daydreamer

Seven Days to Blast-Off

2012-02-09T09:25:00.000-08:00

The first week of February has just flown by. It began with a somewhat sleepless night though I was only up for about an hour from 3-4 am and then slept until 10 which is almost unheard of for me. Although the car was to be repaired by the 1st, Johnny didn't like how the new paint looked with the original so he repainted it.

I made an appointment with Troi, our hair-dressing neighbor to cut, color, highlight this old mop in preparation for going out into the real world.

Feb 2 was cold and blustery and lack of sleep caught up with me--I read and took a nap on the couch with Misty. She was thrilled and decided that my luxurious blanket was a fine replacement for the bakery shirt on the floor.

Received Big Bend info for which I'd sent a couple of days before.

No Groundhog shadow but I forget what that means, exactly. I think nothing, actually.

Thinking of leaving for Fl on the 14th ipo of 19th. Bets going to NYC on the 10th 'til the 13th

Feb 3--Last year's --or was it two years old?--white amaryllis in bloom. Terribly cold day and I found myself spending it on the computer. Not so good.

Feb 4--Decided to leave on the 15th and told the Doyle's we'll be there by the 18th. We don't rush when travelling. Slept well last night and finishing the fluff of Killer on a Hot Tin Roof.

Feb 5--Hooray, Giants!!!!! Typical Sunday--paper, puzzle, reading, munching all day. Betsy here for the game. Johnny Blake sanded and salted the ice rink out back, better known as the driveway. Put the creche away--always makes me a little sad.

Feb 6--Sunny and warm--in the '40's!! I love it.

Bets put insurance on Red--almost hers.

Down with the tree! Makes me even sadder. I LOVE my ornaments and hate to see them in storage for 11 months--some of them are true works of art--others whimsy--all sentimental.

Ordered some new clothes from LL Bean for the trip.

Gorgeous full moon!!!

Feb 7-- Gray and colder. Couldn't sleep--up at 6:30 am to a fine drizzle of snow? sleet?

Plans for trip moving along. Set up billpay at CU, put Doyle's numbers in cell phone, sent out emails to see who wants to continue on roadies list, got directions to Doyle's house.

Sun by afternoon and Bill's chicken salad for lunch. Perfect

Feb 8--Traumatic start to the day. Awake at 3:45--moonlight bathing our bedroom, black tree limbs against a clear silver blue sky--beautiful

Betsy mouthy today--doesn't want to do oil change on car today but Bill can get an appt first thing this morning. It will be done when they get back from Springfield where she will register Red in her name, now that I've signed over the title. AND I refuse to call the insurance company for her to check about her back that hurts from the accident. I've been asking her for weeks to get it done and now she wants me to do it. NOOOOOO!

Upon return--they DID drop the car off for oil change--a birthday gift from her Father--she informed me that to be favorite parent I would have to spend $34. on her since it cost him $33. Said I was fine being second class parent, but thanks for the opporchancity for advancement.

She on the other hand is over $600 poorer, among registration, taxes and insurance---welcome to the grown-up world, my sweet!

Which brings us to today--woke up again at 3:30. Since the moon was so beautiful decided to photograph it to moon set, some beautiful shots and some not so great--but fun until 6 when I returned to sleep until 730. Clothes came from LL Bean so I'll have to see how they fit--have my fingers crossed. Not sure yet what my agenda is for the day--but getting out the lists from prior trips is definitely planned. From there I may start gathering things together and also doing some laundering of clothes stored since last year's trip. I have tomorrow through Sunday pretty much to myself so that is good--will get everything done except what Bill needs for the trip and we can get that organized on Mon and Tues. Wed, weather permitting, looks like a go. We might even be able to do something for Valentine's Day. Dinner out?

And here, to finish up today--are the Photos A Day for the beginning of Feb thus far:

Feb 1, like every first of the month, finds me paying the bills!

Feb 2--Couldn't find a ground hog but my gray squirrel did not see his shadow.

Feb 3--Red returns as good as new.

Feb 4--The third amaryllis in bloom this year--and it is beautiful

Feb 5--Super Bowl watching--have no idea how this double exposure happened--used timed release on a tripod. But, Betsy's change after the Giants first score is priceless.

Feb 6--Aufwiedersehn, Tannenbaum :(

Feb 7--Flex-a-min for achy legs that have been waking me up lately and American Roads recent issue on Florida.

Feb 8--Jazzy me--signing away Red to DD

Feb 9--Full moon embraced by the tree limbs in the tree line outside our bedroom window at about 6am

Catching up on January!

2012-02-02T14:48:00.000-08:00

Took a long shot trying to capture the heavily falling snow and saw a blotch in the photo. When I cropped it I found that I'd captured the flight of a junco trying to get out of the storm!

One of my favorite breakfasts: a quarter cup of cottage cheese, fresh Florida strawberries, two tablespoons of slivered almonds and a packet of equal served in a beautiful pedestal dish.

Dropped my camera!!!!! Must have done something to the lenses. I feel crippled!

Every so often I just have to wash away the gray. Daughter loved sneaking this shot in.

Dad's 109 birthday! Born Jan 17, 1903!

Hubby and daughter playing catch the grape. She got him in the eye a couple of times but he DID finally catch one!

One of our raised beds covered in snow that is capped with shiny ice.

About the only place in this house that is organized. Bought the new utensil tray and love it.

Is she ticklish? Darned tootin', I am!

Bill's sister, Sally, dropped by to pick him up for a sibling day of sorting Mother's boxes of pix. Better them than me--I've got plenty of my own to sort.

Poor baby, Red, off to the car doctor's for a fixin'!

Snow, then rain, then freezing rain, then rain--it's a skating rink out there. Crazy weather.

Goldfinch feeding frenzy!

Boring, boring day!

Mom, the eldest of this bevy of beauties and standing first in front of Grandpa and Grandma, would have been 111 today. The only one left is the little girl in front--Aunt Shirl is 89!

Sister Barbara is 66 today. Here we are with Mom sometime in the '60's.

Give Misty a bakery shirt on the floor over the woodstove and there is nothing better in the world!

Going out to dinner tonight so DD parked the car as close to the stairs as possible and sanded the heck out of the ice I'd have to trod upon. Just call me Her Majesty--thank you!

Dawn, a native of Florida, and me planning out our trip to Florida next month. Love the lighting in this shot.

And so , January 2012 comes to a close.

January Photo a Day!

2012-02-02T14:22:00.001-08:00

12 X 12 for January

2012-01-19T13:33:00.000-08:00

Yet Another Mosaic--The Best So Far!

2012-01-15T09:06:00.000-08:00

Week Two of 2012

2012-01-13T13:23:00.000-08:00

Ah, what a week it has been! Loving the wildlife around our house, still enjoying the Christmas tree, experiencing the first real snow storm of the new year--though it is really quite a horror.

Yesterday, the day started with freezing rain causing most schools in the State to call a snow day. It progressed to rather heavy snow right through until late evening. Daughter stayed home from her job since the roads were so terrible.We had a wonderful day--playing Parcheesi, in which she JUST beat me twice, Uncle Wiggly, which I won and Candyland. I then went to my scrapbook workroom to start some absolutely necessary organizing while she watched TV. She also, in an effort to not rush me from my task, made dinner of pork chops and corn. She did a great job--delicious. I cannot believe she will be 26 in a few months. Where has the time gone?

Bill said they were awful going in to work but not bad when he returned home at 9:30. Betsy had gone out on the porch around 8 pm and said it was relatively warm and truly beautiful with a clear sky and starlight. I was watching TV by then so opted not to join her.

Today's is a bit scary. In the early morning we had torrential rain on top of yesterday's 4 or so inches of snow. Then it turned to sleet. By the time Bets had to take Bill to work it was snowing. By noon, before she got back, the snow was heavily descending in huge flakes. She said the roads weren't that great coming home. Eventually, everything stopped and the wind rose to roaring. Then sleet and rain. Now, the wind is blowing and again the precipitation is doing a cycle--rain, sleet, small snowflakes heavily blowing. I wish she didn't have to go out again, first to work and then to pick up Bill. The only hope is that the road crews are keeping ahead of it and drivers are smart enough to know that four wheel drive or studded tires does not mean they can fly at 90 miles an hour safely. But, I promised not to be negative this year or dwell on stuff and worry so, on with the project report.

I started playing with making a collage of my approach to Picture of the Day yesterday, which was to take 12 pictures on the 12th. I'm still not totally satisfied with the result, though I do like the shots.

Today for the 13th I decided to focus on finding a shot of something lucky or unlucky, hoping for the former. I think I was pretty successful. And I also kept to my goal of more me pix this week.

This guy just keeps me so amused all the time!

Love the way this tree was sheared. The cone to the left off center almost looks like a real candle.

Someone needs to tell this flock of robins that it is January and this is Vermont!

Before the snow the lower field looked like early November--love the truck tracks from wood retrieval and the deer tracks to the apple trees.

Sailors take warning!

One attempt at the collage of 12 on the 12th

A really LUCKY shot. Junco through the snowstorm!

All in all, it has been a pretty good week in every way. I'm happy!

The original shot of the Junco--I wondered what the smudge was.

Another attempt at collaging. I like the other one better but don't know if I want to shell out $40 for the software.

These are the single twelve on the 12th

Looking through the lace curtain of the bathroom window with the glow of the Christmas candle.

The first real snow of the new year. Actually the first real snow of the winter. Even though winter starts officially on Dec 21 or thereabouts, here in Vermont we think winter has begun once all the leaves have left the trees.

Playing with "pieces of me " in the bathroom mirror.

Betsy feeling pretty fine by beating me.

C'est la vie, I always say!

Checking out the backyard before tackling the housework.

What a mess!

Somewhat better--at least there is a surface on which to work.

Stamp sets labeled so I can read them.

The chef! Tres bon! Bonne?

A New Year Brings a New Project

2012-01-07T10:43:00.000-08:00

Though I have not kept up with my writing as I promise myself I would I did finish my Picture of the Day Project for 2011. The last of the pictures have been ordered and I'm sort of in the process of straightening up my scrapbooking room enough to actually get them in an album. On January 1st I embarked on the same project for 2012. This time I signed up for a class at Studio Calico and am using Shuttercal.com as well as Facebook to save the pictures and journal at the same time. I'm loving the class--it is amazing how similar the objects we photograph out of our lives, no matter our age, occupation or location. The feedback is fun and the comments are so encouraging and inspirational. Of course, this means I spend even more time on the computer,which really isn't a good thing. As one can see--I have not yet read a book and a week of the new year is almost gone.

Well, I'm going to try to post my pictures here,too and hope there might be some comments from my followers. I am planning on getting back to my writing, too and my reading and my traveling and my cooking and and and.....

New Year's dinner

Bill and Misty reading directions for metal detector

Somebody's New Year's resolution

The end of the New Year's ham

Looking over pix from 2011 POD

Kings' Day, Twelfth Night, Little Christmas, The Epiphany

One of my goals is to take more " me " pix this year. The photographer is always missing and with the use of a timer that shouldn't happen. But it is hard to think of oneself as a worthy subject to save for remembrance. I'm going to be more aware of that .

Reading Challenge--I made it harder and got a B- !

2011-12-31T11:37:00.001-08:00

Well, here it is the end of the 52 weeks. I'd set a goal of a book a week and exceeded that by August. Foolishly, with less than six months left I doubled my original goal. Now, I finish the year having read 83 books--80% of my goal. Well, in grade terms that is a solid B--well a B-, and I will have to work harder in 2012 to achieve an A. Or, I could, as so many do in education to improve scores, lower my expectations. Say, maybe 75 books in the year. But, never having been a subscriber to that manipulation, no I shall challenge myself once more to 104 books in 2012.

PS--Oh,no, I only completed 79% That is a C+ !!!!! Awful!

What a Difference a Day Makes

2011-12-15T09:44:00.000-08:00

One Tuesday, December 13, our daughter got a call at work telling her that a former roommate in Montana had dropped dead while snowboarding in Colorado the day before. 25 years old and his heart just stopped. She was devastated and called us crying heart wrenchingly.

We never met this boy but he was one of the first people she met when she started Freshman year at MSU in Bozeman. Within the first few weeks of school she emailed me pix of new friends and scenes. One was of her dancing and laughing hysterically with a husky blond boy with impossibly beautiful blue eyes. I wrote back and among my comments was how much I loved them. When we talked several days later she said he'd laughed when she told him since they were contact lenses.

By the end of Sophomore year she decided to move off campus and join him in the apartment he'd rented at the start of the year. She left her things there and came home for the summer but several times he called to chat and when she wasn't here he was happy to chat with me. He loved to cook, steaks in particular, so at Christmas I sent him some Elijah Craig marinade and basting sauce. He loved it. When she was getting her first cell phone he assured me that working at Verizon he would make sure she got a good and not horribly expensive plan. There was absolutely no romantic involvement between them but they were really close friends. Sometime during that year, another girl and her boyfriend moved in with them to further reduce the rent and expenses. The boyfriend was unemployed and non-contributing so eventually he was invited to leave. And then many months later some disagreement erupted among the remaining three and our daughter and the other girl departed to a new apartment and the friendship was ended.

She never shared with us what had happened only that she was never speaking to him again. I was sad because we were going to visit Bozeman and I'd hoped to meet him at last. Considering the rift and the fact that he was her friend, after all, we didn't press to meet him. Especially, not knowing the circumstances, the meeting may have been uncomfortable for him. But friendships come and friendships go and it is part of life that some friends are lifelong and others are transitory, no matter how strong they may have once been.

Several years past, graduation came and went and she returned to Vermont for a year. Then she returned to Montana and they ran into each other and at least resumed speaking though the friendship never regained its former strength. At least the air was cleared and they were happy to see each other when their paths crossed. We never had contact with him again but were glad that such a happy go lucky guy had been returned to her circle, if only peripherally. She returned once more to Vermont in October and this was the first she'd heard of him since then. His heart stopped while snowboarding in Colorado! What a tragic end to such a young man. Even her parents grieve for the loss of one so young. At this time of year.

Thinking of his plans to go home to Montana, the gifts he may have bought for his family, those for him. All the holiday excitement and anticipation of family gathering. It is beyond the imagination. The devastation at a time meant to be joyful and happy. How sad for all concerned.

And then on Wednesday, Dec 14 and again today two articles in our paper about another 24 year old young man snowboarding in Colorado. He was making his runs at the same time our girl was receiving the bad news. Was he on the same slopes less than 24 hours later? Kevin Pierce, a boy from our area, returning to the snowboarding world two years almost to the day of having suffered a severe brain injury preparing for the Winter Olympics. How bittersweet in light of our news. How we wish our friend could have been there watching Kevin regain some of his ability. But then, maybe he was.

Christmas Cards and Other Correspondence

2011-12-12T13:45:00.000-08:00

I'm pacing myself this season and may not have everything done by the big day. After almost 50 years of having my own home and, therefore, decorating, shopping, wrapping, getting dinner ready and writing cards pretty much single-handed, I've passed some of the chores on to the daughter and others I've scaled back. A LOT. One thing I've always enjoyed is sending and receiving beautiful Christmas cards.

I grew up in a family where birthdays were always remembered with a lovely card, almost always Hallmark, and definitely specific: To my Mom, For a Special Daughter, To the Best Sister Ever, etc, etc. I've continued that within my own small circle of three and to my one Aunt remaining of seven and my Sister. I had extended it to the in-laws but, except for one, it isn't anything they have the time or inclination to do.

But I digress. Today, I was home alone for much of the day. The daughter and husband having gone to do their shopping for me. So, I decided it was perfect time to do my favorite thing. I got out the special Snowman box in which I keep my cards, return labels and lists of what cards I sent to whom last year. I hate repeating them since I have a selection of beauties and I like to vary them. I write just a one line personal greeting and our name and off they go.

Cards go to relatives: the aforementioned Aunt and Sister and their children, one sister-in-law and her husband ( the other two and the brother-in-law don't send cards ), cousins on both sides of the family. One cousin beats me to it every year--she writes the cards on Thanksgiving Day and mails them on Friday. We've laughed about it for years--I've told her she will ALWAYS beat me--I like to write when I'm in more of the Christmas spirit. With hot chocolate and Bing Crosby crooning by my side.

Next come the friends: Some have been in my life for 40 years or more, others are more recent and a few are former students who have now grown up, started families of their own and call me by my first name, now. I use my address book to make sure I have all the kids names right ( I put their names in the space reserved for email addresses! ) and that I'm using the most current address. There is always a pang of sadness as I move from one letter to the next---the relatives and friends who are no longer with us and won't be sending a card this year. That list gets longer each year but the list of new friends and acquaintances also grows, though not at the same pace or number.

Today, though I knew last year that I needed more cards, I ran out at the G's. Darn! Like my Mom before me, I always buy Christmas cards in January, when they are half price. Buy them now and pay full price?? Well, yes, because I love to send cards and love to send beautiful ones. So off to the web.Neither the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, nor the Metropolitan in New York City had yet lowered their prices. Too many procrastinators out there--so they know these cards are still going to sell. Besides, there are always dummies who forgot to buy them cheaper last January,too, and they will run out. Well, I think not.

So off I went to the Lang site. Ah, look---some cards already half price and 40% off the whole order besides!! Fill up that shopping cart, girl and so I did. Buying cards is almost as much fun as sending cards.Oh, the selections!! Snowmen galore, Santas of every shape and size from Woodland Santa to Peppermint Candy Santa, Country Scenes from Barnyard to Bringing Home the Tree, Snowy Driveways leading to Log Cabins, White Clapboards, Elegant Bricks, Angels, Nativities, Poinsettias, Kitties, Puppies, Candles, Churches, large and small!!!! You go, Girl! Fill up that Cart!!! And so I did. But then reason prevailed. Just how many more years will I be around to send Christmas cards? And what about that deminishing recipient list? So, back to the cart and culling. Out went those that I really, really liked But Did NOT Love. Then on to checkout and payment. And waiting. Hopefully, they'll get here in time for me to mail the rest before the actual day.

After that flurry of excitement I found that Bing had finished and my hot chocolate was gone. With time on my hands I found myself thinking about Christmas cards and letter writing. Before the days of " free " long distance calling and email my family, friends and I were prolific letter writers. Stationery was an important purchase and it was always selected so carefully. The color, the embossing or border, the weight and feel. There was always a box of white or beige linen texture for business letters. I loved setting time aside to get out my stationery and sit down to write a long newsy letter to someone. My hand was usually cramped up but it felt so great to correspond.

Then the anticipation of the response would carry one through the next week or two. If the wait was any longer, patience would start to fray but oh, the joy of finding an envelope with the return address of someone dear. Sometimes, frenzied, the flap would be torn raggedly to get to the news immediately. Other times, the letter would be placed tantalizingly on the table or in one's purse ( does anyone carry them anymore??) to be read when there was time to leisurely peruse it. And then, as they say, the ball was in your court.

I wasn't always a prompt responder--though frequently I'd put pen to paper immediately upon finishing. Many times, though, my response began with a heartfelt apology for being so long in answering.

I wish I had some of the correspondence now, especially the letters I exchanged with my Mother. I have only one and it is a single page saying not very much. There were none of mine amongst her things. She knew she was dying of cancer and so she destroyed letters and pictures since she didn't think anyone else would want them. She chose to throw them away herself. I wish she'd told me--I would have loved to have them.

When I look at the sole note from her and see her familiar handwriting, it brings her back to my mind's eye and as I read her words I hear her voice in my head. There is a book about things that have been used as bookmarks and some of the things are letters. What a clever use for a special note. It would be so nice to have some of mine to show my daughter.

She has only written me, perhaps, three or four letters so far. She calls frequently and we used to IM when she was away in school. I wrote letters to her but she never answered them in writing. Friends email now all the time but never are there letters. Some friends don't send Christmas cards at all. For awhile I continued sending to them but somehow the lack of response in kind made it less enjoyable. A let down, if you will,like calling someone with the excitement of speaking to them and getting no answer, or worse, a generic machine message asking for your number and name. If I don't just hang up, I just say, hi, thought I'd chat for a bit and then hang up. Sometimes, if they aren't too busy, they call back. More often I get an email. Grrrr.

I can't decide what to do with the stationery in the desk drawer that is faded and dusty with age. All the cute note cards. The stationery folder that my Mom gave me, beautiful red leather, with the blotter that was my Gram's and the fountain pen. Parker, you know. Can you still get INK for that? Oh, well, at least at Christmas the excitement of a personal letter in the box returns. Sometimes it requires me to respond and sometimes it is a response. Either way, I love it.

The beautiful card, the handwriting, the gorgeous stamp and the feel of the envelope. And I imagine the sender sitting and writing just to me and my family and I am happy and thankful for that moment in time.

Louis Who??

2011-11-28T06:24:00.000-08:00

Before Versailles: A Novel of Louis XIV by Karleen Koen
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was a goodreads giveaway that took several months to arrive so the review is much later than the would normally be the case. I loved this book on so many levels. I'll start with the setting. Having gone to France about 20 years ago, it was a joy to revisit several majestic places through Koen's eyes. My guide, a friend, who is head of a school in Sevres, started out by taking me to Fountainebleau, which as I remember was huge but in sad need of repair--wings were totally devoid of any furnishings, the windows were filthy and bare and in places broken. I don't know how much of the then on-going renovation has been completed since then but even in its horrendous state it was an impressive place. I remember there were quite a few peacocks and peahens strutting among the ruins and I thought how they must have looked when the gardens and buildings were in their glory and the humans strutted right along with them. Our next stop was Vaux-le-Vicompte---what a jewel! Words cannot express, or at least mine cannot, the incredible beauty of the place and the impact it has in every way on the visitor. Koen's description of the awe in which the guests beheld it when Nicholas Fourget opened it to them is exactly the reaction today's guests have upon seeing it. My friend told me then the story of Louis' finance minister, his increasing power culminating in this masterpiece, and the reaction of Louis to this perceived threat to his own power. The arrest of Fourget was inevitable and the takeover of Vaux by Louis not unexpected. Finally,she took me to Versailles and Vaux, that magnificent statement of one man's power, became a mere country estate in comparison! All of this was reiterated in Koen's beautiful prose throughout her narrative, which covered merely four months in the life of the newly crowned King of France, Louis XIV.

These four months, however, are spent primarily at Fountainebleau. Vaux was under construction at the time and Versailles was merely a hunting lodge out beyond the forests that have for the most part disappeared today. The intrigues of court, the struggles of a new monarch,who is only 22 years old,to establish himself in the eyes of his court and even in his own eyes are compelling. Throw into the mix, a brother, who is, to say the least scandalous and several women of varying personal strengths and weaknesses, with whom Louis also must deal and the plot, as they say, thickens.

A subplot, a legend never fully authenticated, involving a boy in an iron mask, possibly a royal prince, has been treated in many other books and movies. Here the characters involved are more thoroughly limned--from the musketeer who cares for him, to the monks in whose monastery he is initially housed, and the mother who refuses to visit him. The story is as sad here as at any time it has been told. Could Louis have had an idiot brother,possibly a bastard brother, who was secreted away for whatever reason? A threat to Louis' own legitimacy and therefore a threat to the throne and he who held it? Or perhaps, merely an embarrassment to the royal blood? Who knows. But as I read this I could not help but think of the present Queen Elizabeth's uncle who was kept hidden, unvisited for the most part by his mother, the Queen and his father, the King, primarily because he was epileptic. How much more embarrassing must idiocy have been to the French royal family?

Lastly, though a Francophile, I often got Louis XIV and Louis XVI mixed up. I cannot explain it--they were certainly light years apart, chronologically and politically to say nothing of the times in which they lived or the way in which they died. After this book, that is not likely to happen again!

All in all a delightful, interesting read with settings and characters thoroughly developed. If there is any criticism at all, and it is a small one, I had to check back to the front a few times to ascertain who a certain character was when the formal title, rather than the actual name, was used. This happened most ofter when there was more than one formal title involved for the same person--another practice that continues amongst the royals today. Just so confusing--let's just call them all Mack!

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More Action, Less Introspection, Please!

2011-11-12T12:01:00.000-08:00

Fragile: A Novel by Lisa Unger
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

This book, along with a copy of The Night Strangers, was sent to me by the marketing manager of Crown Publishing. I had won the Goodreads giveaway for Before Versailles and after almost two months I had not received it. It was a pleasant surprise and a very generous gesture, especially since the original giveaway book arrived shortly thereafter. Theoretically, then, it probably isn't necessary to review the book but feel it is appropriate.

I faithfully read page by page to Ch 19, page 190, almost halfway through the book before, out of sheer boredom and impatience, I flipped to the back of the book to find out how it ended. The first chapters introduced the reader to a mishmash of characters, mostly the classmates of the main character, the Police Chief, and his wife, a psychotherapist in a small town, The Hollows, not far from New York City. I couldn't decide if it was in the Hudson River Valley, New Jersey or Connecticut--it was sort of a indistinct any small town, but not really. I've lived in several very small places in NYS and in Vt and could not get a feel for this fictional place, there was no atmosphere.

The characters, except, perhaps the teens were very one dimensional as well. Even the former school principal with whom I should have been able to relate, having been in secondary education all my life, was colorless.

The missing teen girl, sexually assaulted, was presented in triplicate and felt too contrived and artificial. I could not really feel an urgency or empathy to any of the situations. There were some twists and turns but again they seemed too drawn out. I did go back and finish the book but wasn't moved by any of the neatly resolved issues.

In fact, I'm still not sure what purpose Charlie and Wanda served in the story at all. Perhaps, Charlie was Unger's alter ego giving voice to her purpose in writing the book.

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Required: A Lapse of Logical Thinking

2011-11-11T11:14:00.000-08:00

A Bitter Truth: A Bess Crawford Mystery by Charles Todd
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

At the outset it is necessary to say that I have not read the first two Bess Crawford Mysteries so Bess' background and her relationship to Simon, who seems to appear anytime Bess is in dire straits, is not familiar to me. As a result I found the relationship confusing. But, even it I understood that aspect of the story, I would be hard-pressed to believe the whole basis of the book. That a war-time nursing sister would take in an abused woman in the middle of the night in London was a stretch for me, when the woman was a total stranger. But I put that aside and said to myself -- it is Christmas time, so therefore cold and dark and deserted and Bess is, after all, in the humanitarian business--so maybe. BUT, she then forgoes her visit to her worried parents on a holiday leave to travel with this stranger to the home of the woman's abusive spouse? And the spouse and his mother and grandmother and sister and brother-in-law to say nothing of the town's rector and doctor greet this stranger with open arms and reveal all kinds of family secrets seemingly easily was really stretching my ability to accept.

We are speaking upper society here, with a son who has supposedly swatted his wife in the face! A scandal if ever there was one. Nevermind, that Bess seems to have some pedigree of her own--she is a total stranger. This would never happen. Needless to say, having found this all very difficult to accept the multiple murders and the mystery of who dunnit was really secondary. About the only part that rang true for me was Bess' experiences in France, her meeting the Australian and maybe the nuns and the orphans for whom they were caring.

Since Charles Todd was lauded prominently on the dust cover as a New York Times Bestselling Author I stuck it out but won't run out to buy another of this authors' works any time soon. It wasn't horrible but it wasn't gripping either and I found I don't much care what happens to the characters.

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The Second Time is NOT the Charm!

2011-11-03T09:37:00.000-07:00

Deadly Defiance by William Manchee
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

The opening sentence of this book was almost enough to make me put it aside. " One of the most difficult events in a parent's life is when....." A noun cannot be an adverb!! Occurs when perhaps but is NOT when. I battled this sentence structure for 30 years teaching and correcting term papers--but I guess I just have to accept it along with run-on sentences since Manchee and my students refuse to listen. If Mr Manchee would put a period instead of a comma everytime he wanted to use the word " so " and then black out " so " and start a new sentence his writing would be so much better. Also, during conversation it is totally unnecessary to insert, he said, she replied, he laughed, she giggled. And where are the editors? On one page two characters are speaking and all at once a third character replies--a dead one at that! I re-read the page twice to make sure it wasn't me--but no, glaringly, a dead person is given the response.

So, the book is not great literature and the editing is a disaster. Yet, although, certainly NOT the next Grisham, Manchee's book keeps you involved. Three mysteries going at once and all of them neatly tied up by the end. Most of the characters are pretty flat though Jodie comes across with some potential. Stan is a disaster, lackluster though supposedly attractive to women. Or at least, to Paula, who hops into bed with just about anyone for just about any reason. Bart is just there for dinner and backrubs apparently. Poor Rebeckah is just ill.

It was an okay foray--" read " one other that was a giveaway on MP3 and was glad to have won this one. I'm not a good candidate to review recorded books and said so in my review. Nevertheless, I cannot give this hard copy any greater words of praise. This is Manchee's 10th book in the series so somebody out there likes him. I won't be returning for any more installments, however.

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Do You Remember the Horror of Jonestown?

2011-10-21T08:49:00.000-07:00

A Thousand Lives: The Untold Story of Hope, Deception, and Survival at Jonestown by Julia Scheeres
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was a GoodReads first reads giveaway. The writing style was easy enough to read, though the subject matter required breaking away periodically. I remember the murder-suicide event and at the time was overwhelmed by the number of people who were gulled by Jim Jones and who willingly took their own lives for him. The book in no way alleviated that awe though the biographical sketches of some of the followers clarified Jones' attraction. Many of these people were society's throw aways and in Jones they found a leader who seemingly cared for them and gave their lives meaning. Other of the followers were socialistic idealists who thought his message of equality and tolerance and communal living would lead to a new Utopia. It would have been helpful to have had more insight into the backgrounds of some of the top officials who found it so easy to abuse in the name of discipline their fellow Peoples Temple members and who were able to devise unbelieveable torture methods and suicide scenarios. I kept finding myself comparing these people to the educated experimenters of the Third Reich.

