The Wheels on the Bus go...

This morning I had an appointment to have a routine blood draw for my doctor's office. I got up early and planned to be at the lab by 7:30AM when they opened so I could be on time at work. Elder Daughter's husband is on an out-of-state trip and she called to ask us if we could put the boys on the bus for her. She will be home to pick them up this afternoon. I told T. I'd take my car and run them out to the road and wait until the big yellow bus arrived. When they came over, I was still getting dressed so they rested their eyes in the living room while I got ready and when it came time, we called them to get in the car. They came gangling out of the dark living room like night creatures blinking to get used to the light, shrugging on their book bags. We went out into the dark and piled into the the car. The outside air was cool but because T. had started the car and let it run, it was nicely warm inside. Matthew commented on how good it felt. I punched on the headlights, waved at T. and idled down the driveway to the edge of the road. We stopped between the two Pecan trees that flank the drive and I parked.

I left the headlights on and they shone across the road but we couldn't see anything in the field because it was so dark. There are two brown and white horses across the road and we couldn't even see them. We waited in the car - surrounded by dark and cold while we talked of this and that - how Grampa worries when they get off the bus in the afternoons and hurry across the road to meet their mom in the field. (Matt told me in a matter of fact voice that he always tells the driver if they are going to cross in front of the bus. ) How they're doing in school. (Fine.)

I had my Blackberry and Nathan asked me to play the Star Wars ring tone - and I did while both boys did the "lead the orchestra" thing. We listened to Jingle Bells and Matt told me I couldn't play it yet because Christmas was still a ways off and it was too early. We agreed that December would be a good time.

I played The Empire Strikes Back ring tone and put up my index finger while saying, "Zuhm" Nathan put up his light saber in return and we finger dueled there in the dark. It was warm in the car, lit by just the dash lights and the beam of headlights. While we talked the sky got a bit more gray, so you could see the shapes of trees in the dark. I could see the white on both horses now, as they stood by the hay to eat. There was an ever increasing amount of light in the sky. And a lot of light from the south end of the road as the school bus chugged up and stopped with lights blinking and the stop-arm out. The boys pushed open the car doors and got out of our warm and cozy haven and stepped up into the bus. "Good-bye, have a good....!"

The yellow monster took off, bearing the two away to start their school day. I did enjoy the time spent with my grandsons, before the sun was up or the day warmed. I will see if I can't do it again tomorrow.

The GPS, The Oven and Me!

Last year for Christmas I had bought a navigation device for T. I have played with it more than he has. It knows the way to my office and back to the house quite well. It has an idea where Younger Daughter lives in a state just west of us. At least, it can get us in the general vicinity of her home! I had stuck the suction-cup holder to the windshield of my car and it stayed there for six months. I couldn't figure how to undo the suction. The little slider release worked just fine but the suction just wouldn't let go. I couldn't seem to find anything that would slide between the bottom of the mount and the window to break the vacuum The GPS device came and went as I moved in and out of the car but the holder stayed stuck in place. One afternoon, I left work and something was different about the car's interior. The suction cup finally came loose and the holder was on the floor. Oh, thank goodness! I don't know if I'll ever use it again. Next time, Velcro can hold the device in place on the dash. Or it can sit in my ashtray.

Now I really liked the little black GPS For Dummies that I purchased and I would transfer it from purse to purse. Then - one day without thinking, I set it on top of the toaster oven in the kitchen. Not directly on the top - it was sitting on two of the extra baking racks, but close enough to the surface that I shouldn't have left it there. Somehow, the oven got used later - with my poor little navigation device still sitting on top.

Long story short, it went for a 400 degree trip, until I spotted it and lifted it off. I didn't even try to turn it on (it was very warm!) but I put it on the edge of the kitchen hutch that holds my cookbooks. I let the GPS cool down much as you would a batch of toll-house cookies. And then I left it alone.

