The Jilting...

 When I was teaching juniors and even when I taught ENGL 112 at the college, I used the short story "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall" by Katherine Anne Porter as one of the selections to study.

In that story Granny is on her deathbed, surrounded by some of her children. In her early life she had been jilted at the altar before her first marriage was to occur.  She never forgave her intended husband, nor had she forgiven God for allowing that to happen to her.  Even though she did marry, she had children and grandchildren in her family, and she had lived a long life on a farm, working hard to survive, she still was angry.  She felt she had been jilted, plain and simple.

When the priest visited her to give her last rites, she was stubborn and refused.  Her children were distraught because they feared for her soul.  The one thing that remained strong within her was her stubbornness and refusal to forgive.  Her body was giving up.  Her mind, her heart, her spirit were not.  

At the end of the story, with her children pleading, she turned her head to the candle, breathed the words "I cannot forgive!" and blew out the flame, sending the room into darkness.  End of story.

Sometimes we would watch the film version of the story which gave faces, bodies, and voices to the characters as well as distinct images in the bedroom which was the entire setting of the story.  It was always very dramatic when the screen went to black after her final breath extinguished the candle.

My question to the students was always, "And so...what happened to Granny's soul?" and they would always answer either "Well, she sure didn't go to heaven!" or "I know she went to Hell!"  

In May 2017 Mom was hospitalized after a fall which broke her hip.  When we visited her on Mother's Day, she had mersa which meant we couldn't enter the room without "suiting up" so Greta and I opted to remain in the hallway while Gary, the brave one who claimed he wasn't scared, donned the clothes, hat, and gloves and entered the room to help Mom with writing on the white board and gave her small sips of water to help her dry mouth.  That day was the last time I saw her alive, and I will always remember her little wave as we left the ICU.

Through the week Greta would call with daily updates of her progress or new developments.  On Wednesday one of the ministers at the church where Greta works asked if he could visit Mom.  During his time with her they chatted, but he also asked if he could share the gospel and ultimately before leaving, he asked if he could pray with her. 

Mom didn't talk much about her faith.  She had been raised in the Quaker (Society of Friends) church, but we attended the Congregational Christian Church in Westville before moving to Mt. Vernon and she had been baptized there along with Grandma, Greta, and me.  Her attendance at the Presbyterian Church in Mt. Vernon started strong, but even though I am not sure of the details, I think she was creating some issues there with the other women and the minister asked her to decrease her participation in the women's groups.  After that she and Dad never attended a church regularly, with her claiming that every one they attended 'didn't believe like I do' and therefore they stopped going on Sunday mornings. Every time she and Dad came to Indiana for events such as the girls' baptisms or Christmas programs at St. Mark's Lutheran Church, she found problems or mistakes that she would remind me of.  When we returned to the Francesville Christian Church, she didn't like Jim's sermons or the fact that we took communion every Sunday---she just didn't believe in that.  But when asked what she DID believe, she had no answer. Both Greta and I were surprised that she allowed the minister to share the gospel with her and then pray that day.

Reports from the nurses that evening post-visit were that Mom was agitated, she tossed and turned, she was unruly, she was muttering unintelligibly for several hours.  Then a sense of calmness came over here, a peacefulness, and in the early morning hours, she passed from this life to the next.

At one point during the next few days as Greta related these events to me, I thought of the short story.  In it Granny was fighting against God.  She couldn't forgive Him for her being jilted, not only at the altar, but in life.  She felt like she hadn't been afforded the life she was meant to live.  And on her deathbed, she refused to forgive Him or accept His grace, and blew out the candle in defiance.  

In real life Mom seemed to be struggling with her acceptance of her life and God's forgiveness of her sins perhaps.  She had related to me at the nursing home a few weeks before her death how one of the boys in her class had put his hands where he shouldn't have, she had told her parents, they had taken the issue to the church board so that he could be punished, and the board had turned the story into blaming my mother for the transgression, not the boy.  She had not forgotten that.  Maybe that had soured her views of the church.  Maybe she struggled with her beliefs. Perhaps she had tried at the Westville church and then again at the Presbyterian Church but had been rebuked for her endeavors.  Other factors such as the move itself and being away from family (with no internet or cell phones or text messaging in the 1960s) were difficult for her and she took it out on Greta and me (which is another story entirely).  Even moving back to Wooster had its challenges as Greta and I had moved into adulthood and she couldn't control us anymore. She was unhappy with human relationships, always looking for ulterior motives and convincing herself that she was better than whoever she might have a disagreement with.   She found solace in material possessions.  In fact she told us and Dad many times that her things were the most important aspect of her life. But as her life was drawing to a close, she was quite concerned that her 'things' were not touched or moved, but as the old saying goes...'You can't take it with you' which I think was bothering her also. 

I truly believe that Mom was Granny in real life.  Fighting against forgiveness and making things right with God.  The difference between them is that Granny blew out the candle in defiance; Mom didn't.  The moments when Mom became calm, peaceful, even serene point toward her acceptance of God's grace and the forgiveness of her sins.

I was reminded of this yesterday.  I recounted this story to a friend who hadn't realized that the relationship between my mother and me and my sister had been so strained and difficult.  She agreed with me that the character in Porter's short story and my mother were very similar.  

But you know what...God always gives you what you need to hear when you need to hear it.  As I was studying today's lesson in the Proverbs 31 OBS this afternoon, this passage struck me: "It's only when we recognize our sin, confess our sin, and give our lives to Christ that we can enter into Jesus' promised rest and receive His unsurpassing peace."

Wait.  Read that again.  Recognizing one's sin and confessing it might be extremely difficult and there could be a struggle in the act of recognition.  Another struggle might come as one fights about giving one's life to Christ which means confession of those sins.  But that once the sinner does confess and Jesus accepts that confessions and forgives...peace is overwhelming.  It is promised.  It just has to be accepted by the sinner.

And I truly believe that is what happened in that hospital room the night before Mom died on May 19, 2017.

Girlfriends

Today during my mani appointment, Tina asked me if I had any girlfriends, people that I liked to have fun with or go to lunch with. 

That struck me as an odd question to begin with, but I did have a quick answer. 

 Me: Actually yes!  Yesterday a friend from where I used to live who also lives here now by the State Police Post..."

Tina:  By Battleground? 

Me:  Yes!  She and I went to visit another friend who lives near Attica...

Tina:  I know where that is!

Me:  and it was so much fun because we knew the same people and the same places without having to explain anything..