As a matter of fact, much like Hitler, Manson and others of that ilk, including Ida Amin, Jim Jones was a megalomaniac who lived well, used his position to have sex with whomever appealed to him and through drugs managed to lose all mental and emotional control of himself if not of his followers. This book in no way helped me to get my own mind around the type of person who falls prey to such a leader and find that these folks are missing some vital piece of humanity that allows them to become robotic followers, unable to function as loving parents, spouses or neighbors. It is frightening to know that there will always be men such as Jones and always be minions to do his bidding without thought.

Pictures of the places and people would have enhanced the story.

View all my reviewsWhen I sent this review to Simon and Schuster, the editor replied with a link to the author's website, on which pictures of some of the followers could be found. http://www.juliascheeres.com

Terrific Photography

2011-09-28T09:23:00.001-07:00

Don't know what channel 5 is in Spain--I bet conservative--but I love the photo graph. The caption reads " a book commits suicide everytime you put on 5" There are several things here in the US that would cause a book to commit suicide-- Sarah Palin running for President; Obama being re-elected.

Fall in Vermont

2011-09-27T16:04:00.000-07:00

Filling up for Flight to Mexico

Back yard Flight

Mother Nature's Melodious Voice

And Glorious Palette

Virtual Pen Week 2

2011-09-17T12:08:00.000-07:00

There are two prompts this week: Write a story based on Picture No. 1 or alternatively describe a memorable first. Though I won't always follow both prompts each time, I decided to combine them since this chair often reminds me of the first time I held my new baby sister.

Sitting in a straight backed chair

Little legs dangling

Strappy shoes and socks above the floor

" Put out your arms "

Manicured hands lower the pink clad bundle

" Don't drop her "

Stiffening

Afraid to move

Green eyes meet curious blue

The bond is formed

As I watch her with wonder

Stalagmite for Breakfast

2011-09-16T16:23:00.000-07:00

Picking Up the Virtual Pen Once More

2011-09-15T15:19:00.000-07:00

School has started in most of Vermont by now, although some were delayed until after Labor Day ( as it was in my student and early teaching days ) as a result of the unusual visit by Irene. There is an organization here called the Vermont Young Writers' Project which is dedicated to instilling a love of writing and ongoing improvement in writing in the students K-12. Students throughout the State are encouraged to write in any genre by a series of prompts published each Fall in local newspapers. Teachers are encouraged to use these prompts and submit the kids' best work done either inside or outside the classroom for publication in the newspaper. Kids may submit their own work as well. I've read the products of these young writers, quite often with awe and admiration for their talent.

Since I haven't done any serious writing in awhile, other than reviewing books, the idea of using these prompts for my own inspiration appealed to me. The first, due tomorrow, is in general writing: pick the best of your summer's work in any genre. Well, since I haven't been writing much this summer that sort of poses the first of my problems-nothing in the old portfolio. Not that I'm going to submit anything--having long since left 12th grade very much in not only the dust, but also the very dim and dusty past! Not wanting to start the academic year by skipping the first assignment, it occured to me that perhaps a recap of a very, lazy uneventful summer might suffice.

Summer -- the actual first day of Summer--began with a party for one of my daughter's friends, Tiffany, who is in the Army and was home on leave from Fort Benning, Ga. Betsy, my daughter, had come home from Montana for a short visit earlier in the week so we'd had plenty of shared time before she would be out and about with Tiff for a few days. Their visits sort of overlapped like two elongated circles. Both sets of parents were happy about that since at this age we don't seem to be the first choice as hang-out pals for these gals. Can't understand that, really. We are so lively and witty--even if we do thing 9 PM is the middle of the night and finds us dozing off in the middle of conversation. At any rate, the party was great fun and it was good to see Tiff who is quite svelte and has incredible posture now, with an overlay of new found maturity and gravitas. She is also going to be shipped out to Iran soon which added to our pleasure in being able to spend time with her. Each morning I start my day now with a Hail Mary for her and one for Dan, the son of another friend who will be going to Afganistan within the week and for all of our service people in the world,wherever they may be.

While the kid was home we made use of her youth and enthusiasm ( NOT ) to move some of the furniture around in our rearrangement of the downstairs --my workroom in the cellar from which the futon was moved and the living room sideboard which moved upstairs to the bedroom the make way for the futon. Once she left on the 24th we were left to reorganize what we'd left. This worked rather well for the remainder of June--with clothes getting sorted to throw out, give away and launder and store among other such "try to get this place liveable again" activities.

The lovely sun lit days were not totally spent on housework we also found time to sit on the porch and enjoy the antics of our friendly chipmunks and red squirrel as well as all of the birds at the feeders. The flower boxes on the porch and the hanging pots with their young plants had started to fill out and the outdoor room began to take shape. The trees and mown lawn provided a glorious emerald green background that was only surpassed in beauty by the incredibly beautiful blue of an almost cloudless sky. And so the days moved lazily and slowly, almost without notice into July.

Last year I'd wanted to have a sangria and tapas party but the summer got away from me, as did Fall and then the holidays were upon us. This year I decided that would not happen again so I immediately drew up the guest list, sent invitations and planned the menu. Before I was married I hosted a huge party every season with a different ethnic theme. I did all the cooking but my guests were responsible for dessert and drinks. Dessert because my menu was many courses from appetizer, soup, salad and entree with sides. By the time I'd done all that cooking I had no interest in making dessert. Rarely did anyone bring any but there were always many libations, for the most part matching the theme. Unfortunately, I married a man who does not like to entertain and for the most part does not like to go to parties. My hostess with the mostest persona was put to rest. With the arrival of a child my energies were happily diverted. And with a full time teaching job, life was full enough without huge parties. Now, however, retired and the child half way across the country as a young adult, boredom was setting in and I needed an outlet. So, this year the tapas would appear and the sangria would flow all to the strains of Spanish music!

But first, we spent the Fourth of July visiting with relatives at camp in Irasburg, which was a great time. The Northeast Kingdom is by far the most beautiful part of this State and has, I think, the greatest concentration of many generational native Vermonters. Both facts which make it my favorite part of the State but too remote for me to ever want to live there.

At this point of the month we were to have company from Florida for a few days. I was so looking forward to meeting another of Bill's college buddies and his wife. But, almost at the last minute their plans changed and the summer trip they'd planned to New England had to be cancelled. Pat had a sudden bout of severe arthritis and the doctor told her the trip would be too much. All of us were truly disappointed since we'd planned since April for the visit. Hopefully, we'll be able to see them in Florida this winter.

July is the most glorious month for our flower gardens, the lilies are at their peak, the bluebells, delphiniums, mallow, roses, clematis--everywhere you look the raised beds are in bloom and the colors are vibrant. The honeysuckle vine is orange and the Hawaiin Wedding vine is covered in purples and white. Hawaiin blue eyes and all of the portulaca, impatiens, lobelia, candle plant, marigolds,variegated coleus, and petunias vie for attention in all corners of the porch. Much of my time was spent walking among them and lounging on the chaise reading in the sun.

Nevertheless, the planning for the party commenced and on July 19 off I went to shops throughout Lebanon New Hampshire picking up the items I'd need for the tapas. Being a Mediterranean country most of the items involved fresh vegetables and fruits and our refrigerator was full to bursting. Unfortunately, that evening while watching TV I decided I wanted a snack and so headed downstairs with the cat, Misty running alongside me as always--she's always up for a snack,too! I was hurrying to make it back before the commercial ended but for some reason she ran in front of me on the last two steps! Next thing I knew I was sitting in a very awkward position on the floor with my leg up under me. Talk about hurt. I must have yelled out because she disappeared and Bill came to the head of the stairs. I thought I was alright but when I tried to get up I couldn't seem to lift onto that foot. Bill came and got me upstairs--snack forgotten. We thought I'd sprained the leg but by the next morning the pain and swelling were bad enough we went to the hospital emergency room. Broken fibula, bruised wrist. Off for a fracture boot and home. I was so bummed! Wanted to call off the party but how to preserve all that food? Not possible. Doctor's office called and made an appointment to see an orthopedic PA on Monday the 25th. Party Sunday the 24th!

So after returning from the ER I cleaned the downstairs with Bill's help and boiled the eggs for deviled eggs. The next day after downing two ibuprophen I made the eggs, stuffed celery and a eggplant dip and called my sister and asked her to come to help me the next two days. She did and we had a ball creating a great antipasto dish of fresh marinated peppers, mushrooms, asparagus, and cherry tomatoes. I served a sweet onion salad, steamed potatoes with chili sauce, honey and red pepper, chorizo in wine sauce, hot nuts, deep fried fish, guacomole, cheese and crackers, cream cheese and jezebel sauce, hummus and pita, ricotta with honey and chocolate teddy bear cookies. And lots and lots of Sangria. I wore a lovely caftan my daughter had given me and a good time was had by all.

On Monday I saw the PA who told me I would not be able to walk in a cast and that she really didn't want me walking in the boot either. Furthermore, I had to get a walker but she wouldn't authorize a sit down walker, the fracture didn't warrant it. And so the next six weeks found me coming downstairs in the morning, sitting with my leg elevated and iced, reading, reading, reading! Fortunately, I won lots of books from Goodreads during this period so I wasn't lacking for material of all sorts to read. Considering the swelling and pain and the fact that I really was to stay off my feet as much as possible we had to pass on the second annual family reunion. And so the month began with the disappointment of our friend's visit halting arthritis attack and ended with the disappointment of my reunion halting fibula fracture! Sigh!!!

August continued with me gimping around and gulping two ibuprophen before sleep each night so that the pain would not wake me and taking a couple each day. Mostly, I read, watched Netflix on the computer, talked on the phone, ate and slept. Somehow, it felt all wrong but there was severe pain most of the time and though I wanted to walk around the gardens and do things around the house I knew I had to stay off the leg. And ice it and elevate it.

Finally on the 8th I go to see the doctor. I had not slept well the night before and was not prepared for his finding. Even with the care I'd taken my talus and tibia had shifted and he recommended surgery to put in a pin to realign them and a plate for the fracture. He said I should do it immediately that week and then wear a cast for twelve weeks!!! I was angry and said so--the PA should have casted it in my opinion--I opted for the boot because I thought I could walk in it some but she should have, because of the incredible black and blue and swelling insisted on casting. He said that isn't usually done if the bone fracture is not displaced, which it wasn't. Nevertheless, I think she made the wrong call but how do I prove that??Also, if the little walking I did caused this relocation why didn't the fracture warrant a sit down walker?

At any rate, I refused surgery after discussing the ramifications: swelling ( I already have had problems with that foot swelling ), some pain--ibuprophen works for me, possibility of arthritis in time ( I'm already 68 and arthritis does not run in my family ), possibility of needing to brace the ankle with either an air splint--not likely--or a lace up canvas skin tone brace ( who will see that under the pants I usually wear?). All in all I'm not wearing a cast for 12 weeks-- I haven't the mental strength or patience for that discomfort. So, on went a lovely light blue cast for a week and a half. By this time a month had passed since breaking the leg. I cancelled my hair appointment with my regular girl since her shop is at the top of a very steep and long set of stairs! Fortunately, my neighbor is a hairdresser and she was able to take me in for a cut and color etc since I was not going to miss my cousin's daughter's wedding in Fishkill on the 19th!

On the 18th I returned for a new light blue cast and on the 19th dressed in the stretch jeans that were the only garment I could get on and off over the cast we headed out for the wedding. What an absolutely beautiful fun time. It rained so they had to move indoors from the garden where the ceremony began. I had not gone out there since I could not get my cast wet--so it was nice for me --and actually, as it turned out for all the guests --that they had to move indoors. No one could hear the minister or the bride and groom outside. Here we were much more intimately involved in the happy ceremony. It was like New Year's Eve--everything was so inclusive and celebratory--music and dancing--conversation, great food and a beautiful young couple whom I hope will always be as happy as they were that night.

And so life returned to the old routine--the pain had ceased once my leg was cast the first time but the swelling continued. By late afternoon the weight of the cast was almost unbearable and it was uncomfortable to sleep in but I was walking better and without pain sleeping better. The blueberries ripened in great abundance and we froze pints of them and ate others with whipped cream for breakfast. The cantaloupe melons, though small were sweet and juicy and they were breakfast other days. We had so many tomatoes ripen at the same time that we made homemade sauce and froze it for winter and had spagetti that night. The cukes were long gone as were the peas but the potatoes and onions and peppers kept coming and we continued eating salad at least once a day.

And then August 28 arrived. For days the weatherman warned that Hurricane Irene was probably going to be closer to the shore that usual and that we would surely feel her power--both in heavy rainfall and very high velocity winds. I have a dreadful fear of the dark and so I hoped that she would hit during the day and that the power, if it went out, would be restored fairly quickly.

The day started dark and gloomy and the wind was somewhat heavy but not frighteningly so. This we knew was not the storm but the air moving ahead of it--we were not due to be hit until around 2 in the afternoon. Eventually, it became very calm, not even a breeze. For most of the day we sat on the porch and read the Sunday papers and had our coffee and later our lunch. We listened to NPR as we do every Sunday on the porch. Around 1 or so the rain that had been falling intermittently, sometimes heavy, sometimes drizzly, started to come down in sheets. It was as though someone what standing on the roof with a fire hose opened on full and just running it over the porch. It was almost impossible to see across the fields. In a matter of an hour the river had risen to its banks and in less time than that it overflowed and just kept roaring down the fields--it formed three main channels and rose higher and higher--fast and muddy and spreading out, out, out over all our fields. At one point a deer jumped high out of the grass. I never can judge the height of that grass from the porch but that deer was invisible til she jumped--she was trying to get out of the water--fortunately she was on the edge of the water and was able to walk out of it onto the little knoll just off the porch. There are several here--our house is on one, then there is the tiny rise that we call Poison Ivy Hill for obvious reasons, and then a larger knoll across the field on which sits the fire training station. This is actually a ridge that runs parallel to the river and is not only higher but also serves as a wall preventing the river from reaching the fields behind it. So we were not worried, even when we saw our doe and her twins come out and act confused for a bit when they couldn't take their usual path throught the nursery. They did not take long to realize they needed to go up on the higher ground and they did.

Our neighbors who live on one of the fields moved their vehicles into our driveway and Bill went down to help them sand bag their house. Tori said watching the insects in a mass moving ahead of the water toward her home was very eerie. I'm glad I didn't see that-- I'm shivering as I write. Awful.The rain stopped about 8 pm and the water stopped rising. Their cellar was flooded but that happens to them every spring. The water stopped just short of their doorstep so the house wasn't damaged at all. The power went out just a few minutes before the end of Leverage---so around 10pm. I had the lights ready and we went to sleep--actually I read by flashlight for awhile. By 3 am the power was back.

Monday dawned sunny and clear--not a cloud in the sky and the river had returned to its bed. The fields had just a few puddles here and there but it seemed impossible to believe that they had been so flooded less than eight hours before.We took a drive over to Chelsea since the road between us usually floods--there was no flooding at all! It wasn't until later in the day we learned the true devastation that had taken place in Vermont. Two of the roads that we frequent when traveling to New York State totally impassable--one of them totally obliterated. If we wanted to go to that wedding now we'd have to go north to Plattsburg or south to the Mass Pike before we could cut west and then we have no idea what the roads there are like. 12 towns in Vermont were totally isolated with no water and no power. It is too hard to explain all the damage. It is like nothing we've experienced in Vermont since the floods of 1927 and the hurricane in 1935--neither of which I was here to see. There has been horrible localized flood damage in the Spring every year but nothing this widespread nor of such magnitude. Let us hope we don't see it again any time soon. How fortunate we are to be built high on a hill and that the strong winds that were predicted did not develop to add to the calamity. Here we are almost three weeks later and still people are shoveling mud from their homes, if they have them,or their businesses and tossing all their belongings. Incredible. Somehow a broken leg seems so insignificant.

For the next weeks at the end of August and the beginning of September the news on all fronts was the reporting of recovery and the remembrance of September 11. Without realizing why I began to get more and more depressed. Labor Day weekend passed in a blur--we stayed home. On Tuesday the 6th I went to get an eye exam and new glasses. At least my eyes are healthy--so getting out of the house I began to perk up again. I also realized that the best thing to do was to ignore all 9-11 stuff and focus on getting the leg out of the cast and starting to get around again.

On September 8 that happened. Free at last, free at last--no more cast! No more walker. The PA wanted me to wear the fracture boot outdoors but not around the house and to start building up the muscles again. Ankle rotations and alphabets etc. So far the stiffness is getting better but it is still a bit sore. There is swelling by the end of the day and I imagine that will last for about a year or so. Don't knpw if I'll be able to get a shoe on but I'll worry about that in time. For now, it is enough to have gotten rid of that cast. I was worried I'd gained back the weight I lost before the accident but am happy to say that I did not, despite the enforced inactivity. Didn't lose anything but nothing gained.

As I look at the calendar I see that there is only one more week to summer. My Aunt turns 89 on the Equinox. I pray I live as long and have as good health as she. We've been madly getting in the harvest. Onions all drying on the porch rafters, basil dried in the dryer, pesto made and frozen, peppers frozen. Some of the leaves have turned already and they are predicting frost tonight or tomorrow night. There is a definite chill in the air. And so life goes on and Nature's cycle continues no matter how much we'd like to hold back time.

It was a quiet summer but it was filled with sunshine and color and joy. On to the glory of foliage season and the start of the celebrations that will carry us to the end of 2011.

None of the Love of the Lyrics

2011-09-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

The Very Thought of You by Rosie Alison

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

There is a sentence toward the end of this book "the grief would not go, but sometimes he cherished it." Oh, there is plenty of grief to go around and each and everyone of the main characters more than cherished it. They allowed it to consume them and turn them into empty, cold husks incapable of interacting normally with anyone outside themselves, even those with whom they are most intimate.

The first of the three protagonists is Anna Sands, an eight year old evacuee from London to the grand Yorkshire mansion, Ashton Park. Her story is perhaps the one most difficult to which to give credence. Not wanting to ruin it for those who may read the book, suffice it to say, that, despite some fairly happy times in childhood, she seems not to show the resilience that most children have to trauma. Granted separation from parents and loss of her mother at an early age are pretty traumatic, there seems to have been no saving grace in her reunion with her father, who seems to get pretty short shrift in the story. To the point that his wife's infidelity in London while he fights in Africa is very superficially dealt with. But then, these characters are all superficial.

The other two characters of consequence are the lovely owners of Ashton Park--Thomas and Elizabeth Ashton. His supposed emotional crippling is the result of loss of his siblings at an early age and is physical crippling the result of a bout of polio which leaves him in a wheelchair, though not impotent. His wife, totally a cold fish from the start, who knows why, is crippled by her lack of a child. Hence the opening of the house to other people's children. These two deserve each other but as luck will have it others get caught up in their circle of misery and are damaged or destroyed by the experience.

Two other characters keep showing up intermittently for no apparent reason but the notes at the end tell us that Clifford Norton and his wife, Peter, are the only real personages in the tale. They are distant cousins of the author and "act as an occasional chorus on the wider world beyond Ashton Park." A world in which Hitler invades Poland, Paris falls,the death camps are liberated and later there is a civil war in Greece. None of these things seem to have any impact on these self-absorbed people on their lovely estate in the countryside.

I finished the book hoping that there would be some salvation or awakening in these people--but no, they continue to cherish the new grief that life has brought them. No one dies in this book--life leaks out of them or seeps out of them in the author's euphemous language--but it does seep slowly from the first page until at the end the biggest sorrow is the empty house. Now a museum, with guided tours through lifeless rooms and hallways, filled with ghosts. But, in my opinion, but for the laughing, running children evacuated there for such a short time, the house was always filled with ghosts. Soul less cold creatures --empty of all human feeling.

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The Killing Song is Intense and Suspenseful

2011-09-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

The Killing Song by P.J. Parrish

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A First Reads Giveaway I finished it in one and a half days it was that compelling. The first chapter didn't really grab me. Thought it would be just another routine find the killer of a young girl plot. Within pages, however, it became clear that the characters in this book, especially the killer, were complex and interesting. The writing style just kept leading you deeper and deeper into the mystery--glimpses of the murderer and his history making you want to learn ever more about him. The settings, too, kept me reading--from the nightlife of Miami to the streets and metro and catacombs of Paris, to the fading rock scenes of London, to the pastoral settings of urban parks and countryside Scotland. The brother of a murdered young girl and the female Parisian detective with whom he joins forces lead the reader ever closer to the madman who kills with the pick of a cello and leaves musical clues to prior murders behind. Gripping to the last coda.

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Jeffrey Archer's New One Is A Rehash of Many Before It.

2011-08-23T13:18:00.000-07:00

Only Time Will Tell by Jeffrey Archer

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

How many books have been written about the bastard son of a bastardly rich man? His mother is a poor woman alone. He faces all kinds of travails but in the end succeeds. Falls in love with his half-sister, unwittingly, of course,and fortuitously, a War is on the horizon so he can go off and leave it all behind. Except for the War and his assumption of a new identity in a new country all of the above facts are known within the first ten pages. Not a badly written book, innocuous, shop worn though its plot. Harmless, easy, if predictable read which, on its last page, throws in the hook that will allow for what I imagine will be a predictable sequel.

I almost didn't finish reading once I realized that I'd figured out the basic premise but several others advised me to continue because there would be interesting revelations and developments. Nope, turned out just as I expected.

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The Burning -- Riveting, Chilling

2011-08-22T09:21:00.000-07:00

The Burning by Jane Casey

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A riveting procedural with a likeable DC Maeve Kerrigan at its center. A serial killer has bashed four women to death and then set their bodies aflame. The fifth victim is discovered and Maeve doesn't think she IS the killer's fifth--there are some similarities but the differences are jarring. Her boss takes her off the major case and assigns her this one. Casey does an excellent job of revealing the character and personality of the victim as well as members of her intimate circle. In the telling, Maeve is fleshed out as well. The two investigations run parallel but cross paths periodically, too, so that in the end both mysteries are solved. In particular, the summation provided by one of the killers at the end of the book is chilling. And to tie up any loose ends, the author uses press releases to reveal the fate of the bad guys. A well written page turner that chills with its cold-blooded characters.

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Eleanor of Aquitaine was the equal of men!

2011-08-15T06:08:00.000-07:00

To Be Queen: A Novel of the Early Life of Eleanor of Aquitaine by Christy English

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The book is as lovely as the cover and is easy to read. Christy's strength is in description of countryside and characters. Eleanor's youth and strength come through very clearly as does the influence of the Church in Europe at the time. It was this corruption and interference on the part of the noble sons who made up the Cardinals and Popes of the time that led, eventually, to the Protestant revolutions in all there forms throughout Europe. Unfortunately, though William's training of Eleanor and her awareness of enemies in high places in France, Rome and the Levant are thoroughly stressed there is little depth or development of what exact machinations took place against her in these areas or her steps to protect herself other than passing out silver coins or bags of gold. This is not to say that this isn't an enjoyable book and one that is a good introduction to one of history's more interesting and strong ruling women. The Lion in Winter is a movie that fleshes her out a bit more and shows her ability to stand on the same level as her husband Henry II of England as well as her former husband, Louis of France more strongly.

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Can't Get Into Books on MP 3!

2011-08-11T12:20:00.000-07:00

Black Monday: A Stan Turner Mystery by William Manchee

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is a limited edition MP3 version of the sixth in a series of Stan Turner mysteries. It took a long time to get through since my mind tends to wander during recorded books so they get " read " in dribs and drabs. To think I used to listen to the radio for hours as a kid and never missed a word!

Anyway, in addition to my wandering mind, the recording itself has some problems. There are only two narrators, Jeffrey Kafer, whose voice is very droning and lacking in expression, and Arika Escalona, who is very perky and probably a good voice for the attractive law partner, Paula Waters. They take turns reading the various chapters --unfortunately, that means that he takes on the voices of women in his chapters and she takes on the voices of men in hers and neither are very good at it. As a result it was most difficult to keep track of the various characters to say nothing of how irritating and tedious the numerous iterations of " he said " , " I said ", " she replied " became.

The cases the two persued were interesting and I think I'd have enjoyed the hard copy book. As already noted this is the sixth in the series so it is imagined that the attraction between the married Stan and the seductive Paula has been developed along the line. It comes to a head here--she's engaged, the boyfriend is nice but just can't arouse her the way Stan can. So a gratuitous semi-sex scene in the janitor's closet at her night before the wedding party is thrown. Then the next day, Stan, hung over from too many Bourbon and 7's--the man has absolutely no taste and I hope he drinks rot-gut bourbon--isn't really sure what happened. Hate blaming bad behavior on too much to drink--she's getting married tomorrow? and she's seducing a guy in a closet? And he's married and hopes Rebecca doesn't get where the lipstick on his collar--what a cliche--came from. Please, leave out the sex and seduction--it takes away from the story and is the weakest part of the writing. Hopefully, now that they are both married they can either work together professionally or they can break up the partnership and show some maturity in marriage.

This was a goodreads giveaway and I've since won #10 in the series. I'm looking forward to reading it. My review here is more on the quality of the format than the actual literary quality, which is at least average and appealing.

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Gets the Little Gray Cells Working

2011-08-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

All Cry Chaos by Leonard Rosen

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

First off it is important to note that I'm neither a mathematecian nor am I terriby adept in math. I am however a biologist and so this book and its study of patterns, including pictures, totally engrossed me. The mystery is very satisfying and one is immediately drawn to Inspector Poincare of Interpol and his various cohorts, including the young shoot from the hip Paolo Ludovici. The characters are well drawn, the travels to solve a very convoluted case very real and the mystery itself multi-layered. The descriptions of Quebec City and of Amsterdam are spot on. In particular, having just experienced the Doomsday event that didn't happen, the whole descriptive chapter at the end of the book, when all the threads come together in Amsterdam's Dam is particularly well written. A world-wide computer generated enlistment program has culminated in a countdown to the Rapture on August 15--the circus atmosphere is repulsive, amusing, astounding and sad. It is interesting that the date chosen by the author is the Catholic feast day of the Assumption of Mary ( the Blessed Virgin ) into Heaven. Coincidence? Or that the discussion in the high Alps between Poincare and a math prof who taught in the science center at Harvard should sound so much like Stephen Jay Gould's Punctuated Equilibrium theory of evolution. Another coincidence? Don't know but it was a very interesting book and I really liked it and will read it again--it is one of those.

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Satisfying Summer's Read

2011-08-03T17:08:00.000-07:00

Sea Change by Darlene Marshall

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The first reads historical romance is a great romp through the Caribbean in 1817. A young orphaned girl is posing as an apprentice surgeon on a Royal Naval ship on her way to Jamaica and life with her godfather, a doctor, who she hopes will allow her to assist him in his practice. During the delivery of the Captain's wife an American privateer boards the ship to take the doctor prisoner so that he will treat the American's injured brother. And so begins a delightful story in which the reader knows that Dr Charley Alcott is Charlotte but the handsome American and his crew do not. The humor of the situation is perfectly written and the change in the two characters is as perfect once the deception is uncovered. A bit of escape reading with lots of humor,action, sarcasm, warmth and finally romance. Terrific for a summer's day in the hammock.

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Lassie or Rinty? Lassie was Fiction--Rinty was Real!

2011-07-31T11:56:00.000-07:00

Rin Tin Tin: The Life and the Legend by Susan Orlean

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Ah Rusty and Rinty--yes, pals of my childhood--and the reason I was thrilled to win this book in a Goodreads firstreads giveaway. The story was interesting and well-written but about halfway through--around the time the TV show which most of us remember was taking off--I started to get bored. The information about Lee Duncan, the man who found the original Rin Tin Tin in France towards the end of WWI, became repetitive and boring. But then, the story of the dog was no longer the story of just one dog and in many ways not even the story of the Real Rinty.

Orlean does a fine job of describing the changing times in America from the euphoria and youth of a country just over a major war, through a depression, the transition from silent films to talkies to TV to whatever our entertainment forms are today. What left me at a loss was any real depth in the description of Lee Duncan and his life. What was his personality like--other than self-effacing and obsessed with a dog and its legacy? Who were his friends? How in heavens name did his wife, Eva, ever meet much less become such good friends with Helen Reddy that she, as a new widow, travelled the world with her? There is more information about Bert, the man behind the TV program, and Daphne, a Texas woman who apparently still breeds Rinty descendents, than about the man who started the whole legend by rescuing an orphaned French puppy.

I finished the book with a sense that, though it is almost 300 pages long, there are many, many loose ends. And though Orlean feels that she, too, has become part of the obsessive movement to assure that there is always a Rin Tin Tin, my feeling is that, unless Disney or some other major studio makes a new successful series of movies with the beloved character, Rin Tin Tin will go the way of StrongHeart--remembered by baby boomers but will die with them. Sad but the way of the world.

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A Cure to Die For--- A Bit of a Stretch

2011-07-29T14:31:00.000-07:00

A Cure to Die For: A Medical Thriller by Stephen G. Mitchell

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Being a pre-med student and a retired biology teacher the premise of this book really caught my interest. It was enjoyable because the characters were somewhat interesting and the locales, especially the Navajo Nation were familiar to me. There was alot of action what with the kidnappings and police and/or DEA raids and the various forays into the snowy Montana mountains or across the Midwest at night. There are three main characters who acquire others as the story moves along--some stay for the duration, some are ships passing in the night.

