Saturday, May 20, 2017


Met a friend for lunch this past week at the Bottleworks, a mixed use community of several buildings in Athens. Here's a map:

Dating from about 1900, the site once included a bakery and livery stable. In 1928, the Athens Coca Cola Bottling Company was built. That was sold in 1985 and the buildings were abandoned. Rehabilitation began and sputtered in 2008 when the economy collapsed, but in 2012 the project was sold and brought back to life Now the compound includes condos, offices, shops, and restaurants.

We ate in one featuring Argentine food:

I meant to take a picture of my spinach and mushroom empanada but when it came, I, unfortunately, out of habit, began to eat. So you'll have to take my word that it looked good. And tasted better!

We ate inside because it was hot and the pollen has been bothering my head, but diners outside didn't seem to mind:

Can't wait to go back!

Saturday, May 13, 2017


This is Lyndon House Art Center that we visited a few weeks back. Photography, painting, pottery, and other arts are taught and practiced here. My guy signed up for the photography group as he's anxious to find some friends to go out shooting with.

This is the view as we approached from the sidewalk on the street where it sits.

And this garden photo is taken from the side as we walk around to the left:

And going on around, here's the entrance to the actual art part:

The original house has a history but I won't go into it here. Suffice it to say that a lot of artifacts from the owners and some period furniture make it well worth touring. The artists' addition was thoughtfully planned and the entire structure is very impressive.

PS - My guy joined the association and we've already been to our first photography group meeting. I think he's going to like it here!

Saturday, May 6, 2017


Last Saturday in this college town featured a day of bicycle racing and music. All ages get to participate in smaller races, ending with the big one that night. We didn't stay for that one, but here's the beginning of a race for smaller people:

And then we have the start of The Gambler. The contestants race to specified points and pick up playing cards at each stop. When they get to the finish, the best hand wins! Kind of neat, huh? Gives everyone a chance.

And all day and night, there are musicians. This is just one band:

Seems a great time was had by all!

Oh, and thanks to my guy for his pix.

Saturday, April 29, 2017


On our way to check on our lot at Lake Hartwell, we went through Madison County and its county seat of Danielsville. It was a pretty little town, with the road parting as we got to the courthouse so as to go one-way around it.

This is my picture of the front. Hard to see it because of the trees.

And this is its photo from the side, courtesy of my guy:

The Romanesque Revival structure was built in 1901 and is on the Historic Places National Register.

The county is named for James Madison, our fourth president, while the town is named for Allen Daniel, who served in the state militia during the Revolution and donated the land for the town. You'd think one of those men would be honored with a statue, wouldn't you? But no. The statue is of Crawford Long, the doctor who first used ether as anesthesia and who was born here. Okay, I guess he might deserve a statue, too.

One thing I noticed: There was much more traffic than I expected for such a tiny place, and I counted three law offices around the courthouse. Must be a very litigious town!

Saturday, April 22, 2017


Now that we are settling in, my guy is looking for places to photograph. We went this past week to the nearby Botanical Garden. Just a few pix:

At the entrance were several clusters of gardens including this water garden:

We went inside to a gift shop, then went through this greenhouse area before entering the actual garden:

Then once we were outside, there were acres of flowers. Here is a statue--called Peace--from one of the small area gardens:

Walking on up the path, we came to this vista where we could look down on all the plants:

And turning around, could look up:

So this gives you an idea of the place. These are not-so-great pictures from my phone, but the garden is extensive and we stayed maybe an hour. My guy is eager to get back with his good camera and tripod and spend the day.

It appears there will be lots of photo opportunities in our new home.

Saturday, April 15, 2017


Image result for post office signs

So we sold our house--and furniture--and moved. The house closed earlier than expected but I'd put in an address change the week before. We'd already rented a post office box in our new city so we'd have a forwarding address and thought we were all prepared.

The nice people at our island post office took my address change card and stopped delivering mail as per my request. (This happened two or three days before closing.) We assumed in a week or so, we'd be getting our forwarded mail in our new post office box.

Not so.

A week passed. No mail. Then ten days. No mail.

