Celebrate America!

As hubby & I were enjoying breakfast at dawn this morning, I remarked that we were having "classic Fourth of July weather." The early sun was shining through a light haze, and we knew that we'd be conceding the day to Mother Nature and closing our windows within an hour or so and seeking refuge in our air-conditioned cocoon for most of the day.

First, though, there were errands to run, so off we went. Before breakfast, I hung our flag out in front of the house, continuing a routine instilled in my by my Dad, a WWII vet. When I was a little girl, I remember accompanying him at the break of dawn every patriotic holiday to display the flag from our porch railing. Each year, he'd impart a bit of flag lore. "We need to wait a few minutes, honey. The sun's not up quite yet. AND we need to be sure to bring it inside at sunset, since we don't have a way to light it," he'd say. Or (the most disapointing of all) "We can't put it out, honey. It shouldn't be flown in bad weather" (he called it "bad weather" because I was too young to understand the meaning of "inclement". And I remember being bitterly disappointed the year that he found that our flag was faded and had a tear in it that almost wasn't visible. "Sorry, honey, we'll have to wait until the store opens to get a new one. You shouldn't fly a damaged flag."

That ritual continued throughout my girlhood... Memorial Day, Flag Day, Labor Day, but most importantly, on Independence Day and it forged one of the most special, deeply-ingrained bonds with my Dad. I thought of him this morning as I hung our flag just after sunrise, smiled to myself, and thanked him once again for teaching me love of flag and country, almost from the time I could first walk.

But I digress... back to our errands. As we drove slowly through our subdivision, I began to count the number of flags being displayed along our route. Sadly, I could count them on the fingers of one hand.

Is this any way to celebrate the birth of the greatest country in the world, imperfect though she (and each of us) may be? What has happened to our national pride? How are children learning the important lessons of citizenship, if not at their parents' knee? Has Independence Day become just an excuse for another round of cook-outs or getaways to break up a long, hot summer? How many of us (especially those under 30 years old) really stop to reflect on the significance of the date and the celebration?

Not enough, I fear.

If you have children, or grandchildren, teach them how to respect the flag (and if you don't know how yourself, then learn! - any VFW post can help with a pamphlet.... or just Google "flag etiquettte", for gosh sakes!) Remind them, as they shoot off or oooh and aaah over fireworks, that those beautiful patterns in the night sky are a reminder of all the sacrifices made by so many throughout our history, but especially at the time of its birth.

And above all, please try to find a way to give America a combination birthday and thank-you gift for all that she's given you... visit a veterans' hospital, thank a soldier, volunteer to work on a Habitat house or at your local animal shelter for a few hours. There are so many possibilities that there's "something for everyone".

America may be going through a "bad patch" right now, uncertain and politically divided, but maybe if every single citizen found a way to say thank you to their country on this day, we could start to heal the tatters in the flag and everything Old Glory represents.

Candles in the Wind

I should probably buy stock in Yankeee Candle company. So many beguiling scents to choose among! Will it be Storm Watch, or Sage and Citrus, or Beach Walk or...?? The choices seem endless, and each one evokes memories of things experienced or of places that exist only in my mind which are no less "real"... a meadow I'd love to walk in (if I weren't allergic to bees!), a full moonrise in early October cutting & burning brush with the neighbors... simply put, places I've been and wish I could be again.

Lately, though, I've lit far too many candles. You see, I'm a dog lover and a dogmom who's getting close to the point of being able to say that I've loved and lost more dogs than I can remember in my over 60 years. (Yeah, the memory starts failing just a little at my age, and the roll call takes a bit more effort to recite.) Over the last decade-and-a-half, thanks to the wonders of technology, I've come to know many others like myself, along with their dogs. I've vicariously shared the joys of puppyhood, the exhilaration of seeing a dog succeed in the show ring or in field exercises and agility events, or just in watching them grow into cherished family pets with personalities and quirks as unique as their owners'. After years of sharing stories, you come to feel almost as though each dog is (or could be) one of your own.

And then the end comes. Too often, it's cancer, or sometimes it's a sudden and unpreventable accident. Sometimes it's simply time taking its toll. Yet each of these losses is somehow a tiny bit mine, despite the fact that I've never met the dog or its family. I grieve the losses almost as if they were my own.

But how do you begin to express sympathy with words in an e-mail? They've all been written so often that whatever you write seems scripted, and echoes of empathy bounce off the corridors of cyberspace. Simply put... words fail.

