Our Town

I've been too busy to post the latest happenings. However, this is for others who were there with me through our High School Production of "Our Town" way back in 1962! I played Mrs. Gibbs. I wanted the part of the Stage Manager, who has the most lines and narrates all the happenings in this Thorton Wilder play. But oh no, when I approached Mrs. Klinke, our drama teacher she was horrified. "What could you be thinking, Patty? That part is a male role!" Well phooey, I tried and it didn't work. I was way ahead of the times in 1962. Being who I am, I just went on about my business and learned the lines for Mrs. Gibb. One of my favorites,"step outside and smell my heliotrope!"

Bobby Ormesher was my stage hubby, Dr. Gibbs. "Now Ma," he'd recite.I thought that was dumb!

I remember my tantrum. When I saw the ugly stage dress (costume) I'd wear I cringed. YUCK!! An ugly old black thing! No way! I protested to Mrs. Klinke vigorously that "I cannot wear that old rag." She did try to assuage me but nothing doing! Here was my line in the sand! It was my Diva moment! If I couldn't have something with some lace or at least pretty in some way, I'd not be in the play! You'd have had to know me; I could be dramatic. As much as I was the "good girl and top student" I had my moments! Patty's last stand was pretty close to the final dress rehearsal and Mrs Klinke already had a head of white hair. Well, "it is not my fault that you didn't show me that ugly thing before." I caused her a few wrinkles. As was my way I whined at home to my grandmother who moved in with us after my grandfather died. There was nothing my grandmother (Baba) wouldn't do for me--it was always so between her and me. Baba to the rescue; "Bring the dress home and I'll fix it for you." Somehow she prevailed with Mrs. K. to allow some "alterations for Patty." My mother looked the other way during this episode, that was her way. She likely frowned and muttered to herself, "Why does she have to be so stubborn! She's just spoiled." Baba inserted some lace pieces, black with some sparkles and sequins, still subdued for Mrs. Gibbs in Grover's Corners but the show went on. I did love my sparkles even then.

I've not thought much about that until Sunday when I went across the Mississippi to Viterbo University in La Crosse, WI. Their production of "Our Town" called to me. Having no one with whom I can attend with doesn't stop me. If I could go to plays alone in CA, I can handle that here in the Midwest. I'd take a Thursday afternoon off/escape the office and go to the Convention Center in Sacramento for a Broadway touring production. Didn't matter to me if anyone came along or not--once I'm in the theater it doesn't matter if there is someone I know next to me. Long ago I gave up dragging Jerry along to plays, theater, etc. It only ruins my good time because he does not enjoy himself. The biggest mistake I made in that venue and the one from which I really learned my lesson to "not ask and just go" happened many years ago in Sacramento. It was a fall weekend and T.S.Elliot's "Cats" was playing at the Convention Center in Sacramento. I figured we could have a nice dinner and then on to the theater. After all he does enjoy entertainers and "Cats" is a musical with great costumes, it might work. Wrong! The dinner was great as I recall, but the play was not "his cup of tea." Jerry doesn't even drink tea unless it appeals to him in Chinese restaurants and that is rare. I, on the other hand, am an avid tea drinker; daily hot green tea and all summer copious amounts of iced tea, my beverage of choice. How'd I get onto tea from the play? Oh, yes..."Cats." Well we were seated and I settled in, enthralled. Jerry settled in extremely bored and adopted his defense mechanism, primo. Near end of Act 1, during the Musical high light of the show, "Memories" that famous song, I glanced at him and there he was in complete relaxation mode, asleep! Head back, in la la land. Well at least he hadn't snored! Lights go on; Jerry awakens. "Oh for Heaven's sake," I say or something worse! To which he looks at me, like "what?" "How can you sleep through that?" Never mind, don't ask--it was easy for him. I consider the cost of the tickets and realize this is a waste of $. Lesson learned, "don't ask, just go." I've followed that lesson the rest of our years which will be 41 years of marriage on Monday. It works for us because he doesn't expect me to attend car races or even watch them on TV!

But back to "Our Town" and Viterbo, a private Catholic University with emphasis on nursing and the fine arts. Their auditorium is gorgeous, state of the art. Part of the appeal of "Our Town" is the simple staging, chairs, tables, nothing much. The actors pantomime the use of stoves, drinking coffee, etc. But today's technology allows them to put Google Earth on the stage which flashes to Grovers Corners NH, the town of "Our Town." Really cool visual effects.

Now,get this--onto the stage walks "the stage manager" to begin the play. And it is a young woman! Well now I'm taken back to 1962 and Patty's bright idea which was not considered at all bright! Proof that yet again, I was ahead of my time. Molly Pach does an excellent job as stage manager! I would have too! Mrs. Klinke you could have had a first!

To prepare myself for this I'd reread the entire play at home. Few of my lines, which I'd memorized so easily back then return to me. The years have buried or erased them. Actually, the line that rings my bell is spoken by Emily and I don't recall who played our Emily. I think she was a junior or sophomore though. I recall thinking that was unfair too since this was our senior year. But I kept that to myself or maybe to a few close friends who'd listen. One tantrum per episode must have been my self imposed limitation. Maybe no seniors were available. That line, which Mrs. Klinke demonstrated repeatedly to our Emily was "Oh, life you are too wonderful for anyone to realize you..." I do recall Mrs. Klinke becoming nearly ecstatic reciting it. To us kids of the 60's it was a snicker and a tee hee moment...now in my 60's I can appreciate how it struck Mrs.K.

There are some lines in the play that strike me today those about Polish town. I guess it made no impression on me in 1962 where my Polish heritage mattered not to me. And lines about the Methodists singing loudly. Today as a practicing Methodist but here in the Midwest where they are very quiet, I find that line humorous.

During intermission at Viterbo I browsed the lobby displays. Thorton Wilder was born in Madison WI in 1897. Our Town was first performed in May 1938. It was a musical in 1955 staring Paul Newman and Eva Marie St with Frank Sinatra playing the Stage Manager. One well known song, Love and Marriage. I'll have to check Netflix and see if it's on DVD. That would be fun to see. If we knew that in 1962 we probably were not interested.

A dramatic scene was the rainy funeral with the black umbrellas. Mrs. Gibbs is one of the dead and so I sat among them for my lines.

David Gardiner, Viterbo director wrote, "This was a different time. It was a time when wage-earners were paid less but required less, when there were swimming holes and 10 cent sodas, ....gathering at funerals in the tree-shaded graveyard behind the country church, when few locked their doors and many didn't even own a key; when deals were closed with a handshake, ...." He shares that Our Town is being resurrected around the country today. We'll glimpse of what we've gained and lost since 1901. "It measures the significance of a single human life against the life of the stars. It's a play about all of us and reminds us that the only antidote for life is death."

I don't know that we appreciated the message that deeply in 1962. Today we do, well many of us, those of us who have survived from Ken Hi 1962.

Today's campaign event at La Crosse, WI

We attended the McCain rally this morning in La Crosse, WI in VIP seating. The previous post on this blog explains how this happened. Photos appeared in the Saturday 10/11 La Crosse Tribune; I've posted two here. In the first look to the far right and midway up you can see me and to my left Jerry. In the other photo right of the blog, look drectly to the right of the little black boy and you see Jerry's head and I am blurred to the right. Today's (Saturday) newspaper had another full double page photo where we also show up but when I downloaded it the picture was fuzzy.

Even with those tickets, we waited in a line to get in and then were escorted to seats. Not bad took about 15 minutes. What was bad though is we arrived, parked and the lines were down the street and around the block. Oh no! But after we reached the end of the line around the block, a young college guy saw our tickets and said that there was a separate entrance for VIP's. This made Jerry feel very smug as he said we should have looked for a special entrance, but I marched us down the street thinking that I would be beyond furious to not get in! So we had a morning walk in by returning up the street and then entering for VIP's.

Other's who only had tickets may not have gotten in. I understand they gave out more tickets than capacity in the room. This was inside at the La Crosse Center. I estimate about 6,000 in a space for 5,000. Obama rally was outside and packed 15,000 in the streets. Another proof that Republicans are more competent at organization.

After we were seated, I and another lady needed the bathroom! What's new! We had to be escorted from our seats to the bathroom and then brought back.

Security was tighter than anything I've experienced flying or even in DC and MD federal bldgs. back in my "working" days. I wasn't thinking this AM so my underwire bra set off the buzzer and I had to be hand wanded!

There was very high energy in the crowd. And lots of young people--college students from the 3 universities in La Crosse. Joe Gow, the very popular young president of UW La Crosse was there. Surprised me, I thought all academics were Dems. Two young college girls sitting in front of us who were so tickled to be in VIP seats explained to us that "Joe" as the students call him, was not given VIP seats to Obama last week so he did not attend that rally. But the McCain camp did accommodate him. Well whatever it takes to get the votes is fine with me. There was a beaming boy scout troop up front right in front of the stage. Those were some proud boys. McCain walked to them and shook their hands as he entered.

John (Yosemite Sam) is not a very big man. About Jerry's size only. And Cindy is extremely thin! She spoke longer today than I've heard introducing him. McCain was in his element. This was not the venue where we could ask questions, we only got to see and hear him. Wish Sarah had been here as she was with him yesterday in Waukesha, WI.

Sharing the podium with John & Cindy, Dan Kapanke, WI state Senator, and Tommy Thompson (former HHS Secty. and former WI governor and now in La Crosse with Logistics Healthcare. Reminded me that I have a personal kudo's letter from Tommy from my days in CA working on healthcare when I was flying back to DC to represent CA at hearings, etc. Guess I should get that thing out and frame it--Tommy's popular here.

