My entertainment

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Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Thursday, May 1, 2008

It's a living breathing thing!

A salamander was running alongside the top of my fence on my patio. I believe I sat about half an hour watching this tiny specimen creature, one of God's creations.

A little red thing would energize every couple of seconds from his throat area and I didn't know if it was his breathing, catching bugs, or a sexual thing.

One thing I do know! It reminded me of how a dynasaur must have looked a billion years ago except a lot diminished in size.

Is this part of the reptile family? Is it a bug? Whatever, he was so cute that I would never dare deliberately take him out of this world. Some people refer to them as geicos...others as lizards.

Little children when they visit from the north want to take them home with them...but I explain that it's a tropical creature.

Some people meditate...others do yoga. Me...I watch salamanders.

We need the immigrants!!

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Wednesday, July 28, 2010

We need the immigrants!!

I wondering what America thinks of the really hard workers who do very manual labor....

For those of us living in villas and condominiums, the immigrant men keep our lawns well manicured.

I was watching from out my back window...backbreaking work....never stopping for a second even though they're not being watched.

Raking..raking...making a pile then putting all the debris into a large cylinder container...to be emptied into their trucks.

I'm sure they don't make much money...not even sure if they have hospitalization or social security.

They are willing to live in incredibly substandard housing — witness all the garage renovations found in foreclosure housing. They are willing to live with others in a room in houses full of strangers. For these reasons, for many employers, they are more desirable as employees

They're very poor people....but very hard working.   Wonder if they find contentment when they fill up the big dump truck....to be moved on to the next location.

Are they thinking about their families back in Haiti...and of the money that they'll be sending home.

Rice and beans...one's a starch and the other a legume.   Is their enough nourishment so that they can labor another day.

I wonder what all the fuss is about ... immigration!   They're doing us a favor!

Soon hurricane season will be scaring us!

Lots of people claim they wouldn't want to make Florida their retirement home because of our hurricanes.

They are awful...and I've lived through a couple...and it wasn't pleasant.    Actually scary to say the least, especially when  you've lost your power for 8 days...and the nights are sooooo very dark.

There's a song I used to sing to myself during these periods...."Hello Darkness My Old Friend--I've Come to Be With You Again".

Anyway, High Point, my development discovered the way to prevent the horrors of hurricanes....they bought a generator....and I pass this everyday on my way to our pool, and it's the best un-used thing we own.

The batteries are patiently waiting...my propane grill is properly full...my hurricane lamps fit nicely on my end table....and the battery fan is hidden safely away in a closet.

So....I'll use my cans of tuna and my salmon..spread my peanut  butter on some of the bread that I've frozen away...for when it  was needed.

Mother's Day 2015

A queen size bed welcomes my body every night,  allowing me to think about what's happened in my life , luring me into blissful unconsciousnesss, my head nesting comfortably sinking into  familiar pillows allowing me to cuddle to myself.   Not to the very edge of the bed permitting me the luxury of not falling, but almost in the middle.   Many of my friends find themselves on the floor.
  

Waking up remembering  that today is Mother's Day and Jeff and Donna were coming over and we were spending the day together.


Restaurants are out for us on this day, notoriously being known as the busiest day of the year letting children and husbands entertain the  joy of releasing mom from cooking and taking her 'out'.


Every eating place is so busy and waitresses are impatient with the demands thrust upon them.


Nope...Jeff and Donna were bringing food to me, served by them, in my dining room...and it was such a feast...a little bit of this...and some of that.   I loved it!


For desert I had made baked apples...the only ingredient I had in the house for this specialty...so deciding this is how receipes are created ...searching my pantry I discovered a can of whole cranberries and a package of roasted, toasted, sunflower seeds.    I had lots of cinnamon and added a tad of sweet whipped butter.


My oven which I rarely use these days was gladly accepting the casserole of this sweet smelling fruit.


After our tummies were full  my grown up children led me into my bedroom where my TV and computer are....and with magic of  WI FI, converted the pictures I had on my Piccasso in my computer, transferring  them to my 52 inch TV.....all in beautiful living color for me to enjoy sitting in my comfortable recliner.


I had such a good time and I'm so grateful for my family.

I wouldn't be able to go to bed in good conscience if I did not publish this piece on the origin of where we got the piano.   It happens to be my favorite instrument, and used as a solo, it's absolutely soul searching.  Before TV and radio, most middle class homes owned a piano because that was their entertainment, and if someone could sing with accent sweet, it made for an evening of sheer enjoyment......so here we go...