And so, I light a candle... for Cruiser, for Edgar, and for so many others taken too soon from the ones who love them. I try to find peace in offering up a tiny spark to light the heavens as these wonderful souls find their way to the Place where they will Wait, watching over those they loved and waiting to be reunited, young and free, forever.

I only wish I didn't have to visit Yankee Candle quite so often....

HELP! I've Fogotten How to Juggle!!!

Before I left the working world for the world of "homemakerhood" I worked as Production Manager in a busy printing and graphics company. The requirements of the job could be boiled down to allocating manpower, equipment and materials in such a way that a host of jobs of all kinds would be completed on time, on budget, and in full accordance with the jobs' requirements. On paper, it seems pretty simple, until two employees call in sick, or the paper for the wedding announcement isn't delivered or a press breaks down. Then of course, there were also the customers who'd make major changes to a job but still expect - no, DEMAND - that the job be delivered by the original deadline.

Coping with constant changes, interruptions and unexpected complications of all sorts (while smiling and remaining civil to both the customers, co-workers, vendors and the boss) was a part of the daily routine. On many occasions, especially on Frenzied Fridays, I felt like the star juggler in some wacky three-ring circus. Still, it was immensely satisfying in a lot of ways, even if it did encourage the "control freak" spirit that's always been a big part of who I am.

But all that was nearly twenty years ago now. Dave and I are by nature happiest when we're at home, living quietly with our dogs, our books, our hobbies and each other's company. When we entertain guests, it's usuallly only one or two at a time.

So here I sit on the verge of the Memorial Day weekend. We've enlisted friends to help us do some long overdue yard work, tearing out all manner of overgrown "stuff", tilling and tidying neglected areas - you get the picture. This will, of course, involve feeding eight or so people AT THE SAME TIME! When was the last time I did that, anyway? Must have been back in our ballooning days, and then we usually paid for the meals in a pizza joint or Mexican restaurant rather than cooking for our crew.

And then there's the matter of tidying up the house. Maybe I can get away with unearthing just the living room, kitchen and bath? YES! CLOSE ALL THE OTHER DOORS!

Oh, how could I forget that I need to get to the bank tomorrow to deal with some of my Mom's affairs related to applying for Medicaid? (But that's meat for another post another time.)

Of course, before any of this can get started, I have to figure out what needs to be done or procured before the event. Ever notice how good you feel after making a lovely list, and how hard it is to actually start DOING things so you can cross them off? That's about where I am at this point. I have THREE lovely lists, neatly prioritized and ready to be tackled. Just one small problem... I only have two hands and about twenty-seven balls to keep in the air in the next couple days.

It's been a long time since my juggling days. Oh heck, a little bit of dog hair in the potato salad never hurt anybody. I think I'll take a nap!

Summer - Then and Now

I'm sitting here at 8:30 a.m., windows open, listening to the birds on what promises to be a fine early summer day. The sun is beaming through a thin layer of early haze and the day carries the promise of hot & muggy by afternoon. Odd, though... something's missing. Oh, that's right! I don't hear any children roaring up & down the street on their bikes or chanting jump-rope rhymes or shrieking their way through a game of tag.

On mornings like this I remember rushing through breakfast so I could run down the street to the house where "The Twins", Patty & Debbie Cramer lived. We were an inseparable threesome through most of my childhood. Our summer days started early - usually by 7:30 or so when our fathers went off to work. We'd occupy ourselvs with the sorts of activities that a lot of kids today wouldn't even have heard of. How often do you see little girls chalking the sidewalk for a game of hopscotch these days? (They'd probably get detained by the Homeowners Association if they tried it here!). There were "make pretend" games that would go on for days as we made up storylines for the characters each of us chose to "be". We'd play frenzied games of kick-ball in the quiet street where we all lived.

By lunchtime, we'd be ready for a break in whatever we'd been occupied with, have lunch (usually together "catered" by my mom or Mrs. Cramer) and be right back outside, splashing & laughing together in the Cramers' kiddie pool, or doing one craft or another until suppertime. And after dinner, we'd be out & about until dusk. Just as the streetlights came on, all the moms in the neighborhood would be out on their porches calling the little lambs home for a bath and then to bed. At the end of a typical summer day, we were tired and slept soundly on sheets that carried the fresh smell that only line-drying can impart.

I wonder if there are still neighborhoods like that. I know there must be, but I can't remember the last time I saw one. It seems as if children have lost the desire or the ability or the freedom to just be kids and play in a non-structured environment. Our pick-up kick-ball games have translated into soccer leagues, too often with parental supervision that doesn't set a very good example when it comes to teaching kids about cooperation and sportsmanship. The "make believe" games where we were the authors and the actors let us open wide our imaginations. Those games have been replaced by computer games that are for the most part solitary and sedentary and violent.

