Well, I did it! I blogged for 30 days straight. It has been quite some time since I have done this much blogging. I've really enjoyed it, and I do believe that I will keep blogging on a regular basis now. I am not going to commit to a post a day, but I think once or twice a week is doable -- possibly more often than that at times.
I do miss the old days before Facebook when blogging, specifically AOL Journals (J-Land), was a big part of my daily routine, but those days are gone. I have been enjoying reading my friends' blogs more regularly once again, and I have begun reading a few new-to-me blogs as well.
I started my series based on letters from my sister, Barbara, which is something I have wanted to do for a long time. I've enjoyed writing about my daughter's animals, and I haven't finished with that. And I've started the food topic series. I will continue with those themes as I go forward.
Now to close out November 2015 and a successful NaBloPoMo. If you did your post-a-day this month, congratulations! I hope it was fun for you. October and November have been strange, stressful months for me this year, with Thomas' injury and being off work. NaBloPoMo has been a nice distraction. He has even enjoyed it, reminding me of an evening to not forget to do my post! I hope things get back to normal in December.
Yes, I almost forgot to make a post today. And it isn't going to be much of a post.
I haven't been sleeping well lately, and having my regular sleep patterns messed up has really been hard on me. So tonight I took a Melatonin. I have never taken it before, but my daughter does now and then when she's having trouble with insomnia.
I took it about 8 tonight, took my shower and got ready for bed, and just before going off to bed it hit me -- I mean the Melatonin hit me. Those things really work! I'm glad I had set an alarm to remind me in case I hadn't made a post today because otherwise I'd not be sitting here typing.
Okay, so that's it. I can't think well enough to write anything better. I'm going to go back to bed now, and I'll sleep all the better for knowing I haven't messed up my challenge to myself to blog every day.
I mention my sisters a lot in this blog. There are six of us girls, but we do have one brother. And if you've been a blogger friend for a while, you'll know that my brother is an invalid. He has lived at my Mom's for the past 18 or 19 years, since he suffered a stroke and needed some care in day-to-day life. About two years ago or so he became mostly bedridden; for the past year he has been entirely bedridden. My sister Barbara is his main caregiver.
Alton was sixteen when I was born. I was told that he was not amused that Mom was pregnant at her age. I guess he was a typical 16-year-old boy. But apparently I grew on him because he and his best buddies called me "Baby" and took me places with them. I don't think I was supposed to draw in the girls, because I think he and his future wife were already dating not long after I was born, but I might be wrong about that.
I was about four years old when he was drafted and sent to Vietnam. I can remember going with Mom and Dad, his wife, and her little sister to Fort Knox to see him graduate from basic training. All I can really recall is standing there watching those rows of uniforms and not knowing which one was Alton. Mom or Viney yelled out, "There he is!" And I kept asking, "Where? Which one?" I never could see which one he was and couldn't figure out how they knew.
I have memories of Mom getting letters from him in envelopes with red, white, and blue stripes around the edges. Sometimes he sent pictures to her, and I remember one of him standing by a tank. Years later he gave me the 35mm camera he used in Nam, and I cherish it.
I know that Vietnam changed him. Well, how could it not? I was too young to know how it changed him at the time. I didn't appreciate until years later the ways it changed him, but I have come to see that my brother was and is a sensitive soul. My son is very much like him. He had little nervous quirks and could get overwhelmed if he had to be around a lot of people for a long time. He is peaceful, doesn't like to be around arguments or fights. He lived in his head a lot. (So do I!) I imagine my son going to that horrid war at the age of 20 and what kind of damage it would do to him, and that is how I can know what Alton must have gone through.
He never talked much about Nam, not even to our parents. Several years before his stroke he was at Mom's house and China Beach was on the TV. A certain place in Vietnam was mentioned, and he said, "I was there." And that was the absolute first time I, myself, had ever heard him make even that small a reference to his time overseas. A few years later he apparently started talking about it to one of our sisters. Then he had his stroke.
