Use It In A Sentence

     The following words, and their meaning, have been the 'word of the day' on the dictionary app for the past five days.

     Frigorific:  (The 'g' is pronounced with the 'j' sound, but I do like the pronunciation using the 'g' as in the word 'gut'.)  Causing or producing cold.

     Gas light:  To cause a person to doubt their sanity.

     Nostomania:  An irresistible compulsion to return home; intense homesickness.

     Pabulum:  Material for intellectual nourishment.

     Degust:  To taste or savor carefully or appreciatively. 

     The recent arctic vortex has indeed secured frigorific conditions for the holiday season.  There are many, traveling the highways and byways, suffering from nostomania as they get closer to their destination.
     
     Make sure to not gas light the chef by remembering to degust the feast with much passion and share some excellent pabulum during the meal and afterwards, keeping the snoring to a minimum.

     Happy Thanksgiving!

Take Heed of the Signs

     When driving through any national park or game preserve there are usually signs that read, DO NOT FEED THE _________.  The blank can be filled in with a number of different animal names, bear, bison, deer, wolves, etc.

     The reason for this is because it is not always wise to break the "wild" barrier between humans and critters.  These animals are referred to as wild animals because, well, that is what they are, wild animals.

     To say that I have never fed a wild animal would be an outright lie.  There has been many a Christmas turkey carcass set outside to feed the neighborhood possum.  It is really difficult to say, "Oh look at the cute possum!", because..... they be really ugly.

     My sister, Lela, moved to the great Southwest a few years ago to be close to her daughter, Ms. Luvsdemcritters and they really enjoy living in the desert.....right smack in the desert.

     Ms. Luvsdemcritters is a girl after my own heart.  She loves all animals and is even involved in a rescue operation for pets that need a good home.

     Although, at first glance, the desert seems to be a barren place, but it is actually teaming with wildlife.  There are numerous birds, coyotes, rattlesnakes, mountain lions and the beloved Javelina, aka, the desert pig.  The last three above mentioned critters have all been seen in Ms. Luvsdemcritters backyard.

     The javelina is not really a pig but comes from the peccary family, a hoofed animal that migrated north from South America.  The adults can grow to about 19 inches tall and weigh from 40 to 60 pounds.  They travel in groups from two to twenty and their babies are called 'reds'.  Javelinas have been known to charge when feeling threatened.  This is because they have very poor eyesight, so, in actuality the charging is merely a defense mechanism for a means of escape, they do not actually 'see' what scared them, they are just looking for a way out.  We can now give the bats a break and use the phrase, "blind as a javelina".

     Javelinas do not like dogs and have been known to seriously injure or kill them.  Again, this is not out of being naturally aggressive, but from the instinct to protect the herd....and being blind as a bat.....or, um.....javelina.

     Feeding the javelinas creates a couple of problems.  The first one being they will return to the food source, looking for more food.  They usually will bring the rest of the herd with them, so instead of having 5 or 6 javelina in the yard one day, there may be 20 the next.  If there is not enough food to go around, they most likely will eat what ever vegetation is growing in the yard and they do not care if the vegetation was paid for, or just grew naturally.

     The second problem that arises with feeding the javelina is the fact that they attract mountain lions.  Mountain lions LOVE to eat the javelina.  The mountain lions probably have a motto that goes something like, "there's no better way, than to start the day, with a little pulled pork".

     Mountain lions have very good eyesight and probably think the bigger the prey, the better, and longer lasting, the meal.  If someone is out feeding and frolicking with the javelina, they could possibly look like a smorgasbord to a hungry mountain lion.

     Ms. Luvsdemcritters, DO NOT FEED THE JAVELINAS! 


     

Plan B

     tRuth As I See It has been up and running over a year now.  It does not seem possible, twelve months, gone in the blink of an eye.
I have to scan back through the blog now and then, to make sure I'm not repeating myself.  At my age, that can happen.....a lot.

