Not as Smart

Photo courtesy of the New York Times

The current occupant of the White House likes to portray himself as the smartest guy in the room. I have no need to even discuss that. Everyone has plenty of evidence to make up your own mind as to if you believe that or not. It appears to me that in 45’s desperation to hold on to his “I’m the smartest” position the only way he can do it is by surrounding himself with people who he can possibly beat in an intelligence contest, namely Rudy and Mick. Based on their appearances on TV to shore up 45 they have done him no favors, except in the “45 is smarter than we are” category. This can be the only reason I can see that 45 keeps them around since his ego demands that he be seen as the best.

With the five ring circus that 45 has turned the presidency into I have come to wonder if he keeps doing these these totally moronic and more outrageous things just to see if he can get away with it and shore up his own invincibility in his mind.

“Let’s see, what the most outrageous thing I can do? Take innocent children away from their parents and lock them up? Hey, I got away with that. How brilliant am I to get to do that without even a slap on the wrist.”

“Congratulate China on 70 years of Communism? It’s like my brain can hardly think of a thing I can’t get away with. No one around me is smart enough to do that.”

“Pull the military out of supporting the Kurds without notice or a plan? I must be a genius, I got to do that all by myself.”

With the “brain trust” that 45 surrounds himself with I think it is just one big game for him to see what outrageous thing after another he can get away with.

Finally one event went over the line. The idea of hosting the G-7 conference at Doral. This is so clearly against the law that some idiots finally pushed back. I think the real reason is no one wanted to have to face bedbugs.

Please, everyone who has anything to do with 45, let’s end this game and show him you are smarter than he is. He has gotten away with one upping himself long enough.

Feet and Eyes

The older I get the more I notice the loss of my best parts. For most of my life I had better than average eyesight. Actual eye doctors measured one eye at 20/15 and the other at 20/10 for years. I loved having eyes that saw well and did not appreciate what a gift that was. That was until I started needing glasses. Now I notice that I do see well at both distance and up close and I morn the loss of my younger eyes.

Of course most everyone I know needs help with corrective lenses eventually so I had no trouble adopting glasses all the time, at least around my neck. What I was not prepared for was the loss of my good feet.

As children we ran around bare foot all summer. I could run on pavement without sneakers and as I came of age could wear high heels all day. Beautiful shoes were a major part of my wardrobe. Oh, how I long for days.

Now I judge a shoe not by the way it looks, but by its comforting factor and if I can walk longer than half an hour without pain. Discussing orthotics has replaced oohhing and ahhing over jewelry with my friends. Lane turned me on to some German orthotics and I ordered them within minutes based on her recommendation.

Barefoot is no longer an option. I am not alone in this. I must discuss plantar Fasciitis twice a week with different people. Thankfully I have not suffered from it in a while due mostly to my preventative orthopedic footwear. There is nothing that looks good enough to make me hurt my feet on purpose.

If you have good eyes and happy feet cherish them. There most likely will come a day when you will mourn their decline. Embrace good, but ugly shoes sooner rather than later. You will appreciate it.

Gillian’s Island

After a big night of stormy weather where the rain and wind awoke each of the four of us at different times during the night we rejoiced in the morning sun. Russ and Lane took the four dogs for a morning walk and Jon and I resumed our ongoing Pitch card game tournament. After we all reunited to take the dogs out on the boat.

Our friends have two his and hers boats. Hers is small and easy to anchor at a beach. His is comfortable and fast. We were going to a deserted Island where the dogs would be free to roam and not all eight of us would fit on the hers boat so we took the his.

The sun was shining as we cut through the water, just a ten minute ride to the island. Jon threw out the anchor and pulled the boat as close to shore as he could so we could jump out of the boat into the water and not get our clothes soaking wet.

After all dogs and most people we safe on the soft sand Jon and Russ went about repositioning the anchor so that the boat would be in the best spot when it was time for us to leave. Lane and I started out on our walk with all four dogs running circle around us as they chased birds and flirted with the surf.

We had gotten a good ten minute start on our long legged husbands, but they we able to eventually catch up with us. We searched for special shells and talked as we walked on the beach we had all to our selves, save four teenagers who were surfing . Suddenly a woman appeared on top of the dune ahead of us. She was waving her hands frantically, trying to get out attention.

Jon, being a doctor ran fastest toward her and Russ was close behind with three of the four dogs. It turned out the emergency was not hers, but ours. Jon’s boat and broken free of it’s anchor and was floating toward a sand bar.

Lane and I took the remaining and smallest dog, Rosie and walked quickly back the way we came so we could pick up the bag Jon had left on the beach. As we crossed over the dune Rosie took a turn of her own and got lost in the dunes.

Now, with a loose boat and a lost dog things were on a down turn. Eventually Lane spotted Rosie and we got to the sound side of the island where we could see the big boat 500 yards off shore, but thankfully not going anywhere. Jon hitched a ride close to his boat and swam to get on it. It pays that he is an almost Olympic swimmer.

Other boaters in the area offered help, but it was apparent that the boat was in a difficult shallow area. Jon called Tow Boat Us, his boating equivalence to AAA. Russ and the three dogs were in a cove area that Jon asked us to wait in. So Russ and the three dogs walked halfway to meet me and Lane and the forth dog and we all walked back to the cove to wait.

It was a scene out of Gilligan’s Island. We had the Captain, Jon and his little buddy Gilligan, played by Petunia the pirate dog. Lane, the most glamourous with her red hair was clearly Ginger. Russ was the professor. Shay was Mary Anne and Lane’s two inseparable dogs Clementine and Rosie were the Howells. That left me, Sherwood Schwartz, the producer of the show.

What started out as a little tour turned into our stranded island adventure. Thankfully the Tow Boat came in about an hour and pulled Jon off the sand bar quickly. After we were retrieved from the island and were headed home we all gave the Tow guy a big wave of thanks.

I asked Jon what happened to the anchor and he said it broke at the carabiner. Proving once again you are only as strong as your weakest link.

The Coast

Our friends Lane and Jon invited us to their house on the coast this weekend. October is really my favorite time of year to be here. It was great boating weather yesterday and most of today. Lane took me out on her little boat yesterday and we wore our selves out with fresh air.

Today Jon took us on the big boat. We rode around and surveyed the damage from the last two hurricanes and assessed the repairs. There can hardly be enough contractors to fix things after hurricanes. If only there were more dock builders.

Lane and Jon have three very sea worthy dogs. Our one is the opposite when it comes to water. She is a nervous wreck on the boat and refuses to go in the water. But everyone was most happy when we dropped anchor at the spoils island and hiked out into the middle of it where there is a pristine white sand crater. The dogs ran and ran all around the dunes and down the crater.

As a big storm was coming in for tonight we decided to go to dinner early in town. Russ has been dying to try Vivian Howard’s restaurant in Wilmington, Benny’s Big Time pizza. Despite being there at five o’clock we still had to eat at the bar. We didn’t mind as it was comfortable and the bartenders we entertaining. It lived up to Vivian Howard standards.

After dinner Jon and I continued our big Pitch card game tournament we started earlier in the day. Jon is currently up by one, but there is still tomorrow.

It was an exhausting day, so now all the dogs and humans are snuggled in their beds. We will sleep through the big storm hopefully to awake to another beautiful day at the coast.

Happy News

When Carter was looking at colleges she fell in love with Northeastern University. There were three things that differentiated it for her. One was she could spend her first semester abroad. Secondly, they embraced students who were undecided and helped guide them through finding the right path rather than expecting them to apply to a certain college within the University and hope that is what they really loved. The third and biggest thing is that Northeastern students all do Co-op’s, which are six month real life jobs, that they must find, interview for, be offered and work. Russ and I embraced Carter’s choice and thankfully Northeastern embraced her.

This semester is the one where Carter is taking her Co-op finding course. She has learned to write her resume, search for jobs, interview and follow up. I wish I had this course in college of real life skills.

Carter had some big criteria she was looking for. As it was her first Co-op of the two she is going to do I was unsure what kind of offers would be available to her. I know she is a great worker, but until you have had something more than a summer job it is sometimes hard to show your worth. It’s that old problem of you need experience to get a job, but you can’t get experience until you have a job.

As a parent there was nothing I could do except offer moral support. Last week Carter texted me and Russ in all caps that she had gotten her first interview. It happened to be with a fabulous company. She loved the people she met. They called her back for a second interview.

Then she got two more interviews with two different departments and another fabulous company. Things were happening fast. I was thinking at the least she was having good practice interviewing.

This Tuesday after Carter’s second interview at her first fabulous company she called and said she really hoped she would get this job and that they were going to let her know by the end of the week. They let her know two hours later. She got the job!

She was over the moon. I was over the moon. Russ was understatedly over the moon. So today Carter posted it on Facebook so I think that means I can say that she will be working at Bain Capital in Boston come January. I am thrilled that this all worked out so quickly for her. I know the experience will be invaluable. Way to go Carter.

From Mundane to Fun

Today was one of those rare days when I got to stay home all day. Unfortunately it was not to do something fun, but I spent the day doing all the things that have been on my list that I seem to skip over. You know those things that you know you must do, but really have no interest in. Like changing the sheets, or figuring out that computer program that you need to understand in order to do another equally boring task. Or phoning people you don’t want to talk with, but must. (That doesn’t apply to the FRIEND I did get to talk with today.). I know things are bad when I chose to mop the kitchen floor to avoid doing something else.

