Happy Halloween All

I'm surprised its been around a week since I've blogged. I think that's in part due to having started a journal. I've been writing down the things I dream and my thoughts about my new life as a single person. I read somewhere that women whose lives are changing tend to dream about houses and I sure have. Dreams about living in my parents home with them! Dreams about living with my soon-to-be-ex in someplace I didn't recognize; living with my sisters; living in hotels, caves, dumpy places, palaces, out in the mountains, in cities, once in a glassed in condo in a high tower. Last night it was just me, living in a ordinary, comfortable place by myself.

This is where I live. A house with boxes everywhere.

I've been going through stuff that was in storage and is now sitting in boxes all over the house. I am making progress. This carton above has been coverted into living space by my four year-old grandgirl. I thought she would have flattened by now but no, there's a pillow and a large pink blankie in there. It even has its own heat grate, er, vent. I guess you can live in a cardboard carton if it's in your grandmother's house. She won't be moving out anytime soon. And the other boxes have lots of things that belonged to my grandmother and mother and no one seems to want. Argh. I've been thinking of bundling up some of those in little boxes and sending them to my nephews' kids who probably don't have much that belonged to their maternal ancestors. Lots of inexpensive but interesting old and pretty costume jewelry. I don't know if that's a gift or a tag you're "it."

I also have a treasure trove of assorted art supplies. Every time I went on a trip and forgot sketch supplies I bought more. Now there's enough to supply all six grandkids here as well as the grandkids in Portland. I still have all my drafting tools from a former career as a tech illustrator pre-computer during the dark ages. Of course all done on line now and has been for what seems like centuries. There's a whole big box of just that stuff. And a box of old wooden thread spools which I'm sure I've had for over 20+ years. And my clear plastic magic wand. No one should lose their magic wand, no wonder things haven't been going so well lately. ;-)

I had grandgirl company this weekend overnight. As tonight is Halloween we carved pumpkins, two of them for the front porch and she wanted to do something she had seen and voila, our collaboration. It has a multi-light battery run flame like light in it so no porch fires or baked jack o' lantern. The big-un is eating the little-un.

This was a very happy artist. We had a good time, I just hope she didn't catch the sniveling cold I haven't been able to shake this last week. I actually slept 11 hours last night. Feeling really good today. Spending time with this little face probably was the real cure.

NPR - Music That Drove Your Parents Crazy

On her Facebook my sister pointed out this NPR blog and asked what our parents listened to and a discussion followed about what music we and they listened to: http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2010/10/22/130749993/music-that-drove-your-parents-crazy?sc=fb&cc=fmp. It was interesting to see the answers. She is 20 years younger than I and I was a little stunned to see how much things had changed in the world of musical equipment by the time she was in high school compared to myself or compared to now. I was the age of transistor radios, a virtual dinosaur, she was early CD players, all the way to the current crop of MP3's and on. I still have some tapes and a tape player. What did your parents listen to and did your music bother them?


My parents had a photograph, a portable phonograph in the loosest sense of the term portable. They kept their record albums in a small cabinet Dad had made out of plywood and varnished. Plywood was a lot nicer in 1940. My maternal grandmother Grace had a mahogany console with a 78 rpm turntable and a built in radio including short wave, much fancier. I spent many hours sitting in her lap listening to the Grand Old Opry, an imprint which remains. When I was around four years old, 1946, my two year old sister and I would whirl around the house to Rimsky-Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebee" and Khachaturian's "The Saber Dance." The parental units had quite a collection of classical music as well as stuff like Nat King Cole, the Andrews Sisters, Glenn Miller, and other WW2 dance band records (real records). My favorite was Helen O'Connell's singing "Green Eyes," those cool and limpid green eyes. Sigh! Mom used to tell us that during the war that in order to buy a new record you had to turn in an old one. Early recycling in a material short world. Later Mom got Barbra Streisand, Helen Reddy, Sergio Mendez, and Herb Alpert. Dad added some recordings of Japanese folk music and bagpipe music.

