After reading a friend's blog about road assistance when her car broke down, I remembered a couple of instances when we needed help with broken down cars. I'll share what happened with one of these vehicles of our past.
Seven or eight years ago I owned a Plymouth Voyager van which I referred to as "the Eggplant" because of it's dark purple color. It was, overall, a good car, but toward the last days of my ownership, it began to give me fits. It would be operating just fine when out of the blue, it would lose power. The engine was running, but the car wouldn't respond to the gas pedal and I'd have to pull over to the side of the road, turn it off, and wait. When it got ready, it would start again and behave just the way anyone would expect it to. These episodes happened without warning and at random.....sometimes it was days, sometimes months between these events.
Each time we experienced one of these stubborn moods of the Eggplant, we'd take it...or tow it....to our mechanic. We had practically rebuilt the darned thing by the time we decided that it was time to stop pouring money into it endlessly, only to find the problem still existed. Eventually we figured that was IT. Enough was enough. My stepson took the van, and had very little trouble with it. I guess it just didn't like me. Well, the feeling was mutual by that time..... I didn't like it very much either!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Off to the City...
Cities have never been a big draw for me. Before we moved here, my experience with cities was mainly New York City. I was not intrigued by that place, and didn't like the idea of having to go there for any reason, except the rare trip at Christmastime, which we did maybe once every five or six years.
When I was young, I had more interest in visiting Manhattan. Being a small town girl, it seemed that it offered far more than my little area did....and it was true! It had so many cultural events, rock concerts, sporting events, etc. There were a few occasions when I attended some of those things with friends' families, or my Girl Scout troop, or the school. Though I enjoyed the events, I was always full of fear about the City.
As I grew older, I avoided the visits whenever I could. We had to skirt the outer limits of NY city whenever we drove anywhere. That was more than enough for me. The fumes made me choke, the traffic scared me, the sad souls sleeping in doorways or peering through high and grimey windows of run down buildings, made my heart sink. NY city is too big for me, too full of seedy characters and crime, and too many crowded streets full of people who bump into you and look right past you. I hated the city.
I'm a real country girl, I guess. I don't need all the hustle and bustle that comes with a city. I don't care if I go to professional stage shows or concerts, I just as much appreciate the local theaters or church cantatas.
That being said, yesterday we had to go to a city that is about half an hour from us, for a doctor's appointment. The office was actually outside of the city, and when we were finished with the doctor, we decided to check out the area. We've lived here for five and a half years, and have never before been in the fairly large city of Greenville.
We wove our way through the narrow, clean streets, discovering some interesting shops and restaurants. We found the Zoo and the Children's Museum, making notes on addresses, for future trips with the kids. It was a pleasant visit, even though we didn't leave the car. We have to return to the doctor again in a few weeks. I think we'll explore the offerings of Greenville on foot next time....and it is something actually I'm looking forward to!
When I was young, I had more interest in visiting Manhattan. Being a small town girl, it seemed that it offered far more than my little area did....and it was true! It had so many cultural events, rock concerts, sporting events, etc. There were a few occasions when I attended some of those things with friends' families, or my Girl Scout troop, or the school. Though I enjoyed the events, I was always full of fear about the City.
As I grew older, I avoided the visits whenever I could. We had to skirt the outer limits of NY city whenever we drove anywhere. That was more than enough for me. The fumes made me choke, the traffic scared me, the sad souls sleeping in doorways or peering through high and grimey windows of run down buildings, made my heart sink. NY city is too big for me, too full of seedy characters and crime, and too many crowded streets full of people who bump into you and look right past you. I hated the city.
I'm a real country girl, I guess. I don't need all the hustle and bustle that comes with a city. I don't care if I go to professional stage shows or concerts, I just as much appreciate the local theaters or church cantatas.
That being said, yesterday we had to go to a city that is about half an hour from us, for a doctor's appointment. The office was actually outside of the city, and when we were finished with the doctor, we decided to check out the area. We've lived here for five and a half years, and have never before been in the fairly large city of Greenville.
