But I've Got an Excuse

 Thought for the day: Everything is possible. The impossible just takes longer. [Dan Brown]

Hi-ya. Well, crap. What the hell happened to January? Didn't it just start? How could it be gone already?

Sorry about that. I've all but disappeared from the blogosphere over the past year, but I thought I could at least come up with something once a month. I mean, that isn't too much to ask, is it? 

Evi-damned-dently, it is. 

I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that we're all trapped in a rather bizarre time warp. Maybe you've noticed it, too? Each day drags by on leaden feet, possibly an indication that there's been a shift in the time-space continuum, causing each day to surpass what used to be its usual 24-hour allotment. Yet, paradoxically, the weeks and months slip through our fingers faster than a greased pig's leg on a hot summer day. 

Or perhaps not. Maybe it's just me. Okay, fine. Sounds like the title of an article in an old True Confessions magazine, but here is it: Trapped in a Time Warp. That's my excuse. You buying it?

Oh well, that's the only excuse I've got for letting January get away from me without posting some kind of update. No promises, but I'll try to do better. So how are you guys doing?

Me? I'm doing okay. Matter of fact, I've kinda been doing the... impossible. When I look back at the number of seemingly impossible things I've tackled in the past six months, it boggles my mind. There's still a loooong way to go, (I'm afraid my dear husband was a bit of a hoarder... pack rat... junk collector... archivist.... whatever you choose to call it) but I've gotta say, dismantling Mike's main amateur radio operating position last week... clearly a daunting I can't do that endeavor... was one of my biggest victories to date. His Emergency Communications Central Extravaganza was based at a massive computer desk, and every square inch of it was covered with multiple stacks of radios, power supplies and converters, amplifiers, antenna tuners, laptops, mikes, keys, and a host of other equipment, all interconnected with a baffling maze of cables and power lines. The rear of the desk held four (Count 'em... four!) power strips, and various cords snaked all over the place, all screwed or otherwise clamped in place. Stuff plugged in here and there, cables fed through holes drilled throughout the desk, and to make things interesting, there was also some nifty homebrew stuff that he built to fit his needs. (It helps to figure out what something is before attempting to take it apart, especially when dealing with high voltage.) Anyhow, suffice it to say, it was all very complex... but I did it! Then I had to get that big-assed desk out of the house. OY. Not just BIG, but also very HEAVY. Had to dismantle some shelves and remove a door, but by golly, I got that son of a gun out the door. I still have to finish removing 25 coaxial cables that were feeding his station. They're now cut off about six inches below the ceiling, and they have to be pulled out to the exterior of the house, so I can fill the hole. (A task that'll have to be repeated at several other spots around the house. yippee) But ya know what? I've got a plan, and I think I can implement it. No, I know I can. Who knew? I had no idea I was so... capable.

Whether you believe you can do a thing or not, you are right. [Henry Ford]

My friends and kids kinda think I'm a bad-ass, too. 

(shhhh) Feels kinda good.

I don't particularly like having to do so many things by myself, but it's reassuring to know that I can. There are things I'll definitely need help with, but they can wait. Sure, it'd be nice to get our five towers and bazillion antennas down now, but they can wait. I may sometimes forget I'm such an old broad, but I don't think I'm ready to climb to the top of any towers to dismantle antennas. Not impossible... just not smart. Best wait until the pandemic is under control and invite some young hams over to lend a hand. If they take 'em down, they can have 'em. Win-win, right?

So what else has been happening? My wonderful daughter Sunshine fell at work on December 17. It was a freak accident in which she not only dislocated her right ankle, but she also fractured it in three places.  Poor thing. She was whisked away in an ambulance, and after a considerable wait... alone, of course, because of the surge in Covid cases... an orthopedic surgeon finally addressed the dislocation. Then they put her in a temporary cast and... sent her home! She had to wait two whole weeks before getting surgery. Extensive surgery, too, because there were lots of bone fragments floating around in there... and now she has more metal holding her ankle together than I ever would've  believed possible. All in all, it's been a painful ordeal for her, but she's been a real trooper. I'd say she's a bona fide bad-ass, too. We've got our fingers crossed that she gets upgraded to a boot when she goes to the doc later this week.

I used to read a lot. I mean... a LOT. Now? Not so much. Took me a while, but I figured out howcum. I used to do most of my reading in the evenings while Mike watched TV. But now, for the first time in my life, I'm in charge of the remote control. HA! It's funny how much more interesting the tube can be when you're the one doing the choosing. Plus... I've got several streaming services now, too, so I've been indulging in some binge watching. How cool! In addition to binge-watching shows like This is Us and Outlander, my other new hobby is buying stuff from Amazon. All kinds of stuff. One of my latest acquisitions is a stud finder. What a great idea!  I haven't taken it out for a test run yet, but I have high hopes for it. Using a simple handheld gadget would be soooo much easier than having to sign up on some stupid online dating site... 