The idea of a cure-all drug was rather fascinating--especially since it is the product of a cannabis hybrid. What is the author trying to say here, I wonder? The fact that the pharmaceutical industry and the government would try to destroy it and the research that produced it is ludicrous. For we find that the drug is not really a cure as such but a substance that sends all sorts of disease into remission and without it the patient is lost once more. I just bet the drug companies would like to see that stamped out rather than fight to get the patent that would allow one of them to corner the market and charge an exhorbitant price for the prescription to say nothing of the taxes the government could levy on the manufacture of such a miracle drug.

And my science self had a real problem with the lack of testing to determine the true efficacy of the drug and to ascertain what the lengthy warnings of side effects would be to the patient.

If logic, then, can be suspended for a time this book is a good read with many twists and turns---not a thriller, not a mystery but surely an adventure. I don't think I'll ever drive by fields thick with high corn in Iowa again without wondering if there are other crops secretly planted between the rows--a take off on the three sisters. Nor will I venture into Window Rock again and park near the Council House without wondering if a Grow is being considered somewhere out in the far reaches of the Reservation.

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State of Mind

2011-07-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

If age is just a state of mind then I am around 2000 years old today. Fell, avoiding the cat on the stairs last night, and figured my ankle was sprained. When I tried to get up from the floor I was totally unable to do it. Thank goodness for Bill--was able to winch me up and I went to bed and slept fine. This morning the pain in the ankle was unbearable and the 90+ heat was setting in. I needed Bill to help me up out of bed--incredibly painful and even help me get off the throne--exceedingly mortifying. God, am I so old already? Horribly scary to realize that I could have been stranded on the floor all day or the bathroom waiting for him to come home to help! What if I lived alone?

I hate taking medicine but knowing I HAD to get to the hospital to get an xray, which entailed going down the back stairs and getting out of the car twice, I gulped down two Advil. In about a half hour the pain subsided enough that I could get up and down alone and walk without yelping out loud. Were at the hospital by 930,where I walked until going to xray which was far off--so I took the offer of the wheelchair this time. I could feel the bones moving the way they do when you crack your knuckles. By 1030 I was waiting for the results of the xray. I knew it was broken but Bill thought it was just a bad sprain. Doc came into the room and said " Well, you did it!" I said " Broken?" He shook his head yes and I said" fibula?" and he said " yup the distal end" I knew it. So they put a flimsy air cast on, gave me crutches,which I cannot use, and a prescription for a walking brace. Asked if I needed anything stronger than Advil and I said no, that's fine.

Off to Keene Medical where the girl wasn't sure how much to inflate the cast. I'm not sure it is tight enough but at least it is supporting my leg when I try to put weight on it. Will have to read the directions. The Doctor from orthopaedics called when I got home and I have to return on Monday for a follow up. I am so exhausted and dying of the heat and feel as I said about 2000 years old.

Giving a party on Sunday--have to do all the cooking for it limping around. Family reunion next weekend and family wedding in August and me with a Frankenstein leg. It sucks getting old--I don't care what anyone says.

When Is It Better to Go Than to Stay?

2011-07-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

Coming Up for Air by Patti Callahan Henry

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What a thought provoking book--I couldn't put it down. A mother dies unexpectedly and her 40 something daughter, who had a loving but strained relationship with her, finds her mother's journal. The revelations she finds there sends her on a journey--physical, and emotional-- to discover that part of her mother she had never known. Once the woman had been loving and open but to her daughter she had been restrained, constrained by the circumstances of her society and somewhat cold. The discovery of love betrayed and the way in which her mother shaped her life to deal with that betrayal causes the daughter to look more closely at her own marriage. What is love? Does it last forever? Can a true love be rejected and another substitute just as satisfactorily? What choices do we make in our lives and how do we live with those choices? Are there crossroads --such as this death and journal discovery--at which choices can be altered or accepted? These are just some of the questions that arise during the reading and others follow after the book is closed. I'm not sure I liked the pat ending to the book--it was possibly the only part that was unrealistic for me. The rest though probably occurs to women in mid

life more often than imagined.

The characters are well drawn--particularly the daughter and her husband--the others not as much. But then it is the daughter whose marriage is being impacted the most by the events of her mother's life, more so than by the interaction with the other characters.

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Short Introduction to Al Capone

2011-07-15T16:56:00.000-07:00

Al Capone: Chicago's King of Crime by Nate Hendley

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

If you don't know very much about Al Capone or the heyday of Chicago criminal activity this is an excellent overview. Easily read in one sitting and written in a clear factual manner, yet far from boring. There is no hyperbole or drama just a conversational saga of the mob scene and the corrupt graft taking legal and governmental attitude of Prohibition America. It is interesting to learn of the various personalities of these cruel, vicious, murderous men. One crime lord a florist who drew a line at being involved in prostitution; the Mafia's Sicilian only membership--Capone was Neapolitan!; the personalities that could carry out the Valentine's Day massacre and then play golf or attend family dinners; the politicians who sincerely tried to fight crime and yet socialized with its biggest leaders. Simply unbelieveable and yet historically true and not confined to Chicago or Cicero Illinois--New York City was equally corrupt. I kept waiting for the appearance of Elliot Ness and the Untouchables , but television and movies aside, he entered the Capone picture pretty late in Scarface Al's spree. Also, though he pulled some pretty incredible raids on Capone's installations and some fun irritating stunts on Alphonse, his actions were secondary in the Federal Governments efforts to bring Capone down on tax evasion charges.

In the beginning it was hard to keep all the actors straight with their Italian, Jewish and Irish names to say nothing of their colorful monikers but eventually they and the slang of the day attained a rhythm and familiarity and became easier to navigate. One thing I always enjoy are photos of the characters and events. Unfortunately, there are none here. Nevertheless, this is a good starting off place for anyone interested in the history of organized crime in the 20's-30's Chicago.

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A Writer to Join the Ranks of Grisham and Brown etal

2011-07-13T16:40:00.000-07:00

Think of a Number by John Verdon

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Another first reads giveaway and the first thriller by this author, thankfully not his last, with another to be published in August. Combine a retired, highly successful NYPD homicide detective with a poetic, strange tormentor who eventually kills and you have a plot filled with mystery and dead ends. Add to that an author whose narrative smoothly weaves the main story with the backgrounds of the two protagonists and you have a book that is difficult to put down. It resonated also because though this man is retired it is hard to give up the work. It is also hard for his wife to realize that her hopes for a retired husband will probably not bear fruit. That transition from an active rewarding job to retirement is every bit as difficult as embarking on one's first career--maybe more difficult.

The description of the Catskill town in which David and Madelaine Gurney have retired and its environs give richness to the tale. As an example, it has become " a center of gravity for flower children approaching senility " and " the people who came for country week-ends wore what Ralph Lauren told them people in the country wore." Upon returning from a meeting with an old college friend who has received strange notes in which he is asked to think of a number and then open a smaller note to find that the sender identifies it correctly, he finds that his wife's plate " with its apple core, grape stems,flecks of cheddar and bread crumbs" indicates that she has eaten lunch without waiting for him. Not only did the plot and the characters draw me in but the language and its use transported me into the story. John Verdon's name could easily become as familiar as Brown or Grisham in my opinion.

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Hey,Booklovers, Check This Out!!!!

2011-07-07T17:22:00.001-07:00

http://realestate.yahoo.com/promo/house-...

Excellent Convoluted Whodunnit !!!

2011-07-07T11:22:00.000-07:00

Dominance: A Novel by Will Lavender

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Do not look at the picture of the author of this book--it is too deceiving. That handsome boyish face hides a diabolic mind!

The premise of this novel is so simplistic. In 1982 a celebrated literature professor at a small Vermont college ( it overlooks Lake Champlain---not far from Orwell--hmmm and Route 2 ) is convicted of the axe murders of two of his former students. They were part of a group that were trying to unearth the actual identity of a reclusive author, Paul Fallows and were found with Fallows' books, among others, covering their bodies. Now in 1994, the professor Richard Aldiss has been given permission to teach a night course to nine carefully selected seniors--elite literature students. He gives them clues in various ways to once more identify Fallows and in so doing reveal the real murderer. Aldiss claims to be innocent of the murders. One of the nine, Alexandra Shipley, is successful and Aldiss is granted his freedom. On the notoriety of the case, Shipley, who was headed to Harvard as a grad student, is eventually given a prestigious professorship at Harvard. Her life, it would seem, though greatly impacted by the experience of the night class, is good.

Flash forward to the present: One of the nine, an NYPD detective has committed suicide in his squad car. Shortly thereafter, another, now himself a lit prof at the site of the night class, Jasper College, is murdered with an axe and body is covered with books including those two --he only wrote two--of Fallows'. Aldiss contacts Alex, tells her there is another Fallows' manuscript and enlists her aid in locating it and the new murderer. Simple whodunnit, right? Wrong!

The book moves back and forth from the present to 1994 back to the present. We see the nine as students on a quest and we meet them again as they reunite to mourn the death of their friend on the Jasper campus. The narrative keeps you riveted for nothing is given to you--you become a tenth player in the game called Procedure.... a role-playing game in which the characters of Fallows' books and the scenes from the book are played out. Only problem is--you never know when the game is happening. Who was/is Fallows? Did Aldiss kill those two girls? Is he the killer again? Why are the nine being eliminated--more do die? Just as the end seems to come, the plot takes a turn and you find the mystery, the 1994 mystery and the present mystery are NOT at an end. Even on the last page--though all the threads seem to have been tied up and the killers revealed---does not feel like the end. Is the game over?

One things for sure I'm glad I wasn't a lit major and that obsession over an author and manipulation by my profs weren't part of my studies. Darwin is mystery enough for me! I did know which of the nine had turned very early on but I'm not sure why--it was almost subconscious since the plot spirals just like Fallows' books and kept me looking for that rabbit hole that would lead to solution. It was an engrossing and mysterious ride and Will Lavender has been added to my list of intriguing authors!

My only criticism and I feel this way about the TV shows, NCIS, Bones, Rissolli and Isles etc. Doesn't anyone pay their electric bills? For that matter, doesn't anyone have electricity? I'm so tired of total darkness and flashlights in every scene! Doesn't freak me out or increase the tension--it just irritates the hell out of me! Very minor distraction, however.

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Karen B wrote: "Katherine, is Dominion as bloody violent as the cover looks? I am picturing a lot of people getting hacked up."

Actually, no, though the murders were axe murders and books were strewn onto the bodies, the actual crimes predate the action in the book. There are several that occur over the course of the narrative but Lavender uses psychology and mystery rather than gore to keep you reading.

The Cat Who Remains

2011-06-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

Good evening! I may have mentioned this before but Soot was a huntress--she learned not to bring home certain prey--the ones that Mom particularly found appealing--such as birds, squirrels, gray or red, and chipmunks. I have not noticed an increase in the avian visitors so I'm hoping that, in her old age, she gave up expending the energy to catch creatures that had a definite advantage--what's with that flying trick? However, since her demise on April 1 and the arrival of more of less nice weather our bird feeders, indeed our porch, seems to be overrun with the cute rodent creatures. Now, Soot had totally eradicated the chipmunks--after all, how hard is it to wipe out a population of little Alvins who foolishly dig their holes an easy jump off the porch--I mean right there--even I could have just stepped off and stepped on--really! She used to sit for hours just staring at the hole and when one of those little heads popped up before you could say " uh " Alvin was history! I wasn't happy but cats are hunters and if I'm going to have a cat it is going to be an outdoors normal creature or forget it.

Which brings me to this morning. Bill and I had slaved over the jungle of a lawn--40 days and nights of rain will create one even in Vermont! Okay, so I exaggerate but I don't want to tally the rainy days of this spring and, so far, summer for fear the actual count may do me in. I'd rather sort of joke about it and make like Noah--you know the famous two by two guy? Well, it seems we are in a two by two situation, though it may be worse. Without putting cute little bracelets on our rodent visitors' dainty wrists we don't know if we have just two red squirrels and two chipmunks or if there are considerably more but we only see two of each at any given time. Anyway, I digress. Bill and I decided to start today off with coffee on the porch. Mist who will only go outdoors under the most controlled situations deigned to join us. As long as we allow her to lie right in the middle of the table with the doors open to the living room she will relax. She will also venture out if we are visible indoors and again she doesn't get left on the wrong side of the screen door. Sometimes while we are at the table she will actually sprawl on the porch floor but only within inches of the open door!

So this morning, here we three were enjoying the new day and the early sunshine. Suddenly, there arrived a chipmunk in my lovely pink flowered pot. Misty arose and came to my side--her ears pricked forward, her haunches tightened to spring, the tip of her tail twitched back and forth. I told Bill in my best play calling voice of each change in stance and attitude. And then--she made some kind of a chirping sound and turned her back and walked away. Chippy, totally oblivious went on scavenging and departed. Red came to the hanging feeder and things settled down. Misty moved to the table.

Now, it is interesting the behavior of these two rather small and both red creatures with somewhat bushy tails ( of course, though they seem so similar, chippy DOES have those distinguishing stripes ). Red will sit for hours in the feeder and eat and eat and eat--yet at the end there are still some seeds for the birds. Chippy on the other hand is like a vacuum cleaner --he/she will take seeds and hulls and stuff those cheek pouches until you thing the skin would burst--the face actually becomes quite distorted and uncute. Once filled to capacity Chippy takes off to God knows where, unloads and returns for more. They keep it up until there is nothing left for Red or the birds--such gluttons!

So Misty had come to her favorite spot on the table between us and Chippy returned. She actually leaned toward Chippy but then turned to me as if to say, once Chippy had left yet again, " was I supposed to do something? " Sigh! No Misty, it's okay--just try to keep them out of the house--okay?

At Sixes and Sevens! Sigh :(

2011-06-26T15:50:00.000-07:00

This has been a sort of don't know what I want to do with myself kind of weekend. After ten days of having the kid home from Montana, not paying close attention to my Weight Watchers' tracking and getting word that our expected company cannot come because of a painful, unfortunate bout of arthritis, I've been sort of moping around.

Daughter left on Friday in pouring cold rain and wind and though she left our house at 12;30 and Lebanon, NH on the bus at 1:20 she did not arrive in Boston until 4:30, an hour late. Fortunately her plane for Minneapolis - St Paul was not to leave until 6:15 so she had time. She called at around 5:15 to say that security took 45 minutes and she was already exhausted and hadn't even really begun her long trip to Montana. She said she was going for a beer--which I could well understand. About an hour later, when I would have thought she'd be in the air she called once more to say that there was another 30 minute delay on her flight and she'd probably miss her connection in M-StP since it had been a tight schedule anyway! Groan. While she was so close and yet so far I was puttering around the house trying to stay warm by drinking copious amounts of tea and finally settling down with a book before dinner. Eventually, I turned on TV and around 9ish she called once more to quickly say that she just landed in Mn and would be able to catch her flight just barely after all--love you, bye. And so about 1130 I retired for the night with a heavy heart and a few tears knowing that she was in the air and would land in Bozeman long after I'd hit REM sleep and deep snoring.

I wish I could say that Saturday dawned bright and cheerful but no--it dawned, cold, gray, rainy and windy--the story of this Spring in Vermont! At around 1030 as hubby and I were into our second cups of coffee the phone rang and one sleepy head informed us that she was safe and tired and still in bed and returning to sleep. We laughed and told her we loved her. Then Bill went to work and again I moped. Worked on organizing photos online and caught up with emails, ordered a few things from Staples and gave up trying to be productive and read some more. She called from work to ask about some recipes since she would be grocery shopping to refill the empty larder she'd left to come home. My sister had found a copy of one of my favorite cookbooks and gave it to Betsy so now she could make some of her most beloved meals in her own apartment. It is fun when she calls to talk about stuff like that. She's called me from the grocery store before to ask about different types of potatoes and which to buy for a certain dish or to check to see what kind of corn--kernel or creamed I use in a side. It's at times like that that I'm happy I have a daughter.

Today it was muggy but at least sunny so my spirits lifted a bit. Read the Sunday papers and don't really know what else I accomplished --not much. As I say, sort of at loose ends. But tomorrow is another day. While Bets was home we moved the futon from my workroom in the cellar to the living room. Now the living room is a total disaster--we had to move chairs to make room for the futon but it still isn't where it needs to go. We have to rearrange some large pieces like the desk, china closet and case clock to make proper room for it. Then we have to reorganize the other side of the room which is the dining room in this open floor plan house. Since this will be the first change in over ten years there are things that have been stored or placed on these pieces that must be sorted and reorganized as well. All in all quite an undertaking but we may as well do a thorough job. It probably won't happen again for another ten years.

Of course, I had the futon moved upstairs because my original dream of a den, workroom,office, library, guest room was too ambitious. Although the office nook has worked out and the shelves for books are in place, they are overflowing and extra books are creating imitation Tour Eiffel and Leaning Towers of Pisa on the floor. At times the futon has served as the guest bed but more often than not it has been one more surface for excess scrap booking stuff. I never did get the large screen TV that I envisioned on the big wall and so my family never curled up on the futon to watch TV whilst I scrapped the history of our exploits. Sooooo, now that the kid is no longer here, I decided that library/workroom is the best use of the space. To that end I've ordered another folding banquet table and stack of drawers. Once our living space is organized I shall have to tackle that area. I wonder if I have that many years of life left--but then I KNOW I shall never get all those pictures scrapped anyway.

So, starting tomorrow PROJECT HOUSE begins--and I'll get back to my WW tracking. Hopefully, as I see things take shape my mood will lift and so will the rainy skies. Maybe I'll get some color after all, lose a few pounds and feel like pulling a mid- July party together. Let us hope--otherwise this listless rainy summer will pass into the short cold days of winter and I'll go mad!

The Cinderella Horse--The Eighty-Dollar Champion by Elizabeth Letts

2011-06-26T10:30:00.000-07:00

This book is as its title proclaims the story of Snowman, an eighty dollar champion but it is so much more. It is also the story of the role of horses in the pre-World War II era and the changes in the years following that event that also changed our use of horses. It is the story of two young Dutch immigrants to the United States, who through hard work and faith in the future made a life for themselves and, eventually, their six children in a new land. It describes life in '50's-'60's Long Island and New York City among the private girls' schools and horse shows of the very rich.

At the heart of this interwoven tale is the story of a man and his horse. A horse who in his first appearance in the narrative grabs us as firmly as he did the heart of sensible, unsentimental horseman, Harry de Leyer. Harry, in charge of the horses used to teach young monied ladies of the Knox School how to ride, is looking for inexpensive, gentle horses at an auction in Pennsylvania. Arriving too late to have his pick he spies a moth eaten old work horse, his white coat rubbed off in places and dirty in others, headed into the truck going to the slaughter house. Standing tall, with his head held high, the horse gives Harry a steady and determined eye that Harry cannot resist. The spirit is there and Harry reluctantly hands over $80 for a horse he isn't sure is worth the proverbial plugged nickel but he must do it--he cannot ignore the look of the horse he names Snowman. For those readers who were not around in the time of this story $80 will probably sound like a pittance but my parents were paying $68 a month without utilities in a nice two bedroom apartment in Chelsea that now goes for almost $2000 a month! $80 was a lot for a man who had very little.

But this is how this love story begins and like Harry, without knowing quite why, we fall in love with Snowman, too. He is the horse the frightened girls ride to get confidence, the one who lets the de Leyer children ride him bareback and the horse, who, when summer comes, and he is taking up space and eating without contributing to his upkeep, is sold reluctantly but unemotionally by Harry to a good home and a neighbor several miles away. He is also the horse who defies all kinds of attempts to keep in pastured at that neighbor's and leaps paddock fences, one time pulling a lead with a heavy tire on it, to return to Harry and the home he loves. What else could be done but to take him back with loving arms?

But Snowman's leaping of fences inspires Harry to try training him as a jumper to be entered into those exclusive horse shows. Snowman, an old work horse from some Amish farm, and Harry, a riding teacher from the Knox School and the owner of the jumper, to compete against thoroughbreds and amateur riders employed by wealthy owners to win ? A fairy tale! And indeed, it is---a fairy tale with a Cinderella Horse and his Dutch Prince. And at the end, after 26 years a fairy tale with the hero dying with his faithful human by his side. The man left alone to dig the grave with his sons. The fairy tale to be told here by Elizabeth Letts and one to cherish and remember.

The only thing as a reader I would have liked was to know what Harry and his family went on to do in the gap between Snowy's death in 1974 and the very short epilogue that takes place in 2005 - 2008. But, perhaps, after the excitement of life with Snowy, the rest was just too much of an anti-climax. This is the story,after all, about The Eighty Dollar Champion but, if Harry hadn't been the fellow in Pennsylvania that snowy night in 1956, Snowman might have been one of hundreds of nameless horses rendered for glue and dog food.

Bill Bryson is Probably Happier in Great Britain

2011-06-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Bryson

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Bryson is funny at times but I don't like his descriptions of people he meets, particularly those of the South. I see no reason why a man who lived in Hanover--where everything is priced for the elite--should have chosen to describe a waitress in Gatlinburg, Ga as Betty Slutz because he found his bill for a hamburg and drink to be outrageous and she looked it over and said welcome to Gatlinburg! Tourist traps are tourist traps and Ivy League towns are Ivy League towns--guess he didn't mind paying more for the same meal in Mollie's Balloon--but here I'm being funny at his expense and that I'm sure wasn't the source of his humor.

His better than anyone else on the AT attitude aside the tales of the trail are interesting. I still don't know why anyone wants to walk an outrageous distance over impossible terrain in horrendous weather but his description of the functioning of a tree and how vulnerable it is to disease, of meeting a moose at a common watering hole;of arrogant bourbon drinking hikers taking over a lean-to;of black flies and other insect attackers; of great heights and panoramic vistas or not; of the absolute isolation of deep forest are all good reasons for reading the book. I've experienced the same things in the woods of the Eastern seaboard and on its mountains and never set foot on the AT. It is nicer when you don't decide to kill yourself but rather do these things in day long or overnight doses and for me just as satisfying. I must say that I'm glad I did NOT read this book before my daughter and a friend hiked from Gunnerson, Co to Bozeman, Mt last year. I had a few sleepless nights but would not have slept at all had I read this before she departed.

All in all I'm glad I read this but am not inclined to read anymore of his books.

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Reading challenge--I think I'd better make it harder!

2011-06-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

2011 Reading Challenge

Katherine has

read 40 books toward her goal of 52 books.

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40 of 52 (76%)

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Let's hear it for Equality!

2011-06-23T08:31:00.000-07:00

They Did What? Things Famous People Have Done by Bob Fenster

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Kind of mindless trivia about a lot of famous folks both current and historic. Sometimes fun--for instance, Dr Guillotin did NOT invent that head chopping device but he thought it was a good idea since it made execution more equal--you know along with brotherly and free! Egalite,Fraternite et Liberte--not necessarily in that order. Seems that before the Revolution only nobles were beheaded, the rest of the peons were hung--now EVERYONE could lose their heads. Yea, EGALITE!

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Got Sisters? Read

2011-06-18T10:16:00.001-07:00

The Little Women Letters by Gabrielle Donnelly

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Actually, this giveaway closed on June 13 and the book arrived June 14th--but the option to acknowledge receipt didn't appear to many days later. Matters not---I started the book as soon as it arrived and finished it this morning over coffee! Only one complaint--I like the cover of my copy -- a girls hand and a red rose over an open letter better than the clothes rack on the actual cover.

Now to my review--as you can see I've given the book five stars, not a common rating by me. I'm not sure why--or better to say--I'm not sure I know how to verbalize why. Do you have sisters? Did you love Little Women? Who was your favorite---Jo, the outspoken, Beth the adorable and tragic, Meg the domestic one or Amy the cute one who stole Laurie's heart? I always related to Jo--and in this novel so does Lulu--the middle sister of the Atwater clan. She, Emma, the settled and stable eldest, and Sophie, the irrepresible youngest,an aspiring serious actress are the latest generation of the Marsh clan,descended, on their mother's side, from Jo.

Donnelly does a remarkable job of interweaving the two groups of girls through Lulu's discovery, in her parents' dusty, spider-infested attic, of letters exchanged among the Marsh girls. Jo is left at home, seemingly destined for spinsterhood. This is a situation to which Lulu feels she can relate, especially since, as a 25 year old college graduate, she still hasn't settled on a life's work nor has she a boyfriend, although, this being the 21st century she is sharing a flat with a rich female friend. Amy is newly married and on her honeymoon in Europe with Laurie. Emma is engaged and soon to be married and quite decided on her life's path or so it seems. Meg is married to a dependable, quiet sort--much like Emma's Matthew --and has two children. Probably the sort of life Emma will have. Beth, of course, has died and her memory weighs heavily on her sisters, particularly Jo. In the modern group, Sophie, comes close to dying. This event causes her sisters to contemplate what it would mean to have one of them gone.

In Little Women Mr Marsh is present only through letters but his marriage to Mrs Marsh and their relationship is the foundation and security which stabilizes and supports the Marsh girls and so, too, David and Fee's marriage provides the anchor for the young women in modern London. But in no way is the story of the Atwater's a mirror image of the Marsh family. Instead, the letters help to clarify for Lulu how much life has changed in over 150 years and yet how much remains the same. How much the history of a family carries down through the generations and informs the present. Lulu keeps the letters for herself for most of the story --for herself and for us--and they bolster her through her time of indecision and self discovery. They also speak to all of us who have had sisters or who have daughters or who have extended families of women--but really for all those female interelationships--there simply is nothing like having real sisters and all the joy, aggravation, irritation, love, grief, anger, happiness, stress, jealousy, sharing that that entails.

Ms Donnelly wrote a beautiful book -- you'll delight in reading it.

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Grief Revisited

2011-06-13T05:52:00.000-07:00

After seven wonderful weeks of traveling this beautiful country and visiting friends and family, my husband and I returned home on a cold, gray day--April 1. We got in around fourish, just as it was getting dusk and while excited at the prospect of seeing the cats after such a long time away we were a bit bummed by the cold and the deep snow that remained all around our Vermont log cabin. As we entered the mudroom, Bill called out, as he always does--Misty, Soot, I'm home.

Misty, our tiger, has always been a scaredy cat and takes her time responding. Normally, we have to search for her in whatever hidey hole she has chosen for the two weeks before she moves to yet another mysterious lair. This time though she sat at the head of the stairs above the living room and he went up--calling to Soot as he did. It was strange not to see Miss Anorexia, as a called her, in all her black, slinky glory edging out the more timid Queen La, so named for her more than adequate avoir du pois that seemed to be Misty's foil against the world.

I, then, added my voice to his, calling for our athletic girl, she who climbed the sides of the log cabin to get in, being much too impatient to wait for me to open the door on the porch to allow her entrance. Quickly, my call was answered with a loud wailing that seemed to come from the cellar. Oh, I thought, Sharon, the girl who took care of the house, must have locked her in my workroom. But as I headed down the stairs I could see that the door was open and the wail became louder, longer and somehow more ominous. I called Bill, suddenly reluctant to be the first one down the stairs. He rushed down and, at first, could not pinpoint the location of Soot. Then it became evident that she was under the wing chair pulled tightly against the book shelves. My heart pounding I wondered if she was somehow pinned under something that had fallen on her as her cries became more insistent.

When he pulled the chair out I saw a black form pressed tightly against the wall, her black coat dusty somehow and her body looking crumpled. She was lying on her side and I could see no movement. All I could do was cry out--oh, no, no. I moved aside as Bill carried her up to my footstool in the living room. We both seemed unable to think---he reached for the phone and called the vet as I comforted her. She was purring and her eyes looked clear. She rubbed her head against my hand and arched her neck for the massage she loved. Her coat was covered in dust--from litter? --and she seemed unable to move her hind legs or her tail. Yet, her behavior seemed absolutely normal but for that. She's pulled a muscle climbing this damned house--I had told Sharon not to leave the upstairs window open to try to dissuade her from climbing, as though she would somehow realize after 14 years that she couldn't get in that way!

By this time, it was after 5 pm on a Friday afternoon, so naturally the vet's office was closed but an answering machine informed us that an emergency hospital was open and to call it. So he did. Located in Hanover, help was almost 45 minutes away. Why didn't I go with them? I don't know--I guess I wanted to be here when Sharon arrived from work--or after traveling all day and in shock, I just wasn't thinking straight. Anyway, I remained home, alternately crying and then praying. Beating myself up for not leaving my sister's earlier--lingering to chat and eat rather than rushing home earlier. Reassuring myself that the cat was so healthy and energetic and active that she would be fine. Tearing myself apart for leaving them for seven weeks--even though they knew Sharon and loved her. Worrying that Soot was 14 and while young in the history of our past cats, nevertheless, aged by feline standards.

Soon Sharon came in and was shocked to see me in tears and worried that I somehow blamed her, which I assured her I did not, but which in my heart I did, unreasonably. What could she have done differently--what had she done that was different than what I would have done had I been here? Who knows, but grief is easier to bear if the cause is someone's fault--preferably not your own. In time, Bill returned and the news was not good--a blood clot. She was getting no blood to the rear legs and the temperature in that area had already dropped. She was probably stricken within the past two-three hours--oh, God, if I'd left my sister's earlier, we would have been home and could have gotten her to our vet--just ten minutes away. Guilt, grief, anger, hope, despair, tears, denial--so many emotions--and an attempt to be gracious to Sharon, but wanting her gone. The vet put her on anticoagulants and said it could go either way.

