Guilty Pleasures

All of us think we have the great American novel in us and who knows? We each might. I just knew that when I retired I’d be the one, but alas, it takes discipline. While the beautiful paragraphs swirl around in my head I play spider solitaire or some other mindless computer game. I have a bit of a problem in that area. I love those games, especially the ones that involve words. I’ve really been done in now because I can play Scrabble and a game called Qwerty. Look at the top row of your keyboard and there it is, “QWERTY.” I can play these two games against human opponents who obviously have the same addiction. The way I justify this little addiction is by listening to audio books. In my mind, if I’m listening to a novel while I click away at my games I’m not wasting time. Why I even care is another problem. It’s my time. I’m not neglecting anyone. I don’t forget to shower or wash the dishes. I buy the groceries and cook supper. So, why does this innocent activity make me feel guilty? Because I’m programmed to accomplish something on a daily basis and winning another badge in Tumble Bees doesn’t quite hit the mark. Neither does beating a woman in Montana at Scrabble but I get a kick out of it. Is the fact that I enjoy these games justification enough? Maybe yes, maybe no. What if I’m depriving the country of another great story, a novel of epic proportions? That remains to be seen

Skinny Minnie

I always wanted to be skinny and now, through no fault of my own, I am. To anyone struggling with overweight issues, be careful what you wish for. When you're fat, people might comment behind your back or give "subtle" hints about the connection between obesity and healthy living but they rarely come at you with questions like, "How much do you weigh now?" "What are you eating?" I've learned that when you're skinny, people think it's okay to not only ask questions but give advice about how to gain weight. It seems like everyone has the solution but the fact is, just like fat people know they need to eat less, skinny people know they need to eat more. Sounds easy, doesn't it. I used to think skinny people must be perverse about food or have a fast metabolism or work out all the time. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There might be a very serious reason a person is stick thin and that person is struggling as hard to gain as the obese person is to lose.
For me, swallowing is a major challenge. Food hangs in my esophagus and that is like having a clogged drain. I have to wait for it to go on down before I can put something else down the "drain." This makes eating tedious and I usually quit before I've eaten my entire plate of food.
I recently had a procedure where Dr. Suen injected my paralyzed vocal chord with botox. I don't understand the mechanics of it but it has improved my swallowing to a degree. I still wouldn't try to chug anything liquid but I am swallowing water easier and I'm able to eat a little faster. Right now I'm enjoying my daily concoction of Boost, a banana, vanilla ice cream, and soy protein blended in my Magic Bullet blender. That little blender has been a lifeline for me and I have to give credit to my sister for giving it to me. It's helped me through some tough times and I recommend it to anyone who has special eating needs.

Mothers

My Mom was and is a fulltime MOM. She’ll be 90 next month but no one doubts who is in charge. We said our Mom didn’t work. That was a lie. She worked 24/7. Moms don’t get vacations and they don’t get sick. My Mom actually told me once that maybe if she’d worked she would have contributed more to us and to herself. I was stunned. How could she have contributed more? I was quick to point out a few of her accomplishments. She’s been married to the same man for 68 years. She raised five children. No one is dead and no one is in jail. All five of us are college educated. Four of the five work or worked in the education field. One is a nurse; enough said. Cumulatively we have 8 college degrees. Two of us are comfortably retired from long careers in public education and nursing. One is a college professor, celebrated artist, and published author. One teaches 7^th grade and that deserves an automatic pass to heaven. The baby is the state director of transportation for the Arkansas state department of education. How much more could she contribute?

I’m a baby boomer who knew my limits. I didn’t have children because I wasn’t willing to make that kind of commitment. It was all I could do to keep on top of things without that pressure. I was told I’d regret my child free status but I’m 57 and it hasn’t happened yet. My generation sold motherhood short. Remember, this is my opinion. We were all out there scrambling to live a fulfilled life.

I’ve observed my brothers and sister raise their children. I’m the only one out of five who didn’t reproduce. Like I said earlier, that was my choice. I lack that maternal gene that’s necessary to parent effectively. When I babysat my siblings’ children it wasn’t unusual for my young charges to remind me that they needed to be fed periodically. And forget dealing with car seats. I never did get the hang of those things. When I couldn’t fasten the strap on my great niece’s seat I told her she’d be okay because we were only going a little way. She whined to me, “But Aunt Barbie I’m not safe!” On the other hand I have a choking phobia. I was always sure I’d kill one by letting them eat hard candy or hot dogs. It’s become a family joke that Aunt Barbie will cut your hot dog into miniscule pieces even if you’re 40.

