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Musings on anything. |
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My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| In a new TV game show, which seems to be built on a concept of Family Feud, I was inspired by one of the tasks. The first half of the show, the contestants guess what the average person in a survey said, not necessarily correct. The last half the contestants who lasted through that make bets on the host completing a task. The one that caught my attention was to name movies with sports themes. They don't have to be about the sport, but will have the sport as a major part of story. I guessed more than the host did. I found afterward that I was still trying to remember the names of ones I had seen. You could do that with almost any theme. For example, at Christmas, someone always asks for movies with Christmas themes. Some of them are far fetched because Christmas is not a major theme, but is an element of time and activity. Titles I came up with include Chariots of Fire, Talladega Nights, Days of Thunder, The Replacements, A League of Their Own, Bull Durham, Field of Dreams, Angel in the Outfield, The Mighty Ducks, and Major League. Of course, there is Rocky, Rocky II, Raging Bull, Million Dollar Baby, Blades of Glory, Happy Gilmore, Caddyshack, The Swimmer (Burt Lancaster), The Longest Yard (Burt Reynolds). And so many more I can't remember or have never seen. Drop me a note if you think of one I haven't listed. I might think of more next week. |
| OK, it is snowing today, maybe sleeting. It won't last like in January or February. So, I am thinking of the crocus I have seen popping up and the hyacinths that have shot up green blades. Now I won't to think flower pots, garden beds and seeds. (The crocus are blooming.) I pulled out the plant book to read. I will look for seed catalogs. I have particular varieties I want this year, and they aren't at Walmart or the grocer's. I have some clay tubing I want to use as containers, but I need to put bottoms in them and a way to fill the bottom so I use less potting soil. The extra depth is just for looks.These clay tubes are square shaped in different lengths. They might make a nice border. II might have destroyed my rosebush by trimming back too much or incorrectly cutting the stems. Time will tell. The clematis next to it should have been trimmed more, but I was chicken, so now it just looks messy. As soon as the ground is dry enough I need to pull weeds and mulch around the plants and shrubs that are staying. It is hard to work around them when they're growing, especially thorny roses or sharp yucca leaves. I don't think I'm jumping the gun, just trying to do a little planning in order to be ready when the time comes. My grandmother would have her tomato seeds planted by now in small trays, sitting in a sunny window. She would transplant the healthy seedlings to bigger pots. When the weather was right, my dad would plow and dig the holes in the ground. She'd carry out her strong plants and help him set them in the ground. Then it was his job to weed and fertilize. She would water them while he worked on hot summer days. Every year she had those pans of seedlings in the window before the spring weather set in. I'll never have my grandmother's green thumb. I can strive for the sheer fun of it. |
| I stepped outside my front door this morning to find red feathers everywhere. It was a garbled mess with softer white fuzzy feathers all over the large mat. It is a covered stoop. Apparently it is a safe haven for some nasty creature of the night. I stepped over it in horror to rush to a meeting at church. I went home after the service, got out the leaf blower to remove the feathers. I didn't want to put a broom into the mess. I finally had to use the rake and snow shovel to get up the mangled parts and discard. The soft stuff was almost ground into the rug. I blew it some more, but think it needs to come up and be washed. I know Mother Nature operates this way, but I am still horrified to know birds are being killed on my front step. And a red bird, no less! The only outdoor cat in the neighborhood is declawed and doesn't hang out at my front door. There is scat on my patio every day which I have to clean away, so I'm thinking a fox or possum, if they attack birds. We do have cuywholves (they are slightly bigger than coyotes, which are not native to my area), I think ground hogs are vegetarians. It was a nasty way to start the day. |
| Did you ever wonder about what the fictional town of Mayberry would be like in 2026? The show was made in the early 1960's and even then the small town seemed like a fairy tale. I have found a few places that came close, but everywhere seems to be changing so fast. Small towns have turned into strictly residential areas of larger towns or have been run over by industry and highways. I imagine that at the very least the modern Mayberry would have at least one McDonald's and a big chain gas stop where you pump it yourself. Maybe it would have a convenience store and deli attached and, of course, public bathrooms. There would probably be a garden supply store just outside of town, and maybe a doughnut shop. Wiley would have retired and sold his shop to a couple who ran a repair shop on a busy intersection. They would use computers to order parts and probably have 3 or 4 bays to work on multiple autos. The wife would do the books and take the money as an equal business partner with her husband. Like other small towns growing up, there would be a Food Lion or other grocery chain with a big parking lot. Across the street would be a CVS, while loyal customers would still choose to go to the existing drugstore. Soda fountains inside a store are just a novelty these days, but it still might exist. Most likely there would be a secondhand store, either run for profit or by local