January 30, 2018
5:50 p.m.
A few months ago I made a break from regular television service and opted instead to keep the Internet and subscribe to a couple of streaming services, like Netfix and Hulu.
I worried that I might miss having a live version of television. Network shows wouldn't be immediately available. I wouldn't be able to watch local news live. Other nagging thoughts that kept me from cutting the service years ago.
I'm here to tell you now--I am missing nothing.
If I want to watch the news, I can do that.
I'm in no particular rush to watch network shows. Turns out I was recording them and watching later anyway, and all I have to do is avoid online articles with spoilers to enjoy them. I don't watch very many current shows anyway.
I find that in spite of my cost-cutting efforts, I still end up paying a pretty penny for Internet alone vs Internet with digital cable and phone. The Internet providers, Comcast, AT&T, Dish, etc. have us all by the short hairs if we want any communications services. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime--none are going to do me a bit of good without working Internet.
Yeah, there are advantages. I'm not getting charged $2.70 a minute for long distance calls. One call to my sister could potentially wipe me out. No one in my family lives in my phone service area, so...whew! And now that a decade or so has passed, no one is charging me by the letter for text messages--remember those days? I wanted to kill people when I got phone bills back in the day. "Free texting, Mom!" Yeah, right.
Now a lot of the regulations that were put in place to ensure that the Internet would remain a friendly place are out the window, and if things aren't put right, those provider companies may go right back to charging exorbitant fees for things we've become increasingly reliant on. Net Neutrality needs to be a thing.
But guess what? Election year. Whee. Issues are going to be so crazy this year. Everyone wants to "win". In the meantime, "We the People" are losing. Ugh.
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Oh, crap, how did I steer myself into a political moment. Yuck! Phooey!
All I wanted to say was, I don't miss regular televisions as much as I had feared. I am a big fan of streaming shows on Netflix of Hulu, because I can watch one episode after another and not have to wait a week--or a summer--to see the outcome of the big cliffhanger.
In other words--I'm spoiled.
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I am thinking about offering autographed copies of my book for sale. Would anyone be interested in that, I wonder? There's no way to do it from my Amazon page, so I would pre-order books and take personal orders.
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Ah, those random thoughts.
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I was talking t.v.
Really, I was!
What's fun about how we are viewing these days is that we have found so many old favorites to binge on. I found all the episodes of "Lost in Space" on Hulu. How fun is that? I am still a big fan of Bill Mumy, although it is mostly his musical career I follow these days. But come on! Will Robinson? Be still, my little preschool heart. You never outgrow that first t.v. star crush, even if it happened when you were five-years-old at the time.
I had a little crush on Jon Provost from "Timmy and Lassie", but when "Lost in Space" started airing, I got a big old kick in the heart when I saw Billy Mumy. "Timmy" was like big brother material; I wanted to marry Will Robinson. He never needed saving by a collie--he saved his whole family on a regular basis. He was so smart and brave! (And cute!)
It's so funny looking back on those days. Apparently my little girl heart beats on, because I still admire Will Robinson all these years later and totally understand the attraction I felt in those days. I should have held all boys to those standards later. I was smarter at five than at seventeen!
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10:13 p.m.
Wow, I have been having Internet and other tech issues all afternoon and evening. Am I trying to do too many things at once? Me?
While things seem to be going okay, I'm going to tell you all good-night and sign off!
Good Night!!!
Tuesday, January 30, 2018
Saturday, January 27, 2018
January 27, 2018
9:01 p.m.
Once upon a time, after having spent an afternoon with various school chums who were discussing heritage (not very seriously--we might have been third-graders at the time) and learning that some of my classmates had ancestors who may have arrived on the Mayflower (!), I came home and asked my parents, "What am I?"
"A nosy little girl," my mother informed me seriously.
"Mom!"
"A bossy big sister," my father added.
"No!" I cried. "I mean, where did I come from?"
There was a nervous glance exchanged between the parents, and than Dad asked Mom, "You want to take this one?"
Mom shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't think she means what you think she means," she informed Dad. "What do you want to know?"
"Were we Pilgrims?" I blurted. "Or Indians? Or...I dunno...Vikings, maybe?"
Mom's jaw dropped a little and Dad started laughing. Always a good start, right?
"Uh, no," Mom began.
"You're a Heinz 57," Dad finished, still chuckling.
"I'm...steak sauce?"
Now he really laughed. "Kind of," he said. "There's a pretty good mix of herbs and spices in you."
My first lesson in mixed-races, that was. And the more ancestry studies I do, the more appropriate Dad's "Heinz 57" reference becomes.
My father's ancestors were in the Americas nearly a century before the landing at Plymouth Rock. The first date I have found on the North American continent is around 1530. They were primarily from Spain, but there were also some from Portugal. In later centuries, there was a French ancestor, whose name--much altered through various misspellings--we carry today.
There are Native Americans involved, but I haven't been able--so far--to narrow down actual tribal roots. The area where families settled were populated with many different indigenous peoples.
My mother's ancestors came to this continent much later, leaving homes in Scotland, Ireland, England and Germany in the early to mid 1800s. Many of the British relations came with the "Saints" of the Mormon church in search of a New Zion. Those who came from Germany and Prussia and possibly Austria more likely came for reasons other than religious persecution.
What is interesting to me, is the fact that within a couple of generations, my direct maternal line had all left the LDS church in the past and embraced Catholicism. There are probably more than a few stories to be found regarding that change in religion. Believe me, I'm looking into it. (I know a little!)
Growing up, we were also told that we had ancestors from Wales. So far, I haven't found them. But I'm looking!
Okay, maybe too much information here, but I have a point.
I grew up a mixed-race child who appeared wholly white. My sisters did and still do look more like the ethnic mix that makes up our bloodline: Hispanic and American Indian, German and Scots, Irish and French. God knows what else. I often felt outside even while dwelling on the inside, because I felt like a puzzle-piece that didn't quite fit in the picture. Seven family members, and I was the only one with blue eyes. I was the only one who ever got a sunburn. Where did I come from? Why was I different?
I was a teenager the first time I heard someone reference people of color who were light-skinned enough to "pass" for white. I was slightly horrified; did the darker-skinned members of my family ever think I was trying to "pass" as something else? Was I?
More recently, the phrase "white privilege" has given me pause, especially since my own children have accused me of being given a "pass" from time to time due to my apparent all-whiteness.
I hate census forms, application forms, ANY forms that ask me to identify my ethnicity, because I don't know what to answer. Caucasian OR Hispanic/Latino. Caucasian OR Native American. Why are the Hispanic and Latino bundled? Those are two distinct origins. If I choose Native American, can I choose a tribe? What if I don't know? And did you ever notice that if you are filling out these forms online, you can almost never choose more than one? At least on a paper form you can make several check marks.
Finally, FINALLY, I'm seeing forms that say things like "mixed race" or "mark all that apply". There is finally a public acknowledgment that the question isn't straightforward. But there aren't a lot of those forms out there yet.
In the meantime, my son reminds me that I have never been pulled over for driving in a predominately white neighborhood. That police tend to speak to me respectfully, that none have ever put hands on me, and that I have literally gotten fewer than five tickets in my life for anything. "Bat those baby-blues, flash a smile and get a warning."
He, on the other hand--or his sisters--get invited to step out of the car, get patted down, get the ticket and sometimes even get a trip to jail. It was never a matter of wrong place, wrong time. It was a matter of wrong place, wrong color.
It is the 21st Century. The United States is a true "melting pot"; there's no way that purely Caucasian people outnumber those of us who are Heinz 57s.
Why on earth is there still even a hint of "white privilege"?
Why are my children repeatedly asked to produce their green cards? They were born in Wyoming to a blue-eyed mama from Idaho. Their father is a citizen of the USA.
I'm afraid to ask them how many times they may have been told to "go back where you came from."
And me--the white-enough Mom? There has never been a thing I could do to fix things, and never a time when I could completely understand their feelings of frustration, helplessness and anger over being targeted because their own skin was a shade or two darker than mine. How can I? I can try, I can empathize, but the truth is, consciously or not, I AM white enough and I DO pass, and therefore, I can never really get it.
I used to argue this with them. But they are right--I can't understand.
But here's the thing--I shouldn't have to, because it should never happen to anyone. Not anyone.
People need to stop making assumptions about others based on race--or apparent race, for that matter.
I had a friend back in the day who was mixed race, Black and Irish. Big green eyes, dark, curly red hair, tawny skin. Beautiful. She never actively tried to "pass", but people assumed. She'd go out somewhere with her sister, who was a self-described "black and beautiful" woman, and no one believed they were sisters. "Were you adopted?" Or, "You're half-sisters, right?" Or any number of other assumptions. After witnessing this a few times, I could only conclude that people are rude and foolish, and should learn when to keep silent so no one else will discover their rude foolishness.
We turn our how we turn out. I got blue eyes from my grandfather. I didn't always like the fact that they made me different from all the rest of my family, but now, whenever a new baby comes along, I hope one of them will get my grandpa's blue eyes. (One out of nine. Hmmm...) See, I tried brown contact lenses once after years of wanting to be like everyone else, and...let's just say God got it right. Paula with brown eyes was just...weird.
Still--I wish I could go outdoors when the sun is out without worrying about burning.
But mostly I just wish I was taller. And thinner.
And it would be seriously cool to discover that I'm descended from Vikings. Because, Vikings! Right?
(I have given up on Cherokee princess. MOST unlikely.)
I am a Heinz 57, and so are my children, and theirs. I'm tired of the fact that any one of them could suffer from discrimination, but these days it seems like we all are. We are too dark, too light, too short, too female, too noisy, too whatever.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal."--Thomas Jefferson.
Uh huh.
This is undeniably the most influential of statements in an American document, but our country seems determined to put every man, woman and child into a box, point to them and declare, "Different."
It makes me sad to see how little we've progressed, and sadder still to see the rapid regression taking place before my very eyes.
What century will it be before people learn to get along?
Ouch, my head. I thought too much.
Good night!
9:01 p.m.
Once upon a time, after having spent an afternoon with various school chums who were discussing heritage (not very seriously--we might have been third-graders at the time) and learning that some of my classmates had ancestors who may have arrived on the Mayflower (!), I came home and asked my parents, "What am I?"
"A nosy little girl," my mother informed me seriously.
"Mom!"
"A bossy big sister," my father added.
"No!" I cried. "I mean, where did I come from?"
There was a nervous glance exchanged between the parents, and than Dad asked Mom, "You want to take this one?"
Mom shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I don't think she means what you think she means," she informed Dad. "What do you want to know?"
"Were we Pilgrims?" I blurted. "Or Indians? Or...I dunno...Vikings, maybe?"
Mom's jaw dropped a little and Dad started laughing. Always a good start, right?
"Uh, no," Mom began.
"You're a Heinz 57," Dad finished, still chuckling.
"I'm...steak sauce?"
Now he really laughed. "Kind of," he said. "There's a pretty good mix of herbs and spices in you."
My first lesson in mixed-races, that was. And the more ancestry studies I do, the more appropriate Dad's "Heinz 57" reference becomes.
My father's ancestors were in the Americas nearly a century before the landing at Plymouth Rock. The first date I have found on the North American continent is around 1530. They were primarily from Spain, but there were also some from Portugal. In later centuries, there was a French ancestor, whose name--much altered through various misspellings--we carry today.
There are Native Americans involved, but I haven't been able--so far--to narrow down actual tribal roots. The area where families settled were populated with many different indigenous peoples.
My mother's ancestors came to this continent much later, leaving homes in Scotland, Ireland, England and Germany in the early to mid 1800s. Many of the British relations came with the "Saints" of the Mormon church in search of a New Zion. Those who came from Germany and Prussia and possibly Austria more likely came for reasons other than religious persecution.
What is interesting to me, is the fact that within a couple of generations, my direct maternal line had all left the LDS church in the past and embraced Catholicism. There are probably more than a few stories to be found regarding that change in religion. Believe me, I'm looking into it. (I know a little!)
Growing up, we were also told that we had ancestors from Wales. So far, I haven't found them. But I'm looking!
Okay, maybe too much information here, but I have a point.
I grew up a mixed-race child who appeared wholly white. My sisters did and still do look more like the ethnic mix that makes up our bloodline: Hispanic and American Indian, German and Scots, Irish and French. God knows what else. I often felt outside even while dwelling on the inside, because I felt like a puzzle-piece that didn't quite fit in the picture. Seven family members, and I was the only one with blue eyes. I was the only one who ever got a sunburn. Where did I come from? Why was I different?
I was a teenager the first time I heard someone reference people of color who were light-skinned enough to "pass" for white. I was slightly horrified; did the darker-skinned members of my family ever think I was trying to "pass" as something else? Was I?
More recently, the phrase "white privilege" has given me pause, especially since my own children have accused me of being given a "pass" from time to time due to my apparent all-whiteness.
