Senior Discount

I started this post in early January:

I bought my new nail clippers on a day when the drugstore offered a senior discount.

You may remember my talking about nail clippers. I didn't get very far with the post. I haven't really decided how I feel about senior discounts. I am still working through that ambivalence.

I received a discount this week, unasked.

My son has a tradition of taking donuts for the percussion section to celebrate their concerts. This time he said to splurge on two dozen. I went that afternoon and picked them out. I paid for them with my reward card with $.07 due. That's another story. And it wasn't "Eat In". That would be great fun eating two dozen donuts at the store. But I am sidetracked.

Do I tell them that the donuts are for high school students, who are supposed to repay me, and insist on paying full price? Is it a slippery slope to buying alcohol for teens?

I just thanked them. After all, $1.80 is just almost two bucks.

Pops concert

My son played in the Pops Concert last night. We enjoyed the choral and band offerings, both ensembles and full groups. My husband leaned over to me at the end and commented that it's nice they included offerings for the grandparents. Somehow the lyrics of "When I'm 64" from the Beatles have a new-found relevance.

We walked to the concert. On the way over, there was a pair of deer on the snow packed path. This picture is on the way home.

No sympathy necessary, just reporting the numbers

When my son and I drove to the airport to catch the early flight to Florida, I glanced at the car temperature display: -16 degrees Fahrenheit at about 4:30 a.m. When we returned, at approximately the same spot on the highway, it was -22 at 12:30 a.m.

No snow was falling at either time. No photographic record of either event exists. My hands were kept on the wheel.

Tropicana Pure Premium

My son has a bit of a sore throat so I went to get him some orange juice. I normally buy the store brand, but I paused when seeing the pallet of Tropicana. We had driven by the plant in Bradenton, Florida. It was a huge complex with lots of railroad tracks to cross over.

Anthony T. Rossi started by shipping gift boxes of fresh fruit to department stores in New York City. In the 1950's, he developed a flash pasteurizing process that allowed for the fresh taste of juice to be preserved.

From a blog post by Garland Pollard on brandlandusa.com (click for a picture of the side of a train car discussing Tropicana):

We grew up and were always pals with Tropic-Ana. She not only graced the packages of Tropicana, but she was on the outside of the bright orange CSX freight trains that ran from Palmetto/Bradenton Florida to packaging plants up north.

I don't remember Tropic-Ana on train cars. Do you?

Welcome home

My ugly geranium with the beautiful blooms greeted me.

Reflections on my flip-flops

When my young son was asked to draw a picture of me, I was portrayed with blue flip flops. I wore them to protect my feet around the house. They were a step above going barefoot. I have gone through many pairs through the years.

I bought this pair on an end-of-season sale last fall. I like them because of the thick soles and comfortable straps. I don't wear them around the house in New York so much. Climbing stairs and cold feet lessen their usefulness. 

So now my flip-flops are a fashion statement on the beach. I read that flip-flops are out and slides are in. That's the story of my life. 

20 pages a day

My son has reading to do over his break. He paces himself. He asked why I took a picture of his book on the plane.

I told him it was because of all his sticky note tabs. He gave me a puzzled look. 

"We didn't have them when I read Hemmingway."

My son is usually very aware of our generational differences. This time I do believe that his jaw dropped. 

"We wrote in the margins." 

"But we can't write in a school book."

"Then we took notes on a piece of paper and stuck it in the spine. If we were lucky, we didn't drop the book."

Consultation

Twins, one each, are due soon. J is busy knitting. I pulled up a video to learn how the Pom Pom maker worked.

She says I have to stay until she finishes the second one.

Aren't the hats cute? I do take some pride in being a catelyst.

I misunderstood

I thought it was part of the deal. I travel to Florida and my feet would no longer be cold.

Here I am at the sliding doors to the balcony warming my feet in the afternoon sun.

They say it's supposed to be warmer this weekend.

Parental control

It's hard not to second-guess your decisions.

I love the enrichment of my life that comes from access to modern technology and the internet. At the same time, I worry about how their influence overwhelms my life.

It's been a delicate balance managing it with our son. When he was young, the word was to not allow them to have a computer in their bedroom, put it in a public room where you can watch what they're doing.

And now access to all the evils of the internet is in his pocket. Parental control is a joke. We're just muddling through.

His computer is still in the room off the kitchen. At least we know what he's doing, even if we wish he did much less of it.

Although, every once in a while, it seems like it may work out. You wouldn't know by just listening in. He's playing a game with a friend from here who has moved with his family to Africa. My son tried to share his experience overseas with his friend before he left. But until he lived it himself, they didn't have that bond to share. Now they do.

So the boys are blowing off some stress playing computer games. For a few hours, these men-in-training are comrades-in-arms.

And that's a good thing.

All that shoveling paid off

They haven't sent me one of these in a while. Yeah for me!

Slow internet and pipes

It’s been cold for several days. Anything that has to connect physically with the outside world is hindered.

“Slow internet and pipes” sounds like the set-up for a joke about aging. I don't think I'd like it very much. I'd probably groan and roll my eyes. 

