Category Archives: Observations

The Saga Of The Squirrels

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It was 7:00 a.m. I sat on the porch sipping tea when it happened. First, I heard the loud flutter of wings swooping to the ground, and then I saw the landing, It was a hawk gunning for two squirrels, who minutes before were running around the trunk of a tree, playing and squealing at each other. I expected them to scamper up the tree, but instead they stayed grounded. The hawk flew at them, but was unsuccessful. Flying close to the ground made it difficult for him to strike at the squirrels. They were too fast for him. After two attempts, the hawk gave up and flew away.

Here’s another Squirrel vs Hawk story. Again the squirrel outwits the hawk.

 I am at my computer just now and a hawk landed in the oak outside the window.  A squirrel was sitting on the next branch and it became Squirrel vs Hawk.  The hawk eyed the rodent, the rodent hopped up to the branch the hawk was on.  The hawk backed off, the squirrel returned to the lower branch.  The hawk moved closer to the squirrel and the squirrel hopped back up to the hawk’s branch.  The hawk spread its wing intimidatingly and the squirrel went back to his own branch.  Finally the hawk gave up and flew to the fence and then into the other trees.

Hawks aren’t the squirrels’ only problem. Dogs love the pursuit, too. Check out Basil

Basil spots a squirrel behind a bench. Before I can know what’s happening, he jumps on the seat, then the edge of the bench’s back, from which he proceeds to jump off, in an attempt to follow the squirrel up the tree. Of course, he falls to the floor, from where he continues his chase.

This happens in less than 30 seconds. After the squirrel jumps to another tree, he resumes the walk as if nothing had happened.

It appears cats are a major problem for the poor squirrels, too. See Martannasmimi’s Weblog

Rocky fell from his home,  a nest in a big tree. He was about to be attacked by a huge cat when Popa rescued him. Marta was amazed to see this tiny helpless little guy.

We called our local animal rescue person, a very nice woman who lives down the road . Jean is an older woman who has been taking in local injured wildlife for many years.

Some days are luckier than others.

Things My Mother Told Me

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My mother would say to me,”Don’t spray cologne on your neck.”

Here’s her rationale. The skin under your chin, the “front” of your neck, is thin, delicate skin. It is one of the first places where people show their age. Since the first ingredient in cologne is alcohol, this is NOT a good thing to spray on your neck year after year after year. Her advice–spritz a little to the “back” of your neck, your wrists and the inside of your elbows.

This was another of her favorites.  “Is there any reason why you have to look in the mirror at yourself while you brush your teeth?”

At the time, this seemed a little peevish to me, but I wasn’t the one cleaning off the tiny specks of dried toothpaste off the mirror. I am now. I don’t look into the mirror while brushing anymore.

Here’s another. “Always make sure you have money in your purse.”

Notice she didn’t say a “dime” (which way back when, that’s how much it cost to make a phone call in case of an emergency). She meant “real” money. To this day, I never leave the house with less than $10.00. And I have experienced my share of little emergencies when I was glad I had that money with me. Especially one night after midnight, when I got a flat tire and a good samaritan stopped and changed it for me. I forced that $10.00 on him, he didn’t want to take it, but I had it to give, and at 1:00 a.m. in the morning, I wished it could’ve been more.

She had some kooky ones, too. “Always make your bed in the morning.”

This had to do with one of her many “what if” scenarios. What if you went to work and there was a fire, (The firemen would see my unmade bed?) or what if you forgot something at home and had to send someone to your house to fetch it for you. (They would look through my house mainly to see if my bed was made?) Believe me, she had several more freaky reasons why my bed should me made, but I think she just liked the idea of a home that was always in order. This was her way of scaring me into being orderly.

Evidently, she was not alone with this last piece of motherly advice. I have friends whose mothers told them the same thing. “Always wear clean underwear.”

I will spare you the “what if” scenarios that go along with this one.

Many people recall insightful advice they’ve received from a parent. The young mother over at Verlanderville remembers an admonition from her mother.

Growing up, my mother told us that we were not allowed to use the word hate for things like vegetables, songs, people, etc.  She said that it was a very strong word and that we should only use it for things like sin, injustice, math, etc.

