Tuesday, September 16, 2014

not my favorite day

It was not a good day, but the day isn't over yet. We'll see.

Bike ride.

Though the weather report showed fog here, which was true enough, it also stated the sky in Chillicothe was "partly cloudy", with "mostly sunny" later in the day. Now I know what they mean. It was partly cloudy, and the other part was foggy. Bleah.

That wasn't the worst part. The drive down was difficult, with construction congestion, accident congestion, and farm equipment slow downs. Plus, we fussed a bit about how to handle the map app.

But that still wasn't the worst part. We got on the trail, and soon enough got lost. Yes, we knew there were signage issues, but when we saw a sign on the trail pointed to where the trail picked up again across the road, it took us on an uphill gravel driveway to no place in particular. Took out the map app, which pointed us in a different direction, which we took, and ended up on another uphill gravel driveway to somebody's house on a hill.  We encountered another person on a bike, who pointed us in the direction we wanted, but it wasn't what we wanted. Took out the map app again, found the trail, and enjoyed maybe two minutes of riding before we encountered steep hills, much steeper than we've encountered on other trails. I ended up walking, which isn't the end of the world, but still...

And so, we deal with the hills and turns, cross the road cattycorner to where the trail picks up again, and end up going downhill right close to a busy truck route. Not fun. My source said the trail would be uphill, and that wasn't happening, plus the truck and traffic noise, with no buffer of trees, was just not pleasant. Downhill now meant uphill later when we'd already be tired. So we turned around and headed back to the trailhead, and that was the end of it.

By the time we got back home again we started to see a bit of blue sky.

Time for a beer. And as annoyed as I am with how this day turned out, it's still a good day. I have a home to come home to. Not everybody does, ya know.

Sunday, September 14, 2014


I wonder where my poetic voice has gone. Vacation? Rebellion? Asleep? Bored? Dead?
And then I look around at the poetry in my life.

The bird feeder. Today I saw a flicker, a downy woodpecker, and a nuthatch, in addition to the usual visitors.

The great horned owls. Their voices have begun again in the trees behind our house. I heard them this evening, and went outside to pinpoint where their calls were coming from. I wondered if they might fly out from the trees, and guess what! One of them did! Right over our yard. A first!

So perhaps my poetic voice is sitting in the audience, taking in the poetry all around.

Life is good.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

curmudgeonly observations

We sat in the stadium - visitors side - last night to watch a high school football game. My granddaughter is in the marching band, which is the only reason we attended. I don't care for football games, crowds, noise, and being out at night. But I do care for family, so willingly did the family solidarity thing.

Steve sat there and commented the last time he sat in the stadium was for his high school graduation...28 years ago. That was meaningful. But I have a son who graduated 28 years ago? He's that old, now? I'm that much older, now? How does that happen!!

Marching bands are not what they used to be, which is neither here nor there, I know. When I marched, we actually marched, played march music and other upbeat pieces, learned new music for every home game. Today? Well, they still march into the stadium, but when they're performing, whatever they're doing is not the marching I'm accustomed to. They're not so much a marching band as a posing band. With girls skipping between the band members waving flags.

And they play the same music every week because the half time performance is more about a rehearsal for a band competition at some future date.

Yeah, I'm sounding like an old curmudgeon. But the kids are having fun, bonding through some active and healthy outdoor activities, and the parents are watching and cheering them on.

Friday, September 12, 2014

changing things around

The bikes were loaded in the van, water bottles filled, bike bags outfitted. And then we noticed a flat tire on the van. George pumped it up and took it to the shop to get it repaired. Forty five minutes the man said; I asked him to call as soon as possible because we're going to take a bike ride. He called back in fifteen minutes. Really? Cool! But he couldn't fix the tire. The nail is imbedded in the sidewall. So. Bike trip delayed again as George took it to Costco where we had purchased the tire and had a warranty. The good part? Well, a couple of them. The sky remained overcast all day; not the kind of day where I like to ride and take pictures. The other thing? I'm glad we got the tire taken care of before we really needed the van for something more serious than a bike ride.

