UNEXPECTED GIFTS

I wasn't looking for a gift but I got a whole day of them anyway.  It started when I saw my wheelbarrow tire was flat.  Aww, phooey. So I took it into town to see if I could get it repaired or at least replaced.  I went to the service station that kind of specializes in patching flat tires.

A  young fellow came out to get the tire out of the back of my pickup. While he was working on it we started talking.  He was asking about my ancient little truck. I told him it was a 2003 with 190,000 miles on it.  He asked if I wanted to sell it and I immediately said I was happy with it. It hasn't given me a bit of trouble in all these years.  He then shocked me saying he could get $9000 for it.  Yikes. Blue Book Value is only $2500.  That kind of gave me lift though knowing what I value  still has value.

He fixed my tire, put it in the back of my truck and I asked what I owed him. He looked quizzical for a moment then just smiled and said. "Nothing, this is on me." I was very pleased and am pretty sure I unintentionally played the "old lady card" again.

I was smiling as I drove to pick up my Lotto ticket on the way home.  Now it was a really windy day and my worst hair cut ever was doing its best to dance off my head.  Oddly when I got to the store and checked the door glass for the damages, I had to laugh. This was the best my hair had looked in months. Wind is evidently a great hairdresser.  So Mom Nature took pity on me and styled my hair for me. Now if I could only repeat the effect she got.

Then as I placed my order for my ticket, the young girl behind the counter gave me a nice compliment. Trust me, 83 year old women don't get many.  She said she really liked my hair and wanted to know  who did it.  I smiled as I told her that Mom Nature did. Then she surprised me further.  

"I have been meaning to tell you each time you come in," she said. I love that shade of lipstick you wear. Sure wish I could wear that color." It is coral.

Golly---free flat fixed, and compliments from a 20 year old girl. Pretty good day. 

But there was one more gift waiting.  I was having propane delivered that afternoon. It is a big truck and I have to open both of my 12 foot gates so he can get in. We had a nice chat and when he got ready to drive out, I said as I usually do, "I'll get the gate."

He then said, "No problem, I will get them," and he did. Doesn't sound like a big deal but it was really inconvenient for him to do it and I really appreciated it for as I mentioned, they are heavy. Could have been that "old lady card" again. Hey when we are young, we flirt --when we are old we use what works. 

Three lovely people in one day--yep things do come in threes--even good things. 

Ever lean on your age for a little special treatment?

RING RING

I have mentioned before that I really hate the sound of a phone ringing. I have no cell service here so it is just my land line. Somehow, the sound finds my last nerve so I am quick to check it out so it will stop. Callie also hates the sound and immediately wants outside.  Maybe I need to change phones.

I have caller ID so I screen my calls.  If I don't know the caller, I let it go to the answering machine.   If it is a robo call, the answering machine voice is usually enough to get them to hang  up.  Occasionally, I will get a long message about some nefarious transaction on my credit card or that they are from Microsoft and my computer is at risk.  Ok, known bad guys so I ignore them.

I have noticed how they try to use fake numbers as callers, even appearing to come from my tiny town to throw me off. Not sure how they do this but again I am not fooled.  I need proof I know them. 

This time, the name on the ID was strange but the area code was from the same area as my family in Florida. Still I let it go to the answering machine.  Then weird happened.

Beep, click click and what sounded like shuffling papers.  Thinking I had a rookie scammer, I let it go on.  Then I heard , "gaa, gurgle, grunt", followed by more beeps.

I was thinking this had to be their first day on the job. 

Then a happy squeal, scratching, a giggle and the words "ticky loo" and a pretty identifiable "naaaaaa"  followed. Not sure if this was a millennial  version of the old "breather" phone calls of my youth but then I heard a man's voice say sharply "Give me that" and then it all went silent. 

Yep, I had been connected to a toddler who had evidently been playing with her parent's cell phone. Have no idea how the child was able to accidentally connect to my phone. I checked the ID number on the Internet and it belonged to a young business woman from Florida.   According to LinkedIn, she was right age to have a toddler. Wonder if they will be able to dispute the charges when they get the bill?

Have you ever gotten such a call from a child just punching keys on a phone or has one of your own done the deed?  I have gotten butt dials from family before but never a wrong number. Still it was more fun than the annoying calls from the fake Microsoft.

NOW THAT WAS FUNNY

I wrote a while back how much I enjoyed playing the "old lady card" to get help with heavy projects.  When I had taken my garbage to the dump station last month I was eagerly helped by a young man while I had watched an older, lame gentleman tackle his garbage bags by himself.   I wrote about it here that it seemed the "old" card only applied to women which shocked me.  Most of my commenters felt that the old gent may have refused help out of male pride.

Well I was taught a further lesson about playing cards this week.  Again I was taking my months worth of garbage to the dump station.  There was a really big,  dual wheel, crew cab pick up truck ahead of me and the driver took their spot as I maneuvered next to them.

I got out and opened the back of my little truck, expecting help at any moment. Help never came. Seems "help" was busy unloading the bags from the truck next to me.

Leaning on  the neighboring truck was a young woman in her late 20's with long, curly blond hair, who was tanning bed brown and sporting a few modest tattoos. She also wore a crop top and some right fancy Daisy Dukes. Hers had lace at the edges.

Daisy Dukes are really short, tight, denim shorts made famous by the female lead in the Dukes of Hazzard TV show from the 80's.

Model for YMI Jeanswear

I was Googling for a picture of Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard to post when this picture popped up.  I swear that is almost the image of the girl I saw. Kind of obvious why I wasn't helped:))

Then I got tickled.  I may have out trumped an old man but didn't have a chance against Daisy Dukes.  I had to cough a little to hide my giggles.

There was no problem with me unloading my bags but must admit  I was a bit disappointed. It had been kind of fun being pampered.

Sometimes with cards as Kenny Rogers would say, "You've got to know when to hold em', know when to fold 'em and know when to walk away." I walked.

Maybe next month?

PUNKED

It was a normal grocery shopping day.  I usually shop a couple of times a week so I don't get loaded down with bags.  If I divide the bill up by 2 or 3 trips, it doesn't seem so painful.  It is also a way to add steps to my fitness band in the comfort of air conditioning. I always take the long way around the store.

I do like to check myself out if I don't have a loaded cart. I pack my groceries better than the clerks do and I am gentler with the bread, bananas and eggs. 

As I finished ringing up my purchases, I tucked the prescriptions I had just picked up in with the bread and turned back to the machine to finish the transaction with my debit card.  I was square with the machine and my cart was behind me. 