After the stroke he told some war stories. I have a few of them on tape. And after he started getting worse he would -- and still will -- hallucinate and think he is in Vietnam.
The three oldest, Dennice, Alton, and Maxine
I'll write more about Alton in a later post. But right now I want to share a video that a friend posted to FB tonight. It's of the performing artist Pink and her father, performing together a song that he wrote about Vietnam; I believe she says that he wrote it while he was there. This video is from 2007, but I had never seen it before. It's nicely written, and I enjoy their harmony. Perhaps you will like it too.
I took a nap this afternoon and slept very heavily for a while. I dreamed very vividly. In my dream I was singing a song to my family. I explained to them that it was a very old song, but I had only learned it recently and had actually forgotten about it. I was very pleased in the dream that it had come back to mind.
I woke up, and the song was gone. I KNOW what song it was. I just can't remember what it is called, how it goes, or any of the words. Have you ever done that? It was a song that I had heard on a TV show I watched a few months ago on Netflix. It was either a BBC, Canadian, or Irish production I think (definitely not American). The song was an old traditional song that has been done by lots of musicians over the years. I really liked this particular recording, and I remember looking it up, learning it, and singing it.
Now I must go on a quest to find that song. I can't remember the show, but I know I watched it on Netflix and then deleted it from my queue when I'd finished the series. When I find it, I will come back and post about it here.
It was a gorgeous day today! Tomorrow is going to be nice, too, but after that there is rain in the forecast almost every day for a week at least. There will be some sun and not all-day-long rains every day, but still a lot of rain. I guess that's normal for November, but I've been enjoying these nice days and hate to see them end.
Each year as I get older I dread winter more and more. I get the winter blues worse now than when I was younger. Committing to blogging more may help with that, and getting back into a good writing schedule in general will be good. I'm just going to have to really be disciplined with myself to do that!
I have so much on my mind today that I can't settle down to write. And I know what I want to write about next but don't feel like composing it tonight. Sorry!
Eler Beth came home early from work today feeling bad. I hope she isn't getting the cold that her dad and I had and that everyone seems to have had. Whatever it is, I hope it passes quickly. I hate to see my baby girl feeling bad. I spent most of this afternoon trying to get her to drink juice or hot tea. She just didn't want anything, although she knows staying hydrated is important. She's a bit stubborn that way. :)
Ok, so, that's it for today. Hopefully I'll feel like taking the time to make a proper post tomorrow.
Have you ever had a metaphysical discussion prompted by the learning of a new word?
Sometimes Barbara likes to share new words with me, like in this letter from November 8 of this year:
"Let us say that the circle below [see image to the left]* is the earth, and that the line across it is the equator. You are here.
"Someone else is standing on the same meridian, but across the equator. At noon, your shadows will fall in opposite directions, which brings me to the point.
"There is a word for that.
"This business of casting shadows in opposite directions is ANTISCIAN, as are the people casting them. (an-TEE-shÓ™n) I am ashamed to confess that I had never felt the need for such a word, but now that I know there is one, I'm glad...."
We have long enjoyed sharing new words with one another, being logophiles of longstanding. Origins of words fascinate us, and because Barbara does not use a computer (more on that in a later post), she has at times sent me a word she has run across that she can't find enough information about the old-fashioned way. Or she'll have me look up the history of various spellings or uses of a word. She keeps me on my toes!
She goes on to say in the letter:
"...I like it better than the more common antipodal, at least metaphorically. Where is the relevance of being poles apart, when you may have been cast there, willy-nilly, by birth, or cataclysm, or some other interpersonal institution? On the other hand, it sounds more meaningful to actively cast your shadow, (vote, influence, evil superpowers, etc.,) in a contrary and perhaps unexpected direction. Of course, that's only my opinion...which doesn't substantially weaken my position."