Saturday, call from our daughter and we kept the situation from her. Soot is her cat--she brought her home tucked inside her tee shirt--a tiny little thing whose ears were too big for the rest of her. She was only four weeks old though we didn't know that until she couldn't keep food down and our vet said she'd been weaned too early. She never lost that malnourished look. Betsy could hold her upside down, twist her in knots, taught her to sit on the porch swing--which soon became her favorite napping, preening, surveying of her kingdom spot. You could never even get Misty to sit on your lap on that swing--SWINGING???, OH, MY GOD! But Soot loved it.

Through two days we waited with reports from the vet--she's resting--no change. Why didn't I go to see her? Why didn't I hold her in my lap? Because I'd never had a pet in the hospital--because it never occurred to me until it was too late--because -----and then Sunday night at 1105 pm the call with the nice male voice--her heart is giving out--there doesn't seem to be any improvement and me, through my tears, saying it is the end? I don't want her to suffer, I guess we need to put her down. And here I sit, typing this and crying all over again. And the doctor saying yes, I called for that permission.

And so the next day, Bill and I went to the hospital--it is a nice place, I guess. They gave us a beautiful white box, which I never opened. I couldn't look at her. We brought her home, gathered her dish, a picture of Betsy,a blanket, and I don't remember what else and Bill took her and buried her next to the path she used to take to the lower fields. How often she'd come running up that path, through the arbor, with loud purrs to show me her latest catch--a field mouse , a mole, a chipmunk--so proud,so full of love, so happy to bring me my latest gift. And how quickly I'd make sure the porch door was closed so she couldn't bring it in the house and how closely I watched to make sure she didn't climb the log walls to sneak it through the bedroom window. She always ate everything except the liver and gall bladder--LOL. Last month, Bill planted marigolds on the grave and at the end of summer he'll plant lilies from my garden. She always loved to hide out in the daylily bed in the heat of a summer's day. You never could see her but as soon as you started walking the land, out she'd come with a loud chirp and she'd follow along or run in front and quickly drop down and roll her tummy up for a rub--almost toppling me in my efforts not to step on her. I hate walking out there now--it is so lonely. I haven't gone down the path to see her grave--I'm sure it is lovely. I hate all this rain--I can't stand her getting soaked and cold like this. I hate all this pain and the tears.

So why today--this resurgence of grief and memory? Because today our daughter comes home for the first time since Christmas. And today she is going to walk into the house without Soot--no Soot to greet her--no Soot to betray us by moving off our bed onto hers for the duration. She knows, of course, that Soot has left us. She knows, too, that Misty has blossomed and while still afraid of her own shadow and unwilling to be on the porch without us unless the door is open so she can get in easily, she doesn't hide anymore. And she gets on our bed now and never stops talking. But knowing and being here are not the same thing. I suppose I'll go to the grave with her and we'll talk about Soot--and we'll walk around the property and remark on where the others who've gone before her are buried--dogs and cats--they are all here --near the well, or behind the lilacs or now, by the garden path. All the pieces of our hearts still near and always remembered. And then we'll discuss where Misty will go, because, though overweight and sedentary and having outlasted Soot, she, too, is fourteen and will sometime leave us--though I hope she lasts the 18-20 years our other cats have lived.

An Oldie but Goody!

2011-06-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Emmuska Orczy

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I cannot imagine this book included in the Everyman's Library Childrens' Classics, but it is!! along with Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, etc. I suppose for older children, it certainly has suspense and mystery. I certainly enjoyed it.

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It Is Really Nice to Get Comments and Fun to Respond!

2011-06-11T07:40:00.000-07:00

Earlier I posted a comment that reading a book is done for two reasons, because it is enjoyable and because it allows one to boast about it. One of my followers commented that she reads for the love of language and the ability of a book to take her to places she'll not get to herself. She also comments that there is wisdom in fiction. I love that she commented and I agree with her on all points. Below is my response.

LOL--I should have included that the comment was a quote from Bertrand Russell, who apparently liked to boast!

I totally agree with your reasons for reading. I, too, love language and had wanted to minor in English in college. Alas, my school required a minor in chemistry should I want a major in biology, which I did. Of the three electives available to me in those four years one I chose was world literature.

As to travels to lands I'll never see that is also a plus. In addition, I love reading books set in places I have seen in order to " hear " another's perspective on it. I read fiction as well as non-fiction and always have several books going at once.

As to discussing books, I belong to Goodreads and Library Thing, where there are discussion groups and I follow a couple of literary blogs as well. There are several friends who are avid readers with whom I share books and it is fun to discuss those we've read in common.

I don't know if any of that can be construed as boasting but I know that all of it is enjoyable!

Why Read?

2011-06-10T09:59:00.000-07:00

There are two motives for reading a book; one, that you enjoy it; the other, that you can boast about it

A Wonderful Novel Set During the American Civil War

2011-06-08T16:52:00.000-07:00

My Name Is Mary Sutter: A Novel by Robin Oliveira

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A young mid-wife from Albany wishes to study medicine but Albany Med will not consider her. A young Albany surgeon, who apprenticed to a doctor in Manhattan City and married a waif from the Five Points while ministering to her family, refuses to accept her as a student. He prefers to volunteer to serve in the Army being raised by Abraham Lincoln to preserve the Union. The doctor under whom he studied, widowed, has been in the Army serving in Texas and has now been recalled to Washington. A young man, the mid-wife's neighbor whose parents have died in a carriage collision and who seemed attracted to her, has now become engaged to her more fragile, attractive twin. He, too, is to volunteer to serve for the three months it will take to subdue the South. Her brother, the youngest of the family signs up as well.

Heart-broken, her dreams seemingly unattainable, Mary Sutter leaves a note for her widowed mother and her sister and steals off to Washington on an early morning train. She is to present herself to Dorothea Dix and volunteer to nurse the wounded soldiers returning from the first battles. Even here she is rejected but finally is accepted by a surgeon in a broken down hovel of a place--the decrepit Union Hotel--now a hospital--not as a nurse but as a charwoman.

In some ways a romance, but more of a story of heart-break, grief, suffering, guilt, remorse, forgiveness and survival, My Name is Mary Sutter is an engrossing tale set against the back drop of war and its victims, treated with medical procedures and knowledge not far removed from the Middle Ages.

The story moves from 19th C. Albany, not much changed when I studied there in the mid '60's, to Washington, a dismal swamp of a place the conditions of which caused more death from illnesses of poor hygiene than wounds, to New York City. The description of train travel along the Hudson River Valley is exactly the same Amtrak route now in existence.

I've been to many of the battle sites described as well and the story of Antietam and its cornfield and sunken road and Burnside Bridge is heart rending. The barn where Clara Barton actually ran a hospital and provided medical supplies is still there though here is serves as the place where Mary Sutter finally decides to go home to Albany.

In the end, the war is over, the survivors move on with their lives and to some extent there is healing but the scars remain.

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South of Superior by Ellen Airgood

2011-06-06T07:50:00.000-07:00

http://thegirlfromtheghetto.wordpress.com

Having traveled the UP in January and passed through many small towns that seemed far away from any of the attractions of a major city I was curious about this new book written by someone who grew up there. I haven't read the book but the premise of a young woman, recently living in Chicago, leaving to take up residence in one of these small places with a woman old enough to be her grandmother in order to care for yet another older woman, has me anxious to read it. If you've been South of Superior and are curious about what life in one of these towns might be like I urge you to check out the link above and enter the giveaway. Good luck, but actually, I want to win! LOL

The Mullah's Storm--a review

2011-06-05T07:51:00.000-07:00

The Mullah's Storm by Thomas W. Young

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

If you have seen pictures of our troops stationed on the high mountains of Afganistan with nothing but mountain and rocks and dirt around them and were awed by the desolation and isolation and danger, you must read this book. A US plane is hit by a missle immediately upon take-off in a snow storm. It is leaving Afganistan with a full crew, a female Army interpreter, several CIA operatives and a captive,aged mullah who is being spirited out of the country to be interrogated. Many are killed, several are injured and the attackers are going to move in soon to regain their holy man. The commander orders one of the crew and the interpreter to take the mullah and escape. Reluctantly, the man obeys and the three take off on foot through that same desolate, isolated landscape this time in a blinding snow storm with little food and water, a radio, night goggles, and a GPS system and little else.

Unlike many books of this type there are no gigantic moments of heroic action with shootem ups and fast action. Instead, the realism of the narration has the reader as cold and frightened as the characters. The need to move through an area in which the enemy is hidden but all around, an area where the people one encounters may or may not be friendlies, an area where every path followed is boldly imprinted in the snow is what gets your heart racing. When the trio are captured the fear they feel and their expression of it is totally believeable. There are no romantic involvements, no big buddy relationships, just the business of survival and war. This is not to say that these characters are unfeeling robots--the narration is from the perspective of an airman who is a technician, used to flying, who finds himself as warrior and protector in a landscape he has only seen from the safety of a plane high over this terrain. How he feels about this change and how he conducts himself with this new mission is as gripping as the mission itself.

I think the ending had the most impact on me--the fact that after an intense sharing of danger and loss and injury and pain these characters go their seperate ways and will probably never see each other again. Yet they will always remember and so will we. I closed the book and thought I don't know how they can survive such situations and wonder, as our hero does at times, why they occur or how they can in a place so incredibly beautiful.

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Planned Obsolescence

2011-06-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

Obsolescence---getting too old to cut the mustard!

When I was a young woman my Dad used to say that cars had planned obsolescence but I never noticed that particularly and kind of rolled my eyes, thinking--yeah, well, then there is just old and crotchety. Well, as is often the case, I, like so many before me and like many to come--can you say daughter?--, have become my parent!

In my kitchen is a Westinghouse toaster,NOT a White-Westinhouse, though it is white with these lovely multi-sized bubble like circles in silver and black scattered about its shiny sides. It was given to me 45 years ago last month--around Memorial Day in --what year (oh, math!)1966. It is a jazzy little thing--you put the bread in the slots and it automatically goes down with a lovely mechanical sound and when it is toasted it pops up joyfully with an even louder sound. It still works marvelously--although a couple of years ago it went through a spell where the lifter bar on one needed to be manually pulled up with an instrument with a wooden handle before it would automatically drop new bread down. It has since stopped its temper tantrum or sabbatical or whatever it was going through and once more works hummingly.

Why you ask am I extolling the virtues of this wonderful appliance, made in America by an American company that I think is now defunct or else masquerading as the same outfit but really located in the jungles of Asia somewhere a la the makers of Revereware--another wonderful company whose products I also own--same vintage as Ms Westinghouse although sorely tarnished on their lovely copper bottoms. How's that for a run-on sentence but perhaps this breathless tirade may give you some idea of the state of my mind at present.

I spent this entire morning in online chat with a lovely techie whose accent I could not hear, which at least kept my blood pressure at a reasonable level. One needs to give a bit of background here I think. When my daughter went off to college in 2004, being a good and with it Mom, I asked what computer she would like and whether she wanted a laptop or desktop model. She opted for a laptop but wanted the high end Applebook which I just wasn't going to pay for ( after all, we were shelling out for college !). Needless to say she wasn't willing to lay out that much moolah either. So off she went, computerless. I, in the meantime, decided I liked the look of the Dell Inspiron and bought one for myself. They were having a special on a gigantic printer-fax-copier so I got that as well, though I loved my Epson printer that had been attached to the grape iMac but it wouldn't work with the Dell. Never gave a thought to PO--just figured different platforms!( Of course the reason I was in the market for a new computer is because the old iMac no longer could access many sites such as Snapfish, which had updated their security!) Are you impressed with my knowledgeable use of techie terms? Daughter came home at Christmas, fell in love with the Inspiron, daughter left in January for Montana with the laptop under her arm. Mom called Dell and got a new laptop--same model--already improved. Still no thought about OP.

Flash forward to 2010--one day the Inspiron screen goes dark. The computer works but the display is shot! Not worth fixing--will cost as much as a new computer. Files not backed up!!!! Call Dell--they tell me that the computer lasted beyond its expected lifespan---6 years!!!!!!!! So I ask, okay--what have you got that is the same memory, capability etc as this dead fish with all my important favorites and pictures and documents/This wonderful machine that has traveled cross country with me three times, paying bills, blogging my trip to friends and sending them pictures.Almost another child--dead and unresponsive at the tender age of 6---kindergarten age for Pete's sake. They tell me and Best Buy is having a special. So I go see my local Geek Squad and for more shekels to retrieve my info and buy an external hard drive I purchase a new Inspiron 15.

I get the baby home and hook it up to that ginormous printer and it won't work. I manually upload the drivers from the disc that came with the printer and it won't work! So I call Dell---no that printer which I love--it prints beautifully and loads paper sensibly is not compatible with Windows 7 and there is no driver that will make it work. So now I have to buy a new printer. I decide this time I'll go wireless and they just happen to be having a special. I place an ad for my beloved printer and within a day a neighbor who is an author comes by and talks me down to $40 from $50--but, I rationalize, that makes the new one cost me $40 also and I'm getting a new printer, he's getting used--but loved!

So by December I have a new printer and it is hooked up and working--sort of. It loads from the back and so paper jams are common and a pain when you are a floor above the printer. Then after only about 47 printed pages--not all at the same time-- the ink isn't flowing properly so I do a head cleaning and get it going again. I think, boy the other printer's ink didn't dry up between printings. But, I thought, I'll have to make sure I use it more often. Then off we went for a seven week tour of the country with the new computer which did fine. Came back and sure enough had to get the ink flowing but it seemed to do okay. ( The old printer sat just as long in prior years while we traveled with no problem!) At this point I'm beginning to hate this printer.

Then on May 26 a new message appeared --there is a problem with the printhead. I removed it --I cleaned it as the manual showed--I reseated it--I changed the ink cartridges but could not do any other actions because I could not override the message. So began my first Dell chat session. After an hour and a half the tech had me finagle with buttons and plugs and when I did all I was directed to do the connection with the chat was dropped. I gave up.

Today I tried again--three and a half hours later they are sending me a new printer--the touchpad on my computer works again and I may buy some kind of Government level software for the computer. Here's hoping the new printer will be compatible with it--after all it is about six months old. Naturally, the techies and salespeople call the changes that are made in each model PROGRESS--I call it Planned Obsolescence. If these computer guys and gals are so bright they can make older models of printers and computers compatible with the new models. The thing is they are savvy and much brighter than the consumer so throw out the old and buy new.

Do you wonder why I don't have a cell phone, an iPod --if that is even the new thing, there is some larger gadget my brother in law has like a slate board, I haven't a clue what its name is--or a Nook or Kindle? I know how to dial a phone and turn book pages. Fortunately digital cameras aren't that different than film cameras so I can deal fine with them. But the rest of this technology? It will give me a stroke or heart attack due to high blood pressure long before obesity or cholesterol.

Now I'm going to go have a nice Thomas' English muffin toasted in Ms Westinghouse, brew a nice cup of tea and read a good book--I've done enough for one day!

If you like cheese and remember fondue,this is for you

2011-06-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

Another giveaway by www.kayespenguinposts.blogspot.com

Lost and Fondue by Avery Aames

Paperback, 320 pages
Published May 3rd 2011 by Berkley (first published April 12th 2011)
ISBN 0425241580 (ISBN13: 9780425241585)
When Charlette Bessette, owner of Providence, Ohio's fancy cheese shop, Fromagerie Bessette, is asked by her friend Meredith to cater a fund raiser at the old abandoned Ziegler winerey, it is with some trepidation. For years rumors have abounded of buried treasures and possibly a few buried bodies at the winery. The fundraiser is to purchase the winery and turn it into a local college.

Check out A Parfait Murder giveaway

2011-06-02T09:12:00.000-07:00

Review & Giveaway: A Parfait Murder by Wendy Lyn Watson"

at www.KayesPenguinPosts.blogspot.com

Looks like a parfait--perfect easy summer read!

In Memory

2011-05-30T04:49:00.000-07:00

Somehow it is fitting that today is dreary and gray, rainy and humid. As I write this more men and women in Afganistan,Iraq and Libya are being written on the walls of the military fallen. We don't belong in those places in my opinion, anymore than we belonged in Vietnam or Korea but despite that men and women have answered our country's call to arms and we must honor their valor and devotion. For many of them it was the last voluntary act of their lives.

I grew up at a time when most of my uncles and my Dad and my brothers served voluntarily in the military, despite the fact that the draft still existed. Most of them were Navy but a couple of the uncles joined the Army and I can hear the joshing and teasing still among them. Some of the younger ones served in WWII but my Dad and a couple of the others were too old and had been too young for WWI. My Dad was going to reenlist in 1943 but he was told he'd be given a non- com rank that could be removed while he served and he could not afford to take such a chance financially with a wife and new baby back in DC so he did not go back. Fortunately, all came home and none were physically injured, nor to my memory severely mentally or emotionally injured.

Mom used to talk about her cousins and uncles who'd served during WWI--several of them died and one lost his legs. She used to speak of her young aunt who was to marry her soldier when he returned from war only to die in the influenza epidemic and be buried, instead, in her lovely wedding dress.

Of course the major war of which I was most cognizant was Vietnam. What a terrible time of protests and upheaval and men leaving the country,moving to Canada to avoid the draft. but many stayed and were drafted or enlisted and many came home disillusioned and emotionally spent. Some never recovered and took solace in the drugs that became so prevalent among the troops and in some quarters among the young back home. Others drank but many struggled with their demons and adjusted to life among the living while remembering the many they left behind dead on the battleground. I remember the horror the first time one of those dead was a name to which I could put a face. Younger than me--just about six months out of high school, the kid brother of a classmate. I was away at school when he came home and was buried but that summer I went and stood at his grave in disbelief. Another step in growing up--another step into adulthood, taken reluctantly and with tears because Bob would never get that chance.

After that whenever one of my students would come to school to see me after basic to strut proudly in his uniform, looking like a child to me still, but knowing he was no longer, something in me would remember Bob and pray, as I smiled and wished my student luck, that he would come back and grow up safely. Most of them did but a few did not and when I think of them I see them walking away so proud.

In our family on both sides the tradition of military service has died out. My brothers-in-law all served in Viet Nam and all are happily home and healthy. The war ended before my husband had to take his Naval commission after ROTC so he instead went into Peace Corps. Bill's cousin broke the Naval-Army tradition and served in the Air Force in Nam. None of the nephews or nieces have chosen the military, nor has our daughter. Many of our recent students have not gone and our school refused to allow any recruiters on campus during career day.

Attitudes have changed about the men and women who choose to serve. The big headline in today's paper is that a nearby town is celebrating agriculture this weekend. But one of Betsy's friends is in the Army--in intelligence --and she doesn't think she'll be sent into a war zone. I pray that is true. One of my friends has a son who has joined the Army--he hasn't been deployed as of yet. I think of him all the time and hope he won't be or that he will return safely in all ways if he is.

Today is a day of remembrance of those who have gone into battle and who have not returned. It isn't a day to remember those who are serving though I think of them daily and pray for our withdrawal from these lands in which we are bound and determined to have our democratic way. No, it is a day of mourning for the boys and girls who will no longer grow up and for their parents and siblings and wives and husbands and children who will never hold them again. In Memoriam--Thank you and Rest in Peace

http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=national+cemetery+pictures&form=BTOB16#x0y7061

Didn't Burn Their Bras ( If They Even Wore Them)

2011-05-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon: Women Soldiers and Patriots of the Western Frontier by Chris Enss

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It is amazing to discover the number of women who defied society's restrictions to make their own way in a world in which the term women's liberation did not exist. Most of them were not of the affluent families of society and many of them were alone in the world to be sure but some were not renegades but women of principle and courage who could not stand silent despite the current concept of the proper place of women. This book provides condensed biographies of twelve such women. They are as diverse as any group living today and their exploits were as diverse as the paths taken by modern women. All of them in this book lived in the unsettled wilds of the American West populated by Natives, whom the US Government was determined to subdue.

The first three ladies were involved in the Mexican Wars to determine the future of present day Texas and New Mexico. One, a survivor of the Alamo, another a voice for the people both Texan and Mexican at Goliad, which a friend of mine says should be remembered more than the Alamo, the conditions and loss of life there being far worse than the mission in San Antonio.Each of these were Hispanic but the third woman was a wife of a cattle driver on the Santa Fe Trail and she traveled it with him and her brother-in-law, an American spy in New Mexico.

Another trio--these Native American --are also featured. Winema, a Madoc, who brokered peace among her tribesmen, other tribes in the area and the Army but died far from her native home;Lozen, an Apache shaman who rode with Geronimo; and Sarah Winnemucca, a Piute who helped the American Army subdue the Bannock Indians and went on to travel to Washington DC to plead the cause of her people with President Hayes and Congress.

Then there were Army wives, including Elizabeth Custer, never one of my favorite historical characters, but who must receive credit for earning respect for wives traveling with their officer husbands. Until her taking her place with Armstrong any wife who traveled with the Army was considered in the way and distracting to the mission, simply a camp follower.

One of the most interesting women was Charlie Hatfield who eloped at 14 and was widowed by a small time river rat and left with two children by the time she was 18 or so. She put her children in a convent school, dressed as a man and spent a large part of her life tracking down and killing her husband's murderer. She panned for gold in California, served in the Civil War, ran a bakery-saloon--interesting combination among other enterprises before returning to life as a wife and mother.

Of course, no book about stalwart Western women would be complete without mention of Calamity Jane. But here Jane is not the hard drinking, foul mouthed oxen team driver we are used to hearing about but rather a nurse to small pox victims in their isolated tents.

But, as interesting as these women's lives were, my two favorites are Cathy Williams, who, after emancipation, chose for her path the life of a Buffalo Soldier and Juliet Nichols who served as lighthouse keeper on Angel Island in San Francisco Bay and who, for 20 hours and 35 minutes used a hand held hammer to loudly tap 2 times every 15 seconds on the bell that would warn ships away from the trecherous rocks below.

I've read the works of Ann Seagraves about the Soiled Doves and other Women of the West in her readable series and I've read Vanished Arizona by the wife of an Army officer during the time of the Indian wars. This book certainly continues the stories they tell about women who, despite the possibility of being ostrasized and losing the respect of other women and men of the time, did what they deemed necessary to survive and succeed in harsh circumstances, often without any support from others.

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If You LOVE Ribbon--You'll Like This!

2011-05-24T06:59:00.000-07:00

Are you all ready? Here it is, our little sneaky peeky of the Summer 2011 line!!!
Post a comment right here & on the post to enter to win one of 2 prizes!
Good luck to all!
May Arts | Wholesale Ribbon | Fabric Ribbon
www.mayarts.com
May Arts is a wholesale ribbon company that supplies a wide variety of high quality ribbons, at affordable prices, with worldwide delivery. All inventory is held in stock for fast shipping.

A Cold, Gray Spring Day

2011-05-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

To continue my comments regarding Spring earlier this morning, I got all the pots hung on the porch--well, actually I planted them and Bill hung them--but I guess I got him to do it. The lawn is mowed despite its thickness and length, although it took most of the afternoon and a stop at our local tuner upper to get it going again after it bogged down in the heaviest growth. Listened to a country CD recorded by a friend's son and then tuned to NPR for some blues etc. Finally, when it went to talk with Bill Styron's daughter I turned on my computer and played the early 1900's music I've downloaded to a playlist from the Library of Congress. All of this music kept me planting and grooving at the same time. The wind kept the majority of black flies at bay but it also sent apple blossoms cascading in snowlike drifts to the ground. Sigh, they've only been open a few days but much like the flowers of the South they've perfumed the air so wonderfully. I'll miss their beautiful aroma.

Once the work was done I took the perambulation that I usually do every day but haven't for several because of the cold and damp. How could I have forgotten that the first flowers of Spring were not the wildflowers but the lovely purple crocuses on the south facing slope on the far side of the driveway? Now that slope is covered with the green lacy leaves of crown vetch which is not yet in bloom but the slope opposite is covered in the lovely creeping phlox that has spread farther than I'd realized. Cut a few sprigs of lilac as planned--their scent is every bit as delightful as the appleblossoms just opening on the crab apples next to them. The last of the daffodils, which I'd forgotten we'd planted on this far side of the yard, in a small cluster bent gracefully in the breeze. Not sure if last year's rose bushes have made it or not--don't see much evidence of life -but then again, the old transplants from a woodland cellar hole don't look very lively either and I'm sure they are fine. The lily of the valley leaves are up--but will there be lovely white bells? These were my Dad's favorite flower. I hope they take.

Imagine my surprise in the tree line to see multitudinous little yellow violets. There are so many more wildflowers there since Bill thinned the trees--more light has sure encouraged their proliferation. As I turned to look at the house from this side I was thrilled to see the bleeding hearts have burst into flower and the spurge is magnificent. The Barlows are in bud so they will be flowering soon as well. Crane geraniums are up but not flowering yet. Just incredible how one or two days changes the gardens so much. The peony tulips are going crazy,too. The peony bushes are heavy with buds ( listening to Yiddishe Nightingale--from the old Yiddish theatre--not Kletzmer--but funny).

Came indoors and found that the small bouquet of lilacs looked too scrawny in Mom's milkglass so used blue vase from the New Hampshire Craft Show in Sunapee several years ago. Much better--there will be lots of other flowers to put in the milkglass. Here are a few shots of today's stroll and porch decor.

Now, I'm singing Mandy loudly with a quartet of men who would be over 120 years old if they were still alive! At least that considering my Mom would be 110 and these guys recorded about the time she was born----Mandy there's a minister handy and it should would be dandy if you'd let me make the fee....... I know the words to so many of these songs--my grandmother taught them to me. I used to imagine her a young woman listening to these songs as her children slept. She taught me to dance, too! But I digress--here are the pix.

Reflections on a Cold and Rainy Spring

2011-05-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

Have there been any sunny warm days this Spring? I don't remember any but I know there have been a few since I remember sitting on our porch listening to Car Talk with Bill or sorting through magazines as he worked on his nickel collection or brushed our remaining cat or doing the check books as he read the new Coin World. Mostly though it has been cold enough and damp enough to need a fire in the wood stove or turn up the thermostat or wear a turtle neck under a heavy sweater. I thought I wanted to move to New Mexico only from February to the middle of April. Now I'm thinking maybe six months there and six here, but not really.

Despite the miserable weather the gardens and surrounding trees and woodlands beneath the tree line have gone on their merry Springtime way. It began with the eruption of spring beauties and hepaticas--those dainty, lovely, vulnerable starlike white and pinkish and purplish ground huggers making a beautiful carpet as far as the eye could see along the Soot Highway, though this year Soot wasn't here to trot daintily among them on her way to the lower fields and cat adventures of mouse and mole hunting. There have been no proud announcements of the successful capture of a new plaything, eventually a delicious raw,warm bloody meal. No attempts to bring it into the house for a ceremonial presentation. So amid the happiness of discovery of the beautiful harbingers of Spring, I wept.

Soon though my mind moved on as it does when grief lets loose for a bit and the hepaticas and spring beauties were joined by ramps ( I call them wild leeks ) and Dutchmen's britches which I just adore. Bill used the ramps for his famous onion, potato and chorizo breakfast stir fry--I guess he doesn't love the potato-leek soup I always made with the leeks when we had access to the huge bed in Montpelier. Then again there are really not as many here so it would have been a paltry soup.At last, the purple trillium popped through as well.

As Mother nature was bringing on her gardens ours started to bloom as well--the forsythia, which has never been as heavily laden with flowers as those along the railroad heading home to Glens Falls from New York City, was quietly golden on the ridge on the north side of the driveway. The pasque flower, which bloomed well past pasque, was extravagant in its purple and yellow blooms. The irises and lilies as well as the daffies were all several inch tall green spears piercing the wet, brown earth and Mother Pond's chives matched them inch for inch.

As the wild flowers started to fade with one last burst of Bloodroot, the daffies came into full glory. The bed of King Alfred's --a hundred bulbs given us as a wedding present by Bill's Aunt Mabel -- created a sea of molten gold as they have for over 27 years and the mixed daffie bed at the foot of the Soot highway created a mottled white, pale yellow and coral carpet to be cut bit by bit for a series of bouquets gracing my kitchen counter, in the crystal vase given me by my Parisian friend, Josianne, as a house guest gift also over 20 years ago. One thing the cold and damp did accomplish--the life of the forsythia and daffodils was greatly extended. But soon, they too died away to be replaced by the unusually full purple rhododendrons whose beautiful color was only surpassed by the bright yellow and black of the bumblebees that filled them busily gathering nectar and pollen and buzzing up a storm. But now the torrential thunderstorms of the past several days have pelted all the petals to the ground and the bees will need to move on.

But not from our yard--oh, no--for on your right along the driveway, ladies and gentlemen, are the gorgeous lilacs and apple blossoms and blue and pink and white creeping phlox. Just opening and soon to be cut--just a few--some old-fashioned purple lilacs to go in the milk glass vase that was my Mother's and in which she always placed purple lilacs from the huge shrub my sister and I gave her for Mother's day one year. Last I knew it still grows at the base of the flagpole Dad put on our side lawn over 50 years ago. No one will ever get that pole down or the one that holds the mailbox either--Dad cemented those babies in to last forever! LOL

The wonderful serviceberry, high above my head, is now just another green tree and no one who does not know it would ever suspect the huge white blossoms tinged with pink that hung on curved branches encircling the brilliant blue sky and daytime half moon on one of the few sunny glorious days that did come this month. The clematis is leafing out and trying to climb on anything nearby. The blueberry bushes are laden with flowers--hopefully that means a good crop of berries this year, unlike the sparse showing last year. The apple blossoms too seem to indicate a better crop for my deer this winter--don't know what the poor things did this past horrible season.