I used to write, too. Not any more. My PC died shortly after Mike did, and that's where my manuscript lies. I do have it stored on a backup hard drive, so all is not lost, but I haven't made any attempts at replacing the PC yet. For now, I'm relegated to this, my old laptop. It'll do for now. Good enough for checking email and making a brief foray into Facebook from time to time. 

Ugh... Facebook. A very brief foray is more than enough.There's way too much negativity for me on there these days. 

But working on this laptop is a little rough on my old eyes. (sigh) I wish they were as young as I am... 

You wouldn't believe how many hours I've been working on this post. Ridiculous. But I'm about done. It's been kinda nice sitting on my butt this long. It gave my back a bit of a break from the heavy-lifting I did yesterday, so it's all good. I can get back at it tomorrow. Gotta stay busy. Busy, busy. busy.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between. [Sylvia Plath]

I choose active...

Before I go,  I'm gonna share a video. This song has been running rampant through my mind all day...  care to join me?

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

If I Could Turn Back Time

 Thought for the day: If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude. [Maya Angelou]

I reckon we've all had to change our attitudes to survive this crazy Twilight Zone of a year. Fine, I can do that... I have done that. I'm sure you have, too.

But one thing I don't want to change is my darned clock. I mean, why in the name of all that's good and holy would anyone choose to nudge the clock back an hour this weekend? Who, I ask you, is delighted at the prospect of prolonging this year from Hades by adding an extra hour to it? Now, if the powers that be really want us to turn back time, I think they should make it worth our while. Why not crank it back ... oh, I dunno... maybe twenty years or so? Betcha that would garner near-unanimous support.

Could be worse, I suppose. 

At least we don't have to rearrange huge stones to change the time, eh?

                                      

                                                     A handy-dandy guide just for you...

Yeah, I know it's a pipe dream to think we could dig our heels in and forget about changing the clock. (Now if we could move it forward ... like past the election, past the pandemic, past the insanity...)

I trust that, like me, you've had enough of this stinking year. We've had our fill of the pandemic... the needless deaths... the racial divide... the protests and rioting... the toxic political atmosphere... the lies... the venomous hatred. It sucks. All of it. But wait! That's not all! Let's not forget the horrific wildfires, the hurricanes, and the floods. And how about them murder wasps? The brain-eating amoebae? And of course, for me, the worst thing, the most definitive thing, has been my husband's death. Some of you have lost loved ones this year, too. I say ENOUGH, already! We're full of this year. Fed up! Done with it. Then again, so many bad things have already happened this year,  what else could possibly go wrong?

WHOA!!! Scratch that! I take it back. If the zombie apocalypse is coming, I don't wanta know. This year has been for the birds. I tell ya, it's enough to make a saint swear.

Come to think of it, birds, too. Yep, I've got it on good authority that birds are fed up with this year, too. Specifically, ever since five African grey parrots were adopted (from five separate sources) by the Lincolnshire Wildlife Park in London, those angry little guys have been cursing a blue streak. To keep their fowl attitudes from spreading to the other parrots in the sanctuary, the ornery little potty mouths had to be moved away from the others. Quaranteed. So to speak. Hmmmm, I bet that didn't do much to improve their attitudes...

 On the plus side, this year... this pandemic... this unrest... can't last forever. Before we know it, it'll be winter. Then a new year... and hopefully, a better year. A more hopeful year. Less stress. More joy.

                               But FYI: best to be careful this winter. I mean, it's this kinda year...     

 Sure, this year has given us all a ton of challenges, but it hasn't been all bad.  There's been some good stuff, too. Like I found a really good company to fix our air conditioning when it went belly-up smack dab in the middle of our Georgian summer. I've also gotten pretty darned good at fixing toilets, if I must say so myself. Plus, all that hand-washing and disinfecting has made toilet-cleaning easier than ever. It seems the stuff has permeated my skin, so now the toilet gets cleaned every time I tinkle. Woo HOO!  Oooh, and our younger son got me set up on Netflix. Awesome! I loved it, and quickly developed a brand new binge-watching talent. Until it stopped working. (My TV isn't "smart," so he fed the stream through our DVD player... which decided to stop working. ) BUT... a new TV... a "smart" one... is supposed to be delivered today. I also got a cellphone. A first for me. Something I never ever wanted, but I got tired of my friends and family insisting I "had" to get one. So I did. A week ago. I hope they're all happy now. (Just because I have it doesn't mean I'm gonna use it.) Just kidding. A little. At first, I kept it nearby... in its box. Turned off. (sigh) Fine. It's still in its box, but at least, I turned the darned thing on. Baby steps, right?