It's about as funny as slow internet and pipes

New stitch a day

I get an email each day from this knitting website. I make note of stitches that I find interesting. The one, called the texture stitch, particularly attracted my attention. I thought it would make a nice alternative to a plain knit sweater.

I started at the picture, trying to figure it out. It looked familiar. Then I clicked through to the site where the front and back views, as well as a video, are given. It was the backside of one of the vertical sections of my cardigan. I had found the stitch in a book on fishermen's sweaters from the British Isles.

I guess if nothing else, my tastes are consistent.

When did I pass the moment?

This next month, we will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary and later, in June, I will have my 60th birthday. Both dates are milestones worthy of celebration.

I don't know if I can state this as clearly as the numbers rush through my mind: I will have been married longer than I lived single.

Maybe a spreadsheet will help me calculate when I pass from one state to the other.

Oh, my, I missed celebrating it. It has already occurred, December 26, 2014.

Where is it?

I've emptied the suitcases and done all the laundry. I can't find it. It's fairly distinctive. I have mostly white and beige, a couple of black. It is my only colorful one. It's turquoise. I know it isn't in the drawer. I would see it if it were.

Think back, when did I wear it last? Slowly I retrace. I wore it the day before our trip to Chicago. We stayed close to the airport because of the forecast of overnight snow. I put my dirty clothes into a bag in the trunk. There is no need to take dirty laundry on a trip.

When we returned from the trip, we drove through the snow and got back late. My husband brought in the suitcases, he didn't see the bag in the dark.

It's been several days of snow on the car. I finally am able to open the trunk and there is the bag. Inside with the turquoise garment are a few other things that I would have missed eventually.

I'm so glad to have found it. My mind doesn't have to worry over it any longer.

Mystery solved

Those are deer tracks around the evergreen. Breakfast!

Extemporaneous Speaking

When I showed my son the Forensics pin, his response was "When were you in Forensics?" I have not been involved with his speech participation.  My guys have been going off on Saturday mornings for four years now.

My son is an extemporaneous speaker. He is given a choice of three subjects and 30 minutes to put together a 7 minute speech. He often selects an international topic following his interests. When he first began, he would lug around a huge bag of magazines for research. Now the rules allow for electronic devices, thus his loaded iPad  suffices. I think he relies most on The Economist.

I have never observed any of his competitions. My husband hasn't either. He's off judging some other event. We have not been able to personally gage his development. It seems now that he's really getting good. There is talk of higher competitions, maybe even nationals.

I wonder if I will be able to sit at the back of the room then?

My morning

I'm fighting cabin fever and my aching body.
I force myself to bundle up and shovel.
The earbuds connect me with the world beyond the drifts.
Melodies circling in a string quartet will help keep my mind occupied.
"Start workout".

The plow has been through and I have a lot to clear.
No place to put it beside the drive,
I walk it shovel-load by shovel-load,
no not flinging, that would hurt my back,
alternating hands so that my twisting will be evenly distributed,
one pushing, one levering.

Then the car is uncovered,
I will be able to get it out mid-day,
but not now.

I slip making my way on the icy side of the house,
under the eaves of lengthening lacy curtains.
The back deck must be cleared enough to get out the back door.
A path to the currently empty buckets.
The recyclables are piling up like drifts inside the back door.

Then to the front, up the stoop, testing the aching knee.
Into the house, unbundle, strip layers now damp with perspiration.
My device announces a mile.
Pull out the earbuds,
"Slide to finish".
Distance 1:00 miles, Duration 00:54:06 minutes, 710 kCal.
The map with the red dot next to the blue dot with childlike scribbles connecting,
The electronic documentation of my efforts this morning.

I sit in my favorite chair with feet up, check the electronic notifications.
I'm pulled off into weather alerts, news, email and then my games.
I get up before I get too stiff, head for the kitchen.
I peel an orange and eat the rest of the cottage cheese from the container.

Climbing the stairs, maybe I'll take a tub soak.
I'm fighting cabin fever and my aching body.

Curtains

With the amount of snow we've had, there are growing curtains on the outside of our windows.

Forensics

I still have the pin from my time competing in Forensics. My specialty was the category called Oral Interpretation. I remember the selection I chose. It was from David Wertheimer's 1965 novel, My Sweet Charlie. It was the climatic scene given in stream of consciousness depicting the death of a central character. "...And then nothing."

Thinking about it now over 40 years later, tears come to my eyes. I am overwhelmed with the theme of injustice, injustice we are still battling.

I don't remember how I placed. I suppose 40 years later, that isn't what matters.

Early Sunday morning

As is often the case, I awoke early. I turned on some podcast or music, rolled over, pulled the covers over me, curled into a ball and tried to return to sleep. It was Sunday morning, no one to get up and out before daybreak.

And then a rumbling starts. In the haze of my mind, I tried to figure out what it was. I had run the washing machine last night, but the spin cycle should have finished hours ago.

Then in quick secession, I had recognition, irritation and then thankfulness. 

