tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91177811060065525192024-03-19T09:09:09.330-04:00here, there and everywhereMy mind goes anywhere & everywhere. You might say parts of it are scattered all over. It drives my husband nuts; I can get so caught up in details when I'm trying to convey something that I forget where I am heading. It doesn't happen everyday nor with every conversation. The other day my friend admitted she was ticking off the different directions I was going in while I was talking. I’ve had Senior Moments for 20 years. Nonetheless life is good.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-41622998905481004582013-11-21T13:53:00.000-05:002013-11-21T16:50:48.737-05:00Autumn 2013Here it is Autumn of 2013. I just turned 66 a few days ago. As I look back on my geocaching logs and this blog I'm struck by the changes in my writing ability. I know I use simpler words now, and less complex sentences. I see in emails to my friends that I tend to use the same words in birthday greetings, and when replying to their posts.<br />
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One thing I know it that my brain IS functioning better than it had been on some levels a few years ago. I attribute that to the changed I made after working with a functional medicine doctor on my gut health and inflammation. One of the issues I'd brought up with my nurse practitioner when asked about my memory was that when my dh, who has been refusing to write on the wall calendar when he leaves for workshops and meetings, when he asked me, "You remember I'm leaving for a weekend - somewhere" I said, "No, I don't." So he proceeded to try to prod my memory, yet I had no recollection of his ever mentioning it. That happened twice that year. Is has not happened recently and that sort of recall is working fine. Yet, I just got turned down for long term care insurance since I'd reported
memory issues to my Nurse Practitioner on my past two yearly check ups. That was the sole reason given for being turned down. Funny that I'd done fine on the tests given to me at home by an examiner they sent. She also exclaimed that I had the lowest blood pressure she'd seen of all the folks she'd had to test. That's probably what scared the insurers. She's too darn healthy. She'd be in care for years!<br />
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Also, just two months ago I made a "new driver" mistake with a BAD result. The day before dh and I were to leave for a former neighbor's wedding in Minnesota I decided that among other things, and since the dog had ripped the lining out of one pair, I needed a new pair of shoes that would stay snugly on my feet. (A long time ago our family was flying and had to run to the gate for our connecting flight. They were all athletic, playing a lot of soccer. I had become overweight. Fortunately, they arrived in time and then I did, and we were able to board. I resolved that day that I needed to get fit enough to run through airports. Really. That was my goal. And I needed good footwear to do so.)<br />
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So as I was waiting to exit the parking area of the shoe store I'd decided I'd wait to see if the road would clear on both South and Northbound lanes to cross and go north, or I'd turn right and turn around in the the KMart plaza sign the traffic light to exit. But no, a woman saved me in in front of her. I could see no traffic approaching in the lane next to her, so I did proceed forward in front of her car,, waited, and still saw no cars approaching - but my vision was limited by traffic in the lanes. I decided to start to creep into the next lane turning slightly north, when BOOOOOM!!!! I hit a car. The car I hit had enough forward momentum to continue for several feet before stopping. I looked around, and decided to back my car out of the driving lanes back into the parking lot. I saw that the other car had crumpled panels both in front of the right front wheel and the right front door. I was still too stunned to react quickly other than getting my car out of the way (which the police officer later confirmed was a good decision.) Meanwhile someone with a car full of folks pulled into the parking lot and the driver ran out to the car to check on them. She is a nurse. They were shook up, but fine. As was I. I'm sure all of us were going to end up with some aches and pains for a few days, I needed up with left hip pain, and a bit of neck stiffness all mostly resolved. <br />
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I've hit two dogs, and killed one. Both over 40 years ago when I was in my 20s. It was a St. Bernard who was crossing a busy road right after we'd gone back on Standard Time and at the end of the work day it was now dusk and headlights were on. The dog stopped right in front of me in the lane, and turned his head caught in the headlights. I tried to veer right to miss him, but didn't have enough room. It was horrible. He died instantly. The other ran out in front of me on the back road I had to use to get anywhere from my street, at night, in the rain, with a street full of wet leaves. My car slid on the leaves and I couldn't stop in time. The people in the house whose driveway ended right where the dog had been had no idea who he belonged to. The dog ran off and we couldn't find him. I'd just finished fixing my car from the other dog accident.<br />
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I'd never hit a car before. Two have hit me: fender bender rear-enders. So I finally got out of my car, shouted over to the other folks that they could come wait for the police in mine. A got a dirty look from the passengers, and the other driver took me up on the offer, turns out she had her husband and just moved to W River Jct. VT, 5 weeks before after selling their two-story house in Jaffrey, NH. They'd had to move because, sigh, GUILT GUILT GUILT GUILT her dh has a dementia (not Alzheimer's) and could no longer negotiate stairs, AND on top of that had to have dialysis three times a week. And I'd just wrecked their only car.<br />
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Not only that, the passengers were married, new neighbors the driver had never met who had just finished helping her get her husband up on his feet after he'd fallen outside their new condo. She was returning the favor by driving them over to a 99 Restaurant to pick up the guy's paycheck. She told me that she and her dh had moved to be closer to a granddaughter (who must have been at work?) and she fretted that she'd not locked the door since she thought she'd only be gone for less than a half hour, not away for two hours!! She was worried that he'd go out on his own and wander off. MORE GUILT. She had my name and phone number on the Police report and I told her to call me and I'd drive them to the dialysis appointments. But never hearing from her, I assume they got a rental like I did. <br />
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As I thought over the circumstances I had no doubt I was to blame, but at the same time I realized by where her car ended up that she was new to the area, not familiar with the street markings, and most likely was being talked to and guided to be looking ahead to start to aim toward the left turn lane into the shopping area. Distracted and focusing. I think that if it weren't for that she would have seen my car starting to stick out and been able to stop. She was also driving fairly fast someone that should be slowing down for a turn. I hope that her car, which was only a few years old, only needed that front panel and door replaced. And the axle ? whatever was needed since the wheel was askew. And hoped it wasn't totaled.<br />
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On the one hand I know that I've declined mentally. I took the opportunity to sell my 10 year old Toyta Camry after it was fixed and all detailed and looking pretty. I find myself constantly reminding myself while driving my new red Nissan Altima not to go too fast, to be constantly checking mirrors, to stay aware and not distracted while behind the wheel.<br />
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On the other, life is good. My dh and I have renewed a closer relationship and are doing well together. One of the best things in my life is our dog, Gemma. I picked her out of a litter when she was only a few weeks old. She crawled up onto my lap and fell asleep on our first or second visit. She is very attached to my friend Karen, and her daughter Sylvia both of whom were with me on that First Visit, and see her often. She went nuts, crying and barking, two weeks ago when I pulled into their driveway and went into their house without her. ;-) I take her some place on a good long walk almost everyday. I'm so glad there are so many trails in our area. Joy is to have her bounding around me, loving being out in nature as much as I do. And being so smart that she learns things without my teaching her. If I'm lucky she'll still be with us for 14 more years.<br />