I hate census forms, application forms, ANY forms that ask me to identify my ethnicity, because I don't know what to answer. Caucasian OR Hispanic/Latino. Caucasian OR Native American. Why are the Hispanic and Latino bundled? Those are two distinct origins. If I choose Native American, can I choose a tribe? What if I don't know? And did you ever notice that if you are filling out these forms online, you can almost never choose more than one? At least on a paper form you can make several check marks.
Finally, FINALLY, I'm seeing forms that say things like "mixed race" or "mark all that apply". There is finally a public acknowledgment that the question isn't straightforward. But there aren't a lot of those forms out there yet.
In the meantime, my son reminds me that I have never been pulled over for driving in a predominately white neighborhood. That police tend to speak to me respectfully, that none have ever put hands on me, and that I have literally gotten fewer than five tickets in my life for anything. "Bat those baby-blues, flash a smile and get a warning."
He, on the other hand--or his sisters--get invited to step out of the car, get patted down, get the ticket and sometimes even get a trip to jail. It was never a matter of wrong place, wrong time. It was a matter of wrong place, wrong color.
It is the 21st Century. The United States is a true "melting pot"; there's no way that purely Caucasian people outnumber those of us who are Heinz 57s.
Why on earth is there still even a hint of "white privilege"?
Why are my children repeatedly asked to produce their green cards? They were born in Wyoming to a blue-eyed mama from Idaho. Their father is a citizen of the USA.
I'm afraid to ask them how many times they may have been told to "go back where you came from."
And me--the white-enough Mom? There has never been a thing I could do to fix things, and never a time when I could completely understand their feelings of frustration, helplessness and anger over being targeted because their own skin was a shade or two darker than mine. How can I? I can try, I can empathize, but the truth is, consciously or not, I AM white enough and I DO pass, and therefore, I can never really get it.
I used to argue this with them. But they are right--I can't understand.
But here's the thing--I shouldn't have to, because it should never happen to anyone. Not anyone.
People need to stop making assumptions about others based on race--or apparent race, for that matter.
I had a friend back in the day who was mixed race, Black and Irish. Big green eyes, dark, curly red hair, tawny skin. Beautiful. She never actively tried to "pass", but people assumed. She'd go out somewhere with her sister, who was a self-described "black and beautiful" woman, and no one believed they were sisters. "Were you adopted?" Or, "You're half-sisters, right?" Or any number of other assumptions. After witnessing this a few times, I could only conclude that people are rude and foolish, and should learn when to keep silent so no one else will discover their rude foolishness.
We turn our how we turn out. I got blue eyes from my grandfather. I didn't always like the fact that they made me different from all the rest of my family, but now, whenever a new baby comes along, I hope one of them will get my grandpa's blue eyes. (One out of nine. Hmmm...) See, I tried brown contact lenses once after years of wanting to be like everyone else, and...let's just say God got it right. Paula with brown eyes was just...weird.
Still--I wish I could go outdoors when the sun is out without worrying about burning.
But mostly I just wish I was taller. And thinner.
And it would be seriously cool to discover that I'm descended from Vikings. Because, Vikings! Right?
(I have given up on Cherokee princess. MOST unlikely.)
I am a Heinz 57, and so are my children, and theirs. I'm tired of the fact that any one of them could suffer from discrimination, but these days it seems like we all are. We are too dark, too light, too short, too female, too noisy, too whatever.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal."--Thomas Jefferson.
Uh huh.
This is undeniably the most influential of statements in an American document, but our country seems determined to put every man, woman and child into a box, point to them and declare, "Different."
It makes me sad to see how little we've progressed, and sadder still to see the rapid regression taking place before my very eyes.
What century will it be before people learn to get along?
Ouch, my head. I thought too much.
Good night!
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Leave it Better
January 23, 2018
3:24 p.m.
"Leave it better than you found it."
One of the better life lessons taught to me by my parents, beginning at a very young age, I have tried my darnedest to always leave things better than I found them.
This is an all-inclusive command. It encompasses everything--homes, cars, property, even people.
Your car breaks down, and you absolutely have to get to work over the next few days while it is being repaired. Your generous friend offers to loan you their car.
You pick it up. It has less than a half-tank of gas and there are take-out wrappers scattered throughout. But--hey! It runs, and it gets you to work every day.
Your car is ready. You return your friends car. Do you
A. Return it with an empty gas tank?
B. Return it exactly as it was when you took it?
C. Wash it, clean out the interior and return it with a full tank of gas?
The answer is C. Of course it's C. By gosh, they let you use their car in your hour of need! Even if you can't afford to fill it up, you better return it with at least as much gas as it had when you took it, and clean it! And if your friend says, "Oh, you didn't have to do that!" you graciously reply, "It's the least I could do. I appreciate you for letting me use your car."
Duh!
A friend loans you a book. Your toddler writes in it. You buy your friend a new copy of the book. Because--duh!
You rent a house. Even though it doesn't belong to you, it is your obligation to keep it in good condition. Go above and beyond. With permission, of course, you can upgrade the paint job or repair a window sill.
If you break it, fix it. If you drop it, pick it up. If you take it, replace it.
Respect. It all boils down to respect. If you want the respect of others, you must show them the respect you'd like to receive yourself.
We were put on this good earth to live. Everything we do on this land has consequences. So if you chop down a tree, plant a new one. If you see litter in the street, pick it up and dispose of it properly. Don't contribute to the landfill if you can find alternative, compostable products instead of plastic. Walk more, drive less, use public transportation when available.
Leave a smaller footprint. There are lots of feet coming up behind you, and the children walking on those feet will need fresh water, food and clean air.
We have to live among other people. Unless you have access to a cave in the wilderness, you are going to have to deal with other people.
Here's another thing I learned from my parents: You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Blow that, and whatever else you ever do, that bitter first look is what will always be remembered.
Knowing that, we should try to live each encounter with others as if it is the first encounter, and always with the goal of making a good first impression.
Yeah, I know. Impossible. But, goals, man. There's no reason why we can't set some reasonable goals for ourselves and strive to reach them.
Be nice. Be respectful of your fellow man, your neighbor, your family. Be respectful of your property and the property of others.
Be nice.
Leave everything and everyone better.
That is all.
3:24 p.m.
"Leave it better than you found it."
One of the better life lessons taught to me by my parents, beginning at a very young age, I have tried my darnedest to always leave things better than I found them.
This is an all-inclusive command. It encompasses everything--homes, cars, property, even people.
Your car breaks down, and you absolutely have to get to work over the next few days while it is being repaired. Your generous friend offers to loan you their car.
You pick it up. It has less than a half-tank of gas and there are take-out wrappers scattered throughout. But--hey! It runs, and it gets you to work every day.
Your car is ready. You return your friends car. Do you
A. Return it with an empty gas tank?
B. Return it exactly as it was when you took it?
C. Wash it, clean out the interior and return it with a full tank of gas?
The answer is C. Of course it's C. By gosh, they let you use their car in your hour of need! Even if you can't afford to fill it up, you better return it with at least as much gas as it had when you took it, and clean it! And if your friend says, "Oh, you didn't have to do that!" you graciously reply, "It's the least I could do. I appreciate you for letting me use your car."
Duh!
A friend loans you a book. Your toddler writes in it. You buy your friend a new copy of the book. Because--duh!
You rent a house. Even though it doesn't belong to you, it is your obligation to keep it in good condition. Go above and beyond. With permission, of course, you can upgrade the paint job or repair a window sill.
If you break it, fix it. If you drop it, pick it up. If you take it, replace it.
Respect. It all boils down to respect. If you want the respect of others, you must show them the respect you'd like to receive yourself.
We were put on this good earth to live. Everything we do on this land has consequences. So if you chop down a tree, plant a new one. If you see litter in the street, pick it up and dispose of it properly. Don't contribute to the landfill if you can find alternative, compostable products instead of plastic. Walk more, drive less, use public transportation when available.
Leave a smaller footprint. There are lots of feet coming up behind you, and the children walking on those feet will need fresh water, food and clean air.
We have to live among other people. Unless you have access to a cave in the wilderness, you are going to have to deal with other people.
Here's another thing I learned from my parents: You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Blow that, and whatever else you ever do, that bitter first look is what will always be remembered.
Knowing that, we should try to live each encounter with others as if it is the first encounter, and always with the goal of making a good first impression.
Yeah, I know. Impossible. But, goals, man. There's no reason why we can't set some reasonable goals for ourselves and strive to reach them.
Be nice. Be respectful of your fellow man, your neighbor, your family. Be respectful of your property and the property of others.
Be nice.
Leave everything and everyone better.
That is all.
Friday, January 19, 2018
Real people, not acronyms--DACA & CHIP
January 19, 2018
8:54 p.m.
Picture this:
Once upon a time, I was born in the state of Idaho. After me, three more kids were born, my two sisters and my brother.
For the next six years, Idaho was my home. My grandparents lived there. I had aunts and uncles there. I lived in a house and played in a yard with my brother and sisters. I started school.
And then--
What? We're moving away?
Yes, all my things were being packed up, clothes and toys and books, and everyone else's things, too. Next thing I knew I was in a car heading for a mystery land called Wyoming.
Why? Better job. More opportunity. A chance for a better life for all of us.
You know. All the usual good reasons to pack up your family and move to a new place.
So there I was: a stranger in a strange land. A new school. New people to meet. A new teacher.
And, oh my goodness! The worst weather ever.
But it grows on you. It's a vast land filled with a lot of space and a few people. Traffic is generally not a big issue.
I lived there for the next thirty plus years, and then I departed to a new mystery, Colorado.
Now the government is coming for me. They are going to deport me back to Idaho, where I have not lived in over fifty years. I know no one. I can't find my way around. I have no job prospects and I will lose everything. I can't even be sent back to my beloved Wyoming, because I wasn't born there, and my parents should never have taken me out of Idaho.
My mother is going to Oregon. My father is being sent to Colorado. My two sisters and one of my brothers will be going to Idaho--without their spouses or children. My youngest brother will get to stay in Wyoming, because he was born there after we moved there. Luckily his spouse and children were also born there. This is one person from an original family of seven who will keep his home and family intact.
So here we are: a whole family divided. My mother alone without my father. My sisters in Idaho, their husbands in Utah. My brother in Idaho, his wife in Wyoming. All our children in Wyoming, but without their children and spouses. Also, their children are alone and also separated from each other based on their places of birth.
What a nightmare! Right?
And yet, this is a reality that thousands of dreamers are facing.
I have heard--or seen in print--the question of why so many have not sought citizenship. First of all, questioners--you don't know whether they have or not. I assure you many have, and for one reason or another have been denied, or delayed or tied up in red tape.
As for the children--I was six years old when my parents packed me up and moved me from my birthplace to a new home. They didn't ask me. I was SIX. They made the decision, and I went along for the ride because I was their kid, and where they went, I went.
No one asked these children for permission or even for their opinions about making a move. And once here, many of them were taught not to mention their birth homes for fear of being forced to leave. When they were older, many had siblings who were born in the USA who might possibly have to be left behind if the others were forced to leave.
And on and on. So many reasons.
Back in the 1980s there was an amnesty program that gave many illegal aliens the opportunity to obtain their "green cards". (I never did see one that was actually green, by the way.)
I spent hours with various people, filling out mountains of paperwork, compiling documents including paycheck stubs and birth certificates, rent receipts and car titles. You name it, I probably saw it. Rental agreements and utility bills in the names of little children who had been born in-state and had valid social security cards. These same children standing beside their parents and translating for me.
Children who had had no choice where they were going to live.
It was sad. But they were so full of hope. Most of the people I worked with had jobs that paid "under the table" or had gotten jobs using the social security numbers of friends or family members. Some had just made numbers up; employers were lax about getting copies of cards or checking their validity.
I was told to take whatever pay and tax information I could get and run up mock income tax filing for the last five years to see how much money they'd cheated out of the government.
In the case of those whom I worked with--not one red cent. No one had dared to file for refunds they would have easily qualified for had they been legal, and so all the taxes that had been deducted from their paychecks stayed in the coffers of the good old USA.
Not one person I did this for owed the government taxes. They all would have received refunds. It amounted to thousands of dollars.
Let me add that of all these people, none were eligible to file back tax returns and claim any of those refunds once they'd obtained their A cards. I'm sure had they owed the government money, they would have been required to file.
So, they paid a price. But they were going to pay it, anyway. Because they wanted to live in a place with better jobs and better opportunities. A place with a chance for a better life, not just for them, but for their children.
None of the people I worked with all those years ago received food stamps or workers compensation or unemployment benefits. A few periodically went to the food bank.
I was a volunteer; I wasn't compensated for my help in any way. Probably a lot of people were, but I was just helping friends, and friends of friends. The tax thing--I can't remember why I was told to do that, but I turned over the data to someone running the show in those days. I don't know what was done with it. All I know is, every time I hear someone say how illegals cheat the government out of tax returns and welfare and food stamps, I remember how fearful these people were, how much money they didn't even TRY to claim and how there was no way they could EVER claim back taxes once they were legal. And that makes me wonder VERY MUCH where these claims of government cheating, food stamp stealing, etc. come from and where the story-tellers got their information.