Later Mom began dialing up "easy listening" am stations, probably because they were playing music she already had and liked, she stuck with them for the remainder of her life. I wasn't allowed to have any records until I was nearly out of high school and there was only one radio in the house, my mom's. We did have a TV by then, a Hoffman Easy Vision. It had a greenish screen that was supposed to be easy on the eyes. I think I was about 13 when that was acquired. However when Elvis came on Ed Sullivan my mother got all huffy and turned him off and I missed seeing all of that milestone event. So I guess my answer is ELVIS drove my mother crazy. But we could watch "Your Hit Parade" until it exited in 1959 the year I started college and "American Bandstand." My junior year in high school Dad who traveled to Japan often then, returned with a state of the art portable transistor radio for me. Transistor radios the new thing.

Mom and Dad got a new phonograph that played 45s and we were off to the races. I had a job and could buy whatever I liked with my money. Records and clothes, and so it began. Turned out it wasn't the music they objected to, it was paying for it. Sam Cooke, Chuck Berry, the Sherelles, as well as Ike and Tina Turner who I saw in one of those big reviews that used to come to Seattle in the late 50's and 60's. I'm still a big Creedence Clearwater fan. And, Seattle turned out to be a hotbed for new music.

Now, like my mom I have some old favorites, and I like some of my sons' music, including AC/DC, some Iron Maiden, and later Nirvana and company. I love Yoyo Ma. The last CD's I got or was given were Nightwish, a Finnish heavy metal band with operatic overtones; I prefer the early ones with Tarja Turunen their original soprano; a Dave Mathews, and a replacement disc for a damaged Chieftains' CD that I had played to death, and a five disc collection of soul and R&B. Rock on!

Breakfast and Gardens

The garden is on its last legs. We had a long, cool spring and produce was limited this year but not missing. This is almost the end of it. I decided to make a yellow tomato sauce for pasta with this last picked crop. These tomatoes are not only yellow but are about 5" in circumference. Sadly I don't know what they are. They taste sweet, have no seeds to speak of, and can be peeled easily. This is the last zucchini; this year I tried to pluck them before they became behemoths. The little green peppers are a little bug nibbled, but this is a no pesticide, organic (chicken and cow poo) fertilizer garden. I got the red peppers at the farmer's market. I also have some home grown basil to add to the mix, and farmer's market garlic and onions.

It all looked so yummy I stopped and made a sort of a frittata for breakfast. I filled that little cup with green tea and stevia and had myself a little feast.

Life is good.

Vote!

I'm off to deliver my ballot to the lock box in an alley behind the city jail. It is a small town. Many of the candidates in this heavily Republican town are unopposed. But I try, I filled it out as soon as I got it. I've read everything I can find, and look for those whose values line up with mine. Persons with people values rather than corporate values. I sure hope you all get out there and vote. No griping from you if you don't.

Because it's a small town even if you don't know a candidate I usually find someone who does know them, someone with my shared values. With a track record it makes the sorting easier. In the larger arena I have to search harder.

I voted for Patty Murray for our state senator. Her opponent has given me the creeps since forever. I do not care for his business methods or political opinions but in this case it's my gut that had the final say. He's tried twice to roust out Christine Gregoire as governor, failed, and has resighted on Patty Murray. Who is next, I wonder if he sees her as not as tough as Gregoire. My neighbor across the street has a sign up for that guy and it is taking all my self restraint to leave it there. Today though I am belatedly getting a Patty Murray sign.

Just an aside, I got a letter from the Walla Walla County Democrats saying to turn our ballots in earlier than later as "the campaign will receive a notice of when a ballot is received and remove that name from the calling list." What? The robo-callers are given a list of voters to call and notification as to when that voter has voted. The County Auditor that be here inform the Dems and Republicans that I've voted? Does this bother anyone but me?

