The True Meaning of Christmas II

DSC09334_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

And yet another example of what Christmas is all about!

The True Meaning of Christmas

DSC09062_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

This picture give me tears of pleasure! It's my son and his little girl out looking for a Christmas Tree to take home.

I am back now from my 6 days with my son and daughter-in-law and wonderful granddaughter, Ali. My brain is full of sounds and images I hope not to lose. Most of the sounds are Alison’s. I asked Michael to play the “what’s this” game with me and to everything I answered “dah-ee” so he could understand how Ali answered that question almost every time. I love the sounds she made that went along with the slap on the floor to indicate where her companion was supposed to sit—the singing sounds when she was playing on her own—the food appreciation noises. I should have brought a recording device for all of them, though I doubt I’ll forget them any time soon.

The images will remain clear for a very long time. The sign for “more”, the sign for “I’m hungry”, the dancing and swaying to the many songs that came from her toys, her beautiful curling golden hair, her sparkling blue eyes. She would race like a demon from one end of the living room to the kitchen, back and forth, accompanying herself with squealing and giggles. She and Daddy would play a game after dinner, slapping their hands down on the table and highchair tray. Ali would often take the lead and try to fool her Daddy—laughing in delight when she was able to fake him out by putting her hand somewhere else. I have been demonstrating the “sad face” to people—Ali’s fake sad face is a riot. She tried to get us to think she was upset and then she’d laugh and clap her hands at the joke. Am I biased to think that most 19-month old children don’t know hot to make jokes yet?

I mentioned the songs from the toys. It seems 80% of toys these days have buttons to push that result in noises or songs or both. If a child has a Leap Pad, as Ali does, there are 5 or 6 songs on every page of the story. One of Ali’s favorite toys, her barn, has animal sounds when gates are opened or animals sit in their pens. It also includes a peppy song. To all of these songs, Ali dances, whether she’s sitting, kneeling or standing. Her favorite song is the elephant’s song in one of her Leap Pad books and she’s precociously learned how to change the tempo from very fast to very slow, with a sway for the slow and a bounce for the fast. She skips all the other pages to get to that one where her fingers quickly press the necessary spots on the page to get to the desired song.

I think I could write pages and pages about what I watched Ali do. I spent five days just watching and playing with her all day—the 6th day we went to the Mall of America to visit Santa Claus. Irene had been preparing for days to get Ali ready for this occasion. Last year, when she was 7 months old, they got a good, grinning picture before she realized there was a strange bearded man behind her. This year she’s much more aware so prep work was necessary. There was a copy of the picture with Santa from last year and talk about what nice a fellow he was. While standing in line Mommy showed Ali what Santa was doing with the other kids. Mind you, this is not one of those scruffy Santa’s with a phony beard and junky red-velveteen coat and pants. This Santa has his own pretty white hair and curly beard, wears flannel Christmas print shirts, velvet pants with suspenders, candy-striped socks. He is the picture of what we all think Santa should be. He has all kinds of tricks up his sleeve, too. He managed to get everyone before Ali to smile and laugh with his shenanigans.

When Ali’s turn came her Mommy put her in the little rocking chair and Santa crept up behind her. None of the squeaky toys or silliness from the photographer could drag a smile from her. She was very seriously skeptical. When she finally put two and two together and turned to see who was behind her it was all over. There is a picture, above, and Santa is very animated in it, but Ali is as deadpan as it gets.

Pages and pages could be written…I have to say that my son and daughter in law continue to be exemplary parents. They have established routines that are workable. They feed Ali good food; make sure she gets enough rest. They stimulate her mind. They tell her they love her. She is an incredibly bright and happy child whose unhappy faces are mostly jokes!

Thanksgiving is a complicated little holiday for me. It’s been good, it’s been awful, sometimes I have ridden home crying and asking why I have the family that I do. Mom cooked for many years and then when she became awfully tired of doing it we began to share the day. Now I do it all myself. I remember:

The Thanksgiving when I was 16 and went to dinner at my boyfriend’s house. My folks were stunned and hurt.

The Thanksgivings that Dad and my brothers barely said a civil word to each other.

The Thanksgivings when the “football” game would compete with dinner.

The cold mashed potatoes at almost every Mom-prepared Thanksgiving.

Wondering what mood brother, Dan, would present this year.

The year brother, Stanley, brought homemade biscuits, carried in his drum.

The Thanksgiving in Tracyton when Mom invited two Argentinian young men to our meal.

The Thanksgiving I rebelled against the idea of doing all the cooking myself and decided to buy dinner pre-made from the store. The gravy was gray and too salty, the string bean casserole was overcooked, the pie was…..store bought.

The Thanksgivings my Dad choked up over the personal prayer he said before the meal.

The first Thanksgiving dinner I prepared as a young married woman.

The years when we wouldn’t let Dad say a real prayer and we all just said “grace”.

The pressure as a kid to find something “to be thankful for” because we would be asked.

The first Thanksgiving after my Dad died. Brother, Dan, did all the puns and told obvious jokes Dad would have told, in his honor.

The Thanksgiving when Stanley started coughing after dinner and fainted.

The Thanksgiving in Ventura, CA. It was just not right for it to be so sunny and warm!

The tiny Thanksgivings we have had since my brother, Dan, died in 2003.

The delicious birds, dressings, salads, pies I’ve gobbled over the years.

The extremely full feeling that I have just before I decide there’s just a little bit of room left for pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

And all the wonderful turkey sandwiches with, cranberry sauce, mayonnaise and lettuce!

Thanksgivings are quieter now. The two volatile members of the family are gone and it’s just we 4 left. We eat the fabulous dinner that took all day to make in ten minutes, quickly savoring the moist turkey and the gravy on the dressing and mashed potatoes. We tease Mom because she doesn’t finish her salad or her peas. We play games or watch a cute movie after dinner and then we eat that pie. I have come to terms with cooking the dinner by myself and find myself enjoying the entire day now. I even let Mom say grace over the food we are about to partake. And I am always thankful for something.