I'm glad I have a lot of things I like to do, and that riding my bike isn't the only thing. It makes switching gears a bit easier.

Bike ride rescheduled again for next Tuesday. Third time's a charm, they say.

Life is good, even when I don't get to do what I planned on. 

Thursday, September 11, 2014


It has been a loooonnnnngggg day. One of the dresses that went out the door was as big and complex as a wedding gown, but wasn't one. I took a chance, she liked the dress as I finished it, and thank goodness it's gone. She's happy, I'm happy, and I've got some room in my workroom again. The other dress that went out the door? As small as the first one was large, the fix was just as complex, but I got'er done. Good. And finally, a little girl's flower girl dress that I needed to keep expanding because she's apparently in a monster growth spurt. It'll be done tonight and gone tomorrow.

And now. At last. The bike ride we put off is on the calendar for tomorrow. The day will be cool and dry, the sky will be perfect, my riding companion is the love of my life, and when we get home I won't have any dresses screaming to be finished.


Wednesday, September 10, 2014


Today's bit of gratitude: a weather radio. It went off at 8 in the morning, and it's not what I want to hear when I've only had one cup of coffee. It turns out it was a flood alert, which is never an issue where we live. Yet I'm grateful for the radio. We got it a couple of years ago when summer tornadoes were doing a hell of a lot of destruction in the plains.

Today's jewel: sitting at the kitchen table, watching a papa cardinal feeding it's young'un. Twenty minutes of that before papa flew away, with the youngster right behind him.

Today's adventure: discovering a wine making supply store right down the road from us. We walked in, got acquainted with the store, and I discovered I just might get into making beer, too. Some beers I like, some I hate. He explained how I can control that. The good thing is this: my wine is going to take a year to mature, but beer only takes five weeks. Wonder what my bro would think if I handed him a bottle of home brew next time he visits.

Tuesday, September 09, 2014


We didn't ride today. The sky was overcast, our spirits were a bit overcast, and I had enough work to do to cause me to rethink my decision to ride today. We're rescheduling it for Friday.

It isn't easy sometimes to change my mind. Ya know? Like when somebody says "that's not what you did before", I tend to think of it as a criticism. Where'd that come from? Am I the only one to think predictability is a virtue? So when I planned the ride, got the maps loaded onto my phone, had the trailhead picked out, etc, it took a bit of energy to suggest we wait a bit. Until Friday. Wanna take an intown ride? Neither of us were inspired. Blame it on the full moon, yes? Or I could do what my conservative friends do....blame everything on Obama. Sheesh.

On the other hand, peach wine is fermenting on my kitchen table. About three gallons; just a small batch...

Monday, September 08, 2014

briefly speaking

Hoo boy tired tonight!
Four dresses out the door today. Actually,  three and a half. Don't ask.
Started some peach wine.
Made final plans for a bike ride tomorrow, trail head in Chillicothe.

and that's all I've got for now.
sweet dreams, y'all.

Sunday, September 07, 2014

standing in the need of words

what to do...
what to say...
or not say...

I post a picture on facebook of a spider web. Here is the conversation that followed:

Terry: Amazing what GOD created.

Bruce: Terry - didn't the spider create it?

me: God...shorthand for the love, the light, the energy that is ALL-THAT-IS, and the spider is the local manifestation of ALL-THAT-IS, so, uh, you're both right...

Bruce: Well i was just wondering - because if god made that spiderweb - and not the spider - then in the same vein - that must mean that god made every single piece of art that I thought I'd made all these years - me being a maker and a creator...so I was hoping to get Terry to admit how amazing it was that god made all of my art - even though it's got my name on it...

Terry is a facebook acquaintance, an old man who is currently taking complete care of his paralyzed bed ridden wife. He's really old school religious and conservative, but I don't hassle with him. He's got enough on his plate as it is.