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My kids are thriving, and yes, no grandkids, but I can still wish. I was "retired" late January of 2012 when they eliminated my position at the small community hospital where I'd worked for 16 years. I quickly found out that although it was a vocation, one that I go quite a lot of pleasure from, I didn't miss it. That surprised me. I have some close friends, and La Leche League still remains a part of my life. I've still got 4 years left of my IBLCE certification. I've even started cleaning out some closets, painting some walls. If I run out of things to do, I can do some volunteering. flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-16127478180076722022010-04-25T12:43:00.001-04:002010-04-25T12:52:54.609-04:00<a href="http://mardif.mypersonality.info/" target="_top"><img src="http://badges.mypersonality.info/badge/0/20/201921.png" alt="Click to view my Personality Profile page" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was wonderful to get back to my close ties with nature when I was introduced to geocaching.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-74265394152181645812010-02-10T23:23:00.000-05:002010-02-10T23:24:50.673-05:00www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/1653423/mother_love" title="Wordle: mother love"><br /><img src="http://www.wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/1653423/mother_love" alt="Wordle: mother love" style="border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); padding: 4px;" />flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-39935770852929993072009-09-04T09:37:00.007-04:002011-06-25T14:50:32.131-04:00As the rugosa roses slowed in producing blooms I found others have appeared to attract the bees. Usually it was bumblebees, and rarely, to my joy, a honey bee. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5nkbt5bInhsns9Y23WuAkzt3GvjWxNDEDaRdKSwVW_-FxN1lxjqxzGsYjUSaty90HfBqZwH6swJ2D_FrL141NX91HT7fTmXazz8zbhnPk3X3lpDe0m44kKMgBfjy8jeF2gSQpTwmMnHK/s1600-h/DSC_0498.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; clear: both; float: left;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5nkbt5bInhsns9Y23WuAkzt3GvjWxNDEDaRdKSwVW_-FxN1lxjqxzGsYjUSaty90HfBqZwH6swJ2D_FrL141NX91HT7fTmXazz8zbhnPk3X3lpDe0m44kKMgBfjy8jeF2gSQpTwmMnHK/s400/DSC_0498.JPG" border="0"></a> It's August and since THIS summer really only started the first of the month I was taken by surprise to see the buds on the asters growing fatter and soon they were blooming. And although there are plenty of bumblebees and few honey bees the plants are covered with motion. Small flashing darting everywhere surrounding the flowers. Tiny bees -- I don't know what they really are, might even be flies -- love these asters.There are none of them on the sedum.<br /><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WIpY1-xM2u_5weruRICbSj_eVQp24fxUOea1w0Hv861dKybMDEGNh8zbubtfTwWgjD1GUs0wsf8vNP8lzPwFufQcfCJHv5pidYY8dDYCpAZCvm8YQTOiSYzVtPz41mQ1c_i_qhT6hN_W/s1600-h/2+honey+bees+crp.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WIpY1-xM2u_5weruRICbSj_eVQp24fxUOea1w0Hv861dKybMDEGNh8zbubtfTwWgjD1GUs0wsf8vNP8lzPwFufQcfCJHv5pidYY8dDYCpAZCvm8YQTOiSYzVtPz41mQ1c_i_qhT6hN_W/s400/2+honey+bees+crp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377678891943936642" border="0"></a><br /><br /><br />But there were a few fliers I'm not sure of.<br /></p><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><br /></a></div><p><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pqSLY96fhIWNgW_KW3UAn0hdOX0sK34sFzFUaOcWluND5KABqLBeIKQXSStpkR-rGclKQfsmJBhZdDAsewTi8rO7aEXytht3SSMczMO7ImxDbTH_jg6IlvOBKnV3lJbFJV5CqOQ16HZJ/s1600-h/small+bee+wasp+crp+shrp.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pqSLY96fhIWNgW_KW3UAn0hdOX0sK34sFzFUaOcWluND5KABqLBeIKQXSStpkR-rGclKQfsmJBhZdDAsewTi8rO7aEXytht3SSMczMO7ImxDbTH_jg6IlvOBKnV3lJbFJV5CqOQ16HZJ/s400/small+bee+wasp+crp+shrp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377675171023669954" border="0"></a></p>flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-31576280955559757982009-09-04T09:31:00.003-04:002011-06-25T15:01:17.370-04:00<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuWGIKB3HmoU86cIdAR32zbZUaFYd253MP22l73T_5-o_TqUiIXClAeA5rZi3KHRghCgipLoMMVkmEAB4xVJCYUDAgwt_p-SwNtLqNe55MYmyGqtI78WcSQDvXcCkBvEyuxQkcYgpqoyg/s1600-h/DSC_0243.JPG"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuWGIKB3HmoU86cIdAR32zbZUaFYd253MP22l73T_5-o_TqUiIXClAeA5rZi3KHRghCgipLoMMVkmEAB4xVJCYUDAgwt_p-SwNtLqNe55MYmyGqtI78WcSQDvXcCkBvEyuxQkcYgpqoyg/s400/DSC_0243.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br />This 4th of July was different. The tents were up. Rain was forecast. prepartations happened as usual. People drifted in with smiles and greetings. And the rain came. With a bluster. And heavy downpour. The tent tops sagged as water caught in the downpocketings. Observers poked at the laden spots causing heads to turn as water splashed heavily toward the earth. Again and again. Stilll the strawberries cut trimmed, the peas shucked.<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none; padding: 0px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 50% transparent; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br />But after all that, it cleared and the day went well! My daughter and I had made Mini Stromboli Bites from a <a href="http://www.rachaelrayshow.com/food/recipes/spinach-walnut-pesto-and-fontina-mini-stromboli-bites/">Rachel Ray recipe</a> to share. Pizza crust with homemade spinach basil walnut pesto brushed onto the dough and laden with Fontina cheese. My cousin's wife told me she might want the recipes because her 4 y o son loved them ( and do did a lot of folks - and it was a good way to get him to eat vegetables.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-4808160771496190822009-09-01T11:51:00.012-04:002009-09-01T14:03:05.101-04:00Chit chit chit chitWe've had a groundhog/woodchuck in our yard and area for several years. I think it took a few of those for the scent or presence of our dog to wear off after he died.<br /><br />Two years ago a big ol' one --looked like lighter greyish fur mixed in on the back -- started munching in our yard. We don't put chemicals on it so good stuff grows which the deer like as well. Trouble is they found my grape tomato plants and the only ones I had left were closer to the house and under the bottom-most leaves. And the top of the tiny blueberry bush was also trimmed of new shoots. And the tops of the onions. And this year the Shasta daisies and echinacea vanished.<br /><br />This year s/he found a mate. There are a least three offspring. I know because the folks we buy eggs from lent us a humane trap. Caught one in late spring, one some weeks after that, and not one since. Both of these were younger ones with good coats and distinctive markings.<table style="width: auto;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/niusH1owwFW2aVRddRdXfg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8t6nqVlaDyI/ShoFoU2YlhI/AAAAAAAAAX8/M41TKmgwL30/s400/DSC_0118.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: right;">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/ridgewalker2/May2309?feat=embedwebsite">may 23 09</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Meanwhile they keep making big holes in my neighbor's yard - to hide out in if something bothers them while foraging. She's filled it in at least three times and even dumped a big rock on top. They keep digging it out again. In our yard there is a shed on pallets which affords access underneath for nice stopover. I've loaded the trap a few times recently since I borrowed it once again: fresh spring greens, spinach, snow pea pods and green beans. No apple this time. Unh, uh. Nothing doing.<br /><br />So a few days ago I put out a cooked ear of corn. Snapped it in two and put one a third of the way in, and the other past the level that shuts the door. Wish I'd had the camera ready.<br /><br />On Saturday I noticed that the trapped had been moved off at an angle. Hmmm. A doe and her twin fawns had been grazing. Would she have nudged the trap? Then later both my dh and I saw a groundhog near the trap, but not at the same time. So I started speculating. Maybe one made it in and dragged the nearest piece of corn on the cob out. Made sense.<br /><br />Sunday I heard some really loud 'chit chit chit' chitting. Brain goes, "Those are really loud squirrels. Wait. Too loud." "Oh, woodchucks and tree squirrels are marmots as are ground squirrels. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Groundhog Maybe it's a groundhog."<br /><br />Sure enough. It's right out by the trap. That corn is quite a lure. But the chitting is coming from further away. Could the mother be sending a warning?<br /><br />So I'll get more apples and try them again, I think the smell will be enticing.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-54946666807964672262008-03-02T12:23:00.029-05:002009-08-16T12:21:38.627-04:0010-20-30Okay, a dear friend, NannyOgg, passed this challenge on to me. I was just really glad that it wasn't some kind of chain letter! <br />Here it is.<br /> <p>Ummm, why is one of the photos missing? It used to be here , and I didn't remove it.