You should have been around when we used to make up sentences in Latin and mail them to one another for the other to translate! It was a very good practice exercise!
I like it when I get little line drawings from Barbara included in her letters. And I love the cards she makes herself and sends to me. I'll share more of those as well as time goes on.
Well, I guess that's all for now. Shall I add in a bit of personal news? There isn't much, except that Thomas went for a follow up visit, the second since his surgery. The bone is healing and is still aligned right, but the surgeon wants him to stay off work for at least another three weeks, possibly four. {sigh} We are learning what it is going to be like when he retires in a few years.
I'm REALLY enjoying doing NaBloPoMo this year!!
~ ~ Lori
*When quoting a letter, anything I type in brackets [ ] and/or in a different color will denote a personal comment from me. :)
Back in June we had a hard rain than caused a lot of flash flooding of small creeks and rivers. The water went down pretty quickly, but for a while a lot of people had some flooding problems. Eler Beth got a call from a former workmate who had saved a small kitten from the flooded creek near her house. She said it was a very young baby, and would Eler Beth like to take care of it and try to find it a home because she wouldn't be able to do the bottle-feeding every day? So we hopped in the car and drove over to pick up this bedraggled orphan.
She was a very small torti calico with a pointy face and huge green eyes. She was skin and bones, so she'd either been an orphan for a while, or her mother was a stray and hadn't been in great shape either. We brought her home, and Eler Beth gave her a bath. She was a perky little thing, very interested in her surroundings, and didn't seem shy or scared of us at all.
We housed her in the upper room of Remi's condo, no longer needed for Soren and Illyana. We had been expecting to have to bring out the bottles and formula and start that process all over again, but we soon realized that although this kitten was tiny, she was not as young as we had been told. As a matter of fact, from her teeth, her eyes, and her demeanor, we were pretty sure she was at least five weeks old, possibly older. She could eat regular kitten food and lapped water just fine. It wasn't long before she was doing her business in a litter box.
We kept her isolated from the other "Nyans" until we had her checked out and were pretty sure she was healthy. Then we introduced her to the others while still putting her up in the upper room at night. Remi was taken with her right away -- she was just another playmate for him. Soren and Illyana, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with her. Bryant was happy to have another baby to care for.
We called her Sanaki, or Naki for short. Nothing phased Naki. Bryant irritated her when he tried to clean her, but she put up with it. We'd take the kittens outside for a few minutes, and she was ready to wander off and explore while the other two stayed very close to us. She was about a third of their size but had an attitude three times bigger!
We thought we had found a home for her, but that fell through. I was skeptical as to whether she'd ever be pretty -- she was so skinny and that little face was so pointy. But as she started to put on some weight and fill out, her cheeks rounded out and her eyes didn't overpower her face so much. And now I have to say she is quite beautiful. She has round, owl eyes, that look like big, green jewels in her face. She is serene and sweet and plays like it's going out of style.
We'd had her for about four weeks when we decided she was not going anywhere. Any other orphans that might be taken in in the future would have to have homes found for them, but Naki was already part of the family. Sori and Illy had finally adjusted to having a little sister, and our little "Scoop o' kitty" as we called her was here to stay.
We love all four of our little "Nyans."
Remi, Soren, and Illyana when they are all just a couple of months old, snuggling up together in Little Bit's bed.
Below, Remiel the night we first got home with him. Eler Beth fed him, and then he dropped off to sleep in her hand. He was only 5 weeks old.
Soren also was very good at falling asleep in your hand!
Right, Remi being cute!
Below, Remi and Illyana, snuggled up together. Remi likes to look out the window.
The sister nearest to me in age is Barbara; she's six years older than I. Barbara probably has more talent, all tolled, than all of my family put together. She's an artist, working in several different mediums, a musician, and a writer. And she's just a really good person. She is the main care-giver for our brother Alton, who, after suffering a stroke about 18 years ago, has, in the past few years, declined into a bedridden state. She provides 90% of his physical care, and she does it uncomplainingly.