I wonder that still.
Now, it is true that the people I helped back in the 1980s were all from Mexico. I have absolutely no information or experience of immigrants from anywhere else in this regard. By the time I started tutoring English as a second language, it was a new decade and amnesty was long over. The Chinese immigrants and Japanese students I worked with then had come to this country through legal channels.
And I'm sure there are immigrants who really do abuse the system by claiming income tax refunds and getting food stamps, but I don't believe they are the majority, because it's hard to do that even when you have all the proper documentation and are perfectly within your rights to do so.
By the time I started working with immigrants here in Colorado, it was all medically related. The children I dealt with were mostly US citizens. Most often, at least one parent was not.
We didn't deal with that. We dealt with the case, we dealt with the child, and we feigned ignorance of immigration status.
Until the time when it couldn't be ignored. The time when a child came in for cancer treatment. Her younger siblings were legal and insured by CHIP. She had been brought here at the age of two, and was not insurable. Not by anyone.
But her siblings were healthy, and she had cancer.
Unacceptable.
It was the fight of my life. I argued. I begged. I went over heads. I pissed everyone off. Then I started over again, went over more heads and pissed more people off.
And I won. I got her emergency coverage and she was treated. And once she was out of the woods, she was again uninsurable. But by golly, you take your victories where you can get them.
Had she not been brought to the USA by her parents, would she have gotten medical treatment at home? Not likely. Last I heard, she's alive because she was here.
Either way, she NEVER had a choice. And her parents certainly weren't sorry for bringing her, even though--oh boy--they faced some issues once she was well. Because I opened a can of worms. But I had to. They were cool with it.
Oh, and thank you Colorado Medicaid. I pissed you off, but you came through and saved a life.
CHIP saves lives every day in Colorado and all over the country. It has not been properly funded for 111 days.
And now I have addressed both issues, haven't I? I've made them about me.
But not really.
It's just that--I know these kids. I know the kids whose parents are working hard and still don't make enough money to pay for health insurance. These kids could be my kids, or yours.
I know the kids who have been brought here to live, who don't know any other home, who likely don't even know how to speak their native languages and who would have no idea what to do with themselves if they were sent back to their birthplaces.
And all of those kids--the uninsured, the undocumented--they don't get a choice. Because the are CHILDRED of people who made choices for them.
They shouldn't be punished for that.
And that, dear people, is why at this moment in time, I would really like to kick some congressional butts.
What a nightmare this whole mess of shenanigans has become.
Children.
Sigh.
What a bunch of ass hats. Grr.
Good night!
8:54 p.m.
Picture this:
Once upon a time, I was born in the state of Idaho. After me, three more kids were born, my two sisters and my brother.
For the next six years, Idaho was my home. My grandparents lived there. I had aunts and uncles there. I lived in a house and played in a yard with my brother and sisters. I started school.
And then--
What? We're moving away?
Yes, all my things were being packed up, clothes and toys and books, and everyone else's things, too. Next thing I knew I was in a car heading for a mystery land called Wyoming.
Why? Better job. More opportunity. A chance for a better life for all of us.
You know. All the usual good reasons to pack up your family and move to a new place.
So there I was: a stranger in a strange land. A new school. New people to meet. A new teacher.
And, oh my goodness! The worst weather ever.
But it grows on you. It's a vast land filled with a lot of space and a few people. Traffic is generally not a big issue.
I lived there for the next thirty plus years, and then I departed to a new mystery, Colorado.
Now the government is coming for me. They are going to deport me back to Idaho, where I have not lived in over fifty years. I know no one. I can't find my way around. I have no job prospects and I will lose everything. I can't even be sent back to my beloved Wyoming, because I wasn't born there, and my parents should never have taken me out of Idaho.
My mother is going to Oregon. My father is being sent to Colorado. My two sisters and one of my brothers will be going to Idaho--without their spouses or children. My youngest brother will get to stay in Wyoming, because he was born there after we moved there. Luckily his spouse and children were also born there. This is one person from an original family of seven who will keep his home and family intact.
So here we are: a whole family divided. My mother alone without my father. My sisters in Idaho, their husbands in Utah. My brother in Idaho, his wife in Wyoming. All our children in Wyoming, but without their children and spouses. Also, their children are alone and also separated from each other based on their places of birth.
What a nightmare! Right?
And yet, this is a reality that thousands of dreamers are facing.
I have heard--or seen in print--the question of why so many have not sought citizenship. First of all, questioners--you don't know whether they have or not. I assure you many have, and for one reason or another have been denied, or delayed or tied up in red tape.
As for the children--I was six years old when my parents packed me up and moved me from my birthplace to a new home. They didn't ask me. I was SIX. They made the decision, and I went along for the ride because I was their kid, and where they went, I went.
No one asked these children for permission or even for their opinions about making a move. And once here, many of them were taught not to mention their birth homes for fear of being forced to leave. When they were older, many had siblings who were born in the USA who might possibly have to be left behind if the others were forced to leave.
And on and on. So many reasons.
Back in the 1980s there was an amnesty program that gave many illegal aliens the opportunity to obtain their "green cards". (I never did see one that was actually green, by the way.)
I spent hours with various people, filling out mountains of paperwork, compiling documents including paycheck stubs and birth certificates, rent receipts and car titles. You name it, I probably saw it. Rental agreements and utility bills in the names of little children who had been born in-state and had valid social security cards. These same children standing beside their parents and translating for me.
Children who had had no choice where they were going to live.
It was sad. But they were so full of hope. Most of the people I worked with had jobs that paid "under the table" or had gotten jobs using the social security numbers of friends or family members. Some had just made numbers up; employers were lax about getting copies of cards or checking their validity.
I was told to take whatever pay and tax information I could get and run up mock income tax filing for the last five years to see how much money they'd cheated out of the government.
In the case of those whom I worked with--not one red cent. No one had dared to file for refunds they would have easily qualified for had they been legal, and so all the taxes that had been deducted from their paychecks stayed in the coffers of the good old USA.
Not one person I did this for owed the government taxes. They all would have received refunds. It amounted to thousands of dollars.
Let me add that of all these people, none were eligible to file back tax returns and claim any of those refunds once they'd obtained their A cards. I'm sure had they owed the government money, they would have been required to file.
So, they paid a price. But they were going to pay it, anyway. Because they wanted to live in a place with better jobs and better opportunities. A place with a chance for a better life, not just for them, but for their children.
None of the people I worked with all those years ago received food stamps or workers compensation or unemployment benefits. A few periodically went to the food bank.
I was a volunteer; I wasn't compensated for my help in any way. Probably a lot of people were, but I was just helping friends, and friends of friends. The tax thing--I can't remember why I was told to do that, but I turned over the data to someone running the show in those days. I don't know what was done with it. All I know is, every time I hear someone say how illegals cheat the government out of tax returns and welfare and food stamps, I remember how fearful these people were, how much money they didn't even TRY to claim and how there was no way they could EVER claim back taxes once they were legal. And that makes me wonder VERY MUCH where these claims of government cheating, food stamp stealing, etc. come from and where the story-tellers got their information.
I wonder that still.
Now, it is true that the people I helped back in the 1980s were all from Mexico. I have absolutely no information or experience of immigrants from anywhere else in this regard. By the time I started tutoring English as a second language, it was a new decade and amnesty was long over. The Chinese immigrants and Japanese students I worked with then had come to this country through legal channels.
And I'm sure there are immigrants who really do abuse the system by claiming income tax refunds and getting food stamps, but I don't believe they are the majority, because it's hard to do that even when you have all the proper documentation and are perfectly within your rights to do so.
By the time I started working with immigrants here in Colorado, it was all medically related. The children I dealt with were mostly US citizens. Most often, at least one parent was not.
We didn't deal with that. We dealt with the case, we dealt with the child, and we feigned ignorance of immigration status.
Until the time when it couldn't be ignored. The time when a child came in for cancer treatment. Her younger siblings were legal and insured by CHIP. She had been brought here at the age of two, and was not insurable. Not by anyone.
But her siblings were healthy, and she had cancer.
Unacceptable.
It was the fight of my life. I argued. I begged. I went over heads. I pissed everyone off. Then I started over again, went over more heads and pissed more people off.
And I won. I got her emergency coverage and she was treated. And once she was out of the woods, she was again uninsurable. But by golly, you take your victories where you can get them.
Had she not been brought to the USA by her parents, would she have gotten medical treatment at home? Not likely. Last I heard, she's alive because she was here.
Either way, she NEVER had a choice. And her parents certainly weren't sorry for bringing her, even though--oh boy--they faced some issues once she was well. Because I opened a can of worms. But I had to. They were cool with it.
Oh, and thank you Colorado Medicaid. I pissed you off, but you came through and saved a life.
CHIP saves lives every day in Colorado and all over the country. It has not been properly funded for 111 days.
And now I have addressed both issues, haven't I? I've made them about me.
But not really.
It's just that--I know these kids. I know the kids whose parents are working hard and still don't make enough money to pay for health insurance. These kids could be my kids, or yours.
I know the kids who have been brought here to live, who don't know any other home, who likely don't even know how to speak their native languages and who would have no idea what to do with themselves if they were sent back to their birthplaces.
And all of those kids--the uninsured, the undocumented--they don't get a choice. Because the are CHILDRED of people who made choices for them.
They shouldn't be punished for that.
And that, dear people, is why at this moment in time, I would really like to kick some congressional butts.
What a nightmare this whole mess of shenanigans has become.
Children.
Sigh.
What a bunch of ass hats. Grr.
Good night!
Monday, January 15, 2018
January 15, 2018
3:45 p.m.
Happy Martin Luther King Day.
Anyway, happy what's left of the day, because I'm getting a late start on well-wishing.
(As you know, this is early for me. But the day officially starts a lot earlier for most people.)
Once upon a time, Martin Luther King had a dream. Americans embraced that dream, and it is no less a worthy one today that it ever was.
As a matter of fact, it is probably even more worthy. Because this old world is a big old mess.
https://www.archives.gov/files/press/exhibits/dream-speech.pdf
I am providing a link to the full transcript. I hope you will read it, and remember that this was written in 1963. I was a toddler at the time, too young to understand the situations and the atmosphere of a country that would ever need such an oration to be given. I am now 57 years old, and I am still too young to understand the atmosphere of the country that STILL needs to hear and understand these wise words.
Let that sink in.
It has been 54 years, and we are still living in a country inhabited by people who make it necessary
to repeat and repeat the words spoken in 1963.
And today, January 15, 2018, our country is being "led" by an administration that makes these words more important than ever.
All the progress, all the growth, is systematically being chopped away by the current administration of the USA.
Sad.
I think we should all have a dream, and that dream should include populating our Congress with men and women of true integrity. Time to clean house and start from scratch.
If any one of us did such piss-poor work at our jobs, we'd be fired. Pink slip time. Start at the top and work our way on down. Out, out, out!
" No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."--Martin Luther King, Jr.
Okay, I'm done.
_________________________________________________________________________________
4:21 p.m.
Dang it, maybe I'm not.
I just found this news story:
https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/local-news/anti-trump-shhole-graffiti-message-appears-in-denver
I live here. This does not make me happy. What is happening to this country?
God, I'm tired.
Do me a favor. Read Dr. King's speech. Apply it to today's world. Take it to heart. We can realize this dream.
We can.
_________________________________________________________________________________
5:04 p.m.
I'm trying to decide if I'm going to go make a big pot of chili. It snowed all morning, it's cold out. It seems very much like a chili day.
Yes, you're right. Chilly nights should always feature chili. Pot's on the stove. Yum.
_________________________________________________________________________________
6:56 p.m.
Well, I can't help myself. It is MLK Day, and he had so many good things to teach us.
I will never, ever be able to relate to the Black experience, no matter how much I might try. I can be compassionate and empathetic, but I can't really understand, because I never lived with it.
I can, however, relate to this:
"Our nation was born in genocide when it embraced the doctrine that the original American, the Indian, was an inferior race. Even before there were large numbers of Negroes on our shore, the scar of racial hatred had already disfigured colonial society. From the sixteenth century forward, blood flowed in battles over racial supremacy. We are perhaps the only nation which tried as a matter of national policy to wipe out its indigenous population. Moreover, we elevated that tragic experience into a noble crusade. Indeed, even today we have not permitted ourselves to reject or feel remorse for this shameful episode. Our literature, our films, our drama, our folklore all exalt it. Our children are still taught to respect the violence which reduced a red-skinned people of an earlier culture into a few fragmented groups herded into impoverished reservations." - "Why We Can't Wait, 1963"
Martin Luther King, Jr.
We grew up with an awareness of our roots, this Spanish and Native American heritage that was a part of us even though we weren't well-versed in the specifics. I always knew I came from this land, but I've never known for sure which People I descend from.