We wove our way through the narrow, clean streets, discovering some interesting shops and restaurants. We found the Zoo and the Children's Museum, making notes on addresses, for future trips with the kids. It was a pleasant visit, even though we didn't leave the car. We have to return to the doctor again in a few weeks. I think we'll explore the offerings of Greenville on foot next time....and it is something actually I'm looking forward to!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Germies
It's nearly the end of January, and even for this area of the southern region, it's been unusually warm. Last year, on January 11, we had six or eight inches of snow which practically shut down the area for a week. This year, we've had some days with temperatures in the high sixties. A few days of that, then a sharp drop into freezing temps or highs in the 40's.
There has been a lot of sickness all over the country too, judging by the posts on social networks. I don't wonder! The germs may catch a chill, but they haven't frozen to death yet! Two weeks ago we went to church, and the congregation was low in number. Most of those who were in attendance were coughing, sneezing, blowing their noses. I was healthy that week, and felt a little annoyed that so many of those who were in such shape had chosen to go to church with all those germs. Suffice it to say, later that week I got sick. I'm not saying I picked up something that someone at church had come with, as it appeared that theirs were colds. Mine was not. I had a fierce stomach bug that laid me out for better than a week.
Still, when one is sick with anything, my feeling is that it's kinder to stay home for the sake of others, and probably for your own sake as well. We're pretty careful during flu season, choosing to stay away from crowds and restaurants and big stores as much as possible. We keep our hands washed and wash our dishes in the dishwasher because the water is hotter. We try to protect ourselves from illness, and if we have something, we definitely steer clear of people.
We don't like germies....and it is my hope that the weather will get cold and stay cold long enough to eradicate the little buggers.
There has been a lot of sickness all over the country too, judging by the posts on social networks. I don't wonder! The germs may catch a chill, but they haven't frozen to death yet! Two weeks ago we went to church, and the congregation was low in number. Most of those who were in attendance were coughing, sneezing, blowing their noses. I was healthy that week, and felt a little annoyed that so many of those who were in such shape had chosen to go to church with all those germs. Suffice it to say, later that week I got sick. I'm not saying I picked up something that someone at church had come with, as it appeared that theirs were colds. Mine was not. I had a fierce stomach bug that laid me out for better than a week.
Still, when one is sick with anything, my feeling is that it's kinder to stay home for the sake of others, and probably for your own sake as well. We're pretty careful during flu season, choosing to stay away from crowds and restaurants and big stores as much as possible. We keep our hands washed and wash our dishes in the dishwasher because the water is hotter. We try to protect ourselves from illness, and if we have something, we definitely steer clear of people.
We don't like germies....and it is my hope that the weather will get cold and stay cold long enough to eradicate the little buggers.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Window Shopping
Sometime before Christmas, we began a discussion about purchasing a flat screen TV. The events that led up to this conversation all centered around a very heavy, mahogany cabinet which houses our old 21 inch TV. The cabinet is a two piece thing and the top alone takes three men with muscles of weight lifters to move when the need arises. We (translated "I") purchased it in a thrift shop about seven or eight years ago because the wood is lovely, and because it has doors to hide the electronics away. However, the doors are rarely closed, and it is not easy when we want to move the TV to another part of the room. It's time for that cabinet to go.
The TV, too, is a rather weighty item. The thing is not easy to transport, as it's a slippery, metal box with no handles anywhere. It would be fine if it could just sit somewhere and never need to be moved, but we find that we're moving it quite often. If our cable doesn't function correctly, the company's answer is to reset it by unplugging it from the TV and the wall recepticle, and then replugging. That means fighting with the television to get access to the back of it. Arg! I've had enough, and I guess my husband has too.
So, we began to explore the idea of a flat screen. They're lighter can sit atop a less bulky cabinet or table. Because we're not up on all the technology today, we've read everything we can get our hands on regarding these new-fangled machines. My husband even bought a subscription to Consumer Reports, in order to get their take on things. We finally decided to go to some of the stores and check out the TVs, armed of course, with the Consumer magazine and a headful of numbers and questions.
We would look only at sets with numbers like 1080 and 120 HZ and fully HD. Easier said than done. Oh, they are there....but they are attached to screens the size of a drive-in theater and cost much more than we want to spend. I don't happen to want a 42" screen in my living room. I don't want to hang it on my wall either. I also want a clear picture ...with no 'ghosts' following an action shot, which is more likely with a 60HZ than a 120, the speed of reset, apparently. We do not want a plasma...we want an LED, rather than an LCD, as the latter will soon be phased out.