New York, New York

I am back from New York City! What a town! Everything I ever heard about it is a myth! This is what I heard: The subways are dangerous. The city is dirty. The people are unfriendly. Nobody says “Have a nice day” like they do in the Northwest. The cabbies are rude. It’s hard to navigate such a big city. The streets are crowded or scarily empty, with a purse snatcher or mugger around every corner.

All of it is untrue! The subways were great and the people in them just like any other people on mass transit anywhere in the world. They can get you anywhere you want to go very quickly, making it very easy to get around, thus trumping the other myth about navigating the city.

The people were very friendly—the store clerks were helpful and said “Have a great day!” when you left. The cabbies were the same and it was impressive how they could maneuver their way through the crowded streets. There was lots of honking—that’s something you see in movies and on TV that is true. I didn’t see anybody flipping anybody off though.

The city was very clean. We went to a Halloween night parade in Greenwich Village. There were thousands of people on the street, eating, drinking from paper cups and bottles and throwing stuff on the street. The partying went on into the night, but the next morning there wasn’t a trace of it. I noticed that storekeepers hosed the sidewalks off in front of their shops every morning. There are dogs being walked all the time and their poop is dutifully picked up by the dog owner. Crews must be out there in the middle of the night cleaning—every morning there are big plastic garbage bags ready for pickup.

I never felt unsafe, even in the big crowds at the parade. We took precautions before the parade, only took money for dinner and ID with us, no purses to snatch, but I noticed many woman with their purses. There were some incidences that night, probably caused by too much drinking. All those people had come into the city and were making the most of it. It was noisy for hours after we went to bed.

I had 5 days of apartment living and though it is drastically different from living in a house in the Northwest, it is certainly doable. The restaurants were everywhere and wonderful. We have a hard time here finding a good one within driving distance, whereas there you could throw and rock and it would land on one within walking distance. We ate Cuban, Austrian, Lebanese, Chinese (Peking Duck no less!), French and American food. With the exception of the Chinese place everything was within walking distance of the apartment we were staying in. This is a wonderful attribute of city living.

You can tell, I’m sure, that I loved my visit to NYC. I got so mentally stimulated by the diverse culture and the fantastic places to go and things to see that I can’t sleep without dreaming of it. I haven’t downloaded my pictures yet. I’m hoping for a good one from the parade and I’ll share anything that is interesting.

Halloween in NYC

What a different Halloween this one will be. It seems my holiday season has been getting differenter and differenter the past few years and that’s okay with me. I am not one who wants, craves or needs Tradition, other than presents and turkey. I like presents on Christmas, and if I didn’t get turkey sandwiches somewhere between October and January, I think I might die.

But I was talking about this year’s Halloween being different. For AT LEAST the past 22 years I have been dressing up for Halloween. There was a period of time between high school and going to work when I didn’t think it was mature or I was dressing my children for Halloween, and sat out the costuming myself. When I went back to work in 1984 I went back to appearing in costume on Halloween with a vengeance! I LOVE dressing up and putting on weird makeup. There just is no other day you can do it, without the possibility of seeming like a loon. (Unless you are in a play, which probably was the reason I was in several of them. Make-up—costumes!) Even then, some very straight-laced, uptight, rules-regulated, purse-lipped people think you are deranged. I’ve been the usual gypsy fortune-teller, a cat with a velvet coat, a nerd (one of the more popular concoctions), the crazy receptionist from that TV show starring Drew Carey, but I think my favorite was my own version of Spider Woman, with spiked silver hair, cobwebs all over my desk, spiders on my shoulder and “spider relocation” bags.

This year, however, I will be in New York City on Halloween. In Greenwich Village to be exact and I am told there will be a parade of the locals. Now that sounds like a Halloween to remember. I’ve been shown pictures of this parade and I have made sure my camera is charged and ready because I want to bring back some pictures of these wild NYC people in the bizarre outfits I am expecting. I won’t have a costume per say, but I guess maybe I’ll look like the country bumpkin (rhymes with pumpkin) I am, which could be disguise enough.

Ali in the Leaves

DSC08062_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

Is it memories of this kind of playing in the leaves that makes Fall such a loved season? My Granddaughter sure loves the leaves and I love the smell of the air, and the slant of the light and all the spider webs sparkling in the morning dew.

Normal Life

I've been away from blogging for awhile. I wish I was as faithful/prolific as Fossil Guy or Bookworm. I've been working on a blog about scattering my brother's ashes, which we did a couple of weekends ago (even though he died in 2003). Every time I go back to it I add more. I think it may be less of a blog posting and more like therapy.

Things are normal in my life. I go to work every day, hungrily check my daughter-in-law's blog and the Flickr site for new pictures and anecdotes of my granddaughter, Alison. Solve work problems, answer emails, tell people how to fill out forms, drink coffee (do it myself, not tell people how), eat lunch in my car while I read my latest book. Latest book? The Ninth Life of Louis Drax. Fascinating, mysterious short read. Then something by JJ Jance, because she has 3 books on top of the library hold list and I want to see what she's all about. Why do readers like her stuff so much? I'll let you know if I agree with them.

A normal day means I go straight home after work, put on my yoga pants and t-shirt and get on the exercycle. The goal is 30-plus minutes at Level 3. I can stand it only if I am working on a New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle while I peddle. It works, too. My mind gets so absorbed in figuring out which words fit that I'm past 30 minutes before I know it and the sweat is dripping down my nose.

Then it's make dinner, eat, clean and sit on the couch with my feet in my Mate's lap for 1 1/2 hours of TV. All summer we watched the old 60s series Wild, Wild West and Rat Patrol. Rat Patrol was a snoozer, mainly shot in the deserts of California or Mexico, Mexican towns standing in for Middle Eastern ones. WWW was fun though. I had not liked Bob Conrad in the sixties when I was a young mother. Frankly, I think his arrogance reminded me of my then husband who I'd grown not to like much. But seeing him now I see how handsome he was, with a small, lithe athletic body and pretty blue eyes. All summer I looked forward to sitting down with James West and Artemis Gordon in the evening to relive those swinging sixties!

Now we are watching season four of Seinfeld until the Fall season gets underway. I'll watch Seinfeld episodes as many times as I'm allowed. My favorite character is George Costanza, because his ethics are so fluid!

