Buffalo Gal

We do not own lake property….we do own a 14 foot Lund fishing boat and a really snappy Yamaha boat motor.  We used both last week when we suddenly had 2 summer days in a row.   Now I fear that the Season for boating, swimming and other lake activities is drawing rapidly to a close.  At the Buffalo Bluff on Sunday morning it was only 38 degrees and MBF heard that it actually got down into the high 20′s at Embarrass, MN.  (They should be embarrassed by that awful August morning temperature).  This town has set records for cold before, especially in January.

But getting back to lazing at the lake…..we have so many lakes nearby, it is not difficult to jump in the pickup with the boat and trailer hitched behind and get to a lake within one- half hour to an hour, if we choose to go farther, like to Bad Medicine Lake which is my ideal Minnesota lake.  There cannot be one finer or cleaner or deeper or colder lake than Bad Medicine which has NO inlets or outlets and is spring-fed.  Its color is like a Hollywood swimming pool’s…..a glorious aquamarine color but there is no painted sides on the lake, like in a pool!  The shores are tree- lined and the color of the variety of trees in early October is so beautiful it takes one’s breath away.  It also has some lovely islands that one can land on and explore.

Last Wednesday and Thursday, we visited a fairly local and closeby lake and thorougly enjoyed the slow putt-putting around the shores of the lake.  Two friends accompanied us one of the days and he is a fisherman who never gives up.  We trolled around the lake the first day so he could have his line in the water.   Nothing much happened but suddenly when we entered a big bay, he got a powerful strike on the fish line and there ensued a battle that could not have been fought by a walleye, bass or even a Northern.  Finally the fish leaped into the air trying to shed the hook and it was almost certainly a Muskie!    I immediately hoped that he would not successfully land the fish and bring it in the boat because when I think of Muskies I think of alligators with fearsome teeth and glaring eyes.  Fortunately for me, the fish did shake the hook loose and went back to being a denizen of the deep in that bay.   I was totally taken by surprise to learn that Muskies are in some of the lakes that never had them when I was a fisher-woman with my Dad many years ago.  Someone obviously planted Muskie fry in those waters.

We also discovered a true "Eden" of a beach, on a shore lined with old trees that were totally undisturbed—-a rare thing on lakeshores around here.  But a few farm families have determined NOT to sell their lakeshore property and we happened to find one of those paradises in a small cove where it was calm, clear, and had a sandy bottom.   Not only did we relax and eat our sandwiches and fruit and drink our fluids but we all 4 plunged into the clear water for a relaxing swim on that lonely shoreline.  What serendipity!!!!      The following day MBF and I went out on the same lake by ourselves and returned to that lovely sandy- beach cove and did the same thing again—ate our lunch and enjoyed a nice swim.

The peacefulness of boating slowly around a Minnesota lake on a warm sunny day with little wind is hard to describe for its perfection.  The sounds of the water, the sight of diving loons and loon-calls sent out over the water to other loons, the white feathery gulls floating gracefully on the little wavelets, the purr of a trolling motor and pleasant occasional conversation among good friends is a recipe for an ideal day.  Going out on the water on a weekday is far preferable to Saturday or Sunday when EVERYONE suddenly appears in speedboats, big pontoons and the hornet-buzzing jet skis.  I will take a weekday any day and we can—-we are,after all, retired folks!

It was so pleasant last week that we are watching the weather forecasts this week for another sunny, calm, non-windy day when we will hop into the pickup and pull our little fishing boat back to another lake for a new adventure………before the Season truly ends.   We have gone boating in September and October before, and it has been just as pleasant as the summer months.  I hope we have a really nice "El Nino" Fall so we can do some more lazing at a lake.

I have not had quite enough of it just yet.

I have loved working crossword puzzles for many years now.  My mother did crosswords when I was young at home and watching things she did; I must have picked up on her passion for crosswords but it did not show itself for quite awhile til one of my teaching colleagues would stop by the school library after the kids had gone home and bring out the daily puzzle from a newspaper.  I begin to join  in and gradually learned the fine art of working crosswords.  It takes time to "catch on" to crossword puzzle clues and the jargon accompanying the clues.  The use of question marks at the end of a clue usually alerts you to a trick answer.   A couple of clues I encountered today that drove me temporarily nuts included "distribution slips?"  ….."Steinway’s idea for a large piano?"…..and  "Pool hall better luck next time?".    I used to breeze through the Sunday puzzle printed in the FORUM but no longer.  It has gotten harder or else I have gotten stupid-er or some other reason.

Lately, if I want to totally complete the Sunday puzzle, I have to take the "cheaters’ route"…a thing that loyal and devout crossword puzzle buffs do NOT resort to doing but I have done it several times in the past few weeks just because I cannot stand to NOT complete the blanket-blank Sunday puzzle.  Sometimes I am exhausted when I try to finish it without cheating.  Mostly I have a lot of blank spaces which drive me bugs and I just have to go to Google and type in a few of the really hard clues.   I usually hit the jackpot on the first try and up comes the Los Angeles TIMES puzzle page with the clues, the answers, the reasons for the answers and other satisfying conclusions for puzzle-doers like I have become……obsessed, compulsed and downright crazy-lady- ga-ga!