The receipt slowly rolled out the slot.  I grabbed it and turned around to put it in the bread bag also.

Holy Crap!!!  My cart was gone.  Not moved but gone.  There were only a few people besides me self checking out and they were on the other side of the area. None of their bags looked like mine. A bit of panic set in.

Knowing my running days are over, I still cranked up mentally to run out the store and chase the thief into the parking lot to tackle that creep. I was livid and knew I had to hurry.

Then I saw her.  A friend of mine, that I had no idea was in the store also, peeked out from behind a partition.  She was leaning on my cart with a huge smile on her face.

It took a minute for me to go from the angry desire to tackle the creep, to huge relief, then finally letting the sheepish grin take over my face. I had thoroughly been punked. She said my expression when I saw her was worth it.

While we got some giggles over her sneakiness, it made me realize that this could have been a real theft. It would have been easy enough to pull off.  They could have wheeled my cart back through the store and out the garden center while I'd be running around the parking lot.  I'd have never found them.

My friend made me realize how easily that prank theft could have been a reality. Guess who will always keep an eye on her cart from now on??

Did you ever have a prank pulled on you that turned out to be a good lesson?

OLD CARD

I am my own garbage person.  There is trash pick up out here but since I have lived in the country, I have  always been my own trash disposer.  For $7 a week I could have it picked up.

But if I store it in my shed in contractor bags--I call them body bags for they are so large--I can go to the dump station once a month or so for $5.00. So that is what I have done for 15 years.  The bags are so thick that there is neither smell nor varmints.

Yes it is getting harder to lift these 50 pound bags into a wheel barrow, then into the back of my little pick up but so far I am making it. Might be breathing a bit heavier these days but we get'er done.

The dump station is about 15 miles away but I make the trip to town count for more than one thing.

I always turn in my recyclables first, then go to the scales to weigh my vehicle. While I was waiting for the hand signal from the office to indicate they had my weight, I noticed a small truck that was oddly pulled sideways in the dump area and an older fellow was unloading it. 

Usually we back up to the drop off and there is a semi trailer pulled below for us to throw our trash into.  The only person around was the elderly fellow who was just finishing putting his trash at the edge of the drop off.  I noticed he moved as if he were in pain. Either back or hips were killing him. I know that walk from when my sciatica flairs up.

Phooey I thought. I usually get help unloading my trash from the workers but it looked like I was on my own today. No one in sight and that poor old fellow looked like he needed my help.

When I started to back up to the edge, a nice young man appeared out of nowhere and  gave me hand signals to get me close but not too close to the edge.  I was grateful for the guidance and wondered why the old fellow's vehicle was so catawampus. Did no one guided him in??

The old gentleman was getting into his vehicle as I got out of mine.  Again that darling young man leaped to my rescue.  He explained that the trucks had not arrived yet and he quickly emptied my little truck putting my bags on the edge.  The young man handled the bags like loaves of bread.  Ah, the little old lady card worked again.

I thanked him mightily and drove to the ramp to wait for the older gentleman to clear the scales and pay his due.  I hurt seeing him struggle down the stairs to the office and then struggle even more to climb back up. He was in pain.

Then I wondered, why hadn't he been helped like I had been? Not complaining mind you but I sure felt badly for that elderly man.  Does the "old card" only work for women?

PLAYING THE OLD LADY CARD

I have done it before and I will do it again with no shame. And that is to play the old lady card. Since my eyelash batting days are long over, I now rely on my white hair, ton of wrinkles and slight limp.  No one ever wants to see my ID for senior discount anymore.

I had allowed my property to become over grown thanks to a bad shoulder for about 3 years. The shoulder is cured now but the over growth remained and was over whelming.

Last year, I had a phone line problem and the poor service man had to push through the jungle to the pole to change a fuse in a small box on the pole.  I was really embarrassed and really felt like I should have at least offered to be his gun bearer as he braved the tangle of foliage.

Below is a picture of what the poor fellow battled through.  What a guy.

 Before. 

This is the same pole that my security light hangs from.  The trees had grown up so much that the security light no longer did its job but was more or less an ornament in the trees.

So I called the power company who are responsible for the light.  They sent a bucket truck out to make the light usable once more by trimming the brush around the light.  They succeeded in exposing the light once more and piled up the cut off branches.  They were ready to drive off leaving the pile for me to dispose of so I took off my sun hat, bared my white hair and limped over to the main guy.

Ok, I do have a slight limp from the sciatica but I kind of hammed it up a bit for affect.

"Last time you guys sent over a chipper truck to clean up the limbs. Do you suppose you could do it for me this time also?" I pleaded in my squeaky old lady voice.

He looked at me with a sweet smile and said, "I'll see if we have one in the area and maybe they can clean up the brush around the base of the pole also."

I gave him my best grin and thanked him profusely.

Yep, the regular tree trimmers came, cleaned up the mess and then attacked the jungle. It was amazing what a couple of chain saws can do.

After

Not terribly pretty right now but I am delighted. It has inspired me to tackle the rest of the property that has gotten a bit out of hand.

Am I ashamed for using my old lady white hair and slightly exaggerated limp for extras?  Absolutely not.

Have you ever resorted to wiles to get above and beyond normal service or in some cases just normal service?  If you haven't, give it a try.  It works and you get to make some one really feel good about themselves at the same time.

HAVE YOU TRIED TO RUN LATELY?

Reworked from Dec. 2010 

Of course this post does not apply to most of you as you are probably still gazelle like, but anyone even near my age can possibly relate. I haven't run in years, mainly because there has been no need. I never was a distance runner in my youth but a heck of a sprinter, really fast but with limited endurance.

I have always admired people who jog daily. Those who can run apparently effortlessly and joyfully, have always made me green with envy. So, for a good portion of my life, I have been a contented walker but always thinking in the back of my mind, I could run if I had to.

I was watching a football game the other day and was focusing on the young players who would often skip back to the sidelines after a good play. I flashed back to my youth and remembered how much fun it was to skip. It is such a joyful way to move.

Could I still skip? I had to try. Planning my skip attempt route to end at the couch for safety reasons, I tried to convince my muscles that they remembered what to do. It may be like bike riding and is lodged somewhere in my memory banks but evidently my filing system is suspect.

It was not pretty folks. My legs turned spastic and incredibly heavy. My feet barely left the ground and thudded in heavy, uncontrolled semicircles as my arms flailed above my head looking for help. I felt like an out of control windmill and my ceiling fan was in serious danger. I was so grateful for having chosen the couch as my final destination. That part worked out quite well.

