Monday, October 28, 2019

I Dreamt I was in a Hallmark Movie

Well, it finally happened.

Yesterday, I was exhausted after a long weekend of camping. I fell asleep on the sofa during a Hallmark of my Christmas favorites about a veteran. Actually, I had just watched the end of my other favorite about a veteran played by Michael Shanks (from Stargate fame) who falls in love with a war widow and buys her husband's old motorcycle with his re-enlistment money. But I digress.

This second movie stars two of my all time favorite Hallmark actors. This time, it is a woman Marine who was a dog handler who got out of the Marines when they reassigned her dog to someone else. Search and Rescue...that's what her job was. Anyway, her car breaks down in this sweet little fantastic town somewhere in Illinois where it snows a lot. I mean, it is just about Christmas and there is snow everywhere on the green leaves that they carefully try to avoid in each outdoor shot. It's Canada, everybody knows that, but you try to show one license plate and that sets the scene. So, it snows a lot in Illinois in December, right around Christmas, and the whole town is Christmas-mad. I mean, every possible space is decorated with greenery and balls and bells and ribbons and trees and candy canes and hot chocolate stands...and a merry-go-round because it is the big town wide celebration week.

Well, that was that movie.

The one I was in was probably the same place, only with fewer decorations, but the guy...oh, he was there for me.

So, I went through the being lost part and the him finding me and offering to take me in because there were no hotels in the small Illinois town, but not into his house because he has a reputation to uphold, but he's a super nice Hallmark kinda guy.
There I am. Stuck in Nowheresville. The townspeople think I'm safe and treat me well and this nice guy is interested in me.

Now...wait. It's not the me I am now! Of course not. It's the me of me in my prime.

I keep thinking I have to leave, there is something vague I need to see to, but I can't because it's one of those movies. So, I stay and probably fall in love with the guy, even though his face is rather narrow and he's slim and gorgeous and dresses well.

Just when he kisses me and asks me to marry him, I wake up.

That was a relief, actually.
I do not need any further complications in my life.

But I do need to purchase a card for a wedding on Friday. 
It will probably be a Hallmark.

Friday, October 11, 2019


It doesn't have to be a ghost to haunt you.

It can be good, or bad, memories that visit your mind at inopportune moments. 

This week, I have been plagued by ghosts...things conjured from my memory that have long been thought dead. I remembered some stuff that crept out of the depths from my childhood. I wanted to talk to someone about these thoughts, but there was no one who would either remember or give a rat's ass about what I was thinking.

That's the trouble with odd memories. Good or bad, sometimes they are just your own and therein lies the problem. You might be able to unload them if there was someone to share the pain or joy. But, no. They lie in wait for you to shut your eyes and hope for sleep without dreams, or nightmares.

That's when these memories spring up and spill over you.

Most of the time--they hurt.

Saturday, October 5, 2019

Why people keep going

Lost causes.

After doing something to find something--a cure, a treasure, an answer, a hope--and getting nowhere--(how many dashes are okay?) what makes people continue?

Einstein said something about doing something over and over the same way and not getting what you want is idiocy. That's paraphrased, to be sure, and I am not even sure it was Einstein who said it, but, well, it makes sense.

Finding the Loch Ness Monster, for instance. I've seen four different programs on television this week, four different groups of people, scouring the lake for signs of this huge prehistoric animal and finding nothing.  Thousands of dollars down the drain, searching for a legend. They find nothing, yet they keep going back to Scotland with hope.

The treasure of Oak Island...another search. Yes, they try different holes, different methods, star charts, high tech satellite photographs, you name it, they've tried it to find treasure. It's been about ten years of this particular team, the Laginas, who have poured money into this venture. So far, they've found a few coins and a lead cross and a crossbow bolt, a couple of semi-precious jewels...but not this huge treasure. The treasure of the Templars and maybe precious first editions of Shakespeare's works...maybe buried somewhere on a small island off the coast of Nova Scotia. Okay, they drill and dig and use every conceivable scientific and geologic method to search for wonders beyond price. 

They've got nothing much so far but a fun television show.

Yet they go on and on, searching, hoping, digging, making television shows. This is 21st century stuff. It has happened all throughout history. Columbus. Ponce deLeon. Name any explorer, any alchemist, anyone who hoped to discover something, anything, that would stop that itch they have to keep going.

Sometimes, an individual does find something of value. Schleimann found Troy. Salk found a cure for polio. There is a huge list of successes, but probably an even bigger list of failures.

Yet, they go on. They keep trolling Loch Ness. The Laginas keep digging on Oak Island. They don't give up.

There may be something more than grace in continuing. But there may be grace also in realizing that the quest is over and giving up.

I am not telling anyone to give up searching, to stop hoping to find a cure, a treasure, a reality (UFOs and Bigfoot), but there has to come a time when either the questions are all answered, or you just plain throw in the towel.

One day, that one day when the decision is made, or the treasure is located, or the monster comes up and bites you on the butt, well, I guess there is always the chance that it may happen, so, okay, you have to keep on trying.

Albert, even you had to keep on going. Scientists and mathematicians and explorers are still trying to prove your ideas. 

Never give up, never surrender!

Sunday, September 8, 2019

On psychics on the telephone

The past few days, I've caught some television ads for psychic readings...on several cable channels.

Women in the commercials, pretty, blond sincere looking women tell the camera how precise and wonderful their over the telephone psychic readings were. How the person knew them, knew their problems and gave them correct advice...advice they'd base their lives on from now on.


