A Gift of Time

I had lunch with an old friend today.  We reminisced about the good old days and worried about the not-so-good present days.  What’s our government going to do about the budget?  If Congress doesn’t figure this out in a few days, what will happen to all of us?  The economy isn’t getting any better.  Borders has announced it is closing and one of the area’s hospitals is laying off over 300 employees! What will all of those people do? The weather is lousy here, but the rest of the country is sweltering.  Too hot, too muggy, not enough rain in Texas, and too much rain in the Dakotas.  And what about those Mariners?  After 17 straight loses they finally won a game! (And that, against the Yankees!)

We weren’t able to solve all the problems.  Heck, we couldn’t solve any of the problems.  But we did do an end run around one issue, that of losing actual contact with an old friend.  We didn’t post something on Facebook and hope someone would see it. We didn’t text a note.  We didn’t e-mail good wishes.  We actually used our gift of time to sit down face-to-face and talk politics and family and share our friendship.

It was a great gift to ourselves.

The World is a Safer Place Because My Car Had Its Emissions Test

I’m pleased to report that the world is a safer place.  All because we took our car in for its emissions test.

Here in my corner of Washington State our cars have to “pass” an emissions test prior to getting the next year’s tabs.  Expect our car didn’t pass.  Big surprise.  It’s 15 years old and has over 300,000 miles on it!  It’s a wonder the thing runs, let alone pass an emissions test.  We don’t drive it much but we keep it licensed as our just-for-those-extra-need-another-car moments.

So, as the Law prescribes after failing the emissions test, we took the car to an Ecology Authorized Emissions Specialist who fiddled with this, tried tuning that, then presented us with a bill for $150. This is the required minimum you must spend to try to fix-cars-that-don’t-pass-their-emissions-test. Then you go back to the Emissions Test Center for another test, which we  again failed.  But this time we proudly presented our bill and statement from the Ecology Authorized Emissions Specialist.  And because we had forked over our $150 to the Ecology Authorized Emissions Specialist.  we now qualify for a Waiver and we can get our license renewed!

You’re following all of this, right?  You can see how very wise our Legislators are.  We got to make two trips to the emissions testing center, two trips to the Ecology Authorized Emissions Specialist (to leave the car overnight and pick it up the next day after they did their work)  plus we got to pay $150 for absolutely no improvement or even any minor change to our car’s emssions, and now it’s all good! It all makes perfect sense.

And now you can all  breathe deeply and sleep better tonight, thanks to our wise state government.

I’m Still Young (In my dreams)

My husband and I went to a small concert at a local church the other night.  We were a few minutes late and the pianist had begun playing when we arrived so we stood in the back waiting for him to stop so we could sit down.  And while we waited and listened to the music I scanned the small congregation.  Way up near the front was a young woman, looked to be in her twenties.  Off to the side there was a couple probably in their thirties.  Not a teenager or child in the room. Everyone  else was no younger than 50, most in their 60’s and up.  No wonder there weren’t any children.   These folks’ kids, if they had kids, were all grown and gone. “This crowd is too old for me,”  was my first thought.  “I don’t know this musician but he appeals to old folks and I’m much too young to stick around!”

And then my delusion melted away.  I’m one of these old folks! The music stopped. My husband and I found a seat with the old people and enjoyed a very nice concert.

http://clipart.m-y-d-s.com/furniture/rocking_chair/

Kindergarten Dreams

I was rummaging through a pile of papers and pictures, today,  and came across this stunning piece of art I created way back in kindergarten.

Was it an assignment?  I remember going on a field trip.  And that’s exactly all I remember.  The going.  Driving through farm land and seeing cows in the fields.  I have no remembrance of the destination of the trip.  Maybe, upon our return to the classroom, we were told to draw a picture of what we’d seen and I drew a cow and a horse, even if that wasn’t the purpose of the field trip?

Or maybe we were told exactly what to draw.  “Draw a horse and a cow” and so I did.  Were we told to include the fence and the red barn and silo.  Or was that my creation?

Maybe we were asked, “Draw a picture of where you think you will live in 50 years.” If that was the assignment I was pretty darn accurate. I grew up in the city but I now live in the country.  We don’t have a barn or a silo of any color but there are barns and silos in my neighborhood and my neighbor has the cow and my daughter has the horse.

If that was the assignment I did a pretty good job!

Family Noises

The usual suspects were at church today, working on our Vacation Bible School program.  A couple of us were working on a paper project, cutting, stacking,  talking softly.  One was in a far corner quietly cutting material and another was at a different table, humming to herself while she pushed the iron across her project. Several others were in the kitchen sharing stories and laughter while they washed and dried the dishes from our working-potluck-dinner.  The little kids appeared, then disappeared, as they ran back outside shrieking and calling each others’ names.

It sounded just like a happy family at home, at the end of a summer day. Chatter and laughter, dishes in the sink, doors opening and closing, kids running in and out.

It was beautiful background music for our evening of work.

Pink Lemonade Blueberry

Just the other day I read  about a new blueberry plant which is actually a pink-berry  but it’s in the blueberry family and has been appropriately christened Pink Lemonade.  It sounded like a fun plant to add to my blueberry bush collection, which is small and unyielding but at times like these I’m the optimist.  But I’m also cheap and lazy and don’t want to have to go thru’ the mail order expense and hassle which is usually the case with new plant varieties.