Tina:  That sounds fun.

Me:  It was!  and then we went out for lunch too.  It was just a good day

That was something Debbie mentioned yesterday.  It was good to get together with friends who knew the same people, who had lived in the same areas, so that conversation can just flow easily without extra explanations to make the story clearer.

Debbie and I weren't close friends when we lived outside of Pulaski and she lived a few miles east of Francesville.  I had her two children in school, and her daughter Heather was one of my favorite Student Council members.  I had had her brother and two sisters in school also.  Since she was in the same class as Gary's sister Sandy, they had graduated two years before I started at WC.  But now we live a little further apart, 12 miles instead of the five miles when we lived in Pulaski County, but we have seen each other more than we did in the last few years that we lived in our previous homes.

Yesterday we drove to a farm southwest of Attica near Newtown.  Wally and Janet Hooker live there.  He is from Francesville, graduated with Debbie and Sandy, and married Janet after they met at Purdue.  Her grandparents' farm is where they now live.  At one time Wally and Janet and their two children lived outside of Francesville and while he was working at the funeral home, she subbed at the school which is where I got to know her.

The purpose for our trip?  Indian corn.  Wally and Janet have been growing Indian corn for several years, and I always think we need to drive over to their place and pick up some for our fall decor.  That hasn't happened.  However, the other night Debbie sent a text asking for their address so she could send a sympathy card to them (Wally's father died two weeks ago), and in our conversation we decided to make the trip over and pick up some corn while delivering the card.  And...make a day of it and enjoy lunch on the drive back!

It was fun just to sit and visit in Janet's kitchen. She had brewed fresh coffee for her and Debbie while I sipped on ice water.  As Debbie said later, just being able to talk and reminisce about people we ALL knew and about places that were familiar to ALL of us was just refreshing!

After we selected the Indian corn to take home with us, we drove through the country.  The plan was to enjoy lunch at Bossaer Farms Bakery which was not too far from Janet's house and on the way to where Hilary and Blaine lived on Substation Road. However...it was closed on Mondays.  Plan B.  Go into Lafayette to eat.  We did encounter some tree work on the back road to Attica (which is what I always called it), but after a quick detour we drove past their old house, then into West Point, and on to Shadeland and Lafayette. 

Lunch at Walt's Other Pub was fun, and we spent a lot of time talking while the waitress kept our drink glasses full.  As we were driving back to Debbie's house, Debbie mentioned again how much fun it was just to be out and about with friends...old friends.  Catching up.  Lots of conversation.  A good lunch.  No plans really.

We agreed that another excursion is needed.  Next time might be a drive to Peru to the Down on the Farm store and then to Rochester to Green Oak.   I am sure we would be able to enjoy lunch at Jerrity's or The Streamliner or even Harvey Hinklemeiers!

Sounds like a plan!

Am I Missing the Point?

 The other day I read a post on FB about why this person had decided to terminate his Netflix account.  The network (is that what it is called?) had offered for its viewers a controversial film entitled "Cuties."  The writer supported his decision by sharing a story about a minister who had denied his children permission to attend the viewing of a movie which contained some nudity and foul language.  The minister's argument was that even though there was just a small amount of time devoted to that unacceptable behavior and language, the movie was tainted because of it. 

Another example was the same minister mixing up a batch of brownies for his children.  When he offered the fresh-out-of-the oven to his son and daughter,  he explained that the finest and best ingredients had been used in addition to a tablespoon of material he had found in the back yard.  When the teenagers quizzed their father relentlessly about the mysterious ingredient, he admitted that it was a spoonful was dog poop, but they should let that bother them.  After all it was just a small amount and they probably couldn't even taste it since the other ingredients were of such high quality.  Thus another example to support not viewing particular movies and ultimately, why this person cancelled Netflix.

As I was thinking about it, I couldn't get that idea of dog-poop-in-the-brownies out of my mind first.  Then I thought about movies Gary and I had watched in the theatres that we had considered good movies, ones that we had enjoyed, and many that had received Oscar nominations or the actual title of Best Picture.  Some of them would fit into that 'dog poop' example.

Finally I thought about our own subscription to Netflix.  The kids really enjoy watching some of the kids movies and we wouldn't have those if we didn't subscribe.  We have sung along with some of the educational programs, learned letters, recognized numbers, and identified colors.  Is that bad?  Those programs have nothing to do with the controversial film.

So my question is this.  Because Netflix is offering this movie, and because we don't approve of that movie or the subject matter, we should cancel our subscription.  If a movie theatre has 14 individual theatres for patrons with 14 different movies and one of them is about a subject we find offensive and degrading and of which we don't approve, should that mean that we don't patronize the theatre at all and going even further, boycott movies altogether?

When we bought out new television, and it was a Smart TV, we subscribed to Netflix, Disney +, and added our Amazon Prime account.  Through these we have scanned the titles, selected movies and programs that have interested us, and quite frankly, enjoyed watching many of these through the months when the pandemic first began.  Did we choose to watch things that were offensive to us?  No.  We scrolled right past those.  It was our freedom to choose.  

If I cancel my Netflix subscription to protest a movie offered that I find offensive, then I can't watch any of the programs they offer that I enjoy.  The kids won't be watching any more Aquanots or some of the Disney movies  they enjoy or Charlotte's Web or The Grinch. 

And while I am at it, I won't be stepping foot into a movie theatre that might show a movie that has nudity or sexually explicit scenes or vulgar language either.  Even if I want to watch Ford vs. Ferrari or Knives Out or Grease! in the next auditorium.  

Am I missing something?

Picking Up Walnuts

 Yesterday Hilary had a photo shoot and Blaine was working, so she dropped off the kids while she was busy with the senior and his family.  Landon sat outside with me for a while since I had been reading on my iPad on the deck when they arrived.  We caught up on the week's activities at school and the fate of his cross country team since the school would be closed the upcoming week.

When he went in the house to talk to Papaw, Tessa came out.  Of course, typical Tessa, she wanted something to do.  She fussed about needed some entertainment.  She finally walked through the yard and ended up at the gazebo.  Soon she was re-arranging the red sling chairs and black tables, then she pulled out the small Little Tykes wheelbarrow and was throwing walnuts into it.  After she meandered her way to the deck to show me the small pile of walnuts she had collected, and Landon had returned to continue his conversation, an idea occurred to me.