I am so grateful I did not take that spectacle outside for the neighbor's entertainment. Phew, scratch that off my bucket list. Who needs to skip anyway?

But back to running.   Before Christmas, I was walking my young neighbor boy back to the gate after a lovely visit and gift exchange. Mr. C, whom I wrote about here, drove by, saw us at the gate and came to a screeching halt.

Mr. C had left me a card and some homemade brownies in my mailbox the previous day and wanted to know if I had gotten them all right. I told him they were so good that I had devoured seven eights of the brownies the same day. I asked him to wait while I got his present.

His package was in the house and knowing he was in a hurry to deliver more of his calorie loaded presents, I asked him to wait and proceeded to run back to the house to get his gift. It was a nightmare folks. Instead of nice long, smooth strides taking me quickly to the house as I envisioned, my legs turned into pistons on me.

Instead of stretching forward, they went up and down in choppy, teeth jarring stomps. I was moving all right but it was mostly in a vertical fashion. I was making very little forward progress. My house just didn't seem to get much closer as I diligently labored. Then I started to laugh.

Life does travel in circles, karma does exists. Many years ago, I had witnessed an elderly fellow jogging in Florida. He was making the exact same motions I was currently exhibiting. It had tickled me so much at the time that I had actually mimicked his run for my co-workers amusement. I remembered saying, “ He was running, but up and down, not forward,” as I giggled.

Ah, the arrogance of youth.  I gave up my ungainly attempt to run and walked swiftly to the house only a little bit embarrassed but very amused.

So should I have tried to skip and run at my age ? Good grief no, not without conditioning and balance work first. But try telling that to the 30 year old mind that lives in this old carcass. Don't worry, lesson learned. That thirty year old mind has been properly chastised.

So I say, run with caution my friends, skip in the privacy of your own home close to something soft and listen to that 30 year old mind with a healthy dose of skepticism.

AUSTRALIAN BLUE HEELER

Rerun from August 2009
Don't really have anything so I thought I'd rerun my biggest hit maker. So far it has gotten 33,542 page views which is 20,000 more than 2nd place. It still gets hits today.

Not my picture but accurate representations.

When I moved to Okeechobee Florida I had never heard of a Blue Heeler or Australian Cattle Dog. Okeechobee being cattle country, used the dogs quite a bit as cattle herders. The around 30 pound dogs are called Heelers as they nip the heels of cattle to herd them.  

I saw the pack of Heeler puppies in a back yard of a high bill complaint.  I fell in love with the exotic looking dog.  I was a little put off by their $125.00 price tag which was huge so many years ago but I was smitten and had to have one.  

Not my picture.

She was a little female and I named her Jip.    As she entered her second heat, I breed her to a marvelous working Heeler. The breeding took and Jip produced a lovely litter of 6 pups. Of course the pick of the litter went as stud fee and I was left with 5 really cute puppies. 

When I took them to the vet for their shots and worming, I met a lady outside the vets office who just fell in love with the runt. Of course they were too young to sell so I gave her my card and told her when they would be ready and how much they would cost --- hoping she would never call.

I am very ashamed to say, I prejudged this woman totally on her appearance. As she had cornered me on the way into the vets office with my basket of puppies, I saw her vehicle. It was an old battered car. She had 3 very young children who were very well behaved and dressed in clean but thread worn clothes. I felt she was over extended was hoping that was the last I would hear from her.

When the puppies grew, I found what I hoped would be wonderful homes for them.   Only the runt was left and then, "that lady" called. I quoted her full price of $125.00 and she never wavered.  Later, when I saw her drive away with the pup, I was certain I had not done the right thing for that little dog and felt quite guilty.

Before a year was up, all the puppies that I had meticulously placed in loving homes were dead. Three had been run over and one had been shot by an irate neighbor. That left only the runt and her iffy home.

I ran into the woman at the grocery store almost two years later and she insisted I stop by her home and see the runt, now named Emma Lou. Interested to see how my only surviving puppy had turned out, I followed her home.

I was quite surprised by her home. It was not elaborate by any means but was very neat with a fenced in, well cared for yard sporting flowers and a vegetable garden. Emma Lou bounced out of the house and joyfully leaped up into the arms of the woman with a happy grin on her speckled face.  She was obviously happy, healthy and alive, something her siblings had not managed.

I left that day feeling quite stupid about my previous prejudgment of this woman. Her family didn't have a lot of material things but they had enough for comfort and I am pretty sure she would have done what ever was necessary to provide for her children and her pets. I totally admired her and felt Emma Lou was one lucky pup.

Right before I moved to Arkansas, I got a phone call out of the blue.

"You probably don't remember me," the strange female voice started, "but I bought a Blue Heeler from you 19 years ago."

"Yes I do remember you," I said honestly for she had so impressed me.  "How are you?"

"Ok now, I guess," she said with a catch in her voice, "This is the first I have been able to call you and not break up. I just wanted you to know that Emma Lou passed away last month. She was 19 years old and I thought you would want to know, she had a long and happy life."

I was almost speechless. Emma Lou had lived 19 years!!! That was just beyond amazing. We talked a while and finally she ended our conversation with,"I just wanted you to know and to thank you."

I thanked her for calling but in my heart, I thanked her for firmly embedding in me years ago that appearances mean little, character means all. The kindest hearts are rarely clothed in the finest silks. It was a lesson never lost on me.

I'M SO EXCITED

Yes, I am so excited, I just can't hide it. In fact I postponed my scheduled post and jumped to this one.

If you are not a reader, this will bore you and you are excused. See ya next week.

Some of you are purists and think the only real book is one you can hold in your hand, smell the pages as you flip them and enjoy the heft. Me too until a few years ago when I got my Kindle.  Thanks Jan- that was the best-gift-ever. Then I became enamored with being able to easily hold 300 books in one hand.

As a Kindle devotee  with a small budget, I was pretty much confined to reading first time authors that have their work offered by Amazon at the lovely price of FREE. I have been very lucky and have found some jewels which I have reviewed here.

Hey, Grisham was once a first time author. Besides, sometimes established authors will throw out an early book free for a while to hook you. Thus out of the over 400 books I have read on Kindle, there have been few clunkers and only a few books have I actually paid for.

This was working for me but for years now I have craved a service that seemed to be offered everywhere but in my tiny town. That was the ability to borrow a book electronically from Kindle via the local library. That really opens up the opportunities.

Then I read that the neighboring county's library just started this service and for $10 a year, I could join even though I didn't live in the proper county.