Good guessing.

Let me tell you about a friend of mine who got a job as a telephone psychic back a few years ago when they were hot and a thing

This lady, for she was and still is a lady, told me that she got the job, not really knowing what it was going to be about. The people in charge handed her a loose-leaf notebook full of answers to give to the suckers who called. 

Now, this lady never claimed to possess any psychic powers whatsoever. The phones rang, people poured out their hearts to her and she was supposed to riffle through the pages of the guide and whip out an appropriate answer. None of these answers were direct. None of them actually professed to guide the questioner in exactly what they should or shouldn't do. (careful of lawsuits). But they were innocuous and sounded good. Or made little sense unless the person being read already knew what they wanted the words to mean.

Sort of like the Oracle of Delphi, only in New York City.

Well, by and by, this lady friend realized that people were calling, asking for help with their personal problems. She, being a mother and wise woman of more years than the callers possessed, gradually interjected some of her own wisdom, leaving the callers with more practical, definitive, motherly advice than was found in the loose-leaf.

She got fired.

Beware, any who think calling a number for a buck a minute is going to be the answer to any or all of your problems.

 She never got to take the loose- leaf home with her.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Chocolate milk wars

Mom was an avid Hershey's chocolate syrup fan. That's all we ever had in the fridge...when we actually had it. She also loved Hershey's candy with almonds and would suck off the chocolate piece by piece in some distorted effort to make it last longer so that the rest of the bar would remain uneaten for months.

But, my Grandmother on my father's side had no such compunction about giving her grandkids chocolate milk. And she preferred the powdered Nestle's Quik, which to this day is my favorite.

Pour a spoonful into cold whole milk.
The granules don't completely dissolve, even with vigorous stirring, and a small raft of chocolate powder bubbles appear on the top of the milk.

Which, when sipped, burst into your mouth to your obvious delight as it was solid flavor, not gooey syrup.
And the chocolate was milder, not as acidic as Hershey's.

Thanks, Nana. 
One of my fondest and just remembered memories of you.

Friday, August 16, 2019

John the Bull

Back before we had kids, my husband belonged to a Jeep racing club. We'd spend every other weekend in some godforsaken woods in Pennsylvania listening to the roar of engines sans mufflers and cursing and people who were far more interested in noise than quietude.

Anyway, there were various races, uphill, obstacle, drags...I only watched the drags because they were short and between the dirt and heat, they were about all I could stand. We knew people in the club who were racing...I wished them well.

One person out of the hundreds stood out from the crowd. He was a short, stocky, mean tempered bull of a man...named John the Bull. He may have had a last name; I never heard it. But he was always cussin' and drinkin' beer and mean-looking. Truly correctly named. He had a big racing X type, which meant it was special, not one that fit into one of the tamer groups. It was loud and so was he. Adding to his short, bull-like appearance, he wore a brown felt squashed top hat. Always sneering, calling on his kids in various cuss words...loud and abrasive.
I didn't think too much of him.

But, after once particular race in the heat of summer, we were on our way home, towing our pop-up camper along busy Route 80, when a tire blew. 
We pulled to the side of the road. My heart was in my throat as I imagined all sorts of horrors to befall us...staying at the side of the road forever, leaving the camper for help and finding it gone...the sort of things I always worry about. Being stranded. That was topmost on  my list.

Our friends had gone before us, they did not know we were stuck. Yes, we had a spare, but even that was hard to reach.

So here we are, stuck on the side of the road, when a big RV pulls up behind us and out steps John the Bull.
Sweet as can be, he starts helping us lift up the camper, detach and reattach the spare, having his kids help.
Now, he pulled up behind us on a busy highway. No way could he have known we were part of the racing group as we towed no Jeep. He stopped because he was a nice guy who wanted to help somebody.


I'm tearing up now because I remember every bit of that incident and it just showed me how wrong someone can be about another human being.

John the Bull passed away a few years after this. I send up a prayer for him every now and then.
He deserves it. 

Thursday, August 15, 2019


So, the Petersons are going on a cruise somewhere up north.
New England ports, lots of fishing villages dotting the coast, then up to Nova Scotia...not near Oak Island, but then, one can't see enough quaint fishing villages, can one?

This is all husband's brainstorm.

It is going to be very expensive...I don't know why he decided to waste money on this extravagance, but he wants to do it and it is better than me having to endure life in an RV.

I do so love this guy. He's inventive. He's sweet. He loves to spend money. So un-Ukrainian.

So then, after all this planning and buying passage and the urgent need for decent clothing and footwear, he asks me if there is anything I've always wanted to do.

Simple...I'd love to visit Sandy in Vegas. I'd love to drive along Route 66. At least part of the way. And visit Pie Town, but that's on Route 60, which may or may not be part of 66.

Something that can be done in our huge new car and the added bonus of sleeping in a motel/hotel.

So, we won't get to see the tidal bore on the Bay of Fundy, but we will get to see the tide run backwards.
We will tour Boston Harbor and a couple of other harbors, like Portland?

No, Some place in Maine. I've never been to Maine. We are supposed to get lobster there.

Point in favor, for sure.

But with these effing braces, I'm not anticipating getting much of the deliciousness of the cruise banquet in my gullet.

More ways to lose weight.

I have gotten some new duds, however. I will try to send photos, but I doubt I'll be able to.

Did you know it costs $45/day to have Coke products on the ship?