Walnuts on the ground are troublesome.  It's hard to walk without continually watching for them and side-stepping to be sure one doesn't turn an ankle or fall.  Mowing becomes interesting because they can't be avoided and the sound of the pinging as the grass is cut results in bent mower blades which need to be replaced.

Light bulb moment!

What if...Landon and Tessa collected walnuts and  I would pay them for each one they collected?  How much?  After carefully weighing the options, I offered a penny per walnut.  Now that isn't much, but I knew there were a ton of walnuts out there and paying PER walnut was better than paying per bag or bucket, especially since bags and buckets can contain different amounts when considered full, right?  And a penny can easily be negotiated upwards if the amount is affordable and worth the work.

Off they went---Landon and Tessa running to the barn (Tessa couldn't go in---forbidden by her mama) to retrieve two feed buckets.  Then they ran to the gazebo and the grassy area under the walnut tree close by.  I could hear them chattering about walnuts as the pings of the nuts hitting the plastic of the buckets interrupted their conversation  Soon they were on the deck, counting out the results of the first combing of the grass.  Landon - 52   Tessa - 25

 Back they went!  More scurrying around, checking all of the hidden areas where the walnuts might have rolled.  Could there be more around the fire ring?  What about in the perennials planted around the gazebo?  Again - to the deck for counting.  Totals now - Landon 81  Tessa - 33  (Tessa seemed to have slacked off!).

 Papaw appeared at the back door to check on what they are doing.  He suggested they move further west in the yard to check under yet another walnut tree---and he should know!  He is the one riding the lawn mower each week!  The fewer walnuts that ping against the blades, the better.  

This time they seemed to be working harder---and longer with the search and seizure.  When they finally returned to the deck for the count,  it was Landon 'winning' with 163 and Tessa coming in second with 62.

Big question...how much money should be paid?  And then ...what do they do with all of these walnuts?

Negotiations in progress.  Hmmm...a penny per walnut would be $1.63 for Landon with Tessa adding just 62 cents to her piggy bank.  That didn't seem like much.

I could see the wheels turning in Landon's head.  He offered this: "Well, a dollar a walnut would be too much...." to which Papaw replied, "Yes it would. But we can offer now 5 cents per walnut.  How about that?"  

Landon was calculating in his mind and realized that $8.15 for him wasn't too bad and with $3.10 Tessa could buy something for her American Girl dolls (not likely, but he made it sound good).  She agreed.

Then Papaw told them to follow him, and off they went to the pear trees.  By this time Owen had searched for the rest of the family and he joined them in walking down the lane to the fruit trees closer to the creek.  When they returned, they had half of a five-gallon bucket full of pears.  While Landon was calling Aunt Megan to tell her about them (since she likes to make pear butter and pear pie), Papaw had entered the house and returned to the deck with some cash.

Final payment?  $10 for Landon and a nice $5 bill for Tessa.   

Smiles!

Now I know that kids don't need to be paid for everything that they do, but this was a fun experience.  Tons of enthusiasm as they raced out to the barn for buckets.  Then excitement as they were counting out the walnuts on the deck and being sure their walnuts didn't roll into the pile of their sibling.   Shouts of anticipation as they scurried down the drive to pick pears and Owen's pleas of not forgetting him as he ran to catch up with them. 

The fate of the walnuts?  All of them were thrown over the banks of the creek winding along the edge of our property.  Who knows....in a few years there may be 225 sprouts of new walnut trees pushing through the weeds!

The kid were happy.  It was a fun activity.  They worked together.  Tessa wasn't mad that Landon received more money than she did.  They were both excited about having a $10 or a $5 bill.  

Gary was glad there are 225 fewer walnuts to possibly hit with the mower the next time he is traveling around the yard.

And I am pleased that they didn't complain or say that picking up walnuts was gross.  Because if they had, I was ready for a story for them.

Ever be forced to pick up rotten apples from under the apple tree in the yard by the chicken house so your dad could mow?

Let me tell you a story.......

Fear of Sleep or Is It a Fear of the Night?

 Lately, probably for the last year or so, I have dreaded the night time and especially bed time.

Why?  I just don't like sleeping.

Now, don't get me wrong.  Sleeping is essential.  It's a good thing.  It is necessary.

Snuggling under my warm blanket and falling asleep after an early morning wake up is just bliss....most of the time. Key words - early morning.

But lately, as I said, the last year or so, the dreams have been bad.  Not life-threatening dreams.  Not morbid dreams.  Not dreams of ax murderers or being trapped underground.  But dreams that are just normal occurrences that turn scary.  Or strange.  Or weird. And seem so real.

Dreams must be related to current thoughts or what I read or topics Gary and I talk about during the evening.  Why?  Because those things show up in my dreams.  

Wearing masks.  Visions of diseases permeated the air and attacking people.  Being stuck in the house and not being able to go outside at all. Never seeing regular people again.  Being restricted about everything.

Things like that.

Usually I wake myself up and remember the dream in vivid detail.  After a shuffle to the bathroom and back to bed, the details usually disappear and by morning, I can't even remember the topic ...well, kind of.  

But now?  I can't remember them.  Only the one where an explosion happened at a county fairgrounds.  I said that we needed to find Blaine because he was a firefighter and would know what to do.  Before I could move, the explosion turned into a fireball that was moving through the fairgrounds to envelop all of the buildings in its path.  I was ready to scream because I didn't know where the rest of the family was...and I woke up shaking.  

One time I woke up feeling hot and checked my head for a fever.  My forehead was cool, as it has been every time I have checked it since March (several times a day), and I kicked off the blankets and sheet so I could cool off and fall asleep again.  

The darkness seems to permeate my entire being and scare me.  Maybe it began when Gary was sick with the infection in his foot and was hospitalized for a week.  The boys stayed with me the first night, but after that I was on my own and hearing every sound in the house.  And the trains.  

Maybe it began where there were rumors of people marching and looting and burning business and house and infiltrating small rural communities.  I didn't want to sleep at all those nights until the rumors were proved to be unfounded. 

Right now....10:20 p.m.  It is dark. Bedtime is coming.  I am dreading it.  I don't want to fall asleep.  I know I am tired.  I know I need sleep. I know the Yaggie kids will be here tomorrow and Landon is planning to bake a cake.  I need to be awake, energized, alert.  I need to sleep.

Maybe I need to stay awake until around 4, reading my book or sewing, then fall asleep until noon.  Think that might work?

These Two Kiddos...

