kansas City" with our marvelous museums, jazz and Barbeque. I'll talk about the two states, our vast metro area, 12th Street and Vine and the fountains! It's hard to stop me, once I get started.

And, I'm loyal to my Southeast Kansas roots. I'll praise that place and its surrounding strip pits, until the day I die. I'll tell you about Lakeside Park, the Band Dome and dragging the gut. I can expound for hours, on my lifelong friends and what a fantastic childhood we all had. It's my hometown. I'm proud of it. 

Now, what's wrong with being loyal? Not a darn thing. A lot of great people have been called loyal. No one is ever praised or remembered, for being disloyal. 

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Great Lord. You are ever present and ever loyal to Your children and Your creation. Our loyalty, to You, should be constant, in all of our endeavors.  Your steadfast love endures forever.

"Fly Me To The Moon"

Been anywhere by plane lately? Recently, I posted about my first experience as an airplane traveler. I remembered being so excited, almost nauseous, in fact. The experience was amazing and one I will remember for a lifetime.

Okay, so plane travel today, is not what it used to be. Tax money can build all of the eye-popping terminals, flashy art work and automatic flushing toilets, we can afford, but plane travel is totally uncomfortable and increasingly annoying.  I can safely say that I hate traveling by air.

Let me list a few of my complaints. 

• I am only 5'2' and I don't have enough leg room to cross my legs, once seated. Seriously, wiggle room is non-existent. What about folks over 6 feet tall and weighing over 200 pounds??????
• Four armrests, divided by three people, really. That just doesn't compute
• Sardines are more comfortable in a can, than airline passengers are, entering, exiting and seated in the cabin. And, we willing pay thousands of dollars, for such abhorrent treatment.
• Only one employee, out of the several dozen, said anything pleasant to me. That's not a good percentage. What ever happened to "Fly the Friendly Skies of United."??????
• Who teaches airline employees to use their voice amplification systems?  Or maybe their equipment is just way too cheap to amplify without distortion? I might as well have been listening to Jimi Hendrix!!!!!

Bottom line, I got there and back. I did not have to walk or drive myself. I have written that we should be thankful for the small things in life. I am certainly thankful to be back home.

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Dearest Lord. Thank you for safe travels. We are blessed.

I Did It!!!!!

 My six year old grandson has recently acquired his life-long wish. He can now snap his fingers....both hands. He has been trying to acquire this skill for at least 5 of  his 6 years! His desire to make finger noise has rivaled that of NASA trying to reach the surface of the Moon, or Lewis and Clark attempting to reach the Pacific Ocean. Snapping, for the present, is clearly his crowning achievement. He is so pleased with himself and he now wakes up snapping, and does it, constantly, all day long. 

Wouldn't it be wonderful, if we jaded adults could feel just a teeny bit of this type of  pride, at some new accomplishment? Or, for that matter any accomplishment. After all, some of us have reached an age when we should be thrilled with almost anything we succeed at doing!

Like, how about WOW! I woke up this morning! I am going to have a great day and do something meaningful for myself and others. I will try to live this day, to its fullest.

Oh Yeah. Celebrate the little things. Quit complaining.

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All powerful God. We are thankful for fingers that can still snap, at least sometimes. We are blessed every minute, with the breath that you give us. You are our refuge and our strength. 

Learned Lessons

 I"ve been away from my home base for a couple of weeks. My "in-town son" and his girls kept an eye on the house and yard for me, while I was gone. They even stepped up and mowed the front yard. When I arrived yesterday, the house did not look, as I had feared, like it had been abandoned and neglected. Allowing your children to reach adulthood, is rewarding, most of the time.

That acknowledged, Nanners, the yard girl, around 5 o'clock, changed out of her traveling duds and put on her mowing attire (everything she does requires an appropriate outfit) and fired up John Deere. She was feeling adventurous, so she threw him into fourth gear (gear #3 is safe and slow) and began mowing. It didn't take long, because Nanners and John were speeding along. Only scared themselves, by getting a bit too close to the drop-offs, a couple of times. But, that's par for the course. 

Today, Nanners will finish the job by trimming with the weed-whacker. For that job, she will don yet another outfit. This job requires long pants and closed toe shoes and socks. A year or so ago, the yard girl managed to mangle her naked left leg pretty good. She tripped and on the way to the ground, failed to let go of the trigger. Not doing that again!!!!! Shred the pants, girl, not your body.

Up until a year and a half ago, I had never ridden the Deere, or weed wacked. I've tackled  these jobs, along with a few others, because I'm the only one here to do them. And, in spite of my complaining nature, I'm sort of enjoying it. If taken at a leisurely pace (and I am not one to do anything, at a leisurely pace), yard work is satisfying. Once done, I can stand by and admire my work. It's finished until the next time! 

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Lord: Change is enlightening. You have given us the ability to adapt and although we sometimes struggle with making changes, with Your all-powerful help, we can do many things. Remind us to listen to Your guidance and give us strength. We praise Your Holy Name.

"Up, Up and Away"

 As a child, I was able to do something, new, unusual and very exciting, that no other kid in my fourth  grade classroom, had ever done. I got to travel, all the way to California, via airplane.

Have you ever flown in, or seen a DC 3?  Well, that's how my mother and I traveled to Southern California, leaving from the Pittsburg, Kansas Airport and flying first to Wichita and then into Los Angeles.  We flew Ozark Airlines on the first leg and then probably TWA, out of the much bigger than Pittsburg, city of Wichita. Back then, Wichita was quite a hub and the home of Boeing, the manufacturer of most of the U.S. commercial airliners.

The DC 3 was quite a bit smaller than any of today's aircraft and boarding was done from near the tail end, which was the lowest point on the plane.. The fuselage of the plane was slanted because the DC 3 was a "tail dragger". Don't even try to explain that term to a young person.

I don't remember much about the flight. Characteristically Nancy, I do remember what I wore. It was a two piece suit, which was made of tiny checked brown and white material. The skirt was pleated and I wore white socks. I hope I wore Mary Janes, but knowing my mom, I probably wore those God awful brown oxfords, that I hated. Everyone dressed up for flying in the 1950's.

Anyway, I do remember all of my friends asking about my California adventure, and whether I got to visit Disneyland (It had just opened.) I didn't. After paying for the flight, Mom thought the amusement park was too expensive! Any idea how much admission, to the new park was, in 1955? One dollar.

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Great and all powerful Lord. You have given us the ability to adapt to change. Growing old gracefully isn't easy, but necessary. Grant us mercy and give us grace.

"Ain't It Funny, how time slips away?"