Even though I have satisfied my need to FINISH THE PUZZLE, I feel like a half-failure for having to Google the answers.  But it is better than not sleeping all night or chewing off my fingernails or getting a headache.

There are ways to identify crossword puzzle fiends….they are the ones who grab the newspaper sections in public places like cafes, coffee shops, or fast food restaurants and glance around guiltily before pulling out a pen or pencil and starting on the daily crossword with NO consideration for those who might come after you seeking to do the same thing.  I have at times come across a crossword puzzle in a newspaper that is partly done and I HAVE to finish it for the one who got called away or interrupted in some other way. (It is bad as having to resolve a minor chord that someone has ended with and you cannot stand it til you go to the piano and strike a major one.) 

They( Crossword Crazies)  are also the ones who go to a copy machine in a library and pay to get their own printed daily puzzle.  Then the head for the reference area of the library to be close to encyclopedias and dictionaries.   I knew one like that—-she was another of my teaching colleagues from school days together.  She would come bustling into the library and make for the encyclopedia cart, paper clutched in her hand.  At first I thought she was doing research for her Title 1 students but when I asked what she was up to, she held up her copy of the daily puzzle.  Now that was a really driven crossword puzzler….she gave up her prep time to get that puzzle done.

I have read things that say that people who do crosswords and other word games are likely to "keep their marbles" longer than those who do not do word puzzles.  The theory is that mental stimulation like doing word puzzles will keep your brain in ship-shape and it doesn’t hurt to take some daily dosages of things like Ginko-Biloba and other brain-essential nutrients.  A  daily dose of fresh or frozen blueberries helps the blood/brain barrier too.  If you are a devoted crossword puzzler you go to lengths to feed the old "gray matter".

I am not enamored at all by Soduko puzzles; they involve numbers and math and I have had Terminal Math Anxiety Extremis since almost failing 9th grade algebra.   I have dreaded looking at my checkbook balance for all the years I have had a checkbook.  I am tempted to carry large wads of cash to avoid doing the checkbook balancing.  When I took Algebra, I was one of those students who did not "get it" easily and needed lots of teacher-help.  It was our misfortune in 9th grade that our super- great 8th grade general math teacher became a full-blown alcoholic by the time we reached 9th grade.  He was our first hour algebra teacher and he came to class looking like he had been "rode hard and put away wet"….his shirt was often unbuttoned at the waist leaving the girls in the front row to contemplate  his hairy navel that showed above the beltline; his head- hair was uncombed and he seemed to be in a fog. He looked like he had not washed his face in the morning either. We were too naive to know about the effects of heavy drinking.   But we suffered for it…..those of us who were not quick math studys got left behind and I was one of them.   So that, in a very huge nutshell, is why I do not approach Sokuko puzzles.  

My heart rhythms and blood pressure cannot take that kind of math anxiety stress planted in my freshman year when I cried all the way home with my "D" in algebra one six week period.

Thankfully I always got high grades in language arts and English and Spelling and other word- oriented subjects.   I will continue with crosswords even though I have to suffer a bit of blue-time on Sundays when the clues are hopelessly difficult.

Does anyone have a recommendation for the "Best Crossword Puzzle Dictionary Ever"  ???

At the end of every summer which is the beginning of sports seasons in high school and college, we hear of sudden deaths in young athletes who are either engaged in activities like running or other training methods.  This topic became very real for me when the grandson of a good friend died running at a college where he was the captain of the hockey team. This happened many years ago but I have never read of sudden death in athletes without thinking of the day I heard about that young man’s death.

A promising young athlete from Crosby, ND is the latest reported sudden death in our general region.  It happened just days ago when he was in a gymnasium setting which is often the scene of an athlete’s sudden death.  I was once again saddened and sympathetic thinking of this young man’s family and what they are going through at this time.  Losing a child is every parents’ worst nightmare and this unexpected and shocking way to lose a child must be horrible.

I decided to do some research on the subject and I found several interesting articles on line. The one that seemed most informative comes from the "Hughston Health Alert" and the opening paragraphs are worth sharing verbatim:   "In 490 BC, Phidippides, a young Greek athlete ran 26.2 miles from Marathon to Athens, delivering the news of the Greek victory over the Persians, and then he collapsed and died.  This is probably the first recorded incident of sudden death in an athlete.  The possibility that young, well-trained athletes at teh high school, college or professional level could die seems incomprehensible……Sports, per se, are not a cause of enhanced mortality, but they can trigger sudden death in athletes with heart of blood vessel abnormalities by predisposing them to life-threatening heart irregularities."

The article goes on to list some of the well known athletes who have suffered sudden death including Korey Stringer(in 2001) of the MN Vikings, Flo Hyman,(in 1986) an Olympic athlete who suffered from Marfan’s syndrome(only discovered at her autopsy), Darryl Kile, an all star pitcher for the St Louis Cardinals (in 2002) and Jim Fixx, marathon runner and author (died in 1984).  There was a long list of young athletes who have died from the sudden death syndrom in young seemingly healthy athletes.