Who invented the piano? And why was he forgotten?

    

One of Cristofori's early pianos. Dea/L.De Masi/Getty Images

   

The piano is one of those inventions that's hard to think of as an invention because it's just always been ... there. When you do think about someone actually inventing it, it's hard not to wonder: why haven't I heard of this person before? And why isn't his name plastered on every piano in existence?
Bartolomeo Cristofori, who celebrates his 360th birthday today, is generally credited with being the sole inventor of the piano. The fact that his name is largely forgotten is a reflection of his times, when a genius could be just another employee.

The piano eventually beat the harpsichord by solving its biggest problem

Hulton Archive/Getty Images

A 1750 drawing shows a man playing a harpsichord.

The first official record of the piano appears in 1700, though Cristofori may have been working on it for a couple of years before then. Cristofori's most recognizable piano dates later, to 1720. But more important than the date was the step forward the piano represented.
At the time, the harpsichord was the dominant keyboard instrument. The biggest problem was that it couldn't play notes with differing degrees of softness. To play a note, a tiny device called a plectrum plucked a string, and the note played. There wasn't an easy way to modify the sound and give it additional nuance. Though there were some hacks (and other instruments) that tried to fix the problem, they never worked well enough.
The piano was clearly indebted to the harpsichord — in early records, Cristofori called the piano an Arpicembalo, which means "harp-harpsichord," and he frequently worked on and invented other harpsichord-like devices. But the piano took one big step beyond that instrument by using a hammer instead of plucking a string. That allowed for a better modulation of volume thanks to its hammers and dampers, which could more artfully manipulate sound than the plucking motion of the harpsichord.
The earliest surviving piano is from 1721, and it's clear it was a transitional instrument: there are hints of the harpsichord in its sound. As the Metropolitan Museum of Art notes, it had a narrower range, thinner strings, and harder hammers than modern pianos, which are part of the reason it sounds a bit like a harpsichord.
But even then, it's obvious why the piano changed music forever:

Soon, the piano got its name. Cristofori also referred to his invention as "un cimbalo di cipresso di piano e forte" (a keyboard of cypress with soft and loud), and over time it was shortened to piano forte, and eventually just piano.
It's rare that such an old instrument has so clear an inventor and is so obviously a revelation. So why do we have to be reminded of Bartolomeo Cristofori's name? After all, there must be a reason pianos aren't called Cristoforis.

And where do we go from here?

They used to be referred to as 'old age homes'...but now we're more modern and call them residential care homes....or assisted living....depending on your style of living and income.

Old age homes are a great option for a retired person or a couple who wants a low-maintenance residence that is also becomes an asset that can be gifted in a Will. Old age homes are generally located in a seniors-friendly housing complex that caters to the lifestyle of the retired person. Each apartment is a self-contained home, offering total independence and takes into consideration the health and safety requirements of senior citizens.

My friends, one by one, are all disappearing,  moving to one of these establishments.  Or else, the end of life has beckoned them and so they're on the other side of the grass.

I've been very privileged to be alive this long but I find it difficult to watch my shrinking world.  

When I moved to Florida, I had more friends than I could handle.   We had one thing in common:  we were from a different area of our country and migrated to this great state...so we became extended family.

Well, my so called geography family has disappeared....but I have a real bright spot.in my life... .my son and daughter in law moved to Florida and they're half an hour away...and for that I am truly grateful.

As for me, I'll stay in my little villa for as long as I'm able.

Passover 2015

My grownup children decided that it's time to play....so they both retired and moved to our sunshine state....not that far from me.


I'm delighted, of course, and they both seem happy.  Although Jeff is wearing a boot at the moment due to a tear playing tennis.   He's also in therapy injuring his shoulder with the same atletic sport.


Jeff and Donna hosted a most wonderful seder at their home and I was really truly impressed.   Donna is not Jewish but she said the blessings in Hebrew as she lit the candles, as Passover fell on Friday.   The table looked splendid and her chicken soup was outrageously delicious.  Her friends brought in some of the food and I was truly impressed.


Jeff surprised me. conducting in Hebrew and we all took a turn reading from the Hagadah about the Jewish freedom that happened so many years ago.


It was an eventful night and one which I will hold sacred in my heart.

The chicken or the egg...or the lyricist or composer !!!!!

