Curiosity Versus Caution

...and caution won.

   Went this morning to the nearby mall to finish my shopping.  I never finished and here is why.

   No luck at one end of the mall in finding what I wanted.  But no matter, there are stores everywhere, including those at the other end past the food court.

   I cruised the festive mall on my scooter past the specialty shops.  As I arrived at the food court a lady in a uniform, looking confused, rushed forward to confront me.  "You'll have to leave."

   What?  What's objectionable? Me? My scooter? What?  But before I could ask, she darted distractedly on and asked others to leave. Nobody paid much attention to her, but continued ordering their snacks.  Near the exit stood another mall guard. 

   "Are we evacuating," I asked.

   "Just the food court," he answered.

    Then I heard sirens, and outside a fire truck, a hook and ladder unit, pulled up and firemen began leisurely dismounting.

   I heard more sirens in the distance approaching.  No one, not guards, firemen, nor customers seemed to be in a hurry. 

   Now, my dilemma.  I'm never where the spot news is happening.  I  have had friends who sat out street shoot-outs in their cars and who told me about the excitment later.  I have seen familiar places on the TV news at night.  But nothing ever happens when I'm there. Here I am where the ACTION is. What me leave? My curiousity said "no way". 

   But, in this wide world every day, bombs go off, crazed gunmen walk into night clubs and restaurants machine guns blazing.  I might have asked the guard, "Are we searching for a bomb, or are we cornering an armed suspect?" I don't think he would have told me. 

   So I skedaddled.  Caution won.  I rode home and I couldn't even show anyone a bullet riddled scooter or brag about any singed eye-brows. 

    If there is nothing about Merced, California, on the evening news, I will tell you what I find out. If someone tells me, that is.

 

Let's Ban the Pizza Box

   I had cold, left-over pizza for breakfast. It was awful.  Everybody has, at some time, because we cannot, for some reason, leave pizza behind.

   Pizza, at the parlor, is hot, delicious, aromatic, covered with the toppings we like such as pepperoni, olives, garlic, onion, mushrooms, green peppers, sausage, tomato sauce, extra cheese.  It melts in the mouth and tickles the tummy. 

   But when we are done, we cannot walk away from those left-over slices.  We box them up and cart them home to keep in the frig. 

   Then the next day, we EAT them, cold and congealed and gloppy. We remember how good they tasted the day before and try to convince ourselves that it was a good idea to bring them home with us.

   I say, BAN the BOX,  and leave the left-overs on the table. 

   And even though I say it. I won't do it. 

Maybe Ill vote for the cat

Lost: One Future Vote

   A congresswoman from Southern California has sent me a gorgeous Christmas card, color printed on fine heavy stock She is beautiful, a smart dresser, and poses with her cat, Gretzky. It was printed by a unionized print shop. She is just the kind of representative I would vote for IF I could, but I live five hundred miles from her district.

   Why is she wasting money so blatantly? Why the extravagance? She must be covering the whole state with her cards. She may be looking ahead to some future statewide office. She wants me to remember her name, and I will. I will remember her as a spendthrift, extravagant, big spender. Just the kind of politician I DON’T want handling my tax dollars.

Cheezy Movie Lines

Aol is featuring "Top Ten Cheezy Movie Lines" today.  Reminds me of one of my old entries... last May.  Worth taking a new look. In other words: another rerun.

http://journals.aol.com/chasferris/DribblebyChuckFerris/entries/188

Rerun: Things You Will Never Hear Me Say

Top ten things you will never hear me say

Your ass is too big.

There is too much gravy on these potatoes.

Don’t come in, I’m not decent.

Sorry, I can’t come in swimming.  I forgot my suit.

I forgot my harmonica.

This roast has too much fat.

I retired too soon.

No dessert, thank you.

I'm glad I left Oxnard.

Leno is better than Letterman.

PLUS

No. thanks, no more pizza.             - Ryan

Forget the scooter, Let's walk.      - Kate

Weenedn Assignement #39- Snow White and the Seven Imposters

When the novelty wore off, the family moved the wind-up Victrola to the kid’s room. That was me. Wow, a phonograph of my own, and all the family’s records, in my own room. Just watching the turntable spin wildly at 78 rpm was a treat.

When I had listened to Sailor Jack, William Tell Overture, or classical music hundreds of times I needed new material.

The movie Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was about to be released, and the music had been recorded in an RCA album. It was a soundtrack recording, right from the film, and I could listen to it right in my own room.

It took overtime wheedling, but I was taken to the music store, and there it was: for $7.98. But that was in 1935-dollars, which were hard to come by.

My mother said, “I’m really sorry, but I just can’t pay for the RCA-Victor album.”

I was offered a compromise. Frank Luther, whoever he is, had made a version of Snow White, by his writers, played and sung by his musicians, on Bluebird Records, for $2.95. It was a Hobson’s choice: this or nothing. I may have been a purist, but I was a kid. I caved. I got the Bluebird records.

“Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho,” sang Luther’s musicians. “Halt. Somebody’s shoes are a-squeekin’.”

Squeaking? There’s no squeaking in Disney’s Snow White. Who said that? Doc? Grumpy? Surely not Dopey. That complaining dwarf is an imposter.

So I had to live with Frank Luther and his band of fake Bluebird dwarfs. They are probably still a-squeekin’ in the storage shed with my Orphan Annie de-coder rings, and my Ovaltine drinking cups and the other shattered dreams of my childhood. The adultery of childhood may be as bitter as the adultery of adulthood.

Gift for Me

Monday at one PM.  I get measured for a new leg.  How's that for a gift?

 

My workstation (Before) --Photo Scavenger Hunt

 

 

As requested, my computer station, as is, come-as-you-are, before you straighten it up for its portrait.

No chair, I roll right up in my wheel chair to the table. I face my Hewlett-Packard Pavilion 510n, about 1990 model, and tap out my journals or read yours.  When I pause to think I look up at my daughter's painting, Odyssey II, and enjoy the abstractions I find in it.

It cracked me up to look at this photo.  I never noticed that messy tangle of wires beneath the table until I saw it printed.

As for the second part of the assignment, (How it looks when straightened up for its portrait) that will have to wait until someday when, or if, I straighten it up. Check back next year sometime.

My Mouth Harp

   I live in an old folks home.  I drive a Chevy and a Scooter. I read blogs and write in my journal. So what else do I do?  I play my harmonica.