     Today I had to drive to a big box store to return a tool.  The big box store was true to its cause, the isles were full of big boxes. Many had "do not open before Black Friday" stamped on them. Black Friday, the biggest, aka worst, shopping day of the year.  

     The store was understaffed today, but there was a nice lady who waited on me at the return counter.  She was new, still in training, which meant the only other person around had to show her the ropes for entering a return.  No easy task.  I was not in a hurry, my morning plans had already been changed by my better half.  This needed done, right now, today.  It could not have been done over the weekend.  While I was at it, he also needed a couple of items from the big box drug store.....he did get the 'look' on that suggestion, but hey, it was just across the street, it surely could not be that big of a deal....Sigh....he hates to shop...I had been hoodwinked.

     I was waiting patiently at the return counter.  Not so the older man to my right.  He was far from patient.  The phone was ringing, and ringing....and ringing.  The trainer of the nice lady ignored it and continued with her task of teaching.  The impatient man finally spoke....in a really loud voice....wanting to know if there was someone who could help him.  I wanted to say, "Dude, do ya see anyone else standing here?"  I thought better of it, he may have been the man who was disgruntled with all the toilet paper in the trees, I did not want a lesson in manners.  The trainer/teacher assured him she would be with him as soon as possible and gave a brief explanation as to what she was doing.  I glanced his way and was pretty positive I saw smoke making a slow spiral out of his ears.

     After many numbers had been entered into the system, my return was finished.  I took the time to browse a couple of isles, just in case.  Two LED light bulbs jumped into my arms.  They make a nice glow above my desk and I'm sure the electric meter is spinning much slower now.

    A quick stop at the drug store, in which I found some new mascara, and I was in nostomania mode, an irresistible compulsion to return home.....word of the day on my dictionary app.

     The sun was shining.  That was nice, it hasn't been seen for a couple of days.  

     A road trip, even a short one, can be good for the soul.  Helps to blow a few cobwebs out of the back portals of the brain.  It was just what I needed.....but I won't mention that to my better half.

     

Worm Holes & Eggs

     Yesterday was a lovely day.  Albeit, a cold day, but the sun was shining and the wind had subsided.

     The gas gauge in my little car was reading about as close to the bottom as it could get and I decided it was a good time to fill it up.  We use a facility located on the outskirts of town to purchase our fuel and the drive is just about a mile from home.  

     When I arrived, I realized something miraculous had happened.  I had driven through one of those worm holes that scientists have been searching years for.  The price of gas was $2.75 a gallon!  I took a picture of the sign with the posted prices, so I would have documentation of my find.  After filling the tank, I hurried home so I could look in the mirror and jump on the scales to see what year I had entered through this porthole in space.

     I posted my experience on Facebook, the place that seems to be increasingly filled with sad, bad, and gloomy articles, so this story of my incredible journey will be old news to some.  But, while I'm on the subject of FB, I'd like to offer a bit of tRuth as I see it.  I know there are a lot of things going on in this crazy world that are not good, but spending time focusing on those things is also not good.  Starting out the day with sadness is not the way to start the day.  It's hard to share your light if it's surrounded by darkness.

     Doesn't it seem odd that most people who eat breakfast eat the same thing for breakfast everyday, without getting tired of it?  I would not want to eat the same thing for lunch or supper, but having our traditional egg and sausage (husband) bacon (me) sandwich every morning never seems redundant.  It is almost a ritual.

     I always fix my husband's sandwich first and then my own.  This morning, as I headed to my prepared plate of bread, bacon and cheese, with my second egg riding on a spatula the egg jumped off and landed on the floor.  I'm pretty sure it took out a cobweb as it slid under the toe-kick area of the cabinet.  After swearing, and that was not done under my breath, I snatched it up off the floor and tossed it in the sink.  There I washed off what ever pieces of gossamer webs were clinging to it, placed it on the above mentioned prepared plate and used the top piece of bread to blot it. It tasted wonderful!

     It is a good thing my young food germ fanatical friend was not here, I believe she would have passed out.  