I know it matters. I'd like to discover the specifics and prove it definively.
In the meantime, at every age, when viewing a western, battles between "cowboys" and "Indians" would ensue, and I always rooted for the braves. It didn't matter if the star was John Wayne--those damned cowboys! Who did they think they were, anyway?
Well, those movies were made long ago, and I'm so far removed from times like those, right?
I used to think so. But after this past year, with Natives fighting to save their safe drinking water from big oil companies, with a congressional administration that encourages, or at least tolerates white supremacy, with women still having to fight tooth and nail to earn more than a fraction of what their male counterparts make, and with so many children in danger of losing funding for basic health care simply because they were born into less-than-wealthy families, I no longer feel like we've come very far.
In fact, I feel we've gone backward.
We have every reason to hope for better, but we need to start doing less hoping and a little more getting off our butts and getting out there to stand up for basic human decency.
Ugh, I am so not a revolutionary. I can almost guarantee that I will never march in Washington, DC. I can't afford to go there, for one thing. I will never deliver an empassioned speech on courthouse stairs or be in a position of power that invites opposing factions to shoot me in public for my opinions. But I can support those people who are brave enough and strong enough to do those things in the little ways that I am able, and hope that even a little help will be enough to turn the tides back to a more sane and righteous path.
So can you.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I don't feel like I should follow this up with comments about the doll my granddaughter just brought me to hold...
So, goodnight.
3:45 p.m.
Happy Martin Luther King Day.
Anyway, happy what's left of the day, because I'm getting a late start on well-wishing.
(As you know, this is early for me. But the day officially starts a lot earlier for most people.)
Once upon a time, Martin Luther King had a dream. Americans embraced that dream, and it is no less a worthy one today that it ever was.
As a matter of fact, it is probably even more worthy. Because this old world is a big old mess.
https://www.archives.gov/files/press/exhibits/dream-speech.pdf
I am providing a link to the full transcript. I hope you will read it, and remember that this was written in 1963. I was a toddler at the time, too young to understand the situations and the atmosphere of a country that would ever need such an oration to be given. I am now 57 years old, and I am still too young to understand the atmosphere of the country that STILL needs to hear and understand these wise words.
Let that sink in.
It has been 54 years, and we are still living in a country inhabited by people who make it necessary
to repeat and repeat the words spoken in 1963.
And today, January 15, 2018, our country is being "led" by an administration that makes these words more important than ever.
All the progress, all the growth, is systematically being chopped away by the current administration of the USA.
Sad.
I think we should all have a dream, and that dream should include populating our Congress with men and women of true integrity. Time to clean house and start from scratch.
If any one of us did such piss-poor work at our jobs, we'd be fired. Pink slip time. Start at the top and work our way on down. Out, out, out!
" No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."--Martin Luther King, Jr.
Okay, I'm done.
_________________________________________________________________________________
4:21 p.m.
Dang it, maybe I'm not.
I just found this news story:
https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/local-news/anti-trump-shhole-graffiti-message-appears-in-denver
I live here. This does not make me happy. What is happening to this country?
God, I'm tired.
Do me a favor. Read Dr. King's speech. Apply it to today's world. Take it to heart. We can realize this dream.
We can.
_________________________________________________________________________________
5:04 p.m.
I'm trying to decide if I'm going to go make a big pot of chili. It snowed all morning, it's cold out. It seems very much like a chili day.
Yes, you're right. Chilly nights should always feature chili. Pot's on the stove. Yum.
_________________________________________________________________________________
6:56 p.m.
Well, I can't help myself. It is MLK Day, and he had so many good things to teach us.
I will never, ever be able to relate to the Black experience, no matter how much I might try. I can be compassionate and empathetic, but I can't really understand, because I never lived with it.
I can, however, relate to this:
"Our nation was born in genocide when it embraced the doctrine that the original American, the Indian, was an inferior race. Even before there were large numbers of Negroes on our shore, the scar of racial hatred had already disfigured colonial society. From the sixteenth century forward, blood flowed in battles over racial supremacy. We are perhaps the only nation which tried as a matter of national policy to wipe out its indigenous population. Moreover, we elevated that tragic experience into a noble crusade. Indeed, even today we have not permitted ourselves to reject or feel remorse for this shameful episode. Our literature, our films, our drama, our folklore all exalt it. Our children are still taught to respect the violence which reduced a red-skinned people of an earlier culture into a few fragmented groups herded into impoverished reservations." - "Why We Can't Wait, 1963"
Martin Luther King, Jr.
We grew up with an awareness of our roots, this Spanish and Native American heritage that was a part of us even though we weren't well-versed in the specifics. I always knew I came from this land, but I've never known for sure which People I descend from.
I know it matters. I'd like to discover the specifics and prove it definively.
In the meantime, at every age, when viewing a western, battles between "cowboys" and "Indians" would ensue, and I always rooted for the braves. It didn't matter if the star was John Wayne--those damned cowboys! Who did they think they were, anyway?
Well, those movies were made long ago, and I'm so far removed from times like those, right?
I used to think so. But after this past year, with Natives fighting to save their safe drinking water from big oil companies, with a congressional administration that encourages, or at least tolerates white supremacy, with women still having to fight tooth and nail to earn more than a fraction of what their male counterparts make, and with so many children in danger of losing funding for basic health care simply because they were born into less-than-wealthy families, I no longer feel like we've come very far.
In fact, I feel we've gone backward.
We have every reason to hope for better, but we need to start doing less hoping and a little more getting off our butts and getting out there to stand up for basic human decency.
Ugh, I am so not a revolutionary. I can almost guarantee that I will never march in Washington, DC. I can't afford to go there, for one thing. I will never deliver an empassioned speech on courthouse stairs or be in a position of power that invites opposing factions to shoot me in public for my opinions. But I can support those people who are brave enough and strong enough to do those things in the little ways that I am able, and hope that even a little help will be enough to turn the tides back to a more sane and righteous path.
So can you.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I don't feel like I should follow this up with comments about the doll my granddaughter just brought me to hold...
So, goodnight.
Saturday, January 13, 2018
January 12, 2018
10:00 p.m.
This whole day got away from me, and now it's 10 p.m. Wow!
I'd like to say I got tons of things done, but that would be a lie. I worked on some text revisions in my book, I did dishes and I chased the toddler around.
Not a terribly productive day, really. I'm sitting here feeling guilty because I waited until too late to make a phone call and check on my mom. She had knee replacement surgery this week and is doing well, but I didn't call today! I am so freaking bad.
Sorry, Mom. I swear I will call tomorrow.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 13, 2018
1:44 a.m.
Whoa, what happened? I downloaded a program on my PC, everything went wild on me, computer launched like a million updates, and now, here I am, trying to get things back in order. Ugh!!
In the meantime, I've been streaming a Netflix show made in Australia called "Glitch". It would appear that I'm incredibly good at choosing weird stuff to watch.
There are some really good performances going on here. I don't know who any of the actors are, of course, but they know their stuff.
Now that things are up and running on my PC, the website I need to use is down for maintenance. Seems like a really good time to call it quits and go to bed. My darling toddler was captured by her daddy just a bit ago, and silence has fallen in Casa de Paula.
I may hang out just a bit in case my daughter comes home for lunch (2 a.m. !!!) We might be able to watch an episode of "Jane the Virgin". But I doubt it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
My neighborhood is a mobile home park, and the manager and her team maintain a website. Recently, video surveillance has caught coyotes in the wee hours of the night. We'll have to go outside with the little doggy at night. She'd make a tasty coyote snack.
I remember a coyote encounter here a few years ago. I was on the way to the bus stop before sunrise, and crossed paths with a pair of them. We looked each other over and went our separate ways. That was a little scary.
I have also run into fox in this neighborhood, but it has been quite a while since I've seen them. I think they were pretty well driven off when the big field was sold and a car wash was built there. Foxes seem a bit more discriminating about where they den than coyotes. Those coyotes make themselves right at home in neighborhoods. Everyone needs to keep a good eye on their little pets.
Still, my scariest encounter with wildlife remains the near-collision with a moose. Yikes!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, looks like I might indeed get to watch "Jane" with my kiddo.
Gotta go set that up.
Good night!
10:00 p.m.
This whole day got away from me, and now it's 10 p.m. Wow!
I'd like to say I got tons of things done, but that would be a lie. I worked on some text revisions in my book, I did dishes and I chased the toddler around.
Not a terribly productive day, really. I'm sitting here feeling guilty because I waited until too late to make a phone call and check on my mom. She had knee replacement surgery this week and is doing well, but I didn't call today! I am so freaking bad.
Sorry, Mom. I swear I will call tomorrow.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 13, 2018
1:44 a.m.
Whoa, what happened? I downloaded a program on my PC, everything went wild on me, computer launched like a million updates, and now, here I am, trying to get things back in order. Ugh!!
In the meantime, I've been streaming a Netflix show made in Australia called "Glitch". It would appear that I'm incredibly good at choosing weird stuff to watch.
There are some really good performances going on here. I don't know who any of the actors are, of course, but they know their stuff.
Now that things are up and running on my PC, the website I need to use is down for maintenance. Seems like a really good time to call it quits and go to bed. My darling toddler was captured by her daddy just a bit ago, and silence has fallen in Casa de Paula.
I may hang out just a bit in case my daughter comes home for lunch (2 a.m. !!!) We might be able to watch an episode of "Jane the Virgin". But I doubt it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
My neighborhood is a mobile home park, and the manager and her team maintain a website. Recently, video surveillance has caught coyotes in the wee hours of the night. We'll have to go outside with the little doggy at night. She'd make a tasty coyote snack.
I remember a coyote encounter here a few years ago. I was on the way to the bus stop before sunrise, and crossed paths with a pair of them. We looked each other over and went our separate ways. That was a little scary.
I have also run into fox in this neighborhood, but it has been quite a while since I've seen them. I think they were pretty well driven off when the big field was sold and a car wash was built there. Foxes seem a bit more discriminating about where they den than coyotes. Those coyotes make themselves right at home in neighborhoods. Everyone needs to keep a good eye on their little pets.
Still, my scariest encounter with wildlife remains the near-collision with a moose. Yikes!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, looks like I might indeed get to watch "Jane" with my kiddo.
Gotta go set that up.
Good night!
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
January 9, 2018
10:56 p.m.
Today I was reminded why I really hate to watch or read the news.
Truthfully, I'm often reminded of this. 2017 was filled with horror stories. While so many ignore or outright deny climate change and global warming, devastating fires raged across the west. Flooding occurred in Texas and Louisiana. Hurricanes hit the mainland, destroying much, and also hit Puerto Rico, destroying most of that entire region.
After all the damage throughout the USA and Puerto Rico, many hundreds of acres of land have been left barren and without vegetation, many areas are at increased risk for flash floods and landslides.
Fresh water sources have been polluted, power is out, people are homeless and starving.
Across the country, people have been the victims of lunatics with military-grade weapons. Peaceful demonstrators have been run down by lunatics in vehicles. The people in this country have turned on one another over inanities like statuary and crocheted caps.
Insanity. 2017.
Yes, I was blessed to report the many blessings last year bestowed upon me, but throughout the year, these were the so-called newsworthy stories, and none of them were good.
My heart goes out to everyone who has suffered losses. My prayers have been with all the firefighters and volunteers who have risked their lives and given their time to help out. The majority of aide has come from everyday Joes who have donated money, time, food and toiletries.
Worst responders? The US Government. Puerto Rico remains largely without power or resources. No common sense weapons laws have been discussed. Healthcare has been repeatedly threatened and tax laws that favor only the rich have been passed.
I am repulsed, really, by the lack of empathy from those who hold the most decision-making power in this country. DACA is pretty much on its last legs. The largest medical coverage for low income children will soon be completely depleted of funds, and nothing has been done to re-fund it.
I can semi-relate to the feelings of loss many people continue to deal with.
In 1993 I lost my home and everything in it to a house fire that affected not a single other structure in my neighborhood. I would not have wished that mess on a single other person on the face of this planet; I was so happy, in spite of my sorrow, that it was contained and didn't spread to anyone else's home, because I know very well that it can happen, and quickly. So when I see the fires raging, consuming people's homes one after the other--it's a horrible feeling. When I see homes washed away by storms and flooding, I get it.
And you know, even if it means driving through standing water past another person's home vs wading through your own living room in search of the strong box you put everyone's birth certificates in, people all around these situations are affected in so many ways. Even if your own living room remained water-free this year, or even if your own home survived raging flames or gale-force winds, you likely know someone whose did not.
Even if you were able to put a meal on the table for your family tonight, you likely know someone who really struggles to do the same.
Even if you are able to pay your own medical bills, you likely know someone who is skipping the medications that they need because they simply can't afford them.
Because it really is a small world.