Tonight we are back at the La Crosse center to watch an NBA exhibition--Milwaukee Bucks and Dallas Mavericks. I guess this is our day at the La Crosse Center!

The following thought in from a friend. I thought it worth including here.

.........Now isn't this something to think about!

If Barack Obama would apply for a job with the FBI or with the Secret Service, he would be disqualified because of his past association with William Ayers, a known terrorist.

If he is elected President he would not qualify to be his own Body Guard.

Call center experience

Today I went to the La Crosse Republican headquarters to get tickets to see John McCain on Friday AM. And this morning, my old CA mind resurfaced. I knew that the headquarters opened at 9:00 and tickets were first come first serve, I thought I should get there and get in line, so I arrived about 8:15, magazines to keep me occupied during the wait. After driving around the block several times I found a parking space right down the block.

When I first drove by there were only about 6 people in line outside. Oh, good, for sure I'll get tickets. Then I mentally smacked myself awake, "dummy, you are not in CA and you did not have to get here this early!" Especially WI. Are there any republicans there? Well, yes, my cousin for one and I do know some others.

They cordially opened early, at 8:30. I waltzed in, filled out a form with our names, addresses and email and went to get my tickets. No problem. And it still was only about 8:35AM. A young man at the ticket desk asked me if I could do some phone calls for them. "Why would I?" Well if I called 100 people using their phone list I could get preferred seats at the McCain event.

This will be at 10:00AM Friday at the La Crosse Center in an area that seats only about 5,000. So I thought that might be a good thing to do. First I told them that I personally hate phone calls from campaigners, regardless of who they are, but I guess it's a technique we have to use. So I picked up a couple yard signs for friends who don't have them, got some coffee and sat around till 9:00AM when we could start to call.

Let me regress here with yesterday's horror story, which demonstrates that unleashed volunteers create confusion at a minimum and can be detrimental to an effort. I received an email from a well meaning local Republican, volunteer, Rosie. In it she said that social security numbers would be needed for identification to get tickets to the McCain event. What? I could neither believe nor accept that, so I called the headquarters. "No I've not heard of that," responded the woman on the phone. I explained that I would be more than offended at such a tactic and would not give out my social security number to anyone, even Republicans. (Maybe especially Republicans these days!) She assured me it was not true. I followed up with a rebuttal clarifying email to Rosie and others whom she'd ill advised and probably alarmed. Today waiting for 9:00 when we could begin the calls, I mentioned this episode to one of the staff volunteers. She laughed and then said, "We had several strange calls yesterday about that and could not figure it out. We thought that's how they do things in MN." Well, no that's not what MN does, I assured her. An example of what happens when people talk about that which they do not know. This is not the first time I've experienced this with Rosie. She's well meaning, but should not be unleashed. Let her stick to her one issue, which I will not discuss here because I do not share her views.

All the calls were to places in WI, towns that I have never heard of so no one would know me. There was an easy script to follow, tables with the phone banks, and an automated phone onto which responses, or not, were to be entered. That was easy--follow the phone screen and enter.

This was my first experience working a call center! Now I know I'm old. To me it was the pits, sitting right next to someone else who is chattering the same dialogue plus all the commotion of people walking in for tickets, talking, etc. And that was the most pleasant part.

Some volunteers were not able to work the automated phones or to follow a script and would look to me as their "assistant" interrupting me at my assigned task with their how to's, etc. I noticed that these were predominantly women "of a certain age" who were clearly out of their element with automation. One would not expect phoning to be so difficult.

The center had many young republicans (I assume college students) on patrol, techie types and all to help. But no the "adults" sitting near me had to ask me. Then one of the volunteers, brought over a puzzled woman who agreed to make calls, "Here sit with this lady, (Pointing to me) she is very experienced and she can show you how to do this." YEEaach! Now I'm tapped as an expert. I guess that 30 minutes on the phones and the appearance of being busy gives that impression. How hard is this anyway? Well, I guess it depends on one's life experiences. So I mentioned to one of the kids that "if I have to train as well as call, that's double duty so I'd better be given extra preferred seating." The response was the blank stare, behind which I could see their brain cells churning, "like, what's wrong with this woman?" Well, I'm cranky because when I "worked" I managed and things went my way. Here I am volunteering like a peon! And amidst the puzzled. Several times I "sshhed" people near me. I do not like to be talking to someone in one ear and hearing something else in the other. I prefer to just hear myself and the responses. Years ago while I was teaching public speaking to women, one asked me why I was so natural at speaking, wasn't I afraid, didn't I get butterflies. No, I really do not. I explained jokingly that I love the sound of my own voice, I guess. But here in the call center hearing others while trying to talk is multi tasking beyond my skill set or certainly my patience!

Well I thank God that I never had to work in a call center. It got on my nerves. Now maybe I'll not be so rabid when callers invade my home phone. Usually I hang right up with a, "not interested, thank you, bye." Now that I have sat in their seats maybe I'll listen a bit before I say "no."

This effort in political volunteerism cost me about 3 hours of time. To further entertain myself, I amassed the following informal data:

Of the 115 calls I made approximately 30 were "numbers no longer in service.." most of these to apartment type addresses. So here is an evident problem with phone banks--obsolete data.
At this time of the day approximately 50 did not answer, so I assume not at home, at work, one hopes. Many of these did not have answering machines. This really surprised me, I thought everyone had one.
Only about 10 declined to answer the five questions.
The first question was along the lines, "In this presidential election will you be voting for McCain/Pailin, Obama/Biden or are you undecided?" Of the responses I only had one man who said, "I would not vote for either SOB." Other wise, the responses were heavily for McCain. That is encouraging to me to hear from WI. This makes questionable the polls proclaiming Obamanation certainty.

Maybe there is still hope in this election. I thought McCain blew the debate last night. And I thought Brokaw did a lousy job. I enjoy Tom Brokaw's books "The Greatest Generation" and "Boom." That's his real talent and I wish he'd stick there.

And when we go to hear and see McCain on Friday morning I hope it's worth the time and effort!

Limericks, reading and rushing in

If you check in here you know, I love to write and I love words. Jerry would add that I love to talk too. In CA a group of us met once a month to discuss poetry. Even better than that we each memorized a poem on whatever subject, poet, etc. we'd select the previous month. I loved that Saturday meeting. And I have to say, these were some of my most liberal political friends, but we could come together politics aside for poetry. By the way we all loved to read too. Am I on to something here?

At our local Curves, this month we host our annual book sale, the best deal around. We bring in books and sell them to each other for 50 cents for paperbacks and $1 for hardbacks and tapes/videos. Believe me this is a steal on some very expensive books. We have not raised our price in years. All the funds raised are donated to our local library. By working on this I have become the Curves librarian, daily arranging the books by subject, authors together, etc. Today Teresa, Curves owner,who is a free spirit and a sports player, but not very educated asked me how I knew so much about authors, books, etc. I really was taken aback because I do not believe I am any kind of scholar. But I did tell her, I have always been a reader. Give me a book and I'm entertained. This started in childhood with trips to the library. Now I own a great library in my house and must pass along books or would be driven out of house and home. I am thankful that I have the habit of reading and feel a degree of sympathy for those who do not and who miss out on worlds and learning and entertainment.

I have just had an experience that proves once again that sometime things take some time to jell. Yesterday a friend sent me an email about Limericks, as you can read below. Oh how I loved these things in school....So he challenged those of us who received it to come up with our own. Ahhhh it has be a while since I've done this, but I bit right into it. Then this morning, I had a revelation of improvement that came to me very clearly when I was making up our bed.

I have found in my life that when I am puzzled about something if I let it be, a solution comes when I quit dwelling on it. It took me oh so many years to learn this lesson. I've always been spontaneous, impulsive, rush in and do it now, go in with guns blazing, ready aim fire..... It's still difficult for me to let it jell or to stop and cool down and pray about it. Of course there are times when we cannot dwell or ruminate before we take action. However, here in retirement land, fewer things need immediate action.

So today, I offer my improved limerick and you can read below to see how all this got started....

There was a retired state worker
Who left behind the offices and worser,
But the PC, email and 'net called her
Before the screen for hours she sat
Till her fingers went flat
And her eyes went a-blur from the cursor.

My first attempt
I used to be able to do this right of the top of my head, but here goes

There was a retired state worker
Who left behind the office and worser,
But the PC, email and 'net called her,
In front of the screen there she sat
Till her fingers went flat
Typing back limericks and even worse versers!

(I take license making up words...if the rhyme fits, that's all that counts.)
Here is the original invite from my friend......
Subject: Limericks?
I was thinking about "limericks", at least, that's what I think they were called and an old one came to mind. I don't remember who the author was. Perhaps, I never knew. But here it is:

There was a young lady from Niger,
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger.
They returned from the ride
With the lady inside,
And the smile on the face of the tiger.

Then I thought, "Why not make one up yourself?" So I did, and here it is:

A drunk staggered out of a bar
And started for home in his car.
He thought he could pass
And gave it the gas,
But he misjudged the distance by far!

Home Again to a High School Reunion

Today's Sunday Parade Magazine (in the papers) featured James Grady's article,"You Can Go Home Again." He wrote about high school reunions and how it is different as the years go on. It struck me as I am looking toward a 50th in 2012 (how did we get this old?) in PA.