Today, Elder Daughter phoned to say that her hubby is taking a trip with a group of the Senior Adults he pastors at church. She wondered if he could borrow the GPS. Well. I guess so. He could borrow a rock from the garden, too. I was afraid it would navigate just as well as my little shake-and-bake device!

I scouted up the USB charger and took the GPS off the hutch. Plugging it in to the computer, I let it sit for a while to begin the process of bringing it back to life, if that was even possible. The red light came on. Aha, Watson! Some circuits may be working. Further pressing of the on/off switch brought up the familiar logo and then the opening screen. What do you know! GPS For Dummies is smart enough to survive a ride on a counter-top oven. I guess it will get the group to where they're going. I'm just hoping the little female voice that tells you where to turn will sound like it did before the oven mishap. Did you ever try to gargle while saying I-75?

Winter is coming

Winter isn't so far away. I missed the Autumnal Equinox by a day. I was going to make sure to see the sun coming up directly east, blinding me as I drove to work. But I got a late start and it was overcast - so, I missed the solar reminder that the sun is over the equator and will be heading back the other direction as we turn on our axis. The days will be dark in the mornings until we set our clocks back in October. Still, it's going to be a refreshing change to see the roadside flowers showing themselves in their yellow hues. White seems to be the Spring foliage color and mostly yellow for Winter.

Youngest daughter and I took a box of wildflower seeds when we first moved to our country home. We traipsed up and down the road - blithely shaking seeds along the edge and waited to see what glories we'd spread. Next year, pretty much the same things blossomed. Maybe a few more of those spiky yellow things came up. They remind me of Snapdragons. Still, I like to think we did our part to increase the wildflower population roundabouts.

Like it needed a boost!

I'm waiting for number 3.

I just finished the second in a trilogy by Stieg Larsson. The first was The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Then came The Girl Who Played with Fire. Both concern continuing characters with the girl in each book being one Lisbeth Salander - who is a well drawn and highly interesting if unlikely heroine. The third in the set is probably out in hardcover this month in some European book markets and is titled The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. I am already scanning the book shelves for it.

Larsson was Swedish and had completed the 3 books in the series when he died of a heart attack. There is supposed to be a fourth book residing on a hard drive inside a computer that is owned by his live-in girlfriend but due to the death of Larsson, it may not be easily published. Larsson's family is hindering any plans toward that end.

The Lisbeth Salander character grows on you. She has had a hard early life and is an independent soul - genius and anger are mixed together because of her formative years and the violent effects of those years are not over in the present day.

I found it slightly disconcerting to read a novel set in another country - the place names throw one off until you come to a reference to eating in a McDonalds and then you're on familiar ground. I know what that place looks like but not necessarily what a small town in Norway should be in my imagination. Larsson did a fine job describing the landscape so that I could follow place changes without any trouble. He also did a fine job writing a novel that is worthy of a rainy afternoon spent on the couch. Turn the television off. Lock the door. Don't answer the phone. Read on!

Is it catching?

I've been noticing Ranger's posts lately. Seems as if an awful lot of appliance and vehicular failures are happening at that end of the state. I was kind of congratulating us on avoiding such shenanigans with our washer or dryer or windshield.

Oops.

This morning I got up to get ready for work. I was sitting in the living room chair, talking to T. when I heard a splish. We spoke some more. (Splish.) I asked if he heard the sound. He said no. (Splish.)

It sounded like it was coming from the air conditioning closet. There is a line that leads outside for drips and splishes and the guy who installed our replacement unit added an inside line for us in case the outside line gets backed up. We put a large container under the end of the line in the closet. I heard water splish-splashing into the container. Inside the house.

T. went outside and said the line wasn't draining into the yard. When he came back in, he dipped the excess water out of the bin and then we called the guy who did the work for us and (sorry!) apparently woke him up. He very nicely said he'd stop by this evening and blow out the line so the water would start going out in the yard again which is where we really, really want it. Things could be worse. Before the new unit came to live in our closet, we used to not know the drain to outdoors was backed up until we squelched across the dining room rug and felt the water ooze up between our toes. Now that will wake you up!

