Five Years with a Time Bomb

Five years ago this winter, I was diagnosed with MS. I woke up one morning with limited vision in my right eye. After visiting my eye doctor, he ordered an MRI because he suspected it was optic neuritis, a symptom of MS.

That was a very scary time for me. I didn't know much about MS, but I pictured myself in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. After the MRI, and the confirmation of MS, I saw a neurologist. He explained it all to me, and put me into a clinical trial for Rebif. That didn't go well, as it began to affect my liver. Plus it was kicking my ass with nasty flu-like side effects. I wasn't sorry to be taken off it. Ever since, for the past 4.5 years, I have been taking a shot of Copaxone every single day. And not a single negative side effect from it.

A little over a year after my initial diagnosis, I had another MRI. I wasn't sure that I wanted one. After all, do I really want to know if the disease is progressing if there is nothing that can be done about it? I'm kind of weird - I sometimes feel like what you don't know isn't going to hurt you. I know that is incredibly naive, but sometimes I really don't want to know. Do you understand what I mean? But the doctor talked me into it, and it was great news. Everything was stable.

This past month, I had my third MRI. The first one in three years. I have been feeling fine. No new symptoms. Life is good. I try not to think about it too much. Take my shot every day. I figured it would be the same as last time. No worries.

Well, this morning the nurse from my neurologist's office called. He is 'concerned' about the MRI from last week..... he wants me to come in to the office to possibly change my meds. I can't stop thinking about this today. I am completely bummed..... I have been doing fine. The disease has been benign for the most part. And now this? It just plain sucks. Hopefully, the monster will stay asleep... Now I will be paranoid about everything.

Another Day, Another Tantrum

Every parent has experienced the fury of toddler temper tantrums at one point or another. They are frustrating, at times frightening, and always annoying. And every parent also knows that the first rule of dealing with tantrums is DO NOT GIVE IN. And when the calm finally sets in, do not reward the child for calming down. All of that is negative reinforcement.

Well, once again, the toddlers of the world are having a tantrum. Muslim fury at pope jihad comments. Let's see what it is they're screaming about now.... oh, same old thing. They are insulted. They insist on an apology. They are a religion of peace. And one other thing - the shock and awe of it all is gone. When we hear that Muslims are 'furious' 'upset' 'demanding an apology', it all seems like the movie Groundhog Day. What? Again? *yawn* blah blah blah

And the grownups of the world are giving them exactly what they want: mass media attention, and apologies. Oh my.... that should hold them for a couple of days until the next tantrum.

This is getting very annoying and very old. If they want to be treated as equal citizens of the world community and sit at the table with the grownups, then they damn well better grow up themselves!

Sorry.... but I have no sympathy for them anymore. At all. They need to join the 21st century where everyone is used to being insulted at one time or another. Shit happens. People get insulted. People get over it. End of story.

Let's Talk about Radio

I really don't listen to radio that much. In fact, the only time I listen is when I am driving. A few years ago, I loved to listen to The Bob and Tom Show on 102.3 here in Austin. Unfortunately, the station didn't renew their syndication contract, the station changed formats (twice) and I don't listen to that station AT ALL anymore.

Bob and Tom had (have?) one of the best morning talk/comedy shows on radio. There were times that I would be laughing out loud while I was driving. I really missed them on my morning drive. Bob and Tom do internet stream, but you have to pay for it. Screw that. First of all, I don't have a computer in my car. And that's the only time I listen to radio, really. It's a shame because I really enjoyed them. They sell plenty of CDs and stuff on their website, but I'm cheap. I'm just not interested enough to pay for it.