He wrote, "Reunions change reality..The 10 year reunion is about impressing your former peers...showing them you made it...By the 20th ..you get to just be yourself." At his 40th, "we hugged. The hugs meant we were still here." That's wisdom, to appreciate being here and to know what matters.

So I suppose we will really be ourselves at a 50th; after all who else would we be? By this stage of our age we surely know who we are. And if we are not comfortable in our own skin by now, look out!

I can remember some things about our 10th reunion that made me wonder where those jerks came from; especially one bozo who hit on me because he knew my husband was back in CA & here I was back home alone. As if I'd be grateful in his interest or him! Today I can't even remember his name, just the incident. I expect this time we will really enjoy each other.

This is the good thing about being comfortable in your skin, no need to impress. It's why I can ride my bike a couple miles to Curves in the morning, work out, and stop at the grocery store on my way home. All without a lick of makeup or hairdo. Actually it's more of a hair don't as I get out of bed, muddle a bit and take off.

I can remember that there was a time I'd never have done this. After aerobic classes I'd spiff up and always be sure there was a gloss over my lips. In CA I never ventured into town after gardening without mascara and lipstick; now I really don't care. In fact I like my au naturel look. So easy. I do the same while traveling in the motor home. I quit off all make up on our drives; Jerry's seen me in the natural for over 41 years, so if it doesn't bother him or me no one else matters. And if we stop somewhere, well, so?

Once in awhile though on the drives I think, "well I'd like better what I see in the mirror with a bit of mascara and gloss." So I do it for myself. I have saved gobs of $$ on foundations and blushes, eye shadows, all those frou frous that once upon a time I was fond of. Oh I still will make up but less. It's a blessing of aging--comfort in one's skin.

Recycling and PA

One of my friends sent me an email recently with tidbits and sayings unique to where I grew up, Pennsylvania. Perhaps I should correct that to PA was where I was born and raised because I really believe (as Jerry avows) that I did most of my growing up in CA through trials and turmoils from the age of 19. My life is proof that there really is a God and he intends good for us. Sometimes Jerry will say that I am still not grown up. Well last night I heard a 112 year old man on TV who made good time with his walker say that to live long one must keep using the mind and body. So if I do those things that cause some mind or body stress to myself or others, maybe that's my way to keep young.

We celebrated the 60th Applefest here in La Crescent Thursday through Sunday. It was a busy time and a hold over from the days when this really was the apple capital of MN. Now most of the orchards are gone to housing developments as the farmers became aware there was more money in selling out and off than working the orchards. All the small town activities and then some are available, craft show, flea market, antique car display, big small parade, kiddie events, crowning Miss La Crescent, etc. Right down our street at the "Hockey Rink--Community Center" is where the carnival and all musical activities (loud bands) convene. Our house is so solid with thick walls that we seldom hear anything outside even the near by high school football games don't phase us inside, but during Apple Fest the dark air and clear weather seem to carry the sound right into the house. The reverberating beats of some bands is more pleasant than others..We employed the philosophy, "If you can't beat 'em join 'em" this weekend by walking down the street through the carnival and to the beer tent and food vendors.

I noticed they were pouring a William Penn beer and so being from PA, I was curious. I mean we PA'ers know William Penn, our state Quaker founder of Penn's Woods. But I did not expect to find a mention of him here in MN, nor across the river in WI. Sure enough there was the face of William, but the beer is brewed across the river in La Crosse, WI. Don't ask me why they chose that name. Is it because the La Crosse Brewery bought out the PA brewery or was it the other way around? Anyway, I am more adventuresome than Jerry at trying out different beers--he's a beer purist and prefers his Bud or Busch. Wm. Penn is a bitter tasting darker more toward the ale flavor. I liked it and enjoyed several over the weekend, especially with the cheese curds. Cheese curds are a WI phenomena. At least no where else in the country have I had these. When fresh, the best, they squeak in your mouth on your teeth when you eat them. Then being WI, land of the hearty they take a good fattening product and make it more so. I know what you're thinking, but don't even try to substitute mozzarella sticks for fried cheese curds. Fried curds hand dipped in a batter and deep fried, so that you get a good crunch to melting cheese when you eat them. Well you get a ton of fat calories and a significant increase in cholesterol too, but somethings have to be sacrificed for enjoyment. I figured that I'd walked off enough calories the full weekend.

Saturday night we both worked at our Legion's steak fry. I'm an officer in the auxiliary thanks to a friend who keeps dragging me into things. Since we were in town this time, I was obligated to help. And if I'm going to and Jerry is standing near at the time of the volunteerism, he gets conscripted too. Conscripted, isn't that a colonial term? There's that PA heritage again. Back to the steak event where we served about 300 people between 5:00and 8:00PM. We were waiters/waitresses/bus persons, etc. That was a long time on the feet and busy. I always think that all my working out has me in great shape until I'm tasked like that, then I'm worn out for a couple days and wonder how come?

Last week, I also accomplished a bucket goal (From the movie, "The Bucket List") to walk across the Mississippi River on the Bridge between La Crosse and La Crescent. We are enjoying the best weather--80 degree days and crisp mornings. On Wednesday a friend visited and we hiked down our back hill and around the road to a new restaurant where we enjoyed coffee and scones. I invited her to come along on my walk over the bridge. She declined and Jerry was not at all receptive. So off I went--it's over a mile there and another mile+ across the river and then back. Quite the walk for a day. See photo for just a glimpse of the beauty of the area--you'd want to walk too!

Somehow with these activities I've aggravated a muscle or something in my shin and foot. It doesn't hurt much except at night, though when it aches like the dickens. It's improving and has meant my taking it easy and giving up my bike riding and work out for a couple days. Proof again that my mind is younger than my body. And I recall doing something like this once or twice before. One should learn to not recycle old hurts, or reinjure.

I think of PA a lot more than I ever did. Partially because we live closer now and partly because of my refound friends. I almost wrote recycled friends but how can you do that? I suppose that could become the new rage--recycled friends, just like everything else that is recycled today.

Recently I noticed that AVON is selling the old plastic big hair rollers. Talk about something to not recycle--big hair and rollers. I really prefer my wash and blow dry do to setting my hair around plastic rollers to get volume. But there before my eyes is the proof--and it's touted as a new beauty secret. Sheesh! A couple years ago I was taking a class at UW La Crosse about literature. As an assignment we had to write a short story about something. I wrote "Hairscapades" about my life with my hair, big, blond, long, short, wigs, teased, permed, etc. You name it this head's had it. It wasn't too long ago while I was still in CA career land that I'd occasionally give my self a pouf in the mornings by using some of those plastic netty type rollers in my hair while I was in the shower. But now to even think of the hard plastic rollers and long hair, hmph, hey, faah-ged 'bout it(forget about is the translation for non- PA'ers.)

A few weeks ago a young man at our church asked me where I was from to which I looked at him with a "what do you mean?" He explained, "well I can tell you aren't from here by the way you talk." Of course, I'm not a MN sounding, "sure, yah, you betcha, uff'da." It's hard for me to answer that question and I generally respond that I'm from CA because I spent more time there than PA. Sometimes I feel I should give my background, so I reply explaining my 40+ years in CA and 19 in PA give me a unique sound. I think I have no PA accent at all when I hear folks from there. But sometimes it comes out. When I was singing in a quartet in CA my voice coach spotted it right away. She worked to get it out of my musicality. Sometimes after I've been to PA I readopt some expressions, like, "you guys. " In PA, 'You guys' is a perfectly acceptable reference to a group of men and women.

One PA colloquialism unique to the Pittsburgh area is "younse." If I hear that anywhere in the world, I know I've encountered a Pittsburgher. Or should I say, Picksburgher, as the locals. Once in an airport in Dallas, I heard a man say it and asked "You're from Pittsburgh?" To which he replied "How'd djah know?"

Another phenomena that I do, is refer to Pennsylvania as 'PA'(pronounced Pee-ay) and that makes heads cock. How many other states do that? None that I've visted. Other PA facts:You know that Blue Ball, Intercourse, Paradise , Climax, Bird-in-Hand, Beaver, Moon, Virginville, Mars, and Slippery Rock are PA towns. (and the first three were consecutive stops on the Reading RailRoad). A few years ago back in PA to tend to my aunt while she had surgery I took her for a longer than planned ride. We went to a festival at Sharpsburg and on the return trip ended up in Mars. We had a good laugh about that. But look at those names again, those coal miners had active sex lives! And finally, you must be a Pennsylvanina if you know and recognize a township, borough and commonwealth....

All these terms are now recycled to me--things I once said and did and knew about and now have returned with more frequency. Our local newspaper tthe LaCrosse Tribune is running a weekly history feature for the schools about the Presidents. I discover that my PA learning has endured because I really can fill in the blanks and match the correct President with the correct little known facts. I attribute this recycled knowledge to what was taught in the PA schools.

Lipstick and pigs in the mud

I don't know about you but these days I've thought about lipstick more than I have the last many months. Beginning with Sarah's "lipstick" and yesterday Ob(s)ama's pigs, lipstick seems to be making a comeback. For quite some time all I've worn is lip gloss or lip balm. Lipstick wears off easily and smudges the cup or glass I'm using. I can never keep it on and might start out with some color which is all gone soon. I can keep some balm or gloss in my pocket and smooth it on in a second. Besides I prefer a glossy shine that plumps up my lips.