In all these cases, people are losing their lives, suffering from illnesses and injuries and still they will get up tomorrow to go out into the world and help their neighbors. There will be people coming from all over the country to help neighbors they've never met, to console families, to give food and water and clothing. Volunteers will provide medical care, free rides, shelter.
People have been and will be at their very best in horrible situations, because in times of greatest need, we rise above the pettiness and present the world with our innate ability to love our neighbors.
All I can think is: Why can't we be those people every day? Why does it take tragedy to pull us together? Is it really human nature to shine only on the darkest of days?
And why can't our own government learn from those among us who are willing to go out of their way to help and attempt to do the same?
I can only conclude that money does indeed corrupt.
Okay, I know that not EVERY person with money and power is looking only to himself. There are some good people out there. I just wish they were not the minority among those in positions of authority.
I really, really wish I could give up on the news.
It's a new year. I hope to see some cheerful headlines in 2018.
But so far...
*Sigh*
Good night, all!
10:56 p.m.
Today I was reminded why I really hate to watch or read the news.
Truthfully, I'm often reminded of this. 2017 was filled with horror stories. While so many ignore or outright deny climate change and global warming, devastating fires raged across the west. Flooding occurred in Texas and Louisiana. Hurricanes hit the mainland, destroying much, and also hit Puerto Rico, destroying most of that entire region.
After all the damage throughout the USA and Puerto Rico, many hundreds of acres of land have been left barren and without vegetation, many areas are at increased risk for flash floods and landslides.
Fresh water sources have been polluted, power is out, people are homeless and starving.
Across the country, people have been the victims of lunatics with military-grade weapons. Peaceful demonstrators have been run down by lunatics in vehicles. The people in this country have turned on one another over inanities like statuary and crocheted caps.
Insanity. 2017.
Yes, I was blessed to report the many blessings last year bestowed upon me, but throughout the year, these were the so-called newsworthy stories, and none of them were good.
My heart goes out to everyone who has suffered losses. My prayers have been with all the firefighters and volunteers who have risked their lives and given their time to help out. The majority of aide has come from everyday Joes who have donated money, time, food and toiletries.
Worst responders? The US Government. Puerto Rico remains largely without power or resources. No common sense weapons laws have been discussed. Healthcare has been repeatedly threatened and tax laws that favor only the rich have been passed.
I am repulsed, really, by the lack of empathy from those who hold the most decision-making power in this country. DACA is pretty much on its last legs. The largest medical coverage for low income children will soon be completely depleted of funds, and nothing has been done to re-fund it.
I can semi-relate to the feelings of loss many people continue to deal with.
And you know, even if it means driving through standing water past another person's home vs wading through your own living room in search of the strong box you put everyone's birth certificates in, people all around these situations are affected in so many ways. Even if your own living room remained water-free this year, or even if your own home survived raging flames or gale-force winds, you likely know someone whose did not.
Even if you were able to put a meal on the table for your family tonight, you likely know someone who really struggles to do the same.
Even if you are able to pay your own medical bills, you likely know someone who is skipping the medications that they need because they simply can't afford them.
Because it really is a small world.
In all these cases, people are losing their lives, suffering from illnesses and injuries and still they will get up tomorrow to go out into the world and help their neighbors. There will be people coming from all over the country to help neighbors they've never met, to console families, to give food and water and clothing. Volunteers will provide medical care, free rides, shelter.
People have been and will be at their very best in horrible situations, because in times of greatest need, we rise above the pettiness and present the world with our innate ability to love our neighbors.
All I can think is: Why can't we be those people every day? Why does it take tragedy to pull us together? Is it really human nature to shine only on the darkest of days?
And why can't our own government learn from those among us who are willing to go out of their way to help and attempt to do the same?
I can only conclude that money does indeed corrupt.
Okay, I know that not EVERY person with money and power is looking only to himself. There are some good people out there. I just wish they were not the minority among those in positions of authority.
I really, really wish I could give up on the news.
It's a new year. I hope to see some cheerful headlines in 2018.
But so far...
*Sigh*
Good night, all!
January 8, 2018
11:19 p.m.
Haven't slept in awhile, but I'm not presently suffering a fever, so I have high hopes.
At some point the crazy little dog here is going to have to eat the food she leaves behind when she picks out her favorite morsels. The bag will not last forever. I can't seem to trick her. She kind of cracks me up. She's doggedly determined to wait me out, leaving uneaten portions until I give in and get her more food. I know that, like a picky kid, if she gets hungry enough, she'll eat it. But I'm no better at the "You'll sit there til you clean your plate" scenario with her than I ever was with my kids. It always seemed mean to me to make someone eat something they didn't like.
Oh well, bagging the "leftovers" and when that's all that's left, she'll just have to deal with them until I can be persuaded to buy a new bag. Ha ha.
I can only afford to spoil the babies up to a point!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Fear, Part Six
I have to tackle this, because sooner or later you have to admit the biggest and worst, right?
Once upon a time I was a young married woman with small children. It was Memorial weekend in 1984. I was 24-years-old and very pregnant. I had just put my 20-month-old daughter on the front porch step and turned to lock the gate. When I turned back, my baby was toppling over, her eyes rolled back in her head.
I snatched her up and ran into the house with her, where I nearly lost my head in panic. Somehow I collected myself enough to remember CPR training and went to work on her. Between breaths, I was on the phone to an ambulance and then to my parents to get help ASAP.
Forever passed a few hundred times, while I carefully palpated her tiny chest and puffed air into her nose and mouth and waited, and prayed.
Help came. First parents, then the professionals. It was my father who managed to get that first breath response, and then the EMTs were there to take over.
I called my husband's boss's wife, and she went to the work site and sent him home. She later told me that he said whatever was happening, I could handle it. I could handle anything, he told her. I was good with that stuff.
In retrospect, it was actually a vote of confidence; he really did think I was good with "that stuff", and that I was capable of handling emergencies. He probably doesn't know to this day how close that woman came to knocking his head clean off. And he was quite shocked when he arrived home and found an ambulance, police cars and and a fire truck in front of the house.
It turns out that I am pretty good with emergencies. I've handled more than a couple over the years since then. But none have ever been so urgent, so terrifying, so paralyzingly frightful as that one.
She will be 36 this year. She has three children of her own now.
Thank God.
There was never a really satisfying explanation of what happened that day. She just...died. She did. She had no heart beat, no respiration. Her eyes had glassed over.
I can never forget.
She was almost lost. It was so close.
And that's the worst of my fears, that fear of losing an innocent child. That is the nightmare that repeats itself over and over, the one I wake from drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably, in tears.
The dream isn't always the same; it doesn't necessarily replay the events of that horrible time. Sometimes it is one of my other children, or one of the grandchildren. Sometimes it's a random unknown child. The details differ greatly.
Except that a child is lost.
I'm not alone; parents the world over fear losing a child. Some live in a state of constant terror, I'm sure. I cannot imagine the days and nights of parents with a terminally ill child. I cannot imagine the constant vigilence of parents raising their children in war-torn regions of the world. I cannot imagine the sorrow of the parent who watches as their child wastes away from hunger and thirst.
What a horror.
How blessed am I? My child is alive. All my children are alive.
My children eat every day, have a place to live, have clothes upon their backs.
Yet I fear their loss. I, who am blessed, still have that fear. When I know they are out and about and I hear sirens, I call to make sure those sirens are not for them. When they leave my home, I sometimes feeling a sinking in the pit of my stomach, knowing that it's all too possible that it might be the last time I see them.
Unreasonable? Maybe. But...
The world is not a friendly place.
I fear.
About nine months ago a driver lost control of his vehicle, drove right through the walls of a home and into a living room where a little girl who had just celebrated her first birthday was playing on the floor at her grandmother's house.
They have both crossed over.
No, the world is not friendly, not when you can be killed by a car in your own living room.
I fear.
I doesn't eat up my days, but it can certainly mess up my nights at times. It isn't any wonder I let the television play so I won't be disturbed by my own thoughts.
I'm not always the happy go lucky soul people often think I am.
I fear.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 9, 2018
12:48 a.m.
Cheerful, huh? I have got to start watching more comedies.
I think the next thing I will tackle is hope. That's a lot more pleasant than fear, don't you think?
And...
Good night.
11:19 p.m.
Haven't slept in awhile, but I'm not presently suffering a fever, so I have high hopes.
At some point the crazy little dog here is going to have to eat the food she leaves behind when she picks out her favorite morsels. The bag will not last forever. I can't seem to trick her. She kind of cracks me up. She's doggedly determined to wait me out, leaving uneaten portions until I give in and get her more food. I know that, like a picky kid, if she gets hungry enough, she'll eat it. But I'm no better at the "You'll sit there til you clean your plate" scenario with her than I ever was with my kids. It always seemed mean to me to make someone eat something they didn't like.
Oh well, bagging the "leftovers" and when that's all that's left, she'll just have to deal with them until I can be persuaded to buy a new bag. Ha ha.
I can only afford to spoil the babies up to a point!
_________________________________________________________________________________
Fear, Part Six
I have to tackle this, because sooner or later you have to admit the biggest and worst, right?
Once upon a time I was a young married woman with small children. It was Memorial weekend in 1984. I was 24-years-old and very pregnant. I had just put my 20-month-old daughter on the front porch step and turned to lock the gate. When I turned back, my baby was toppling over, her eyes rolled back in her head.
I snatched her up and ran into the house with her, where I nearly lost my head in panic. Somehow I collected myself enough to remember CPR training and went to work on her. Between breaths, I was on the phone to an ambulance and then to my parents to get help ASAP.
Forever passed a few hundred times, while I carefully palpated her tiny chest and puffed air into her nose and mouth and waited, and prayed.
Help came. First parents, then the professionals. It was my father who managed to get that first breath response, and then the EMTs were there to take over.
I called my husband's boss's wife, and she went to the work site and sent him home. She later told me that he said whatever was happening, I could handle it. I could handle anything, he told her. I was good with that stuff.
In retrospect, it was actually a vote of confidence; he really did think I was good with "that stuff", and that I was capable of handling emergencies. He probably doesn't know to this day how close that woman came to knocking his head clean off. And he was quite shocked when he arrived home and found an ambulance, police cars and and a fire truck in front of the house.
It turns out that I am pretty good with emergencies. I've handled more than a couple over the years since then. But none have ever been so urgent, so terrifying, so paralyzingly frightful as that one.
She will be 36 this year. She has three children of her own now.
Thank God.
There was never a really satisfying explanation of what happened that day. She just...died. She did. She had no heart beat, no respiration. Her eyes had glassed over.
I can never forget.
She was almost lost. It was so close.
And that's the worst of my fears, that fear of losing an innocent child. That is the nightmare that repeats itself over and over, the one I wake from drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably, in tears.
The dream isn't always the same; it doesn't necessarily replay the events of that horrible time. Sometimes it is one of my other children, or one of the grandchildren. Sometimes it's a random unknown child. The details differ greatly.
Except that a child is lost.
I'm not alone; parents the world over fear losing a child. Some live in a state of constant terror, I'm sure. I cannot imagine the days and nights of parents with a terminally ill child. I cannot imagine the constant vigilence of parents raising their children in war-torn regions of the world. I cannot imagine the sorrow of the parent who watches as their child wastes away from hunger and thirst.
What a horror.
How blessed am I? My child is alive. All my children are alive.
My children eat every day, have a place to live, have clothes upon their backs.
Yet I fear their loss. I, who am blessed, still have that fear. When I know they are out and about and I hear sirens, I call to make sure those sirens are not for them. When they leave my home, I sometimes feeling a sinking in the pit of my stomach, knowing that it's all too possible that it might be the last time I see them.
Unreasonable? Maybe. But...
The world is not a friendly place.
I fear.
About nine months ago a driver lost control of his vehicle, drove right through the walls of a home and into a living room where a little girl who had just celebrated her first birthday was playing on the floor at her grandmother's house.
They have both crossed over.
No, the world is not friendly, not when you can be killed by a car in your own living room.
I fear.
I doesn't eat up my days, but it can certainly mess up my nights at times. It isn't any wonder I let the television play so I won't be disturbed by my own thoughts.
I'm not always the happy go lucky soul people often think I am.
I fear.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 9, 2018
12:48 a.m.
Cheerful, huh? I have got to start watching more comedies.
I think the next thing I will tackle is hope. That's a lot more pleasant than fear, don't you think?
And...
Good night.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
January 6, 2018
11:07 p.m.
I've been feeling awfully nostalgic the last couple of days, going through old pictures and finding little treasures.
It's amazing to me to find photos that pre-date me. I mean, I'm over half a century old myself (!!!!!) and finding things that are decades older than myself seems pretty incredible.
Hahaha! I sound like I think I'm so old there were no cameras before I was born.
Ah, how crazy.
Someday my children may go through these old pictures--or my grandchildren--and be amazed that cameras were already invented when I was a kid.
I guess it's a kid thing that we never really outgrow. Our parents seemed old, our grandparents ancient, and if we had great-grandparents, they must have grown up with the dinosaurs. Not literally, of course, but...