Culturally we’ve boxed ourselves in. It takes two incomes, if not more, for us to maintain a decent lifestyle. We all require two of everything; two cars, two salaries. And we wonder why the divorce rate is so high in America? Just think about it. Most households today consist of one adult and two or more children. The adult is usually, but not necessarily, the mother. She is overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated. This isn’t headline news. We’ve known it for years.

I’m glad a growing number of young women are making different choices. The good thing is there is a choice now. My generation felt compelled to compete in the job market. We needed to prove we could succeed with the hunters and gatherers. We proved it but at what price? This new generation of women makes no excuses for staying home and doing the hard, dirty work of maintaining a family and home. Maybe we gave them that choice. I hope so. One young woman told me, “I was raised in daycare. My kids won’t be.” That says it all. These young women see motherhood for what it is; the hardest job on the planet. For me it was easier to leave the house everyday, put in my time and energy, and leave it behind after my eight hours. Homemaking doesn’t allow for preparation periods or coffee breaks.

Many women try to have it all. Some are even good at it. Others look like they’ve been in the spin cycle of the washing machine. I guess it’s about choosing your battles. We hear that all the time. You might have to trade off folding laundry to attend a softball game. The beds go unmade to make time for breakfast. I’ve seen it work but never without sacrifice. Of course, that’s just a part of parenting whether you work outside the home or not. It’s not a part time job.

I have so much respect for mothers. They are required to be all things to all family members. They must be lover and companion to their husbands. They are alternately dictators or choice givers to their children. They listen and encourage and love unconditionally. Many run companies, teach the children of others, care for the sick, or stand on concrete for hours dealing with customer related issues. Then they go home and cook, clean, do homework, attend school functions, mend broken hearts, and listen to children and spouse, if they have one. Mothers are the real heroes.

Wonderful Women

The women of the World War II generation are astounding. They don't stop till they drop. I know I'm generalizing but their positive attitudes and stamina are more the exception than the rule. We boomer girls could take a lesson. While we whine about depression and aching joints our octogenarian predecessors are boarding buses for trips all over the country. These tours are mostly ladies because many of them have buried at least one husband.

I witness this phenomenon regularly because I volunteer at Garvan Woodland Gardens, a botanical garden here in Hot Springs. Tuesday I went in for an extra shift because a busload of seniors from Texas were coming to the garden. There were 82 people in all and I'd wager that was the average age. Three docents were required because many of them were able to walk the 1.3 mile trail. Walking tours are usually no more than 20 to a group. Using those figures I can make a guess that approximately 60 walked and 22 rode golf carts.

The riders come out with canes and walkers and some are slower than Christmas but they are having fun. Boarding a golf cart is a challenge for some but they laugh at themselves as they pull on the cart roof or steering wheel or me until they are in. I've learned to warn of bumps and slight hills so those on the back don't bounce too hard or roll off. I almost lost a lady one time because she was leaning too far out, waving at everyone we passed.

They all have a story and they share with little encouragement. Flowers, trees, and smells spark memories and I enjoy the stories that inevitably follow. This is great for me because my voice is soft and many of them are hard of hearing. I drive and they talk. They teach and I learn.

Padded Underpants

I just rejoined the world of high speed internet. A couple of years using dial up takes its toll on a girl. I adjusted to the snail's pace of dial up because I had no other choice. DSL wasn't available in my area. I've spent the afternoon clicking on this and that just to see the page fly to the screen.

I've had the most fun looking up padded underpants. I've lost so much weight my butt is completely flat and my pants droop down the backs of my thighs. I used to wish for such a problem but reality isn't so hot. Kelly Rippa wore a pair of padded underpants on the Regis and Kelly show and I laughed for 10 minutes. It seems crazy but think about it. If we wear padded bras what's so strange about padded underpants?

When I googled the words "padded underpants" I was surprised to see how many hits I got. And it wasn't just underpants. You can buy padded anything! Ever wonder how the cyclists sit on those tiny seats? Padded underpants! How does a cross dresser get such a nice shape in an evening gown? Yep - padded underpants. I'm not done looking at all the choices but I plan to buy myself a pair. Heck, I might just buy a pair for my mom and my sister.