                    

   That four-sided beauty that I'm pictured with, is actually four twelve-hole tremolo Hohners fastened back to back.  That is 198 tuned reeds waiting for me to bring to life.  It belonged to my cousin, Paul, who was my inspiration to learn to play in my seventies. A course at the Senior Center in Blue Springs Missouri with a single four dollar diatonic eight hole beginners harp was the start of an enjoyable pastime.

   Now I own dozens.  I am not good at it, but you don't have to be good. to have fun and make acceptable music.  The harmonica does the work.  Simply blow into it and you get do-me-sol-do, the major chord in the key that the harmonica is made for.  Inhale, and draw on the left end of the harmonica and you get the second major chord.  Draw on the right end and you get the third major chord.  That and even a tin ear will let you accompany someone playing a tune.

   At our old folks home we have a volunteer, George, a pianist, who comes regularly to play from his life long collection of sheet music.  George tells me what key he will be playing in, I select the correct harmonica, and off we go, and it is not bad.  I make lots of mistakes, but George plays loudly, so they are not too obvious.

   I recently took a one evening course in "blues harmonica" and I play along with a blues CD too.

   My fellow residents are not too critical, so my harps are a wonderful hobby.

Show Us Your Transportation

Photo Scavenger Hunt: Your Transportation

 

    My early "get around" transportation was my Citybug. You can see it was a bit small for me.  However, I've traded up to a Pride Electric Scooter.  Now I can get to town, a fifteen minute scoot, or to the Mall across the boulevard in five.  I have even gone to the movies on the scooter, and I sit right in the scooter behind the last row of seats.

   If the trip takes more than fifteen minutes, I load my wheel chair into the 1995 Chevy Astrovan and hobble around to the drivers' seat, climb in and drive normally. When I arrive, I reverse the process:  hobble around, pull out the wheelchair, and roll to my appointments.    . 

Another Christmas Parade?

I might as well try my hand at this posting our local Christmas Parade.  Several Bloggers have done it.  Hope we don't saturate the Parade racket.

I rode my scooter to the parade route in downtown Merced, CA,  a fifteen minute trip.  A charming "helper" was sighted (1).  I parked my scooter next to the local radio dee-jay who was annoucing the entries (2).  Kids lined the streets (3). Vietnam vets carried the flags. (4)  High School band led the big parade (5) keeping well in step (6) Local clubs made floats from trucks and wagons (7).  Car clubs like the Model A Fords were hits of the show.

The city council and the mayor rode on the fire truck, Sheriffs rode motor cycles, horses, and their bomb disposal truck while their Cessna circled overhead. Miss Merced and Junior Miss Merced rode in convertibles.  Hundreds of kids walked and waved and threw candy to the crowd.

When the sun sank behind the stores on Main Street it grew colder.  I scooted home after 33 of the 88, count 'em, 88, floats, trucks, and vintage cars had passed.  Santa, bless his frigid heart, was on the last float. I never got to wave to him.

I was glad to have seen hometown American Christmas Parade.  Last week, I had seen the ultimate Christmas Parade on TV.  So Main Street Merced isn't Park Avenue New York. It warmed my heart, anyway.  If it had warmed my hands and ears, I could have waited to see Santa.

Weekend assignment #37

WHAT IS MY SECOND BEST QUALITY

   If you look at all those attempts to post pictures in the entries below, you might think my best quality was patience.  Well, I did keep at it, didn't I?

   But I gave up, I blew up, and stormed off to sulk too many times to say that patience is my best quality.  So I will claim no more thaN it is my second best quality.

   So what is my best quality then?  I guess:  I wear my 80 years well.  Please pardon me while I applaud my YOUTH.

 

 

Still ONE more attempt to post pictures

Geometric shapes for Photo Scavenger Hunt.

This is round.  It isn't much of a picture, but it was in my file, so I scavenged it for the hunt.  Then Krissy and Sue worked with me on getting it printed.

Wow, I feel like a new man.  Look at all those feeble attempts below.

"You've got (may"be) Pictures

Ho hum

Still laughing.  still cant find right picture.

(see earlier efforts in entries below)

Another picture effort

Still at this picture bit.  Here's the Round entry to Photo Scavenger hunt.

Laughing out loud.  Got big picture...but the WRONG picture.

Still struggling with pictures

 Still struggling with pictures.

We're having a ball

I'm getting  my new suit on for the J-land Ball on Dec 22.

Here's your invitation>>http://journals.aol.com/megzie212/HoldayHappeningsinJ-Land

Photo Scavenger Hunt

Assignment: Geometric shape.  Well, this is round.  It is also abandoned, but that was a couple of weeks ago. I conduct my hunt in my files.  The was our old commercial washing machine, replaced during the remodel, and abandoned in the parking lot.  I took a series of OLD AND NEW photos during the remodel.  The new washing machine is also round, but its photo did not come out.

Nothing charming nor photogenic about this entry.  I'm just playing the game to keep my "hand in".

 

My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is

Mavarin muses about memory.  Makes me wonder why all that stuff stays in there, long after it is useless.  Why do we hum "Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer weiner" when obviously we do not.

My very educated Mother just sat upon nine pillows. One thing to remember it and another to know what it was for.  I wonder.
True vigins make dull companions will set your boat straight somehow.  St. Wapniacl will tell you the members of President Roosevelt's cabinet. Quickly we educate rapid typists, yet, understand, I order practice will help you type.
My phone number in 1937 was 935-M.  M meant two rings, but one ring was for somebody else on the party line.  You could listen in, but they were a pretty dull family so you didn't bother, often. In 1923 I lived at 612 Alpine Drive in Beverly Hills though it was not known as 90210.
My mind is filled with such stuff.  No wonder I once forgot my Grandson's name.

Sorry, Marshall, I hope you understand.

Thanksgiving Day Assignment

John Scalzi asks us to show our stash of pocket change.  We all have one.  They grow and grow. Once I let one grow to over $300.  Then I moved.  It took three days of wrapping and trips to the bank, and I still had a carton of coins to move.

The stash in the picture was gathered from around the apartment, a cup o' coins here, a coffee can there.  I'm not going to count it. I'm not going to spend it either.  Too much trouble.  I used to let the grandchildren dig into it and pocket as much as they could hold in their hands.  But they're too big for that nowadays.  (Their hands are too big, too.)