My neighbor was running her snow blower. After she clears her drive and walk, she runs it along our sidewalk to clear the elderly neighbors' walk on the other side of us. It's quick work, she hits it again on the way back.

Thank you, dear neighbor.

Menu Mainstays

From the January, 1941, National Geographic Society magazine back cover, I ponder the "Menu Mainstays".

To put it into historical context, George A. Hormel was born in Buffalo, worked in the Chicago slaughter houses before settling in Austin where he started his company in 1891.  By 1941, Hormel had $75 million sales. The company helped the war effort and by 1945, 65% of sales were to the U.S. federal government.

Looking at the products shown in the ad, SPAM currently has 24 varieties. Ham and chicken, as well as turkey white meat, are available in smaller tins, what I call "tuna fish" size. Chili comes in 20 varieties. There are now individual serving soup cups in five varieties.  There are many additional products in the Hormel line, few rely on packaging in cans.

At this point, I was going to pronounce, with smugness, that I can't remember the last time that I bought a Hormel product. But in truth, I regularly buy the Natural Choice pepperoni to put on my home made pizzas.

This morning, after all my research yesterday, I have a Hormel banner ad, with a coupon invitation, on my National Geographic Society photo of the day.

So I invite you to contemplate how process foods and advertising have changed in 74 years.

Can't help myself

I'm smiling.

I can accompany my son when he visits my father and J in Florida.

This can happen because I'm unemployed, I mean, retired. I am sorry that my husband can't take the time off to come, too.

If you want to see what I will be looking at soon, click for a National Geographic Photo of the Day.

Who needs a gym membership?

The snow fell overnight Sunday. There have been nightly dustings to keep it fresh. The temperatures are cold so that there even if the sun peaks out, little is melted.

I have paced myself. The first day, shoveling was directed toward social responsibility, i.e. liability avoidance. I got the sidewalk and walk to the house cleared.

The second day, I was able to get a car out. This required some management skills, as well as strength. I had to move snow out of the way, mostly onto the front lawn. There isn't enough room on the side of the drive to put it all.

Yesterday, I cleared the overnight snow. Yes, I slacked off.

I have work to do today. I have to clear a path from the back of the house to take the garbage buckets out for pickup tomorrow morning.

I don't mean to be a tease

I am able to see the beauty and strength in bits and pieces of me: boots, hands, face through fogged glasses. I just can't post a selfie taken in a mirror. It is just too harsh, too much of me.

I am proud to say that a dream is now realized. The cardigan warms me. It is conforming to my body - beautiful, strong and imperfect.

Thank you for understanding.

Live blogging my blizzard

We woke up this morning in Chicago to about four inches of snow on the ground. Our original flight out at 4pm was cancelled yesterday. We rebooked for a 1pm. "Linus" will be traveling in our direction, affecting our path home where 10 - 14 inches is expected through tomorrow.

8:00 CST Had a lovely breakfast. Waiting to hear if our plane is leaving Sacremento. 497 departures/497 arrivals, 51%, have cancelled at Chicago O'Hare so far today. My husband feels he has to be at work tomorrow. I am hoping to have our flight cancelled before we have to leave this pleasant B&B.

8:27 Sacremento flight left, due 2 minutes early.

Walked half mile to train, through the snow. My son carried my rolling bag most of the way.

10:00 Arrived O'Hare. 

10:56 Flight canceled.

11:56 Made it on the flight scheduled for noon. Captain Denny Flanagan, friend of all FlyerTalkers, is piloting it. We will get out. Full flight with lots of carry on bags. But we crammed in and are awaiting release from the gate.

 12:40 Pushing back after a double de-icing. Didn't get far. Are we stuck in the snow? Made it on second try.

 1:01 Take off. Hallelujah.

3:32 EST Landed. My son was invited into the cockpit. Afterward he and Captain Denny posed for pictures.

5:30 Lounge after dinner. Our plane is on schedule, no snow here yet. Maybe, just maybe we will get home tonight. Don't want to jinx it.

10:00 Flight delayed to 10:50 for maintenance.

10:40 Loading. Snow started.

11:22 Takeoff after de-icing.

12:15 Landed.

2:30 Back home after slow drive through pretty snowfall.

Update: Chicago got quite a bit of snow and wind after we left. We got about two feet overnight.

Here is a slideshow of pics. If you can't see it, click through to the album.

Just a buck

Yesterday we were delighted to find that our plane from Chicago to Newark was piloted by Captain Denny Flanagan. He has announced his retirement in 18 months and is enjoying it all. He loves to greet his passengers and I now know that he also greets the cleaning crew just as heartily.

He has worked unceasingly raising money for the Captain Jason Dahl Scholarship fund. Captain Dahl was the pilot of Flight 93 on 9/11.

Captain Denny is asking for "Just A Buck". He asked that if I knew anyone who had a blog to pass the information on. I am honored to do so. Please consider giving what you can.

Thank you, Captain Denny. In honor of Captain Dahl.

Reaching for the sun

My favorite geranium is doing well, climbing high, reaching for the icicles outside the window. I will forgive that it hasn't bloomed.