Friday, December 3, 2010

The chicken or the egg...or the lyricist or composer !!!!!

It's always bothered me about music.   I love to hear songs sung...with poetic lyrics.  Now country music tells a complete story in so much detail that I don't enjoy listening.

But...let's take "Over the Rainbow"...the lyrics we all know were written by Yip Harburg.   His name will not go down in musical history...but the melody and words certainly will.....and the music of course was composed by Harold Arlen, a familiar name for many compositions.

When Jeff was in third grade, he was in a piano musical recital...and that was his song.   Of course, his father and I thought he was sensational.

It all started a year before.   We had placed an ad in our local Valley Daily News in the classifieds...wanted cheap piano for beginner.

Somebody 3 streets away read our need because she phoned within an hour after the paper was delivered.

She had in her basement an old upright player piano with bench..asking price $10.00.  How fantastic for  us.   We hired a mover and he had a problem getting this through our front door.

The guy said to us...how about us sliding it into your garage,  then into your basement.  

No way was our son going to practice in a cold damp cellar.      So  our front doorway was   goughed getting it in.

Allen painted it the same color as  our living room...and padded the bench with foam rubber so that little Jeff's tush would be comfortable.

Then we hired a blind piano tuner and he removed the player guts which were all rotted...another $25.00.

The piano teacher came to the house weekly to give Jeff ,  Schaum  lessons....simplified but to  this mother's ears sounded like Carnegie Music Hall.    I even took the phone off the hook so that he wouldn't be interrupted.

But back to lyricists Tim Rile wrote the words for Evita.     We all know  about Andrew Lloyd Webber....but not a thing about Tim.

Charles Hart wrote the lyrics  for Phantom of the Opera.....another unknown .

So....I'm trying to figure out if  the lyrics are as important as the music.!!!!!!!!!  I kinda believe that the words are more important.

But anyway...Jeff's recital was a complete success...his family made up the audience!

Number Please!

unday, November 2, 2014

Number Please!

Monday, May 26, 2008

My telephones

Our first phone was installed when I was 3 but I remember it.

No more running next door to make a phone call or receive one.

It was one with 2 pieces...you spoke in the speaker part and listened with the the ear phone.

When you lifted the handset, a very pleasant, non-computer voice said 'Number Please.

We had a 4-party line and if we were on too long, we heard about it from the other parties...and then we hung up fast.

Later, we got a circular number dial phone and I thought that was really 'up there'. The word high-tech did not come into being yet.

When Jeff was on vacation from college on Chanukah, he said we're all going to Sears and he was going to buy us a 'push button' phone.

Well, I was against this but I went along. That meant he had to un-install the one we had and re-install the new one.

I really thought I would never have telephone service again...but Jeff and Allen worked on this project and when they were finished, we had a dial tone and I knew we were back in business.

Now I have 3 phones...land phone, remote and a cell phone, which Jeff and Donna have charged for me every year....and every year I have tons of minutes on it ... but I forget to use it. I just don't like the quality of it....seems like a toy phone to me.

The phone I have in my bedroom is really snazzy....it's an 'answering machine' which I think is a miracle in itself.

I have 'caller ID' which interrupts me if I'm using the phone.

I also have a 'speaker phone'....and an ID feature which lets me screen calls if I want to.

It also tells me what time the caller has tried to reach me and the day.

I think that even Alexander Graham Bell would be overwhelmed by the wonderfulness that he invented.

What a sensationl invention. And one other feature, I get to use a web-cam and to see and talk to my kids every Sunday when they give me computer lessons...all the things I screwed up with during the week. Because of the phone I have high-speed internet service...all for reading ythe silly jokes.

I'm not complaining...I JUST LOVE IT1

Poop

hildag3@gmail.com... Thanks for stopping by!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Poop

As I was discussing my walk down my cul de sac with Jeff and Donna on Skype, I happened to mention that I saw a dog answering nature's call.  I explained that I stood there waiting to see if the owner would do anything about it.   And sure enough, she grabbed it with a plastic bag and that was the first time I'd ever seen that done.

I had witnessed pooper scoopers but I had no seen this before.

So...I asked my kids about it.   Do you use regular plastic bags...is it awkward to grasp it...and all kinds of delicate facts like this.

So...Jeff gets a specially-store-bought bag for just this occassion and showed me how this is handled!    While he was doing this, I snapped their pictures....because who else owns a picture...or wants to own a picture like this.