 Owen spends time with us on the afternoons when Blaine is working.  Yesterday was one of those days. Gary picked him up from the pre-school bus at 11:00 and he came to our house, stripped down, and hopped in the bathtub for a bubble bath.  That is our normal routine---strip, bubble bath and shampoo, clean clothes, and school clothes tossed in the washer. 

Yesterday was just a fun day with Owen.  I posted about it on FB so here is a copy of that particular post:

A day with a five-year old. We covered the vegetable and fruit food group well...probably five sliced apples and two bowls of gherkins for lunch/ dinner. They count as cucumbers, right? Oh! A grilled cheese too! And tonight before bed we prayed for dolphins in the ocean. Okey dokey. Got that marine life covered also! Who can resist filling his little bowl with more pickles when he says “pickles please, Mamaw??” and kisses my cheek? Love that little boy so much!

Today was an eLearning Day for Rossville.  Two positive cases of COVID were found at the high school so they were shut down for the day with the eLearning continuing through next week.  The elementary was closed today also, but a determination of next week's closing was to be made later after the list of close contacts was made and other students tested.  When Hilary came over to pick up Owen yesterday, they decided to stay for dinner, then Tessa and Owen spent the night since Blaine would be home sleeping, Landon could work on his homework, and Hilary had to work.  Today it was Tessa's turn for some one-on-one time.  Here is the FB post from our adventures this morning:

 Spent the morning with our 7, nearly 8, year old granddaughter.... grocery shopping. She had the list, pushed the cart, added items to the cart, suggested some other items to purchase (of course!). Then she worked the front end of the cart to unload the items onto the belt, then helped bag the groceries. She helped load the groceries into the Escape and climbed over the backseat into her booster seat. A stop at Barnes and Noble for a new book, DQ for ice cream, and the orchard for a few bags of Papaw’s apples. We wore our masks. We sanitized after each stop. We sanitized the cart. She paid for the book herself (with my cash). She even told the gal in the kids section what she was looking for and thanked her for her help. It was a fun morning! Love you, Tessa Rose! 

While we were at Hillside Acres picking up apples for Papaw, Blaine called and asked if Tessa could be dropped off at their house rather than returning to ours.  When I talked to him at the house, he said there was another case at the elementary so all of the schools would be closed for next week, not just the high school.  

One thing - we were just talking about how Rossville had been diligent about their protocols in place for dealing with COVID and how few cases there had been.  Not so now. 

 Since Hilary will have to work next week, and since Blaine will be working part of those days, I imagine there will be more opportunities for one-on-one time with the kiddos.  

Looking forward to it.  After all I am missing out on having Tessa read her Babysitter's Club book to me while I am sewing...which was the plan for this afternoon!  

 

Impromptu Family Dinner

Yesterday Megan sent a text, which I didn't see until she called to ask about said text.  She and Lynnlee wanted to come for dinner.

Good!  I had planned to make a Salsa Chicken casserole, but since the chicken breasts were not thawing yet, we switched to pork chops.  They could thaw while we were in town for Gary's appointment with Dr. Hart.  Then we could stop at Payless for the Pepsi sale (5 6-pack bottles for $10) and pick up potatoes to bake, lettuce for salad, and pie crust since I wouldn't have time to make my own.  He pulled a bag of the frozen berries out of the freezer also.

Since Karen and I had mentioned getting together maybe at Brick and Mortar on  Wednesday, I decided to extend an invitation to them to join us.  She accepted and said she would bring a Dutch apple pie.

After his appointment, we went to Target to pick up Owen's shirt for the fall mini-session that had been ordered and was in, so we decided just to pick up what we needed there and save the Payless run for another time.

Knowing that the Yaggie crew would be over to do the chores later, I extended an invitation to them to join us also.  Blaine and Owen had been busy in the afternoon, Hilary and the other two kiddos had been in school, plus I knew that Hilary didn't feel well, so it seemed like the thing to do. They accepted.

Home to make the pie and pop it in the oven.  Gary cleaned the potatoes and put them in with the pie.  He tore a head of lettuce apart and washed some cherry tomatoes for salad. I found some larger heavy duty paper plates that we could use.  I thought a cheese and cracker tray would be good too, so I sliced some summer sausage, cheese, and salami and fixed up a tray for an appetizer. 

Since our little dinner party for four had grown to 11, it seemed like a move to the Party Barn was in order.  While I was finishing some things in the kitchen, Gary started moving items to the PB and getting the grill ready.  Soon two tables were covered with cloths, the workbench became a serving table, and chairs were around for sitting and visiting.

Megan and Lynnlee arrived while the pie was still baking so M and I visited in the dining room while L was outside with Papaw.  Soon Megan drifted out to help with the meal prep outside, and it wasn't long before the Yaggie van pulled in.  Kids on the trampoline.  Sisters visiting with each other.  Chores being done.

Karen and Clay arrived with the Dutch apple pie.  Everything fell into place and dinner was served.  Baked potatoes were perfect.  The grillmaster made sure the chops and hot dogs were cooked to perfection.  Lettuce salads appeared in bowls from the  Party Barn tubs.  As the main course vanished, Landon pulled out Sycamore custard from the freezer and scooped it into bowls or on top of pie slices for everyone.

After dinner and the clean up, it was time for the kiddos to depart for it was a school night and baths were needed and early bedtimes were looming.  Megan added some food to conainers to take home for Matt and Cooper.

After the Party Barn was cleaned up, Karen and Clay followed us to the house and we chatted about our trip to Michigan and their similar trip that is scheduled for a couple of weeks from now.  Then they left to look at a house that had just come on the market on Lake Shafer. 

No fuss.  Little mess.  The kids had a great time.  The adults caught up on conversation.  Impromptu dinner and it was fun.  No pressure, little planning, just a thrown together, expanded, last minute meal.

And it was good.

So thankful for the move to be closer to the girls and for this place with the Party Barn that we can use in occasions like this one.

We are blessed.

 

Trying to Feel Normal

 Last week Gary and I drove to Wooster for a day and a half, then drove to Michigan to relax for a few days.  We packed, we drove, we stayed at a hotel in Wooster, visited our favorite spots, and had dinner with Melanie and Brian and the girls.

Then in Michigan we stayed at the same resort we had been with Megan and Matt and the kids two years ago.  We visited some new places there, ones that we had missed on the previous trip or that weren't the ones to visit with the kids (like wineries!). 

It all seemed like a normal trip for us, but there were differences.