I went to the post office branch where we had our box and inquired.

Seems for some reason, a hold had been put on our mail. A hold? What kind of hold? Why? Was it because of my Indivisible activity?

Everyone denied responsibility. We were advised to wait a few more days and see if it showed up.

After two weeks, we inquired again. Nope. Still no mail, they said. Sometimes it takes a while.

I had gotten a couple of emails saying they'd sent confirmation of our address change to our old address and our new address. Then I got an email saying my online account was locked, but if I'd put in the confirmation code listed in the letter, I  could access it again.

By this time, I was getting paranoid. I went back to the post office and complained that our mail was being held and told them about the email saying I had to put in a code that I wasn't able to get. A visiting supervisor promised she'd look into it and call me no matter what she found out.

After a few more days, I printed out the email and took it to the post office, telling them that I'd be happy to put in the confirmation code except that the letter sent to the old address had probably been forwarded to the new address.

And I couldn't get mail at the new address because someone had put a hold on our box.

Maybe I came across as a little unhinged. Anyway, the clerk looked a little alarmed. He sent me to the main post office but promised he'd look in the back and if he found our mail, he'd personally put it into our box. I believed him.

The supervisor at the main office was the same one I'd encountered a few days before at the branch. She said there was nothing she could do, that our mail hadn't shown up, and suggested I call the old post office and make sure they were doing their job.

I knew they'd done their job but I called. It was so nice to hear a friendly voice! Yes, he said, the address change was in the computer. He took several minutes to go to the back and check the carrier's mail. No, he said, there was no mail in it for us. Our mail was being forwarded as per my instructions.

On the off-chance the branch clerk had found our mail, we went by the next morning and checked our box. And there it was! A big wad of junk mail, bills, and two refund checks from utilities we no longer use.

We're still expecting a couple more checks and a car title, but at least we have hope they'll eventually show up.

I hate complaining about the post office--this president's as likely as not to cut its funds out of the budget and I do use it a lot. But some branches go out of their way to help while others...

Saturday, April 8, 2017


I first wore this shirt for a reenactment weekend and a fiftyish woman trailing after a man, maybe her husband, sidled up to me and murmured, "I like your shirt," before going on. I barely managed a quick acknowledgement. Maybe her husband/significant other had different political opinions?

Then in the Village, a fortyish woman came up to me and said with a smile, "I like your shirt!" I was enthusiastic in my thanks.

I've had a few more women approach, read what's on the shirt, and say exactly the same thing. "I like your shirt." Some are like the first lady, speaking softly as if afraid to be overheard. Others are bold and outspoken.

Resisting is hard and sometimes lonely. It's easier when we can connect with others who are frightened at changes relating to the environment, healthcare, personal freedoms, and future military adventures. I never paid much attention to politics until now, but the election made me look closer at what's happening and I don't like it. Evidently, more people than I expected, feel the same way.

I bought the shirt online through Teesprings. I don't usually pay so much for a tee shirt, but profits from sales of this one go to support the ACLU. Teesprings has other shirts that benefit other charities, too. An easy way to support your cause.

PS - The shirt is resting on our new sofa. We now have a bed, washer, dryer, TV, and sofa. We're getting there in our move!

Saturday, April 1, 2017


(We are still moving so I am reverting to a blog written some time back.)

I have a hard time buying purses. Years ago, a relative told me to look in the luggage department. I did and found the most wonderful bag from Swiss Army. You know. The knife people. Only they also make little bags for travelers.

Like this one. See? Two zippered pockets on the front. Two slide in pockets on the back for cell and business cards or loose dollars. And inside, all kinds of places for paperwork, credit cards, pens, driving license... I loved it. So much that I've had three in the past fifteen years.


After I went to Washington and stuffed it with crackers and energy bars and even a bottle of water, this one was on its last legs. The strap was beginning to fray and some of the stitches were coming loose. So I looked for a replacement. And guess what? Evidently, Swiss Army no longer makes this kind of bag. I searched the stores where I'd found the others I'd bought, but no bag. I Googled them. No bag. Not even on the Swiss Army site. Just like a bra! You find one you like and they stop making it!

