Things Don't Always Work Out

Lots of friends and relatives across the nation were watching Georgia softball hoping the Dawgs would go to Oklahoma City, but our week ended with two disappointing games at Super Regionals. Katherine had her television all set ahead of time for both games, so no matter what she could see her niece play.  Leslie and Mike were at their favorite restaurant in Nashville, TN, for lunch yesterday just so they could see the game there.  Cousins Barbara and Bob were watching in Oregon. Mary Ellen stopped work and arrived with snack bags for each of us to watch Friday’s game.  I was disappointed that we lost that first game, of course, but I did not have a doubt that yesterday we would win two..  But we didn’t.  Baylor will be going to Oklahoma instead of us.   It was exciting this evening to see Kentucky win over top-rated UCLA and win their first trip to the World Series.  At this level of play, anything can happen, and you have to grin and bear it knowing you had a good season despite its ending.  Things don’t always work out.

Gerald and I were half way to church this morning when a text message arrived from Katherine that her aide was not coming in this morning to give pills.  We debated what to do and quickly turned around and were a good way back when a second text explained she was hoping we would come and give her the morning pills at noon after church.  She uses a voice-operated system to make phone calls and send texts since she cannot use her hands, and the system leaves a lot to be desired.  She has incredible patience with the digital voice who writes absolutely crazy things instead of what she clearly says.  She will cancel and try over and over to get it right. I so admire her patience.  But sometimes she just has to send the message, even though crazy, and hope the recipient can figure out her meaning.

We were able to adjust her, give her morning pills, fix her breakfast and feed her, feed and water the dog, and some other tasks as well as watch a sermon and part of a softball game with her in her bedroom.  We left her watching a movie in good shape we hoped for the next aide who was to arrive at 2.  When we left, Gerald was wondering where for us to go for a late lunch, and I suggested a taco place for a light lunch since I had a chicken already spiced up and in the fridge to roast with a new recipe for our evening meal.  The chicken  had to be in the fridge for 24 hours, so I had not planned to fix it for our lunch.  After almost being hit by a car running a stop light in our lane out on the highway, we gratefully turned off safely and parked and went into the taco place. We were met by three friendly and apologetic teenagers who explained someone had used a debit card without the correct amount of money or something—and everything was shut down until somehow that problem was solved.   We were eager to get home and rest, so we went elsewhere for a burger rather than wait out this weird happening.

A little after five, I went upstairs to the kitchen and put the oven on the 500 degree mark called for by this new roast chicken recipe.  (I cook such skimpy meals for Gerald and me most of the time and rarely try out anything interesting, so trying this recipe was my effort to make amends.) I unwrapped the spiced chicken and stuffed in the five cloves of garlic I already had laid out and waiting. But my first problem was that the directions said to cook the chicken on a rack, and the rack was a bit too large for my 9 by 13 metal pans.  I always use a smaller oven in our kitchen, and my large metal roasting pans with handles do not fit it. So  I quickly put away the non-fitting pans and dug down for a favorite but seldom used very large lovely green glass baking dish.  The rack fit perfectly, and pan with its chicken fit perfectly in the now ready 500 degree oven.  The  chicken must be cooked 15 minutes, and then the temperature turned down to 475 for 15 minutes and then to 450 for the last half hour.  I added a couple potatoes to roast, and set the timer for the first turn-down time. Then I fixed some apples to bake with sweetener, raisins, and walnuts to put in the oven for the last half hour and went over to relax and watch Book Notes on the kitchen TV.

My relaxation was short lived because of one of the loudest noises I have ever heard in my kitchen.  And when I opened the oven fearfully and carefully, that favorite glass baking dish was in 10,000 pieces.  I did not count the pieces, but I am sure I am not exaggerating. The oven bottom was full of the broken glass, which also tumbled out on the oven door when I opened it, and now the door would not close because of glass there. That was one hot oven to cope with. I don’t think I have ever heated an oven that hot before (unless it heated itself that hot when self cleaning).  Oddly, the chicken was sitting prettily on the rack and seemed to be unscathed.  What to do?  I tried not to panic, but the glass pieces were unbearably hot to touch with  my hands . 

I grabbed out a collection of hot pads and took away some big glass pieces that had gone to the side of the rack and not fallen through, and I threw them into the kitchen wastebasket.  Then I got a dust broom set with a large stand-alone collector and used the little broom to sweep the glass from the door onto the floor.  I still could not shut the oven door. I kept trying and finally I had removed all the glass from the door, but there was no way I could even imagine clearing out all the broken glass on the bottom of the hot oven. It would have to stay until another day allowed the oven to cool. I thought I would sweep all the broken glass on the floor into the dust collector and  throw those burning hot glass fragments into the waste basket.  My next thought was that might catch the paper contents of the basket on fire.  Things were not going well.  So I swept floor glass out of the path of foot traffic and faced what to do about the chicken.

 I had not used a jelly roll size baking sheet because I was supposed to collect the juices underneath the rack and spread over the chicken at some point in the baking, and I was afraid that pan’s shallow sides might not hold the juices.  Fortunately the chicken had not been in long enough to have juices falling through to the oven bottom, or I’d have had a kitchen full of smoke.  Now when I had no choice but to use the small jelly roll baking sheet, I somehow lifted the rack with its chicken and moved it to its new pan. I realized I should have used this pan to begin with. 

I put the chicken back in the oven to finish its first cycle and wondered if it would be fit to eat. I set the table and went back to watching TV until the timer went off for the first reduction of heat. And so on.  Finally I boiled frozen corn-on-the-cob from last summer. Gerald came in and avoided the glass on the floor and said my troubles made me part of the human race and was pleasant about the delay in our meal. The chicken was delicious.  So tender and moist. 

The glass on the floor is cleaned up now, and maybe tomorrow I will have the time and nerve to tackle the glass on the bottom of the oven. Maybe not.  I am not sure if I can ever find a glass baking dish as large and pretty as my many splintered one.  Things don’t always work out, but sometimes they do.

Sixteen Teams Now!

Gerald started my day with an invitation to go down to his computer and watch the highlights of the NCAA Regional softball tourney together.  He and nephew DuWayne were there in Georgia for Friday and Saturday’s games.  When they learned at Sunday breakfast that rain delays would make the first of two necessary playoffs at 2 that afternoon, they decided they needed to come on back home to Illinois.  Actually the first game was not until after 7 and the second did not end until almost midnight, so they made a very wise decision. 

When I left Katherine’s house a little after 11 Sunday night, I phoned him to see what was happening in that second game since Katherine and I were not getting the website video to play on her smart phone.  We did receive some scores during the evening, so we knew we were way ahead. I had not heard my cell ring earlier, so I was surprised to learn Gerald was home in bed at Woodsong! 