Happy Birthday, Mikey!

47 years ago today my mom gave me the coolest present; a baby brother! I was in Mrs. Meyer's 4th grade class at Maplewood elementary school. Mom and Dad named him Michael but I chopped that off to "Mikey" in a flash. The timing was perfect for me but I think it must have sucked for Mom and Dad. Buddy was in college, Neanne was in nurse's training, I was 10, David was 6, and Dad was being transferred to a place called Arkansas. Oh yeah, and my parents were 42 years old. That's not such a big deal now but it sure was in 1960.
Our family was friends with a family who had a daughter with Down's Syndrome and I think Mom was worried that Mike would be affected with this form of mental retardation. There wasn't a test to check for it so we rode it out, excited and worried and full of hope. Mom tried to prepare us for what could be ahead but I was just excited about getting a baby.
The day Mikey was born the Good Year blimp landed in the airfield behind our house. What an omen! Our baby was perfect! Mrs. Meyers let me stand up in class and tell all about him.
I don't remember all the particulars now but I really did love that baby. I probably made a pest of myself, trying to help out and feeling grown up.
Of course, Buddy and Neanne's friends were at the house all the time, passing Mike around and acting silly over him. Mike has been a people person from day one but who's to say if it's his personality or a defense mechanism he learned as an infant. Whichever, it works. He has a ready laugh and an easy manner. That's not to say he's a pushover. Far from it. He's the caboose on a highly opinionated and motivated freight train of siblings and if he hadn't had the strength to hold on he might have been left behind. After all, 20 years separates the oldest from the youngest.
I don't know when he went from a tow headed baby in a striped life jacket to the man who manages transportation for the Arkansas Department of Education. Growing up, he entertained me more than any of my toys. I was always terrified that something horrible would happen to him. The day he turned 16 I cried when he drove out of the driveway, convinced I'd seen the last of him. I was 26! Mom told me to get a grip. She'd live through it 5 times already.
And, as usual, Mom was right. Here we all are, able to fight another day.

Have phone will travel

I resent being subjected to private phone conversations in public places. I know I'm not alone in my opinion. Cell phones are an incredible convenience and I love mine as much as the next guy but I try not to let it dominate my life. If my phone rings when I'm at Kroger I ignore it. When I get outside I'll check the caller ID and, depending on who called, I'll return the call when I'm not in a public place. Remember when you didn't know you'd had a phone call until you got home? Remember a time before answering machines when you didn't know you'd had a call while you were out until that person called back? I don't want to make a shift backwards, I just want some sort of cell phone protocol or etiquette to be established.
I have heard the stupidest and most meaningless conversations in Wal-Mart. If you want to visit, bring your friend to the store with you. Don't stand in the check-out line discussing the results of your colonoscopy with a person invisible to the rest of us.
The rudest behavior is exhibited by those who wear those blue tooth things in their ears. They walk the aisles, their hands free, shopping and talking. Until you see the little blue light blinking in their ear you think they're lunatics or schizophrenics, listening to the voices in their heads. What can't wait until you're in your car or outside? If your colonscopy shows signs of disease, I'm sorry. I can be sympathetic but I don't want to hear the gory details or the fear in your voice. I have plenty of that without worrying about you. If the call alerts you of an emergency, hang up and go. You probably don't have time to finish your errands anyway.
As the technology has developed most of us have agreed on certain places where cell phone use is prohibited. We turn our phones off in church services, movie theaters, and business meetings. My county library doesn't allow phone conversations inside but it's more the exception than the rule. It shouldn't even be up for discussion but it's a hot topic in the library world. You wouldn't think of having a loud conversation with an individual so what makes a phone conversation okay? After I had retired from my post as a branch library manager in another county, two men threatened one another with guns over a cell phone conversation. The men were sitting side by side at the public computers when one of them got a call. The one man asked the phone talker to hang up or take it outside and the fight was on. The library staff had to call 911 because the men left the building shouting at one another and making violent threats. The police came and the report was made but the men weren't found. I didn't read anywhere about a library shoot out but they could have taken the fight somewhere else. This example of "phone rage" might be extreme but it's real.
The solution is simple really. Use some common sense and be courteous. You aren't invisible or sound free so don't act like you're the only human on the planet. Regardless of the commercials, none of us are so important that we require constant connection to our "networks."

