Little Big Sis

It is New Years Eve eve and I am spending some quality time with my Grandchildren. This always includes sleeping over with them. It's like a big pajama party. I have to admit that I have never seen an eight year old girl wear a sleep mask to bed, but this one had a unicorn on it and was quite fancy. She pointed out to me that there was a theme going with the unicorns on her PJ's.

It was about 11:00 p.m. when we turned in last night. We pulled the trundle out on Addie's bed and all three of us hit the sack. The festivities started with Addie reading to Max and I from her Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls book. After about a half hour we decided it was time to turn off the light. So the light went off and the Rainbow Maker came on. She is quite tickled with the gadget that Papa and I bought her for Christmas. It displays a rainbow on the ceiling or wall depending where you position it and turns off automatically after it has been on for a while.

At about 8:30 in the morning I hear a pixie-like voice say, "Grandma are you up?"
"Yes," I reply. She said, "This is when I usually get up and open my curtains and make my plans for the day. Like usually I eat some breakfast and take a bath and do my chores, if I have any to do."

"I see" I replied. "Well let's let Max sleep a little more before we let a lot of light in the room." She thought that was an okay idea.

She told me she didn't sleep very well due to the fact that she was worried whether Max and I were comfortable. Aside from an occasional elbow in the head and back, my night was relatively calm.

So we got up, made our way out to the kitchen where my Son was already up and at the computer. We had a delicious breakfast of pancakes and watched PBS Kids on my laptop. What a great way to spend the last part of my visit home.

Best Christmas.........ever

As most of you know, I was torn this Christmas. I wanted to be with my family, but my Husband could not come due to extra expenses involved in making the trip.

Throughout the two weeks before Christmas my mood was tempered by the knowledge that Sam would not be with me for the holiday and that took some of the joy out of the season.

No matter what, this holiday was going to be a challenge for everyone. The nation as a whole is struggling with a lot. We will all get along with less. No huge presents for the Grandkids or ourselves. No gift exchange with extended family, and I missed shopping for presents, as I am a shopaholic it was quite hard on me.

Even my trip to Chicago lacked some luster due to the fact I only really had money for the train trip. But I bucked up and just enjoyed the lights and sights and the sounds. Actually, I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I'll get the hang of it yet.

But I digress. It is Christmas Eve and I am at my Son's house with the Grandkids. It doesn't really feel like Christmas. Mom and I brought a roast and Sherrod is fixing Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco treat) . I still keep hoping that Sam will show up by some act of God, but as the clock ticks on, I know the chances are dwindling.

Mom and I get ready for Midnight Mass and climb in the car at 10:30 p.m. We make our way to the little church in Parchment, where we join the choir for some caroling before Mass.

It is just a little after midnight and it is Christmas. I look up as I notice the vestibule door opening. There is something familiar about the coat I catch a glimpse of. Oh my Lord, it's Sam. Mass had just started so I couldn't scream, so I cry instead. He takes a seat in the last pew and I blow him kisses, waiting anxiously for the homily to start so I can go sit next to him.

When it was time I ran over and gave him a big hug and told him Merry Christmas and that I was so happy to see him. "You didn't think I was going to let you spend Christmas without me, did you?" he said. Well actually, I did.

He had planned on getting in at 6:30 in the evening Christmas Eve, but instead got to Kalamazoo by bus via Lansing. It was like a scene from Trains, Planes, and Automobiles, and Love Story.

When all the family got to my Son's house they were thrilled to see Sam. Grown women wept and my Brothers were tickled too.

So you see, this was one of our simplest Christmas's yet, with a great meal and great company and I will remember it forever.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

Last Thursday I got to do something that I enjoy every Christmas Season. I visited Chicago with my girlfriend Priscilla. My journeys to the Windy City began more than a decade ago when I would join my neighbor on a bus trip every December. I was hooked and fell in love with the town.

Our trips are a little more sophisticated now. We take the South Shore Train from Michigan City, IN into Millennium Station and we are in the heart of the Loop. We took a different route to Michigan Avenue this trip. We went through the Theater District along State Street, stopped at a restaurant called the Corner Bakery, which featured great food at reasonable prices. It was wonderful. I had a fiesta salad in a bowl the size of Kansas. That was all I needed for the day.

