Blog Index - January 2018

January 1, 2018	Index all from September 1, 2016
January 2, 2018	Gloves
January 3, 2018	Thank you for the gold tone earrings
January 4, 2018	Gloves 25 years later
January 5, 2018	The cost of a little white lie
January 6, 2018	Burnt Toast
January 7, 2018	Word of the day
January 8, 2018	Bubbler
January 9, 2018	FROZEN
January 10, 2018	It’s a heat wave at 64 degrees!
January 11, 2018	A Christmas play from 1984
January 12, 2018	I’m like a steamroller these days!
January 13, 2018	Old Garden notes that were worth keeping
January 14, 2018	I miss Mom’s optimism
January 15, 2018	Laugh of the day
January 16, 2018	Writer’s class exercise, the 10 word challenge
January 17, 2018	Julia Child’s cat
January 18, 2018	You can afford it
January 19, 2018	The cost of my laziness
January 20, 2018	Is there nothing sacred
January 21, 2018	Family heirloom re-purposed
January 23, 2018	FLU in the house
January 24, 2018	“Let me tell you a secret.”
January 25, 2018	What do they call male ladybugs?
January 26, 2018	Edward Elgar’s Sospiri, Op. 70 (1914)
January 27, 2018	Additional ounce stamp
January 28, 2018	The Silver Bell
January 31, 2018	Flu

January 31, 2018 - Flu -

This is a short note to my friends, and followers that I am down with this nasty flu and words on the page are not spilling forth and won't be until I am better.

Hopefully, it won't be too long of a gap before my next blog.  But, I know you don't want to hear from this cranky person - I don't do colds or flu well - never have.

You'all stay well, and I will do my best to get better soon.  

TYS

January 28, 2018 – The Silver Bell

         Among the many things, my Mom left me was a diminutive silver bell.  It had been in the china cabinet sitting on top of a piece of paper with my name scrawled on it.  Tarnished from non-use for a few years, it tinkled cheerfully when I lifted it to verify it was for me.  It is a little treasure and I describe the sound as ‘pixie bells’ after my Mom’s not often used nom de plume.

         Even tarnished, the handle has a smooth, well-worn feel to it. I immediately tucked it in my box to bring home.  I don’t know the history of it – a gift or a purchase, but it was used by both my Mom and Dad during their convalesce periods.  I know it was used during Dad’s recuperation from gall bladder surgery, or Mom’s long weeks of broken leg convalesce, or colds and flu over the years. One would ring the bell and the other would come to give assistance, fetch something, or fluff the pillows.

When I unpacked it, I first set it on my bureau and slowly it migrated to the hall then eventually to the kitchen table.  At Christmas time, I gave it a good polish and parked it on a bookcase in my writing office.  Often when I am near it, I simply lift it and give it a little pixie-bell ring.  Yes, Mom’s little bell needs a special place and I have not yet decided on one.

This week, my husband came down with the flu and I brought him a tissue box, a bag of cough drops and the little silver bell.

He tried the bell and said, “It must be broken, I don’t hear a thing.”

I smiled and said, “I can hear it loud and clear, you are just deaf.”

He still didn’t believe me.

That is when I said, “I’ve got dog ears, you might not hear it, but I sure can.  Ring it and I will come.”  I tucked him in bed for the night.

Later I woke from sleep hearing a feeble tinkling of the bell.  I jumped out of bed and went to him.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“Nothing, why?”

“You rang.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I noticed the little bell had rolled about two feet away from where I had placed it.  I surmised he must have knocked it over when he was rolling over.

A simple system of ring and someone will come and it won’t work in this household.  Even one sided – him deaf and him ringing for me to come is better than no system at all. But, he won’t go for it, since he can’t hear it, he has no faith in it summoning me.

What a shame. Now that I know he can’t hear it at all, I can ring it, ring it, ring it to my hearts delight.

January 27, 2018 – Additional ounce stamp

        

         I write letters by hand, they can get a little long, and it just irks me I go over 1 ounce and think I need to slap another full price stamp [at the moment it is 50 cents] on it to get it mailed. I have a weigh scale and today’s letter was 1.5 ounces. When I have time, I figure out how much I need and cobble together what I have from my little stamp box of small denomination stamps instead of throwing caution to the wind and nickels out the window with just slapping on another 50 cents stamp.

After sticking on twenty-one cents’ worth of stamps, [five of the 4-cent stamps and a one-cent stamp], I discovered I was low on these little denominational stamps. I’m down to two [1996 twenty cent stamps, Blue Jay stamps originally for post cards], and nine [2008 one cent Tiffany Lamps stamps]. I am rather shocked that I’ve had these stamps kicking around for many years in my stamp box.

Over the years, I have used my share of sarcasm at the United States Post Office when they increase the stamps for first class #10 envelopes with the often-asked question,

“Got a single stamp yet for the next ounce?” 

