I am my Appliances.

I have to say, there seems to be something to the idea that household appliances last ten years before they need replaced. I've finally owned major appliances, purchased new, that have lasted ten years. And, true to statistics, they have started to break down.

My dryer makes a horrible noise. I don't know if it works at all or not (the drum will turn sometimes), because that very strange, very loud noise makes me afraid to find out. I don't want the thing to explode, after all. Or catch on fire. Or put out power for the whole town. Anyway, that's the dryer.

Then the heating element in my oven went out. This has happened before, and isn't really a big deal, except that it happened. It's frustrating. Last night, one of my burners caught on fire. It's a burner I've used infrequently but regularly, and there was no reason for it to ignite. It was not on high heat. Scorched and burned one of my brand new beautiful red pans, too.

That leaves the refrigerator and the washer. The washer has had problems for a long time. Nothing major, nothing unexplainable, nothing impossible. It cleans my clothes, as long as the necessary adjustments are made.
Haven't had too many problems with the fridge. It wants to freeze everything on the top shelf, or nor quite freeze things in the freezer, and there's a shelf in the freezer that is at the wrong level and it wont come out. But other than that, it cools on. (I hope I'm not jinxing it by talking about it.)

This all reminds me, strongly, of what happened to my body once I turned forty. I started having accidents like stepping in a hole and falling up stairs and smacking the back of my hand into bread racks. After the accidents, the remnants -- the places that I had injured -- just started aching, often for no reason.

But, like my appliances, I'm still here.
I'm still doing my job(s).
There have to be adjustments, there has to be timing, and things may be done differently. But the jobs can be done or got around.

We'll all  work on until completely dead, and even that may not be "The End".

We (me and my appliances) can be harvested for parts when our usefulness as ourselves is over.
That's a nice thought.

Cutting of infested trees draws complaints | CommunityPress.com | cincinnati.com

Cutting of infested trees draws complaints | CommunityPress.com | cincinnati.com

ID yes, DL why?

I'm in favor of everyone being required to have an ID, and to have to use it when looking for assistance, or employment, or to vote (once per election,) or other as-needed occasions. I have absolutely no problem with that. In this day of illegal immigrants and Identity Theft and background checks, it's a really good idea. Even then it's not foolproof, but at least it's a start.

What I do have a problem with is the requirement for a driver's license. There are people being denied employment because they don't have this.

Now, there are many reasons for not having a DL, not all of them suspect. Being able to pay for a car and insurance. The cost of gas. The number of traffic accidents and fatalities. The 'suspect' reasons, ones that an employer might have a reason to know about include suspensions and special conditions.

Me, I don't think the employers need to know this stuff, unless your specific job involves driving. (If you don't have a license, you probably aren't applying for such a position.) They don't even need to know your reasons for not having a DL, especially if you do have a valid state ID. It's an epic invasion of privacy  -- invasion of thought processes. Invasion, perhaps, of private fears. Invasion into your bank accounts, finances, and God knows there's too much of that already going on.

My daughter can't get a job with day care centers because she has no DL. She doesn't want to drive a van full of toddlers to the firehouse. She doesn't want to run down to the grocery store when the manager spills the day's milk. She wants to take care of children. She trained for it, she had personal experience with it.
But she can't get the job she trained for because she doesn't drive. Instead, she walks or bikes past the day care centers on her way to work at McDonald's.

A former co-worker, also a McDonald's employee, went to college. She took the classes, so popular on commercials, to learn medical transcription, coding, and billing. She worked really hard, got good grades, passed her classes, acquired references from her instructors, and fared forth into the job market.

She almost got hired several times, but not one of the companies, not even a temp service, would hire her.
Why?
Because she didn't have a Driver's License.

Is it the employer's business how an employee gets to work?
I don't think so.

Now, if it becomes a problem, then yes, it is. But until there is an absentee problem -- and both my examples are exemplary employees at their low-level, low pay jobs -- then no, it is not.

It just isn't.

Draw Deep, Reach High.

To me, there is nothing more beautiful than a tree. It doesn't matter the type, or the season, or the shade, shape or color. I love trees.
Even ugly trees have a beauty, a symmetry (or dis-symmetry) that catches the eye and takes the breath away.
Is there anything more striking to the eye than the deep luscious green of a Scotch Pine or Blue Spruce towering against the pale blue of a December sky?