On mornings like this, when the only sounds I hear in the neighborhood are my feathered neighbors and an occasional car passing, I really miss hearing children at play, and I can't help but feel a little sorry for them. They're missing out on so many of summer's simple, spontaneous joys.

"A - my name is Alice and my husband's name is Art and we live in Albuquerque and we sell Artichokes! B - my name is Bertha and my husband's name is Bob...."

Teach some child in your life a jump-rope rhyme. Defy your neighbors' sensibilities and chalk the sidewalk for hopscotch. Play ball or go on a "nature hike" through the neighborhood looking for butterflies, feathers, or a variety of leaves. You'll start seeing the "little things" again, and maybe even feel a little younger yourself! Let's all try to bring back a little taste of "the good old days".

Time Flies When You're (Not) Having Fun

Over a year ago, I made a first stab at blogging, the novelty of which quickly wore off. After all, what makes me think anyone would bother with the ramblings of a 60-yr. old Dogmom who longs for a return to the "good old days" and spends too much time in dark mutterings & ruminations on the state of the world as we know it?

And so I abandoned the nascent blog and discovered.... (ta-da!) Facebook and as a result became addicted to avoiding the real world of penny-pinching in the current economy, a winter's gray skies and the roller coaster that is Indiana weather. Instead, I took up residence in a place where it was always sunny and 70 degrees Fahrenheit - FARMVILLE! There, I've become a multi-millionaire! Three cheers for virtual reality! Now if only I could figure out a way to do it in real life.

For good or for ill, a dear friend convinced me to return to a slightly more real world (at least for brief visits). And so I find myself once again in this little corner of cyberspace (GAWD, I hate that word), where I can share my pearls of wisdom, dark Eeyore-ish thoughts or just plain "stuff" & get it off my chest. (I think the encouragement offered had something to do with said friend being tired of listening to me LOL!).

So here I sit, finding it almost impossible to believe that more than full year has passed since I last wrote... a difficult and stressful one if truth be told. It's been a year of hubby working away from home, and trying to maintain our house and his apartment on one salary, while ALSO trying to keep our sanity by finding money under the sofa cushions to buy pizza once a month... a year of trying to make sure Dhugal, our Golden Retriever, isn't outside at the same time as Lexie, our neighbor's border collie (they get WAY too talkative and we're trying not to run afoul of the AHA (Almighty Homeowners Association); a year of watching my mom linger in the shadow that is Alzheimer's, and yet another year of worrying to the point of billiousness over the threat of tornadoes (even if we're two states away from the nearest watch box!). Definitely not a fun year, but one that has passed in an eye-blink. Somewhere in all that "ordinary little life" angst are a few stories - some are maybe even worth telling - so here I am again. Stay tuned.

In Memoriam - The Corner Grocery Store

I was browsing cookbooks this morning - a favorite pastime on a dreary February day - trying to find some inspiration to liven up suppertime. Like many other folks who cook for only one or two, I've fallen into a meal-preparation rut that centers around frozen meals and convenience foods. I enjoy cooking and trying new things but lately have found it increasingly difficult to choose this more adventurous culinary path.

The reason?

It's becoming more and more difficult to find foods that are packaged in smaller sizes. Everything seems to be sold in bulk or Jumbo Sized or SUPER-SIZED! We're on an especially tight budget right now as are so many others. The idea of wasting food, never a good one, is a particularly unwelcome one these days. But try as ye may, it's virtually impossible (at least in my neck of the woods) to go into a grocery store and purchase two or three yellow onions instead of a 5- or 10-pound bag. Celery seems to only be available in two-bunch packages and it's getting harder to find milk in pint bottles or eggs sold by the half-dozen.

It's this that makes me long for the old corner store, an endangered species that has become virtually extinct in much of the country (especially in suburbia).

I grew up in Buffalo, New York in a neighborhood made up primarily of German and Polish families. I fondly remember hopping on my bicycle and pedaling two blocks to Mr. and Mrs. Kowiski's store. You could "break" a pound of butter and only purchase one stick, or purchase that half-dozen eggs or 3 onions or 4 potatoes or whatever else mom put on the list as she was planning the evening meal. Mrs. Kowiski would always invite errand-running kids like me to pick a piece from the magical glass-fronted penny-candy case as her reward to us for helping our mothers. Nothing ever seemed to be out of stock, yet everything was always fresh. The Kowiskis knew the tastes of the neighborhood and accommodated requests to stock particular products with pleasure.

