Wednesday, June 26, 2013



I enjoy purchasing labor saving gadgets that eliminate heat in my kitchen and will help me feed my family. Sometime I will tell you about my electric pressure cooker, so cool. I am always on the lookout for something that will make a difference. I look not just for myself, but also for my daughter and daughter in law. When I find something I like, I will give it as gifts to save their time and energy. I understand the pressure of having hungry people standing around like victims in a concentration camp.

This leads me to the eccentricities of the….box collection. In one corner of my garage I have the collection of superstitious warranty protections known as the original boxes. I understand the minute I throw the original box away I will have to return the product to the manufacturer or the place of purchase. This collection seems to ward off returns but it does take up space and look like a fire hazard. Most people purchase the extended warranty but I keep the box. Usually if I have a product fail it will fail immediately after I have discarded the carton.

I haven’t done any research on the relationship between buying products that continue to work without an entry in the box corner and those I have to return because I have thrown away the box. Nor do I have a big enough garage to do much more additional research. Surely there is grant money out there for such a study. If not, why not. Clean garage corner relationship to product failure, sounds real to me.


Wednesday, June 19, 2013



My hair goes out into the atmosphere like feelers or cats whiskers. Any day now I expect to get signals on it. Perhaps some Chicago radio station playing blues from the 1950s, who knows how long those signals hang out. Some days it acts as a weather vane, not only indicating which way the wind is blowing but the humidity content of the atmosphere.

I take this head of hair to a beautiful beautician about every four weeks. She cuts it in a special way just to accommodate its unique properties. We have spent hours agonizing over which hair care products to use to subjugate it to our will. It just happens that what it will do in this age of free expression looks quasi-fashionable. For this I give thanks to my Creator everyday. The truth of the matter is that I really don’t like to be fooled with and getting a fifteen minute hair cut, dry…won’t sit still for shampooing and heaven forbid she try to blow dry it. I tip her for just leaving it on my head and letting me leave. Like I said, she is a beautiful person.

Occasionally I get a product from her salon that disagrees with the head of hair. I can go from gentle curls to mane if the hair care product leads the hairs in revolution. I purchased this particular one because my old favorite was being improved by the manufacturer. I just want to say that when I find something that I am happy with I don’t always see change as an improvement. I would add that about lipstick colors also. I don’t need to be reminded that I struggle to remain current by being told at the lipstick counter that my color was sooooo yesterday. This product created the illusion of the wind tunnel for the hairs. I didn’t deserve the wind tunnel because I didn’t even blow dry. To say it made me cranky to look in the mirror and see the hairs in full revolution is an understatement. So I called my beautician before my appointment and said you must help me with this. The hair is in full revolt.

Her calmness was a spectacular example of people skills because I was sitting in the chair looking into the mirror saying: “the last time I saw someone with this head of hair, she was leading an army of short spear carrying mutants.” Her response was: “it doesn’t look that bad. I am very proud of your hair. It is a unique haircut.” Shamed…I was ashamed to be casting aspersions on her good work. She washed the offending product out, told me to return it, and suggested that perhaps I was stressed by my life, or my writing, or something… My hair looked okay. Like I said: “She is a beautiful person.”

Wednesday, June 12, 2013



My family comes together when one of our children graduates. We have been doing this for almost twenty years. Our children have been spread out over time. It is a time of affirming the next generation. It has not always been easy for our children to attain this accomplishment. They have had to work very hard. They struggle for definition sometimes changing their lives two or three times before they succeed.

All the children are beautiful and accomplished. They each have a unique way of seeing things and looking into the future. I appreciate their new view. Not much progress would be made if we were all alike. Attempts to perpetuate the past are not productive as we must give way to the new visions. Our next generation is global. They have looked up and seen the world as their front yard. All of them travel. They enjoy going to new places.

This year’s graduate is a global problem solver. She is kind and beautiful, a powerful combination to bring to international problems. Her scope and vision surprise me. I remember her as a little girl who liked bracelets, hats, and cats. She had awesome science fair projects, and was a good student.

She pursued the study of soil and water technology. She has a project in Sierra Leone working on water filtration systems with people there. I will sit and watch her cross the stage new week, knowing she is just beginning to show us a little of what she sees. I hope she will help us to change the world, to make it better, and share with us some of the possibilities of her future.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013



I am not fussy about what type of conveyance I drive. Ultimately they are just a means to get from A to B. At one point, early in my driving career, I even drove a 1956 Chevy with a red hood and a green fender, the rest of the body was white. Transportation... I had learned to gauge my speed by how fast the pavement was speeding past the floor of my car. I could park anywhere so that I wouldn’t have to use reverse gear. It takes a lot of careful planning, but it can be done. Reverse would stick and no one wants to crawl under a car with a pair of pliers in their panty hose. (Panty hose, that dates me doesn’t it, been around so long I can remember ruining pairs climbing trees for a college botany class.) I relate all of this to describe my usual indifference to traveling apparatus.

This prologue does not prepare you or me for the horror I faced when I came out of my back door one day last week and discovered my right front tire had lost its hubcap. There in front of my eyes was an ominous dark place where the dull chrome should be shining. Dull because we are in a drought and at one time no car wash was open here in town. Perhaps this dullness is something I can fix if we get some rain. I digress. Finding this was as if the abyss of chaos had opened just outside my garage door, swallowed my driveway, and threatened to take me down to the depths. How could the car roll with three chrome wheels and one blighted one? Was it even possible, maybe it wouldn’t start!

So I found myself in the auto parts place. I began by asking the clerk if I could order the proper one for the make and model of the car I am driving. The short answer to this innocent question is “no!” Have to go through a dealer to even consider ordering this part. Well, okay, moving along, no dealer in town. I confronted the display of possible rims. Wow! Glorious! What a shiny assortment of dazzling possibilities! I understand the “need” now to make an individual statement about your “personal” vehicle. The wheel possibilities are amazing. Would I want spinners, typhoon IIs? Maybe something to hang from my rear view mirror?  Fuzzy Dice? Plastic Leis?  No bobble head dog… driving a hatch back. I could really make a statement. But could not bring myself to consider the bright leopard seat covers for my economy subcompact.

I will admit that I could possibly be entering my second childhood. Since I just went for utility the first time around, I can’t guarantee that I won’t do something different this time. The goal for my second childhood will be having more fun. Not drinking or drugs fun, but really making a study of the absurdities of my life, and bringing them to your attention. My daughter told my son that she thought I just wanted to convert my red subcompact into something like the batmobile. To which I replied, “Don’t be silly you can’t get hubcaps with a bat symbol in the center of them, I looked.”