About three years ago Barbara started writing me a weekly letter -- an actual letter sent through the mail. I've always cherished her letters, beginning with the time she was away in the Marine Corp and continuing after I'd married and moved out of state. Cards and letters between us were sporadic at best. But a few years ago she began writing me, our sister Maxine who also lives in a different state, and one of our cousins, on a weekly basis. Her reason for beginning to write us weekly was, if I remember correctly, because she had a lot of old stationary, cards, and notepads that she wanted to use up. A good reason, right?
Even when there isn't any real news to tell, there is always something funny about her letters, a bit of wry humor, a funny clipping, a witty line drawing, and after reading them I can't wait to read them to Thomas and Eler Beth. It has occurred to me that I'd like to share them with others as well; at least parts of them. I'm not sure how she'd feel about this, but I think she'd give her okay. She's not quite as much of a recluse as she used to be. So another series I'm going to do, along with the On the Topic of Food series will be Letters From My Sister.
I was recently glancing through a few from this year, and I came across a card she sent me right before my 49th birthday. It was a home made card. On the cover she'd drawn a woman from behind, sitting in front of a dressing table and mirror. On the inside was the mirror face with the words, "Objects in Mirror Are Older Than They Appear."
Inside she'd written to me,
"This applies to all of us, of course -- but you're the one that's about to get older. Mom was just figuring up how old you'll be, & her comment was, 'My land! My baby, about to be 49 years old...and the next one!...' The next one, of course, well, that would be me."
I got a kick out of that.
So I look forward to sharing some interesting, funny, or just warm bits from some of my sister's letters, perhaps a few times a month. It will be a nice way of introducing my family to readers, and you might get a chuckle sometimes.
That's Barbara at about 7 years old, holding me when I was a baby. :) Happy blogging!
Cats, and Dogs, and Foxes Can Mix! All The Nyans, Part Eight
Despite
the fact that Fennec foxes are the most social of foxes, and that they
have been domesticated and owned as pets for many years, there are still
the facts that they are actually wild animals,and they are very,
very fast. So there are certain things you have to know about them
before deciding to own one. Although they love to socialize and can
become attached to their person, they aren't necessarily lovey, snuggly
pets like other mammals. They must be on a leash and preferably a
harness if you take them outside, and they don't usually even like going
outside or going to visit other places. They like their own little
territory and their own people and pets and are shy with others. They spook easily, especially by noises. Their big ears are so sensitive they can hear very well, and something we think isn't very loud can seem explosive to them. So if they were to get out of your arms or off their leash, they could run off in fright and you might never get them back. They
should be housed indoors exclusively and if you do have them outside,
they have to have a structure specially built for them that they can't
dig under or climb or jump out of.
Remi became very loving
almost right away. He doesn't want to be held often or for very long,
but there are times when what he does want is to be petted, cuddled, and
snuggled, and he absolutely loves his mom, Eler Beth, and all of his cat and dog siblings.
Fennecs
can be litter box trained, but not always, and Summer makes it plain to
any interested buyer that this is the case. Even when they do use a
litter box, they don't always use it. We were pleasantly surprised with
Remiel in this area, too. From the beginning he started using the
litter box. He has a small "corner" box in his condo, and there is the
larger box in Eler Beth's room that he and the cats use. He almost never
has an accident, as long as the boxes are kept clean. But if he comes
out into the rest of the house where there is no box, he might leave a
"golden nugget" on the floor as he's playing. He spends 90% of his time
in his room -- which is what he prefers -- so that's not a big deal.
Eler Beth has trained him to sit on command for a Cheerio reward. I don't know if he'll ever learn anything else -- and really, we don't expect him to -- but he at least knows that he'll get a Cheerio if he sits. It's very cute to watch him do it, too.
