THE EAGLE AND THE CROW

 As you well know, if you have been following this blog for any amount of time, I have issues with the internet, phone and cable TV connections up here on The Farm.  The cable TV only works when it is not raining. At the first drop of rain the satellite dish shuts down and the TV displays the message, "Connection Lost".   With any luck the TV service will resume in a matter of moments, unless there is a monsoon going on in which case we will be without TV for hours.  Likewise our iPhones only work when the wind is blowing from the Northwest and we are standing on one leg on top of the picnic table while whistling "Dixie" out in the middle of the field.  (Slight exaggeration but not really!) And as for the internet . . . well that battle is fought every day and it gets pretty old pretty fast.  The fact that it just took me the better part of twenty minutes to get my computer on line never fails to anoy the hell out of me.  

Keeping all this in mind there are times when we are hard pressed to find something to entertain ourselves.  A good book is always my go to source of entertainment but my eyes get tired and I end up falling asleep. And so we must resort to the only thing that is left for us country folk . . . Critter Watching !  

There is no end to the wildlife we can watch from just about any window in the house but the main viewing station is the good old kitchen table.  The Man sits there for hours looking out at the endless parade of birds that come to our 4 bird feeders. If it's not the Bluebirds in the late spring it is the bright yellow Finches who are here all the time.  We have sparrows, cowbirds, mourning doves, red wing black birds and our wonderful little humming birds just to name just a few.  There is a constant fluttering of wings and an occasional squawk or chirp but mostly they are fairly quiet. 

The exception to that is the crow population that like to sit high in the trees surrounding the property.  They never shut up !  As I"m sitting here right now they are making all sorts of noise, seemingly mocking me and my sedentary life.  If I walk down the drive way to the road there are no fewer than a half dozen big black crows sitting in the trees over my head "yelling" at me as I walk past. We almost never see these noisy fellows out in the yard but they do love to land out in the field where they fill their bellies with who knows what. 

Last but not least in our bird watching show we have the majestic Bald Eagles who roost in the trees that border The Farm.  They seem to like the tall pine trees the most but they can be found out in the big white birch in back of the pond. We NEVER see the eagles down on the ground unless it is out by the pond.  They love to sit on the old wooden row boat that is sitting in the high grass on the edge of the water. Occasionally they will sit on the edge of the pond itself or on rare occasions they will be IN the pond taking a bath. Because they are a distance away we don't really appreciate the size of these birds until one occasionally flies over and lands on the top of the barn.  The barn is fairly near the house so when there is a big old eagle sitting up there we really get to enjoy the size and beauty of this bird.  

Normally an eagle will land on the barn maybe once a month.  With all the trees around to perch in they tend to avoid the hot tin roof of the barn. Yesterday was an exception.  It was raining most of the day so the barn roof wasn't hot. As we sat in the kitchen a huge immature eagle who's head had not turned white yet, landed on the high pointed roof ridge of the barn. As he sat there surveying his kingdom two big black crows landed on the grass between the house and the barn.  The eagle ignored them completely until he lost his balance and started to slide down the steep metal roof of the barn.  He flapped his wings trying to regain his footing all to no avail until he slid down to the edge and started to fall off. At this point he gave a few awkward flaps of his wings and landed down on the grass next to the two crows. 

I can only imagine what the eagle was thinking, if eagles think, as he landed on the ground. "Did anyone see that?"  "Holy crap, I hope my friends didn't witness that!"  The only witnesses he had were The Man and I watching from the kitchen doors AND the 2 black crows who had landed on the grass only seconds before the eagle literally "dropped" in.  

As the young eagle dropped to the ground crow #1 made a bee line hopping across the yard toward the garden where he sat hiding. (I don't know why they didn't fly away but they both crows remained on the ground.) Crow #2 never moved. By now the eagle had retained some of its composure but was still just sitting on the grass trying to figure what the hell just happened. Crow #2 was standing maybe 8 inches away from the eagle just looking at it.  

And then the crow started to squawk ! It hopped around that eagle "yelling" at it the entire time.  Every so often the crow would get too close and the eagle would jump up off the grass flapping its wings as if to say, "Back off you dumb little crow!".  This dance went on for a good ten minutes with the crow never backing down or moving away.  

Finally the eagle had had enough of the stupid noisy crow. Having regained some of its composure the eagle gave one last look at the dopey crow and took off flying gracefully back to one of the pine trees on the other side of the field. The crow remained there until his buddy hopped back out of the garden to rejoice him and then the two crows flew away in the opposite direction from the eagle. 

I have no idea what that encounter was all about and I'm sure it is something we will never see again.  What I do know is that if we had been watching TV or been on the computer or phone we would have missed the whole thing.  And that would have been a shame. 

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

Ahhhhhhhh . . .  Simon and Garfunkel . . .   all those years ago wrote the most wonderful song titled, "The Sound of Silence".  I like the song even if I don't understand it. It's like those poems you had to read in high school and college where you had to grasp the "hidden meaning" behind the actual words. I personally thought that a person writes what he thinks like I do. The whole idea of hidden messages and meanings is totally alien to me.  I'm a "What you see is what you get" sort of gal.

Today, for what ever reason, the song, "The Sound of Silence" was stuck in my brain.  I had not heard it on the car radio because the radio in The Man's car is incapable for playing anything but country music.  So I have no idea where it came from into my head but there it was for the entire day.  With this song playing over and over in my head I got to thinking about what actually IS the sound that silence makes. I mean, if it's silence there should be no sound, right? 

But I decided that is not the case at all.  I think that each of us has their very own sound of silence.  If you are told to sit quietly and focus on the silence I bet your brain would start thinking about a zillion things. But if you try harder your silence will slowly work its way through the babble of your thoughts. Sometimes silence comes in the form of gently breaking waves on a beach, the quiet lack of sound when snow is falling, wind wafting through trees, the pitter patter of rain falling, the squeak of a rocking chair moving back and forth. All these things help us to be silent and to go to our quiet place. 

Unfortunately MY sound of silence is something like this . . . "Aggggggghhhhhhhhhhghhhhghhhghhh".