</p> <p>Now</p> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo9xhJcX7r4B1mx6rxaVdklQLMcuQbLXWgzlEpsechenTxORGA6yxpiR8JgXn2atVFNmXJPh-Wgk6kwE1hLuXC8B3M7p999TAC1IubcVMwDHnDmw1NBKEnQufryLXceO8JR6EnjoQ_2Yt/s1600-h/KMS+8+07.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo9xhJcX7r4B1mx6rxaVdklQLMcuQbLXWgzlEpsechenTxORGA6yxpiR8JgXn2atVFNmXJPh-Wgk6kwE1hLuXC8B3M7p999TAC1IubcVMwDHnDmw1NBKEnQufryLXceO8JR6EnjoQ_2Yt/s400/KMS+8+07.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173275820731321074" /> </a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis32Hhf9mTtUGDmoFb0T7v0St7u9uhL5_yzTBkmdiCs_kVU509f_tMunv1mOxUt35Tlxmf5KmfAuu8OgJWew3A41paSUrQ7m0JYRELmuyZkt_mYvk_Jvrs0nxblLU55rt2bks7hfFY4Vhd/s1600-h/DSC_00210017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis32Hhf9mTtUGDmoFb0T7v0St7u9uhL5_yzTBkmdiCs_kVU509f_tMunv1mOxUt35Tlxmf5KmfAuu8OgJWew3A41paSUrQ7m0JYRELmuyZkt_mYvk_Jvrs0nxblLU55rt2bks7hfFY4Vhd/s400/DSC_00210017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173279230935354114" /></a> <p>Anyone want to vote for the haircut they like better? The two above photos were taken only a few days apart.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT-1kKlpBkaQxMstCVhLczt3sl8sx2iUKMur4t_bsUXHac6VzfviM88kNoYlX9wxLGP9QpnKrVNcImS65pT4iD52171h_3ftEZJFD6nrJC1FJwueTUauTqfCGlCD7fw5gumenjhLMJdV0/s1600-h/DSC_0044.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT-1kKlpBkaQxMstCVhLczt3sl8sx2iUKMur4t_bsUXHac6VzfviM88kNoYlX9wxLGP9QpnKrVNcImS65pT4iD52171h_3ftEZJFD6nrJC1FJwueTUauTqfCGlCD7fw5gumenjhLMJdV0/s400/DSC_0044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173285454342966050" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkCdqe7Ud3lCFIeDfo9fQ6L8I8EKVEzEEi6TsJOFcQKkFUCsDGu2C_geH-hYRcVBsNyAzJkec8N_isSeXhtqcufTyzy-2-wFW-u7-al5DvVf-P_aWzugz6bS9vZiNvKThmm6UcsYM2te1/s1600-h/playing+at+Project+Grad+supper+2004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkCdqe7Ud3lCFIeDfo9fQ6L8I8EKVEzEEi6TsJOFcQKkFUCsDGu2C_geH-hYRcVBsNyAzJkec8N_isSeXhtqcufTyzy-2-wFW-u7-al5DvVf-P_aWzugz6bS9vZiNvKThmm6UcsYM2te1/s400/playing+at+Project+Grad+supper+2004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173283882384935698" /></a><br /><br /><br />Then:<br /><strong><em>Ten years ago</em></strong> I was happily working on my second year employed as a lactation consultant in a small community hospital with a lot more confidence than the first year. I'd been using e-mail for about three years, signing up to join Lactnet, a list for professionals involved with lactation. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHvBynlCGyLBHbOxUBYL1TzaYyDJms3-0kE_ilbkCTWKKFezpask_RUg3X5zq9OltDpgEyfqgaT-xE5LRq05wRNDVyXJTIQRWgsB4-etiozGHN3FDBzdIKQDFIn5kxmqtjtcuLir26gA-q/s1600-h/CKF+in+Franklin+NH+assisted+living.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHvBynlCGyLBHbOxUBYL1TzaYyDJms3-0kE_ilbkCTWKKFezpask_RUg3X5zq9OltDpgEyfqgaT-xE5LRq05wRNDVyXJTIQRWgsB4-etiozGHN3FDBzdIKQDFIn5kxmqtjtcuLir26gA-q/s400/CKF+in+Franklin+NH+assisted+living.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173274089859500770" />My mother with Alzheimer's Disease </a> had been tricked into coming to live with us (good friends stopped plowing her driveway in Southern Va, where they had more snow that year than here up North) and having her live here was an adventure in and of itself. Don't ever try to use logic to convince someone of anything if they have dementia. Join their logic instead. To illustrate; One day I was in her room and saw that she'd propped up a postcard of two American Indian boys. It showed them from head down to just above the knees. In front of the postcard there was an open snack-sized applesauce with a spoon in it. I remarked ,"Oh, Mom, were you going to have a snack?" "Oh, it's not for me. I put it there for those poor boys. They don't have any legs and they can't leave." See? Logical, right?! <br /><br />I found it healing as I could actually hug her and tell her I loved her, something that had rarely happened before in my lifetime. I'd suspended the LLL meetings as my mom didn't do well with the moms and babes in the house.<br /><br />My older son was a sophomore in college and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLx0apvZgTd560v2sAthkkOrS080URV4Ng4MiiqkG1oBa7f4U08bS1TDMCqng1jeZ1aBi__uQosGKFa7DpZQtyDK0z-Eg7jC_a3NvFoo84bIW_e92OS4aswN6Pny8jkzWGo_uyXsbcQJ_O/s1600-h/DSC_0017.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLx0apvZgTd560v2sAthkkOrS080URV4Ng4MiiqkG1oBa7f4U08bS1TDMCqng1jeZ1aBi__uQosGKFa7DpZQtyDK0z-Eg7jC_a3NvFoo84bIW_e92OS4aswN6Pny8jkzWGo_uyXsbcQJ_O/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173242487490136706" /> <br />had made the NCAA Div I soccer team. He's #21.</a> I drove to all the home games held, luckily, on my days off. At home I was still driving to girls' high school and boys' elementary school soccer matches as well.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXj4lSSafFV5yOJ_6VRCW_7NOKPiKE0tV5PZ0k_YuaVPNFkicvCs7f0IrU2DpIrOK4r1agxlcic-5GZ3MNYKHCEc0V5tZHckZ9DbM971SQe1C5JeBcAzp5vpVkzGyW3hLCR11UvwOX8PH/s1600-h/DSC_0016.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXj4lSSafFV5yOJ_6VRCW_7NOKPiKE0tV5PZ0k_YuaVPNFkicvCs7f0IrU2DpIrOK4r1agxlcic-5GZ3MNYKHCEc0V5tZHckZ9DbM971SQe1C5JeBcAzp5vpVkzGyW3hLCR11UvwOX8PH/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173267312401107650" /> My daughter</a> was about to be graduated from high school with honors and a scholarship <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibopgJjLpk95eAhK5c8lyJ5Oj3WPGO45a0XlO6jQBMWGnMY5bdh5mwcnbT4CLVAu1I_KuExB0g0s2yQ36Dg46fcRQDl_sz9ZLv8jz8SqUvZPECq8QmZS8PcVkNy9tgGA_Eb0V3WLRaoUgU/s1600-h/DSC_0013.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibopgJjLpk95eAhK5c8lyJ5Oj3WPGO45a0XlO6jQBMWGnMY5bdh5mwcnbT4CLVAu1I_KuExB0g0s2yQ36Dg46fcRQDl_sz9ZLv8jz8SqUvZPECq8QmZS8PcVkNy9tgGA_Eb0V3WLRaoUgU/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173264194254850722" />- which dh MISSED</a> as he'd taken off for France and the 1998 FIFA World CUP with son #1. Fortunately for her team that previous Fall, my daughter was often the only one who scored a goal for while playing midfield. And my youngest was finishing sixth grade with Ms. Schmitt! A much better year for him after a nightmare of a 5th grade teacher. My husband was still dividing work between clinical neurology at a small downstate hospital and teaching anatomy and neurology the other days at an Ivy League Medical School. Our marriage was much less strained after the stress of Residency. Phew! Life was busy and fine. <br /><br /><strong><em>Twenty years ago</em></strong> we were in flux. We were still living in Illinois far far away from our families back East. We'd moved off-campus to an apartment complex with a swimming pool, and I'd become depressed. You'd think that being only a mile away wouldn't matter, but I sorely missed the on-campus community of folks there. We'd gotten permission to kept the two older kids in their same elementary school, so I drove them the four minutes between home and school twice a day. Gee, if this were 1989 I could tell the tale about how the car was stolen and used as the getaway car in a jewelry store robbery!<br /><br />Dh was in medical school, but still teaching at the chiropractic college (we needed $$ for food & rent. ;-). I was home with three kids ranging in age from 11 to two. One day the two year old watched GhostBusters when he happened to be very ill with a fever, and as I learned years later, was then convinced from then on that ghosts were real. He eventually accumulated and used his GB Protonpack and Containment trap, and PKE meter all while dressed in his Ghostbuster suit. This was also the kid who when done drinking from his glass of water thought the glass should be empty, and consistently poured the rest of the water out onto the floor.^^ <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrQbHoXwERwcJqIfda0t9tGvPQYUUMqe3eGSef-8kaf2QujqefUB8KS8mg3QHKDqA96ibKJaJh5sFsTOReLK2NAILCRRfUqpJypte8jx_VG-PN6ft7u0PqXppnavw5q6m6GYbuDcuMEuH/s1600-h/ims+kds+soccer.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihrQbHoXwERwcJqIfda0t9tGvPQYUUMqe3eGSef-8kaf2QujqefUB8KS8mg3QHKDqA96ibKJaJh5sFsTOReLK2NAILCRRfUqpJypte8jx_VG-PN6ft7u0PqXppnavw5q6m6GYbuDcuMEuH/s400/ims+kds+soccer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173241340733868658" /></a> <br />Older son was taking piano lessons, playing soccer spring and fall -- and summer - and tried out scouting. It was too hectic for him to have all three of these going on. He quit the piano sessions and the scouts as well. Coming home from school and playing with Lego was much preferred as he needed that down time after a full day. Our daughter was thriving in school doing just fine with life in general with friends, fall and spring soccer, and Brownies. Very opposite from Bro # 1 she thrived on keeping busy. She was still wanting to be right by my side at home watching whatever it is that mothers do. Life was hectic. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNK_AVTh4esRuIdzUoJK_24qidL0eSenSqsLvVOQJTfxDNDAfUv2YjstzfXObcv2pR2v17fAXIR1sc30R9PyccOv_qRVh2tYNRQHDFh7mrDycEQXHTI7BoS7sB4qOjSchpR9ZJ6YHlcfUr/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNK_AVTh4esRuIdzUoJK_24qidL0eSenSqsLvVOQJTfxDNDAfUv2YjstzfXObcv2pR2v17fAXIR1sc30R9PyccOv_qRVh2tYNRQHDFh7mrDycEQXHTI7BoS7sB4qOjSchpR9ZJ6YHlcfUr/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173265701788371634" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Thirty years ago</em> </strong>I was full into being a SAHM. I'd been graduated from college quite a few years back, then from chiropractic college and been awarded my Doctor of Chiropractic degree. We had one car we shared, first an ancient Ford donated by my brother (unwanted by his neighbor when her husband died), then an old VW bug that became decommissioned when sugar was poured in the gas tank, then a Chevy Citation for all of 3 days - we returned it. (They'd obliterated the glove box, an dthe added A?C had no vent settings.) Followed immediately by the tiny Mazda station wagon. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFoRokSTpFxT09rzUw93-1_dmehtXBwiqDP2j2LyYn10Bf8mjDYvV8ZYuMtk_VtuG69kIUn3FVKCAtfBVHCufsWAbwWLF914yE8_holda_VMAAV6Kx6wuv7fH1X0yrjm1zdCtJin15sVK/s1600-h/campus1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghFoRokSTpFxT09rzUw93-1_dmehtXBwiqDP2j2LyYn10Bf8mjDYvV8ZYuMtk_VtuG69kIUn3FVKCAtfBVHCufsWAbwWLF914yE8_holda_VMAAV6Kx6wuv7fH1X0yrjm1zdCtJin15sVK/s400/campus1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173272947398200018" /></a><br /><br />We lived on campus at a chiropractic college for low cost housing even though dh was a professor at the school. He'd embarked on a PhD program in Anatomy (Neurology) since _just_ teaching neuro would "be too boring." I lived in jeans, overalls and t-shirts most of the time, adding layers in winter. Offspring No. 1 turned one year old and we shared the birthday celebration in a local town park with the son (whose birthday was two days later) of friends. My dh taught me how to x-country ski that winter and I managed to go out three times a week (the first days out each week were with dear departed Helen Chamberlin Heyden) and get into the best shape of my life! It didn't hurt that it snowed before New Year's and kept snowing and stayed on the ground til mid-March. I baked bread, made our own yogurt and sprouts, was mostly a vegetarian, and spent my spare time reading any and all journal articles on breastfeeding and human milk that I could find - about 1-4 a month at most. I still read these articles, but now by searching and reading on-line. Then you had to take a volume of Index Medicus and actually turn the pages ^^. Life was good.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-58109182347586063772007-12-11T23:28:00.003-05:002009-08-16T12:03:30.426-04:00The Mall: Korean War Veterans Memorial<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjv_yMu5_fIHpxkmqCpXSaiVmIPwDao6AknhBtNi5FGRnCN53oaRX6Bo43GGQwQR8_os3za8hsPKnfC5qw8zIHMRA-U2CYcYY_MFkZN-ttzLAlZcQTxMhb7Kdlp1GiCAaj_3RSYv3fozO/s1600-h/Korean+Freedom+is+not+free.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjv_yMu5_fIHpxkmqCpXSaiVmIPwDao6AknhBtNi5FGRnCN53oaRX6Bo43GGQwQR8_os3za8hsPKnfC5qw8zIHMRA-U2CYcYY_MFkZN-ttzLAlZcQTxMhb7Kdlp1GiCAaj_3RSYv3fozO/s400/Korean+Freedom+is+not+free.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143170066921076194" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5QoyvjH0IYjCXPOE6ZQshe-LzDjY43zRJJV3id-RDzhHeccYxjUrihOm1PmkDogeVK74y6MJo6hn2VglXiD2kf1RknwGI5Kz12Q77qTtQ79E7tMmvnHoK0AX0rrRgF6yxXwM0vJwGGem/s1600-h/Washington+Monumnet+stirred+reflection+Kornelius-copy.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5QoyvjH0IYjCXPOE6ZQshe-LzDjY43zRJJV3id-RDzhHeccYxjUrihOm1PmkDogeVK74y6MJo6hn2VglXiD2kf1RknwGI5Kz12Q77qTtQ79E7tMmvnHoK0AX0rrRgF6yxXwM0vJwGGem/s400/Washington+Monumnet+stirred+reflection+Kornelius-copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142948588342523170" /></a><br /><br />I was very young in 1953, but old enough to hear about the Korean War. Murmurs, phrases. There were no sons on our street old enough to go fight there. And the Dads were too old. We had a black and white TV and I'd hear voices booming out about it when the news was on. But that all faded from my mind, and I don't even remember ever studying this war in school. It was a thing of the past.<br /><br />All that changed when I flew to South Korea in 2002 with my husband to attend the FIFA Men's World Cup Championship tournament. I hadn't really wanted to go to Korea. With no sense of the language we were relying on the good graces of the citizens, our guide book with phrases we'd studied, and the tour buses and trains to get to the various venues. During one break between matches we heard about a tour to the DMZ. Just thinking of it made me nervous. I didn't want to go. But I did. Something told me I should be there. We rode the bus through long miles of rice paddies and hilly country with tea bushes and grapes sculpturing the steeps.<br /><br />The demilitarized zone was full of soldiers, barracks, thoughts of war, & precise changing of possession of the building that housed a table which was divided in half lengthwise by an imaginary line so that one half was in the South and the other in the North. I didn't know all of that before we visited. When we arrived we were ushered into a theatre room and then saw a movie. It educated us about the history of the Zone. How a soldier was killed because he was hacking off a branch of a tree that blocked the South's view of the North. Killed with the ax. Of North Koreans being shot & killed when they tried to run to the South across the bridge. How the North Koreans had created an entire ghost city that looked industrious and beautiful across the river where workers were bussed in each day to work the fields before returning home once again. It was to entice folks to cross into a prosperous looking North.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9c7Ds-VOxsx_DjfhKxP2zo2qHrgoevB6mw6PUGtqxhESG1rqfLyjJFjc8pRPI9NhgvDmGp_Fs3fqjwAGE-xCfUE6_5zQAfL_xsjbZ5bZjXN0ggXpRe8bdy9eAeL4R2KDnPuEbWQGNg4w1/s1600-h/Table+%26+soldier+half+in+each+part+of+Korea.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9c7Ds-VOxsx_DjfhKxP2zo2qHrgoevB6mw6PUGtqxhESG1rqfLyjJFjc8pRPI9NhgvDmGp_Fs3fqjwAGE-xCfUE6_5zQAfL_xsjbZ5bZjXN0ggXpRe8bdy9eAeL4R2KDnPuEbWQGNg4w1/s400/Table+%26+soldier+half+in+each+part+of+Korea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143156975860757906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUsgqLr7AIXVQzzzrqv-gUWWerfLSw_WtJ_tADNWt2D5pVhcxDH7QcdDJE62B6XU1MuS1_q9bRODK3W4mZYHexl0vk4XSeFBRh-C0EyujJ8Bo9Hfazo10sncwzT0DemeKrnmEk7XFgFa_/s1600-h/fake+N+Korean+city+at+the+DMZ.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUsgqLr7AIXVQzzzrqv-gUWWerfLSw_WtJ_tADNWt2D5pVhcxDH7QcdDJE62B6XU1MuS1_q9bRODK3W4mZYHexl0vk4XSeFBRh-C0EyujJ8Bo9Hfazo10sncwzT0DemeKrnmEk7XFgFa_/s400/fake+N+Korean+city+at+the+DMZ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142946402204169490" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />We were warned and tutored in how to behave before venturing outside close to the demarcation line. Number one, we weren't to raise our hands above our heads, nor shout, nor make large gestures with our hands and arms. And two, we were to follow without fail those precise instructions, entering the Observation Tower when told to, and then the shared building where when inside we could step into North Korea. Some fellow standing next to me in the Observation Tower evidently didn't think much of these commands and absentmindedly raised his arm above his head. I didn't appreciate this as I was standing right next to him. I told him to lower it, nervously admonishing him because he was putting us all in jeopardy -- even though it made me feel like an old school marm. We had to wait longer than usual because there was an unusually large group touring from North Korea and they got first dibs on the building.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSdwP2tc9RvIKB_bH1u4js8UfnP3uV7yf8S9Hk_u9CVOZCKrg3QBZajeZ-Kl5Uq97OcbHBBO8nTcZYFq9oAHnCOi8iusejRqACvqGIAU-xRlOENkDbd4DV8qfJIu7yoG8RHfYlNy2CmPh/s1600-h/DMZ.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSdwP2tc9RvIKB_bH1u4js8UfnP3uV7yf8S9Hk_u9CVOZCKrg3QBZajeZ-Kl5Uq97OcbHBBO8nTcZYFq9oAHnCOi8iusejRqACvqGIAU-xRlOENkDbd4DV8qfJIu7yoG8RHfYlNy2CmPh/s400/DMZ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142945534620775682" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i7-UpktH32vJTuzsMrPjkmLTpoNkmWb9mOR1wRuKTqdbKk3n20T777hHsPYcyyyRNLHoJfP_H30KXsDKeq0P8rh7z7JWkZRGzYLPE84eV9XcAXVNDCK6Cpu9ubIQwtuYAKqa4mFWEcGf/s1600-h/Korean+etched+wall+past+%26+present.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i7-UpktH32vJTuzsMrPjkmLTpoNkmWb9mOR1wRuKTqdbKk3n20T777hHsPYcyyyRNLHoJfP_H30KXsDKeq0P8rh7z7JWkZRGzYLPE84eV9XcAXVNDCK6Cpu9ubIQwtuYAKqa4mFWEcGf/s400/Korean+etched+wall+past+%26+present.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143160888575964578" /></a><br />I asked one US soldier accompanying us what it was like there. he said, "Lonely. I've only been here a week. I get hazardous duty pay here. There's not much to do. There is a golf course. The North Koreans play really loud music late at night to disrupt our sleep." <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYrRf2V4R-3jSKYTF5gdBaeL9p0BaXzbLK8XdbNzq9oy-S1ke2d7yU4G9V7eV54nOcUq9KLKH0Zr8wUl8y25dRvb0m_eLMaTkXibOCkf_Rgs8ta2zj11Ivn3aTBcwZhXBWmD6JkIHM5vE/s1600-h/golf+course+at+DMZ.