 How many times have we all thought and even said out loud, "Wasn't it only yesterday. when......."? Why, heck no. Whatever you were thinking about or mentioning, in truth, really happened about 30 years ago, or maybe even more. I know that I am not alone in wondering.....Where did the time go??????

Today, whilst perusing the majestically informative posts of Facebook, I happened upon a picture of Dhani Harrison (He's the son of the late Beatle, George Harrison.), that noted his 45th Birthday. Wait. How can that be? Wasn't it only 20 years ago that I was screaming at the TV set, at his father and the... only 20 years ago........Wait. I, myself, have children much older than 45. Paul McCartney has 8 grandchildren who refer to him as "Grandude" and I have 13 grandkids who call me, occasionally. And, OMG, Paul is 81 years old! (I only mention Sir Paul, because well, he was always THE ONE, you know!!!)

Well, I'm coming to grips and gradually getting over my amazement, at how old I am, and how long I have actually been alive. I am beginning to mellow out and actually acknowledging some truth about about my aging self........

                    #1. I am probably never going to act my age

                     #2. I am more comfortable with who I am, right now, than I have ever been

                     #3. I like electric blue nail polish. on my toenails

                     #4. If I feel like singing aloud....very loudly, in my car, when I am driving alone. I will.

                     #5. I am still a work in progress.       

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Great and All Knowing Lord. I am grateful for my many blessings. Use me to improve Your World.

Dos (As in the number two)

It dawned on me yesterday, that not only am I aging, my language is aging. also. In other words, I am as old as dirt and so is the way I talk.

Take for example, my aforementioned volunteer work. Yesterday, I caught myself telling a couple of teenagers that the museum's main galleries are laid out in a counterclockwise pattern. Well, how stupid of me. Those kids had no idea what the word counterclockwise meant.....let alone clockwise. Kids, these days, are not taught how to tell time, on a clock with a face!! Digital is what they know, and nothing goes "wise" on a digital clock.

I'm also going to stop pointing out the picture of famous Missouri son, Harry Truman, to museum visitors. Most folks, under the age of 70, don't know who he was and why he is famous. And, furthermore, even young Kansans don't know that Eisenhower (another soldier from WWI and II) came from their state.

OMGolly, what about the Roman Numerals that I just wrote. Sure, everyone can tell how the Roman Numerals, one, two and three are written. But, what about beyond that? Can you translate MCMXVII? Actually, I had to think a while, about that one.

There are numerous documents in the museum, that are handwritten. Thank goodness they are usually accompanied by printed translations, because there is a time, in the very near future, that the ability to read cursive will become non-existent. 

Please, don't think that I am against change, in our language. I have difficulty reading "Old English", with all its V's and U's. And, furthermore, I've never even met anyone who can decipher Hieroglyphs?

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Great and All Knowing God: Your world is ever changing. Show us how to adapt. Make us aware that it is not all about us.  Show us how to impart our age-related knowledge without becoming preachy and demanding. Grant us wisdom. 

BTW...if you could read this post...........you are old, too!!!!!

Try It You'll Like It

I've always been a volunteer.  Before I graduated from high school, I volunteered to lead a Girl Scout Troop. Now granted, this was before background checks, but I must have been slightly qualified. After all, I could start a fire, cook a mean campfire stew, use a pocket knife and hike! Oh, and I was a girl!

I've volunteered lots of places. I even worked, for a short time, as a Professional Volunteer Director. Once, I volunteered to pass out flyers, at my polling place. I only did it once, because another volunteer threatened to kill me! Seems like someone had destroyed some of her yard signs. Seriously, I wasn't guilty. It wasn't me. With that experience, I was one and done with politics!

My latest volunteer position is at the nationally recognized Kansas City's World War I Museum and Memorial. I regularly work an afternoon shift, two days a week. By volunteering there, I am able to combine both my love of people and history. Most of the volunteers, at the facility, are either retired teachers or former military. They are a great bunch of folks!

The Great War has always been a part of my life. Two of my great uncles, Walter and Harry, were combat veterans of the war, having served in the trenches, in France. My grandpa, Tom, was drafted, trained, but never made it across the Atlantic. The Wintle Boys were all born and lived in the same small Kansas town. It boggles my mind, thinking of them traveling by train across the county, seeing New York City, and boarding a ship in Hoboken. Then, sailing the Atlantic Ocean. Talk about 1917 Culture Shock!

The WWI Museum has a temporary exhibit, highlighting items that entertained the troops. When I volunteer in that room, I sing WWI era songs, like "Mademoiselle From Armentieres" and "How Ya Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm", to the Museum Visitors. When I sing, I think about Harry, Tom and Walter. Homegrown Doughboys serving "Over There".

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All Powerful Lord: We pray to you in the hard times.We are thankful in the good times. But, we should be thinking of You, and talking to You all the time. You have asked us to "Pray without ceasing." Wars are senseless. Grant us Peace.

 

Don't Ask

 I have a scheduled visit my regular doctor next week. I'm calling her doctor, because she has a Medical Degree, framed, hanging on the wall of the examining room. I go to see her, or someone like her, once a year, because I am old and I am on Medicare. I am not expecting her to find anything wrong with me, although I will do the required pre-blood and urine tests, one week before the appointment. Also, because there is a large, neatly lettered sign on the wall that reads "If you have a specific issue to discuss with the doctor, please make another appointment", I won't be discussing any of my ailments.

Any day now, I am expecting to receive the 5 or 6 pages of "fillable on line" pre-apppointment paperwork, from her office. Then, and only then, will I be seen by someone. Last time, I saw the nurse practitioner, instead of the doctor, and other than taking my blood pressure and temperature, neither she nor the doctor touched me.

On those papers, I will be asked to reveal, yet again, many intimate details about my aging life. You see, I have been required to fill out similar forms, every year, for many, many years. And, no, I don't know why they don't keep them on file, for future use! 

One of the questions, I will no doubt be required to answer, will be "What pronouns do you wish us to use?" Really? 

Now, if these professionals actually read the paperwork, that I email back to them, they will know that I am 76 years old, and that I checked female box. Until recently I was married, to a man. I am now a widow. That happens to a lot of women, who live long enough. I have birthed 4 children (whose 13 kids call me GrandMA), and had one miscarriage. I have yearly mammograms (aren't those fun???), bear the scars of 6 or 7 (it was a while ago, so I have forgotten, PTL, the exact number) breast cancer related operations, and I've survived chemo and radiation, for the same issue. Oh, and let's not forget the pelvic exams! And, yes I have had numerous jobs, some of them pretty demeaning, where I have been paid a whole lot less than my male counterparts. 