I really need to change my attitude about these things because once I get to cross them off my list I have such a sense of peace that they are behind me, but not really all of them. I have to change the sheets again next week.

Just as a I was thinking it was a pretty boring day I walk outside my front door and encounter a big blue gift bag. No one rang my door bell. My ring doorbell never rang me saying someone was on my porch. The bag was a total mystery to me.

Since I don’t know of anyone trying to do me in right this minute, I brought the bag inside and pulled sheet after sheet of tissue out of it Berrey I came to an envelope with a card and a gift wrapped in even more tissue. I opened the envelope and discovered a funny card about missing me from my friend Kelly. The gift was a lifetime supply of new beautiful dish towels for my newly renovated kitchen.

I texted her immediately and she told me her son Adam aphid acted as her delivery elf, my words, not hers, but she had gotten them for me in the summer and only now was getting them to me.

Hey, a surprise any day is welcome, especially one as thoughtful as this. So thanks to Kelly my most boring and mundane day turned into one where I got a big surprise that I loved. Thanks for making my day.

Moving Friends

When I was a kid and a friend moved away because their father got transferred it was sad, but you just made a new friend. There was little keeping in touch. Sometimes they moved in the middle of the summer and you never got a chance to say goodbye, or really never knew exactly where they went.

This life of living in a place where friends moved away from often taught me that it is important to try and stay in touch with friends no matter where they lived. Going to boarding school helped solidify this skill of keeping in touch with friends who are far flung long before Facebook existed.

As a I have aged I appreciate my friends wherever they live, but I really miss when they move away. The older you get the harder it is to make new friends.

Almost five years ago my friend Jeanne and her husband David moved to DC. It was a sad day when they left, but at least in DC I could see her and they had lots of reasons to come back to Durham to visit.

Unlike my childhood friends who moved away, never to be seen again, the impossible is happening and Jeanne and David are moving back to Durham. They don’t have an exact date since David is still working in DC, but they have bought a fabulous condo in downtown Durham. Tonight I got to go see it before Jeanne and I went to dinner.

This is like a dream that I never dreamt t could come true. A friend I adore returns and we can pick right up where we left off before. Now if only my other old Durham friends would move back. I’m talking to you Jan. Durham is the place to retire. It’s where your friends are.

When Did Sleep Get So Complicated?

Sunday my dad stopped by our house on his way home from Macy’s at the mall. He wanted to buy a new mattress. His current one is a memory foam and instead of a box springs it has an actual wooden box as a base. He complains that it is impossible to make the bed because he can’t get his hand between the memory foam and the wood box. The fitted sheet comes off in the night because it isn’t tucked in right and he ends up with his face on the foam which is hot. Sounds terrible to me.

In my father’s perfect fashion he knew exactly what kind of bed he wanted before he went to test any of them. Then after an extensive internet search found that Macy’s had the exact mattress on sale. Apparently it was not possible to order it online and required a store visit.

He drove all the way down to Durham, waited 40 minutes for sales help only to be told that they don’t deliver to his farm. He said he would pay and they still said no. Now the search has to continue to find a local provider.

I don’t remember when the mattress business got so complicated. There are thousands of choices. I also don’t remember when sleep became such a big issue for so many people.

There was something on TV this week that said that almost a half of couples don’t sleep in the same bed. None of this surprises me. Many beds get slept in at our house thanks to the moving from one bed to another in search of elusive sleep. I am not sure what anyone in my extended would do if they didn’t have extra places to go sleep.

When I was a kid no one replaced their mattress. You got a mattress that fit your bed and you might just die in that mattress. I have slept in many a guest bed that was more like a nest than a bed based on the divot in the center.

I personally hate our current bed, but Russ loves it because it is hard as a rock. It doesn’t help that I also hate all my pillows. It must be me and not my bed or pillows. Whatever, sleep just seems harder for more people than it did in the olden days. Or perhaps we just aren’t so dead tired from chopping wood and washing clothes by hand and raising our own food and carrying water inside to heat it up. If I had to do all those things I would probably not complain about sleeping on a bag of straw or whatever acted as a mattress back in the day.

Things Not to Make Myself

Since I have been back in the sweat shop toiling away for a week I have gotten the sewing bug. I made two presents this past week and am on the search for my next project. Kind of like being a four year old, I am making presents. But being 58 I can’t just press my hand into a plaster of Paris mold and when it is dry paint it with tempura paint.

I only want to make useful as well as beautiful things, which really limits me because I want them to be close to perfect. I turned to the big time wasting inspiration Pinterest and started searching. No one on my gift list needs a pin cushion in the shape of a bird, even if it is really cute. Aprons might be good but there is only one person on my list who cooks and wears and apron.

Once you start searching Pinterest gets a mind of its own and the algorithm starts showing me ideas. The craziest one I got today was a group of sites showing you how to make your own bras. If there was ever something I would not make it is a bra, for me or for anyone else.

Well, if I were going to attempt to make one for me I would have to learn welding first. If I learned welding I would be more likely to build my own car, rather than my own bra.

There is a line I draw at things I want to be homemade; medicine, televisions and light bulbs are at the top of my list, but undergarments are right up there.

Rain At Last

We have been close to twelve weeks without any measurable rain at our house. Yes, it sprinkled once or twice in that time, but those were nothing but cruel reminders of what rain looked like. Today I was the lector at church so I was sitting up front. Russ came in a separate car because he had a meeting after church. As I was waiting for church to start I got a text from Russ on my watch, “It’s raining!”

If I weren’t Presbyterian I would have shouted “alleluia!”

It was a good rain that was still drizzling when we came out of church. I had not brought an umbrella, but I gladly would have gotten drenched, but it was not that kind of rain.

All day it rained. It was very light most of the day, but hey, after 12 weeks it was welcomed. Then it picked up a little and now it is full on thundering. At first I asked Russ if that sound was a dump truck. It had been so long since I have heard thunder I didn’t recognize it at first.

We have been awaiting the building permit for our new church building for weeks. We have a big dry square of dirt that has just been sitting awaiting the permit so we can put in a foundation. All this dry weather, perfect for building but no permit. I am certain that the permit will come tomorrow and it will rain more this week. All I can say is God works in mysterious ways.

When The South Africans Come to Town

Our friends Mark and Kelly, who live in Atlanta now, came to Durham for the weekend to visit their son Adam. Never ones to miss a chance to throw a party, they invited a few friends to a local Zimbabwe restaurant, which was as close to South Africa as they could get.

It just happens to be Kelly’s birthday tomorrow and Mark’s in two weeks, but Kelly said this was not a birthday party. I just want to wish her a big happy birthday anyway.

Kelly is wonderful at gathering interesting people and tonight was just another example of that talent. It was so fun to see people I haven’t seen since Carter graduated. And Russ immediately connected with the other introverts he recognized up against the wall.

Getting a chance to visit with Mark and Kelly is always fun. I wish we were not so far away or that Russ was not so busy so we could visit. There is nothing like a South African friend. Once you have one you always have a friend.

Back in the Sweat Shop Suspicions

I took about four months off from my sweat shop due to painting the kitchen cabinets and Carter being home during part of the summer. My sweat shop is attached to her bathroom and bedroom. It used to be her “office” when she moved down there and took it away from Russ. When she left for college I claimed it and cleaned out her stuff and installed all my sewing stuff, but I promised her I would not hang out there when she was home. I think it is the only room in the house that has changed hands and been used by all of us for different purposes.

When Carter called yesterday she asked me what I was doing. I told her I was back in the sweat shop working. She didn’t ask me what my project was. Then today she texted as I was working and I told her I was sewing. I think this got her nervous.

A few hours later she sent me her Birthday/Christmas list that I had been asking for. Her grandfather will be asking us for her list any day now and I prefer to be prepared.

I got the e-mailed list and opened it. Three items, and one was sock and another money. She followed up with a text. “My space in Boston is tight. I don’t want any random stuff. My list is short because anything I really want is too expensive and I would rather not have stuff I don’t love.”

I think she was worried I might be making her something, something random, something she did not pick out. I get it. I agree I don’t want random stuff either. I am happy she is not a pack rat. So I am going to tell the relatives not to get her anything, except those socks or cash.

For the record I was making a baby blanket for a baby who is coming in December. So to put Carter’s mind at ease this blanket is not for you. I am not planning on making a baby blanket for Carter for a long time.

An Imaginary Phone Conversation

Oh, the never ending Ukrainian/Giuliani/45 story keeps on unraveling. I can only imagine how the conversations between 45 and his nut job lawyer are going. Here is a sample of how it might sound if we could listen in on their phone calls.

45: Rudy, you know your friends, those Uke thugs who donated all that money to my super pac?

Rudy: Yeah, I did a great job getting them to funnel that foreign money to you.

45: The fake news hasn’t found those guys yet, have they.

Rudy: Well… they might be on to them. I think those Dems might be trying to get them in to testify.

45: Damn, Rudy. You can’t let that happen.

Rudy: I know, I know. I’ll buy them tickets out of the country and take them out to lunch, explain why they have to scram and then take them to the airport.