When I first heard Osama's remark I didn't get that it might be a veiled insult. It took me about 15 minutes. That's fairly quick for me. I'm slow that way. There's an advantage to not "getting" certain distasteful or off color jokes and stories. I can look at the teller with the quizzical, "huh." Others around might be uncomfortable or might even laugh but often when it is just downright something I'd rather not hear my natural proclivity to not understand serves me well. Jerry attributes it to my being blond and Polish.

During my career days, I had a framed cartoon hanging in my office. It featured a big sloppy pig angrily rising out of the mud. The caption, "Never try to teach a pig to sing, it wastes your time and it annoys the pig." So watch out Osama-bama, you have annoyed the pig in the mud. The polls show it.

No one mentions that the polls currently showing that 76% of blacks will vote for Obama might reflect black pride or reverse racism. We dare not insinuate that blacks would only vote for him because he's one of them. Yeah I know whites and others are also on his bandwagon. It has perplexed me since he started to campaign why he has never presented himself biracial, but ran with the black. That's his choice. But when women gather round Sarah suddenly we are wrong; we are just going with a "woman" because we are one. That's reverse sexism! And another thing, we can't even use the expression "pot calling the kettle black" for fear of that being considered racist. What a tangled web we've woven with political correctness.

Now I'm not for Sarah just because she is a woman. I felt stuck with McCain who was not my candidate, but the alternative did not appeal to me. I was initially disappointed when I heard Sarah's selection for vice president. But you know what, the more I see her and the more I learn the more I like her. Why not? Nope I don't agree with her stands on everything. I am not a single issue voter; I believe in choice but I find that I have to vote my fiscal conservative views first. And how about Sarah choosing to have her Down's syndrome baby. Now that is choice. Why are some of us offended, if we believe in a woman's right to choose, she did just that. Here we have in Sarah the ultimate working mom.

I am currently reading John McCain's book, "Hard Call." It is about the art of great decision making and uses stories of individuals through out history to demonstrate the eight criteria John considers essential to making great decisions. This is the kind of book I relish, history with reflections for today. So far I have read about Alexander Graham Bell, Jackie Robinson and Branch Rickey, Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev, Marshall Fields, Werner von Braun, and others. Two qualities John considers essential in decisions are risk taking and timing. I think he has followed his own criteria choosing Sarah.

When Hillary was running I considered her. But her Bill baggage and her views just didn't wash with mine in many ways. Yet my friends have heard me say "I sure would love to vote for a woman for President before I croak."

So now along comes refreshing lipstick toting Sarah who carries the reform torch. Friends in Alaska are crazy about her. Her approval rating exceeds any other governor. Well she has something going for her. And maybe we do too now. I'm about as happy as that pig rolling in the mud watching the liberal "news" media be offended because they did not have advance notice; I heard Sally Quinn say, "we should have known about this months ago." Why? Translate that to they couldn't be ready to smear. The element of surprise at its best.

So let's keep our lipstick fresh, add the gloss and keep a big smile for Sarah. As for the other side, watch out for the angry rising pigs. As for Osama, Sarah is a far better shot than Dick Cheney and she can dress down the kill besides.

Apple pie season in MN

Simple Simon met a pie man going to the fair.....Just two days back on Thursday and Friday my friend Rachel and I made and baked 67 apple pies for our church to sell on Saturday at the city wide rummage sale. This was a repeat of our prior year feat when a farmer donated hundreds of pounds of dropped apples from the floods and some church hands gleaned them. We couldn't ignore that gift, somehow Rachel and I were conscripted to open a Methodist bakery. Maybe it's cause we are both retired and known as good cooks. Maybe it's that we are too willing to go along and help. But this is the last time...we are now officially out of business and I have recorded this on the web so that next year I can look back and vividly recall. Rachel and I are either slow learners or we are living proof of the adage that time heals all wounds including tired feet and legs and hands.

September and late August begin apple harvest here in this corner of MN which used to be the apple capital of the state. Now most of those orchards are gone to housing development. But the tradition of baking apple pies, apple squares and apple cakes continues. I don't know what's my excuse because I am not from here. Shades of the past and Apple Hill from CA. Or is it the recollection of the PA stories of Johnny Appleseed. Something about the first crisp coolness to the air and the memories of aroma of apple pies brings out our rolling pins.


We announced our retirement to all including her hubby, Glen, who helped us by peeling apples and who thought we could do this again this year. He recalled it being "fun" last year. I'm in charge of procurement which means making a Sam's run for 50 # sugar, 50 # flour, 12 # Crisco, 3 # butter and a large container of cinnamon and allspice. Then the local Woodman's for the pie tins. Glen purchased 70 # of apples, 40 # more than I wanted. But he considers this an outing of sociability and fun! That's because he sits on a stool and uses the apple peeling machine while I wash, cut and core apples, mix them with the sugar, cinnamon, allspice and flour and Rachel makes and rolls the crusts and slips the pies in and out of the oven. The day wraps with our massive clean up of the church kitchen and utensils. Glen says we are the three musketeers--I think we are the three stooges!

After standing on our feet for two long days in a row, 8:00AM till 5:30 PM I believe I've toughened up from last year. Thursday evening I was able to go to my monthly women's Bunko game and didn't feel too worn out. Oh those few glasses of Pinot wine hit the spot and rejuvenated me to shake those dice. I sure could have slept in longer Friday morning but there was not time to slip back and count apples jumping over the fences. By Friday evening I knew we had done something as did Rachel's feet and my arthritic right hand. So we advised Glen to sell the remaining bags of apples at the sale the next day and we closed up at 5:30 Friday. Slave labor ends.

All this to benefit our Missions committee with funds to distribute to needy deserving causes. I'm not even on that committee but I do this so Rachel won't be the lone ranger pie maker. Last year we had a little help both days but this year one gal's husband is facing hip replacement surgery and had presurgery appointments with him. Others did not answer their phones. Likely they remember last year's shifts and played "nobody home" when they saw my number on caller id. Our pastor's wife helped out for a few hours on Thursday taking pity on us and using this as a chance to get to know us.

Oh we make it pleasant and have several laughs. At the end of the day, we look like sugar and spice and not so nice. I thought I was the solitary sloppy cook--I am just like my grandma who wore whatever she cooked. Rachel does just the same; hoisting one 25 # sack of flour she overshot her bowl and somehow nearly dipped her nose in the sack. As it was she had flour on her glasses, through her hair. Well it didn't show up as she has white hair.

The pies were better this year and sold for $10 to $8. Last year one elderly lady who volunteered to help was stingy with the apples. She made Frisbees or pancakes, not pies. So Rachel tried to adjust some the next day by adding apples and remaking. We gave up and those pies nearly ruined our reputation. This year we knew we could regain it, but we did not solicit help widely lest she show up again. With volunteers you have to take what comes.

Friday while baking the aroma enticed sale of five pies from a small group meeting at our church. Saturday the men have a brat cook where the town comes out to feed amidst garage sale mania. Jerry & I went up to eat lunch. They also sold slices of pies this year. Finding no rummage of interest or vital calling, I even bought one of my own pies to bring home....well you wouldn't think I'd want to make another pie after home after this two day event. And there was Jerry drooling because unlike last year I'd not brought any samples home. We ate them ourselves to be sure we were not making inferior merchandise. Our pastor joined us for lunch Thursday and ate pie too. Friday he returned at lunch and sat smiling. But Friday there was no "free pie." The lure of the aroma did him in so he opened his wallet to buy a pie against his wife's advice that he did not need to eat pie every day. Makes you wonder if Eve really was tempted with just an apple hanging on the tree or if that slithery serpent baked an apple pie and the aroma was just irresistible.

It will take a couple days yet for my hand to be right again, and then I'll be making our own pies. I'd already made one apple pie and one pan of French apple squares a couple weeks ago. But for a couple days here in recovery mode, I'd just as soon not see an apple or the rolling pin.

Margie Sway

I wonder how we adapt traits that make us become like those who are not DNA relations? And just what traits are genetic? For a long time I've wondered about what's genetic and what's environmental? I also wonder about how much environmental is needed to be influential?

Aunt Marge in 1941,  before marriage

Today I thought about my Aunt Marge; she was my aunt because she married Uncle Carl, Mom's brother. Aunt Marge died in 1997 and Uncle Carl is still going strong living on his own in Lower Burrel, PA at the age of 89. I sure wish he would consider hiring help in mowing his lawn, etc. but that's another story of the stubborn Ostrowski Polish lineage. Well that was another thing, Aunt Marge was a "Slovak" and the Polish let her know that too. The comment, "what can you expect from a Slovak?" was said in a teasing manner but seriously too.

Aunt Marge was a beautician. She had her shop in their home for as long as I remember. She put hair up in pin curls for many older ladies many years after it went out of fashion to do so. She also liked to travel while Uncle Carl confined his travels to annual reunions with his WWII Army buddies and many fishing and hunting trips with the guys. He said he'd seen enough of Europe during the war to last him for several lifetimes. So Aunt Marge traveled with others or took tours on her own to Europe and all over. Aunt Marge had a favorite saying, "Carl if you can't speak and say something nice to me just don't say anything at all." And with that she'd vacate the room or area, off smiling about her way. They never had any children.