Bruce is my friend - gay activist, artist, shaman. Who can sometimes be outrageously confrontational. I don't want him to piss off Terry. But I also understand Bruce's position, and his words are truth.

This I believe:
All paths lead home.
Home is not what any religion says it is.
We're all on our way home.
Some of us take longer, some not so much.
But time is an illusion anyway.
So who cares?
So...godspeed and safe journey!

Friday, September 05, 2014

number talk

Numbers! Argh!

Camera f stops: the bigger the number, the smaller the aperture. I can hold that information in my head, but I cannot for the life of me work with it on the fly. Every time I consider f stop, my brain has to go through the understanding with words, numbers, and visuals before it becomes a useful tool.

The relationship between f stops and shutter speed is even more complicated. Here goes: as the aperture decreases (and therefore the f stop increases), the shutter speed increases to insure the same exposure. Did I get that right? I hope so. I ran my camera through all the settings to see if it were true. It is.

The problem is this: I don't just want head knowledge. I want to be able to use that knowledge quickly when in the field, and my brain just doesn't do "quick". I talked to George about it. His brain thinks in words and numbers, so the information is quickly available to him if he wants it. But mine isn't. How to resolve this...

Here's the scenario I described to him: I'm at Inniswood, taking a series of landscape shots, which my camera does without even thinking. But then I see a particular flower, and I want a close up without distracting background. So the background must be blurred. My slow moving left brain remembers that a blurry background requires a larger aperture, but how in blue blazes do I work through the intellectual understanding quickly to take the picture? God love George for thinking outside the box that is his own brain. He suggested this. If I only want a small piece of the picture in focus, then dial for a small f stop. That's it! That's all I need to remember.

It's not just cameras. It's almost everything. I'm not content to just know something is so. I need to know WHY it is so, and when I know that, then the knowledge remains lodged in my own headbone.


My day began at 2 a.m.
Knee pain, but that in itself isn't a big deal. Old knees are fussy, and sometimes if I don't position them just so, they start to ache sometime in the night. The fix is to roll over and sleep on my other side. Hey. It works!
But not this morning. The pain was strong, and no positioning in bed alleviated the significant discomfort. So...to the bathroom, pop a pain pill, and then sleep returned.

It reminds me of a night of knee pain 20 or 30 years ago. Yeah, I can remember it. Intense pain woke me up. I had to go into Lamaze breathing to stay on top of it. With George's help, I was able to get through the night. The next morning my walking was limited to some pretty severe limping. What happened! I got into the doctor and here's where it got interesting. He examined my knee, listened to my recollection, and said I had a (don't remember the name) that was basically about something that floats around in my knee. Not a problem, and it'll go away on its own. Which it did. But this is what he also said...."I've never observed one of these (whatever it is), so if it happens again, please try to get into the office as soon as possible so I can observe it."

Pain. Sometimes the best we can do is find the humor. 

Thursday, September 04, 2014

wedding thoughts

My days are full of alterations, it seems. I guess I'll always have work if I want it. Lately I've had a glut of mother of the bride frocks. Remembering my own very modest wedding, I find it amazing the amount of time and money women put into their weddings these days. George will ask me once in awhile if I wish we'd had a fancier wedding. No, I don't wish for that. We've had (and have) a marriage that is much more interesting than any preplanned ceremony could possibly be.

And something else. Almost every bride that comes to me is already living with her guy or already has children. I have no problem with that, though that was unheard of when I was young. I think young folks today are more realistic. What is a ceremony, anyway, other than a public acknowledgement of their commitment to live together as a family? Which presumably they've made before the ceremony itself. 

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

pigs and rhubarb wine

Finally, a day away from my alterations work. The four of us piled into the car and chattered our way to Breitenbach Winery. Going through Amish territory, we passed maybe a dozen Amish horse and buggies. Must have been shopping day.

And here's what I know now that I didn't know before...

Rhubarb wine is mighty fine wine. Dandelion wine is not. Never was, but now that I've tasted it from a winery I like, it is settled. The wine is not for me. Never. Ever. No matter how mellow they make it, it is still reminiscent of licking the floor of a barn. No, I've never licked one. Doesn't matter. I know.