Bryant
had proved he was good with babies. When we introduced him to Remiel he
was very excited. As far as he was concerned we had brought him a new
baby to take care of. We only let them have time together under
supervision while Remi was so small, as we were doing with the kittens.
But soon, as the little ones all started growing quickly, Bryant
discovered that cats and Fennec foxes like to play, and he was happy to
stop trying to clean them and just play with them. Remiel became acclimated to his new room and his "condo" very quickly. He also decided that he really liked Little Bit's dog bed. And he LOVED Little Bit, who of course hated him! Little Bit is a toy fox terrier, 9 years old, and very set in her ways. She doesn't want ANY new animal on the premises, much less babies of any kind. She is very possessive and protective of me, but she had to learn to put up with Bryant, and now she was going to have to learn to put up with the kittens and the fox. She sleeps in Eler Beth's room at night because she is not allowed in our bed, and she will try to sneak in if she's allowed to roam the house at night. I don't like to keep our door closed all night long, so the solution was to make her sleep in Eler Beth's room.
At left, Little Bit trying her best to ignore the sleeping Remiel, snuggled up behind her bed. At right, we've given Remi his own plushy bed, and he snuggles up beside his plushy rabbit.
Remi began doing his excited "Whee! Whee! Whee!" call whenever Bryant or Little Bit came into the room. If "mom" (Eler Beth) left the room and came back in, he would "Whee!" And he even started doing it when I came in or if he could hear me or Thomas coming down the hall. He developed a little game to play with me. As soon as he knew I was coming in, he'd grab a toy, "Whee" all over the room and "keep" me from getting it. He'll lie down with it in his mouth, "whee'ing" the whole time, and I'll say, "You give me that toy," and either try to take it (and fail, of course) or just give him a good petting. It makes him so happy to think he's keeping that toy from "grandma!" I'll have to get a video of that.
To the left, me with a fox sleeping on my head. :)
Not long after we got Remiel, Eler Beth and I went on a five-day trip and we took Remi with us. The kittens we left at home, and Thomas took care of them. He got so attached to them that by the time we got home, he said we could keep them if we wanted. We had felt that he was turning toward that decision but we hadn't dared ask, so we'd just been kind of holding our breath. Now we could breathe. It was a good thing, too, because Remiel, Illyana, and Soren became fast and loyal friends. As far as the cats were concerned Remi was just one of them, and he, because he'd nursed with kittens, seemed to think it was just a matter of course that he had cat siblings in his new home.
So Eler Beth was very happy. She had Bryant, her companion dog, her best friend, who came to us at a time when he was really needed. She had her fox that she'd planned for for 8 years. And she had cats in the house, which she thought would never happen again.
And in June there was to be another addition to the menagerie....
(See previous posts for more of the kittens' and Remiel's stories.) ~ ~ Lori
On Saturday, May 16, Eler Beth and I dropped Bryant off to board at our vet, so she and I could drive to Milton, FL to pick up Remiel.
Thomas stayed home and would care for the other dogs, but we didn't want him to have to deal with Bryant, quite a large dog. Bryant loves everyone at his vet's office, and we knew he would do well there. And it was only for two nights.
The two newborn kittens were going to make the trip with us. They were still being bottle fed and cleaned, needing 24-hour care, so we outfitted a large plastic tote, set it on the back seat of the car, and took them with us. I drove most of the way down, with Eler Beth feeding and cleaning them when needed.
I turned the wheel over to her once in Alabama, and wouldn't you know it we had a downpour right then! She did great, though. It was late when we pulled into our hotel in Milton, Florida, just a few minutes away from Rare Earth Ranch. We checked in, got ourselves and the kittens settled, and happily went to sleep.
The next morning we had a quick breakfast, fed and bathed the kittens and got ourselves presentable for meeting Remi for the first time. My girl was SO, SO excited. She'd been planning for this day for eight years!
We'll meet Remiel, the Fennec, in tomorrow's post.