Anyhow, chins up, people! (Otherwise, you'd be staring at your feet or your boobs all day. And that's just weird.)  Maybe if we were to rate 2020, we'd struggle to give it any stars at all, and we wouldn't recommend it to anyone, but this, too, shall pass. Honest. Sure, if 2020 were a drink, it'd be hemlock or maybe that yummy colonoscopy prep stuff.. If it were a movie, it'd be ... what? Baby Boss, maybe? Sausage Party? Which song...? Oh, I've got it. It'd have to be the dogs barking Jingle Bells. Come on... help. Which song and/or movie do you think suits the essence of 2020? Sock it to me. I've got nothing but time.

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

                                 

                                                              

                                                                                 

Down the Rabbit Hole

Thought for the day: Time's fun when you're having flies.  Kermit the Frog

TICK. TICK. TICK. TICK.           

Is it my imagination, or is that clock getting louder by the moment? And that second hand... it's moving faster, isn't it? Yes, yes, look at it! See? It's whirling like a fan! Feel the breeze?

I swear, I just sat down at my computer  a few minutes ago, and now that big fat lying clock dares to insinuate that three hours have flown past. I ask you, What nefarious plot is afoot?

Alas, and alack, it is I. I've done it to myself. (again)

I read an anonymous quote somewhere that said Writing is 2% talent, and 98% being able to resist the distraction of the Internet. Well, ain't that the truth?! At least, it is for me. (sigh) I sure didn't offer up a lick of resistance today. There are just too darned many rabbit holes calling my name.

But the thing is, I fully intended to whip out a quick blog post, (Well, as quick as I can, which ain't very...)  so I could work on my book, and now, in the snap of a finger, POOF! three hours... gone forever.

My mother used to warn me about "good intentions." She said they're the paving stones on

(Not that agreed with her, but I sure would love to hear her say it again, just one more time.)

Oh well. Since my brain is currently comprised of mush, rather than regale you with some deep philosophical post,  (HA! As if.) how about if I share some of the funny signs I've come across?

In the seventies and eighties, this sign used to be posted on the street right in front of our house. We all KNEW what it was supposed to mean, but our three kids still took a lot of ribbing over it.











Here are some other signs that cracked me up. Hope you get a kick out of them, too.

• On a septic tank:   We're #1 in the #2 business.  
• Over a gynecologist's office:   Dr. Jones, at your cervix.     
• At a proctologist's door:   To expedite your visit, please back in.
• On a plumber's truck:   We repair what your husband fixed.
• On another plumber's truck:   Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber.
• On an electrician's truck:  Let us remove your shorts.
• On a dry cleaner's window:   Grime doesn't pay.
• On a maternity room door:   Push. Push. Push.
• On a taxidermist's window:  We know our stuff.    
• On a music shop window:   Gone Chopin. Be Bach in a minuet.
• Outside a muffler shop:   No appointment necessary. We hear you coming.
• In front of a funeral parlor:   Drive carefully. We'll wait.
• At a propane filling station:   Tank heaven for little grills.  
• In a Norwegian cocktail lounge:  Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar.
• Hotel air condition instructions, Japan:  If you want condition of warm air in your room, please control yourself.  
• At a Hungarian zoo:  Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty.
• Men's restroom, Japan:  To stop leak, turn cock to the right.
• Car rental brochure, Tokyo:  When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage, then tootle him with vigour.
• At a restaurant, Nairobi: Customers who find our waitresses rude ought to see the manager.
• At a hotel, Acapulco:  The manager has personally passed all the water served here.
• Hotel room, Japan: Guests are requested not to smoke or do other disgusting behaviors in bed.
• Surgical facility, Rome: Specialist in women and other diseases.                                                                                                                                   

                                                          OK, enough for now. I'll

So, how about you? Do you sometimes let that crafty Internet (or something else) get between you and your writing? Or you and your housework, or yardwork, whatever? (MUCH more forgivable!) Is procrastination your middle name? Oh, do tell, and if you've learned how to discipline your time spent online, how'd you do it? What's your big secret?

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Making the Most of Our Time

Thought for the day:  If my doctor told me I had only six  minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.  [Isaac Asimov]

As you can probably tell by that nifty badge on the left, it's that time again.Time for our monthly IWSG posts. As always, thanks to our fearless leader, Alex Cavanaugh, for founding this fine group, and
 thanks to all the other nurturing guys and gals who've helped turn it into the thriving community it is today. To join this super supportive group of writers and to see links to other participating blogs, please go HERE

So what do you think of the thought for the day? Does that sentiment accurately reflect your thoughts about writing? Is writing your number one top priority, such that if you knew your time was coming to an end, that's how you'd chose to spend your last moments? Is that what's required to make us... real writers? If that's the case... I don't just feel like a fraud; I am one.