Tables at The Barn, which I mentioned in the previous post.

No inside seating at Hartlzer's.

Closed lobbies on all of the fast food restaurants in Michigan.

Wearing masks everywhere we went. (And I forgot one time at a rest area when we stopped for a potty break)

Remembering to use the hand sanitizer as soon as we returned to the car.

Limited seating at restaurants.

Different wine - tasting experiences.

Then back at home...going to Cooper's baseball game and sitting away from others along the third base line.

Trying to visit with a former teacher friend from West Central through a mask.

Being hot behind the mask and sometimes struggling to breathe.

Forgetting about the mask and thinking another sip of the Diet Coke before we leave the table at the restaurant might be good---and then remembering I can't sip through the cloth

It's just different---and much as I am trying to be 'back to normal,' it just isn't.

And I don't like the term 'new normal,' but is that the way life is going to be now?

Always wearing masks out in public?

Spacing in restaurants?  Which isn't a bad thing---actually it is rather nice not to have others close by. 

Keeping that hand sanitizer close so we can use it after each time we exit a store or grab a bag at a drive thru or touch anything that might have germs?

Better health practices are always good, but it just seems like I have become more paranoid about it all.  

While I know the virus is serious, and while I don't want any of us to have it and maybe spread it to the rest of the family, I am still thinking that all of the hype about it might have been a bit more than needed. And it makes me sad now to see so many things that used to be a part of our lives, not be a part of lives anymore.

But maybe that has been part of the overall plan too?  Maybe we needed time to look at our priorities.  Maybe we all needed to stay at home more.  Maybe the family structure was suffering and parents and children alike needed more time together.

I don't know.  I don't want to argue about it either.  And I realize that many children aren't part of loving families and suffer from being at home all the time...not the point I want to make right now.

What I miss is the normal feeling that we had last year.  Being free to go places and do things when we wanted to.  Not feeling scared when people come too close.  Wondering if this or that surface has been sanitized or not.  Staying away from certain places where the germs might be more easily transferred.

Being more cautious about everything.

While we were gone, part of me was aching to be at home again.  Why?  Because I wouldn't have to wear a mask, keep one close to me at all times, or hand sanitize as much as I was while we were away.

I just wanted to feel normal, and traveling wasn't that.  Only while we were in the Escape, driving down the roads.  

Mask handy.

Hand sanitizer in the door.

Life goes on.

Cold Peaches

 Dinner at The Barn was a perfect suggestion last Friday, September 11.  Gary and I had checked in at the Hilton Garden Inn in Wooster, then drove to Smuckers to pick up some SF jelly before they closed.  On the drive back we talked about what we planned to do with the limited time we would be in town, and dinner at The Barn was something we wanted to do.

It was still early, not really a 'dinner rush' time, so we cut through the country and found outselves in the parking lot.   We were seated in the main dining room and noticed the 'socially distant' tables (about half of the usual tables had disappeared) and the changes in the Salad Wagon.

After ordering our iced tea (me) and Diet Coke (Gary), we both selected the mushroom steak (glorified hamburger patty with a mushroom sauce), baked potato for me and potato wedges for him, and green beans.  He asked to add a cup of chili.  Under usual circumstances we would have gone with the Salad Wagon, soup bar, and bread bar, but all of that had changed.  Two servers were 'manning' one side of the wagon, preparing the plates with diners' selections, ladling cups of soup, and cutting slices of bread.

When the waitress asked me if I wanted to add a cup of soup or a small salad plate, I declined, but I asked her one thing.  I asked if I could have a bowl of cold sliced peaches. When she looked surprised, I explained.

Dad liked going to The Barn. In fact, Mom and Dad probably dined there at least once a week before Dad became sick.  At one point Mom declared that Dad didn't like going to The Barn because of all of the duck poop on the sidewalks, but I never heard him complain about that.  He always liked the Salad Wagon, especially the cold peaches.  At the end of the meal he would meander back to the Wagon and return with a big bowl of cold peaches, sliding around in syrup, with a big smile on his face.  He enjoyed each and every bite.

I have great memories of going to The Barn, mainly with the girls when they were younger.  Dad would take their hands and lead them to the pond so they could see the ducks and if they were lucky, they would get to feed them.  Sometimes Mom and I would sit on one of the swings and watch. Other times we would walk over to Buchanan Place, a gift shop in the house on the property, or to The Oak Cupboard for some ice cream or to pick up some of the bagged pantry items.

On Spring Break 2009 Gary and I spent most of the week in Wooster. One day we drove Mom and Dad "over home" so Dad could see the Little Brown House on 62, drive around Westville Lakes, stop at the Community Center in Damascus, drive through the cemeteries in Damascus and Sebring, reminisce about The Farm as we noticed the missing trees and the unpainted, unkempt house, and feel some pride as he stood looking at the bricks of his father, his uncle, his two brothers, and his own in the Veterans Walk in Sebring.  After we stopped to visit Aunt Mildred, his older sister in the nursing home, we returned to Wooster with a stop at The Barn for dinner. His request.  (insert a huff from Mom when he requested that particular spot for dinner).  He enjoyed a bowl of cold peaches, smacked his lips, and smiled while dabbing at the juice dripping on his chin.  After we returned to the house that evening, he squeezed my shoulder and said "B, thank you for today.  I really enjoyed it.  It was the BEST day I have had in a long time." I will never forget that.  Side note---It was the last time he was 'over home' and the last time he ate at The Barn.

During the last 10 years and the many times we have visited The Barn, either with the kids or with Greta, with the four friends of Mom and Dad's that we treated to dinner before the auction, or during the two funeral dinners, we have always enjoyed those peaches and mentioned Dad in the process.  

So I explained to our waitress why I wanted a bowl of peaches.  Just that.  Nothing else. Well, nothing other than my dinner that I had already ordered.  She smiled.  She said "It sounds like there is something sentimental going on here. I understand."

At the end of our meal, as we were sitting there talking about how Matt and Blaine enjoyed the restaurant, how the funeral dinners for both Mom and Dad were off to the side in the area behind the Salad Wagon, how the kids loved playing with the tractor off the lobby, our waitress appeared again and placed a very large bowl of peaches in front of me---with two spoons.  She said she didn't know if I wanted to share, but just in case.....

I looked at the bowl and tears filled my eyes.  I could just see Dad returning to the table with a bowl of similar size filled with those slick bright orange colored slices, slipping around in the juice. Yum!