Bravery At Its Finest

     On this date, November 20, in 1620, Peregrine White was born aboard the Mayflower.

     That gave Peregrine the distinct distinction of being the first known English child born in America.  It's too bad organizations like the Brownies, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, etc. weren't around back then because Peregrine would have gotten lots of cool stuff.  He would have had his picture in all the papers holding the title of "The Country's First Baby"  and surrounded by all the gifts donated from the local merchants.

     On March 6, 1648, Peregrine and Sara Basset were married, plus fined for having premarital sex, and about nine months later the first of their seven children was born.....some things never change......  Peregrine lived to the ripe old age of 83 years old.

     Now, the bravery......

     Peregrine's mother, Susanna, boarded the Mayflower in Plymouth, England on September 6, 1620.  She would have been approximately six months pregnant.  

     Have you ever seen a replica of the Mayflower?  It is really small.......really small.  The ship was only 100 feet in length.  There were 102 passengers aboard, along with 30-40 crew members.  To say that the conditions were a bit cramped would be an understatement.  Not only that, this was a three month journey.  A three month journey, at sea, with no bathroom.

     To make matters even worse, in the second month of the journey, they ran into some nasty weather.  The ship was being battered with high winds and high seas.  The caulking was falling out of the timbers, letting in seawater.  The conditions were ma-honkingly, for lack of a better word, unsanitary and there was not enough food to go around.  It was cold and even the beds were wet.

     I wonder how many times Susanna White had to hurl over the port or starboard side of the Mayflower?  

     The original destination for the Mayflower was the Colony of Virginia, but after many days of trying to go south, they were forced to return to Cape Cod Hook, now known as Provincetown Harbor.  It was there, anchored in the harbor, still aboard a ship that had to smell ten times worse than a bus load of young boys right after football practice, that Susanna White gave birth.

     Susanna White was a brave woman indeed.  She left the only home she had known, with her husband and an older son, to come to a new world.  She survived a dangerous trip, horrible conditions and was still able to bring forth a new life with no doctor, no epidural anesthesia.  Hopefully she at least had a piece of wood to bite.

     In the first few weeks of setting foot on this new land, she outlived half of the passengers aboard the Mayflower, due to a harsh, cold winter.  She even had to bury her husband three months later.  She remarried and went on to have five more children.

     Most of us have never heard of Susanna White.  She deserves the highest honor given for bravery.  

     We do not have a clue, if we think for one minute, that times are tough.



     

Have None

     When asking old people what was their biggest regret in life, the answer was surprising.  It was not some lurid part of their past, some inexcusable deed.  It was the amount of time they had spent worrying.

     They had worried about things they had no control over.  They had spent vast amounts of time worrying about what someone might think, money, troubles, who said what, who didn't say that.

     They regretted the time they had wasted on something that did not really matter.

     How many risks could they have taken, if worry had not been in their way?  How many dreams were left undreamed because of worrying?  So much wasted time.

     The present time, right now, this very second, is the only time we really have.  We are not guaranteed the next minute, hour, day or week.  

     If we spend this most valuable of our precious resources worrying, what have we accomplished?  Absolutely nothing.  If we spend our allotted minutes being mad, not talking to someone, judging others, thinking we are better than the next person, what good comes from it?  Absolutely nothing.

     There are way too many wonderful things life has to offer.  Laughter with a family member or friend, trying something new and different, getting up early just to watch the sun rise, or staying up late and gazing at the vastness of the universe laid before us in a black sky.  Making the decision to go for the dream, no matter what.

     Understand this, in 150 years, nothing that you are worrying about now, will matter, it will be gone and the only one who will have suffered is you.

     Spend your time in joy.  God put an unfathomable amount of abundance in our lives.  Stop worrying that there is not enough for you.  There is, believe it, it is there for the asking and for the taking.  The risks we take are far more rewarding than worrying about taking them.

     Leave this place singing the song Frank Sinatra sang back in the late 1960's....