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUYrRf2V4R-3jSKYTF5gdBaeL9p0BaXzbLK8XdbNzq9oy-S1ke2d7yU4G9V7eV54nOcUq9KLKH0Zr8wUl8y25dRvb0m_eLMaTkXibOCkf_Rgs8ta2zj11Ivn3aTBcwZhXBWmD6JkIHM5vE/s400/golf+course+at+DMZ.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142949297012127026" /></a><br /><br />This trip had a huge impact on me. Life changing. It led us to the Korean War Museum in Seoul a few days later. Life-sized panoramas of war and village scenes brought the devastation home. And they had a copy of the music that blared from the loud speakers recreating that harrowing sound of horses hooves galloping right at you at the So. Korean side. We spent most of the afternoon there taking everything in. Educating ourselves on what it was like to have lived and still live in this divided country.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rCd5z7AhfrtDkXgRHBasFXsXL7pNssn2YVNomHmoLKO4Riidfzh6XUSKrTIvcu30dUr4-bxLxISuAQhAkfaiqedYPNiA-3Qe1L5KV4Mz5cni56pkIkI8igiabBkPluyfMsPdRMviuifS/s1600-h/korean+poncho+diagonal.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5rCd5z7AhfrtDkXgRHBasFXsXL7pNssn2YVNomHmoLKO4Riidfzh6XUSKrTIvcu30dUr4-bxLxISuAQhAkfaiqedYPNiA-3Qe1L5KV4Mz5cni56pkIkI8igiabBkPluyfMsPdRMviuifS/s400/korean+poncho+diagonal.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142955597729150306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRwyhMuFSYeb7QK6gGfj44sDzspsqBesijfPgb8Ka-klhzrnyZxbh0L1HHE1TxabPqmpbCWi87EqvgyatRK97Z8ceRb99vU5HV8RUpthD7WS6imsTj_rZUdQXtSStCmlqEIvrrWSqC6tM/s1600-h/Korean+column+war+weary.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXRwyhMuFSYeb7QK6gGfj44sDzspsqBesijfPgb8Ka-klhzrnyZxbh0L1HHE1TxabPqmpbCWi87EqvgyatRK97Z8ceRb99vU5HV8RUpthD7WS6imsTj_rZUdQXtSStCmlqEIvrrWSqC6tM/s400/Korean+column+war+weary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142954257699353938" /></a> <br />Upon approaching this memorial in DC so far away from the Pacific Ocean, I was struck immediately by the realism here and the representation of Americans intermingled with Korean countrymen fighting side by side in miserable circumstances. Life size figures staking out territory with war worn gaunt faces looking hard for any movement that might be the enemy. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE4zWA8hg5fOVv_9xJZRS1fLImiG-EnR3O_XEAPiLKlawSxpnQyuLu27SqculJyY3S3WHhumyYp3SuWiylIKPh6aV1ZYD7jj_5O_YImxg5epAQF1nSNpLaZR0WfCPIhLKaKwL3dWyypXq/s1600-h/Korean+poncho+rifle+flags.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzE4zWA8hg5fOVv_9xJZRS1fLImiG-EnR3O_XEAPiLKlawSxpnQyuLu27SqculJyY3S3WHhumyYp3SuWiylIKPh6aV1ZYD7jj_5O_YImxg5epAQF1nSNpLaZR0WfCPIhLKaKwL3dWyypXq/s400/Korean+poncho+rifle+flags.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142952883309819202" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hwgQqWr3KiQ5QQgrIPtXqu2P1OTKY645ImQWS9R5FNzqIooLF6F1MooV01_FYL7tADQ8r4IAan1xs8TqTlJ4A37NJK80gi6lFRBd0OvnS4uqHUw7WsouK8JVJdvQc5gobwEmoWvRQDeG/s1600-h/Korean+etched+wall++reflections+ib.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hwgQqWr3KiQ5QQgrIPtXqu2P1OTKY645ImQWS9R5FNzqIooLF6F1MooV01_FYL7tADQ8r4IAan1xs8TqTlJ4A37NJK80gi6lFRBd0OvnS4uqHUw7WsouK8JVJdvQc5gobwEmoWvRQDeG/s400/Korean+etched+wall++reflections+ib.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142957212636853618" /></a><br /><br />So many Americans wonder why the US was there. Now I know. And I found this dedication at the <a href="http://www.nab.usace.army.mil/projects/WashingtonDC/korean.html">Memorial</a>:<br /><br /><b>OUR NATION HONORS<br />HER SONS AND DAUGHTERS<br />WHO ANSWERED THE CALL<br />TO DEFEND A COUNTRY<br />THEY NEVER KNEW<br />AND A PEOPLE <br />THEY NEVER MET<br />1950 KOREA 1953</b><br /><strong></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb127agqEBS7eJnmCkCDQDXOvUJNUNoFW04ySQ23A_WD9AwcgPb-LJnN28PEChmdUwmgwdi0cGb5RWNOGeU8r6Tti98C6VUyp4QamI7mRu-1bwE1MtY2WBJNnYbPewPqv3TXec5PVavbWC/s1600-h/Korean+Caputured+ii.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb127agqEBS7eJnmCkCDQDXOvUJNUNoFW04ySQ23A_WD9AwcgPb-LJnN28PEChmdUwmgwdi0cGb5RWNOGeU8r6Tti98C6VUyp4QamI7mRu-1bwE1MtY2WBJNnYbPewPqv3TXec5PVavbWC/s400/Korean+Caputured+ii.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143162228605760946" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7SRP1fMuTqOH1bLPP471-AA6wN9zDIkBQT_8KRqAPrZGlWP4oYEPAcv46oZ_vNfM6kfQ-AP5XFMbDqBhJiSWIxudZ5nGhxDwVsdZVK5Y6iogXXppXMh5SWi04klRJdqGDnsnRFsW3ReH/s1600-h/koran+Wounded.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7SRP1fMuTqOH1bLPP471-AA6wN9zDIkBQT_8KRqAPrZGlWP4oYEPAcv46oZ_vNfM6kfQ-AP5XFMbDqBhJiSWIxudZ5nGhxDwVsdZVK5Y6iogXXppXMh5SWi04klRJdqGDnsnRFsW3ReH/s400/koran+Wounded.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143163800563791298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG2BihvcUXPfpdoj4R8T6gS6GjTA6y1gH0r07AU0voZ5ZYQQxuoeJCu-yt6baN2_iKIbOb6NY4P5eL05B-YAJg4GSalF5qExPZ-R9nLEPQY7Y_pp9rGx8aQ8qmMGlTBz9_3Y5Qf45cRHx/s1600-h/Korean+Dead+ii.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJG2BihvcUXPfpdoj4R8T6gS6GjTA6y1gH0r07AU0voZ5ZYQQxuoeJCu-yt6baN2_iKIbOb6NY4P5eL05B-YAJg4GSalF5qExPZ-R9nLEPQY7Y_pp9rGx8aQ8qmMGlTBz9_3Y5Qf45cRHx/s400/Korean+Dead+ii.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143165385406723538" /></a>flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-42004714625268933332007-12-11T15:09:00.001-05:002009-08-16T12:06:26.131-04:00The Mall: WWII<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDxuo18m-xRsR7ct6SW3GiVD9Q3H4_hw6afUZl3TlABn5qUFu5HEex2AGllqzC0kvgwQc-mVhZawxhyZzo-5hVIeVxaPO4kuHhAQ4GI4goNa1e4dokJokh4rI9STc4UMl6mRxB6tqUQjX/s1600-h/autumn+orange+reflections+ducks.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDxuo18m-xRsR7ct6SW3GiVD9Q3H4_hw6afUZl3TlABn5qUFu5HEex2AGllqzC0kvgwQc-mVhZawxhyZzo-5hVIeVxaPO4kuHhAQ4GI4goNa1e4dokJokh4rI9STc4UMl6mRxB6tqUQjX/s400/autumn+orange+reflections+ducks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142811188043756626" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9hnaghl-2bp7xjt2quK1VwguydEZfByMl2FubjXvro4SlAqvvB2nAR88QkLtsc_cHUOLCeCnWOrFyiZxo4xDgGLZ5TCZAuIQdeOErFs8aqZuuSjor9-zAAj0JRSIPMy3sQ6cjYhIINya/s1600-h/Washington+Monument+signal+tree+sunset+ii.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9hnaghl-2bp7xjt2quK1VwguydEZfByMl2FubjXvro4SlAqvvB2nAR88QkLtsc_cHUOLCeCnWOrFyiZxo4xDgGLZ5TCZAuIQdeOErFs8aqZuuSjor9-zAAj0JRSIPMy3sQ6cjYhIINya/s400/Washington+Monument+signal+tree+sunset+ii.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142815667694646386" /></a><br /><br />We wanted to see two newer Memorials that weren't there the last time we'd gone to the Mall in 1996. An uncle I'd never met, husband of my mom's second oldest sister, Emily, had died with his plane when it was shot down during WW II. Ejner Lovig (of Danish descent) had been my Aunt's boyfriend in high school, and they'd been married ten years when he died. They'd never had children. She never remarried. [To be honest part of that was due to the widow's pension she received that augmented her income as a secretary. She did find love again.] <br /><br />We found Ejner's name listed both from the National Archives and the ABMC Cemeteries - US Army Air Forces -- entries, and surprisingly one from my mother. I know she'd sent at least one donaton for this memorial and mentioned Ejner when she did. His name is listed as Ejnerogrein Lovig by her and I can only conjecture that -ogrein might have been a middle name?? A figment of her imagination??? I'll never know since my mother had Alzheimer's Disease when she sent the donation(s). I believe he'd been the bombardier since the pilot and another crew member were able to bail out and survived, and also from what fuzzy memories I have from family stories. <br /><br /><br />I just got the shivers. I looked him up right now via the memorial site and found that his name was a <a href="http://www.wwiimemorial.com/registry/cemetery/search/pframe.asp?HonoreeID=646797&popcount=3&tcount=6">hyperlink to more information</a>. As I read it I'm reacting with emotion and tearing up. He was a Staff Sargeant in the 707 Bomber Squadron, 447th Bomber Group, Heavy. Air medal with Three Oak Leaf Clusters. He's buried in Neupre, Belgium, in the Ardennes American Cemetery. Dead a little less than three months before my brother's birth.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBT9aWINqIyTSHS5iwySBr9Ubtr4syKOVadQObUH-tiuTipUJbvmc7PpsgIX9wTxU8BCeWBAasWlG5ofMn-wlf2LMDFo3Ljni-PdXZobQ654TC5KwdzcQHKk_yfKmFtVPbfNStosoYKLU/s1600-h/Washington+Monument+from+WW+II+Monument.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBT9aWINqIyTSHS5iwySBr9Ubtr4syKOVadQObUH-tiuTipUJbvmc7PpsgIX9wTxU8BCeWBAasWlG5ofMn-wlf2LMDFo3Ljni-PdXZobQ654TC5KwdzcQHKk_yfKmFtVPbfNStosoYKLU/s400/Washington+Monument+from+WW+II+Monument.