Happy Friday....

"The Queen" bids you all have a lovely week-end!

Daughter #1 gave this to me and I laugh every time I look at it.  I've had it on the window sill in both houses for the past several weeks.  I suspect it is starting to drive the Englishman a bit mad (crazy) at this point.

I'm off to look after "the Grands" for the day.  How blessed am I?

There will be lots of giggles and dancing and as long as Grandmom's strength holds out, there will be lots of swinging up in the air!

Enjoy the last Summer weekend of 2012.  I'm not sorry to see it go, with all its heat and humidity.  Looking forward to September and Autumn and cooler temperatures....

Thursday's Thought for the Day....

"Routine, Sweeties ~ this is the key to health, wealth and Vintage Housekeeping..."
                                                                                      ~ Alison May, Brocante Home
                                                                       

This quote can be found in Alison May's book, Scrumptious Treats For Vintage Housekeepers,  Kindle edition, on Amazon.  Surfing the net several years ago, I came across Alison's website called Brocante Home.  Alison lives in England and has the most wonderful approach to art of housekeeping, elevating it to a level that gives it the importance it deserves, while at the same time offering concrete ways to make it a more lovely experience.

Scroll down to "My Blog List" and you can get to her site by clicking on the link on the right hand side.  Peruse her many pages and check out her store.  I've purchased several of her downloads and refer to them often.  Other than being women, we truly have nothing in common, yet I find myself constantly nodding and saying "exactly" as I read her posts. It's like having a cup of tea with a friend.

And yes, I heartily agree with her comment about "routine".  I have found having a routine takes the "thinking" out of so many tasks and leaves room in my stress filled head for the things I really need to think on.  It works for children at home, students in school, elderly parents, and on and on.  I highly recommend it!

Pssst...Alison mentioned on twitter that she is offering a 25% discount on her downloads during the month of August.  Just type in "BREATHE" if you make a purchase in BrocanteHome store.  Hurry - prayers have been answered and the month of August, with its hellish heat and humidity, will be concluding in two days!!

A Special Gift

With the impending approach of September, my thoughts turn to school days - my own and those spent working in a classroom.  I suspect many of the blog posts I will be writing over the next several weeks will have an academic theme.....

The college I transferred to following my sophomore year was an institution which prepared its students for careers in the field of education.  They required two full semesters of student teaching, the first of which I spent in a Third Grade classroom.  My choice of schools was somewhat limited, as I did not have any personal means of transportation and had to rely on the local trolley system.  I was fortunate to land in a lovely school in the next town, a working class town, about a fifteen minute ride from my dorm.

Funny the things you remember.  I can clearly picture the woman who took me on as her Student Teacher, a very short woman with dark hair and a real sparkle in her eyes. I believe her name was Joan.  She was one of the most talented teachers I have ever had the good fortune to work with. And the students absolutely adored her.  They couldn't get in the classroom fast enough each morning, eager to see what exciting things she would teach them next.  I felt exactly the same.

There is a sweet memory I have from that time, which I am often reminded of.  The afternoon before my final day with the class, I popped into a 5 and 10 store, located a block from the school to pick up a few items prior to boarding the trolley.  As I walked in, I noticed one of the students standing at the cash register with an item in her arms, about to make a purchase.  I was delighted to see her and started to chat to her, but she seemed quite nervous and appeared to be trying to turn away from me.  Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I said good-bye and went down the aisle to do my own shopping.  Worrying if there might be a cause for concern at home or at school, I was relieved the next day to discover what the problem actually was.

Joan and the class had a surprise for me to conclude my stay with them. Party time! There were treats to eat, music was playing on the record player (now that dates me!) and the teacher had a gift for me.  It was wonderful. Then the student I had seen in the store the previous afternoon approached me and carefully handed me a package.  Unwrapping it, I discovered this:

It was the item she was holding when I came upon her in the store!  She had gone there by herself, and using her own money, had purchased a gift for me.  I was so surprised and deeply touched. Truthfully, I still tear up every time I think about it. This girl thought enough of me to go to all that trouble to buy me a gift.  I wish there was someway I could let her know how very much it has meant to me for all these years.