"Regrets, I've had a few;

But then again, to few to mention.

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;

Each careful step along the byway,

And more, much more than this, 

I did it my way."

     

A Thin Line

     Since 2014 is winding down, I've decided to once again break a resolution made many months ago.  

     It has been so long that I do not remember exactly what it was, but I believe it had something to do with not getting caught up in the messiness of the world.

     But this thing in Ferguson, Missouri has me perplexed....

     I will not go over all the details.  I think anyone who has even briefly walked past a newscast or read a newspaper, or been on some social media site knows the story....or stories.

     The governor of the "show me" state has already declared a state of emergency waiting for the outcome of whether or not the policeman involved will go to trial.  The reports say regardless of the decision, rioting is expected.  The local businesses are already boarding up their store windows and doors while still trying to do, or stay, in business.

     I ran across an article posted by Gateway Pundit that stated "the Justice for Mike Brown Ferguson protest group released its list of potential targets following the decision by the St. Louis County Courthouse on the Mike Brown case."

     This list has 70 targets of potential action. Seven of the names on the list are hospitals.  Some are churches.  The art museum is on the list, as well as shopping centers and the Lambert Airport.

     At the end of the article there is a quote.  It does not give the name of the person who said it, but this is how it reads, "Rioting and looting are the tools of those without a voice.  The rioting and looting, while I didn't participate in it, was necessary.  Without it we would not be standing here today."

     Let me see if I understand this.  If something makes me mad, I have the right to go into my local businesses, the places that actually help make my community a community, and trash their establishment.  Also, while I'm there, I can take whatever I please.  It may be a big screen TV or ten pairs of expensive shoes, but I'm mad and I have no other way, or means, to get my point across.  I can burn, loot, pilfer to my heart's delight and further more, I'm not going to help clean up the mess.

     A thin line between love and hate?  This is a thin line between ignorance and downright stupidity and the line is just about obliterated to the point that one is indistinguishable from the other.

     Regardless of the decision, what would happen if the people were silent?  What would happen if they simply cried tears of joy or sorrow, went home, picked up the pieces and said, "let's not let this happen again.  Let's do something that will bring about a change, a change for the better"?

     Sound 'pie in the sky' to you?  Fine.  Please don't get upset then if one of the business owners, hospitals, churches, museums or any on the list of 70 feels the need to protect their business, or themselves.

Ridin' In Style

     Allow me to introduce you to Mirge.  Mirge is my car.  She used to be called Mirage, but the 'r' fell off, so we just call her Mirge.

     She is an absolutely no frills vehicle.  No automatic windows or door locks, no cruise control, a simple AM/FM radio.  She does have heat and she does have AC, both of which work quite nicely. Mirge has a ton of miles on her, over 180K, but she still purrs up and down the road and gets nearly 30 mpg.

     The first time my grandkids rode in Mirge, they had no idea how to roll down the windows.  

     When we first purchased Mirge, she was a business car, we needed a way to get a driver from point A to point B without a lot of fuel expense.  At that time she was known as Ol' Smokey. Whoever owned her before must have smoked three packs of cigarettes a day and never cracked a window.  Maybe they were young and didn't know what the window cranks were for.

     Mirge still stinks, but after the initial use of the heater, you kind of get used to the smell.

     The only problem Mirge has is one front tire.  It loses air.  Not all the time though.  It may stay up and intact for months on end and the one day you don't bother to check it, it will be going thumpity thumpity about two blocks up the street.  This tire has been checked, balanced, rotated and what ever else needs to be done to a tire.  It does not have a hole in it and the valve stem is not the culprit.  It is just Mirge's way of being mysteriously finicky.

     The other day I needed to travel about an hour away from home.  Since a recent arctic vortex had made the temperatures much colder than the norm, I decided that the possibility of having to put the never used spare tire in Mirge's trunk on, if the tire decided that was the day it would go flat, did not sound appealing.  Especially if it happened on the interstate with cars whipping by me at 70 plus miles per hour.  Having this cautionary vision, I asked my oldest daughter if I could borrow her vehicle.