Showing Chester White pigs at a county fair. Who knew! I'll let you guess why the farmer needs a toothbrush to show a Chester White. No, not for the pig's teeth.

Monday, September 01, 2014

a packet of pins

I'm reading a biography of John Adams and his wife Abigail. At one point he was traveling to Philadelphia, and Abigail wrote him a letter begging him to find and send to her a packet of pins. Because of the war, they were in short supply. Wow. A packet of pins. What would she think if she could sit in my workroom with me? Pins. Sometimes when we buy a men's shirt, it comes folded and pinned, and probably most people throw away the pins. She would probably be appalled.  She would possibly also be appalled because most people don't sew now.

Three hundred years from now...I wonder how things will have changed. What kinds of things will I find appalling? I guess I'll never know.
Perhaps it's better that way.

Saturday, August 30, 2014


when I'm with somebody
but that somebody,
physically present,
chooses, instead, to stare at his phone.

which reminds me...
most of the people we pass on bike trails
whether walking or riding
are wearing earbuds

I try not to judge,
it's just not my thing
but I have to wonder
if more and more people
aren't comfortable with silence
or the sound of crickets and birds
or even the silent music of the universe
swirling around them

another kind of loneliness

Friday, August 29, 2014


It seems the older I get, the closer I get to my personal day of passage, the more treasures I encounter in my daily life. Maybe encounter isn't the best word. These things have always been here, but now I'm more aware of them. Eckhart Tolle would probably say I'm getting better at living in the Now.

But today...
breakfast with a very good friend. Perhaps my best friend. A soul sister. Two retired ladies, sitting at a table,
listening intently to each other's stories, absorbing the words, the emotions, the wisdoms swirling around...
cackling a bit about things old ladies have a right to cackle about...

Within our relationship is another embedded treasure, one which I've held close to my heart, and now for the first time have shared with her. We were sitting on her sofa one day, just talking about the stuff we talk about. Our topics may seem ordinary to an observer, but the roots grow deep in the unseen underground. Except this time some of it was seen by me. I was listening to her, looking at her, and superimposed over her was a crystalline structure, with each intersection where facets came together was a point of light of one color or another. Yes, I saw that. No, I don't do drugs. I guess my third eye opened in love and I saw her soul.

Was it real? Define real.
I saw it, and it warmed my heart.
I shared it with her, and it warmed her heart.
Warmed hearts are real.
I offer no explanations other than this: the world needs hearts warmed by love.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

bike ride

Today's big deal? A bike ride to Galena for breakfast. The weather finally relented and we had a relatively cool, low humidity day. 

We saved up our energy to see if we could pedal all the way up the hill on the way back. Didn't make it, but I could get further up the hill than I've ever been able to before.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014



A day to celebrate variety!
Two mothers of brides, among other things.

The first? Petite, wearing a seriously elegant gown. As I pin and mark the hem, we talk about her daughter's wedding. She and her daughter are arguing about who will arrange the vases on the tables for the reception. I suggested that if that is the worst disagreement they have, they are living a charmed life.

The second? Very big. Not obese, exactly, just a big boned woman; happy, energetic, her own woman with no pretenses. Her gown...is like a cross between Cinderella's pumpkin coach and a prom dress. And orange with lots of tulle. But she loves it, and because of that, she actually looks good in it! Do you have your shoes so we can determine the hem length? Oh, those? Yes, she says. They are her sandals; men's sandals, but that's what she needs for her feet, and anybody that doesn't like it can shove it. Well...ok, then!

They were both a lot of fun. And then, after they left, I returned to the dress I'm currently hemming. It's actually a dress, not a blouse. Very very short, but her ass isn't hanging out. It looks like a nightgown in the babydoll style. I showed it to George. He asked what she wears under that, and I told him I presume she wears pretty panties. Lordy. I'm more covered than that when I go to bed!