According to the information I found, the most common cause of sudden death in athletes is congenitial abnormalities of the heart or blood vessels, often present at birth, without presenting any symptoms.  The most common cause of sudden death in athletes over the age of 30 is heart attack.  Many of us know of a person who was a devoted jogger who died while jogging or running.  I remember the death of a well- known and well- loved doctor at the old Fargo clinic who died while jogging at the young age of 46.(Dr. David Todd)  His death was a terrible shock to his family and his  patients and to  all those who knew and loved him…and there were many of them.

The article also lists non-cardiac causes of athlete sudden deaths including a sudden blow to the middle of the chest… like a hard ball hitting an athlete with sudden force, as could happen in baseball or softball.Other non-cardiac reasons for sudden death in athletes is explored.  There is also good information about the necessity of careful screening in athletic health exams and the signs and symptoms of a sudden death possibility. The article was written by David McMicken, MD of Columbus, Georgia.  (The article is titled "Sudden Death in Athletes" and is from the Hughston Health Alert.)

In the not-so-sudden death category, is the recent death of Senator Edward Kennedy who underwent extensive treatments (the best available, I am certain) for an aggressive brain tumor.  Kennedy was diagnosed a little over a year ago and died in the past few days in spite of all the intervention given him by the best medical systems in the world (in spite of what many are saying about the faultiness of our medical system and the need for "Obamacare")     Former  governnor, Mike Huckabee made a statement on his radio show yesterday that is sure to create a firestorm on the national scene when he made the observation that under the proposed "Obama" care, Senator Kennedy would have been given pain pills and sent home to die after his diagnosis a year ago.

I sometimes wonder if pain management might be preferable to the abominable and barbaric cancer treatments presently given to patients—–poisoning with chemicals via "chemotherapy", burning, via radiation or the radical and disfiguring surgeries performed that leave a person forever maimed or disabled…..and death comes more often than not, in spite of the efforts of the medical system.  Will the day come, sometime in the future, when cancer treatments now routinely given, will seem akin to blood letting practiced in the early days of medicine?

Once again, reading another person’s (FarSide of Fifty) blog has triggered memories and a blog topic for myself.  I read and saw the Wistful Wednesday blog featuring a sweet picture of Little Farside as a cute baby sitting in her "Baby Tenda".  A-Ha, says I……my little sister had a Baby Tenda also and how well I remember it…especially the salesman’s visit to our home to convince my parents that they needed to buy the Baby Tenda for their little girl. The salesman got up on top of the Baby Tenda and jumped on it, to illustrate its super strength and that sold my folks.  They bought a Baby Tenda for Baby Babs and she spent lots of time sitting in it, safely out of harm’s way in the kitchen and anywhere my Mother wanted to set up the table with the seat in the middle for the baby.  My sister ate cheerios, baby crackers, biscuits off the table- top of the Tenda, she  learned to drink from a cup, and later as she got older, she used to sit in the Tenda and draw and color on paper.  Even later she used it as a little table because it came with a strong folding chair.  It was a great buy and we had it around our house for many years after the Baby had outgrown the Tenda.

Which leads to the Spook House Days remembrances.   My best friends and everyday playmates when I was ages 6-12 were all boys.  I was pretty much the only girl on the block who came out to play every day.  There was another girl but she stayed inside the house practicing her many muscal instruments and never really made it outside to play all the imaginative and creative things our gang thought up during the hot, humid days of summertime in the middle- to- late 1940′s.  We were happiest when we were either building or creating something and one of our best things was to come up with a "Spook House".  Byron, my next door neighbor, had a "playhouse" in one end of the family garage.  I had a playhouse also, but mine was a former garden shed that my always- clever Dad made over into a girlish playhouse.  It had a whole row of windows in the front making it impossible for a spook house.  You needed to have a very dark place to have a successful house of horror and Byron’s was ideal—–only one window and an escape hatch that could be hooked shut and covered by a very opaque wooden door.  The window was no problem…we had all sorts of army blankets available to cover that light source up and make the room totally dark.  While we prepared the inside of the Spook House, we had to prop the entry door open so we could see what we were doing. 