     Her vehicle is much newer than Mirge and has all the amenities that most new models offer.  The first thing I learned was that her SUV, crossover, or whatever it's called, sits much higher off the ground than Mirge.  I failed to raise my leg high enough to clear the floor board and went tumbling into the front seat.  As my arm load of goodies flew into the passenger seat, I was extremely thankful I was still in their driveway, hopefully no one saw my graceful fail.

     I sat in the driveway for some time, trying to figure out how to move the seat forward.  At least adjusting the rearview mirror was an easy task.

     It only took me 7 miles to figure out how to set the cruise control and another two miles to change the radio station.  I discovered there was no play in the steering wheel so I kept my hands at the strategic 10 and 2 spot on the wheel.  

     When I arrived at my destination, I made sure to take the keys out of the ignition.  I always leave them in a cubby hole in Mirge and never lock the door, if someone took her, they would bring her back.  Clutching the keys with a death grip, for fear the doors might lock before I even got out of the seat, I exited the vehicle, shut the door and pressed the little button on the key fob that had a picture of a locked padlock on it.  The doors locks clicked.  I pressed it again and the horn honked.  Oh, I do love that feature!  I thought about doing that a couple of more times, but the parking lot was full and I thought someone might think I'd lost my marbles.

     It was an enjoyable ride and someday, in the near future, I'm going to retire Mirge for a newer model.  I will keep her though, because it is always fun to see the look of panic come across my oldest grandson's face when I tell him Mirge could be his first car.

     But for now, Mirge and I will continue to putsy up and down the street.

     

The Week In Review

     Today is Friday, November 14, 2014.  On Monday of this week it was 68 degrees.  This morning it was 15.

     On Monday I learned a valuable lesson.  After holding a leaf blower in your dominant hand, for two hours, it is not a good idea to reward yourself with a cold brewsky directly afterwards.  The reason for this is because your dominant hand will still be vibrating from the two hour blower fiasco and you will waste above mentioned brewsky because it will be going everywhere except in your mouth.  This side effect lingers for quite some time, it is also not wise to apply mascara.

     The desk is clean and the ocean of paperwork completed.  Most all of the envelopes even got mailed.  Life is good.

     After running a few errands and being in a happy, bubbly, chat everyone up I happened to run into mood, I noticed after I returned home that this was the one day I had not fixed my hair, nor bothered to comb it.  At least there was not a pair of underwear stuck to the back of my hoodie, fresh from the clothes dryer.

     There would be a lot of unwasted paper if there was a law forbidding junk mail.......but it is better than receiving bills.

     Giving two young children a recent toy catalog, that arrived in the a fore mentioned junk mail, is a great way to pass the time. Arming them with ink pens, it is also a good way to get gift ideas. There is many a carefully crafted four year old's A by many items. She even went through it a second time, in case she missed something.......she didn't.

     Finally, if you are feeling down or just having a not so great day, go to Youtube.  In the search bar type in "birds dancing to music".  You will not be disappointed and guaranteed to put a smile on your face. 



     

Playing With Pods

     It was in the newspaper and all over the social media sites. Thousands of children have been treated for ingesting a common household product......laundry detergent.

     The laundry detergent in these cases is the kind that is packaged in a 'pod'.  A clear membrane that dissolves when it comes in contact with liquid.......or saliva.  Many of these pods contain brightly colored liquids on one side and powdered detergent on the other.  The colorful side is usually in a swirl pattern of two colors. This must make the dirty laundry very excited when placed in the washing machine with such sexy soap.

     I understand that kids will be kids.  I'm reminded of the time when Blanche was in high school and had a friend over.  For some reason they thought it a grand idea to play pitch and catch in the house.....with a stick of butter.  It was all fun and games until one long overthrow of the butter stick landed on Mother's new rug.  I thought it was hysterically funny.....Mother...well,... not so much.