1. 1
   Poop scooping services are popping up all over the place.^[11] While this is a costlier option, it is worth the cost for some people, especially if the dog waste accumulates in a fixed place like your yard. And if there is no service in your area and you're an enterprising sort, why not start such a service?^[12] It could be very rewarding!
2. 2
   Ask dog owners you know if they know of any good "waste handling" services.
3. 3
   Ask a local landscaper or pet-sitter if they'd consider providing this service.
4. 4
   Look up a service in the Find-a-Scooper International Directory at http://www.apaws.org/search/adv/default.aspx.

Dealing with dog poop rebels

1. 1
   
   

   If you come across someone who won't pick up their dog's poop right in front of you, assert yourself.
   If you come across someone who won't pick up their dog's poop right in front of you, assert yourself. Explain to them how unhygienic their action is and how it is disrespectful to the neighborhood. As well, explain that it lets down all dog owners who get smeared with the thoughtlessness of the few who don't pick up the poop and ends up with more bans on where dogs can go. There's no need to make a song and dance but do insist, and if it's a violation in your area, contact your community association or other suitable contact and report the incident.
   • You might say something like: "Sir/Madam, I realize that it's not the most pleasant task but as dog owners we have to show everyone else we are responsible and care about both our dogs and our neighborhood. Dog poop harbors disease and people don't want to tread in it. So, I'd really appreciate it if you'd pick up after your dog, just as I do."
2. 2
   Offer the person one of your bags. The gesture is difficult to turn down because it's polite and it's showing the other person that you expect them to behave responsibly.
3. 3
   Set an example to others by being proud to pick up your dog's poop.^[13] This shows other dog owners an example of good dog ownership and lets people know that any mess around isn't from your dog.

I'm proud that my kids are good citizens!

.

      

Unregistered Comment on December 17, 2008 at 6:32 PM9

9

I used to have a neighbor with a sweet massive great dane. I adored the dog, and I think the feeling was mutual. In fact, I like most dogs more than I like most people.

His dog was constantly leaving coffee table sized lumps on my lawn. I politely asked him to simply clean up after the dog. His reply: "How do you know it was my dog?"

Never mind the fact that the neighborhood was zoned against horses, the only other domesticated animal large enough to leave such a prize. I had seen him do it repeatedly.

So. The next time I saw one, I used a plastic bag, scooped it up and left it on the hood of his car in the North Carolina summer sun. When he asked me about it, I replied: "How do you know it was me?"

Of course, the dog and I were no longer able to be friends. The really irritating thing is that he stopped his dog from using my yard after that. So it was something he could have done all along, but by choosing not to was just being an asshole.

I love dogs. I have a dog. I clean up after him every single time he goes to the bathroom. The people who don't clean up after their dogs are the first ones to complain when they aren't allowed on the beach or in parks, etc. I love their dogs, but I HATE those people.

Well written by a Rabbi but updated by me on the latest airplane crash

Friday, December 28, 2012

Reacting to Tragedy

It's become a commonplace, almost a cliché, that we have an incredibly short attention span for even the most important stories in our world. But, as hard as it may be to believe, we seem to have almost moved on, as a society, from the tragedy in Newtown, which took place just two weeks ago. The conversation about gun control, and to a lesser degree mental illnesses, rages on (thankfully), but it seems to me that the conversation about the tragedy itself has mostly waned. Maybe that's just because there isn't much left to say — how many times can we shake our heads and say, "there are no words"? Maybe it's because we have a need to protect ourselves, and dwelling on this tragedy is just too hard.

This morning, I read an article by Anthony Pinn, talking about the theological and humanist responses to Newtown. "Humanist" is a word that gets used very differently in different contexts, but here I think he's using it in the basic sense of "human centered." As in, let’s talk about this tragedy not in terms of God and "why God would let this happen," or, "what God can do for us now," but rather talk about the human side — what have we, as a society, done to enable this kind of tragedy? What should we, as human beings, be doing in response? How can we properly mourn, and how can we act to make a better world?