"The Jar", as I refer to it, has moved with me from college, to apartment, to first house and all the houses since.  I generally keep it in the bathroom filled with cotton balls so that it gets daily use.  Now, I am very fortunate to have received many beautiful and sometimes expensive gifts during my lifetime.  Yet I consider The Jar to be among my most treasured possessions.

You know that phrase, "it's the thought that counts"?  It truly was the thought behind this gift that has made it so precious to me.

Tip for a Tuesday....

Feeling "crafty"?  Looking for a project?  Want to "support the troops"?

Then grab your crochet hooks or knitting needles and check out the Operation Gratitude website for all the details on how you can make some scarves to send to our men and women serving overseas.  

Simply click on the link below and it will take you directly to the page of detailed instructions for how you can help.

Operation Gratitude

For several years, while my nephew, then future son-in-law, and several of their friends were serving our country in the Iraq war, I sent letters, cards and care packages.  My daughters did the same, sending out something on a daily basis.  The Principal at the school where I was teaching then was very supportive of my wish to send as many cards as possible to a list of about twelve men and women that we knew and I was able to reach out to all the teachers from 8th Grade down to Pre-K, receiving cards from every student for each holiday.  My own class sent cards and letters on a weekly basis.

I received back numerous letters of sincere thanks from those we were in touch with.  They really appreciated the fact that even strangers wanted to take the time to show they cared.  So I know first hand how much even a small gesture can mean to someone serving overseas.

Since we no longer personally know of anyone currently serving, daughter #1 and I have been sending scarves for several years now to Operation Gratitude.  I even got my mother's live-in caretaker, who was with her for a few years, to participate once I found out she could crochet!

Here are the scarves I've made so far for this year's drive.

As you can see, I am not at all talented when it comes to crocheting.  I know but two or three stitches to make.  It truly is "the thought that counts" with my endeavors and I send them on with prayers for the recipients safe return.

Please consider checking out Operation Gratitude.  Knitting or crocheting is a wonderful way to quiet one's mind while at the same time feeling productive.  It certainly works for me.  

How do they know?

No matter how stealthily the Englishman and I try to be, these two characters always seem to know when we are about to embark on a trip either to go to the beach or return back home. Every single time.

We've tried leaving our suitcases in the bedroom, out of their sight, until just before our departure. We've tried having one of us take them in the backyard whilst the other quickly hustles the cases and bags into the truck.  We've tried packing up the night before, then acting as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening.  We have even gone so far as to spell out our conversations as to what we are doing, in hopes that they won't figure it out.

But they are very clever, these Basset Boys.  As soon as one of them senses that motoring is in their immediate future, the crying begins.  First one, then the other.  There is no dissuading them.  Numerous occasions we have had to leave an hour or more before the scheduled time simply because they are so upset.

Yes, it can be annoying and taxing on the nerves.  Our biggest concern, however, is the toll it takes on Dudley, who suffers from Addison's disease.  Stress is a huge negative for him which is why we have been searching for ways to make the anticipation of an outing less distressful.

(Duds even knows when I'm writing about him!  He just came in my office to see me, which never happens.  He is the Englishman's constant companion during the day.  The dog's senses are incredible!)

Dudley immediately settles once he is in the truck, while Bentley sometimes takes a little longer.  Clearly, the problem is, as Carly Simon sings, "Anticipation".  I guess we will just have to continue to seek out solutions to the departure dilemma through trial and error. (How many of you now have that song in your head? Sorry!)



 

People......

ATTENTION.  EVERYONE.

IF YOU ARE DRIVING ON THE GARDEN STATE PARKWAY.

OR ANY HIGHWAY.

OR LOCALLY.

I have a few, simple requests:

1. STOP TAILGATING.

2. PUT DOWN YOUR PHONE.

3. USE THE LEVER ON THE LEFT OF YOUR STEERING WHEEL.  IT'S CALLED AN "INDICATOR".  IT TELLS THE OTHER DRIVERS YOU INTEND TO SWITCH LANES.

4.  IF YOU WANT TO PASS ME USE THE LEFT LANE.

Thanks.  I needed to say that.  Out loud.  To someone.  To anyone.

I'm not asking for much here.  Would really appreciate people following the rules.  Or laws, actually.