Okay, I remember asking my great-grandfather if there were cars when he was a kid. If they had a television. If they had a phone. And I, born in the second half of the twentieth century, am old enough to have had great-grandparents old enough to remember the first cars, and to remember listening to "Little Orphan Annie" on the radio, because there was no television, and to remember their first telephones.
But I didn't ever, ever expect to have my four-year-old grandson ask ME if there was television when I was a kid!
Augh!!
I don't remember ever not having a television, but I do remember getting our first color television when I was about thirteen. I don't remember ever being without a phone, either. Or a car.
I haughtily informed my little story-teller that I wasn't THAT old, by golly.
(I call him my story-teller, because he seems to be incapable of answering a question or telling me anything at all without turning it into a grand, descriptive narrative. (I think he must be mine!)
Even when tattling on his brother or cousins, I could expect to hear a great tale before he was done.
Love, love, love it. I could 't help being amused even by the tattling. I mean, he sets the scene, describes the crime, emphasizes the aftermath. I almost couldn't deal with shushing him so I could go deal with the culprits.
I can't wait until he starts writing!)
Anyway, after I told him I wasn't that old, he said, "But Grandma, I see some grey hairs in your head, so you are not that young, either." And he gave me a hug and ran off to play.
Hmph! How can I argue with that?
Haha!
Luckily for me, no witnesses. I would never hear the end of it.
Except I just told on myself.
Oh, well.
Historically, my great-grandfather was born after cars were invented. I have no idea if his family owned a car when he was growing up, but there were cars back then. Phones also were invented before he was born. Television came along during his lifetime.
Just in case the little story-teller asks.
Back to sorting through pictures.
Good night!
11:07 p.m.
I've been feeling awfully nostalgic the last couple of days, going through old pictures and finding little treasures.
It's amazing to me to find photos that pre-date me. I mean, I'm over half a century old myself (!!!!!) and finding things that are decades older than myself seems pretty incredible.
Hahaha! I sound like I think I'm so old there were no cameras before I was born.
Ah, how crazy.
Someday my children may go through these old pictures--or my grandchildren--and be amazed that cameras were already invented when I was a kid.
I guess it's a kid thing that we never really outgrow. Our parents seemed old, our grandparents ancient, and if we had great-grandparents, they must have grown up with the dinosaurs. Not literally, of course, but...
Okay, I remember asking my great-grandfather if there were cars when he was a kid. If they had a television. If they had a phone. And I, born in the second half of the twentieth century, am old enough to have had great-grandparents old enough to remember the first cars, and to remember listening to "Little Orphan Annie" on the radio, because there was no television, and to remember their first telephones.
But I didn't ever, ever expect to have my four-year-old grandson ask ME if there was television when I was a kid!
Augh!!
I don't remember ever not having a television, but I do remember getting our first color television when I was about thirteen. I don't remember ever being without a phone, either. Or a car.
I haughtily informed my little story-teller that I wasn't THAT old, by golly.
(I call him my story-teller, because he seems to be incapable of answering a question or telling me anything at all without turning it into a grand, descriptive narrative. (I think he must be mine!)
Even when tattling on his brother or cousins, I could expect to hear a great tale before he was done.
Love, love, love it. I could 't help being amused even by the tattling. I mean, he sets the scene, describes the crime, emphasizes the aftermath. I almost couldn't deal with shushing him so I could go deal with the culprits.
I can't wait until he starts writing!)
Anyway, after I told him I wasn't that old, he said, "But Grandma, I see some grey hairs in your head, so you are not that young, either." And he gave me a hug and ran off to play.
Hmph! How can I argue with that?
Haha!
Luckily for me, no witnesses. I would never hear the end of it.
Except I just told on myself.
Oh, well.
Historically, my great-grandfather was born after cars were invented. I have no idea if his family owned a car when he was growing up, but there were cars back then. Phones also were invented before he was born. Television came along during his lifetime.
Just in case the little story-teller asks.
Back to sorting through pictures.
Good night!
Wednesday, January 3, 2018
January 3, 2018
6:44 p.m.
I just read my last couple of posts. Clearly I shouldn't be allowed to blog with a fever. Am I obsessed with candles, or what?
_________________________________________________________________________________
I put the Christmas decorations away today and as soon as I can get someone to unplug the tree, back into its little box it will go. Then the top of my fireplace will look pretty plain.
The holidays are over for another year.
Well, until Valentine's Day.
Speaking of Valentine's Day, my daughter went shopping on New Year's Day and brought everyone back a little heart-shaped sampler of Valentine's chocolates! I kid you not. The rush the stores put on stocking for holidays is just ridiculous.
January 1st, people. Wow.
Want to hear the craziest part of this story? I still have chocolate left in this box. I've been sick. It's the only logical explanation.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I was just surfing through possible shows to watch and came across "American Horror Story".
It has been awhile since I visited that particular series. I streamed the first season awhile back and found it to be entertaining, so I went on to the second season. I was still engaged enough after that to try the third, but as the series went on I found that the writers had less story to tell and instead went for the gross-out factor.
A word about the gross-out factor.
I am a huge Stephen King fan, and he once claimed that if he couldn't scare his audience he'd settle for grossing them out. He may have meant that at the time he said it, but I have really never read anything of his that relied on the gross-out factor to engage me. There's always a story there, scary or not, and if that story is there, and it's a solid one, the gross-out factor is just an additional feature.
"American Horror Story" apparently ran out of story, and decided to rely on the gross-out.
I think I made it--barely--through season three, and season four lost me after one episode. If I can't be engaged by story, the gross-out factor will never be enough to hold me.
This is why I was not at all entertained by the "Saw" movies. I was somehow convinced by my son that they were good, and I had to watch them, but after the first, it was just a gross-out rerun. Same with most slasher movies. The horny teens bite the dust, the virgin gets away--barely. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Tell me a story. If it's a real story, and the blood and gore fest make some kind of sense, more power to ya. If it's only blood and gore, I'm out.
Guess I'll get back to "Jericho" and season two. Spoiler: the lights are back on. I am never going to find out about the dang candles.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, I had regular television. Then I got rid of that and entered the world of Internet only viewing. Then I got an Amazon Fire Stick, which would supposedly make viewing Amazon, Netflix, Hulu and etc. a snap.
Enter an end to net neutrality, and it's buffer, buffer, buffer. My Internet is dragging butt.
Gimme a break. I think I'll read. No one can slow me down in a book, man!
_________________________________________________________________________________
9:30 p.m.
I must be losing my mind. I've started to check the time and sidetracked myself at least half a dozen times in the last half hour. I'm chatting with about five different people at a time and getting nothing of significance done, but I'm entertained!
The quest to get the toddler on a day/night schedule is underway, and she has actually gone to sleep. Hopefully she will not work it as a power nap and get up in two hours and keep me up all night. That's what happened last night. Ugh.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:30 p.m.
And she's up. Her daddy's working on it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Well, there's an ambulance and firetruck at the neighbor's. Doggone. I hope it's nothing too serious.
Lights are flashing in my window. My daughter-in-law couldn't resist peeking. But of course we know nothing. Just sending out positive vibes.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Hmmm. I don't hear crying... I wonder if she fell asleep for her dad. I refuse to go look; if she's awake and sees me looking, things will get noisy.
This is so much fun. Ha ha.
_________________________________________________________________________________
11:00 p.m.
I'm going to go spy on the neighbors.
Looks like a living being has been loaded into the back of the ambulance. Whew! Hope it all turns out simple and easy.
And that is it for me, tonight. I am outta here.
Good night!
6:44 p.m.
I just read my last couple of posts. Clearly I shouldn't be allowed to blog with a fever. Am I obsessed with candles, or what?
_________________________________________________________________________________
I put the Christmas decorations away today and as soon as I can get someone to unplug the tree, back into its little box it will go. Then the top of my fireplace will look pretty plain.
The holidays are over for another year.
Well, until Valentine's Day.
Speaking of Valentine's Day, my daughter went shopping on New Year's Day and brought everyone back a little heart-shaped sampler of Valentine's chocolates! I kid you not. The rush the stores put on stocking for holidays is just ridiculous.
January 1st, people. Wow.
Want to hear the craziest part of this story? I still have chocolate left in this box. I've been sick. It's the only logical explanation.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I was just surfing through possible shows to watch and came across "American Horror Story".
It has been awhile since I visited that particular series. I streamed the first season awhile back and found it to be entertaining, so I went on to the second season. I was still engaged enough after that to try the third, but as the series went on I found that the writers had less story to tell and instead went for the gross-out factor.
A word about the gross-out factor.
I am a huge Stephen King fan, and he once claimed that if he couldn't scare his audience he'd settle for grossing them out. He may have meant that at the time he said it, but I have really never read anything of his that relied on the gross-out factor to engage me. There's always a story there, scary or not, and if that story is there, and it's a solid one, the gross-out factor is just an additional feature.
"American Horror Story" apparently ran out of story, and decided to rely on the gross-out.
I think I made it--barely--through season three, and season four lost me after one episode. If I can't be engaged by story, the gross-out factor will never be enough to hold me.
This is why I was not at all entertained by the "Saw" movies. I was somehow convinced by my son that they were good, and I had to watch them, but after the first, it was just a gross-out rerun. Same with most slasher movies. The horny teens bite the dust, the virgin gets away--barely. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Tell me a story. If it's a real story, and the blood and gore fest make some kind of sense, more power to ya. If it's only blood and gore, I'm out.
Guess I'll get back to "Jericho" and season two. Spoiler: the lights are back on. I am never going to find out about the dang candles.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, I had regular television. Then I got rid of that and entered the world of Internet only viewing. Then I got an Amazon Fire Stick, which would supposedly make viewing Amazon, Netflix, Hulu and etc. a snap.
Enter an end to net neutrality, and it's buffer, buffer, buffer. My Internet is dragging butt.
Gimme a break. I think I'll read. No one can slow me down in a book, man!
_________________________________________________________________________________
9:30 p.m.
I must be losing my mind. I've started to check the time and sidetracked myself at least half a dozen times in the last half hour. I'm chatting with about five different people at a time and getting nothing of significance done, but I'm entertained!
The quest to get the toddler on a day/night schedule is underway, and she has actually gone to sleep. Hopefully she will not work it as a power nap and get up in two hours and keep me up all night. That's what happened last night. Ugh.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:30 p.m.
And she's up. Her daddy's working on it.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Well, there's an ambulance and firetruck at the neighbor's. Doggone. I hope it's nothing too serious.
Lights are flashing in my window. My daughter-in-law couldn't resist peeking. But of course we know nothing. Just sending out positive vibes.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Hmmm. I don't hear crying... I wonder if she fell asleep for her dad. I refuse to go look; if she's awake and sees me looking, things will get noisy.
This is so much fun. Ha ha.
_________________________________________________________________________________
11:00 p.m.
I'm going to go spy on the neighbors.
Looks like a living being has been loaded into the back of the ambulance. Whew! Hope it all turns out simple and easy.
And that is it for me, tonight. I am outta here.
Good night!
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
January 2, 2018
10:32 p.m.
It would appear that I cannot type in the dark. Hahaha!
I never learned to properly type, I guess. I don't actually look at the keys or hunt and peck like I did when I was a kid, but for some reason, I have to have the ability to at least peek. Oh, man.
I started typing on my dad's old Royal when I was about 10. He let me use it, and handed over a book about how to type properly, but I was in a huge hurry to write my stories, letters and what-have-you, and rushed through the book without giving it proper consideration.
By the time I got to high school and signed up for typing class, I had developed a good number of bad habits. The teacher--I don't remember her name--invited me to go sign up for a different class. She wasn't mean or mad, she just stated very matter-of-factly that she didn't have time to UN-teach me before teaching me proper keyboarding, and that the way I was going about it seemed to be getting the job done just fine. Even if she didn't like my finger placement or whatever, she could see that I could construct a sentence as quickly as anyone, and told me my time would be better spent elsewhere.
Well, that's all well and good, but now I can't type in the dark.
Dang it!
I hope I never have to type in the dark...
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, that was a rather silly start, but I have been off and on sick for the last few days. This means I shut myself in my room and stream old television shows because I can't sleep.
(I do sleep more when I'm sick than I usually do, but I'm still not much of a sleeper. I take Nyquil very sparingly; it helps me sleep but messes with my stomach.)
Anyway, I chose this show from 2006-2007 called "Jericho" to stream on Netflix. It may have seemed more sci-fi/fantasy at the time it was done, but watching it right now, it seems more like horror.
Denver is struck by an A-Bomb or something. Other cities, it is soon revealed, have also been bombed. The Kansas town of Jericho is cut off, loses power, loses deliveries of food and fuel. And etc.
It's a farming community, so it has some advantages.
But its biggest advantage appears to me to be its unending supply of candles. 22 episodes in now--all of season one--and no one has run out of candles!
Am I being too picky?