Then it's off to sleep, perchance to dream and then try to wake up the next day and do it all over again. We aren't raising a grandchild, we don't have our kids close by, right now my 84-year-old Mom is in good health and aside from my brother balking about mowing the lawn, things are quiet on that front. My Mate's Mom is still with her sisters in Greece. Problems are at bay for the present. Venus and Mars are in the right places, all aspects are copasetic (??). Normal can be dazzling!

Granddaughter Reader

DSC06931_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

Ali does have other fine qualities besides her warlike ones. Yes I did give her the "war toy" but when it sits upright it's an "entertainment/circus toy" with balls flying up into the air and making everyone laugh. As you can see from this picture, Ali reads and her Mommy says she does this every single morning, one book at a time. It is her preferred way of starting the day. Some people have their coffee, Ali has her books to get her started. So I am still proud, even if she does appear to already be able to figure out ways of destroying farm yard animals!

Genius Granddaughter

DSC06949_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

This is a picture of my Granddaughter, Alison, using a toy I gave her for her First Birthday to attack her Fischer Price farm. The balls in this particular toy come out of the top of the toy with a force propelled by air. All she has to do is turn it on and load the balls and she's dangerous. Does it amaze anyone else that a little girl who barely walks and only says a handful of words has already leanred this? She isn't allowed to watch TV either, so she hasn't been exposed to violent behavior on cartoons or news programs.

I think she's a genius for making the connection that she can knock over her farm animals and Mr. Farmer with the balls from another toy! Or is that just Grandma Bias?

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Little and Lewis Garden Ceramic

IMG_0017, originally uploaded by Song Bird.

I'm posting from flickr where I now am posting photos, rather than Yafro where I used to post photos. This is an experiment of course. First time for everything. This Little and Lewis Garden was a wonderful place, very small, but full of ceramic artwork like the bird above. Would be a great place of any photographer (Fossil Guy) to have a couple of hours of taking shots. And even better would be to buy one of their creations, because all of them are fantastic. They use lovely glazes and all fit so well into our green Northwest, even the ones inspired by Italy and Greece. Little and Lewis have a website and are open by appointment or a couple of times a month during the summer. I loved it and have been inspired by it! Trying to get my mate to make me some concrete pillars to put plant pots on!

A Lovely Friday

Because I'm about to get flak from Fossil Guy if I don't post SOMETHING, I am going to post something. I am at work. All Directors have taken Friday off, my boss is in Ohio because her father died, our Supt. is in Port Angeles because one of our old Board Members died, and our Asst Supt has broken her ankle badly and requires surgery. Who is in charge? The monkeys are in charge of the zoo!!!

We had a really nice 4 days off last week because we (Mate and I) took Monday off, too. What a great time we had pretending to be retired! Even with 4 days I still didn't have enough time for the things I wanted to do, so I know I am ready for retirement. People keep asking me: "What are you going to do when you retire?!" That question tells me that they aren't ready or they would know! I used to feel that way, too, back when I was in my 50s. But not any more! My list of things I want to do is very long and includes getting out like Fossil Guy is doing, on his picture taking forays. We discovered on the 4th when we had Fossil Guy and Bookworm over for burgers and dogs, that FG and I have the same camera. He is taking much better pics than I am and I wonder if I'll ever catch up with him. He is a photo artist!

We had a lively conversation about retirement and buying new houses and so on. Condominiums, one level houses, city or country, taxes, enough money to live on, all those things people in their 60s and 70s must think about. I don't feel like I am of advanced age but I guess I am getting there. Retirement looks to me like a long wonderful vacation, not a slowing down time. It will be a time I can actually design my garden, rather than only trying to keep the weeds at bay. It will be a time I can make a really great card to send to a friend rather than one I can whip up in an hour. It will be a time of fussing over dinner rather than putting something quick on the table. And yes, I have to admit, I will even be able to keep my house cleaner, if it seems important to do so. I wonder about that one!

My mate has told me he wants to take lots of cruises when we are both retired. He won't retire until 3 years after me. He wants to get on a big boat, enjoy the fabulous meals, go to classes, to the gym, see the scenery, read, walk the decks, be away from the telephone and Real Life for 10 days. It's the only way he can avoid the chores that he can always hear calling. If he was at home 100% of the time he would never stop mending, weeding, fixing, adding, sanding, painting. He is a man of doing.

Bookworm said something on the 4th that has had my mind working overtime ever since. I had told her about the latest worrisome adventures of my Mom. On the day my brother locked the keys in the car at Safeway, Mom ran out in the street and flagged down a driver to take her to Silverdale with "extra keys". A stranger picked her up, took her to Silverdale, drove her around the Safeway parking lot where they couldn't locate my brother, and then drove her back home. In the meantime my brother came back home with the locksmith, looking for Mom to pay the bill, and she was gone! She showed up later with the keys, which hadn't actually been car keys at all. I told BW about this and she looked at me with one of her "I have to tell you something" looks and said,

"You know, your Mom has probably been doing these things all along and you just didn't know about them. Those are the kinds of things that I do."

This just has blown my mind (pardon the 70s expression, but it's the only way I can describe the affect it's had on me). I love the "gaps" as BW calls her midadventures, the wild things she is capable of have always intrigued me, but in my Mom they scare the crap out of me! And sometimes they drive my up a wall. I never connected the "gaps" that BW has with the ones my Mom has. Never before have I compared the two. That's what I've been doing this week. Comparing and puzzling and wondering. Why so attracted and repelled by the same thing? Surely, BW is not exactly like my Mom. She is far more driven to succeed, to make a fabulous life, to be loyal to friends and family. My Mom has never been driven, is kind of lazy in fact, and loses track of friends pretty easily and doesn't seem to honor family much. But these "gaps" are very, very similar. Baby, baby, baby, I am reeling! Gotta get together with Bookworm and talk this over some more. More later!

Sorry there are no pictures. Blogger wasn't cooperating today.

A New Attitute!

So….okay….yesterday afternoon at 4:05 I got a call here at work from my Mom.

“Stanley is at the Safeway in Silverdale and he’s locked himself out of the car!”

My first reaction was to laugh and say, so what does that have to do with ME?, but I refrained from being as cold as I really am, and said,

“Well, there’s really nothing I can do, as I am at work. I guess he could call a locksmith but that would cost a pretty penny. Do you have extra car keys?” Mom said yes, she did.