After they were gone, I tried to listen to Dudley and Bob on KLBJ. That lasts about ten minutes with me, then I get disgusted and switch the station. It is very rare that they don't irritate me. I really tried to listen to these guys, because they are local, but no one is more annoying than Dale Dudley. He's an overgrown frat boy with a serious case of BDS (Bush Derangement Syndrome) and he's always yelling about something. It's not the politics that bother me so much. Hell, I didn't vote for Bush. But I don't live my life complaining about him. There's an election every four years, and his two terms are almost up. I am fed up with the constant Bush hate. It's as bad as the Muslim riots. Repetitive and unimaginative. And Mr. Dudley is one of those obsessives who is off the deep end. I don't have to agree with people politically to enjoy them. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert - funny. Bill Maher/Al Franken/Dale Dudley - deranged and not funny. I'm just too tired of all the political hate in this country. Their humor is mean-spirited at times, also. It sort of reminds me of those assholes in high school who thought they were too cool for everyone else and spent all their time making fun of the kids who were 'not as cool'. These are the kind of guys that trigger the Columbine impulse in their peers. They have their fans, and that's great for them. I just don't like being annoyed when I'd rather be entertained. *shrug*

Well..... now I have this amazing thing called an Ipod. And I have just discovered Podcasts! When I was in high school in Philadelphia, I always listened to WMMR. And on ITunes, I discovered that WMMR's morning show, Preston and Steve is available for podcast subscription. And it's free! (for now anyway). I had never heard of these guys, so I figured I would give them a try. They are great! And it's good to hear about Philly again. So I can download their show, and play it in the car or when I walk the dogs.... I really enjoy it even if I get it a day later. I'm not sure why they offer it for free (and without commercials) but I love it!

It's amazing to me how technology is giving us more choices all the time.

Sad Anniversaries

Tonight is September 10. And we are inundated with television and print remembrances of 9/11/2001. And I have come to tears several times today. Damn the NFL and the wonderful pregame of the Giants/Colts game tonight in New Jersey. More tears. I don't mean 'damn them' in a bad way. Because in a way, I needed to feel this way today. I thought that I was beyond tears after five years. I am incredibly grateful that I am not.

So in the past couple of weeks, we have seen more of the Katrina devastation. And I am sad for all those whose lives are still in a mess. But at the same time, I can't help comparing the two events.

The attacks on the WTC center provoked so many emotions in me, and those feelings are still strong today especially. This morning there was a special on HBO. And I was moved to tears for the first time today. My son had a hockey game, and while I was sitting outside waiting for the game to start, I took a scrap of paper and just wrote the following: anger, horror, shock, despair, pride, anger, no fear, commitment, resolve, just do it, don't appease ever, firm. Resolve to live. They can be damned.

As you can see, the emotions were at the surface. And one word was repeated several times on that scrap of paper: PRIDE. I remember the NYPD and NYFD heroes. I remember thinking they were amazing - and how heartbreaking that so many gave their lives just doing their jobs. And it occurred to me at that moment: Where were the heroes of Katrina? That was what was missing in all that mess. Where were their police and their firefighters and their heroes? The WTC attack was shocking and sudden and unexpected and catastrophic. Katrina was no shock, really. Hurricanes never are. Yes, the levee breaks weren't expected....... but then again, who could ever expect anything man builds to withstand Mother Nature at her most deadly?

That was the difference that I saw today, in a sudden epiphany. Where the hell were New Orleans' heroes? They weren't there.... they were failed by their public servants and their public officials. Rudy Giuliani was there, almost buried by the rubble, breathing the toxic air, leading.... where was Ray Nagin? Where were the friggin' heroes for the people of New Orleans?

What a difference...... I will never ever forget the firefighters and police of New York on that horrible day. I will never forget the sorrowful wail of the bagpipes at all the funerals for New York's FINEST (and "finest" is an understatement of epic proportions). I will never forget that in the horror of that day, I felt so much pride for these hardworking American citizens.

God Bless New York, all it's citizens and public servants, and God Bless America. And to all those who wish us harm, damn you to the bowels of hell.

Update: I came across this essay, Tribes on another blog which says everything much better than I could ever say... an excerpt:

So, on one hand, we have a very blue city – New York – confronted, out of the clear morning of a perfect fall day, with no warning – with a terror attack, and they march toward the sounds of screams and falling bodies and die by the hundreds. On the other hand, we have New Orleans law enforcement – also blue – whining about wet shoes and helping themselves to the happy period of lawlessness that followed an event that had been expected for no less than seventy-two hours.