So I made the trip, paid my ten bucks and now have almost too many choices.  Ordered my first book and in seconds it was snuggled into my Kindle where it will stay for 2 weeks if it would take me that long to read. I usually read a book every 3 or 4 days.

My first choice, well that was tough, so I chose a James Patterson "The Twelfth of Never".  Would you believe I have never read that author. Most of  the current best sellers I could put on hold. Finished James and also a Tess Gerritsen and am starting on a J D Robb in the week since I got the library card.

I am almost overwhelmed by all the choice for I still have Amazon's daily 100 free to choose from and yes I still check it every day.

Any suggestions of your favorite book of all time to help me with these decisions?? I like entertaining, humorous, medical, sports, animal or legal themes but will try most anything. I don't know if my library will have it or if it will be available in Kindle format but it will give me a direction.

My most favorite book of all time was The Last Whales by Lloyd Abbey. It is the story of two blue whales trying to survive as the world dies. No people, no dialogue, yet I was and still am haunted by it.

Thank you for any suggestions.

IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

No I don't mean the political situation though there is a jungle argument for that. Nor do I mean the lack of civility and common sense among those who are on edge and ready for battle at the first glimpse of an offense.

Instead I am talking about a service man who went above and beyond for me recently and kept a smile on his face. Too often these guys get bad press. So this is my tale about one of the good guys.

Recently it appears I had phone problems. I could make outgoing calls on my landline with no problem so I had no idea my phone was sick. When my sister tried to call me and the call immediately got cut off before it even rang, she was kind enough to email me. Otherwise I would just wonder what happened to my friends and family and would have enjoyed the lack of spam and robo calls.

I checked Google and it had happened to others so I tried all the Google remedies. Nothing worked. Since I don't have a cell signal here, I had to drive 4 miles up the road to call myself after each attempt.  Nothing was working.

So I emailed my phone company--it was a Saturday---and thought I would have to wait till Monday for help.

Soon my phone made the tiniest beep which it did when a call tried to come in. The lost call number was of my phone company. That happened twice so I knew someone was at least thinking about helping me.

It was mid after noon when Callie let me know someone was outside. It was the tech who was testing my phone on the outside box.  Then he looked at my power pole,

Ah, yes I have let it get a bit overgrown. I guess somewhere on that pole was a box he had to access. He walked round and round then finally just plunged into the jungle.  It was 94 degrees and I felt like I ought to at least offer him a machete.

He just disappeared into the foliage and  I could only see the  bushes move as he fought forward. Then nothing. I was beginning to think of sending my rescue dog in after him when my phone rang. He had fixed it.

The bushes moved a lot and he finally burst free, soaked in sweat and decorated with small leaves and spider webs.  I waited for him to fuss at me for letting the brush get so out of hand. Instead he just grinned and said,"Where is Mike Rowe when you need him?"

I laughed also for Mike Rowe is the guy on the TV show, Dirtiest Jobs.

He then took the time to explain to me what he had done.

Seems lightening from a recent bad storm had blown out a capacitor and he replaced it. Simple fix if it wasn't for the miserable access.

All was well again. I had been ready to play the old lady card but it wasn't necessary.

He did the job with out a gripe but I am betting if he was a praying man, he was praying that no more lightening storms hit my area, at least not while he is on duty.

I need to find someone to tackle that mess. It is so beyond me with my bum shoulder and bionic ticker.  Some of the vines are leaning eagerly towards my house.  Pretty sure there is some Kudzu in there. Scary.

Ever have an area on your property get really over grown or run down and not realize it till some stranger has to access it and you finally see it for what it is? Kind of embarrassing.

UH--YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT??

Rerun from 2012. Only a few of you were with me then. Hope the rest of you enjoy this post as I  relive a strange, fun and rewarding day. 

It was in the early 1980's. I had my vehicle in the shop for repairs and the only loaner available was a humongous van with several rows of bench seats and side opening doors. I was not use to such a large vehicle and was a bit nervous about driving it. 

I needed to pick up my dry cleaning on the way home so I illegally parked in the fire lane of a strip mall to protect the loaner from crashing grocery carts and quickly ran into the cleaners.

I had the side doors open looking for a place to hang my cleaner bags, when someone gently pushed me aside. Startled, I watched a little old lady climb into the van and sit down wearily. Need to state here that at my age then, anyone over 60 was OLD. Today I look on 60 is a still a youngster. 

Back to the story. My mouth was still hanging open when the next wave hit. One by one, five more seniors climbed into the van, using my shoulder as a hand rail.

"We missed the bus." an elderly gentleman informed me as he squeezed beside two ladies and looked for a place to put his cane.

"You will take us home." he partially questioned, but mostly stated.

I looked at my little group of passengers and tried to push thoughts of law suit out of my mind as I asked,"Uh, where do you live?"

They were from Century Village which is a huge retirement village in Palm Beach County. Today over 6000 people live there. The Village supplied bus service to grocery stores and shopping complexes. This group had stayed too long and had been left on the curb. The last bus of the day was history.

Against my better judgment but not knowing how I could possibly throw 6 seniors back on the curb and still sleep at night, I made sure there were no more stragglers. I then told them to buckle up and headed for the Village which was several miles away.

I was curious why they had no shopping bags. Man-with-cane explained that they went a couple of times a week to the book store/coffee shop that was part of the strip mall to read and sip while the rest of the bus load grocery shopped.

I asked where their books were and he explained that they never bought a book except as a gift. They just read inside the store while sipping coffee. They would then write down the stopping page on a piece of paper so they could pick up where they left off next time.

Being a book and coffee person myself, I could see where that might be the perfect day out for seniors. The price for their entertainment certainly fit into a retirement income.

Now Century Village had over 2000 condos. It would have been nice if they all lived in the same unit but each one lived in a separate building. Kind of wondered how they all got together. Perhaps they met at Bingo.

At each stop, I got out to open the sliding door for the departing senior and was rewarded with a quarter and a sweet smile or nod for my efforts. Even in those days, twenty five cents was a pittance.

I tried to smile and refuse the change but they almost got ugly insisting. I quickly learned that little old ladies will not hesitate to slap your arm with their bony hands if you don't agree with them. So I just took the money and shut up.

I was really getting tickled at the absurdity of the situation. However with each successful unload, I breathed a new sigh of relief. I was beginning to think that this might work out after all.

Man-with-cane was the last to depart. He demanded my name and address. He did NOT offer a quarter. I was tempted to give a false name but I wrote my real name and address on the piece of paper he offered.