Last Monday in the freezing, rainy cold Bill and I went and bought plants for the pots we put on the porch. The morning glories--only heavenly blue--the cherry tomatoes,hot peppers, marigolds are in the window boxes we line up along the edge of the porch. He has had peas and onions and leeks and potatoes and carrots and parsnips and radishes in the garden for a long time. The cole crops went in this week.So, the raised beds are looking groomed and some little plants are showing themselves, much to the delight of the woodchucks one of which bought the ranch last week. :(

Today, I will plant my hanging pots of lobelia, portulaca, Hawaiian blue eyes, impatiens. In the large standing pots will go my coleus, petunias. The pansies and butterfly yellow daisies will take their normal place in the half barrels. Wonder if we'll find anymore mousie construction? The birds are taking the strands from our first discovery to build their nests. I saw one enterprising gold finch lady attempting to pull short fibers out of my pot hanger so I'd also better get some building materials out there or my pots will go plop!

Ah, the sun is making a weak showing so I'd better get going. I hear Bill somewhere in the outback trying to mow down the foot high grass. Once we get all the planting and mowing stuff done we will regroup and probably head out to two more greenhouses tomorrow to fill in any gaps in the landscaping, porch and garden. And then more planting.

It is funny how long winter is---there is not as many changes to use to judge the passing of time. But as the ebb and flow of our flowers progress time seems to fly --wasn't it just yesterday I rejoiced in the appearance of the hepatica? And,now, unless you recognize the unique shape of its leaves you'd never know it had ever been. Sort of like us, or our cats. If you didn't know you'd never pick out Soot's Highway or her burial place along her other path that she used to return from her patrolling the estate.

Jodi Compton's Hailey Cain Returns in July

2011-05-21T15:23:00.000-07:00

Thieves Get Rich, Saints Get Shot: A Novel by Jodi Compton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is not the actual edition I read but since the uncorrected proof which I won in the Goodreads Giveaway is not listed I am using the hard cover edition. This is one of the best first reads I have won and it apparently is the seond in a series with Hailey Cain, a West Point dropout ( not really) and present day member of an all girl LA gang ( really ) As a matter of fact she is the only white member and is the blond lieutenant,Insula, for the leader, Serena "Warchild" Delgadilla, a friend since high school. Serena's original second in command, "Trippy" Rosa was removed to give Hailey this position and Rosa is not only bitter she has vowed to remove both Insula and Warchild and take over the gang.

As if this were not enough to cope with Magnus Ford, the anti-gang detective for the LAPD seems to be interested in the doings of Warchild. None of this is as pressing as the soon to be released APB for the arrest of Hailey Cain for the murder of two people in San Francisco, one of whom was an off duty cop. In actuality, Serena and Hailey, at the time of the murders, were hijacking, not one, but two semis loaded with pharmaseuticals outside LA. The evidence is pretty strong however, since Hailey's ID and gun were used in the SF crime. Her finger print is on the casing of the bullet that killed the cop and Hailey has been living in LA under the radar so she will have a tough time proving she has not been in SF.

The story is fast paced and there are all types of characters, made men with whom Hailey has a history, a scam artist who used her ID to finagle her way into the trust of a rich widow in SF, a cute cop and his boss, the aforementioned Magnus Ford, who does not believe Hailey is guilty. How Hailey and Serena discover the whereabouts of the real killer and the final thrilling car-bike chase through the hills of LA keeps you turning the pages wondering what will happen next.

The final solution to it all leaves it open ended as Hailey gives up the dream of a romance with her cousin--strange --and agrees to join Magnus in his new post - retirement security business.

I have to read the first book, Hailey's War, because though Compton fills in a lot of her backstory I'd still like more detail of what went on in Hailey's life before this episode. And I am surely putting this author on a watch list so that I will read the next installment of Hailey's adventures.

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Saga of a Country Mouse

2011-05-18T09:22:00.000-07:00

The weather has been cold and dreary and rainy here all these many days. Despite the lack of encouragement from Mother Nature we are in the process of transforming the bare, gray porch on which are stored flower pots etc into what becomes an outdoor extension of our living room. We create a mini bower of flowers and vegetables in which we spend most of the nice weather, whenever it arrives.

Today Bill has planted his flower boxes of hot peppers and marigolds, and the morning glories that will become the Eastern wall of my special napping and reading hammock chair corner. He also has set up the pots that will hold the climbing cherry tomatoes supported by each porch post. He then turned his attention to the bench upon which my decorative clay pots are stored--he will fill them with soil for me and I will plant my coleus, petunias, pansies etc in them.

The pots are often stored one within another, upside down and so he began to excavate one pile on the far end of the bench. He removed the first pot and sunflower seeds and empty shells cascaded in all directions. The second pot removal produced nothing unusual, but when the third pot came off there was a rather vibrant green structure nicely rounded and cozy sitting on the bottom of the last pot. A curious head popped out of the center hole--surprising both the popper at seeing a large human type gazing down at her (?) and the poppee at seeing two small beady black eyes gazing at him. To be sure she was seeing correctly the little popper withdrew quickly and then popped her head as quickly out the side. Yup. A human! So she rapidly withdrew once more.

Bill called to me to come and so out I went, not knowing what to expect. As I bent for a closer look Mrs Mouse decided she'd had enough and with a moon and flick of her tail she departed out the back of the nest and down through a space between floor boards and gone. Upon further exploration I saw that she had ecologically reused the fibers of a perfectly good plant hanger to construct her winter hideaway. We aren't sure if there are little mousies still cozily nesting inside so we've decided to leave it alone for the time being and see what develops.

Our darling Soot would never have tolerated this boldness but Misty, better known as Queen La, who only goes out at night, will probably never notice. Soot is probably spinning--we saw a chipmunk the other day, too , and she had wiped that population out.

You Belong to Me by Karen Rose ( a Review)

2011-05-11T13:19:00.001-07:00

You Belong to Me by Karen Rose

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is a first reads win that I received to day--May 10. I dug right in and am on page 86 already! So far it is a page turner and I'm hooked. Don't think I'll be doing anything else but reading today.

Storm rolling in and a man, quite ill, boards his boat planning on suicide. As he sets the scene to make his death look like an accident another man appears from below with a letter in one hand, a knife in the other, demanding to know who else was involved in the beating and rape and death of his sister 21 years earlier. Within seven pages the reader has met the vengeful younger brother and his first two victims. One page later a Baltimore medical examiner, Lucy Trask, rounds a curve on her predawn jog and

finds the sleeping body of Mr Pugh, a beloved neighbor and former music teacher sitting at a chess table. When she tries to rouse him and help him back to their apartment building, he slumps forward, his hat falls off and his face, beaten beyond recognition, brings the awful realization that victim number three has been found. Thus starts a page turner of a mystery in which the reader knows who the killer is, sort of---his name, his motivation but not what he looks like. Lucy and the detectives who become involved in the case, Stevie Marzetti and JD Fitzgerald also realize that the killer is trying to terrorize her by making sure that it is she who finds the victims as the body count rises. Connections to Lucy's hometown and her family, particularly her deceased brother, are unearthed yet the connection to her in particular remains undiscovered as does the identity of the person who is obviously someone in her circle of friends or co-workers or her past.

The more brutal murders committed, some not related at all to the horror that happened 21 years earlier, the more involved Lucy and JD become, the more revelations of both their pasts, the more mysterious the story becomes and the more desperate the police and others are to find the murderer before he strikes again. At one point, it seemed I knew who it was but then, once that character became an almost victim, I was as lost as the investigators, official and otherwise, in the book.

The ripples of an old crime started destroying lives immediately and continue until the last notes of the coda fade away at the end of this book . You will not be able to put it down until Lucy has all the answers and you do, too.

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Book Giveaway--The Wedding Shawl by Sally Goldenbaum!

2011-05-04T11:18:00.000-07:00

Review and giveaway: The Wedding Shawl by Sally Goldenbaum"
Head on over to

http://kayespenguinposts.blogspot.com/

for a great synopsis of this cozy mystery involving a group of ladies who are knitting a wedding shawl for one of the group. Seems there was a murder in this quiet little seacoast town 15 years ago and it is unsolved. Now a lady who was best friends with the victim has been murdered and they shared a friendship with the same young man. The ladies decide to investigate and as they say--the plot thickens. Hmmmm

This Bird Does Not Beep-Beep!

2011-04-30T11:59:00.001-07:00

Roadrunners by Lynn Hassler Kaufman

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I have been enamoured with this bird ever since a young one decided that he/she? liked us and our car in the parking lot of White Sands National Park's visitors' center. The bird was on our hood and side view mirror having a great time with its reflection. When we came back to talk to it there was no fear and it allowed us to get quite near and photograph it, actually, it seemed to pose and preen for us. So when I saw this little book on this year's trip I picked it up. What an incredible creature this is--a hunter of the first order--grasshoppers and other insects, horned lizards, snakes, little birds ect. Its method of cooling itself in the hot summer and staying warm in the cooler winters was fascinating. The lifelong commitment to its mate after an extensive courtship ritual and the cooperative parenting and protection of home was offset by its ruthlessness in killing prey and even its own offspring if needs be.

So much more than the cartoon character and it doesn't even say beep,beep!

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The Navajo Long Trail

2011-04-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

The Navajo Long Walk by Lawrence W. Cheek

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Most Americans who are interested in Native American history are familiar with Andrew Jackson's removal of Eastern Indians to the West and the tragic Trail of Tears. Not many know of the removal of the Navajo from their beloved Canyons of New Mexico and Arizona to the horror of Bosque Redondo in the desert of Arizona. Just as tragic but with, if one could call it that, a happier ending.

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Disappointing Novel from Erica Jong's Daughter

2011-04-23T13:12:00.000-07:00

The Social Climber's Handbook: A Novel by Molly Jong-Fast

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Only the second of nine goodreads giveaways that I didn't like though I finished this one, hoping it would improve.

Never laughed, never chuckled, never even smiled. Nothing about this book was even slightly humorous despite the cover quotes "irresistable"--I trudged through it. " razor-sharp "--dull and boring, like the characters within it. " Blissfully entertaining "-- Not in the slightest. " fast, funny and smart "--took forever to get through it; see the first sentence; well, I DO understand the financial manipulations that caused the recent crash better than ever.

Not one of the people in this novel have any likeable characteristics--they are greedy,self-absorbed, boring people. If the book were about vampires, ghosts, aliens I could have liked it better for I would have said this is fiction and they aren't real. Well, unfortunately, these people are real--oh, not identified specifically, but everyone of them exists including Daisy,who in real life doesn't actually kill others, that is, deprive them of life, but she deprives them of living which is much the same. She sucks the animation and joy from those who she sees as a threat.

A horrible book about horrible people being passed off as hilarious fiction---I wonder, is it a case of laughing at oneself and one's own intimate circle? A sort of inside joke--which will make it all okay and make the lifestyle meaningful?

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Lost in Shangri-La--a book review

2011-04-14T08:10:00.001-07:00

Lost in Shangri-La: A True Story of Survival, Adventure, and the Most Incredible Rescue Mission of World War II by Mitchell Zuckoff

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Off for a pleasure ride over some of the most exotic scenery in the world and some of its exotic residents three service people, two soldiers and a WAC find themselves the only survivors of a tragic plane crash in a rain forest with no way out among possible headhunting cannibals. 1945 New Guinea. A place that had only been seen from the air, so it was thought. The story of their initial days trying to reach a place where THEY could be seen and where they would be safe from the natives is heart rending. Two of them are seriously injured with gangrene rapidly setting in; the third, though physically sound and in command, keeping his deep grief at the loss of his twin brother under control.

Once seen the efforts of their colleagues to supply them with food and shelter is only surpassed by the efforts of a handsome paratrooper and his Filipino recon team to physically reach them and provide them medical treatment and a way out of the jungle.

The story has everything--tragedy, comedy, a touch of possible romance, bravery, derring-do, intercultural understanding without words, suspense and eventual success. I read it in one day and though the events took place when I was a 2 1/2 year old toddler in New York City, the people caught up in this newsmaking event were as real as though it were being reported on contemporary nightly news. Each one comes off the page as a living three demensional human being and as a reader I worried about the outcome, though the actual players are, for the most part, now dead.

The pictures throughout the book enhance that sense of knowing the characters and making them real. The use of their own words, through diary and interview, brings even more depth to their personalities.

The story of this event and the strengths and weaknesses of the people who found themselves in it compares favorably with Into Thin Air, Into the Wild, stories of the Donner Party and those of the soccer players stranded in the Andes. Nice, too, is the follow up to the lives of each of them once the drama had passed.

Just a great read! I wish, now, that I'd gone to the glider museum in Lubbock, Texas--next time.

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Anxiety over Weather, Replaced by Anxiety over a Cherished Pet

2011-04-02T09:28:00.000-07:00

As there was absolutely nothing to watch on TV and since I'd forgotten to bring in one of my new books to read, I turned out the lights at 9:30 on Wednesday night, Mar 31 and managed to fall asleep. I am usually a night owl though not much past 1125 unless there is a particularly good movie on or I'm reading a book hard to put down. My body, therefore, does not cooperate when I ask it to put on the brakes and relax into sleep at such an ungodly early hour. The flip side, of course, is that when it does work I'm awake at the crack of dawn and so it was on Thursday morning. I even managed to get down to the dining room in time to get something to eat--such as it was.

How I'd love, just once, to see a breakfast such as Choice Hotels shows in its advertisements. We've stayed in all levels of their offerings, except the boutique hotels they own and believe me--the usual is an off brand of colored cheerios, a cheap knock-off of bran flakes sans raisins, orange juice, hard boiled eggs, coffee, dried out sausage patties, stale danish, whipped spread ipo butter, sometimes biscuits and gravy. My usual is a cup of coffee in the room brought to me by Bill who has been up for at least two hours before me. It I get to the dining room in time I grab a juice and maybe a piece of fruit if it looks halfway edible or a yogurt if it is there and not banana something or other. All in all it is not for the breakfast that we've chosen this motel chain! LOL

Hoping to beat the impending storm at least to Binghamton we were on the road at 742--a record for us! As you can see most of the trip was in rain and fog with heavy truck traffic but the roads were neither icy nor snowy and for that we were grateful. The trip was as much of a blur as the scenery. Within an hour we went through the rest of Virginia, into and out of West Virginia in the blink of an eye, and on into Maryland, which had been our goal the night before. We agreed that we had been wise to stop the night before since we were very tired and would not have wanted to even try to go out for our fried oysters. It was not until we reached Pennsylvania, in the heights that we hit any snow. While it was quite heavy at times and certainly wet with big fluffy flakes the roads were still warm enough that it did not stick for the most part--though the trees and ground were covered and more was accumulating there. I did not take many pictures since this part of the trip is so familiar I think we could drive it in our sleep. In Wilkes-Barre, though I tried once more to get a good shot of that Church. It is quite challenging since there are all kinds of motel signs and trucks travelling in the other lanes, but these are better than I've ever gotten. Anything to amuse myself and pass the time. We both hate the Pa leg of the trip--crossing the state diagonally on clomp,clomp,clomp roads with trucks and mad men and women zigging and zagging back and forth over three lanes is a real drag! At a rest stop, while Bill was in the facility or necessary I people watched. A car from New York pulled in alongside us and the DRIVER stiffly got his legs onto the ground then brought out his walker and his companion assisted him up onto the curb and then she shuffled off ahead of him as he slowly mad his way up the walk. And Bill wonders why I get nervous on some of these roads, in the snow and rain etc. How is that guy eligible to keep a license? Bet his reflexes are much better than a drunk driver, or someone on a cell phone, etc!!!

Well, soon we were nearing Binghamton and since it was only around 1230 we decided to make the push to Barb's in Saratoga. I had spoken to her and she knew this was a possibility. So I called to see what the weather was like there--47 degrees and doing nothing--so we said, okay we're on our way. After 451.9 miles and five states we arrived at her door at 4:17 in the afternoon. Not too many pictures along the way there either though I would really love to know what a PASSIVE RECREATIONAL AREA is! In our tired frame of mind Bill and I came up with some doozy ideas, most of which are not printable!

Barb greeted Bill with a nice cold Corona and me with a glass of some Spanish white wine. After some relaxation she served the paella she had made for us. Bill isn't fond of seafood in a casserole so he had a shrimp cocktail before the main course and Barb had portioned the food so that there was a dish sans seafood for Bill and one with clams and shrimp along with corrizo and chicken for us. She was unhappy with her adaptations--clams instead of mussels and wasn't in love with the meal. Both Bill and I thought it was excellent and Bill brought his leftovers home and ate them for lunch today. None of us ate the clams--they were too big so Barb steamed those she hadn't cooked and minced them and the ones from the paella to use in chowder and a clam pasta sauce for herself. Of course, the best part of the meal for me was the mince pie she made for me--I'm the only one in the family who likes it so I don't get it often anymore. My Mom and I liked it so it was easier to make and have eaten, without having to eat it all by oneself. I brought that home for me for sure!

Bill went to bed fairly early--the long drive was tiring for us both but particularly for him. Barb and I sat up and talked and drank wine and snacked until about 1130.

Friday we woke up to snow, although it started fairly late in the morning--about fourish I think. Again, not falling heavily but wet and thick without sticking to the roads. We lingered over coffee and then had breakfast and visited. Bill brought everything in from the car--I wanted to organize it better and throw away any garbage etc, since we had no idea how close we'd be able to park to the house. It is a pain in the butt to have to carry a zillion small things that want to fall out of your hands across a wet and muddy and slippery driveway that you can't drive on to the door. Also, I wanted to give Barb some of the little things I'd gotten her and show her books on the places we'd been and some things I'd gotten for Bets etc. I really wanted to spend the night and come home today, since I was worried about Killington. But Bill was anxious to get home now that we were so close. So after Barb printed off some tax materials for us and we repacked the car we headed home around 2 with drizzle and 39 degrees.

As it turned out the storm they predicted really didn't hit us and the ride home was pretty uneventful. Killington had snow and the temperature was 32 but as luck would have it, once more the roads were warm enough that they didn't ice up nor did the snow stick to them. As we approached Lebanon Bill asked if I wanted to stop at 7 Barrel for dinner as we traditionally do--there not being much in the line of food at the house.Though I know he was disappointed I really just wanted to come home and so we continued on.

Sure enough we had to park across the way --we came into the house and immediately called for the cats, neither of which came to greet us. Bill found Misty upstairs and she came to greet him but there was no sign of Soot. All of a sudden we heard this loud meowing. Bill looked all over upstairs but couldn't find her. I was searching on this floor to no avail. Then we decided she must be locked in my workroom downstairs so Bill headed down calling to her but when he opened the door she wasn't there. Yet the sound, which now stopped was coming from the vicinity of the door. He moved the chair and there she was lying on her side, not moving, talking to him and filthy. He picked her up and brought her to my footstool and while I petted her and she purred and acted normal except that her abdomen was badly distended and she couldn't move her hind legs, he called the vet. Within ten minutes of our arrival in the door, Bill and Soot were on their way to Hanover to see what was wrong.

I stayed here not knowing what to do with myself and really not being able to do anything anyway. I'm so glad we didn't stay at Barb's --I'm so glad we didn't eat at 7 Barrel. Sharon arrived about a half hour later with her stuff to spend the night and have her dinner. I think I was somewhat dazed but we visited awhile. She said Soot was fine on Thursday morning when Sharon left for work.

Anyway, when Bill got back without Soot, he said that the vet said a clot got lodged in the place where the two arteries go into the hind legs and so the legs were not getting blood, it is quite painful but since the legs were still flexible she felt it had happened within two hours of her arrival at the office. They kept her overnight--she is still there and will be a few more days, if she survives--gave her blood thinners and pain medication. Took xrays to ascertain that there was no injury or other organ involvement. He was told getting the clot out and restoring circulation was the first concern--then we need a cardiologist to determine what the underlying cause of the clot is.

Today we called and there has been SOME improvement. Bill cried after he hung up--he's sure we are going to have to put her down. I cannot believe it--she was so normal last night except for those damned legs! We'll call again tomorrow, but since she is 14 and already this is over $600, if there isn't significant improvement--if she doesn't have the use of her legs --what can we do? I never thought, she, the athlete, the thin one, the active one who eats minimally would be the first to reach this stage.

Betsy called today and I couldn't talk to her because she'll hear in my voice that something is wrong--she can always tell with me--she asked about the cats--Bill said Misty greeted us and Soot purred. Not lies, but........

Fred and Meg and anyone else who reads this who might have conversation with Bets--please DO NOT MENTION this to her. We want to wait until we know what happens and what choices we have to make. I know it is silly, it is only a cat, but those who pray could you send up an extra prayer for our Soot?

Also, Fred, your hat and gloves are here--but that's a whole other story!

So today, Bill's gone off to do the taxes and a little shopping and I have checked out our finances and done my pictures and blog. I'll write one other short one as I always do--a sort of summary of miles and free nights and gas costs etc for those who care about those things. I know some of you like to know so you can decide if it is something you'd like to do.

Barb and I are planning on doing it together come Fall--if I can save the money now--I want to have at least $1000 saved to bring Bets home at Christmas. With Barb I'll get to see more of the North and we will go to some of the places Bill and I visited that caught Barb's eye. But for now, all I can think about is Soot and some quiet time reading and readjusting to life in one place.

Will keep you posted. Thanks for travelling with us--I hope you enjoyed the ride--I know I loved sharing with you and getting your comments. Til next time--Bill and Kathy are home in Vermont!

Getting Close to Home but Still in Virginia

2011-03-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

I've started today's pictures with views of our bedroom last night, since Glen reminded me that I'd failed to do that. I also included what appears to be a pace car from Kentucky but probably not--just a bright spot on an otherwise gloomy, overcast, rainy and cold morning.

We headed back southwest to Bedford Va to take in the sights of Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's retreat and retirement home located 93 miles and, in his day, three days travel from Monticello. The history of the plantation is pretty much explained by the pictures. We were unable to photograph any of the interior restoration work on the first floor which is ongoing so I will attempt to paint a word picture of what we saw.

First though I'll talk about the outside of the house--at one time it sat in the middle of a symmetrical landscape which included double rows of linden trees extending from both sides of the house to a mound on each end of the allees. Just beyond each mound stands an octagonal tower like structure of brick, which is one of two necessaries--or as we would call them--outhouses. The mounds were to be covered in varying types of trees but apparently that plan did not work as desired and so they were replaced instead with shrubs. After a time, Jefferson decided that he wanted a wing of office and work space and so the allee on the East side was removed and a brick wing constructed. I'll talk about that later. This symmetrical layout echoes his architectural approach at Monticello and is, once more, the result of the influence the designs of Palladio had on TJ.

To take you on the imaginary tour of the interior I will use the post card enlargement of the octagonal house which shows a bit of the wing on the right side. The top of the floor plan is the North Portico which can be seen in the house pictures as the porch with the four stucco columns at the top of the flight of stairs. The columns are actually brick covered with stucco. As we walk across the floor of the porch toward the faux mahogany door our docent pointed out the Carrera marble threshold which is not original. That marble step disappeared many years ago but a duplicate that fit was found in the basement of the Capital building in Washington where, apparently, artifacts from various changes to the building are stored. We entered the room on the right side of the hall ( your left in the picture). Directly across from the door is a small fireplace and to the right of that are two windows set at forty five degree angles to each other. The room is small and the floor has already been restored--it is a light colored wood--possibly tulip poplar which is cleaned each day--or was in his time--with beeswax and linseed oil. I remember my Dad used that on nice wood in our house. The walls in most of the rooms are just the bare exposed brick but here one wall has been partially replastered to show how the walls will look when that restoration is done. This room, our docent said, is thought to have been the bedroom for the butler when TJ was in residence. The book on the house says it was a storage/spare bedroom.

We continued through the opening that will hold a door in time into a very large room that is bisected by an alcove bed.This is a design used in Monticello and is a French design that TJ particularly liked. One side of the bed is in a sitting room, the other in a study. TJ could swing his feet off into either side--also with a fireplace in each space there was adequate heat throughout. Again two large windows sat in the corner of each of the rooms. Interestingly jutting out the west side of the octagon is a tower to accommodate the stairs without taking anything from the living space. The stairs descend to a door that opens into the yard.

Continuing to the South or the bottom of the floor plan we come to the Parlor with a fireplace at each end and a window in each corner. The flat southern wall has two very wide floor to ceiling windows that are sash windows in three parts--just the lower section can be raised for air, or the two lower sections can be raised to form guillotine windows that are tall enough to serve as doors. The double doors were all panes of glass and another set of solid doors, which haven't been hung yet will form a dead air space between them though why in this climate I'm not sure. Again through these doors is the South Portico resting on the Arcade below.

Opposite the outside door of the parlor is a set of glass doors that lead into the central cube with a ceiling that soars two stories in this one story house and that contains a full length skylight. The skylight has shutters that can be closed over it during bad weather or when the sun is particularly strong and hot. This elegant room is the dining room and in it is a long dining room table which can be disassembled into several individual tables or, when the leaves are removed totally can be closed into an octagonal table. Also here were several Windsor chairs, a cabinet of about four shelves referred to as a dumb waiter and another table whose round top totally revolved. All, except the chairs, designed by TJ. Once more in one corner there is a fireplace and on each of its walls are glass double doors to make this windowless room as light and airy as all the rest of the rooms. The floor here is an intricate and beautiful parquet.

The East side of the house mirrors exactly the West side--the bedroom used by TJ's daughters and grandchildren and the front room used as its mate for storage or as an additional guest room.So, too, on this side the East Stair Portico retaining as much as possible of the house for living space.

The East wing is totally a restoration since the original wing was removed after fire damage. The original consisted of a kitchen, smokehouse, housekeeper's dwelling,laundry and cold storage. The roof served as a Terras upon which TJ enjoyed walking at night and in front of the rooms ran a covered arcade.

All in all an intimate, airy, comfortable retreat from the busyness of business. I very much loved it.

And then we were headed over familiar territory, up through Charlottesville, to Front Royal and into Winchester where we wearily decided to stop for the night. We had hoped to make it to Maryland and fried oysters but stopped about 30 or so miles short. Just exhausted -- the weather and winding back roads with stop and go traffic around Charlottesville and Culpepper took their toll.

Ordered Pizza Hut we were so tired we didn't even want to go out. Also for the first time in weeks we turned the heat on in the car and in the room tonight. I also dug out my fleece jacket again. It is supposed to snow tonight but though it doesn't look like a great driving day we are hoping to make Binghamton tomorrow. Friday may be a different story. We'll just have to take it as it comes. If all goes well we will be home on Friday.

From here on in it is the same old same old--so unless I see some really new sights there won't be many pix and the blog will probably just be a report on where we are. Until tomorrow-----

234.5 Miles Today--10 of Which Turned My Hair White!

2011-03-29T16:44:00.000-07:00

The day started out sunny at 37 degrees with frost on everything. Amazingly, we were on the road once more by 9 am--we have been having trouble adjusting to the time change but think we are back in sync. Decided to take I 81 to up around Christiansburg and then cut across the Blue Ridge on Va primary road 8 and then backroad it up to outside Roanoke to Booker T. Washington's birthplace. Took a few snaps of the highest mountain in Virginia--Mt Rogers at 5729 feet and then just a few more of the sunny countryside. By the time we reached Pulaski I'd had enough of the tractor trailer trucks and suggested starting our back road exploration about 25 miles sooner. Bill was agreeable so off we went on primary rt 100 south to primary road 221, where we arrived in Hillsville, the home of one of the Mohawk Rug factories and also the Cavalier Cafe. The young fellow running it made me a buckwheat pancake the size of a dinner plate and the crispiest fresh bacon I've ever had. He was a cutie--married five years with a three year old daughter. His wedding picture and pictures of the baby from infancy covered the walls of the local eating place. He is a year and a half younger than his wife but his gramma is a year and a half younger than his granddad and they are doing fine--unlike his pappy who is on his third wife! I said the good luck skipped a generation and he is hopeful that is true. Works hard--he got to the cafe at 3 am and his wife came in at 5 after dropping the baby off. It was now 1130 and his wife had gone home at 10. He's hoping that they can start thinking of looking for a house--business is good and he's doing fine - no debt but he's nervous about taking on a mortgage but is sick of renting. Hope it works out for them--he is working hard and so is she--I hope they get the dream.

On we continued on 221 to Floyd where we took secondary road 681 for two miles and then hooked up with secondary road 860, which looked smooth--no curves, just a slight change in direction from due south to a bit south east. The first three miles or so were fine but then the road crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway which was flat, narrow and not open at all. As we started to rise above it I should have had alarms go off but NOOOOOOO. OMG--for ten of the worst miles--topped only by the road from Silver City to TOC--I thought I was going to die. When we appeared to be near the bottom we pulled over to let the brakes cool a bit and when I got out of the car my legs were shaking so much I almost couldn't stand. After another couple of relatively straight flat ( not ) road we came to Va primary 40 which was my intent. I don't know what I would have done had we needed to go back up--though Bill did suggest trying it in reverse--what did I ever see in this man? He did congratulate me on my navigational proficiency and thanked me for not choosing PRIMARY route 8 which had those terrible wiggles on the map! GRRRRR

I'm afraid that Booker's birthplace was somewhat anti-climatic! Although the walk around the old plantation in 59 degree sunny weather was quite nice. He was freed at 9 along with his family at the announcement of the Emancipation Proclamation and soon moved to W. Virginia with his mother, brother and sister to meet up with his stepfather. By 16 he was headed back to Hampton Va to study at the Negro school there run by a white former Union officer. After graduation he was called back by Armstrong to serve as house father for Native American boys and then, when a council member from Tuskegee looking for a white principal for a new Negro school they were starting. Armstrong recommended Washington and the rest, as they say, is history.

