SIDEWAYS IN INDIANA

Would you believe that Southern Indiana has a thriving, vibrant Wine Industry? According to the small winery we found, the land mimics the fertile French wine country as well as climate. Who would have thought! The very first ever winery in the United States, back when we were a colony, was in Indiana. Amazing. I checked her history and by-God, it was almost true. The very first winery was around Lexington, Ky and was a dismal failure. The gent moved the operation to Southern Indiana and using a local grape established the first "successful" winery and we are all better for it some 200 years later.

Joe and I decided that we would do our own trail of Wine this week. There are about 20 wineries within one hour of us, so off we went.

Finding Hubers in Starlight was a cinch, since it is only 20 minutes away from us. Look at those fabulous bottles. Once I got home and looked at the photograph did I realize how it the bottle resembles a star lit night! We bought a bottle of Peach Schnapps at Hubers and a bag (or two) of local produce and forged on to Hardinsburg, because it was the furthers out and I thought we would work our way back.

Naturally I brought along no directions, just a list of addresses and a mapquest map that loosely sketched out the area. I had a fleeting thought of grabbing my trusty Indiana Map (it saved my life numerous times in NE Indiana in my tenure up there), but I have no idea where it is now.

And I thought, like an innocent nincompoop, we have the Garmen.

Hardinsburg is only about 20 miles from Hubers in Starlight. Since I was the co-pilot, one of my jobs was to put the coordinates (aka addresses) in the garmen and then just follow the directions.

You would think that is easy. And in some ways, yes that is easy. Easy if you are on a superhighway and only have to get off at Exit 114 and go .........."end point two miles and turn left, turn left, turn left....recalculating"....... She always wants you to turn onto a one way street the wrong way, or on the on ramp to some highway also the wrong way, or to turn into the town dump because she thinks she knows some short cut obviously the indigenous Indians who first settles this area told her about.

I hate that bitch.

Joe mercifully turned off her power of speech (he has her powered up in an English accent, I guess being bossed around by someone with a slightly foreign accent is more acceptable than the regular computer generated vocals).

Unbeknowest to me, and I do believe he forgot, he also had the option of "avoid all highways" turned on.

It made for an interesting drive.

As I was waving the box around to try and reconnect with the satellite feed (we were deep in hilly country) we missed a turn and she had to recalculate. Not so bad, as we came upon one highway that was a straight stretch to the second winery. But, with all the drama of trying to reconnect, trying to figure out the "big picture" with the Garmin, I lost focus on where we were headed and was surprised as anyone when we passed the Corydon signs and continued on ending up crisscrossing the three streets that make up Hardinsburg looking for the winery road, with Joe supplying the musical accompaniment to the tune of "Deliverance".

It was closed! Dang it.

Back to Corydon to that winery. Back the way we came, though Joe insisted that I fire up that silly Garmin again and follow her route rather than just wing it with the map! We had nowhere to be, we had no time table and so I went along with this foolishness.

Man what a ride. At the time, it was unestablished that Joe had the "avoid major highways" function turned on. We went down, down, down into the country, off the divided two lane highways onto the unlined two lanes, off of those onto the single lane roads, and at times gravel roads. We even landed in a small rail road crossing type township and did a rubber band curve and headed back the way we came on the other side of the rail road track.

All in all, we panicked and then we found a major intersection and headed into town for the comfort and security of civilization. We found the information center with relative ease, she handed us a map of the county and highlighted the path to the Turtle Run Winery.

As it always happens, when we had emerged from the wilds of Southern Indiana, we were about 1/2 mile from the winery if we had just continued to follow that damn Garmen's instructions.

We had a great visit to the winery and the wine is fabulous. We purchased several bottles and headed home after a long day of adventure. Thanks to the map given us at the Information Center, we were about two miles from Interstate 64, and only 15 miles (give or take) from home.

Next time, I am taking the trusty Indiana map and to hell with Miss Garmen.

Shakespeare in the Park

Measure by Measure is not my favorite Shakespeare play. No, that would have to be Romeo and Juliet and I do not apologize for that. But when Joe said we could go out and do anything I wanted to do Saturday night, I immediately said, "Shakespeare!"