Reconditioned

I think I have finally adjusted to unemployment. It took me long enough. But I have to remember that not only did I work, my job was set in a rigid environment. The school day is divided into sections of an hour or 90 minutes. Teachers and kids are conditioned to move at the sound of a nerve shattering bell no less than 12 times a day. Do that for 28 years and you might have trouble free falling through a day too.
I no longer scurry around, keeping myself properly occupied. That's evident by the number of kitty nose prints on my glass storm door and the coffee stains around my chair on the porch. The one constant in my week is the time I volunteer at Garvan Gardens. Otherwise, I am protective of my time. I don't make "set in stone" obligations and don't really like to make plans too far in advance.
Last winter was dreary and I was restless. I was ready to pack it in, ready to move to a bigger place, ready to look for a job. I'll be interested to see if my new skills can get me through the cold weather. My porch is my refuge but the cold drives me inside. Whatever winter brings, I'll be better equipped to deal with it this year.

Have book will travel

My name is Barbara and I'm addicted to audio books. I don't leave home without at least one. I often tuck in a second just in case I've miscalculated my time frame or find myself trapped in heavy traffic. If I'm out and about, listening to my book, I panic when the reader says,"We hope you've enjoyed Listening Libraries' audio book, King Con, written and read by Stephen J. Cannell." I barely pop the last CD out of the player when I'm scrambling to insert disk 1 of a new novel into the slot. I'm a "chain listener!" The last book isn't even cold when I'm starting the next one.
I started seriously taking advantage of audio books when I was taking chemo. My hospital stay lasted several days and happened every other week. Chemo wears you out. It's a tiredness that starts somewhere deep inside and permeates through your entire body. Reading has always been my escape from the real world and chemo is as real as it gets. I just didn't have the stamina or concentration skills necessary to hold and read a book. But, audio books gave me exactly what I needed to distract me and deliver me from mind numbing boredom. I could put a disk in a portable CD player, hook up with headphones, and get lost in a story.
Now, years later, my audio books are my constant companions. I never leave home without one. I check them out of the local library most of the time but sometimes I'll buy one if I'm particularly impressed with it. I own 3 of the Harry Potter books on Cd and my goal is to buy all 7. They're pretty expensive so I don't buy them at once. Jim Dale, a British actor, is the reader on each book and he's captivating. Every character has a quality that makes him unique so you can follow conversations between characters without any confusion as to who is saying what and to whom.
I can listen to a book and do just about anything I want to do. I hate cleaning house but I can insert a good mystery into my CD player, put in my ear buds, and whisk through our little place in no time flat. When I get a wild hair to walk for exercise I do the same thing. I can cover a lot of territory while I'm being entertained by any one of my favorite authors. I used to carry my CD player in a cheap fanny pack around my waist but I've discovered that a certain style of Columbia shorts has the perfect pockets for a CD player. Now I just pack the player in a pocket and I'm good to go. From cleaning the bathroom to making a long drive, I'm never without a good book.

A Gathering

On September 1st my parents celebrated their 68th wedding anniversary. This, in and of itself, is a remarkable feat. Add to that the fact that all five of their children, all eight grandchildren, and both great-grandchildren are alive and healthy. Everyone who is old enough to work is employed. Two of us are retired and another one of us will be soon. No one is in jail or suffering from an addiction. We speak to one another regularly. On top of all that, I think we're all pretty cute and I know we're all funny.
Saturday we all gathered at my youngest brother's home to celebrate Mom and Dad and each other. My sister-in-law can entertain our mob at the drop of a hat. Their house is the most centrally located and has the biggest kitchen. We're a "kitchen" family. I didn't inherit the gene that allows me to work in a kitchen with people surrounding me so I'm in awe of anyone who can prepare a meal for our large group and participate in the conversation while stepping around guests who are underfoot and munching on chips and salsa (home-made). This particular sister-in-law, Susie, has been part of our family since she started dating my brother, Mike, when she was 14 or 15 years old and opens her home to us anytime we feel the need to gather.
My family doesn't say a blessing over these feasts but one or two of us will speak from the heart about what we mean to one another. It's usually Buddy because he's oldest and he's not overly sentimental. We can reflect on our good fortune and give thanks for our bounty without crying.
This year I appointed myself as speaker. Because of my tendency to get nervous and ramble I wrote down what I wanted to tell my family and read it aloud as we stood, shoulder to shoulder, in Susie's kitchen. I have included this open letter to my parents and brothers and sister in this post.