He had watched the last two games on his computer downstairs. Because Georgia lost game 3 to North Carolina State on Saturday, they had to beat NCS twice on Sunday to win this double elimination tourney. They did so handily with 9-1 and 8-0 scores.  Now UGA Dawgs will play Baylor at Athens this Friday and Saturday for two out of three games to determine who goes on to the nationals at Oklahoma City.  The sixteen teams playing in eight Super Regionals will be reduced to eight for the World Series.

Katherine was in bed all day Sunday since her aide came in but  promptly threw up and had to go back home suffering from the stomach flu her baby son had the day before and which  kept her from coming in on Saturday. This was especially sad for Katherine because this aide was scheduled to drive her to the Saturday wedding in our village of her long-time aide Katie Williams to Jared Barger.  She did have an exceptionally competent sub to get her ready for the wedding, but no driver.  As she said with a resigned smile, I am used to being disappointed.

Katie had really wanted her there, but she understood only too well since she had just that morning had her photographer cancel on her! (She secured a wonderful substitute photographer!)  This wedding has been an exciting diversion for Katherine since she got in on the excitement of the special date when Jared gave Katie her engagement ring, and she had listened to all the wedding plans develop.  She even got to taste the punch for the dance that Katie’s grandmother brought by the house for Katie to make final decisions about. 

Jared’s uncle, Marshall Wright, who recently moved back to our community to his great grandparents’ farm, is an experienced and excellent chef, and the meal he served the large crowd in the fellowship hall of our church was delicious as well as visually attractive. No wonder Elisha Wright was bragging she got to kiss the cook.  (Marshall is the son of Joan Handkins Wright and the late George Wright, who had lived in the farm home after Alva and Lorene Handkins. Joan, who now lives in an assisted living apartment, was at the wedding smiling and looking lovely.)  I was privileged to be able to sit with our grandson Sam and his girl friend Anna at the dinner, and I asked Marshall to prepare a plate to take to Katherine so she could experience at least a bit of the wedding celebration.

Jared’s mother Kim was right on time Sunday morning to teach our two adorable toddlers in our Preschool Sunday School department. I was determined to be on time also just in case Kim was too exhausted to come after all the family activity.  She admitted being tired, but there was no doubt she had enjoyed her sister’s family here for week-long visit from Virginia and all the family togetherness. She reported happily that Jared and Katie had left looking very happy for their two-day honeymoon. So another busy weekend has ended with many smiles, and now we are wondering if this next weekend our Georgia softball team can be one of eight instead of one of sixteen.

Life Goes On

The roadside woods are completely greened out now.  Redbud blooms were replaced by the occasional large dogwood with its white blossoms contrasting with the surrounding green leafy limbs just as prettily as the redbud did. Now the dogwood is through its annual show, and we must be content with the rich green tree tops matching the deep green grass wherever we look.

The bunnies disappeared from their nest in the driveway circle of lawn last Sunday, and Gerald is still on the look out for them.  He’s already had to mow the yard  again.  His big project is building a new dock for the lake to replace the one he made a dozen years ago, which has deteriorated.  The martins are swooping, and the hummingbirds buzzing around the feeders.  One red azalea is beautiful, and another has died this year leaving behind ugly bare limbs.  Our iris are budded, but not yet in bloom as so many I see in other yards are. 

Our spring recreation has continued to be watching the University of Georgia softball games on the computer in Gerald’s office until this week when the Southeastern Conference games were on ESPN channels. So for three days, our schedule was planned around the Georgia Dawgs games when we met up in the family room to watch on the TV there,  Last night Georgia played for the championship at 7 central time.  Some time ago Mary Ellen had sent me home with left-over barbecue, and I stuck it in the freezer, so that was thawed and heated for a sandwich supper as we watched.  I also baked the bag of ready-for-the oven cookies she had once given me.  Brian was in the field farming, and Trent, who had spent the afternoon with a gaming club at college, didn’t come over, but Mary Ellen and Brianna, who finished at Murray State on Friday, were here.  Sam also came out, and later to our surprise and delight, Katherine’s aide Katie Williams drove her out to join us cheer our son and two granddaughters onto victory.  We also loved it when the camera frequently flashed on our daughter-in-law Vickie and her seatmate and UGA super supporter Norma Holliday.  And it is always fun to see head coach Lu Harris-Champer passionately cheering on her team.  Chelsea Wilkinson was phenomenal on the mound, and Alex Hugo and all the others were tremendous, and seeing their celebration after all their hard work this year brought tears to my eyes and very happy smiles in the family room at Woodsong. 

(For blog readers who don’t know, our son Gerry is recruiting coordinator and associate softball coach at UGA, and their oldest daughter Tara Archibald is assistant coach. Their youngest daughter Geri Ann, a sophomore, alternatively plays first base and as a pitcher. The middle daughter Erin played in the World Series finals for Texas A&M and did her best to recruit Geri Ann to College Station. Because their three daughters are extremely close to their mother, however, I think Vickie’s presence influenced Geri Ann to stay in Athens and play for Georgia more  than her dad.  Vickie, a cancer survivor, played sports in high school and also coached summer softball and high school volleyball, which is fortunate since she is asked to pitch that first ball when the girls are wearing pink uniforms.)

Katherine brought me a card last night and Gerry called after the game to wish me a happy Mother’s Day explaining their card might be late. Jeannie contacted me on Facebook, and Mary Ellen’s family came over today and prepared our lunch.  Back in February in an effort to help me out, she had brought me meat loaf, hash brown potato casserole, and a corn casserole all carefully and attractively wrapped with instructions for baking. I had wanted to ask them over for Sunday lunch and use her meal, but everyone’s schedule has been too full too long.  Since aides were with Katherine today, I did not need to go in, and I got that meal out of the freezer and let Mary Ellen and Brianna prepare it.  My contribution was angel food cake for dessert to welcome Brianna home for the summer since that is a favorite of hers. I always make two angel food mixes up at once, so I have an extra, and this time it went home with Brianna.

Tonight was exciting since the selection of the 64 teams who will start NCAA regional play at the end of this week were announced.  We cheered Georgia’s being one of the top four seeds. They will host their Regional, and if they win, they will host the Super Regional the next week.  This is the beginning of the process that decides who the eight teams are that go to the NCAA Division I World Series in Oklahoma City.  Our hopes and dreams are on the Georgia Dawgs, but regardless, life goes on.

Doing the Bunny Hop at Woodsong

Gerald has been busy keeping a large part of the countryside mowed with his beautiful new tractor mower. Easter weekend started this mowing frenzy, and the lawn has never looked larger or lovelier. In front of our house in the circular driveway, there in the middle is a small circle of lawn with a decorative tree that blooms beautifully every spring but much too briefly.  Neither of us knows what kind of a tree it is, but I have never believed it was what we ordered because the blossoms are white and not the bright red I thought we were to get. 