Ah, I thought, here comes the law suit. Perhaps I had taken a turn too quickly and caused a whiplash. I was living by the creed at that time that no good deed goes unpunished.

I was delighted though in a few days for I got a lovely card from Man-with-cane. He thanked me very nicely and there were TWO quarters scotch taped to the card. No lawyers ever called.

Still today,  thirty five years later, that ranks as the strangest, scariest, yet coolest buck seventy five I ever earned.

JUST WAIT TILL I'M A GROWNUP

Do you remember when you were a kid and were being forbidden to do something you thought was fun but your parents had other ideas?

I saw a child's arm out a car window the other day as he surfed the wind with his
hand. Suddenly the child's arm jerked back inside. I could easily imagine the conversation in that car.

When I was young, we moved a lot so we did spend many hours a year on the road. Without the distractions kids have today, we had to amuse ourselves as best as possible.

We played games. They boys would guess the make of car approaching us and I would look for farm animals and wildlife.  But the game I loved was to stick my hand out the window while holding a piece of paper and listen to it as it rattled in the wind.   A sound similar to when you put a playing card in the spokes of your bicycle. A cool racket.

Well that never lasted long  for the noise would drive the driver nuts and we would soon be forbidden to do it any longer.

In my mind only--for I was not a smart mouthed child--I would think--"Boy, just wait till I'm a grownup. I will do this all I want."

Yes, I became a grownup and no, I have never driven down the road holding paper in the wind.

No, I have never eaten ice cream only for every meal. No, I have never gone unwashed for days on end voluntarily.  No I don't leave a messy bed in the morning.

Ok, I did bring home every stray animal I saw. That might be the only thing I wished for that I actually did.

Hum, maybe I will try the paper thing one time just for kicks on my way to town tomorrow. It was kind of fun.  If you hear about an old lady getting her arm torn off by a passing car, you will know that didn't go well and my Mom was right.

Do you remember thinking you couldn't wait do all the things your parents forbid you to do once you became a grownup?  And did you?

WORDS THAT STYMIE ME

When I was a child there were words I couldn't master. My tongue would just mangle them beyond recognition. I would add letters, subtract them  and would do the same with syllables.

I would get laughed at only once before  either conquering the word  or dropping them for substitutes but that first laughed at episode always stayed with me.  I lived by my Mom's favorite saying that "only a fool makes the same mistake twice".  

I mentioned previously that we had no TV as children for my mother thought we would quit communicating. She was pretty darn right it turned out.  

Before the days of vacant minds, blank stares, and only talking during commercials, we played games.  Some board games, some card games but mostly word games. The latter required no props. 

As the youngest, my favorite was, "I spy with my little eye something that starts with----".   I would then give the first letter of the thing I saw and it would be up to the rest of the players to identify what I "spied." The other players were only allowed 3 guesses. Kind of the word game equivalent to "Go Fish."  

When I realized I had a problem with words and spelling was when I stumped the bunch with "I see something that starts with M."  Each took their 3 tries and failed. Finally when they granted me  my victory they asked what the "M" was.  "Manoleum" I proudly said.  Even then it took a  while for them to realize I meant linoleum. 

I was given grace after much hooting of foul play but I finally ruined my credibility with "I see something that starts with P."  Again no one guessed and once more I smugly pronounced-"pusghetti" for spaghetti.  Boy did that take me back.

Now I eventually out grew most of the glaring mispronunciations but not completely.    Of course all I have to do is not use them in my everyday language but when I read the words, my mind screws them up and I know I am wrong. 

These are some of the words I struggle with today.  

RECIDIVISM  has been dumbed down to "repeat offending" in my oral vocabulary. Somehow I do fine till I reach the "vism" part then I tangle up and add syllables if I can finish at all.

CACOPHONY. This word I can pronounce but only after sounding it out slowly like a 3 rd grader. To my distress, I recently read a book where this was the author's favorite word and each time, I had to sound it out.  Sheesh. What is wrong with noise, racket or  clamor?  

PEREMPTORY. I get the meaning when reading this, mostly in legal novels, but in my head I am thinking it wrong and my mind knows I'm wrong. I add an unnecessary "A" and double "P" to the mix.  I won't tackle it if I am trying to impress.

COPERNICUS.  Ok this is a name, not a word but it is one I have seen and said several times in 77+ years but when I see it in print, it is a struggle every time. I read a book a while back that repeatedly refers to Nicholas Copernicus.  Each of the at least 20 references to his last name, I had to sound it out in my head like a child. 

Hum, wonder if there is a nice scientific three letter acronym for what ails me.   Maybe, PPB (poor phonics background)? 

Ooh, ooh, I think I may have conquered  three of these just now by writing about them. Suddenly they seem so simple. Time will tell. However Nicholas's last name is still giving me fits. It just doesn't sound like it looks. 

Are there words that stymie you today and you avoid or do you bull dog though till you conquer them??   

A GIVE-AWAY and HANG IN THERE

Once of my favorite bloggers, The Chubby Chatterbox, is holding a really neat give away on his blog site.  Stephen, as he is also called, is a fine artist but is also a really good story teller. His beautiful painting below is what is  up for grabs but his site is well worth the visit even with no prize attached. Check it out.

To sign up for the giveaway, go here for rules. 

Click on the link in red to find the rules.

OK, now for "hang in there."  In one more day, if you haven't all ready, we can all cast our ballot and shed ourselves of the most toxic election I have seen in my 56 years of voting. Never has our democratic system give me such a belly ache along with overpowering feelings of disgust and dread. Occasionally in the past I have voted for the lesser of two evils but most often there is a candidate I am behind. This time I am a card carrying member and willing backer of "her"  but it has still been a painful process.

Once you have cast your vote and seen the results, I hope you won't feel the need to pack your bags. There is always recourse. I tend to hang around regardless.

If the person you don't want is elected, remember you still have a voice via e-mails and phone calls to your congressional men and women.   Use that power, in fact, use it even if your person of choice is the winner. Also remember there are mid-term elections that will need our input.

Democracy may be a ghastly pain at times but it is the best system out there and we are so lucky to have the opportunity to voice our wishes and have them count--even if we do need aspirin, Rolaids, and meditation to make it through.

Hang in, it really will be over soon.

SHAMELESS

Yes I am shameless and quite frankly, I am a bit proud of it.

Lately my trees and vines have climbed my power pole till they completely surrounded my outdoor security light that I pay for on my light bill.  Outside of a nice glow among the trees, I got no benefit at all from the light. This is the second time this has happened.