In New York, we had a governor who got every available resource on the ground as fast as it could get there, and in Louisiana we have a governor who...cried. Governor, your job is to not cry. Your job is to be strong. We have plenty of civilians crying. You want to cry, cry in the car on the way home like everybody else did four years ago. Crying Governors, race-baiting mayors and looting police do not a Finest Hour make.

In New Orleans we have a mayor who left some 400-500 buses sitting fueled and underwater in the Ray Nagin Memorial Motor Pool saying that evil white conservative America was selling out his people within 24 hours of the catastrophe, from a safe and dry and adequately toileted location, while four years ago we had a Mayor who ran to the site of the disaster so quickly it is a full-blown miracle he was not killed when a building collapsed literally on top of his magnificent, combed-over head.

Now, much has been made of the fact that Ray Nagin is an incompetent, race-baiting black man, and Rudy Giuliani, who was neither, is white. Also, feminists are upset that people dare attack Governor Blanco because she is incompetent, weak, indecisive, and also a woman. And no doubt there are salivating long-haired, short-cortexed idiots just waiting for this to be over so they can sail into the comments section and tell me what a racist and misogynist I am.

Well, here’s the news flash: Nagin isn’t incompetent because he’s black. He’s incompetent because he’s incompetent. Condoleeza Rice is black. Colin Powell is black. Ted Kennedy, a man well-acquainted with rising water crises is as white as they come. Kennedy is incompetent; Rice and Powell are two of the most competent people on the planet.

This is about tribes, all right: not black and white tribes, but rather a battle between the capable and the culpable.

I have just one response: Hell Yeah! This is a long essay, but read the whole thing. It is well worth the time.

Shabby

September has come, but it is only chronological. The landscape does not change. The landscape of Texas in summer reminds me of northeastern winters - no color, no life except for the truly hardy, and no vibrancy.

The few flowers which have survived the unrelenting heat and lack of rain seem anemic and as faded as a 20 year-old silk corsage tucked into the bottom of a matron's hope chest. Even the crape myrtle which are still blooming lack vibrancy. It seems as though they have been washed in hot water and bleach. Faded and wan, the blooms seem to be disappearing into a monochromatic world.

The lawns which are watered are green and yet they are drab. Even still there are patches of brown, especially along sidewalks and driveways where the concrete soaks up the sun and radiates heat twenty-four hours a day. The trees live, and the flowers exist, but they are not flourishing. They look as tired as I feel.

This is late summer in Texas. Where the only color is the brightness of the sky. And yet I long for clouds. A gray day in this gray landscape is actually a blessing. It seems unfair that the sky is so blue and the sun is so bright when everything else lacks luster.

I cannot wait for it to end.

Trip through Texas

I never realized how much stuff my son had until we had to pack it all up to take him to school last Friday. I did, however, manage to pack it into the back of our Jeep Cherokee. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a squeeze. Being the great mom that I am, I volunteered to ride in the back seat. I just couldn't see my 6'5" son squeezed back there on about 18 inches of seat.... crowded by boxes and bags and other stuff. (click on pictures for a larger view)


So, off we headed on the 400+ mile trip to Lubbock. It was a long, boring, and slightly uncomfortable drive for me. So I pulled out my camera. Why not? When we first moved to Texas, I was surprised that it didn't look anything like I imagined it would. But Texas is a big damn place, and on the road to Lubbock, I discovered the Texas of my expectations. (Keep in mind you are getting the same view I had - through the window with glare and reflection,etc)

Small towns....


Miles and miles of open land....


Classic Americana billboards


A sign that we're getting closer....


The landscape gets harsher


Pumping oil


and windmills!


It was a long trip, and sometimes boring, but the size of this state, and the diversity of it's landscapes, is fascinating.