One of our scary devices was a leftover Halloween mask—-a 1940s mask version was made out of cloth and soaked with heavy glue to keep its shape.  They were great and just as horrible as the later latex "old man" masks that we never used in our day. We would mount the scary mask over a large knothole on the east wall of Byron’s playhouse (it was later changed to a "clubhouse" when Byron thought he was too old for a playhouse.)  Then all we had to do was have one of us turn a flashlight on and off behind the scary mask.  We had rafters from which one of us would hover with buckets of water or buckets of dry sand to drizzle down on the unsuspecting Spook House visitors.  Thankfully, none of us "Spooks" ever fell out of the rafters during our scaring sessions in the gloomy, dark interior of Byron’s clubhouse.  And the old Baby Tenda got put into new service in our Spook Houses.  It was pretty battered by that time anyway, and we hauled it into the clubhouse for a diabolical purpose.  Harlan, one of the neighborhood boys, somehow managed to get his 8 or 9- year old body  stuffed into the little well- seat of the Baby Tenda and the Tenda also had wheels on its 4 legs.  Once inside the Baby Tenda, Harlan was a real Banshee who could move at will and bump into the Spook House "victims" scaring the bejabbers out of them with fierce clammy grabs (we wet his hands in icy cold hose water) and the scary sounds that he invented as he careened around the room in the dark added further fright to those lost in the dark of our Spook House.  We also had bowls of cooked spaghetti (we said they were "cats’ guts") and slimy grapes (eyeballs) and something else warm and squishy that we said was a heart cut out of somebody.  We made the S.H. victims feel all these scary things as they progressed through our well- laid out Spook House.   Oh,  we were organized!!  Each one of us had a job to do….one held the flashlight behind the scary mask and turned it off and on.  Harlan manned the moving Baby Tenda.  I was in the rafters with Byron and the buckets of water and sand.  Denny and Jerry made the Visitors touch the cats’ guts, the eyeballs and the heart.  All of us got very good at scary screeches, howls and ghostly moans.  The inside of the clubhouse got steamed up by  body heat and humidity and was a real Sauna by the time we got it all revved up and brought in the customers.  I can still smell the sweat and stinky shoes in my dreams.

After we were all set up, we had to make tickets and figure out what we were going to charge for the priviledge of getting the wits scared out of them.  I usually ended up making  the tickets out of tablet paper, hand written with the price of entry to our Spook House (never over 5 cents) and then we set up our ticket seller’s table.   Of course we had to advertise the Spook House and its time of opening and all those details. We rode our bikes to other blocks during the height of playtime and told kids about our upcoming Spook House(always done after supper so we could take advantange of the waning daylight). 

Amazingly, kids from other neighborhoods flocked to our block and our Spook House with their sweaty nickels clutched in dirty hands.  After the tickets had been sold, we brought them in  two or three at a time for the most dramatic effects.  The screams of the first ones in made the other ticket holders get wild with anticipation of being scared silly.  We never disappointed our clients.  Two of the younger boys from a neighborhood at least 4 blocks from ours, got so scared they started to cry and plead to be let out of our House of Horror. We did not let them go til they had been properly bashed with the Baby Tenda and scared by the lighted mask, bombed with the dry sand and water and had felt our guts and eyeballs.

Everytime we organized a Spook House, (at least once or twice each summer) we were inundated with customers from other neighborhoods as our fame as the Scariest Spook House in town spread all over the kids’ grapevine of those days.  We always had a lot of nickels to divide up after each of our Spook House adventures and we would take a trip down to Andrew Erickson’s bakery on the day after the Spook House and treat ourselves to double- dip ice cream cones, at the very least. Sometimes we had enough profits to have a bottle of "pop" for each of us.  We went back to our block, burping soda pop and wiping our smeared up faces with the backs of our hands.

And all these memories came pouring back to me just because I saw the picture and word, "Baby Tenda" on FarSide’s blog!!!!

I got a really cool poem written by  Laura Purdle Salas.  The poem appeared on the "Miss Rumphius" website and was sent to me by my good friend , Fran who loves poetry and also writes some wonderful poems herself.

After reading Highlight of My Day’s blog about the coming of school, and then getting this poem, I think it needs to be shared, especially for students going off to school and for parents who are seeing them off on the opening day.

Goodbye, Hello

Goodbye, blue sky, Hello walls

Goodbye sidewalks, Hello halls

Goodbye seesaw, Hello seat

Goodbye messy, Hello neat

Goodbye picnic, Hello tray

Goodbye wander, Hello stay

Goodbye flip-flops, Hello socks

Goodbye long days, Hello clocks

Goodbye biking, Hello bus

Goodbye lonely, Hello us

Goodbye Sweaty, Hello cool

Goodbye summer, Hello school

For any parents of young children, I highly recommend the reading aloud of the book "Miss Rumphius" by Barbara Cooney.  It is a delightful story of a lady who spends her lifetime as a librarian and when she retires she goes on as many trips as she can, to all the places in the world she has read about all her life.  Then she finally settles down in a house near the seaside and makes it her mission to go around planting lupine seeds along pathways and lanes.  The colored illustrations of the wild lupines she planted is breathtaking, as well as the pictures of her travels before she settles into her little home by the sea.  The book has won many awards in childrens’ literature.

Two things have caught me today…both involving wrong-doing.  One is a new one and the other is several days old but not too old for a blog.

A letter to the editor today was from a person who had worked hard all summer to raise one of the upside down tomato plants in an apartment setting (I think).  After the first tomatoes were getting ripe someone came by and stole one.  The gardener was furious over the theft of the ripe tomato; some would say "it’s no big deal—-it’s just one tomato"  but the person who had worked hard all summer to bring the plant to fruition did not see it that way at all. I guess if one were to call this theft a "Little Wrong" the tomato gardener would respond, "Any theft is a big wrong."       I guess I tend to agree with the gardener that was wronged. Any theft is a big deal because stealing from others is forbidden in our body of laws which were actually based on the Supreme Law given to Moses….the Ten Commandments. (Thou shalt not steal)

I have been reading reactions and commentaries to the setting free of the man who planted the bomb aboard the airliner that exploded over Lockerbie, Scotland in December of 1988 resulting in the deaths of 270 people including 189 Americans on board Pam Am flight 103 and 11 Scots on the ground where the plane’s bits and pieces landed in Lockerbie.  I can still remember it like it happened yesterday, especially because one of the American students on board was a young man from south Fargo whose parents still live there.