Seriously, people are fighting over food. There's not enough fuel to power generators. There's one store, and getting any merchandise is a huge issue for the owner.
Where did all the candles come from??
I know, I know. Why am I so focused on this one little detail? I like the show. It's compelling, really, especially in light of the way things have been going in this country the past year. This is something that could happen, and soon, if we're not careful.
And I might have enough candles in the house to keep us lit for a couple of nights, tops. After that--oh well!
I'll be typing in the dark!
And I can't type in the dark!!
It's a moot point, anyway. I lost the Royal when my house burned down. I have my computer and my laptop and an electric typewriter, but if the power is out--tough titty, said the kitty.
My penmanship has suffered in the keyboarding age.
Hmmm.
I think I already obsessed over this in a previous post... did I?
I've been sick, remember. God alone knows what I may have gone on about....
Anyway, if Denver gets bombed, typing--whether it's dark or not--will be the least of my worries, won't it?
I need to watch something else...
After I finish the next season, of course. There are only two.
Maybe I'll find out where they got all those candles.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I think I still have a fever....
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, it's the second day of a brand new year, and the great orange one has already tweeted enough stupidity for the whole month.
I would really love to make my New Year's resolution be a decrease in news viewing and reading, but this administration has made me afraid of NOT knowing what's going on even more than being afraid of knowing.
Why is that guy still in office? What alternate universe have we been thrust into?
Seriously, he's literally tweeted that his is bigger and works. Yeah, it's a nuke button, not a penis, but for goodness sake--REALLY? North Korea has become a serious threat, and he want to get into a pissing contest with Kim Jong Un. The fate of the world may be in the hands of two ego-maniacal, spoiled rotten babies.
God help us.
_________________________________________________________________________________
11:30 p.m.
Did I tell you I spent the first hours of the New Year immersed in the very wonderful "Fiddler on the Roof"? That's how you do it, folks.
Even sick in bed, there's no way not to love that movie. Even when I can't sing along, I love every second of it. I laugh, I cry. I can't wait to watch it again.
I'm so glad my son found it on sale for me! I bought it on the spot. The smile on my face stretched all the way to Wyoming. Grin!!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
I'm going to crawl back into the old beddy-bye now. I really do have a fever again, dang it. I'm giving in and taking some Nyquil. I hope to sleep it off.
Wish me luck.
Good night!
10:32 p.m.
It would appear that I cannot type in the dark. Hahaha!
I never learned to properly type, I guess. I don't actually look at the keys or hunt and peck like I did when I was a kid, but for some reason, I have to have the ability to at least peek. Oh, man.
I started typing on my dad's old Royal when I was about 10. He let me use it, and handed over a book about how to type properly, but I was in a huge hurry to write my stories, letters and what-have-you, and rushed through the book without giving it proper consideration.
By the time I got to high school and signed up for typing class, I had developed a good number of bad habits. The teacher--I don't remember her name--invited me to go sign up for a different class. She wasn't mean or mad, she just stated very matter-of-factly that she didn't have time to UN-teach me before teaching me proper keyboarding, and that the way I was going about it seemed to be getting the job done just fine. Even if she didn't like my finger placement or whatever, she could see that I could construct a sentence as quickly as anyone, and told me my time would be better spent elsewhere.
Well, that's all well and good, but now I can't type in the dark.
Dang it!
I hope I never have to type in the dark...
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, that was a rather silly start, but I have been off and on sick for the last few days. This means I shut myself in my room and stream old television shows because I can't sleep.
(I do sleep more when I'm sick than I usually do, but I'm still not much of a sleeper. I take Nyquil very sparingly; it helps me sleep but messes with my stomach.)
Anyway, I chose this show from 2006-2007 called "Jericho" to stream on Netflix. It may have seemed more sci-fi/fantasy at the time it was done, but watching it right now, it seems more like horror.
Denver is struck by an A-Bomb or something. Other cities, it is soon revealed, have also been bombed. The Kansas town of Jericho is cut off, loses power, loses deliveries of food and fuel. And etc.
It's a farming community, so it has some advantages.
But its biggest advantage appears to me to be its unending supply of candles. 22 episodes in now--all of season one--and no one has run out of candles!
Am I being too picky?
Seriously, people are fighting over food. There's not enough fuel to power generators. There's one store, and getting any merchandise is a huge issue for the owner.
Where did all the candles come from??
I know, I know. Why am I so focused on this one little detail? I like the show. It's compelling, really, especially in light of the way things have been going in this country the past year. This is something that could happen, and soon, if we're not careful.
And I might have enough candles in the house to keep us lit for a couple of nights, tops. After that--oh well!
I'll be typing in the dark!
And I can't type in the dark!!
It's a moot point, anyway. I lost the Royal when my house burned down. I have my computer and my laptop and an electric typewriter, but if the power is out--tough titty, said the kitty.
My penmanship has suffered in the keyboarding age.
Hmmm.
I think I already obsessed over this in a previous post... did I?
I've been sick, remember. God alone knows what I may have gone on about....
Anyway, if Denver gets bombed, typing--whether it's dark or not--will be the least of my worries, won't it?
I need to watch something else...
After I finish the next season, of course. There are only two.
Maybe I'll find out where they got all those candles.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I think I still have a fever....
_________________________________________________________________________________
Okay, it's the second day of a brand new year, and the great orange one has already tweeted enough stupidity for the whole month.
I would really love to make my New Year's resolution be a decrease in news viewing and reading, but this administration has made me afraid of NOT knowing what's going on even more than being afraid of knowing.
Why is that guy still in office? What alternate universe have we been thrust into?
Seriously, he's literally tweeted that his is bigger and works. Yeah, it's a nuke button, not a penis, but for goodness sake--REALLY? North Korea has become a serious threat, and he want to get into a pissing contest with Kim Jong Un. The fate of the world may be in the hands of two ego-maniacal, spoiled rotten babies.
God help us.
_________________________________________________________________________________
11:30 p.m.
Did I tell you I spent the first hours of the New Year immersed in the very wonderful "Fiddler on the Roof"? That's how you do it, folks.
Even sick in bed, there's no way not to love that movie. Even when I can't sing along, I love every second of it. I laugh, I cry. I can't wait to watch it again.
I'm so glad my son found it on sale for me! I bought it on the spot. The smile on my face stretched all the way to Wyoming. Grin!!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
I'm going to crawl back into the old beddy-bye now. I really do have a fever again, dang it. I'm giving in and taking some Nyquil. I hope to sleep it off.
Wish me luck.
Good night!
Monday, January 1, 2018
December 31, 2017
6:06 p.m.
Last year I posted an end of the year memorial for the people we lost in 2016 in my hometown. I had lost a dear friend and wanted to say goodbye one more time.
I decided to do it again this year, especially because I felt compelled to remember a few families I've known since childhood who were particulary hard hit this year. Those lifelong friends and mentors can never be replaced and deserve another mention as I close out my year.
I also wanted to remember the loss of one-year-old child and her grandmother, who were killed in a tragic freak accident.
The following will be sorely missed and fondly remembered:
Dorothy Deichmuller Lawrence Erdman
Alonzo "Lunk" Jarvie Henry "Ernie" Clark
Julia Terry * Rose Gardea *
Michael A Reyes Lela M Gosar
Debra DeVries Stella Jean Doak
Hal Hardy Frances Oaks *
William Nihart Mont Mecham
Bill Valdez Helen Gomez *
Brenda Jo Kempton Barney David Gillespie *
Lucille Maldonado * Mary Jane Gamble
Rex Barney Janette Meese *
Glenn Hill Danny Sudbrack *
Gary Littrell Jerry Santillanes
Bob Facinelli Cory Burton *
Robert Jewkes * Jessica Flores *
Mildred Emerson Kathie Grooms *
Donald Irwin Ruby Lake
Joann Mosley * Dick Hodges
Tina Rael * Donna Kalivas
Bruce King
I would be delighted of the list this year was empty. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way.
It was at least gratifying to see so many long lives, those who were blessed to be able to love spouses, children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren.
It was disheartening to see so many gone far too soon. (I know, they're all too soon. We're never ready.)
To family and friends of those we're now missing, I send my love and well-wishes. Your loves are remembered and will be missed.
Like last year, I will provide a link to 2017's celebrity losses. I have a few comments, but they'll be brief.
http://ew.com/news/celebrity-deaths-2017/earle-hyman
It was really, really disheartening to see how many young people gave up this year. Was it a testament to the times? What can be done to decrease these incidents?
I can't remark upon every famous person who left this year, but the following hit me personally in the feels:
Mary Tyler Moore, the actress who taught us well that we could do whatever we set our minds to, female or not, with the iconic character Mary Richards, who did NOT need a man to fulfill her, support her or get her out of tricky predicaments. She came along just as my generation were coming of age, and she was a role model we needed. Hell, we still need her.
Jerry Lewis, hero of my childhood. He died on my mother's birthday, and I don't believe I said much about his passing at the time, other than a couple of sad posts on Facebook. Which is crazy neglectful of me considering how much I loved that guy. It wasn't just that he was funny. It was that he was a caring and compassionate man who took a great deal of personal time to give back and raise funds to help children. I loved to watch his movies, with or without Dean Martin, and I loved to stay up with him during the annual MDA telethons. I will always miss this man.
Don Rickles. I was pretty young the first time I saw him on television. He called someone a "hockey puck". It was several more years before I realized that it wasn't just a mild insult, but an actual object used in a sport! At that point, all I could do was ask my mother, "Why would anyone call somebody a 'hockey puck'?" My answer: a pretty dramatic Mom eye-roll. Well! How was I to know? I was not exposed to hockey at an early age! Ha!
Rose Marie. That hair bow! She was so cute! And she kept quite busy right up to the end. She very recently released the documentary of her life, "Wait For Your Laugh", which will air on Showtime. http://rosemariemovie.com/ What an inspirational woman. 94 years old, and 90 of those years spent performing. Pretty impressive.
Adam West. Bada bada bada bada Batman! Need I say more? No, I thought not. No matter who plays the role, for me, Adam West is the ONLY real Batman. Ever.
Doggone you, 2017!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
7:14 p.m.
What did I do in 2017? The GOOD stuff:
I saw a lot of movies with my good friend. We should probably revisit the list and see which one was best.
I spent an incredibly cold winter with my parents in Wyoming. Brr! I went through a ton of old photographs and scanned them onto my dad's computer. I'd like to compile them all into a family album soon.
I took a few trips to the casino with my sisters and we had a wonderful time together. It has been years since we have done anything like that, and I can't wait to do it again.
I came back to Colorado because...
My son got married! It was an interesting ceremony, which my daughter-in-law's mother was able to attend. That made it even more special. Later, I helped everyone arrange a reception and all my children were here together for that. My parents, brother and sister came. It was delightful. We held the gathering at our good friends' home, and it was a chilly evening, but a great time was had by all and we were all so gratified by the great turnout.
I got another year older. How did that happen? Yikes!
I took three of my grandchildren to Comic-Con. We had a great time together. We met people and saw panels and ate junk food. It was awesome. We took lots of pictures--some with celebrities!--and bought a lot of stuff we probably didn't need. It was a great three days.
I met my parents in Trinidad for a Shablo family reunion. Bus trip from Denver was quiet and comfortable, which is not always the case on Greyhound. Great hotel accommodations, lots of room for visiting, good attendance.
We then traveled to Idaho for an Aulbach family reunion. We took a short break in Wyoming, did some laundry, and off we went. We stopped in the town of my birth and went by the first home I remember living in. It hasn't changed much. Then we spent several days with my aunt and uncle, who made us feel so welcome. Great attendance for this reunion as well.
(A few words about reunions--they should happen as frequently as possible. It is so wonderful to be with all the members of your family. Well, as many of them as you can gather together at one time in one place, anyway. Seeing cousins, second cousins, third cousins--what a gift! Aunts and Uncles, siblings, you name it--do it as often as you can. It's such a precious thing. And priceless.)
My parents celebrated their 60th Wedding Anniversary. All we Shablo kids were there, and we shared some good food and a lot of laughs over a couple of days about two weeks before the actual date of the anniversary, because those were the dates that worked. We also tossed in Mom's birthday celebration. Why not? 80 years is cause to celebrate.
There was a total eclipse of the sun. We weren't in the path of full coverage, but it was still very, very cool. My sister and brother were closer, and they spent a minute or so in total darkness.
My beautiful niece got married. Two of my daughters were able to make the trip to Wyoming and got to spend time with their aunts, uncles and cousins who are rarely all in the same place, so that was another little family reunion.
Dad celebrated his 82nd birthday.
Can I just say how lucky we are? We are so lucky.
I published my book, Emma: Ancestors' Tales. The tale borrows a lot from my real life family and home town, but is fiction. Sadly, no one has come to tell me any good stories about my ancestors. If I want to know, I have to study the history. But, you know what? We've got some fascinating REAL family history. And some of it might just be in the book.