45: Just get one way tickets, no need to spend more money on these guys.

Rudy: Got it.

45: Also take them to my hotel up the street for lunch, I might as well make some money on their lunch while you are giving them the news.

Rudy: Got it. Can I put the lunch on your tab?

45: No way Rudy. You have to pay for your own lunch.

Rudy: Donald, I’ve got a great idea how you can throw everyone off this story. You should pull the military off the program of helping the Kurds and guarding the Isis fighters in their prisons.

45: Good idea Rudy. You really come up with the biggest plans to throw people off the scent.

Rudy: Thanks. I also have an invoice coming your way for all my Ukrainian work.

45: Look Rudy, I’m not going to pay any invoices and if you don’t like it there is nothing you can do about it since you can’t sue me as a sitting President.

Rudy: I’ll just send the invoice to Putin. He’ll pay your bills.

Cheating AND Bad Customer Service?

Today I stopped by a food store, which shall remain nameless. It was late and there were very few customers in the store at the time. Despite the low number it appeared that all three of us were headed to the deli counter at the same time.

As the three of us stood waiting for the one clerk to acknowledge us I watched as she filled containers with chicken salad, one after another. At first I thought she was doing this to stock a display. I thought something was fishy about what she was doing when she put a small box of yellow stickers up on the scale and created a “chicken salad” price sticker that weighed in at less than three ounces and attached it to each container. She set those containers aside and finally offered to help the man in front of me.

As I was still waiting I watched as another employee came by and thanked the deli girl for the containers and took them away. Finally the deli clerk turned to me and I got my order.

I went to the check out and that same clerk who took the under priced chicken salad was there ringing up her own chicken salad. I didn’t say anything because I have no idea what the store’s deal is with employees, but it all seemed very fishy because of the box of stickers being used as the weight on the scale, rather than the actual chicken salad.

I am not accusing the clerks of cheating, but at the least it seems like they should wait on customers before they wait on each other. It is not normal to use some lighter weight item to create a price sticker for things that must be weighed, and it certainly should not be done in front of customers. I’m not sure I will visit this store again, or perhaps it won’t matter because I’m not sure how long they can last with these kind of employees.

How Does She Do It?

I know I have called out my sister Janet before for the cool work her business does, but today takes the cake. Janet owns a business called Reaction Retail, which makes gift boxed sets of beauty products for stores like Macy’s and Ulta. If you aren’t sure what that is, think of a set of ten perfumes in a gift box.

Janet is a genius and has the coolest people working with her to design these things and then assembles them and ships them to stores in time for the holidays, all the holidays.

Today on You Tube there was a beauty vlogger who did an in boxing review of one of Janet’s products, the Macy’s beauty advent calendar. I had no idea there even was such a thing as a beauty advent calendar. I watched this You Tube with my mouth open.

It was amazing, not the You Tuber, but the box. Just take a look at how cool this thing is. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbDyfsWz8ao…this

I have to say I am one proud sister! If you want to buy one of these things just search advent calendars at Macy’s. My Sister is the bomb. If your u don’t want to watch the whole ten minute video, the vlogger gave it a big thumbs up.

The Pinterest/YouTube Rabbit Hole

Before there was Pinterest I never knew how many crafts, quilts, pies, table decors, wreaths, fonts, monograms, yada, yada, yada, things there were for me to learn to make. Then once I discovered a new thing I wanted to make, I never knew there were so many YouTube videos to teach me how.

I realized yesterday that Christmas is two blinks of an eye away and I have not done a thing about gifts. I am doing my best not to add the the “piles o’stuff” that all my relatives already have, but still want to show my love. I consider something hand made, as long as it is not a clay ashtray, or something consumable that is yummy, is a better gift than anything except cash. Well, no one except Carter will get cash so I got right on researching things I might make.

That was a twelve hour search and it could go on forever. Once I found something on Pinterest I wanted to make I had to try and learn how to make it. I never knew that there were so many thousands of people filming themselves teaching strangers all their crafting secrets.

What I really wish existed is a rating system of all the videos that show who is the best teacher. I have found myself watching one for ten minutes when I realize the teacher wasn’t making sense. The amount of conflicting advice is huge. So I watch multiple YouTubes hoping to aggregate my knowledge.

All this Pinterest searching and You Tube watching is eating into my time to actually making presents. I pray this research equips me to be proficient and prolific. The only issue is now I have discovered more things I want to learn that have nothing to do with making Christmas gifts. When will I get to do that?

Dog Spelled Backwards

Today was the annual Blessing of the Animals at Church. Shay, being a regular at church, jumped right in the car when I mentioned the blessing. As the mascot member of the Finance, Ways and Means and New Building Committees she feels right at home at Westminster.

About two dozen dogs and one hedge hog came for the blessing. There were big and small dogs, one ones and puppies, well behaved and wild. All children of God.

Today’s blessing was a chance for some youth to practice their blessing skills. Shay was blessed by Shannon as well as getting blessed by Alex the official new youth pastor.

Shay acted as if she were the one doing the blessing. Perhaps her familiarity with Westminster makes her feel like she is on staff, or maybe it has something to do with Dog spelled backwards.

Whatever the reason our family is blessed to be loved by Shay, even if she loves in uneven ways. We all take what we can.

A Habit We Should Have Broken

When Shay was a wee one and we adopted her into our family we wanted to train her right. Carter and I took her to Pet Behavior Classes and we learned to “treat her” to train her. This involved carrying around a small baggies of “treats” like small bits of turkey or cheese. We could get Shay to walk right beside us and not pull on her leash as long as we were giving her a treat every once in a while.

The big thing I was concerned with was potty training her to go outside. The last thing I needed was a dog who went inside the house. So we used the “treat” method. Every time she went potty outside we would bring her inside and she would stand or sit on her green bed and get a treat.

Shay, being a brilliant dog, learned quickly that the whole outside was her toilet and never had an accident inside, so she got used to having her treat. Even after she was certified in potty training she continued to get the treat. We just kept giving it to her.

Today she goes outside and she runs in and flys onto her bed and stands at attention awaiting her small freeze dried liver cube. Yes, she considers that her favorite treat. It has been eight years and we still treat her.

I know we should have given this up as soon as she was trained, but none of us could deny those eyes that liver. Now in her defense, she never asks to go outside just to turn around and come back in and get a treat. She always uses the potty and then comes in. I hate to stop treating her now and have her give up going outside, not that I think that would happen. I just don’t want to be the mean one and stop giving it to her.

Here is my justification. Shay has weighed exactly, almost to the ounce, the same weight for the last seven years. I think the treats are not hurting her so as long as she is good I am going to keep giving them to her.

I promise I will do better on future dogs. I also add this caveat, that I may not remember this promise when I get a future dog.

Clap Back Vs. Slap Back

Today I went to play duplicate bridge. For the most part, most of the people who play where I do are kind, generous and polite people, but not all. For the record the issue I am bringing up here had absolutely nothing to do with anything that happened today at Bridge.

After my kind and patient partner and I finished playing our two boards against another team fairly quickly we had a few minutes before we had to move to the next table. One of our opponents brought up an issue of a player who she has faced who feels compelled to give her unsolicited advice and not in the most constructive way.

My kind partner suggested, “You can just say ‘thanks for your superior wisdom’ as a clap back.”

I replied “Or you can say, ‘I not interested in your opinion,’ as a slap back.”

That got me thinking about those who slap back and those who clap back and if any of it registers with people who make unwanted comments. Clap backs make the clapper not feel as bad because they aren’t so overt in their rebuke to the original offender, but they might not get it. Slap backs may get to the person being rebuked, but make the slapper look equally mean, thus perhaps giving the original offender justification for their original rudeness.

I used to tend to the slap side, although I have always loved a sideways dig, that makes the person have to wonder, “Was that a compliment or a condemnation?” One of my favorite sideways comments for those who like to puff themselves up over nothing was to say, “First among idiots is no prize.” My father used to say, “You are all you will ever be.” Both of those are really big slaps, but it takes a minute to get them, if ever.

Southerners are particularly good at the clap back. Although now the whole world knows that “Bless her heart,” is usually mean spirited.

There is an old joke that goes:

There are two Yankee women sitting in a cafe in the south, talking smack about southerners. A local woman does not recognize them as locals and approaches their table with a friendly smile and says, “Hi. Welcome to our town. Where are y’all from?” One of the Yankees responds, “I am unaccustomed to answering a question that ends in a preposition.” Smiling, the Southern lady responds without missing a beat, “Where are y’all from, bitch?”

Please don’t take the portrayal of Yankee’s in this joke as a commentary on Yankees, it’s just an illustration of the southern clap back that has been around a long time.

If you clap back or slap back you probably are never going to change the actions of the original offender. So what are we to do?

I wish I knew the answer. Clapping back gives you some satisfaction, slapping back may blow back on you, doing nothing may make you fume and grit your teeth in your sleep. For now, since I can’t control other people I am going to do my best to just not be one of those offenders and pray that I can hold my tongue when someone offends me. Ha, I might as well pray to win the lottery without ever buying a ticket.

Too Hot!