As we walked the streets of Chicago, we noticed a lot of couples dressed to the nines, the ladies in their mink coats, the men carrying lots of gift wrapped packages to put under their tree. I am amazed at the wealth that is evident in this city.

Then we walk past the homeless and the beggars, people with paper cups in their hands asking for what change you may be able to spare. We walk by trying not to make eye contact. I comment on the fact that I hope that was not the Lord I just walked by, but you know it was as he says "what ever you do for the least of my brethren that you do unto me." So I am basically screwed.

There is something about the chill in the air, the hustle and bustle of people trying to get from point A to point B both on foot and in traffic that gets my blood flowing.

And the lights, the Christmas lights are beautiful. That city knows how to do lights. We walk by the Hancock Tower with its Christmas Tree that features over one million lights. It is breath taking.

We visit Filene's Basement, Nordstroms, Macy's, have our makeup done at Bloomingdales and go to Williams and Sonoma for a sample of their Peppermint Bark. We witness an obviously disturbed soul yelling vehemently at his invisible companion constantly as he walks along Michigan Avenue in a very agitated manner. We look around to see if he is upset with us, but no, he just keeps going.

We make our way back along Michigan Avenue to the train station, stopping at Starbucks for an Eggnog Lattee (non -fat of course) and miss our train by about 3 minutes. So we wait for the next one in about an hour, people watching and glad to be off our feet for awhile.

The trip to Chicago was a Christmas present to myself, even though I didn't buy anything, it was treat for all my senses. Merry Christmas!

I'll Be Home For Christmas, But Which One?

Home, it's a familiar word that has a lot of different meanings. There's our childhood home, the house and town that we grew up in during our formative years, or the place we settled and raised our families over a period of time. Fortunately for us, for more than a half a century, all of my family has stayed within a 30 mile radius of each other.

This is the fifth Christmas where I have traveled back "home" to celebrate the holidays. There is something so joyful about being in the midst of my family. My Grandchildren and Son, who I miss on a daily basis, my Brothers, my Mom and my friends all define home for me.

Home is truly where your heart is. But this year my heart is in Vancouver. I had to make the trip without my Best Friend with whom I haven't been separated from in 28 years. We will not spend Christmas together due to these tough financial times. Only one of us could afford to come and I won the coin toss.

Please do not mistake my whining for self-pity. We both realize there are soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan who will be separated from their families, people who have no home in which to have Christmas, those who do not know where their next meal is coming from, and the list goes on.

What I am trying to articulate is (and my friends in Washington will appreciate this) that my home is now in Vancouver. That's right, I am finally admitting it. I know it is not the place I will be forever, but it is home for now.

So I will continue to come back to Michigan for Christmas when I can, but not without my husband again. For he holds my heart and defines my "home".

Merry Christmas to all!

Ground Control to Major Sam

Over the past few weeks we have been trying to adjust to the fact that we must be more prudent in watching our expenses. As our house payment has increased nearly $500 a month we have to watch every penny so we don't bounce any checks. We have had to eliminate breakfast every Sunday at the I Hop which we enjoyed immensely after church. Even our trips to the grocery store need to be monitored.

As some of you know, my husband Sam has always done the grocery shopping. When I was working full time he would do it as a favor to me because I hated to do it. He was the envy of all the check out girls who would comment that they wished their husbands would do that for them. Occasionally they would ask if he had any brothers. Invariably there was always a bouquet of fresh flowers for me along with the groceries. (I really don't deserve this man.)

I try to make a list of what we need and meal plan when I can so we don't over buy. Sam also comes from the school of if one is good than 3 is better. So I mark exactly how many I need.

On a recent Saturday after a trip to the grocery store, I was unpacking the groceries (that's part of our agreement, he buys, I put away) he was commenting on how hard it was to keep the bill under $100. Just then I pulled a package of filet mignon out of one of the bags. How funny, I thought.