If ever there were a true "BIG WRONG" this has to be it.

The influential (and usually liberal) "Washington Post" has weighed in with an editorial published on Saturday, August 22, 2009 with the headline titled "Scot Free: releasing the mass murderer of the Lockerbie bombing is a travesty of justice".   The opening statement in the editorial is worth quoting:   "The sickening hero’s welcome accorded by Libya on Thursday to the mass murderer convicted of the 1988 Lockerbie bombing is an indictment both of the government of Tripoli that choreographed his homecoming and of the Scottish justice minister wh ordered his release on ‘compassionate’ grounds."

The Scottish National Party’s Kenny MacAskill’s name will go down in history with names like Adolph Hitler or Vidkun Quisling of WW 2′s  infamous remembrance.   Kenny MacAskill is as much a criminal in being the government official responsible for the release of the bloody murderer of the 270 victims of the Pam Am flight 103 bombing in December of 1988.  "Compassion"? What about compassion for the families of those who were shown NO compassion by the bomber, Abdel Basset Ali al-Megrahi, when he planted the bomb aboard that airliner?  Terrorists like Megrahi have not one ounce of compassion in their entire beings.  Those who are victims of terrorism are usually totally innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time and there is no such thing as compassion for any of them.

Another portion of the WP editorial says "Mr. Megrahi’s joyful airport homecoming, which featured flag-waving crowds bused to the airport by the authorities, is proof that the government of Moammar Gaddafi feels not the slightest trace of remorse for the slaughter at Lockerbie, despite having admitted its complicity in the bombing and paid 2.7 million dollars in compensation to the victim’s familes.  It makes a mockery of Washington’s decision to elevate Libya’s status from international pariah to the community of civilized nations."

Indeed.   The feeble plea out of the United States President last week for Libya NOT to celebrate the homecoming of this mass murderer and the resultant celebration at Triploli, was a real thumbing – the -nose at the American adminsistration.   I am reminded of the action that President Reagan took in 1986 when he ordered the bombing of the Libyan capitol in retribution for another terrorist act on the Mediterranean Sea and the chicken-hearted Gaddafi was given a taste of terrorist medicine when his own home was mostly destroyed and one of his multiple children killed in the raid.  Gaddafi also came meekly to the United States after Afghanistan was bombed as a result of the destruction of the Twin Towers in New York City in 2001.   This strutting leader of a Terrorist Nation was reduced to acting like a jellyfish when he contemplated the punishment that could be administered once again to a nation like his that supports terrorist and terrorism.  He apparently feels confident that there will be no reprisals now from the Obama adminstration and is emboldened to ignore the warning about holding a celebration for the bloody terrorist who killed 270 people over Lockerbie.

Terrorists never change …..unless they who order others to kill,  think they might lose their own lives.

It is a VERY BIG WRONG to release this piece of scum, low-life, murdering Megrahi on grounds of compassion.

One other editorial suggested that the nation that gave the world William Wallace, "Braveheart"… now gives the world a "Dhimmiheart" in Kenny MacAskill.  I would guess that "dhimmi" might be part of the Scottish dialect meaning "coward" or "criminal" or "something that lives under a rock".  I just looked it up and a Dhimmi is a non-Muslim who lives in a nation ruled by Sharia Law.  Jed Babbin, in his commentary, suggests that the national anthem of Scotland, the once- proud "Scotland the Brave" might now be changed to an old John Lennon song which begins with the words, "Imagine there’s no Scotland. It’s easy if you try…."

My friend Peggy is a remarkable woman.  Within the past ten years, her youngest sister died of cancer leaving 4 children and her husband.  Three of the kids were pretty well grown up but the youngest was only 4.  Peggy moved with her husband from Missoula, MT to be available to help her brother in law with the 4- year old and, in the process, bought a lovely old home in Lake Park MN.   Peggy and her husband have transformed that old home into a place of beauty and the beauty includes extensive old- fashioned flower gardens surrounding the entire large yard.  They are the most amazing gardeners….they plant vegetables amongst the flowers and it is amazing how ferny- leaved carrots fit in with gorgeous huge Asian lilies and globe thistle plants.  There are also rows of the healthiest looking strawberry plants growing side by side with many Moonflowers.   Volunteer morning glories grow wildly up one side of the garage along with tall pink hollyhocks.  There are cosmos, tithonia, lilies, lupines, foxglove, herbs and tiny tomatos—whose plants are like small trees growing so lushly among flowers. I cannot even began to name all the flower varieties in the gardens and that does not even cover the many window boxes on the home!!!     Several garden sheds are mixed in among the gardens and each one is a showplace of its own with little touches like old baby strollers filled with blooming plants and a baby buggy at the corner of the garage draped with beautiful quilts today.  An old bicycle with its front basket filled with flowers sits amidst one corner of the garden.  The entire garden is a riot of color at this season.