     Back to the pods.  As I read the article, I could not keep a thought in the back of my mind from raising its babbling head.  Where in the world were these people keeping their laundry detergent pods? 

     Most new parents, and even those who have been around the block a time or two, learn early on that household cleaners and such belong either up high, out of reach, or in a locked cabinet.

     The manufacturers of the pods have come under fire for all these accidents.  Some have taken measures to help make the pods safer for children...........Excuse me?

     The last I knew, very few children do the laundry, especially those who are not even a year old.  These things are not toys!  They are laundry detergent!

     One grandmother gave a nine month old child a pod because she thought it was a teething apparatus.  Again, the question is raising.  Did they keep the pods on the kitchen table?  Are they so pretty that parents are displaying them in a bowl, like a bunch of fruit? Maybe they didn't have a table to eat off of and just use the washer and dryer as a multi-tasking piece of furniture.  The pods must sit right between the salt and pepper.

     Perhaps adults are using the pods as a focal point for meditation, spinning them while focusing on the bright swirling colors, then forgetting to put them up out of reach, because they are so relaxed and stress free.

     I think parenting-sense just left the building with Common and Elvis.  Someone saw them headed to the laundromat. 

The Product Review

     "It ain't easy being green"           Kermit the Frog

     I'm all about saving the planet.  I try to do my best to leave a small footprint behind.  I do not buy into the global warming theory, which has been conveniently changed to climate change, but I will agree that the weather is a bit different than when I was a kid.  Not that I lived during the Ice Age, although my grandchildren may beg to differ.

     One day, while shopping in the place that put most small town businesses out of business, I came across a "green" product.  It was automatic dishwasher gel, guaranteed to be safe for Mother Earth.  

     It was a large container, 72 ounces.  The price was pretty good too, for that amount, so I bought it.

     My review is as follows:

     Not only does it not contain anything to harm the planet, it contains nothing to clean the dishes.  I truly believe you could brush your teeth with this stuff and suffer no serious side effects.

     When using this product, it is necessary to run the dishwasher for at least half of a cycle to make sure that whatever is stuck on the dish is good and waterlogged before ever adding the gel.   Then, it is necessary to choose the longest, pot scrubbing, blast the hell out of them cycle the dishwasher has available.

     Even after this, there is usually a dish or two that is still dirty.

     So, for my final remarks, if it says "green" on the label, you are much better off just washing them by hand.  When it takes a weeks worth of shower water plus a couple loads of laundry water to do one load of dishes, the only thing green is the money spent on the next water bill.

Thank You

     Today, in the USA, it is Veteran's Day.

     Scrolling through Facebook, there are many, many pictures of service men and woman posted by family and friends.

     Looking at these pictures, I'm struck by how young they all were, when they decided to serve.  Eighteen may be the age of legality, but eighteen is still just a child.

     Thank you for being so brave.  It must have been hard to leave.  For some it was probably the first time you were ever away from home.  

     Thank you for making the decision that you were willing to put your life on the line, for duty and for honor, because you believed in your country.

     Thank you for being able to fly our colors any time and anywhere on this soil.

     Thank you for your sacrifice.  Some did not make it home and those who had to leave their fallen comrade had to dig deep to find that courage.

     Thank you for the opportunity to watch our children and grandchildren play out side, ride their bikes, take walks with friends, all without fear.

     From a woman's point of view, thank you for the freedoms we so take for granted.  Thank you for the opportunity to dress as we wish, drive a vehicle by ourselves, choose an education if we so desire, start a business, run for office, marry our soul mate, vote, write, publicly speak out, all without a thought of retaliation.

     To the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines, THANK YOU from the bottom of our hearts.

Inspired Procrastination

     What is inspiration?  It can come in many forms.  

     A book can inspire.  Sometimes inspiration comes in dreams or just a thought, perhaps from somewhere on high.

     People can inspire.  A good word from a friend, maybe even something as simple as a smile from a stranger.