I sat on the bleachers later that evening, looking at the huge trees that surround the stage, surround us, and wondered exactly how much they had grown since the first time I was seated here, well over 30 years ago.

Odd, those little snippets of memory that remain lodged in our minds, those scrapbooks of still shots that make up a life. During the 1970's I see my brother and I driving up from Lexington to Louisville to meet up with my pal C. at Central park. I can see us sitting on grass left of the stage, on a red blanket.

I see myself during the 1980's dragging my daughter Bridget, who would have been five or six, to the plays. She typically was bored to distraction, but this particular play had sword fighting, and they fought not only on the stage but descended into the crowd and crossed swords in the aisle next to our seats. My feisty daughter jumped up and joined in the fight with an imaginary sword! I'll never forget the actor slightly turning his attention towards this tiny little girl with the blonde hair and swinging arms, smiling and nodding at her.

We were watching an interesting scene where a landlord from the village was accusing someone of running a house of ill repute when out of nowhere one of the local park residents entered the seating area yelling at the top of his lungs with a voice that rivaled the trained actors on stage.

"HUNGRY!!"

"HUNGRY!"

"HUNGRY!"

Over and over he repeated himself as he walked to the center of the seating area and plunked down on an empty bench surrounded by .....us.

"Us" who were frantically avoiding eye contact and acting as if nothing were strange and unusual. He was two rows in front of us, and several benches over.

"TELL BUSH A BUM IS HUNGRY!!!! TELL BUSH!!"

I began to wonder if he was going to stop the show or become violent. I worried for nothing, as he got up after 30 seconds into his soliloquy and began to leave the area. Still over powering the actors with this accusation and message to Bush, he stumbled and knocked over a bench. Those sitting behind the bench immediately leaped forward to catch it. It was the only recognition he received from any of us. He began to apologize to those closest, "Sorry, sorry".

As he righted the bench then righted himself he continued his departure, my attitude of alarm gave way to sorrow. I had no money on me, and neither did Joe. I wanted to reach out and shake his hand and palm him a few dollars, but I had nothing.

"BUSH, BUM, HUNGRY" he chanted as he left the area and began to walk back into the recesses of the park, two wary security personnel of the Shakespeare production following him at a respectable distance as he circled the stage. He faded away into the evening, traces of his accusations lingering lightly in the cool night.

My attention focused on the stage production again. As soon as it was intermission, we left.

I had such a heavy heart.

It seemed there was more drama and emotion in the audience than on the stage that evening. At least for me.

Silent Summer

What is the coolest thing about not working is ...not working. I spend countless hours surfing the net (does anyone say that any more?) and watching Netflix movies, and generally doing nothing. It's great.

I have a feeling it is not going to last much longer as I am beginning to feel guilty about it. Until then, I shall continue to waste time.

My most recent time waster began this morning when I wandered out to the 21 rose bushes to dead head them and discovered in the several days I have not tended to them the dreaded Japanese Beetles have come calling.

It is so gross! I began collecting them in a jar to pulverize them and then spray their diluted remains back on the plants. The damage is beyond trying Organic Gardening recommendations that I read 20 years ago and it stuck with me until this moment when I can use it.

But first, I rushed out and purchased a bag of bug killer which I shall use and feel terrible about it. But, I will force myself in the name of the Roses, those poor defenseless innocent roses.

I'm going to do the bug solution on the back bush that they seem to find as delicious as a French Restaurant in Paris.

You Had to Be There

So family seems to be my big theme this summer. Spending the long long week end in Norris Lake was just the beginning. This has been followed by spending the 4th of July with the Joe family.

If I were an artist I'd include a map that would show you how we got to the 50 acre farm that Joe's brother and SIL recently purchased and renovated. Instead, I'll just drive you down there with a mental picture. You head out of town and dive right into horse country heading down towards Kentucky River on a two lane country road. Around five miles or there abouts, you begin the descent into the Palisades. Deep gorges, wet springs gushing down limestone, dark holes that could be caves, and the limestone cliffs that jump out at you as you steer the curvy tight road down...down....down into the lush river area. You have to drive on guard, animals are everywhere, deer, turkey buzzards, raccoons and the occasional loose dog. Then, back up the Palisades until you stumble across an even smaller road where you make a left and once again begin to head down, past the 7 Spring Creek crossroad, up a hill and by-God, you're there!