Nevertheless, it is a sweet little tree, and we often find a sweet nest of little birds in it.  So when it was time to mow that small circle of lawn, Gerald saw what looked like a fallen empty bird nest there and carelessly tossed it into the driveway out of the way of the mower.  As it landed, he discovered to his dismay that it was the carefully constructed home of tiny baby rabbits. Very upset, he carefully gathered the pitched nest the best he could and put it back where it originally was.  His lunch-time story was filled with worry that the mother would not come back to a nest touched by human hands, especially one thrown around as he had done. 

All winter when he would leave the house early in the morning to walk to the mailbox or to put wood in the stove in his shop, he would report on seeing an adult rabbit or sometimes just the evidence of tracks in the snow on our front porch indicating one or two had sought warmth there during the night. He enjoyed seeing them, and we were both upset earlier this spring when rabbit fur on the other side of the house caused us to know that some predator had destroyed a nest in the plants there.

When the grandchildren arrived for Easter, they could not resist taking a peek at the little rabbits and join the concern over whether or not the mother would continue to feed and care for them. I heard glowing reports of how adorable these babies were although the peeking was so limited that no one was sure how many were there. I could tell they were searching answers on the Internet, and I feared they would try to take over mothering them, which I figured would be not only a dreadfully time consuming task but one that would end in heartbreak since none of our kind-hearted kids would know how to be a proper mother rabbit.  Someone did find the suggestion to put a string over the nest; and if the string was gone the next morning, you could know that the mother had visited and fed her young.  The string was placed, and on Easter morning we knew the mother had not let the nest disturbance keep her from feeding the wee ones.  The weekend ended with that happy result and the grandkids went home.

Gerald would daily check and hear tiny sounds inside the nest, so he knew they were being cared for. With the torrential rains and much cold weather since Easter, he was impressed with the mother rabbit’s well-built shelter that let the babies survive. Things were going so well that I resisted the desire to look beneath the lid of dead grass and take even the tiniest peek.  But I wanted to.  Gerald thought they were getting big with little ears growing. I have no idea how long a mother rabbit takes to raise her family, but I was afraid the nest would suddenly be empty and I might never get to see them.  So I asked Gerald if he could hold the grass up gently for me to get a peek.  Together and for just a few seconds, we stared at the miracle of tiny animals with big ears all snuggled and entwined with one another. We are still not sure if there are five or six.  Nor how long they will be there before they hop away to the straw piles behind the shop or some other sheltered spot.

Gerald has claimed to be restraining his spring gardening impulse and, thus, plans to grow less as he has tried to do in recent years.  But he is really proud of his onions and is hoping Gerry will somehow get up to help him eat them. .More recently, he has been bragging on his beautiful tomato plants, Then one got eaten off and he wondered if a deer had visited.  Yesterday a second plant was gone, and the wet ground showed no deer tracks.  I smilingly suggested that probably that mother rabbit is enjoying his tomato plants.  I did not add that soon she may have five or six others following her with her teaching them where to forage for food. But I saw the look on his face.  The tomatoes may not be safe, but I bet the bunnies will be.

Springtime in Southern Illinois

Driving to town provides welcome change from the sparse color of recent winter drives.  Redbuds reached their peak of beauty in our area for Easter weekend. The dogwood here is just beginning to bloom. The smell of freshly mowed grass is in the air, and the green lawns sport redbuds, peach blossoms, and crab apple blooms. I like the bright yellow blobs of dandelions in many lawns, and they make me think of our late friend Zella Cain, who also liked dandelions.

 Not all but most of the lacy white blossoms on pear trees have now been replaced with small green leaves matching the abundant greenery of grass and the leaves on shade trees during this annual reawakening. However, trees in woods along the roadside seem slower to achieve leaves, and that makes the appearance of the occasional redbud blossoms peeking through bare brown limbs especially lovely. 

Unplowed fields are often covered with the pinkish purple of henbit, and occasional bunches of yellow mustard plants are showing up.  The large patch of daffodils that I annually sneak a bouquet from has now been replaced with lovely paperwhites that seem extraordinarily abundant this year. I assume these daffodils and paperwhites were planted by the same woman oh so long ago beside a house no longer there.  She would be surprised at how they have spread out over this large area beside the road and up into the bordering woods.  

Although we had a smaller group than usual for Easter at the farm, Cecelie persuaded her mother to take her to Bloomington, where she caught a ride down with her brother Elijah at Illinois State.  Despite the pressure of end-of-semester work coming up, Brianna came home from Murray State.  These kids all landed at Mary Ellen and Brian’s farm house and stayed there, but were in and out of Woodsong as they planned their usual group shenanigans, which this year included kidnapping their cousin Sam to join them despite his not feeling well.  (Yesterday’s definitive diagnosis of Lyme disease started him on a 21-day regimen of antibiotic and the promise of feeling better in ten days. This was a relief.  How he has kept going full speed despite growing sicker all the time is beyond me.) 

These kids went over and volunteered to help hide eggs on the church lawn at our village church, and they stayed up to all hours talking over summer plans, current happenings, and the transitions in their lives. They did all their customary childhood activities including dying eggs and making Easter nests on the lawn.  Mary Ellen had volunteered to do the centerpiece for our dining room table, and it was very cute with the metal rabbit she had found the previous weekend at Hannibal, MO. She hosted the egg dying and brought over the bunny cake and the goodies for the kids to decorate it. (I think she was seven or eight when I turned over that decorating over to her.) 

Elijah gifted us with a beautiful song at worship in the village before we gathered for Sunday dinner here.   Katherine had worked out precision plans for an aide to bring her out for Easter dinner, but she was unusually weak and felt too bad to come.  The evening aide did get her to church Sunday night for at least part of the service.

  

Since our Georgia families were involved with softball games at Athens’ Jack Turner Stadium, we spent some time both Saturday and Sunday afternoons watching that series on the University of Georgia website.  We won two out of those three games and were disappointed again today to lose a home game against Georgia State.  Next we play three games against Alabama at Tuscaloosa on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

Both Gerald and Brian have been busy lately burning the limb piles from winter clearing. Gerald has cleaned out flower beds, mowed the huge lawn he has created, plowed the garden and done some planting already. Brian began farming this week after the delay caused by the heavy rains.

Somehow Gerald has found time to go with his brother Keith over to Southeast Missouri Hospital at Cape Girardeau to sit with their brother Garry, who is there with Ginger, the love of his life.  Our sister-in-law has been the victim of multiple strokes, seizures, and the resulting problems since December of 200l.  (There had been previous episodes, but that 2001 stroke was the disabling one that they have had to cope with.)  Garry and Ginger are both heroes in my view.