ONE HUNDRED DEGREES! That’s how hot it was on my car thermometer when I got in it after lunch with my friend Hannah and it was parked in the shade. If I hadn’t just celebrated Russ’ birthday yesterday I would have sworn it was August 3, not October 3.

We have had 72 over ninety degrees this year and the average is 42. For all you climate deniers I would like to take your air conditioning away September 1 and not give it back until June 1 and see how long to cling to the anti-science view that the planet is not changing and fast.

Also we have been without rain for two months. This is the more serious issue. I am wondering if we need to invest in cisterns for our roof. Not that I water anything in my yard, I gave that up years ago. I am worried about flushing the toilet.

I face timed with Carter in Boston and she had on a sweater and long coat. It made me so jealous.

My replacement watch came back today. I was able to verify how hot it is, still 95° at 5:55. My watch may be mocking me, but at least it is alerting me that it is Holly Schmidt’s birthday tomorrow. It will be seven degrees cooler, but no rain. Happy birthday Holly. Hope you get a new bathing suit for your birthday suit. You may still need it.

Happy Birthday Russ

It’s Russ’ big day

Double nickels for him

He’s hardly aged at all

He’s still tall and slim.

I met him when he

Was just a young pup

Who knew that smart guy

Was such a cutup.

He works and he works

At CMG all the day

And wakes in the night

Thanks to his dog Shay.

Generous would be

The word to describe

How he treats every person

Who are all his tribe.

As a father he rocks

As he advises his daughter

She knows she is lucky

And is always his Carter.

No cake for this boy

He’d rather have pie

And if you tell him it’s Apple

He’d vote with an “Aye”.

To this birthday boy

I’d just like to say

You are the best husband

And this is your day.

Private Party Shakedown

A few weeks ago I was invited to a private party at a private club. As I was a guest at a party I didn’t think to bring any cash. The host was generously providing the food and drink at the very nice event.

Everything about the party was lavish. The passed hors d’oeuvre were extravagant, from the jumbo shrimp, to the mini crab cakes. The dinner was delicious, and no one had trouble finding something to their pleasure from the beef tenderloin, lobster tail pasta or the chicken Provençal.

It was apparent the host had thought of everything and was generous, with one exception. When I went to the bar to get a club soda the bartender had a big glass tip jar on the bar full of ones and fives. At first I was embarrassed to ask for a drink and not give a tip, even if it was just club soda. I slinked away from the bar after apologizing for not having money on me.

Then I got to thinking. I bet the host had no idea that the bartender was practically soliciting tips, even though I am certain that the host was paying for service, including a tip on their catering bill. The bartender was taking advantage of guests at a private party because a tip jar is usual at a bar where you are paying for drinks.

I was not going to bring this to my host’s attention, but it made me aware that when having a private party with a bar tender you need to be explicit that they should not have a tip jar. Imagine if you had hired a bartender to work a party at your house and they put out a tip jar. This is the same idea when you are having a private party at a public place. It might be different if it were a fund raiser and the bar tenders were volunteers, but even that scenario troubles me.

If you ever come to a party I am throwing and see a tip jar on the bar, let me know right away. Those ones and fives will go nicely towards paying the catering bill and the tip that is already worked into my bill. I will tip the bartenders, guests should not be expected to do so.

Humbled

Last month Peter Werbicki, the President and CEO of the Food Bank of CENC, called to tell me I was chosen as the recipient of the Hunt-Morgridge award. This is a beyond humbling honor for me. The award is given in November at the Evening of Appreciation, the Food Bank’s big recognition event.

Apparently a number of my friends received a “Save the Date” e-mail from Amy Beros that I did not know was going out, since neither Russ nor I received one. My friend Suzanne forwarded it to me with a note of congratulations, which was very sweet and an apology she can’t make it. Since she lives in NYC I told her that it would have been way over the stop for her to come, even though I would take any visit from her anytime. Today I got a note saying that my friend Kelly, from Atlanta, had sent a donation to the Food Bank in my honor.

I want to thank all of my friends who have supported the Food Bank over the twenty years I have been working with them. You all never complain to me about how often I share news or information about the need and the good work the Food Bank is doing in one third of North Carolina.

If you got this save the date, please do save it and come to Raleigh on November 14 if you can. The party is a good one and I would love to show you the Food Bank if you have never seen our new head quarters. If you didn’t get the save the date and want to come, please let me know. I am allowed to invite anyone I want, at least that is what I’m told. The actual invitations will be sent in October.

Good Afternoon,

Please save the date for our annual Evening of Appreciation on November 14, 2019 from 5:30pm-7:30pm at our Raleigh branch. We hope you are able to join us, so we can say thank you for making our work possible. We will also be recognizing this year’s Governor James B. Hunt and John Morgridge Service Award Winner, Dana Lange. Dana’s dedication to our work over the past two decades has been integral to serving our neighbors.

Additionally, as an important member of our Food Bank family we want you to be the first to hear about an exciting new chapter in the history of the Food Bank!

Because of you, the Food Bank can nourish our neighbors and build solutions to hunger in our community. Thank you for being part of our Food Bank family!

A formal invitation will follow. You can rsvp to rsvp@foodbankcenc.org.

Amy Beros

Vice President of Development

Food Bank of Central & Eastern North Carolina

1924 Capital Blvd. Raleigh NC 27604

OFFICE 919.865.3073

CELL 919.608.9884

http://www.FoodBankCENC.org

Mission: No One Goes Hungry

@FoodBankCENC #NoOneGoesHungry

Drive By Visit

Since Russ and I were in New Jersey we made plans to see his Dad and his sister for breakfast. We weren’t exactly near them so I determined where a good meeting spot might be. Frenchtown looked like the nicest town. It was about an hour and fifteen minutes from where we woke up in Jersey and only 45 minutes for Russ’ family.

They got to the restaurant before we did and secured a table. Russ had been told the might be a wait so we were thankful for their early arrival. It was a good catch-up since we hadn’t seen them in a year. The last time was the night before my Aunt’s memorial service. My family seems to be providing us opportunities to spend just a little time with Russ’ Dad.

After our short reunion Russ and I drove back to Newark to come home to puppy. I tried to sleep on the plane, but the sound of Baby Shark playing behind me to the infant who was a new flyer kept me up.

At last we got home and I just passed out on my bed with Shay and took a nap. Now I am a mess. I slept too close to bedtime, I made no dinner and it is hot as the Fourth of July here. My body is as confused as my mind. Time to reboot and get back on Durham operating system.

Mr & Mrs. Harvey

Today was the big day we had traveled to NJ for, the wedding of Winston and Emily. Before the big event at 5:00 we had all day to fill. Ours started early with the arrival of the animals at the petting zoo just outside our room. I have never been to a hotel with a petting zoo so I made sure to go and visit the two goats, four bunnies, duck, and multiple chicken first thing this morning.

Russ and I went on a field trip to the quaint town of Warwick, NY for breakfast. We walked around and found Fannies and hip little place where I had zucchini pancakes with peach salsa and Russ had eggs on homemade bread. We had to get out of town soon after breakfast because Warwick was hosting their annual Fireman’s parade and the town was filling up with big fire trucks from all the surrounding villages and hamlets.

My Aunt Eddie had organized a brunch for the family and I joined them just to talk while they ate. Since my hands were free I got to hold five month old Weaver and I told three year old JoJo about the petting zoo which caused her to break into a quiet version of Old Mc Donald’s Farm.

We still had more time to kill until the wedding so my sister Janet invited me to come play cards in her room. Since she is always so hospitable she offered me some iced tea, which of course I took her up on. She apologized that she only had a mug to serve it to me in as she put ice and poured tea from a bottle. She put the mug down in front of me and I noticed a big lipstick stain on the rim. I pointed it out to her and Janet said, “Oh, I’ll fix that,” and turn the mug around so I could drink form the side without the lipstick. Such hospitality had me rolling on the floor in laughter and that got Janet going too.

Eventually it was time to dress and go to the wedding at one of the wedding Mecca golf clubs in the area. The weather was perfect for the outdoor ceremony. Winston and Emily wasted no time getting married and then it was off to the party. We had a lovely cocktail hour where there was enough food to be our whole dinner.

Then we were invited into the ball room for dinner and dancing. This is where JoJo, as the three year old flower girl, stole the show and danced all night. If it weren’t for JoJo I am not sure people would have filled the dance floor as much. I was thrilled to get to sit with my cousins JIm and Steve and Steve’s new wife Amanda. The completed the full circle of my first cousins on my mother’s side.

Emily and Winston were the perfect bride and groom and fun was had by all, until the old folks hit the wall and we needed to go back to the hotel to sleep, leaving all the young people to dance the night away. I am so thankful I am an old folk now. Best wishes to Mr. and Mrs. Harvey.

The Wright Side

My mother was a Wright and she had two younger sisters. Those three Wright girls had eight children. I am the oldest of those children and the youngest is getting married tomorrow. Those eight children have had seven children so far, (with one more on the way) and the current youngest came this weekend to be introduced to the family.

Russ and I flew up to NJ and drove out to the northwest corner of the state which appears to be a wedding Mecca. We checked into the hotel where the Wright clan (who all being girls have many different names now) and friends are staying. My Aunt Edie and Uncle Bill, the parents of the groom, were waiting in the lobby for their room so we waited with them. Their oldest son, Will was with them, and then their middle son, Wright, arrived with his wife Calvene and their kids JoJo, and newest son, Weaver the five month old. Eventually my Mother, Sister Janet and Sophie arrived.