When I (the Englishman still has a British license, so it was all me!) was instructing my three daughters on how to drive, I wasn't afraid they would have accidents because of their own driving skills or lack thereof.

I frequently pointed out to them that it was the other drivers on the road I was worried about.

And that they should be too.

My Dad taught me to drive defensively.  Wise words.  Even more important these days.

Sorry to be a complainer today.  End of rant.  

We now return to our previously scheduled program, already in progress....

On a positive note, I was able to fill to overflowing my Grandmom's heart with love thanks to tons of hugs from these two precious girls when I returned home.

*Photos courtesy of daughter #2

Made the harrowing drive up the parkway totally worthwhile! Nothing greater in this world than "the Grands"!

Have a lovely weekend all!  Be safe out there on the roadways!

Thursday's Thought For The Day....

"To act with common sense, according to the moment, is the best wisdom;
     and the best philosophy is to do one's duties, to take the world as it comes, submit respectfully to one's lot, and bless the goodness that has given us so much happiness with it, whatever it is."

          ~ Horatio Walpole - 4th Earl of Orford, English art historian and author (1717 - 1797)

Quite right....as they say in England.  

Good solid advice to ponder as we wind down the summer and prepare for the new year.

(Yes, I do know the new year officially begins in January.  However, for those of us who have answered the call to the teaching profession, the year will always begin in September.

Even now, though it's been years since I packed up my classroom.)

Seeing Is Believing

Ah, suntanning. As I was growing up I spent a good portion of my non- school days out and about in the fresh air.  I don't recall there being much fuss about the amount of sun I absorbed.  From the time we were born, the pediatrician encouraged my mother to make sure each of her three children received "sun baths" by placing us near a sunny window in order to get a daily does of vitamin D. As we grew older, we were sometimes rubbed down with Coppertone at the start of the swim club season. But all in all my parents let nature take its course and by September I usually sported a darker color.

Then came the Seventies. Tans were "in" and a sign of a healthy, outdoorsy lifestyle. The first few excursions I made to the shore found me imitating my friends and liberally applying baby oil to my skin. The results should not have been surprising. I usually woke after the first day and found my skin to be as red as Rudolph's nose. Did that deter me from returning to the beach and liberally smoothing more oil all over my body?  Of course not. What is that saying, something about no pain no gain?  I was willing to endure much for the sake of a tan.

When the beach was not available, my friends and I learned to make do in our backyards and at school. While attending my all female high school, I noticed that someone had discovered what seemed at the time to be an ingenious idea. To intensify the effects of the sun's rays one needed to make an enhancer of sorts. You simply took a record album cover, preferably one which would draw the envy of your friends, slit it open top and bottom with a knife, and line with aluminum foil.  This nifty little contraption could easily be carried under the mountain of books we toted from class to class, ready for use at lunchtime out on the side lawn off the cafeteria. We would tuck in the collar of our uniform blouses, rub the required baby oil on our faces, open up the sun enhancer, tuck it under our chins and proceed to sun ourselves. 

In truth, we were baking our flesh.  Like you would cook a chicken.  Only we didn't see it that way at the time. We, I, thought we were so clever and looked so good. My father used to appear as though he would spontaneously explode whenever he saw me doing it. I couldn't understand all the fuss. What was the harm?  

My father knew what the harm was but his pleas for me to stop fell on deaf ears. Despite what he said, despite the warnings that were starting to appear in the years to follow, I kept right on pursuing a tan as often as I could. In fact, the two weeks prior to meeting the Englishman found me pursuing a tan as if it were a full time occupation, hitting the beach at nine a.m., breaking quickly for lunch, then lying on the beach until six p.m.  

As you can see, having a tan was pretty important to me back then. I thought it was worth the pain and time it required. No amount of preaching from my father or warning labels would deter me.  Until I met Betty. 

Betty was our neighbor. She lived across the lane on which the Englishman and I had purchased our first house. She was a tiny lady, very thin, about five foot tall. I thought she was around seventy, but after a few months of chatting with her I learned she wasn't nearly that old in reality. Appearances can be both deceiving and frightening.