churches. The church one would offer free clothes and shoes for homeless people or people referred by social workers or bargains for people on a tight budget. One run for profit would benefit first time homeowners who want furniture they can paint or refinish or bargain hunters from Mount Pilot or Raleigh. (I used to love going to such stores in the country.) There would have to be more than one deputy. With increased population in the surrounding area, there would be more traffic, more accidents, more burglaries. There are homeless people everywhere. The lake would be a prime location for people to camp out without offending people. There would be women, too, not just men like you occasionally saw on Andy Griffith. Abandoned homes or sheds would be occupied. There still might not be a need for a gun in the town limits, but the crime rate would surely go up. I think it would be safe to say there would still be a friendly atmosphere. I have visited some small towns, maybe not as small or picturesque as Mayberry, but they tend to be welcoming and congenial. They want your business and know one another. They recognize you as an outsider, which would never happen where I live now. I am afraid that these towns won't be so small or accommodating 20 years from now. If only we could bottle that sense of community and keep it even when enterprise tries to squeeze us out. |
| I have the bad habit of assuming everyone is as interested as I am in whatever topic I approach. I'm sure I come across as a bore. I know a very smart woman, who speaks in a monotone, and will go off in a direction no one expects, expounding on German history or whatever from 300 years ago. The average person has no idea to what she is referring or how it fits into the current discussion. I am so afraid that I am like her that I sometimes I stop myself after I start talking and say, "Never mind." I excuse myself when I don't stop by remembering I at least have a little inflection in my voice. It is so easy to go off into a rabbit hole, particularly when you are leading a discussion or teaching a class. Group discussions will go astray like that. In a class the leader has to rope everyone back in to the subject at hand. Our group minds wander just like our own personal thinking does, I guess. When writing, we can just as easily go astray. The writer has control and can take it where she wants, but the story or article might get off the course. With fiction that might work as the story will go in a new direction. I've had that happen. The story is in control, not the writer. Nonfiction requires a steady thinker and staying on topic. My mind wanders too much. I need to stick to very short essays. |
| It is another cold, wet February day. Solar panels are not producing much electricity. This summer, hopefully they will store up power and even export some, so that when I need more, it will come from the grid against my credit. For now, I am still dependent on the grid. And I am cold. I think it is a fine day for whining and complaining. The church assistant treasurer is complaining about the monthly electric bill, even though we can't heat the building very well. She also complains because the music is too high pitched. No one will rewrite the hymn book to her range so that she can comfortably sing all the songs she grew up with. I can't stand to watch more than a few minutes of any news station because there is so much negativity and finger pointing from all sides. When I was growing up people from both parties could disagree with each other but still go to dinner together or even live in the same house. Now it seems like animosity and intolerance are the rules of the day. I know people who are super liberal and some who are super conservative. They can speak around me because I keep my mouth shut. They are afraid at both ends to speak out in public for fear of retaliation. I am looking through the blinds at the window behind my PC. The evergreen is swaying in the cold wind. The bare limbs of the catalpa tree sway a little. Mother Nature just keeps on her course without complaining, without noticing what is upsetting and worrying us humans. The world keeps turning no matter what happens. We need to spend more time being quiet instead of feeling the need to talk so much. |
| I woke the other night after a few hours of good sleep and was unable to go back to sleep. I got up and wandered down to the TV. I was surprised to find The Great Gatsby was on. Apparently, I never saw it all those years ago. I read the book in high school and taught it to seniors while student teaching. The gist of the plot had faded from my memory. All I remembered was the flirtatious Daisy with an excess of dusting powder, Nick, the secretive Mr. Gatsby, big extravagant parties, and breezes off the Atlantic Ocean. Oh, and the dismissal of all the servants to allow indiscreet afternoons. That's about as far as my memory went. The film did a good job. The acting was excellent. Robert Redford was beautiful, although hardly recognizable in swanky clothes and precision grooming of the 20's. He was a far cry from Jeremiah Johnson or The Electric Horseman. Bruce Dern had a role very different from his usual creepy, low life roles. It was hard to walk away from the TV set. I knew I needed to go back to bed for a few more hours. I can't function on only 2 and a half hours of rest. But I could not turn off the movie. I had to see what was next. I knew that this particular channel would run it again within the week, but I was hooked. How could such intrigue escape my mind? It left me wanting to read it a third time, now that I'm a half century older. Mr. Fitzgerald's story still stands up after all this time. |