Go Go Go Joseph

My week started with my strains of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat in my brain.   I would be thinking of something else completely but would suddenly realize my thoughts were being accompanied in the background by “Jacob, Jacob, and Sons” or “Poor, poor, Joseph…” or some other memorable melodic phrase. I don’t remember experiencing this phenomenon so intensely before, but it was a pleasant two-day aftermath of a quick one-day trip to Nashville to see and hear granddaughter Leslie performing at the Larry Keeton Theater there.

Jeannie came in slightly after midnight last Thursday on her way down to Nashville for the last weekend of the show.  I had just gone to bed when I heard her quietly letting herself in the unlocked front door.  I’d gone on to bed because I had begun to be a bit nervous as she had texted me she was on her way down with stops along the way.  I knew that probably meant bike-riding stops; and being a mother, I can easily start imagining someone being assaulted or passing out on a bicycle trail somewhere. To not allow myself to worry, I decided to go to sleep and when I woke up to go to the bathroom if Jeannie wasn’t in the house, then I’d call Rick and start praying. (Actually I had already said prayers for her safety just in case she needed divine help.)   But blessedly my motherly fretting was unfounded because soon she was here and in bed, and without greeting her, I drifted into sleep.

As we breakfasted the next morning, she offered to come back to take me to the closing night of Joseph as she knew I would like to go. That seemed like a lot of driving to ask anyone, so I asked Gerald about the possibility of his taking me to Paducah to cut off a couple hours driving time for her.  He immediately sweetly assented, and that is what we did with a lovely lunch at Olive Garden before Jeannie and I repeated her trip to Music City and Gerald went back to the farm.  Gerald and I had visually feasted on the newly blooming red buds all the way to Paducah, and the spring sights intensified the further south Jeannie and I traveled.

We arrived in time for a leisurely visit with Leslie and Mike, and I was more than pleased with their new home in the city.  A large lot with a big back yard, which they had fenced for their dogs Millie and Sidney was in a neighborhood with well established beautiful trees.  The one in their side yard with ivy climbing it really took my eye.  Inside a lovely staircase and hardwood floors welcomed us.  Since they have not started work on the two upstairs bedrooms, I didn’t accept the invitation to go up, but I loved all the hard work this young couple and their friends have already accomplished on the first floor. Kitchen counters that their two fathers helped Mike install one weekend were beautiful.  The new gray couch selected for the family room with its gray tile flooring that Mike put down there and in the kitchen was quite lovely and comfy. Newly painted walls and redone furniture all spoke of hard work and good taste.  Jeannie had an errand to do and I took a little nap after Leslie calmly packed a small bag and took off for the theater.  She loves to sing and entertain, and she does so without any show of nervousness or diva self centeredness. 

The Larry Keeton dinner theater is just one of many activities located in FiftyForward Donelson Station, which as I understand it was once a school building. I think the theater is in the former gymnasium.  Now guests at the many tables are served dinner by various youth groups taking tips for their hard work. Thus, these kids are given a theatrical experience while they fund raise. I have never quite figured out the organizational structure of this Senior Center for the Arts, but it offers many educational, performing, and exhibition opportunities for not only older adults but for all ages.  Impressive volunteer efforts are apparent throughout the Center and illustrate what a community can create working together.  

Large white dogwoods in full bloom lined the front of the building as we entered to settle in for the upcoming show.  We hadn’t come for dinner, so we sat in back seats as the curtains opened for the sing-through performance of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s kaleidoscopic styles of music ranging from ballads to county to calypso and more.  Tim Rice’s lyrics retold the Genesis story of a boy who was Jacob’s favorite son of his favorite wife Rachel. Flaunting his favored status and his beautiful coat of many colors, Joseph so irritated his brothers that they sold him into slavery and told Jacob a wild animal had killed him. The Ishmeelites sold him down in Egypt to Potiphar.  Joseph was a successful slave until his attractiveness brought attempted seduction efforts by his owner’s wife.  Innocent Joseph was thrown into prison and it seemed his life was ruined.  But his ability to discern the meaning of dreams reached the ears of Pharaoh, who delighted us theater goers with his Elvis Presley impersonation and delighted Joseph by putting him second only to himself in the kingdom.  The predicted famine came about and brought Joseph’s brothers down from Canaan to buy grain only to find their brother was now as powerful as he had been in his childhood dreams.  Their repentance and Joseph’s forgiveness brought a reunion with Jacob, played by Larry Keeton himself.  The musical ended with the feel-good emotions reconciliation brings about.

Our feel-good emotions came from hearing our Leslie in a role she had long had on her to-do list. Narrating in song throughout the performance, she lived up to the critic who had written, “Her vocal quality is pitch-perfect, strong and simply lovely.”  After all the ending hoopla and recognitions, she and the rest of the cast were yer to strike the set and clean things up for the next upcoming production.  After hugs and goodbyes, we left to fill up with gas at the station next door to the theater, and Jeannie expertly maneuvered us through the city and onto to Highway 24 back to Illinois. We were back at Woodsong shortly after midnight, even earlier than I sometimes arrive from Katherine’s when I help out there.  When I woke up the next morning,  Jeannie had just pulled out of the driveway on her way up to visit Elijah and go to church with him.

Just as we had Friday night when we watched Georgia win 6-1, that afternoon Gerald and I ate in his office as we watched the Louisiana State University website to follow the third game in the weekend softball series. Gerald had watched Saturday night’s tie game, which we lost 5-4 while I was in Nashville. Sadly we lost again on Sunday 13-11 making us now 35-8.  Katie Brown, who had grown up just south of Baton Rouge, showed her stuff with two home-runs and so did Tina Iosefa, one a three-run homer.

Georgia will be in Atlanta tomorrow night playing a non-conference game against Georgia Tech, and it will be shown on ESPN3.     

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Ever Changing

At our other farm home, I paused each morning as I walked through the dining room on the way to the kitchen. There through the sliding glass doors, I’d check the pond for that day’s update.  Here in this house, I look out the living room windows to see what is happening on the lake. Ever changing, it always pleases me.

One morning last week, the suface sparkled with a million diamonds gleaming gloriously under the warm bright sun. The next day, the surface was darkened reflecting a dome-like covering of gray-black clouds over the entire farm. More than seven inches of rain came that night, and we woke to see the water brown from mud washed in and perhaps stirred up from the bottom.  The next day, the brown had lessened.  And today it was almost clear again. 

Through it all we have been visited with bluebill ducks who have stopped here  temporarily.  Since various varmints annihilated our home-grown ducks, we are always excited when visitors stop by.  Gerry said they probably left Mexico during the early part of March. When they move to the other end of the lake, we fear they have moved on north, but then some will return to our end for us to enjoy their bright white sides contrasting with  glossy black feathers.  As I walked to the mailbox at the end of our lane, I was relieved to see they are still with us.