Oh, my son is settling into his dorm at Texas Tech and doing well. Of course, it's only been two days...... I miss him. I have great hopes for him. And I envy him. He has his whole future ahead of him. He's a smart boy. And a great kid. And I am proud of him.

Tombstone Puzzle

My grandmother's parents emigrated to the US from Poland sometime in the late 1800s/early 1900s. I am working on getting more info. Today I got this picture from my brother, who has been with my grandmother at the cemetary where her parents are buried. I have scant information on her family, so I asked if he would get me the info from the tombstones if he could.

My grandmother had told me her mother's name was "Dominique" or something like that... and my brother said that when he was there with her, she told him this was the grave of her parents and two of her siblings.

I am a little puzzled. First, there are two people with the same name apparently: Antoni. Antoni #1 was born in 1891 and died in 1918, according to the tombstone. Antoni #2 was born in 1884 and died in 1944.

Also, I am assuming Dominika is my great-grandmother. Her dates are listed as 1869-1921. Wawrzyniec is likely my great-grandfather and he is listed as 1829-1923.

So... is it unusual for a family to have two children with the same name? And, if Antoni #2 was Dominika's child, she would have been 15 when he was born. And her husband was 40 years older?

Isn't that illegal?

I do know that one of my other great-grandmothers was married at 14 back in 1906, so I guess it wasn't that unusual. But still....

I am just wondering why they would have two children of the same name, and is it really possible that a 55 year-old man was married to a 15 year-old. I suppose it was.... still kind of strange. A possibility is that she was his second wife and the elder Antoni was a child from a different wife. I have found that when a spouse died back in those days, there was always a quick remarriage in order to provide support(financial for the woman, childcare/household for the man). So maybe that is the explanation. I will probably never know because I doubt I'll be able to access any 19th century Polish records.

Edit 8/29/06: Got an email from my brother today. Apparently, I have misread the tombstone. He stopped after work and checked again. The dates for the second Antoni are 1864-1944. I would assume that he and Dominika (1869-1921) are husband and wife. Antoni 1891-1918 was likely their son. I don't have any idea who the fourth person on the stone is. Perhaps a parent of either Dominika or Antoni?

In the Kitchen

Have you ever gone into the kitchen, turned on the light, and seen, out of the corner of your eye, something scuttle across the kitchen floor? That's a pretty freaky feeling, isn't it? It makes you jump, or at least makes your heart jump..... Well, it happened to me tonight. But the good news is that it was just a baby lizard. Now, I don't actually know the scientific name for the little lizards around my yard here in Texas. They are small, probably the biggest one I've ever seen was maybe four inches long. This one was a real tiny baby. Could not have been more than an inch and a half long. And it was whitish because it was on my white kitchen floor. So I guess these lizards are chameleons because they adapt to the background color?

Do you know the best way to remove a lizard from your house? No, don't stomp on it. I could never kill one. I think they are cute, and they serve a useful purpose because they eat bugs (which I have no problem killing if I'm confronted). I learned this trick when I lived in Florida from a neighbor, because I used to find at least one a week in my house there. I've been in Texas for ten years, and this is only the second one that I've found in the house (although there are plenty around my yard).

Here's what you do to safely and humanely relocate a lizard. Grab a piece of paper and a small tupperware container (or other generic plastic container). Quickly put the container over top of the lizard. Hopefully, he's not moving, because if he is you won't catch him. Note: Do not worry if you catch his tail with the edge of the container and it comes off. This is a defense mechanism. The tail will continue to flop around for a few seconds..... but just leave it. As long as the rest of the lizard is safely under the container, he's just fine. Lizards regularly lose their tails to predators, but they grow back. The continued movement of the tail makes the predator believe it has captured the lizard, while the lizard has a chance to escape. Isn't nature amazing?

Once you have the lizard (with or without tail) under the container, slip the piece of paper underneath. Make sure the lizard is between the paper and the container, then lift both at the same time. You are now holding the paper tightly against the container with the lizard inside. Carry it outside, and let the lizard run off into the grass.