What's great is you have actually arrived at the end of the earth! And in such a place, you can do just about anything you want to do. We chose to strap the babies in very large ATV's and drive all over the farms ridges looking for deer! The children love it. I wish you could see how adorable the most adorable grand child in the world looked throwing kisses at us as she took off with Grandpa (hahahahah). (I can't get over him being a Grandpa...don't ask what that makes me!)

At the ends of the earth there was a grand fireworks display taking place on the other side of the hill. We climbed to a great spot on our hill to watch the celebration.

I am not kidding when I tell you we are in the middle of no where. I had a great time with my head thrown back watching the sky and being able to pick out satellites traveling across the universe and shooting stars. The night sky is so beautiful when you are not distracted by city lights.

This fire work action went on forever. So long, the children became tired and wanted to return to the house and the refrigerator that was loaded up with Popsicles.

We adults said things to each other such as, "Should we make a beer run?" "Can you believe this?" "Ohhhhhhh.....ahhhhhhhhhhh". "Wow!" "This is the grand finale, it has to be!' "This is the grande finale." "This has got to be the grand finale" "Do you think this is the grand finale?" and finally, "What do you think?"...."I think Grand Finale."

It was hysterical and we laughed and behaved accordingly.

And when it really was finally The Grand Finale, we did not move for a long time, afraid to even think it could be, that if anyone actually said, "Grand Finale" out loud, another batch of explosives would be ignited.

It was so funny, but I guess you had to be there.

Dear Ringo,

Are you who I think you are?

Touch of Gray

I survived. To live another day.

You would think as much as I longed to come home, prayed for it, hoped and dreamed that once I got here (almost) I would have countless stories and anecdotes. And I do! But I seem rusty with the writing, like I feel rusty with the camera.

The best way to conquer a problem is to just tackle it. Right?

Do good fences make good neighbors? I am totally use to having a privacy fence. I am totally use to the kids who use to live next to me in FW banging on the door and asking permission to go into my back yard to retrieve a ball etc. etc. etc. The kid even asked if he could use the un-used bike in the shed. (of course I said yes and even wanted to leave it with him, but somewhere I have these grandiose ideas that I will exercise with it someday). Now I have a bunch of hooligans who run thorough my back yard as a cut through to the next street all day and half the night. Last night they were in my back yard doing God knows what, examining my jar of caught june bugs which I am going to pulverize and then dilute with water and spray all over the plants they are chewing up! WTF? Aren't kids suppose to be glued to their computers and X-box games? I opened the back door and said, "Do you all play back here?" maybe it was in a menacing voice, all I wanted was for them to ask permission and I would have said yes, instead they ran off!! A gang of about five of them, next door neighbor and his/her toadies ranging in age (and I guess) from four to twelve.

I wanted a privacy fence anyway, for the garden opportunity and I'll admit it, for the privacy!

To distract myself from the kids running through my back yard under the cloak of night, I decided to dye my hair since it's about five weeks and the roots are getting out of hand.

My hair has steadily been turning red under the sunlight and effects of previous dye jobs. Now, I have always had very very dark hair, chestnut brown my Mother called it. Not black, but almost. Irish hair. So I get a box of dark brown thinking it will be cool!

Holy S***. I have very light skin and naturally a reddish tan, exacerbated by the rash I encountered while spraying the 21 rose bushes with some sort of fungal black spot destroyer. I look like a washed up, washed out Irish bag woman.

After a great nights sleep (thanks to several slugs from the bottle of NyQuil placed strategically by the bed side) I wake up and walk out on a totally drenched carpet outside closet housing the water heater, water softener and air conditioner. Holy S*** again!