I called the power company and they promised to send someone out that day to trim the branches so I thought I'd get in some lawn mowing while I waited.
I just finished mowing and was walking to the house when a power company bucket truck with two nice young men  pulled up to the gate.

The head guy sadly said that they could only cut the branches down and pile them up.  I would have to dispose of them.  I said,"OK," thinking this would not be too difficult.  Then they went to work.

The pile kept getting higher.

The branches kept getting bigger. 

That is when I shamelessly played the age card. I said nothing but took quick action.

When I mow on the rider, I wear a huge brimmed sombrero, two cooling neck scarves, and am lathered in white zinc oxide for sun block that looks a lot like clown make up. I am pretty sure my disguise made my age a mystery.

Recently I have been nursing a bum shoulder that makes shifting gears in my car and even pulling up my underwear an uncomfortable, painful experience. Realizing I probably could not handle this huge pile, I was getting worried.   Pretty sure those limbs weighed more than my underwear. Steps had to be taken.

I eased into the house, removed the hat and scarves, quickly washed off the grease paint exposing my wrinkles and fluffed up my white hair. Did I limp a bit when I went back out?? Well I do have a bad back and hip. It is hard to show that a shoulder is hurting so I MAY have exaggerated my normal limp a wee bit to make the point that I was a beat up old lady.

I limped up to the head guy for a casual chat.  He looked at me closely for the first time. We chatted a bit, then he went to his truck and talked quietly on the radio.

He came back with a big smile and said he had arranged for the wood chipper truck to stop by in the next few days to remove the debris.  Ah, what a sweet man.

I thanked him profusely saying that I really didn't know how I would have managed that pile---and that was the truth.  I was enormously relieved and he got to spend the rest of the day rightfully feeling good about himself.  Win/win.

When I was younger, I would have gone in, fixed my hair, made sure my deodorant was still working, added makeup, put on some short shorts with a flattering blouse and hope for the same results. Now days, white hair, wrinkles and a bit of a limp works just fine. This isn't new shameless behavior, just different.

Have you ever deliberately played the age card or exaggerated an ache or pain to get extra service?

PLUS SIDE OF WHITE HAIR

I know it is really easy to moan about aging. Chronic pains creep in.  Serious disease that requires expensive medication may take up residence.  Perhaps just the not being able to do the things we use to do with ease or sometimes at all can darken a day. So where are the pluses you ask?

I personally  think there are almost as many pluses as minuses. I no longer live tied to the clock--well except on doctor appointment or luncheon days. I no longer work for a living. Every month a check magically appears in my bank account that I did not work for. But you say--that check was earned years ago.

I never thought of those FICA payments I made for 46 years as being my future. I felt it was my way of helping to take care of my grandparents and then my parents in an almost painless way. Now it is the job of my younger relatives to take care of me in the same way. Thanks kids.

I know some of you keep as busy now if not more so than when you worked. I don't try to fill my dance card daily and love this freedom to time manage.  But besides that freedom, there are other pluses to this white hair period.

When we ladies were younger the opposite sex would come to our aid fairly easily. Just standing by a car on the side of the road with a flat tire and in no time, gentleman of all ages would stop to help.

As we packed on a few more years and pounds on, the wait on the side of the road became a wee bit longer but rescue always came. Chivalry is not dead.

Then as we became AARP eligible, it was usually the youngish man who stopped to help as he mentioned that you reminded him of his mother or even--gasp--his grandmother.

Finally the hair turned white and all sorts of opportunities opened up. Everyone stops quickly now to help--- including men and women of all ages.  Doors are opened not in a flirtatious manner but in a helpful one that will make the opener feel good about themselves for the rest of the day. It becomes almost impossible to lift anything heavy in public.  Seats are offered on public transportation.  We have fallen into the same category as pregnant women.

Yep, I'm a white headed old lady and am working it. I no longer have to ask for help in the garden center. All I have to do is stand by the large bags of garden soil that once were easy to lift but not so much today. I can still lift them but it isn't pretty. Even folks who don't work there help me.

I had one of my car's headlights burn out this week so I went to the auto store to get a replacement. The young fellow behind the counter offered to put it in for me and I let him. All he wanted was a big smile and to feel good. I gave him the first gratefully and am pretty sure he enjoyed the latter.

Last week I took my sick lawnmower to the dealer who has worked on it before. He listened to me briefly, diagnosed the problem and was able to fix it in a few minutes without even unloading it from the trailer.  "No charge," he insisted with a big grin.

White hair is now my money maker. I am certainly not helpless but I have no problem accepting help with heavy lifting and enjoy the opportunity of making someone fell good about themselves.

You men know where you fit in this post and we love you for it.  Most of you are still in the getting to feel good about yourselves stage. Lucky for us, along with the desire for sex,  helpfulness seems to be the last thing to go. And if you have reached a time when you need to lean heavily on a younger or healthier woman, relax and enjoy for you have earned it. Your dues are paid in full.

You women who have hit this milestone know I speak the truth. Those of you who are too young yet, just realize that age may take away many things but it also gives a pretty nice consolation prize beyond free time and senior discounts. Get ready to enjoy and take advantage.

Do you enjoy the benefits of age or are you are still a youngster (anyone under 70 in my books) and are the first to volunteer to help us white haired ones?

GINGER

This is a rerun from 2009 since I just don't have anything for today. I only had 3 followers at that time so it should be new for most of you. 

In the years that I ran the animal rescue, I placed over 250 dogs. I would love to say they all went to wonderful homes, but that wasn't always the case. You try the best you can and while I always followed up on the adoptions, a few fell through the cracks, much like our child services organizations. One such case was Ginger.

Ginger was a street dog when I found her. She was making a living raiding garbage cans and annoying the town residents. I often worked with the Humane Society and was told about this stray. Every time they went to pick her up, she vanished. She evidently knew their trucks. The director, who was a good friend, asked me to try to catch her as the neighbors were threatening to cause her harm with vague threats of poisoning.  

She was a small Sheltie mix with a very dirty and matted coat. There was nothing pretty about Ginger. I saw her cruising McDonald's parking lot, bought a cheese burger and caught her with no problem. My vehicle fooled her. I dropped her off at the vets for exam, bath and hair cut.

When I picked her up in the evening, I didn't recognize her. They had to shave her almost to the skin due to the mats. God had given her a lot of hair for a reason, she had an ugly body.