Why? Well, it's a pretty deep article, especially considering how short it is (so, you really should read it). But, in part it's because he believes that attempting to bring God into the conversation actually exposes weaknesses of theology: 

At best we might suggest that God “dropped the ball”—failed to do what a loving God is supposed to do. Instead, it seems to me, as we read the stories of the victims we are also reading God’s obituary. By this I mean that such extreme human tragedy makes it impossible to talk about God in any useful way.
 Don’t read this statement as a selfish demand for comfort, for an easy life. No, it’s recognition that nothing explains away the destruction of life’s integrity; but instead it highlights the fact that we labor in this world without cosmic aid that can protect us from us. Appeals to free will (as my comments are bound to generate) might not be a limitation God imposes on God’s self. It may simply be a weak way of saying we are in control, or what the late William R. Jones—philosopher of religion—called the “functional ultimacy” of human activity in the world. 

I like that phrase, "functional ultimacy of human activity in the world." Whatever you want to believe about God — God could prevent such tragedies, but chooses not to; God can't prevent such tragedies — the fact remains that God doesn't prevent such tragedies. At least within this limited scope, the world behaves as if there isn't a God. We, human beings, are the ultimate actors.

[Those of you who know my own theology know that this doesn’t drive me away from God, but it does drive me away from classical,dualist images of God]

He also believes that theological justifications do nothing to ease the pain of those who are suffering: 

I write this not to deny comfort for those who have been directly and indirectly touched by this unspeakable act of violence. Mine is an effort to acknowledge and respect grief without so quickly pushing to find some reason behind such tragedy. This loss of life is really beyond our limited human language. The loss experienced by those families, by those associated with the school, and by the collective American and human family is so intense, so absurd, so real that it calls for our full humanity beyond any talk of God. 

That actually matches up, incredible closely, with my own experience. I'm sure that there are people who react differently, but when I've encountered people who have suffered a tragedy, the question of, "Why did God let this happen?" usually comes up. And, they almost invariably find comfort when I use the message of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik who said (in my hopelessly inadequate summary) that that's the wrong question to ask. But not because, in the popular phrasing, "we can't understand God's plans." No, Soloveitchik says, don't say that God has plans, and that this tragedy was a part of those plans. Because, what that really says is that this tragedy wasn't a tragedy at all — it was good.

Saying, "it was all part of God's plans," pretends that we are children suffering through, say, the pain of surgery. For us, there is only pain. But, our benevolent, omnipotent Parent knows that this temporary pain serves a greater good. And so it is, itself, good. We may think that the surgery is bad; they know better.

No, Soloveitchik says, this pain, and this tragedy, were not good. And, there's no good reason to pretend otherwise. Denying that awful things are awful, and evil things are evil, is not sophisticated, intellectually or morally. It is vapid. It is lost. Our ability to know the difference between good and bad, between good and evil, is the one thing which makes us fundamentally different from other animals (that's the real lesson of the Garden of Eden story). Quashing that knowledge isn't high-minded. It's a flight from reality, and from our own essence.

Pinn and Soloveitchik, a humanist and a devout theist, agree on what the proper question actually is: What do we do now? 

Those who struggled to protect, to safeguard, those young lives—and those who lost their lives to the insanity of murder are more important than any appeal to God. We humans alone must remember them, keep the beauty and value of their short lives ever present through our memorials, through our reflexive words, but also through our resolve to determine and then change the patterns of socio-political and economic life that contribute to collective misery. Think gun control as impulse control, and as a reasonable effort to preserve the integrity of life by making it a little more difficult to destroy it.
 I’m not taking anything away from those grieving, but rather I am calling for greater attention to the framing of life, to the regulations, and dangers embedded in our social relationships that undergird our loss. How many guns are necessary to prove we live in a democracy? How many must die before we recognize collective life requires constraint, a humility and discipline that our pleas to a special relationship with God often damage. 

I've gone in a bit of a circle, here. I started off by talking about how we stopped talking about the tragedy, itself, and only talk now about our longer-term reactions to it. And then, I shared overlapping humanistic and theological responses which, in essence, say that the proper thing to do is to focus on longer-term reactions. Maybe there's a deeper meaning to that, or maybe I'm just having trouble making sense of my thoughts this morning. Maybe, like I said, everyone's still thinking about Newtown, but has nothing left to say, so we are trying to do something productive with our pain. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do, too. 

Sometimes it is in silence that we are best able to eulogize our collective loss, and to mourn our lack of power over the circumstances that lead to such destruction.

ugh..bugs

Thoughts from Hilda

hildag3@gmail.com... Thanks for stopping by!

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

ugh..bugs

Friday, July 9, 2010

Itsy Bitsy Spider....

When I go into my master bathroom, the first thing I do is look into the tub to see if any of my critters have arrived...and sure enough...there are spiders...small ones and big ones.

