Meet My New Friend Zamzar

Yesterday my book group discussed Stones into Schools by Greg Mortensen. It's the sequel to Three Cups of Tea and tells the unbelievable saga of building schools primarily for girls in extremely rural and impoverished areas of Afghanistan and Pakistan. Those girls are thrilled to have a roof and a pencil and with those simple items are bringing change to their world.

What would those girls think of my most recent 24 hours?
---What magic transports pictures and fun messages to my telephone?
---How can I read a 300 page book on a screen on a 4" x 6" piece of metal?
---How can the clerk at the store magically put money back in my account by waving a gun-like device over some marks on my receipt?
---How can I watch a TV show, fast-forwarding through the commercials and backing up when I don't understand a phrase?

What would those girls think of the day I just spent almost entirely in front of my computer.
---First was figuring out how to re-order and delete items from my bookmarks. No more wasted moments while scrolling to the end of the list to get to Facebook in order to achieve plenty of wasted moments looking at Facebook.
---On to my new best friend, Zamzar. ALL BY MYSELF I figured out how to access video files, convert them, download them to my computer, file them where I can find them, and imbed them into Power Point presentations. Man, I was proud of myself!
---Not content to be just a blogger, my text task was to explore glogster. Yes, I have made a glog! A few short years ago, my students happily made projects describing themselves using---gasp!---poster board and markers! On a glog, one can make a virtual poster with a choice of numerous background designs, numerous interesting "balloons" in which to write information, numerous decorative items that jump up and down or blink on and off, buttons to click to link to a blog or website, ways to import pictures and photographs, and buttons to play what you recorded. My glog isn't half bad....I just could not figure out how to erase some advertising, so there's a giant hand pointing at a Christmas ad under my picture.
---Next I explored Wordle and Tugxedo. I struggled a long time with these cool programs before realizing they just weren't going to work on a Mac. What fun I'll have, however, if Ken allows me access to his PC. How have we ever lived without being able to get a visual representation of words in a text?--the words used more often are physically larger than those used less frequently and the words are grouped in various interesting shapes.

So, today I explored three ideas out of the dozens of new ideas presented at a technology workshop I recently attended. I didn't do more than some minimal things around the house and, except for going to water aerobics, didn't leave the kitchen table all day.

I'm delighted to feel less like a dinosaur after my technology day and I know we're not going to go back to the pencils and simple schools of Afghanistan....but, Man!, that was a lot of time for just a small step forward into tech-land.

Christmas Carols 2010

There is a radio station in Chicago that plays 100% Christmas carols beginning before Thanksgiving, and being 24/7, this station doesn't restrict its music to beautiful Mormon Tabernacle choir renditions of traditional carols. One hears "You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch" and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" as often as a lovely version of "O Holy Night".

Some folks, of course, hate the 24 hour barrage of Christmas music - especially the songs that really have nothing to do with the birth of Jesus. My church is one that continues the tradition of Advent, meaning that we sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" and other anticipatory hymns through the weeks leading up to Christmas, saving Christmas carols for the Christmas season that just begins on December 24--in spite of the world view that Christmas is over on the 25th. It's common to bemoan the idea that children "don't learn traditional Christmas carols anymore" because they are no longer sung in schools and churches don't sing them until--gasp--Christmas.

This year I have become quite mellow about carols as I have experienced the power of carols of all types in unusual ways.

(1) Yes, there was a Christmas program at church and, yes, the little three year old "sheep" dozed off on the steps, the "kings" announced their arrival quite off-key, and the mics weren't always able to catch the older children's voices as they spoke. The grandparents who traveled through treacherous snowy weather that afternoon loved every minute of it. The dads stood in the aisles videotaping their children. It was as it should be.

My friend, who lost her husband Thanksgiving weekend, sang along with the adult choir that day and, in the midst of grief, remembered and celebrated the reason for the season. That was also as it should be.

(2) A few days later adults and children from church caroled at a local train station during rush hour. Commuters exited the train in the required "Don't look at anyone and walk quickly to my car" fashion, but every one broke that commuter rule and gave a big smile as they walked past our anything but professional group. It was as it should be.

(3) Later that week we attended the holiday party at the nursing home. The residents and their guests represented a wide variety of religions and cultures,but all were obviously touched by the traditional melodies they heard. When Santa distributed a specially chosen gift to every resident, the excitement was palpable. Seeing a resident's huge smile over a "snugli" or piece of costume jewelry was at least as exciting as watching our own young children years ago attack a pile of gifts. Christian, Jew, Muslim or atheist; cognitively aware or not; surrounded by family or not; disabled or not; all got caught up in "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and it was as it should be.

(4) Last night was our regular night to serve at the "community kitchen". As the guests waited, one of the staff members sat in the corner playing his guitar and singing carols somewhat off key. The macho type men pretended to ignore the music, but heads were bobbing in rhythm. A middle-aged woman who uses a power chair wheeled herself to the front of the room and, in a beautiful soprano voice, sang harmony and the room became silent. Later the cook was called from the kitchen to hear her favorite song, "Frosty the Snowman". Then we were into José Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad" and many servers and guests spontaneously were literally dancing in the aisles. A group of strangers, servers and those served, became one and it was as it should be.

As a Spanish teacher I used to rail against "Feliz Navidad" being the song everyone knows when there are so many stunningly beautiful traditional Spanish carols to sing.

Last night, it was the most beautiful carol in the world!

I will love singing religious carols in the cocoon of my church later this week, but treasure these reminders that Christ comes in many unusual ways and in unlikely settings. ¡Feliz Navidad!

I Don't Really Believe Things Come in Threes....but

My last post referred to the death of Bob, a church friend. His church family is still reeling from that shock.

First thing this morning I was informed of the death yesterday of Vic, husband of a close Des Plaines teaching friend. Vic was not doing well, but this was a surprise.

A couple of hours later I heard that John, the husband of a Northbrook teacher/church friend passed away this morning. This wasn't a surprise but still comes as a shock.

Losing two friends in twelve hours is a bit overwhelming. Three newly widowed friends is also extremely sobering. Widowed friends who are in my age range are extremely sobering.

The men and their wives are all people of faith. Their families, friends and church families will embrace them and God will see them through their grief. How does one get through these saddnesses without that assurance?

Meanwhile, I made an appointment for my husband's overdue routine medical test and he's going to get a few extra hugs.

Two funerals the week before Christmas, tho tragic, will sure put the Christmas focus where it should be this year. Why bother with all the hoopla of Christmas if we don't remember that Christmas is just the beginning of the story. The real importance is what happened on Good Friday and on Easter.