Actually, I believe that I am going to write down that I prefer Queen, Her Highness, or Madam, as my preferred pronouns. Yes, I know that those are actually nouns, but if the truth be known, I don't think the medical professionals actually know the difference. 

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Dear God. I am not confused. I know WHOSE I am. Remind me what really is important on this journey.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

SPOILER ALERT!!!! This blog is in two semi connected parts.

#1. Last Wednesday, whilst driving through my "hilly" neighborhood, I came to a stop at the bottom of my street. Across the intersection was a box truck, going slowly up the next hill. The back of the truck was open and, oh my, about a half dozen ginormous, wheeled recycling carts were being dumped out, mistakenly, onto the street. Some of the carts kept rolling and eventually made it across the intersection, coming to a stop in front of me. Others just fell over and lay dead on their yellow plastic sides. The driver eventually stopped, got out of the truck and rounded up the escaped carts,

I was highly amused. It was terribly funny.

#2. Saturday evening, I pulled into my driveway and found one of those same, or maybe their cousin cart, in a similar prone position, in front of my garage. I smiled, shut off my car, got out and attempted to right the thing and pull or push it out of my way. I wanted to drive the car into the garage for the night. OMG the thing was huge, heavy, bulky and definitely not rolling anywhere by itself. I managed to get it upright and rolled safely in front of the empty side of my garage. This monstrosity is not going to be a helpful addition to my single-life, weekly trash routine. 

My smile is fading. I am not amused, at all.

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Lord. Life is crazy hard, sometimes. There are days when it is difficult to be positive. A trash bin larger than me, is going to be hard to deal with. I know I will manage it eventually, because You will be with me, no matter what my struggles. But, I'm asking, why is life sometimes harder than it needs to be? Give me strength and grant me the wisdom to make good choices.

 

"Judge Not, ..........."

 As it happened, I recently caught myself in a really poor choice of grammar usage. (I thought about using the word grammarage, but you would know that I made it up.) Well, in describing something that everyone once did, I used the word "useta". As in, "Remember when we "useta do that." OMGoodness, I said to anyone who was listening. Did you hear what I just said? Well, I was aghast!

Fast forward to today. A very nice, older woman was telling me how her grandfather was in the Calvary in WWI. She talked for quite a length of time about a photograph, that she had in her possession, of the fine horse that her grandfather rode in the Calvary. 

Now, had it not been for my recent faux pas, I might have attempted to correct the woman with some snide remark about her grandfather's service in the Holy Land, during the war, on Mt. Calvary. Oh, how I wanted to. But, I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and nodded to express my interest in her story. 

Lesson learned. No one is perfect. Not even a charter member of the North Kansas City Grammar Police.

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Great Lord. Patience is a virtue. So is silence. Please, help us to concentrate on the virtues, of a life well lived. Guide us all down the right path. Remind us (especially me) that Silence is truly Golden.

"They grow in caves underneath the ground."

About 70 years ago, my well-meaning parents took me on a tour through Marvel Cave, in Branson, Missouri. I remember the circumstances, clearly. It was hot and I was scared to death. That tour, nearly three quarters of a century ago, began with at least 4 million stairs down into a dark, cold, wet hole in the ground. I remember going down the stairs and after that, I don't remember anything, because I think I was crying hysterically! 

So, my traveling companion, who has been exploring and photographing caves, for years. says, "Come with me on a guided tour of an underground laboratory, in June." I asked if it were safe, and when the answer was yes, I agreed to go. This lab, dear readers, is a cave. 

Truthfully, I knew it was a cave, when I agreed to go. I also knew that we were going to be camping overnight, at the cave site. Now, I have camped more recently than 1952, I just haven't camped, in this century!

I went. I survived and I mostly enjoyed the experience. My companion made sure that I was thoroughly prepared. I wore a caver helmet, complete with a powerful headlamp. Once I figured out how to walk without staggering under the weight of the "hat", I was quite comfortable. And, only when I asked another explorer, near me, if there were any stairs involved at this cave, did my enthusiasm waver. That person, who was directly behind me said, "Some. Maybe just a few more than Marvel Cave."

I did not fall, nor did I get trapped underground in a tiny space. I made it in and out and I am even considering trying spelunking, again. New experiences or even re-visiting old experiences are adventures and growth. I intend to run toward new adventures, for as long as I can.

Gracious God. Open our hearts so that we may feel your constant presence. You are always with us. You are our Shield and our Protector.

"Let Them Eat Cake"

On a recent trip back to my hometown, I was reminded that memories are sweet. However, sweet memories, of good food, can sometimes leave a bad taste in your mouth.

One of the special treats of my childhood was taking a trip to a local bakery. Now, this was a classic, old-world type of place, complete with an authentic brick oven. This bakery was known for their Italian bread, which had extra crispy crust and soft white insides. And, they had the best breadsticks. These breadsticks were hard, crispy long fat wads of rolled dough. The baker gave them free, one apiece, to kids who came into the bakery with an adult customer. On a lucky day, they were warm, right out of that brick oven.

Well, for 70 years, I've treasured memories of those crunchy bread sticks. Nothing I have eaten, in 49 states (I haven't been to Hawaii) and several foreign countries has ever come close, to the ones I remembered eating as a child. 

Now, just recently, I was told that you could purchase those same cherished bread sticks, at one of the grocery stores, back in my hometown. Well, I sure as shootin' filed that away in my  "Gotta do that, ASAP" Bucket List. This week, while visiting my hometown, I stopped at the suggested store, and purchased 2 bags of the cherished bread sticks.

Yes, they looked just like I remembered them. But, alas. They weren't really very tasty. My traveling companion, likened them to burnt toast. Well, I wouldn't quite go quite that far....just maybe stale toast. Could the reason be, that I didn't have a stick of Oleo to spread on it? Maybe, my taste buds are a bit more refined then they were, at age 5 or 6? Anyway, this was one time that the memories are far sweeter than the actual present-day thing!

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Dear Lord, we remember many things. As we look back on the good memories, help us remember the blessings and gifts that we have been given. Show us how to be thankful and non-judging. Remind us to do our best and to love one another.

"Don't Worry, Be Happy"

This year is half over. For you technical folks, that isn't exactly fact. That's science according to Nancy's "sorta" calculations. But, with the year reaching a middleness, Moi, your aging philosopher, perceives that it is time for a little reflection.

Nothing, in life, stands still. The universe is constantly in motion, and so are its inhabitants. The circumstance of our existence is constantly changing. Who we are and what we do changes from day to day. I like that. I choose to embrace that. 

And, we have to move forward. The world spins.....in only one direction, folks! Lives are not improved by dwelling on what should have happened or what could have happened. Stuff happens. We'll never know why. Accept it, learn from it and move on. Live in the present. Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow is a hope. Let's face it, the present is all that we really have!