So after a few weeks of searching, I ended up buying this one:

Nice plain bag. Soft leather. Looks good, doesn't it? And sure, it's got a couple of zippers on the front, and some compartments on the inside. It would actually work just fine if it were about two inches taller. As it is, stuff kept falling out.

So after nearly losing my sunglasses one time and my billfold another, I started searching for a purse again. I found this one. I don't particularly like it, but it holds my stuff. Unfortunately, it has three compartments besides the one on the front that holds my phone. All are deep and roomy and unorganized. I can never find anything.

I'm beginning to hate it. Guess I'll have to start looking again.

Saturday, March 25, 2017


Just a short blog today because I'm in the middle of moving. Yes, we are going back up to a new area in North Georgia. It'll be closer to relatives and my doctors. Much as we love our island, we're tired of 6 hour trips each way, every two or three months to get my eyes attended to. So we're moving closer.

The local paper had a few interesting items this week, besides people getting picked up for DUI or outstanding warrants.

A woman got bit on her finger when she tried to pull an attacking pit bull off her dog. Neighbors intervened and held the pit bull until Animal Control arrived.  Brave neighbors!

People called police when they saw a man punching a pregnant woman in the face. Police arrived but the woman was uncooperative. Police found she had a Florida arrest warrant out on her and would have taken her to jail except she complained of stomach pains. I'd take a hospital to jail any time!

Someone reported a man riding a lawn mower and wielding a shotgun. He was also throwing rocks. And he was drunk. He got carted off for disorderly conduct. I can't help wondering how he managed to wield a shotgun and throw rocks at the same time. 

A woman called police when she saw a man lying in her front yard. Police determined he was unconscious and intoxicated. Since he was too drunk to walk, they gave him a ride home. Hmmm. Easier for him than calling a taxi, I guess!

A man called police when he heard a loud bang. Police discovered the cause: another man was crashing his bicycle into a parked vehicle. He got arrested for DUI. So he thought he was sober enough to ride a bicycle, huh? Guess he learned different. Don't know if he got a ride home, too.

A family dispute "got physical." One sister was hitting her mother; the other sister called police. One sister was taken to jail. No problem figuring out which!

A naked man was sitting in a car in the parking lot of the local Walmart. He gave the police a false name. Unfortunately, that person was wanted for arrest by the city. His real name had no better history; it sent him to jail because of an outstanding warrant from Florida for drugs. Should have picked a better person to impersonate! 

Finally, an inmate of the jail was caught with two kinds of illegal drugs. He was in jail for felony theft and violating probation. Now added to those charges are two counts of giving drugs to inmates without the consent of the warden. Boy, he's determined to spend his life in jail, isn't he? And now I'm wondering: if the warden gives his consent, does that make dispensing drugs legal?

So that's all I have to share this week about the people I'll never understand.

Saturday, March 18, 2017


The exclusive island next to us hosts an annual conference for the American Enterprise Institute, a collection of billionaires and millionaires and other well-heeled right-wing people. Current or former members include Newt Gingrich, Betsy DeVos (no longer listed on the board), Dick Cheney, et cetera. There are also business officials from such companies as Coors, International Paper, American Express, Dell and others. People attending this year possibly included (they are very secretive) Mitch McConnell, Wisconsin governor Scott Walker, George W. Bush, the Koch brothers, Paul Ryan and other government officials.

Anyway, there were over a hundred corporate or private jets parked at our little airport. Here's a photo of the ones parked on the back runway.

The bunch of conservative attendees came to the attention of a new resistance group I've joined. The island they met on is private, so on the last day, our leaders set up a protest at the airport gates where limousines enter to drop off passengers. A young relative helped make my sign:

Since our area is mostly conservative, we were unsure of the turnout but eighty to a hundred protesters showed up, some for a few minutes, others staying for over two hours. We were thrilled, especially since we had little time to let people know. Here's a picture taken before the limos started arriving:

After a few SUV limos went in, they stopped coming.