I do the same thing when I go to Starbucks and usually take change out of our magic pumpkin we have under the counter. I am careful to count out $3.38 in change for a tall non-fat latte. When I recently went to the mall to meet a friend for coffee, I was counting out my change to the barista and apologizing, saying it was a sign of the times, she looked at me then at my bags from Nordstrom's and back at me again. I quickly responded that I just knew where my priorities were. And after all it was their semi-annual sale.

Only time will tell how this all will shake out. We are trying, as is every one else in the country, to make our money go further. Needless to say I am not getting flowers anymore from the grocery store.

Here Comes the Sun

Usually by now I have sunk into a deep state of depression brought on by the weather. But not so this year. The weather gods have been good to us for the most part out here in the Pacific Northwest.

We have had a beautiful Fall season with a lot of 70 degree days and sunshine until about a week ago. It rained quite heavily for a few days, but then something odd happened. The sun came out again. Hallelujah!!! I don't mind it when it rains, as long a I see the sun once in a while.

The rain normally starts in September and doesn't stop until the middle of June. During that time we all start to feel like ducks, slogging around in the rain. The ground is soggy and mushrooms sprout in our yards. We sneak away to the tanning salons just to feel some light and warmth on our bodies.

So I guess what I am saying is that I have an attitude of gratitude for some respite from the terrible rainy season, even if it will be short lived. I will take it one day at a time and count my blessings when we have a nice day.

Ode To Saturday Morning

Morning creeps in
dawn appears between the
slats of the blinds
slowly waking
slowly aware
the hum of a C-pap machine
cars in the distance
planes taking off to unknown
destinations
snoring Corgi under the bed
Wake up
enjoy the solitude
write a little bit

The Times They Are A Changin'

Well here I am again. I know you can't believe that I am posting two days in a row, but I am so excited by the results of last night's election that it is hard to contain myself.

I actually woke up happy and hopeful this morning. Remembering the historic ramifications of last evening. Watching President-elect Obama speak to the throngs in Grant Park. What a great night for the whole country. It speaks volumes about how far we have come as a nation.

The new President will have his hands full with the mess that he has been left with. Two wars, an economy that is in the toilet, and health care, are but a few of the enormous challenges he will face on January 20th.

For now let us revel in the success of electing our first African-American President. It is truly a proud moment for all America.

V ote Early And Often

It is 5:05 a.m. and I am up and at my computer. I am giddy with excitement. Today is a historic day. We will either elect the first female Vice-President or the first African-American President of the United States. I am much more excited about the latter to be perfectly honest.

Being a child of the 60's, I remember all too vividly the violence of the Civil Rights movement. The assassination of Martin Luther King,the riots of the late 60's in Detroit and yes even Kalamazoo. I remember stories from my friends who went to Kalamazoo Central about girls being thrown out of second story bathroom windows and a lot of fighting between black and white kids with knives.

How far we all have come and none too soon for my liking. The fact we can look at a person for their achievements and character and not the color of their skin says a lot about us.

Anyway, off my soapbox and back to the couch. I will be glued to the TV tonight watching election results. It should be a close race which makes it exciting.

We have been through 21 months of endless campaigning and I am personally glad it is at an end, but what an end it will be.

Why isn't voting on my agenda today you may ask. Well my friends, I voted on October 26th in the privacy of my own home. What a kick. Here in the State of Washington we vote by mail. It was a great experience for us. No slogging out to the polls, where I might get wet or worse, have to talk to someone. (Not really). Yes I am a fair weather voter. I love taking the easy way out.

On a serious note, as screwed up as our country is right now, we are lucky to live here and have a say in our electoral process. So let your voice be heard today and know that you are a part of living history.

T. Boone for President

Over the last several months I have been intrigued by the commercial that T. Boone Pickens has been airing. He has taken on the oil crisis as his cause and wants to end our dependence on foreign oil.

Last night I watched a 90 minute town hall meeting he held in Nashville, TN on the subject. He is a big advocate of using natural gas for transportation. He wants to start it out on Federal vehicles, public transportation, and 18 wheelers. Can you imagine the impact that would have on our environment alone?

He also wants to establish wind energy along the wind corridor between Texas and the Canadian border. This will take longer and there is the logistics of getting the energy from point A to point B. Our power grids will need to be changed but the technology is there and it would mean a lot of jobs for our country.