Nattering

Not sure what it is about evening falling that makes me want to natter on. Maybe it's just that time of year. I went to see RED last night with my eldest. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but we enjoyed the heck out of it. Came out feeling like I'd like to be RED, Retired Extremely Dangerous. "What do you mean there's no raise in Social Security - again!?" It's based on a DC Comics graphic novel which exposes one of my little secrets right there. And the dialog is witty. And Helen Mirren is fantastic, I loved her in "Prime Suspect." And John Malkovich is John Malkovich of course and very funny. It's not hard for me to enjoy the block headed minions of a snaky vice president (certainly not a Democrat) and a corporate bad guy coming to a bad end at the hands of a small group of retirees with certain, er, talents.

I will take my angst out of the leftovers of my garden tomorrow. Channel that anger into something useful. It will help you get out of bed in the morning at times. However, someone in Seattle has made it into the paper for stabbing a classmate in her anger managment class. Perhaps I shouldn't be so calvalier about the carnage in films. And then there's the ones trying to kill us all these days - the opponents of universal medical care. They don't care if they kill us or our kids or whoever. Their weapons are more insidious. I've been very lucky, had good, work related health insurance all my adult life and it covered my kids, the death defying Flying Rasculy Brothers. I say "Medicare for everybody." After a lifetime of no bumper or window stickers on my car, I have found one that I want. Repeat after me, "Medicare for everybody!" Even for my soon-ex-husband, who will referred to from now on as SEH.

SEH came by to pick up what I think is the last of anything that belongs to him. And to dig up potatoes and squash which I admit he planted, watered, and nutured. Fair is fair. And he left some for me. He did feel compelled to make snippy and untruthful remarks about a family member of mine that I care a lot about, but I don't own a shoulder mounted rocket launcher or even a squirt gun and I am trying to evolve, and it would frighten the little girls next door so I ignored the tossed gauntlet. And, it's Sunday, I did go to church, hopefully something good rubbed off on me. So would it be so wrong to hope someone would offer him a really good job in, say, Spain, he always wanted to go there. SEH is on the correct side of the "Medicare for everybody" issue after all.

At the End of the Evening

It's been a nice day. An errand day. Cold but sunny. The leaves are falling and it was close to freezing last night. So I had the tires rotated at Les Schwab. Got the oil changed. Hunted up my chains which were still in the way back of the van. Tomorrow I will take the hoses in and cover the faucets. Last November I picked all the crumbling window putty out of my front window and neglected to put it back on all summer. I was busy. But its getting chilly so I'd better get to it before its too cold to set up. I got a new lamp post in front and the dirt is still empty of the lavender I was going to plant there. When I came back from the grocery store I noticed that several tiny maples trees and a large amount of clover were trying to declare squatter's rights around the post. Where'd the summer go? Yard work. Looked in the paper for condo ads. Not quite ready for it yet though. Went to the pulmonologist who thought I needed a lot of guided exercise. There's a rehab center there that does pulmonary rehab. I went there a year and a half ago with great results but guess what...Medicare used to pay for it once a year and this year they changed that benefit; they pay for it once, period, in your lifetime, and I've already had mine. @%$^&&. And if Medicare won't pay the so-called medigap won't pay. I will figure something out. Still it's been a good day and all those Chilean miners are out of that hole in the ground. Seventy days, my life is not so bad.

So it's after 10PM and I watched the end of Gray's Anatomy while trying to change my blog page at the same time. I seem to have forgotten a few things. I finally remembered how to place a picture of the "Blue Cottage." I forgot to trim it to fit. Okay, trimmed, re-save. Now its portioned correctly but waaaaay too big, huge, takes up all the page. Re-sized it. Sure now I see the lettering is in white and disappears against the sky. @#$@% I should have taken a picture when it was cloudy. The spell checker thinks pulmonologist is an unknown word. Time to drag my favorite night attire out of the dryer and head for bed.

They're OUT!

Chi! Chi! Chi! Le! Le! Le!

Elderbloggers

I drove from Eastern Washington Friday to be at Ronni Bennett's Elderblogger's meetup. http://www.timegoesby.net/ An old friend of mine drove to Portland from Olympia and we went together. I did take my camera but took not ONE picture at the party at all, or anywhere else. The company was so engaging I forgot about picture taking.