“Okay, then. Try to get a ride with somebody so you can meet Stanley there and unlock the car.” Mom agreed that sounded like a plan so we left it at that.

I got home about 5:30 and told this story to my Mate, who offered that my brother had called 10 minutes before I got home, back at Mom’s, after calling a locksmith.

“Mom isn’t home! Do you know where she is?!"

I just laughed. I have begun to develop another attitude toward The Artists, my Mom and my Brother who lives with her. Mom is back driving her car again after 6 months in a plaster cast, wheelchair, cane and then orthotic, for the broken ankle….which means I don’t have to grocery shop for Them anymore! Hallelujah! Hence, the New Attitude. I want a break from Caretaking. (Must be kind of how Fossil Guy feels about the Caretaking of Grandson, although I think when he’s doing it for Allie, it’s lots more delightful than when I’m caretaking The Artists.)

My new attitude is “Let them eat crap!” I don’t mean literally let them eat dog shit or ca-ca, I mean let them eat the frozen TV dinners and the frozen pizza and the frozen chicken pieces and the potato chips and the huge blocks of cheese and the canned ravioli and the cookies and the Chex Mix and the ice cream and the Brach’s Candy I’ve been buying per their grocery lists. Let them take the OTC sleep aids and Metamucil to help them sleep and shit after eating all that crap. It was hard for me to fill the basket with the high fat low nutrient foods they've asked me to buy for them, but my Mate told me I had to, it was Mom’s money, so I did. But now I don’t have to see it! Hurray! Let them eat crap, I say! And let The Artists get out of the little mess of the keys locked in the car and then enjoy the story of how it all went down. I’ll have a little respite for awhile, until the next crisis comes along, but for now I’ll enjoy the heck out of myself!

Okay….so now you know the real awful me. I hope you don’t stop reading my blog because of it.

Fossil Guy Rocks!

My old pal, Fossil Guy, has helped me, or rather has done it all himself, to get my picture up on my site! I have been trying to do this for a long time and just didn't have the right combination for the Blog Safe. They don't make it real easy to do this, but Jim had the patience to keep trying things until he got it right! Thanks old buddy, old pal, no emphasis on the "old" but big emphasis on the buddy and the pal. This is one of the best things, blogging, that has come along in a long time and I love all you guys who keep doing it and keep visiting!

Plum Duff

Plum Duff

2 eggs

1/2 c. butter
1 c. brown sugar
2 c. prunes
1 c. flour
1/8 t. salt

1 t. soda
1 T. milk

Cook and mash prunes. Beat eggs. Melt butter.Mix eggs, butter and brown sugar together.Stir in prunes. Sift flour with salt.Dissolve soda in milk.Add flour and milk mixtures to prune mixture stir this in by hand. Bake this in a buttered ring mold covered with foil (it is a steamed pudding).Set mold in pan of hot water and steam in oven for 1 1/4 hours at 350 degrees.Serve with:

Sauce

1 egg.

5 T. melted butter
1 1/2 c. confectioners sugar
1 c. whipping cream
Beat egg till foamy. Add butter and beat.Add confectioners sugar and blend.Beat in whipping cream.
Refrigerate.

This sounds like a great way to take a bit of a "loosener". And did you know that Edinburgh's loudest rock band is called Plum Duff?

Scotland - Part Two

Tuesday, April 4, 2006 6:40 pm

We are now in the MacKinnon Country House Hotel--a Hotel rather than a B & B, which is what Dhailing Lodge was. Less personal and less attractive. The plus is the actual bathtub in each room. There was a hideous burgundy spread on my bed which I took off and p ut in the closet, in favor of the flowered duvet covered feather comforter beneath it. They are trying, according to their Hotel book, to decorate each room in the colors of the clan the room is named for--in the case of my room, Clan Leslie, and the colors are burgundy and green with a navy tripe running through.

We had a long day of travel to get here. One of our stops was at the Glencoe visitor's center. Glencoe is a range of mountains in the Highlands with a bloody history during the Jacobite period. The Campbells were ordered by the British to murder the MacDonalds, who held Glencoe. The British wanted to control the mountainous area, I'm sure, but also thought of these Highlanders as barbarians and not worth living. How they convinced the Campbells to be so traitorous I don't know. Promises of land, probably. The area is dramatically beautiful, the mountains rising just beside the road that goes through it, and at this time of year there is still snow on them. The mountains aren't high, maybe 5000 ft., but impressive so close. Since our family can be traced back to the Campbells we must be careful who we tell around here, as all on the Isle of Skye would have a negative view of that betraying clan.

Another stop was at a place called The Green Welly, called thusly because a Green Welly (mucking around boot) is very posh, versus a black welly! We stopped for a cafeteria type lunch. I had a cheese/tomato sandwich and a scone. Good scone with gold and black raisins. Scones here are smaller here than the US behemoths we are used to from Starbucks, et.al.

Prices are high and our exchange rate is practically 50%. I got 106.25 pounds for $200!! Yikes! Not buying much! I did buy a plain scarf and a stuffed sheep for Ali, and cookies for people at work. I've picked up a few rocks to take back for Bookworm and another friend.

Moving around is hard for Mom, so sometimes when we make short stops she stays in the car. She seems happy enough to do that, but it makes me sad to think of h ow she would have bounded out of the car if she hadn't broken her ankle. I wonder if she will ever really heal to 100%. I pray she does and she is determined to. Of course, now I wish I had organized this trip 2 or 3 years ago, but the timing was right now, so there you have it.

This hotel we are in is not anything like the Dhailing Lodge. The other ws beautifully appointed and decorated. Fraser was a wonderful host, moving our utensils at dinner so we'd know which ones to use, very courtly with Mom. The rooms were immaculate and tasteful. The meals were incredible. This hotel, in comparison, is obviously trying hard but not quite making it. The tile in the bathroom isn't trimmed under the sink, the toilet shifts when you sit on it, the chairs are some awful 50s style with tartan fabric. There is a hair drier, though, as there was at the Dhailing, which is a surprise to me. (I didn't bring mine because even with a UK adapter I blew out all the circuits in my Mate's Aunt's house in Norwich!)