At check-in the wedding Mecca was apparent as there were hundreds of gift bags for guests of the six different weddings just tonight, that are staying here. Gaggles of girls in matching dresses streamed by us on the way to the wedding venues. There was the beige bride maid party, the maroon and the navy blue.

There was not a traditional rehearsal dinner as all the private rooms were full of actual weddings. Instead my Aunt and Uncle hosted us at a restaurant at the sister resort down the road. Russ and I were taking my Aunt’s life-long best friend Townes and her husband Bob with us. I have known Townes my whole life and she is like a bonus Wright girl.

My mom rode with Sophie and Janet, following us to the resort. We had sketchy instructions on exactly where we were supposed to go and the lack of any street lights did not help. After circling the other resort twice we eventually found our dinner spot.

It was our first chance to see the bride and groom Emily and my cousin Winston. They were calm and ready for this wedding to happen. Clearly the Mecca knows what they are doing and I guess you just pick and bridesmaid color and add water.

Our dinner table was the most fun. Not that we are competitive, just actually having a great time. We talked and ate and told stories and drank and then we all hit the wall. It was a long travel day. Tomorrow is the big event. Hopefully I will be efficient in finding the wedding venue for the wedding we are actually invited to. Given that Mecca can host so many weddings at the same time you can’t just assume that the woman in the white dress is the one you know.

It is wonderful that we, from age 90 to five months, have all gathered to celebrate Emily and Winston. The Wright Clan is not consistent at gathering together, except for funerals and by then someone is missing. So hooray for a happy event that brings us together in one place, and Mecca makes it easy.

Why Journalism is Important

Recently a friend of mine drew my attention to an editorial board opinion in USA Today from September of 2016. It was a historic moment for the normally vanilla, middle of the road, we don’t want to offend anyone, publication. Never is the 34 year history of the newspaper had they made a voting recommendation. They broke their own rule of bipartisanship and laid out the argument why people should not vote for Trump.

As I read it yesterday it laid out their long list of facts about candidate Trump that concerned them so much as to step out of their normal line. Reading it two years later it is an eerily perfect prediction of how Trump will be as a President based on his past actions.

Because I am not a technological pro I have included photos of the article for you to read yourself and decide how accurate you think USAToday was in their predictions. To me it reads as if it is a report on how he actually has been for the last two years.

If Trump wanted to prove the news really was fake he could have acted the opposite of all these predictions once he was in office, but then he is not an actor, he is a reality TV person who can only be what he always has been. He told us what he was going to be like and has been that from his inaugural speech on.

Good job, USA Today editorial board for pointing out what we would be getting. Too bad all your predictions came true and then some.

Happy Sally

One of the best things about living here is that old friends come to visit when they come to see their kids in college. Today is one of those great days because my boarding school friend Sally is here for the night on her way to see her son at Elon.

Sally has been living in Northern California for many, many years so my chances of seeing her are few and far between. This year we have had two visits. The first at our 40th, YES Four, O, reunion. It is hard to believe that we have known each other for forty-four years now. We aren’t that old. And now a second visit in the same year.

Sally is easily one of the happiest people I have ever known. Perhaps that is why I have liked her all these years. Why she has stuck with me is a different question. There is something about those friendships I started in boarding school that stay strong. I am not sure if the bond is from surviving those turbulent years or that we really got to know each other well as there were fewer of us and we were stuck at school. I don’t feel like my friends who went to day school developed the same depth of friendships with so many people in their school as we did.

Nonetheless, anyone who knows Sally loves her and I count myself lucky to have her as a friend. Tonight we got to revisit all our conversations at our reunion and compare notes on what we heard from our classmates. It was great fun.

I am realizing that next year Sally’s son will graduate from Elon and she will not be flying out here regularly. This is already making me sad. I think I need to plan a mini reunion of boarding school friends in a couple of years, Sally will be a good draw to get us together.

KoKyu Na’Mean

In an attempt to ignore all the big news of today because it is just the beginning of a story that is yet to be rolled out I am going to tempt you with yummy distraction. My friend Lane is always up for a hidden gem adventure when we meet up for lunch. I can’t remember how I heard about KoKyu Na’Mean, but I had wanted to try it and Lane was game.

The tiny strip mall sandwich shop is so hidden that it is in a strip mall behind a strip mall at Highways 55 & 54. You would never see it from a street and would have little reason to turn on the access road unless you where going to the Cook Out that is in front of the first strip mall and got lost and ran into the second strip.

The outside is unassuming in that “We don’t need a fancy sign because we are that good,” kind of way. But the dozen or so picnic benches that line the sidewalk, full of diners at noon makes you realize you are at the right place.

The small as you can possibly rent property is painted in brightly colored graffiti giving the place a hipper than the normal hole in the wall look. The menu of Bahn Mi sandwiches of a dozen variety and bowls is on the wall above the one station ordering cash register. There are about ten tables inside that are almost full as well as the outside.

When Lane and I went we decided to try a chicken and a short rib Bahn Mi, cutting them in half to share. Along with your sandwich you get a little cup of a side. Lane had a chick pea salad and I had coconut slaw. After ordering we took out little number on the metal stand and set it on our table. The wait for the food was not too long considering the size of the crowd.

The flavors were fantastic and clearly the reason all these people have searched out the strip behind a strip was apparent. It was just another example of interesting food being produced in Durham.

Now that I have found it, I must introduce it to Russ. It is right up his alley. The bad thing for me is this is the kind of place I should only eat at twice a year because it is a treat kind of place. But you should find it and go!

September Birthday Girl

My Monday monthly Needlepoint group takes the summer off because two of our members spend the summer in the mountains. Today was our first fall get together and it happened to be Karen’s birthday month. This means we have cake at Needlepoint in lieu of eating lunch. Isn’t that the perfect way to justify cake.

I often make the cake instead of giving a gift since I am anti-accumulating more stuff or contributing to others accumulating. I had been wanting to try and make a 12 layer cake and Needlepoint birthday is about the only reason I could try this out.

Yesterday after studying many recipes I settled on one in the New York Times. The cake is kind of like a chiffon, that you just put a bit in the bottom of a well prepped pan. Cooking time for the layers is about six minutes. I actually made 14 layers with the amount of batter I had, but as I was running out of icing I only used 12. I thought an 8 inch cake was tall enough.

The icing was a boiled one and although it had nothing resembling a peanut or peanut butter in it is had a slight peanut butter flavor with the chocolate.

After I had completed the cake I noticed it had a definite list to one side. Next time I try a 12 layer cake I am going to make a collar for it and hold the layers in place and chill it before putting the outside icing on.

It was a very sweet cake and after my piece I felt a little sick. I hope no one else had the same feeling.

Karen insisted that we get a photo of the inside of the cake with all of us and thus the strange positions of us all. Karen should be the front and center as the birthday girl!

No Time Like the Present

One of the beauties of being empty nesters is we can decide at the last minute to do something unplanned. Our role models for this are our church pals Davis and Joan Bingham. They sit in our section of church. Today Davis was the lector and Joan was just behind us. Russ had to go sit with Davis up front as he was the Elder presenting a child, Wyatt, for baptism today.

Davis is not the lector Russ needs to be compared to. Davis is the best reader, bringing life to the most difficult lessons. Russ held his own up there and baby Wyatt was perfect during his baptism.

After church we stood to go out and before we did we spoke to Davis and Joan. They said we should have lunch together after church one day. We whole heartily agreed. Then Davis said, “What about it right now?” When your almost ninety year old friend asks you to lunch there is no reason to wait.

So we went over to the Cedars, the most lovely retirement community In Chapel Hill and had a great lunch with them. Once seated I saw Stephen, the best manager who used to work at Hope Valley and he came over and gave me a big hug. I told him we had left the club after he did and he said he loved working at the Cedars and we could come there. We are still a little ways from needing to move to a retirement community, but it was a welcoming offer.

After lunch Russ and I went up to the Bingham’s apartment so they could show us around and talk a little more. It was a fun way to spend out after church meal with such fun people.

I hope that when Russ and I are almost ninety we have friends who are two thirds our age who actually like us as much as we adore Davis and Joan.

Small City Life

Last night I met Russ downtown for dinner. He walked up to the restaurant from his office. As we were sitting at our table a text came over Russ’ phone from a Tony, his barber. “Hair getting a little long?” the message read.

Turns out Tony drove past Russ while he was on his way to dinner and he recognized him, even with his long hair. It had been two months since Russ had gotten a haircut. We do have my cousin’s wedding to go to next weekend. It was perfect timing for Tony to call Russ out.

I love living in Durham. It is small enough that you pass people you know everywhere you go. This morning Russ and I drove up to the farmer’s market around 8:00. As Russ parked his Smart car, he put up the convertible top on the eleven year old vehicle. As he was doing it we looked up and saw our friend Southgate leaning over the balcony of his condo he and his family recently moved into.

“All the years I’ve seen you in that car I never knew it was a convertible,” he called down to us.

“Good to see you,” we called back.