Over the years I have become very good at being silent. I think it comes from living with a man. All those times when The Man, (this could be any man), says something so totally off the wall STUPID that you can not believe what you just heard, has taught me to just clam up and say NOTHING !!  It isn't worth the time or effort of questioning what you thought he said. If you do question it you will only loose your mind trying to follow the explanation.  It is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much easier to either pretend you didn't hear anything or that you "agree" with what ever was said. 

Perfect example was today when The Man asked me to look up something on the computer. The Man does not use a computer so anytime he wants to get something from the internet he depends on me to search and find. He wanted to access his medical records from our most recent visit to the VA in Milwaukee. No Problem . . .  we have him registered in the system so it is only a matter of going in and finding the particular report that he wanted.  I have all the passwords and we have gone on to this site many times before.  Each time I navigate this particular government site I have learned shortcuts to make the whole experience less frustrating.  

Unless The Man is standing in back of me looking over my shoulder telling me how and what to do.  (This is The Man who has NEVER gone on to this site by himself but he knows how to navigate it better than I do.)  

WE got logged in and then WE went to the page that asks for what you want to do.  "Access records" is where we needed to go but The Man wasn't sure . . .   (Here is where I go into "silent" mode and just wait while I have the cursor sitting on "access records". ) Finally The Man see that and tells me to go to "access records".  Instantly the page pops up with an endless list of what TYPE of records you can access.  All one has to do is scroll down the list, find the ONE thing that we want to get and click on that. BUT NO . . . The Man has me scrolling endlessly down through the entire list and then says, "Click on the box that says EVERYTHING !"  (By doing this I am now going to get Three Hundred and Fifty Seven pages to look through to find the ONE thing that he wants to see.  ( I remain silent) . . . As all three hundred and fifty seven pages load into my computer he then says, "OK, now find me the page that gives us the report of yesterdays visit." 

Like I am going to sit there and read THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN pages to find what he wants !!!!!!!

Because he now had showed me how to get what we needed he went to sit down in his chair across the table. It was at this point that I deleted the entire mess and started over again doing it MY way of clicking on exactly what we were looking for. Sure enough up popped the report from the last visit and within seconds I had it printed out and in his hand. 

I remained silent !  But inside my head I was screaming ^*$&&%#%^#!@%^#@^**$@&$#^ !!!!!

And that is how I came to realize what MY sound of silence sounds like. 

HIDDEN TALENTS

 By the time you get to be seventy-six years old you are quite aware of all your gifts and talents. I have been told that God gives all of us some gift or talent that we should use for the good of those around us.  

Some people REALLY are gifted  . . . I have always wished that if I could ask God for one special gift it would be to play the piano by ear.  I have known people who can listen to a piece of music once and play it from memory. AND make it sound beautiful.  Unfortunately my musical gifts were apparently left under the celestial Christmas tree because I can't play an instrument or sing a song without children running screaming to their mothers.  

Some people can create the most amazing pieces of art using paints, clay, wood, metal, chalk, ink or just about any other medium. Once again I was not gifted in that area either.  Other people have an eye for the unique and/or beautiful things that surround us each day. They can see something, take a picture of it and  capture amazing images. I take pictures that usually include the tip of my thumb or the inside of my pocket. Photography is not my area of expertise. 

My oldest grand child is a gifted chef. She loves to bake and cook the most delicious foods. My oldest son can solve math problems in his head.  He thinks in numbers. My youngest son has a gift for painting and drawing. Even as a small child he was always drawing something. My second oldest grand daughter is a genius crafter. She can take a simple object and create something wonderful from it. These gifts and talents just seem to come naturally to these people.  God gave them a gift, they recognized that gift and then did something with it.  How amazing is that ?!

As a child I took piano lessons for several years until the teacher finally told my parents to stop wasting their money. I was TERRIBLE !!!  But I did try.  In college I tried playing golf . . .  that was worse than pitiful.  I also tried skiing. Having gone to college up state New York we had lots of snow so naturally I thought I'd give it a try.  After sliding down the "bunny" slope BACKWARDS I knew this was a waste of my time and energy.   My mother taught me to crochet but I am limited to square afghans and pot holders. If you stop to think about it an afghan is really nothing more than a big pot holder. 

So here I am, seventy-six years on this earth and not a single talent to mark my existence. 

UNTIL TODAY . . .

We left "The Farm" this morning on an adventure. The Man has a doctor appointment tomorrow at the Veterans Hospital in Milwaukee, four hours away from the UP.  That is the closest VA hospital that has a cardiologist on staff so we get to spend 2 nights in the "HOPTEL" that is affiliated with this VA.  It's a small building with about 20 rooms that look exactly like a hospital room for two.  It is free to stay here if you are a visiting veteran here for any medical reason.  We have stayed here twice before and although it is convent, clean, free and well stocked with a full kitchen housing a full fridge for us to use it is NOT the Ritz Carlton. It serves a purpose and it is a good excuse to take a "trip".  The biggest complaint about the hoptel is that it is FREEZING !  You can't adjust the room temperature so we have brought blankets, sweatshirts and sweatpants in order to be warm while we are here.  (It must be a government thing or something but it doesn't make sense to keep an entire building SO cold that our lips are turning blue.)

All of that has nothing to do with my newly discovered talent. 

As we were driving from the UP to Milwaukee we drove south along the Western shore of Lake Michigan. It's a lovely drive along a 2 lane road winding through very wooded areas. Because it is so sparsely populated there are a lot of poor little animals that have tried to cross the road only to becoming road kill.  And THIS is when I realized my talent . . .  I can identify all sorts of road kill with just a glance as we fly by at 60 miles an hour !   Naturally the deer are the easiest . . .  they're big and brown and have antlers. It's the small critters that give a person difficulty. But no problem here for me.  I was able to identify 2 rabbits, a porcupine and a raccoon.  (Skunks are super easy because you can smell them before you see them.)

FINALLY, I have realized my gift and will be using it on any trips to come.  