From there we headed to Lynchburg and the Quality Inn where we stayed on our first trip and ate at the Outback next door. Rack of lamb and fresh veggies with a Yuengling draught. Delicious. And now, off to NCIS which I've been sort of watching. Forgot DWTS last night--darn!

Was That Kentucky???

2011-03-28T18:16:00.000-07:00

Once more we left the warmth of our motel room to venture out into 40 degree, rainy weather. I probably wouldn't feel so cold if it hadn't been 89 degrees in Andersonville! But today, I relented and pulled out a heavier shirt and shoes. As I've mentioned before getting from point A to point B in this part of the country is not as easy for us as it is for the crow! So off we went westward on 11E until we met the road that would take us north to 11W which we would take west until we met 25 E which goes right into Kentucky by way of the Cumberland Gap. In actuality, we go through a tunnel which bypasses the gap. That was rather disappointing. In the 1920's a road was built right through the Gap where the people of Virginia and Tennesse traveled to the West--Kentucky! In 1940 the National Park was authorized and it was established in 1955. It was felt that the road through the Gap actually destroyed the historical aspect of the trail and so in 1996 a tunnel bypassing the Gap was opened, the original paved road was removed and from that time to this the Gap has been returned to its 1810 appearance. That is really nice except that none of the park --except the road to the Pinnacle Outlook--which I opted not to take--is open to be seen unless one hikes various lengthy trails. I suppose that recreates the Boone experience but it was a bit disappointing.

Bill has dreampt of seeing the Gap since he started reading the Louis L'Amour Sackett Saga--he says he was satisfied and I hope that is true. We took Rt 58 to Bristol,Va where we are staying and that follows the Wilderness Trail taken by Daniel Boone and others after him. We passed the site where his son James had been killed by Indians and saw the rows of hazy mountain tops that just roll one after the other almost from the sea into the beautiful valleys of Kentucky. It must have been such an adventure for those early settlers to overcome those mountains to move Westward.

Barb--we passed the road to the Clinch Mountain winery ---I have no idea how you and I came upon it--but I think we cut up this way from Knoxville and over the mountains from West to East toward I 81 and so on up through Virginia. We were going the other way this time.

Logan's Roadhouse for meatloaf and now a bit of TV and good night.

Head is Spinning--So Many States in Such a Short Time!

2011-03-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday ( Sunday--Day 42--six weeks!!! ) Bill says it is day 43 because I didn't count the first day which was the Sunday we left--he's right of course but who's counting?

Anyway, Yesterday started out wet and miserable so we took off into the mountains on the Cherokee Foothills National Highway, which follows the original Cherokee Trail down to Charleston from the southern mountains of the Blue Ridge. We were going in the opposite direction, planning on reaching Morristown, Tn so that we would be within driving distance of the Cumberland Gap on Monday morning. At this area and particularly in Va there is no easy way to go north-south or east-west-the Appalachians run southwest to northeast and that's how the roads must run. Makes it a bit difficult to navigate and for this part of the trip I was using three maps at a time. Getting out of South Carolina through a small part of North Carolina and into Tennessee in a way easily followed. It was a challenge but somehow we managed to get into North Carolina at a point that would lead us in the right direction in Tennessee.Although we like to avoid Interstates we did use I 26 and I 40 to get across the mountains near Ashville NC.

As I was studying the map I noticed that Carl Sandburg's home was around Hendersonville so I asked, since I'd skipped Flannery O'Connor's the day before, and since we weren't traveling very far if we could stop to check it out. Bill was agreeable and we left the Interstate to take a two lane, narrow country road in the fog, to Flat Rock. Carl spoke about that fog--it comes in on little cats feet--and so it seemed.

I remember Sandburg's narration of Aaron Copeland's Lincoln piece with the NY Philhamonic with Andre Kostelanes--I was a senior in HS--and part of it was televised. I also remember reading some of his poetry in school and saw his interview with Edward R Morrow and I always just loved him. So, though it WAS a strenuous .3 mile up to his house I am proud to say I did not call for a shuttle and just took my time and we were there. The next tour of the house, only the ground floor, was in an hour but we saw the two videos--one of which was the Morrow interview and the other an overview of his life and shots of the house and narration by one of his daughters. It more than fulfilled my wish to have another view of the man and his life. Picked up a few quotes etc for my scrapbook and took beaucoups pix and we were off. It was very cold and I decided that the sandals would be stowed once more.

On we continued into Tennessee and dinner at the Hillside Grill next to the motel in Morristown. Met a crazy lady named Nicki, who moved back home after traveling the country as a salesperson for a national chain store--which doesn't exist in New England--and then lived in Nashville which she very much misses. Her friend, Sam, whom she has known since High School showed up and we chatted for a bit more before turning in for the night.

Rained and rained some more, but at least the thunder wasn't as scary as in Georgia--I didn't even unpack my flashlight!

Georgia in My Memory

2011-03-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

Today was the first really bad weather we've had since snow in Cheyenne Wyoming--that seems a lifetime ago. Didn't sleep particularly well last night for some reason and it was rainy and cold--60 degrees this morning. As a result we went to Walmart since I needed a new memory card and I managed to find a Cricut cartridge to buy. Then we were off through the true backwoods of Northern Georgia to South Carolina. The highlight of the day was a little spot called Comer, Ga and Maggie's Cafe. I had the best tuna salad sandwich I've had in ages on perfectly toasted home made bread. Was so full I couldn't have a piece of carrot cake so asked for a togo box. Bill had a BLT that was beautiful to look at as well as delicious to eat. A women with a college age daughter and two teen boys owns the cafe with her sister. It is really cute and the food is to die for--$6.00 for the sandwich--how could you go wrong. I'm still full hours later.

I just told Bill there is a cute sparrow looking in the window at you. He said he is not interested since, while he was right there smoking, they fornicated on his car. I'm still laughing--which reminds me--the day started with hilarity in the breakfast room. We were the only white folk there and a heavy set lady said someone in NY won Megamillions. A guy said where--she said Albany--he said your sister lives near there--I said so does mine. Well, that started it--lady said I'll call my sister, how you doing? how's the dog? your boyfriend? Your husband/ I said: and she says--who's this, I don't have no sister! All of this between heavy laughter bringing tears. god it was funny.

As I left I said if your sister won just send me $50 for the laughter--she said okay--leave your address at the desk! More laughter and wishes for a good and safe day. What a way to start out---the people on these trips are worth almost more than the sights and sounds. No,they are worth more!

Rainy, rainy, rainy and tomorrow too --heading to Morristown, Tn and then on to Cumberland Gap on Monday. Hoping to follow rivers mostly and not hit too many high and winding roads!

History--Musical and Otherwise

2011-03-25T17:02:00.000-07:00

One thing we've noticed in many Southern States there are no billboards--in some cases, none at all and in other cases, only as one approaches a major town. Along the Interstates they abound and some are rather amusing--need I say more?

Left Perry and headed 20 miles away to Macon and the Georgia Music Hall of Fame. We really enjoy these types of sites because we spend several hours surrounded by music and in this case of many kinds. There was a radio pair of men who used to have a show in Savannah singing Gospel music. The remarkable thing is that while there were just the two they sang four parts and were known as the only two man quartet in the South. I wish I could remember their names-- they were in the film in the chapel and were remarkably good. It was great to sit at the soda fountain and sing with Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers as they played on the jukebox. There was no one else around so I really belted out my part in Accentuate the Positive--just like I used to do when they came on the radio when I was little. I bet I sounded as good as I did then, too! LOL

It was fun to see Connie Hines and Bob Eberle, two of my Mom's favorites and listen to them sing on the headphones. Such fun to see Usher and Jerry Reed and Ray Stevens and Ray Charles and the beautiful Lena Horne! and Ludacris and on and on. The movie comprising various inductions included Lena singing----Stormy Weather--and all I could think was how different this was than when she sang that in her movie debut. Whites and blacks were not shown on the screen together so she was filmed alone singing and was spliced into the movie! She also lost the role of the mixed race girl in Show Boat to Ava Gardner! How times do change! The costumes, the music, the stories all so much fun and the movie culminating in snippets of various singers performing Georgia on My Mind, the State song, written by Hoagy Carmichael. Just terrific. But the most fun was in the Children's section--playing with the instruments and hearing Happy Birthday played in about six different styles.

From there we headed to the Ocmulgee National Park and the mounds of the prehistoric Indians of the Mississippian civilization. We've seen many of their mounds throughout the Southeast on our various trips and also went to Russell Cave but this is the first site in which there is a mound that has been excavated and was actually a subterranean meeting room--the Earthlodge. So similar to the kivas we saw in New Mexico and Arizona. Archeology is so fascinating and the similarities and differences among contemporary civilizations worldwide is truly mysterious.

Met a couple from Rochester, Ny at the burial mound whose daughter lives in Burlington and who got married last year in the Round Church in Waitsfield. Small world. Also found out that the Ivy Classic Corp makes power tools and the guy with the van is working out of Atlanta selling them.

Tired and stayed in tonight for a respite and Bill brought me soup and salad from Chili's plus a huge cup of mango iced tea. So I'm going to go now and humming, Georgia on My Mind, am going to research Flannery O'Connor whose home is here in Milledgeville, Ga. May want to explore it on our way to South Carolina tomorrow. Anyone ever read anything by her? She had a study time at Yaddo in Saratoga. Wonder if we were wandering around the grounds when she was there in the 50's? Where was Hoagy Carmichael born? How high is Cumberland Gap National Park? Pondering, pondering--til tomorrow--Accentuate the Positive and take care!

"It takes 7 of its ocupiants to make a Shadow"

2011-03-24T16:44:00.000-07:00

Andersonville-- a Pulitzer Prize winning novel that I never read---a name that conjures up the worst possible hell on Earth ever experienced by a Union soldier in our Civil War---a place where the men were so emaciated that it would take 7 of them to make a shadow, according to Sgt David Kennedy of the 9th Ohio Cavalry. Fort Sumter which was the official name of the prison in Andersonville, Georgia was opened in 1864 when the Confederacy decided to move Union soldiers from around Richmond to a more remote, secure location. It was built to accommodate 8000 men but once the exchange program between the combatants collapsed both the Union and the Confederacy found themselves with an untenable number of prisoners of war on their hands. Andersonville, in the 14 months--only 14 months!--it operated saw 45,000 men enter its gates, of which about 13 000 never left alive. The highest number of prisoners there at any one time was 32 000. In my pictures you can see that the stockade was built between two steep hills on which cannon were mounted--more to repel any Union Calvary attack but equally able to shoot into the compound if needs be. The disturbed earth running through the middle of the indentation is a small steam--Sweetwater Creek--my God, who named it? The waste of the officers who resided on the hillside ran into the stream and down into the compound--the soldiers were so ill that they did not go to the sinks or the other end of the stream which they were to use as latrines! No food, no clean water, make shift shelter, incredibly close packing together and it is a wonder any of them survived the starvation and disease that killed so many.

Then, as now, there were men severely lacking in morals or ethics who became gangs of roving bullies and thieves--The Raiders. They appeared at the gate whenever new POW's arrived and if caught preying upon them the Raiders were made to run through a gauntlet and were severely beaten. Even with this disciplinary action they still ran rampant through the camp. Finally, some of the men went to the commandant and asked to be allowed to capture the ringleaders. This new group, the Regulators, were able to identify six men, who were then tried and convicted and hung in the middle of the encampment. At the request of the POW's they were not buried among the rest of the dead--they aren't very far away but they are distinctly separate from them.

As the men died they were taken out of the camp and taken by wagon to the cemetery where they were buried by the hundreds each day in long trenches. Each was given a wooden marker on which was placed a number. A young 19 year old prisoner was given the job of recording the name, rank and group to which the deceased belonged. As the prison was liberated he smuggled a copy of this info out,thinking that he would perhaps we able to get notification to the families of the dead. Unable to get any assistance from the government he went to Clara Barton who had worked so hard to get food and supplies to the prisoners and she was able to get a work party together. She, the young man, Dorrance Atwater of the 2nd NY Calvary, and the workers were able to identify and mark the graves with stone markers. Through their efforts only 460 of the over 12000 graves are marked unknown.

In addition to the site of this notorious prison, Andersonville National Historic Site is also the site of the National POW museum. By the time I got to the section dealing with the Vietnam War and the atrocities imposed on our military I was too emotionally disturbed to be able to read the rest--the museum took an hour to read and look at everything from the Prison Ships used by the British in the Revolution ( so bad that Washington wrote Gage and told him that America would treat British prisoners in the same fashion--our soldiers suffocated to death on the ships they were so packed beneath decks) through the Vietnam War. The movie that ran for 27 minutes covering the same period in our history had interviews with survivors of captivity from WWI through the Gulf War. By the end, I was in tears and could not speak to the man with whom Bill was chatting--he had been a child in the internment camps in the Philippines --the Japanese imprisoned Europeans and Americans in the Philippines but because these were civilians they are not considered POWs.

One of the men interviewed in the film was a handsome man with a head of beautiful thick white hair. He had been a POW in Vietnam and said that with all the hardships etc the thing he remembered the most was the love and loyalty of his fellow prisoners. He was well-spoken, handsome and lucid. What a horrible shame that Ross Perot decided to use him in his presidential campaign and allow him to be maligned and mocked because he had become old and less lucid. I'm convinced the experience was more demeaning to him than his experience in Vietnam, of which he said " part of my identity is that I lived part of my life as an animal." In 2005, Admiral James Stockdale died at 81 years old having struggled with Alzheimer's Disease. What a sad end of one of our heroes.

After leaving the park Bill told me that, while he took the walking tour with the Ranger and when they came to the monument on which several states are listed, including NH and Vt, the guide stated that these were ALL border states in which there was a large faction of Southern sympathizers and spy activity. A couple from Montreal and Bill questioned this portrayal of the two states and he cited the bank robbery in St Albans as an event that had the assistance of insiders in Vt. HMMMMMM--not the way we've heard it. There was Southern activity in Montreal and an attempt to get Canada to support the South--not sure there was very much sympathy there or in Vt.

Ah, well, off we went through several small towns, similar to Plains which don't seem to have changed much since the Civil War. Lots of peach trees and pecan trees and some sod farms. Lovely antebellum homes and train depots no longer sites of arrival and departure of passengers--prisoners or otherwise. Arrived at Perry and our motel and went to eat in Applebees--I now know why people eat at Micky D's etc--you are sure of what you are going to get and I wanted to have food I could depend on--ribs and queso blanco. Fattening but recognizable!LOL

When we returned we found that our next door neighbor was also in Americus last night. A commercial truck from New Rochelle marked only Ivy Classic. Will have to research what that is-- a spy following us?

Tomorrow Macon--I think we are due to hear some good Southern music and maybe look at some prehistoric Indian mounds. What do you think? Night from the road, until then!

NH people don't like Southerners, they don't like Georgians

2011-03-23T18:08:00.000-07:00

Hmm--Didn't know that til I listened to the narration in the Jimmy Carter visitors' center --they did continue to say the people in NH had no idea who he was--probably more likely why they didn't vote for him.

This morning we crossed the Chattahootchee River, owned by Georgia and immediately lost an hour--we are back in EST, alas. Went through Lumpkin, not knowing there is a canyon they compare to the Grand!! and the village that the fellow in Clampton told us was opposite the Andersonville NHS--Not!

Arrived in Plains and visited the High School that has been converted to the JC visitor center. Saw Billy Carter's gas station and the fenced area in which Jimmy and Rosalynn live when home in Plains. Interesting area--the town looks just like the pictures from 1925--time has stood still here in many ways.The farm in Archery where JC grew up was probably the most interesting part of the day, especially the two Siamese Cat mix who loved the attention we gave them. I loved speaking to the Ranger who told us that the pansies in the little flower garden had grown throughout the winter and would shrivel and dry up in April with the real heat! Real heat? It has been 84+ and humid for days.

Continued into Americus--why do I know that name??? Lindbergh made his first solo flight here--maybe we'll look for the statue tomorrow. Had dinner in the hotel restaurant and met a couple from the Finger Lakes Region of NYS. They had purchased a Panama Canal trip of two weeks with another couple, whose daughter became seriously ill. Having purchased travel insurance they got their money back and are on a smaller trip around the States. They owned a 96 acre farm, he had heart surgery, they sold the farm and now live in a double wide which they love. Nice to meet them.

Tomorrow Andersonville and then we are headed toward Cumberland Gap--Bill has always wanted to see it--I think I've been there already, but who knows at this point? Hope I can handle the height! LOL

Until then--Salander has been released!

Tuskegee, Union Springs and Eufaula, Alabama

2011-03-22T15:35:00.000-07:00

Woke to the melodious barking of some of our resident dogs, whose accommodations were right outside our window--a suite with jacuzzi and a dog run--what more could one ask for? The room next to ours was unoccupied however the alarm went off at 4ish though I never heard it--I guess Bill did but he gets up then anyway. I started the day with a delightful soak in the jacuzzi while sipping my morning coffee. On the road on a hot, humid overcast morning. By ten the haze had burned off but the heat and humidity continued. We headed out toward Dadesville where we had taken rt 49 north yesterday to Horseshoe Bend but took it south today toward Union Springs.

Depending on the wind pattern and the temperature Alabama is redolent of either pulp mills or flowers --today it was sweet with the blooms of spring, especially the Wisteria that is so abundant and beautiful. I haven't noticed as much Kudzu this year in either Mississippi or Alabama--it may be the area of the states where we traveled this year--sort of right in the middle moving west to east.

Our destination today for study was Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site--which only opened in 2008. The temporary visitors' center was more temporary than planned having become contaminated with mold. As a result there is a small reception area at the entrance of Hangar 1 in which a rather extensive display has been assembled. The lady volunteer with whom we spoke said that Hangar 2, which burned down in 1987 has been rebuilt and there is another display area there along with a theatre but that it will not open until 2012. I hope we will return.

Briefly, the history is that black men were not allowed to be pilots during WWII being considered subservient and lacking in the abilities necessary to become pilots. In 1939, with an impending war, Congress passed the Civilian Pilot Training Act which allowed non-military guys to become pilots and move into the military if needed--basically building a bank account of a large number of flight ready pilots. An organization of African American pilots --National Airmen's Association, six black colleges and a private flying school joined the effort. Tuskegee Institute was very successful in turning out licensed civilian pilots and as more legislation was passed preventing discrimination in training etc and with the support of Eleanor Roosevelt the segregated 99th Pursuit Squadron was formed in 1941. The Tuskegee Airmen were born. The pictures show many of the men involved and the type of training etc that took place. Unfortunately, I could not record the stories told by some of them in their own words which were available to listen to on the phones on the desks scattered throughout the hangar. I spent over 2 hours, reading, listening, and photographing the exhibit. I hope you enjoy what I can provide for you. I never saw the Denzel Washington film but will now watch it with this experience as background. I also hope to return for the rest of the story when hangar 2 is opened.

Bill did not listen to all the tales so he was finished much sooner than I but he and the lady volunteer had a pleasant chat about many things so he wasn't at all upset that I wanted to be more thorough. The story of these men was told me by my Dad, who a product of his time was very biased but who, in fairness, was impressed ( surprised? I don't know.) by their accomplishments and greatly admired them. He is also the source for my knowledge of internment camps which my junior high school civics teacher told me did not exist. HMMMMM

We headed out through town with me snapping shots of the beautiful houses as we left--There is also the Tuskegee Institute to explore with the artifacts of George Washington Carver and the home of Booker T. Washington. The heat and humidity of the South tires me more easily than it has before and so I don't want to overextend. If we do too much in one day I'm too tired to sleep easily and feel awful the next day. Bill doesn't like to do too much in one day since he finds it hard to absorb so much info in such a short time. So in this way we are compatible in our approach and TI will definitely be another trip tour.

We arrived in Union Springs which my Historical Alabama book stated had a great bird dog statue in the center of town--they weren't kidding--the dog is not only in the center of town he is in the center of the road!!! His photo will go well with my coon dog statue from two years ago. There are brown signs at the entrance to town directing drivers to the dog! While photographing a young man and his little girl crossed the road and I asked if there were a place to grab a sandwich or something. He suggested the wings and fish place so we went seeking it.Definitely a local place and it is like sitting in a lady's informal dining room with her in the kitchen cooking the meal for you. I had three fried chicken wings, cole slaw and sweet tea! At last, good food--this black lady was a delight--housedress--who wears a housedress anymore and apron. Bill had hot wings so she said yours are messy so here is toweling--to me she said--you're more dainty so here are a few more napkins. Then she gave me my utensils and said I know they're on the wrong side but we'll manage. Soon she came out and said is that tea sweet? I said not overly but it has sweetening--nope she said, I added more tea and forgot to add more sugar--out she went to the kitchen and she brought two new jars--gave me the one with the handle--and said take your straw and away went the not sweet enough sweet tea. It felt like eating at home--LOL I hated to leave.

Off we went to our night's rest in Eufaula( asked the fried chicken lady how to pronounce that--oh, she said that's an Indian word and I always figured they said you folla so that's how I say it!)--the Quality Inn. The directions in the directory says on rt 82 at the Alabama Georgia border--they weren't kidding--the parking lot overlooks the Chattahoochee River which is the border! Actually, the river belongs to Georgia--so if we sit on the lawn later when it cools down we will be in Georgia and EST. Here is the room it is Alabama and CST! Took more pictures of yet more beautiful homes as we passed through town. The Pilgrimage here will be Apr 1st weekend.All of these towns have these open houses etc for a large fee per person --I'm sure they are beautiful but not Bill's thing.

So now--I'm going to finish Hornet's Nest--the trial is on lunch recess and lots is happening--soon it will be over. :(

Tomorrow Plains and Jimmy Carter!

Battle of Horseshoe Bend/or Another People Oppressed

2011-03-21T17:49:00.000-07:00

The day dawned with condensation on the windshield for the first time--BUT it was not frozen!!!! Got ourselves on the road and headed north on Rt 22 to Clampton for breakfast. Well, once more the cooking of Alabama leaves me cold--a pancake that tasted and had the texture of an omelet! Sigh. But the coffee was great. And we chatted with a fellow who has relatives in WRJ--Reynolds family are his in-laws. Again we don't know them but still it is a small world. We chatted about different parts of the country since he too has traveled widely. He also gave us some ideas about places to see in Alabama next time we come to the area.

We continued to Alexander City and through it to the Horseshoe Bend Battlefield National Site. Andrew Jackson starting his career and beating the Creeks and destroying their confederation. Of course they had already taken a beating at the hands of the British who ceded much of their land to the Americans at the end of the Revolution. A treaty of New York was then signed by the Americans stating that if they gave us a certain area the rest of their homeland would be left in their control. Sure--we may have beaten the British but the acorn doesn't fall far from the oak. First an attempt was made to have the Creeks give up hunting etc and become farmers and settle in one place. So they for the most part conformed. Many of their leaders were sons of European traders who married Creek women. And yet, not satisfied, when he became President Andrew signed into law the Relocation Act that moved them all by force to Oklahoma--The Trail of Tears.

Unfortunately, no one ever felt very guilty or upset or motivated to redress the wrongs done to the Native American. Some of the most impoverished places I've seen on my travels are the homes found on the reservations of this nation.

The signs and sites of the battlefield tell the story as well as I can. One thing--in the diorama the soldier grasping his thigh with an arrow through it is Sam Houston in his first battle. He almost didn't survive--he was shot twice more after the arrow--so badly wounded the doctors decided not to treat him. He survived to the hospital but after traveling over rough roads without water or medical treatment he was in even worse shape so again they figured he'd die so did nothing for him. When he got back to Tennessee still alive they still were not going to treat him, but his mother, who only recognized him because of his eyes, insisted they help him. They agreed if he was still alive two days later, which he was. Irish do you suppose or maybe Scots! LOL

Back to Alexander City and our hot tub suite. Watching Dancing with the Stars and Castle. Tomorrow Tuskegee!

Quiet Spring Sunday in Selma

2011-03-21T15:01:00.000-07:00

The first day of Spring started off slowly for us. Having sort of raced across Mississippi and half of Alabama without coming across anything of interest for which to pause, we were tired and mopey. When we booked the motel room we did so for two nights so that we would be able to explore the historic sites at leisure and rest before moving on.

We made our way into town around ten o'clock and headed out Broad Street which leads to the Edmund Pettus Bridge, the site of the March 7, 1965 Bloody Sunday March from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. We admired several of the large older buildings and then as we reached the bridge the older and more run down buildings. We planned our first stop to be the National Voting Rights Museum but it had moved from the Selma side of the Alabama River to the other side. We drove down historic Water Street just to see the buildings and to check out the Depot Museum, which traces the history of Selma from before the War to after the Civil Rights movement. It came as no surprise to see that since it was Sunday in the South the museum was closed. We continued back up Water to Broad and then across the Pettus bridge, following the steps taken by 1000's who had marched across it almost 50 years ago.

After having held voting rights classes and starting to get people ready to register to vote, the Reverend Hosea Williams, Jr and John Lewis led a small group of people across the bridge with the intent of carrying their request to vote to Gov. George Wallace in person. On the far side they were met by Alabama State Troopers who attacked them and drove them back into Selma. Two days later, MLK, jr showed up and led them across again, met the troopers and turned back to Selma peacefully and more or less without incident. Several weeks later the Supreme Court stated that the march was legal and by the time the crowd,originally 4,000 strong, reached Montgomery their numbers had soared to around 25,ooo people!

On the other side of the bridge we found the new Voting Rights museum but it too was closed. Across the street, however, was a small park, near the Selma Welcome sign that looked interesting. Monuments to Williams and Lewis have been erected here along with one commemorating Amelia Boynton Robinson and Marie Foster. Mrs Robinson is still alive at 99 years of age. She and her husband knew Booker T Washington at Tuskegee Institute and met MLK, jr in Montgomery. After her husband died she continued working for civil rights and her home was used for planning meetings for the March, which she is considered to have had a major hand in organizing. Mrs Foster in the meantime, frustrated at trying to pass the barricades erected to prevent blacks from registering to vote--such as expecting them to know the number of words in the Constitution!!---once she succeeded, began literacy and citizenship classes. Of course, once that was discovered a law was passed barring more than three black persons meeting to discuss civil rights. Uh-huh. Both ladies were beaten on Bloody Sunday, Mrs Robinson, unconscious. Mrs Foster was one of only three ladies who completed the 50 mile march on Mar 21 and she was instrumental in founding the Voting Rights Museum.

Adjacent to the three monuments is an assembly of rocks with a quote from scripture--Joshua, I believe. Behind this are several boardwalk and stair accesses to the area beneath the bridge. The day being warm and sunny with a slight breeze and incredibly quiet we decided to stroll the unkempt park there. Several young men had parked beneath the bridge and walked onto the embankment to fish the Alabama. We ascended once more and perused the mural on the building next to the park. Other than MLK, jr none of the names were familiar to us, though they were referred to as martyrs to the cause and all of them had died in 1965. I'm not sure anyone was killed on Bloody Sunday so I researched them as well. One of the men was a native of Keene, NH and an elementary school there is named for him. In addition, he is carried as a martyr by the Episcopal Church and is honored by it in August.

I will start the story with the first of the four to die: The story is not atypical for the times--basically Jimmy Lee Jackson, a deacon in his Church, was part of a peaceful march of 500 people in Marion, Al. Troopers etc nervous and vicious started beating these people. Jackson, his 80+grandfather and his mother fled and were pursued. The old man was beaten, his daughter when she came to his aid was also beaten and young Jimmy, 28, was shoved and shot and beaten when he came to his mother's aid. He died in Selma several days later and his case fueled the movement for the March.

On Aug 13, 1965 the Keene, NH native, Jonathon Myrick Daniels, was one of 40 or so protesters who went to Ft Defiance to picket whites only stores. They were arrested and held for about a week. When released they were given no transport back to Ft Defiance. Jonathon, a Catholic priest and two black protesters headed to a store for a cold drink when they were confronted by an unpaid deputy with a shotgun. The gun was leveled at a young black girl, Jonathon threw her to the ground and was hit with the full blast of the gun and died instantly. The priest was shot in the lower back as he ran away with the other protester. A commemorative service was held at the location and Ruby Sales, the girl he saved was part of it.

The Rev James Reeb had arrived in Selma to take part in the second march organized by MLK, jr, who had sent out a call to the Southern Conference Ministers for supporters to assemble in Selma. Reeb and two others had gone to a black restaurant for dinner and upon leaving and walking back to their hotel were accosted by white attackers. Reeb was hit brutally in the head with a metal rod and was assisted by the other two to a black clinic, where the doctor realized the injuries were greater than he could handle. An ambulance was sent for to take Reeb to Birmingham --it was sabotaged--another was sent for and he arrived seriously injured. He died two days later.

Lastly,Violet Gregg Liuzzo, marched to Montgomery and was bringing others back to Selma in her car when another vehicle attempted to force her off the road. When that didn't work the car came abreast of hers and her car was shot up --she herself was shot twice in the head and the car veered off the road into a ditch.