The choice of food is odd here.The menu is Steak, Dover Sole, Salmon Venison or Chicken stuffed with Haggis! I chose the Sole tonight, but it was served whole with a heavy sauce on it. I had to eat down to the bones and then flip it over. I ignored the head. Desserts were various "puddings" (very moist sweet breads) or ice cream. I had a walnut/apple pudding with vanilla hard sauce and Mom and Erin had the Plum Duff w/sauce. I love the name Plum Duff, but it was just a very rich "pudding". The oddest part of this dinner, aside from the fact that the 3 of us were the only people in the large dining room, was bagpipe music being played on boombox. Oh yes, the white (think Wonderbread) bread with trimmed crusts in toast rack, on the table during dinner, was also a disconcerting touch. Crikey!!! I believe we are in a foreign country!

Must stop--very sleepy I get the single room this time, with Mom and Erin sharing a room. I am glad for the quiet.

Wednesday, April 5, 2006 3:55 pm

Very stormy day on Skye! We were intending to visit more places but the weather is so cold, wet and windy that we are skipping some things. We went to a botanical garden at Armadale Castle this morning and were able to get Mom an electric wheel chair. She had a ball with it, going off on her own at one point, just because she could. The garden contained the ruins of a mansion, Armadale, a mansion built to look like a castle.

On our way here yesterday, we stopped at Eileen Donan Castle, which is quite a superb ruin and a real castle, six or seven centuries old. It is wonderful to photograph. At low tide there are gigantic rocks, a stone bridge. It looks like something out of myth. Erin and I took tons of pictures there until George made us get back on the way to get to MacKinnon house by dinner. That has been the agenda every day-- leave at 9 a.m. and back by dinner, which is usually 7 pm.

I got wet and cold today, so when we got back at 5:30 I took a bath then took a nap in the fluffy terry robe provided in the closet. Very nice!

Dinner for me was prawns in the shell (!) as a "starter", then Breast of Chicken stuffed with Haggis and a very dense chocolate cake. The chicken with haggis turned out to be very good! The haggis was more like a grain stuffing. I guess it's just the thought of it being steamed in a sheep's stomach that made me think it would be something that tasted like organ meat. It doesn't. Haggis is used so much here that we have seen large vans pulling up in front of restaurants and hotels with nothing but the daily ration of Haggis! Best Haggis, LTD.

Tomorrow will be another travel day to a new hotel. I hope the weather is better. I think George feels badly about today. I forgot to mention this fabulous shop we visited this morning. It was called Ragamuffin. Incredible knit things--fashion scarves, hat, pins made of boiled wool, beautiful too expensive clothing. Mom bought a pink, blue, maroon scarf knit in a contemporary pattern. Erin bought a silk scarf and a ring. I bought a felt pin. We could have spent hundreds of pounds there if we'd had them.

Profile Picture???

This is me wondering how the heck I can get this photo loaded into my profile. I know Fossil Guy knows how to do this and maybe he can help. I know he tried to help me, in vain, to get blog links up, so the possibility of his being able to explain in words how to get this very nice picture of me on my page is slim. I always need showing, not telling. That is the way of my learning. Help! I already tried to do as told--take the code from this pic and paste it into profile URL space, but I keep getting "too many characters" message or when I take characters out I get the "can't find page, link is broken" message. No duh!! It's one of the best pictures taken of me in a long while, so I really want to put it on there!

Taylor won!!!!! My boy!!!! I don't care what Bookworm thinks about Clinton, here is your New Elvis!!! I love the guy!

Scotland I - Traveling with a Gimp

April 1, 2006 - 5:55 Eastern

We have made it to Newark and are waiting in the airport for E. to arrive from Norfolk.

Mom is getting all kinds of special tratment because of her broken ankle and her self-described "crippledness". We have had wheelchairs at every turn. The Philippina woman who pushed her in Seattle was great. The ones we've had here in Newark are not quite as generous and apparently get tips. I haven't tipped anyone! Oops!

At Seatac we stopped for a coffee at a Starbucks stand, got 2 coffees and a scone and the girl told me I owed her $10.99!! I said, "What?? For 2 coffees and a scone?? How much does that scone cost?!!" She yelled, "April Fool!" I didn't get it at first but we all ended up having a good laugh.

Mom seems confused about E. coming and just where she's coming from. Pretty soon she'll be here and all will be clear! It's always a tough trip to get from Seattle to Europe. An awful long time in airports and planes. Mom has done well and her spirits are high. I didn't sleep well at the hotel last night so I've been a little tired but I'll revive eventually.

April 2, 2006 - 10:54 pm Scotland

We are just getting into bed after a lovely slow meal here at the Dhailing Lodge Hotel in Dunoon. E. made it to the plane but just by a whisker. Her Norfolk plane left 1 1/2 hours late and our plane out to Edinburgh was late leaving so it came together. Once again Mom (and E. and I by extension) was boarded ahead of others and once we got settle we had a rousing chat. It's the first time E. has seen her Gradma in about 12 years.

We all tried to sleep, after dinner and a movie, The Family Stone, but only I succeeded. We got into Edinburgh in 6 hours, once again met by a wheelchair. We were escorted to passport check and then to baggage. As we came out of baggage we met George Wallace, our Best Scottish Tours guide. Right up until that moment I hadn't been absolutely confident that BST was for real. I kept picturing a scam group that had run off with my money!

But far from it. George has been wonderful, even keeping a good temper when E. thought she had lost her purse at the mini-market we stopped at between Edinburgh and Glasgow. It turned out her little red wallet had gotten under the seat of the car and she discovered it when she was getting back into the car after a search of the mini-market. We were all so relieved.

The mini-market was more interesting than it normally would have been because there were many policemen there. George explained that yesterday was the championship match in Glasgow between 2 Edinburgh football (soccer to us) teams. The mini-market is the only stop between the two cities on the highway, so fans would stop there for snacks. There were 4 buses of fans plus two limos . The police, in their neon green vests, looking just like the ones from British TV, were very busy with them.