Gerald was surprised to look out a couple weeks ago and see the telephone wire beside our lane almost filled with martins lined-up there. He hadn’t realized it was time for their return, and he hurried and cleaned out his houses for them, and they settled in.  Now the view of the lake often features their graceful circling and swooping as they fly down for insects or perhaps for a drink.

Busyness last fall  kept me from searching out our bird feeders. This is the first year since we’ve lived here that we were unable to look out the kitchen window to see the winter birds feeding there on the deck.  When the snow blanketed everything, I felt bad until I found out  Gerald had lined our lane with bird seed, and I saw multitudes feasting there. (He has a tendency to do things in a big way.)

I also failed last summer to get the hummingbird feeders up until the very end of summer. I have been meaning to check with my next-door neighbor when I need to get them hung because I do not want to delay as I did last year.  These pretty little birds whirring and fighting each other as they gather around the deck feeders are an interesting addition as we look out toward the lake at the constantly varying vision there.

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Home Again and Hoping for a Less Busy Week

Drooping yellow daffodils that I had swiped from the roadside still sat in blue glasses on tables when we returned from a weekend at the University of Missouri softball games with the University of Georgia. The bouquets  still looked good when we left, but they and some pretty glass serving pieces not yet put away reminded me of the busy week before we left for Columbia.

Katherine had a couple of aides out, and I spent considerable time there.  On Tuesday afternoon when there was a gathering of our church  women that night at our house, Jeannie texted that she and Cecelie were on their way down from Freeport—but they’d entertain themselves.  That was good, but I was glad she gave up sleep so that she and I had a long late night visit at the kitchen table. Despite their being on spring break, Rick did not come until the next night because he had a track meet to attend.  (He and I had a nice visit before they left again,  however.)

Jeannie chose to come a day early so that she could get another lick in on her goal of riding her bicycle down the entire length of the Mississippi River.  She and Rick had gone from Cairo across the bridge and down into Kentucky during their Thanksgiving visit, and she wanted to add a few miles onto that before next summer.  Leaving Cecelie at Woodsong on Wednesday while I went to Katherine’s, she completed another 20 miles or so almost reaching the Kentucky border this time. I am not sure if she plans another stint before she takes off in earnest with Rick accompanying her with the truck—eliminating the need for back riding to get the bike returned to the parked van.

Thursday morning they left Rick’s truck at the farm and took off for Nashville to be there for Leslie’s opening night of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat at the Larry Keeton Theater.  I have no idea how Leslie and Mike are accomplishing all they are doing with full time jobs and a newly bought house to fix up. But then, frankly, I have always wondered the same thing about our children and their spouses and their multiple careers and projects. So I guess Leslie and Mike are just following their elders’ examples. Fortunately, Les and Mike are young and strong and healthy.  I love the audio Jeannie posted of one of Leslie’s songs. Since the belongings they had left at Woodsong were gone when we came home, I assume they spent Saturday night here before they traveled up to stop at Elijah's church to worship on their way back to Freeport. 

Our nephew DuWayne and his wife Vickie are long-time softball fans, and they came up Friday morning, and we left for the five-hour drive to Mizzou. We picked up Mary Ellen at their farm for her first opportunity to see Geri Ann, a sophomore now, play college ball. She was also very excited to see her niece Tara since they have always been super close.  Mary Ellen was Tara’s first baby sitter the summer Tara was born. (Vickie would bring her over, and I would seeing her having a sweet mother-daughter talk with her baby before she brought Tara in.  We got to enjoy her until Mary Ellen woke up, and we were there to help if Mary Ellen needed us.)  Then a couple of decades later, Tara served as a summer nanny for Mary Ellen’s Trent and Brianna. 

After stopping for lunch on the way, we had plenty of time to check in at our motel just a couple of miles from the ball park although we were disappointed we hadn’t been able to get rooms at the same place as the team. After hugs and greetings, we sat with Gerry’s wife Vickie to watch what turned out to be a very disappointing first game of the series since we lost 8-6.  (Yes, there are two Vickie Glascos in our family as well as one Vicki Glasco Escue. There were some mixed-up medical records once, but that is not a problem since our Vickie moved to Georgia.) After the game, Georgia softball girls were having a catered dinner at their motel;  and since we lost, that was just as well since none of us were in a mood to celebrate. 

We assumed we’d celebrate the next night, but instead that late night supper with Gerry and Vickie was also a consolation dinner because again we lost to Missouri—this time with a walk-off home run changing the tied score to 6-3.  Tara had already taken the Georgia team to dinner when we all met up, but she came with us, and we loved this opportunity to visit with her.  Geri Ann and the team were required to get an early closing to their day, so we didn’t have the pleasure of her presence.

Sunday was our last chance to play like we usually do, and we did it winning 6-2, which made everyone’s trip back home much more pleasant.  It was great fun seeing Alex Hugo hit her nation-high 15^th homerun of the season and seeing the hugs she received from her Kansas grandmother after the game.  For several of us, the trip to Columbia was the closest trip we would have all year to see UGA play.  Paige Wilson had a very large family delegation from Chicago, and it wonderful to meet them and Paige made them very proud all three games. I loved seeing her tiny toddler niece walk by wearing her Auntie Paige Bulldog shirt.  Georgia is now 30-5, and they will be at home to give their players some rest for the Wednesday game and next weekend’s conference games with South Carolina. I think they are pumped and ready for more wins. Gerry proudly posted that their players had perfect class attendance except when travel required them to miss.  There will be life after ball for these young women.

Celebrating Gerald

We started Gerald’s 84^th birthday on Saturday by driving down to Union County to enjoy the brothers’ traditional birthday breakfast.  At JR’s on the square in Jonesboro, my hometown, we found a place to park in the very crowded southeastern corner—the same corner where buggies parked when Abraham Lincoln came over to the hotel and visited with the gathering there the night before his debate with Douglas out at the Fairground.  It was good to see all the cars, which meant that the square restaurants were crowded with hungry customers.

We entered and found brother Keith and nephew DuWayne drinking coffee  and holding our corner table for us.  Of course, we had to talk about Georgia’s softball win (4-3) the night before  in 10 innings.  Soon Garry and Ginger arrived, and the friendly  talented waitress who had been refilling our coffee cups, quickly took our orders and soon delivered them with no mistakes.  The place was filling up with men in jeans and work clothes ready to get a good hot breakfast and enjoy seeing their friends before they spent the day either working or loafing according to their age.  There were a few women present too, so Ginger and I did not need to feel uncomfortable.   

Soon our table was laughing and telling stories, which is the way birthdays are celebrated by these brothers. (When they get a chance to be present, the younger generation likes to be there just to hear them laugh.)  Always the knowledge that Kenny is no longer with us is in the back of everyone’s mind, but that knowledge makes being with each other more appreciated and important.   After breakfast, Gerald drove me down to see the beautiful new court house for my first time.