Clearly, dads can give good advice, too. See Mom & A Microphone

It was my 7-year-old’s first flag football game of the season. I was secretly dreading it, since my mother and father were always sitting on the sidelines at Griffin’s games, cheering him on. This year, Dad wouldn’t be there. Dad was Griffin’s biggest fan. Last season, when I expressed concern that I “wasn’t sure this was his strongest sport,” Dad told me, “be patient. He’ll get better with time.” And just like all the other advice my father has given me, he was right.

Makes you smile, doesn’t it?

Text Messaging Is Bad, I Think, Maybe

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I don’t text message. What I mean is, I don’t send them and I don’t receive them because I don’t use a cell phone. I don’t own one,  I don’t want one, and I hope I never have to rely on one. That said, I do understand why people feel they need to have one.

It’s been a boon to parents, allowing them to keep tabs on the whereabouts of their young children. (I understand that, but my children are grown now.)

If you work in any type of service position, the cell phone allows your customers/clients to reach you 24/7. (I only partially understand this one, since the only persons that really must be on-call at all times are doctors, and even they employ professionals to screen their calls.)

Then there is a more recent phenomenon. People are exchanging their landlines for cell phones. It’s no longer cost effective to pay for both. (I understand this one, too, although I have chosen my landline over a cell phone.)

But this post isn’t about cell phones, it is about the brain-cell-devouring, punctuationless abbreviations that go hand in hand with text messaging. Anyone who is a lover of words, as I am, cannot help feeling threatened by this newest polyglot of hideous jargon.

Last week a friend of mine handed me her cell phone and said, “Read this cute message I received from my son.”

I could barely decipher what it said. Not only that, my stomach started to ache and if the message had been a little longer, I probably would’ve doubled over and retched. Don’t get me wrong. It was a cutesy message, but the lack of punctuation, and the insertion of unfamiliar abbreviations made my head spin.

It got me to thinking about an English professor I had many years ago. One day upon entering the classroom and before returning graded papers to the class, he said, “This is a sorry batch of essays. I have taken off for spelling mistakes and all grammatical errors. It’s most unfortunate because some of your stories were actually commendable, but as for the rest…”

If he thought those papers were atrocious, I hate to think about the papers he would receive today from kids who have spent years writing shorthand sentences because that is the most expedient method used when text messaging.

One other thing that puzzles me. If you’re holding a cell phone in your hand, people, why are you text messaging? Make the call, connect with your friends, and leave the precious English language intact.

[For those who are interested in Astrology, I’ve finished the Chinese Zodiac articles over at LifeScript.com. The last in my series was Year of the Pig. I’ll be starting a series of articles on the Sun Signs. You might enjoy reading the first one, Aries Woman .]

Things I Hate

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Since I wrote all about things that I love last week, it seems only fair that I write about a few things I hated in the 80’s and still hate in 2008. As in my previous post, some of the things on my old list are outdated. For instance, back then I hated “window envelopes.” I don’t have a problem with them anymore because I pay the majority of my bills online. I also didn’t like to “clean the oven,” and thank goodness that has changed. I have a self-cleaning oven.

Following are still problem areas–things that I hate:

Toilet paper installed backward on the dispenser
Stupid TV commercials
Guests that arrive late for a sit-down dinner
Any kind of cruelty or abuse
Mixing ground beef with my hands (yuk!)
Golf (Sorry, golfers, but I just don’t get it.)
Hate when my feet are cold
Polkas
Advertising cards stuck inside a magazine
Bugs, mice and snakes

Well, that’s it for me. If you need to vent, send me your list.

My Mother

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It’s May, and Mother’s Day is right around the corner. This is the time of year I especially miss my mother. I’ve mentioned several times in this blog that I regret not asking her more questions about herself. But every year when May rolls around, I realize I do actually know a lot about her, if not everything.