We're Family AND an Update

I got an email addressed to a huge bunch of folks from a cousin I haven't seen in years and years. Her mother was a favorite aunt and they lived in our hometown. We visited them as children, playing in their yard at dusk and catching fireflies in the twilight. They lived on an acre and that was such an enormous yard when we'd visit. We often went fishing with them along the canal which runs beside The Trail out into the Everglades. I have a memory picture of her older brother fishing with a cane pole. He pulled in a fish from the dark canal waters and it flipped right over his head and landed on the roadway. His father called to him to get the fish off the road. He didn't have the chance to act because a car went by and ran over the poor fish as it lay stunned on the asphalt. Do you know a fish makes a popping sound when it's run over? Neither did I.

Her dad hunted every chance he got and I recall platters of quail cooked and served by our aunt after a successful hunting weekend. When her brother got his first deer, they brought it to our house to dress it out. I guess we had more room at the time. I can see their warm and welcoming house and feel the love we shared, growing up in a simpler time - before rockets to the moon and rap music videos.

The cousin married, had a family of her own and and eventually moved to Virginia. She's now a grandmother and she has a seven and a half month old grandson who has to have minor surgery. He has a pulmonary stenosis issue, as his grandmother put it and so, she asked for prayer on his behalf. Of course we will pray for little Fletch and ask others to do the same. He's a cousin I've never seen, but part of our scattered family and I know his "Namaw" would do the same for any of us in all our generations.

UPDATE TO POST: Just got an email from a friend to let everyone know the baby is out of surgery and doing great. He is expected to go home at 6PM. Praise The Lord!

Another Date In History

Our first born child was sound asleep in her room and we were sleeping just down the hall. The date was September 14th and we were expecting a second child. The birth could come at any time but I didn't expect something to happen when I went to bed on the 13th. I wasn't feeling labor pains when I went to sleep and had been feeling well the past few days. The hospital where we were pre-checked in offered a nice couples dinner that would be available some time after our child was born. The food was reputed to be quite good and we were actually looking forward to enjoying what was described as a night of fine dining, before we checked out to return home with our new daughter.

I woke from a sound sleep. It may have taken a moment or so to decide what woke me up but not any longer than that. Labor! Full labor! Ready-to-push type labor pains woke me. I woke T. and told him we urgently needed call the doctor, get my sister to come down to the house to take care of our toddler - and then we needed to get to the hospital. This child was coming and if we didn't hurry, we might greet her before anyone expected.

T. rushed to the phone and made the call to sis. I called the doctor's office and got his answering service and left a fast message. Our daughter woke up with all the commotion and I know she was frightened to see Mommy and Daddy packing up in the middle of the night and getting ready to leave her. I tried to explain that we had to go to the hospital and get her new sister and that her Aunt would be coming down to take care of her. I'm not sure how much of that sunk in.

I recalled the nurse who taught childbirth classes telling the mothers to start panting when they needed to delay delivery and I began panting - and what do you know, it worked! My sister came in and went to take care of Sarah. T. and I rushed out to our car and I got into the back seat to lie down. We started the wildest and quickest ride of our lives. I recall pressing my toes into the arm rest on the car door and panting each time a pain would come. I so wanted to begin pushing but knew I couldn't. Every now and again, T. would turn his head and ask me how I was doing as we sped the streets toward the hospital. He was trying not to panic but I could feel the surge of the car as his foot pressed the accelerator. We had to cross a railroad track and he never hit the brake, just called to me to hold on as he took the grade crossing at maximum speed. I actually got a little airborn as we went over the tracks. Not far, now. We slid up to the emergency entrance to the hospital and he ran inside to get someone to help. I was bundled into a wheelchair and taken inside. I remember him telling the night shift his wife was in full labor and to get the doctor. There was someone standing at the desk and he introduced himself as The Doctor. Sure enough it was! We went upstairs to the Delivery Room - no time for the Labor Room... things were sort of a blur. But - at one point during the course of events, the doctor told me to push and then suddenly he told me not to push. I panted some more. Gosh, that nurse who gave the classes sure did know what she was talking about. When I was allowed to resume pushing, there was a little delay and then Susan came into the world - what a lovely cry she had.