THE ZOMBIE ZUCCHINI

 Well folks,  it''s that time of the year again.  Mid summer and the gardens are all bursting with fresh vegetables.  Now if you are like me you were smart enough NOT to plant your own garden. Knowing that  my neighbors, all of whom are at least twenty years younger than me,  have all planted massive vegetable gardens all I have to do is be patient and I will be the recipient of many, varied veggies before too long. 

So far this summer we have received a large bag of fresh string beans, a bunch of onions and several luscious tomatoes. All of these veggies are so flavorful and nothing like the nasty produce that comes from our grocery stores.  These vegetables have all ripened on the vine or in the ground and not in the back of an eighteen wheeler that's been driving from California for a week.  

Now The Man and I aren't very good at eating vegetables each day. If it doesn't come in the form of ice cream or a donut The Man is not going to go near it.  I have yet to find broccoli ice cream or string bean donuts. (We DO eat carrot cake but I really don't think that counts as a vegetable.) 

ANY WAY . . .  Last weekend our neighbor with the HUGE garden showed up on our door step with two of the LARGEST zucchini I have ever seen in my life.  I mean these things were thicker then a football and twice as long.  They were B I G !!!!  with a capital "B".  Of course I thanked the bearer of these monsters and then proceeded to place them on the kitchen counter until I could decide what in Heaven's name I was going to do with them. I started researching recipes on my computer and came up with a bunch of very interesting possibilities.  Of course there was one recipe for zucchini bread because how can you NOT make that when presented with monster zucchinis ? 

On Wednesday of this week I decided it was time to make an attack on the giant vegetables.  I started with only one of them just to see how involved I was willing to get. I figured once I cut the damn thing I was committed to doing something with it other than throwing it out for the deer to eat. THAT suggestion came from The Man who wanted NOTHING to do with this crazy vegetable. I believe his comment was, "I have NEVER eaten squash and I don't intend to start now!". (I can't believe how like Husband he is!)    I was not about to throw out these magnificent examples of God's handiwork so with knife in hand I began to cut.  

The zucchini would not stop giving . . . It took me three days but from one single veggie I made the following . . .                             2 loaves of zucchini bread,      a zucchini "apple pie, (that is to DIE for. I swear you can not tell it is a vegetable in the pie and not apples. This totally blew my mind!)           zucchini fritters,    and last, but not least,  zucchini lasagna.   And after all of this I STILL had another zucchini to use.   

Today I grated the second vegetable and froze it for future recipes when I am no longer sick of it. I swear this vegetable would not "die".  It just kept on giving and giving and giving.  If ever there was a zombie vegetable these zucchinis would be it.  

I would like to say in defense of the zucchini that every recipe I have tried is AMAZING !  The "apple" pie is my all time favorite.  The lasagna comes in second and the bread can't be beat.  The fritters are OK but really don't do much for me even when covered in sour cream.  I much prefer fried green tomatoes, which we have also been making because even though I did not plant a "garden" I did buy a tiny tomato plant back in May which I planted in an old lobster pot.  It is sitting outside the kitchen door so that each day we can see how it's doing.  I am afraid the tomato plant must be related to the zucchini in some way because, like the zucchinis, the tomato plant has EXPLODED and we are now the proud parents of a massive amount of green tomatoes.  They are just beginning to turn red but there were so many of them that the plant couldn't hold them all.  I went out on Tuesday of this week, (before the whole zucchini cook off began), and picked some of green tomatoes. They are delicious when fried in bread crumbs and corn meal. And they don't even need sour cream on them !

THE "B D" GENERATION

 I AM AFRAID !!  In fact, I am VERY afraid !!!!!!  We are all doomed and I don't know if there is anything we can do about it.

We just had house guests for the past 3 days.  Last week The Man's son and his girlfriend were here from Alaska.  They are in their 40's and were very helpful and handy to have around here for the week. THIS week the had The Man's 2 Michigan granddaughters and 2 of their friends come to stay with us for a couple of days. The older granddaughter is twenty and her little sister is eleven.  Little sister lives up here in a neighboring town and big sister lives down state, about seven hours away.  The sisters don't get to see each other too often so when big sister decided to come up here with her two friends to go to the state fair they picked up little sister and had her stay with them at The Man's house. 

Let me start by saying that The Man and myself are old and set in our ways.  This is all relative. I do not consider myself old OR set in my ways but when I am living with The Man my world tends to shrink down to a very small window of tolerance.  Neither of us can tolerate STUPID.  Young is one thing, uneducated is another but stupid is just plain . . .  well . . .  STUPID !!!

Enter the B D Generation.  And I am being kind here when I say there is a WHOLE generation of   BRAIN DEAD young people out there populating our planet with NO idea of which end  is up. These young people are so amazingly STUPID that they are lucky to still be alive. Some examples of their total and complete ignorance is not being able to find the GALLON container of milk in the refrigerator, not knowing how to put fitted sheets on a bed AND not knowing that when you take a shower you put the shower curtain INSIDE the tub to keep the water from flooding out all over the bathroom floor. This last one put The Man totally over the edge today,  

Today we left the"kids" sleeping at 9:30 this morning to make our biweekly drive to Manistique for The Man to do his pulmonary rehab.  When we returned home at 1:00 PM the "kids" were still sleeping.              (I guess that's what happens when you stay up until 2 AM eating ice cream and watching TV.) The Man and I sat down at the kitchen table to have lunch and low and behold the Motley Crew came drifting out of the parlor where they had set up camp for the past 3 nights, Apparently the fact that they had a seven hour drive ahead of them today did not factor into their need for speed. They wandered aimlessly around the kitchen for an hour or so and then decided to take showers and START to pack up their crap. As the grand daughter and her boyfriend moseyed into the parlor to "pack" the friend headed into the bathroom to shower.  Jokingly The Man said to me, "Do you think she knows that the shower curtain goes INSIDE the tub?". (This is a joke between us because 3 years ago the older granddaughter came to stay with us in Florida and brought a friend with her.  Her friend flooded our bathroom because he did not put the curtain inside the tub.   Who doesn't know this small and simple fact ????  Why the BD generation of course!)