Joe has taken off for Central KY to meet up with the kids, while I wait for the plumber. He came and it is not the water that is causing the problem, its the AC. Somewhere in the corners of my mind, I knew it was the AC after the AC Incident in Miami (when the ceiling came down ....I should have had my money refunded, I forgot all about that!!)

Good thing, no charge from the Plumber for the call.

Cool.

He must have felt bad for me because of the hair.

Mommieeeeee......

I am sick sick sick. Which is kind of funny, because I was never once sick while living in NE IN. It was a joke that maybe only I got. When ever I wanted off early (which you always had to plead your case to the Big Guy) I'd just include that I have never had a sick day unlike my fellow co-workers who were sick all the time.

Some type of twisted irony is about.

I may have to go to an emergency treatment center tomorrow if I still do not feel better. I think I have walking pneumonia. Maybe a strep throat. We'll see.

As I lay in bed unable to sleep and watching endless CNN and KET programs dozing in and out of sleep I wished for my Mommy and the good old days.

If we were ill, feigned or real, we were confined to our bed room and in bed. This was yesteryear, when no room had a tv. computer or anything remotely entertaining except for the radio and books.

The menu for the invalid never varied, chicken noodle soup, crackers, and hot tea served with sugar and milk. Ginger ale for upset stomach. This was delivered to you on a tray, brought to you by a sibling or if it was a school day, your Mother. You'd sit up, prop pillows behind you, tuck your book away and balance the precarious tray on your lap.

If you were really sick, the fever kind, you had a bowl of ice water and alcohol beside the bed and a wash rag soaked and wrung out, placed across your forehead. To this day, nothing is as soothing to me as this old remedy to lower body temperature.

Doctors actually came to your house back then!! Old Doc Parrott, who was old when I was a kid, was the last of his kind. He looked like a parrott. He would come up to the bedroom, take his stethoscope out of his bag and listen to your chest, tap around on your back, check your eyes and ears and then announce your diagnosis.

He missed my brothers once, who had appendicitis, Doc Parrot called it a stomach virus. My brother ended going through a very rough time with that mis-diagnosis!

It was around that time Old Doc Parrrot retired.

When you stayed home from school, you were never alone. My sisters were much younger and constantly under foot when I was in High School. Yet, they made good servants taking care of my every need. Refilling my ginger ale, the ice-alcohol bowl, or just climbing in bed with me for company as I read fan magazines aloud to them.

I want my Mommieeeeeeeeeeee.

The Thing You Do

I just read this in the past 24 hours, "The way you do one thing is the way you do all things". I think the wording is incorrect but the thought is there.

I have given it a lot of thought since reading it. I have been out in the yard fighting back the weeds that have taken over the garden after years of neglect. It's meticulous work beginning with the tallest most obvious weeds, then working on the smaller more invasive kind that have spread entirely over the mulch their roots entrenched under the black ground cover hidden beneath.

Do I attack every chore, every job, every task with such methodical fervor?

I had someone helping me spruce up the house in Ft Wayne to ready it for market. They shall remain un-named. I noticed that when they did not enjoy a task they were assigned, they swept through the job as quickly as possible, regardless of the results. I found myself on the clean-up committee! The cement spread in the cracks in the driveway....I smoothed them over and made them presentable. I took the power washer and cleaned the house and driveway area after the Gutter Cleaning Incident.

I think back on many times when I had goal that I had to achieve and the work itself was mundane and mindless. How I would figure out a way to do it quickly and .... methodically....get it over with fast.

I think the gardening is Zen-like in the comfort and satisfaction it gives me.

The opportunity to allow my mind to explore while my fingers pull tiny weeds from an endless supply.

A little bit of this, a dash of that

Joe is off getting a hair cut, so I am able to stop going through the mountain of boxes in the garage. It was hard to look busy and focused for such a long period. Actually opening the boxes is a bit like the old Forrest Gump analogy about the box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get. Surprise, surprise! I finally found the top part of the blender. Thank God.

I also worked on the garden. A trip to the closest nursery netted me some 50% off terra cotta pots and one beautifully glazed Roman Blue pot. I have to go back, one pot was not discounted!