     Even procrastination can be inspiring.

     The top of my desk has not been seen for nearly a month.  Stacks of paper, bills and stuff has accumulated into a small mountain range.  

     Each time I stroll past it, I hear small, tiny, squeaky voices.  The voices say things like, "Please!  Do something with me!", or "pay me, pay me!".   Once I'm sure I heard something like, "Help! I'm drowning!"

     With my inspired procrastination I have accomplished many things.  Several loads of laundry have been washed, dried, folded and even carried upstairs.  The neighbors leaves were blown into a pile, nearly a block long.  It was windy that day and they burnt quickly and to perfection.  The vacuum has been used.....twice.

     Yesterday I was so procrastinatly inspired, I washed all the kitchen windows.....inside and out.....even the screens.....even the area between the windows and the screens.  They look very nice, it is no longer foggy in the mornings.

     Even my business has been helped by all this inspired procrastination.  New customers and new ideas have been rolling in.  That is a good thing.....even if it does help to add to the ever growing, nearly snow capped mountains.

     This morning I did it.  I cleaned off the desk.  It looks rather nice, there was not even any room for the dust to light.  It is most refreshing to walk by and see that the mountain range is gone, a thing of the past.

     It did not take nearly as long as I thought it would.  I simply picked up all the stacks and piles, one at a time, and carried them to the island in  the kitchen.  It is much bigger than my desktop so now the mountains look more like an ocean....a lovely sea of white, with a tinge of color showing through the waves.

     I will probably take care of it, later today, in case I happen to be inspired to cook something.  

     Let's see.....how many coupons do I have in order to get a free pizza?

The Picture

     "A picture is worth a thousand words"

                                              Exact origin uncertain, early 1900's

     The story, that was told to me, about this picture is as follows:

     The person who took the picture was attending the funeral service of a young child.  While at the cemetery, the person noticed the sky was beginning to darken, with large black clouds rolling in. The person raised their camera and took a picture.  It wasn't until afterwards, when the picture was developed, that they noticed what looked like the image of a robed figure, with possibly the image of a small child under the figures' arm.

     This picture was given to me by a friend.  This friend was grieving the recent loss of his own child, trying so hard to come to terms with what life had dealt.  The picture gave him hope, gave him comfort.

     May it do the same for you.

  

In The Kitchen With Maw

     They called her Maw.  Maw Troutwein.  I do not know what her first name was.  If she was alive today she would probably be somewhere around 130, or so, years old, maybe older.

     I never knew her.  She was gone before I was born, but being a late in life child and having two WAY older sisters, they remember her.  Maw wasn't family, at least not blood family, she was a mother in law to one of our father's older sisters.  When you are a kid, blood ties really don't matter, if you are a "maw" to someone else, you can be anybody's "maw".

     One of my favorite stories of Maw Troutwein was her kitchen table.  She always had a variety of 'eats' on the table.  These goodies could range from cake, cookies, butter, cream and some things unrecognizable.  These items were always on the table and when the meal was over, she would cover them with a cloth.....and they would set there.....until the next meal.....or the next day.....or maybe the day after that.  If you showed up between meals, being the gracious hostess, Maw would whip off the cloth and offer whatever lay beneath.  My sisters always said they politely refused to partake.

     This story reminds me of when Mother would talk about digging cooked sausage patties, that had been covered in lard, out of a crock, that was in the cellar, all winter.  Or taking the leg of hog out of the shed, that had been packed in salt, when it was fresh off the porker, and wrapped in newspapers.  She would say that after the mold was scraped off, there would be a nice cured ham.  She also said that sometimes the mold had no end and that ham would have been considered a loss.

     Maw, or any of her family that I'm aware of, didn't die of food poisoning....neither did Mother.