Ah, but we had someone following them out from the exclusive island who tipped us off: the limos were detouring to another entrance to the airport.

So a few of us ambled down about half a mile down the road to that gate. Here we are with our signs:

When we got there, a guard in a truck got on his phone and soon the limos stopped coming in there, too. So we went back up to the front for a while. Ended up coming back to the second gate. Finally had to give up about two or so hours.

Drivers in passing cars didn't know what to make of us. We had several go by shouting "Trump!" or "Make America Great!" or "Go home!" The nicer people among us called back "Thank you!" to every one of the jeers. I just hid behind my sign. One diesel pickup got up close to us and revved his engine, sending black smoke all over white outfits. But we persisted. And then people started driving by honking horns and giving us thumbs up. I didn't know we had so many sympathizers on our island!

I'm sure the bigwigs took little notice of us, but we got to voice our disapproval of what's going on in our government. And that's democracy, isn't it? That's what truly makes America great!

Saturday, March 11, 2017


So the local Rotary Club had its annual chili cook-off last weekend. This is kind of like our annual Brunswick Stewbilee except we eat chili instead of Brunswick Stew.

This is the entrance. The group of young men on the right gave out sampling packets to those who had tickets and made anyone without tickets go back and buy one.

Then we head for the street lined with booths where, with our paid stickers slapped on our chests and armed with napkins and spoons, we begin our sampling.

Working our way through people clustered around each booth, we grab more samples and continue eating.

Finally, filled to bursting with chili (and a few corn muffins and oysterette crackers), we leave to gaze back beyond the lonely cedar barely saved when the park was renovated.

The chili samples were off this year. If the chili wasn't way too spicy-hot, it was way too bland. We ate and ate and never did find the perfect mix. In fact, we were a little sick because we ate so much.

But the corn muffins were good.

Saturday, March 4, 2017


Oh my! This week had some doozies in the local newspaper. There were the usual DUIs, outstanding warrants, and shoplifting charges the police dealt with, but among the more interesting items:

A "lousy" thief broke into an apartment and stole $230 made from sales of Girl Scout cookies.

Well! That...that... LOUSY thief!

A resident woke up in the middle of the night and went into his kitchen to find... A stranger was sitting at the table eating a pot pie from the freezer. Police were called and the intruder taken away,

The paper didn't say whether the pot pie had been cooked or was still frozen. I'm strangely reluctant to ask.

Someone called the police saying a couple under the bridge were "making whoopee" under a blanket. Police arrived but decided they were only huddled together under the blanket to keep warm.

??? And they decided this how???

A quick mart clerk called police about a customer who, after heating a sandwich in the microwave, left without paying for it. Police caught the suspect but watched a store videotape to find... The man had brought his own sandwich in and heated it in the store's microwave. He didn't get arrested.

And just who's going to pay for all that electricity used?

A teenager didn't like the shirt his mother put out for him to wear to school. (He let his mother choose his clothes?) Police were called as the argument got out of hand. The policeman calmed both parties down and gave the boy a ride to school.

Well. Wasn't that kid special?

Another woman called police about her son stealing her necklace. Seems he even posted pictures of himself wearing the necklace on FaceBook.

That's right. Let your close friends AND EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD see you wearing a stolen necklace. From your mother! Have you no shame? Or is it good sense you're lacking?

Sometimes the stories in these short paragraphs amaze me. Makes me glad I'm not the subject of one of them!

Saturday, February 25, 2017


As I noted in an earlier blog, the Georgia groundhog says spring is here. In our area, that's certainly true! Azaleas are blooming like crazy.

A few pix:

Then some pix of plants in my back yard:

You know it's spring when the croquet players put on their whites!

Finally, not really a spring picture but one of our car carriers going out just before sunset:

I really love this area. It'll be hard to leave it.

Saturday, February 18, 2017


If you've read my blog before, you might remember the excitement when Ben Affleck chose our area for his movie LIVE BY NIGHT. We were overjoyed that a real, live movie star would be in our little town filming. My guy and I finally got to see it some weeks back, just before it left the theaters.