Your house is now lizard-free, and the lizard has found it's way back into nature.

Doesn't get any easier than that, does it?

Weekend Update

Squirrel goes nuts! James Klute said his 3-year-old son was also bitten on the calf while they were kicking a soccer ball at the park.

The squirrel was sent off the field in disgrace after receiving a red card.

Urban Fish Farming In the basement of an ivy-covered building on the surprisingly leafy campus of Brooklyn College is something even more surprising: thousands of tilapia packed tighter than a subway car into 300-gallon fiberglass fish tanks..... "We're subsidizing everybody in the world to grow fish that we can buy back from them," he said. "It doesn't make any sense to me. We should be creating jobs here."

Yes, and real estate big enough to hold hundreds of 300-gallon fish tanks in New York City is definitely cost effective. Sounds like a winning plan to me.

Worm Entrepreneur Shut Down For the last three summers, 13-year-old Joey Cadieux has headed outside with his flashlight on rainy nights to collect nightcrawlers from his yard.

Purchased by passing fishermen for $2.50 a dozen, the wriggling worms brought him $7 to $10 in a good month, just enough for bike trips to his favorite neighborhood pizza joint.

But when a town official recently objected to his stenciled black-and-white "nite crawlers" yard sign, Joey's business got the hook.

Maybe Joey should get together with the urban fish farmer.....

The Perfect Storm

It took me two hours to make a rountrip to the skating rink tonight to get my son to hockey practice. The rink is about 8 1/2 miles away. Why did it take so damn long? Well, sit back and I'll tell ya.

The rink is south of me - just off IH35. From my house, I go east to get to I35, and then south to Austin. There are only two eastbound roads near me. The first one, 620, was shut right in the middle of rush hour traffic because of a gas main break. They are replacing the utility poles, and apparently they hit a gas main. So east and west traffic was closed.

I can get to the other eastbound road by going through my neighborhood and taking Hairy Man Road (yes, that's really the name!). Hairy Man is a winding two lane road.... Hairy Man would take me to the other eastbound road, it is approximately a three mile drive. So I headed that way. But so did every other single person who was pouring off eastbound 620 at rush hour. This is a backwater road, two lanes, and a couple of four-way stops. It took me 45 minutes to go three miles!!!! What the hell!

On top of that, where Sam Bass and I35 meet, a tractor-trailer had overturned. Luckily, it was after the access road on the northbound side, so I was able to get on I35 and head south.

And then, the same deal coming home. I left the house at 6:25. Got home at 8:30. This roundtrip normally takes me 1/2 hour.

On top of that, I only had a quarter tank of gas, and I was just praying during all that stop and go traffic that I would make it to a gas station.

The people who planned these roads obviously never considered the growth we have had in the last ten years and the lack of alternate routes.

Rock the Day

I love YouTube. Go ahead, try it. The search facility is great. I'll get your day started with something special. Knopfler and Clapton are two of my favorite guitarists. I promise to share more later.

Eric Clapton With Mark Knopfler - Layla


How about we amp it up a bit with some Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith?

Led Zeppelin& Aerosmith

Random Incoherence

We're going to hit 100 today. And the next day. And the day after that. Which makes me wonder: what in the hell was everyone whining about in the rest of the country all summer? Here in Texas, that's a normal summer. Okay, granted they aren't used to it. But still, summer is supposed to be hot. I don't like it, but you get used to it.

Getting a kid ready for college is expensive! Took Greg to Target yesterday and spent $200 on miscellaneous stuff for his dorm room. It's amazing what you take for granted after you have accumulated 30 years of stuff in your house. The stapler is in the desk drawer. But wait, he will be over 400 miles away, so he's gonna need one of his own. A couple of melamine plates and bowls for in-room meals. A rug for the floor, a pitcher with water filter, some replacement filters, some little plastic drawers for organization, collapsable laundry hamper, shower caddy, heavy duty bike lock, blah blah blah. We are so ready now. The big question is how are we gonna fit all this stuff into the jeep for the trip out there??