The following is not original, but I think it is a good thought, at this half-way month......"A good place to be happy is here. A good time to be happy is now." (author unknown)

Please, be happy. Know that God is Good.

"A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood"

 Observations in Lyrics, this week.

#1. "Make New Friends, But Keep The Old". In 1954, I went to the movies with my friend, Billy. Almost 70 years later, he still refers to me as his first girlfriend. I'm honored. That's poetic and beautiful

#2. "You're Never Too Old To Be Young". I thought I was afraid of heights. Turns out, I have just been avoiding them. So, Sunday, I rode to the top of a 23 story elevator, climbed another 44 stairs and had 360 degree birds eye view of Kansas City. Marvelous Experience.

#3. "Misty Water Color Memories" Two recent celebrity deaths, Tina Turner and Harry Belafonte. I remember seeing them both, live, in concert, in the mid 1960's. Tina was still with Ike then, and I remember that Belafonte sang in Allen Fieldhouse and the entire audience was quiet as he sang. He had a presence.

#4. "Diamonds are Forever" but air conditioners aren't. It's getting warm in Kansas City and my air conditioner isn't working. I made a call to the repair folks. Of course it's a Holiday Weekend. Maybe they can come next week. C'est la vie. 

#5. "One is Silver and the Other Gold". I attended a Memorial Service for a 103 year old friend. Hers was a beautiful example of a life well lived. Old age is not for the meek and weak. 

Dear Lord. Our lives are not perfect. You never promised that they would be. But some days are just about perfect. We cherish them. Then we have some days that just aren't so good. With Your help we make it through those. Show us how to focus on the blessings that You have given us. We praise Your Holy Name.

 

Brand Spanking New

 My last post dealt with the old.... expired and "ya otta throw it out".....old. Well, this week, I have been amazed by the NEW.

Over the past few weeks, I have been watching the progress of a house, being built in the cul-de-sac below my home. However, I was out of town last week, on a short trip. I pulled out of my driveway about 3p.m. on Monday, and arrived back home at 6 p.m. on Thursday. When I left, my last view of the lot below was a concrete foundation. When I arrived home, a little over three days later, the house looked nearly finished! Roof, doors windows, walls, and siding all complete. Now, the inside remains empty (I think), but the entire structure is dried-in and ready for the inside details. How can that happen?

Doesn't it take more than 3 days to build a house? Maybe it's my age, but I find it nearly impossible to complete anything worth doing, in less than a week. I thought home construction was measured in months, not hours!!!!!!

Anyway, we all are apt to remark how time passes more quickly, as we age. Could this be an example of this adage? Well maybe, but I think I will just chalk it up to fast, cheap and shoddy workmanship. 

Dear Knowing God. We thank You for our many blessings. We praise Your wisdom and wonderous generosity. Help us to improve Your world.

ALERT

 All of us, by now, should be familiar with those "use by dates" that are located on food or cosmetic items, from the store. And we know that the point of those dates, is to keep us safe. By safe, I mean I have always believed that by reading and heeding those dates, one could avoid possible illness or maybe even death. 

I've never really known anyone who drank expired milk, willingly. I mean, who would? It's nasty. And, our mothers, who managed to raise families, without those "use by" clues, normally relied on their sense of smell to figure out when food went bad. Oh, and if food turns an odd color or by chance gets fuzzy....pitch it. I have always lived by the motto, "When it doubt, throw it out."

To illustrate those warnings, I recall a story, passed on several years ago, about a couple who hoarded canned goods and eventually some cans exploded in their kitchen cabinets. I think it was 10 year-old green beans.

But, only recently, I witnessed another food storage lesson. Don't mess with tomato paste! I mean, how much of a threat, to life and limb, can a itty bitty can of red stuff cause? Trust me when I warn you, opening a can of only "barely" expired tomato paste, creates a disaster. A simple slit, will precede an loud explosion, splattering, the contents of that tiny can in all six directions (I'm including ceiling and floor, folks)! And tomato paste, red dye and all, will make a giant mess. It stains everything it hits, almost immediately. Red sticky goo will be visible everywhere, within 10 feet of the miniature bomb!!!!

So, buy those cans. Use them as soon as possible. Throw out expired stuff, and enjoy your life, for much longer, than the "use by" date on the can!

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Oh Lord. Sometimes we make the biggest mess out of our lives. And we do it, even when we are warned. Watch over us and increase our wisdom.

I Don't Think So........

Surprise folks! Apparently, I've been missing out on yet another trendy celebration. I just heard that the the first Saturday in May, is designated World Naked Gardening Day.  

I'm kind of a fan of wearing appropriate clothing. Ice and snow require non-slip footwear. Freezing temps mean heavy coats, gloves and hats, etc. Our Kansas City Summers are doable, if you wear sunscreen and a hat! You might remember that a year or so ago, I cautioned my readers about cooking, sans clothing.  I shared my Thanksgiving morning roasting experience, burned midsection and all. Never, I lectured, should you open your oven and lean in to check the browning turkey, in the nude or nearly nude. 

Gardening, should almost certainly be done, fully clothed. Early June, in Kansas City, is often too chilly to be outside without clothes. My grandmother was fond of saying, "don't set out your plants until after Mother's Day!" Then, there are the bugs. chiggers, mosquitos, ticks. I suppose a nude gardener could spray OFF, everywhere, but honestly, I prefer to spray it on my clothes and tuck my jeans into my socks. 

And, my garden has rose bushes, cacti, and let's not forget the rocks. My backyard is a scratchy, sticky health hazard, even fully dressed!!! And, then there are my neighbors. On either side of my house, to the North and the South, are two really nice gentlemen. I don't care to have either one of them see me au naturel. 

I don't plan on being home, at all, this Saturday. But, if by some chance I decide to change my plans, I'll be fully dressed, when I venture out into the yard. Put away your binoculars, there will be nothing worth viewing.                                                  ...............................................................

Dear Lord. We are silly bunch of folks. Keep us safe from our own foolish behavior. Forgive us our trespasses.

  

Giving and Receiving

 My in-laws were notorious for giving presents, with strings attached. Not pull-toys or hay bales, but presents which, once accepted, you had to do something else, in order to use them. Like the curio cabinet command. I think the present was actually, $200 to buy a piece of furniture (which was meant to hold my mother-in-law's antique crystal). It took $500 ($300 more, of my own), and I had a cabinet, that I could live with. BTW,  we have used that crystal twice, in the past 35 years. A similar monetary gift, was meant for a new recliner, which was supposed to go in our living room. It went in the downstairs family room, much to my mother-in-law's displeasure! There were several other gifts like that, and although I do not want to seem ungrateful, those well-meaning gifts were an expensive pain, in the you-know-what!