No matter what we do in life, I reckon we all have our insecurities. In fact, feeling like a fraud is so common, it even has its own title: Impostor Syndrome.

If this syndrome had a motto, it'd be I have no idea what I'm doing.

If it had a mascot, it'd be a chameleon. Fake, of course.

And I suspect most writers are afflicted with this dastardly syndrome. Know what'd happen if a group of writers were on the To Tell the Truth TV show, and the host said, Will the real writer please stand up? They'd look at each other, and they might even begin to stand once or twice, but in the end, all of their derrieres would remain glued to the chair.

You write? I write, too. But does that make us real writers? Let's forget about the six minutes left to live scenario, because that's a little ridiculous. Let's make it six months. Would you spend your last six months frantically trying to finish your novel?

I wouldn't.

I'm kinda like that duck in the picture. I like hanging around with all of you cool flamingos, but just because I can stand on one leg doesn't mean I'm one of you. I feel like the nerdy kid sitting at the cool kid table in the lunch room.

But that's okay. I don't mind being a nerd. And since I haven't been told I only have six minutes or six months left to live, I intend to keep plugging away at my book.

But it isn't my top priority, and I'm okay with that.

I'd actually made some decent progress on my current novel, which takes place in Montrose School for Girls ( a reform school in Maryland) in the late fifties. THEN I got an email from a gal who spent a couple years there during that time frame. I'd emailed HER first, but it'd been so long ago, I gave up on ever getting a reply. And then BOOM! Right before Christmas, she contacted me, and said I could call her after Christmas. Since then, we've spoken several times, and she said I could call any time. She's happy to provide me information about the school and the conditions there. I mean, WOW!

So, bottom line, I've gone back to the beginning of the book to make appropriate changes to reflect this new information she's provided me. It's a little discouraging to be essentially starting all over again. Makes it feel like I'll never get done.

And maybe I won't. Maybe the joke's on me, and I really do only have six months left.

But ya know what? That's okay, too. But however long I have, I've gotta keep doing the things that make life worthwhile. That includes writing and reading... but there's so much more...

[image courtesy of morguefile]

Which brings me to this month's question:

Besides writing, what other creative outlets do you have? 

You name it. Cooking's a biggie, (Good thing, too, because we like to eat.) Being creative with our meals and trying new things makes it less of a chore and more of an adventure. Art and music are important to me, too. I've tried and enjoyed all kinds of crafts, but I'll tell you a secret. For the past year or so, Smarticus and I have been shooting a lot of pool. A lot. That isn't exactly creative, but it sure is fun. And I must confess, if he asks me if I wanta shoot, I generally drop whatever else I'm doing and reach for my pool cue.

                               How about you? How do you enjoy spending your time?

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Time Ain't On My Side

Thought for the day:  I think our house is haunted. Every time I try to look into a mirror, some fat old lady gets in front of me so I can't even see my reflection. 

Time for this old gal to try something new. The Insecure Writer's Support Group has been around for quite a while now, but up until now, I've been content to sit back as an observer. Well no more! The clock may be running down, dadgum it, but it's time to get my sorry butt off the bench and into the game before the buzzer sounds to end the game.

The first Wednesday of every month, participants write a pertinent ISWG post, and this month, for the first time, I'm one of 'em.(You can find a list of other insecure writers who are participating this month by clicking on that participants link.) 

Now then, let's start by addressing the basic issue of insecurity. Am I insecure, and if so, why? A gal named Sheila Kaye-Smith said it best: I am old enough to see how little I have done in so much time, and how much I have to do in so little.

Yep, that's it in a nutshell. I'm an old broad. I'm not particularly upset about being this old, because it happens to everybody, and there's a lot of good things to say about this time of life. But considering I've been an avid reader and writer my entire life, the fact that I've only published one novel in all these years is a wee bit disheartening. Not that I'm not happy with Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade. I am. But for the most part, since it came out, I've been sitting back as an observer... just thinking about writing another book, and thinking about when I could find time to do it, instead of actually doing it.

No more! My butt is off the bench and back into that game, too. The thing is, I'm working on a trilogy. An ambitious undertaking at any age, but even greater for someone with nearly fifty years of marriage under her belt and a whopping crop of thirteen grandchildren. I mean, what if I don't live long enough to finish it?

I say... SO WHAT???

So far, I'm only about half-way through the first draft of book one. Maybe I'll live long enough to complete all three books; maybe I won't. But I am going to keep at it, because that's what writers do, right? We write. And for me, for now, the finally getting around to beginning another book is what matters most.

Thoreau said None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm. That I still have. In spades.

The question for this month is How do you find the time to write in your busy day?