Of course we saw plenty of people we knew at the market even though we just made a quick loop gathering vegetables for the week. We were going to Foster’s for breakfast on our way home.

As I was waiting to get a coffee from the thermos dispenser the girl in front of me used the last bit from the one that was available and she moved to the one that had a cup over the spout that read, “do not use” and got the rest of her coffee. She turned to me and said the other was empty. I called out in my loud voice to the employee that the coffee was out. The girl said, “You are a better citizen than I am.”

“No, I would have done the same thing in your case, I am just looking out for the person who comes up after we have left.”

She looked at me and said, “You must be from Durham. People are nice here.”

I told her yes and thanks as we parted ways. It is great to live in a place where visitors recognize we are nice. It is even better to live in a place where your barber is looking out for you.

Russ went off for his haircut after breakfast. Thanks, Tony.

This Day, At Last

This is the day I have been waiting months, maybe years for. It could be called, “The day I take my mind totally off all idiot politicians day.” Or it could be called, “My day with hundreds of people thirty or more years older than me.” But to be as descriptive and correct as possible it should be called, “Opening day of a Downton Abbey.”

Like so many people I know, I have been a lover of Downton Abbey from the very first showing on Masterpiece theatre on TV nine years ago. I waited patiently every week to see the next installment and then when the typically short British Season would come to an end in 9 weeks I would pine away for Mathew Crawley for another year and a half awaiting the next season.

Then it was over. Masterpiece showed reruns and I watched them. Streaming services replayed all the seasons and I binged them last summer, watching every episode, all 52, in two weeks. I was so distraught after that binge that I watched all the documentaries about Downton. The waiting for the long promised movie was going to kill me.

My young friends Mary Lloyd and Christy and I canceled all activities for today so we could go to the show with the advance tickets we had bought. We were going to see it at Silverspot where you get to reserve your seats. The early 1:00PM show was our first chance.

I got to the theatre first. I thought I had come to an AARP convention by mistake. I was practically the only person without a walking aid. The wheel chair bound patrons rolling abreast almost took out two women with walkers. Thankfully a man with a cane used his instrument to save the day and prevented the rolling chairs from bowling others over.

When my young group assembled we went up to the ticket man to check in. After he scanned Mary Lloyd’s bar code on her phone he told us, “Your seats are kind of far up the theatre. You can take the elevator if you need.” We laughed and said we could handle the stairs. We think he didn’t bother to actually look up and see that we didn’t have walkers.

I am not going to spoil the movie for you, but the day is everything I had been waiting for. The best part is that I think there are plenty of things set up for a sequel. Julian Fellows, the writer and creator, is probably wondering why he didn’t do this movie thing years ago. I hope he makes tons of money as well as all the cast mates so they want to do it again. I am certain that there will still be politicians I want to ignore in two years.

Union Special

This past April I had the pleasure of meeting chef Andrew Ullom who has been Ashely Christensen’s pastry chef for many years. Andrew, who had left Christensen, was opening a bakery, breakfast, brunch and lunch spot called Union Special in the newly renovated shopping center next to the Food Bank.

As he was awaiting the build out of his location he volunteered to be a chef at the Food Bank’s triangle Chef’s Feast where I was the auctioneer. Besides providing the 250 guests at the event with the best milk and cookies one could ever eat, he brought bags of take home cookies for all the guests. As I was coming off the stage from auctioneering Andrew approached me and offered his own big donation to the Food Bank. Chef’s don’t tend to make big bucks and his gift was beyond generous.

Today, after my Roundtable meeting at the Raleigh headquarters of the Food Bank I stopped into Union Special to see how Andrew’s dream turned out. He came out from the office to talk with me in the beautiful white space with a window into the baking kitchen. The community has come out to taste Andrew’s offerings he told me, which made me happy for his success.

I bought a loaf of his signature sour dough made will locally milled flour. I was just sorry I had already had lunch as I watched the sandwiches come out for other patrons.

Supporting local business is the best way to support our state. Andrew pays his employees a living wage and it showed in their service. I am thrilled to have Union Special as a neighbor of the Food Bank. When the Food Bank purchased our building the adjoining shopping center was failing. After we renovated the Food Bank the shopping center did the same and now there are up and coming business moving in.

Visit Union Special on Crabtree Boulevard right off Capital Boulevard in Raleigh. If you go for weekend brunch plan on a wait. Continued good luck to Andrew.

Not A Dog

Carter called today. Since she has been in Boston for three weeks I have hardly gotten a call. A text every few days seems to be all she has time for. The voice on the other end of the phone was high and excited. I anticipated some good news, a perfect score on a test perhaps?

“I got a fish today?” Her voice reminding me of a child at the state fair. For a second I thought she was having fish for dinner. No, it was more like the state Fair.

Carter had stopped at her flower store across the street from the mother church of the Christ Scientist, around the corner from her apartment. She has been a patron of this store for the last year, which is a little different than when I was in college as I don’t think I ever went in a florist. The store sells plants as well as cut flowers and Carter has discovered that one beautiful flower every couple of weeks is a great mood enhancer.

Today the store had beta fish in bowls with bamboo, which cleans the water for the fish. Missing her Shay at home Carter decided that she could swing the budget for a fish, but told the store owner she wasn’t going straight home as she was on her way to the gym. The owner told Carter she was open until 8:30 so that sealed the deal and Carter bought the fish and will introduce her to her new home tonight.

As Carter was relating this story to me she said, “I think I’ll name her Fluffy.” So now I have a grandfish named Fluffy. When I was Carter’s age I got a dog in college. Beau came from the shelter and never went to a vet for any check ups, but lived a charmed life as a college dog.

I am not going to say a word about a fish. It is a much easier pet than a dog.

Start of the Garden Club Season

If as a child you asked me if I was interesting in joining a garden club, I would have looked at you with a puzzled look. I don’t remember there being a garden club in my small town. The society type women of our town were all in the “Wilton historical society,” which us children called the “hysterical society.”

Garden club seemed like a very old fashioned southern thing. Perhaps it was that our growing season was short or that the best time for garden club would be the summer and women’s clubs didn’t meet in the summer as that is when women had their children home, leaving no time for “clubs.”

Years and years ago I was invited to join the Hope Valley Garden Club. I can’t remember who my original connection was to the club, but I happily accepted the invitation and it has been a joy to belong to ever since. I had first taken to gardening when I had my row house in Washington DC. With a completely fenced in back garden and no lawn mower I embraced the flower garden concept as much easier to maintain and more beautiful to look at.

I had a lovely patio and brick walkway with beds lining the sides of the garden. I put a fish pond in the back by the garage where the sun did not shine, making it difficult to grown much. The pond added a beautiful water fall sound that helped drown out the city noise. It was an oasis I came to adore.

I miss that fenced in perfect garden. The deer and the sheer size of my yard are making gardening not as much fun. Perhaps my older body adds to that problem too.

For our program at Garden Club to day local artist and friend Marjorie Pierson came and gave a talk about her nature photography and art. She inspired me to look at the things growing in my garden from a different perspective. Perhaps I will try and photograph the weeds growing in my driveway garden at dawn to see the beauty in them, rather than my failure. Thanks Marjorie for your inspiring talk and fabulous eye.

Unnecessary Sleeplessness

I didn’t sleep last night. I drank too much iced tea too late in the day yesterday. I didn’t take any sleeping aid and I never had the right pillow in the right place all night. Consequently I tossed and turned. When this happens I usually remember my wild dreams and have things pop in my head that I should have done that day and that I don’t want to forget about in the morning.

First thing that kept me awake was the thought that I had not called the Thai Cafe to order coconut cake for Lynn’s birthday lunch we were going to be celebrating today. I knew the restaurant did not open until 11:30 and I was going to be in the middle of giving a talk to the entire seventh grade at Durham Academy at that time.

Second thing that had me tossing and turning was the loss of one of Carter’s stored boxes, by the Storage Squad company we had paid to keep her things over the summer. They had brought 10 of her 12 boxes and her three blanket wrapped items on the correct delivery day, albeit, three hours after the assigned three hour window.

The three young men who delivered them made no apologies for being so late, without a call telling us they were running behind, nor for the two missing boxes. They just said a manager would call with them the next day. That was two and a half weeks ago. No one from the company ever called or emailed about the missing boxes, until yesterday.

I called every day and e-mailed, no one ever knew where they were, but kept promising they would come. Three days ago one came. It was not the one with all Carter’s coats and shoes and boots, which would cost a fortune to replace. Yesterday an email arrived saying the box was being delivered at 10:30. A time when Carter would be in class. This being Sunday there was no way to speak to anyone about adjusting the delivery time. So it was left to me to call and try and do this morning.

The third thing that disturbed my sleep was the fact that I was giving this talk to the seventh grade about the Food Bank and I wondered if I had all the right papers for the game I was going to play with them to teach them about how much living expenses are.

So after a fitful night’s sleep I woke up at 4:45 and emailed Storage Squad. I lay back down and at 5:45 I called Thai cafe hoping to leave a message bout the cake, no voice mail. At 6:45 I just got up. I showered and left the house, calling Storage Squad every fifteen minutes from the car.

I went to the Post office to mail three packages. The screen the Clerk was using kept blanking out and it took five times as long as the eternity it takes anyway at the post office to pay $81.00 to mail stuff.