John asks what he should do with his stash.  I'd say, keep it, put it in a bigger can, and then a shoe box, and then a trunk if need be. Let the grandchildren dig into it. Think how big a pile there will be when he has grandchildren.   

You can't spend it until you count and wrap it, and that's more trouble than it's worth.

Money is such a burden.

My Lucky Day

The LOTTO machine at the market was broken. I don't know whether

I gained $2

that the machine would not take, or

I lost $17,000,000

the prize I have no chance of winning.

 

Soul Mate

I have just found my soul mate.  There she is, half my age, a continent away, Krissy Fisher.  She says in her journal Sometimes I think, that her favorite cereal is grits. Until I read that I was the only person I knew who liked grits.

But let's call 'em by the name they are called in the south: "gree-uts", spoken as a two syllable word.  What are they, we have been asked.  I'd say they are "cream of wheat", mush, made with corn.

Some folks eat 'em with milk and sugar, but we purists eat 'em with butter.  But if you live in the north or west of this wonderful country, fugeddabodit.  You just won't find 'em. 

Now, Krissy, it may be too much to hope for, but do you like Parsnips?  Hot buttered parsnips.  Oh, my, ambrosia.

Photo scavenger hunt: something Abandoned

This was actually Grandmother's wood burning stove and I had breakfast cooked upon it seventy two years ago.  It was horribly out-dated even then.  Now, with the fire box gone, it has been recycled, out of sentiment, to become a planter in my cousin's garden. So it was abandoned, as a stove, and reborn. as part of the garden decor. 

No Account

Money Magazine says accountants are the most needed college trainees. 

I had always wanted to be a news or newsreel photographer.  In high school I established a school newsreel with an 8mm camera and showed it in the school auditorium. Oh, how I would have loved a video camera.  They weren't to be invented for thirty years.

I was wounded in WWII and I had to re-examine my career choice.  I figured a one-legged school teacher would do better in his profession than a one-legged newsreel photographer.

So I was an okay teacher.  I used photography in my teaching as much as I could making aids, and class projects.  But my heart was in photography.

I often wonder what if I had gone ahead with my original plan.  It might have worked out anyway. 

Accounting has nothing with this entry.  A good school teacher should have noticed that.

Guilty as charged

Scott Peterson is guilty.  And people are cheering?

Something is wrong here. This should be a solemn occasion.  The facts have been weighed, and God Help Us, the people have chosen as best they could to reconstruct the history of the sad event, death of two innocent folks.

We should be saying soberly, "Sorry, Scott, but as near as we can tell, you have done wrong.  We regret that we have to punish you, but in society's interest, we must."

But cheering?  Not me.  The cheering the verdict and the jeering of Scott's family makes me ill.

Justice is served but wallowing in revenge is inapropriate.

More

Uncle John Scalzi asks, if we could choose any singer past or present to sing us any song, what would we choose?

I'd ask John Gary to sing More.  (More than the stars could ever know)  It is the epitome of love songs. Never mind asking why, I was in l=o=v=e.

The doesn't explain my second choice: Frank Sinatra to sing The Music Stopped (but we went on dancing). All the teen-aged girls went nuts over Frank, but I was a soldier in uniform, for gosh sakes, but I almost fainted when I heard the first bars of that song in amovie at the base movie theater.  I feigned composure and told my buddies merely, "He's almost as good as Bing Crosby." I didn't want to get my ass whipped for being a sissy boy..

Veterans' Day 2002

I am not looking forward to the Veterans' Day ceremony at the old folks home this afternoon.  Here's what happened two years ago.

November 11 is the date that the World War, sometimes called World War I, ended. It was the date of Armistice Day, and until we had a few more wars, was worth celebrating. Now we would need a separate Armistice Day for World War II (August 14), Korean Conflict(), Viet Nam Debacle(), Desert Storm(), so we lump them all together and call them Veteran’s Day. Practically every male is a veteran of some war.

At our Veteran’s Day celebration we raised the new flag, sang the Star Spangled Banner, and then, horrors, asked the veterans to tell about their war experiences.

Asking a veteran to tell about his war experiences is like asking a grandmother if her grandchildren have done anything cute lately, or asking to see someone’s vacation slides. You might as well kick open the flood gates of Hoover Dam. There is going to be a gush that cannot be stemmed.

I was aware of this. I was called on first, and tried to set an example by boiling my war experience into ONE sentence. But no, I was followed by mumbling Bob.

Bob was at D-day. Bob was loaded. No Alzheimer’s here. He remembered everything and was going to tell us about it. He can only mumble, and mumble he did. Jacki (The Activites Director) had to interpret.

BOB; mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI: HE HAD TO WADE ASHORE

BOB; mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI; HE DIRECTED THE TANKS TO THE DEPLOYMENT AREA.

And on and on. Finally,

BOB; mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI; HE WAS ON DETACHED DUTY, THANK YOU, BOB.

Bob sat. John rose.

John remembered the war better even than Bob.

JOHN; mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI: JOHN WENT OVERSEAS ON THE QUEEN MARY ON THE VERY DAY THE NORMANDIE BURNED UP.

JOHN: mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI: JOHN’S BUNK WAS NUMBER 323 ON E DECK.

JOHN: mumble mumble mumble.

JACKI: JOHN’S DOG WAS NAMED KING. THANK YOU JOHN.

John sat down and Mark stood up.

Mark was born in America of Japanese descent. He was interned. He was interned in county fair grounds, right near I street. “If you wandered too near I street they shot at you.”

Then in spite of being interned, he was drafted. In spite of being considered a security risk, he was assigned to military intelligence. Mark was, and is, pretty bitter, but he admitted “This is a great country. They can admit their mistakes. After fifty years, they apologized and awarded us $20,000 each. The apology would have meant more if we hadn’t had to ask for it.”

The ceremony wound on until we came to Cas, the cook, who is still in the reserves, and expects to be called up to fight in Iraq. He does not expect Hussein to back down to UN demands. He expects there will be a war and he will be in it. He did not sound bitter.

Postscript: (today 2004) Cas' unit was called up, and I am not sure whether they went to Iraq or stayed stateside.