Funny you should ask, because not finding time to write is the reason... no make that the excuse... I used for not getting started on this trilogy sooner. We all have twenty-four hours in a day, and how we use them is a good indicator of where our priorities lie. Trouble is, I wasn't prioritizing writing. At all. I've always been an early riser, but when I got up, I'd have a cup or two of tea, and read the newspaper. If my better half still hadn't shown his smiling face by the time I'd finished devouring the newspaper, I'd check emails. Once my hubby got up, it'd be time to cook breakfast and start the daily routine of chores. One thing would lead to another, and before I knew it, yet another day had passed without me writing a single word of my so-called Work-in-Progress. I made time to read, and time to write reviews, and time to edit for other writers, and to putz around in the blogosphere, but nothing... zip, zilch, zero... no time at all went into the book I supposedly wanted to write. I'd done tons of research in preparation, but when it came to the actual writing... I couldn't find the time.

Dumb, dumb, dumb!!!

Few things are as foolish as hoping old behaviors will somehow present new results. [Robin Sharma]

Clearly, if I wanted different results, I had to change my behavior.

Now? Those delicious early morning hours are spent with a cup or two of tea and my writing notebook. Every morning, I spend a peaceful hour or two with pen in hand, and it feels awesome!!! Now that I'm in the habit, and getting all wrapped up in my book, I'm even finding additional time here and there during the day, as well. Son of a gun! Time I didn't think I had was actually there all along. Bottom line? If you truly want to write, you will find the time.

                             Nice to meet you guys. It's fun to be part of a team again.

Now, for a quick tip of the hat to a gal who definitely knows how to find time to write. Not only has the lovely Julie Flanders written four terrific thrillers to scare the bejeezus out of us adults, (Polar Night, Polar Day, The Turnagain Arm, and The Ghosts of Aquinnah)  but she has now written something that's (ahem) the polar opposite. Tomorrow, her first children's picture book will be released. CONGRATULATIONS, Julie!

                                                                     Here's the scoop:

Baby Moo has a dream. He wants to travel the world and sing on the stage of the Sydney Opera House! While he loves his home at Sunrise Sanctuary, it hasn’t been the same since a piglet named Nathan showed up and stole all the attention away from Moo. Jealous of the new baby, Moo decides now is the time to make his escape and pursue his dream.

But the world outside the sanctuary gates is not quite the fun and exciting place Moo imagined, and he quickly finds himself in big trouble. Moo's friends Missy the dog and Ruthie the cat rush to help him, and land in some trouble of their own.

Lost and frightened, Moo and his friends must rely on each other to find their way back home. Will they ever see Sunrise again?

Release date: September 8, 2016 from Native Ink Press

Links:

https://julieflanders.blogspot.com/p/baby-moos-great-escape.html

Add on Goodreads

Julie will donate $1 to Sunrise Sanctuary, home to Baby Moo and numerous other rescued animals, for each copy sold in September.

                        Here's wishing all the best to Julie Flanders and sweet Baby Moo. 

              [To my regular readers, this will be my only post this week. Seeya next Friday!]
{Oh, crap-a-doodle-doo. Turns out, I may be away from the computer for several days, so it may take me longer than usual to respond to your comments. Sorry. I'll get to your blogs asap.}

                            Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Time Plods On Tiny Turtle Feet

Thought for the day:  You wanta fly, you gotta give up the shit that weighs you down. [Toni Morrison]

[seniorark]

Ms. Morrison makes a good point, but there's also another way. Sometimes, all it takes is a friend to get us up off the ground and safely to where we need to be.

You can thank the Atlanta newspaper for this re-post. A brief article on Monday reminded me of something that's happening right now in New York, something that fascinates me so much that I wrote a post about it five years ago. That's plenty of time for y'all to have completely forgotten about it by now, and I think it's a story worth retelling. It originally ran in July of 2011 as We Can Fly With a Little Help From Our Friends. With a wee bit of editing, here it is again.

*********************************

Thought for the day:  Man must  not allow the clock and the calendar to blind him to the fact that each moment of his life is a miracle and a mystery.   H.G. Welles

All's relative at a family reunion.

No, I'm not gonna go all Einstein-y on you, but the old dude was right. Time and speed are relative. Children have little grasp of time, and scant concern about it beyond the eon separating one Christmas from the next, or the interminable amount of time it takes to drive to Aunt Sally's or to their favorite vacation spot at the beach. On the other hand, as we get older, our days no longer seem to contain the full allotment of twenty-four hours, and the days, weeks, months, and years pass so quickly, there doesn't even seem to be much point in bothering to take our Christmas decorations down anymore. Like the joke says, life is like a roll of toilet paper: the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.

Speed's the same way. To a child pedaling his toy car down the driveway as fast as he can, he's flying like the wind. But if you put that same pedal car on the autobahn? Different story. And compared to a snail, a turtle moves pretty darned fast. But compared to a 747? Road kill.