Being a child of the 60's it is fun for me to have a cause to believe in and I think this man has the right idea, not to mention an army of 1.3 million who are helping to spread the word. He will need help from Congress and the White House to get this initiative moving forward.

Please visit his website at www.pickensplan.com where you can join the army, sign petitions, and spread the word. A cleaner environment. What a great legacy to leave our children and grandchildren.

Fall Musing

From my usual spot on the sofa, I can look out one of the living room windows and see a bright yellow leafed tree. My eyes are too bad to zero in on the leafs to see if it is a maple or oak.

It has been kissed by the God of Autumn and stands tall allowing me enjoy its beauty.

Soon, the real Fall rains will begin and the wind will pick up and the tree will lose its beautiful color, until Spring brings buds of new life and leaves of green.

So I will enjoy its beauty now and know that the cycle of life continues for us all.

Fall Frolic

I thank God for the maple trees that line the path of my daily walk.
The fall air is crisp and the leaves that have fallen rustle at my feet
Colors that only maple trees can bring, vivid orange, bright yellow and crimson
fill my eyes with their beauty.

I close my eyes and inhale the unmistakable aroma of autumn
My mind is awash in memories of jumping into big piles of leaves with my young son, his joyous laughter still ringing in my ears

Memories of bonfires with the grandkids
Making smores in the dark, trying to find the graham crackers
Gooey chewy goodness
More chocolate outside the kids than inside

I walk through the deepest leaves on the sidewalk, kicking them up
Still the little kid
Remembering my childhood

I pass a young couple at the bus stop
"Good morning", I say
"Good morning, ma'am" the young man responds with a smile
How polite, I think, then it comes to me that he is merely respecting his elders,
like his mother probably taught him

I pass a man at the next bus stop
"Good morning" I say looking into his steel blue eyes
No response
Just stares at me in defiance
How sad
Makes me feel bad somehow, kind of ruins my morning
But I get over it and keep moving

This is me pushing the envelope
Getting out of my comfort zone
Starting another day.

Hugs

There is nothing quite like a hug. It wraps you in warmth. It brings you close to another person. Group hugs are good too.

Then there is the "I don't want to get too close" hug. Where you go though the motions, but don't quite make physical contact. Those are usually reserved for people we know, but not too well.

Hugs say a lot of different things; "I missed you", I love you", "I understand", "Hello", "Goodbye", "Hang in there", "I'm with you".

The hugs I remember most are from my grandchildren. Feeling their little arms around my neck. Jumping off steps into my arms. (I always had to be ready.) Picking them up when they fell to comfort them and dry their tears.

The greatest part of a hug is when it is fully enjoyed by both parties. Sometimes it's fun to see who can hug the hardest. Sort of like a "dance of joy".

The goodbye hugs are the hardest on me. Tears come to my eyes now thinking of them.

I remember the last hug my Dad gave me as I was leaving for home in the dark of an early May morning. It brings me both joy and sadness.

I look forward to all my up coming hugs. Feeling the joy of seeing my family and friends again and holding the essence of their love in our goodbye embraces.

Roots

We all want them

Some of us have them

As trees growing where they were planted
their roots reaching deeply into the earth

Sometimes our roots are not allowed to
deeply furrow into the ground
We must leave the place where we
are comfortable

Like tall, strong oak trees we
refuse to bend or be bent by strong
winds trying to blow us down

The roots hold the tree so it is stable
but the roots also do not allow the
tree to move, from flames of fire, the
wrath of tornadoes or the like
The tree
is broken but the roots remain

For those of us who must give up
our roots are able to move
when the fire comes and seek
shelter from the cyclonic winds

So roots are good
and roots are bad
the part that makes me really sad
is giving up the roots I had.

The featured picture is by Lisa Feather and is from her website pixelpearls.net

Old MacDonald

The sun was shining brightly and it felt nice and warm on his face. It was a beautiful early spring day in Michigan. The sky was a bright cobalt blue color and no clouds were in sight. The newly mowed hay smelled sweet and fresh.

He sat up high in the John Deere 8840. An air conditioned cab sheltered him from the elements and he could listen to talk radio too. Sure was a far cry from the old days he thought.