Today the yard and garden were filled with visitors for the 3rd annual Quilt and Garden Show, a wonderful secret of small – town living that more and more folks are finding out about with each passing year and they are coming in droves to view the quilts, to drink tea from REAL china teacups in real china saucers, to eat the tea cookies, and this year, to eat a chicken salad sandwich lunch under the big beautiful trees ( the trees are as old as the house, going back to the ninteen-teens I think) in Peggy’s yard, seated at large old fashioned picnic tables with huge shade umbrellas.

Peggy thought up this wonderful late August garden tea and quilt show as a way to raise scholarship funds in her sister’s memory.   Each spring, the proceeds from the quilt show have provided 2 scholarships to young women who are college bound for the past 2 years since the show began.  There will be more scholarships given this spring of 2010.  One of the most charming parts of today’s quilt and garden tea was the presence of Anglelica, the young daughter of Peggy’s sister.  Angelica was seated with her older sister busily doing her bit to help out the wonderful fund raiser for the scholarship in her mother’s name.  She is a school age girl now and seems to be wonderfully happy in the presence of her family which surrounds her with love.

Today was the sort of day I wished that I had the skills to take pictures and put them on my website!!!   It is a skill I have not acquired but I hope the words convey something of the wonder of the morning at Peggy’s place in Lake Park.   Over 75 beautiful hand-made quilts of many sizes were on display.  Each visitor gets a ballot on which one can record their 5 favorite quilts.  The winning quilts (by visitors’ choices) will take their places from Number 1 toNumber 5.  Then Peggy gets on with another job……creating a beautiful calendar with pictures of this years’ quilts for each month.  The calendar becomes a wonderful remembrance of the lovely day in late August that is so worth remembering.

I know I voted for a blue and yellow quilt that Peggy herself made (I LOVE blue and yellow things) and I know I voted for a quilted poinsettia design table centerpiece….I also voted for one of the patriotic red white and blue quilts that caught my eye and I am pretty sure I voted for a gorgeous pink, white and green flowery design quilt.  There were also two small quilted works that looked like stained glass—I know I voted for one of them.  I COULD have voted for at least 25 more, they were all so gorgeous.  Quilters have a most artistic eye when it comes to using colors together.  Their quilts are marvelous works of art done in fabrics.

Next year before the Quilt Show… which is planned each year for the second- to- the- last Saturday in August…..I am going to post a blog in order to invite others to discover this small-town secret of color, beauty, peace, serenity and fellowship.  Others should have the chance to come to the Garden Tea and Quilt Show at Peggy’s Place.  Seeing Peggy’s big yard and her flower gardens takes as much time as looking at the many lovely quilts.  I spent over 3 hours enjoying the wonder of this year’s show and garden tea.  First I looked at all the quilts twice so I could vote on my favorites; then I went round all the gardens again and drank in the beauty of the flowers and greenery.  Many monarch butterflies were hovering over the flowers today as well as hundreds of bees busy drinking the nectar from the centers of the blossoms.  Nobody got stung either!   The bees were only interested in the many many flowers.

  I returned home very reluctantly, wanting to extend the experience for as long as I possibly could!!!!

 Sometimes I have to take a break from reading the "serious" news of each day.  It can get distressing and almost depressing.  Instead I turn to the frivolous news pieces I can find on the internet news outlets and have a good hearty chuckle/laugh/snicker/tee-hee.

The first item is a non-news reported one.  Yesterday when I accompanied a friend into one of the big-box super WalMarts in the lakes area, I was carrying my umbrella due to showers in the area.  A Greeter found me immediately and offered my an "umbrella bag" which turned out to be a long narrow plastic bag—just for my umbrella.  Wal Mart thinks of everything……..but since Sam Walton died they have lost out on really helpful, friendly cheerful, check out clerks at every station, among and other things Wal Mart used to be famous for.   Ah well, an umbrella bag on a rainy day is pretty unique you must admit.

Today one of the serious news items even made me snicker.  It is the report of another TV appearance by President Obama in which he tries to dismiss critics of his policies by saying that it is the time of the year that Washington (and others) get "all wee-weed up".  I take it that he means his critics are peeing themselves but he maybe is using Chicago political terminology in saying "wee-weed" up.  That phrase (the W-W one) is a childish expression used with toddlers who are being potty trained, mostly.  But nothing surprises me about Obama anymore.  He apparently cannot see that if people in Washington and elsewhere, are truly "wee-weed" up, ir just might be because of his own  frantic and seemingly disordered way of getting things done that he wants done with often disastrous reactions among "we the people".  Oh well, I am sure he gave himself a bit of relief from the thoughts about the daily drops in his polls of approval et, al….and the continuing chorus of those who are disgruntled by his policies and those of the Congress of 2009.

Now,on to the more inane news items garnered this morning:

BIG BANG IN DORSET,ENGLAND:    Over 175,000 Brits gathered on the shore of a river (Thames?) between two large piers in Dorset to watch an attempt to set a World Record Fireworks display which was set up on a barge in the river which held 110,000 fireworks devices.  Something went wrong.    All 110,000 things went off at the same time making it appear to those on shore that the entire barge had blown up.  The hoped-for display was over in one BIG BANG with the pictures taken from the shore and published in the UK TELEGRAM showing images not unlike the explosions photograhed in WW 2…at Pearl Harbor and other places where huge ships were hit with explosives.   There goes the World Record.  Or maybe it IS a new World Record for the most fireworks going off at one time.