The world is in turmoil. Again. Can't we all just get along? I know the arab/palestinian/muslim world is in dire poverty and despair, but wouldn't it make more sense to invest in industry and education than weapons? Just askin'.

I love my Ipod. Have I mentioned that lately? All the CDs that have been gathering dust on my shelves have been reborn. I am listening to things that I haven't heard in years. We are creatures of habit. I've forgotten how good some of it is. I've also bought some new music which I've never heard before and discovered some current artists that I actually like! Welcome to the 21st century. It's about damn time.

Full Moon on an August Night

I love it when the moon is bright enough to cast shadows. The backyard is dark. But it's not. Everything is visible, even the long shadows of the trees. But yet, it's dark.

And it's still pretty hot at 11:00 PM, too. Funny thing about where I live, hours after the sun goes down and it's still 90 degrees outside.

I had to go to the grocery store around 9:30. We were out of wine. Hockey tryouts are this week, and Jim went to the rink after work and was on the ice for four hours. I knew he would be looking for a glass of wine when he got home. Of course, I wanted a glass, too. And that is the only reason I would go to the store at 9:30 at night. People shop for odd things at the grocery store at night. There were two ladies ahead of me in the checkout line. The first woman had a container of Silk soy milk, some yogurt and a frozen Marie Callender Coconut Cream pie.... she wants to eat healthy, but she doesn't. That's cool. The second woman had a plunger and a bowl brush. I know why she had to make a nighttime trip to the grocery store. She had my sympathy. And I had my box of wine. Yes, I buy wine in a box. Is there a problem with that? It will last a whole week, or more. It's just more convenient. I prefer to get a bottle of some good pinot grigio or cabernet sauvignon, but for everyday, the box will do.

It's August!!!

Well, it is officially August, 2006. My oldest child will be off to college in three weeks. Am I sad? No, actually I am envious. He's going to start a great chapter in his life. I am going to miss him. A lot. The house will be a bit quieter. My grocery bill will be a little smaller. But I just got the first statement from the university and I think it's a good thing I'll be spending less on groceries!

We went up to Lubbock two weeks ago for New Student Orientation. The boy is already completely at home on campus, already knows many people, and didn't need me at all! I was amazed at the young people at orientation - I have never seen so many attractive young men and women in one place in all my life! Seriously, Texas grows some good-looking kids!

I remember what it was like to be eighteen years old. I guess that's why I have been spending so much time thinking about my youth lately. It's probably normal. If I could go back and do it all over again? I probably wouldn't change a thing. Seriously. What needs to be changed isn't the past, it's the present. I have to start thinking about the rest of my life! I still have a 16 year old at home, who doesn't need me quite as much as he used to, but 'the rest of my life' is starting already and life is too short not to take advantage of every minute. So, time for the second chapter, I think.

So what's next?

Early Summer Morning

It is 7:00 AM and it is 79 degrees out. There is a big dark cloud covering part of the sky, but I can see the sun trying to burn it off. Since my backporch faces east, I usually share my morning tea with the rising sun.

I love the very early morning. The hummingbirds are fighting with each other over the feeder (they do not like to share). Four of them dodge and dive at each other, while their high-pitched chirping fills the morning silence. But it is not completely silent, I can hear some lawn sprinklers somewhere on the block. My dogs are stretched out on the grass, not even noticing the tiny hummers battling above their heads.

I know that the sun is going to win the battle with that cloud. There will be no rain today. It will be another hot, sunny Texas summer day. Sometimes I long for a dark, gray rainy day. When I lived up north, we had lots of those. And they used to depress me. But when you have been living for ten years in a place where 60% of the year is constant sun, you actually look forward to those rare gray days.

When we get storms, they tend to be violent. The rain sweeps down in torrents, and the thunder is loud. Very rarely do we get those soft rains. I would love to wake up in the morning to the sound of a gentle rain and a dark day. The kind of rain that lasts all day and encourages you to curl up with a book and a cup of tea.