And when I bit into the first section that I cut off---SO cold!  The waitress must have filled the bowl when she first returned to the kitchen , then placed the bowl in the fridge until I was ready for them.  I did offer to share with Gary and he did eat part of one slice, but he let me enjoy every single bite of those delicious slices.

When I finished and the waitress returned, she was waiting for a verdict.  They were perfect.  They tasted wonderful.  It was just what I needed. 

She came around the table and gave me a hug.  She explained that she totally understood, and that she had lost her mother several years ago and there were some things......

Cold peaches.  Last Friday I continued the tradition. I ate those cold peaches just for him.  

And they were delicious.  

I love you, Dad. 

 

SORRY!

 

 

I hadn't played SORRY!  for years.  But I saw the game on the wire shelf in the family room and asked Cooper if he wanted to play it this afternoon.

Of course he did.  His parents are BIG game players and he likes board games also.  I wasn't sure how intact the game would be because games in the family room seem to end up with missing components and I could see that happening with this one as well.

BUT....all of the pieces were in the box!  We moved to the dining room table, adjusted the table runner and lantern so that we could sit on one end, and checked out the board, the cards, and the pieces. As I read through the instructions to refresh my memory, Cooper was intrigued by the four playing pieces in four different colors and the configuration of the board.

Soon we were set up and ready to begin.

Slowly the game came back to me.  Sliding along the colored strips.  Going back four spaces.  Switching spots with another player.  Safe zones.  

Quickly Cooper caught on.  His strategy was a little different than mine.  I tried to get all of my tokens out of the starting spot quickly so there were many options for movement.  Cooper's style was to work with one at a time, move it as close as he could to the safe strip, then move another one out and work with it.

Round 1 - MAMAW!  It wasn't really close, but I maneuvered my tokens so that they were in line for the home stretch and then there was no stopping me.

 Cooper was ready for the second round.  At one point he had three tokens either in Home or in the safety strip while I had two that hadn't even been moved out of the start circle.

BUT...as often happens in the game, while one player is waiting for the EXACT number on the card so he can enter the HOME circle, the other player is picking up those high number cards...moving 11 spaces, or 10, and even 12.  

It came down to this.  Each of us had three tokens in the Home circle.  Each of us had the fourth in the safe strip.  Cooper was 1 space away from victory.  I was 2 spaces.  We each were drawing big numbers and couldn't move.  Then... the next card he drew was a.....1 ! ! !  

Oh my!  I lost.  He won.  And his arms shot into the air as he yelled "SORRY!!!!!"

 That's my boy!  

My plan was to play another game so we could determine who was really the winner of the day, a play off, if you will.  But he had other ideas.  He went downstairs to the family room to check on something...and he didn't return.  The end.

Another time, we will coerce Landon into playing with us, and maybe Tessaroo too.  Or maybe Papaw can join us.

I am hoping I have some SORRY! converts and that we can keep this vintage game intact.

It Makes My Heart Happy

 Yesterday we celebrated Owen's 5th birthday with a party in the Party Barn.  As we were talking this morning at breakfast, Gary and I came up with the same high points of the day -- overall.

One is ---all of the kids were having fun playing together.  Landon, Tessa, Cooper, Owen, and Lynnlee.  Beau.  The three Padgett kids.  All were in the same age ranges and they were everywhere. Kids jumping in the bounce house.  Tessa told Hilary later that she had a Petting Zoo using the goats, rabbits, and maybe the cats.  Kids were squealing and yelling on the trampoline.  The four-wheeler was slowing making its way around the yard, Landon driving by himself, and a few times with Alex taking Beau and then Owen for rides.  Tessa was pulling cushions off the swing and the gazebo furniture to make her signature bunk beds using the bench in the gazebo.  They were on the deck with the bottles of bubbles and the wands. Screams.  Giggles  Noice.  No danger at all.  Just fun.

Two - less mess party.  The food was on our makeshift serving table in the Party Barn.  Tables were set for eating, sitting and chatting, gifts, cake, drinks.  If something spilled, no problem.  If you went away hungry, it was your own fault.  The old grill (that had been moved to the Party Barn after Gary's new one arrived in May) always serves the purpose for parties like this), the old fridge (moved from the house when our new one arrived in September 2018) full of drinks and room for salads and other cold stuff.   Anyway...just less mess.  Easy clean up.   Perfect.  

Third - as we sat under the cherry trees yesterday it occurred to me that I was just happy.  There we were...Gary and I with our two daughters, one son-in-law, one of his sisters and her husband, relaxing in our chairs under the trees on a perfect late summer day.  As I sat there and listened to the kids, I saw Fred and Nancy in the gazebo, then later Jan and Don in the gazebo with Blaine then Hilary joined them.  Alex and Erin were in the gazebo and chasing Beau around.   We have a place where everyone feels comfortable, where we can drift from place to place and visit, where everyone was just happy and having fun.

Fourth - as the party drifted to a close, we also drifted to the firepit.  Even though sticks had been burned in the ring a few times before, this was the first time I remember having a fire in that particular ring.  We had added another ring to the area in front of the party barn a few times for a fire, but we hadn't used the ring by the gazebo.  Well, not that I remember.  Sitting around the fire with Karen and Clay, Blaine and Hilary...watching the Landon, Tessa, and Owen move from the trampoline to the swing and back again.  Roasting marshmallows and making S'Mores.  Listening to the occasional train.  Watching the moonrise in the east behind the cherry trees.  Just a peaceful evening.  As I sat on Dad's swing that we had brought from Wooster, I knew that he would have loved being there to enjoy all of the family moments just as I had been all day.

Yes, it made my heart happy.  I am so thankful that Hilary and Rebecca found this place originally.  I am so thankful that Hilary had her eyes open for the perfect place for us.  I am so thankful that Rebecca was so in tune with what we wanted and that she had reminded me not to 'settle,' to wait until I found the prefect place for us.  I am so thankful for family that feels comfortable with using the property for family get-togethers and parties.  

And I thank God for providing us with the means to be able to purchase the property with no debt.   

We are so blessed.

It makes my heart SO happy.

It Makes You Wonder, Doesn't It?

 This morning I read something posted by Wally.  It was a news article from Memphis, Tennessee.  A Man had received a letter from the health department.  Actually it was addressed to his mother, but he received it and opened it.

The news was that she, his mother, had tested positive for COVID and was instructed to isolate herself for 14 days.

Ok....that sounds reasonable, doesn't it?

