Where are the picker bushes?

The news is something that just seems to be gloomier and doomier every hour of every day. The most disturbing news to me are the stories involving younger aged people who seem to have no regard for people or property. As most of us do I began thinking "what is going on?" Suddenly it hit me! The push to have landscaped yards has ruined our world as we know it ~ we're not using picker bushes!

Who among the 40 and up crowd doesn't remember getting caught in the picker bushes? Everyone seemed to have them near or around their porch and under their windows. If picker bushes were on the scene we didn't ring their doorbells and run away or even think of hunching under the windows to knock and run.

Now, our parents taught us to stay off the lawns of our neighbors and to say hello to them long before they said hello to us. We knew we weren't supposed to go sneaking around their property, but kids will be kids.

Picker bushes taught us something about boundaries and barriers and respecting others properties in a more emphatic way. If you dared cross that boundary eventually you would find yourself getting picked because surely you would fall in the bushes, get your clothes caught on them or, on the rare occasion, get snapped in the face with a branch. It reinforced what our parents and that generation of society agreed upon. Respecting others.

I say, Bring Back The Picker Bushes!

Go, Go, Gadget Car!

When I took my drivers training class in 1972, which was an actual semester class at my high school, my instructor was emphatic with one particular reminder. Driving was a serious privilege. We were to have nothing hanging from our mirrors, radios should be low if used at all. How lame! Sitting up straight with my hands at 10 and 2 was such puritanical thinking I can hardly believe it. Didn't they know all the wonderful multi-tasking I could accomplish?

Shoot, if you want you can pay bills, read a map, style hair, apply makeup, watch a movie, hold a conference call while driving through construction and enjoy a 3 course meal. Some people think it's okay to try to drive like Danica Patrick. Who are "they" to tell us otherwise?

In my fantasy world, I have a GO, GO, Gadget Car. I don't care about luxury so much, nor about prestige of the type of vehicle own. I long, however, for a safe commute to work and for everyone to get out of my way when I'm trying to hurry. Is that to much to ask?

How we drive reveals a lot about us, I'm afraid. There are days that I'm kind and considerate on the road. Then there are days we're better off not discussing. :) But most days, I just want a car that will allow me to police everyone else around me and make them follow the rules of the road. Since I can't boss anyone around or control other peoples lives, I just want a little vengeance once in a while.

For instance, the other morning I was driving my son to work when I ended up behind a classic older car. Classic meaning big boat type...impenetrable by most things. He was swerving constantly and I could see on occasion as he lifted his arm that he was either reading a text or texting back. Swaying and swerving constantly made me keep a distance and remain even more alert. Finally I dropped my son off and proceeded onto my commute. Not to long after, I was behind another vehicle whose brake lights would constantly flash on and off for no apparent reason. The driver wasn't close to anyone ahead and I kept a safe distance behind. Driving anywhere from 10 mph below the speed limit to 15 mph over the limit was extremely irritating, to say the least. I thougth for a moment it was another tweeter when I noticed some arm moving and constant fidgeting. The dome light would flash on and off and on and off....finally I realized that I was driving behind a talented make-up artist who was working very hard at getting just the right cheek line.Where are all those GO, GO, Gadget options on this car?? I would just bump other drivers out of my way, safely of course, but not have to worry about them bumping me or slowing me down. I would simply have a Go, GO, Gadget arm that would reach right into their cars and take their phones, maps, books and make-up bags and put them away. On occasion I would be required to be a little more authoritative and stop them in their tracks with my GO, GO, Gadget drill that would reach over and remove a tire without injury. Just get them out of my way.

I would just love to have a neon sign that I could talk into which would flash them a scolding message expletive free of course! So to all you Texter, Tweeters and Indulgent Eaters, be aware!




What do you think, Santa?










*All Pics Googled*

Tradition!

If you're a lover of musicals you may recall Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof singing all about Tradition. While I haven't really lived a life with many traditions, I find at times that I yearn for things that seem familiar and comfortable.

The older I get I seem to be drawn to a nostalgic urging that dictates my purchases when it comes to things like Christmas cards and ornaments. There was great joy in the past, at least in my way of thinking. Facebook may be part of this nostalgic feeling as I am not only connected to all of my siblings who are near and far, but now the neighbors we grew up with are once again in our circle of life. It's a very fond reconnect.

So, Thanksgiving morning I rose a bit early though I really didn't have to. I would be preparing dinner for just my son and me. Invitations had been given but declined and so it gave me the gift of solitude which is a gift I don't get as often as I'd like. But, I guess if I had the gift often it wouldn't feel like much of a present, now would it?

Anyway, the turkey had been thawing and I had all the preparations for our "traditional" dinner. Scaled back, mind you, but not forgoing the favorite dishes of years gone by. I was setting things up for the day, pulled the bird out of the fridge to begin roasting and of course had to go a'huntin for the innards. Why do they hide those things anyway? First I opened the neck area and pulled the neck out, followed by the packet of organs in the bag inside the rear. How many times have you cooked the turkey without pulling out that bag? No? Ok, just asking, cuz.....