The group did not get on the road until nearly three o'clock. We waved good bye and headed into the house for The Man to take a nap. (Between the company and rehab he was pretty wiped out today.) The Man stopped in the bathroom on our way in as I continued on in to get a water to bring outside with me while he was sleeping. The the bathroom door opened and The Man stepped out with the oddest look on his face. I asked what was going on and he said, "She did NOT know the shower curtain goes inside the tub!"  Yup . . . this brain dead moron flooded the bathroom and left the soaking wet bathmats and towel on the floor !  

The Man and I can NOT believe the degree of stupidity of this generation of "kids".  The fact that they are of VOTING age REALLY REALLY TERRIFIES me.  If they can't figure out the simple, basic things in life how the Hell are they ever going to make informed decisions about the future of our world ?

All this leads me to the question . . . Where did WE, you and I, go wrong in the raising of our children ?  Because somewhere along the way we failed to teach our children the basics so that in turn they did not pass COMMON SENSE on to their children.  

Common Sense has left the building and has been replaced by an entire generation of Brain Dead Idiots.

God Help Us !!

TWILIGHT YEARS TWILIGHT ZONE

 I LOVED the show "The Twilight Zone"  written and narrated by Rod Serling. There would be some weeks when I would be so freaked out after watching it that I couldn't sleep.  It aired in the late 50's when I was in high school and EVERYONE in my school was watching it each week. The previous night's episode would be the main topic of conversation through out the entire building the day following the show.  It was GREAT !!  Ask any Baby Boomer about The Twilight Zone and I guarantee you they will have watched it and can probably still tell you about at least one of the episodes that they remember. 

At the time that The Twilight Zone was debuting on TV I was in my teens and just discovering how great it was to be young and alive.  There was never any thought given to my "Twilight Years". Oh I would daydream and wonder where my life would take me but I never considered life beyond thirty.  As I grew older the bar was raised to forty, then fifty and when I finally found myself in my sixties I stopped thinking ahead.  Every day is considered a gift so I just kick back and enjoy it without wondering what "tomorrow" may bring.  

What I have discovered is that the years between about sixty-five and eighty-five are quite like The Twilight Zone.  

Think about it . . .  as you're aging you set "goals" for yourself. Things like, "When I turn 50 I'm going to start thinking about retirement".   When you turn 60 you start thinking about collecting Social Security and going on Medicare. You begin to think about cleaning out the basement and the attic just in case you decide to sell the house and move to Florida or Arizona.  No more getting up at the crack of dawn to go into work. No more worrying about health insurance. No more day to day grind.  Suddenly life is changing around you and everything that you knew for the past 65 years starts looking quite different. 

Then one day you wake up and realize that you are no longer young. At 65 you enter a stage of your life where you are too old to be considered young but too young to be considered old. 

 You have now entered the Twilight Years Twilight Zone. 

It is at this point of your life when you are like a zipper on a pair of socks.  You exist but you really don't serve a purpose so everyone pretty much ignores you until you either do something stupid or fall apart. At that point your presence will be noted and then just as quickly ignored once again.  This Twilight Zone is disturbing and strange. You will exist here for the next twenty years until you are 85 years old.

Once you turn 85 you suddenly become OLD and are now looked at with some admiration and awe. People say things like, "Wow, you don't look a day over 80", or "So how does it feel to be THAT old?".  You are something of a celebrity among your family and friends especially if you are still physically active and mentally sharp.  You have now emerged the "butterfly" after spending the past twenty years in a cocoon known as TYTZ.  

Some of us will emerge with our wings flapping ready to take flight and others will crawl out on hands and knees and wonder what the hell happened to us and how the hell did we get to this point of our lives.  

But at the very least we will once again return to the world where we are recognized as being special. Even though we really had nothing to do with it. Except for entering the Twilight Years Twilight Zone and exiting on the other side still alive and functioning. 

NEPOTISM

I remember learning the meaning of the word 'Nepotism" some time back in my early twenties.  It was around that time of my life when I was just beginning my teaching career. At that time Long Island, NY was desperate for teachers . . . there was a huge building boom in the suburbs and the tiny, quaint towns of Suffolk County were exploding with an influx of young families who were willing to commute an hour into NYC to work.  At that time I knew NOTHING about Long Island, other than it had great beaches along both shores and Lake Ronkonkoma smack dab in the middle.  So when I acquired a teaching job in Central Islip, 45 minutes from where I grew up in Queens, I was more than willing to commute and start my new career.  

Coming into an already established school district wasn't difficult because although "CI" had been around for years they were building new schools to accommodate the explosion in population.  Only thing was that the new school buildings weren't quite ready to open so I snared a position in one of the older elementary schools who had some teachers who had been working there for years. The school was on a split session schedule in order to handle the new teachers and the excess kids. (That lasted for 2 years until the new building was ready to open. )  The staff was a mix of brand new teachers who were into partying after school and on weekends and the old established teachers who had been there for years and were mostly related to one another.  Mr. So-and-so was the brother-in-law to the principal.  Mrs. so-and-so was the third cousin four times removed from the school superintendent.  Even my future husband, who had started teaching in the same school as me the precious year, was related to some one high up in the school administration.  The fact that Husband-to-be had never taken a single education class in college and had a bachelors degree in business did not stop him from being hired. 

 Husband loved to tell the story of how he had graduated from St. John's University with his business degree with all intentions of becoming a NYC cop like his father. When he failed the physical because of his medical history he kicked around delivering beer for a couple of years until one of his Brooklyn relatives suggested he contact a distant cousin or uncle who held some position in the Central Islip School System. Figuring it might be more lucrative than his present job Husband drove the hour out to Wheeler Road School in CI where he met his relative for lunch.  Being as desperate as they were for warm bodies in the overflowing classrooms, Husband was hired on the spot to teach 6th grade.  His question regarding this new career was, "What do I do?  I mean, I just have to stand up in front of a class full of kids and do stuff like a Nun?" (Husband had gone through the Brooklyn Parochial School system from first through college so teaching automatically made him think of Nuns and Brothers.) As it turned out, Husband was a natural and God had placed him exactly where he was meant to be.  Thirty six years later Husband retired from teaching Special Ed, which he had switched to about his third year of teaching sixth grade. This was what he had been born to do so if it hadn't been for that distant relative Husband might never have found his calling. 