The doctor later told us the baby had the cord around her neck and he had to remove it. That's why he so abruptly stopped delivery. Wow, thank you to so many people that night. To T. who drove like a maniac, to my sister who came to care for our older daughter while we rushed off into the night and to the nurse whose classes had impressed me with proper breathing techniques during labor, to the doctor who safely delivered our healthy girl. From the time I woke up until the moment Susan was born took just 60 minutes. That was one intense little hour.

Now it has been thirty-0ne years - and 1 hour, since our second daughter made her memorable entrance into our lives bring us joy and love and surprises and completing the family we started with Sarah. T. and I got to have our dinner at the hospital as promised and we probably enjoyed the gourmet meal but I couldn't tell you to this day what we ate. I doubt he could either.

We talk about the wild ride to the hospital and how quickly the baby came. We talk about the important things; the family we made and how much we love our girls and their families. And every year when each of our daughters' birthday dates roll around, I think about the start of it all.

Have a Happy Birthday, Suse.

Plays Well With Others....

This was passed along by a friend at work and I found it a lesson in cooperative planning. I don't swear to the veracity of the tale. Simply that it could have happened.

Seems a young woman was getting married and after days of shopping, her mother finally found the most absolutely lovely dress to wear to the wedding. It fit her well and she looked wonderful in it. She showed her daughter the dress and both agreed it was perfect for the Mother of the Bride to wear.

When the bride-to-be mentioned the dress to her future mother in law, she was stunned to learn that her fiance's mother had bought the exact same outfit to wear. When she was very sweetly asked if she wouldn't find another dress the groom's mother said, "No, I won't do it. The dress looks great on and I look gorgeous in it."

Upset, the young woman went to her mother and told her that the groom's mother was planning to wear a duplicate of the special dress. Her mother reassured her, "Don't worry dear, we won't let anything spoil your wedding - I'll find another dress to wear!"

The two women hugged and the daughter told her mother she'd go with her to return the dress and help her shop for another. "Don't be silly dear", her mother laughed, "I'm not going to return that dress."

"You're not? But, what will you do with it?"

The mother replied, "I'm going to wear it to the Rehearsal Dinner!"

Go Gators?

It's football season. For some, the only team is the one from University of Florida at Gainesville. These folks live and breathe the Florida Gators. They bleed orange and blue. There was rejoicing when the first game was handily won. Bets were paid - one guy had to wear a "special hat" to work the day after game day. Okay, I like Tim Tebow. I think he's a fine young man who has a wonderful Christian testimony. Doesn't mean I'd paint my face orange with blue stripes.

One of our grandsons had an appointment to see the doctor in Gainesville this afternoon. His mother took him because he sustained an injury a few weeks back and was still having pain and difficulty moving and rotating his left elbow. The doctor read the x-rays and examined Matthew - he compared the right elbow to the left and explained to Matthew's mom that he saw where a small area of the growth plate had sustained a fracture and while the bruising was gone, there was still inflammation in the area. He recommended a cast for two or three weeks to immobilize the joint and give the elbow a chance to heal. Sounded like a plan so off they went to get the cast on. Matthew was inclined comfortably and the inner cushioning layers applied. Next came the outside casting material. Mother and brother watched as color choices were made and applied. No green and orange - sorry, University of Miami. No aqua and orange - sorry, Jaguars or Dolphins. A guy has to be loyal to his team. Matthew came away sporting an orange and blue striped full cast. At first he didn't realize that he wouldn't be able to bend his arm freely. He was surprised, as the resin hardened - to find that he couldn't move his arm at all. That presented another problem as well. Never having worn a cast, he didn't realize that one swipe could do some real damage if he connected with another human being.

His mother said he almost swatted the nurse as she helped him out of the chair.