Mary Ellen had already called Gerald to wish him happy birthday and to tell us they were bringing our supper to enjoy together while we watched the 4 o’clock game between Georgia and Texas A&M.  So when we got back to the farm, I didn’t need to spend much time fixing us a light lunch.  Gerald had been watching the wind for days waiting for the wind to be from the north so he could burn off the native grass acres as the government requires.  Our son-in-law Brian came over with Brianna and Trent to help and they had a blazing fire going quickly and the job completed.  Trent is becoming quite a photographer, and he had it all recorded and ready to show by the time the game started. 

When Mary Ellen arrived with food ready to be heated and finished, she decided to cook and eat downstairs where we would be watching the game on Gerald’s computer. (When we sold our other house, the buyers did not want our kitchen stove or microwave, so we moved them  in to my combination  laundry room/office—the largest and messiest room in our downstairs.)   Between my office and Gerald’s is a large furnace /hot water heater area that was meant originally for a shop, but that was not needed since Gerald has a very large building outside for that purpose. The old fridge from the other house and a popcorn table fits easily in this room.   The grandkids were little when we moved here, and I set up an old door  for an art table for them surrounded with cheap plastic kindergarten-size chairs.  They loved their gathering place, and they have devised many projects down there—some secret and some we have shared. 

As they became high schoolers, I moved a discarded repaired table in to replace the now too-low door table.   Gerald moved over and installed a TV just for them to enjoy on the two discarded couches, where a couple of them have to sleep when all the beds are full.  I called it their den.  I suspect that the fact that the floor is concrete with some left-over carpet on part of it created an environment the kids know they cannot damage and they can be as messy as they wish.  Part of the present messiness  is the addition of another table we replaced a couple of years ago in the kitchen.  I kept the old table thinking a grandkid might need a table for an apartment, but so far that hasn’t happened.

Anyhow, I cleared off the unfinished photo books I had wishfully started on the project table, and Mary Ellen had room to set up dishes and birthday cake for Geralds’ party. Brianna had topped the cake with a tiny candelabra device that held red birthday candles.  Red was the party color scheme in honor of  Georgia’s red and black.  Grandson Sam and his girl friend Anna had joined us, and we spent the evening watching the game and eating.  When the grandkids got noisy laughing as they do when they gather, we chased them back into the family room, and they were quiet after that when they checked in on the game to see their cousin Geri Ann pitching.

We loved knowing that not only Gerry and Vickie, Tara, and Geri Ann were there in the College Station complex while we watched, but their Texas daughter Erin was able to join them.  (We had to forgive Erin for wearing her alma mater A&M clothing since we love the Aggies too.) We were right there with them all in spirit and also in disappointment when Geri Ann lost her first game of the season (4-2)  in spite of pitching a tremendous game.  

After the game, the four  young ones went off to go see Marion High School’s musical  up at the Civic Center. Mary Ellen and Brian left to  finish their dry wall project for a bathroom off their  hallway. We were left with good memories of a lighted birthday cake  and voices singing. (And yes, someone had to add “You belong in a zoo” at the end of our rendition of “Happy Birthday.”  That was in honor of Gerry’s boyhood version of the song. )

When I came home from church yesterday and saw Mary Ellen’s car in the driveway, I  wondered if the left-over roast I quickly stuck in the microwave would stretch, but I knew I could add sides to make it work.  But almost immediately, Brianna came up to tell me Mary Ellen had brought our lunch just like the night before. I joined them downstairs around the computer and Mary Ellen handed me a hot plate of yummy food.  This time we also enjoyed the end of the game  since we won 4-3. 

It was a good and very restful weekend with cards, phone calls, Facebook and  text messages throughout the day along with his  birthday breakfast and birthday supper party reminding Gerald how much he meant to so many.  

Home Runs and Strikeouts

Our Georgia Softball Dawgs continue winning with multiple home runs and double digit strikeouts.  After sweeping their first Southeastern Conference play last weekend against Mississippi State, Georgia this weekend will face Texas A&M.  Gerald and I wish we were there in College Station because our granddaughter Erin will be able to attend to see her sister Geri Ann play and to visit with the rest of her family.  We will be watching on the computer, of course.  Since I last wrote, the Georgia website has offered a live video, and that is far better than Game Tracker.  We always enjoy Kevin Copp announcing even when the audio and video or Game Tracker aren’t in sync.

Alex Hugo, an Olathe, Kansas, native has been the hero for the team recently.  Not only was she named Player of the Week for the SEC but also chosen national Player of the Week by both USA Softball and College Sports Madness. And no wonder.  Alex hit her 12^th home run Wednesday, and it was the fourth game in a row she hit either the game tying or the game winning home run.  Of course Paige Wilson hit her 6^th home run that night against Gardner-Webb and Katie Brown her 2^nd.  Home runs are expected when Georgia plays. Anna Swafford, Kaylee Puailoa, Tina Iosefa, Maeve McGuire, Geri Ann, and Bethany Beggs are all home run hitters this season. 

In the meantime, our pitchers Geri Ann and Chelsea Wilkinson make strikeouts look easy.  Chelsea with a 14-2 winning record had 14 and 12 strikeouts against Mississippi State, her sixth time for double-digit strikeouts this season. Geri Ann pitched against Gardner-Webb on Wednesday and now has a 12-0 winning record, and she tied her 9 strikeout high that afternoon.

Now I wish I had not started naming names because what would we do without the fielding skills and fast legs of Sam LaZear  (highest batting average right now on the team) and Naija Griffin, both of whom I love to watch play.   And Bekah Farris, Malia Rivers, Katie Sowers, Tiesha Reed, Adele Harrison, and our second Kaylee—Kaylee Williams all have played important roles this year. These young women  play as a team always trying to improve over their previous performance.  And that has allowed them to best quite a few other teams so far.

Yesterday was our youngest grandchild’s 15^th birthday.  Just as I wish I could be in Texas for the games this weekend to see that set of grandchildren, I wished I could have been in Freeport yesterday as I have  also wished I could have been there for all Cecelie’s  high school freshman concerts and performances. I finally got her copy of Heavens to Betsy mailed with her birthday card on Tuesday thanks to our granddaughter Brianna, who is home on spring break from Murray State this week. She did the post office errand for me since I was running late for Katherine’s house.  I have tried to share the Maud Hart Lovelace books with the granddaughters at appropriate ages because I loved them so much when my friend Lynn discovered them for us at the Anna City Library, oh so long ago. Because I was gone most of yesterday, Gerald and I did not get to render our phone call duet singing “Happy Birthday” to Cecelie until today. 

When I woke up this morning, I found Gerald’s note on the breakfast table that my brother was in the hospital. I called Jim after his procedure thanks to the phone number his wife Vivian left us on the phone. Then I called my sister to share what I had learned since she called him yesterday.  He seemed in great spirits and his voice was so strong.  A bleeding ulcer has happened to him before, and it is less scary than a diagnosis could have been. 