Betty, in turned out, was a fellow sun worshipper. She had a membership at the hotel in the next town and spent every day of the summer months laying poolside, soaking up the rays.  And it showed. You know the expression about someone's skin being like leather?  Betty's was. Just like leather. Old leather.  Leather that literally hung in folds, on her face, her arms, and her legs.  I'm not exaggerating.

That was it.  I was cured.  Right before me was my future if I continued to worship the sun. Nothing I read or heard compared to seeing with my own eyes the full effect of what comes from years of laying in the sun. I decided I didn't want to end up looking like Betty. Ever.

No more baby oil.  No more lying in the sun for hours and hours.  Done. Not to say that I don't get any color. I'm not a fanatic about covering up every inch of my skin or dousing myself with sunscreen each morning. I still think there is something to be said for getting some Vitamin D via the sun at least ten minutes a day. But I do it while out in the garden or walking the Basset boys. For minutes, not hours.

I guess you could say meeting Betty was my "Scrooge" moment, a chance to see into the future of my skin if I didn't mend my ways.  Ah, but thankfully, I heeded the warning that was put before me.  I became a changed woman.

One who hopes that everyone she knows will someday meet a Betty of their own!

Tip for a Tuesday....

ASK

Ask if they have it another size.

Ask if you can call them back.

Ask if the sale price came up when you are checking out.

Ask if you can think about it.

Ask for a receipt. 

Ask for a second opinion.

Ask for directions. But only if you are female. Males do not ask for directions. 

I know this for a fact but will not elaborate.  

Ask for help. That's the toughest one of all.

The list could go on and on.  I think you get the gist of it.

It can be hard for some women to "ask" and I include myself in that group. 

Such a tiny word but the rewards of using it can be dramatic

 and rewarding. 

Even if the answer is "no" it feels so good to stand up for yourself when you ask.

I find the older I get the easier and more inclined I am to ask. 

Ah,  the benefits of growing older are increasing daily.

Continuing the saga......

So just to continue, somewhat briefly, the theme about "renters" that I began on Monday.

We quickly discovered the first time we stayed in our vacation home way back in the day that summer renters in surrounding properties could be somewhat entertaining and at times, even downright frightening.

Take that first weekend, for example. The homeowners of the adjoining property appeared the same time we did. Couple in their late forties, say, with a couple of teenagers. Then there were more teenagers.  Then more. Sensing a problem?  We were. Especially when the grownups drove off. And left behind all those young people. Unchaperoned.
Noise level started to rise as the number of kids increased. So far so good. The frightening part was when we noticed they had brought out a hibachi grill. And that one of them decided the best place to use the grill was on the roof. Yes, the roof. Of a two story wooden frame house.  Since we could have literally reached over to shake hands from our deck to theirs it was concerning to say the least. One of those, "what were they thinking?" moments concerning not only the kid who thought a lit grill on a rooftop was a good idea, but the so-called adults who left them alone.

Then there was "the rock group". A few summers later we were spending time at the house for a family vacation.  The Englishman and I, our three daughters, my three step-children visiting from England and my mother had settled in for a wonderful time. Halfway through the two week period a new set of renters arrived next door. All appeared fine the first day or so. Then band practice started. OK. No big deal.

Except they played late into night, for several nights running, out on the deck, with a very large  amplifier pointed in our direction. Not the brightest thing they could have done as it turned out.

So in frustration a phone call was made and a local patrolman arrived in his police car.  Poor guy. He 
tried to negotiate some sort of arrangement between the band members and the Englishman. The 
band feigned total ignorance as to what the problem could possibly be.  Which I suspect was not quite the response the Englishman, an extremely tired worker looking to enjoy his time off, as well as father to young children who were upset by the noise and having difficulty sleeping.

( Have I mentioned before that when the Englishman gets upset and talks more rapidly his accent 
becomes even stronger? Which, I must confess, causes me to giggle and is why we have rarely had a fight.  Difficult to have an argument with a woman who is collapsing in fits of laughter.)

Now the poor policeman didn't have a clue what the Englishman was saying during his response.  Being literate in "Jersey speak" doesn't always equip you for an understanding of British English. The 
policeman looked at me for assistance, but as the giggles rose in my throat I thought it best to head back inside the house. The Englishman concluded his frustration by stating most emphatically, "The worst part is they are bloody awful!!"