Thomas always takes off work the day before the first day of gun season; of course, this year, his broken thumb took care of that for him. The broken thumb is not, of course, going to hinder his hunting. He shoots left-handed, after all.
Eler Beth took off work today so she could spend the day getting things ready and resting for tomorrow. It doesn't matter how well they have planned, it always seems like there are last minute things to do on the day before gun season opens.
I hope they get something, especially Eler Beth. She wasn't able to get out much last year. And though she has 6 deer and 1 elk under her belt, so to speak, it has been a couple years since her last deer. If it seems strange to some that she is such an animal lover and has taken in orphaned wild animals, but can still shoot a deer, well, she's just practical that way.
I don't buy beef. I always have at least one freezer stocked with deer. We give deer to our family and to some families and elderly friends who otherwise wouldn't have much meat through the year. We don't waste any meat, and we don't hunt for trophies.
Anyway, today has been busy. I still have this cold that is driving me nuts -- can't hear out of my left ear! I guess I'll end up having to go to the doctor after all. Needed to get a blog post in before midnight, and by doggies, I think I'm just about going to do it.
Will continue the Remiel story tomorrow hopefully.
We heard from Summer, the breeder, on April 13. Her fox had given birth to two males the night before. Eler Beth was ecstatic! One of those two was Remiel!
As I said in the second post of this series, our only concern about getting Remiel was how Bryant would be with him. Bryant is the sweetest, gentlest dog, but he is big, and he is very attached to Eler Beth. Those fears were put to rest the next week when we brought home the orphaned newborn kittens to raise. Bryant went into surrogate daddy mode. He cleaned them and watched over them, was worried if you took them from his sight, and he was very, very gentle with them. He also would not let Little Big, the fox terrier, get near them. So we knew he would be fine with Remi.
Summer kept us updated online and by email with pictures and reports of the babies' progress. We started making plans for our trip in May to pick him up. Left is pictured the two newborn Fennec Fox kits. I have no idea which one turned out to be Remiel; they were competely identical. Pictured on the right are the Fennec kits with their step-siblings, Bengal kittens just a bit older than they. Summer hand raises her Fennecs from birth. She bottle feeds them during the day, and then at night she lets her Bengal cat nurse them with her kittens to give Summer a rest. This gives the foxes the socialization they need.
The story will continue in future posts; the next Remiel post will be about our trip down to Pensacola to pick up our fox.
Yes, my mother will be 92 next month. She was 42 when I was born; the seventh of seven children, I was a surprise. She actually didn't even think she was pregnant; she thought she was starting to go through menopause early.
When the doctor told her she was pregnant, she asked, "Are you sure?!?"
I can't imagine having a baby at 42, with six older children ranging in age from 18 down to 6. The eldest, Dennice, got married one month after I was born. I was an aunt twice at the age of three! I was closer in age to five of my nieces and nephews than I was to the sibling closest to me in age. In the picture above, Mom smiles at something my son's girlfriend is saying.
Mom says her kids keep her young, but I think she just has really, really good genes. She's a little too spry sometimes, though. A few years ago my sister Barbara walked over to Mom's house just in time to catch Mom climbing up on a chair on the back porch, getting ready to clean some spots off the wall. Barbara scolded her and then did it herself. Two weeks ago she -- Barbara -- was washing Mom's windows for her, left the house for something, came back and caught Mom, again, climbing onto a chair to wash the kitchen window over the sink. When asked why she was doing that she blandly remarked that it was the only way she could reach the window. We still aren't sure if she really didn't understand the question or if she was deliberately making a joke!
I called Mom today to check in with her to see if she was feeling better. Last week she was complaining of a head cold. She said that had passed. She really does take pretty good care of herself -- and my sisters who live there and nearby take good care of her too. She goes to the doctor for her regular check ups, but she also goes if she starts feeling bad at all. At her age she doesn't need to let anything go.