So, let's hope I am not guilty, of the above mentioned, type of gift giving. Just giving, for no reason or no reward at all. That's what I love doing. Last night, I gave away crocheted poppy pins, to friends, who drove me downtown, to see the Liberty Memorial, lit up like a giant bunch of poppies. Then, this morning, after church, I gifted a young lady with one of my crocheted basket/purses. That's the third bag, this week, I've given away. I've made thousands, of crocheted things, and I just give them away. However, soon everyone I know, will have a crocheted bag, and/or a poppy pin. Then, I will have do find another something, to give away!

I've been told all my life that giving, is better than receiving. Maybe, that's true or maybe, it's not. I have been given some wonderful gifts. What I do know is that the joy, I receive, from giving things away (especially things, I have made) with no strings attached, is my greatest pleasure.

Let me know if you want one of my bags. I try to keep a few on hand, to just give away!

Dear Lord, keep me humble. Show me how to bring joy to others. Keep me aware of who I am and whose I am. I ask these things in your Holy Name.

"Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack."

Just when you think the whole world has reached the pinnacle of rotten idiocy, something happens that helps to restore a bit of fresh and normal to the universe.

My son just called and related, to his children's grandma, that his family would be spending this coming Sunday, at the local Little League Baseball Complex. One of the grandboys has a tournament. Wow, I thought, that brings back memories. As the mother of three sons, I've spent more time than I care to think about, on my butt, seated on a bleacher bench.

It seems like only yesterday, that I loaded a cooler, full of Gator Aid and water, a couple of lawn chairs and/or stadium seats, into the trunk, and took off for a day or a weekend, at a distant soccer field or ball yard. In reality it was over 25 years ago. 

The experience brings back memories of little brothers and sisters, covered from head to toe in talcum powder-like dirt, playing "cars and trucks", under the bleachers, during the games of their brothers. Buying expensive snacks, from the stand, when I actually brought enough junk food, for the whole team, in my purse. Whipping out sunscreen, Neosporin, bug spray and Bandaids, from the same suitcase size handbag, to solve all the minor problems of anybody's family member, seated near me. 

I always thought, because there were so many things to attract my attention, away from the game, that I would be killed by a foul ball, striking me on the noggin. I could almost read the headline....., "Little League Mom Dies While Wiping Child's Nose".

Ah, those were the days! But, you know, I'm not eager to go back. I'm through with bleachers. I've been there, done that, and as the saying goes, "Got the Tee Shirt". Actually, I pitched all of those outgrown and stained tee shirts, years ago. Now, I wonder, how I can get rid of of the Letter Jackets, that are still taking up room, in my closets?

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Dearest Lord: Memories are the spice of life. Thank you for being there for us, even when we weren't looking. You are our Rock and our Salvation.

Normal or Not. That is the question.

Here are some things that you may or may not need to know about me: 

#1. I have never leaked any Top Secret Government Documents. I've never been privy to a Top Secret Document. For that matter, no one has even told me any secrets, recently.

#2. I do not own, nor have I ever shot a gun. Handgun. rifle or UZI. And, I don't want to. I have shot a pellet pistol, a time or two, but have only hit something, once. The ground hog, that somehow stepped into the path of my speeding BB, afterwards, just shook his head and ran off, into the nearby bushes. 

#3. I am passionate about many things. However, I try very hard not to turn, my spur of the moment insights, into Internet rants. Even if I think that I know ALL the facts (which often turns out to be wishful thinking on my part), why should I feel the need to express my opinion, about things that I cannot change....to folks who have already formed their own opinions! 

#4. I change my mind about things. People who believe and act in a predictable manner, are boring. They aren't thinkers. Who has time for that kind of mindset? 

#5. I have mellowed with age. Stuff that used to upset me, doesn't so much, anymore. Does everyone do that? I don't think so. There are a lot of opinionated and cranky old people, out there. Now, if I could only "mellow out" on my worry issues.

Confession is good for the soul. Honesty is the best policy. April showers bring May flowers. There you go.

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All knowing God. Forgive us, for our transgressions. Help us to be less judging, of others. Keep us mindful of our words, which may harm the souls, of our fellow life-travelers. Show us how to be kind. 

Treasures

 I am very proud of the town and surrounding area, in which I was born and reared. My family life, friends and education were all about as great, as anyone could want. Lots of bicycle riding freedom, easy access to a wonderful public library and lots of time spent, just being a kid. But...., and you knew this was coming, this little Eden, had some real quirks, that I would like to share with you.

Have you ever seen anything that was "tumped over"? You know, like a trash can or an out-house or even a car, cow or trailer? "Tumped over", in my neighborhood meant upturned or perhaps over turned. Same thing!

What about "whole 'nother"?  As is, "this Artificial Intelligence idea, is a whole 'nother thing". Those two words, used together, was our way of saying the one word, "another". Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

Then take our word for what almost every one else in the country calls gravel. In my hometown, we call it "chat".  You know, little bitty crushed and broken rocks, used as paving material on our drive-ways and alleys.  

And then, there were those "alleys"! Due to the age of our little burg, garages were located, off the street and to the back of our houses. The driveways, emptied out, into alleys. Alleys, for my kids and other unknowledgeable younger folks, were one-lane, chat covered roads, that divided one half of a city block, from the other. Most of the time, they were laid out perpendicular to the paved streets. 

The trash trucks (early in my life, they were horse drawn carts) used the alleys to pick up trash, from the barrels set out, not on the street, but along the alleys. Alleys were great modes of  "kid transport" and travel. They were where we rode, constantly,  and they were short-cuts between friends' houses, cutting down on our travel time, which was a waste of our precious playtime. On the downside, the chat was a bit tricky to transverse, and most of my friends, to this day, can proudly point, to an imbedded piece of chat, in a knee or hand. There you go.

Good and gracious God. Thank you for giving us such wonderful memories, of long ago. Grant us the wisdom, to guide and protect our loved ones, as we were once protected. Keep us safe.

Caution!!!!!

I heard a quote the other day, that caused me to do some "in-depth" internet research. By "in-depth", I mean, I looked up a few words, then that connected me to something else, then something else, and eventually, I got to something about the Kardashians, so I stopped!!! That's about as deep as my research goes, these days.

The original quote was "Courage is fear ignored". That's good! Whilst doing this "fear" research, I discovered that the word "courage", is almost always linked to the word "fear".  However, in reading all of the many quotes, linking the two words, fear and courage are not actually opposites. Courage is also NOT the absence of fear. It seems that you must have fear or even anxiety, in order to exhibit or not exhibit courage.