Or at least,  it could be.

If  you've ever been disheartened by news stories about modern progress pushing yet another animal out of its natural habitat and to the brink of extinction, here's a story of a different breed. Right now, a piece of the modern world is hitting the pause button. Or you could say ...  it's slowing to a crawl.

You've heard of the annual running of the bulls? Well, every year diamondback terrapins leave the salt marshes of the Atlantic and Gulf coasts to take part in a slow motion stampede of their own. In this annual running of the turtles, these critters lumber to their nesting grounds, and every year, a herd of 'em crawls right through New York's JFK Airport during their trek to the Jamaica Bay Refuge Center to lay their eggs. In 2011, their journey intersected with JFK's Runway 4, and an estimated 150 turtles shut down the runway and delayed flights for approximately an hour. As one unnamed Jet Blue pilot allegedly said, "Running over turtles is not healthy for them, nor is it good for the tires." Right. I can't see as how being run over by a 747 would be particularly healthy for any of God's creatures. Life transforming, perhaps, but definitely not healthy. This year, some 400 turtles have been making their laborious way across the runways and taxiways.

As soon as the first turtles are spotted on the tarmac every year, the airport staff springs into action, and does what they do every year. They rush out to help. Some terrapins are hand-carried across the runway to safety, while others are scooped up and given a lift to their nesting grounds in the bed of a pick-up truck.




It just goes to show you. Even if we cover it up with concrete, steel, and asphalt, nature is still all around us. And it was here first. It's good to know the folks at JFK Airport understand that.

Another thing this turtle tale reminds us? Even though we may feel like a lone turtle plodding a solitary path on the scary runway of life at times, we're never truly alone. No matter what obstacles and hardships we may face, no matter what tragedy befalls us, there are support groups, both online and off, to lift us back up again. No matter what our destination, there are always other people willing to help us in our journey. All we have to do is let them. In the amateur radio community, the more experienced hams who provide guidance and assistance to other hams are called Elmers. In schools and workplaces, we have tutors and mentors. Same for most hobbies, and same for writing. Especially in the blogosphere. Not only is there a host of aspiring writers blogging about their travails and triumphs, but there are also agents, editors, publishers, and already-published authors offering a treasure trove of tips, advise, and support, and bless their hearts, the majority of them are more than willing to throw us in the back of their truck and help us across that scary tarmac. In a matter of speaking.


Know what? This old broad may still plod like a turtle, but with so many helpful friends in and out of the blogosphere, I feel like SUPER TURTLE!

You know, we can all be super turtles. With a little help from our friends.

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

As Years Go By

Thought for the day:  Time can be spent, but it can't be bought, so we've gotta spend it wisely. (It isn't always on our side...)

Last Saturday was our high school reunion, but Smarticus and I didn't spend all day driving to Maryland so we could attend. It wasn't our hundredth, but in human terms, it was a pretty big milestone. Fifty. (gulp) Fifty. (Maybe we'll attend our hundredth?)

To celebrate that rather auspicious half-century mark, I offer you the following poem about reunions. (Author unknown.)

Every five years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail.

I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.

It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.

The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.

The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.

No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.

The boy we'd decreed 'most apt to succeed'
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted 'least' now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.

They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least..
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.


They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.

At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot.

It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.

By the fiftieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
****

[Hmmmph! How can we be over the hill when we haven't even reached the top yet?]

So how did we spend our time in lieu of pretending a bunch of old farts and fartessas still look just like they did fifty years ago? We spent it with youngsters... four of our grandchildren. Rather than feeling old and (hmmmph) over the hill, we played and laughed and felt... young. Okay... young-ish. 

This summer, while our son and daughter-in-law are at work, their kiddos will be spending weekdays at karate camp, which is like a totally cool daycare, with karate lessons, and all kinds of other sports activities, field trips, and adventures. So while waiting for the family to get home, Smarticus and I visited the Civil War Naval Museum in Columbus. We'd been there before, but there was a new exhibit there that we hadn't seen: the Maple Leaf.

This paddle-wheeled steamer, which was built in Canada, (explains its name) and contracted by the U.S. Army during the Civil War, was sunk by a Confederate torpedo, and now rests at the bottom of the St. John's River, near Jacksonville, Florida. This shipwreck contains the largest collection of Civil War military and personal items in the country, and some of the recovered 130+ year-old items are currently on display at the museum in Columbus.

Plate and eating utensils.

Various recovered weapons and other items.

And of course, there was lots of other stuff to see at the museum, too...

Anybody know what this is?