Summer of '76

The first real job I ever had was at the Philadelphia International Airport in 1976. My dad worked for Eastern Airlines, and he basically got me the job. I worked in the gift shop on concourse B. The shops were run by Aero, which was a subsidiary of ARA. They had a contract with the city to run the shops and the food service in the airport. This was back in the day when airports didn't look like shopping malls or food courts. There was limited choice when you travelled.

It was the bicentennial summer, and we had to wear these ugly red, white and blue nylon smocks. It was actually a great job for a seventeen-year old. It was so much better than working at Burger King or something. This girl was a child of the suburbs, and the airport was a dynamic place with all manner of fascinating people.

Obviously, airport security was a joke back in 1976. In other words, there wasn't much security at all. There were a few homeless people that pretty much lived there. One little old man was known as "Birdman" because he was always whistling. He usually slept across the terminal chairs at night.

And whatever happened to the Hare Krishna freaks? We used to have so much fun tormenting them. I remember a customer rushed into the gift shop one day and was just pacing around. I asked him if he was looking for something. He said that he was trying to avoid a Hare Krishna guy (who was standing outside the door looking in). They used to have these books that they would hand to people to look at, and then shake them down for a contribution. The implication was, if you don't donate, you give the book back. Well, this customer took the book, didn't donate, and came into the shop before the Krishna could stop him. The Krishna's weren't allowed to set foot in the shops. So there was this angry guy outside the shop waiting for my customer to come back out. My customer looked at him, handed me the book and said "Here, you keep it". I looked up at the Krishna guy and made a point of dropping it into my trash can where he could see it. Oh well..... get a real job, loser. He turned a few pretty shades of red over that. When did the Krishna's disappear from airports anyway? That's one positive thing about air travel in this century.

It was really a fun job. Our shop had two cashiers, and my partner was Linda Takacs. We owned concourse B! Linda was a couple years older than me, but damn, we had some fun. Whatever happened to Linda? And we always had a lot of laughs with the stockboys.... John Franzini, Dennis Hardy, John Hardy, Bill Coughlin, and the boy who would become my husband a few years later, Jim. And 30 years later, we are still together. Who says that summer romance doesn't last?

Immersed in Old Stuff

My mother left today to visit my brothers back in Pennsylvania. For the past two weeks, I have been wading through boxes of old pictures, plus all my genealogical research, to put together a package of our family history for them. Now that it's all organized, I can take a deep breath and review all the things that I've unearthed in the last few weeks.

First, back in my Odds and Ends review, I posted a picture of a Strong Fire Truck that I found on Coalregion.Com. At that time, I wrote

My mom thinks this is the firetruck that she and my dad rode on their wedding day (my grandfather was a volunteer fireman)

Well, I found a picture of that event, and I think my mom was correct! Sure looks like the same truck to me!

I have lots to write about, but for now, I'm going to finish watching Trading Spaces and go to bed.

History of Grocery Stores

I'm kind of weird. Well, I'm sure anyone who has read any of this blog can figure that out by themselves, but I'm just warning you.

In my 47 years, I have lived in 7 different houses, and a few apartments. Four different states. Many different towns. And since grocery shopping bores me, I tend to let my mind wander when I'm forced to do it (which is at least once a week). This past Sunday, while pushing the cart with the unruly wheels, I was thinking about how I can relate all of the places I've lived to the grocery store chains that I've patronized.

My earliest recollection is of Secane, Pennsylvania. There was an A&P directly across the street from our house. But mom didn't really shop there except when we ran out of milk or bread. No, her preferred grocery store was the Acme on Baltimore Pike near the Bazaar. You didn't buy your meats there though. For meats, you had to go to Roy Tweedy's butcher shop on MacDade Blvd. And for cold cuts, there was a deli across the street that had the best. Everything else came from the Acme. I'm not sure when butcher shops and deli's stopped being so important. I don't even know when I was last in a butcher shop. But in the 60's and 70's, mom always made a special trip to Tweedy's for her meats.