THAT is Nepotism working at its finest !!!

Then we have Michigan Nepotism . . .   

This past week was interesting to say the least.  The Man's son, DJ, and girlfriend June arrived Thursday night and left yesterday, Friday, a week later.  They were GREAT !  DJ and June worked their butts off doing a multitude of chores that The Man had set aside for them.  They "shored" up two of the apple trees that were starting to lean too far to the left. (A problem many of our population seems to be having.) They cleaned out a bunch of stuff in the garage to take back to Alaska with them. They ran back and forth into town picking up and dropping off things. They worked hard !  And each time they had to leave "The Farm" they drove The Man's car. The Man was more than happy to let them use the car, as was I , because that meant I did NOT have to be running around all day. Win Win !! 

Except . . . you remember that septic tank I have written about?  The one that sits about 20 feet from the main access in and out of the house?  The one that I am NEVER, EVER supposed to drive over, near, around or within a four thousand mile radius ?????????     Guess what The Man's son did EVERY time he drove away from the house . . .   YUP !!    You got it !!      Where I have to back up the car from where its parked next to the door in order to avoid driving anywhere near the dreaded septic tank or suffer the wrath of Kahn, (AKA The Man),  DJ drove straight ahead over the damn tank each and every time !! And there were many, many trips away from the house in that weeks time.  

Had that been me I would have heard about it for days. No yelling or anything like that but stern warnings and     L-E-N-G-T-H-Y   explanations about why I can't drive over the stupid tank.  What did The Man do or say when his son drove the dastardly deed . . . NOTHING !  He said not one single thing to the boy.   

BUT . . . to me he said, and I quote, "I hate it when he does that".

And that folks is nepotism at its finest !

DEJA VU AND THE HONEY BADGER

 My friend Theresa has a theory about The Man and his brain and I think she is "spot on" in her thinking. Her theory is that when someone has severe COPD their brain is not getting as much oxygen as it should so the person's thought process slows and their memory becomes worse and worse.  This is a good theory and it is helping me to be a bit more patient with The Man. (Something you know I am not very good at.) 

Starting with MY theory that all men lack brains,  the fact that The Man has trouble remembering things because of COPD give me hope for all of you out there still living with the opposite sex.   Sadly, for me, I think that ship has sailed and the train is leaving the station at an alarming rate of speed. 

Take the Honey Badger for example.  No, we do not have a honey badger residing on the farm, although it is a distinct possibility there could be one hiding amidst the "stuff" in the attic, cellar or garages. The fact that honey badgers are native to Africa, India and Asia does not mean that somewhere along the way The Man has not acquired the creature. The only reason I don't think there is one here is that The Man has no idea what a honey badger is.

Let us begin with a conversation The Man and I had at some time last winter after watching Wheel Of Fortune. (We have become "Wheel Watchers" and even have our very own Wheel Watching Number that is surely going to provide us with enough money in prizes to sustain us in our senior years. Or Not !). The Man and I make a pretty good team when it comes to solving the puzzles on the show and we usually come up with the solutions before the contestants do.  Except when the puzzle is HONEY BADGER.  One of the shows from this past winter had this answer to its final puzzle. We figured out that the second word was "badger" but just couldn't come up with the first word. When it was revealed that the word was "honey" The Man's reaction was,          "What is a HONEY badger ?????          Who ever heard of such a thing ??????               There are badgers and there are badgers but there's no such thing as a honey badger !  Did you ever hear of a honey badger ????? "        (All of this was voiced in a loud and indignant voice suggesting that Pat and Vana had a staff of idiots making up the puzzles for the show.). My response was that I HAD heard of honey badgers somewhere along the way of living all these years to which I was told in the most annoyed voice that there was no such thing.  I let it all go because it just wasn't something I wanted to get into because I knew there would be no changing his mind and it just wasn't that important.  Little did I realize what was in store for me.  

Fast forward to TV Summer re-runs . . .  Guess what we were watching last night after dinner ?  Yup, at 7:30 last night there we sat at the hated kitchen table watching "The Wheel".  I have realized over the past 2 months that all these shows are re-runs.  The puzzles are too easy to solve because I had seen them all when they first aired last winter.  (And if there was any question in anyones mind that they were re-runs the fact that two weeks ago the show's theme was Christmas should have been a dead give-away. I do believe that small detail totally went undetected by The Man.) 

Anyway . . .  the final puzzle came up and we got the first word as "BADGER"  but he couldn't get the second word.  Once the answer was revealed as being Honey Badger would you like to guess what The Man said ?  If you guessed, "What is a HONEY badger ???????  Who ever heard of such a thing ????? There are badgers and there are badgers but there's no such thing as a honey badger!"  I swear to you, the Man used the EXACT same words as he did the last time we saw this puzzle on this show.  

You know I couldn't let it go a second time. It was just too much for my small brain to handle. I attempted to explain that like other animals there are different types of the same animal.  There was no glimmer of understanding on that explanation.  So I went on to say that there are red squirrels and grey squirrels and flying squirrels but they are all still squirrels.  The Man's response was, "I thought we were talking about badgers?"   It was at this point that I gave up the battle with hopes of winning the war at a later date with the possible use of visual aids.  

A couple of hours later, while The Man was in the shower, I got out my computer and looked up Honey Badger.  (At this point I was actually doubting myself and thinking perhaps I was mistaken, Heaven forbid! , and there really was no such thing as a honey badger.  But Low and Behold there they were,)   Thanks to Google and the wide world of the web, there was a whole bunch of information and pictures of HONEY BADGERS !!!  There was even one article that listed the differences between a regular badger and a honey badger.  