January is apparently the month to buy a flat-screen TV. The Christmas sales are finished and the stores are attempting to clear the floors of the lower-priced models, so that they can raise the prices again for Superbowl watchers. Time is drawing near, and the sales will soon end. I'm thinking that we're going to lose out on this year's flat screen TV sales. Maybe we'll try again next year, but I fear that by then, we'll have to have new numbers, letters, model ideas, sizes, and information.
I wonder how many more years we have left in this cumbersome old model?
The TV, too, is a rather weighty item. The thing is not easy to transport, as it's a slippery, metal box with no handles anywhere. It would be fine if it could just sit somewhere and never need to be moved, but we find that we're moving it quite often. If our cable doesn't function correctly, the company's answer is to reset it by unplugging it from the TV and the wall recepticle, and then replugging. That means fighting with the television to get access to the back of it. Arg! I've had enough, and I guess my husband has too.
So, we began to explore the idea of a flat screen. They're lighter can sit atop a less bulky cabinet or table. Because we're not up on all the technology today, we've read everything we can get our hands on regarding these new-fangled machines. My husband even bought a subscription to Consumer Reports, in order to get their take on things. We finally decided to go to some of the stores and check out the TVs, armed of course, with the Consumer magazine and a headful of numbers and questions.
We would look only at sets with numbers like 1080 and 120 HZ and fully HD. Easier said than done. Oh, they are there....but they are attached to screens the size of a drive-in theater and cost much more than we want to spend. I don't happen to want a 42" screen in my living room. I don't want to hang it on my wall either. I also want a clear picture ...with no 'ghosts' following an action shot, which is more likely with a 60HZ than a 120, the speed of reset, apparently. We do not want a plasma...we want an LED, rather than an LCD, as the latter will soon be phased out.
January is apparently the month to buy a flat-screen TV. The Christmas sales are finished and the stores are attempting to clear the floors of the lower-priced models, so that they can raise the prices again for Superbowl watchers. Time is drawing near, and the sales will soon end. I'm thinking that we're going to lose out on this year's flat screen TV sales. Maybe we'll try again next year, but I fear that by then, we'll have to have new numbers, letters, model ideas, sizes, and information.
I wonder how many more years we have left in this cumbersome old model?
Friday, January 20, 2012
Gone, But Not Forgotten
Years ago I spent a weekend at a Woman's Retreat with some of the women in my church. We were each asked to bring an item that was special to us, and to be prepared to tell why it was dear to us. It could have been anything at all, and looking back on it, I wish I'd taken a photograph or something that could have been replaced.
Instead I took something that was absolutely irreplaceable. It was...a small circle of 14k gold g iven to my mother at my birth by a family friend who owned a jewelry store. The little 'bangle' bracelet was given to me at some point, I don't remember when Mom gave it to me. I almost wish she hadn't,
for then it would still be somewhere where I could find it.
When my first daughter was born, she wore the bracelet, as did each of her three younger sisters. I think I have photos of all the girls at young ages, wearing it on their chubby little arms. I remember speaking at the table, surrounded by the other ladies, telling how my babies had worn one of my first gifts. I recall saying that, like a plain gold wedding band, the tiny circle of gold reminded me of love ...the love from one friend to another, the love of a mother for her daughters, and how I hoped that the bracelet would one day be worn by my future grandchildren.
When I was finished speaking, I put the bracelet in the pocket of my slacks....or that's the way I remember it now. When I went back to the room, I couldn't find the bracelet....anywhere. The women helped me search and retrace my steps from the meeting room, through the driveway, back to the room. We looked for as long as time allowed, and finally it was time for us to leave.
With a heavy heart, I returned home without what I'd dreamed would be an heirloom. All these years later, a weight grabs my chest when I remember that weekend. My bracelet is gone...but not forgotten, but the love of a friend, the love of a mother, and the love of this grandmother for her young granddaughters remains.
Instead I took something that was absolutely irreplaceable. It was...a small circle of 14k gold g iven to my mother at my birth by a family friend who owned a jewelry store. The little 'bangle' bracelet was given to me at some point, I don't remember when Mom gave it to me. I almost wish she hadn't,
for then it would still be somewhere where I could find it.