Tomorrow I take the daughter out job hunting. Hopefully we will find her something that will offer her benefits. Maybe a house-keeping gig. Maybe hotel work. Anything to help that child get off my payroll.

Speaking of payrolls, I did not receive the compensation due me for the vacation and personal days I did not take. That riles me. I hope I was not screwed out of them because I would have liked nothing better than to have not worked up until moving day. Well, almost. It certainly felt like it.

I love not having to go to work. I absolutely love it. The stress that I have learned to live with is gone. Kapoot! I noticed it while driving to Tennessee. I feel so much better. Not that I felt sick, or run down while I was working....just stressed about things. And its gone.

I wake up in the middle of the night and think, "I need to find a job!" then I roll over and go back to sleep.

It's great.

I have been thinking, just a little because I have so much to do at the moment with all those boxes in the garage and the job hunting support I am giving my daughter...I have been thinking that when I decide to go job hunting, I am going to do something I love.

I may even go back to school for a quick 9 month degree, could be even quicker since I have a BSBA already.........

And Omega is ready to hang up corporate life and become an entrepreneur. I should be doing research for "us". It would be so cool to run a business with her.

Just what type???

Life is very fun and interesting at the moment.

Me and my Monkey

I have to tell you the first time in four years of having an online journal and being separated from and distanced from the online community, I didn't care. I did not sweat trying to get on line with the dial up from the Lake House. I did not even think about it once. Not once.

Maybe I am cured.

Cured of what?

You know. I know you know. So, I guess for me, its four years. Suddenly that crevice is leaped over and life as it should be, maybe once was, resumes.

Blogging, or journaling (as we called it as AOL-J-landers) has been good for me. Actually it goes beyond good, it has made me a better person. Life, my life became an opportunity of circumstances to blog about. And so, I lived my life accordingly. I am, after all, the star of my Blog. I have to look good, be good. I could have been no-good and more than likely, certainly would have had a larger audience...yet, this is me, this is my life, my little piece of the world existence...and I have always been the good girl.

Well, most the time. There was that period from 1969 -1979.

Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey.

Sweet relief.

BOOM BOOM (OUT GO THE LIGHTS)

Once again the clan gathers at the Lake House in Tennessee for a long-long weekend of family, friends, a birthday, water fights, Treasure Island, beer and coconut rum, charades, Napoleon Dynamite, sun, tubing, and sun screen. Did I mention beer and a ton of food and fun?

No fireworks. It rained on Saturday. The rain almost cancelled the tubing, but the kids toughed it out and tubed all over the lake. Sometimes in the rain.

But the rain cancelled out fireworks. Darn, the fireworks are the one of the best parts.

Kitsy-Boo and Trouble Maker were in charge of Treasure Island this year. They neglected to make arrangements ahead of time. This includes the making of a map, clues in the form of a pirate poem and of course, hide the pirate loot on Treasure Island.

They went into "town" on Friday and were gone from mid-morning til mid-afternoon. The loot was pathetic! A few rubber animals and a bunch of water balls, about the size of soft balls. These were hung in trees.

Now, the Treasure Hunt has morphed from the early years (we think this is the eight time we have gone down in nine years, we missed one year due to a wedding in the Lake House In Laws family)when it was called Dinosaur Island. Each year it has become bigger and more complicated. Omega's B-I-L made the most incredible map one year, complete with burnt edges and grimy from years floating on the Lake in a bottle to wash in the bay. It was detected by one sharp eyed adult and several kids piled into a canoe (with an adult) and retrieved the old bourbon bottle...(well, we are from Kentucky don't ya know). And they had to follow all the clues after boarding the boat and heading for Treasure Island!

Each year it becomes bigger and better.

One year a bottle of Sammy Hagar's tequila, Cabo Wabo was hidden as an adult "treasure" for the Birthday boy (it is my bro N's birthday, the day after the summer solstice)and one of the very young man-children found it and said, "oh stinky, just an old bottle!" and flung it away. My B-I-L K., who had purchased the delicious expensive elixir, screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and made a dive for it. Literally, he threw himself between the ground the the bottle and made an incredible catch.

I was not there to see it, but it is now legend.