I had a few unfilled minutes yesterday, before an appointment,  so I stopped at a nursery to browse and lo and behold! I found Pink Lemonade!  It has no berries on it and is not a very attractive looking thing, but I’m hoping. They also had a Burgandy blueberry which looks a lot like huckleberry.  It’s small, much better looking than it’s cousin Pink, and covered in small berries. I bought one of each.

(Here’s an interesting fact:  “Huckleberries and blueberries are distinguishable by their seeds. Each huckleberry contains 10 hard seeds, while a blueberry has numerous soft seeds. The two plants also differ in stem texture. Huckleberry stems are smooth while the blueberry’s stem is ‘warty.’ “1  So of course I set out to verify that I have purchased a blueberry, not a huckleberry.  And I’m not going to argue the point, considering the fact that the berries are Very Small and the seeds  are even Smaller.  Sure, numerous soft seeds.  I’ll go with that.)

This morning I slogged out to the end of the house that is becoming my blueberry field (well, it’s not actually a field, it’s really just the end of the house) and planted them.  I gave them my “new plant pep talk” (Be strong little plant, because I really have no idea what I’m doing) and set them free to show me their stuff.

1. www.ehow.com/facts_5801920_difference-between-blueberries-huckleberries.htmland

Family Reunion

I pulled my chair up to the circle around the fire burning high up on the grate and hoped the rain didn’t get serious about its job.   Along with 40 or 50 of my husband’s blood kin and the assorted tag-along in-laws I joined the group  for the annual family picnic.  After the hugs and hello’s and the quiet asides of “Who is the one in the blue shirt over there?”, we  ate our potluck lunch.

Then we obediently gathered in front of the picnic shelter for our picture.  “Say, ‘Grandma Payne,’ ” the family photographer instructed and we all parroted back, “Grandma Payne.”

Even the smallest of the group said it.  But they had no idea who Grandma Payne is.  Or was.  Grandma Payne has been gone for 16 years.  These little ones never met her.  Even the ones a bit older, the ones in their late teens or twenties, have only the haziest memories of Grandma, who to them is actually Great Grandma, or even Great  Great Grandma.  Most, if not all, of what they know about her has been told to them by their parents or grandparents. Their connection to her is two, three, or four generations back. But their parents brought them to this gathering because it is, after all, all about family and their relationship to Grandma Payne is the ticket to membership.

Grandma Payne, my husband’s grandma, is gone.  The next generation, my husband’s parents and aunts and uncles, is dwindling.  Yet we carry on, meeting the second Sunday in July to say hello, hug, and if we’re not quite sure who you are, whisper to our co-conspirator, “Isn’t that Joe?  Or is it Don?  No, of course, not.  It’s Carl.  I think.”

But we don’t worry.  You’re clearly part of the family and that’s all that matters.

The Magic of My Library

When I was a kid I thought libraries were magical.  They let you take home their books to read  and it was free!  (Okay, my parents paid taxes for it but for me it was free.)  In the summer, when school was out, the Bookmobile picked up the slack parking in front of my school every other week.  It was a trip not to be missed.

In elementary school my favorite books were the Black Stallion series.  I read them all, more than once.  I remember right where they were on my school’s library shelf.  On library day (actually my memory is not clear on this part.  Did we have ‘library day?’ Or did we go to the library anytime we wanted?  Well, no matter, whenever it was) I’d go into the library, take a sharp left turn and look on the shelf that was just above eye level.  The Black Stallion shelf.  Hopefully there would be a new book in the collection that I could check out.

I still love libraries.  I don’t want to read a book on a computer screen.  I want to hold the book, turn the pages, feel the paper.  When I read an interesting book review or a friend tells me about an intriguing story I go online to check if my library has the book.  If they do, I submit my request and they text when the book is ready for me.

I know right where it will be on my library’s shelf.  I take a right turn into the first row of books and there, just below eye level, I’ll find my book waiting for me.  I scan my library card and the book’s code and I’m on my way.  It’s still magical.

Farmers and Markets and Lumpia

I made my annual foray to the Tacoma Farmers’ Market today.   As usual the flowers were beautiful and the vegetables fresh and colorful.  I’ve seen the seed packets for Easter Egg radishes but had never actually seen the product until today. They were stunning in their red, pink, and white.  I almost bought some but I didn’t want to hurt the feelings of my ordinary radishes growing at home, so I passed on by.  The usual bakeries had their displays and the photographers and jewelers were in place.  There was a lot of empty space, though, compared to my visits in previous years. There weren’t any farmers selling plants, which is where I usually drop my money.  Maybe it was the cloudy, cool, sometimes misty day that kept some folks away. Or maybe it was just my day to save money by not buying plants.

My friend and I sampled the flavored nuts, fudge, and bread which were all good then, having developed quite an appetite, decided it was time for lunch. Being the adventurous women we are we went for something new.  The Filipino food.  The lumpia was delicious.  And the soup?  It warmed us right up! It may have been a cool day but the soup took care of that. Next time we’ll stick to the lumpia!

I’ll Take What I Can Get

In a normal July I’d be up at 6:00 working in the yard before the day heated up.  But that wasn’t an issue today.  (Good thing, too, because I didn’t get up til 8:00.) It’s the middle of July and I’m wearing black sweats and a flannel shirt.  Unbelievable.  But the lousy mid-July weather was perfect for working in the yard, even at the height of the heat (all 69 degrees of it) at 3:00.  The weather has been so abysmal that very little is growing in my garden, the good news being I don’t have much to weed! There’s often an up side to every down side so I’ll take what I can get.