She told me today not to worry about her. "I rest whenever I feel like I need to. There's nothing I just have to do; the girls do everything. If I feel like doing something, I do it." I reminded her of the two "chair" incidents. She chuckled and said a bit sheepishly, "Yeah, I guess I really shouldn't do anything like that anymore even if I do feel like it."
In the picture on the left she is snapping beans to can.
In the picture on the right she is making no-bake cookies.
We're happy to have her with us just as long as she wants to stick around. I plan to write quite a bit more about Mom and about my Dad too, this month -- as well as my siblings, especially my sister Barbara who writes me a snail-mail letter every week.
I may have to give up on NaNoWriMo this year. I can't write with Thomas home every day, bless his heart!
I love him to death, but I'm used to having a certain amount of time during the day when I can, at my leisure, sit down to write as the spirit moves me. If Eler Beth isn't at work, she knows I'm writing, either because I tell her I'm going to write, or she sees me at my computer and from my expression or something, she just knows. Unless it's something very important, she doesn't interrupt me. But Thomas doesn't know the signs, and if I tell him ahead of time, then he forgets -- bless his heart. Even if I'm in our bedroom or on the front porch using the laptop, there's a good chance that he'll pop in (or out, as the case may be) to ask me something or tell me something.
And if he realizes what he's doing, he'll say something like, "Oh! You should have told me you were writing. Want me to go see what Bob is into?" And then, perversely, I say, "No! I like having you here." Because I really do, you know. I'll miss him once his thumb is healed, and he goes back to work.
And
you know, sometimes when you're writing, you just sit and stare at the
computer screen for minutes at a time. It doesn't look like you're doing
anything, but in your head there is a LOT that is going on. Thomas is
the type of person who is almost always moving. There is always some
project for him to get into. He has his wine making. Gun season starts
this weekend, so he's prepping for that. He surfs the web and watches
funny YouTube videos. He works with wood. He bakes squash pies. He is
interested in what the kids are into and how they're doing. He'll pull
his guitar out and strum on it for awhile -- well, not so much that
with a broken thumb, but you get the point. He is never bored, and he
never looks like he is doing nothing. The only indication I might ever
get that he is even a little close to being bored is if he turns on the TV and starts flipping channels. And even that
isn't a true indicator because he might very well be pretty relaxed and
just looking to see if there's anything interesting on.
The
thing is that while he's baking pies, surfing the web or working with
his wine, etc., he's talking to me. He loves to talk, to socialize,
whereas I live inside my head most of the time. But that's not
necessarily a bad thing. He keeps me from living in my head too much, and he has learned over the years that he
can appreciate sitting back and being quiet sometimes. But these few
weeks are giving me some insight into our retirement years. I know that
when that time comes, if I have any deadlines to meet, personal or work
imposed, I'm going to have to lay down rules, lock doors, and hang
"Writing in Progress" signs.
I
guess I'll enjoy his company while I can, because when he is released
to go back to work, between that and deer season, I won't see a lot of
him. I'll just have to do my writing then. In the meantime, if I don't
succeed with NaNoWriMo, then I don't.
(Ha
Ha!! While I was composing this post, he was in and out of the room
talking about one thing and another, and he just now said, "I'm going to
leave you alone, now, mom." I love that man!!)
I'm still feeling pretty rotten today, like my head is trying to roll off my shoulders. I don't have enough brain power to write what I had planned to write, so I'm cheating and using a writing prompt. (Also, my desktop is running very, very slowly, and Andrew borrowed my laptop.)
Hey, it was either that or a cute kitten video!
Actually since I started looking at the writing prompts for November on Blogher, I feel like I might use some of them again through the month and not feel like I'm cheating. Some of them are really interesting questions upon which to build a blog post.
The prompt I chose was this: What did you think was the coolest job in the world when you were younger? Do you still feel that way?