This is the type of excitement that the kids are use to. After all these years, they stampede the dock, drag all the floatation devices into the water and immediately begin to ask about Treasure Island.

They waited patiently on the dock for their captain to arrive and once they cast off, the adventure was on!

They were back in less the 20 minutes, every face expressing the disappointment, but all good kids, not one word of dis-satisfaction was uttered. They showed us the loot from the pirate raid, the balls. Then they went to the house for lunch.

Omega looked at the pitiful pile of balls and said, "We can make a great game of this. We can make the kids get on the water trampoline and rafts. The adults can throw the balls at them. We can have one of them the target and have the others defend him. We will pick them off one by one until last man stands."

She did come up with something like that. Believe me.

When the kids returned we explained the game and into the water they went (after a good period of rest after lunch, trust me, there were a lot of Moms there). We practiced , then practiced some more. Suddenly, the game was on!

We threw the balls at them, they horded them, then a barrage of bullets with deadly aim made us scramble. The addition of butterfly nets made perfect ball retrievers. The game continued forever! Sides were swapped, some adults became helpers and went into the water and tossed balls to the kids on the floats and trampoline.

The TroubleMaker frolicked on the deck shaking his hiney at the kids, "You can't hit me, You can't hit me, You can't get me!" Boy did those kids love getting him.

Once we arrive down at Lake Norris we have an agenda. It includes Treasure Island. It includes the kids going tubing. It is celebrated with fireworks on Saturday night! And the much anticipated game of Charades.

We added another tradition this year, the Water Fight.

I swear, I never had so much fun! Well, not since I was a kid!


(a Pirate waiting patiently to go to Treasure Island)

Louisville 101

I still have 50 boxes to unpack, so I went out and paid a visit to the Antique dealer, Joe Ley. You have never seen anything like this place before in your life. It is fantastic. Full of everything you could possible desire. People come from far and wide to look through the loot housed in this three story building located on Market Street. Most notably, it is visited often by the folks from Hollywood looking for that certain something to adorn a set and make it perfect.


Since I am considering an outside living-type area, don't you think this would look grand?


I love this table. I did not check the price! maybe the next time. (like when I have a job).


I definitely need this in my garden.


The statues are spectacular. I could see they recently acquired the contents of a Catholic Church.


I would love these statues to adorn my front area!


This guy would give me a severe case of Clown-phobia.

Chirping with the Birdies

For the second morning in a row I am wide awake at 3am.

I have so much on my mind that I suppose a four to five hours sleep is okay as long as supplemented with a nap now and then. I have chosen to wear the mantle of worry not only during my waking hours but allowing it to slip into my slumber time. I naturally am worrying about money and being jobless. I am worried about the amount of boxes that lie in wait for me to open and spill their guts everywhere not certain where anything should go.

I worry about spending our small windfall of refunded closing costs on frivolous things because I have a hard time talking about financial matters with the now sole breadwinner.

His frivolous things. My wants are much more important such as hiring my brother, who has been doing this type of thing for over thirty years, to create bookshelves for the enormous front room. I am determined to not have my books confined to another storage building or the garage. He is not cheap. But I think I will get a family discount.

We need additional furniture. Actually I have been having a great time reading and looking through Architectural Digest and similar publications to broaden my ideas regarding decorating a home. The trend towards outdoor living space is intriguing! I mentioned to Joe that I was considering planting some trees (we have no shade in the back yard) and was met with....lets say, the reason I am not sleeping in a normal pattern is because it is times like these that you realize how polarized two people can be.

The house makes strange noises. I was awakened by some distinct roaring coming from the furnace and water heater closet. And their is a third large water containing looking thingie in there. It was the cause of the roaring. I have no idea what it is??

The garbage is supposedly collected in the morning, and needless to say, we have a mountain of garbage! No one has their garbage at the curb as of last night!! I am on garbage alert this morning. Me and the birdies.

I'll end out dragging it all to the edge of the driveway as soon as the light of day breaks and I can see the morning landscape of the neighborhood. Perhaps it is just less garbage attentive than what we are accustomed to. I do have a grass clipping problem here that has yet to be resolved. It will not be collected in plastic bags. I searched several Walmarts (the store I love to hate and hate to love)for paper recyclable bags...they don't have them.