As he rounded the corner to start another row the tractor scared up a doe and her young fawn. "Whew," he thought, he hated it when they couldn't get out of the way quick enough. He was almost done with this field.

The only thing he enjoyed more than this was flying. He had to give up his pilot license long ago due to his heart problems. He could no long pass his medical exam.

He hated getting older. He was almost 80 and knew he could not keep working on the broken tractors and lifting heavy bags of feed much longer.

He had a friend named Jeff who owned a car dealership. He needed someone to shuttle cars back and forth from the auctions and deliver title work, he could do that and it would be fun, meeting people, talking about cars, drinking coffee, he thrived on being with others. It was his life blood and the only thing that made it better was being paid for it.

He was a child of the depression and he felt so lucky any time he could go to work. Work was the reason he got up every morning. He didn't understand why it irked his kids so much.

He pulled the tractor and mower into the barn and looked at his watch. "Good," he thought, he still had time to stop at the Bakery and catch up with the coffee gang.

The Gardener

She tends her garden in a loving manner, careful to make sure her plants are in the right place. They react to her kindness by blooming gloriously where they are planted. The sun bathes them with its light and they are refreshed by the summer thundershowers that come calling. Occasionally they are tossed by the wind when mother nature makes the weather severe. But she gets right back out there and nurses them along to their original beauty.

Mounds of Shasta Daisies, Brown-eyed Susan's, lacy pink Babies Breath, and Roses with blooms so large they are top heavy from the weight bring oohs and aahs from all who see them.

The rabbits are her worst enemy in the garden, but she can't help but feel sorry for the baby rabbits when they fall victim to the neighbor's cat.

She is keeper of the house now. It has been two years.

Days that drag.

Empty house.

She scolds herself for not staying busy enough. If only she stayed active, perhaps the loneliness would subside. So she tries her hand at the latest Sudoku puzzle, reads her Prevention magazine, watches for her elusive Hummingbirds when they come to her feeder.

Simple things bring her joy and yet she is seldom happy.

Her body is tired and shows some signs of slowing down. It is painful for her when she rises in the morning but she slowly works out the kinks and prepares for another day.

A day of waiting; for the phone to ring, the mailman to come, the paper to be delivered.

She is thankful for the ability to drive, but doesn't trust herself to venture too far knowing she may not have the privilege forever.

She is a realist; and a dreamer. She dreams of a better world for her family, for her children to all be close to her again. She cannot understand why the world has become what it is today and so many people have to be hurting.

So she tends her garden, sleeps alone in her bed at night, but lovingly kisses the picture of her other half before she closes her eyes to slip into a restless sleep.

So she can start another day of waiting.

Hey Dad, It's Me

It seems that I have spent my entire life trying to get my Dad's attention. Here I am even now after he has been gone two years writing about him and hoping some how he knows.

When I was a kid he was always making fun of the way I looked and of course my brothers would always put in their two cents worth. The jokes circulated within our household about my cooking, driving, fashion sense, boyfriends,you name it they had a joke about it. It was fun making them laugh, even if it was at my expense. When Mom would come to my defense, it only made things worse.

The only time my Dad was home was for meals. He worked at least two jobs a day, plus he was a volunteer fireman, ambulance driver, helped out at the funeral home, you get the picture. He was a very driven man, but I wondered at times if he just didn't want to be home with Mom and us kids.There were no "Big Russ and Me" moments. Not that he did not have an interesting life, he just never talked to us about it.

I remember a couple of vacations we took as a family. One was a total surprise when I was seven years old. We took the Milwaukee Clipper across Lake Michigan from Muskegon, MI to Milwaukee, WI. I remember it like it was yesterday. The movie they showed on board was "The Glenn Miller Story" with Jimmie Stewart and June Allison. I remember my Dad lifting me up so I could look over the side of the ship and look at the water so very far below. It was a car ferry so we drove off the boat and went to visit my Mom's relatives in Okanamawoc and then drove home through Chicago and back to Delton.