| I remember back in the 70's at various youth/college gatherings we did some group building activities they labeled Serendipity. We usually sat at round tables and worked as a team in competition with other tables. The goal was to think of songs with the prompts in the lyrics. For example, the prompt was "color". So, we could use a song like "Yellow Submarine", but you had to sing a little of it-just enough so that people would recognize it. One table couldn't do two songs in a row; you'd have to give other tables a chance to score. You still wanted to be quick, so your song would give you credit before someone else beat you to it. It was team building because not everyone wanted to stand up and belt out a few lines. We would whisper song titles to each other until someone said, "I'll do it" and stood up to be called on. There were no prizes, just the fun of being the most daring, or having the best memories. And you wanted your group to have the highest score. I still do that. Lately, since I have an insomnia problem, I've been sitting in the dark in the recliner and giving myself a topic or word and singing all the songs I could think of. I did it until I was hoarse the other night and launched a long coughing spell. That curbed the middle of the night singing. (My neighbors wouldn't hear me in the daytime, outdoors.) I would love to find some singing buddies who could sing for me and challenge each other. I don't need to drink to do it. We could ham it up and be forgiving. It doesn't take much to make me happy. |
| I've been studying about Joseph, you know, father of baby Jesus. (Adoptive) There isn't a lot about him in the Bible. The first time we run across him, he is being visited by Gabriel, one of the head angels. The gospel writer Matthew tells us that he was an upright man. In that community that meant he was well-respected, possibly like a Sunday School teacher or a deacon by today's comparisons. He would sit with the men and discuss scripture. He was virtuous and moral. The translators have spent a lot on the wording to figure the context for this man who for most of us is just a figure in a nativity scene. From around the gospels, we know Joseph had a brother named Clopas, who married Mary, one of the women at the tomb, so she was a follower of Jesus. Joseph had a father named Jacob, and four other sons named James, Simon, Judas and Joseph Jr. So Jesus had a grandfather, brothers, and an uncle who usually get ignored. Bottom line, he had family ties. Joseph would suffer not only public humiliation for this situation, but some family whisperings, too. We know that Joseph was a blue-collar worker, the working-class poor. As a carpenter, he would have had calloused hands and sawdust on his clothes. Carpentry at that time was functional, not decorative. He would have made tools or yoke for oxen, basic stuff. They weren't into dining chairs, nightstands, etc. Nails would have been wooden pegs driven into drilled holes. He would not have been the best provider for a baby who created the heaven and earth. But he was chosen to usher God into the world. The laws of his day would have required him to charge her parents with breaking their contract. The parents would have the responsibility of proving she was a virgin when they were married. Bringing up charges would cause her to be stoned to death immediately by the men of the village. Her parents would be disgraced and mistreated. Because Joseph was an upright man, he didn't want her to be harmed. Yet he was tormented by the fear of his reputation being dragged through the mud. He wrestled with obeying God and self-reservation. He did provide for his family. Most likely he was the only midwife for Mary. In those quiet moments before the shepherds showed up, did he wonder, "What have I gotten into?" Was his life turned upside down, long before they had to flee to Egypt? His absence is conspicuous after the circumcision of the baby, the recognition by a prophet and prophetess and then appears again when the boy is 12. He fades from view after that. The takeway is that he was given a difficult task, did it humbly, without fanfare and proved worthy. If God himself wanted us to do a job, would we do as well? |
| In a "I've got to spend less" kind of mood, I bought into the solar panel routine last July. With installation delays, and inspection problems, I didn't get hooked up until recently. Last week, mid-February mind you, the power company threw the switch. Supposedly, my roof will produce more than I need and the power company will export the excess and even pay me for it. I'm a little worried since it has been so cloudy once the snow melted off the panels. According to the app they gave me, I'm still dependent on the Grid! I am a little concerned now that the payments on the panels begin in addition to my regular electric bill. I might go broke trying to cut expenses! I have to change my way of thinking. The Grid is taxed most during factory hours, 7 am to 4 pm M-F. You want to do your laundry or run the dishwasher on weekends or early, or in the evening as a favor to the electric company. With your own panels, however, you produce the most power from 10 am to mid-afternoon. Early or late may draw from the electric company instead of your panels. It may take up to a year before I start noticing a real difference. If only I had known, it wouldn't work overnight. I've kept it pretty cold in here. Appliances have been unplugged except my Wi-Fi modem. I don't normally use much electricity. I still think solar is a good idea. No pollution, self-reliance, all good stuff. Just might not be economically what I hoped to achieve. And they don't last forever. I asked and was told I am not responsible for cleaning or repairing them. I don't own them, I only lease, but they are attached to my roof. When the house is sold, and it will be some day, the buyer will accept the payments or have the panels removed. I'm crossing my fingers and praying that this works out. I want to be a responsible person for myself and the community. |
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