Here is where the 'makes you wonder' happens.

His mother died.  In February.

He called the health department to question this and was told that she had been given a test for COVID in June and since the results were positive, she needed to isolate herself.

Well.....

She was given a test in June?  She died in February.  She was cremated.  

The first COVID test in that county was given in March, a month after she died.

Plus if she were alive and had been tested in June, why did it take so long for her to be notified to isolate herself?  She would have been well past the recommended isolation time of 10-14 days.

According to the article, the voice on the other phone said she would need to contact her supervisor. The man was still waiting for a return call.

But doesn't this make you wonder how valid the testing and the reporting of results really is?

There have been many other similar stories, such as the victim of a motorcycle accident in Star City dying from his injuries....and COVID was also listed as an additional cause of death.

There were many reports of people not being tested and receiving positive test results.

A friend said that she and her husband had tested positive, then were required to be re-tested until a negative test result was found.  Each time she and her husband tested, they were still positive, and two more numbers were added to the number of positive test results, even though they were the same people who continued to test positive.

A friend who is a funeral director said that when a patient dies of COVID, the number is recorded where the person died, but it is also recorded as a death in the home county of that person. So one person's death is reported twice--two deaths instead of one.

Now is some or many or all of these instances, there will be arguments that the information is not factual, that it is being spread without factual scrutiny, that there are people who are just trying to show that the virus isn't really that dangerous or that a conspiracy is happening, just to scare people and force them to stay home.

But what about the CDC revising their numbers and quietly announcing that many of the deaths had other causes?  

What about the Indiana Dept of Health reporting on their state map and in the stats accompanying that that the numbers have jumped---but the time frame is tilted to make it look like nunbers are higher?  Oh my!  Look at the number of new deaths!  Double digits!  Time frame---from the beginning of July to the first of September?  Oh.  Two months.  

I know the virus is serious.  I know that precautions are needed  And I am not trying to lessen the seriousness of it.  But sometimes I wonder how much inflation of numbers, how many of these stories are really true, and how much 'someone out there' is trying to keep all of us so scared that we let our lifestyles change so much that our freedoms are going to slowly and quietly disappear without our realizing it?

It just makes me wonder.

Dancing?

 The devotion I shared with Rhonda this morning used a verse from 2 Samuel as the focus: "David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouts and the sound of trumpets." 2 Samuel 6: 14-15

The narrative was also interesting since it focused on dancing and showing enthusiasm for the Lord in the process.  The following I copied from what I wrote in our forum on FB this morning.  I always marveled at Great-Grandma Eva Cattell.  She always seemed so OLD to me.  Maybe it was because her hair turned white when she was in her 20s and hair dye was not something a Quaker lady did.  She always wore those house dresses, long sleeved, buttons, lacy collars.  They looked really hot.  Stocking that she would roll up her legs and those great-grandma shoes always adorned her feet.  I adored her, though, because she always let me sit at the head of the table in the dining room with her when she entertained her Sunday School ladies.  Aunt Myrtle Cattell.  Anna Chilson.   Effie Pettet.  Those are the ones I remember.  My most vivid memories though are not really of her but of things associated with her.  The old piano by the French doors as we walked into the living room from the dining room.  The bottle of Blue Waltz that sat on top of the piano and was one of those things that showed up as a birthday or Christmas gag gift (it stunk to high heaven).   The books in the fireplace room with the characters of Jamie and Johnnie (I wonder what happened to those books).  The quilt frame set up in the living room.   The wrap around front porch that had many doors from it into the house. Her closed up bedroom, with the heavy drapes drawn and the door to the closet shut as she lay in the big bed, dying.   Hers for the first calling hours I can ever remember attending.  She died in May 1962 so I was finishing 5th grade and probably had just turned 11, a little older than Landon is right now.  Mom wouldn't let us go to the funeral.  Anyway....here is my post from our devotions this morning...

My maternal grandmother was raised in the Society of Friends church - she was a Quaker. She was a more modern Quaker, but my great-grandmother was rather old school. I remember when I was probably 4-5 having lunch with Great-Grandma and the ladies from her Sunday School class. It might have been a Bible study of sorts. All of them wore the longer dresses, old lady dresses, and they all wore what my sister and I called "Great-Grandma shoes" - black, laced up, slight heel. Ugly. Anyway...I remember that the Quakers did not approve of movies, but Grandma took me to see Cinderella in the theatre (she was a rebel). They did not approve or alcohol (but I found out later that my great-grandfather --who died a few months before I was born---had a large bottle of whiskey under the kitchen sink....for medicinal purposes). Grandma rubbed some of that whiskey on my sister's gums when she was teething (and told me not to tell my mother). They definitely didn't approve of any dancing or contorting the bodies to music. My mother insisted that they did not approve of serving food inside a church building, yet after my uncle's funeral we returned to the church for a dinner in the church basement. I remember going to Yearly Meeting with my great-grandmother and grandmother and sitting on the left side of the huge room and then men sitting on the right side. At the break for lunch we ate on the lawn at long pieces of plywood atop sawhorses and sat on folding chairs. All this time my parents and I and my sister attended a different church down the road, a congregational Christian church which had looser restrictions. My dad was raised a Nazarene so I guess this was a happy medium? Anyway...one of my mom's cousins who is actually about 10 years older than I am became a Quaker minister. His daughter was a cheerleader, and they served food in their church! I guess the restrictions were not as strict as they were when I was a little girl. I always wondered about dancing and how some people could not think that we could dance and enjoy music when there is musical praise in the Bible. Yes I know some dancing is not tasteful, but still. Praise comes in many forms, and I think dancing is one of those. I wonder what my great-grandmother would think of that?

Old but Still Dreamy

 As I was looking for pictures of novel covers for yesterday's post, I came across something interesting in the search for "Our Souls at Night."

 

First...there is a movie that is based on the book?  Ok...I want to watch that.

It's on Netflix?  Good deal!  We have Netflix. A search for that title will be on my agenda soon.

Second...who is that guy????  Robert Redford?????  Swoon.  He is my ALL TIME favorite actor and I will watch anything and everything that he is in.  

 

We have to watch this.  We must.