Que the laughter. Best part was that the young band members had no idea they had just been
thoroughly insulted.  I must admit I enjoyed that bit.

The Englishman came back inside and was greeted by all with cheers for having gone to battle for the family.  The band did in fact curb their practice and boom level after that and we returned to the task of enjoying our vacation.  At the very least, the kids and I realized we had a fabulous one liner to throw about in the future.

And that has proven to be the "entertainment" aspect of dealing with the summer rental crowd.
                  

                   








Unfortunately

Thursady's Thought for the Day....

" I wanted a perfect ending.  Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."
                                                                                 Gilda Radner


The "not knowing" was what I struggled with for years.  My mother would ask,  "and what would you do if you did know?" when I would moan about the fear and uncertainty of the future. My response was generally, " I would probably just stay in bed!".

Certainly not an option or solution to "fear of the unknown".  The wisdom that comes with age (and wrinkles) is that it is all about how I look at things. Staying in bed might have kept me safe from the trials but it would have robbed me of all the joys too.  And there have been far more joys during my lifetime than trials and tribulations.

Gilda Radner, quoted above, was a talented comedian who died at the very young age of forty two from ovarian cancer.  The characters she portrayed on the television series Saturday Night Live are classic. She also wrote a book titled, It's Always Something.  I think just about every woman I know can identify with that sentiment!  For those of you not familiar with her work, Gilda is most certainly worth searching out.

Tip for a Tuesday....

Take A Picture

Today's technology makes it so easy to take photographs.  And not just of people and pets.

Whether using a digital camera or an IPhone, the ability to take a photo of anything can be a handy tool.

You can photograph details about items you are considering to purchase, like the tiles for our kitchen backsplash:

Document the progress being made on a kitchen renovation:

Inquire if any of the offspring would like this lovely chafing dish:

Umm, no, was the resounding answer.

Of course photographing those you love is still the best use of these tools.  Especially when it can capture moments like these, out to dinner with the "grands" and their parents.

 *note the tiny foot atop the table. 

Priceless!!

Renters....

Way back in the day, the Englishman and I purchased a vacation home on an island, overlooking the ocean.  It was an exciting, as well as daunting, purchase at a very busy time in our lives.  Daughter #1 was then three and #2 was about six months.  My father had only recently passed away and I was still trying to come to terms with that.  Purchasing the house was a good distraction and something to look forward to. And while there was much to be excited about, there were some aspects that would prove quite trying at times.

Like having renters.

While in high school and college, I had a few experiences of being with families or friends who were renting houses at the beach.  My recollection was that keeping the place clean damage free was of paramount importance to everyone.  After all, you were "borrowing" someone else's home so to speak, and well, it is just what one does.  That, and the cleaning fee that would be charged when you handed the keys in if there was anything out of line.

So I was unprepared for what turned out to be our experience as "landlords".

We closed on the house in late April, which meant I only had a few short weeks in which to ready the house for renters in June.  This included not only buying the furniture and beds, but also all the necessities for the kitchen, right down to the wooden spoons. During one of my many shopping excursions for the house I must have been quite a sight while in a large department store, holding an infant in my arms, admonishing my toddler to hold tight to the handle of the carriage and loading up said carriage with pillows, blankets, pots and pans.  (and no, no one offered to help me.)  I began to feel like I was commuting to the beach during those weeks but was very proud of myself for pulling it off and making the deadline.  The house looked fabulous, right down to the bedspreads which matched the dash of color in the middle of the mini blinds in each bedroom.  Hence, we had the blue, red or green bedrooms, etc.

The realtor who sold us the house did caution that renting it out could pose a few problems.  He specifically mentioned doctor's wives.  He said they were used to having full time help and that we might find they didn't take as good care of the place as we would hope.  I thought, "Silly man.  I'm sure they are just as careful as everyone I've seen rent."

No, silly me.

I won't make this post longer than it needs to be.  Suffice it to say there were some good and some not so good (awful!) renters.  And that's when I would do my "dance" as the Englishman and the girls called it.

Anytime we went to the house after it had been rented, the family would make sure I was the first one in the door.  They would follow, but hang back and allow me to have my little moment.  I would go from room to room, shouting "Look at this!" or ""Can you believe this?" noticing footprints on the walls, a broken drawer or window screen.  After a few minutes I would get it out of my system, calm down, and allow the Englishman to point out it wasn't worth getting upset over.