When my first daughter was born, she wore the bracelet, as did each of her three younger sisters. I think I have photos of all the girls at young ages, wearing it on their chubby little arms. I remember speaking at the table, surrounded by the other ladies, telling how my babies had worn one of my first gifts. I recall saying that, like a plain gold wedding band, the tiny circle of gold reminded me of love ...the love from one friend to another, the love of a mother for her daughters, and how I hoped that the bracelet would one day be worn by my future grandchildren.
When I was finished speaking, I put the bracelet in the pocket of my slacks....or that's the way I remember it now. When I went back to the room, I couldn't find the bracelet....anywhere. The women helped me search and retrace my steps from the meeting room, through the driveway, back to the room. We looked for as long as time allowed, and finally it was time for us to leave.
With a heavy heart, I returned home without what I'd dreamed would be an heirloom. All these years later, a weight grabs my chest when I remember that weekend. My bracelet is gone...but not forgotten, but the love of a friend, the love of a mother, and the love of this grandmother for her young granddaughters remains.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
It's Gone....
It's rare that I lose things. Well, let me clarify that. I often misplace things, but not forever. Usually it's a case of putting something somewhere and forgetting where, only to find it again sometime. I do r
remember two things, though, that I've loved and lost. I hate to think that I am so materialistic that it would bother me, long after the fact, so let's call it 'so sentimental' instead.
My grandmother had a long,oval-shaped silver pendant with a natural and unpolished turquoise stone in it. I remember her wearing it in the days when we lived with her, so it was prior to my being eleven years old. She would wear her housedress and apron in the morning, but after lunch each day, she would climb the stairs, lie down for an hour or so, and come back downstairs wearing a nice dress and jewelry. It was then that she'd sometimes wear the necklace, which I believe was a gift from her eldest daughter who used to travel the world.
After Grandma passed away, the pendent became mine. I don't remember how that came to be, but I think that the world-traveler asked if I wanted it. At any rate, it was a cherished possession, both because it was my grandmother's, and because it was silver and turquoise....my favorite combination for jewelry. I wore the piece often and had many comments on it, as it was an unusual piece.
One day I realized it was gone. I have no idea where, but it was gone. I searched the jewelry boxes and the top of the bureau that held them. I searched the floor around it. I hunted in the bed, under all the furniture, even the closet floor and pockets of clothing. I even dug through the contents of the vacuum bag.... all to no avail. Finally I had to admit to myself that I'd lost it. (I probably pulled a turtleneck over my head, without removing the chain, which I have done more than once in my lifetime.) It was gone...and gone for good.
It's out of my hands...gone from my possession, but not my thoughts. I think of it often, and wish I'd been able to find it and continue to wear it in loving memory of Grandma. Sigh.
remember two things, though, that I've loved and lost. I hate to think that I am so materialistic that it would bother me, long after the fact, so let's call it 'so sentimental' instead.
My grandmother had a long,oval-shaped silver pendant with a natural and unpolished turquoise stone in it. I remember her wearing it in the days when we lived with her, so it was prior to my being eleven years old. She would wear her housedress and apron in the morning, but after lunch each day, she would climb the stairs, lie down for an hour or so, and come back downstairs wearing a nice dress and jewelry. It was then that she'd sometimes wear the necklace, which I believe was a gift from her eldest daughter who used to travel the world.
After Grandma passed away, the pendent became mine. I don't remember how that came to be, but I think that the world-traveler asked if I wanted it. At any rate, it was a cherished possession, both because it was my grandmother's, and because it was silver and turquoise....my favorite combination for jewelry. I wore the piece often and had many comments on it, as it was an unusual piece.
One day I realized it was gone. I have no idea where, but it was gone. I searched the jewelry boxes and the top of the bureau that held them. I searched the floor around it. I hunted in the bed, under all the furniture, even the closet floor and pockets of clothing. I even dug through the contents of the vacuum bag.... all to no avail. Finally I had to admit to myself that I'd lost it. (I probably pulled a turtleneck over my head, without removing the chain, which I have done more than once in my lifetime.) It was gone...and gone for good.
It's out of my hands...gone from my possession, but not my thoughts. I think of it often, and wish I'd been able to find it and continue to wear it in loving memory of Grandma. Sigh.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Prejudice...