Gary is usually fairly indulgent when it comes to my requests to watch something.  A few times he has said he isn't interested in a particular program or series that I find intriguing, followed by a "Well, you can watch it...I'll just go downstairs (or upstairs) and watch NCIS (or whatever he is interested in at the time)."  Then I back off and say it really doesn't matter, that I don't really want to watch it, and hope that at some time maybe he will change his mind. I know that, for some reason, he doesn't like being in th family room for much of anything - watching tv, visiting with people, sitting with me if I am sewing in there.  And I know that if he goes upstairs he will be asleep in 3 minutes.

But this one?  He found it.  He thought it wasn't "out" yet because on the picture I found there was a note that said "September 29" so I was thinking that he was secretly hoping it wasn't something he would find now.

But it wasn't a 'things to come' movie.  It had been made and released in 2017...three years ago.

With any book that is made into a movie, there are changes, and this one was no exception.  It started out following the book well, but as time went on, several things were changed and some were condensed into a shorter time frame.  I understand why---hitting the highlights instead of drawing out the time that Jamie was staying with his grandmother.  But that time period where he warmed up to Louis and developed such a great relationship with both Lewis and his grandmother was really a special part of the book for me.  Also the ending was different --- more of a HER decision (which I understood a bit better) than the one where Gene made the decision for her and her injury was more serious that it was protrayed in the movie.  The fact that Gene had overruled her and taken it upon himself make decisions around her relationship with Lewis was maddening to me.

 

The actors and the characters?

First of all...the kid who plays Young Sheldon in that tv program is just annoying as heck and I refuse to watch that show.  When I saw that he was cast as Jamie, I was miffed, but he fit the character well, and I liked him better in this.  Of course he was a little younger than he is as Young Sheldon, and maybe he is truly acting because it was a different role for him.

Second...Bruce Dern.  He didn't have a major role, but it was fun to recognize his voice before we actually saw him close enough to recognize.  He was with the group of men who gathered each morning at the local cafe for coffee and gossip.  And I am glad we recognized his voice because I am not sure I would have recognized him with a hat pulled over his eyes. He is OLD!

Third ... Jane Fonda.  She was perfect as Addie.  I liked her voice.  Her movements.  Her thought processes. She is in her 80s also (as are Bruce Dern and Robert Redford) but she has aged better than they have. I suspect some help with that process.....   However, her strong lines in her face reminded me of Aunt Joretta.  An older woman who has cared well for herself, still uses make up daily, dresses fashionably....that type of woman.  She fit the character as I pictured her to be.

 

Fourth, and finally... (swoon) Robert Redford.  His voice was the same.  But oh my.  He looked old.  His hair was too bushy.  His movements were that of an old man. I checked his bio information and found that he is now 84 and was 81 when this film was released. He wore jeans and shirts like I remember my dad wearing.  Nice jeans with a belt.  A flannel shirt or button up or a t-shirt type shirt. Well, Dad didn't wear the t-shirts usually but the button up shirt and jeans and belt---yes.  But still...Robert fit the character so well. 

 

I liked it.  I wasn't sure---one never knows what will happen when a book is transformed into a movie.  Gary asked a few questions about what was happening or if Addie were going to die (and if she were he wasn't going to watch any more of it) then he said he didn't want to know about the differences.  But I did like it.  Actually I was glad the scenes with the baby mice were switched for finding the train set in the attic and putting it together again.  That was also a good link to the package sent to Jamie at the end when the cell phones were also added to the box. 

I might watch it again.  Now that the initial shock of seeing Robert Redford as an 80+ year old man has softened.

 

He is old.  But he is still dreamy.

On the Reading Kick

 I know..I go in spurts.

I was sewing everything in sight...several projects going at once.  Three quilts ready for binding.  

Then I was outside and working in flower beds and cleaning up things and just making everything (I hoped) look nice.

I love to read, and once thing I was looking forward to in retirement was reading books that *I* wanted t read, books I didn't have to teach or think about how they would/could be presented to students, how I could fit them into the curriculum, how students would react to the book or even just to a reading assignment.  

But I can't do all of these things at once.  I tried.  I would work in the flower beds in the morning.  Retreat to the sewing room after lunch.  Hit the stairs and the master bedroom around 8:30 and read.  Didn't work too well. For one thing---other activities would get in the way.  Running to the grocery store. Kids coming over.  Something else needed to be done.

Then there is the issue of how I like to read the books.  Sometimes I just love to have the hard  printed copy in my hands. I like to turn the pages.  I flip to the back and check out the ending just so I know where the plot line is going.  

Sometimes I like to read on the Kindle app and check out books from Overdrive.  This especially handy when I read reviews or suggestions on the Whatcha Reading?  FB page. I can carry my iPad, read anytime, read outside on the deck, even in the dark if I want to because of the backlight.  My problem is that sometimes the book I want to read is on the Wait List.  Other times the book appears on my bookshelf, but it disappears before I have a change to read it.

So I switch back and forth.

Megan had given me a book several weeks ago, probably at the beginning of the official end of the school year.  I liked it, but it was hard for me to get 'into' it and I had several sewing projects going on.  I finally finished it and returned it on the day of Cooper's 7th birthday party.

Next I read a quick book whose author had been recommended by one of the FB group.  The title intrigued me since I graduated in 1969 and many of the events in the book threw me back to my high school days. 

 

Another book had appeared in my bookshelf so I moved on to it so I wouldn't lose it because my borrowing time had run out. New author for me, but I did like his style of writing.  Even though I am not at the same stage in my life, I could understand how the main female character was feeling.  The ending created feelings of sadness and anger both. I was more upset with the outside people who thought they could make decisions that they really had no business making.

Next up was a book by an author who was recommended, but the books were all on the Wait List.  I found this one as a substitute (and available) by the same author.  I really enjoyed it.  Even though it was fiction, there were so many allusions to the times and places of 1950s New York City, and I could imagine our babysitter Rose personifying the character Rose in the book.

 

Finally I am reading a non-fiction book, and I don't usually read much non-fiction.  This was another recommended book, supposed to be full of laughs and fun, so I checked on Overdrive and there it was.  Available!

So I am on a reading kick right now!  When Becky was here today, I showed her the squares I had already sewn for Tessa's Fairy Tale lap quilt.  I confessed that I hadn't done much lately to show any progress, and I also added that I hadn't even started on Lynnlee's yet. Plus I have a pile of Christmas fabric to make table runners and it would be good to work on those now while I have more time.

Reading again.  Using the iPad and the Kindle app to read books on Overdrive. Checking the FB Whatcha Reading?  page so I can add more books to either my bookshelf or to the Holds list.

How long will it last?  Who knows?   But it is fun while it does!