When we moved to Aston, we shopped at a different Acme, closer to our house. Cold cuts were gotten from the local Wawa, though. My mom never bought cold cuts at a grocery store (back then). She would still make the longer drive to Tweedy's now and again, but she had learned to tolerate the meats from the Acme.

I moved to New York in 1980 when I got married. There were two big grocery stores there. ShopRite and Grand Union. I always shopped at Grand Union. For everything, including cold cuts. I don't think I ever went to a deli or a butcher shop.

On to Florida, which was an interesting experience. I have never lived in a place that had so many grocery stores! You couldn't drive four blocks without coming to another one. But there were really only two: Publix and WinnDixie. And wherever there was a Publix, there would be a WinnDixie across the street or at least in the same block. It amazed me that you never had to drive more than five miles to find a grocery store. How could one area support so many stores?

When I lived in Florida, though, I always shopped at Publix. Just liked it better. And it was amazing how much cheaper my grocery bill was in Florida! I never realized how expensive things were in New York. Now, there were two Publix stores that I liked. One was a bigass store at Glades and 441. Really nice - but I learned to avoid it between January and April. Why? Snowbirds. The population would double in the winter. So I would go to the Publix on Sandlefoot during those times. Now, there was an excellent deli near my house and I did get cold cuts there on occasion, but not too often.

In Texas, we have a few choices - Albertsons, Randalls, and HEB. That would be H*E*B. It's initials, not a word. The guy who founded the chain was named H.E. Butts. I think it was a wise move to just go with HEB. At any rate, I shop at HEB now. For everything.

Sometimes, I find myself saying "I'm going to Grand Union", which really puzzles me. I haven't shopped at Grand Union since I left New York in 1994. It must be senility setting in.

Oh, and of course Walmart is everywhere..... but I HATE to shop at Walmart. I don't want to buy my food where people are buying tires and sneakers and toilet seats, okay? I just want a grocery store. In and out, without having to deal with all the rest. They opened a HEB Plus store here recently and I hate it. I think they are trying to Walmarticize it. NO NO NO. Just groceries, okay?

But, I do hate grocery shopping. So why did I just spend so much time writing about it? I already told you that I'm weird.

Incredibly Beautiful Morning

It's 81 degrees out right now, and there is a nice breeze. Seems like the soggy weather we had last week is finally gone.

I just hung out some wash on my 'illegal' clothesline. Damn fascist homeowners association doesn't allow clotheslines. So mine is just below the fence so that no one can see it from the street. I don't understand their thinking. With energy prices high, it only makes sense to hang out as much wash as you can instead of burning up the meter with the clothes dryer, right? And I'm kind of old-fashioned - I just like hanging my clothes outside. No, I don't hang everything out, but some things just get beat up in the dryer.

The good thing about Texas, if you get the wash out early it usually dries within two hours. The bad thing about Texas, if you don't bring it in quickly, the sun will fade it....

Time to take the dogs for a walk before it gets scorching hot.

White towels only, Mom!

So the boys just left to go to the gym, again. Greg just got off work, came home, changed his clothes, packed his gym bag, grabbed his brother, and they're off.

In my younger years, I probably would have enjoyed the gym at 11:00 at night. Now? Not so much. I'm sitting here with my glass of wine, barely motivated to type up this post.

But Chris, he was complaining. Tells me that we need white towels. I believe he is suffering from that rare teenage disease called "Hue-phobia". Believe me, my towels are not all yellow, pink and orange. I have some green and some blue. But I really don't have any white. I do have a few beige towels, but that's still too much color for 'the gym'. I am told that I must invest in some white towels. Never in my life have I seen a kid so distressed by the fact that he has to drag a steel blue bathtowel to the gym.

I know where his allowance is going to be spent next week. If he wants white towels, I'm sure he can stock up at Big Lots or something.