I thought of Aunt Marge when I put on an old sweatshirt jacket today that I've had for years. It's way too big but comfortable. I admired the floral and faded sage green pattern and the corduroy collar when I picked it up at some garage sale in CA for probably $1 years ago. I wore it to aerobic classes in CA because it reached to my knees and gave cover over the leotard and tights till I got into class. I've not lived in CA for 3 years and I must have given up aerobics at least 10 years prior to that. I toss this history of this sweatshirt jacket in so you get the drift of my parsimonious side. Some things I just keep. Well last year I looked at it hanging in the closet abandoned for years, and being in one of my sewing moods said, "I'll shorten it and then I can wear it with jeans and it won't look so bad." Never mind that the shoulders hang 3 inches below my shoulders and the cuffs fall far below my hands, I push those up. It's comfortable. So I did indeed cut it down to jacket size length. Aunt Marge would have been proud.

She was short and often her clothes were too long. In my family Aunt Jinx, Mom's & Carl's sister, is a top notch seamstress who for a time, when she was laid off from Pittsburgh Plate Glass worked as a seamstress at a blouse factory. By the way she too is still hanging in there at age 86 and lives in her own home, a widow in Natrona Hts., PA.

Well Aunt Marge used to cut down her skirts and even her shirts, making them shorter to fit her. All this she would do spontaneously as one day she'd put the clothing on and it suddenly occurred to her that it was too long. But while Aunt Marge might have been great with hair, sewing was not her forte. She could neither cut nor stitch a straight line. But it didn't bother her much, she was always proud of her alterations. It came to be known as the Margie sway!

Jinx would take one look at Marge's product and say, "Marge take that off and give it to me to take home and fix." Aunt Marge would be astonished,"Fix it? I just did. See how good it fits." It was a routine for I Love Lucy. Usually these discussions ended by Jinx taking the altered article home with her to sew it straight and fix it right. Jinx too has the stubborn Ostroski lineage which I really must write about someday on this blog. Though they were friends, the Pollack always won over the Slovak.

A couple years ago visiting in PA I put on a pair of slacks that were too long which I'd shortened. Jinx was horrified. She immediately said, "Patty take those off and let me hem them." I laughed and said, "Oh I already did..see they fit." Jinx nearly became apoplectic and continued--"I don't know how you can be like Aunt Marge wearing something that crooked......" And she would straighten my hems.

So today after heading outside with my jacket I caught my reflection in the car window. Wow! This jacket hem is not straight at all! I had to laugh out loud--Aunt Marge's spirit attacks again. Here in retirement in MN , I sew a lot more and know way better. I can sew and cut straight lines too! But here's my jacket with a Margie sway to it. And I've worn it for over a year this way--well it's just for kicking around. Maybe this will start a new cut to clothing in the fashion line--I just might have a new design. And I would call it the "Margie sway", see the directions now, --cut two lengths to the Margie sway, hem with 2 to 3 inches of the Margie sway!

So while there was no genetic link to Aunt Marge and I did not spend lots of time with her, how did I pick up this trait? Or is it that as a people we are all really a lot more alike than we can imagine?

Election Preparation

Got this in from a friend today---

The presidential election is just a few months away. And we've been hearing a lot of talk from both sides.

Unfortunately, it isn't always easy to judge a candidate's stance on issues. Statements can be taken out of context. Or, a candidate may not respond to questions. And if you listen to mainstream media only you have the most tainted view.

But GlassBooth.org can help you make sense of the candidates. It's a nonprofit, nonpartisan organization. You can begin by exploring the candidates. You can get information on where a candidate stands on specific issues. The site even cites the sources of its information.

Or, you can take a different approach. Take a quiz on your positions. Select the issues that matter to you. Then answer questions on the issues. You'll be matched with a candidate.

I know what some of you are thinking. Your mind is already made up about the candidate you'll support. But it doesn't hurt to make sure you're voting for the right guy!

Go to: http://www.GlassBooth.org

Jelly birds and frolicking foxes

Ah it's back to the two of us, nature shows and the Olympics. Is there anything better than watching the best athletes in the world? Takes my breath away. And the opening ceremonies. Each time I think they will never beat this and each time I'm proven wrong. But the Chinese have now set the mark so high, that I feel sorry for the next country--is it Britain? Who will ever top this? The only complaint I have is we have to stay up way too late to watch and when my eyes want to close at 10--10:30PM they are used to closing. Staying up till later hours doesn't do my psyche or body any good. Hooray Mike Phelps and Dora Torres--you go old gal! Well one more week. Even with the supposed 16 year old Chinese gymnasts it is a show. Inspiration to be the best--to win! The payoff for training and practice. Go for the gold nd silver is not that bad either! Just getting there is an accomplishment of a lifetime.

We go through a 32oz. jar of Welch's grape jelly every week to feed the Baltimore orioles which flock off our deck to eat their jelly of choice. They prefer the Welch's and that's what we provide. It seems this year there have been more babies; we've gone through more jelly, and they are hanging around longer. Last years they were all gone by August, I'm sure. But they provide entertainment right out our kitchen sink window or the sun room. I have noticed that when the jelly feeder gets low, the birds fight. Is this a lesson for humans--with scarcity comes trouble? When the jelly is plentiful they seem to get along better each one taking a spot at the feeder. Precious to watch when the parents bring the babies to the feeders and drop jelly into their open mouths. Nature lessons -- the adults don"t do this but a couple times then it's up to the youngens to figure it out.

Our back yard has become fox haven. I don't believe I ever really saw a fox until we moved to MN. This is my third year feeding foxes in the back--I'm the Fox Lady to all the neighbors or word on the street is "these are Pat's foxes." Never mind that foxes have lived here longer than me, by virtue of feeding I'm the fox lady! This started quite by accident. Three years ago I started to put out scraps for whatever animal, coon, possum might saunter up from the creek and hill below. I just hate throwing things out. Well I can't help it.

All our scraps now have a home, nothing is wasted. I love that. Even though we no longer have any domestic animals there are consumers out back. I buy a huge sack of breads and whatevers at the Bread store--used to be called the day old store. Sometimes I mess up and call it the "recycled bread store"--always good for a laugh. Costs only $2.25 for many loaves of squished bread. Weighs a ton and I have a challenge hoisting it into the back of my SUV. A loaf a day is all they need. I also purchase a big sack of dry Purina Cat Food for days when there is nothing else. I don't want to spoil these foxes from hunting which they need to do to survive, but feeding them has provided real cheap entertainment which we both watch out the door or windows.

The only thing so far the foxes have not eaten is raw carrots. Some got too rangy in the fridge so I gave them up to fox food. You could see the foxes sniff and look up at the house--as though, "Carrots? Carrots? We don't eat carrots!" And the next day there were carrots remaining scattered all over the lower lawn.

Last year I found an old pan as a fox dish. Now the foxes have their own dish. When we are out of town they don't get to eat unless jerry's cousin and friend clean out their fridge. But the very day we return so do they. They go right for their dish. They arrive at different times. Usually by 5:30--6:00PM. Sometimes though Mama is extra hungry and shows up at 3:30PM looking into Jerry's shop and up toward the house. One day I pedaled in on my bike and there she was--I told her "It's way too early." She just looked at me. All I have to do is take the food down and they seem to know my scent and voice, "Foxy, come and eat, come on Mama Fox."

We have noticed that by late fall Mama and Papa run the kids off--begone! On your own! Do it yourself! Also this past harsh winter there was no fox feeding. I suppose they had more sense than us and headed to Florida for the winter! But by spring they return. I'll never forget the first time a Mama grazed trough our back yard up to the bird feeders--"Jerry come look there's a dog!" Well remember I'm a city girl! All I knew of fox was the collar around my old jacket!

This year we have 2 fox families, we think. Mama and 3 babies which she birthed under the neighbor's deck and Mama and Papa and baby. Last year Mama had two wild ones who would jump and attack her as she brought them up the hill to feed. I could see the exhaustion on her face--these damn kids! Settle down! Dad had to help with the escort. We can always tell the babies--by size by redder coats and by laziness. They seem to tire and lay down in the yard while the old folks feed. Mama sometimes becomes the scout turning them loose and settling back to watch.

This year while the kids and grand daughter were visiting, they witnessed Squirrel Hunter Flat Tail, the name I've given one baby fox who is bound to catch some of the squirrels which help themselves to the back yard bird feeders. Squirrel Hunter slinks along and watches the squirrels. He has come close to pouncing right onto one or two. But the other night I was glad to have company witnesses. "Hurry and come look" I yelled. "Fox is climbing the tree!" No one would have believed this woman from CA.

Jerry moseyed on over and could not believe what he saw. Neither could the other 3 who high tailed it to the sun room. We all watched the fox climb the ash tree--about 8 feet straight up the trunk to the fork of the tree! Chasing squirrel. We have plenty head of squirrel in our back yard, so I would not mind him having a good dinner. Squirrel climbed higher and really touted the fox. Fox hung over the fork of the tree and surveyed. For a bit we thought he'd go higher. For a bit we wondered if he'd get stuck in the fork. Eventually Squirrel Hunter descended, "Darn no squirrel tonight! Guess I'll eat bread."

Now I don't know much about fox but the locals tell me fox don't normally climb trees. Jerry's cousin asked what I'd been feeding them. This particular night they had left over pizza from 2 nights before. Yes our fox are quite the showmen.

I will be writing a story soon about Squirrel Hunter and Scout. Like I've said, right out our back yard, birds, squirrel, foxes. Cheap entertainment.

Are we dealing with, dementia or plain meanness?

Back to our simple quietude which we do not appreciate until we have a week like this which was. While we loved every minute of their visit, tonight we crash--a week of son, DIL, and grand daughter took its toll. That with the late night Olympics broke our routine, especially mine.

