Another Day In The Life

Actually it’s more like another several days lately.  I began looking for the remotes to everything I have that has a remote, finding to my chagrin that most of my electronics in the audio/video field have them.  As luck usually has it, no two remotes are alike and none of them will operate anything other than the one thing they came with.  One would think they would come out with ONE remote that would take care of all of the little boxes, kinda like the Universal remote I once had for the boxes.  Haven’t found one that works yet, so after trying the five that I found, I still had to go on a scavenger hunt for the main one — the one that turns on the WiFi.  Oh, I could have moved the two feet across the room to do it manually but hey, that would have been too easy.  And to change the channels on the TV requires it’s own remote.

My objective here was to find a way to make my soundbar work with the TV.  I’ve had the soundbar a few days and it worked with my phone, my computer, my Kindle and all the rest of the things I play with.  Haven’t checked to see if it also acts as a barber/baker/house cleaner, but it’s been turning things on at will lately, but I really, really wanted to make it work with the TV because that was the reason for the purchase.  So, today, after realizing the TV probably didn’t work was because it wasn’t plugged in (minor oversight on my part there) I plugged the sucker in after going those two steps to reach the outlet, only to be blasted into semi-deafness by the volume, extremely LOUD, that hadn’t been working because, well that part was already explained.  Fortunately I was able to figure out which remote would control the sound (the one to the soundbar, go figure!)  It seems I had managed to pair the two a few days ago without realizing it.  One of my new found skills is pairing Bluetooth things and then trying to figure out which control will do the most to the many devices.  I won’t even consider the ones that have no remote at all and that require a touch-pad,  another skill I’ll have to learn sooner or later.  But I have now managed to get all of my stuff to work with the soundbar now — I think.  I’m even doing a slideshow of my photos on my TV.   This would be quite an accomplishment if the music would play at the same time, but since I’m not all that sure how to do it I have more experimenting to do.

Speaking of experiments, not to myself:  DON’T EVER EXPERIMENT WITH LAME IDEAS FOR ICE CREAM RECIPES!  My latest bright idea was to make the orange/vanilla dreamsickle kind that I remember from last year when I was a kid.  After churning my concoction for the better part of 2 hours I finally concluded it would not freeze, so I dipped it out of the bucket into individual containers and stuck it in the freezer in a last ditch effort to come up with something that didn’t need a straw or a sippy cup to protect my shirts.  This morning I tried it, found it edible but not something I will be tempted to try again for about 50 more years.

So, now for an attempt to add photos here, because I’m not keen on enclosing my devices so you can see each addition, I’m gonna cross my toenails, hair roots and eyes just to see if that will help my search for the things I want.  Then I think I’ll take some typing lessons — again.  It’s either that or find a way to make my fat fingers go on a diet and exercise program.

So here you have it.  I had to add some orchids, of course, and the large one of my canned goods is here because my darlin’ son, Don asked me if I eat anything but beans, applesauce and soft drinks.  The answer is – once in a while I do, mostly fresh stuff though that doesn’t keep well on the shelf!  Ha Ha!  Kids have no respect after they reach 50 themselves!


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Dream Big, Dream Often

As most of my followers know I am big into helping other bloggers gain more exposure. My goal has been to grow a community of like-minded people and I am part way to my goal.  I am bringing back the open call to leave a link and I’ll share it for you!!

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Each day I’ll randomly select 3 links to reblog.  I’m not sure it gets much simpler.  You can leave as many links as you want and I’ll cycle this post from day-to-day so more people can jump on board.

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Visiting Angel

The three “angels” in my life — my still lamented Max, always ready to pose when the camera was turned his way, top right, Angel, camera shy and with me at the moment, bottom right, Tessa, my buddy from the 18th floor, celebrating her third birthday today.

I still miss Max, eight years later but almost like he passed this morning.  Angel and Tessa do their best to fill the empty place but they always have to go back home before the day is over.  And while I had a great montage of the three on the screen a few minutes ago, my computer burped and they disappeared, meaning I now have to go back and try to find them again. Wow, success!  Makes me wonder if I should just close this one out now and add a second post later.  Almost lost them again, so later—-

Memory Of A Time

The time is January, 1978.  Pick any day of that month.  The blizzard started in late December and continued off and on thru January and we were snowbound all month!  The farmhouse was old — pre-Civil War, and I always knew which direction the wind was blowing by looking at the curtains moving in the breeze.  The heater didn’t stand a chance of keeping the large rooms warm, so I moved  the kids mattresses into the central room and closed off the side rooms.  Nothing like camping out in the comfort of your own home.

So, picture us on this day, gathered togther in the room with its wall to wall to wall mattresses, soup simmering in the crock pot that is plugged in to the wall near the staircase because the kitchen has also been curtained off for the duration, window and walls covered with the bright quilts I had made thru the years.  The gold painted walls have a warm glow from the lights that are on in a futile effort to dispel the darkness created by the extra covering over the openings and my bookshelves, also painted — this time a warm rusty orange, like my favorite shade of Autumn leaves, are beside my hunter green chair, the floor to ceiling shelves groaning under the weight of the books I had collected over the years.  The children are bundled in extra layers to keep warm during our fored inactivity.