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142827234041574530" /></a><br /><br />I like this Memorial. It's classic so not as evocative as the Vietnam Wall. Yet it seems cohesive, the way they worked in a wall of Gold Stars with its own reflecting pool within the confines of the arc of State wreathed pillars, the Atlantic and Pacific entry towers with fabulous bronzed birds hovering above as you go through, and the central pool with spraying water. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAPTV14lX5eKH8Udrzg-D2MtOFyLZelUGOc_mZxnCMzegyNdY84NyONdEsPbexk08_xW3eGJ_InEFUhLwXgoIw0igSA2Mkepn-lbhGRDAIs-S894oQyYKtKYeRNpsuOJKbHZFNGaAo3Dv/s1600-h/WW+II+Stars+pool.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAPTV14lX5eKH8Udrzg-D2MtOFyLZelUGOc_mZxnCMzegyNdY84NyONdEsPbexk08_xW3eGJ_InEFUhLwXgoIw0igSA2Mkepn-lbhGRDAIs-S894oQyYKtKYeRNpsuOJKbHZFNGaAo3Dv/s400/WW+II+Stars+pool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142829682172933266" /></a> <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX3SmtFkxQ94egXa6zBgkbg6iyJKLiIajzF65r2DfEg4_yZgYWf7m8XNpzPaFltyklODH8XVY-gcSLw1ATtRTepdFUpXr0RQmRcQloHt1oM2gqIuJTH4oFHrB93w2xYv3y8jGzFCPza5X/s1600-h/WW+II+Atlantic.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX3SmtFkxQ94egXa6zBgkbg6iyJKLiIajzF65r2DfEg4_yZgYWf7m8XNpzPaFltyklODH8XVY-gcSLw1ATtRTepdFUpXr0RQmRcQloHt1oM2gqIuJTH4oFHrB93w2xYv3y8jGzFCPza5X/s400/WW+II+Atlantic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142836017249694930" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZguqgnqPZQYhwpk0zQJ7HaNxgaJkLSV5-ijCzAlOe68kYyl8AgqNqYH21QAhVxLQ3gGo46EWjnBELitf_v3a-rreG7kXvrf1y80ou_unMlaBOkIBb8EbyWZkrRyYyfqibedUqzdv646nW/s1600-h/WW+II+central+bird.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZguqgnqPZQYhwpk0zQJ7HaNxgaJkLSV5-ijCzAlOe68kYyl8AgqNqYH21QAhVxLQ3gGo46EWjnBELitf_v3a-rreG7kXvrf1y80ou_unMlaBOkIBb8EbyWZkrRyYyfqibedUqzdv646nW/s400/WW+II+central+bird.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142830858993972386" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHtHVMGM_GW36ndyiBi7QeKS3xs7YDz3vyzBxICbBYetAZQFB6e_mpTHHXA4gFMgtQeLqq9kfDA_8nHTz0cVKN1H5Ai5QFXP9YYrG8eq8PsepKLJr4xKXR5ZLb8ScAmqxOz5UpCy2Nmx1/s1600-h/WW+II+Pacific.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHtHVMGM_GW36ndyiBi7QeKS3xs7YDz3vyzBxICbBYetAZQFB6e_mpTHHXA4gFMgtQeLqq9kfDA_8nHTz0cVKN1H5Ai5QFXP9YYrG8eq8PsepKLJr4xKXR5ZLb8ScAmqxOz5UpCy2Nmx1/s400/WW+II+Pacific.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142833345780036802" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfHD552eDFOaZwB30EQfk7Wv2_j4eM_6FkrqSYrNFdXnzWNqPnyFfOb8lktHKQSO2NdTWLrJqBIG7poDLeKtwRs-BPI4UBO0Pp_5Yv6CYVW0kzo5EJE6PM2qVSM4vQ-44mHa1sHxBXDBf/s1600-h/WW+II+service+medallion.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfHD552eDFOaZwB30EQfk7Wv2_j4eM_6FkrqSYrNFdXnzWNqPnyFfOb8lktHKQSO2NdTWLrJqBIG7poDLeKtwRs-BPI4UBO0Pp_5Yv6CYVW0kzo5EJE6PM2qVSM4vQ-44mHa1sHxBXDBf/s400/WW+II+service+medallion.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142832113124422834" /></a>flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-48202259325926112712007-12-11T13:35:00.000-05:002007-12-11T15:08:56.982-05:00The Mall past and present: The Wall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwxIKmFM2HIzQz-S_y3MNBtKd5B2IpngmeN100-wTdBup8qeZpzMs1vXMq8_MMAsaANeOLsUC31f-VYkQoNfqCNRqdop4BcryesIPp1hLk7IkR2_5HztnGE06_3vXmC4EF8OrW2Am88Me/s1600-h/Korn+obelisk+at+sunset+willows.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwxIKmFM2HIzQz-S_y3MNBtKd5B2IpngmeN100-wTdBup8qeZpzMs1vXMq8_MMAsaANeOLsUC31f-VYkQoNfqCNRqdop4BcryesIPp1hLk7IkR2_5HztnGE06_3vXmC4EF8OrW2Am88Me/s400/Korn+obelisk+at+sunset+willows.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142798685393957906" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQd17A56GQdhHKku3SnPCgGjw6RgvuiTfcatu4n2TJ7iQMfcnHERr74wzCzmPGKyu8VbXQRMMPEcQuCEX0NXs5gZp3cqD3rJh8Xj9dFJGCMlAJSUbhPxcZ1Xa9LJYVZ7qYzfhSAL2-UsYl/s1600-h/Tree+branches+over+water+at+island+bridge.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQd17A56GQdhHKku3SnPCgGjw6RgvuiTfcatu4n2TJ7iQMfcnHERr74wzCzmPGKyu8VbXQRMMPEcQuCEX0NXs5gZp3cqD3rJh8Xj9dFJGCMlAJSUbhPxcZ1Xa9LJYVZ7qYzfhSAL2-UsYl/s400/Tree+branches+over+water+at+island+bridge.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142800205812380706" /></a><br /><br /> <br />I do remember feeling quite moved by the Vietnam Memorial the first time I encountered it. I don't exactly remember when that was! But neither does my husband so I don't feel quite so bad. <br /><br />It couldn't have been in our family trip from Illinois to the East Coast in 1981 because it wasn't finished then. What I don't recall is if I went there when in DC for a LLL International Conference back in 1995. For sure we were stopped there in late July of 1996 when we stopped in DC on the way to Atlanta, GA, to watch our first US Men's Olympic Soccer match (against Argentina) in the electric atmosphere of a roaring color-ladened crowd packed into RFK Stadium. <br /><br />I remember being drawn in to the Wall as I descended into the earth. Well, it felt that way. Walking down the crease in the ground along the expanding Wall elicited feelings of not quite doom or dread, but of solemnity, accompanied by memories of the turmoil the war caused when I was in college of protests, overturned campus police cars and the Kent State shootings and my own strong reaaction against war in general. But more importantly it helped me reflect on the newer perspective I'd gained with time as I realized that those who died while serving weren't war mongers but young men who'd been drafted or those who wanted to server our country or enlisted looking for a way to a better life. And the injuries and loss of all those who died and the impact on their family, friends and communities.<br /><br />So this time it was a lighter day. Still we witnessed a poignant scene. Brought to the Wall to gather some info to show I'd really been there, right at the very panel the GPSr had guided us to were three adults, a man and two women. At first I'd barely noticed them. Too busy counting. Then I heard a question, Are you serving?" asked a woman who looked close to my age with an official-looking yellow cap of a volunteer on her head. "Yes, Ma'am," came the very respectful answer from the fellow with that telltale haircut. "Which branch?" "Marines, Ma'am." The two women had something to say. "Just commissioned yesterday! As a Captain." "Is that right?" came the volunteer's reply as she turned toward the man again. She then approached him, reached up and planted ever so gently a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." It was so much more than words can describe. The joy she exuded, the pride, the full knowledge of what he'd committed to with all the sacrifice and life-changing events ahead of him. And might even had already with being commissioned at that rank. <br /><br />Even though I'd seen it before the Wall still carried quite an impact with the leavings of loved ones at the foot of the panels, the searching, the rubbings being taken of the names in the careful interactions with the inscribed black granite. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7m2v8PPiD_pgNPsASsIzbrF8O3wmMFCvAu9DA-Z3KuS0_aERlUxiFXDPh-ZNYMkQWUSCi9EjdYysCerJrIlxROts1UJ5bTIjRgK1eBrAa-vOOIpZ7Xkmlw3Ib7Bpi8tJZFIwUoDm-D_d/s1600-h/The+Wall+Panel+13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7m2v8PPiD_pgNPsASsIzbrF8O3wmMFCvAu9DA-Z3KuS0_aERlUxiFXDPh-ZNYMkQWUSCi9EjdYysCerJrIlxROts1UJ5bTIjRgK1eBrAa-vOOIpZ7Xkmlw3Ib7Bpi8tJZFIwUoDm-D_d/s400/The+Wall+Panel+13.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142808568113706050" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDx15cq37j5hHrUu1rpIPa31MPRWstmfo_xcKURykc3YNhnyDpXtpAmcvyeLxSrj3wrhVwYGodZxC3JrGtdBvbbCoyOD9bX7FzB8wYr-me1mZ7x9GHNeII0llbLt4gJodTrAmHRL_hR87/s1600-h/DSC_1006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDx15cq37j5hHrUu1rpIPa31MPRWstmfo_xcKURykc3YNhnyDpXtpAmcvyeLxSrj3wrhVwYGodZxC3JrGtdBvbbCoyOD9bX7FzB8wYr-me1mZ7x9GHNeII0llbLt4gJodTrAmHRL_hR87/s400/DSC_1006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142802924526679090" /></a>flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-9756731405455100522007-12-05T01:32:00.000-05:002007-12-11T13:32:11.681-05:00Teaism<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGuiuBy4c8vS-O0B9tDkYYZjoc7zKjxFXLQmDB0uWUhco2v7csYsxQqNhgfTuPA7TwCF8l2EGWySbXdi740rseTMbg_TtF4JmnMPisUauWnZeYvAsAVIPE4giQ3kPZWHSkNW8HSfPbup_/s1600-h/koi+pond+i.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGuiuBy4c8vS-O0B9tDkYYZjoc7zKjxFXLQmDB0uWUhco2v7csYsxQqNhgfTuPA7TwCF8l2EGWySbXdi740rseTMbg_TtF4JmnMPisUauWnZeYvAsAVIPE4giQ3kPZWHSkNW8HSfPbup_/s400/koi+pond+i.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140384617420862466" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVoY0qVwa2rDYeRG_t0MTVqi4MnDVixT6IU3iMRhAduIyBfV0uIZUWBdjq7v1v_eG43i3a70F_7lolXatJKkRipUbVstV4JyOETc3NBvtbY-goExuacsJir8ktF5CnW_mYN2JgDmDgfwOC/s1600-h/Teaism.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVoY0qVwa2rDYeRG_t0MTVqi4MnDVixT6IU3iMRhAduIyBfV0uIZUWBdjq7v1v_eG43i3a70F_7lolXatJKkRipUbVstV4JyOETc3NBvtbY-goExuacsJir8ktF5CnW_mYN2JgDmDgfwOC/s320/Teaism.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140381658188395506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD5V0RyaLnDWlhZG_jIu_EMC6z7IsK3F7hZ1C35-D-TCtvVKNanionh4pQpwtl7i73LKLoBe7gix8AN0HjwLrFDXtodQwaUF4WDbMMQ1XC57ejYlQbB8SDZkd7zf0wQNP11HDZugJKkBn/s1600-h/Jever++glass+hands+watch+i.