He was right.  The income from the rentals helped with all the costs.  My mistake had been in thinking of the house as our home.  And thinking other people would see it that way. I must say there were two lovely couples who rented the house for a week every September and wrote me the nicest notes saying how much they enjoyed being there and how pleasant it all was.  It meant a lot to me that they took the time to do that.

Oh, and if you are thinking that we should have charged the nasty renters the extra fee for the added cleaning or damages, I agree.  And we did try to do that.  Only the realtor fought us on it.  They always returned the deposit as soon as the tenants turned in the key.  We switched realtors.  Same policy at the next one.  They obviously wanted the repeat business.  So we finally just stopped renting it out.

Lessons learned.  Experience gained.  House sold years later.

Was it worth it? Yes.

Every moment. All part of this wonderful, amazing journey I have shared with the Englishman.

Putting the day to bed....

Putting the day to bed, so to speak, is a nightly ritual I perform in which ever house we currently reside.  Following our evening meal, usually prepared by the Englishman, I scrub up the pots and pans, then generally tidy up the kitchen.  Curtains are drawn, shades pulled down and the lights are dimmed.  I take a few moments to go off either to my office or bedroom and write in my "gratitude journal" at least five things that brought a smile to my face or filled me with joy during the day.  Slipping into something cozy like pajamas and slippers, signals I'm in settling in for the evening.  I gather my phone, iPad, current reading material and crocheting project.  The biggest challenge, of course, is finding a spot on the couch amongst the basset hounds.  At this stage of my life, I find real pleasure in the simple, ordinary tasks of everyday life.

*Programming note:  Tom Brokaw will be exploring Great Britain's WWII resolve in a special called, "Their Finest Hour", Saturday evening, at 8pm.  It will explore the extraordinary courage and determination the British exhibited during the war.  Brokaw told TV Guide Magazine. "Against great odds, the UK kept Hitler from using this island nation as a launching pad for expanding his evil empire. We owe this country and that time a great debt."      The Englishman and I are looking forward to seeing it.  Hope you'll tune in.  

Thursday's Thought for the day....

"On vacations: We hit the sunny beaches where we occupy ourselves keeping the sun off our skin, the saltwater off our bodies, and the sand out of our belongings."
                                                                                                                Erma Bombeck


Think about that.....she was right!  Kinda makes you wonder why we would go through all the work involved of getting out there on the beaches, only to start covering up and protecting ourselves from the very elements that draw us there in the first place.

The Englishman and I took a short drive "down by the bay" and the local public beach this morning.  Truth be told, I completely forgot it was there.  It's been quite some time since I searched out a beach chair, took to the sands and dug my toes in while taking a deep breath and enjoying the scenery.

Perhaps it's time to do that again.

Actually, the Englishman presented me with a travel mug of coffee early Tuesday morning after I had dressed for the day and suggested we pop in the mini and motor down to a tiny pier on the bay near our house. Fabulous idea! Off we went, delighted to find there was no one about, and we had the spot to ourselves.  It was so incredibly peaceful.  The sun glistening on the bay, Old Barney in the distance, the sounds of the seagulls calling out to each other.  Lovely.

In fact, so lovely, we did the same again this morning.  This time we were excited to discover a rather large school of fish, barely below the surface of the water, racing around as a group and scooping up breakfast.  The Englishman was able to capture a brief moment of their movements on his phone, which I emailed to the daughters.  Incredible.  Video.  On a phone.  But that's for another blogpost.

Tip for a Tuesday....

Buy one of these:

It's the Black and Decker Electromate 400.

This past Saturday found daughter #1 and I out and about for some shopping.  After numerous stops, at several stores, we were wrapping up our little marathon with a quick stop at Subway.  Should we walk across the parking lot?  Why, no, not in this heat and humidity.  Let's "motor" over in the Mini Cooper.

Easily pulled into a spot in front of the shop marked for "Subway Customers".  Since I was going to be eating when I got home, only daughter #1 need to go in.  She questioned me as she left, "are you sure you don't want to come in?"  Nope.  I'll be fine in the car.