Ginger fit right in at the shelter and she adopted Sooner, a large greyhound male, as her best buddy. They were inseparable.  He would do his sprints around the pasture at roughly 40 miles per hour. Pumping her little legs as best she could, she would trail him and he would soon lap her many times but both ran with tongues out and wide grins. They were a joy to watch.



I apologize for quality and stains on the old picture.

As her hair grew, she became quite pretty and I sought to adopt her out. Ginger was very affectionate if a bit needy so when a friend suggested a woman he knew who was in an assisted living home that allowed pets, I was thrilled. Ginger would get 24/7 attention.

When the lonely woman saw Ginger, it was instant love. I felt I had really found a perfect match and had made two beings very happy. It was a really good day and I was quite comfortable in the adoption. I left my card with the director and told her that if, God forbid, anything happened to the lady, I would take Ginger back.

It was almost a year later when the director called me. She explained that Ginger's owner had dementia that was progressing rapidly and it was getting where she could no longer care for a pet. 

I asked if I could help out with walks and such but she said that the little dog was being unintentionally abused. The lady would tie the dog to her chair and not let her move. She would swat Ginger when she tried to move away. I was heart sick that the little dog was being so badly treated but I also felt deeply for the woman and the cruelties of that disease.

The director wanted me to take the dog but said we had to do it while the woman was at a doctors appointment as she would not understand and might get aggressive. This did not sit well with me for I was basically being asked to steal this woman's dog. I had no knowledge of dementia behavior but trusted the director and agreed to steal Ginger.

I went to pick up Ginger when the woman had gone to her appointment in the morning. Ginger acted almost fearful to see me and there was a dull look in her eyes. Under her thick coat, I felt her bones. She had obviously suffered in this home. 

When we got home, her reunion with Sooner lifted her spirits and I saw some of the old Ginger reappear. I was hopeful there was no permanent emotional damage and that it would just take time, care and love.

I had plans that day and when I got home there was a message on my answering machine. As I played it, my heart split in two.

A thin reedy voice softly spoke thru tears. "My doggie, my doggie, what have you done with my doggie? Please, please, I want my doggie. Bring her back-- please." Then the phone went dead.


I didn't know I could cry and throw up at the same time. It hurt-so-damn-bad. She had evidently kept my business card from when I first took Ginger to her. Perhaps whoever placed the call, hung up for her. Regardless, she knew I had stolen her friend. Pain strangled her voice. I couldn't feel any lower or dirtier so I threw up again.

I called the director when I could finally speak. She assured me that in a very short time, the woman would forget all about Ginger. I doubted that but was then told she was going into full custodial care, so having a dog was out. The cruelty of what I had done was impossible to bear.

There was no right thing to do here. I had to protect the dog but did I have the right to make this poor woman suffer any more? Thank God she never called back but I can hear her voice clearly today.  


Ginger later went into a wonderful home where she spent the rest of her years ruling the household as a benevolent dictator. That helped my conscience quite a bit. However, I still cringe today when I hear the word "doggie."

Have you ever had to do something that was the right thing to do but it broke your heart?

PARLOR TRICKS

I have mentioned before that early on growing up we had no TV. Therefore it was either board games, word games or parlor tricks to keep us amused as the dark of evening drove us inside and there was nothing good on the radio.

A parlor trick is a simple magic trick which is generally easy to execute. Such tricks are used to amuse people at parties.  They are designed to be performed in front of a small audience, such as a group of friends.

One of our family favorite "tricks" that surfaced when we had company was called Light as a Feather. This was also fun to try at slumber parties.  It was a game where four people, including children, could lift a grown person with just two fingers.

The liftee would sit posture perfect in a straight back chair with no arms. Then four of us lifters would stand over the person and place our hands in alternating fashion on top of the persons head.

We would all press firmly down on their head for the count of ten, then quickly release our hands, one at a time. The lifters would then place two fingers under the liftee's arms or knees and would be able to lift the person high off the chair with ease.

As a ten year old, I could actually lift an adult.  This always shocked both the novice lifters and liftees as well as the observers. It was even fun for the liftee as they felt like they were floating. Yes, parlor tricks were often mysterious and always amazing.

My love for parlor tricks continued into adulthood. I got a kick out of amazing others with my so called "powers."

Once my sister's boyfriend taught me a cool trick that worked really well in stopping a headache in its tracks. I was complaining of a headache one day and he offered to "heal" me.

He sat me in a straight back chair, placed his thumb and middle finger below my eyebrows beside the bridge of my nose with one hand. He then positioned his thumb and middle finger on my neck at the base of my skull with his other hand. Telling me to relax and to go with him, he pressed in firmly with both hands while lifting up, stretching my neck for about the count of five.  I can't really say it was a pleasant experience but when  he suddenly let go, the headache I'd been suffering was gone----poof.

I was at work one day when a co-worker came into my office grumbling about a headache. I had just recently become a convert of the procedure so I asked if she would let me "pinch her head" to get rid of it. She was totally dubious but I convinced her it was fool proof.   It worked perfectly on her. Tension headaches responded the best.

Before I knew it, as soon as the bank closed its doors in the afternoon, a small line would form outside my office and I would have to pinch away the day's stresses. This parlor trick worked 90% of the time and Dr. Patti was in.

Part of the success with "head pinching" was in their strong wish for relief, part in the use of acupressure and part in my convincing them that it would, without a doubt, remove the headache.

I also dabbled in palm reading and hand writing analysis through the years which I learned from those tiny booklets you could buy at most checkout counters. These "skills" were fun to bring out at parties when things got slow or to confuse dates. Truthfully I was a bit of a fake but then that is the basis of a good parlor trick.

I really haven't done any of those in years but was fun at the time. Sadly, electronics have put them to rest.

Thank you Mom for the love of parlor tricks and you Dad for the ability to make BS sound like an absolute truth.

Did you ever enjoy parlor tricks? Ouija boards and card tricks count.

WHO ARE YOU?

I was pretty much zeroing in on the frozen brussel sprouts in Walmart when our carts almost collided.  Her face broke out into a huge grin as she said,"Hey Patti, how are you? It's been such a long time."  She then swooped in for an enthusiastic hug.

I know her--- I think. 

I mean, she looks really familiar and she obviously knows me well enough to appear pleased at the encounter and want a hug.  I did the usual "What have you been doing and how's the family?" --hoping feverishly there was a family.

The whole time my mind is racing. 'Who are you???'

"Hey don't be a stranger," we both eventually agreed after vague pleasantries and moved off in opposite directions.

Now I am terrier like when I hit the memory wall. I will not let it slide. So I put shopping on pause as I pushed my cart without a shopping purpose to circle the large store a couple of times with mind racing.