I kept calling Storage Squad. I never got a person. I never was able to reschedule the delivery. I prayed no one would take this box that was going to be left on the stoop of Carter’s building.

I went to DA. The papers were all waiting for me. I gave the talk, the kids were great.

I went to Thai Cafe to secure a big table and check to see if they had coconut cake. They did.

Lynn and the birthday group arrived and we had a wonderful time, even if the two waiters who took our picture couldn’t get it right. Here is the unedited version so you can see what a nice photo we have of a table with two pitchers on it.

Carter got back to her apartment and got the box.

All that sleepless worrying was for naught. Now I am exhausted. I am going to bed early tonight, with the right pillows and an Aleve PM. I am not taking any chances, but next birthday get together I am going to take the pictures so I know everyone is looking at the right camera at the right time, in frame and in focus.

Channeling My Inner Father-in-law

My father-in-law is a world class gift wrapper, followed by a professional package assembler. If you ever get a box in the mail from him everything is perfect wrapped, with protection to keep bows fluffy and air pillows holding everything in place so no shifting/crushing will take place, no matter what gorilla is delivering it.

I have received many a gift wrapped in bubble wrap, placed inside a gift box, wrapped in gift paper, adorned with two kinds of ribbons and bows, placed inside a sturdier box, wrapped in a plastic bag for wet protection, wrapped in more bubble and placed inside a reinforced card board box. He really should work for Waterford Crystal. If a gift called for it, I am certain he would carve foam to perfectly fit the item and the box. Thankfully I try and never request a breakable gift fearing the amount of work that would go into the wrapping.

Carter left a few things at home that I promised I would mail her. They were a mixed bag. One was a very heavy cutting board. Another was a delicate large sign and the rest were kitchen items and two sweaters. All together it would be much to heavy to go in one box and I feared the cutting board would crush everything else.

So I channeled my father-in-law, Marty and created a custom sized box for the cutting board in one parcel, another custom box for the sign and all the rest in a third box with all the sharp knives wrapped in bags and put inside a second box. Marty would be proud of my effort although it still didn’t match his in that my taping was not as precise as his.

Wrapping and sending boxes is a lost art. I would rather let Amazon do the work for me, but then sometimes you have to send special stuff. At least when I wrap it and send it myself I can put a note and a surprise in the box.

Next up, the actual mailing. Oh Joys!

My Watch

I was an early adopter of the Apple Watch. I wanted it from the moment it was introduced, which was months before it was actually available. Russ is always thrilled if there is an Apple product I am interested in because that means he has a gift idea well before a gifting occasion. Every birthday and Christmas he quizzes me about the condition of all my Apple products. I don’t need the newest, so he is often disappointed when I say my five year old iPad still works perfectly and I don’t want a new one.

This summer my friend told me about the face of her Apple Watch falling off. Since I have had my watch since it was just called “Apple Watch,” (no version numbers when you are the first one) I was looking out for this issue. Sure enough, today as I was entering my password on the face after just putting the watch on I felt a little give on the face. I tried again and I could see the face move. Shoot. I love my original Apple Watch.

Russ made an appointment with the Genius Bar. I knew how this was going to go. My very old watch is years out of warranty and the cost to fix was probably higher than a newer version would cost. We entered the Apple store and it was like Noah’s ark with pairs of every race and nationality on earth waiting in the store. Eventually a non-genius came to help us. I was right. No need to fix it. Russ was sorry it hadn’t broken in November, when he could justify a new watch as a Christmas present.

I thanked the guy and told Russ I would do my best to baby my watch and hope it holds out. Russ wanted to look at the new watches on display. I was shocked that my stainless steel watch, which was the cheapest version when I got it is now a very expensive version, $300 more than the aluminum version, but still cheaper than titanium or ceramic. I quit paying attention at that point.

I hate that I love this watch so much. I had stopped wearing a watch when I stopped working until the Apple Watch came along and now it is hard to go down to the kitchen and get iced tea in the morning without my watch on. Damn you Apple for making me love you.

Home Again, Home Again, Gigitty Gig.

I love a good trip. I just spent four days in the mountains with my Mom, Aunt and Uncle. My mother has gone on this trip every year for years, but now I am included to be the driver.

My summer travels were few this year as I chose to stay home and work on my house instead. So a little fall travel is making up for my lost summer. It is just harder to go away in the fall because fall is really the start of the new year and there are things to do, as opposed to summer when being away is normal.

Whether it’s spring, summer, fall or winter when I go away I am always happiest to come home. It doesn’t matter if I was on the best trip to Italy or Paris, or Paris, Texas I am always ready to come home to my own bed, my puppy and my family. Even if my family was with me on the trip.

This week Russ had a big work week so Shay went to stay with her caretaker, Mary. Shay loves to visit Mary. There are almost always other dogs visiting Mary too and Shay has buddies to play with. Even though Mary reports that Shay sleeps with her, Shay comes home exhausted.

Today we both were tired from being away. I picked her up from Mary’s and she jumped up on my bed at home and we took a nap together. No one was home to catch us napping. It was the perfect refresher.

Then Russ came home and took me out to dinner. What a wonderful way to renter life at home. No wonder I love coming home after a trip.

I Love My Aunt Edie

When I was little I always thought my Aunt Edie was the coolest Aunt. She was a successful woman in the sixties in New York which was so different than the other grown women I knew, who were all just mothers. She had interesting friends and travelled which is all I ever wanted to do.

Sadly she was busy and I got busy and I just didn’t get to spend much time with her as a I got older. She and my Uncle Bill moved to Florida and raised their three sons there. Every once in a while I would see Edie at my Grandmother’s or when she might visit my mother, but it wasn’t much.

As luck would have it I am seeing her three times in the space of five weeks. Russ, Carter and I visited Eddie and Bill one night a few weeks back. Now I have been with them with my mother for four days and at the end of the month we are all going to Edie and Bill’s youngest son, Winston’s wedding.

I have treasured this time. Her sense of humor and her faith make her a delight to spend time with. Today we went to the BRAHM museum in Blowing Rock. She and I got to laughing about some of the commentary on the paintings as we found the same comments on middle-aged women hysterical. Edie always makes sure you never miss the sunset as she appreciates the beauty of this great earth so much.

I am so thankful to have gotten this time with her, though it makes me a little sad for all the years we didn’t spend time together. I am going to have to make sure this changes.

Changing September 11th

The whole country mourns on September 11th. It is a day that will always be sad in my lifetime, but now for more than just the horrible attacks, but because it is the day my mother’s second sister Susan passed away last year. When it happened I didn’t really register that it was September 11th, mostly because I didn’t expect it to happen. But now, a year out, the day of national and personal mourning merges into one.

My dear boarding school roommate, Nancy, lost her brother Peter on the same day a year ago. It makes it hard just think about your own loved one when the whole country is thinking about the big communal loss we suffered together.

It helped to remember Susan today by being with my mother and my Aunt Edie, the youngest sister. My mother was only two years older than Susan so they shared lots of the same memories. Edie is ten years younger so she does not always know all the names of every person my mother wants to talk about from her childhood. Nonetheless, Edie has been so good to my mother and I am glad they were together today.

It wasn’t that it was a day of sadness as much as a day of togetherness. We had a lovely breakfast and Edie and mom did a little shopping and I got to sit on the porch with Uncle Bill enjoying the Mountains. Uncle Bill is 90, but you wouldn’t know it. I said to him after lunch, as we walked to the car, “You have good eye sight, great hearing, a fabulous memory, we should study you.” And he followed up with, “And a great head of hair.” I guess I should have started with, “a wonderful sense of humor.”

We had lunch outdoors and the a nice walk and time sitting in chairs by a beautiful lake. Afterwards Edie drove us around to see the gorgeous houses with the best mountain view’s and we went back to the house to play bridge. Before we played Edie and Mom called Susan’s husband Hank and everyone said how much they missed and loved Susan. It was a good day of remembrance, one I was glad to be included in.

Driving Miss Janie

My mother is independent. She likes to go where she wants to go and when she wants to go and with whom she wants to go. At over 80 she does fairly well with all this going, as long as she is going in good light. Her eyesight sometimes has trouble, especially in darkness. You can plan on driving in the daytime to have light, unless there is a big storm and then sometimes it gets dark, even in the daytime.

Her sister Edie and her husband Bill come to North Carolina and stay for a few months every summer and my mother likes to visit them. It’s a good three plus hour drive for my mother to get to the mountains to their house. This year I volunteered to drive, just in case there was a rain storm in the day time.

Going on a trip with my mother is always a learning experience for me. I get to hear many stories about her childhood, a favorite topic, followed up by the second favorite topic, questions for me about technology. Coming in a close third is the stock market.

Today’s trip followed the usual pattern. I learned information about relatives three, four and five generations back from me. We talked all about all her childhood neighbors which included my mother quizzing her much younger sister about her recollections about said neighbors. A new bit of information I learned is that they had a one next door neighbor family who they hated. The details about why were sketchy, but it involved dogs pooping in the wrong yards and they neither my mother, nor Aunt could remember exactly whose dogs were at fault.

My favorite technology portion of the day was when my mother thought she could lock her car with just her finger. She does have a car that has a capability to do that as long as you have the key nearby, but my mother thought she really only needed her finger. Unfortunately her key was inside the house. No magic finger on my mother.