It's been many years since I've been anywhere that I felt like I was in a room of soul mates. Not that everyone was alike by any means. We were city dwellers, farm dwellers, and small town people. Some have partners, some not. Most were retired but not all. This is a reality of retirement that I don't think the world at large has much awareness about. What struck me was how creative everyone was, writers, artists, thinkers, the whole array of creative endevor. People nuturing and supporting each other, laughing together. The miles I drove to get there are small next to to years it took us all to get to this place in our lives and it was well worth the prize of the meetup. And the food, mmmm, especially the desserts. I will see your lovely faces in my mind from now on. Thanks Ronni, I'm still up!

Restructuring

I should have taken a "before picture" but I didn't. This little counter was covered with plants in several states of decline, all brought from my parent's house and therefore difficult to get rid of easily. I unloaded all but my mother's shamrock, and gave it new soil. I hope it doesn't die of the unaccustomed attention. The plants were surrounded by bowls and dishes of rocks, agates, fossils, and crystals heavily encrusted with plant parts and dust. Encrusted sounds so icky, but they were, being hidden under the plants. I am just one in generations of rock collectors, my youngest son got his degree in geology. Many of these agates I collected with my father from sand spits in the Willamette River. Then there were art supplies which couldn't be used or seen because of the crowding; paints, brushes (which remain), paper, glue, beads, pots for water, papers of assorted kinds. Absolutely no space to do anything with it. A nice table was shoved under the counter that the grandgirls and I used for painting. All but the table are now in the spare bedroom awaiting for another time of organization. The table is now fulfilling the purpose I bought it for, in the dining room with four ladder back chairs.

I ate breakfast here at this little counter this morning, sitting on one of the two wood stools I just bought for this and watching the rain pour down into my small back yard. Yellow leaves are falling off the backyard tree. I realized there had been no where to eat and just look outside. I don't think I will be reading through breakfast anymore. Probably better for the digestion. I suppose that means I'll be planting flowers again. Something to watch it the spring. I have a small table top easel which fits nicely on the counter when I'm inspired to. I tend to work small. It has made the kitchen a welcoming place.

Happy Birthday Chris

Today is my eldest son's 39th birthday. It would be hard to think of him without his art and his ironic view of his own life. As an artist he is frequently employed otherwise. These are some of his cartoons. For me his birth was great joy, and he is still is one of my great joys.

And last but not least Chris as a victim of his mother's early photography attempts. I know I have a better picture but danged if I can find it. Love you, Happy Birthday.

Home on the range.

Here's the latest picture of my home. Not really. It's not too long a drive from town to find these old barns and horses. I am working on my art again and to make it easier I'm sketching my favorites, horses and crumbling buildings. One of the my greatest sorrows is that horse dander gives me emergency room grade asthma. My allergies go straight for my chest. Ditto moldy hay laden barns. From age 10 to 13 I lived in a horse heavy area and I rode with my friends anyway with predictable results. Their parents would cart me blue lipped home and my mother would haul out the emergency supplies, then they treated it with adrenaline by hypo, scrub me up and "enjoy" my company while I sat up in bed starting to breath again. A 10 year old thinks two days at home wheezing is not great a price to pay to be atop a horse. As an adult it just got geometrically worse. So now my horse interactions are mostly from a distance. I have been done in by a wind blowing horse fuzz on me as I sit in the stands at a horse race. So I take my sketch pad and my camera to get my horse and barn fix long distance.

This sway backed old barn had fresh hay on the floor and appeared to be in use! And here comes another occupant wanting to know what the heck I am doing. I rejected better judgement and let this fellow nibble my hand. I am a slow learner. I went back to the van holding my hand away from me and washed it with water and wipes. It did produce a couple of welts but...

I'm slowly setting up the emply front bedroom as a work space. Hauled in my portable easel and several boxes of art supplies. Need a table, think I will pass up Ikea for now and check out the two new furniture consignment places here. A good Saturday task.