Life is good. Especially when I keep my opinions to myself.

Sunday, August 24, 2014



where have you been all my life?

It is so comforting to know that I'll be able to sleep through the night and wake up refreshed, regardless of whatever stresses want to dance in my brain

g'night, all. I have a date with a dream...

Saturday, August 23, 2014

and now there are four

Walk into my workroom and you will see four sewing machines on my tables: two straight stitch machines, a serger, and a coverstitch machine, which is my new acquisition. I am definitely not the little old lady down the street who does alterations for pin money. What the hell is pin money, anyway????

I'm getting a lot of knits for alterations; even prom and homecoming dresses are increasingly coming to me as lycra wear, and need special stretch considerations for their hems. Thus my coverstitch machine. Here's the cool part: I contacted the machine shop a few months ago, letting them know I'd be in the market for one before the fall homecoming season. I don't think they paid attention to that. But I did. I called again today, ready to buy. I'd done my homework...knew which machine I wanted, how much it would cost, what it would do. It turns out the shop has one; someone had ordered one a month ago, then never came in to pick it up. Now it's mine. The shop is relatively small; they aren't going to have a selection of coverstitch machines as floor models. But they had the one I wanted, and I got it for a great price. They needed to sell it. I needed to buy it.

Live is good.
Oh yes...the bride came in today to get her gown. Life is good for her, too. I like it when that happens.

Friday, August 22, 2014

beer trumps wine today

Well, that happened! It was one of those days, and I sit here, not with a glass of wine to celebrate a day well lived, but with a bottle of beer to wind down from a day endured.

I had overbooked my time a bit. My fault, I know; it's hard sometimes to get a handle on just how long things take in my alterations business. Today I knew I had to finish a wedding gown, and figured there would be enough hours in the day (and energy in my body) to get it done. She was scheduled to pick it up at 8 pm. I didn't jump on it first thing in the morning, figuring that I could ease into the day gradually.  I went to my workroom, put the dress on the mannequin, and worked on the hem. Hems. Two layers of chiffon and one lining layer. Each chiffon layer measured out to 12 yards wide. I timed the first layer: close to two hours. And then the second. Somewhere in those hours I took breaks to stretch out my back and shoulders. There's just no way to do the work without hunching over. With two hours remaining, I still had to close up the bodice seams, shorten the waist ribbon, and sew a tuck into the shoulder seams. I got the whole project done and bagged and billed by 7:30 pm.

She never showed up.
Her wedding is next week.

I did my part. The rest is up to her.
The beer is cold and good. 

Thursday, August 21, 2014


What must it be like to sit for a few hours and watch the ocean and sky?
Always changing and always the same, maybe.
Isn't that what life itself is?
Always changing
different times, different people, different stories
and still always the same, somehow.

Sometimes in my wanderings, I sit on the moon and watch life on earth.
I cannot see the people any more than the couple in the photograph can see the drops of water.
It's good to be grounded in the present day, feet on the ground, knowing who we are.
It's also good to be grounded in the everchanging eternal Now
part of the flow
part of something so huge and awe inspiring that all we can do is...

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

practical poetry?

My words haven't been particularly poetic lately, according to my own standards. Perhaps my standards need to be revised...

We rode our usual 10 mile kitty bench ride today. I was able to pedal into a burn and sustain it for a time, and George timed it. Because he always times our rides. He told me it was my fastest time ever. I'll never be fast; it's not about speed. It's instead an indication that I'm becoming even stronger.
Riding my bike, feeling the "whee", feeling muscles doing the work, feeling the happy buzz that follows...that is poetry, too.

I finished hemming and bustling a particularly complex wedding gown, and I know the bride will be delighted. There is poetry in that, too, the feeling of creative accomplishment, the anticipation of joy...

Maybe just being alive is poetry. 