I honestly can't remember ever thinking that one job was the "coolest." I know I became interested in writing in one form or another when I was about 14. By the time I was a Junior in high school I knew I wanted to work for a newspaper at least for a part of my life -- and I did.
But when I was really young, there were two things that I can remember being interested in enough that I read about them or used them in my pretend play. One of them was police officer.When I was a first-grader I checked a book out of the library about police officers. It wasn't very big, and the binding was blue. The text was simple enough, and it was probably written for a higher grade-level, but thanks to my sister Barbara I was already reading at a third- or fourth-grade level.
All I really remember about the book was that it was blue and there were simple drawings accompanying the text. It explained how police officers went to police academies, and it told what they're duties were. And some of the drawings were of female police officers. I think that might be what attracted me; I don't know. For a year maybe, I wanted to be a policewoman.
In the second grade I announced that I was going to be a scientist. I wore a white lab coat (probably someone's dress shirt) and I carried a notebook and pencil with me everywhere. In my pretend play I was a "scientist" working on experiments and making notes about them. That's all I remember about that except that my sister Barbara asked me why I wanted to be a scientist, and I said because I liked to write things down and keep records of things. I can remember that like it was yesterday. She laughed at me (she was 6 years older), and said there was more to being a scientist than that. I wonder if I had read a book about a scientist or if in school we'd done some elementary experiments and had to write down our observations or something. Or maybe we had a text book that showed a scientist with a white lab coat, making notes or something. I don't know, but it was very appealing to me.
Of course, in real life, I was not that great at math or science but excelled in English and literature. But I do still like to keep neat, complete records of just about everything, and I do write down my observations. :)
Other things I liked to pretend to be in play were forest ranger, detective, and newspaper reporter. And all three of those required taking notes and keeping records, didn't they? Hmm.
Anyway, I'm off to bed now. I'm going to baby this cold and hope it doesn't get worse, and I'm going to baby this computer and hope it doesn't require getting wiped -- but it looks like it's heading in that direction. It keeps freezing up on me! Oh well! Maybe we'll both be feeling better tomorrow.
I think I've caught Thomas' cold. He had to go to the doctor Thursday. I hope I can keep this from turning into an infection like his did.
I don't feel like writing anything really; getting ready to go to bed. I have taken juice, Nasacort, hot tea, aspirin, and I just had a small glass of wine (some of Thomas' home made grape).
I've had a head cold for a couple of weeks now, and today my throat suddenly felt scratchy and the back of my sinuses feel raw, if you know what I mean. And I feel it creeping down into my chest. Yuck! I really don't have time to be sick right now.
So maybe I'll be back to write something a bit more interesting tomorrow. And hopefully I'll be feeling a lot better by morning.
This article on NPR caught my eye. It's about how students have carried their books to school over the past several decades, beginning with the old leather strap.
I started school in 1972, graduating in 1984. No one carried a backpack or rucksack or any kind of book bag to school. We piled our books and folders and binders in our arms, largest on the bottom, smallest on the top. We stood at the ends of our driveways or at our bus stops holding them against our chests in front of us or resting them on a hip, the way you would hold a baby.
We hated days when there was something to take home from each and every class. It could get pretty heavy. And we loved the days when we could leave everything in our lockers. I was a reader, so I always, always had a book to read, and sometimes I carried two. If I was close to the end of a book and thought it possible that I might finish it while at school, I'd take the next book I was planning to read so that there would be absolutely no chance of being caught out with nothing to read.
If you were a girl and you carried a large handbag, you could sometimes fit some smaller books or papers in there. But other than purses, no one carried a bag unless it was a gym bag.
Our son started school in 1995, well into the days of the backpack. By the time he was in middle school he was so loaded down with books and supplies that he bent over when he walked. I've been away from school systems since I started homeschooling our daughter in 2006, so I don't know what types of backpacks the kids use in our area now or if they are still burdened with 30 or more pounds on their backs. How do your kids carry their books? How did you carry yours when you were in school?