Good heavens - the inside temperature of a car can skyrocket within seconds I've discovered. The remedy?  Why, turn the ignition one turn.  Don't want to spew out fumes, just turn that ac back on!!

Didn't take long to notice the ac wasn't exactly cranking out the icicles, so I turned the key back and tried to start the car up properly.  Notice the word "tried"....

Click. Click. Click.

Oh no, I"ve killed it!

(The same reaction Charlie Brown had when he hung a lone red ornament on that tiny Christmas tree.)

Thank goodness for daughters.  Calm ones.  Ones who paid attention way back in the day when the mother used to be the calm one.  Ones who immediately take control.  Who know the right thing to say.  And not to say. :)

A phone call to the Englishman was made.  Directions given to our location.  Repeated reassurances that no, I had not caused the problem.  Things could be a lot worse.  It will be fine. The car will be fine.  We will be fine.

Etc., etc., etc.

I think I did embarrass her a bit when I stood on a curb and flagged down my knight in shining armor, arriving in "Big Red", our Chevy truck.  The Englishman pulled alongside my car, descended from the cab and quickly pulled from the rear seat the fabulous machine you see pictured above.

Within minutes, he and daughter #1 had popped the bonnet, secured the clips on the battery and Bob's your uncle, we had power!

So, long story short, I highly recommend you pick up the Black and Decker Electromate 400.  

It stores easily in your garage or car trunk (boot).

It can restart your car battery or charge it up.

The Englishman tells me that in case of a power outage, you could use it to power a lamp or charge your cell phone.  Isn't that good to know - in an emergency having cell phone access is essential!

No, I don't work for Black and Decker and am not being paid to plug their product.  Just wanted to pass along the info in hopes it will help someone.  It certainly did the trick for us.  As I found out, battery failure can happen anytime, anywhere.  And rescuing Englishman in red Chevy trucks are an endangered species.  Good to have a back up plan.

PS  Mini Cooper did need a new battery.  It really wasn't my fault after all.  Phew! Good to know.  One less thing to feel guilty about.....

Thursday's Thought for the Day....

12 Rules to Live By

           ~ Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894)

1. Make up your mind to be happy.  Learn to find pleasure in simple things.

2. Make the best of circumstances.  No one has everything and everyone has something of sorrow.

3. Don't take yourself too seriously.

4. Don't let criticism worry you.  You can't please everybody.

5. Don't let your neighbors set your standards; be yourself.

6. Do things you enjoy doing but stay out of debt.

7. Don't borrow trouble.  Imaginary things are harder to bear than actual ones.

8. Since hate poisons the soul, do not cherish enmities and hold grudges.  Avoid people who make you unhappy.

9. Have many interests.  If you can't travel, read about places.

10. Don't hold post-mortems or spend time brooding over sorrows and mistakes.

11. Do what you can for those less fortunate than yourself.

12. Keep busy at something.  A very busy person never has time to be unhappy.



I came across this in one of my quote journals this morning.  Not sure where I found it, but Stevenson's "rules" must have appealed to me and so I took note of them.  It struck me, as I wrote the title, how short a life he lived.  In quickly perusing Wikipedia, I discovered Stevenson had a "weak chest" all his life.  Sounds familiar to me at the moment....

Rule number three has been suggested to me countless times over the years and has become much easier to follow with age.  I think they all provide something to think about today, good reminders to basically just "keep life simple".

Enjoy the day.

Runs in the family....

In scanning through some photos I have in my IPhoto folder, I came across this one of my Dad.  It must have been taken around 1920 or so.  The story he told over the years was that there had been a photographer across the street from his apartment in Brooklyn, offering to take your picture for a small fee.  And my Dad, strong willed little boy that he was, wanted very much to have his photo taken.  Despite being told repeatedly by his mother that he could not, he managed to find his way across the street, atop the pony and in a photo.  Looks quite proud of himself, doesn't he?  His mother, however, was not amused.

Fast forward over the years, and to the latest family photo, taken yesterday. Here is Little Miss, the great-granddaughter, also atop a pony.  Her reason?  It's all about the horses and the pure love she has for them.

Goodness, isn't the resemblance in their smiles striking!