The next big trip was when I was 12 and we went to the northern Michigan wilderness. We stayed in a very rustic cabin that belonged to a friend of my Dad's. I remember being scared to go to the outhouse at night. It was dark and very scary and everything smelled funny. Right then and there I knew I was not a camper. It was only a few miles from Lake Superior and it was chilly and rainy. My brothers and I ran ourselves silly going up and down the many steps to Pike lake. No one else was on the lake so we had it all to ourselves. We continued on to Tahquamenon Falls, Mackinaw Island and Mackinaw City. We saw both historical forts and ate a lot of fudge. It was a good time.

But those trips were few and far between. It was like pulling teeth getting Dad to take us on vacation. He couldn't make money if he wasn't working and that seemed to irritate him.

Looking back I don't know why vacations were so important to me. I hated my Dad's driving. He drove like a maniac. Lead foot Lynn, is what we used to call him. More than once I would look out the back window and see the State Police Officer motioning for us to pull over. How embarrassing. For a lot of my youth I would dread getting in the car with my Dad.

Waylon's Excellent Adventure

Waylon came into our life about six years ago. It was January 2003 and my husband was preparing for a kidney transplant at University of Michigan on the 30th of the month. What better time to get a new puppy?

No really, we wanted to get a companion for our older dog Sophie and I had the idea that a Corgi would be nice to have. I had wanted to smaller dog that might spend some time on my lap and cuddle with me. So not long after the first of the year we went to look at some Corgi puppies that were advertised in the newspaper.

Now as most of you know, you don't ever just go to look at a puppy, you usually come back with said puppy. When we walked into the puppy house, there was Momma, Aunt and Uncle corgi along with 8 rather rowdy puppies. We had already decided we wanted a red and white so our decision was cut in half. We picked a sweet little guy and took off on our new adventure.

On the way home we stopped at our local Meijer store to pick up puppy supplies. I stayed in the car with him and he was getting very restless and whining so I had a Waylon Jennings CD I put in the player and he settled down and went to sleep. When Sam got back to the car I announced the name of our puppy..the rest is history.

We went through the usual puppy training horror stories. Had to shovel a path through the snow for him to go potty, although later he would refuse to get his feet cold and wet and poop on the porch. He is the only dog I know where he needs to be bribed to do his bodily functions.

When he was about 6 months old we noticed that he loved balls, what dog doesn't?, you say. But this was a little unusual. He would herd the ball around the yard and when you'd try to kick it he would get in front of it and block your kick. He was the shortest soccer goalie I had ever seen. He herded the ball around the yard, around the house, everywhere it could go and he did it to the point of exhaustion. Needless to say he is a source of joy and entertainment for a lot of people.

He and Sophie helped Sam during his recovery and a year and half later we loaded them all into the car (along with his ball) and headed across the country to our new home.

We have been through countless balls over the past 4 years, but that is a small price to pay for so much joy. Just ask Waylon.

Economy Lobotomy

For the last few days I have been considering writing about the state of the economy.I would like to attack it from my point of view. It is highly personal and hope no one will be offended.

Over the past 10 years it seems that the stock market has driven our lives. Even if you are not an investor, it has been the harbinger of both good and bad. The main thing I have against it is the greed of the companies and their stockholders.

The term "down-sizing" was brought about by companies who needed to pare down their bottom lines for the stockholders so they would get a better return on their investments. So millions of jobs have been eliminated and sent over seas where they can made by child labor and not pay a living wage.

Another popular way if doing business is the Holding Company. A group of investors is formed and they acquire a business usually through financing a lot of debt. They go in and sell, or close the unprofitable parts of the business, keep the profitable part for a while, mean time paying interest rates that are higher than a cat's back to the banks. They usually forecast sales and profit margins that are not attainable. When that happens guess what? They have to go through and eliminate mores jobs and shut down more plants, thus creating a lean and mean operating machine. So basically the American worker pays the price for all this balance sheet magic.

The CEO;s of these companies are always given golden parachutes so that when the company closes, they will leave with millions of dollars for screwing their employees out of their jobs.

And this doesn't even begin to address the Sub-prime Mortgage mess. But I honestly believe that downsizing started the ball rolling. The trickle down theory just does not work in this day and age. I have yet to benefit from it. If things keep going like this there won't be anyone here in the states that afford to buy all this stuff made overseas. We can barely afford gas and groceries.