"How do you get rid of your grass clippings in J-ville?" (I am the only person in the world who calls it J-ville).

"I live in Sellersberg."

I turned to the lady who had unsuspectingly rolled her cart towards the check out counter in lawn and garden, "Pardon me, but how do you rid yourself of your grass clippings?"

"I live in Floyds Knob." (damn it!!) "But when I lived in Jeffersonville, I had a compost behind the garage." (damn it!)

I'm going to have to dump all the bags of yard refuse into several cardboard boxes for the collection guys.

No wonder I can't sleep.

The house makes funny noises.

Mishaps & Miss Communications

The Grandbaby was sooooo cute. She was dancing for us, showing off her dancing shoes. She was chasing the dog and petting her, "Daug!" Throwing her tiny head back and laughing. Showing us her boo-boo's. Her plump little sandal clad legs with scabs on both knees. She showed us her "mean" face, which was a scrunched up adorable growling face.

She was precious pretending like she was holding a conversation on a cell phone. Ahh, there never was a cuter 19 month old.

Then she flung my phone on the tile floor and danced away.

My phone was dead. There was no reviving it. No matter how many times I turned it on and off, it did nothing but give me a feeble blink.

I headed to the Cingular store first thing this morning and checked out all the selections of newer phones, much newer than my two year old dinosaur! Incredible what those little power tools can do now. MP3 players, Internet, Blackjack, bluetooth, blackberry, miniature tv's...endless.

I chose a simple MotoRazr...gotta say "Hello Moto".

Why?

'Cause I have a grandbaby who is prone to flinging things.

As he was trying to see what could be salvaged from the trusty little Moto phone I began to tell him about Hurricane Wilma and being in Cancun trapped in a school house with a category four storm raging around us. 20 strangers thrown together by circumstance and karma. I told him how the next morning we found that my Motorola cell phone with Cingular service was the only phone that would work amidst the destruction and chaos.

I told him how our group was so diverse and international. That motorola phone called Denmark, England, Chicago, Switzerland, LA and Texas.

How that phone connected us to the outside world with whom Cancun was totally cut off from. How my Mom told us that CNN reported we were in the eye of the storm and had another night of the back side of Wilma!

I told him how my phone bill was about $300 bucks but it was worth every damn penny.

"You should tell them. That is an incredible story."

As I was gathering up my new phone and box and receipt for the rebate he picked up the old Motorola and smiling handed it to me.

"She's history, she needs to go home with you."

How true.

OVERWHELMED AND UNDERSTAFFED

I'm sitting amidst a thousand boxes (93 to be exact). Some have been opened and their contents liter every counter, every bit of floor space, every surface in sight. The front room is a dumping ground for the empties and the mountain of paper that was necessary to cushion all the "stuff".

As luck would have it, I did find the box with the birthday gift for Omega. I am not certain I want to part with it, but I guess that is what is going to make it an incredible gift. It's my vintage set of the 1979 Taylor and NG naughty animal coffee mugs. They have been hidden deep in my closet since Christmas 2005.....I think she will enjoy them.

I will travel to Central Kentucky with my other sister Kitsy-Boo and her brood for the fathers day celebration festivities at Mom's house. Joe will go on his motorcycle to have the mobility to go spend time with his children.

It feels so good to be able to hitch a ride with my Sis.

Other note worthy events....The Sirius Radio works perfect here! For the past several months I have been having a torrid e-mail relationship with the customer service department of the the satellite radio company. It had terrible reception in the last area I lived. They told me that I had to have it away from trees. I knew that was bull because we used it (my B-I-L's) at the Lake house last summer and that is the most tree concentrated place imaginable. Then they told me that I needed to move the antenna outside....blah blah blah. It works fantastic here.

That makes me very happy.