Being retired, I have lots of time to think and what I think about most is us, this family. We’re unique is many ways but we have three distinctions that stand out to me.
1. We are all alive and functioning, some better than others, but without assistance.
2. We mostly like each other.
3. We are in contact with one another on a fairly regular basis.
Watch the news, read the papers, talk to friends. We are the exception to the rule if we believe these reports. It doesn’t take a genius to see how blessed we are.
Even when we aggravate one another (that’s our right as siblings), we have a bottom line. We love one anther. It’s unconditional. We’re stuck together with gorilla glue and there’s no escape. None of you could commit an act so heinous that I would quit loving you. I asked Mom, one time, if she’d love me if I killed somebody. Her answer was an emphatic, “Of course I would, but I’d be mad as hell you’d done something that stupid!” That’s unconditional in a nutshell.
I try not to take this gift for granted. All of you have been there for me. I’ve never faced adversity without backup. We’re a well rehearsed ensemble troupe. We all have roles to play in our “life drama” and all of us step up to perform our parts without doubt or hesitation. In 1984, after the removal of my first tumor, Mom and Dad and Neanne, and I were getting into the elevator at the Medical Tower building. We were on our way to Dr. Kyser’s office to hear what my treatment would be. Just as we started to step in, Buddy came through the door and announced, “Circle the wagons! I see Indians!” Can it be any plainer than that? I have thousands of examples and anecdotes that illustrate this reaction to a threat of danger. Our solidarity as a family is our legacy and that legacy is a gift from Mom and Dad. Our unity is no accident. They modeled a lifestyle that didn’t allow anger or negativity to fester. That’s not to say that we have lived a life of “goodness and light” 100% of the time. No one can do that, it’s unrealistic. Instead, when strife reared its ugly head, we dealt with it. No one can hash, rehash, and analyze a topic like a Simmons kid. Mom and Dad allowed for individual differences in each of us, even when we bewildered them with some of our decisions. And somehow, they were able to meld us into a formidable and unshakable union. Good, bad, or indifferent, our circle remains unbroken.

Smart Vacation Plans

My neighbor is doing a cool thing. She and her daughter and grandchildren are spending their vacation at home. Why is this cool? Because we live in a resort town and don't take advantage of what's here. People come to Hot Springs from all over the country. They play on our lakes, visit our theme park, tour downtown, and pour money into our economy.
I think Denise's plan is a stroke of genius. The grandkids are little so they're going to have fun whatever they do. They don't care if they're in Hot Springs or Florida. As long as they can swim and feed alligators it's all the same to them. Monday they spent the day at the Lake DeGray Beach. Tuesday they went to Magic Springs. They have something planned for everyday, just like you would if you were in an unfamiliar town.
Their lodging is free because Denise owns the condo. A place like this in Florida would cost a fortune, not to mention the price of gas to travel there. Then there's the high cost of eating out every meal. I'm not saying that this "at home" vacation isn't costing her but it's a long way from what it would be somewhere else.
With the high prices we all face now we'd be smart to follow Denise's example and play in our own yards.

Summer time

It is just too beautiful around here to sit at a computer so this blog has been seriously neglected. The computer can't compete with the lake and the activities. Vacationers, landing by the carload, charge the atmosphere with excitement and anticipation of a good time.

The 3rd and 4th of July there were too many boats on the lake to tempt me. I can ride out there any time I want so I'll wait until after this crazy week of traditional revelry is over to putt out on my SeaDoo. There are plenty of other things to keep me busy. Hot Springs is a fun town and there are still lots of things I haven't done or seen. Maybe I'll make a list and tick them off, one by one.

I have lots of heroes and people I look up to but some are more "heroic" than others. The couple that tops the list is my mom and dad, Paul and Ginny Simmons. If they've ever wavered, I haven't noticed. I know they're human and subject to the same mistakes we all make but when it comes to raising their family they're always on target.

Mom and Dad have raised 5 kids to adulthood, actually to senior hood; all but one are over 50. They've been married for 68 years and live in the house we moved into in 1961. We all go there on a regular basis because we like their company. Even the grand kids who can drive stop in to visit and take advantage of their homespun wisdom. Now don't get the impression I'm describing Ma and Pa Kettle, far from it. They're modern thinkers who enjoy good company, good scotch, and a good joke. They can discuss world affairs or a grand kid's latest heartbreak. They don't live in the vacuum so many of our elderly citizens retreat to.