For instance, I didn’t know it then, but I see it clearly now in retrospect, she was a feminist before that word even existed. Back in the early 50s, she decided she wanted to learn how to drive a car. There weren’t many women drivers on the road back then. Husbands usually did all the driving, or there was public transportation. That wasn’t good enough for my mother. She hired a driving instructor, passed her driver’s test and acquired a license long before her four sisters. As a matter of fact, she became their main mode of transportation, and even though she urged them to get their own licenses, it was several years before the first one found the courage to do it.

There’s no doubt she was the driving force in our family. She multi-tasked before that ever became a word, too. I guess that’s why I always regret knowing so little about this dynamo who was my mother. When I was a very young child, I thought there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do; I thought she knew just about everything. As a rebellious teenager, I hated that she was right about everything. And as an adult, I marveled at her wisdom.

I remember her facing off with our family doctor. Often, when I was sick with some childhood illness, the doctor would recommend a penicillin shot. At the time, penicillin was considered a miracle drug, but my mother insisted a person might build up an immunity to it. The doctor strongly disagreed, but grudgingly honored her wishes. One day, on the way home after one of these visits, she sympathized with me saying that she knew I felt very, very sick, but on the off chance I might need penicillin to save my life someday, she preferred to nurse me back to health without it. I was young, could hardly understand what she was telling me, but I felt her anxiety. Now I realize how hard it must have been to stick to her guns when all she had in her arsenal to defend herself was sheer conjecture. All I know is, while my friends almost always got a needle at the doctor’s office, I received very few. My mother took a stand at a time when doctors and scientists denied the possibility of resistance. Now we know that–

Antibiotic resistance occurs when bacteria change in some way that reduces or eliminates the effectiveness of drugs, chemicals, or other agents designed to cure or prevent infections. The bacteria survive and continue to multiply causing more harm.

If you wish to read more about how a body can build up a resistance to antibiotics, (information my mother was not privy to at the time) go to About.com: Pediatrics.

Although she could never convince me to eat red beets, she did manage to cajole me into eating carrots. She told me they were good for my eyes. Science has proved her right on that one, too.

And like many other mothers, she believed that chicken soup would make a sick person feel better. And according to the Mayo Clinic, studies show they were correct.

Generations of parents have spooned chicken soup into their sick children. Now scientists have put chicken soup to the test, discovering that it does have effects that might help relieve cold and flu symptoms.

However, when I purchased my first pair of reading glasses, she warned me not to become too dependent upon them because I would end up needing a stronger prescription every time I took an eye exam. Although the last part of her statement has proved correct, I’ve been told my eyes are going through their natural progression. As I age, my eyes age right along with me. So, I guess my mother was wrong on this one, or maybe…science just hasn’t caught up to her, yet.

Do you have a memory about your mother that you would like to share? This is the time and the place.

Hospitals–Do They Help Or Hinder Recuperation?

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For quite some time, I have been putting off cervical neck surgery. Unfortunately, disk degeneration goes on hiatus for no man. Finally, one is forced to accept the truth–it’s time to face the music and have surgery.

Too bad the surgery requires a stay in the hospital afterwards, because things ain’t like they were “in the old days.”

First off, if you don’t have nice, big, juicy veins…beware. Don’t go in the hospital expecting to find a crack-team of phlebotomists, those dearly loved persons who specialize in taking blood. I don’t think they exist anymore. Invariably, as a last resort, someone will have to insert the needle into a vein on your hand, because no one is adept at hitting a vein in your arm. Let me tell you, a needle stuck in the top of your hand is a whole lot more painful then one in your arm.

I’ll refrain from going into my entire bathroom fiasco. Suffice it to say that after the first horrendous trip, I suggested to the nursing assistant that it might be easier for all concerned if she supplied me with a commode next to my bed. Puzzled, she responded, “Oh, you want a commode?” The thought of a commode appeared to be a totally foreign idea to her. I can only assume she preferred yanking all my IV lines as she “helped” me back and forth from the bathroom.

24 hours later, and after at least two assistants heard and saw me cough up thick mucous, I asked one of them for a breathing machine. Again I was greeted with that surprised, kind of blank, look, “Oh, you want a spirometer?” After searching through the cabinet in my room, and finding none, she left, returned with one and handed it to me. It had no sterile wrapping, so I had no idea where it came from, or where it had been.