He came to see T. and me after I got home from work. We were at the dining room table and heard someone at the side door. T. went to open it and in walked Matthew, Nathan and Sarah. Matthew came over and proudly placed his cast on the back of my chair and then he took a marking pen out of his shirt pocket and asked me if I'd like to sign it. When I said sure, he raised his arm off the chair and nearly knocked out his own grandmother! He didn't touch me and I'm sure he'll quickly get used to the thing, but it was like being in a Gator game. You know, all the dodging and juking while the orange and blue came my way!

The Good Old Days

I recall when the easiest way to communicate was to send a card or a letter to someone. I remember our Great Aunt Pat from Georgia who used to write to our Mom regularly - in pencil on thin white sheets of paper. Mom kept several of those letters and after the aunt had died we read them over and over. They were sweetly worded and ended with love to the family.

Lately I've joined a couple of what's popularly known as Social Networking websites. You can communicate online but it somehow doesn't feel the same as sitting down and writing an old fashioned letter to someone. It's easier to Tweet or Twitter or post to Facebook or MySpace than it is to sit down and write a personal letter to just one person. You can play games on some sites. Be a Farmer. Be a Mafioso. We're just grazing the surface when we send a 140 character notice about what we're doing. And the more online friends we have the less we have to work to keep in touch. Just post an update and go on to something else.

In a way, those letters from Aunt Pat were little treasures in time and space. A sharing of what was in her mind when she thought about us. She left a little legacy of love whenever she wrote to us.

Hey, I just want to say that I love you guys. Let me find a pen and some paper!

Technologically Challenged?

It's a Sunday. It was supposed to be a day of rest. We were getting ready for church. T. had his shower and dressed but hadn't combed his hair or put on his shoes and socks. I was sitting at the computer (the slow clunky dial up model that doesn't always want to cooperate any more) trying to follow the on-screen instructions to update an error in T's new cell phone programming. When I logged onto his account and saw the words Programming Error, fear struck me right in the brain. It trickled down to my fingertips so that I couldn't quite follow directions. It took me two tries per screen to get things fixed.

Now, considering that I just bought this marvel of a TracFone yesterday at the local Wally-world and after purchase, the salesman had offered to activate the phone while I finished shopping -would you expect to see a programming error? He told me he only needed about 10 minutes to complete the procedure. I thought that sounded good and the guy seemed to know what he was doing so, entrusting the little silver phone to his keeping, I went off to find T. and run the checkout gauntlet. Groceries purchased and packed in the basket, we wound our way back to the phone section and I could see the salesman yonder at the register. He sort of ignored us as we approached and as we drew closer, I heard him tell the other person at the register that a lady was coming back to get her phone and for the other salesperson to make sure she gave the customer her the phone and card for minutes. Then the salesman sort of half turned on his way out of the register area, spotted us and said, There She Is! He kept walking away while he told the other salesperson the phone was on the counter and to be sure to finish the entry. (What? I guess it time for his break or something?) The remaining salesperson sidled over and asked me what was it I was supposed to pick up. I indicated the phone lying behind her. She bundled it into the packaging and bagged it up and thrust it towards me when I dangled the receipt in front of her. I told her I had also purchased a card for 200 minutes and it was probably still in the shopping bag on the counter behind her. She turned and took the card out of the bag and started to scratch off the silver area over the numbers. I told her the salesman had told me I didn't need to add minutes until after we were sure the phone would fit our needs. That way the card for 200 minutes could be returned if the phone wasn't what we needed. She bagged and handed me the phone and minutes card.

Once home, T. agreed he could use the phone and went and put it in the bedroom where he could locate it again. That evening the minutes card was pulled out of the bag and used, by my visiting daughter - to add 200 extra minutes to the 10 minutes the phone came with. We noticed right away that the silvered area had already been scratched off by the saleslady, therefore rendering the minutes non-returnable as the salesman had said they could be. That may have been the first inkling the phone setup wasn't as promised by the salesman. But, since all seemed well, we put the phone away again and I went to bed with a clear mind. No worries, mate.