I came back to Colorado in time to do Thanksgiving. It's quite a change, after the quiet at my parents' home! Busy, busy! Prepared a really good meal, and we feasted. Yum.
Somehow, the kids convinced my daughter to come for Christmas, and then my son convinced everyone to get together at JC Penney's to take pictures. I will have photos of myself with all nine grandchildren. How priceless is that?
All four of my children were here for Christmas! I can't remember the last time that happened. This is the first time ever that all nine grandchildren were opening presents under the tree in my home. What a joyous day!!
Also noisy.
We spent the afternoon/evening with friends at their home and ate too much good food. It was a wonderful day.
My daughter gathered up kiddos and went back to Oklahoma this week and suddenly the house was quiet--and not in a good way. Missing those babies already, although there were a few times when I wished it was summer so they could all be sent outside to play!
Now it's just my regular household, which, with eight people, is not small. We are watching movies and kind of freezing our tushies, because it is cold tonight. The super moon is beaming down from a clear sky, and we're counting down to midnight.
We have a while to go yet.
_________________________________________________________________________________
8:32 p.m.
Oh, dear. Hahahaha! I posted a bunch of 2017 photos on Facebook that kind of go along with my "What I did in 2017" post above. My mother's sister has a Facebook page, and the two of them look enough alike that the photos of my mother all got tagged with her name. So....I'm going to have to go fix that, I guess. How funny.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:16 p.m.
It would seem I'm not as edit sauvy as I would like to think. That took me quite a while. I'm thinking I might make it to midnight now. My staying power has been in question since I have been sick for the past three days.
Yesterday I spent the day shut up in my room, sparing my family from potentially lethal germs. All I really wanted to do was sleep, but I am me, so that wasn't happening. I considered getting up, but lifting my head seemed like too much effort.
So I started streaming a show on Netflix from 2006 called "Jericho".
This was probably mildly scary in 2006. It's a little more scary now, in the present world atmosphere. Denver has been obliterated by some sort of bomb. (Denver! Oh, great.) Soon enough there's enough information to know that Atlanta was also bombed. Power goes out. Radiation fall-out is an issue that is too quickly and easily resolved to be believable. There's soon a shortage of everything.
Except candles.
The bar is the busiest place in town, and lit with tons of candles. Every family seems to have plenty of candles to conduct their nightly rituals.
Where the heck did they get all the candles?
If we have a power outage, I have enough candles to get through a couple of hours for possibly two nights. Say four to six hours. Then I'm out of candles.
This is Kansas, supposedly. I suppose a third of the people might have fireplaces or wood stoves, but sooner or later, it's going to get really cold. I think of losing power here, say tonight, and we are freezing in the dark. I have an electric fireplace. And four to six hours worth of candles. Maybe. It's six degrees out there. We're dead meat.
I'm thinking "Jericho" might not be a good show for me to be watching. But I'm twelve episodes in, and if you think I'm stopping now, forget it. I'm hooked.
But I expect to catch a lot of silly stuff like over-abundant supplies of candles, because that's what I do.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:30 p.m.
Oh, I guess I have to print some pictures. To be continued.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 1, 2018
12:03 a.m.
While attempting to edit photos I lost track of time. 2017 is OVER!!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
Nothing printed....
Not a good sign...
*sigh*
6:06 p.m.
Last year I posted an end of the year memorial for the people we lost in 2016 in my hometown. I had lost a dear friend and wanted to say goodbye one more time.
I decided to do it again this year, especially because I felt compelled to remember a few families I've known since childhood who were particulary hard hit this year. Those lifelong friends and mentors can never be replaced and deserve another mention as I close out my year.
I also wanted to remember the loss of one-year-old child and her grandmother, who were killed in a tragic freak accident.
The following will be sorely missed and fondly remembered:
Dorothy Deichmuller Lawrence Erdman
Alonzo "Lunk" Jarvie Henry "Ernie" Clark
Julia Terry * Rose Gardea *
Michael A Reyes Lela M Gosar
Debra DeVries Stella Jean Doak
Hal Hardy Frances Oaks *
William Nihart Mont Mecham
Bill Valdez Helen Gomez *
Brenda Jo Kempton Barney David Gillespie *
Lucille Maldonado * Mary Jane Gamble
Rex Barney Janette Meese *
Glenn Hill Danny Sudbrack *
Gary Littrell Jerry Santillanes
Bob Facinelli Cory Burton *
Robert Jewkes * Jessica Flores *
Mildred Emerson Kathie Grooms *
Donald Irwin Ruby Lake
Joann Mosley * Dick Hodges
Tina Rael * Donna Kalivas
Bruce King
I would be delighted of the list this year was empty. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way.
It was at least gratifying to see so many long lives, those who were blessed to be able to love spouses, children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren.
It was disheartening to see so many gone far too soon. (I know, they're all too soon. We're never ready.)
To family and friends of those we're now missing, I send my love and well-wishes. Your loves are remembered and will be missed.
Like last year, I will provide a link to 2017's celebrity losses. I have a few comments, but they'll be brief.
http://ew.com/news/celebrity-deaths-2017/earle-hyman
It was really, really disheartening to see how many young people gave up this year. Was it a testament to the times? What can be done to decrease these incidents?
I can't remark upon every famous person who left this year, but the following hit me personally in the feels:
Mary Tyler Moore, the actress who taught us well that we could do whatever we set our minds to, female or not, with the iconic character Mary Richards, who did NOT need a man to fulfill her, support her or get her out of tricky predicaments. She came along just as my generation were coming of age, and she was a role model we needed. Hell, we still need her.
Jerry Lewis, hero of my childhood. He died on my mother's birthday, and I don't believe I said much about his passing at the time, other than a couple of sad posts on Facebook. Which is crazy neglectful of me considering how much I loved that guy. It wasn't just that he was funny. It was that he was a caring and compassionate man who took a great deal of personal time to give back and raise funds to help children. I loved to watch his movies, with or without Dean Martin, and I loved to stay up with him during the annual MDA telethons. I will always miss this man.
Don Rickles. I was pretty young the first time I saw him on television. He called someone a "hockey puck". It was several more years before I realized that it wasn't just a mild insult, but an actual object used in a sport! At that point, all I could do was ask my mother, "Why would anyone call somebody a 'hockey puck'?" My answer: a pretty dramatic Mom eye-roll. Well! How was I to know? I was not exposed to hockey at an early age! Ha!
Rose Marie. That hair bow! She was so cute! And she kept quite busy right up to the end. She very recently released the documentary of her life, "Wait For Your Laugh", which will air on Showtime. http://rosemariemovie.com/ What an inspirational woman. 94 years old, and 90 of those years spent performing. Pretty impressive.
Adam West. Bada bada bada bada Batman! Need I say more? No, I thought not. No matter who plays the role, for me, Adam West is the ONLY real Batman. Ever.
Doggone you, 2017!!
_________________________________________________________________________________
7:14 p.m.
What did I do in 2017? The GOOD stuff:
I saw a lot of movies with my good friend. We should probably revisit the list and see which one was best.
I spent an incredibly cold winter with my parents in Wyoming. Brr! I went through a ton of old photographs and scanned them onto my dad's computer. I'd like to compile them all into a family album soon.
I took a few trips to the casino with my sisters and we had a wonderful time together. It has been years since we have done anything like that, and I can't wait to do it again.
I came back to Colorado because...
My son got married! It was an interesting ceremony, which my daughter-in-law's mother was able to attend. That made it even more special. Later, I helped everyone arrange a reception and all my children were here together for that. My parents, brother and sister came. It was delightful. We held the gathering at our good friends' home, and it was a chilly evening, but a great time was had by all and we were all so gratified by the great turnout.
I got another year older. How did that happen? Yikes!
I took three of my grandchildren to Comic-Con. We had a great time together. We met people and saw panels and ate junk food. It was awesome. We took lots of pictures--some with celebrities!--and bought a lot of stuff we probably didn't need. It was a great three days.
I met my parents in Trinidad for a Shablo family reunion. Bus trip from Denver was quiet and comfortable, which is not always the case on Greyhound. Great hotel accommodations, lots of room for visiting, good attendance.
We then traveled to Idaho for an Aulbach family reunion. We took a short break in Wyoming, did some laundry, and off we went. We stopped in the town of my birth and went by the first home I remember living in. It hasn't changed much. Then we spent several days with my aunt and uncle, who made us feel so welcome. Great attendance for this reunion as well.
(A few words about reunions--they should happen as frequently as possible. It is so wonderful to be with all the members of your family. Well, as many of them as you can gather together at one time in one place, anyway. Seeing cousins, second cousins, third cousins--what a gift! Aunts and Uncles, siblings, you name it--do it as often as you can. It's such a precious thing. And priceless.)
My parents celebrated their 60th Wedding Anniversary. All we Shablo kids were there, and we shared some good food and a lot of laughs over a couple of days about two weeks before the actual date of the anniversary, because those were the dates that worked. We also tossed in Mom's birthday celebration. Why not? 80 years is cause to celebrate.
There was a total eclipse of the sun. We weren't in the path of full coverage, but it was still very, very cool. My sister and brother were closer, and they spent a minute or so in total darkness.
My beautiful niece got married. Two of my daughters were able to make the trip to Wyoming and got to spend time with their aunts, uncles and cousins who are rarely all in the same place, so that was another little family reunion.
Dad celebrated his 82nd birthday.
Can I just say how lucky we are? We are so lucky.
I published my book, Emma: Ancestors' Tales. The tale borrows a lot from my real life family and home town, but is fiction. Sadly, no one has come to tell me any good stories about my ancestors. If I want to know, I have to study the history. But, you know what? We've got some fascinating REAL family history. And some of it might just be in the book.
I came back to Colorado in time to do Thanksgiving. It's quite a change, after the quiet at my parents' home! Busy, busy! Prepared a really good meal, and we feasted. Yum.
Somehow, the kids convinced my daughter to come for Christmas, and then my son convinced everyone to get together at JC Penney's to take pictures. I will have photos of myself with all nine grandchildren. How priceless is that?
All four of my children were here for Christmas! I can't remember the last time that happened. This is the first time ever that all nine grandchildren were opening presents under the tree in my home. What a joyous day!!
Also noisy.
We spent the afternoon/evening with friends at their home and ate too much good food. It was a wonderful day.
My daughter gathered up kiddos and went back to Oklahoma this week and suddenly the house was quiet--and not in a good way. Missing those babies already, although there were a few times when I wished it was summer so they could all be sent outside to play!
Now it's just my regular household, which, with eight people, is not small. We are watching movies and kind of freezing our tushies, because it is cold tonight. The super moon is beaming down from a clear sky, and we're counting down to midnight.
We have a while to go yet.
_________________________________________________________________________________
8:32 p.m.
Oh, dear. Hahahaha! I posted a bunch of 2017 photos on Facebook that kind of go along with my "What I did in 2017" post above. My mother's sister has a Facebook page, and the two of them look enough alike that the photos of my mother all got tagged with her name. So....I'm going to have to go fix that, I guess. How funny.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:16 p.m.
It would seem I'm not as edit sauvy as I would like to think. That took me quite a while. I'm thinking I might make it to midnight now. My staying power has been in question since I have been sick for the past three days.
Yesterday I spent the day shut up in my room, sparing my family from potentially lethal germs. All I really wanted to do was sleep, but I am me, so that wasn't happening. I considered getting up, but lifting my head seemed like too much effort.
So I started streaming a show on Netflix from 2006 called "Jericho".
This was probably mildly scary in 2006. It's a little more scary now, in the present world atmosphere. Denver has been obliterated by some sort of bomb. (Denver! Oh, great.) Soon enough there's enough information to know that Atlanta was also bombed. Power goes out. Radiation fall-out is an issue that is too quickly and easily resolved to be believable. There's soon a shortage of everything.
Except candles.
The bar is the busiest place in town, and lit with tons of candles. Every family seems to have plenty of candles to conduct their nightly rituals.
Where the heck did they get all the candles?
If we have a power outage, I have enough candles to get through a couple of hours for possibly two nights. Say four to six hours. Then I'm out of candles.
This is Kansas, supposedly. I suppose a third of the people might have fireplaces or wood stoves, but sooner or later, it's going to get really cold. I think of losing power here, say tonight, and we are freezing in the dark. I have an electric fireplace. And four to six hours worth of candles. Maybe. It's six degrees out there. We're dead meat.
I'm thinking "Jericho" might not be a good show for me to be watching. But I'm twelve episodes in, and if you think I'm stopping now, forget it. I'm hooked.
But I expect to catch a lot of silly stuff like over-abundant supplies of candles, because that's what I do.
_________________________________________________________________________________
10:30 p.m.
Oh, I guess I have to print some pictures. To be continued.
_________________________________________________________________________________
January 1, 2018
12:03 a.m.
While attempting to edit photos I lost track of time. 2017 is OVER!!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
Nothing printed....
Not a good sign...
*sigh*
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