It's the iron hull plate from the Civil War ironclad the Monitor. It was recovered in 1998, and weighs about 375 pounds. [This cool piece is currently on loan from the Mariners' Museum in Newport News, Virginia. Very nice of the Yankee aggressors to share, don't you think...?]

Okay, I don't want to screw up by making this post too long...

So I'm gonna drop anchor on talking about the museum, and move on to the kids.

Kymber looks surprised to have won her school's Student of the Year award, doesn't she?. 

L to R: Kymber, Devyn, Jaiden, and Aaron. Yeah, Aaron is the hambone. Also the one who's fascinated by weird facts, so you know I had fun telling and showing him about some of the disgusting things I know.

Now, thanks to their weird grandma, the kids know about lizards that squirt blood from their eyes, animals that break their own bones as a means of self-defense, beetles that squirt toxic liquid out of their butts,  a toxic bird called, appropriately enough, the patooie, and  they even saw pictures of dead cockroaches clad in tiny costumes. (Which used to be on display at a cockroach museum in Plano, Texas.)

Weird grandma? Maybe, but also a very happy one. No question about it. These kids conquered me and my heart a long time ago, and they still take it hostage every time we visit.


An hour with your grandchildren can make you feel young again. Anything longer than that, you start to age quickly. [Gene Perret]

But ya know what? It is totally worth it...  and one of my favorite ways to spend time.

How about you? Have you attended any of your class reunions? (We went to one... our thirtieth. There were a bunch of old people there...)

Do you, like me, ever look at other people your age and think they look much older than you do? If so, you'll appreciate this joke:

While sitting in my new dentist's waiting room, I noticed his diploma on the wall, and seeing his full name on it immediately brought to mind a tall, dark-haired, handsome boy with the same name, who'd been in my high school class nearly 50 years ago.

Could this dentist possibly be the boy I had a secret crush on in high school?

When I saw him, I quickly dismissed that possibility, because there was no way this gray-haired, balding man with the deeply wrinkled face could have been my classmate. He was way too old. Or was he?

After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he'd gone to Dundalk High School.

"Yes, I did!" he said with a smile.

"What year did you graduate?" I asked.

"In 1966," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"I was in your class!" I exclaimed.

He looked at me closely. Then, that ugly, wrinkled, old, fat, bald, gray, decrepit SOB had the audacity to ask, "What did you teach?"

****

Smarticus included the following in an email of funny stuff he sent me recently, and it puts some of the changes that have occurred in the past fifty years into perspective:

1966: Long hair
2016: Longing for hair

1966: KEG
2016: EKG

1966: Acid rock
2016: Acid reflux

1966: Moving to California because it's cool
2016: Moving to Arizona because it's warm

1966: Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2016: Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1966: Seeds and stems
2016: Roughage

1966: Hoping for a BMW
2016: Hoping for a BM

1966: Going to a new, hip joint
2016: Receiving a new hip joint

1966: Rolling Stones
2016: Kidney stones

1966: Screw the system
2016: Upgrade the system

1966: Disco
2016: Costco

1966: Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2016: Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1966: Passing the driver's test
2016: Passing the vision test

1966: Whatever
2016: Depends

                                          ( For the record, I still like the Rolling Stones...)

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

The Slacker Returns

Thought for the day:  Time's fun when you're having flies.  [Kermit the frog]

I've said it before, but I'll say it again: some kinda dastardly plot must be afoot that makes time go faster than it used to. Have you noticed? If not, I bet you will some day, because it's a phenomenon most recognizable to old farts and fartessas. I swear, the hands on the clock in my office spin around so fast some days, it does double duty as a fan. So I reckon it only stands to reason my month-long blogging break would zip by faster than a Corvette on nitrous, right? (And if you didn't notice my absence, um, no need to mention it... ya know, no need to hurt my tender widdle feelings.)

Let's see, so what have I been doing with myself, other than not blogging? Geez, I dunno. Let's see... Smarticus and I went to the movies one day and saw Furious 7. We really enjoyed it, too. Verrry entertaining, with lots of action. I caught up on some magazine reading, and read quite a few good books. Most noteworthy: Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. I highly recommend it, especially for those of  you who are history buffs. I wrote and edited four short stories, and have them just about ready for submission to a magazine. ( I wasn't a total slacker!) Also wrote about five thousand words for a novel, but the jury's still out as to whether I'll continue with it or not. And then there was a bunch of the usual stuff. You know, house and yard work. (I planted a wider variety of herbs than usual, including something called chocolate mint. Honest to goodness, it smells just like Thin Mint cookies!) Scraping and scrubbing pollen off of my poor little red car. What...? Not a usual something you ever have to do? I kid you not; the stuff was crusted in every nook and cranny. (And shhhhhh! Still IS... Every time I go out, I notice yet another place I missed.) We tried out a couple new restaurants. Fixed steamed crabs... three times! (For those of you who don't know, a meal of steamed crabs isn't just a meal; it's a delicious event.) Went to flea markets, and festivals and... (zippedy-doo-dah!)  museums!