They don't seem to have a lot of energy...move very slowly...so I guess a sheet of kleenex and make a small pouch into a ball and I toss it into the toilet. One day I hadn't flushed after I had urinated and I threw the spider in and felt bad all day.

At least I could have given him clean water to expire in...it was not the human thing to do.

I felt unclean. God did put all these creatures on earth for a purpose...and maybe he cobbles up small bugs. It is a dog eat dog world. I really have to admire the ants...they carry 10 times their weight and they're very hard workers.

Take a queen bee...she has all those workers doing her bidding. I wonder in the bee world if she has a lot of sex appeal...or I should say bee appeal............maybe her honey is sweeter.

I haven't gotten in the lives of love bugs...but they're always together.... I don't know who's on top of whom...I know they don't bother us...their hormones should be raging.

The only bug that I could never ever dispose of is the lady bug....we treat her with respect! After all she is a lady....and is wearing a beautiful red dotted coat.

Perhaps I owned one sometime in my life.

How sad for my friend...depression time!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

How sad for my friend...depression time!

I was at a movie with my girlfriend Jean...and she was reading a telegram delivered to Loretta  Young...her lover was killed in the war.
And I couldn't make out the writing
I couldn't read it.   Yes, the doctor confirmed, I was near-sighted and would need glasses. 

When I got my glasses, I was so thrilled I could see the individual leaves on a tree...and not just a big green mass.

We sat in double seats in 7th Grade and I was sitting with Rosie Iozzi.   I noticed when I would copy the work from the blackboard, that she would squint and couldn't see...and had failing grades.

I didn't realize at the time that all glasses had a different prescription..so as soon as I copied the work on the board, I would hand over my glasses to her so that she could copy it into her notebook.    Well, amazingly enough, we had a pretty close fit because it worked.

So for the rest of the year, I copied my work and passed my glasses on to her.

We never complained.   After all these years, I'm not sure anything would have been done to alleviate the situation................these were dark depression years when deprived children got free milk.

My Father always worked...we were the lucky ones.   We also had help in our house.    A coalminer's  daughter would live  at our house and become one of the family.  If we went to a movie...she went.     These girls would stay with us until they married and we went to the weddings in a hall....their families were happy to have us because it was one less mouth for them to feed.  I think we paid $3.00 a week...that was the going  rate.   My mother taught these girls to be good housekeepers.    My sister and I still had to help with the dishes and make our own beds.   We had the 'good life'.

Now that I look back at  those bleak years, why oh why didn't I go to  the principal or  teacher and complain.  It never even entered my mind.   I  think I have matured since then.

Today...I'm old and smart...and  would certainly fight for the social issues of glasses.  I look back at those times and I believe that's when I learned about sharing.

I wonder  if Rose Iozzzi remembers those days...or if she's even still alive.   I'm a member of United Order of True Sisters and one of the agendas of our budget is to buy eyeglasses for needy children.

The Second Hand on a Watch--an annoyance!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Second Hand on a Watch--an annoyance!

 My friend Harriet...and I might include myself also, find the second hand troublesome..it gets in the way.

However, I shouldn't complain...we've come a long way from the sun dial.  Wonder if  I'd have ever been able to figure that our.   My brain is very challenged when it comes to numbers.

No more tick tocks to listen if your watch is actually working.   I guess I look at the second hand and that gives me the nod whether I need a new battery.

However, batteries are $3 and $4 and a new watch can be bought for $10 or $12...so I guess watches that aren't expensive can be considered disposable.

About 20 years ago I bought my husband Allen a new watch from K Mart with many features, which were a pain in the butt, but I wasn't aware of it when I purchased it.   I thought it was just fantastic.

Well, between the 2 of us, we weren't very technologically-sophisticated...so when daylight savings time approached, we were very frustrated.    After many hours of Allen's working on this new device, I had the bright idea....this watch is very  inexpensive.      So...why not buy another one...just for daylight savings time.....and then we'd never have to worry about this again.

After all.....we moved to Florida to play....not to have to study the workings of this thing.

As I'm writing this, an old old song comes to mind....about My Grandfather's Clock was to large for the shelf...and it stood 90 years on the floor.   It was taller by far than the old man himself....anyway, this song must be over  100 years old.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3tlIMJ9bK0     Jeff used to play this song on the piano.

Back to the 2nd hand.......I believe we just have to learn to live with it....it's not removable....and time is such an abstract...it moves so fast and yet so slowly.........and I'm trying to make the most of it.