After we got all the wallet business straightened out George headed us toward Glasgow again. I was surprised at how dirty the sides of the freeway were-plastic bags blown into the leafless trees, lots of trash thrown out by motorists. I think the wind blows allot here, since it's an island, and takes the bags flying. Probably in Spring when the trees leaf out they won't be as apparent. It reminds me of my first impression of Athens--dirty. I suppose that's the way it is with cities and that's where the airports are, in the cities.

As we got off the freeway and into the country more the landscape was pretty. We are here at the very verge of Spring. The daffodils are blooming but the deciduous trees are still very bare. There may be buds if I could look up close.

The weather is very similar to Spring at home. Sun, rain bursts, sun again, sprinkles, heavy rain, sun, low clouds, blue sky patches. George took us along Loch Lomand, Loch Frye, Loch Long our our way to the tiny town of Dunoon where our hotel for two nights is. The hotel is The Dhailing Lodge Hotel, run by two men, Fraser and Donald, a long time couple I think. They have made a beautiful place. They serve both breakfast and dinner. It is wonderful not to have to worry about money, as all of this is paid for. I do think that a tip at the end of our stay will be in order.

Dinner, after much longed for napping, was 5 courses. It reminded me of a cruise ship. First there were little canapes in the parlor--E. and Mom had wine--and then we were seated in the diningroom. First course an avocado and fruit salad, then an asparagus soup, then for Mom and me, an extremely tasty gruyere/winter squash/corn bake, then dessert, apple cake with a scoop of ice cream. Was that enough? Not quite! To top it all off, cheese and biscuits (crackers). By that time I could handle only one slice of white cheddar on one cracker!

There was also coffee and a little plate of chocolates that were made by Donald's mother. Fabulous. We were in the dining room from 7:30 until 10:30--slow food and good conversation.

Must write that yesterday Mom was very tired and confused and didn't realize that the woman in the front seat of the car was E. When we sat down at lunch she looked over at E. and said to her, "You look remarkably like my Granddaughter!" It must have given E. a start, but she didn't let on and I quickly corrected her. I think this was because of tiredness--I hope so. Last night Mom insisted she needed another blood pressure pill because she was afraid she hadn't been keeping up with her pills because of the time changes. Consequently she got up every 2 hours to pee! We won't be doing that tonight! Tonight we'll be using the sleeping aids, mostly so I can sleep! Must get ready for breakfast now and to begin our second day in Scotland.

On a ceremonial necklace in Inverary Castle: "May you always have herring in the net".

Other People's Blogs

I've been reading other people's blog from 12 to now (12:40) here at work while I should be working, and boy-howdy! There's some neat things to read and look at out there! I know most of you visit Fossil Guy's site, but do you regularly check in on Life's A Tuxedo or Noapologies? Well, you should; for wonderful writing and profound observations, they are the Queens! For Passion of course, there is Clear Creek Girl (Bookworm). Love, hate, desire, sex, you name it. She's got it. There's my son, over at Plastic Porkbone, with an entirely different slant on things political and social and pop culture (he's 29) and my daughter, at Post Cards from Norfolk, who posts even less than I do, but what's there is goooood. Today I found a new one--The Big Question--I'm going to go there often now, because that's a new, cool idea! Put a question up and see what and who turns up! I like the newest Bookworm idea too--reviews of local stuff. Those of us who live around here can benefit from her unusual perspectives and since she goes to different events and places than I do, I'll do some reviews, too. And maybe one of these days I'll have a clever idea of my own! I sure hope so!

And just because I love it I'm adding a recent photo of my little granddaughter who is obviously learning to feed herself!

Blog the World!

Restaurant Rhapsodizing

Sorry, Bookworm, I stole your idea, but just this once. I went with two young friends to Irises today. Irises is a tiny well-kept café secret on Kitsap Way across from the QFC and right next to Brother Don’s Restaurant. It is my favorite place, within driving distance of work, for lunch. Today I had a veggie burger made with a Hazlenut patty (!). More often I have the pork sandwich with apple chutney on rye bread or the curried chicken salad. If I’m feeling wild I have this wonderful bar goodie that is made with nuts and oatmeal, a caramel middle and deep chocolate on the top! Yum!!!

Irises is one of those funky, tables-and-chairs-that-don’t-match places that you find in little and big towns if you’re lucky. It fills up quickly because it’s small and the food is glorious, tending towards interesting sandwiches made with hearty breads and excellent salads displayed in a cold case in big old earthenware bowls like our Grandma’s used to use. They also have a quiche to die for. This is a place, though, where when the salad runs out, that’s it! No more salad. If the brownies run out, that’s it. No more brownies. People know to get there at Noon! They also serve espresso drinks so they have a pretty good morning clientele, which includes an older man who walks for several blocks carrying his big gas station plastic mug to Irises everyday for his morning coffee. He doesn't look like an "Irises" type, but I guess there isn't such a thing.

I am risking not being able to get a table next time I go there by telling you how to find this great place. They were talking about selling the business a couple of months ago but they’ve changed their hours to be open on the weekend for lunch. Try them on a Saturday or a Sunday and have some of that good, good coffee with one of their gi-hugic and deeee-licious scones and maybe they won't sell the business!

Take note of the local art on the walls and the nice people who linger at the tables long after they finish eating. Say “HI” to Sue for me. She’s the tall woman in the apron who moseys out of the kitchen to see how things are going and remembers you if you’ve been there before. It’s kind of like Cheers—people know your name.

Scotland Forever!!! Okay.....so.....my Mom, and my daughter, Erin, and I went to Scotland from April 1 to April 10. Good grief! What do I say about that? First it was an incredible occasion for getting to know each other better.

Erin got to find out that her Grandma was a real person, not just a Grandma, that she had foibles and quirks and was vain and a little clingy and game and funny and picky about food and that her memory ain't what it used to be. Grandma got to find out that Erin was not the little girl she used to know but a grown up who loved to photograph, was competent, could read a Scottish bus schedule, leapt around a graveyard or a castle to get the shot she was looking for, who wore a stylish hat. And I got to watch the two of them discover each other. I heard my daughter defending my honor when necessary, I saw my Mother pushing herself to walk even when her ankle was paining her and I heard her notice intelligently the differences and similarities between Scots and Americans. "Scottish women don't wear much makeup, do they?" she said at one point. "Maybe it's because the weather is so brisk and windy it makes their cheeks and lips rosy!" Erin replied, "maybe they just don't care.....". We may never know who is correct, maybe both, but there were many, many interesting exchanges like that.