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLD5V0RyaLnDWlhZG_jIu_EMC6z7IsK3F7hZ1C35-D-TCtvVKNanionh4pQpwtl7i73LKLoBe7gix8AN0HjwLrFDXtodQwaUF4WDbMMQ1XC57ejYlQbB8SDZkd7zf0wQNP11HDZugJKkBn/s400/Jever++glass+hands+watch+i.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140379094092919778" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEoLiMcqwONJ4GhWJAoTbuS7H4M1It_6iSKp25wfTcDSStoF3YsfcukaK6IprxLwlgpM4FlvW-mSApqlmtil_qofx6wUOMOeCtZhJjwv2pgXzZk0uWziwG8qUuAxYc5R3H5G3jEqxuhT5n/s1600-h/sencha+ii.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEoLiMcqwONJ4GhWJAoTbuS7H4M1It_6iSKp25wfTcDSStoF3YsfcukaK6IprxLwlgpM4FlvW-mSApqlmtil_qofx6wUOMOeCtZhJjwv2pgXzZk0uWziwG8qUuAxYc5R3H5G3jEqxuhT5n/s400/sencha+ii.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140377041098552258" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8My7pz0mwp7bpWNScd0kE9vVxv37piNjY3d36Fx8cLyvytiXyI9akeRqMCHHjRskYpsCFzwBHuKp_NQPytiw24cbj6kltWIhJ2VxL9f6rZJ7_dCNJAptBcWpIbHgd4Vk35A_lm0_hqH6i/s1600-h/ims+edamame+sencha.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8My7pz0mwp7bpWNScd0kE9vVxv37piNjY3d36Fx8cLyvytiXyI9akeRqMCHHjRskYpsCFzwBHuKp_NQPytiw24cbj6kltWIhJ2VxL9f6rZJ7_dCNJAptBcWpIbHgd4Vk35A_lm0_hqH6i/s400/ims+edamame+sencha.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140376066140976050" /></a><br />We saw a beautiful window with tea sets and items in it on the way from the subway to the first geocache location. My daughter and I lingered at the window relishing the colors. Much later we all made our way back to it. <a href="http://www.teaism.com">The perfect stop for a quiet rest</a> before heading off to <a href="http://www.zeds.net/">Zeds</a>, the Ethiopian restaurant.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-80744179840892798382007-12-05T00:29:00.002-05:002009-08-27T20:12:50.116-04:00Is it still November?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4LQW8xoRsqbK-edeUlA-OikUaJYLi7HmKU82O-7tH8wjjWPpJQb9UKsiem4mHmXEBeMtkaUiQP01lXvcafrChM3MOegpex6r4pPmmSvXnOXA97x38QdBHpRuPnbegizkXny2ZIvkQjwy/s1600-h/edamame+%26+beer.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4LQW8xoRsqbK-edeUlA-OikUaJYLi7HmKU82O-7tH8wjjWPpJQb9UKsiem4mHmXEBeMtkaUiQP01lXvcafrChM3MOegpex6r4pPmmSvXnOXA97x38QdBHpRuPnbegizkXny2ZIvkQjwy/s400/edamame+%26+beer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140371642324661154" /> <img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3n65K95ZwK8VZtQ-P_d27G4QWsZzKWsTbyJVQMu4rINqoFPXX8INgQm0_FrxGIX5q9HIR3U_4xEZgjc2hrUjYCZ0X_gDcAG6Sb-nTmKgTineqXlCErjDi7E8rqnXBQlKTP7I0W1k35pXu/s200/Teaism+stool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140365539176133506" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_fxYvH8vJVWdxK25Oq0Z37Iv7T8ghQ5VQUfV6w8sqCwH74CsQSevwHp2mnsqlgjMc0mpsluJSWqZwYU0Zo0TElr0M_JNo5oc_0YTZJ8B1UuvpdFTEO_5fo0fXFgEENyb4JbeRWfOUsIw/s1600-h/koi+pond+ii+cream.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_fxYvH8vJVWdxK25Oq0Z37Iv7T8ghQ5VQUfV6w8sqCwH74CsQSevwHp2mnsqlgjMc0mpsluJSWqZwYU0Zo0TElr0M_JNo5oc_0YTZJ8B1UuvpdFTEO_5fo0fXFgEENyb4JbeRWfOUsIw/s200/koi+pond+ii+cream.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140364293635617650" /></a><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><p><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br /><P><br />A friend of our family has been staying with us for four months. He came to do a clinical rotation as a med student at the local teaching hospital. Last week he surprised us with the announcement that he'd made arrangements for my husband and me to travel with him to Washington, DC. He told me this just after I'd walked in the door from my day at work after a long and hectic two weeks. <br /><br />Let's see. Two weeks before we'd unexpectedly flown to DC for one day to witness the NE Revs blow the MLS championship match for the third year in a row. The day before that my family had thrown me a wonderful birthday party filled with friends and food. And they cleaned and tided the house all day Friday afternoon before that.<br /><br />Then Thanksgiving week brought us to a family wedding in Pennsylvania. My car recorded a 1300 mile round trip. We had fun with my new camera on the ten hour drive home.<br /><br />So was I ready to hear about traveling some more? <br /><br />I was so stunned when informed of plane reservations that I simply walked away speechless. <br /><br />I don't know what KSz thought of that. Funny thing was just before my daughter arrived for my b-day she'd mentioned on the phone that I was coming down to DC in two weeks, right? <br /><br />No. I don't know how you got that idea, but no, I'm definitely not going to DC again so soon. <br /><br />Sure, in two weeks, right? <br /><br />No. <br /><br />She dropped it. When KSz told her he'd made the arrangements she assumed that meant that he'd told us about it. Nope. <br /><br />I was so stunned that I recoiled from the idea every time it entered my brain. I couldn't fathom another trip.<br /><br />I wanted down time. I wanted to do nothing and go no place. The tickets were bought. What could I do?<br /><br />I went. And although I doubt I slept more than 8 hrs total the whole weekend, I had a great time. That's because he finally said the right words. Can't you go <a href="http://www.geocaching.com">geocaching</a> down there? <br /><br />Ah,yes, there are virtual geocaches all around the Mall. <br /><br />I was finally convinced it was possible for me to go, and maybe even enjoy it.flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-84453741489349499892007-10-09T21:44:00.000-04:002007-10-09T21:52:31.273-04:00mythological creature<table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are a Centaur</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatmythologicalcreatureareyouquiz/centaur.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />In general, you are a very cautious and reserved person.<br />However, you are also warm hearted, and you enjoy helping others in practical ways.<br />You are a great teacher, and you are really good at helping people get their lives in order.<br />You are very intuitive, and you go with your gut. You make good decisions easily.</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatmythologicalcreatureareyouquiz/">What Mythological Creature Are You?</a></div>flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-71684834664964622122007-05-20T21:16:00.000-04:002007-05-20T23:03:13.893-04:00monarch butterflies & old junk carsYes, that's what prompted me to let the few milkweed plants grow beside my driveway two years ago. The Monarchs, that is. I used to be able to go out in the field behind my house and find a milkweed with a chrysalis on it for a neighbor's science class and wondered if any would lay eggs on these closer ones.<br /><br />I love monarchs. One summer about thirty years ago I saw some flying over the house where I lived in the Chicago suburbs. Then I realized they were coming in a steady stream. I lay down on the ground and watched them -- for HOURS. A column of butterflies several feet wide stayed right overhead. It was one of those most special happenstances in life where if you hadn't happened to step out the door right that moment, you might have missed it all. That was the same summer when everyone else who lived there had gone away for a week or so. I had the place to myself and discovered that for several days in a row a spider made a huge web between two bushes right across from each other in front of the front door. Each day the previous web was gone and a new one spun. And it was huge. I felt that all this was happening just to reward me for spending some quiet content days with myself.<br /><br />Monarch migrate from Mexico up North to the US and back again. Well, it's after the next generations that they return to Mexico. I saw a photo in National Geographic once of a large tree in Mexico so totally covered with butterflies that it was wrapped in orange.<br /><br />So last year after returning from the World Cup in Germany I found that many more milkweed were growing. Okay, I hoped, maybe there is a chance that a monarch will find one.<br /><br />Nope. Not one.<br /><br />I then read that they like to return to the same area. And MY area is evidently not close enough to the field right behind my house.<br /><br /><br />So today I was outside doing everything but checking this area where the milk weeds grow. This isn't a happy story about monarchs in my yard since the milkweed isn't even showing yet. Maybe it won't even grow this year.<br /><br />I'd struggled through making sense of those crazy peony circle things to support the future flower-laden stems and was planting a few more annuals and some perennials and filling a new pot with soil and plants.<br /><br />As I turned away from one bed I saw that the entire side where the milk weed grows was overrun with berry brambles -- prickers I call them -- and Virginia creeper. Together they were drowning out the rugosa roses. The roses that somehow have managed to fight back and not to totally succumb after being crushed and broken when some tree guys working for the power company took the grey birches down.