I remember these horror stories as I was living and teaching in Troy, NY ---many of my students were black and yet at this point in time the mood was still quite peaceful. So much of this seemed to be happening in another world. By the time I left Troy in 1968 the violence on a smaller level had caught up with us and the school was locked at all times, basketball games were played without spectators and vandalism had become rampant.

We returned to Selma still not knowing these specific stories but wondering who these people were and the role they had played in the upheaval that was the civil rights south.

We both felt somewhat disappointed that everything seemed to be closed but since the day was not to be wasted we decided to seek out Alabama's first capital city--Cahawba. Once a bustling river city at the confluence of the Cahawba and Alabama rivers the place was hit with several whammies that turned it into a ghost-town. Getting to it involved a lovely drive through flowers and Spanish moss draped trees, through which the sunlight and shadows alternated in strobe-light fashion. The bugs are huge and on this first day of Spring the bumble bees seemed curious--they would fly up to us and hover like a hummingbird--looking at us like the Nasonex bee--as though they couldn't figure out if we were a new kind of flower or maybe just an early scented plant. It was weird!

There is little left of the original town--yellow fever often took its toll on the population, floods became problematic, the Confederate government had a foundry and arsenal in Selma so the railroad was taken up and rebuilt there, the county seat was moved and so eventually the population moved to where business could flourish. Houses were literally moved from Cahawba to Selma in whole or taken apart for the bricks and rebuilt elsewhere. Kirkpatrick bought up a lot of the land and the family was there into the 1930's when the Depression finally forced them to sell and move. The last black family buried in the Black cemetery was in 1957 and that family still owns, though I don't think lives, in the almost totally plant covered house, the picture of which I took from Bill's window.

The New Cemetery has been so severely vandalized --it is tragic to see. And the black cemetery has only a few graves marked with posts though there are probably hundreds buried there. It would seem that the place would be sad but it is strangely peaceful and sitting overlooking the river one could almost imagine the bustle of the town behind one on Capital Street--deserted but for the ghosts.

Returning to town I took some more pictures of some more of the antebellum homes. Went to the Steak Pit, which Bill insisted on calling the Snake Pit. He had steak---thin, almost raw and pan fried! I had fried oysters---small and burned --and a sweet potato. The salad bar was excellent. But, boy, these Southerners--at least in Alabama don't know how to eat. Fast Food flourishes here and cafeterias are upscale eating.

Back to the room, research, uploads of pix, blog and one more chapter in Hornet's Nest--almost done and I'm loving it. But why did he even mention Lizbeth's sister--is she the Amazon?

Flying Across Mississippi

2011-03-20T20:50:00.000-07:00

Left Natchez yesterday and literally drove straight across the State into Alabama. Route 84 is designated the El Camino East/West corridor and runs from El Paso,Texas to Brunswick, Georgia--you remember that place, Amy--Glenco and Pam's! LOL It is an interesting cooperative plan amongst the five States it crosses and, while I can understand the idea behind it, as usual I hate the widening of the road and destruction of its rural backwoods feel. For a short description of the road and the plans for it check out http://www.elcaminocorridor.org/

As we drove along through the bucolic Mississippi warmth we noticed such things at a sign for the Longleaf Trace, which I thought might be something like the Natchez Trace. It is actually a rails to trails paved path that bikers, hikers etc can use to cover 41 miles between Prentiss and Hattiesburg.

Eventually we entered Alabama with little fanfare and not much change in scenery, although there were no complaints from us as we enjoyed the trees budding out and the myriad colors of the flowers in bloom. Within 12 miles we left El Camino and headed north on rte 17, until it connected to Rt 80. We passed a school in Waynesboro called Beat 4 Elementary School. I looked it up but cannot seem to find any explanation for the name--has a good standing in the county and several thumbs up comments from parents.

I barely caught the name of the bridge going over the Tombigbee River just west of Demopolis--the Rooster Bridge. Curious name I thought so researched that as well--couple of interesting sites about it--or at least the original bridge which was demolished in 1980. Wonder if selling roosters would get enough money these days to build a footbridge! Maritime enthusiasts might also enjoy the added story of the tug boat that rolled under the old bridge!

http://www.fhwa.dot.gov/infrastructure/tip.cfm

http://www.hmdb.org/marker.asp?marker=38074

Stopped in Demopolis for my Sonic fix--always need to stop once and eat garbaggy food there--Bill hates doing it but I only go once on the trip so he can just grin and bear it! LOL

As we were leaving town a police car with lights flashing went racing through the intersection that was sort of like a five corners and another set himself right in the midst of the intersection and got out of his car, standing next to the hood with his hands behind his back. The several lights turned green but not a vehicle moved. We could not imagine what was going on but then a funeral passed through, followed by several more official cars with lights flashing. Once it had passed he got in his car and followed, too. We all joined the procession but within a mile all the police cars headed back to Demopolis. The cortege continued on ahead of us for fourteen miles to Faunsdale, where they turned off the main road--toward some cemetery out of sight.

Upon arrival in Selma we went to eat at the Oasis Steakhouse and Grill which turned out to be a cafeteria type deal. I had the best fried chicken with sweet potatoes cooked in orange juice and brown sugar. A huge glass of sweet tea and some melon and I was fixed for the night. Very hot at 84 degrees so an air conditioned room--though strongly redolent of heavy handed air freshener is some spicy scent, which gave me a large headache---and my book and my day was over.

Catching Up in Mississippi

2011-03-18T14:16:00.000-07:00

After we rested a bit in Mckinney we decided to go out to Two Senoritas, an authentic Mexican restaurant and cantina. We sat in the cantina and met a young Iraq veteran Marine who has three purple hearts and a bronze star. Said he was in Germany but since he was in the hospital he wasn't able to enjoy any of their famous beer. He was shot in the left hip one time, another time in the right arm breaking both bones in the forearm and the third time he got it in the chest. He couldn't pass the physical requirements to stay in so he was mustered out but he can pass now and he wants to re-up though it may mean Afghanistan this time. He is an engineer but wound up with recon guys and had absolutely no training in recon! Has two sons--the youngest just like him--gung ho to become a Marine,even though his ex wife has told the little guy--5yrs old--about talking to his Daddy with shells bursting in the background. Kid thinks that was cool. The guy is happy that his older son is going to be a poet and musician--peaceful and creative--he's hoping this son will guide the younger to make better choices than the Marines. LOL

Another person there was a woman who works in the local mill and is from the Texas hill country--says it is the most beautiful part of the State. I was close when I was in Round Rock several years ago but still haven't gotten there--New Braunfels, Fredericksburg, Luckinbach--just about the only part of the State where I haven't been. And it is definitely a part I want to explore--next trip!

The meal and the conversation were terrific--had a fabulous white queso dip with pico, bean soup and two tacos washed down with Dos Equis.....Way to go!

The next day we took 67 out of town and on to farm roads. Since it was St Patrick's Day it seemed perfectly logical to go through Kildare but let me tell you--there is NOTHING in Kildare, Texas. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day and it was a joy to see all the flowering trees of every hue and wisteria which seems to grow wild--probably an escapee! We eventually entered Louisiana but because we were on back roads the only indication we'd crossed State lines was a change in road number and designation from Texas to La 1. Continued along back roads and through towns that are barely there until reaching Ruston, La the home, as the water tank says, of Louisiana Tech. Since traffic was terrible along the frontage roads and the Interstate, Bill suggested that we go eat and get it out of the way.

Off we went to Applebee's and the cutest barkeep I've seen in a long time--David's smile just lit up the place and his personality is every bit as big and fun as that smile. We had a blast talking to him and the young fellows who sat next to us. All Grambling State students, except David, who just graduated. One young man dropped his fork when opening those bundles restaurants give you these days. Without thinking he said " shit " as he started to get down to pick it up--immediately he apologized to me--oh, excuse me, ma'am! When was the last time a Northern kid has done that? The graciousness, friendliness and courtesy in the South is unbelievable. The Southwest if similar but there is a warmth in the South that is lacking in other parts of the country. Any way, though there was to be karaoke which I think would have been fun, we left and returned to our room where I read some more of Hornet's Nest.

Today we headed South to see the birthplace of Huey Long and his nephew, Earl. As we stepped out of our motel I got a whiff of something that smelled like strong cabbage--I had gotten a touch of it the night before, also--but that didn't quite seem right. As we continued along I realized that it was an odor I'd grown up with in South Glens Falls, the eau de paper works from Finch Prynn. Sure enough when we reached Hodge, La, there it was --a containerboard mill--with all the steam coming out and the sounds of compressors going. One never forgets that smell--think Rumford, Maine before air pollution regs--which obviously don't exist down here. Once we passed the mill the odor was gone. In Winnfield which is the Long birthplace there was no evidence of any commemorative house etc so on we went to Rte 84, eastward through the piney woods--soft pine for paper mills--and on across the Mississippi from Vidalia to Natchez.

That motel is still there in Vidalia, Barb--now it is a Budget Inn and looks even seedier than the last time we saw it--most of it is empty--it must have been something in its day. We opted to return to the Quality Inn in Natchez though someday I'd like to check out the Comfort Suites right on the river beneath the bridge and across from the casino. I bet the view from a riverside room is beautiful at night. Will have to be on the way West when we are more flush. As it is, the Spring Festival is going on, as it is in St Francisville so we opted not to go to Grandmother's Buttons. Anyway, while our room cost only $72 plus tax they wanted 25,000 pts! A suite in Ruston only took 16.000 pts last night. We opted to pay rather than use so many points. That is only until Apr 15 when the Promenade is over.

So, here we are and we think we are going to head into Alabama tomorrow and explore--we've really covered Mississippi pretty much on previous trips. I kind of want to go to the coast and Bill is leaning toward Selma so not sure yet where we will head tomorrow.

It is really getting too hot already--80 degrees plus all day today--which wouldn't be bad but since central Texas the humidity has been building. Also along with the beautiful flowers the bugs are emerging and you all know how I love June bugs, etc.

Will let you all know what we've decided tomorrow night--until then--keep dry and don't get stuck in the mud!

Hello Again

2011-03-16T14:17:00.000-07:00

Whew, I feel shell-shocked and drained. Arrived in Richardson around lunchtime Monday and met Bill's frat brother for the first time. He is certainly wired and odd but very nice --big-hearted and anxious to make us welcome. Within the past three years he has lost his son, in 2008, in a freak snowboard accident, his wife to cancer and a sister. He has been working on the estates and seeking answers to his son's accident throughout this time but has given up his own work. He is rattling around in a HUGE house all by himself and is so desperate for company. Add to that wanting to catch up on 39 years since he and Bill have last seen each other.

Immediately, upon our arrival he wanted to know what we wanted to see in Dallas but we soon convinced him that we really did not want to run around sightseeing but rather wanted to visit with HIM. He is very into nutritional supplements but he does not cook for himself and has NOT cooked a meal in over three years. His pots and pans were definitely dusty and have not been used in some time. Having spent many years working in the Orient he is very fond of Asian food so the three of us went to the Walmart Grocery--a really nice store--solely a food store--and gathered the ingredients for Bill's Nepali food and returned to the fabulous kitchen he has ( the electric range top built into the counter has NEVER been used!!) and Bill cooked for us.

I was grateful for it too since we haven't had a decent meal since we left Gloria's--when one travels farm roads in Texas and stays in tiny towns the selection of restaurants is quite limited--Sonic, Dairy Queen, Arby's, McDonalds, Taco Bell and some sort of delivery pizza. We've had Dominos and Pizza Hut and neither hit the spot. So to have another home cooked meal was a great treat. Jim was thrilled and he and Bill ate huge plates again yesterday for lunch and there is still another serving for Jim tonight.

Lots of catch up and getting to know you conversation, wonderful Shiner Bock which I haven't had in ages and in general a day and evening that just flew. It was our intention to leave on Tuesday but Jim really wanted us to stay and meet the lady that he is dating and go to a Korean restaurant last night. It felt ungracious to refuse but with the emotional gamut in conversations about his son, especially it was quite stressful at times. Also Jim does not sleep so he was constantly running to the computer all night long and several times it awoke me to hear him. I worry about him since his friend base is in New England since he worked overseas so much that he didn't really cultivate friends in Texas though he has lived here for almost 20 years and the most recent time has been spent nursing a seriously ill wife who also was totally devastated by the death of their 33 year old son who was a very prominent and innovative physician. I'm not sure he has had a real chance to absorb and start to recover from all of this stress.

He is at loose ends and wants to sell his house and put all of this behind but there is still so much to do and he doesn't know if he wants to move to Fort Worth or leave Texas totally and move to Maine. Not knowing him myself and Bill not having seen him since they were 20 year olds in college it was difficult to know how much to pry and or advise or even how to respond to some confidences and yet we wished to be supportive. I know he really loved having us there and would have liked us to stay longer.

We did go to the Korean Restaurant in Dallas last night and Sunny, who is Korean, was a true delight. She ordered for us and helped us make our lettuce rolls of all the various little items that got mixed with our marinated beef which we cooked right at our table and our spicy chicken which was cooked in the kitchen because of the seasoning process. The weak cold tea with the meal was surprisingly refreshing between the various flavors and textures of the food, the miso soup was wonderful and we were totally stuffed by the time they served us the most delicious gingered sweet tea I have ever tasted. I wished I could have brought that home with us.

After dinner we went downtown to the Hilton and up to the 27th floor lounge where we reveled in the luxury of a nightcap overlooking the Dallas skyline--just beautiful.

By the time we arrived back at Sunny's it was 11 and though she wanted us to come in for coffee and apple pie--though she said she and I could share her red zin instead--we begged off--feeling quite sated and tired from a delightful evening. Got back to Jim's and while the boys had another beer and a cigarette I read another chapter of my book.

The room we had was huge, light and airy and both mornings--since both Jim and Bill were up at 5 and I slept until about 7 I took the opportunity to have me time and read a couple of chapters each morning before joining them for the breakfast Bill cooked us.

This morning we left around 1130 and headed right out of the city but took I 30 to Mt Pleasant where we got our motel room--Bill turned the TV on but is sleeping and I have just sort of dazedly looked at maps and my book and my backed up email. As I said, we are both reeling and need to decompress. Bill will see Jim again in April at their frat house gathering and will, at the same time, catch up with other brothers he hasn't seen in the same 39 years. I know he is happy to have seen Jim and we will stay in touch and see him again but in small doses, I'm afraid. Bill is wondering how he'll find the other guys and how they will find him.

Listening to hell week stories and pledge stories I don't understand the whole process any better now than I did when I was in my 20's. A little strange to me--paddling, branding only ended a couple years before they pledged, etc etc--warped and weird, I'm afraid. I'm curious to know what these other guys are like now--many of which are very successful and seemingly normal adults. HMMMM--wonder if their kids know! LOL

Not in West Texas Anymore

2011-03-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

Though there are still some mighty big spreads as we traveled the Farm roads from Wichita Falls to McKinney they don't compare to those of West Texas. As a result we were able to get out of WF by heading north toward Oklahoma and then pick up a South then East bound pair of roads that set us up just fine to head toward Dallas. The Texas map is one of the very best I've come across--these roads are beautifully marked because they truly are the major arteries of the locals. We found we needed gas so we stayed on 82 to Ringold but there was NOTHING there! The next town was in the same size print with the same little dot,which made me a bit nervous--but wonder of wonders--there were several liquor stores--open though it is Sunday!--a convenience store/gas station, dairy queen, a bank, etc---almost a metropolis out here !

We had not really eaten breakfast and Bill asked the young high school girl where we could find a restaurant---duh! An older gentleman mentioned Times Forgotten on Clay St--what a find. Mr and Mrs Reynolds--I forget their names--they are on the menu picture--were nearing retirement from careers in education and were looking for the next thing. Having grown up in Nocona and raised their family there, and seeing the deterioration of the downtown, they decided to renovate one of the buildings and open a restaurant. Their hope is to prevent the town from becoming a ghost town. Let me tell you--I had a club sandwich and a bottomless glass of sweet tea and seasoned fries. Bill had a Cajun stir fry and fries and a salad that would be a lunch entree at home--he had at least 8 oz of steak in the stir fry. The meal came to 18.00! We left totally full of excellent food. As you can see the dining room is lovely and the meals are huge and more than reasonable--if they all tasted like ours they were delicious--they sure looked it.

Our waitress, Ivon, pronounce Yvonne--I asked, she laughed and said Ivan, EEvan, Ivor --whatever! I laughed and said I know, that's why I asked. Cute kid. She forgot Bill's salad and played the cute card--I could say it's coming and not say I forgot but I forgot--with a cute smile. Then while speaking to me and reaching for my glass across my table she let the pitcher sort of lean forward and as she spoke the tea was pouring on the table and onto the floor. I sort of hummed or something and she said oh, it was overfull--as she righted the pitcher. She was so cute so how could you get upset. Met the Reynolds who were eating at the table next to us--Mrs Reynolds had come to our table earlier to assure us that our food was on its way--we were fine--it was very busy and it is obvious that things are made fresh--plus we are retired --we are never in a hurry on our trips.

Anyway, I told them that we, too, were retired educators--they were thrilled to meet us--we chatted for awhile about time teaching. He said he was in it for 42 years--had that look--sure he was a principal if not a superintendent. You know that look, guys? Delightful people with a wonderful relationship with their staff, most of whom were high school girls. I know they had a good rapport with the kids when teaching--he started out as an ag teacher as did Bill.

Headed south to Montague and picked up farm road 445 which we followed all the way to the Interstate that goes into Dallas. As in the case the other day the road is being widened so it will lose some of that back road feel, alas. It is interesting, however, how often the non-farm roads are that scarified surface that precedes the final paving--it is as thought the project was never finished. It is a relief to get off it and onto the " back" roads. Once we reached Sanger and the junction with I35--remember it Barb?--the road to San Antonio--which runs from Oklahoma and down through the major cities of Texas, except Houston, the tentacles of Dallas reached north into the hinterlands.

Now, we started at Sanger Lake--artificially formed by a dam over which we drove. On the one side the huge lake, on the other the parks and residential areas that will be wiped out if the dam ever goes. Once we passed this resort-y, lake-y style stuff we came into the land of McMansions. They are so grotesque--they stand out from the landscape in an almost obscene way. Don't get me wrong--I love large houses and wouldn't mind having a bigger place and a housekeeper to help me with it. It is just that they have made no effort to blend in with the terrain so they are like scars on the land. And the money--again--you can smell it--doesn't seem to be any economic downturn here. There are some trailers and broken down places but not like the areas before Sanger. Don't know where they've hidden the poorer people--not poverty people--just the so called middle class people.

I laughed and said I can just hear a lady like me turning to her husband and saying--Honey, just sell off about 100 acres of the RANCH--or better yet--just develop a 100 acres--then build me one of those nice houses here next to the old place. Don't forget the help!

Eventually, after more tight hair pin turns than we have ever encountered or that we could ever explain, it was a relief to hook up with I 75 for only three exits and arrive at our motel in Mckinney. The Indian girl with her tika had no idea what I meant by an upgrade--right! She knew how to use the credit card machine etc. No mention of breakfast or the password to the Internet.....isn't a lack of fluency in English in the US a kick? Grrrr! It's bad enough to have to deal with it on the phone when making reservations--I'm too tired to have to learn Hindi or whatever to check in.

So full from lunch I decided the last of Gloria's banana bread and a glass of Gewurztraminer would be a lovely dinner. Now, back to Hornet's Nest--anyone else think the repetition of the whole Salander mess is a bit unnecessary?

Off to Dallas and a visit with Bill's frat brother so there may be a break for a bit. Don't know if we will go into town or just chew the fat --Bill is going to cook Nepali for Jimmy, who is a widower and eats out always. Not sure how long we will stay with him--sort of a play it by ear kind of thing. Until whenever--Kathy and Bill--the Nomadic Ponds

PS--Betsy is psyched about the Holly sunglasses! She's upset because she doesn't know how she would be notified if something happened to us--guess I'll have to put something in the purse, glove compartment etc.

The town of Charlie is a cemetary and ranches!

Where Are the Farm Roads?

2011-03-12T15:12:00.000-08:00

Started the day with coffee in the Jacuzzi--heaven! Where can I put one at home? The motel in Lubbock had the best biscuits--probably Bisquick--LOL and sausages--no not with gravy, yuk!

Got on the road around 10:15--we have been having a bit of a problem adjusting to CST. As navigator I decided to take us right out of Lubbock by going Southeast and then, once about ten miles out, taking farm roads north and east and north and east again until we reached Texas 114/US82. I could not understand what geographic feature prevented the building of farm roads along the way. Well, I soon discovered that it wasn't geography but private property that was the problem.

If you look at the Texas map you will find huge swaths of the state with absolutely no roads. These areas are large ranches, huge spreads, through which run dirt county roads that really don't go anywhere except across the ranch. There are also dirt roads running parallel with the main road, on either side, but inside the fences that separate the private from the public. These are the maintenance roads for repairing the fence line. Seeing them and the gates they go through I was reminded of Michael Martin Murphy's song about where one sits in the pick-up. The wise guy sits in the middle where he has access to the radio, doesn't have to drive and doesn't have to get out to open and close the gates. www.youtube.com/watch?v=HymNVqy0h51&NR=1

Even though there weren't any farm roads the main one went through all the small towns that existed with their various types of homes and old buildings and grain storage etc. The countryside was scrub from Dickens to Guthrie--more than 30 miles--no water , no electric for large parts, no cell service. Interspersed with the stunted trees there would be a steer or some horses but by and large not very productive. Periodically we'd come to a field of emerald green and sure enough there would be a sign talking of fresh water, an aquifer. For these 30 miles and more the spread on either side of the road was the Pitchfork Ranch--there had been the Collier before. We came to several hysterical signs but many were on the other side of a four lane road divided by a median--not conducive to safe travel. One sign in particular reminded me of the largest ranch in Texas--the King Ranch---and when we looked at the map we realized that the boundaries cited in the sign would encompass almost a quarter of the State!

Dating myself again--I remember the TV show, Sky King, about a rancher whose place was so large that he used a small plane to cross it. Lo and Behold the private plane and airport--not on the map--for 6666! Hmmmm, and look at those horses and the driveway with the name "Run for Cash. The houses and equipment and outbuildings SMELL of money--beautifully painted and maintained, laid out just so--as though a layout editor had been consulted. God!

After the dry scrub land, which in places had been cleared in an effort to reclaim the land from nature, the irrigated fields looked like emeralds--our eyes rejoiced at the sight!

By 3:30 after going over one of the highest, curviest overpass I can remember in a long time, we checked into our motel in Wichita Falls, Tx. Rather than go back over that thing or eating at Cracker Barrel, which we hate, or Denny's, we ordered in Domino's. Not what we would have liked but being hungry we settled.

Although this is a suite and an upgrade there are no hot tubs or jacuzzis here so a morning shower will have to do. Now it is back to The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, which is turning out to be as good as the first two. I loved the movies also and cannot wait to see this one.

Tomorrow on to the Dallas area. For now, good night from Texas and 84 degrees and sunny with fruit trees in bloom and pansies growing. Sweet!

Finding Buddy Holly

2011-03-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

Spent the day in Lubbock but chose NOT to look for Buddy's schools--all three--or homes, or venues or grave. I guess we aren't rabid fans although I was just graduating from high school when he, the Big Bopper and Richie Valens died in a horrendous plane crash in a snow covered field in Iowa. The museum is quite thorough in presenting the roots of rock and roll, Holly's contributions and his influence on such groups as the Beatles, Stones etc. I never really fell in love with Rock and didn't like Elvis until he'd been dead for years. I liked Valens and remember several of Holly's hits. I sort of let rock and the black Supremes sound etc roll over me and fell in love with the folk movement. Bill was a Stones fan and we have a Holly-Crickets album that is his. Unfortunately, photography was not allowed and I bet his widow has something to do with that. She tried to get Lubbock to pay her to name the street and center after him. For having been married to him for about six months before his death she has lived well on his legacy.

His high school bedroom furniture is on display and that was sad in a way for he was only 22 when he died so not so very far removed from that room. Yet, in so many ways he had moved on--a hit internationally and living in an apartment in Greenwich Village. It is strange to realize he'd be 75 this fall. I wonder if his widow will come when he gets his star on the West Texas Musical Walk of Fame--she didn't attend his funeral nor has she ever been to his grave. Odd.

As impressive as the Holly( birth name, Holley) memorabilia was the fine arts gallery with jewelry, paintings, photography and ceramics done by local artists.

Purchased a post card for Bets and a pair of black rimmed sunglasses for her. When I met Bill he had Buddy Holly glasses that he'd gotten in Nepal. By the time Bets came along I talked him into wire-rimmed glasses that look less bulky. Bets has seen pictures of him and has always been upset that he got rid of those cool glasses--now she'll have her own --at least sunglasses. For myself I purchased a neat pendant of stone, wire and beads designed by a local jeweler--one of a kind she claims!

Having finished walking down memory lane we headed over to Baby Brighams BBQ and had a messy, delicious plate of ribs, cole slaw and beans with sweet tea. Checked out the brewery next door--I was too full but Bill tried their American Pale Ale and liked it enough to buy a growler. The bartender turned out to be from Hartford, Vt. His name is Mike Elliot but his mother's maiden name is Goodrich and her mother's maiden name was Perkins. Grandmother Perkins lived on Christian Street along with another lady named Kiddo. What a small world. His dad, Mr Elliot is from Colorado. Mike says he comes from a heritage of Mountains and water and here he lives in the flat desert landscape of Texas. Says it is getting time to move on to an area more like his ancestry knew! LOL

Returned to the motel to watch the horror of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. What a terrible thing but at least Ghadaffi is off the news for awhile and, God help us, Charlie Sheen! Yuck, just tasted the American Pale Ale--tastes more like a Stout. I love Guinness but wasn't expecting that taste.

Now, we need to call Jim in Dallas and make arrangements to see him. Also want to start The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest--I keep bringing it in to read and do too many other things.
We are now in the Central Time Zone so I have to get used to having lost an hour.

Will add the picture of the glasses and necklace to the album I've sent for today already. Until tomorrow--have a good evening.

Good-bye New Mexico; Hi There, Tex

2011-03-10T18:23:00.000-08:00

First thing this morning we looked over the Texas map to see where we were headed. It was amazing to see how little we have left to explore in New Mexico--the mountains north of Albuquerque-Santa Fe is all. But that will wait for another day. Today we put New Mexico in our rear view mirror and headed into Texas. The map said Clovis to Lubbock 94 miles;in Farwell, Texas it said 88 miles and when we arrived in Lubbock at 1:52 CST our car said we'd gone 150 miles!

It may be because I love Texas farm roads--they are all paved with posted speed of 70 during the day, 65 at night and they slow you down to 60 through town! We actually putter along more slowly enjoying the tiny towns and what they have to offer such as hot and mild home made jerky which serves as a great snack with a sweet banana and cold water. It is so amazing that within a few miles of entering Texas the fields are green and agriculture, oil wells, and cattle become the major industry. Of course, it is all because there is water to spare--we are no longer in desert. I loved seeing the cattle enjoying the spray from the irrigation rig. All in all just zig-zags into Lubbock.

The afternoon was a catch-up day--accounting, blogging, picture uploading and filing brochures etc.

Tomorrow we are going to check out Buddy Holly stature and the West Texas Walk of Fame etc.
Bill used the jacuzzi tonight--tomorrow it is mine--actually we could have shared but I had to get all this clerical stuff done. Next planned stop?--We think Wichita Springs.

More Ruins

2011-03-10T17:55:00.000-08:00

After another wonderful breakfast--this one including Gloria's banana bread--we were on our way East by 830 am. It seemed strange to say good-bye we've spent so much time with Gloria and Bud. Wonder when we'll see them again? Gloria asked if we were coming back so she won't strip the beds and wash the sheets this time--we said no--we're headed East for sure.

Bud told us about other Indian ruins in the area and so we set off for the Salinas Pueblo Missions near Abo and Mountainair. There are three sets of ruins--two are near Abo and about ten miles apart and the third and largest is Southwest of Mountainair. Since we felt we only wanted to see one this time it is the third to which we went. I bought a book about the various Anasazi areas and these missions in particular. It is interesting to note that though the peoples of these various communities were related their rate of development was quite different--yet they traded with each other and learned from each other. The Indians in this particular settlement were behind those of the Canyon de Chelly for example and were actually flourishing when those earlier settlements had been abandoned and the people moved on. At any rate, this settlement was much larger than the ruins in Aztec and much more impressive with a Spanish mission church completed and a newer much larger more ambitious one started. The priest charged with that construction asked to be transferred to Zuni Pueblo where we visited and he was the priest who was beheaded there. Should have stayed put!!! LOL His church here at Gran Quivira was never finished and another priest was never assigned to the village.

We returned to Mountainair and ate lunch at the 1923 hotel there--Bill had fajitas again--I had a club sandwich and sweet tea. As we continued East we encountered many trains since the road--Rt 60 once more follows the tracks. I had seen a book about the Belen Cutoff at the visitor center at the ruins and forgot to go back and pick it up when we were finished exploring. ( By the way, we explored backwards since it was easier to walk up the ramp and down the paved walkway than the other way round. I'll have to reorganize the pix at some later date. )

Also around Willard we came upon obvious dry bed salt lakes. Come to find the whole valley was once a saline lake--hence the name Salinas Pueblo Missions--the Indians used the salt from these very early lakes. They are huge and much the way the Great Salt Lake will probably one day appear. Around Vaughn the heat and my meal caught up with me and I fell asleep for about 55 miles. Bill told me I missed a burned area of good size and several antelope right near the road--since he had no documentation to prove these claims I think he merely wanted me to feel sorry to have slept! LOL

We continued past Billy the Kid's grave and the Bosque Redondo Monument marking the end of the Long Walk--which truly was a long way. The fellow who wrote the book I read wanted to walk it but needed permission from the Navajo over whose land he would have to go. The elders said no--the Long Walk was NOT a hike, so he followed as best he could in a car which had problems navigating some of the route.