Time is a gift from Our Creater and we must cherish each day.   I do !

I'm so fortunate!

My son Jeff and his wife Donna moved here to South Florida and they're only about half an hour from where I live.


Almost all my friends have gone north to be closer to their kids....but mine came here...and for that I am truly blessed.


It's so difficult to believe that I have retired children and that I have great grand nephews who also have baby sons.


My family is growing and the years are passing by.   And technology has taken over the world.   We can actually watch a war in progress via satellite.


I can see the Olympics no matter where they are in this world.   I don't understand any of it....how my kids work in their homes instead of offices for major corporations.


And when I want to see my family, they Skype me and we have a truly loving visit.   I watch them bathe their children...see their first smiles....and I can see their entire homes.


Lucky lucky me!

Another interesting story from Debbie who worked in our toy store many years ago

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Re: this and that Important mainly because it was sent directly to you. Click to teach Gmail this conversation is not important. Inbox x Debbie Maloney <dsmaloney57@yahoo.com> 4:14 PM (5 hours ago) to me Our puppies do give us much joy.....and, at times, frustration.  As you probably know, labs are very intelligent.  And I really think that they know it.  They can really try to get away with stuff, just like a kid.  The other night Kel and I had let them out.  There are woods behind us, and many types of animals live there.  We sometimes see deer walking along, and there are quite a few squirrels, birds, and who knows what else in them 'thar woods.  Anyway, Luna had come in when we called them, and M'Hija stayed out (which, of course, she's not supposed to do:  she's supposed to come when called).  All of a sudden we heard M'Hija bark and growl at something in the woods.  Luna tried to run back out and join in the fun.  Kel caught her and stopped her from going out.  I went out to call M'Hija in.  Of course, she decided that whatever she sensed in the woods was more important than listening to her mother, so she continued barking.  I laid into one of my "mom" yells that no kid likes to hear, and she still didn't come in.  I went to get a flashlight so I could see her (black dog in pitch black - very difficult to see), and when I got back to the door to go outside, she was at the door.  I opened it and she sulked in just like a teen would do, and gave me a death glare, just like a teen would do.  I guess mommy interfered with her fun.  By the way, our yard is fenced.......we abut the woods.

Wonderful surprise email I received

 Debbie walked into our toy store and made herself right at home and got busy so we just had to hire her.  She made our lives so much easier...and this is what I received from her.


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Thu, Jan 22, 2015 at 8:58 PM, Debbie Maloney <dsmaloney57@yahoo.com> wrote:

Hi Mrs. Gordon,

I just happened to see a blurb that you wrote on "Memories Only" of New Kensington back in 2010.  I thought that I would try and see if the email address you had posted was still active.

This is Debbie Shelleby Maloney.  I worked for you and Mr. Gordon around 1975 or so.  I remember meeting your son (Jeff is his name, right?) and he came over to my house.  I think you know that I married my high school sweetheart back in 1978.  We have 2 girls - Erin is 29 and Kelly is 26.  We have lived in Michigan, Minnesota, Texas, New Mexico and now - Ohio.

Well, I just wanted say 'Hi".

Keep in touch 

Debbie

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Debbie Maloney <dsmaloney57@yahoo.com>	9:35 AM (12 hours ago)

I just took a look at your blog.......read about 10 or so entries.  You do a wonderful job.  Congrats.I love it!!!

I have thought of you and Mr. Gordon often through the years.  I guess I did kinda throw myself at you two.  Sorry about that.  I really did enjoy my time working there, and being with both of you.

Yes, I did move to Michigan right after Michael and I married.  We rented a small house on the lake, and within a year bought a different house on the lake.  I had considered going on to grad school, but never did.  Instead, (and should I blame this on you because maybe you helped to put "retail" in my blood? - just kidding) I went to work for JCPenney.  I spent 10 years working for them.  During that time, we had our 2 girls.  Well, we didn't have Erin until we had been married 7 years, and we didn't have Kelly until we had been married 10 years.  Almost a year after we had Kelly, we bought an 1880 farmhouse.  They're neat, but also a lot of work.  But we bought it so that we could have both a bigger house and a bigger yard for the girls (lake living is expensive).  I quit Penneys and went to work at a local print shop doing accounts payable/receivable, typesetting and bindery. (It was a small shop.)  I also worked for our personal accountant part time - in addition to working at the print shop.  During that time Michael went back to college full time for 3 and a half years straight - no breaks for summer.  We worked our schedules around not having to use daycare, so we could afford to let him return to school.  He graduated with honors.