I have no time to say a blessed wee thing about Scotland itself right now. I am supposedly working at my desk and trying not to let anybody see me posting, but that can't last for long, so I shall say over and out for now and much more later! By the way, the picture above is of Loch Long--my daughter took it. Beautiful isn't it? (We learned from our lovely host/guide George Wallace, how to say "loch" proberly with a very soft "k" sound.) If you want to see some of my pictures I have started to post them to www.cjd.yafro.com .

Tony and Slobby

So Slobidau (how the hell do you spell his name--let's just call him Slobby) is dead. Possibly poisoned. There has hardly ever been a time that I was so pleased by someone's death. Oh, too bad says I! Died in jail, heart attack, attack of a hardened heart, small heart, dead heart, black heart. Oh, too bad, Slobby. Yes, I would have preferred that he was drawn and quartered, or hung, or shot by firing squad made up of the people he squashed, but his being dead is a good thing. Now if we could only get rid of Saddam and his courtroom antics. I don't think we should be in Iraq, but I DO think Saddam is bad, bad, bad and should be gone, gone, gone. Maybe someone will poison him, too!

Tony! On the other hand, here is a good fella who is whacking people right and left and we love him. Bookworm could figure out the paralells and the differences, but it seems definitely odd that we hate Saddam and Slobby but love the Tone-man. Judging from my first paragraph above, I guess maybe I'd like to have the power to whack where I think whacking needs to be done. Is that it? Tell me, bloggers. Some of those who were whacked I really liked. I liked Adriana and I liked Tony B. and I liked Pussy. It's the loyalty issue isn't it....the family loyalty. Turn on me, I turn on you. Sometimes I wish I could whack my brother.....

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar!

Okay…..so…All of my bloggy friends have been writing about the Oscar Awards last Sunday and not a one has mentioned the best part of the whole SHOW! Did you like Jon Stewart? As far as I’m concerned he was The Star of The Night. I love Jon. His cute little smirk thrills me. His deader than deadpan delights me. He’s My Guy! He went out there and he did his make fun of anybody on the planet shtick and I don’t care if the first 5 rows of “stars” only politely clapped and smiled only enough not to crack their makeup (or facelifts), because he did what had to be done. He poked holes in their huge balloon-like egos! Okay, there were a couple who laughed hardily, Jamie Foxx for one. I think Gorgeous George Clooney was laughing but it was kind of hard to tell. He rolled his eyes lots, but I think he and Jon were making eye contact.

Bookworn and Brownshoes mentioned CLASS. Jon has Class with a Capital C!! I agree that Clooney has Class, too.

Aside from Jon, here is what I remember fondly:
Uma Thurman looking thinly, blondly, tall-ly fabulous.
Salma Hyak So Sexy She Sizzled.
A woman with flapping arms just like me, and everyone I know, accepting an award and looking just like me and everyone I know would look if we had to get up on that stage and accept an award. A normal person dressed up, who didn’t go to the gym for 6 hours everyday and didn’t have a makeup man and a hairdo man and a pedicure man and a manicure man and a man to give us the toilet paper and a man to open the door and a man to give us thousands, even millions of dollars worth of jewelry to wear. And THAT woman probably would have really appreciated one of those opulent gift bags!!! I hope she got one!
Jack Nicholson slyly grinning from the front row as always. I’m gonna really miss Jack when he’s not there anymore.
The woman who nearly fell out of her strapless orangey-rust colored dress when she leaped up because her group had won an award—maybe it was Best Picture for Crash. She was so exuberant and happy and pretty, that she made me happy. She wasn’t a “star”.
Poor, vain Lauren Bacall, who eschewed her glasses and made a damned fool of herself.
Lovely Jennifer Something, who is in Alien on TV and married Ben Affleck, nearly taking a nose dive and recovering sweetly. I love her dimples.
Dolly Parton, with the 10 inch waist and the knockers that could conquer the world, not being able to get the crowd going until she took control and started strutting the stage.
Joaquin Phoenix, who made a believer out of me (in his talent) by BEING Johnny Cash, beaming when Reese Witherspoon received her award.
Reese’s speech which, incredibly, made sense. I thought, “she must be pretty smart to actually be able to give a good acceptance speech”.
Lily and Meryl being Altmanish.
Altman being a dignified older man who deserved an Oscar.
The incredible surge of electricity and excitement that went through the crowd when Crash won best picture.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who I have loved for a long, long time, getting best actor. How sweet it is!
And I loved the hilarious stuff that Jon and his crew did with the “ads” for best actress.
That’s enough I guess. I have watched the Academy Awards since I was a wee little kid because my Mom loves movies and “the stars” and I inherited that. I won’t ever apologize for watching, I won’t ever feel guilty. I love it and that’s that! It’s always a pleasure but never a guilty one!

Mother Pain

It starts with twisting, grinding waves of pain that we are happy to endure because there is going to be a wonderful gift at the end. We give birth to a brand new being. We are privileged to watch this new little person grow and develop. The first years are especially fascinating as they learn to sit up, crawl, walk, talk. These children become more complicated as they grow older. We feel joy as we see our little ones developing distinct personalities, making friends, going to school. We often experience pain for our children if they have failures, but mostly things are still positive. They are young yet. I’d say the true mother joy gets harder to feel when they reach the age that they are really working at breaking the bonds with us, somewhere in the 13 to 16 range. Joy turns to bewilderment as our little people become big, confused, angry teenagers. There is the pain of their disdain of us, but we know it will go away one day, because we felt it ourselves about our own parents, and we know we now love them. Eventually our kids move out of our houses and we cry to see them go, the Empty Nest pain, but we also feel relief that they are going out on their own and we get to be just ourselves again, without appendages who want something from us all the time.