Bob, Vic and John are experiencing that Easter story now....and that's what it is all about.

I Have Emerged Victorious

Last December first, Kevin and I became "smart". We purchased iPhones and life is forever changed.

Kevin, the super techie, uses his phone to graph every bicycle ride-including his altitude - of course, in Chicagoland the information he gets is that he has ridden at an altitude of 14 feet - but, yes, it's cool. He can use it as a GPS unit on bike and car. He can video-tape a performance or practice session and then download it to his computer and analyze his performance ad infinitum. The texts fly all over the country as he keeps in touch with percussion buddies and he has several thousand pictures and songs on the ready.

I'm not quite at Kevin's level, but LOVE having access to e-mail and texting when I'm out and about, especially when traveling. Early on I thought it was cool to hear "ping" every time I got an e-mail. After a while that novelty wore off - especially when I had a visceral urge to check my phone at every ping only to discover yet one more Viagra ad - so my phone now sits obediently quiet and I'm much less likely to get either a ticket or, worse, have an accident while driving. I don't have video, but love having iTunes, Pandora, Fandango and a host of cool apps including my new favorite, Farkle.

Recently Kevin's phone wouldn't take a charge. He was given a new phone by the kind Apple people because the first year warranty was still in effect. He also found out that a replacement phone in year two of our plan would cost upwards of $600 even though our original purchase cost much, much less. Suddenly the $69 for a second year warranty seemed like a good deal.

So, having become so much more tech-savvy in the past year, extending my warranty should be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

Ordering the new warranties on line was a piece of cake. Registering them was not.

Yesterday afternoon I spent two hours on this simple project. Remembering my Apple password was the first challenge but, after an e-mail , was assigned a new password and then was able to change it to a password that I actually WROTE DOWN for future reference!

Back to the registration process..... After finding and then entering phone ID numbers and registration numbers - "simple" 14 digit combinations of letters and numbers - I was informed that my phone was not activated. Funny, I seem to have been using it for a year. After a trip through the AT+T website, Apple seemed satisfied that my phone was, indeed, activated.

Next the Apple site tells me that "this device is not eligible for activation" but, if I disagree with that assessment, I can send them my proof of purchase. So, after a hunt through the filing cabinet, I find the agreement and go downstairs to scan it. No problem with the scanner, but, when I tried to e-mail it to myself (from downstairs desktop to upstairs laptop), nothing happened. Although the desktop says the e-mail has been sent, nothing arrived on my laptop. Three tries....no arrivals.

Oh, I also get an e-mail from A+T thanking me for changing to paperless billing. Huh? I guess somewhere in the activation snafu that got changed.

At that point, I had to leave all this fun to go to a wake. Although I am very saddened by this friend's death, I must say that the wake was actually a better experience than my computer frustrations.

Later that evening, I discover that my scanner document did arrive on my phone's e-mail. So I forwarded my phone e-mail to myself and, this time, it arrived on the laptop.

After water aerobics to prepare my cardiac system for an Apple re-try and the funeral to get my priorities straight, I again went to the Apple site this afternoon. By now, Kevin had sent me his phone's ID number, so I tried to register his phone. Bing, bing, bing....it worked! No effort at all!

OK, I thought, piece of cake. My phone should be easy! Wrong! My phone, purchased on the same day as Kevin's, is still ineligible.

So, here's where I picked up the phone....the land line, no less....and, after answering the robot's many questions, finally talked to a human being. Who solved my problem in about two minutes.

A second call to AT+T restored my paper bill in about one minute.

And I'm now free to drop my phone in the toilet, run over it with my car, or accidentally cook it in the microwave....until next Dec. 1 when I'll have to start again..........

What Really Matters

Our church friend Bob died unexpectedly yesterday morning. This morning people were very saddened to lose someone too soon and we all were "circling our wagons" to support Bob's wife and family through their time of grief.

As I drove home from church I heard a particularly distasteful commercial for an expensive watch. This ad asks, "What does your watch say about you?". Obviously, this line of thinking works because the ad runs daily. Someone is buying those expensive watches or else the company couldn't afford to run ads on the city's strongest radio station!

Hearing that ad while still thinking about Bob was thought provoking. What did Bob's life say about him? Bob didn't wear an expensive watch, in fact I rarely saw him "dressed up", but his life spoke more about him than any expensive watch ever could. Bob will be remembered as a low-key physician who practiced in an ordinary Chicago neighborhood. He will be remembered for his post-retirement identity as "Builder Bob" who, hammer in hand, encouraged congregants' assistance with Habitat for Humanity projects. He will be remembered for his often funny "yeah, but" questions at Bible study. He will be remembered for creating great fellowship on men's fishing trips. He will be missed greatly as husband and dad.

What a strange society we live in. We are bombarded with messages that tell us that what we own will make us a better person, yet at the end of life, does anyone care that you wore an expensive watch or lived in a McMansion complete with a turret?

Bob's funeral will be sad, but it will also be a celebration of a life well lived....a life that had nothing to do with watches or turrets...and a celebration of Bob's eternal life in which Bob has probably already been told, "Well done, good and faithful servant.".

A Totally Unimportant Rant About Dentists and Opthamologists

Two weeks ago I went to my internist. Rather than negotiate on the phone with a receptionist about possible appointment times, I had been able to see what appointment slots were available and make a convenient appointment on-line. No having to call during office hours or having to listen to annoying announcements while waiting! At the appointment, both the nurse and the doctor accessed my medical records, easily added new data and placed orders. My new prescription was immediately sent to the mail-order pharmacy and arrived in my home a few days later. My blood work results were available on-line within a few days and my doctor wrote me an explanatory note which also appeared in my in-box. If I follow up with a specialist the doctor recommended, he or she will have immediate access to everything on my chart. How cool is that!

Fast forward to today when I just happened to have both dental and an eye-doctor appointments. Both offices required me to update my information. On paper. With a pen attached by a very short leash to the RIGHT side of a clip-board making it virtually impossible for a left-handed person to use. Asking me to rewrite everything that was already on the chart from previous years. Giving me one line on which to list the five long-named medications that I take. And why I take them. And what is the address, phone number and shoe size of my pharmacist. And doctor. And bookie.

OK - I'm a compliant first child and did what I was told.

However, the evil twin hiding inside me was dying to write....
....the reason I take high blood pressure medication is because of the wrath caused by short pen leashes attached to the RIGHT side of clipboards.
...my pharmacist is the guy standing on a corner in a shady part of town. And he wears a size 10 1/2 shoe.
...I've entered the witness protection program and have a new name, address, phone, marital status and shoe size......as does my husband who, lucky him, gets to be responsible for my un-paid bills
....but now that I've told you about all the changes, I'll have to back to the witness protection office and get a new identity.