Then we did discuss the stock market, a topic my Aunt is also and expert in. It makes me nervous when my mother tells me she is in risky stuff, but she assured me she can ride out ups and downs. I guess she is planning on sticking around at least another fifteen years.

I guess am going to have to be driving her a lot more, and carrying the key so she can lock the door with just her finger. Some technology conversations just don’t stick, not like family folklore stories.

Hope, Joy and Peace

With all the discourse in the world right now; Bahamian Dorian refuges who can’t get out of their devastated country because they don’t have a visa, North Carolina Outer Banks communities without power and the one road that connects them all together, all things Taliban and so on and so on, we need something unifying.

I am nominating this small squirrel, who stopped to smell the flower as the symbol of hope, Joy and peace we all need right now. The sight of this sweet animal enjoying our glorious world is what we all should be doing.

If it weren’t so hot, I would don a squirrel costume and go around with a giant yellow flower smelling it with the happiest look on my face just to spread good over evil. Of course if you saw me in a giant squirrel costume I am certain I would not elicit joy from people but perhaps concern.

So instead, enjoy this photo of the real life squirrel who has no idea all delight he is causing the world as he revels in the beauty of smelling a flower. The lesson for me is when there is so much crap all around you, stop and close your eyes and smell the flowers and enter the euphoric world God created for you.

My Sister, The Coach

Tomorrow is my sister Margaret’s birthday. This month she is going to finish her accreditation in coaching. Margaret has survived cancer and depression and has turned things around in her life with the help of a coach. She discovered that her true calling was to help other people who have big issues to find a better path to good things in their lives.

I am very proud of how she has changed her own path and discovered this talent for helping others by using her insight to draw people out. This is surprising to me in some ways, but not in others.

Margaret has done some amazing things in her life. Like when she was in her first semester at University of South Carolina freshman year she knew it was not the right place for her. Without telling our parents she went to visit Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, got her self admitted and came home at Christmas with all her belonging and told my parents she was transferring. It was a big thing to do on her own.

Later in life Margaret had a successful decorating business in Boulder and Telluride Colorado and Washington DC. She worked with celebrities and regular folk alike. When the likes of Wayfair came along it totally changed the decorating world. Suddenly the internet gave regular people access to decorating that had only previously been available through decorators. In many ways decorators are even more needed now, but the internet makes it harder for them to make money.

Margaret, knowing that decorating was not going to pay the bills, went back to school for coaching and has done an extraordinary job helping people already. If you or someone you know needs direction consider getting a coach.

Margaret is just one, but you can visit her website The Bright Life Coach with Margaret Carter. She has been able to take her life’s experiences and turn them into action plans for other people. I am thrilled that Margaret is starting her next year off on this exciting journey.

Happy Birthday to Margaret. Joy and Peace.

Making Money on Sharpie-Gate

In the category of “You can’t make this shit up” we have a Sharpie-Gate. We all know the story. 45 claims that hurricane Dorian is going to hit Alabama. Government hurricane officials say he was wrong. Dorian was not going to hit Alabama. 45 can’t stand being told he is ever wrong and not one to EVER admit any little or HUGE mistake someone took the hurricane map and used a SHARPIE to add Alabama to the cone of possibility.

I am not going to concentrate on the childishness of coloring on a map to make yourself seem right. That is nothing new. I am not going to concentrate on the thousands of fabulous memes that have been created with 45 and other Sharpie exaggerations. They speak volumes on their own.

No, I am going to point out that Newell Brands, the parent company of Sharpie had a nice little rise in its stock after Sharpie-Gate. Sharpies only make up a tiny portion of Newell Brands 200 products, from pens, to cookware, like Calphalon, Crockpot and Mr. Coffee, baby goods Graco, Rubbermaid and many more.

Under the old adage, all publicity is good publicity, Sharpie-Gate was good for Newell, thanks to 45. So when he says he is good for business, is this what he is referring to?

I think if you want to benefit from 45 you need to pay close attention to any gaffe and then invest in products that were involved in said gaffe. The products will get publicity and often that is good for the stock.

Sorry you have already missed the run up on Newell Brands, that is until 45 throws a Mr. Coffee across the Oval Office at some unsuspecting visitor. It would be interesting to know what stocks his children are invested in? Maybe Sharpie-Gate was on purpose.

Show Don’t Tell

For years my mother has been telling me about her great art students. It is no secret that my mother is a great artist. She has won more shows than there are walls to display her many ribbons and awards on, but I really had no way to judge how good an art teacher she was. The one thing I knew about her teaching was when she tried to teach me to play bridge back before I knew anything about bridge.

She had been chomping at the bit to get me to play so when I agreed that she could teach me this is the VERY first thing she taught me.

“The most important thing in bridge is to not miss bidding a slam if you have it.” If you don’t play bridge it will sound like Greek to you. At least that is how it came across to me.

“Wait, Wait, Wait Mom, how many cards do you get?” Teaching bridge was not her strong suit, pardon the pun.

So I extrapolated from that my grand master bridge playing Mom who was not a good bridge teacher so as an expert artist she might not be a great art teacher, but I never told her that.

Today I got an envelope in the mail with just one thing in it, a folded up page from the Danville Bee newspaper. It was a front page story about an art show of my mother’s students at the Danville Museum. No note was included. She was “showing” me what she had been “telling” me all these years. Apparently my mom is a great art teacher.

Good job mom. I am going to have to make a trip up to the Danville Museum to see your students work!

Stop Pre-Empting Regular TV

I don’t remember the local news taking over their stations and running all weather related non-stop talking heads during weather incidents all the time last century. Maybe I did not watch as much TV because I had a job or a life, but now whenever there is the slightest potential for some weather event the local channels stop running regularly scheduled shows and just talk about the weather ALL THE TIME. It is enough to make you absolutely crazy.

Here is the big issue. If you have electricity and cable then the weather has not gotten bad enough for you to need 24 hour a day weather information. If you lost your power or cable you need the Information, but don’t have a way to get it. Either way, we don’t need 24 hour, non-stop reporting on where it is raining.

Hurricane Dorian is passing over the edge of North Carolina right now. That is not good, but it is also far from me and our local TV stations don’t broadcast that far east. We don’t really need to cancel the National news to show some local newbie reporter standing in the rain telling us it is raining. There is more going on in the world. Perhaps 45 had colored on something with another marker.

If you are stuck at home in bad weather you might want to watch something that takes your mind off that bad weather and all news on the weather is not that. Please play regular TV at least 75% of the time and give us the weather news when there actually is a change. I’d rather watch old Law and Order reruns than a 23rd rehash of the track of the storm. But please people, be safe out there, don’t go anywhere, stay glued to your TV and the heads will tell you when it is safe to leave.

Hero Dentists

When I was five I was climbing the chain link fence that separated our house in New Canaan and the Quinn’s house so I could play Batman, Robin and Cat women with the Quinn boy’s. It was an on going game where we would fly out of their tree house on the zip line and run around singing, “Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Batman.” Lyrics in the sixties we’re so precise.

This particular day as I was going across the fence that was at least two feet over my head, my blue Ked’s “Tenny pump” slipped and I hit my front tooth hard on the metal fence and chipped it. Thankfully it was still a baby tooth.

About eight years later on the school bus I fell forward and hit the big tooth replacement on the metal bar at the top of the seat and chipped that tooth again.

About ten years after that on New Year’s Eve my first year out of college I chipped the other front tooth on a champagne bottle. Thankfully I had enough champagne not to feel it that night, but the next morning was a different story. I had a wonderful dentist in DC and he came in on New Years Day and fixed my two chipped teeth with a revolutionary new product called bonding. He kept the parts of the teeth I still had and added new material on to shape perfect teeth.

Over the years the bonding eventually gives way and has to be replaced. Unfortunately it happened yesterday when I was walking in the airport to our gate to fly home. I looked like I live in a place without dentists, but thankfully it didn’t hurt.

This morning my wonderful dentist Dr. Wagoner fit me and rebonded my tooth before lunch. Thank goodness for good dentistry and good practices that work you in when it really is an emergency.

I don’t think I have ever met a dentist I don’t like. You all are heroes to me. I have given up climbing chain link fences and riding on school busses and drinking champagne, but I still need to walk places. I’m not sure how much more careful I can be, but I will try.

Middler Year

For most of Carter’s high school friends this year is their Junior year. So many are going off to abroad programs or are planning on going in the spring. Carter’s path has been so different. She started abroad, and followed up in Boston with a second abroad program this summer. Since she is in a five year program, four of classes and one of Co-op’s working in real life jobs this year is a middler year.

Now that she is settled I am realizing that she is not going to be home much. She only gets two weeks at Christmas because Co-ops start the second of January. No spring break for working kids and the job goes until July or longer depending on her employer. It’s real life, living on your own, and working, except with the safety net of parents who help with rent.

Today we got to see her for a couple of hours before she was off to her school job. Russ utilized her apartment to work and I walked around Carter’s neighborhood. She has a beautiful reflecting pool and plenty of green space near by. Tomorrow classes start and I won’t hear a word, maybe a text. At least I know the things she will be seeing as she goes about her days. Her middler days.