<br /><br />A few winters ago the birches were heavy laden with wet winter snow, draped over and pressing down on the power line that goes into our house. We had gotten very tired of running outside after grabbing the longest thing we could find to poke up at the branches to unencumber them. The tree guys were out and when I called the electric company they happened to be right in our neighborhood. Fast response.<br /><br />Now that the trees are gone letting in more sun, all sort of things have crept in. And not lovely things at all. It looks nasty and ugly there. One thing is a regiment of these green things (I used to know their name) that remind me of a plant near the Fort Josef <a href="http://www.geocaching.com/">geocache</a> in Mainz on the Rhine in Germany. Before the trip when I was looking for possible caches to find, I was using one of those <a href="http://translation2.paralink.com/]on-line">on-line translator services</a> to translate from German to English. There were warnings about a plant that if you touched it, left you not only with raised vesicles on you skin, but feeling itchy.<br /><br />I deduce the ones in my yard are related. Several years ago I discovered while pulling them out without gloves on (or maybe I did have on gloves, but my forearms weren't covered) I had this nasty eruption on my arms that evening. If you catch these plants early, before they are tall and stiffer, they come out easily and with no skin reaction.<br /><br />So I found myself outside for much longer than anticipated pulling and yanking at the vines. And the green things.<br /><br />If I'd ignored this much longer I would have had a real problem when I finally got around to calling the fellow to remove the old junk car from the driveway. The vines were making there way UNDER it - at least 15 separate strands were well under it. In one leap my mind envisioned the entire car encased in them by summer's end.<br /><br />That whole side of the yard seems to be turning into an old abandoned secret place. But not at all a pretty garden. In among the trees that separate our yard from our western neighbor's is an old pile of rotting sawn tree logs left from a poplar taken down a good eight years ago, I think. And everything that's grown in all the chips the tree guys shot in there. It would have cost so much more for them to cart all that away. But the creeper seems to have thrived in the no longer visible chips. Previous years I've spent hours yanking it down and clipping it off from it's roots to save a few of the trees. And grapes vines joined in to wind their way skyward as well.<br /><br />I've decided the car has to go this week. It served its purpose for a year or two. It was a $300 Oldsmobile Cutlass Sierra that I bought from a neighbor for my younger son to drive. And our Japanese friends' daughter used it as well for 10 months. It was the one bad purchase of a used automobile that I've made. Why? On the back there is a small chrome remnant of the script that used to say Oldsmobile. <em>"...<span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">mobile</span>"</em> My older son's ex-gf christened it with the perfect name. It stuck. <span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>The</em></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>Ghettomobile</em></span>.<br /><br />Turns out that it had been parked on a street in Chicago. Right place, wrong time. Someone in a gunfight had ducked down behind it shielding himself, and had managed to shoot his gun leaving not only a crease on the trunk lid, but shattering the back window and embossing the roof with the bullet's impact. Whomever replaced the window did a lousy job. It leaks. But not in an obvious way. After it rains the head liner hangs down bowed with the weight of saturation. The back seat can be damp. And the salesman that used to own before my neighbor it must have thumped his body down into the driver's seat over and over again leaving a dip so deep we had to fill it with a pillow. None of this did I realize when I told her I'd buy the car.<br /><br />Now all that car has done is sit on perfectly new all season tires for over three years shielding a bunch of junk in front of it: garbage cans, a car top carrier beside the garage, chimney terracotta liner pieces that I thought would make great planters (but seemed to kill whatever I was trying to grow in them), a broken snow shovel left from the first big winter storm. And all those vines stuck onto the asphalt drive. Working their way toward our front walk....flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9117781106006552519.post-62947670712788234042007-04-28T14:45:00.001-04:002009-08-16T11:19:54.351-04:00coffe maker advice neededFirst of all the REAL story. ;-)<br /><br />Before last summer during a scant few years when the ground was cold and spring was on its way, we'd get some ants in the kitchen. Briefly.<br /><br />Last summer while we were in Germany at World Cup Futbol matches ants came into our house in the mud room (which is next to the kitchen) and the person who was staying in our house part of the time, and feeding our cat, put out one of those orange ant trap tins (which did nothing), but didn't move the spot where the cat was fed elsewhere.<br /><br />So the ants thought they'd found a permanent food source since good ol' Monty never eats the little bits of dried food that break off and fall from his mouth while eating, thereby leaving these tidbits for the ants. Where oh, where is the dog? This never would have happened if Cody were still alive.<br /><br />After that the ants sort of went away, I thought.<br /><br />I'd see one or two at a time and spray them with Basic H. I really didn't want to kill them.<br /><br />I won't forget the time I was in Miami Beach for a LLI cf walking with 2 friends on the boardwalk along the shore. You could tell the exact line where the insecticide spraying had ended. All of a sudden we heard crunching under foot. My pregnant friend started to scream. Cockroaches everywhere. Huge ones. These must be what they call Palmetto bugs, I thought. We walked a bit further, but the crunch was just too disconcerting. So we turned around. And saw that ants had cleared away all the carcasses we'd passed or made. That's when I really realized that ants are useful in nature.<br /><br />Then I discovered that they'd set up housekeeping IN my house.<br /><br />Where? In both the soil of my Jade plant that was in the corner on the counter under the kitchen windows and a small miniature violet plant. I'd forgotten to water the plants for a week or two or three and when I did, out poured a stream of ants dragging eggs with them.<br /><br />After that all got dealt with I thought I was home free. I was -- for LAST year.<br /><br />Now this spring a small number of ants have made their way in and again, I targeted them and thought okay, soon they'll all be gone. I remind myself that Albert Schweitzer never stepped on ants (did you read the same biography of him that I did in elementary school???) I was cleaning the counter today & picked up some old mail resting on top of the coffee machine. Why I thought that a suitable place to keep these pieces, I have no idea. Probably because the spot I usually keep things that I haven't made up my mind "keep, or throw away?" was spilling over onto the floor.<br /><br />So I picked them up and looked them over for a fifth, sixth or was it the 100th time (okay, an Easter card from my step-mother -- as a reminder to write to her, a fund raiser envelope to send a donation to the hospital I work for, and, are you ready for this one? A twenty something page 4" by 8 1/4" pamphlet "Coronary artery stent thrombosis." For some reason I thought I should educate myself with this throw away sent to my dh. It's now in the trash.<br /><br />Ants!!!!<br /><br />On the papers. Spilling over onto my hand. (And I still feel as though they're all over me.)<br /><br />Why are they up here? And there were scores of them (no really only ten or fifteen, but they were falling/crawling out from between the pages of one item.) But why here? I emptied the filter with ground beans that dh NEVER takes out until the next time he uses the machine, and thought, "Should I do the run-the-coffee maker-with-cold water-and-vinegar-to-cleanse-it routine?"<br /><br />That thought was abruptly interrupted by the discovery that ants were not only under the lid of the water chamber, they'd decided to become part of the system that shows how many cups of coffee the amount of water poured in the top will make. Yes, they were all stacked up over an inch deep in the bottom of a narrow tube that fills when you pour in the water. Under the tiny red floater ball. And didn't want to come out.<br /><br />Can you submerge a coffee maker in water??? I tried to only rinse the chambers and lid. Who knows if water got in by the heating element.<br /><br /><br />So would you use this coffee maker ever again?flyingfisherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06523904310847698572noreply@blogger.com3