I get that each hygienist doesn't need a computer terminal in her cubicle and the eye doctor flits between about ten different rooms, but what's so hard about making a print-out of last year's information and just asking me to make any changes? While waiting for the ancient phone hook-up for the credit card to connect, the hygienist could easily enter any changes into a computer chart.

Both dentist and opthomologist could rent out the giant rooms they currently have filled with row upon row of brightly colored bulging files. Both could save the expense of buying those awful clip-boards usable only by normal right handed people. Neither would ever again need to buy pens with giant flowers erupting from the non-pointy end.

And, while they are throwing out things, the opthomologist can toss the noisy TV that no one is watching in the waiting room.

Ah, a woman can dream.

Why I Find Hallowen Annoying

It's almost 5:00 p.m. and almost 100 Hershey bars have been distributed to various goblins. Trick or Treating continues until 7:00. Good thing I have to leave for the airport...not enough candy! I have to go to work to save up to finance next Halloween!

My two big pet peeves about trick-or-treating are usually that the children don't say "Trick or Treat" (they just stand there) or "Thank You.". My Halloween grinchness, however, must confess that this year most kids said at least one of the lines.

But there was the....

---ten year old girl who had an I-phone laying on top of the candy in her plastic pumpkin. Something's just not right..............

---the eight year old who asked for a second piece of candy "for her brother who is in the stroller". My guess the second piece is for mom or dad who is pushing the stroller.

---the four year old (!) who asked for a second piece of candy and seemed surprised that I said it was needed for other children

---and the mysterious children ---- at least ten groups of them ---- who rang the bell several times but couldn't wait and disappeared in the ten seconds it took me to get to the door.

Oh, it's embarrassing to be the Halloween grinch!

48 Down, 2 to Go

About six weeks ago, our son David told us that he was giving a paper in Reno and asked if we wanted to travel with him. Now, Reno wasn't the highest thing on our to-see list, but the double bonus of (1) getting to see David make a presentation and (2) getting to check one more state off my list of states I've yet to visit, made us immediately check our frequent flier miles status!

We sneaked into the room to see David's presentation and restrained ourselves to not proudly shout out, "That's our son!" and then set about to explore the Reno area for a few days.

While David attended meetings, Ken and I went to Carson City, capital of Nevada and historic town. We took a walking tour of the old houses, but mostly gawked at the beautiful fall tree colors!

We then visited downtown Reno which is really quite attractive. The casinos dominate the skyline, but the Truckee river walk was beautiful and we enjoyed watching kayakeers trying to do roll-overs in the little rapids right downtown.



Our first stop traveling with David was up in the mountains south of Tahoe on the way to Virginia City, site of the Comstock Lode. It was easy to imagine the excitement in this town in the 1850's when the gold and silver were discovered and it was a boom town. Our ride on the Virginia and Truckee RR was fun...but, alas, no gold for us.











After an afternoon of sunshine, our first views of Lake Tahoe were through heavy clouds. The next morning was drizzly but that didn't affect our excitement at Taylor Creek on the southwest edge of Lake Tahoe. We were right on time to see the Kokonee Salmon spawning. In the crystal clear shallow stream we saw 100's of bright red salmon, some dead grey salmon who had finished their life cycle in the same stream where it began several years ago, and even saw some carnivorous ducks! It was truly amazing!

Even more amazing, we were lucky enough to see rainbows in several locations. Each time the sun broke through the drizzly clouds, another rainbow appeared. Spectacular!

As we drove around the west side of the lake on the next day, the weather became rather brutal. The wind storm that was about to cross the whole country was with us all day along with cold, cold rain. Nonetheless, we trucked on to the northwest section of the lake near Donner pass. We spent a lot of time in the museum there - a rather old fashioned museum that made the whole tragedy of the Donner pass crossing seem all the more real. It's impossible to fathom what those early emigrants faced traveling without Thinsulate or fleece, without maps or accurate trails, without food, facing disease and even having babies. Wow! Are we wimps!

After two days in Lake Tahoe area, we drove across the snowy and windy Donner pass to Pyramid Lake which is east of Reno. The Truckee River is the only water that flows out of Lake Tahoe. The Truckee River eventually makes its way to Pyramid Lake. David tells us that this lake is quite lovely in the sunshine, but what we saw was what you see in the last picture. Pyramid Lake is within an Indian reservation and we enjoyed learning about their culture in the little museum at the southern end of the lake.

So, in a very few days we experienced many weather changes, many cultures, many historical events, many natural wonders and, most importantly, spent five days with David. We didn't see any bears - though there were lots of warnings - and we didn't gamble - though there were slot machines EVERYWHERE!

So now I'm hoping David invites us to conferences in Idaho and Hawaii! Then I will have set foot in all 50 states...and had some more cool adventures!

Change

Sometimes change is scary, but yesterday was full of good changes.

Our guest preacher yesterday is a unique campus pastor. A Lutheran pastor, called by both the Lutheran and Episcopal churches, she has a potential "congregation"of 50,000 young people attending the several universities in Chicago's revitalized and bustling south loop. Thirty years ago she couldn't have been a pastor, ten years ago the Lutherans and Episcopalians couldn't have issued a joint call, and even more recently we haven't always been attuned to the need to meet college students in unusual situations. This pastor doesn't have a church building, but she is building faith in new and unique ways. What wonderful change.

After church I took my mother for our annual drive to see the changing fall colors and we were treated to magnificent sights - all within ten miles of where she lives!










After a break with the reduced and revamped Sunday comics section - not a good change - we were off to a benefit for the community "soup" kitchen where I often volunteer. This event was held at a private club on the 80th floor of the AON (formerly Standard Oil) building that looks over Millenium Park and the lake. Obviously, the views were unbelievable!

In my youth, the Prudential building, which is right next door to the AON center, was the tallest building in the city. Today it is dwarfed by its neighbor. In actuality, most of what is visible in these photos is changed from 50 years ago - Millenium park was an ugly parking lot. The Art Institute didn't have its magnificent new modern wing. No Pritzker pavilion for concerts. No high-rises in the south loop, no museum campus. Good changes!