Seussical

Our community playhouse stages their own version of Broadway musicals.  It is a real community effort with volunteers from schools and colleges from several counties.  With a hired professional director and muscians they stage pretty exciting representations of what the originals were on Broadway.

It's one way we provincials far from the Great White Way can get a taste of culture. We've seen Joseph's Technicolor Coat, Little Shop of Horrors, Cabaret, Through the Woods, and Chorus Line. 

Today is was Suessical, the musical based o Dr. Suess characters.  The cat in the hat was emcee, and Horton, the elephant, and the Grinch were there too.  Fifty or sixty kids and adults dressed in colorful, outlandish, costumes and became story book characters and danced and sang, like Broadway troupers, and never forgot a line.

And today, the audience was kids from nearby schools.  They were entranced. 

A lady friend and I sat front row, center stage.  We were close to the action.  When Horton, the elephant, sat on Maizy's egg, faithful one hundred percent, it began to snow on Horton.  We were so close it snowed on us too.  In a few moments, the cat in the hat came with a rag and wiped the snow off Horton, and then he leaned over and wiped the snow off the lady and me. 

The kids in the audience went wild.

How're we gonna keep 'em down on the farm, now that they've seen Broadway?

 

 

Photo Scavenger Hunt: LOVE

A friend, Amanda, brought her son to work one day.  I snapped this shot in the hall.  It spells LOVE to me.

Geek Needed

Are any of you BLOGGERS in J-LAND also GEEKS?

I asked that a computer programmer tell me how to make a MACRO so I could post a link to my journal in comments and e-mail with one key stroke. 

Up until now, I have to pull down the "favorites" menu, select my journal, call it up for editing, copy the URL, close it, and then paste it on whatever I'm writing. 

Sepintx has told me how to do it.  Thank you Sepintx.  Read his answer in the comments below

 

Reclaim the airwaves as a National Resource

Scalzi’s weekly assignment: You’ve just been elected president. What one executive order would you like to give?

I asked that question of the residents of my Retirement Villa (Old folks home). They said (1) confiscate the world’s oil, (2) release national oil reserves, (3) declare a holiday, (4) close the borders to immigration, (5) bring back prohibition, (6) appoint another woman to the supreme court, and (7) order Tom Selleck to move to our town.

My own thought was to reclaim the airwaves as a national resource for the public good. Radio and television would be used, not as a huge billboard for advertising consumer goods, but as a forum for free expression ideas.

Imagine commercial free drama, music, talk. How about a free clear channel cell phone for everybody. How about wireless internet for every Middlesex, village, and farm?

Standard Time

Set my alarm clock.

Set my watch.

Forgot about the living room clock.

Went to lunch an hour early.

Sure felt dumb.

House Party

Oh, my wonderful friends from J-land, how I wish I had a great big house with a jillion guest rooms, and a huge parlor with a large fire place. I’d have an on-going house-party and you’d all stay over and we’d sit around together and tell about our cats, and kids, and jobs, and ailments, and cures, like we do in our journals. We’d share our dreams and hopes and fears and joys.

It’d be a come-as-you-are party, because that’s the way we dress when we write our journals. We’d wear our scruffies, our nighties, our jeans and our robes, they way we do when we write. I’d be bare and you wouldn’t care ‘cuz that’s the way I write my best.

We’d be in our best and most relaxed story-sharing mode, each sipping his own favorite beverage, and like our journals, nothing would be un-mentionable, for we’re all new-found fast-friends.

We’d recognize each other from the pictures in our journals, or from the names we call our kids or our pets, or our regional accents. We come from all over the world.

Conversation would be easy. We already know one another.

I know it would be a wonderful exciting, entrancing social encounter, because that is just what my reading our blogs is now. Just like an evening’s conversation, I start with one guest and read his entry, and then listen to the comments of others, and follow the links in their comments to their journals. From their journals I follow to the next and the next. Like a true conversation, the subject changes naturally from one experience to the next.

We’ve become such friends that very little is “off limits” in our discussions. You know that I’m an old bachelor, living in an old folks’ home, and I know you’re an ambulance driver, a store manager, a housewife (or house-husband), an artist, or a long distance trucker writing on a lap top from the sleeping compartment of your eighteen wheeler. I know that you’re estranged from your family, happily married, unhappily married, looking for love, or living with a partner whose gender is not stated. You know I’m eighty with an eighty-nine year old girl friend.

How did such a varied group as we come together at this happy house-party? Because of a common interest we share with the unlikely name: blogging.

Thanks for coming to my party. Come again soon, y’hear?

Wake up, Chuck

Duh, wake up, Chuck.

I am new to the Journal game. I have been saving links like mad.  At one point I had 78, and then I pared it down to 44.  Takes me two days to read the list.

BUT... I pared it down with faulty information.  Some of my links are to JOURNALS and some of my links are to ENTRIES.   I didn't know there was a difference.  I edited my list by clicking on each link on my list.  If what I read was more than a week old, I deleted the link. 

What I was doing was calling up the old entry.  Naturally it was more than a week old. I was by-passing the new stuff.

Ho-hum.  Now I have to build a new list, making sure I get the JOURNAL link. 

So, I'll be seeing some of you on schedule, but others I may have to "find" all  aver again. Well, actually that will be fun.  I love the many topics we cover with so many varied viewpoints  I think we are all frustrated authors.

Well, off I go now to see what "Uncle John" Scalzi has assigned for us this week.  It is Thursday, you know.

 

 

 

Boob Tube

There has been lots of PAP on television, but lots of good story telling too.  I miss L.A.Law.  It was a fine series and a lot of its featured actors are busy today on other series. It was for its time what West Wing is now: something to look forward to from week to week.

Cats in J-Land

   In reading journals I find (1) we all have problems, (2) we all get depressed about them, (3) we all have kids and cats, and (4) writing about them helps. 

   I understand we are in "J-Land" when we read and write in our journals, and that we are "Bloggers". 

   Further, I find that Bloggers name their cats wild and sensational things.  Scalzi has Ghlughghy (or something like that pronounced "Fluffy"), and another friend has Barbeque Aloyisous Pete.  Penguine4050 has babygirl, peanut, mootsey and smokey.

   Put your past and present cats' name in the comments below and I'll make a cat registry. Let me start you off with Missy, Punkin, Gwendolyn, Pudgy.