General Motors had transferred Michael around to different plants in Michigan, which had all been within a 50 mile radius of where we lived, but in 1996 they decided to move him to Minnesota, which was definitely not commutable.  So, off we went to Minnesota.  We lived bout 20 minutes from Mall of America.  As Michael said, 'it's a whole different meaning of 'can we go to the mall" when they're referring to mall of America'.  Around 2004 GM decided to move his job to Wisconsin, but he commuted it daily because it was 53 miles each way, and Kelly was in high school and Erin was being seen by specialists in St. Paul.

Which brings us to why Erin was seeing specialists.  On Dec. 30, 2001, when Erin was 16 and we were still in Minnesota, she was snowboarding, wiped out, and got a closed head brain injury, cracked ribs, a partially collapsed lung, was knocked unconscious for a few minutes, and lacerated her spleen.  Because she was only 16 they decided to keep her spleen.  On Dec. 12, 2002, when she was 17, I had a County Sheriff come into my work (I worked at JoAnn Fabrics for 13 years) and tell me that my daughter was in a helicopter on her way to a St. Paul hospital.  (Yes, it was a different St. Paul hospital than the one she was transported to with the snowboarding wipeout.)  She had either hit black ice or had a blowout, they're not sure which, and had rolled the car down a hill and was thrown about 25 feet from it.  She suffered 2 brain fractures, a fracture in her ear so that she now is partially deaf in one ear, they removed her spleen, and she was unconscious and on life support for 6 days.  They didn't expect her to live and, in fact, had commented that she had died on the way in the ambulance to the first hospital.  She had to relearn everything, but she managed to walk with her graduating class 5 and a half months after the accident.  We then enrolled her in  a post graduate transition school for 3 years.  It's a school designed to help disabled youth learn to be a little more independent. 

Kelly writes her own blog, like you do.  She is thinking of starting her own business of soapmaking and/or nail polish making.  She loves reading.

Back to Michael - In October 2008 GM decided to get rid of Michael's position throughout the corporation, so he was forced to take an early retirement which also means a lesser retirement package.  After being "unemployed" for 2 years, he went to work for Cargill. Even though their world headquarters is about 20 minutes from where we lived in Minnesota, they put him in Texas.  The city is in the middle of nowhere.  OK, maybe not that bad, but seriously it is situated 50 miles north of Lubbock and 75 miles south of Amarillo.  If you want to shop, you take your pick of how far you want to drive.  After 2 and a half years, Cargill closed that plant due to the drought that Texas has been in for about 8 years, so Michael went to work for Leprino.  Even though Leprino's world headquarters is in Denver, they put Michael in Roswell, NM.  Yes, Roswell.  Home of the aliens.  So we lived there for a year and a half.  It's not the worst place to live, but, like where we lived in Texas, it's in the deset mountains and hot and dry.  

While we were in Texas (actually Michael was in Texas and the girls and I were still in Minnesota, getting the house ready to put on the market), Michael's father unexpectedly passed away.  Being 1500 miles away from family at a time like that is difficult.  Michael is in the Patriot Guard, and his father wanted him to have Michael lead a Patriot Guard procession for his funeral, so Michael rode his motorcycle the 1500 miles (a 3 day trip) from Texas to PA to lead the procession.  It was then that we started to think about how far away we really were.  We also learned a few months after Dad (Michael's father) died that Mom (his mother) had Alzheimer's for 3 years and Dad hadn't let anyone know.  

Anyway, we moved to Roswell and Mom started going downhill faster.  We knew we really needed to get closer to PA.  Michael accepted a position from Mauser (whose world headquarter's in Germany).  So now we live in Ohio, about an hour east of Columbus.  We're 3 and a half hours from home now.  Mom is in Stage 6 of Alzheimer's.  But we know we can get home any time we need to now.  Of course, we're readapting to winter weather.  There is something to be said about living in the south during the winter.

I've been getting into genealogy the past few years.  And I still do crafts.  We also have 2 "puppies".  We call them our Pittsburgh Puppies.  They're 3 years old.  M'Hija is a 78 pound black lab, and Luna is a 55 pound yellow lab.  Yes.....little, teeny, tiny puppies.  :)

Well, better go. 

Talk to you later,

Debbie