The back yard is so hot that I find I am moving my plants around the yard looking for respite from the unrelenting sun. Its like an oven...an open fire pit. All that concrete. Absolutely frying them. And the 90+ degrees does not help. The roses are looking puny. I cut back all the weeds...or at least what appeared to be weeds. I worried about that, all of 30 seconds, then decided that if they were not weeds then they would come back next spring and show me the flowers!

I believe neglect has about done them in for this summer, but who knows.

Gotta go cook my spinach souffle for the Fathers Day family gathering.

FAREWELL TO FORT WAYNE

Cherry Fritter & Coffee to go - $1.50.

A little hole in the wall bakery that sits behind the BP station on the main intersection. I avoid it because the cherry fritters are so delicious. I never knew such a sweet treat existed until I stumbled into this place one wintery morning. The last day here I happily gave in to the temptation knowing I will never have the opportunity to have one again.



When I was a very young child my favorite book in the whole world was "Story of Live Dolls". When the book was to be discarded due to age and destruction (some child colored the illustrations and some pages were torn) my Mom saved the book and gave it to me! Every time I drove past Dolly Heaven I thought about that book and smiled, not only about the beloved story but because my Mom is the greatest. I never went in. The last morning, it was very early and not open yet. I will regret that.



The lily's I planted last year are really turning into beauties this summer. Several of the perennials I planted last summer have yet to bloom. I am going to miss the yard and gardens. I truly am.

I was not prepared for the flood of tears that overtook me as I drove out of the neighborhood for the final time.

Something I have wanted to say for a long time...

......Now that's a River!!!

On the Belvedere looking across the Ohio River towards Indiana.

When Life Hands You Lemons - Make a Sour Face

I thought with the closing and the joy of moving back to the South...well, still technically a Hoosier, but only by one mile, things would be on the total upswing.

Wrong.

Someone is angry with me, and that makes me clean. Or drink. In this case, clean and drink. And thank God for small favors, one of the two appraisers for the house in Indiana came this afternoon while I was in the middle of a Pina Colada cleaning frenzy.

I think it went okay. I conveniently stood the the left of the missing pantry doors to draw his eyes away from the gaping hole. It worked. He remarked how beautiful the cupboards looked considering they are original. "A German Sister-in-Law and lemon oil. She convinced me of the necessity of rubbing them down yearly...it works!"

He took video. God, I hope some sharp eye doesn't notice the pantry. He went out into the back yard and included the landscaping and beautiful flower beds. One of the neighbors came over and put in a good word about the neighborhood.

Tomorrow the movers come to take us away. Forever.

So final, isn't it. Forever.

Before the Junk Arrives

or......My New House Sans furniture and furnishings



Back Yard needs attention


Still needs attention from the other angle


Kitchen with Pot Hanger


Even I know this is a horrendous color combination. The carpet has got to go.


When we first viewed the house there was a variation of the Mother Of Perpetual Help on the wall....I knew this house must be it regardless of the carpet.


The Family room sealed the deal ... or did the back yard? Maybe it was the enormous garage....I can't remember.

Retracing Footsteps

Or.....You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer

I am on the campus of the University of Louisville for the first time in nearly 17 years. I came seeking a computer and here I am. In the library I spent so many hours pre-computer days, seeking reference material for papers, studying and having group meetings for class assignments.

I thought I might have trouble finding my way around the school grounds, but it was not a problem. The Business School is right where it was before, 17 years ago a big new building, today it still it still is very modernistic with wonderful sculpture...red! I had forgotten.

I walked past many of the buildings I took classes in and remembered the rush to arrive on time, since I was one of new breed of "non-traditional" students that UofL catered to, allowing us to earn a degree while attending classes in the evening.

Nothing ground breaking now, but back then, it was catering to the needs of your customers. There were more students in the night classes than day classes back then.

And here I am, in the vicinity of the most embarrassing moment of my life (well, one of them at least) when I was wearing this new spaghetti strap red checkered summer dress with a large skirt that would let you spin round and round and you would look like a dancer. Or a nut case. Either way, the back of the dress was stuck in the back of my panties after a trip to the bathroom.

Hahhahahahah.

I can laugh now. I was mortified then.

All seems to be lined up for the closing tomorrow. I am breathing easy today.