“No, you’ll have to use __ and __ to make up that amount of postage.”

That always irked me too.  The USPS was depending on human nature; just slap on two stamps and be done with it – yet, you are basically overpaying them to move your single piece of mail by 29 cents which is no bargain.

Also, the USPS always said they weren’t solvent.  Well, what about the sheets and sheets of stamps that collectors have in their stamp albums and vaults that services have been paid for. Money has gone into the till – and services – so far – haven’t been used and will never be used.  How could they possibly be in the red?  How many millions of dollars of stamps are sitting idle in collectors’ possession?  Does anyone even know?

When the USPS announced raising postal rates, I would buy myself and my Mom several sheets of one-cents stamps and send a few sheets to my Mom. For a time, it seemed the USPS was raising rates as often as you changed your socks.  I had no trouble buying sheets of one-cent stamps down here; however, my Mom in Massachusetts had a devil of a time. It was somewhat funny to me in a way, buying sheets of one-cent stamps to mail to my Mom so she could mail letters to me that had the right amount of postage on them.

Today, I asked the question with a better approach – more serene and polite, like a nice little old lady.

“This letter is 1.5 ounces and I added 21 cents of additional postage, is that correct?” I asked softly as I slid the letter smothered in small denominational stamps onto their scale, and added, “I hope the weight of the stamps didn’t put it over the mark.”

“It is fine, has enough postage for up to 2 ounces,” she announced after she calculated the total of the half a dozen stamps plastered along the top of the envelope.

“So, has the US Post Office come up with an additional ounce stamp yet?” I asked sweetly expecting to hear the work around method I have been using all these years.

“Yes,” she said and went to get a couple of sheets.

That surprised me. When I asked how much they were per sheet, she had to scan it in before she could tell me. That surprised me even more. I guess there is not much call for them, or no one actually puts just the sufficient amount of postage on envelopes anymore, or everyone is a big spender and tosses on an extra first class stamp worth 50 cents to cover just 21 cents of cost. 

I felt rich today and bought two sheets worth - $8.40 for 40 stamps.  That should hold me for a year or two.  Then I noticed they were “forever stamps.”

When I researched the additional ounce, forever stamp, I was even more surprised as they have been around since 2015. 

Did I have that many assorted denomination stamps piled up over the years unused or am I now just getting into writing longer letters?  My, my, how time flies: I learned something new that everyone has known, except me, since 2015. 

There must be some sort of Guinness World Record for not being up-to-date.

         

January 26, 2018 - Edward Elgar’s Sospiri, Op. 70 [1914]

         Often, I switch my Direct TV to Chanel 866, Light Classical, and let the musical carry me away while I am cooking, cleaning, blogging or whatever.

         I am not sure under what rock I have been, but the above-captioned piece was new to me until a few weeks ago when it suddenly appeared in the lineup of the music I listen to. Below is a link if you are unfamiliar with it. -  Enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_JvCKBRpFA

         But, this isn’t the only piece of music where I have been under a rock, maybe the same rock, that I eventually discover.  Great music is found in lots of interesting places including commercials. [My husband notices those.]

When I hear some of my favorites listed below, I usually just drop what I am doing, and close my eyes and enjoy.  The music transports me elsewhere.  I can’t imagine what it must be like to actually be a musician and play an instrument or create music.

         I’ll toss out a half dozen examples to make my point:

I adopted Nadia’s Theme by Henry Mancini, the theme song from The Young and the Restless, as my wedding song. The only one who really knew where that came from was my grandma, Madeline Nixon, an avid fan of the soap opera. I rarely hear it now a day, but when I do, I stop and smile to myself and pity anyone in the room. I wistfully tell them it was my wedding theme and the poor dears don’t know what to say in reply.

         The theme from the movie, Laura, (1944) by David Raksin is another favorite. Anytime TCM has the movie on, my husband and I watch it again, and again mostly for the music.  It may be a black and white film, but it is stunning.

The theme from the movie The Ghost and Mrs. Muir [1947] by Bernard Herrmann I especially like when the waves crash on the beach eroding the wooden sign over time.

Another movie, The Big Country (1958) starring Gregory Peck and Jean Simmons [music by Jerome Moross] is another great movie we watch mostly for the music but also for the great scene of Charlton Heston yanking on his britches before the fist fight scene. We wonder, did he have any toe nails left?

The theme from Out of Africa [1985] by John Barry usually moves me to tears at some point in the film.  I consider it a long [tissue box] movie and I don’t watch it too often as I want to forget enough of it between showings.

        

Actor Tom Berenger in the movie Someone to Watch over Me [1987] is introduced to this music as he watches over actress Mimi Rogers. I got my first taste of Lamke - Flower Duet – from this movie and then went on a wild goose chase tracking it down.  One simply never hears it often enough.