From Cat>>Winkle, Forrest (Gump), Freddy, Ivy, Misty, Stripes, Alex, Sylvester, Nikki, Gizmo (aka Fat Kitty), Tummy Kitty, and  Baby. Plus 2 dogs.. Tippy , and Cubby
From Kate>>Magic and Goldie, Magic is a money cat and Goldie is a big GOLDEN furball. Other cats:  friends had one named BATFACE...she looked like it too.SUKI, LITTLE KITTY, were once in the family...now I am Grandmother to BUTTERS a cross-eyed siamese.

From Bookncoffee>>Smokie  (Tortoise callico)Then there's Gizmo, Ginger, Bob (the Momma cat LOL!), and Colby (the Dad). Then there's Gizmo, Ginger, Bob (the Momma cat LOL!), and Colby (the Dad).

From Maraine>>Shadow (Also a tortoise callico)

Fom Valphish>>Honey (well, actually Joy Faith)

From Krissy>Mr. Michaels

From Stacy>My past kitties:  Handsome, Snowflake, Jezebel, Greatful Ed, BlackJack, Chairman Mao, Santana, Cowboy, Popcorn and Lasso... Present Kitties: Shadow and Superfuzzzzz!

One last note before this entry becomes history:  A new resident at our old folks home has a poodle named Sir Dog.

I've Gone Nuts Over Journals

I may be  hooked.  I was reading one journal a day, John Scalzi's By the Way. I followed the links in his daily articles and the Weekly Assignments. 

I liked what I saw and added some to my list of favorites.  And in them I found more links, and I followed those links, too. And I added more favorites.

I began adding comments to the journals I read, and some bloggers wrote comments in my journal, and I added THOSE folks to my list. 

I began doing the Weekly Assignments, The Morning Question, and the Photo Scavenger Hunt.

Now I have forty, two score, journals to check each morning.  They are fascinating, and it takes all morning to read, savor, and comment.

I have a question.  Do you think my hobby has become an obsession? 

Photo Scavenger Hunt for Autumn

Autumn? We got no Autumn in California.  Only the swallows know when autumn comes.  They head for Peru.  Peru, imagine, with no reservations.  They will be back in March. 

Pictured are a view from the bridge under which the swallows nest and some pumpkins, the only other clue that it is Fall in Californa

 

Shoes and Sox

We've been asked to show our favorite shoes.  These aren't my favorite shoes.  They're my only shoes.  I live in a retirement home that is being remodeled, and I'm assigned to a temporary room.  These are the only shoes I have with me. I hope I don't step in a puddle.

I notice that my socks don't match.  That's okay, they rarely do.  I have a wooden leg, so I don't bother to change the right sock until it wears out.  It is a matter of convenience taking precedence over fashion.  A pair of socks lasts me twice as long as other folks.  Until the fashion police catch me, I will limp along unmatched.  Hah.

Still Learning to add pictures

This is my "girl friend", age 89.

I am 80.

Now the size is right.  How do I set type to right of picture?

The learning curve is shallow.

Adding a picture

I have been admiring journals with pictures in them and wondering how to do it.

Well, now I see the picture .  At least I am making head way... i think.

But picture is too big and I want to set type around it.

Back to  the drawing board.

Unpresidents' day

We've had presidents' day honoring past presidents.  What about a day celebrating those folks who missed out because of fickle fate.  Say Ted Kennedy, who never got a chance to run because of an accident, but who continued serving his country and his party in his pudgy, steady way.  Or Tom Dewey who cinched the 1948 election, or so he thought.  Or Al Gore who won the popular vote but not the white house.  Robert Taft and General MacArthur could shine again.

   More serious folks will say we should have a 9/11 holiday to remind us of that attack and Pearl Harbor. 

   Or light hearted folks will say "Let's make Ground Hog a national holiday. Let's celebrate the end of our national hibernation."

   More holidays, more long week-ends, hoo-ray.

Well, here it is October.  How did we get here so fast?  But August is my favorite month.  My love of August dates from my school years.  August meant VACATION. August meant time spent camping at the beach in Carpinteria, CA, "The world's safest Beach", with life spent in a swim suit, hanging with friends, flirting with girls, reading pulp magazines of science fiction. Read, lie in sun, dash into the ocean, walk the surfline, study the tide charts, and repeat until campfire time.

   Our parents took turns camping with us, so we got to spend many weeks at the beach. 

   And June had to be my second favorite month.  That is when school let out.  No more teachers, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks.

   When I grew up I became a teacher because of VACATION. 

   Oh yes, my birthday is in August, and I know you guessed that.

   My least favorite was September because VACATION ended then.. 

carpal tunnel

I had carpal tunnel surgery last month.  My right hand had become numb.  My kidney doctor sent me to neurologist who sent me to neurolsurgeon who sent me to surgical center.  In a few days they operated on me.  Operated and sent me home within an hour of the surgery. 

Had a cast on my arm for two weeks and then got sent for Physical therapy to hand specialist.  For three and a half weeks have been going three times a week for therapy.  It consists of heat treatment, massage, manipulation, ultra sound, electrostimulation.

My hand is very weak, and is still numb.  But it is doing some things okay again, like typing this entry.  I make LOTS of typographical errors, but at least I am communicating.

I don't know whether the feeling will come back to my hand or not. I THINK I am glad I had it done, but am not too sure.

Medicare has picked up the bills so far.  The surgeon costs $4100 and I don't know what the surgical center and the anesthiologist nor the therapy cost yet.  The surgeon had done two other operations that morning.

I think I got carpal tunnel syndrome from typing so much, but I am not sure.  There are people who type far more than I did. 

Anyhow, I am back at my computer, slower, but still communicating with the outside world. That is my life, my lifeline, and my love.

Cup o' Confusion

In the store, picked up Nissin Cup Noodles.  I read the wrapper. "Microwave Directions: See lid for details."  Oh, good, it is microwaveable. I can have some in my apartment.  I bought two.

At home, I removed the wrapper and read the directions on the lid. "MICROWAVE DIRECTIONS: Due to variances in microwave heating power, and for safety, we do not recommend microwave cooking."

No noodles tonight.

Super-powers

   If I could have a super-power what would I choose asks John Scalzi.  A woman I know says she has Parking Lot Prescience.  When she pulls into a parking lot, she wills someone else to pull out and leave her a space right next to the Mall entrance.  I have been with her, and it works.