Now, upon examining my personality, I realize that I have an appreciation (I would rather not say fear), of a  great many things. For instance, I do not like heights, nor deep, dark places. I'm 5 foot 2 inches, short. It's not like I have had a lot of experience with high places! So, I avoid them, whenever, I can. But, it's not fear that keeps me from climbing mountains or peering down into cavernous crevices. It's, in my opinion, common sense. If pressed, I believe I would have the courage to climb to a high place, or climb down into a cave. But seriously, I would just rather not attempt those things.

Here are two more "fear and courage" quotes, from which you might find inspiration or amusement.

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not the absence of  fear." Mark Twain.

"Faith and fear both demand you believe in something you cannot see. You choose." Bob Proctor

Good and all powerful God: Grant us wisdom. Grant us courage. "Fear not, for I am with you, always...." 

 

"A rose by any other name....."

 There was a time, years ago, when my children were about to provide me with grandchildren, that I made the statement, "Be careful, when you choose a name. Make sure it won't cause playground trouble." Eventually, I quit saying it, because, no one paid attention, to moi, the seasoned playground monitor. None of my children seemed to care about the things, that grandma worried about.

The popularity of first names, is trendy. My friends were all named Sandy, Susie, Judy, Julie and Linda. None of those names are used on today's babies. Bob, Joe, Bill, Rick and Eddie, aren't popular either. Although, most of those boys' names are currently gender fluid, which is certainly a popular trend.

Which brings me to my name, Nancy. Why was I named Nancy? I'm not quite sure, but, here is my theory. My 6 year old sister wanted to name me Jane. Not after Jane Austen, the author, but after Jane, in the Dick and Jane primer series, popular at the time with first graders. My parents must have nixed that idea. You know "Plain Jane", and all that. My mother professed, that she was enamored by the way a distant cousin, with a southern accent, pronounced Nancy, using four or five syllables. Maybe that's true. My dad, probably didn't care, he was hoping for a boy!

And, they wouldn't have followed my "playground" warning, either. I became Fancy Nancy. Nancy rhymes with Pantsy, Schmancy, and Antsy. Not fun. Then there are the alliterations.....Nasty Nancy, Naughty Nancy, and so on.

However, are you aware of an old, old song, with the name Nancy, in the title? (Obscure song lyrics are my thing, you know.)  Frank (another passé name choice) Sinatra, had a hit song, "Nancy with the Laughing Face". It was written in 1942, four years, before I came along. It's not a classic. I haven't heard it in years. The lyrics, written by Phil Silvers (later Sgt. Bilko?????), compare Nancy, could have been Frank's first wife or his eldest daughter (both named Nancy), to Garbo, Grable and Turner. Those aren't names, easily recognized by anyone breathing today. The song will never make anyone's "Hit Parade", but I like it. What Nancy wouldn't?

Great and all powerful God. You have made each of us unique and special in Your eyes. Show us how to appreciate each other. Make us loving, kind and understanding.

                                          It's Nancy, the baby with the Laughing Face!

A Senior Moment or Two

I forgot two of my grandchildren! I have thirteen, or thought I had, until I counted them up this morning and then I could only come up with eleven. For months, I've been proudly telling everyone, that asked (or didn't ask, really) that I have 13 grandchildren. Four children, thirteen grandchildren! Was I telling a lie?

I counted and recounted. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. 

Then, a couple of hours later, I remembered two more. I hadn't been lying. The total is thirteen. How could I forget any of them? I am proud to be the grandmother of each and every one. They are singularly precious and special. 

But, don't we all forget something, sometime? Honestly, there are times when I forget where I'm going. I forget where I put my glasses, my phone, and my purse. And, those things occur, while I'm still in the house. Luckily, the bigger and more important things, I don't usually forget. But, that's because I write them down. I have three "working" calendars, and I consistently consult all of them. 

I guess the solution, to this latest issue, is to write down all thirteen of the grandkid's names. Kind of, make my own Grandchildren Family Tree, and stick it on the refrigerator, with my appointments. Then, I'll remember, for certain.

Dear God. Keep me on the straight and narrow. Keep me focused. "Guide my feet, while I run this race".

EV, All the Way!

 Traveling by car is one thing, traveling by EV is, in the words of any wise mid-westerner, "a whole 'nother thing". My friend, owner of a bright red Tesla, invited me to accompany him on a recent excursion, to and from the Grand Canyon. So, off we went!

Being a reliable sort, the EV owner had his vehicle charged and ready for travel, when we began our trip. There are no dials, gauges, or switches on the dashboard of an EV, but there is a large computer screen. The screen can be operated by either touch or voice command. So, using the voice command of "Navigate to the Emporia Supercharger", we began our trip. 

Superchargers, owned by Tesla, for use by Tesla drivers, are supposedly situated in convenient places, ready to charge the EV, with enough power to continue to the next destination. Now, to a senior citizen, a convenient place would include (think gas station here), not only a place to charge the car, but a clean restroom, convenience store (fresh cup of coffee) or restaurant and a place to move and stretch your legs. We discovered, right away, that the back lot of a Holiday Inn Express or Motel 6, doesn't really have any of those things. Basically, to recharge is to waste a half hour of your life, just sitting there, wishing for a bathroom! How old is Mr. Musk, anyway? Certainly  old enough to realize that seniors have potty issues!

The lack of convenient restrooms, is seriously, the only thing I would improve in the EV experience. I mean, my little Ford, doesn't have a screen full of music, entertainment options or a screen of the latest stock market quotes! It also doesn't have a "Romance" screen that will show you a picture of a blazing, dancing fire, which actually emits heat, while soft music plays in the background! (BTW, this is a feature available ONLY when the car is parked.) Don't ask!

Going down the road, in the Self-Driving mode, gives you a full view of the road, in front, in back and to both sides. It will hold you in the middle of your lane, brake, pass with turn signals, and accelerate, all automatically. However, it will not allow you to close your eyes, more than momentarily, or take your hands off the steering wheel, for any extended period of time. You can take physical control, at any time, but Tesla is able to do the driving, by herself. 

Also, an EV provides more cargo space, than your average gas powered vehicle. Besides the trunk, and collapsible back seats, there is also a frunk. Because, there is no engine under the front hood, you have extra space, under the hood, in the front of the car.

Mr. Musk, I might add, does have a peculiar sense of humor. For holiday time, you can turn your vehicle (video screen image) from a car, to Santa's sleigh, going down the road. The cars you pass become reindeer and the turn signal converts to jingle bells. Christmas music plays faintly in the background. Also, there is a feature titled "Emissions Control", which pokes fun of gasoline powered vehicles, by emitting sounds of ''........yes, you guessed it. Rather Junior High-ish, but none the less, awfully funny.