Sunday, August 17, 2014

beauty close to home

He's five years old, starting kindergarten in a couple of days. And he's possibly gay. I suppose that's not a given; I'm not, there are none in my family that I'm aware of, so I don't necessarily know the facts. Nor do I need to. But he prefers dolls, pink, and feminine mannerisms. Is that a real thing? Feminine mannerisms? So much I don't know for sure. Nevertheless. He was over here, spotted a doll I had made, and really truly wanted to borrow it for the night. Sure! Just today he was over here again, and we talked a bit about the doll. Yes, she can visit with him for a few more days. Would he like to help me make another one? His eyes sparkled. And then I showed him the bag of fabric scraps we'd use to make her clothes, and I invited him to choose whatever he wants. His mom called me later, saying he's just totally obsessing over this, trying to decide the colors based on what he saw in the bag. So one day he'll come over and we'll work on a second doll. He's a twin, and though his brother isn't into dolls the way he is, he'd like to come over and work with me, too. Sure! Gladly! And their older brother, beginning sixth grade, seems to think I walk on water. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I have that junior high teacher ornery attitude. Anyway, he's coming over one day, too. We'll be making gods eyes, and he's pretty excited about that.

It's been a pretty good day. I may not be able to do big things, but I can do this thing, and it pleases my heart to know I can help create a bit more beauty right here close to home. 

Saturday, August 16, 2014

And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street!

Dr. Suess's Mulberry Street. It was one of a big selection of story books that I'd read to my young sons; one on one side of me, another on the other side, and the youngest one on my lap. They took turns choosing the book, and one of them always chose this one. I don't remember the story itself, only the fact that it was the longest story to read to them, and I'd struggle to stay awake to read the whole thing. Out loud. I tried turning two pages at a time. Nope. He'd always catch it.

I think when I'm old and struggling, I'll have a copy of that book nearby, and when he comes to visit, I'll ask him to read the story to me. All of it. Every single page. Every day that he's here. 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

71 + 6

71 years and 6 days. When I was diagnosed with my first cancer at age 42, I wondered if I'd live to be 50. I wanted to be around when my kids graduated high school. And then, as time went on, I wanted to be around to see my kids established in their own chosen lives. And then I wanted to greet any grandchildren that might happen. Now, I want to live to see my grandchildren grow up.

One day I'll run out of things like that. I know 71 isn't particularly old. Mom was in terrible health and she lived to be 88. But I've already buried several friends, including my closest friend, who had a heart attack at age 76. Most of the funerals I've attended for my peers have been because they've lost cancer battles. And I've had cancer three times and am in good health. Life certainly gives random blessings and curses, it seems. But you know what? They aren't really blessings, and they aren't really curses. It's just the variations in life.

But today is a good day. I feel muscles growing as they take me on bike rides. Katydids are singing outside my window. A client is very happy to get newly renewed clothes. We'll sleep with the windows open tonight, listening to the cricket symphony. George is still enjoying his singing. My chickies are all doing ok. I have people I love and who love me back. Yes, today is a good day.

May whatever happens to you not be seen as blessing or curse, but as a journey. An adventure, if you will, with no particular guidebook other than the one you might choose to write along the way. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

go to

We spent the day on a bike trail.
Wanna see?
Go to http://wanderways.blogspot.com/.

That's where I'll be posting bike rides from now on.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

my guy

That's my guy. Look at his face: the quiet amused smile, the focused eyes, his hands ready to aim his camera. That's what the mountains do to us, yes? No frown lines, no stooped posture. Mountain air!
On the other hand, it might just be because the structure behind him is the men's restroom, from which he just emerged. Ha!

This was taken somewhere in the Cascades, specifically near Mt. Rainier.
A short walk takes us to a viewing ledge where we saw the sun playing late day peek-a-boo behind the clouds surrounding that very expressive mountain. 

Sunday, August 10, 2014


When I posted pics and a narrative about our latest bike ride, a friend commented, saying she doesn't know how I do it. This was my unwritten answer: I do it for the "whee" factor, and I do it to maintain my health so that I can have more years in which to "whee". 