Garden club?? I search my mind for the faces in that club but am pretty sure that's not it. Writing club?? Naw, pretty sure not, that was a small group. Survivor group?? Not unless it was someone who only came a few times. Master Gardeners?  Ah ha, I am pretty sure that is it but I continue walking with no name yet to attach to her.

It has been several years since I was an active member of the group so I resort to the A--B--C's hoping to jog my memory. This is a very effective memory prodding tool by the way. Lock the image of the person in your brain then very slowly recite the ABCs and often a letter will expose the name.

When I got to the letter L, suddenly the name burst into my brain to match the face-- Liz!!! Yes, I do remember, in fact she was actually a favorite of mine in the Master Gardeners.  We had worked closely on a project several years ago.  She had gained maybe 10 pounds but I had gained twice as many wrinkles and sags so I wasn't going to be absolved that easily. She remembered, I didn't. Do you suppose her being 30 years younger helped?

I have adjusted to a some of those memory blank spots these days.  'What did  I come into this room for?'  Remembering something I need in a store that isn't on my list but by the time I get to the general area, I have forgotten what I remembered I needed. Grrr.

That last one really irritates me but I use Bill Cosby's rule. He advocates returning to your original starting point and it will come back to you. He went a bit further convinced that our brains are in our butt for he suggested not only returning but sitting back down to reboot the memory.  It does work Bill, even if you are in a store and can't sit.

I secretly am convinced that aging memory is Nature's way of making sure us old codgers get exercise. I know it makes me wander about a lot. I put in a lot of extra steps that day in the store hunting for Liz's name. And those of you who forget where you put your car in the parking lot, you really get some wonderful exercise.

I am quite good where I park my car, where my keys are,eye glasses (except that time I didn't recognize them) , appointments, etc.  It is people and their names that I am really weak on. Names were never my strong suit but lately----?

I am reminded of some dear friends of mine from years ago. They were in their late 60's and we were at a party together. Wally looked at his wife and said."See that lady over there with the purple scarf?  She sure looks familiar. Do we know her?"

Vesta got the giggles and said, "Don't you remember? That is Sara and she was in our memory class."   Think I am getting right up there with you Wally.

Then there is the elusive word, that one you have known all your life but leaves you in mid sentence with a blank mind and stare.  I got a bit tickled when my friend Sis from the second grade came to visit this summer. We are just weeks apart in age. During her visit, a couple of times each of us would  hit the wall searching for "the word" and oddly the other knew exactly the missing word.

I started to laugh after one episode and said, "You know between the two of us, we might have one brain."

THE FIRST SENIOR MOMENT 

I know, I posted this cartoon before in 2010 and I think Fishducky used it not too long ago also but to me it really brings home the consequences of a senior memory. There weren't many of you around when I first posted it, besides it fits this post and cracks me up :))

I guess if there is any consolation, it's that we are not alone. This condition is as common as wrinkles in those of us who hold an AARP card.  We just have to find new tools to combat it.

Have you hit the wall yet?  Do you have a handy tool to help?

THE ADVANTAGES OF A LONG BITTER WINTER

OK, I know most of you out there are up to your armpits with the winter blues. It was even getting to me a bit especially since we are in the middle of an ice storm right now.  However since I don't have a dependable grumpy gene, I decided to look for the positives of bitter cold, being house bound, outrageous heating fuel prices  and going flat out bonkers inside the confines of our homes. 

Though Arkansas has not had any sense of what most of you have gone through, it was a taste that surprisingly, I tired of quickly. My heart goes out to those of you for whom Winter has become a never ending foe that has kept the bread winners struggling to get to work, the kids out of school and the rest of us falling gracelessly on our duffs.  

Still, there really are positives to be found. 

  1.  You have to admit that fluffy white is prettier than stick brown trees and burned beige lawns. Snow covers everything indiscriminately and smooths out the world.  Winter's masquerade ball really has "pretty" firmly on its positive side. 

  2.  A recent check at my local dealer for the price of Propane made me clutch my chest and declare aloud to my long gone parents that I was "coming home." Scared everyone in the store and startled my parents whom I am sure were hoping for a bit more warning.  

When gasoline prices go up, we can try to curtail our driving. It is hard to curtail being warm. However we actually can adjust how we keep warm a bit and here comes the advantage.  You can break out those ugly sweaters  you keep meaning to donate, toss on a down vest and lower the thermostat.  Also a half hour on the stationary bike periodically really warms a person plus burning unwanted calories. Biking also helps with the restless crazies. No bike?? Jog in place.   

  3.  The simple fact of  being house bound, even considering higher fuel prices, is a money saver.   I no longer zip to the store for coffee only and check out with a cart full of impulse buys. My gas credit card this month was 1/5 of normal. What a nice surprise. My grocery store  spending was minuscule. I actually only bought groceries.  My trips have been less frequent and 'need' only inspired. I just balanced my check book and was pleasantly surprised. On a whole, actually better than break even after heating fuel was included. 

  4.  Shoveling snow?? Yes annoying to most  Weird I know but I kind of enjoy it once my shoulder has been tamed by pain killers.  Shoveling does burn calories and lets us indulge in comfort foods with out guilt. Being guilt free at the dinner table is a huge plus. 

  5.  It makes you realize as you walk around on the fresh snow in the early morning that your area (no matter where you live) is alive with creatures. So many tracks, most unrecognizable to me, make me realize, night time is a very active time for Nature. Wish I had one of those wildlife video cameras. 

  6.  For those of you who feed the birds in Winter, what an entertaining and rewarding sight the feeders are.  True there is squabbling, bullying and shoving at the feeders but it is like watching a smaller and more colorful  version of why we will probably never have world peace-- but will  survive. Even with the bigger birds being pushy, the scrappy little guys still eat and prosper. Gives one hope and a smile. 

  7. Being forced to spend more time indoors, makes one appreciate all the methods we have today for keeping in touch with family and friends. As long as the power holds, we are just phone call or a finger stroke away.   The need to reach out intensifies yet is easily satisfied. 

Ok, I was hoping to scrounge up ten reasons but will settle for 7.  Perhaps the ice storm plus all day sleet has weakened my resolve. Maybe you have some of your own pluses to share?? Think hard, it does help.   

I will leave you with something my Florida friend Sue sent me. If you actually enjoy crying and smiling at the same time, rather the same effect Winter has on us--click on the link. What a lovely cry it was.    The best soldier-dog reunion ever.