Activity all week--starting Sunday with their arrival. That was the day Jerry's mother, 91 years old decided to act out. For a bit now she has been exhibiting very nasty tendencies toward me. Most of this happens when people are not around just her and me--sleers,nasty comments, insults, etc. I get annoyed but walk away. Sunday though after providing dinner and having her here to be part of the company, she began her laments about her Oceanside tribe. They are Jerry's dead sister's progeny--the ones who have done everything but assassinate a president. They are alums of every penal institution in and out of CA including Folsom prison; but in her eyes the cops have always picked on them. Yeah right--innocent druggies, robbers, etc.

Many years ago in CA as a favor for a friend who was at the CA Youth Authority, I chaired some promotional panels around the state to develop lists to promote managers (officers) within the Youth Authority System. In Chino, the warden of Chino prison served on the panel. As we chatted I told him that my nephews were alums of his institution; he knew them. Recidivistic grads. So far now 2 are dead from police related incidents--one shot by police swat team in Oceanside in the 70's at the age of 15 or so; one committed suicide in jail just last year. Anyway quite the group. But in their grandmother's eyes they're innocents. Believe that and we have a bridge to sell you cheap.

It is a sore subject in this house. Jerry has defended me from the old lady in the past who promptly forgets what she says. Since no one will push to have her tested for dementia, so that we know what we are dealing with, this behavior is ignored. Her adult children say, "that's just Mom." We need to know is she really crazy, can she be medicated, can she be committed to live where they see to her taking the right pills, is she just acting out for attention, is she manipulative?

I knew it would be tough with Aunt Marie gone. I was right. Aunt Marie kept Florence some what in check, till her last years of frailty.

So here we are having a good day to start off and here is the 91 year old talking about her tribe. And ain't' it awful what lives they have had. Ain't it awful how sad, etc. I heard enough. This makes everyone uncomfortable to say the least. And this never comes up around Jerry because he will not tolerate it! So it's me, DIL cleaning up after dinner in the kitchen and the old lady watching us. In my own home and feeling I can say something, I suggest to Florence that she talk about something pleasant. With that she (Jerry's mother )goes off on me: "Well this is MY FAMILY. We are not up to your class. You, Pat, live in your own little world where everything is perfect, everything is wonderful..... '' On she went snarling at me and throwing her arms about. You haven't seen anything till you have seen this 4'10" nasty old grey haired unattractive lady carry on.

Many in her family said she has always been nuts. She did time in the mental hospital in her 20's committed by one of her sisters. Not playing with a full deck and certainly not today. I say something again, like, "just talk about something pleasant, Rod, Sophia, Barb, " "Well" she yells I don't know anything pleasant. After all you go by every day and you never stop in to see if I need anything...." By this time I bite my tongue and walk away. And yet I know that if I attack back it will make me look worse. See she has an audience--DIL. This goes on and I walk off into my own living room, mumbling to Jerry. DIL takes old lady outside and calms her as a timeout. Before being taken to her own home, Florence tries to offer a bit of an apology quoting the Bible that the tongue will get her in trouble---I walk off again.


I don't know what she's up to this time, but I will have no more of it. I do not deserve this. This is not the first time I've taken such crap from her. After all, the reason she lives around us is no one else wanted the responsibility of her. In 1990father in law died: we got the old maid! No gratitude for all we have done and change that to me. Her 80th birthday party; her 90th birthday party, finding her mobile home in the Sr. Park in Newcastle; taking her to church; introducing her to folks. What to do. Descend to her level? Then again, in her demented mind she has pulled it off again. Jerry is more than fed up but what to do. He said after her 90th when she did not even thank me that "no more will you do these parties for her even if she lives to be 100."

Last night we take her to dinner with everyone, which is an inconvenience--having to take 2 cars and pick her up. At dinner she acted like she'd never been in the restaurant; I remind her she's been there many times. She snarls at me again. I order a Margarita and drink it and ignore her. DIL sits next to her and helps out. What an angel, Angel is! We take her to see the sand sculptures on the river and DIL as sweet as she is, holds her hand and walks with her. Old lady grins knowing she has a patsy.

Well after some rest, I do intend to tell her that I shall no longer be available. She can torment whomever she chooses, count me out. Maybe it's time she moves to CO with her daughter. Me thinks she knows what she's doing; and thinks folks will think,,,"such a sweet little old lady." NOT

But as my friend, Sandy, advised me today, "you do not like to lose and you do not like to be out of control. You will win this one too..And where was your bottle of vodka?."

This has taken time on my blog but someway I have got to stop this abuse. My mother is long dead and I would not tolerate this from her. We fought. There are only so many chances in this life and biting the hand that feeds soon cuts that hand off. Even if the biter is senile. I know that people can only make you feel bad if you allow their garbage into your head---now what's wrong with me? Our favorite old friend, adopted Mom, Helen Kiker who died at the age of 98 in NV the same day as Aunt Marie always said, "Old people just don't get to be crabby and nasty. They were crabby and nasty when they were younger. People just become more like what they are as they age."

Vintage Perception

We are enjoying a week's visit with son, DIL & grand daughter from CA this week. (The Morrison's of Rancho Murietta) Lest I forget, this revelation of vintage being in the eye of the beholder, I must record this on the blog.

Janine, grand daughter, will be 18 end of the month and just graduated from high school. This trip was a big graduation present for her and their first trip to MN. Well grandma figured this would cost some bucks, and after all look at all we have missed in contributing the last few years being here. So Sunday while Mom & Dad napped to recoup from the red eye overnight flight I decided it was time to take Janine to The Buckle. Well on Sunday in this area, most stores are closed but the Buckle which is a funky 20's something place is in the mall next to Macy's. We spent some time there and left with two funky tops which she can add to her collection. I said I would only buy 2 for her so she chose carefully from many strange looking things (in my vintage eyes.)

We were talking about clothing and I admitted to being old now because these ugly clothes and resurrections of psychedelics do not at all appeal to me. Janine said she loves sales--well I bet because the price of clothing would at least be tempered with sales. And she said she likes funky (isn't everything funky today) and really "loves vintage."

Vintage, now that's something I know about. I commented that the local college girls pick up 40's & 50's clothing from Goodwill or rummage sales and then have it altered to fit them. She got a strange look. She didn't say much. In a little bit she mentioned vintage again. So being the perceptive grandma that I am I could perceive a defining moment was in order.

Oh yes it was...Janine explained that vintage means stuff from the 70's. Well that was a real eye opener for me. Here I'm thinking 40's, maybe 50's are vintage. And here is the Kid who knows its the 70's.

Now I realize that we are Vintage People--which I commented on yesterday through our journey in the Niagara Caves some 260 feet underground, the hard way, steps down and then steps up. That's us including vintager grandma with cave phobia in the photo. It's the back up those same stairs that's a killer after walking around for nearly an hour. It was supposedly only a one mile walk, but felt like 20. Now, because I grew up in PA, land of coal mines and had grand fathers who were coal miners I've been disabused of any interest in underground. I do not do that--one could say I have a phobia about underground. I've had limited times venturing there, once in CA at the Grass Valley Empire Gold mine when my Mom & aunt visited where I shuddered the whole time. And this event yesterday. As if it were not enough, the venturesome folks on our walking tour group wanted all the lighting turned off----shudder. For the few seconds it lasted, I was not a happy spelunker! But here in Harmony, MN at the "world famous" Niagara caves, we had our experiences stretched. DIL, Angel, loves caves so this was a trip for her. And why didn't this vintage person stay on top where she is much happier.

Well, sometimes Vintage People need to have their experiences expanded and so we are this week. See what we miss without teenagers! Who would have thought that the 70's are vintage. I'm so glad Janine clarified for me! Off the blog, she has just advised me that she is now up (yeah I can see that) and ready to go.

Stuff and more stuff

Yesterday I browsed over to the local Catholic School's summerfest to buy two BBQ dinner tickets for us. The dinner was to honor the parish's two sisters (nuns) who are retiring to their convent order in Rochester, MN after many years in this community. I have met them both and especially enjoy Sister Marga, she is always bright with a smile. So I thought this would be a good way to avoid cooking and enjoy the evening with others. Being a Catholic event they had a beer tent too, so liquid refreshments were available.

I recite my mantra as I approach any rummage sale, estate sale, auction, silent auction, Goodwill or thrift store, etc. "NO MORE STUFF" I say this out loud and silently because I really mean it. I really do not need anymore STUFF!

But here I was chatting with the neighbor, enjoying the time, and intrigued by what might be around. First the silent auction where there was a tent full of different items. I have been cured of my CA tendency to bid up the prices to help raise $$. That's because I learned that here in MN they often will not outbid me. That results in my acquiring stuff for which I have no need. Often it's stuff I merely store until I can take it to the Goodwill store or until some other deserving organization has a rummage sale and requests donations. Oh now and then there is something that I just need to acquire, like my life size angel adorned with white mini lights and a golden mesh skirt. (Photo of she & me attached)

Angel graced the local Catholic church balcony until the Monsignor decided she must go. He said she was tacky and he could no longer abide her being suspended from their choir loft. So the ladies of the parish agreed to put her in their silent auction about two years ago during their community fall roast beef dinner. Well, I just cannot stand to see a perfectly good angel go to waste. I'd not added any new angels to my collection for a long time. And there she was, no bidders. Heck, she's worth at least $10, my bid. My bid was the only bid because how many people have room for her. The next day when I was called to come get her the ladies had teased the Msgr. that he'd won her. Right in the midst of this, I arrived to claim her to which he was so relieved that he said, "I am giving you a special blessing for taking her away from me." Ever since she has resided in various places in the house, upstairs, downstairs, bedroom and most recently out on our enclosed 4 Season Room. From there she has joined in and watched over many events including our neighborhood women's bunco night. She smiles as we roll our dice and drink our adult beverages of choice when I host the gals. I usually serve wine or Brandy slushes and she & I sample the drinks first to be sure that she agrees they are just right! Jerry greeted her with something like what the old Msgr. must have felt, "what in the world are you going to do with that!" To which I said, "Don't offend her, she brings a special Catholic blessing from the Msgr. himself." This stirs up my Catholic roots.