But sometimes our fledglings fly out of our cozy, safe nests and they crash and burn and then a different kind of pain enters our lives. This pain is as grinding and twisting as the pain of their birth, but there is no promise attached to it. Right now, my oldest daughter is experiencing that pain. She has recently learned that her 19 year old son, who had joined the Army and gone through basic training with no difficulties and seemed to be a happy member of the military, has gone AWOL. He did not return to his unit after Christmas. I’d bet she is blaming herself somehow and hoping to fix things, all the while knowing that his decision will have a dramatic affect on his life in the future--knowing that he doesn’t realize this yet and is just riding the moment. Her pain is deep, and my pain is deep, too. I feel spasms in my gut for both of them. I had a hard time getting to sleep last night.

I know that my Blogster friends have felt all these kinds of pain and they might have encouraging, hopeful or soothing things to say to my daughter. I invite you to visit her blog, which is where she had the courage to write it all down, and leave her a comment. Her blog is: http://postcardsfromnorfolk.blogspot.com/. The post about my Grandson is “The News From Norfolk”. I’d appreciate it if you could support her in some way. I am still trying to help my kids lead happy lives. We mothers need all the help we can get, no matter how old our kids are.

Muslim Humor

So.....Albert Brooks recently came out with a movie called something like Finding Humor in the Muslim World. That sounded pretty good to me. I love anything Albert Brooks does and I figured if anyone could find humor "over there" it would be Albert. But now comes the BIG CONTROVERSY over the CARTOONS! Good grief. I think maybe Albert has failed to find the funny bone after all because "they" sure act as if there isn't one. Come on! We get to make fun of our Presidents, Jesus (most of the time unless you're a British Rock Star), our Churches, our Teachers, our Politicians, our Rabbis, our Priests, why are they having so much trouble because a turbin looks like a bomb for crying out loud?!!! Has political correctness spread like a disease to the Middle East? I guess so. I say stomp out PC right now before we have a war over it.

By the way, did anybody see Grey's Anatomy this week, speaking of bombs? Wow! And where has West Wing gone? Are they hiding it again?

Sad Day

It's a sad day in BlogLand. Brown Shoes has lost her Jack. Take a moment of silence and think about all the dogs we've loved and lost. And send good vibrations over Brown Shoe's way.

Death By Chocolate

Okay...So...I think by now we've all heard Ray "New Orleans" Nagin giving his speech about his city and how it has to be "A Chocolate New Orleans". Poor old Ray. He just can't get it right, can he? I kind of feel sorry for the guy because obviously he is woefully unaware of what happens when you speak in front of microphones. Lo and behold, everyone hears you. You're on CNN, MSNBC, FOX, local channels, foreign channels, radio, newspapers, comedy shows and best of all, The Daily Show. Poor old Ray better stop talking.

He'll have Jessie Jackson down on him soon, because Jessie has The Rainbow Coalition and Rainbows got nothin' to do with Chocolate as Brown Shoes will tell you. Or Ray could just call on Weird Johnnie D., who has spent some time with chocolate lately, to help him with his quest. Really, this could be a new direction for New Orleans. Instead of the cry from the street to "Show us your tits" it could be "Show us your Chocolate" and instead of those silly beads you could get something useful and tasty. The French have pretty good chocolate which they could sell in the French Quarter. They got great chefs down there who could whip up Cajun Gourmet Chocolate Treats. I think I would be more apt to visit New O if they were known for Chocolate rather than for hookers on the street 24/7 and the worst police force in the country. Maybe Ray is onto something...and even George Bush cares about Chocolate.

Somewhere over the.....

There's one good thing about all this rain. Today there is also sunshine, and somewhere out there you know there's some pretty splendid rainbows!!! So, today, instead of singing "Singing in the Rain", we can add Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Here Comes the Sun, Let the Sun Shine In, and other cheerier fare. There is a rule about rainbows, as to where to look for them, that is. It's like if the sun is in the South, look for the rainbow in the ______. Fill in the blank 'cause I don't know the direction. I heard this only once and it didn't stick. So I'll just look up! Here's to looking up!

A Better Post?

Some people are so demanding! Didn't like my last post. Guess Fossil Guy thought I proselitizing or something. Hey, it ain't a religion, it just works for me and I wanted to "share"! Well, maybe this is a better topic: my 83 year old Mother broke her ankle on Saturday and now all hell is breaking loose. I'd much rather irrigate my sinuses than have to deal with this kind of real life!!!!!

Nasal Irrigation

Okay.....so....it's a weird subject I know, but I'm like a reformed smoker or a successful dieter or a reborn Christian and so I have to tell you about it!

I have been seeing lots of sick people lately, at work, via email, in the Malls, all coughing, blowing their noses, clearing their throats and I just want to stop them and tell them what I have discovered. But I can't really do that--I'd get arrested--so I'm going to use this blog to spread the Good Word. NASAL IRRIGATION!!!!

If just anyone had told me to do this, I would have probably laughed and forgotten about it. Oh yeah, squirt a bunch of water up your nose--sounds like fun--he-he. However, since a bonified Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor told me to do this, I gave it a try. I had bad sinus problems, headaches, throat clearing, snoring, blowing my nose all the time, sneezing many times in a row. So I went to the ENT doc and said HELP ME!!! He gave me this sheet of paper with very simple instructions on it and the prescription to do it EVERY day. Here is the recipe:

one baby-sized plastic syringe (you know, the one with the squeezy bulb)
1 cup of warm, not hot, tap water
1/4 teaspoon of table salt
1 pinch of baking soda

Sounds a little kinky when you see the recipe, but folks get your minds out of the gutter--this is for your NOSE.

Put the salt and soda in the cup of warm water and mix it up.
Fill the bulb with the water and squirt the liquid up one of your nostrils. Keep bent over a bit while doing this, otherwise the water will go down your throat--not a bad thing but it could make you gag.

Continue to fill and squirt in one nostril and then the other until the water is gone.

What have you done? You have affectively cleared your nasal passages of germs and foreign objects (like lint and dust) and you have also moistened them. Do this in the shower or bathtub or over the sink every day. I am telling you, people, this will keep you healthy, or get you healthy if you aren't. I have been doing it now for many months and I hardly ever sneeze anymore or have to (sorry) pick things out of my dry nose and I haven't gotten that evil cold yet. Knock on wood.

Give it a try and see if it doesn't help you feel better!