     A young 20 something friend of mine jokingly told me she would never eat at my house.  Well.....I think she was joking.  The reason for this was because I did not see anything wrong with food, that had been cooked, sitting out for a while.  We were discussing the hamburgers she had just cooked on a grill.  There were several left and she said she would feed them to the dog because they would not be fit to eat.  We enjoyed a nice banter about this and I explained that I believed they would be fine.  She told me that her generation had been told differently and that information alone made her generation believe they would get sick if they were to eat it.

     I've pondered her statement for some time.  Belief is a powerful thing.  Not that I would want to eat the tuna salad or deviled eggs, that have set on the picnic table on a hot sunny day, for an hour, but it seems a shame to waste food.  

     Different strokes for different folks.  For now, I'm going to head back to the kitchen and bag up all the sausage and bacon I cooked this morning.  

     I will plead the fifth on whether or not I have eaten a piece of pizza.... that has set in the box.... on the stove..... all night long.   

     

     

And Then There Were Seven

     It's official.  My 32 year old daughter is a grandmother.  Now before you get yourself in an uproar, wondering what part of the country we are from and lamenting, "Oh! The shame of it all!", she is a dog grandmother.

     Their beloved 3 year old Jack Russel terrier, Josie, had her first litter of puppies.  

     The gestation period for this small breed of dog is short, 62 days.  That doesn't leave much time for picking out the nursery colors.

     The entire family had been on pins and needles, waiting for this blessed event.  My daughter had an out of town business meeting scheduled during the proposed due date and figured it would happen while she was gone.  It did, but in the long run, it was probably just as well that she missed it.

     As instructed, I stopped in to check on Josie's condition.  I felt sorry for her, she was nearly as wide as she was tall.  When she sat and tried to lift a hind leg, she would roll over onto her back, licking mission unaccomplished.  She looked like Humpty Dumpty.

     On this particular morning, she did not greet me.  I found her in her kennel, door open, but she wasn't coming out.  I trotted down the stairs to my son in law's office and told him the time was drawing near.  Much activity ensued from this point forward.

      One corner of the toy room had been cleaned out and they had brought in a birthing/whelping box, large enough to accommodate a Great Dane......maybe two.  My son in law removed Josie from her small, safe, blanket filled kennel, shut its door and placed her into the giant box.  She was not impressed, but since it was surrounded by child restraint gates and chairs, she had no choice but to stay in it.  Deciding it was probably going to be awhile before any action, I left.

     Later in the afternoon, while I was in a nearby village, running some errands, I got the phone call.  "I think your daughter's water just broke!".....my son in law's exact words.  I assured him I was on my way.

     When I arrived at the house, the first pup had already been born.  I was shocked at the size of this newborn puppy, I was expecting something like mouse size.  I looked around the room.  There were piles of newspapers, stacks of clean towels.  I asked where the boiling water was.

     Most new mothers are whacked on the head with the Mother Wand from the moment of birth.  Josie was no exception.  She began the licking and gnawing process as if she had done this many times before.  I thought about how wonderful it was, that animals usually know just what to do.  I also thought about how wonderful it was that we humans lack the licking and gnawing instinct.

     It was about this time that their home turned into Grand Central Station.  There was an endless stream of neighbors, children, friends, family and anyone who may have been driving by at the moment, filing in to see the new arrivals.  This was when I knew it was a good thing that my daughter was out of town.  Believe me, the Queen of Hearts would have had somebody's head.....on a platter.

     Somewhere around 7 o'clock in the evening, the 7th pup was born, 3 females and 4 males.  Josie was exhausted, the pups were well and accounted for. Even the smallest, already dubbed Runtly, was doing fine.

     My human grandsons are going to have a hard time letting these puppies go to new homes.  Especially the oldest.  He will have walked through the door into teen-hood before the pups will be ready to leave.  He spends a lot of time, sitting along side of the box, IN the box, holding and talking to these seven little wonders.

     If you are unfamiliar with this particular breed of dog, let's just say they have a lot of boing and bounce.  I figure in about 4 to 5 weeks it will be like living under roof with a small herd of pygmy goats.  Maybe it won't be so hard to see them go.