I am sad to say it was not good. Not that it was bad. It just wasn't good.

The story seemed fragmented and was hard to follow. I'd read the book by Dennis Lehane--which was engrossing--some years back, but I still had trouble following the movie. Basically, it was about a Boston gangster. He falls in love with his crime boss's daughter, gets beat up, is forced to flee to Florida, builds up his boss's crime empire there... Throw in the Ku Klux Klan, the sheriff's daughter, the black brother-sister Cubans who run the rum trade and...

Oh, my! It's so confusing. Too much is going on. It never really sucked me in.

However, I must say the setting is marvelous! Brunswick, Georgia standing in for Ybor City, Florida is absolutely amazing. The scenery, especially on a road twining through the marshes (which may be from our area?), is breathtaking. And I'm sure some of the local actors/actresses did a great job in their bit parts. Our area did indeed put its best foot forward.

So if you get a chance, see it. Just for the background.

Saturday, February 11, 2017


Some of our local crimes this week as written up in the local paper:

A lot of shoplifting, DUIs and people calling the police for help. Several callers, police discovered, had outstanding warrants and took them in. One exasperated caller told police she would cut somebody if they didn't come quick and arrest the person she was arguing with. That person happened to be the one with an outstanding warrant so it worked out for everyone.

Don't you just love happy endings?

At some point, a call came in about a wild boar loose in the city terrorizing people. Police did indeed find a hog wandering the streets. After playing some keep-away, officers managed to corral it and take it away.

I can see the movie headline: HOGWILD IN THE CITY. And I bet someone got some sausage out of that deal!

The most interesting item concerned a prisoner being taken to the courthouse for an appearance on shoplifting charges. Though handcuffed to another prisoner, the "extremely flexible inmate" managed to slip out of his cuff, fling off his jail-issued flip-flops, and take off running barefoot. He was last seen in his jail-issue blue top and pants. That was last week and as of today (Wednesday), still hasn't been caught. The other prisoner wisely did not run off.

At least the other guy won't have escape charges added to whatever he was being tried for! As for the escapee, they're looking for him on our island. Though why he would come to an island when he has the whole state to hide in is beyond me!

SATURDAY UPDATE: The "double-jointed" prisoner was caught yesterday in his hometown. Someone turned him in for the thousand dollar reward. Can't even trust your family nowadays!

Ah, the small-town life is so exciting!

Saturday, February 4, 2017


After this one, I'll be through!

But I've seen some snitty articles and ugly pictures about the Womens March on Washington from conservative sites. My experience was nothing like what they wrote about and/or portrayed. Yes, there were signs some people might have considered obscene but most were not. Just simple thoughts made by people expressing their views. No violence on the march. Not a lot of hate. Some humor. Some pleas for sensible government. Everyone had their own opinion.

Here are some of them:

Like "I Voted"

And Trump compared to ringworm:

And various ones like "Super Callous Fragile Racist Extra Braggadocious" and "Save Our H(ealth)care - Obamacare Saved Me" and "NO!"


And this one: "Women are like Cats - Will do as they please"

But the one I liked best, I didn't get a picture of. It featured an old-fashioned switchboard operator with her ear plugs in, saying: "Hello 1955? Please hold for the GOP" Some of the truest words there!

If anyone tries to tell you how disgusting and violent our march was, don't believe them. They're just parroting some of those "alternative facts" the con people in the White House seem so fond of spouting.

Saturday, January 28, 2017


I rode up to Savannah where buses were leaving for the Womens March On Washington with a journalist I met due to our shared interest in letting our voice be heard. Bethany's reason for marching was not only to exercise her First Amendment rights, but to observe as others took the same advantage of our Constitution.

A friend of hers had a mother going to Washington for the March and offered to let us park in her yard before she dropped us all off at the buses. I was surprised to find her mother using a walker. In her fifties or sixties, Diane had been in a bad auto accident that left her in the hospital for several months. While there, she saw people in worse shape and realized just how important Obamacare and Medicaid were to people without work insurance. So she was marching to protest repealing the ACA without giving us a replacement. She made the trip, though she spent most of the day in the disabled section and was sick several times coming back. I admire her greatly.