This is what should’ve happened long before it was necessary for me to ask for the contraption myself.

Your nurse will explain the deep breathing and coughing exercises you will need to do after surgery. These are done to improve lung expansion. This helps prevent infection and other lung complications. You will be shown how to use the incentive spirometer. This is a tool to help you breathe deeply. Coughing is needed when you have secretions in your lungs.

That is the procedure that is recommended at Incentive Spirometry, and has actually happened to me on previous visits I’ve made to a hospital.

About Medications–Prior to entering the hospital, I was told that the hospital would provide all medications that I normally take on a daily basis. The first night, I was offered the wrong blood pressure pill. Believe me when I tell you this, and I can’t stress it enough. Don’t accept any medication until you ask and understand what you are taking. This is by no means an isolated incident. See a post put up by Solid Geekery, a blog written by a group of people who are studying, working in, or are just plain interested in the shoddy treatment being dispensed by hospitals today. This particular post was written by Miranda, who is in her third year of graduate school, pursuing a Ph.D in Immunology and Microbial Pathogenesis.

Getting back to my particular nightmare, the second night, after having my blood pressure checked, a nurse came in and said, “Your blood pressure is normal. Would you like to skip your blood pressure pill tonight?” I was actually struck speechless for a few seconds before I could answer, “My blood pressure is normal because I take my prescribed medicine.”

During my second day in the hospital, I asked the nursing assistant to write her name and the name of my nurse on the board supplied for that purpose at the foot of my bed. She couldn’t. Want to know why? Because someone had used permanent marker on the board, therefore it couldn’t be erased. Think about that for a minute, because it is really scary. Someone, who dispenses medicines and supplies hospital care to patients, used permanent marker on an erasable board.

I’m not one to rant. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever have on this blog…ever. However, just for the record, I could write another four or five paragraphs about the oversights and lack of knowledgeable help I received. But I won’t.

QVC, Amazon.com–What Could Be Easier?

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Have you noticed it’s getting easier and easier to spend money?

Last week, I received a tiny booklet in the mail from QVC, which contained my very own personal membership number. To tell you the truth I wasn’t surprised, since a few weeks before I had somehow lost my mind while watching their programming. I bought three sterling silver rings, a bracelet, and some lovely food containers–all in one night.

I’ve purchased products from them in the past. The thing is, I hadn’t fired up my ultimate buying power all in one sitting before. Since I momentarily fell off my rocker that night, I guess QVC thought it would be an excellent idea to send me a membership number. Voila! Now I can buy whatever I want by punching in a few numbers on my phone’s keypad. How’s that for convenience?

Furthermore, I’m such a good customer of Amazon.com, they have bestowed upon me their one-click customer status. I click–they send.

It appears I’m not the only one having a hard time keeping money in my wallet. Maggie the Cat is evidently having the same problem.

Ive been spending money on books when i shouldn’t be spending money at all. I got the wonderful book “Elvgren” by Taschen it is so beautiful.

I suppose my way of thinking is similar to Terra’s over at Questionable Rationale.

As much as spending money sometimes stresses me out, I actually become stress free after a nice long (and sometimes expensive) shopping trip. I think it’s just bills that I hate paying.

Obviously, no matter how you do it, shopping feels good, at least in the moment. I have broken the habit of running to the mall, though. That’s a step in the right direction, right? Now, if I could only stay away from the TV and the laptop. Any suggestions?

Shake It Up, Baby

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I am always surprised when someone tells me “back in the day,” they followed a local band from club to club whenever word got around that their favorite band would be appearing. I lived in Pennsylvania at the time, and the band we were crazy about was The Greaseband. We traveled all over to see them and dance to their music.

A friend of mine who lived in Boston followed a band named Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes. They were Jersey boys, but evidently performed a lot in Boston, too.

It got me to thinking a whole lotta people did a whole lotta dancing back then to a whole lotta different bands–talented guys who made the regional club scenes fun, but never got onto the national radar. What a shame, because they helped make weekends “somethin’ wonderful.”If you want to send me the name of your local band, I’ll try to locate their video and post it for you.