Mom and Dad taught us by example. Kids don't always hear what they are told but they always see what's going on and that's the behavior they'll choose to model. Mom was the MOM and Dad was the DAD and we were the KIDS. Everyone knew their parts and the lines never blurred. Mom and Dad worked as a unit, there was no divide and conquer.........ever.

By watching them we learned solidarity, honesty, compassion, and courage. Racial or economic biases weren't tolerated. They gave us room to develop as individuals. We were never pigeonholed or expected to behave the same but we were expected to behave.

I never feared that they would stop loving me just because I did something stupid or made a bad choice. That's what growing up is about. The path from adolescence to adulthood is a minefield and they helped us maneuver through it. When we stepped on a mine and had to deal with the explosion they were there with sympathy, or wisdom, or a just punishment, if that was what was required. We were expected to learn from these errors and avoid them in the future. Sometimes that happened but sometimes we were doomed to take a second run at it. As you'd expect, a second or third run at the same dumb behavior met with different consequences. Mom and Dad are fair people, but impatient with stupidity.

I think they are amazing people, and not just because they are my parents. They set a standard for dignity and independence we'd all do well to follow. I'd be lying if I said I don't worry about Daddy mowing the yard and Mom going up and down the steps but my admiration for their spirit and courage outweigh my anxiety for their safety. As children they never wrapped us in cotton and they trusted us to make sound decisions. Now it's my turn to give them the same respect and trust.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda

There are four words or expressions that send me into orbit. I'll bet you agree. They are:
1. WHY didn't you .............?
2. You SHOULD .................
3. Here's what you NEED to do.
4. IF I had...............
When used under certain sets of circumstances these four unfinished sentences can make me spontaneously combust. It's not because I'm a sensitive shrinking violet. In fact, it's quite the opposite. We are all guilty of this at one time or another but that doesn't make it less annoying.
First off, if I don't ask what I SHOULD do, I probably don't want your input. Let's say it's cold outside and I'm barefoot. I know I SHOULD put on shoes but if you aren't my Mama, mind your own business. Maybe I like the way the cold grass tickles my toes.
In that same vein, if I'm barefoot outside and I step on a bee or a sticker, don't ask me WHY I didn't have on my shoes. I just didn't, okay? I made the decision to go shoeless and now I'll pay the consequences. You asking me WHY won't change anything.
Don't tell me what I NEED to do, about anything! I probably know that I NEED to do whatever it is, but don't want to. If it isn't threatening my health or yours don't worry about it. Even little kids know what things they NEED to do to survive. A mature adult with many life experiences doesn't want to hear, "You really NEED to drink the spring water from the fountain downtown." This might be true and I might come to that conclusion on my own, but in the mean time, leave it alone.
Then there is IF. I do not like the word IF. Those two little letters can and have toppled governments and families. IF I had bet on horse A instead of horse B I wouldn't have lost the money. IF I hadn't lost I would have won. IF I hadn't changed my bet I would be rich.
On the other hand, IF is an important word, a word that alerts us to consequences. "IF I don't get to the airport I'll miss the plane." "IF I walk into moving traffic I will be killed by a speeding motorist."
Listen to yourself. Try not to be one of the "shoulda, woulda, coulda people."

Meet Pete

Meet Pete. He's my cat. Pete is a Manx. He's bob tailed and his back legs are a little longer than his front legs so he looks like his back end is jacked up. That is a normal characteristic of a Manx cat.

I was going to make him an indoor cat but that didn't last long. It was clear that I wasn't going to "make" him anything he didn't want to be. A small space and an athletic, determined cat is a recipe for disaster. I've managed to make every pet I've owned needy and neurotic but Pete just won't buy into that. My job is to feed and water him, open the door, and pet him IF he wants to be petted. Otherwise, back off!

This is actually a good thing. While he's curious about visitors, he doesn't harass them. He likes men better than women and after his curiosity is satisfied he goes on his way. We've all tried to visit around an obnoxious, insistent cat so I'm glad Pete is like he is.

Unlike Levi, who had to have constant monitoring and attention, Pete just wants to be left to

his own entertainment. It's almost too easy. If he's in the condo when I leave, fine. If he isn't, fine. He's usually on a porch chair when I get home, ready to go in for a nibble and a nap.