The theme of the movie, Schindler’s List, [1993] by John Williams, I used to listen to the soundtrack during my long commutes to and from work.  I mentally disappeared and was often surprised to find myself magically at my destination.

 Lastly, the most recent one, the soundtrack of the movie Cold Mountain [2003] by Gabriel Yared moves me along with the incredible cinematography vistas. I hate to admit how many times I’ve watched it – thank goodness no one is keeping count.

Maybe the next time we say to someone, “Enjoy the view,” we should change it up and say, “Enjoy the music!”

January 25, 2018 – “What do they call male ladybugs?”

         Recently I heard that line spoken by a young girl on television.  I don’t remember if it was advertising a nature channel or what, but I filed it in the back of my mind under: Good question.

         Like many other people here in the Southeast, we have ladybugs slip in through window cracks and they congregate at night near lighted ceiling fixtures.  Our ladybug infestation localizes in the master bathroom and doesn’t bother me as I think it is a blessing of good luck.

         Ladybugs, actually beetles, are good luck symbols the world over.  In the garden, they feast on pests like aphids.

         When I watch the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun, there is a wonderful scene between the characters Katherine and Frances:

         Katherine speaking to Frances:

“When I was a little girl, I used to run around in the fields all day, trying unsuccessfully to catch ladybugs.  Finally, I would get tired and lay down for a nap. When I woke, I’d find ladybugs walking all over me.”

         No matter how many times I see that movie, I always pay particular attention to that scene.  I love the thought of it and the implication that we often have to wait for something wonderful to come our way.

         The other night I noticed ladybugs everywhere, ceiling, walls, floor, as I was pulling on my pajamas in the bathroom.  I turned out the light and crawled into bed.

         I was just dozing off to sleep when I felt this bite on my inner thigh.  I jumped out of bed, turned the light on and pulled off my pajamas. There I found a ladybug had been trapped in my pajamas and a red welt on my skin.

         I may not have an answer to the question, ‘What do they call male ladybugs?’ but, I can say I know from personal experience, they certainly do bite.

         

January 24, 2018  - “Let me tell you a secret.”

         “No! I don’t want to hear it. If you tell me it won’t be a secret,” I instantly replied to the woman that I had just met less than an hour ago at a company cocktail party.



         Let me set the scene so you understand the situation clearly. I was born and raised in a 2,500 registered-voters-sized small town. I know there is no such thing as a secret staying a secret when one person tells another their secret.  Suddenly, the entire village knows it by the end of the next day.  It’s the same as a vindictive acquaintance saying something that is false, yet in days everyone you know believes it actually happened, and that rumor never dies no matter how you try to denounce it.

I was only five years into being a corporate wife and I was naïve, but not that naïve to strap on someone else’s secret that could get out. We had just moved from a Midwest City to a rural town due to my husband’s new job.  We were only three months into this company and still deciphering which folks were the corporate backstabbers masquerading as potential friends.



This woman was the wife of a man my husband now supervised. She was past her third drink, but not yet bobbing and weaving.  I perceived this overture as her attempt to make a new friendship with me, a ‘tight friendship’ that would come with future requests of favors from her.

“Let me tell you my secret,” She whispered again. She was perhaps ten years my senior and well dressed and at first blush, I had liked her, until now.

“No, I don’t want to be responsible for it getting out.  I might repeat it by accident and then you’d hate me forever and the whole world would know your secret,” I replied trying to get her to back off. 

I remember I stepped away a few feet, to break the intimacy of our conversation, expecting her to come to her senses.  I did realize she was under the influence of several drinks and wanted to help her from making a fool of herself.

“Oh, let me tell you,” She stepped forward and draped one arm around my shoulder as if we were long-time, intimate friends and hugged me and then pulled me along to the bar set up in the kitchen so that she could make herself another drink. 

She was my size and build, on the plump side, with a creamy ivory complexion devoid of freckles that redheads generally have.  I wondered, did she somehow see a glimmer of her younger self in me.

“No, I can’t keep a secret!” I finally stated flatly knowing it was my best course of action. I shook my head, and tried my best to untangle myself from her. We were alone now out of earshot from the other guests.

“AHH, doesn’t matter, everyone knows about it anyway, you might as well know about it firsthand,” She slurred her words, “It’s all over town, but I want  you  to know the real facts, not the fanciful lies.”  She mixed herself another drink, and I lingered for the inevitable bearing of her soul.  I braced myself in order to handle it with worldliness that I had not yet acquired, until that moment.



         That was over 30 years ago and I had almost forgotten the secret, but it was a well-remembered lesson in corporate wife politics.  The woman never became a close friend and never asked me for a favor. However, I did get a cherished recipe from her she never divulged to any of the other corporate wives. 

Sweet Potato Biscuits - definitely more delicious than her secret was.