On the bus, my seatmate was Lisa, a young woman originally from Portland, Oregon. She has been doing a contract job for the Corps of Engineers and will be in Savannah for a couple more months. An avid environmentalist, Lisa marched to protest the evisceration of the EPA. She is frightened that clean air and clean water will become a thing of the past while the new administration dismisses climate change as fake science.

Across the bus aisle, Ali and Barbie sat together. Ali is a college student at SCAD (Savannah College of Arts and Design) majoring in Film and Photography. She marched for all women, and wants people to realize that every woman, no matter her race or color or religion, deserves to be treated with respect and tolerance.

Petite Barbie has a teenaged son and does not like large crowds. In fact, she warned us if she had a panic attack, she might have to step to the side for a while. Like the rest of us, she set out, determined to be heard. She was reticent about voicing her views, but if I remember correctly, our new president's attitude toward women touched a nerve. She marched for survivors of sexual assault.

Like me, Ali and Barbie had never done anything like this before. Only Lisa had marched at rallies and nothing, she said, as big as this one. She came prepared with a vest that held everything. Every time I looked around, she was pulling out a bag of carrots or cucumbers or tortillas (?) or something else to eat and offering it around. My own Lance crackers and energy bars seemed sadly lacking in the health department next to her stash.

But we made out all right. When everyone packed together, we did have to put Barbie up on a curb so she didn't get too panicky. And Ali kept lagging as she snapped pix of the huge crowd with her camera. Lisa was our leader (we never did manage to meet up with the rest of our Georgia contingent) directing us which way to go. And they all kept tabs on me, the oldest one who should have been giving them advice. "Going too fast?" "Think you can make it?" "This way! Don't get lost!"

None of us knew each other before the march. I doubt we'll ever meet again. But that day, we all marched to resist what already seems like a dismal future. We and nearly half a million other people came together to speak with one voice. Women's rights are human rights.

Here's a selfie of the three angels who stuck with me throughout that momentous Saturday: Barbie, Lisa, Ali, and me.

They dragged me over walls when we couldn't get around barriers and held up chains for me to climb under when I couldn't step over them and caught me when I stumbled. I couldn't have got through that day without them. I'll never forget them. And I'll never forget the thankfulness of learning others feel as I do, ready to rise up and fight for the America we love.

Friday, January 20, 2017


I apologize in advance for the length of this post. This blog comes out Friday instead of Saturday because I will be out of commission for a few days. I am traveling to Washington DC. No, not for the inauguration. For the women's rally/march.

After November 7th, a grandmother in Hawaii, Teresa Shook, like many of us, despaired over the result. Instead of having our first woman president, forty-six percent of the voters chose a man who jeered at minorities and women, mocked the disabled and people of different faiths, maligned men who had served and died for our country, and planned to dismantle programs essential to clean water and air, universal healthcare, and women's rights.

Shook decided to see if others might want to march in Washington DC to signal disapproval of his hateful campaign and his stated intentions. When she went to bed, she had forty responses. When she woke up the next morning, there were over ten thousand people ready to join her.

I, too, was despondent. My vote and nearly three million others that gave the popular vote to Clinton, did not count. Literally. We might as well have stayed home because our getting out and going to the polls, standing in line and taking time to vote, didn't change a thing. Despite our majority in votes.

When I saw a tiny item about women marching on Washington, then found on FaceBook that women in our state were already chartering buses to take protesters to DC, optimism returned. There were other people who felt like me. Together, we would make our voices heard.

I thought about what it meant for some time--I'm no spring chicken; my eyes are bad; my feet are bad; I hate crowds. I've never been active in anything like this. Never felt the need! Wasn't our country becoming more tolerant, more accepting, more benevolent toward others? Wasn't it moving forward in human issues? But now, suddenly, all progress is in full retreat.

I couldn't shirk my duty to participate. So I started trying to find a ride to the nearest bus departure city. When I linked up with a stranger already signed up to go (I met her and was comfortable she wasn't a nut job!), I signed on, too.