The benefit's theme was the name change from "Good News Community Kitchen" to "A Just Harvest" reflecting their change from simply providing meals to advocating for justice in community housing and social needs. In the spirit of this wonderful organization that provides a hot dinner 365 days a year to up to 200 people in the Rodgers Park community, the facility was donated by the private club, the chicken and scallops were provided at cost by local vendors, the attendees came from the 30+ churches and organizations that provide and serve the daily meals, and the program was short and to the point! That's what a benefit should be. The increased need for "A Just Harvest's" community work is a sad change, but its work for food and justice is the change that is needed.

Now if we only could return to when the Sunday comics were eight pages long and funny, yesterday's changes would all be perfect!

Education is wasted on the young.......

Not really. Of course, education is for the young but, having spent over 30 years in middle school (I'm a VERY slow learner!), I'm immensely aware of all the developmental, emotional, social, and physical aspects of growing up that sometimes get in the way of learning.

Teaching adults who want to learn is nirvana.

I'm in the middle of teaching a five week series on the Art of Spain at the library of a nearby town. The people, a mixture of middle-aged and younger senior citizens, come because they want to learn something about El Greco, Velásquez, Goya, Picasso and/or Dalí. Most have traveled to Spain. Many have done some research on the artist prior to coming to the class. They ask excellent questions. They ask me about how "my" artist compares to another artist of the time. They ask for book suggestions to follow up on the class. A few try out their Spanish on me. They even came last week in spite of a violent, scary downpour that knocked out power in most of their homes.

I'd do this even if they didn't pay me, but don't tell them that.

Too bad we have to wait until our 40's or later to be able to learn without the adolescent's fear of tripping over too-big feet, embarrassment over the zits, or the agony of looking foolish in front of a girl or boy they like. How sad we have to wait to learn without the little child's fear of leaving mommy at home, of not having the coordination to cut or hold a pencil easily, of the uncertainty of making friends.

Oh, the adrenalin rush of teaching those who are past all that growing up stuff!

God, I have a question...or two

I strongly agree with a former pastor who says that his first question when he meets God will be, "Why mosquitos?".

After that issue is settled, my second question will be much more complex and involves the whole "why" of our existence on earth.

My cousin died last week. At only 58. Don had a very rare form of cancer called Waldenstrom's Macroglobulinemia.

Don was perhaps the smartest person I've known and also one who doggedly followed what he believed. He had a free ride to Stanford, but chose not to parlay his education into a lucrative career. He became interested in a movement called "Co-Housing" and worked with that organization for many years. In co-housing, groups of people choose to own their own residences, but live in community with neighbors sharing several meals a week, maintaining common living areas and acting as family to each other. Don and his wife have lived in a co-housing community in California for at least 20 years. As a side-bar to co-housing, Don and his wife were passionate about organic food and healthy lifestyles long before they became mainstream concepts.

Don and his wife traveled in Latin America often until recent years. Without any formal instruction in Spanish, Don just set about to master the language and embarrassed me with his fluency that surpassed mine acquired in more traditional ways. Passionately, they saw the poverty in Guatemala and set about working to help the rural villages. Later passions included astronomy and anything scientific he could lay his hands on, becoming an expert in field after field. Don, however, never drew attention to himself remaining gentle, calm, and positive.

When Don was first diagnosed about ten years ago, he made the disease his business. On the personal front, he found the very best medical care available to him, happily undertook experimental treatments, learned everything possible about his rare disease, exercised avidly and ate carefully. He became active on the board of the Waldenstrom's research foundation...a plus for us as he came to Chicago for board meetings every year or so.

For most of those 10 years, Don lived a pretty normal life, seeming to bounce back from occasional setbacks. Then last November the disease took his sight, in August it took his hearing and much of his feeling. Thinking of Don's active mind cut off from communication was beyond understanding. I rejoice that he is riding his bike and google-ing like crazy again in God's presence.

When someone dies in their prime as Don did, we are so aware of the achievements of their lives. We mourn the future years on earth that will not be.

The day after I heard about Don's death, I attended a memorial for the mother of a friend. I have only know our friend's mother as a very depressed woman in her 90's. At the service, however, her son talked at length about the joyous, faith-filled woman of her younger years.

At my mother's nursing home, I see so many people who no longer are aware of their surroundings, I see people like Mom who have their intellect but struggle with physical woes, I see people who weeks ago seemed totally "with it" beginning to lose "it".

And I try to remind myself that, just as my friend described his younger mother, all these folks have professional and personal histories unknown to me.

We learn from someone like Don whose lifetime achievements are so apparent to us. I fear that too often we are so involved in the struggles of the final years of folks like those at the nursing home that we forget the lessons they, too, taught through their earlier lives and achievements.

And we ask why people die young and why some old people linger for years in sad circumstances.

Someday we'll understand....right after we understand why mosquitos were created.

When the Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary

We didn't take an official vacation this summer, but during this first summer with an iPhone I found myself taking pictures of some ordinary events that previously would not have been photographed. It struck me that these ordinary photos really reflect some very extraordinary events.

4th of July: Ordinary: Picnic on the golf course before fireworks. Extraordinary: Sharing this annual event with the same people for about 30 years!

Mid-August in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin: Ordinary: A steam engine on display in the park.
Extraordinary: The latest in a long stream of steam machines I've seen with Ken over thirty years. The chance that we'll run into a steam engine, steam tractor or other cool steam-driven machine is why I always carry a book, but watching one's spouse get excited every time is cool!
August: North Lake, Wisconsin: Ordinary: A visit to a Wisconsin Lake. Extraordinary: Being welcomed "as family" at dear friends' lake home for about the 30th time...and drinking my annual beer(s) on their patio. This time, even a local egret joined us.


Downtown Chicago: Ordinary: a walk down State street. Extraordinary: Enjoying the giant eye ball! A reminder of how much I love living in this large city where there is always something unusual going on!



Chicago Botanic Gardens: August Ordinary: Visiting these beautiful gardens on a sunny Saturday. Extraordinary: Being able to enjoy them with an 88 year old mother who has her intellect and sense of humor fully in place.



July: Ordinary: Having painted walls and bi-fold closet doors in upstairs bedrooms. Extraordinary: Finally having painted walls and bi-fold closet doors after 20+ years of 60's fake
wood paneling and impossible to open closet doors!



September: Ordinary: Friday morning walk with friends. Extraordinary: Being blown away by the early fall beauty of the suburban walking path near my home!

The Apple folks probably didn't design the iPhone so that we'd become a little more aware of the small miracles and extraordinary sights around us, but it looks like it has had that affect on me!

A Teacher's Influence

I had an incredible gift today. I was able to sit across the table from a former teacher and thank her for changing my life.