When the man returned to the bedroom where I was sitting I told him I had a bunch fo things for him to see on the computer.  One was dealing with something we had seen on the news earlier that day, another was about a new series on Hulu that we might enjoy and last but not least there was the one about the honey badger.  (I had even found a funny video about a honey badger named Stoffel who lives in captivity and is a master escape artist. You can see it on Youtube.  Apparently honey badgers are extremely intelligent. I guess they don't get COPD. ).  The Man humored me and watched the video and read the information I had found. Then in a dead serious voice he said,   . . . "Well that's the FIRST time I ever heard of them!"      

And you wonder why I drink !

NOT ENOUGH

 There are many times in life when we think, "It's not enough".  Some times we feel it's not enough to just be a mom . . .  "I want more in my life, I want a career." Or perhaps in our marriage we think it's not enough to just be living together without communication or consideration.  Or maybe it's something as simple as, "There's not enough hot fudge on my sundae". 

What ever it is there are always going to be times when we feel something is "Not Enough".

Living in the UP for the summer the perfect example of the "not enough" theory is the internet connection.  Or rather, the lack of internet connection. There is just NOT ENOUGH WIFI to last us a month. Especially when we have house guests.  

The Man's son, DJ, and his girlfriend, June, arrived this past Thursday night from North Pole, Alaska. (Yes Virginia . . .  There really is a North Pole, AK ! and we know people who live there.) DJ and June flew down here for a week to pick up our RV and drive it back to AK. (The Man just can't manage "camping" any more. It's exhausting for him which makes it more physical effort for me. The fact that I am no longer a "Spring Chicken" any more means I don't need to be crawling under campers or emptying septic systems.)  I am SUPER SAD to see the RV go from our lives but it is for the best. 

But back to the WIFI . . . The Man is, shall we say, frugal. How he ever let his wife purchase all the multitudes of crafting and cooking items is beyond me.  My theory is that he had no idea what or how many things she was buying. I think he had his hunting and fishing and she just bought anything she wanted to occupy her time. It apparently worked for them.  But now that he is on his own he is constantly saying, "We don't need that!" OR "What did you buy THAT for?". He buys very little and lives a very sedentary life.  I am the total opposite and are of the mind that if I need it I buy it.  (Thankfully I am in a  position to do that, within reason.)  When we are in Florida the internet is key to making my life easy. If I can get on my computer and do what ever without a three minute wait for the internet to connect I am a very happy camper.  Good TV and internet connections are vital to making my life easy.

Fast forward to Michigan.  Here in the UP communication is still basically dependent on smoke signals. At least that is the way it feels at times.  The phone reception has improved over the past couple of years. I no longer have to go into the middle of the field, climb up onto the picnic table, stand on one leg and spin around 12 times in order to get two bars on my phone. The signal is not great but at least I can make and receive phone calls at any spot IN the house. That is huge, especially on cold, rainy days. The internet is a totally different story.  

Outside the house there is a "dish" for the Direct TV connection.  It does a fairly good job except when it rains.  This morning we had a downpour and the TV signal went missing.  Apparently a rain drop is so powerful that it can interrupt signals being sent to Earth by a satellite.   (And this is the twenty-first century?)  The internet is provided by a company called Hughes Net.  They  offer several different plans for different amounts of WIFI for the month. Because The Man is a dinosaur he does not require ANY internet except for the ten minutes a day that he goes on his Samsung tablet to check his email and Facebook. The Man has a laptop computer from the 1800's that he NEVER uses but it sits on his desk so that people will think he is tech savvy.  (You and I know better!). 

The bottom line here is that if The Man doesn't need a lot of WIFI then no one else needs it either.  The problem with that manner of thinking is that The Man is now addicted to streaming shows. I made the mistake of introducing him to streaming while we were in Florida where I have a Smart TV.  With the push of a button we can be binge watching "Breaking Bad" while sitting on the couch and eating ice cream. When we return to MI there is not Smart TV, not enough internet connection and no computer on which to down load anything.  Unless I am here.  I have the MacBook Pro computer and I have the memberships to Hulu, Netflix and HBO Max.  BUT we still need more internet. 

Last year I FINALLY got The Man to think about increasing his internet for an extra $10 a month over the standard/minimum fee of $29.  You would think I was asking him to buy me a Maserati or a Mink. But he did give in when I explained that if he wanted to stream shows on my computer we MUST have more internet.  The down side of this is that we usually use up the allotted "gigs" about half way through the month because it is NOT ENOUGH !  

Enter DJ and June who live on their phones which are connecting to The Mans internet.  Picture Hoover Dam suddenly bursting . . . that must have been what the internet company thought was happening at The Mans house this past weekend.  Suddenly, in the matter of two days, every bit of internet connection time was GONE !!!!  It was like a tornado touched down on the farm and sucked every bit of WIFI from the face of the earth.  

Now this really isn't a problem for me personally because I can connect to my "personal hot spot: on my phone and if I am very "frugal" I can continue to get my mail and write blogs until the month is up and The Man's internet allotment is refreshed,  I am not letting on to anyone that I can do this because I am hoping that if DJ and June become frustrated enough with The Man and his "frugal" internet budget maybe they can talk some sense into him to spend another $10 for unlimited access. We can only hope. 

And in case you are thinking that The Man may be right in his "frugality" let me mention the fact that when we leave for Florida he cancels his Hughs Net account, rightfully so because we are not here to use it BUT if he is only paying for 5 months worth of internet wouldn't you think . . . MAYBE . . . he could spring for the full package for when we ARE here ?  

THINK FASTER ! ! ! ! !

 I just can't help myself . . . Born and raised in NYC makes me a Type A person.  Hurry up and get it done.  think on your feet, make a decision and act on it before the bus leaves the station.  NYC is NOT a place you go to relax and when you are growing up there you just naturally talk faster and move quicker. 

I did leave the city when I was 16 to go to college up state NY.  MUCH slower pace up there. Then I moved to Long Island, NY which was a faster pace than Oneonta, NY but not quite as crazed as "The City".  Retiring to Florida 20 years ago did slow me down a bit but each year there are more and more New "Yackers" moving to the shushing state so I tend to drive like a maniac, talk faster and resort back to the old NY habits even though I do make a conscious effort to suppress them. 