   If I could have the super=power of an existing super hero would be the Shadow, who "clouds men's minds with a single hypnotic gesture". Makes himself invisible, or look like beast, or charming to the ladies.

Forty and Eight

54-40 or fight

Forty Acres and a Mule

Forty men or Eight horses

Life begins at Forty

Dinner at Eight

Eight ways to skin a Cat

As bright as a forty watt bulb

Beat me, Daddy, Eight to the bar

Eight is Enough

Forty years in the Wilderness

 

 

 

 

Scootin' to the Movies

Friend Anita borrowed a scooter and we scooted to the movies,  about a two block trip, but with a boulevard to cross. This was experimental since neither had been to a movie on a scooter.

We drove right in.  There were places to park behind the last row.  At first we sat right on the scooters, and during an intermission we moved to seats right in front of the scooters.

The movie was a farce called Dodge Ball.  It was silly and fun, but pure stuff and nonsense.  Rip Torn, bless his aged little heart, stole the show with his portrayal of the dirty old team coach.  Ben Stiller was in it, I am told, but I am not sure which one he was... the announcer I think.  He could have mailed his part in, as he was not part of the action.

When we came to point where we came in, Anita and I climbed aboard our scooters and scooted home harmlessly.

A worthwhile adventure, that demonstrates to us how we could go to a real movie if we wanted.

Latest contemporty quote

Lastest contemporary quote.

Turn right at the first star and go straight on to toimorrow -- Captain Kirk, quoting Peter Pan submitted by daughter Jo

What book most represents my peronality

If I were asked to name a book that most represents my personality, I would have to pick three:

The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain

The Curious case of the dog in the nightime by Mark Haddon

Little Benny's Book by Lee Pape   

In Stranger, the narrator meets a playmate who is supernatural, either an angel, God, or Satan, it is not clear which.  He explains that all creation is in YOUR mind, and your mind only.  That philosophy is reflected in modern times by Depak Chopra who says the universe is a hologram in your mind.   

In Curious, the protagonist is an autistic teen ager who uses his handicap, the inability to forget details, to solve his real life problems.  That is me, you see, using my handicaps, to extend myself to the world,  

And in Little Benny, an old, old book, the narrator is Little Benny, who writes his journal daily of neighborhood happenings of Pudge, Glasses Magee, and mom and pop.  I read and reread that book as kid, and learned to see adventures in everyday happenings.

Most fascinating drive I (n)ever made

The Most Fascinating Drive I Never Made

I enjoy historic places, so I am sorry I never took a car, camper, or motor home on the Lewis and Clark Trail from Saint Louis to the Pacific. I used to be in awe when I crossed that trail near Kansas City. I would tell myself that I am standing where Lewis and Clark and their band of explorers stood two hundred years ago. A trip that took 45 brave men (and one woman) 554 days to make in the nineteenth century would make an exciting three week adventure in the twenty-first.

The Most Fascinating Drive I Ever Made

I have driven the streets of Subtropolis, an entire underground city. Developers took an old mine near Kansas City, and used its dozens of underground passageways and chambers for streets and businesses. Businesses who need the advantage of controlled and constant humidity and temperature settle there. The United States Postal Service stores and distributes stamps from there. A candy maker makes his confections there. There is a restaurant to serve the hundreds of workers who spend their days there, and a parking lot for their cars. Eighteen wheelers drive from the highway right into the underground passages to the doors of their clients. There is even a railway under the mountain. All the streets look alike and it would be easy to become lost, but the walls are painted with huge arrows that point to exits. Subtropolis is not for the claustrophobic.

High Power Kids

One of the things my chums and I did as kids was go to the library, get books, and read to each other. That amazes me, Kids reading to each other.

One of this group of chums, Ken, went on to become a marine biologist, a curator of Marineland of the Pacific, and a specialist in whales and dolphins. He wrote several books about porpoises. He swam with dolphins and helped develop commercial fishing techniques that let dolphins escape the nets of the tuna boats. His study has saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of dolphins.

Another of my chums, Bob, Ken’s brother, became a Geologist. He became a professor at the University of California at Santa Barbara, and has written several books on the Geology of California and its off-shore islands.

Chum Chuck became a teacher but kept on studying school administration. He became a counselor, a principal, and an area superintendent in the Los Angeles City Schools. If he wrote a book, he hasn’t told me.

Friend Walt married my wife’s sister. I see him at family affairs. Our kids are cousins. He had a successful career at Convair Aviation in San Diego.

And I, the weak link in the chain of professionals, became a radio operator in WWII, continued my interest in electronics, which led to computers. At least, I am the only one of this high power group to have a blog.

More Contemporary Quotes

Got any cheese -- Steve Urkel

I am a wee bit psychic -- Daphne Moon

I am the master of my domain -- George Costanza

I’m king of the world -- Leonardo DiCaprio

You had me at ‘hello’ -- Renee Zellweger

There’s no crying in baseball -- Tom Hanks

When is the next swan due?-- Leo Slezak as Lohengrin

Include me out -- Samuel Goldwyn

That’s a shame -- Jerry Seinfeld

The Dr. is in 5¢ -- Lucy

Fasten Your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night -- Bette Davis

Come up and see me some time  --  Mae West

You can't cheat an honest man  --  W.C. Fields (?)

You can’t handle the truth -- Jack Nicholson

You’re Fired -- Donald Trump

I tot I taw a puddy tat --  Tweetie  (from Ckays1967)

My Brush with Greatness (3)

This is my third contribution to the celebrities game. But it is my daughter's.

When she was about thirteen she went to Girl Scout summer camp.  Disney was filming Parent Trap with Haley Mills.  The girls at camp were given a chance to be extras in the film.  They played games for background scenes mostly, but in one scene Haley and her double, for she played twins in that movie, were marched to an isolation punishment cabin.  All the girls marching in a column swinging their arms and whistling Colonel Bowie March.

When I saw the film, I was delighted to see Kate right up front. 

"How'd you get to be up front," I asked.

"Well," she answered with a bit of a smirk, "some of us did it better than the others."

Romance by Wire

My sweetheart is eighty-seven years old. That’s all right. I am seventy-nine. Our romance is carried on by long distance telephone. It is very chaste. But we talk for an hour a day on the phone.