We eventually reached Clovis, where we'd stayed last year, too. I opted to stay in and finish my Socorro brewery leftovers of steak and broccoli. Bill had Mexican and brought me back Sopadillas which were perfect.

Slept like a log!

Takin' It Easy With Friends

2011-03-10T15:52:00.000-08:00

Got up fairly early and had a wonderful breakfast again--Bud makes the best bacon and eggs! OJ and toast and coffee too! One never goes hungry in this house. We decided to pack cheese and crackers --simple snacky stuff for lunch so that we'd have room for dinner at the Socorro Brewery. Over breakfast we marveled again at the idiots in W. Woodstock staying on a landscape structure covered bridge as the river raged around them--www.youtube.com/watch?v=TL8Z3dvbY9U

Once we organized we took off in Gloria's car for a lovely day in the Bosque.Before leaving Sunrise Bluffs we looked over the wonderful community buildings with the pool, exercise room, card room, library ( I could see myself there alot) dining room etc. Then we took a tour up to the bluffs above their home where there are other homes and a small airport etc. Then we departed for our day trip. We stopped first in Bernardo to check out another Wildlife Refuge but had gone only a few feet when we saw the road was totally disrupted by some kind of construction so that wasn't to be. Continued to San Antonio where they told us not to bother with either the Owl or the other hamburg joint, since they were equally awful and disappointing. We had tried to go to either last year but since it was Sunday they were closed.

Nosed around the visitors' center and gift shop for a bit and Betsy called so we chatted with her awhile and then we went off into the refuge. Most of the cranes were gone by Mar 1--which actually was a bit later than last year--they were gone by Feb 26th when we stopped. The scenery and remaining water fowl are delightful anyway--the refuge is just so serene and seemingly another world. It just is so renewing and quiet that it is as much a refuge for us as for the waterfowl and bobcats and coyotes and other birds that inhabit it. The roadrunner is one of my especial favs. Gloria and Bud have the CD tour which we haven't ever picked up, though I want to next time--it not only talks about the maintenance of the refuge, which we already knew, but it identifies some of the plants and birds that are found here. For example, the rust colored tall stems are the coyote willow and the elusive bird we tried to see last year is indeed a type of pheasant. Gloria and Bud plan to come every other month to see the changes that take place here as the seasons change--I wish I lived close enough to do that, too!

As we continued back through the small town in which Conrad Hilton started his provision of rooms to travelers Gloria and I were both taken by the forms of the collapsed beams of a ceiling in an adobe building--I also liked the shadow and sun pattern they made on the wall. The rose window in the church is broken out--wind, vandals?--so Gloria did not photograph it and I promised to send a picture I'd taken in a previous visit.

We proceeded to the Brewery and had a wonderful lunch--Gloria and I each had steak, Bud had a Southwest Cuban sandwich and Bill had chicken fajitas--he loves Tex-Mex enough to eat it every day. I like it and eat it more than once on the trip but I don't want it all the time. We talked about all the places we have gone--the four of us--back home--the Maine coast--seafood especially our experiences with lobster--NYC---etc, etc. The one place we agreed we've wanted to go is the Isle of Shoals and for whatever reason none of us have made it. I said they have to come East and stay with us so that we can do it together--but neither of them has any desire to even come back for a visit. Sigh.

And so, full once more, we wandered home and took a different route into the complex--getting to feel like a real native. You should have seen Bill yesterday tooling around residential neighborhoods in Socorro like a local! Gloria and I were a bit tired so we each took a short nap and then we gathered in the living room to visit and watch the news etc. Bill made himself some pot roast and Gloria and I munched on cheese and crackers and chocolates while we watched and roared at the 4th season of Waiting for God! That show is so funny and it was a perfect choice since all four of us liked it--it is always so hard to find something for that many people --especially when there are women and men. Waiting for God is truly a satisfy all with its incredible humor and great characters.

Around ten, and this time it really was ten, we all agreed it had been a beautiful, totally satisfying day and we bid each other good night. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Turning Eastward

2011-03-10T14:27:00.000-08:00

On Sunday we took out the Arizona map to figure out our next move. We decided that to go farther West would entail quite a distance past Flagstaff and then significantly south to avoid the whole Phoenix debacle. Trying to cover such a large area would involve more time and money than we feel we have at our disposal. So we made the decision to take our time and a scenic route and work our way back to Socorro, NM and make a visit to the Bosque del Apache, which we love. That night I happened to see that our friends, Gloria and Bud, were planning a Monday excursion to the Bosque. We intended to call them from Socorro and ask them to join us for dinner there on Tuesday. Since the Bosque is in the next town, San Antonio, I face-booked and called to ask them to postpone their trip and come down on Tues and do the refuge with us and have dinner with us. Gloria suggested that we return to Belen, 40 miles north of Socorro and use it as our base of operations. Then we could all go together on Tuesday, we could spend another night with them and leave fresh on Wednesday. And so it was decided--the day's trip would be Holbrook, Az to Belen, NM.

Our plan had been a bit up in the air as to how to leave Holbrook --we'd thought of going West to Globe and then swinging widely Southeast through Safford, Az and back Northeastward to Socorro. Since we were now adding 40 miles to the day and also since we wanted to take a scenic back road route we decided to cut back on the loop as planned. I happened to look in the Arizona travel guide and saw that there was what looked like a nice road through the Ft Apache Indian Reservation.

Taking a quick jaunt on Rt 66 in Holbrook to check out the historic WigWam Motel, we were surprised to see it is still operational! Each WigWam that wasn't rented out has a vintage car parked beside it. In the future we may just check out the cost of a room for the night--it's pretty unique.

We then took Rt 77 south out of Holbrook to Snowflake--a stretch of open road with no towns for 26 miles. Unfortunately, the road is being widened and otherwise improved. I say unfortunately for I love taking back roads and hate to see them become main thoroughfares. I found Snowflake quite impressive--beautiful old-fashioned style street lights from one end of the three mile town to the other. Snowflake flows directly into Taylor, not to be outdone--this town has double-lamped fixtures.( In both these towns, and the next, the lamps have solar panels attached which supply the energy to light them at night!) Then it was on through beautiful woods of the Sitgreaves National Forest, for 19 miles, to ShowLow, which is apparently a card playing--poker? --ploy. The main drag is called the Deuce of Clubs! The area here is not only magnificent forest of stately ponderosa pine and pinon pine, but also a land of lakes and at least one ski area. As a result, the lengthy stretch between ShowLow and Pinetop-Lakeside, is filled with very ritzy walled communities, fancy restaurants, upscale lodges and inns, and expensive shops. Think Stowe multiplied ten times. Seeing this stretch it became clear why Rt 77 is being improved. It was a great relief to enter the Apache Reservation--through a rather impressive stone entrance way, which I was too slow to capture.

We entered at Hon-Dah and it became immediately evident that the Apache are doing much better economically than the Navajo and Zuni within whose reservations we had so recently traveled. One reason is their stewardship of the forest--it is quite selectively cut and the trees are growing tall and straight. Excellent building timbers. We encountered our first snow on the ground in a long time and, though we are glad not to be home with the weather that has been going on, it was actually nice to see it. I'm not sure I really could live here without the changing seasons--or at least without the dramatic change in seasons which we experience in the Northeast.

The pictures show the beauty of the drive and in time we entered a high mountain valley with snow fences and views of the mountain tops with which we shared elevation. What an incredibly beautiful view--like the scene in Sound of Music where Julie Andrews is dancing on top of the world--huge valley with only sky above and mountains all around. This is known as the White Mountains Grassland Area. On we descended into Eagar and then Springerville where we had a quick lunch at the TrailRiders Restaurant--I had some good taco salad and sweet tea and Bill had fajitas. We both downed the chips and salsa whilst waiting for the meal. When we left the restaurant it was snowing!!! The first blowing snow I've felt on my face in over a month!

In a very short while we bid good-bye to Arizona for the last time this year. I love Arizona and hope we will spend more time there next trip. Picking up Rt 60 we continued through Quemado, Omega and Pie Town into Datil where the road opens onto The Plains of San Augustin surrounded by the Datil, Luera, San Mateo , Gallinas and Magdallena Mountains. Spread across this almost 30 mile wide valley are the satellite dishes that make up the Very Large Array or VLA. I thought they looked pretty impressive coming from the East but from this direction you can see them for a much longer time and from a far greater distance. I remember a picture of this arrangement of dishes monitoring sound waves from outer space in my General Science book as a ninth grader in 1956 and in every physical science, general science and earth science text that I used as a teacher. It was really special to finally see them on our first trip in 2008 and they still excite me now.

We continued through the Cibola National Forest and Magdalena and into Socorro. Stopped at a Smith's grocery and called Gloria to see if she needed anything. Picked up I-25 north to Belen and the winds picked up like mad--the dust storms blocked the view entirely and the tumbleweeds went mad. When I saw the sign Belen--the Hub of Enchantment--I laughed and said I've got to kid Gloria and Bud that this is what we want to give up ice and snow for--blinding windstorms in the hub of ENCHANTMENT! LOL

Despite New Mexico's best efforts we held the road and arrived at their home at 4:02 in 61 degree weather! Gloria had offered, once more, her washer and dryer and this time I took advantage and started the wash almost immediately. The wind had torn their storm door off the house and they agreed that this was a bit much. We also said that the Bosque would be out if the weather continued. Around sixish friends of theirs, Sue and Russ, arrived for dinner. The men bonded in the living room while we ladies retired to Gloria's workroom to look at the scrapbooks she is doing for her grand-daughters, Lisa and Gia. Sue also scraps so it was really fun and it is always great to pick up pointers for our own work. The albums are beautiful and both Sue and I are really impressed by Gloria's creative use of patterned paper. Russ came in and said what it this--ladies' gabfest? and I said sure, you guys are having a buddy bull session!

Dinner was really nice--homemade chili and fresh baked rolls to die for. Gloria made a coconut cream pie the consistency of which was off, making the flavor different though not unpleasant. Poor Gloria was so upset but I really believe that the change in pressure caused by that awful wind was the culprit. She admitted that there have been times that her bread hasn't risen as it should etc and altitude and barometric pressure definitely plays a role in that. Conversation was all over the map and was fun and interesting. All in all a true social success. We truly liked Sue and Russ and they love the relocation from California as much as Bud and Gloria love the move from New Hampshire.

Got to be earlier than the last time--which Gloria told me was more like midnight than 10ish! LOL Time is so insignificant when you are having fun!

Breathless

2011-03-06T15:44:00.000-08:00

"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worthy reading or do things worth the writing." Benjamin Franklin

I don't know if I'm doing either but we are surely doing things that are incredibly wonderful--or seeing things that are. We took it easy into Holbrook, Az yesterday afternoon and had a leisurely day exploring the Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest today.

I'm in awe of both the Desert and my photos of it--they look like watercolor paintings and that is exactly what it looks like. Unfortunately, though it was to have been sunny and in the high 60's today only the temperature was accurately predicted--reaching 67 at the highest. The winds, however, made it feel much cooler than that.

The Petrified Forest was as my Dad described it to us when we were kids--actually so was the Desert. What ever happened to the piece of petrified wood he had back then? I was always fascinated with it. The wood is plentiful in the area outside the park and when he took rte 66 West in the '30's the land wasn't fenced off the way it is now. So it was easy to pick up pieces all along the road. There are plenty of tourist traps in which you can buy pieces now. Unfortunately, almost all are polished smooth and I think lose the whole character of the rock.

The first stop in the Petrified Forest is the Puerco Pueblo where I caught a raven in flight--notice that his legs are down for landing but the thermals had to be overcome for the landing to happen--quite a wind these guys had to deal with!

At Newspaper Rock I forwent--is that a word???- looking at the daily reports, since as you can see it required the use of scopes looking straight down. Vertigo makes such an activity painful, hence I missed all the news that was fit to print back in the 1200's!

The road turned among wonderful cones of blues, purples and grays in formations called Tepees!

Blue Mesa was absolutely beautiful with the log falls and logs lying on the top of the hills. They look so real and the chunks look as though they were just cut with a two man saw and were awaiting splitting.

At the Agate Bridge we encountered our second pair of Ravens. It is apparently mating season. I sat in the car and watched the male groom and preen the female while she stood perfectly still enjoying the pampering. Then they flew into the parking lot and begged. A couple from Minnesota fed them a banana and I shared my getting stale Breton crackers. They seemed quite happy with this snack. The female even managed to carry a whole cracker--which is at least three inches in diameter away and return for more immediately. Then when the next cracker broke into pieces she got all three in her beak somehow and flew off to eat it.

At Jasper Forest you look into the valley into which erosion of the bluff ,on which you stand, has scattered petrified logs.

And then, after three hours and 26 miles, we were once more on the golden prairie from which there is no evidence of the fantastic landscape just a few miles to the East. The sky had become rather picturesque as well. We returned to Holbrook and again took pictures of another town passed by when I 40 replaced old 66 which still runs through town. I have to find the WigWam Motel before we leave--a Rte 66 land mark. But for now I have to decide if I want to go next door and eat awful Tex-Mex or finish my Applebee's salad. Decisions, decisions!

KESH-SHI ( hello)

2011-03-05T17:37:00.000-08:00

We started the day at 9:30 this morning and went immediately to Perry Null's Trading Post where I returned the squash blossom necklace I bought earlier in the week and purchased the more expensive older one. I could not resist and cannot stop looking at it. Barry asked if I wanted to wear it but I didn't think it would go well with my orange top--I was wrong --when I tried it on yet again in the motel tonight it was perfect. I think this is a piece I will be able to wear with most anything. It is Zuni in origin and very dainty unlike the bulky, huge pieces done by the Navajo. The style is needlepoint. I cannot help it--I love it. I also found out that my lady dealer's name is Karen and that the Native man, whom I told we'd gone to Canyon de Chelly and Aztec, is Melvin. He was happy we'd gone to see these places and I told him I truly understood why his people love them so.

I've been ready The Long Walk which is another story of the white man's treatment of the Indians--in this case the forcible march of the Navajo to Basque Redondo south of Albuquerque. It was done while the Civil War was also being fought and the Navajo were such a problem for the government that Sherman was sent out with authority to do whatever he felt would settle the problem. He allowed the Navajo to return to their homeland, much to the Indian's surprise. ( If truth be told I was rather astounded to discover this as well, considering Sherman's definition of a good Indian).

From Gallup we went to the Zuni Pueblo which was rather pricey--$10. per person for touring and $10. photography permit. We would have felt ripped off but for the fact that we lucked into a three hour lecture by Alex Seowtewa who was addressing students from Appalachian State College in Boone, N.C. ( That's the town Richard Caudill is from ,Glen ) The old Mission on the Pueblo has an incredible history dating from 1629 when Franciscans from Spain established it. It had fallen into ruin and when Alex was a boy the roof was caved in and the ruin filled with over five feet of dirt. A priest who arrived in the 1960's felt that the mission should be restored and with the support of the Nat Pk Svc and others was able to get it started. When the dirt was removed there was evidence of murals on the north and south walls and he approached Alex about restoring them as well--kachinas--Zuni religious figures in a Catholic Church! Alex researched among the elders to find it this were indeed true and found that it was. So at the urging of the priest and with no experience of using oil paints he began what became an almost 30 yr project.

He started by telling of his early life, his time in the service during the Korean War of which he is quite proud, his use of alcohol to try to readjust to life back in the Pueblo after being away, his determination to be a good husband and father and therefore give up alcohol, his work at St Anthony's Church and meeting with the new priest at Our Lady of Guadalupe Mission and his new life's work. He then talked of the structure of Zuni society--Clans which are passed down from the maternal line, Kivas to which sons belong based on the Kiva to which the husband of the godmother of the boy belongs ( the godmother being the midwife who delivered the child ) and Medicine Groups based on herbal usages. More confusing then I could follow with such short explanation. I need a chart! He spoke of the history of Spanish suppression of the non-warlike Zunis and the ultimate revolt of the unified Pueblo Indians that finally drove the Spanish out.

And then he explained the 50 feet of paintings on the North wall--representing the kachinas and the dances they perform during the winter--and also the ten days of fasting and good works that take place at the time of the shortest day of the year.

This was followed by the 50 feet of life sized kachinas and the dances they perform during the spring, summer and fall. Some of these dances of all seasons have not been performed for over 30 years for the elders who knew them best died and did not pass on the knowledge. He wonders when all of the dances will pass into history and hopes that his murals will preserve this heritage for the generations to come.

Unfortunately, pictures may not be taken and so unless you look up the several articles online about them I don't have any to show you. But they are incredibly beautiful and already are falling off the stucco walls in some places. There is no money to preserve them apparently and when I was researching them online to give you links I found one www.thefreelibrary.com and the article Zuni murals link two cultures. Here is additional info not shared by Alex--not all Zunis are thrilled with his murals. It is an interesting and not very long article.

I froze in that chapel--forgetting that warmth does not easily penetrate buildings with six feet thick stucco walls. But I felt it would be impolite and disrespectful to leave for my jacket so I bore the cold to absorb the history. Oh, did I mention that during the restoration an early priest was found buried under the altar, beheaded ! ? He was disinterred and buried in the Churchyard out front! Guess he was Spanish --- so out he went in the revolt--Catholic priest or not!

After this wonderful by chance event we rolled across the border into Arizona and a very different terrain. When we asked the lady in the store if Rte 53 would take us into Arizona she said yes and at Witch Well there was a bar--and we could decide which way to go there. She wasn't lying. Witch Well is on the map and it IS a bar! Took 191, which we'd been on up north at Hubbell's Trading Post the other day, to I 40 west to Holbrook where we are staying tonight and probably tomorrow night.

Had hot roast beef sandwiches and raspberry iced tea at the motel restaurant and now I'm going to get into my slinky nightgown Bets gave me with my new necklace and read Death on the Lizard. Good night until tomorrow!

Oh, check out www.PerryNullTrading.com I think you'll like his stuff!

Getting History Mixed Up

2011-03-04T17:53:00.000-08:00

Started out a little later today--8 am and it was a bit colder--34 degrees but once more had a marvelous day trip from Gallup north to Aztec and the Aztec Ruins National Monument. Here is the historical mix-up: pioneers who settled in the area were aware of the Coronado explorations here and so assumed that the stone ruins ,dating before that time and current with his passage, were the buildings of Aztecs from Mexico. Having made this erroneous assumption they named their town Aztec and so to this day the ruins bear its name.

In actuality, the magnificent relics were constructed by the Anasazi Indians who lived in the area during the 11th and 12th centuries. The West Wall of the building is as long as a football field and stood three stories high. "The ruins are the remains of an extended and planned community made of a variety of structures. There are several large, multi-story great houses, which were public buildings, many smaller residential pueblos, ceremonial kivas--the large round areas." ( taken from a Nat Pk Svc brochure).

The construction is very interesting and some cases unexplained since the meaning is unknown--for example, why is there a line of green stones halfway up some walls and also at the ground level? The roofs where they are still intact are original to the building!!! It can be seen that the walls were double and nicely mortared with even and evenly matched stones and the space between filled with irregular stones. Many of the rooms are now missing the roof and so the maze appears quite airy and light-filled, but when all the roofs were intact the only light came in through those small square openings in the upper corners--so it was pretty dim. Many of the rooms are quite small and the doors very low and narrow. Others are very large and were probably storage areas. Kivas exist throughout the community and one in particular is quite unusual in that it is composed of three concentric circles--the large kiva room in the middle and the outer two rings made of small rooms.

The whole compound surrounded a central plaza in which there was a huge kiva and then an even larger one, which is a reconstruction dating from the 1930's and built on the original excavated in the 1920's. Most of the work was done by the Museum of Natural History in NYC.

These people remained here for over 200 years but it appears that prolonged droughts eventually forced them to leave and move to the Rio Grande area where water was more plentiful and reliable. About 1200 years ago the civilization seems to have disappeared although these people are considered the ancestors of the present day Pueblo Indians: Zunis, Hopis, Hualapai, Havasupai, etc. All but the Navajo---who are not Pueblo! As a matter of fact the word Anasazi is a Navajo word and usually is stated to mean the ancient ones, however, my book on The Long Walk translates it as the ancient enemies. At any rate, though Canyon de Chelly has remnants of Anasazi cliff dwellings the Navajo would have nothing to do with the tools or artifacts found there.

Which brings me to Chris Pinto, the Navajo rock artist,we met yesterday at the Canyon. His family has lived here for 300 years. He told us that there is a trail into the floor of the Canyon and that the river we see is the road--it is quite muddy and a four wheel drive vehicle is needed. It is the only way into the heart of the canyon to the various ranches--sheep are raised along with corn and peach and apricot trees. There is no electricity or water so when you go in you might as well stay for awhile. His mother lives over near the red butte in the distance and is a weaver of the traditional Navajo rugs, his only sibling, a sister works in leather and does bead work ( she lives in Huntington Beach, Ca), his Dad is a silversmith and he paints on rocks that he finds --he told me the rock tells him what is to be painted on it. He goes to Ca on Amtrak from Gallup and that's where his surfboard is! LOL I asked which he liked better and he said both--he can ride horses on the butte and hunt rabbit but can surf etc in Ca. He has been an artist since his teacher in the first grade saw his creativity when she gave her students each a hunk of clay and said make something. He never had any formal training until many years later when he went to study at the Pasadena School of Art. When he saw my interest in his work he showed me how he used the rock characteristics as well as paint to create the scene. He pointed to the canyon and asked if I saw the canyon lacquer--the dark lines made by the water marks and then he showed the various natural colors in the stone around which he had painted. He also said he likes to paint as he displays his wares so that people know they weren't made in China. I think I fell in love with him then! I also felt honored that he took time to explain his work and its meanings. I could have spent the day with him.

The Hubbell Trading Post was also interesting--I forget all the details of Hubbells background except his dad was from Ct and went to Mexico where he met and married a girl of a prominent Spanish family. This Hubbell and the Hubble of telescope fame are related. At any rate, this guy came to NM, learned Navajo and became a trader with them. He allowed artists, both local and transient, to stay at his home while they worked--his only charge was the piece of his choice of their work. This tradition continues today at the Post which is now a National Park. He established 35 posts on the Navajo nation before he was done.

At any rate, today after 287 miles and dinner at Applebee's we were back to our room at 5. The walk around the ruins was exhilarating since the wind was strong and brisk. On the way home we had to dodge tumbleweeds as large as tires and the dust was blown so much that the distance was totally obscured. All in all, another fabulous day. Tomorrow, Zuni Pueblo and then we leave Gallup in our rear view mirror--I hate leaving-- and move on into Arizona to stay for a bit.

Until then, good night!

Yah-hah-tuh ( Hello)

2011-03-03T19:18:00.000-08:00

Up at, as Betsy would say, the ass crack of dawn and on the road by 7am. Saw a bobcat cross the road ahead of us but too asleep to react with the camera. Followed the Dine Biitah ( Among the People ) Scenic Road to the capital of the Navajo Nation--Window Rock. Continued through the plateau area to Canyon de Chelly (d'Shay) where we discovered that the president of the Nation Ben Shelley ordered flags to be flown at half staff. Joe Antonio Silversmith, a Navajo Code Talker born in 1924, died on Feb 28. This on the heels of the death of another Code Talker in early February.

After touring the South Rim of the Canyon and chatting with a Navajo rock artist, Chris Pinto, we completed the loop back to Gallup through the valley to the West, stopping at Hubbell Trading Post and touring the Hubbell home with Tina, the US Ranger and Dine. After returning to Window Rock we reentered New Mexico and ate dinner at Virgie's Mexican Restaurant before returning to our room. We were home by 6 after covering 264 miles.

There is little I can say about the day that the pictures don't show. The entire experience was in so many ways spiritual. We had smiles on our faces the entire day and more than once one of us exclaimed with wonder at another sight around the next corner. This is a magnificent country and somehow it makes you feel as one with the Navajo to whom this land is sacred.

Galloping Around Gallup

2011-03-02T19:20:00.000-08:00

Left the motel at 9 for a day in town. Many of the motel signs on Rte 66 have been left at the old days rates and many, as in Grants and elsewhere, mark empty lots on which their namesakes once stood. Here in Gallup some of the motels are still there and are still in operation.

Our first stop was the Rex Museum in the old Rex Hotel building. There is no admission but rather a donation box. It purports to be a museum focused on the history of Gallup as a coal mining town. It is really a collection of whatever townsfolk donated, from old grad pictures to wedding dresses from 1900 to irons and phones of a by-gone era. We met two locals, however, and that was worth the time. Tom, a retired man who volunteers on Wed to get away from the TV, wanted to talk about the has been or want to be stars that come to perform in the local casinos. He showed us a picture of himself with Paula Abdul, whom he described as petite and very polite and nice whom he did not kiss but who gave him a huge hug. Crystal Gayle is apparently not polite. Kathryn Grayson could sing but was very private. Well, you get the idea.

The other fellow was a Native American whose name we did not get. I asked him about all these trading posts and asked where he'd recommend I look for jewelry and pottery. Told him to go to all these places would be overwhelming. He mentioned one that he said was quite pricey but recommended either Perry Null, who would give us a good deal, had an excellent selection and was a fair man. The other he mentioned was Ellis Tanner. So off we went to Perry's.

OH MY Goodness----one side of the store was the old pawn jewelry etc and then there was a case of antique jewelry. The rest of the store was devoted to newer jewelry. I started at the old stuff and a young native man, whose name I also never got, came to help. I told him I was going to look at everything since I really didn't know what I wanted. Spotted a delicate squash blossom necklace that I loved but knew it was probably more than I could afford. Continued around and met Barry who grew up in Seligmann Arizona among other places. He helped me pick out some pottery--a piece for myself and one for my cousin's daughter who marries this summer. Soon a lady whose name I didn't get joined us. She is a former teacher from Louisiana. We got chatting so much that I wasn't getting any shopping done. We talked about day trips from Gallup and Barry said he wouldn't go into Chaco Canyon without a four wheel drive truck. The other two thought that if we went in from the North it would be okay but that adds many more miles to the trip and you are still miles from help if you get in trouble. We decided to heed Barry's advice and eliminated that from our agenda.

Then we asked about Canyon de Chelly and they all agreed that the loop that includes Window Rock, the Hubbell Trading Post, the Mesas north of the Canyon etc was not to be missed. We are planning to go there tomorrow. I wish I'd learned their names--but the young native man brought out a book on Monument Valley and said we should definitely plan that for a trip someday if not this time. It is magnificent and I hope we'll do it sometime. Another side trip we are hoping to take is the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert --also possible as a day trip from Gallup. And of course Zuni Pueblo. This is a wonderful place and we are focusing on exploring it well. I hope we'll have time to truly learn about these cultures.

Barry and the lady both asked how we found Perry's and we told them about the man at the Rex. His name is Virgil, apparently! At this point I became brave enough to ask the price of the necklace and though I could have bought it I would have blown my whole mad money savings. The lady then said come back here to our retail stuff and I found a necklace at half the price. The workmanship is not as perfect as the other but since they will never be seen side by side and the memory of the other will fade I am really happy with this one. If before we leave Gallup I decide otherwise I can take this back and buy the other. While Barry was totaling and wrapping Perry himself came over. The lady asked me to tell him about my conversation with Virgil. He was very pleased and gave me a gift of a key chain with several tools in it. There is a website and I can call or email them for anything else I might like.

Having spent both money and energy we headed out to the El Rancho Hotel and Motel, originally owned by DW Griffith's brother. Many stars of westerns of the '40's and '50's stayed there and the upper balcony is filled with their autographed pictures. We ate in the dining room from a menu whose items all bear the name of a star. Bill had the Caesar Romero chicken fajitas and I had the Lucille Ball plate--a beef patty, fresh fruit and sherbet or cottage cheese--I opted for sherbet. I also had a very refreshing hot Navajo tea made of locally growing herbs.

We then wandered to the Cultural Center and gathered some brochures on the sites we hope to see and explored their small museum. In 2001 a beautiful statue of a Code Talker was erected outside the building, which also serves as the Amtrak station and Greyhound Bus terminal. In the art museum section I photographed a beautiful alabaster bust of an Indian woman complete with earring and necklace as well as a painting done by a youngster from Belen. The bust is part of the permanent exhibit; the child's a prize winner in a Statewide art exhibit for youngsters grades 5-12.

In the gift shop we met a couple from Fairfield Vt who have been on the road since Dec 14 and are doing basically the same thing we are doing. It was fun to chat with them and discover where they've been and where they are headed. They are going to some of the same places we are so we may encounter them again! I bought some beautiful greeting cards with art work by Native artists and sayings from Navajo blessings. Picked up a couple of postcards, too, but I often forget to write them!

And then it was time for Badlands to open so we went to revisit Daryl. I had a cobb salad and my bananas foster--Bill had an incredible BLT that I have to go back to try. And then it was home and an early bed so that we can get up with the sun tomorrow and head out into Arizona for our first day trip.

Good night to all for now!