In 1963 I began college at a new, very small public teachers' college in Chicago. In many respects it was an extension of high school - everyone lived at home and commuted, everyone knew everyone, we all followed the same set curriculum, we all were destined to be elementary teachers in Chicago public schools. And, by the way, there was about one boy for every hundred girls enrolled.

As part of the set curriculum everyone had to take either Spanish, Chinese or Russian. Having not excelled at my high school Latin, I chose the supposedly "easy" language and hoped to get through the required semesters with "C's". As freshmen we were assigned our schedule and I ended up in Dr. O's Spanish class, an experimental section. Dr. O was piloting a new and unusual curriculum and would be our teacher for all four trimesters. Little did I know that this roll of the scheduling dice would shape my future.

After a few weeks I discovered that I was enjoying Spanish. When I came to the end of the required courses, I took a Spanish elective because I wasn't ready to give it up. I "tried on" several other subject areas as my "area of concentration", but kept coming back to Spanish. Finally, I gave up and signed on in Spanish. Then "stuff" just started happening.

First Dr. O, as department chair, needed some assistance and offered me a part time job working in her office. Later that morphed into a job in the language lab (think putting the right reel to reel tapes on the recorders). Later somehow I ended up as president of the Spanish club and putting on a huge international night at the school and meeting lots of native speakers. Somehow that morphed into working with high school students who came to the university for a city wide Spanish club. Somehow that morphed into being recommended for and accepted at a summer government sponsored institute for future Spanish teachers in Texas (think post-Sputnik emphasis on catching up with those Russians). Somehow that morphed into a summer studying in Mexico. The final undergraduate morphing was being the first student at our college to be assigned to student teach in the (gasp!) suburbs. (At that point, Dr. O effectively handed me over to my next strong female mentor, Mrs. B, who eventually got me into publishing and presenting...but that's another story.)

Along the way, my relationship with Dr. O morphed from scared freshman/teacher to friend. She got to know my family when they attended events at the college. She came to my house with her young daughters one Saturday so that I could teach her daughters how to sew doll clothes. She introduced several of us to Cuban groceries, restaurants and Spanish language movie theaters. I was invited to her home and knew her family.

Then I got busy with teaching, got married, had a family and we rarely saw each other. In the early 80's Dr. O retired and, at her retirement dinner, several of us who were at home with young children made plans with Dr. O to meet monthly for Spanish conversation. So, once again, I was taught by Dr. O. We'd get baby sitters and spend an afternoon talking in Spanish, being gently corrected when necessary, and being sounding boards for each other.

Then I went back to teaching and we lost track of each other again. Last fall I read her husband's obituary and felt terrible that I didn't even have an address so I could send a sympathy card.

Time passed. Out of the blue I got a call from an acquaintance who happened to have Dr. O's address. I wrote her a condolence note and suggested lunch. She called and today we got together.

And I was able to say those exact words, "You know, you changed my life."

Too bad she had to wait until her late 80's to hear those words. I feel very blessed to have been able to say them!

Roots and Wings

September, 1984, with great trepidation, I left David at his first day of nursery school. (Almost) September, 2010, Kevin moved out. That's three years of working on just the roots part, twenty-six years of giving roots and wings and, after 29 years, I think we're completely into joyfully watching our offspring fly from our now empty nest.

As the older, David always was the first to experience new settings: nursery school, elementary school, middle school, music camp, band camp, high school, college, first apartment, first graduations, first full-time employment, and - joyfully - first one married. Being first hasn't always been easy but, in terms of actually leaving the nest, David's post-college transition was somewhat smooth---at least from our point of view. David never really lived at home after sophomore year since he worked on campus and lived in his apartment year round. Post graduation he morphed into full time employment at the university and just moved to a new apartment. There simply wasn't an official moment in which he left home.

Kevin's experience was different. Because his brother paved the way, the nursery school to college continuum was a bit less stressful...except for the first day of first grade which coincided with my first day back at teaching and caused us both major adjustments. Post college, the boy's paths diverged. Kevin attended grad school in Boston but our house was still "home" for vacations. Post grad school brought a busy schedule of free lance music work but circumstances required living at home much of that time. This year brings additional grad work in Chicago, new opportunities, and a new roommate and apartment.

Yesterday, Kevin and his new roommate made multiple trips from our house to the new apartment with enough percussion equipment and personal items to fill a McMansion. Their excitement was so palpable that I could see the "wings" on each of their backs. Kevin is confident that this new grad program will put the last little necessary polishing on his professional skills and that the next move will be to an orchestra position somewhere.

The nursery school the boys attended was named "The Mustard Seed". It's a rather unusual name but how fitting! The tiny "seeds" that attended that school have grown into magnificent trees and we couldn't be prouder and more excited to see what new gifts God has in store for them and us.

If I ruled the travel world....

…airport bathroom stalls would open with the door OUT. Almost everyone is dragging some sort of roller bag these days. When the stall door opens IN, you have to push in your bag(s), enter, twist around and push the bag back towards the door before you can take care of business. When finished, you go through all the gyrations in reverse. This is especially fun when you are traveling in the winter and add a heavy coat to the mix. If doors opened out, entrance and exit would be a snap!

….every airport would have O’Hare’s automatic toilet seat covers. Just run your hand over the sensor and you are rewarded with your own private plastic cover that tightly covers the seat. By the way, those sensors ALWAYS work.

…no airport bathroom would be allowed to have those ridiculous motion sensor towel dispensers. Actually, no place in the world should be allowed to have those ridiculous dispensers.

…any faucets with motion detectors should WORK rather than making the poor traveler stupidly move from one sink to another hoping that one will turn on and rinse the soap off her hands.

Think I spend a lot of time in bathrooms???????? On other topics…

…security would make you PROVE you can use the “expert traveler” line. Perhaps something like my manicurist’s rewards card would work. Each time you go through security without doing anything stupid you get a punch. After ten punches you are allowed into the expert travel line. Anyone who goes through the “expert” line without putting their three-ounce containers of liquid in a one quart bag would be forever banned from expert status.

….airlines would not be allowed to change the time of your flight (barring valid weather or equipment delays) by more than fifteen minutes. This comment just could be related to my spending five hours cooling my heels in Connecticut today after they, for no known reason, changed the flight times sometime between the time I made the reservation months ago and yesterday when they bothered to tell me.

…if the airplane is so small that there are virtually no overhead bins, tell the passengers this WHEN THEY BOOK. That gives the passengers the opportunity to pack appropriately while still at home. Mentioning this FOR THE FIRST TIME while you are boarding the plane just doesn’t cut it! Fortunately I had a giant “purse” into which I could cram my computer, and other priceless items I can’t let ride in the plane’s underbelly.