So talking to my two siblings was the happy highlight of my day at home. (The last three days I have unexpectedly had 8 to 10 hour shifts spending time with Katherine since one aide went to the hospital for an asthma attack and came out with a throat cancer diagnosis.  Another aide has a mother in the hospital.)  My sister Rosemary is eight years older than I am, and thanks to her twice-weekly Tai Chi participation is in better shape than I am.  However, we are both amazed at how busy we are during “retirement” and are saddened that our younger generations have greater health problems than we do. Rosemary and Phil still serve Friday night supper to anywhere from 10 to 20 for their extended families that they are rightfully so proud of.  Rosie quoted Phil today at remembering that the two of them went off to live in far-off Texas all by themselves, and now they are surrounded with family.  They still are pleased, however, when Illinois relatives come to visit. 

I am waiting for all this bad weather to clear to drive up for the day for a long-delayed visit with my brother and wife.  And maybe if the Georgia Dawgs keep winning, we will get to go to Oklahoma City for the nationals and on down to Rosie and Phil’s at Amarillo and see those Texas families they have created.

Weekend Watching---Go Bulldogs!

It was a lot different “watching” softball this weekend than last.  Then we were in the stands at the beautiful Jack Turner Stadium surrounded by tall pines and seeing balls go over them as the University of Georgia softball team continued their homerun habit.  Of course, we also witnessed the 8-0 shut-out that University of Alabama at Birmingham gave us on Saturday.   That was a shocker, but as coaches say, you learn from losses, and the next day Gerogia came back and defeated UBA 10-1, which gave our visit a great ending. 

We had left Illinois on Friday at 4 a.m. with our nephew DuWayne  driving, and the traffic in Atlanta made us fearful we’d not be in time for the first game against Western Carolina, which Geri Ann was pitching. But we made it in plenty of time. The Bulldogs won that game 9-3 and the next game against St. John’s with Chelsea Wilkerson pitching by 8-0 in five innings.

Despite our many layers of clothing, we were very cold at both games on Friday and again on Saturday when we defeated St. John’s 13-3 in five innings but lost to UBA. It wasn’t just me as DuWayne admitted he was cold too.  Of course, as I told Vickie, our daughter-in-law, I remember being colder at games in Mississippi and California in the spring of 2001 when Tara was a freshman playing and  then at one fall game at Notre Dame when we went to see Erin play.

In Mississippi, a bitter cold wind and rain storm hit the Starkville area taking out the town’s electricity and cancelling the last game the next day because it was too cold for the players’ hands. Vickie’s pretty new car was banged up by a garbage can flying into the street and electric wires were hanging low over our cars. I think a school had a roof taken off, and there were disaster meal stations for people.  Our motel in a nearby town  had water, but at church the next morning, the pastor advised us to not sit too close to one another because baths were not available for many who were  without water as well as electricity.

I had so looked forward to going to warm places that spring, but California was also bitter cold—especially when late night games had extra innings lasting until midnight. Our friends Lois and Tom Doctor in Oakland transported us to the games and provided us with warm blankets as well as a beautiful house with wonderful food to retreat to, so we have warm memories of that week despite the cold and aluminum seats.

Yet I guess the coldest I have ever been was a fall game at Notre Dame when we went to see Erin play. We had prepared for the cold, and I was bundled to the hilt but was still miserable. Saddest though was a group of youngsters from some sort of foster home with their adult leaders.  One girl directly in front of me had no warm coat on, and it tore me up.  Finally, I got up my nerve and begged her to take a coat or blanket or hat (can’t remember what) because I had so much warm apparel.  I loved and admired her even more when she very proudly refused.  I had to give up urging her, but I will never forget her.  I still think of her and how cold she had to be, and I have prayed that her self pride and determination have been her key to a successful adulthood.

Friday as we headed down southern highways, we had noted the buds on trees along the way; and despite Saturday’s cold March beginning, we saw beds of blooming daffodils in Athens. And in one yard as we drove by, I actually saw two ornamental trees covered with pink blossoms.  Oddly, by the next day, we had weather in the 70’s, and  people were walking into church without coats.  That afternoon the ball game gave us a delightful entrance to spring weather as well as the come-back win against UBA.

Plans were to head back to Illinois immediately after the final game, but Sunday weather reports told of icy roads starting just above Nashville and through Kentucky and into Southern Illinois.  DuWayne recently retired from the highway department, and he has plenty of knowledge of what can and cannot be done to help icy roads, and he had buddies who kept him informed about road conditions.  We were not eager to be struck or stuck on the highway, so we stayed in Georgia for an extra night. 

It is so nice that Gerry and Vickie and the Archibalds all share their big house, so when we were not at the ball park, we were able to visit with both families and enjoy our three great grandsons. Although Tara leaves early each morning to fulfill her duties as assistant coach at UGA, she spends evenings cuddling with the three little guys, and that is fun to watch as they slip in and out of their play with each other to interact with their mother.  Geri Ann lives off campus in a friend’s rental home this year, but she came over to be with us all three evenings, and we appreciated that. 

While we were hearing by phone how cold it was at home, we all headed out to the backyard without jackets after the game to watch the three little boys play.  Bryan, our grandson-in-law, has built a zip-line from one tree to another next to the creek there, and Aidan, Maddux, and Payton demonstrated this for us. I also visited with Jake, whom Gerald passed on to Gerry last fall for squirrel season with his grandsons.

Geri Ann’s new little dog Chance has ended up her folks’ home for right now, so we were able to visit with Chance as well as Chloe, the little dog Vickie inherited from Erin many years ago. Chloe and Chance get along very well and also entertained us as they cavorted in the family room attached to the kitchen where everyone hangs  out. 

However, Chance was afraid of us strangers and on Friday and Saturday would softly growl anytime we came near his bed.  Despite my best efforts, he would not follow Chloe’s example that I was worthy of lap holding.  However, when I came into the house after the Sunday game, there was still a piece of bacon left sitting on the kitchen counter.  Two bites of bacon fed to Chance in his cage did the trick. He never growled at me again. I was smug that evening when Chance crawled all over me and even thought I was kiss worthy.

The next morning we deliberately ate a slow breakfast with Gerry at Cracker Barrel so we could miss Atlanta traffic and give road crews and salt time to work. Tennessee was not too bad, but Kentucky was slow driving with rough iced roads that shook the car.  Fortunately our excellent driver DuWayne could handle this dangerous stuff.  Once we got to Illinois, where even the university and colleges as well as all the schools were shut down for two days, the highways were clear.  But our country road was not, and our lane was  slick and tricky. 