My husband and I have been displaced by the economy. To find work we had to move to Washington where housing is more expensive or should I say was more expensive. We purchased a home two years ago and today it is worth roughly $100,000 dollars less than what we bought it for. We can't even refinance it as we do not have the $100K to bring to closing. To us this is a nightmare. I am ashamed that we got caught up in this mess, but hindsight is always 20/20.

So pardon me if I don't feel too sorry for Wall Street or the execs who had been living the dream for so long. I am relatively sure they will all land on their feet. It is the middle class who will pay for all of the pseudo-prosperity of the last 10 years.

The Grocery List

As I sit on the couch at 7:00 on a Saturday morning, making a grocery list of what we need, I am tempted to insert such things as patience, a cure for my husband's illness, a job further east, a dog who will allow my husband to sleep in on a Saturday morning.

The food and sundry items seem so ordinary and mundane yet we need them to sustain us.

Wouldn't it be great if we could list our other needs on a piece of paper and travel to a store and pick them off a shelf and pay for them and leave? Would we be able to manuver the cart out the door? Would they fit in the back of my Volvo? Some days they barely fit in my mind.

They haunt my dreams, my waking hours. Monopolizing my conversations. I am consumed by them, yet this is who I am. So I will continue my grocery list and fight the urge to take the easy way out.

Viva Vietnam

I have been getting my nails done on and off for the last 20 years. You know the acrylic ones where you have to go every 2 or 3 weeks for fills, or if your like me you stretch it out as long as you can.

It can be fairly costly especially if you have the pink and whites done. When I first arrived out here I found a gal in Washougal to do them for me. I think it cost me $50 for a full set and $25 for a fill. She did a lovely job, but I had to take them off after awhile because of the expense.

I have a problem growing my nails, they get so long and begin to peel and crack and then I start biting them off. You get the picture.

My friend talked me into going and getting our nails and toes done one Saturday where she always goes. It was a place where all the nail techs are Vietnamese. I had never been to one of these salons before but I felt like it was going to be an experience.

Now who would have thought the fall of Saigon would bring a new cottage industry to the U.S.? I had walked by these places many times and looked in at the busy nail techs, with their surgical masks and thought it somehow odd. But here I was, mainly because I have become frugal in my advanced years, sitting in a massage chair that was working me over pretty good, getting my feet done by Hanna.

There seems to be a guy who is in charge who also does nails at each of these shops. They all talk between themselves through their masks in Vietnamese. I have considered buying a Vietnamese to English dictionary to see what they were saying but I would need to ask them to speak up because they talk so softly and I can't hear worth a damn anymore, and that would defeat the purpose.

I am putting off going for a fill right now. They take the layers of acrylic off with a grinder of all things and it gets really hot and burns. Ouch! I have never seen fills done so quickly.

The jury is still out as far as how long I will continue doing this, but my nails sure look good and I am saving money.

Inane Infomercials

I don't know about you, but I am personally tired of Billy Mays yelling at me about various products on TV. From Mighty Putty to Kaboom he comes into my living room like a spokesman for the hearing impaired. With the voice of an overly excited contestant on Wheel of Fortune he sings the praises of his products and tries to get us to order them.

It took me about two years of hearing the Oxi-clean commercial before I tried it. Kudos to Mr. Mays, that product really works. Now I'm not saying that everything I have used it on won't completely disappear in the future, but for the time being the stains are gone.

When I heard his latest commercial I was a bit surprised. It seems that he is endorsing a health care coverage plan. Maybe who ever gets elected this November could use him to tout their health care bill.

Me and My Blog

I am so excited as today is the first day of my blog. A tip of the fedora to my Son Andrew whose computer prowess has enabled me to realize that indeed I can function and communicate in the 21st century. Thank you Son, you are a genius.

The aim of my blog is to make you smile and occasionally laugh out loud with my observations of every day life.

So this will be an exercise of my stick-to-it-ness and wit.

I am an aspiring writer who needs an outlet for my creativity. So let's see how it works out. I am anxious to get started so stay tuned and stay in touch!