Living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is like going from warp three thousand to "turtle two". No one up here moves faster than a constipated snail. And that is only when they are in a hurry.  Most of the time you can't be sure if the person you're speaking to is still alive or not. And forget waiting for an answer to a question.  You might as well pull up a chair and take a nap when you ask where to find something in the grocery store.  (I must admit that although everyone moves slower when you ask where something is in the store they ALWAYS walk you, slowly, to the exact spot where you can find what you're looking for.) 

The Man is born and raised in the UP.  The years he spent in the Army took him to small, out of the way places where he was most comfortable.  I'm sure there were times when he was flying medi-vac helicopters in Texas that he had to think and act quickly but those days are gone for good and The Man has oozed down into "old age" and a fairly sedentary life. When ever we have an appointment to be somewhere The Man gets up two hours earlier to "get ready".  That's OK ! I get that he takes time to wake up and eat breakfast and do his multitude of breathing treatments before he can leave the house.  I get all that but having a slow body does not mean you necessarily have a slow brain. Sadly, The Man's brain is slowing down faster than ice melting in a Strawberry Daiquiri on a Florida beach in July. I realize the COPD has a lot to do with the slow process time but I do think it is also from living up here. 

Take for example when I lived in NY and was raising my 3 kids.  Sharon would call me in the morning after we got our kids on the bus and within minutes we could be setting up a lobster party for the next day. Snow days were always a call for an instantaneous party. You bring the beer, I've got the popcorn and soda for the kids.  There were no three months of planning any of our gatherings. As quickly as we had an idea we acted on it . . .  for better or for worse.  

The UP version of "Lets get together" involves checking calendars, sending mass e-mails and a thousand texts and even then it probably won't happen. If I should happen to suggest at 10:00 in the morning that we call his brothers and invite them over for a BBQ at 4:00 the same day The Man turns pale as a ghost, breaks out in a sweat and immediately says, "NO!"  I realize that is quick thinking but in actuality it is just like Pavlov's Dogs . . . I ask, he says "NO!", there is no thinking involved.  I will then ask that he think about it but at that point he is making a list of reasons why we can't do it.  I have learned to deal with this and now will plant those seeds of ideas weeks before so The Man can "think" about it.

What I can NOT get used to is agonizingly slow pace at which his thoughts ooze out of his brain and mouth.  I'm up and moving in the morning.  I may sleep till 10 or 11:00 but once my feet hit the floor I am in motion and am not going to stop until I need to.  I will come out of the bedroom, making a bee line for the bathroom and The Man will say something. It could be about something that is on the TV, or something that he has read on the internet or, more likely, it is some random thought that has popped into his head. Usually it is something totally ridiculous like, "We need to get the tires checked before we head to Florida". (It is August, we will not leave here before October . . . why must you stop me from peeing to tell me this NOW?????????). I will agree and make a break for the potty. When I come out The Man is still thinking about the tires so he will pick up the conversation with thoughts on the type of tires he has on the car, where he bought them and how long it's been since they have been rotated". I am now slowly inching my way toward the bedroom to get dressed so I can get doing what ever I have set in my mind for the day.  I just keep nodding my head and saying, "Hmmm, right. sounds good" as I continue to move away and still he goes on.  By now my brain is SCREAMING,  "THIS ISN'T IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW", but my head is still nodding and my mouth is still making agreeable noises.  (I am also aware of the fact that he at least allowed me to empty my bladder before continuing this conversation.) 

Of course the other thing that is running through my head is, "This will make a great blog". 

A quick side note . . . today is Thursday so we made our 45 minute drive to Manistique for The Man to do his hour of pulmonary rehab. When we were driving back home today he was proudly telling me that he walked on the treadmill for FIFTEEN MINUTES today.  That is an awesome accomplishment !!!!  BUT, my question then is, "Why can't he walk from the kitchen chair to the refrigerator to get his own bottle of water when we sit down to eat?" 

THE CURMUDGEON

 I looked up the definition of the word "curmudgeon" and low and behold it had a picture of Husband and The Man. In fact all the pictures of persons that could be describes as curmudgeons were pictures of men. No big surprise there folks !

What is it about men as they age?  They get more and more set in their ways and they tend to find fault with EVERYTHING !!!!!!!  

This morning as I was making breakfast for The Man and myself we were discussing what the day had in store for us.  We had a young woman driving and hour and a half from a small MI town just north of here. She responded to the pottery items that we had posted on Marketplace just this past weekend.  She said she was very interested and would like to drive down to see what we had for sale. When we posted the items, of which there were MANY, The Man asked $50 for the entire mess.  It was a steal for whom ever bought it but the idea is to get rid of this stuff so price it to sell! 

Our morning discussion continued along talking about where the woman should park her car when she got here, (NOT near the septic tank!), how she was going to get all the stuff out of the basement, (pottery stuff is HEAVY with a capital "H"), whom she might bring with her, (she told me she had kids so I told her to bring them with her. As a mom I knew it was easier to bring the kids than to have to get a babysitter). I was told " DO NOT let her look around the basement at anything else that is there",  (there is NOTHING else left down there. We cleaned it all out earlier this summer, unless of course she is interested in some piles of trash or a couple of dead mice), and the most important thing in the mind of The Man . . . she should realize what a good deal she was getting and that she APPRECIATE and properly care for all that she was getting. 

Instead of just keeping my mouth shut I had to comment on all these concerns. There are just some days that I can NOT let things go and this was one of those mornings.  I looked at The Man and asked him if he knew what a curmudgeon was. He did not know so I gave him the definition.  "A cranky old person who finds fault with everything". In stead of being delighted that we had someone interested in taking all this crap he was going to micromanage the entire exchange. I pointed out that I would;                                    

A.  Show the woman where to park,      

B. She will manage to get the stuff from the basement to the car because she was a YOUNG woman and that this REALLY wasn't his problem. If she wanted the stuff she would figure out a way or even bring someone with her to help.       