Classic Cars

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I saw three classic cars this past week! And they weren’t sitting on display at a car exhibition. They were actually on the road with someone behind the wheel driving them. The sight of each one made my heart sing.

The first one I saw was unmistakable, a Chevy BelAir.

800px-chevrolet_bel_air_2-door.jpg

It wasn’t black, though. It was the more familiar turquoise and white. Talk about moving back in time.

Do you remember when one of the most exciting events of the year was when the new cars were introduced? The unveiling of each new model was treated as a high point in the automotive year, and rightly so. The cars didn’t look like large boxes back then. Their bodies were sleek, daring; each one different from the others.

The second car I spotted last week was being parked by a gentleman in a black beret. I’m pretty sure that one was a ’59 Chrysler. I could be off by a year or two. It looked like this one.

chrysler_1959.jpg

If you’re now thinking there is no way I saw a Pink ’57 Ford Thunderbird; I confess, you’re correct. I just couldn’t bear to leave it out of the line-up. Is that the most beautiful machine you’ve ever laid eyes on? Too bad we’ll never see a vehicle like it in a showroom ever again. But, take a minute to think back to the days when seeing one on the road was a superb, delicious moment.

800px-1957_ford_thunderbird_pink.jpg

The car I did see was pretty good, though. I think it might have been a ’58 or ’59 Dodge Coronet. Classic! Drink it in.

dodge_coronet_1958.jpg

Why More Americans Are Working Past Age 55

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That was the title of a recent article in Charles Schwab’s investment magazine, which the company sends out to its investors. They could’ve changed the age to 62 or 65. The answer would be the same, but it took them more than 200 words to say medical insurance costs are outrageously high even if you’re old enough to be covered by Medicare.

And the article also noted that although older workers had retirement portfolios that ballooned in the 1990s, those portfolios burst when techology stocks took a downward dive. Therefore, some American who had taken an early retirment had to return to work.

There was no mention of the fact that even with the new drug plans, retirees still can’t afford to buy all the drugs they need.

And think about this–many senior citizens didn’t save a dime while they were younger. So, the answer to the question, why are they still working? They have to!

Fortunately, I’m one of the people who at least took a stab at saving, mainly because I’m a realist and always have been. I never expected to be able to exist on Social Security alone. I knew, there was no way I could live on less than $300 a week. That’s actually what my Social Security check will look like when I reach age 66. The scary thing is, even after saving what little I could over the years, while raising a family, I’m still not going to be comfortable in my old age.

Another little ditty that Schwab printed in that issue was a list of quotes. One of them quoted Warren Buffett. “Someone’s sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.” Looks and sounds good on paper, doesn’t it? But remember that bursting bubble Schwab wrote about? I’m living through this one, and I lived through a horrendous one years ago that wiped away almost half of the money I had managed to save. All of that money was in mutual funds, because I knew zilch about the stock market.

I still don’t know much about the market, but after that horror, I learned to diversify. I, at least, learned that much!

If you visit the folks at this site  who also read the Schwab article, their suggestion is try Fixed Annuities, Bank CDs, and U.S. Government Savings Bond. They make a case for keeping your money safe from loss.

That “risk-free” sounds pretty good, but there’s a trade off. The gains are small, and fees for variable annuities are pretty steep. And once you’re in a mutual fund, what do you do, bow out and take a huge hit?

Here’s something else that I found quite amusing.

When and if you actually do retire,

…just resist the urge to treat the contents of your accounts like mad money.

What?! There are people who actually have mad money? Not in my circle of friends.

That same amusing article goes on to say,

And forget about that cushy 15% income tax rate most retirees are eligible for, warns Schatsky. As soon as you have more than $63,700 in retirement income, the tax rate skyrockets to 25%.

Well, at least, here I get a break. I won’t have to worry about my tax rate skyrocketing. As a single, working woman, I have never earned that much money annually in my entire life while I was still working.

Now that I’m sitting here analyzing the question of retirement further, I’d venture to say that in another five years Schwab can print the exact same article; just title it, Why More Americans Are Working Past Age 75.