…put a tazer on each “personal item”. The tazer will go off only if a person tries to put that “personal item “ (read: large computer case) in the overhead bin after already stowing a roller bag. People who have seats at the front of the plane and have to board last get really ticked when they can’t find a space put even a small bag in the overhead bin. One item per person in the overhead bins, people!

…prominently display what eating establishments are located in each concourse. Detroit does this – thank you Detroit! In that airport you can actually plan ahead where you will have your fine dining experience.

…recycle the pop cans and plastic cups used on the airplane.

…eliminate all redundant announcements in the airport. Why oh why does O’Hare tell us over and over again that the security level is orange and remind us to put our three ounce liquids in a one quarter zipper bag AFTER WE HAVE ALREADY GONE THROUGH SECURITY!!

…require that all gate agents speak loudly and slowly enough that we can actually hear what they have to say. Unlike the announcements listed above, we actually need to hear these.

…either provide more leg room on airplanes or make it impossible to recline your seat. Suck it up, people, the person behind you likes to breathe.

…sell de-caf Diet Coke at airports. Nothing like a caffeine buzz when you have to get up at 5:30 the next day.

…provide free wi-fi at the airport.

….imitate Southwest Airlines and put a little humor into the safety announcements. People might actually listen.

…actually use those near-in gates. I believe that all airplanes take off from gate 39Z. Gates 1 and 2 are evidently just for show.

And then there are hotels….

….if you provide a free breakfast buffet (thank you if you do!), please open it at 6:00 for those of us who start our work days really early.

…as silly as it sounds, imitate one hotel chain which provides a multitude of LABELED pillows. Ah, the wonder of finding a soft pillow in a world of hard foam neck twisters.

…provide an alarm clock that is simple to operate. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I can get an alarm to work no more than one out of ten times---and I’m a college graduate! Fortunately, phone alarms are reliable.

…provide an easily accessible outlet next to the bed so that you can charge your phone where you can find it when it rings in the morning.

…provide something in addition to fourteen versions of ESPN and endless expose “real crime” type shows on the TV. Some travelers prefer to veg out to House Hunters or What Not to Wear. (Not me, of course, I’ve heard that OTHERS like those shows.)

….while I’m on the TV topic, get the rest of the country to present shows at the “right” time as we do in the Central Time Zone. Who on earth can stay up until 10:00 p.m. to watch CSI!

And finally, car rental places….

…don’t bother asking us if we want supplemental insurance. Put up a sign saying, “If you are interested in supplementary insurance, just ask.”

…stop the silliness of offering us an upgrade for x amount of dollars. We know you will upgrade for free if you don’t have the size car we reserved.

All the above being said, it’s pretty remarkable that I could leave
Chicago at 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday, sleep in Connecticut, work eight hours, and be back home in Chicago by 10:00 p.m. Thursday.

Beats a wagon train big time!

Oops, just got a text about another flight delay. I’ll be home at 10:30.

I hope.

…

Happy New Year!

I don't care what the calendar says, the new year always begins on the first day of school.

This morning I went to indoor water aerobics for the first time following a wonderful outdoor summer experience. The parking lot was jammed, not by exercisers but with the cars of that school district's teachers who were having their opening day meetings at the middle school next door.

I wanted to be there.

As much as it was painful to get back into the saddle every August, that first day of school for teachers was always exciting, fun, depressing, and scary all at the same time. In the last few years of my teaching career, my school district started with a staff breakfast in one of the elementary school gyms. We junior high people would find each other and hurry to make up tables of "our" people. We'd catch up on who traveled where, who became engaged or was pregnant, whose kids went to what college for the first time, who mysteriously wasn't there.

All too soon they herded us into the auditorium for the opening meeting. Here the junior high teachers appropriated the last three rows, much to the consternation of the front row sitting elementary teachers who seemed to be much more "pleasers" than we were. We'd sit through the introductions of new staff members who were embarrassed to stand in front of all these strangers. We'd sit through the board member's address and that of the superintendent. Usually we then had a keynote speaker - sometimes great, often not - and I'd be embarrassed that my colleagues and I were not always a very receptive audience.

(As someone who now sometimes goes to schools to give seminars during their orientation week, I'm acutely aware of the fact that the teachers are not there by choice! I know they'd much rather be in their classrooms getting ready! Fortunately, foreign language teachers are wonderful people and, in spite of the timing, have been wonderful audiences. I am glad, however, that I don't get evaluated by teachers at the "on-site" seminars. A teacher during orientation week can be dangerous!)

Finally we'd be released to go to our respective buildings for yet more meetings and a PTA sponsored lunch. Here's where things got muddier. We'd hear about what committees had decided what new thing we'd be doing this year. We'd get our schedules and class lists - along with those scary IEP or "504 plan" papers with a "see me" note from the learning resource teacher or counselor. We'd have team meetings and fall right back into our previous patterns of behavior. We'd have an in-service to learn about yet another new grade book program. And then we might get 20 minutes to work in our rooms!

Of course, almost everyone had already spent several days at school during the previous weeks - moving furniture that had been misplaced during the summer cleaning, finding books that had been delivered to the wrong room, decorating bulletin boards, getting a turn at the copy machine with all those first week handouts, and, yes, writing lesson plans.

Not too many professions are blessed with a fresh start every year. I don't think medical people get excited about lining up IV tubing and hypodermic needles in the way that teachers love neatly arranged pencils, clean desks, and orderly stacks of new books. Rod Blagojevich's lawyers don't get a summer break to recover from the trial before moving into the next one. We get to start all over and eternally hope that this year will be the one where we get it completely right!

Teachers in my district start tomorrow. I'll be at lunch with our district's retired group that always meets on the teacher's first day of school. We'll have a nice lunch....but part of each of us misses that newness of the first day of school.

Happy New Year everyone!

A Day in Texas

I just returned from a one-day trip to give a seminar in Texas. A few observations....

• Texas are strong. They put up with 101+º temperatures and high humidity all summer. Their only complaint was that the air-conditioning was set too low in the room.
• Texans care about how they look. Every teacher at yesterday's seminar was well dressed. Women wore attractive summer dresses or well put together capri or dress shorts outfits. All wore dressy sandals. The men all wore collared shirts and pressed pants. Not a flip-flop in sight! I was impressed!
• Texas is growing! This school district has gone from 3 schools to 45 schools in 10 years! They open schools like we open pop cans. I saw building cranes everywhere. Everything looks new....though bald.
  