Friday, August 08, 2014

Hockhocking Adena Bikeway

The weather was perfect (at least for August). We drove to Nelsonville and hopped on the trail as far as the outskirts of Athens. 30 miles (total) was enough, and besides, we had no desire to ride in the city of Athens. Or any other city, for that matter. For some of the time we rode along side a working railroad, though we didn't see any trains...at least not working trains. For much of the time, it felt like the Hocking Hills, with hills and rock outcroppings on one side of the trail, and the Hocking River on the other. The trail was well maintained, with occasional benches, the grass and weeds cut low near the asphalt path, and for the most part any of the road crossings were at little used country roads which didn't require that we stop. We will ride this trail again, hopefully in the fall when the color just might be spectacular.

Thursday, August 07, 2014

kitty bench ride

We rode to the kitty bench today, my birthday. 71 years and still riding. I rode strong today, too; I could feel the strength in my legs, and when we were done George said my speed was greater than usual. So much for aging!

10 miles: not a great distance, but we didn't have time for more. I guess I scared an old woman by not calling out "on your left" soon enough. And when I did, she turned to see me and oops, there I was speeding past her. But all is well. At the other end of the spectrum, we had to slow down for little girls riding tiny pink bikes, all wobbly. But they'll learn.

It is a good day. 

Wednesday, August 06, 2014

summer sounds

I drifted off to sleep listening to crickets and katydids. This morning, before I even opened my eyes, a cardinal began embroidering the air with lovely song. Next up...mourning doves, singing their quiet and smooth notes. Right now a young blue jay is begging for food, though his parents aren't close by. In the background cicadas are buzzing.

birds and bugs
summer sounds

Monday, August 04, 2014

the taste of sound

I have found a way to explain why I don't like women singing barbershop. It has nothing to do with who they are or the kind of songs. I find the sound of men singing the same songs a lot more pleasing.

George was listening to a women's quartet,which I could hear across the room. When I told him I didn't like the sound, he explained why he did. Precision, mostly. He said high pitched vowel matching and singing in tune is much harder than when the voices are lower pitched, and he gave a bit of explanation.  It sounded like a chapter from a physics book, and I appreciate his intellectual appreciation. In addition, he appreciated the youthfulness of the group, that they should have such command at such a young age. I told him I could listen intellectually and appreciate the precision, too. However, that being said, my ears don't like the taste of the sound, if you will. He understood that.

Brain wiring. Fascinating.

Saturday, August 02, 2014


Bedbugs. That's what I'm afraid of. Not spiders or snakes or rabid bats. Just bedbugs. They aren't venomous nor do they spread disease. They just bite. You don't even feel them bite, and they're considerate enough to only bite while you're asleep. And why should I be considering bedbugs? Because we've returned from vacation, where we've slept in a snazzy hotel, a rented house, and a motel. And now I have bites. Fear not, they're mosquito bites. I should probably fear mosquitos, since they do carry disease. But they just annoy me.

Other troublesome tiny critters? How about chiggers. I sure am glad chiggers can't fly. Ditto ticks.

Are you feeling itchy yet?
Sleep tight...

Thursday, July 31, 2014

The Bridge

This journey began with the city's notice that the pedestrian/bike bridge over County Line Road is now open. Of course, we had to check it out ourselves as soon as we could. Like today.

It begins right here on the outer side of the garage door.

Down the street, turn right, ride a bit, turn left.
Hop onto the trail close to the DQ.

Wind around, follow the trail (it's not hard to do once you cross the busy intersection at Maxtown), and now we're behind the strip mall that houses Giant Eagle et al.

We cross Old County Line, now pretty much deserted.

At this point we've already crossed the new bridge. I decided to take pictures on the way back. It was too much fun "whee-ing" up, across, and over to stop and dig out my camera. Behind us is a wheelchair bound lady who was delighted, as we were, to see the bridge is open.

Thank you, Nationwide Children's Hospital, for helping the development of this awesome trail!