The corner store, though, was much more than a place to buy groceries. In many ways, these enterprises were the hearts of the neighborhoods in which they thrived. In those stores, the women in the neighborhood - most of them strictly homemakers - would stop to chat with each other or with the store owner, exchanging news both momentous and mundane. If a neighbor was sick, you'd probably learn of it first at the store and would likely make a call to see if help was needed or make a casserole or offer some other kindness.

The store owners also kept a watchful eye on the neighborhood kids who'd congregate to check out the newest comic books or teen magazines. They'd ask about how things were going in school or for the little league team and would offer praise for a job well done or encouragement (and sometimes even gentle admonishment) when things didn't go quite right. And of course, they'd be sure the parents knew if there were any hints of trouble.

But enough reminiscing! It's unlikely that the corner store, along with so much of what America seems to be losing, is coming back anytime soon. Communities everywhere are poorer for the loss.

It's Not Easy Being 'Green'

I agree with Kermit the Frog - It's not easy being 'green'. Hubby and I have been making a concerted effort to do our part for the planet, but we're discovering a couple pitfalls.

The big one for us is converting to compact fluorescent bulbs. Sounds simple, doesn't it? ... and it'll save oodles on your electric bill, right? (Not to mention that in a few years, there'll be no choice - traditional incandescent bulbs will go the way of the dinosaur by 2012 or so.) That is, of course, unless our so-called "friends" in Washington change their minds like they seem to have done with the conversion to DTV.

OK, so we started to make the switch in earnest about a year ago. At first, with great trepidation, we replaced the bulbs in the closets. "YECH!!! Those are so UGLY! - they're too BLUE!" (and blue is my favorite color, even). Off to Lowe's to try a different brand and wattage. Same song, second verse... "GAWD! these are so PINK it looks like a House of Ill Repute in this closet!"

After considerable searching, we found a color/wattage (Sylvania 3000 Kelvin) that was agreeable and almost-but-not-quite like an incandescent bulb (at least when hidden by a lampshade).

The first place we installed them was in a pair of brand new lamps that had cost about $250. These were "touch lamps" - you could caress them anywhere and they'd light up immediately - a great help first thing in the morning when you're stumbling half asleep from the bedroom through the pitch-dark living room to the COFFEE POT!

Guess what? The bulbs didn't work in the lamps. In fact, one of the lamps shorted out. Let me repeat - these were brand new lamps purchased from a reliable retailer. With the impending mandate for switching to CFL's, we assumed that the manufacturer would have indicated that they were NOT appropriate for the new bulbs in the product literature. Oh well, chalk it up to the old saying about assumptions - they make an A** out of you and me. We eventually purchased ANOTHER $250 pair of lamps that WOULD take the new bulbs and they're working fine, but it was an expensive lesson for a couple of folks trying to do the right thing on a really tight budget.

Then there's the issue of using the CFL's with ceiling fans that have a light kit and operate on a dimmer (or any other lights on dimmers). So far, despite asking questions, we haven't found any that will work on a dimmer used with ceiling fans sold just a couple years ago. And even if there are a few out there, you still have to cope with how gosh-darned UGLY they are! These twisty little buggers are taller than traditional bulbs and in a ceiling fan or a pendant-type fixture they may dangle their twisted bodies unashamedly into view. Not a pretty sight LOL!

And oh yes... if you live in the Midwest and intend these cost-saving gems for outdoor use, "Beware!" Their performance in cold temperatures (and I'm defining "cold" as below 40 degrees for you Sun Coasters) is shaky at best. If it gets below zero, these things will take until sunrise to warm up enough to shed any light.

Lastly, let me address the much-touted five-year lifespan.... HOGWASH! (at least in our experience.) The very first one we installed - in the desk lamp next to the computer, which is left on about 12 hours per day - lasted less than 14 months. Others have failed even under less demanding situations. We've taken to dating the bulbs when installling them to get some objective idea of how much is hype and how much is hokum.

So, to all I say "caveat emptor"... As you make the switch to CFL's, go somewhere where the bulbs are actually displayed LIT (Menard's has a good display if you have one in your area), and ask LOTS of questions - will the bulb really meet your needs? Be careful, too, if you're buying new light fixtures. Will they accept the new bulbs and function properly?

OK - that's my rant for today. In time, I'm sure techology and improved design will triumph and overcome my disgruntlement. But for tonight, I'm turning off the light ....