At first my phone bill was staggering. I changed phone companies five times in two years chasing the best long distance deals.  I had it down to manageable size even though we were 800 miles apart. But at least we were in the same time zone. At Seven AM every morning I called and we chatted, mostly about nothing, for an hour. We both depend on our morning calls.

Now she has moved to Texas, 2000 miles and two time zones away. It’s the time difference that makes the problem.

I found a message on my machine at 5:30 PM, “Sorry I missed you. I was sure you’d be in your room at 9:15.” Poor dear, she added two hours instead of subtracting. She had called at 7:15 in Texas time.

I called her back and we chatted and laughed about the mix up.

This morning at five am the phone by the head of my bed rang.

“Hello.” (Groggy)

“Good morning,” (Bright and cheerfully) , “Isn’t it a beautiful morning.”

“I don’t know. It is still dark outside.”

It will all work out.

My Brush with Greatness-- Part two

I just remembered an earlier meeting with a celebrity.  I will win the Old Timers award for this one... it happened in 1928, when I was four.  I don't remember, but I've been told.

   Up the street, at the corner of Alpine Drive and Elevado in Beverly Hills lived silent screen star, famous as a "vamp", Theda Bara. Bara used to dismount from her limosine a block from home, and walk the rest of the way followed slowly by her chauffer in the car.

   Little Charles, on his tricycle, spoke up, "You're Theda Bara."

   She stopped and patted me on the head and said, "The little ROSCAL knows my name.."

   She was a silent screen star, so having an accent didn't hinder her career at all.

My Brushwith Greatness

A friend and I took our lady friends flying in our Ercoupes. Ercoupes are antique, low wing monoplanes. We cruised a bit, then landed for lunch at the café at Agua Dulce Airport near Vasquez Rocks, California.

As we ate we noticed another Ercoupe circling and making touch and go landings, and commented that we seemed to be having a convention of ‘coupes. Soon the other plane landed and a flying instructor, Dix Logan, whom we knew, and his student, JOHN TRAVOLTA, who owned the little plane, came in. In those days, Travolta owned only one plane.

I shouted, “Ercoupe pilots, over here,” and they joined us.

We chatted about our planes and their flying characteristics. My lady friend was in awe, and tried to edge the menu closer for an autograph, but I said, “No, you don’t. We’re all just Ercoupe pilots here.” And Travolta said, “That’s right.”

I had commented on the Ercoupe’s special ability to handle cross-wind landings, and Travolta asked why that is. I said, “It‘s the sturdy landing gear. Have you noticed, it is built like brick outhouse.” Except, I used a more common scatological term for outhouse. My lady went into shock. How could I use language like that with John Travolta?

Asked if it were true that he was not allowed to fly while in New York filming Saturday Night Fever. He said “Yes, because so many peoples’ jobs depend on your safety .” But he confided that he had been able to get over to New Jersey for some flying.

Nowadays, Travolta flies his own jet worldwide, and I pilot my electric scooter closer to ground.

Signs on my Apartment Door

Seen on my door .  Recent series: Sayings from movies or TV

You're Fired --  Donald Trump

Kiss My Grits --  Flo (in Alice)

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn --  Rhett Butler

It was beauty killed the beast --  Denham  (King Kong)

I'll be back --Terminator

Tora! Tora! Tora! --  Yamamoto

Sorry about that! --  Agent 86

Life is like a box of chocolates.  You Never know what you are going to get --  Forrest Gump

Me, Tarzan.  You, Jane -- Johnny Weismuller

If you build it, they will come  --  Field of Dreams

Blondie! --  Dagwood Bumstead

They're ba-ack! -- Little Susie

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto -- Dorothy Gale

George, tell me about the rabbits, George --  Lenny Small

I was a better man as a woman, than I ever was as a man -- Michael Dorsey, Tootsie

Bring me an empty horse -- Samuel Goldwyn

Ready when you are, Mr. DeMille -- Old Joke

Make them an offer they can't refuse -- The Godfather

One night I shot an elephant in my pajamas.  How he got in my pajamas, I'll never know --  Groucho

I want to be alone --  Greta Garbo

Go ahead, Make my day -- Dirty Harry

Elementary, My dear Watson -- sherlock Holmes

Win one for the Gipper --Knute Rockne

Phone Home --  E.T.

If you want me, just whistle.  You do know how to whistle, don'tyou? --  Lauren Bacall

What would you add?

Snootchy bootches ----- Jay & Silent Bob,  From Bassjock

This is the begining of a beautiful friendship - Humphrey Bogart from Jeffcomedy

""Did I do that?"     --Steve Urkel from mgraves6033

Boldly go where no one has gone before  --Star Trek  from camaroisle050856

"Doh"  -- Homer Simpson  from KateH2Ocolorart

"Where's the Beef?"  --TV commercial  (Wendy's) from KateH2Ocolorart

"You never met a bad guy like me.  Make way for the bad guy."  -- Al Pacino, Scarface from lizardking6613

 

 

 

A Ride in the Goodyear Blimp

On my eighth birthday, in 1932, my grandparents bought me a ride in the Goodyear Blimp, Volunteer.  It was one of four in those days.  It had a landing field at LaCieniga and Wilshire in Los Angeles.  I have no idea what it cost.  We lifted off and flew west to Beverly Hills.  By craning and straining we could see on west and could even make out our house in Westwood.

At age forty I learned to fly a plane, and was reminded of my first adventure in the air, in the Blimp.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto

One of the residents of the “old folks home” I live in wandered off yesterday. I went on my “scooter” and searched the parking lots for her. Meanwhile, a concerned neighbor found her wandering and drove her home. That made me look into the future.

I see a future in which we all wear GPS locators. Global Positioning Systems are already so sophisticated that they can pin-point our location on the face of the earth within a few feet. Imagine a world with no more lost children or senior citizens. No more getting lost on the way to a friend’s new house. No more abductions, kidnappings, or escapes. A huge computer would track each and every one of us.

When Big Brother is always watching us, we will want him to be like an actual brother, looking after our welfare, not secret police or a political leader seeing that we behave. I think I’d like my GPS to have an optional “off” switch, so I could be lost if I wanted to.