From here to our final destination, I began to realize we have a lot of personal history to think about that took place just a stone's throw from this trail. I thought about my early love of biking, wishing I could ride my bike all the way across the United States. But now I'm on a trail that, when finished (as it almost is now), will provide safe bike passage all the way south to Cincinnati, and all the way north to Cleveland. My goal now is to stay healthy and active until the trail is finished so I can make the journey.

We decided to stop where the trail crosses State St. Westerville. From that point on to where it connects with the Alum Creek Trail is a bit annoying. We can stay on sidewalks, but there's a lot of starts and stops until we descend to the dedicated trail again.

And so we turn back. We stop to remember the time we aided someone rescuing a great horned owl that had an injured wing. It was a bit cold; a woman called out to us for help. She was standing near the owl, protecting it, but needed to renew the circulation in her legs. So we stood guard while she walked a bit. In time, her husband came by with a box and a blanket. He and George managed to get the bird in the box, protecting themselves from those massive talons with the blanket. From there, the bird was transported to an animal rescue facility where the bird continued on in their education program, since it couldn't fly again. This rescue occurred at one of the back fields of South High School. George taught there, all three of our sons graduated from there. Memories.

From there we next passed the school bus lot. I remember them most from my own teaching days. The students would remain in their homerooms until their bus number was called. Our job was to keep them calm and orderly until they got in line to get on the buses. Sometimes we succeeded. Memories.

We're behind the library, now, at the new bike stop built to resemble a railroad station. Artistic bike racks, a restroom, a shelter with fireplace, an air pump, what more could we ask for?

Oh yes, the library. Here's a back view, anyway. It used to be so small! When the boys were babies, I'd check out wooden puzzles for them to play with. They graduated to books soon enough. Then, as a teacher, I'd check out films for my science classes. Those are gone, now. The last day I walked to the library from our home was the day before I ended up in the hospital. I was on chemo at the time, don't remember why I walked - maybe because I'd quit driving for the duration. I returned home, tired, and the next thing I knew I had a fever. The doc sent me to the emergency room where I ended up with a blood transfusion and an 8 day stay on the cancer floor. Chemo drugs can really wreak havoc on the body, but they wreaked more havoc on the tumors, because they're gone...and I'm not! Ha! Memories. May you all have memories of one sort or another related to libraries.

We turn away from the library, and continue north on my memory journey. Doesn't this look inviting?

We pass a lumberyard shelter, and discover that a group is doing some outdoor art. Cool. Part of the planning and funding comes from Westerville Parks and Recreation.

And here's my favorite trail companion...

Moving along, we stop to look at the building where our insurance agent plies his trade. If you walk in unannounced, you're liable to see him barefoot behind his desk. Also, as another Italian, he and George exchange Italian garden goodies on occasion. He's getting older now, we're just as likely to deal with his son, who is every bit as good as his dad. Memories.

And now the memories deepen. We pass the first house we owned, the two story white one. When we moved in, this trail didn't exist; the railroad tracks were still in use. Our first two sons were already part of the family, the third would soon join us. Now they're all in their 40s. Memories. Enough memories for a book.

A bit further and I see ManorCare, the nursing home where I worked as assistant director of activities, and then, later, where George's mother lived her last years. Memories.

Old Westerville folks may remember when this was a corn field on Old County Line Road. The farmer would leave a box nailed to the tree with the price of the corn. We picked, we paid, he trusted we'd be honest. Memories.

My old memories don't continue further north. New memories may, in time. We approach the new bridge over the new County Line Road. It makes crossing the four lane road so much easier. That's George way ahead, taking a video. I still need both hands on the handlebars. Probably always will...

The bridge is off to the left, and here we're looking at a ramp that allows bikes and pedestrians to access the trail from County Line Road. That is a very nice touch.

I'll close with two pictures taken from the bridge.

Thanks for riding along. I acknowledge that I can't ride this trail and see only what exists now. I still see the ripples of the past.
It is good to be able to bridge times past and future, living in this incredible, eternal, sacred place called Now.