Gina, thirteen years ols and already showing signs of the beautiful woman she has become is sitting on the mattress closest to the fire and wearing one of my flannel nightgowns for added warmth — the only one she hasn’t scorched the tail on, and covered with a green sweatshirt at the top and pink long johns underneath.  She is totally engrossed in her current book — “Anna Karinina” and oblivious to all else.

Don, age 11, and Mike, age 10, are playing checkers on their own mattress, and wonder of wonders aren’t accusing each other of cheating.  Behind them the sofa is shoved against the wall to give extra space for moving around when we had to.

The television is turned off at the moment and also shoved back against another wall next to the bookshelves.  A pot of African violets has been sitting on top of the TV and blooming almost continuously since Edd brought it to me after Gina’s birth.  Thirteen years and still living whie the many philidendrons I had tried to fill the room with, supposedly hardy plants that my Mother assured me even I would be unable to kill were only memories.

On the side table, sharing space with my cranberry colord lamp, is the book I am currently reading aloud to the family — “Willy Wonka And the Chocolate Factory”, plus the glass of tomato juice I need to sip continuously to sooth the throat that is unused to the reading aloud.

On this day the crock pot is filled with beef, potatoes, carrots, onions and celery, all bubbling away toward the stew we will have for supper.  The time is mid-afternoon by my wach, but time stands still in our quilted cavern.  With a small stretch of the imagination we could be in an igloo in Alaska waiting for Edd to bring in the walrus he harpooned for our winter pantry, or travelling thru Siberia with Anna Karinina, heading for the next icey palace.

This is something I wrote many years ago, memory of some days I still think of as the best time in our lives.  About an hour later Edd returned home from the other farm where he had been breaking the ice on the ponds for the cattle, called the boys out to help him do the same on the home farm, and we all settled in for the evening, eating the now finished stew with the biscuits Gina heped me bake, and everyone was ready for story reading time.

Lest We Forget


So many I have loved, gone now but never forgotten.  I have lost all but one Aunt, my Mom, several cousins, my ex-husband — the father of my children.  I’m posting the photos of the ones who are in my library, but they are only a few.  Soon I’ll have photos of more of them here and the list grows daily.

Memorial Day was created to remember our loved ones who died in a war but in our infinite need to remember everyone who left before we have, we now go to the graves and decorate them all.  A day set aside to remember.  And I remember each of them in special ways.  Aunt Trudy, an army nurse, stationed in the Pacific theater during WWII, my dad’s youngest sister, an Aunt who visited but never stayed long when I knew her.  Gone now but not forgotten.  My three Uncles who also served in WWII, Vird, John R., and Leo.  They all came home from the war, each with his own version of hell written on their faces from the things they had seen, each obstacle overcome during their civilian lifetimes, all gone but not forgotten.  My lovely cousin, Carol, petite, blond and such a sweet loving person.  Gone now, always remembered.  My grandson, Logan, he of the sparkling eyes and mischievous grin, a light that went out too soon.  Gone but never forgotten, because how can you forget what the light looks like?  My Mom — I still dial her number when I have a question, forgetting that she won’t be answering again in this lifetime, always loved, never forgotten, never mine.  Grandmother and Papa, the grandparents I knew best, just a pasture between us when I was growing up, hard working salt of the earth people.  Papa left us first, Grandmother later, but as it happens always, gone now but forever in our hearts.  Mom and Pop, my paternal grandparents, I learned so much from Mom as well as from Grandmother.  Pop went first, when I was still so young, Mom years later after passing on her love of making quilts and cobblers!  Her love for us all remembered by everyone.  Gone, always loved, never forgotten.

And to all the rest, those I have no photo available for, you are loved by us all, and we will never forget you — the lessons you taught us, the love you gave so freely, the old days when we shared our love, food, wisdom, understanding — the Good Old Days, never forgotten, always loved.




I’m just a dreamer.

Is there room in this world today for people like me?I think not!

We are judged by our accomplishments.

I have no degrees and nothing I have done will ever change the course of history.

I’m just a dreamer.

I write my dreams on paper, a series of jumbled thoughts.

Only words, meaningless to all but me, because

I’m just a dreamer.

I don’t make great plans that affect the future of the planet.

My words don’t fill books that influence lives because

I’m just a dreamer.,

My poems and songs are not repeated by others.Only by me in dark of night, because

I’m just a dreamer.

My dreams could be real, but only if others dreamed also.

Peace, Love, Understanding, Harmony —

A world of greens and blues unpolluted by man’s waste,

but I’m just a dreamer.

We would help each other, no one would be hungry, children would be welcomed and loved–I have no real solution because

I’m just a dreamer.

If those who know how to do would connect with those who dream–

I don’t know because I’m just a dreamer!

Maybe those who plan would talk with those who dream–But who knows?

I’m just a dreamer!

My train wrecked life