MUCK MONSTER IN FLORIDA:     Lake Worth Lagoon in Florida is the location of "Monster Sightings" by the Lagoon Keepers organization who have spotted, numerous times, huge wakes and strange movements in the lagoon giving rise to speculation that Scotland’s "Nessie" monster might be vacationing in Florida at this time.  A member of the Lagoon Keepers was quoted as saying "everytime we dove {sic} down, it just disappeared" which must have stimulated even more ghostly speculatons about the thing christened a "Muck Monster". I will place a bet that when they solve the mystery, it will be a giant weather balloon which sank in the lagoon…………just like the explanations so often given for UFO sightings.

THE FRENCH ARE BEING TERRORIZED…… by an invasion of "Asian Hornets".  The new discovery among entomologists and victims is that France has added to its list of troubles, a species called "Asian Hornets" whose sting is reported to feel like "a hot nail" when it strikes. Mothers pushing strollers and baby buggies have been "nailed" as have Tourists in the south of France.  So far, the invasion of nasty stingers is limited to the south of France but predictions are for the insects to spread all over the country being stopped only by the English Channel, which would be good news for the Brits.  I cannot help but think of another sort of invasion of France and other European countries that has been taking place by liberal immigration policies resulting in a near-take over by certain Islamic peoples who are demanding Sharia laws and government money to build mosques, among other things that have caused the French, Dutch, Germans, English and other Europeans to take a second look at their immigration stats…..and policies.

I have had my share of laughs, chuckles, and snickers , for today at least!

It never ceases to amaze me how one small object can trigger so many remembrances of things in one’s life.     It happened again recently when I looked at a small cylindrical desk container that was sitting in MBF’s office/ aka lions’ den.  (The only thing that is not scattered around in this room  is real lion poop)

Sometime this past summer, he took on the task of going through the last of the boxes of things he had brought from his parents’ home when he and his brothers had to clear it all out after the death of their mother in 2001.  We have had certain boxes sitting in our lower level waiting to be sorted through and it got done this summer of 2009.  It is painful to part with things from one’s childhood home and one’s much- loved parents.  I went through this earlier when my last parent died and my sister and I had to clear out the home in which we had grown up.  I think children have to have a proper and long period of coming to terms with "being orphans" when they are already well into their 6th decade of life.  I had to do it in my 5th decade and it was not easy for me, either.

The cylindrical desk container had, among other things, an very old bottle of Sheaffer’s "Skrip" writing fluid ( also known as ink). The old bottle even has its tiny ink well on the inside of the bottle.  Bottles of ink were common place in years past. Before the advent of ball point pens and other more recent and higher-tech writing instruments, people wrote with old fashioned "fountain pens".   Now fountain pens are big collector’s items and one of my classmates is part of a national group of fountain pen collectors.  He says they hold national conventions and have great times together every year…which I find fascinating because I grew up, like he did, in the era of fountain pens and bottles of ink. I can still picture my mother’s 1920′s Parker fountain pen….it had been a fairly expensive gift to the country school teacher she was at that time.  It was small and definitely a "womans. pen"….a mottled and beautiful blue color.  I was not allowed to play with it or use it.  But I could look at it and hold it and think it was an object of beauty, which I  did.

The dried up bottle of Sheaffer’s "Skrip" took me back to other bottles of ink, namely Parker’s ink which seemed to be the favorite brand in my home.  My mother’s fountain pen was a Parker pen and she continued to use Parker’s ink (blue) in it for the rest of its life. I can still see her writing letters in her perfectly beautiful handwriting as she sat at our dining room table.  I still have some letters written in fountain pen ink, from my Dad’s letters to one of his sisters, and from my Aunt Emma’s letters which came from Minneapolis weekly.  Letter- writing was a true art form in those days and I feel sad that so much of it has been lost in this modern era of e- mail and text messages and cell phones and other simplistic ways of communiciating compared to true letter writing.    The letter writers of yesteryear expressed themselves beautifully, in wonderful grammar, writing records to be discovered years later, an in some cases, to beome, the major source for famous books, as in the letters of John and Abigail Adams and a wonderful regional book called THOSE DAYS by North Dakota native Richard Critchfield.   Fountain-pen written letters still abound in the homes of people who believe in keeping their family histories alive and well.

The old ink bottle also unleashed the painful memory of the night I was told NOT to use the ink on the dining room table…..I disobeyed my mother and ended up spilling a bottle of blue Parker’s ink on her one- and- only (and treasured) Quaker lace tablecloth.  I can never forget her righteous anger at her naughty daughter.  A permanent ink stain was a total disaster with no available stain removers like we have today.  I remember her soaking the table cloth in sour milk which was an old home remedy for such disasters.  The ink was not totally removed by the sour milk and she resorted to heavy doses of "Hilex" an earlier form of liquid bleach.  The tablecloth turned pale yellow but it was used til I….in my lingering guilt and true repentance…bought her a brand new white Quaker lace cloth the first year I was earning my own money as a first- year teacher in 1961.  It was the best Christmas present I ever gave my Mom!  Both of us got very emotional over the gift—–at least for a couple of Norwegian -American descendants of hard core, never- show- your- emotions sort of people.