Trees connect earth and sky, drawing from deep within and reaching for the unreachable. They maintain beauty and grace as they do so, even in unlikely ways from unlikely places. When bare in winter, their bare bones etch  lines on the horizon -- pen-and-ink drawings of starkness.  Fully gowned in summer greens, these bones peek through, offering glimpses of grace and strength. Spring pastels greet the return of the sun, and the colors are muted for eyes no longer accustomed to bright colors. Autumn brings a bright farewell from the deciduous, a blast of color that will fade in our memories -- nothing could really have been that brilliant, could it? -- until spring tiptoes the colors of life back into our lives.

Our trees are under attack.
Now, under Mother Nature's rules, everything is always under attack from something else. It's the way of growing stronger, living longer. What doesn't kill, makes stronger, no matter the species.

The attacks I speak of are not those of Mother Nature, although She started it. She sent an explosion, an excursion, an invasion of tree-eating bugs. We responded, trying to eradicate the bugs, not with insecticides, not with vaccines or medicines. We have responded to this threat to our trees by destroying the trees.

Can you imagine if this logic was applied to people? (It has been, in the past. Now called racism, and no one wants to admit their part in it.) Can you think of any more diseased species than Humans? Can you think of any more destructive force than Humans?  Has any species trampled more ground, destroyed more places, ruined more lives than Humans?

It may be that Mother Nature has had enough of us. She may be getting ready to destroy our habitats, to tear down our homes, to remove the blight of our being from the face of her earth.  Who can blame her?

And the trees will stand tall against the landscape. Their roots will draw deep from the Earth herself. Their arms will lift to the sky, seeking sun and light and fresh air.

 Between earth and sky, the trees will remain.

If we let them.

Dieting not always key to weight loss

Dieting not always key to weight loss

I Want Summer

I want summer! I want it to come. I am tired of rain and fog, rain and clouds, rain and … you get the idea. I want it to be summer, and I want it now.

I want the flowers; the roses and honeysuckle that sweeten the air. I want to see fields glowing with greens, from the first fuzzy yellow haze of beans to the grass green of corn. I want to watch the colors of the treetops deepen; from spring green to their deep summer shades.

I want it to be warm. No, I want it to be HOT. I want to sweat, I want the air to sweat, and bring closer all the sweet perfumes of growth.

I want the dry scent of dust to clog my nose and tickle my throat. I want to smell the ripening of tomatoes and blackberries. I want to open the window and know that some neighbor has freshly mown his lawn.

I want days that linger, even after the sun has gone. I want light to remain in the sky, coloring the white puffy clouds above me. I want long gorgeous sunsets that last for hours, painting the brilliant blue skies with petal pinks and vivid oranges. I want to listen to the children playing up and down the street, to hear the roar of the crowd at the Little League games behind the school. I want to go to sleep to the purr of a weed-eater, and waken to the roar of a lawn mower. I want to hear the gentle spitter-spat of water sprinklers and the splashings from swimming pools. I even want to hear the nerve-grating chorus of cicadas as I try to sleep.

Come, summer, with your warmth and your beauty. Chase away these rainclouds that cause the days to drag and the nights to blur. Bring to me your clear sharp colors, your clean, crisp scents, and your soul-awakening sounds. Bring me your warmth, your light, your joy.

Bethel - Asian Longhorned Beetles

Bethel - Asian Longhorned Beetles

Making it work

Sometimes it seems that the easier we make it to do things, the more complicated the resulting problems. I'm talking about machinery, like automobiles. Remember when any person with a hammer, a screwdriver, and a piece of baling wire could solve your problem? You didn't get to reach 70 miles in an eye-blink, and you didn't have refrigerated air freezing your eyeballs in that same time span, but you could get to where you needed to go, and repair was cheap, easy, and available. (If you couldn't do it yourself.)

My particular mechanical Nemesis is a riding lawn mower. We have a mower that won't start, turn over, cough -- anything. It's like trying to start a car in 'Drive'. Nothing happens.
We've done and checked the obvious stuff. The safety switches, at least those we know of. The battery has been replaced, and we paid to have the starter system replaced. It worked for us one time after that.