EVs are amazingly quiet and super fun to drive...or sort of drive. Try one, you'll like it!

Dear Lord. Be with us, on our journey. Protect us and keep us safe.

"You go through St. Looie..."

Speaking of oldies but goodies, you would be amazed at how much of old Route #66, decommissioned way back in 1977, is still visible, viable and vivacious. Finding things to do and see, along the old highway is a snap!

You can still "Get your Kicks" as in the classic Bobby Troup song, "on Route #66". As you travel, you pass the cities, named in the lyrics. Going "along the way", just happens to rhyme with the last city, on the route, "LA".

Beginning in Oklahoma City (which BTW, still "looked mighty pretty"), we avoided the lyrically famous, Joplin, "Missour-ee". Most of the pieces of old #66, parallel current Interstate 40. However, by starting, in OK City, we were unable to view the giant, highly advertised, concrete Whale, apparently floating(?), in a murky pond, in nearby Catoosa, Oklahoma. Next time.

As we continued, we were able to ogle a giant, hand decorated, wind turbine blade (cemented to the earth) in a small town park. Then, we drove, rapidly by, a few dozen Indian jewelry and pottery stores. We stayed overnight in an authentically tacky Route #66 Motel. The innards of the motel had been refurbished, but the outside was so true to Black and White, TV history, that only thing missing was the 1961 Corvette, driven by Buz Murdock and Tod Styles.

The town of Shamrock, Texas, besides being overly done-up, in "Top of the Mornin' to you, Irish", has a completely refurbished 1930's style Gas Station. It's now a gift shop/lunch room/ ice cream parlor, and Tesla Charging Station! In "Amarillo Texas", we drove, right on by, the giant neon cowboy sign, that beckoned us to stop in and try to eat a equally giant steak!

It's still possible to ride down the main drag of "Gallup, New Mexico", and still stay in a hotel, visited by Ronald Regan, in the nineteen thirties. To the West is beautiful "Flagstaff, Arizona". You can see dozens of 1880's era stores, along this downtown stretch of the "Mother Road". Walking in, you might purchase two Authentic Route #66 Tee Shirts, for just $10.00! The old train station, in this mountain town, remains a classic. 

"Flagstaff, Arizona", of course, rhymes with "Winona", which is the next stop. Then, "Kingman, Barstow, and San Bernardino, California". Nothing rhymes with California, so both the song AND the highway end.

Dear Lord. You are always with us, as we travel along the roadways of life. You have blessed us with experiences. May we continue to enjoy life and it's beautifully enriching sites.

Rock a bye, Baby.....

I don't need to tell anyone over the age of 60, that sleep is a precious commodity. As most of us age, a good night's sleep, is often hard to come by. The ideal 8 hours of sleep per night, is (excuse the term) a pipe dream! The reality is more like 5 or 6 hours of sleep, per night. Actually, if I could manage to get 6 hours, of uninterrupted sleep, every night, I'd consider myself a lucky woman.

There doesn't seem to be any trick, I haven't tried. Melatonin, doesn't work. And, I've tried to drink a cup of hot tea before bed, to relax. That, just causes me to visit the bathroom, twice instead of my regular once. Climbing into bed, before or after 10 p.m., doesn't seem to matter. I still wake up around 4:30 a.m., or even earlier. And, once awake, I can't get back to sleep. 

So, this morning around 2:45 a.m., my sleepy-time was interrupted by a loud screeching and annoying buzz. My weather radio was going off. Severe storms were sighted in my area. Last year, about this time, I had begged my daughter to buy me an alerting radio. I needed it, I told her, to keep my "seriously hard of hearing" self, from being blown away, by a tornado. One appeared, via Amazon, right away.

Well, it's loud enough and it works. I got up and wandered around the dark house a bit. Then, I determined that severe storm prevention was not in my wheelhouse, grabbed a candle-lighter, for the candle near my bed, and tried to go back to sleep. Not possible.

It's going to be a long, long day.

Great God, we know that worry never achieves anything. It's useless and it isn't healthy. Remind us of the sparrow. You are our protector, at all times.

Happy Trails To You

...speaking of adventures, just recently, while driving in south Kansas City, I viewed some 200 year old ruts or swales, left by the thousands of wagons that traveled on the famous Santa Fe Trail. Now, it was not a surprise that the ruts were there, after all, there are "Santa Fe Trail" markers, all over the area. (Fewer than the number of "Hideout of Jesse James" signs, however. That man was everywhere!!!)  

The Santa Fe Trail, began in Franklin, in central Missouri. William Becknell is considered the founder of the the trail, and he made his first trek in 1821. Franklin is a tiny little town (markers say that there was both a New Franklin and an Old Franklin) on the North Bank, of the Missouri River. The trail crosses the river at Arrow Rock, and goes along the South bank, towards Independence. Independence is known as the spot that became the headquarters, for "outfitting" all of the travelers, on the trails.

Independence celebrates its history, of being the trailhead for 3 major trails, with a yearly celebration named SantaCaliGon Days. Each Labor Day Weekend brings thousands of revelers to this slightly bizarre combination of Craft Show, Fried Food Orgy and tacky Carnival. Attending once, is probably enough.

The travel on the trails peaked in the 1840's. In 1846, the United States Army used the trail to invade New Mexico. By 1863, railroads were beginning to span the county, and the trails ceased to be the best way to move goods and settlers.

According, to my quick and certainly not expert research, the life of the trail was a mere forty-some years. A very short lifetime, indeed.

Dear Lord:  Our life's journey may be long or short. Sometimes we wonder whether one life can make a difference. But, we must remember that we may never know, how our lives might impact our fellow 

travelers. Be kind. Be loving. Care. Help us to remember your commandments.

"Kodachrome gives us the nice, bright colors....."

As of today, I am halfway finished, sorting through my husband's collection, of photographic slides. For some reason, and I can't remember why, Scott insisted on taking slides, instead of photographs. His father did it, too, so maybe it was a hereditary thing. By halfway, I mean, I have looked at approximately 4,000 slides of our family, friends and the kid's sports teams. I've been huddled over a little, one by one, viewer for days, now. 

Before I started this process, I was tempted to just pile all 8,400 slides into a couple of giant trash bags, haul them to the curb on Tuesday morning, and call it a day. I told myself, no one had looked at these slides in, probably 30 years, and no one will, in the future! But, then I felt guilty and began to to tackle the chore.