Well I just had to browse the rummage sale where they were taunting $1 per grocery sack. I acquired a neat small wooden knick knack shelf, just what I'd thought about the other day; it seems Divine that these things materialize at the Catholic church for me a lapsed Catholic. Sure wish I could chant my way to winning the lottery! But then as folks remind me, "Pat you first have to buy a ticket." Well just Friday as I was dusting in the bedroom my thought, "if I had a tiny knick knack shelf I could put these precious little figurines onto it and get them off my night stand." From my mouth to the angels' ears! There on the rummage tables was a tiny wooden shelf. Perfect, Divinely guided. It has two shelves and tiny spool and rim holders along each. Into my bag it went. I also found a little paperback book of scriptures and quotes, "What Gardening has taught me about God." Well you all know that I am a book addict. Here's one I could have written. And, in anticipation of arrival of one and only granddaughter in a week from CA I found a great beaded bag--old looking, maybe from the 50's beaded white mesh. She will love this. And if she by some stretch doesn't I can always use another bag, maybe, or pass it along. To my calculations these treasures were only 33 1/3 cents each! Now you just can't beat that.

Time to get on with the evening details, dinner, etc. More later in Part 2 of Stuff and more stuff.

Liberals, socialists, communists

Perennial Socialist Party presidential candidate Norman Thomas (the grandfather, incidentally, of Newsweek Assistant Managing Editor Evan Thomas), echoed that sentiment: “The American people will never knowingly adopt Socialism. But under the name of ‘liberalism’ they will adopt every fragment of the Socialist program, until one day America will be a Socialist nation, without knowing how it happened.”

It is really starting to bother me tremendously that people can't distinguish between socialism and what the leftists, extreme Democrat liberals are spewing. Maybe that's because there is no difference any longer. There used to be, I think in the days when there truly was a concern for the less fortunate of our nation.

I attribute this election year phenomena to the lack of real education in this country. Our public schools are no longer (for the most part) teaching, they ignore history. Most teachers don't understand history at all so how can they pass along lessons. What we have now is a result of probably one or two generations of declining education and increasing indoctrination.

Socialism, liberalism and communism, words that have amazing parallels today. Electorate beware "a fool and his money can be devious..."

I have a very radical right friend who has ranted about communism over the years I used to laugh at him and think, we'll never go there. Then one time I recall remarking to him that "the term communism is passe...it's no longer existing." He was smarter than me. What we are facing now is a resurrection of the communistic state here in this country disguised as toleration. Soviet dictator Nikita Khrushchev said of Roosevelt’s “New Deal” paradigm shift, “We can’t expect the American people to jump from Capitalism to Communism, but we can assist their elected leaders in giving them small doses of Socialism, until they awaken one day to find that they have Communism.” And then it will be too late for all of us.

This is the scariest national election I have ever encountered.

A new environmental term

Last night just for fun we attended a town hall meeting at the Legion about electrical power lines that are proposed from S Dakota (coal generated) to Minneapolis, down along the Mississippi through the hills and from the La Crescent township across the river to La Crosse and then on to Chicago. What entertainment. We went for information about this project and to learn why some are upset.

A troupe of falsalarmist environmentalists are trying to stop this. I said we went for information but this was indoctrination. They talked about electro magnetic fields. I asked what scientific data they had that indicated these were harmful to human beings as it is my understanding that one would have to be very adjacent to or under an exposed power line for more years than the human life span to be harmed. They admitted they had no data, but then one said, "well we didn't have data about second hand smoke either..." To which another man, a smoker, groused, "yeah and you still haven't proven that connection." Someone mentioned global warming and one of the old farmers in the audience said, "sure could have used that this past winter." (Now don't get this wrong, I hated being around smokers and so selfishly I'm glad for the smoke free environments.)

We sat for about an hour listening till we couldn't stand the humor any longer. Besides I was beginning to show my Pat-side--giggling uncontrollably which always causes Jerry to look at me. There was plenty to laugh about, like why are all these people afraid to cut their hair? Old guys with grey pony tails, receding hair and shiny bald heads really look funny. So do old ladies with long gray bushy hair, uncombed, too au naturel with no make up and dirty feet in bare sandals. I can understand when the young are involved in such a movement, but I guess I expect better from us more mature types. with age comes wisdom, supposedly. But not for a bunch of aging hippies.

One of their new catch phrases--"community based wind." I thought I'd heard everything in CA but this was new to me. Jerry came up with a good explanation of that--the entire town gathers at the parking lot of the hockey rink (aka our community center) and everybody farts on signal! Wish I could do a graphic artist's rendition of that cartoon.....a town bent over, drawers dropped, ready, aim, fire!

Evidently they don't want these nasty electricity lines--because they are generated in SD by coal! I asked what they thought might happen if everyone starts buying electric cars and plugs them in. I also mentioned that with people pollution (over population) and growth there is a complementary need for electricity which does not fall out of the sky. Ahh wind energy--that;the answer. Someone asked what happens when the wind doesn't blow.

In CA under Jerry Moonbeam Brown's governorship we built massive areas of windmills all along the Altamont pass. They still work, some, but I understand CA wants to shut those down because birds are flying into the blades. Well they only do that once.

Our DFL dumbocrat legislator was there to convene this meeting. It was funny to hear him praise the MN legislature for passing a law in 2007 that we will conserve. He says as a result our MN electricity use is declining(BS!) But it's not so in the states around us because they don't have these laws. I can just see it all now, all it takes is a law passed and immediately usage is decreased--please don't let congress find out. Oh no danger yet, they adjourned for vacation.

They talked about the power grids and some more mumbo jumbo. At the head of this agitation was (what else) an attorney for some "Concerned citizens." It was a cheap night out. We left and came home and finished the blue berry pie I'd made a couple days ago. I don't think I'll ever forget the term "community based wind!" I've laughed all day about it!

Twisty turns, financials, roses, politics.

Looking back over years of life it is amazing the twists and turns on the journey. I'm listening to Tom Sullivan on Fox Talk on the XM radio right now as I write and think. He's discussing the recent government bail out for those who are losing their homes in the mortgage meltdown. Because Steve has just lost his condo, this is a sore spot. I have much sympathy for those in the bad financial situations but I do not support government bailouts.

Steve called Sunday evening, woke me up and sounded happy as a clam that he will be moving now into an apartment in Roseville. He's relieved because rent is less than what he'd been trying to pay to keep up with his escalating mortgage. Now I'm not at my best when I've been awakened from my deep sleep, but I thought, "I must now be living in a nightmare. He has lost the condo, is on eviction status, and just barely found a used car to replace his truck which had been totaled by an underinsured drive, and he's gleeful?" Why did it not occur to him to work two jobs? He's tired, he says and yet who isn't when they have to sacrifice to get ahead? Of course he has lost the condo and with it the $$ we fronted. Easy come and easy go to him. Well that was a twisty turn and an opportunity he will not get again. This money tree is losing its leaves. Yet, who could have ever thought that real estate in CA and all around would get so upside down? Who would have thought the loans would go sideways? We all expected things to continue to grow. And who would have thought that there were so many predators in the financial industry feasting on fixing the unsuspecting trusting souls with lousy loans which would be defaulted? And who would have thought that Steve would lose his job with the school district after 12 years? Well enough about that.

The point is, things change and if we could have crystal balls to see ahead would we do things differently? Surely some things. And yet, life can work out if we persevere and trust and keep our faith. I've kicked myself many times for leaving Allegheny college, for the stupidest decision of my oh so wrong first marriage, and being across the country in CA. But know what? Somehow, I always wanted to live in CA and so I stayed there. And if I hadn't I'd never have met Jerry, we'd never have had the house with the swimming pool, we'd never have lived on acres in Newcastle and raised over 300 roses, I'd never have had the career with the State and I'd never have met all the friends along the way. I have to remember that here in Mayberry land when I wonder what in the world we are doing in MN? Yet this is a different environment.

In CA none of us were natives; well at least not many in my time. We came from all over and so we hung out together and made families of ourselves. We were different and we were the real blending of ages, backgrounds and beliefs. Many of my friends were very different politically than me and yet we enjoyed drinking wine together, reading, watching movies, shopping. We were accepting. I think that is what I miss the most. Here people have lived for generations and outsiders are really outsiders. It takes a unique outlook, self confidence and faith in the Almighty to ignore and persevere the twisty turn.