I had a little pot with water in it and tossed in the neck and the innards and put it on the stove at the lowest heat possible. I said to my dearly departed mother "this one's for you". This was the way Mom always cooked the innards and then would use them in either the gravy or sometimes chopped up in the stuffing. She liked the neck, and sometimes she indulged in sampling it while we all appropriately screamed out "eeewwwww".

I'm not sure why I cooked these parts because I never used them. It just felt right to have them in their place on the stove. It was comforting to see them simmering there and think of Mom throughout the day with visions of Thanksgiving's gone by. Seeing those innards on the stovetop gave me a chance to have another thanksgiving in my heart for my Mom and Dad and the years of holiday dinners that made me feel safe, loved and happy. I'm thankful that I carry around years of good memories of a home life that was comforting to me in so many ways.

Tradition!

*All Pics Googled*

Waiting to Exhale

Driving around Michigan, at least around the metro area of Detroit, can be quite a nail-biting experience. I know that everyone says their metro area has the absolute worst traffic problems but I think Detroit is a classic. First of all, the first stretch of freeway ever constructed was in the Detroit area, and drivers have been speeding here ever since. The dilemma for many Detroiters' is that we have absolutely no transit system to speak of. Oh, there are buses that run periodically but nothing you could count on for a quick trip to work. Some folks have to rely on the bus system as their only mode of transportation but they would tell you that it leaves so much to be desired it's nearly impossible to believe it would ever improve. For example, where I live is seven miles off the last exit of a bus line and I don't live in the country! That means I would have to drive a car and park it in a lot, which isn't a bad idea, and then catch a bus that runs straight down 15 Mile Rd., which would get me very close to my work. But it zigs and zags and stops for a cigarette break every 30 minutes or so.

So that takes me back to my title. When I get in my car to take my daily jaunt to work I unknowingly hold my breath about all the way. In the midst of my lung inflation I do find a few moments to let a little air out when I'm wondering aloud how that moron got his license and why is there never a cop around to see what I see???

Arggggggg. I'll always be waiting to exhale.

(Thank you, veterans.)

Dancing To The Stars

Do you know what today is? It's October 3rd and one of the most special dates in my memory bank. October 3rd was the date I took my first ballet/tap lesson as a young girl. I begged my parents for months to let me take lessons after I had attended my neighbors recital. I was immediately bitten! Of course, I was dancing long before I took lessons but this was the real deal! I wanted to be under the lights,wearing beautiful costumes and moving gracefully to music that moved my soul.

Being one of nine children is one of the things I love most about who I am, but when it came to being able to participate in extra curricular activities being one of nine was often our nemesis. What seemed like a perfectly normal request became a major proposition to gain approval for my lessons. "Miss Joan" taught in her home in our neighborhood. She was really a phenomenal teacher in more ways than I can count. By teaching in her home, she gave opportunities to hundreds of little prima donna's that went through her back door and down the stairs in hopes of becoming a star. When I began my lessons with her, they were only $1.00 per week, but that dollar meant a lot to my parents who were already stretching a budget tighter than glad wrap on a bowl of leftover goulash. They simply didn't have it to give, but still found a way. They even asked me if I was still interested in taking lessons if it meant I couldn't participate in the recital due to costs. I answered with a resounding "yes!" as my heart sang, "Gotta Dance".

So there I was on October 3rd, in my pink tights and black leotard standing swayback at the ballet bar with 10 other swayback ballerinas. I didn't have ballet shoes yet as it wasn't in the budget, but it didn't matter. From my first plie' to my last releve, I was hooked. This first lesson began many years of dancing that took me through my high school graduation and beyond. Nine recitals followed that first lesson and I was able to participate in every one of them. My first pair of ballet shoes were a Christmas gift that year that sealed my fate. Eventually I began to earn money to help pay for my lessons and dancing shoes I needed by babysitting as much as I could. My mother spent countless hours from year one through year nine sewing thousands of costumes to help keep the costs down too. I can still see her under her spotlight hunched over her sewing machine that was whirring late into the night making sure every stitch was just right.

Those lessons took me a long way into life by giving me an appreciation for music and dance I might otherwise have never known. Miss Joan taught us poise, grace and to smile no matter what steps your feet might be missing. That's a lesson to be used in daily life, isn't it?

No matter what your circumstances are, no matter where you are in life,


"The Show Must Go On."

Bugged!

Last Saturday as I started out on a short road trip to pick up my niece an hour away, I unwillingly picked up a passenger. I was sitting at a red light waiting for the light to change so I could turn onto the freeway when suddenly a small, black-winged creature landed on my windshield wiper. I quickly turned on my blades to see if the bug would fly off before I entered the freeway but he insisted on hanging on. Okay bug, I thought, you're gonna die!