The ink bottle also unleashed memories of old schoolrooms in the yellow brick, early- 1900′s- built elementary school where I spent grades 1-6.  Our old desks had inkwells into which was was poured bright blue ink for penmanship class; we took out our non-fountain pens to write on the lined paper in what was our best Palmer Method script.  There were rambunctious and scalawag-gy boys back then, too.  Some of these boys took great pleasure in dipping the long braids of the girl who sat in front of him…into the ink- filled inkwell.  I cannot remember the punishments meted out for the braid dipping boys, but I think they were severe.  We probably used washable ink for that very reason and the girls always seemed to come to school the next morning with ink-free braids  after a tense session at the kitchen sink with their mothers and one of the few shampoos available at that time (Drene, Luster-Creme, Halo, Breck)  I recall having my hair washed with plain old bar soap at times….Camay or Palmolive or Lux  or Ivory bar soap.( ormaybe it was "Cashmere Bouquet")   I get a bit grossed out when I think of it now but we only had our hair washed once a week back then, anyway.

There were students (we were called "pupils" then) who always got the ink on their fingers and then their faces, even into their mouths….they were probably the hard-core "white paste eaters" that got ink into their mouths.  But I do recall a lot of blue- spotted friends with blue stained lips and tongues when we finished penmanship class and the stains stayed put the rest of the day…. or until your mother got hold of you and washed out your mouth to remove the ink stains.  White paste eating is a whole other blog topic!!!!

About the time I graduated from high school in the mid-fifties and went off to college a new and revolutionary fountain pen made its appearance.  The new pens had the same fountain pen tips but you inserted ink cartridges into the "barrel" of the pen instead of filling it with your fountain pen "pump" from a bottle of Sheaffer’s or Parker’s ink.   I loved those cartridge fountain pens and used them for years clear up into the 1960s when something else replaced them and they went off the market.  I wish I still had one.  They wrote beautifully and you could get cartridges in many colors including blue, black, purple, green , red, and turquoise blue.  I took all my college notes with those cartridge fountain pens.  I carried a pack of extra cartridges in my purse or school bags for emergency changes in the middle of big tests.

How one old bottle of dried up "Skrip" can release all these memories amazes me.

Anyone who has read my blog knows that I rant and rave quite regularly about cell phone users who also drive at the same time as they are phoning.    Now a new report out of Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania on the internet August 15 reports a fatal crash involving a teenaged driver who crossed two lanes of traffic and drove up on a sidewalk, killing two female pedestrians who had just come out of a hospital after visiting a relative.  The teenaged driver was bending over reaching for her i-pod when she mowed down the two women on the sidewalk and killed them outright.  The driver was taken to a hospital but released as she had no serious injuries herself after killing the two who stood on the sidewalk.

Just a couple of weeks ago we had a call from my husband’s brother in western Montana who said he had to go to the funeral that day of a close neighbor and friend who had been hit head on and killed instantly by a teenaged driver who was texting and not looking where she was going when she crossed into the opposite lane and hit my brother in law’s neighbor head-on.  She too, was uninjured and released from a hospital after a brief check up.

Now there is some real proof of the dangers of using cell phones and other similar hand held (or even not hand held) technological devices in the hands of the drivers who are distracted by doing other things when they should be concentrating on driving their vehicle.

In a report in "Live Science" there are several results of studies done concerning the reaction times of those who are using cell phones and driving at the same time.

"A new study confirms  that the reaction time of cell phone users slows dramatically, increasing the risk of accidents and tying up traffic in general, and when young adults use cell phones while driving, they are as bad as sleepy septugenarians."

Further in the report:  "Drivers talking on cell phones were 18 percent slower to react to brake lights, the study found.  In a minor bright note, they also kept a 12 percent greater following distance. But they took 17 percent longer to regain the speed they lost when they braked. That frustrates everyone."

"The latest study used high-tech simulators.  It included people ages 18-25 and another group ages 65-74.  Elderly drivers were slower to react when talking on the phone, too.  The simulations uncovered a twofold increase in the number of rear-end collisions by drivers using cell phones."

In a 2005 study, it was reported that at least 2,600 traffic deaths that year were caused by drivers using cell phones.   I would wonder what the number of deaths would be now, in 2009 with increasing use of cell phones, text messagers and other tech.devices that younger drivers cannot seem to leave alone, even when they are driving in heavy traffic.  Couple that with their inexperience in driving and you have a deadly combination.

These reports about the use of cell phones while driving causes one to offer up prayers for a Guardian Angel while driving and gives new meaning to "defensive driving".  But if a cell phoner crosses lanes of traffic while being distracted, it is hard even for one’s Guardian Angel to prevent mayhem on the highways and byways.

It makes one wish that cell phones had never been invented.