We have a push mower, but my husband can't push. He can barely walk from the front room to the bathroom, carrying nothing more than his own skin and bones. I can push the mower, but I'll be darned if I can start the darned thing. Pulling and pushing at the same time requires a degree of coordination that is not in my make-up.

Then there are environmental issues, gas emissions and all that. If you can smell it, you're breathing it. Not a good option for anyone, but there's something seriously bad about a breathing-disabled person spending time on this undertaking.

I'd love to get an old fashioned mower, with blades that go round and round on a reel. The newer ones are not as heavy as they used to be, but I don't even mind that. I find  pushing a motor around to be a pretty heavy chore. And there's that breathing thing to contend with while walking behind.

This is a big debate in my household. My husband is in eager-beaver favor of all the mechanical devices and luxuries (that don't work, or break down repeatedly.) I prefer simpler things. If one must walk behind a lawn mower, one may as well be directing it. It's nice to be able to reverse direction when needed by simply backing up, too.

Yeah, I really want one of those push mowers. They are called reel mowers, and come in a variety of sizes and abilities, just like the polluting motor varieties that are easier only until the first break down. They are surprisingly affordable (at least for people who actually have money) -- smaller sizes typically run from 70 to 90 dollars (US).

If you're in the market for a mower, and especially if you're looking at walk-behinds, do some research. Maybe a reel mower would work for you, and you will never have to buy gas for it. Maintenance is usually minimal and simple. You will get a little extra exercise, and with the reel mower, you won't be breathing in poison straight to your muscles.

When it comes to lawn care, let's all get reel.

Good Deed for the Next Generation.

I've done another good deed for the next generation. I introduced my daughter's not-yet-four -year-old to the public library. A few weeks ago, circumstances made it necessary for her to accompany me to a writers group meeting

Hailey had one question. "Are there toys?"

The meeting was in a room just off the children's section, so it was easy for me to keep an ear and an eye on her.

At first she just sat in a chair with her hands folded in her lap. I came out and showed her the toys, and told her she could play. She said "Okay, Mammaw," and folded her hands and sat in her little chair.

Fortunately there was another little girl at the library with her daddy. The other little girl brought  Hailey puzzles and puppets, and got paper from the librarian  so Hailey could write with the crayons. The daddy got her to play in the castle. (I really had to keep an eye when he got involved, although I knew he was probably harmless. These days, probably just isn't good enough. Sad fact.)

They left, and Hailey worked kid sized wooden puzzles, one after the other after the other. She had them stacked neatly on the table, and the stack was nearly as high as her head.

We left early -- watching the kid and attending the meeting was a little more difficult and disruptive than I had expected.

Today, my daughter came by, and she asked me what happened when I took Hailey to writers group with me. It seems that now, every time they go to town, Hailey hollers out, "There's the berry, Mom. Are we going to the berry? I want to go to the berry."

So, another generation introduced to the magic of the public library.

Now, we just have to keep the libraries open for them.

Jeanieology

I've found a new way to spend my time and exercise my brain, while I hope for work and stave off health crises. Thanks to two of my sisters, I've been introduced to the addictive world of genealogy.


My sister Rita has long been the family switchboard. She knows who to call, how to inform, and when and where and why of multiple generations. It's one of the things she does.

My sister Jean is the Family Archivist. This is a job she sort of inherited, sort of fell into, and definitely made her own. If she can't tell you about the dead people in the family, probably no one knows. But Jean will try to find out. She's the one for the job. She knows who to ask for help and how to get others interested.

Between the two of them, I've been seduced into the pastime. They became my drug pushers, and Jean has become my supplier, and I need a regular fix.


Everyone grows up with family stories, hearing about odd aunts and whispered about cousins and disappearing uncles. Have you never wanted to solve those mysteries? Everyone has some vague nobility in their lineage, whether it be an Indian Princess, a German Baron, a gypsy queen. Wouldn't you like to find out the truth about that?
 The medical climate today almost insists that if you don't know about these people, you need to find out. Too much disease is being discovered as genetically linked. Too many character traits are being uncovered as symptoms of diseases, syndromes, etc. There is a social imperative to know where and who you came from.

Besides that, it's just plain fun.