• This school district really supports its teachers. Every year they provide specific seminars such as mine for each curricular area. They develop the master schedule at each school so that teachers of the same subject/level have common planning time. They encourage collaboration. They provide the technology. Guess what! The teachers were gung-ho! Good stuff!
• The teachers were also thoughtful. After the seminar, the teachers had to stay for an additional hour. When I left, they were all huddled in language groups so actively planning that they didn't even notice me leave. At the end of their required time, however, someone noticed that some projects I had shown had been left on a back table. Someone actually called me immediately and promised to send them to me...and scoffed when I said I'd pay for the postage.
  
• Texas roads are very confusing. They have a system of frontage roads that go alongside every expressway and carry the same name. Each frontage rode is one-way. The GPS never is able to tell you which one you should be on. If you want to make a left turn off of the frontage road, DON'T get in the left lane! The far left lane is only for u-turns onto the other side of the expressway. A left turn is from the second to the left lane.
• Texas toll roads are even more confusing. Both to and from the seminar site I ended up on a new tollway. I drove under the same sort of sensors we have on Illinois toll roads, but never saw a toll booth for those not having the "TollTag". There was no toll booth on the exit ramp. Who knows, maybe I'll get a bill in the mail for $1,000 in unpaid tolls!
• The airport road is yet more confusing. Upon entering DFW airport, I went through a toll booth. I pulled out my wallet expecting to pay, but discovered all I had to do was take a ticket. I then drove seven miles (I'm not exaggerating.) to the rental car return. At the rental car return exit was another toll booth. I pulled in there expecting to finally have to pay something...and was waved through. What am I supposed to do with my little ticket?
• At least in suburban Dallas, Texas is less Texan. I didn't see one cowboy hat or any boots. I didn't hear any "y'alls" and no one called me "Miss Alice", though I was called "Ma'am" more than once....ouch! I still feel like a "Miss".
  
• DFW airport food is bad....but then airport food is bad everywhere.
  
• At least DFW didn't make me go through the whole body scanner like O'Hare did!
  

Sunday Snipets

What's not to love about a pastor who, two weeks in a row, refers to Calvin and Hobbes as part of his sermon!

Why is it not surprising that I spent 45 minutes this morning explaining all about Facebook to my mother? When I showed her postings by my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew she was blown away. "You mean I could be in constant contact with all of them if I had one of those devices?" So, who wants to belly up to buy her a smart phone and data plan for her birthday?

How wonderful that Mom is so sharp that she cares about and is interested in what's new in the world around her. How sad that her stroke took away her ability to deal with anything that requires physically manipulating a "device" and/or using math. How thankful we all are that the loss is math rather than cognitive ability!

Mom's not the only funny and sharp person at the nursing home. Her table mate, Sally, couldn't wait to tell me her story. Seems her four-year-old great-granddaughter visited yesterday along with her parents and the family dog. Sally told me that an "elderly" person asked the little girl what breed of dog it was. Now, it's already striking me funny that Sally referred to someone else as "elderly", (after all, Sally is only 90!) but the girl's response is even funnier.

"The dog is Jewish and I am too."

I couldn't resist asking Sally if the dog keeps Kosher. She giggled, but Mom responded, "It would be even funnier if the dog was a dauchshund"

It took me a moment to realize what Mom was getting at.....a Kosher Jewish dog would never eat a wiener!

Happy Sunday!

Beware of condescending to an "almost senior"

While my brother and sister-in-law were visiting here last month, we decided to visit the zoo. My brother approached the young person in the ticket booth and simply said, "Three". After receiving the tickets he realized that, without making any request, he had received two "senior" tickets and one regular ticket. None of us are yet 65. Of course, we laughed about which two of us the young ticket seller deemed to be "seniors".

Yesterday afternoon I found myself unreasonably angry for a couple of hours. I realized my illogical anger was, in part, due to a thread on Facebook. There was a brief message about water aerobics and about ten people commented on it. Maybe two of the commentators have first-hand knowledge of water aerobics, but the others said all sorts of things that showed no accurate understanding of this form of exercise.

Now, I'm an avid fan of water aerobics and have participated in it for at least twenty years. One of the things I really looked forward to in retirement was the ability to exercise in this wonderful way all year long. As with any form of exercise, it's what you put into it that determines what you get out of it. I work really hard in the pool, but I do occasionally see someone who is chatting and just moving a bit. Go to any other type of exercise class and you'll also see some people really working hard and others hardly working.

I think water aerobics gets a bad rap because it probably began in places like Sun City in Arizona where it catered to senior citizens in a hot climate looking for "lite" physical activities. Somehow Grandma Wilhemina, the Sun Citian, was portrayed as"cute" while exercising in the water and the water aerobics "bad rap" began. Adding to the bad image is that it is difficult for a working adult to participate regularly in water aerobics in a colder climate because you need (a) an indoor pool and (b) classes offered at times that fit into a working schedule. Unfortunately it's also true that not all teachers are certified and/or really know how to provide an energetic work-out. Water aerobics is also confused with water therapy classes which are wonderfully designed for people who have bad arthritis or are recovering from joint replacement.

As I "stewed" yesterday, I realized that I wasn't angry about water aerobics per se--although it is misunderstood. I was angry because I perceived ageism in the Facebook comments. Even though we laughed about the zoo tickets, that was also a form of ageism.

I am the oldest you can be to be considered a "baby boomer". Do the math and you'll realize that next February I'll be among the first "boomers" to reach Social Security age.

And, I'm traveling there kicking and screaming.

To me, senior citizens are the elderly people I see at my mother's nursing home. They are also the vibrant, active 80 and 90-year-olds I know who are living independently. They have all taught me incredible lessons in recent years. The most important lesson is how wise they are and how much fun they can be--and how awful it is to treat these vibrant people with condescension.

I've got twenty five years or so until I get to their ages. Maybe then I'll consider myself a senior citizen. And I'm going to fight condescension all the way!

Until then I'm going to pant and sweat my way through water aerobics and, maybe next time I get an unrequested senior discount, I'll give it back.

Maybe.

Perfectionism

So I just finished the rewrite of the handbook for one of my presentations. Whew!

It has taken most of July - when I'm not in the pool or at some important social engagement such as the race track - to accomplish this. I've taken things out, added things in, agonized over word choices, and messed for long periods with a particularly difficult public domain clip art site. I'm happy with it....until some awful typo I've missed will jump out at me after it's published.

I spent May-June doing the same thing with the other handbook.

Making significant changes to the handbook means I will now have to re-do the Power Points and my "script". Ugh!

Why do I do this to myself? No one will accuse me of being a perfectionist in the other parts of my life.