Understand, this entire undertaking is a gut response from the Jane Smiths (and some John Does) of our great country. Everyone has her or his reasons. Women's issues, saving black lives, gun control, reproductive freedom, climate change, affordable health care, gay rights, disgust at one candidate's "locker room talk" and failure to release tax returns...

But most are united in believing the electoral college chose the wrong person for such an overwhelming and critical job as president of the greatest nation on earth.

Oh, at first we were a wild bunch! But eventually, professional activists came in to help bring the unwieldy mob under control. under control as a grass roots effort with so many opinions and causes represented can be. Permits were obtained, routes hammered out, portapotties rented, speakers booked, and T-shirts designed. We were on our way.

As of today, from the best information I can find, over 223,000 women (with some men and children) are traveling to Washington DC to march the day after the inauguration of arguably the most unpopular president ever taking the oath of office. Georgia alone is sending over four thousand people. Women are recognizing sister marchers in airports by their clear backpacks while planes to DC are about 90% filled with women wearing pink hats.

And there are at least 673 sister marches! For some strange reason, people all over the world are rallying to our cause. In Europe, Australia, Asia, Africa, South America...Even Anarctica (???)!

This is my official Women's March shirt along with the mustard colored scarf that marks a Georgia marcher.

Yes, I know it's a rather ugly yellow but it was chosen, I understand, because it's the color of the monarch butterfly, which is (?) our state insect(?). At any rate, I'm pretty sure we'll be the only state wearing it! The same cannot be said for all the pink "pussyhats" we will be sporting. Women have been knitting and crocheting like crazy to be sure everyone has one. Some object to its name, but I bet you'll see a lot of them in the crowd. (A relative knitted mine because I'm not craftsy.)

As Hillary Clinton said: "Women's rights are human rights."

I'm proud to be marching in support of them.

Saturday, January 14, 2017


Hard to find a clock-radio anymore. Our old one started getting staticky (I listen to the local oldie radio station when I'm at my computer) and we decided it was time for a new one.

We looked at Walmart last time we needed one and found little choice there. That's how we ended up with the staticky one. So this time, we went to Best Buy.

They did have three or four brands, thank goodness. We asked the salesman which he suggested. He pointed one out. A Sony. When I saw another just like it but a little more expensive, I asked, "What's the difference?"

"This one projects the time on the ceiling or wall," he told me.

"We don't need that," my guy said.

"On the ceiling?" I asked, entranced.

So we bought it. And I love it. No more does my guy have to sit halfway up in bed and lean over me to look at the clock. We can wake up, glance up at the ceiling and Voila!

And the sound is pretty good, too.

So if you're old-fashioned enough to want a clock-radio, I recommend this one!

Saturday, January 7, 2017


So my guy and I have the crud. We used to get it every January or February. Sometimes twice in one winter. But we haven't had it in quite a long while. Maybe not since we moved down to the sunny coast. But the Tuesday after Christmas, one day after family left to go back north, my guy started feeling punk.

I sympathized and tried not to get within breathing distance. Alas, Friday morning I woke with it, too.

We soldiered on till finally this week, I called my doctor and he called his. His doctor's receptionist gave him an appointment to come in the next day. My doctor's receptionist said sympathetically: "Yes, lots of people have been having this. It usually lasts a couple of weeks, maybe three. No need to come in. There are some over-the-counter medications you can take that might help. Robitussin for coughing, Mucinex..." et cetera.

I panicked. "No need to come in? But I'm coughing like crazy and my head's running buckets."

"Do you have a fever?"


"Does it hurt when you cough?"

"Uh, no..."

"Then you probably don't need to be seen." She paused. "Oh. Wait. I didn't realize how old you were. Maybe it's best you do come in."

I took the appointment for that afternoon gratefully and hung up. Then what she said hit me. Didn't realize how old I was? How OLD I was??? After a few minutes indignation, my better sense prevailed. What does it matter? At least I got in to see her. Even if it was because I'm old.

And the doctor did indeed find it necessary to give me an antibiotic, so I was justified in persisting on seeing her.