I sit on my porch and watch him making his rounds. His nosiness gets him in trouble sometimes. One day he came home smelling just awful. When I got close enough to him I recognized skunk scent. Horrified, I locked him in the bathroom until I could go buy something to bath him. Petco told me to go buy tomato juice and drown him in it. I put this unhappy cat in the bathtub and poured a couple of cans of tomato juice into his fur. By the time we were done the bathroom looked like a CSI murder scene. I had tomato juice on all four walls, the floor, the mirror, and me. It took longer to clean up the mess than it did to clean up the cat.

Pete is a good hunter so I keep a bell around his neck. In spite of that he's brought me a squirrel and several wrens. This makes me sad but I can't fault a guy for doing what he's engineered to do. Right now I'm watching him very closely because we have a couple of bluebird houses with eggs on the nests. One of the boxes with eggs is on a light pole out front and he'll climb up and sit on the box. The daddy bluebird guards his nest and divebombs at Pete while Pete swats at him like King Kong swatting at airplanes on the Empire State building. The real danger will come when the babies start trying to fly. I can't sit and watch a bluebird box day and night but I'm making it my business to monitor it as much as I can. Life in the wild is tricky business and Pete is a tricky guy.

Levi

I've resisted writing this since March 19, when I had to have my 14 year old rat terrier, Levi, put to sleep. Lots of times I skip the poignant, "My old dog died," stories in memoirs or essays. They're too painful. Now, here I am, writing one of my own.

Levi was 6 weeks old when I got him. I had to pass a rigid inspection before his owner let me take him. She was the receptionist at our vet's office and I knew she'd be watching me. Headstrong and energetic, I was no match for him. I was under his control in nothing flat and it didn't change for 14 years. I belonged to him, not the other way around.

When I sat, Levi sat on me. When I crocheted he would be on my lap, burrowed under whatever I was making. We slept curled up together, Levi under the covers. I don't know how he kept from suffocating sometimes.

A doggie door in the Benton house and a fenced yard gave Levi the freedom to come and go at his own pace. We didn't have to do the leash thing or let him in or out. It was easy. Then we moved to the lake and I became his virtual slave. He actually adjusted quite well to condo living. His advanced age gave us the advantage. He wasn't too interested in exploration and didn't fight his leash. We walked miles and miles around our complex several times a day and he became the doggie darling of our neighbors. But dog walking is very time consuming and I had to factor in that time when I had to be somewhere. I couldn't leave him alone too long or he'd set up a howl that was annoying and embarrassing. We live on top of one another over here and a yapping dog can drive sane people to violence.

So, I couldn't leave him here alone when I went to work. Every morning I drove Levi to Benton and dropped him off at Mom and Dad's. Then, every afternoon I stopped by and picked him up. Yeah, it was doggy daycare with Mawmaw and Pawpaw. Thank goodness they could do it because I don't know how we'd have managed otherwise.

I quit working in July and that helped. I made sure I wasn't gone too long at a time and he slept more hours than he was awake. His health steadily declined until he wasn't even Levi anymore but we agreed that as long as he wasn't in obvious pain we'd let nature take its course.

Sunday, March 18, was D-day. We don't know what really happened but it was terrible and we knew it was over. Being Sunday made things a bit more complicated. Our vet's office was closed and I really wanted her to take care of him. He'd never seen another doctor and I couldn't let a stranger do something this important. I called my niece, a vet in North Carolina, for advice. She told me I could give him a little of my pain medicine to make him more comfortable and get us through the rest of the day and night. She assured me that putting him to sleep was my only alternative if he didn't die in the night. Monday morning Levi made his last trip to Benton. It was a long ride home without him but I took comfort in the fact that he'd had a very good run.

I miss him like crazy.

And the winner is....

My boy Blake didn't win American Idol but his career as a singer and entertainer is launched. After a two hour marathon of songs and commercials Ryan Seacrest announced the winner. Jordin Sparks, a long legged, dark eyed beauty from Arizona was officially named American Idol for 2007. Blake was a gracious "loser" but we haven't seen the last of him. The American Idol phenomenon has jump started lots of careers in a field where it's tough to get a break. I expect he'll have a CD on the market before the end of the year and I'll be there to buy it.

The good life

I've been retired since July 17, 2006 and my life is a whirlwind. It took me a little while to get the hang of it but I've discovered the secret to adapting to freedom. Leisure time isn't leisurely. This might be an arguable point to an average working stiff so I'll explain what I mean.