Memo to anyone who reads this blog: Please, please, please save me from myself next year!

The Golden Calf?

This morning I went to Bible Study and then to the racetrack. I'll give you a moment to get past those rather contradictory activities.... and then share a strange vision.

The annual trip to Arlington Park has become a tradition with my "second career" teacher friends. It's a day that starts with noon-time peach daquiries at one friend's home and is followed by lots of catching up, silly betting based on anything but the horse's record, and laughter. Today, one of the first days in recent history that wasn't HOT and HUMID or RAINING (or all three at once), ended with a lovely outdoor meal at a nearby restaurant.

I even won $5.20!!! Of course, to do that I spent $20 on bets and $4 (senior day!) on admission.
Consider it my donation to legalized gambling.

Unbeknown to us, today was Blackhawks day at Arlington Park. For those of you who have been in a cave for the past two months, you may not be aware that the Blackhawks winning the Stanley Cup is a VERY big deal in Chicago. Several Hawk players were signing autographs and people were lined up for hours to get a signature. We were among the few people not wearing the requisite red tee-shirts.

Between the 6th and 7th race, there was a sudden commotion. The Blackhawk victory song began playing very loudly and people were gathering in the center of the stands. The standing area at track level was totally jammed with people in red. We moved to join the crowds.

Off to the right we saw two police cars moving slowly around the track, protecting a flatbed truck between them. On the truck were the Blackhawk's manager, several players and THE STANLEY CUP!

The crowd went wild. Everyone was screaming, taking pictures and crowding as close as they could. The players and manager got off the truck, held THE STANLEY CUP up high in the air and we heard an interview with the manager. Then the players holding the trophy moved toward the crowd and people began jumping up and down and screaming as some of them actually got to TOUCH THE STANLEY CUP!

And what image suddenly danced into my head? The people worshiping the Golden Calf at the foot of Mt. Sinai.

In my brain, the folks jumping up and down were dressed in 4,000 B.C. robes. The shining silver cup became a golden statue. The manager became the leader of the people who got impatient waiting for Moses to come down from the mountain.

To say it was a bizarre vision is putting it mildly!

Now, it's well known that I'm totally not into professional sports, but I'm not such a curmudgeon
that I don't think it's cool when one of Chicago's teams actually wins a championship. I've even been known to watch a televised game or two when a team is winning. I totally get wanting to meet a player, wanting to get an autograph, and cheering for the winning team members.

What I just couldn't get my head around today, however, was "worshiping" this huge silver cup.

Which brings me back to Bible Study. Seems Paul, in Acts, had to deal with various people worshiping various idols back in the early years A.D.

Golden Calf. Silver Cup. Hmmmmmmmm.

End of an Era

Ken's last surviving aunt passed away last week. Yesterday and today we attended the visitation and funeral. Although she was ninety, even I---as an in-law---felt the passing of an era.

The funeral was held at St. John's church where Ken's family belonged for many years and where Ken attended school and served as altar boy. We arrived somewhat early, so drove around the neighborhood looking at important places of Ken's childhood. Although the church has a beautiful large new sanctuary, they retained the old church on the property. Ken and I stood there as he mused, "Man, I spent a lot of time in this space."

Ken's aunt was buried in the same cemetery as Ken's parents, so we naturally visited their grave site after the interment. We stood there with some of Ken's siblings and just were quiet. Someone finally, profoundly (!), said, "Wow, time flies."

At the visitation and, especially at lunch, the sibling and cousin conversations centered on remembrances, especially the many challenges that Ken's dad, his aunt, and their nine siblings faced as young people.

It's funny. When you marry someone, you marry their family. You also marry their history, which is tricky because you didn't live it. After thirty years, I know a lot, but I'll never really understand some things because in many ways Ken's childhood was very different from mine.

I guess it's one of the mysteries of marriage. You love your spouse, you share an incredible amount of experiences, you share basic values, but you can never share your childhood.

Two little funnies in a basically serious day:

Ken is truly a convert to Lutheranism. He and I sang out on the first hymn......and no one except the cantor opened their mouth. Ooops.

I asked the question I've long had. Ken had an Aunt Hattie and I've often wondered if that was a nickname or her given name. Turns out her name was Hedwig with the addition of unusual middle and last names. I then found out that she met her husband because of that unusual name. She lived near Chicago and had insurance through the Foresters. The Foresters put out a magazine with a page with names and addresses for "Pen-pals". A man in Missouri searched for a pen-pal and choose the most unusual name on the page. A marriage and twelve children followed...but I think her given name remained a secret for her whole life!

Friday Fragments

My niece and her blogging buddies have a segment they call "Friday Fragments". I'm going to steal that title for today.

Fragment #1: After 20 years, the ugly wall paneling in the "boys' rooms" has finally been removed! Ken's brother the carpenter has been diligently working to bring those rooms into the 21st century and it's exciting. Too bad the "boys" had to grow up surrounded by cheesy 60's paneling and orange or green (depending on the room) mini-blinds. At least they can now enjoy more up-t0-date surroundings when they stay over! (Of course, elder son is still mad that he lost his beloved Marimekko cars and trucks wallpaper when we moved here when he was 5, but that's another dilemma.)

Is it OK to be a bit angry that my brother-in-law's regular carpentry business is picking up and he, therefore, won't have time in the near future to get rid of the duck wallpaper, grungy carpet, and dark blue trim in Ken's office? I really do want to be happy for him, but it's hard to lose our personal handy-person!

Fragment #2: During Ken's recent physical exam, conversation evidently turned to how annoying it is that I have trouble sleeping and am always too hot. (Guess my issues affect Ken's health....) Through Ken, our doctor advised me to get a re-check on my thyroid and today I finally got myself over to the hospital for the blood test. Of course, the order wasn't in the system. Rather than being sent home, however, the clerk called the doctor's office for me. Of course, the office nurse was at lunch and I had to wait until she returned. But, I did get the blood test and don't have to once again try to get a parking space in the always-under-construction hospital lot. Nice to have someone go the extra mile with a smile, no less!

Fragment #3: I love my couch. In the late afternoon nothing is more pleasant than to stretch out on its leather coolness with my current book. I fit the couch perfectly. The soles of my feet are about two inches from the end of the couch allowing for plenty of wiggle and stretch room. It's ideal!

During the night I sometimes retreat to the couch to read when I can't get back to sleep at 3:00 a.m. However, at night I don't fit the couch perfectly. My feet rub up against the end of the couch. I've tried every adjustment of body and pillow and my feet still are jammed against the arm!

No one seems to believe me when I tell them that I'm taller during the night than during the day!