Proud as a peacock

Man, I am proud.  Daughter Kate has a website.  Take a peek. Click on that link or enter http://hometown.aol.com/kateh2ocolorart/index.html

Ten Facts About Myself

Ten facts about myself

(Well, thirteen, if you’re keeping score.,)

1. Most of my reading is done on the internet. I get my news and features that way. The first thing I read daily on the internet is By The Way by John Scalzi. In fact it was he who suggested putting Ten

Facts about Myself in this journal..

2. I would like to be a nudist. I resent putting on clothes in the morning. I am happiest reading, writing, lounging around naked. I once went to a nudist colony. I was not happy there. The nudists emphasized the healthful aspects of nudism, and down-played the sensual aspects. My interest is just the opposite.

3. I am a Democrat, a LIBERAL Democrat. My first presidential vote was for Truman, I am happy to remember. I did vote for a Republican once, Eisenhower for a first term. By the time he ran for reelection I had wised up. I once voted for Perot, though I forget what his party was.

4. I once rode in the Goodyear blimp. The ride was a present for my eighth birthday. I think my interest in flying may have started then.

5. I owned, maintained, and flew my own airplane, a 1946 Ercouipe. I once made an off field landing on a country road, just for the fun of it. I hit a fence in taking off, and although I flew home safely, I had ruined the prop. I never did that again.

6. I am afraid of heights, except when I am flying my own plane.

7. I hate to travel.

8. I am divorced. The separation was my fault, and if I could do it over, I would avoid those actions that caused our estrangement.

9. As a youth I wanted to be a news photographer. After I was wounded in WWII, I decided a one- legged school teacher would get along better than a one-legged news photographer.

10.. I am an atheist. I find that hard to say: perhaps some part of me still feels that it will make God angry if I say I don’t believe in Him. I studied hard to understand the Biblical God, and could not, so I reluctantly acknowledged that I am that lost individual, an atheist.

11. I live in a retirement home. You can read that as “Old Folks Home”. I feel limited and constrained here, and generally misunderstood among my fellow residents, few of whom even know what the internet is.

12. I like to listen to music, but I hate background music when I am doing something else. I would never have music playing while I am writing.

13. I have a home page, and I keep this Blog, Dribble, but I don‘t know why it is called a Blog.

Cabaret

Went to see Cabaret.  Weird and interesting play.  Went because grandson Adam was in orchestra.  Because I was in wheel chair, I had a seat on stage, at a cabaret table.  Charming to be so close you could touch dancers and actors.  They perform, and try to avoid making eye contact with you, so they can stay in character.  The play is set in Germany in 1939 and during the course of the play, the Nazis take over the Cabaret.  Poignant.

Thanks for comments.

Scooter

Ordered a new scooter...a Pride.  Will zip me to Sav Mart and the Mall and Wal*Mart.  Replace an old pace saver which I seem not to be able to fix and a tippy City Bug, which is more toy than walking aid.  Glad I can still drive, but the fifteen foot walk from the back, where I story my wheelchair, to the driver's seat, is getting longer and longer. 

("Hi" to Shelly a journaler who writes a charming blog)http://journals.aol.com/dazeychic/DayinthelifeofShelliP/entries/556/AddComment?from=0

Wish I knew how to properly insert links.

Who let the dogs out?

Yesterday, I escaped the humdrum existence here twice.  Once to Starbucks for a latte.  I don't like latte much, but it was a chance to get out.  Later for a solo lunch at Carl's Jr.  Had a baked potato with sour cream and a sprite.  I bought a fancy burrito to bring home.  Potato very good, and the fancy burrito was so-so.  I ate it at about 9 pm.  I plan my next escape to the bagel store a block away.  The little "city bug" runs fine.  I ride it right into the cafes, to the counter and to the table. 

   Day before yesterday I went on "city bug" to Pizza Hut with Anita and Wilma, friends from the residence.  Rode right in there too.

Little Rascal

Got a catalogue from Rascals electric scooter co. today.  Tells all about their rascals.  Everything,that is, except the price.  I presume that means that you have to negotiate the purchase like buying a car. I know the model I would like.  Negotiating makes it a lot less attractive sale for me. Will put off calling their sales representative.  Will work some more on my old one, or ride my "city bug" a while longer.

snowing

It is snowing.  Well, virtually.  As I look out my window, I see the snow falling gently, quietly to the ground.  It covers the ground with a white blanket.  It is gorgeous.It is, however, not cold.  The snow is actually the blossoms from the trees lining the drive way by my apartment.    I am told they are fruitless pear trees, but that doesn't seem possible in this Almond tree country.  Nevertheless, they are beautiful.

Wal*Mart

Had the Villa bus take me to Wal*Mart today.  Went to the electric cart parking, and sat in cart.  Loaded in a case of 8 oz cans of Diet Pepsi.  Figured if I'm gonna drink soda pop, the smaller the can the better.

Cart wouldnt run. So I left the Pepsi in cart and rode my wheel chair shopping.  Shopped the videos, the books, the magazines.  Then the toys.  Electronic games have gone sophisticated and cheap.  Handheld Scrabble for about $14, and other computer games reduced to hand held size, like Tetris. 

  Ended by buying a new knife, a pocket saw, 10 pens, and toothpicks.  Usually I spent $100 in Wal*Mart, but today I got change from a $5 bill.  All because the shopping cart would not run.

One Little Bitch

Pardon me if I make one little bitch about the place I'm living in.  It is a retirement home converted to assisted living.  Because it is assisted living there are regulations about where you keep your medications and such.

   Well, they just came and searched my apartment.  I showed them that my medications were locked up tight.  None the less, the caregiver continued to search my bathroom until she found one tiny, finger-tip sized cup of ointment that I didn't know I had, and don't even know what it is.  I was told to lock it up.

   I am so irritated by the search that I feel like moving.

mars

I have heard it said that we cannot afford to send another space ship to Mars. We need housing, education, food for the poor.

Well, duh… The money spent to send an expedition to Mars is not spent ON Mars… it is spent in the USA.

Instead of paying the poor people for being poor, it is paid to highly educated mathematicians and scientists. It is also paid to parking lot attendants, dish washers, floor scrubbers.

They use their money to build houses, pay farmers for food, educate their kids.

It is just another way to distribute money. This way distributes it to the educated, the gifted, instead of the homeless, hopeless, or hapless.

Even if there were NO scientific benefits, it would be good for US to have a project. And there ARE scientific benefits.

Come to think of if… maybe this would be a good worldwide, international project. Get countries working together, not competing.