This morning I went to the TracFone website and entered the passwords to magically get me in - and was notified there was a programming error (see above passage re: fear strikes brain) and I would need to turn on the phone before clicking Continue. Seems that the somebody who originally programmed the phone used the wrong codes and hadn't set the phone up to receive the new minutes we had entered the evening before. I was able to overcome trembling fingers and after the two tries got the proper codes entered so that the additional minutes showed up.

One feature the salesman had touted was that the phone will automatically double whatever minutes are installed. And, now it does.

We put in our card for 200 minutes last night. When the programming problem was finally corrected this morning, the phone showed 400 minutes. Oh, wow, this thing is a durn genius! It also announces on-screen that the minutes expire in February of 2010. Next year!

What a wonderful little phone. I just hope we can find it when we need to add some more time. We're currently searching for a little red AT&T flip phone that has about 100 minutes on it. We turned it off and T. said he'd put it away so we would know where it was.

That was the last time either of us saw it!

Someone I've Seen in Passing

This morning as I was driving to work, the radio announcer, sounding subdued for the time of day - said that there was some terrible news happening in our county and that, while the station didn't have confirmation of any deaths, there was an accident at an intersection. He mentioned the county roads and I sort of got a chill. You know, the goose walking over your grave feeling. I started to call Son-In-Law to see if he got the boys safely delivered to school and then realized the intersection was some miles north and east of where he (or they) would be. I let it go, with a quick little "Lord be with them" and went on my way to work. I didn't think much more about it. It would cross my mind and then slide away, what with the busy telephones and paperwork to be done. It was such an intense announcement - as though there was more to it than a simple wreck, but the full story couldn't be told right then.

T. called me in the afternoon to say that the lady around the corner had just called to tell him that her next door neighbor's son and a friend had both been killed in a wreck this morning while riding motorcycles. At the moment he called, some of my co-workers were talking - trying to remember who the victims were.

Everything came together at once. The names of the victims. The man on our corner whose son rides a motorcycle. Law Enforcement came early and told the family. The man on the radio had it right, it was terrible news. When I came home this evening, there were several cars in the yard on the corner. The grandmother lives just behind, in a house of her own and there were cars there, too. Friends gather. People pray and take food. This is a small town and that's what neighbors do. I'll ask T. if he thinks we can take down a fruit platter to the grandmother. She sat on our porch one day when she locked herself out of her house. It was raining and she walked down to use our phone. She sat in a rocker waiting until her friend came with a spare key. T. said she was nice

Same old. New old

I mentioned before that I used to work in a facility that had a pungent rat odor about it. It was solid red brick and two stories tall. Years ago it had been the county jail. In fact, most people knew the place by its designation of The Old Jail. We used it for office space. I wish I had taken a photograph of the place but the closest I can come is an overhead from the Property Appraiser. The front entrance would be down toward the bottom of the lowest building in the red outlined area. Behind that stood a generator building and the antenna and then the top building was a storage area.. Yesterday I met my daughter at a nearby hospital to sit with one grandson while the other went to x-ray. When we left the hospital, I drove her to her car which was parked down the road. Sitting in the lot, I glanced towards the building I had worked in for so long.

I didn't recognize it. You could have knocked me over with a feather! The entire building was clad in a light shade of stucco and the outside appearance was so changed I had a little trouble finding the windows of my former offices. The building is close to a lake where the county sets off Fourth of July fireworks every year. We used to be able to go up to the office and get out on the flat rooftop to watch the display every year. Now the open roofing is gone and the second floor sports a lovely covered porch. The front stairs have been entirely turned around although the entry door looks approximately in the same area. The front of the building faces left in the photograph. Rumor has it that the interior was gutted to the inside brick and completely redone. I'd think the odor of rat would be eliminated. The ginormous antenna is still out back and that's about the only thing recognizable.

You can depend on it. If you ignore something for a few years, it will morph into something entirely different.

The grandson will be okay. We try not to ignore anything really important!