I'm the half of the couple who lives without time constraints so any errands or mundane chores are mine. Going to the post office, making beds, errands to the court house or marina, they fall to me. I regularly go to Benton to visit Mom and Dad, and there's my volunteer work at Garvan Woodland Gardens. Between these duties I must squeeze in reading novels, working crossword puzzles, trying out new crochet patterns, and discussing world events or literature with Buddy over an Amber Bock. All of the above activities are done on my porch with its incredible view of the lake. Now that it's summer I have the added responsibility of riding my Sea-Doo around the lake, checking out the new construction and exploring coves and inlets.

What's my point? No one's life is ideal but right now, in this moment in time, mine is pretty darn close to it. I don't take these blessings for granted. My parents are alive and lively; a joy to visit with and a weekly highlight for me. The beautiful gardens give me a sense of usefullness and a like minded group of people to interact with on a regular basis. Novels and crossword puzzles were guilty pleasures to be indulged in when the work was done. The same thing with crocheting. Now I can do any or all of them whenever I feel like it. Living close enough to my big brother to share a beer and regularly enjoy one another's company is worth more than I can express.

Over the years Debbie and I discussed and dreamed of the life we have now. We hadn't figured on cancer being our catalyst but it has been. I guess I can call cancer a backwards blessing. If I hadn't gotten sick we might still be slogging through a daily grind, losing sight of what matters. Cancer forced us to assess our priorities and make major life changing decisions. I never expected boats, docks, marinas, windy conditions, and Bass Pro Shop to figure so prominently in our daily lives. We are lucky women and we know it.

Conspiracy theory

During fits of paranoia, I'm convinced that there is a cure for cancer but for reasons known only to it, our government is withholding the information. Think about it, cancer is big business for insurance companies, hospitals, and countless merchandising enterprises. Without breast cancer, how would they unload all those pink ballcaps? Cancer kills enough people every year to make it an effective population decreaser. And its targets are random. We're all affected. No one group can cry foul because cancer is an equal opportunity agent.

I figure insurance companies have the most to lose if cancer becomes curable. I pay over $500.00 a month for health insurance and then have to fight with them about what is covered at any given time. I've been working on getting a PET scan payed for since March 2006. Dollar value? $3,633.00 Peace of mind? Priceless to me, so if I have to pay it, I will.

PET stands for positive emission tomography and it is a nuclear medicine medical imaging technique that produces a three dimensional image or map of functional processes in the body. It detects changes within certain tissues or organs early, often before disease progresses and is important in determining neurological conditions, heart disease, and the spread of cancer. How about that for an idea?!

In a sane world insurance companies would require these scans. I think, in the long run, they'd save money and lives. In the last 11 years I have cost Blue Cross thousands of dollars but I have paid their premium every month since I was 23 years old. That's 33 years and I'm just one person! Do the math. They're still ahead.

Plugged up

My brother, David, teaches 7th grade social studies and wears a flash drive on a lanyard around his neck. His teenage sons can expect to be relieved of cellphones or Ipods or the Internet for punishment. His students present their class projects in Power Point. This is more the norm than the exception in our society today. We're electronic junkies.

David's son, Ryan, is my go to guy for computer maintenance. He troubleshoots, diagnoses, and repairs for me. He can build a new computer from pieces of old ones. While his talent intrigues our family, he isn't that unique in today's high school. By the time I retired from public education in 2002, teachers were scouting the junior high school for the kids who would take care of them electronically when they advanced to high school.

In the early days these guys were equivalent to the boys in the audio-visual club. They were usually shy with a tendency toward obnoxious. What they lacked in people skills they made up for with their understanding of DOS, that old, unwieldy, operating system we used before Windows. As our technology advanced in sophistication, so did our backward geek. Knowledge is power. They had it, we adults didn't. I figure it was the same thing when cars replaced horses and buggies. The young guys, eager for the speed and convenience, got on board while the old ones stood back, bewildered but fascinated.

The computer geek stereotype is evolving at a rapid pace. In less than 20 years they've moved from the backroom of the school library to the mainstream of American education. If we're lucky these kids will grow up and take over our classrooms. When that happens the power paradigm will shift. I depended on students to teach me, to pull me into the electronic age. They had what I needed and I shamelessly took advantage of their expertise. I learned almost everything I know about the Internet from teenagers. Without them I wouldn't be able to do this.