Because, boyohboy, from April 25th until May 1 was Georgia's first ever Museum Week! A number of museums in the area offered buy one, get one free entrance fees... and some had no entrance fee at all! Talk about hog heaven for a museum slut like me. What...? Did I shock you? You didn't know? Cool. That gives me a good excuse reason to share an old post with you about just that. It'll help eeeease me back into blogging, and will also serve as a segue to next week's post, when I'll tell you about a couple of the museums we visited. I'm soooo lazy  considerate...

Oh, and it really  is good to be back. I missed you guys.

The following post originally ran in October, 2011, and was called (ahem) Museum Slut. (Go figure!)

*********************


Thought for the day: There are three kinds of men. The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence.  Will Rogers

                                                                             
                                                                             

courtesy of dribbleglass.com

Michael C. Carlos Museum

Well, perhaps the word slut is a bit harsh, but I'll admit to being a pushover for a good museum. Absolutely love 'em. All kinds. How about you? Are you a museum kinda person? Over the years, we've been to countless fine art museums, wax museums, Ripley's Believe it or Not museums, the Smithsonian, and museums for baseball, railroads, the U.S. Infantry, ordinance, aviation, the Civil War, P.O.W.s, the Civil War Navy, Jimmy Carter, Martin Luther King, Jr., medicine, electronics, radio and TV, and on and on. And we've been to most of them multiple times. Like I said, I love museums.

So,  natch, I was pretty excited to see an article in last week's newspaper about the opening of a brand new exhibit in town. And even more excited when my sweet hubby offered to take me there last Thursday.

The new exhibit is at the Carlos Museum, located on the Emory University campus in Atlanta. The picture doesn't do the place justice at all. Its architecture is exquisite, but what really makes the building outstanding is the unique coloration and quality of its stone. Looks like marble, and has delicate pink veins throughout. Just gorgeous.

Anyway, this museum holds the largest collection of ancient artifacts in the Southeast, and the new exhibit we went to see is designed around a mummy. Now, I've seen lots of mummies before, and have always found them to be fascinating, but what's unique about THIS mummy is his position. He isn't lying on his back, like we usually see. He isn't stretched out all stiff (no pun intended) and formal-like, either.

No, he's positioned on his side, half-curled up, in a sleeping position. With his head on a headrest. As though he were taking a nap.

This is what the head rest looks like.

                                                                               

This is what one of the rooms of mummies looks like.

And THIS is how our star is positioned.

Pretty cool huh?

Smarticus says I'd go to any kind of museum, and judging by some of the ones I've dragged him to, maybe he's right. But to tell ya the truth, I'm not sure about some of these:

National Mustard Museum. Yeah, mustard, as in that yellow stuff  you put on a hot dog. This museum is located in Middleton, Wisconsin. Don't believe me? Here 'tis:

 Maybe the founder graduated from Poupon U?

Mutter Museum. Located in Philadelphia, this museum contains weird, gruesome, and unusual medical specimens. (So sue me. I think I'd like this place ...)

Cockroach Hall of Fame.  Located in Plano, Texas, this place got started by an exterminating company as a publicity stunt to advertise its business, but their collection multiplied like ... well, like a bunch of dirty roaches, and it ended up being a permanent display. Now they boast such "attractions" as Libe-roachi, a flamboyantly dressed creepy crawly. (I wonder if he has his own piano?) Good thing this place has free admission. I don't believe you could pay me to go. (For fear of causing you nightmares, I'll skip showing you a picture of one of their gargantuan specimens.)

Museum of Salt and Pepper Shakers. The name says it all. Located in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.

Museum of Bad Art. No kidding! And there must be a LOT of bad art, too, because this museum actually has three different locations in the Boston, Massachusetts area. 

I mean, B-A-D art!

New Orleans Historic Voodoo Museum. Kinda self-explanatory. I'd probably have to drink a lot of Irish coffees before I'd be game to venture here.

Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum. If I'm ever in Farmington Hills, Michigan, I definitely want to visit this cool place. It looks like a boardwalk penny arcade gone wild. Busy, busy, busy. Lots of stuff to see, especially old coin-operated machinery and gadgets.  

So, what's the weirdest or neatest museum you've ever visited? And which ones listed here would you like to see? I might even enjoy that bad art one. (Might make me feel better about my own paintings ...)

                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

                                                        ***************************

There. This first post back wasn't too painful. I might not respond to your comments right away, because... (Weren't you paying attention?)... it's Museum Week! Today (Friday) is the last day of it, so we're out exposing ourselves to some more culture.

                                                     Y'all have a super weekend.