Recently we watched the much-talked-about movie, "The Help." I'm not big on going to the movie theater, nor is my husband, so we enjoyed viewing it on a new dvd in the comfort of our own living room. I'd heard many comments and critiques on the film, so I expected it to be a good watch. I wasn't prepared, however, for the emotions I felt while sinking into the depths of the story.
I found myself on a roller coaster. Anger grew in me with the treatment the help endured at the hands and mouths of the snotty, wealthy, employers. Yes, I know....it was 'like that' in the fifties and sixties in the south. I took all of that into consideration, but still, my ire was real. No one should have had to endure such degradation because of the color of their skin.
Tears fell when lies were invented in order to cause a loyal housemaid to lose her job. Watching a child beg her only loving care-giver to stay, when the woman was dismissed, broke my heart. Knowing a husband was physically abusing his wife was disturbing to me. Retaliation by the other-wise placid workers made me laugh. And....I applauded the bravery of the domestic workers, as well as the writer herself, for their courage in telling their stories in a day when so much was at stake.
Having been born and reared in a small, northern town, I grew up and went to school with a group of children...the majority of whom were born and reared there as well. There was a small percentage of African American students, the children of those whose parents attended school with my own mother and father. We all knew each other. We all got along. I don't remember any racial trouble among us. In fact, the first I remember hearing of discrimination was in the sixties, when the race riots were taking place in Birmingham and Selma, Alabama, and the killing of Medger Evans took place in Mississippi. The whole idea that people were being treated in such a manner was appalling to me. I felt so strongly about the subject, I used the topic for my term paper for history class. It was truly a heartfelt project for me. I needed to get out what I felt, and the result was a very good grade...probably the highest I'd ever earned, especially in history class.
I still feel strongly about discrimination. I don't care whether it's aimed at those who are from a different country, skin color, or any other reason. It, to me, is equal to the bullying of one child against another in school, but far more ridiculous because it is adults who are so narrow-minded and hurtful.
I realize that it was fictional film, however, it held more truth in the story than most of us would want to admit. Never have I been so enraptured by a movie. I'm sorry that this story HAD to be told, but I'm glad that it was, because it sparked the thoughts in me that have been somewhat docile lately. It has prompted me to remember..... we're all here, sharing the same terra, breathing the same air, and biding our time. Let's all try to be a little kinder to each other.
I found myself on a roller coaster. Anger grew in me with the treatment the help endured at the hands and mouths of the snotty, wealthy, employers. Yes, I know....it was 'like that' in the fifties and sixties in the south. I took all of that into consideration, but still, my ire was real. No one should have had to endure such degradation because of the color of their skin.
Tears fell when lies were invented in order to cause a loyal housemaid to lose her job. Watching a child beg her only loving care-giver to stay, when the woman was dismissed, broke my heart. Knowing a husband was physically abusing his wife was disturbing to me. Retaliation by the other-wise placid workers made me laugh. And....I applauded the bravery of the domestic workers, as well as the writer herself, for their courage in telling their stories in a day when so much was at stake.
Having been born and reared in a small, northern town, I grew up and went to school with a group of children...the majority of whom were born and reared there as well. There was a small percentage of African American students, the children of those whose parents attended school with my own mother and father. We all knew each other. We all got along. I don't remember any racial trouble among us. In fact, the first I remember hearing of discrimination was in the sixties, when the race riots were taking place in Birmingham and Selma, Alabama, and the killing of Medger Evans took place in Mississippi. The whole idea that people were being treated in such a manner was appalling to me. I felt so strongly about the subject, I used the topic for my term paper for history class. It was truly a heartfelt project for me. I needed to get out what I felt, and the result was a very good grade...probably the highest I'd ever earned, especially in history class.
I still feel strongly about discrimination. I don't care whether it's aimed at those who are from a different country, skin color, or any other reason. It, to me, is equal to the bullying of one child against another in school, but far more ridiculous because it is adults who are so narrow-minded and hurtful.
I realize that it was fictional film, however, it held more truth in the story than most of us would want to admit. Never have I been so enraptured by a movie. I'm sorry that this story HAD to be told, but I'm glad that it was, because it sparked the thoughts in me that have been somewhat docile lately. It has prompted me to remember..... we're all here, sharing the same terra, breathing the same air, and biding our time. Let's all try to be a little kinder to each other.
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