The light turned green and off I went like a Nascar contender. I drove down the entrance ramp and smoothly melded into the stream of traffic as if I'd been there all along. My eyes glanced down every 30 seconds or so and noticed that my little companion was still there. Suddenly it seemed he was waving at me to let me know he was still alive and well. He was taunting me as he would cautiously move around while hanging on precariously. I sped up and darted around my slower counterparts in an effort to make this little rebel give up and let go! He was downright bugging me!! At some point the traffic became a bit more intense and required my undivided attention and maybe eight to ten minutes passed before I thought of him again. The next time I glanced down I noticed that he was thrusting himself forward with his itty, bitty face in the wind acting as if his wings were long, silky flowing hair. By this time I was really quite amazed to realize that at approximately 73 mph my passenger was braving the elements with gusto. My heart began to turn and I felt a bit like the Grinch when he was whipping Max the dog. Just as the Grinch had a change of heart, I too felt differently toward my little companion. Now I was urging him to hang on and survive. As if a miracle of sorts was being performed right in front of my eyes! How was this possible that this creature could not only survive the ride of his life but move around to gain a more comfortable position or a stronger grip?

I let up on the accelerator and began willing my pal to move so I could see that he was alive. Soon the other vehicles seemed foreign to me as I moved through traffic like I was lost in a dream. The others were darting around me and probably cursing my presence while I just continued to urge my pal to hang on. His heart was pounding like crazy. Did I really see it beating or just imagine that I had? Thankfully I was approaching a rest stop and decided to pull over. I just had to see if my buddy was alive.

Parking in the first parking space available I turned off my car and watched my buddy with bated breath. What seemed like an hour was in reality about sixty seconds. One by one, he moved his legs off the wiper blade and shook them out almost as if he were waking a sleeping limb. He went around his body until it seemed all 8 legs were functioning and had blood pumping back through them. His two front legs rubbed together for quite some time and then he fluttered his wings a bit. Now, as a proud peacock shows off his full plumage, my pal strutted around the windshield stretching his wings and shaking his legs again. This went on for approximately five full minutes and when he just launched into what looked like the "hokey pokey" I finally realized he was just bugging me even more and planned to make this a permanent relationship!

I flicked my windshield wipers and sent my nemesis flying away and off I went to pick up my real passenger of the day.

That's the last bug that will get a free ride from me!

Call Me Crazy!

"Your call is very important to us. Please remain on the line for the next available operator." Trying to accomplish a few things at my desk while waiting on the line for some assistance from AT&T allowed me to think back to the olden days, or at least what were the olden days for me. Good old Ma Belle. It seems to me not all that long ago that you could contact the phone company, or any utility company for that matter, and speak to a real live person. Usually you were assisted in a timely manner and given the answers you needed. They may not always have been the answer you wanted, but it certainly answered the question you had.


Fast forward to our fast paced world where we get to hurry up and wait. Every utility company starts out with the same recording that your call is important, but due to the unusually high call volume you may be waiting on hold for an undetermined amount of time. If you'd like you can visit their website to take care of some of your requests but otherwise you may hold. So we wait. We really want to talk to a person in hopes of getting clarity, resolution and satisfaction. That's quite a wish list, isn't it??


As I tap my pen waiting for the next available operator I glance at the timer on my phone. Gee, five minutes have passed. Finally a male answers the phone and thanks me profusely for my business and wants to know how he can help me. I tell him that I'd like to get a detailed call history for my bill and wonder why I can't find it on the website. He doesn't know how to do that and will give me to the department that will help me get the pages that I want, but asks me if he's answered all my questions today. Not really, I think but go ahead and pass me on. Please hold on and thanks again, he says, for my business! I'm put into the next queue. Why is it that you can't be connected immediately to someone when you've already done your time in the prior holding pattern? I've never understood that. It just seems more confusing than ever.

Do you really think they're scrambling to answer all the incoming calls like we do at our smaller business? Are they concerned that someone may be left on hold for an inordinate amount of time? Or is it a smoke or coffee break time? Hmmmm...

Operator number two answers and begins her speel by thanking me for calling and asks how she can help me. I explain that I am trying to find or receive a detailed call history for my phone bill. It doesn't come with the bill automatically any longer and I am trying to determine if there is a way I can cut down on the cost of my phone. She clicks around while I sit quietly waiting. Next she asks me to please hold while she checks on this for me. Tick, tick, tick. The counter on my phone says I've been on this call a total of 12 minutes now. The operator comes back on the line, apologizes for the wait and says she's trying to find out how I can get the information I seek. She will be right back.

Humming some little tune to keep myself relaxed, I continue to wait. She is back to say that she will connect me to another person who will take my information so they can send me the pages I want and that it will cost me $5.00 per page. Huh??? I have to pay for this information? Yes, I do. I ask again as to why I can't find out this information on their website. "Please wait, I'll check again." Humm, humm, humm.

The third time I speak to the operator she says that they in fact, do have a department that will help walk me through the internet website so I can find my call history. Like the original customer service representative, she doesn't know how to help me with that either. I wonder why this is a secret on the website? Have I overlooked a simple direction? Evidently not, as there is a whole deparment waiting to walk me through this passage. She offers to transfer me yet again and I explain to her that the time has passed (it's now been 20 minutes) for me to move on and is there a direct number that I can call. She gives me that number which I will use as soon as I have another 20 minutes to kill.

Ain't progress wonderful?