The first slides were taken in 1965. Vacations, holidays (50 years of Christmas trees and kids opening packages), school programs, Halloween costumes, sports teams, and graduations. Scott took slides, all the time, until about 2010. Then, he switched to a digital camera.

My process, for dealing with these slides, is to view each one and put it back in the reel or toss it. Then when I finish, I will go back and cull some more of them. I have reduced this first 4,000, to three hundred, at this, the halfway mark.

I have come to the following conclusions: The photographer never takes his own picture, so I have very few slides of husband and father. All Christmas Trees, no matter what year, look pretty much the same. You can't distinguish one kid from another in a sports uniform, especially from the bleachers. Most scenery, although beautiful, isn't worth keeping, especially if there are four butts in front of the gorgeous view!!!!

Dear God. I know that I have to do, what I have to do. It's hard. Please, grant me the wisdom to make wise choices and live my life, in a way that honors You. 

5 Top Reasons Why the Super Bowl is Played in February!

 #5. Except for President's Day, sometimes Ash Wednesday, and Valentine's Day. There is nothing much going on this month. And, depending on whether your team wins or loses, you can be too sad, to buy your sweetheart something for Valentine's Day, or too hung-over, to go to the store! It's a marvelous excuse, for poor behavior!

#4. It's so cold, in most of the country, that you can't go outside. You have to stay in and watch the game. It's entertainment. And, by mid-February, even stupid TV commercials look Great.

#3. The Game gives you a great excuse to wear your weekend Sports Jerseys, every day for weeks.....and in this town, delay putting away any Christmas Red Clothing, until March!

#2. The Super Bowl gives you a great excuse to put off doing the taxes, until after it's played ......maybe, until early April!

#1. When the Super Bowl includes your hometown team, the whole city is involved in the pre-game Hype. It's fun. Every building, that can be lit at night, turns RED. The whole town is glowing like an ember! If you are not wearing RED, you're ignored. The Game is on everyone's mind. Everyone is talking about it. We are on a High! Happiness in the middle of Winter, is a good thing. Go Chiefs!

"I've been everywhere, man." TWO

 I'm thinking about a Doctor Seuss book today. No, it's not Horton Hears a Who, even though most of you know, due to my deafness, "What" is my favorite word! As I reflect, on the places I have been this past year, I'm remembering words, from,  Oh The Places You'll Go.  

A couple of my voyages, have been solo, but I have also traveled with old friends. I've visited relatives, stayed with friends and met amazing new people. I've returned to my birthplace and even seen a new country. My trips have utilized trains, planes, vans and automobiles.  I've seen two oceans, mountains, skyscrapers and grassy huts. My life had been expanded by new experiences.

Everyplace I went, I had a wonderful time. My travels have been a blessing. I'm keeping my bags packed. I want more.

"You're off to Great Places!

Today is your day!

Your mountain is waiting.

So...get on your way!"

New Ventures

 I have discovered the best way to start a brand new year.  You have to try something absolutely new. Travel. Experience a totally different culture, eat something you have never tasted before, attempt to communicate in a new language and reflect on the possibilities of what may lie ahead. Any or all of those things are the answer to a better life.

Two weeks ago, my biggest worry was "how can I cope when MODot shuts down the Broadway Bridge?" ( A scheduled March activity). Now, I'm thinking, so go ahead, Highway Hackers!! It's only one bridge. There are 4 more and I know where I am headed, once I get across the river. Egad, it's not as if I have to swim the Missouri River!

I need to redirect my priorities. Quit worrying so much and focus on being the best person, I can be, for myself, my family and my friends. Life is way too short! It doesn't do any good to concentrate on what has happened or what might happen....fears are negative. Fear never solved anything or changed very much. From now on, I'm going to focus on the good possibilities. Just like Balsamic Vinegar or really good Chocolate, it's going to change my life.

Dear Lord. Thank you for the Hope that You give us. Open our eyes, to the best of life.

The Truth, the whole truth and nothing but the Truth.

 A lot of words have been written about honesty. I think the adage, "Honesty is the best policy", is the best advice, that anyone can give. Recently, I read a quote that said, sort of, "When you tell the truth, you don't have to remember what you said." Very thought provoking.

And, although I do not think of myself as an untruthful person, there is one big lie, that I have been telling. Okay, maybe two. I don't think the weight on my driver's license is correct. If a policeperson should ask for my photo ID, there will be a pause, followed by hysterical laughter.

My most serious lie, which I recently corrected, has been highly visible. I'm telling the truth, when I say that I had not changed my picture on Facebook, in well, let's say it was my original photo, from way back when. In my defense, it was a good picture, and it was me, 15 years ago!

So now, check it out, my new photo is current. It was taken last month. It's truthful, but not youthful. There you go...and that's the truth.

Dear Lord. We can't hide anything from You. You are all wise and all knowing. We praise Your Holy Name.

Happy New Year

 To quote a line from one of Irving Berlin's, holiday songs, "I've been ringing the New Year in.", this week. But, before I did that, I made a few spectacular "old year" memories. It is an understatement, to say that my life has had some deep, dark moments, in the past year, but I have rallied and ended 2022 with a resounding bang! 

Here's a list of just a few of my "end-of-the-year" remembrys.  (Yes, I am aware that is not a word, but it should be!)

#1. A Christmas, that includes small children, is very loud. But, the anticipation and joy of Christmas morning, is well worth the break in my normally quiet existence.

#2. Rediscovering an oldie, but a goodie. For a good time, pull up a video of Groucho Marx singing, "Lydia the Tattooed Lady". And if you can't decipher the lyric, Google it, and get ready to laugh, blush and enjoy. I'm generally not a fan of Ink, but OMGolly, I might request this tune at my funeral!

#3. Discovering that my adult daughter is not the only person, in my life, who can begin to laugh, and in a matter of seconds, be reduced to sobbing. Her brothers and I have witnessed this phenomena, since their childhoods, but now, it seems, her daughter does it too. My thought is, that although it is a little weird to witness, it is an excellent release of stored-up emotion, that most of us couldn't do, if we tried. I think it's very healthy!!!!

#4. Solo Travel is an adventure. Red Caps, for Amtrak, are worth their weight in GOLD. For assistance and information, during busy holiday travel, they can't be beat. Why can't air travel, be improved with such help, or in the least, can they hire folks that speak plainly and slowly, on or off their PA systems? Although, one TSA guy did tell me "you can't be 75." I guess, that was worth the hassle of everything else!

Dear Readers....here's hoping your New Year is the best yet. Stay safe and keep moving forward.

Lord: We thank you for our many, many blessings. Help us to focus, not on ourselves, but others. Help us to enjoy the present and look towards the future.