 C. There is NOTHING else in the basement for her to look at.      And     

D.  Of course she will appreciate what she is getting. She wouldn't be traveling an hour and a half if she wasn't serious about pottery.   And more importantly than all that, if he wants to get rid of this stuff none of those thoughts are of his concern.  Either you are selling this crap or not.  Simple as that.  Keep it OR get rid of it, his choice but he can NOT pick and choose who he thinks is worthy of obtaining this stuff or micro manage what they do with it.  If you sell it, it's not yours to manage..

This issue seems to be a major problem for The Man.  He does this ALL the time with his daughter and grand daughter.  He is always telling them what to do and how to do it.  I think that at 41 and 20 years old these two woman are old enough to make their own decisions. You may not agree with their decisions but it is theirs to make so SHUT THE "F" UP and let them live their lives.  

Oops . . . .  sorry, just got off on one of my pet peeves.  Parents can be in charge until the kid leaves the house, whether at 16 or 47. Once they move out you have no say in their lives.  I know I don't like people telling me what to do or how to do it so why would anyone else feel any differently.  (I do hope my kids hear that loud and clear when they 're trying to put me into the nursing home!) 

But back to the curmudgeon . . . When I told the man he was a curmudgeon he didn't have anything to say in his defense. He is getting worse and worse by the day. Part of that I think stems from the fact that we are quite used to each other and no longer have to be on our best behavior. That and his frustration in not being able to do all that he used to do without help.makes him cranky at times.  Yesterday was a perfect example of that . . . The Man can no longer take care of this huge piece of property by himself.  Just sitting on his lawn mower an riding up and down for 10 minutes is exhausting to him.  (He is on oxygen the whole time but it stdill tires him out.) Because he has realized his limitations he has "hired" some neighbor boys to come over every so often to mow. I have tried to explain that the boys will show up when it is convenient for THEM.  They have parents who need their sons to do chores around their own homes so unlike a landscaping company you can not have them on a schedule for 2;00 every other Thursday.  They will show up when they can and if you don't like it then find someone else, other than me,  to do the job.

The sound of the kids mowers coming up the driveway is like tossing gasoline on a fire. The Man hears the mower and immediately starts ranting about how he wanted the lawn cut on Thursday NOT Monday. (What the "H" difference will 3 days make. It might be raining on Thursday so let them cut it now if this works for them.) The kids can cut the lawn if we are here or not so any day of the week is fine.  

As he is ranting about the day of the week The Man is making a mad dash to the window at the top of the entry way stairs. From there he can watch what the boys are doing and get excited over the direction they are cutting, the speed they are cutting, where they start and where they finish.  My though is                  WHO CARES !  If the lawn is getting mowed and I am not the one having to spend 2 hours on a ride on mower I don't give a rats patootie about anything else.  I just can't get The Man to see it that way.  

And so the curmudgeon lives on . . . blood pressure rising by the day. I wonder if he will try to micro manage the doctors in the ER when he finally has a stroke or heart attack?

LAZY DAY

Today is Sunday.  Sunday is a day of rest.    If I rested any more today I would have to be in a coma.

The day started with me waking up at 10:55 AM. That isn't too unusual for me considering we had stayed up until 1:00 in the morning watching a series on TV.  The series is "Virgin River" and it is basically a soap opera.  No great drama, no great story but comfortable and entertaining and not requiring too much brain effort.  The last series we watched was about Navy Seals and that had me up until the wee hours of the morning trying to settle down my brain.  I don't need war stories just before I go to sleep.  

Last night the weather turned cool and dry so we slept with the windows open and the cool night air blowing in. It was a perfect night for sleeping.  I didn't even wake up once during the night to make a pee stop so it REALLY was a perfect nights sleep.  

The unusual part of this story is that when I woke up at nearly 11 The Man was buried under the covers in the bed next to me sound asleep. At first I wasn't sure I was seeing correctly but sure enough if I followed his oxygen hose it lead right to the bed so I knew for sure he was still asleep.  This is Un Heard of !!!  The Man is usually up and sitting at the kitchen table by 8:00 AM at the latest. Occasionally he will sleep till 8:30 but that is quite rare. So to find him sound asleep at nearly 11 AM was quite odd.  I got up and left him sleeping as I wandered out into the quiet house.  I noted that there was an empty coffee cup on the kitchen table so I knew he had been up earlier and had probably gone back to bed. (Also unusual.) I had no idea when he had been up, whether at 3 in the morning or 7 or how long he had stayed up so I just left him alone to sleep. I HAD to stay very quiet because he was sleeping so I got my Stephen King book and settled down to read for a while.  

By 12:30 I was starting to wonder if The Man was alive. 

At 12:45 I went into the bedroom and opened up the curtains to see if he was breathing. By that point I was already planning on who I would call if he was dead.  Do I call 911 ?  Should I call one of his brothers?  Maybe I should call a neighbor . . .   All these thoughts were going through my brain because I knew God had listened to my moaning and groaning last week when I was in my funky mood and just wanted my single life back.  I was sure I had complained The Man to death.  

I tried tapping his feet and calling his name but there was no response at all.  I thought I saw the covers moving up and down but I couldn't be sure so I felt his forehead and Thank God he was warm !  OK so he isn't dead . . . .  just tired ????

I decided I would go back out to the kitchen and have some "breakfast" and see if the smell of coffee got him moving.  Sure enough about 15 minutes later The Man wandered out totally amazed that it was after one o'clock in the afternoon.  

We sat around for a bit and then took a ride to the dollar store to get some bottled water.  After that we stopped to get a sloppy Joe sandwich from the local gas station, (that's a whole other blog.  Who buys chop meat at the gas station ?  The woman in front of me purchased 2 pounds of chop meat. There is a "deli" in the gas station where you can get hot dogs and such but chop meat? It's a different world up here for sure!)

After returning home and eating our sandwiches at 2 PM The Man took a ride out to the road on his lawn mower after which he returned and announced he was going inside to TAKE A NAP !  I settled down with my book in a lawn chair in the yard where I spent the next 2 hours reading and dozing.  

We had grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and right now The Man is taking a shower and getting ready to climb into bed.  It's 7:30 in the evening and the sun is still high in the sky.  

I have a feeling The Man will be up watching TV until 2 AM and I will be awake right next to him.