By this weekend, weather is quite pleasant.  We are glad since our local schools’ start  spring break.  Everyone is reporting on plants in their yard beginning to come up into the sun. One friend has already written on Facebook that she has planted spinach and lettuce on the warm side of one of their out buildings.

Yesterday afternoon I was in town and did not get to sit through Georgia’s tournament games against Tennessee Tech and Kent State, but Gerald shared the winning results with me (3-1 and 4-1) and told me how good Geri Ann and Chelsea pitched. Today we both “watched” and tried to enjoy the new Game Tracker on the Georgia website that is vastly different from last year when the plays recorded were often slower than the radio announcer’s audio version.  Somehow we could cope with that.  It is much more difficult when the visuals on the computer screen are two plays ahead of what the announcer is saying, which is what is happening this year. We are not complaining though since this afternoon we beat Kent State 5-2 and Purdue 6-1.  That doubleheader sweep gives us a 20-2 record. 

Whew! That Was Close!

Numerous letters with my name and address with the correct directions to my house arrived at our farm home telling me I might be winning the BIG prize on February 28 from Publishers Clearing House.  It was really worrisome to think how upsetting to our regular routine such an occurrence would be.  But I had already entered and knew I would have to face the consequences.  When the flowers arrived from a Marion florist and the bad news came that my name was drawn, I would learn how capable I was of such a disaster.  I would have to deal with all the people wanting me to share, and no matter how much I would be receiving each week, it would never be enough to take care of everyone’s needs.  How would I handle that?  And how would taxes work on such a problematic occurrence?

On our way to Georgia that dreadful day last Friday, I realized I would not be at home to get my roses from the local florist.  I wondered what those PCH folk who had the directions to my house would do when no one answered the door.  Would they go to the neighbors’ houses and try to find out where I was?  Fortunately I was blessed and evidently did not have my name drawn since  there was no evidence of anyone being at our  door when we crawled up our lane last night through the ice.

A year or so ago, I must have gotten a letter from PCH or somehow something triggered my curiosity and I wondered how those people could give away all that money mentioned in their letter filled with little items for sale.  Without too much thought, I looked through their offerings. I am a sucker for wanting the little products advertised on TV or in the multiple catalogs that clog our mailbox promising to solve some household problem. But I rarely go to the trouble to try and obtain the promised product. Somehow or other I got on the PCH mailing list. Maybe I ordered something  I don’t remember, but I do remember thinking that I would investigate what all this talk of winning huge amounts of money was about. 

Well last year’s winner was drawn and announced I suppose, but I missed out on that news just as I did this year.  Never fear.  I kept getting fat envelopes full of goodies to order and promising that my number would be placed in the mix for winnings that would set me up for a lifetime. I had started saving the envelopes I responded to—usually without ordering anything—so I continued doing that in 2013  for my little research project.  This morning I counted the envelopes in that little box in the garage, and it looks as if I may have spent a little over $20 in postage playing this lottery. For a non-gambler like me that is a huge amount.

I am sorry for all the trees killed by all the slick paper in those envelopes sent to our house.  Despite my intrigue with the products offered, at first I did not order anything because I interpreted the $2.99 and $3.99 installments as the only way to pay—and I am not good about handling bills through the mail. (I love the convenience of having bills sent directly to our bank account without my having to waste a bit of ink, time, or postage.)  However, when I finally placed an order, I found out I could just pay it all at once instead of installments—and that was a relief. 

So I have ordered three or four times during this time of trying to understand how PCH can offer such huge prizes, and I guess other letter recipients have also ordered enough to keep these huge winning opportunity going.  Before last Friday night, I had already gotten a letter telling me I might win in March!!  Now I am curious how long the winning will go on, but I have grown bored with trying to find out,.

One product I ordered was a set of  pretty little glass bowls that can be put in the microwave directly from the fridge to reheat left-overs.  I already had some heavier such bowls, but they were plain without decoration, and I truly have enjoyed the pretty little flowers and the flat lids that go on easily on these. But I do not think I ordered enough items to pay for all the expensive paper sent my way for the last year or so even thought PCH kept telling me I was one of their best customers!  That is why I was offered all kinds of special deals, they said.

I probably might have ordered more but every so often there would be a sentence in the letter trying to guilt me into supporting PCH by placing an order.  That would anger me enough I would vow to never order anything again.  I could just imagine some sweet little soul ordering because they felt sorry for PCH.  Although every letter would assure me that I did not have to order to win, often times there would be complicated sentences that confused me about that.  And I was dumb enough to often think that the letter writer meant I had to keep returning entries in order to win anything.  Finally I decided each letter had a different number and were independent entries to their drawing.  I am still not positive what some instructions mean, but think I entered each time I used their reply envelope.

One reason besides curiosity that I have hung in so long was the letters have offered a mild diversion in life.  When I would come in from my daughter’s after midnight, I would need to relax a bit before going to bed but would be too tired to think much.  So I could open the letter and play the little games inside.  I could use a fingernail to rub off gold squares to find out what I might win in smaller drawings.  And I could look though all those pages of products and find the little squares with glue on the back to tear our and place on an entry paper.  I found these required little brain power but kept me entertained (or brain deadened however you want to see it) as I relaxed before bed.  I was impressed with the employees who had thought these games up and followed through with correct items inside to glue on the return piece of paper.  I was glad this provided them jobs.

I even learned you can enter online without the need for postage.  Consequently, again because of curiosity, I tried that. Once.  But there were no games—at least not that first time—so I never again read any of the multiple weekly emails sent to me from that source.  Oh dear—just what I needed more junk email to delete without reading.  I must figure out how to stop these, but have not made that effort yet.  I also want to stop the waste of letters coming to the house since I am through playing their little games.  (I can imagine if I get increasingly disabled for running around and real shopping that I might someday appreciate having something in my mailbox to relieve loneliness and offer me opportunity to shop for gifts and needed stuff.  So I may someday want to engage with PCH again and risk winning a huge amount of life-altering money,)

But for now, my curiosity has been quenched, and I am relieved to have not been burdened with winning.  Besides the neat little flat lids on the pretty left-over containers, I did get another reward last week.   Briefly turning on Book Notes, I saw part of a l0-year-old recorded interview with Liz Carpenter.  Evidently she had written a book about having some children of a niece or nephew unexpectedly come to her to raise.  Needing more funds for such an unprepared endeavor, she had enjoyed day dreaming about winning a PCH sweepstakes.  As she described scrambling to find and paste the little objects for the entry forms, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Not only did I find out about another book I would like to read, but  I felt very in-the-know as to what this national effort at selling small items with installment opportunities is all about. 

I cannot understand the Internet and all the products and apps associated with it, and I know I am hopelessly out-of-date in this 21^st Century.  However,  I now know if you send out enough letters to enough people, you can evidently sell sufficiently to support extravagant give-aways to unlucky winners.