Another loopy turn has just hit me. In CA I was a very avid rose grower with a garden full of every type of rose from antiques to the latest hybrids. I grew nearly 400 roses at one time and then cut back to about 350. It used to be my therapy after a day in the bureaucracy to get out there and dead head roses in the evening. Every weekend I'd be doing something with my roses. I was very active in our rose society too holding every office. I studied and passed exams to be a consulting Rosarian, attended district meetings and national conventions. Had friends all over the world from our mutual love and interest of rose growing. I considered trying my hand at hybridizing. Flash forward on the twisty life road to 2008 in MN. Yes, we have a very lovely small rose garden about 25 different roses. But I have no desire to ever have so many roses again. For one, the arthritis in my hands rebels if I clip for too long. The different climate from CA to MN forced me to learn a different method of care an cultivation. No longer do I want to be all tied up in roses. In some ways rose growing is easier here--our season ends with covering the garden with mulch in November and then nothing needs to be done until maybe March at the earliest. This past year it was late April until I could get out there and prune away old growth. In CA roses were year round work with heavy work in December through February, our foggy rainy season. That's when we dormant sprayed and pruned back to force dormancy. Here no fall pruning is needed--they go to sleep on their own like good children who know it's bedtime. One of Jerry's first projects was to get the ground dug for our rose garden to accompaniment of comments from many neighbors who were sure that I was wasting our time. Today those same neighbors admire the blooms and complement me about my knack for roses. One says, "anyone who can grow roses in MN really has talent." I explain that roses grow everywhere, it's just knowing what kinds to grow here where winter can become harsh. We really do have the prettiest rose garden in town and one of the only. Which gets to the point of this twisty turn in my road. Accidentally I did not renew my rose society dues in December. Well, they went to online bulletins so they did not send a paper dues reminder and I really forgot all about paying my dues. Just last week one of the members from the Twin Cities Rose Club asked me if I'd joined another society. No, omg--guess I forgot to pay my dues. Then I thought, well why bother? I have never attended a meeting of this rose society which insists on being called a "club." It is in Minneapolis and meets Friday evenings. That would be a 2+ hour drive more or less each way. Not my idea of fun after it gets late. And I don't want to pay for a hotel room to stay over night. Besides, I have been spoiled by the best in CA and the programs here seem way too elementary for me. The District conference in March was so boring that I was just beside myself. I haven't attended a local meeting in 3 years so it is unlikely that I ever will. I really don't even care that I'd lose my consulting rosarian status by not belonging to a local society. I guess this is another twisty turn--I have the knowledge and the friends and will retain my American Rose Society membership at the national level. But unless there is something much closer, I will no longer be a local dues payer. Different from CA where I belonged to at least 3 local societies and was so into this. Another evidence of how interests shift and things can change. Besides why waste the $30 dues. That's not much until I start to consider all the different $25, $10, $30, etc here and there and pretty soon it's into the hundreds. Better use of money for other things.

Looking back at twisty turns helps us look ahead too. This too shall pass. It came to pass, it didn't come to stay. As I watch the stock market declines affect our investments, I keep optimism that this shall pass so that someday we will look back and talk about the depression of 2007-08. I hope we are now on the bottom leg of this downside journey and that we will start upward again.

Oh now listening to Jessie Ventura on Tom. Ventura is really a different person, truly an independent spirit rough, gruff, bright and opinionated. I have an acquaintance here in MN who has a license plate, "TAX FREE" on her corvette. She says they bought it the year Jessie was governor and returned excess $$ back to the people instead of allowing the state government to spend it. Talk about different! He calls the $ "Jessie checks." Around here there are differing opinions about Jessie. If there can ever be significant independent politics he will be part of it.

Lipstick chronicles blog and bullies

One of my high school gal pals recommended the lipstick chronicles blog. I just checked it out and really like it. So thanks to Carlie I now have one more website on which to "waste time." Or as I prefer, another portal to things unknown, unsaid, and unknown to be desirable before this experience. Well it's my leisure retirement time and I could be doing lots worse....hey, that's the same argument I use with Jerry about shopping---"I could be dong worse things...I could be hanging out on street corners, bars, whatever."

J.B.Stanley writes on the lipstick chronicles blog that she was pondering how to develop a character for her writing and was hanging out in Barnes and Noble. She asked the following question,

"Can you think back to high school or junior high and tell me if there was someone who was especially mean to you?" I plowed on. "A bully?"

Slightly suspicious, she nodded. "Yeah, I knew someone like that. Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I’ve already based characters on people who have wronged me, my third cousins, or my cat. At the moment, I’m fresh out of villains. But you knew someone who had an extra supply of cruelty?"

She nodded immediately. "In high school. His name was Russ."

Russ? My antagonist had a first name. I’d make up his last name later. "What did he look like?"

"He was your average blue-eyed blond, but he was too mean to be cute. He only smiled when he thought he was hurting someone." She paused in the middle of straightening a row of Seventeen magazines. "His face was always bunched up in a smirk. Like a little frog."

I could picture him already, but as a grown man in his mid-twenties. "What kind of things did he tease you about?"

The bookseller’s face clouded over. I could see that Russ’s words still haunted her and she was in her mid-forties. "He told me that no one would ever ask me out. He said that I looked like a fat boy. He called me fat boy all the time. I hated him." She gazed out the window and then turned back to me. "You know what? I still hate him."

I find this fascinating because lately with our reconnection I've been thinking back on Ken Hi days. Even thinking back past that to Ridge Ave Jr. Hi times. Why stop there, what about 3rd Ward elementary school? Maybe my memories have dimmed so much that they have black holes but I really cannot think of any bully or anyone who was that mean to me during my school days. I don't know, maybe we were nicer then. Or maybe I just had such self esteem and confidence that I didn't attract bullies? Or maybe I've just been fortunate. I think if I'd had someone taunting me as described above, I'd have called him/her something worse. Maybe I was too naive to recognize an insult and merely laughed at a fool who tried? Or maybe with the abuse that happened at home, nothing else phased me.

I remember being on the stage in our high school assembly--maybe running for some class office. Anyway I remember tripping and flopping. Of course everyone laughed and I know my face must have been red. But I laughed too. Of course I was embarrassed--what teenage girl wouldn't have been in the 60's. But something deep inside carried me over that and just let me laugh too. Maybe this is a trait that has served me well in life.

Now don't think for a moment that it's been an ice cream sundae existence. Yet I have been able to shrug off many things by laughter. I know it's good for the body, soul, spirit. It must disarm an insult.

The other day I was picking up some alterations and yakking with the seamstress when an attractive, well groomed, well put together, poised elderly lady came in with a garment for Pat to mend. She began to talk with us as we were laughing about something. She shared that her husband was just getting on her last nerves. she said,"He was a major in the Army and he still expects every one to hop to it and salute him. It's just killing me, I had a stroke last year." She seemed so sad and shaken. Well Pat started to laugh and replied, "Why don't you do just that but make fun of him? Laugh at him." You know laughter is the best medicine. I commented further that the only salute he'd get from me would be a one finger one! She thought about this and then got a gleam in her eye, "you know you girls might just have the answer..."

I left right after that and there outside sat her husband in their car. He rolled down his window and asked me' "Is my wife in there? " I sensed his demanding demeanor was not a casual inquiry, so I decided to have my fun there with the Major and replied, "Why how would I know? Who is your wife? I mean I don't even know who you are let alone your wife." He bristled and described her. I laughed at him and said, "Oh yes she is. And you must be the Major." To this he swelled up (aha I spotted the recognition he craves....) then demanded , "well what's taking so long?" There was much I could have said including that we were assuaging the poor gal about him, but my better judgement prevailed. After all she has to live with him I don't. So I merely said, "Well I was there first and so she had to wait her turn. If I had only known that you were out here waiting and in a hurry for sure I'd have let her go before me." I walked across to my car grinning. I had to get away before the devil on my left shoulder made me say more. I fight that devil all the time, sometimes he wins. In the car I really chuckled, "what an arrogant jerk." Pity his wife who despite wearing beautiful diamond and silver jewelry was burdened with an insufferable windbag. Ah well, she has likely tolerated this for many many years.

I called Pat, the seamstress after I got home to share the episode of the Major. she got a good chuckle.

Well bullies and me don't mix. Maybe they never have. Maybe I'm immune.

Favorite quotes

After joining Facebook to keep up with my homeys in PA, I filled out my profile. Below are some of my favorite quotes that I shared on Facebook. Most of you know, I love words, and good quotes. When I put together scrapbooks or memory makers for friends, I always like to include a few.

For years I collected quotes and kept them in a folder which soon grew way beyond anything usable...so with my "retirement leisure time" I started to keep these quotes in a binder and on the PC. I do that sporadically and when I want a particular fitting quote I never can find it! Where's my staff when I need them! (Hey I think that's my favorite original retirement quote. Where's my secretary? You're kidding I have to do this?)

I've seen fire & I've seen rain......(James Taylor song)

It came to pass not to stay.....(not sure of source whether I said this or someone said it or I read it.)

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...(Dorothy in Wizard of OZ)

But we have promises to keep and miles to go before we sleep.....(Robert Frost poem, Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening)

Live in the layers not in the litter. (Stanley Kunitz poem, The Layers Look back on this blog where I have posted the entire thing)

When people show you who they are, believe them...the first time! (Maya Angelou this would save me lots of trouble if I'd heed it entirely instead of not following that little voice that says, " girl watch out here." Then the other little voice says, "oh go on, try it , give hm/her/them the benefit of the doubt." Most often it works out, "Dummy! Shoulda listened the first time!"

PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES & DEAL WITH IT
I don't know who said this but I have it on a tile in my closet so I see it every day along with One Shoe Can Change Your Life, attributed to Cinderella--that is to address my shoe collection addiction which has diminished some, but which still draws me to check out especially red heels!