Doodle

About the same time I brought home a new package of markers, a great friend phoned and we chatted for a looooong time. One thing led to another et voila!

Another Creative Outlet

My Mom and sisters have been bugging me to post pictures of some of the jewelry I make, so here ya go. . . .

Mr. Wizard is Gone

For those of us who grew up in the 1950s and 60s, television was an extraordinary new thing and a total mystery. Howdie Doody, the Mickey Mouse Club, Captain Kangaroo, and Romper Room were totally enthralling to our impressionable, young minds. Mr. Wizard, however, was way cooler. He actually explained things like why grass is green, how sodas get their fizz, and why humans can't fly. He showed us how to run our own experiments at home without endangering life or limb. Even if an experiment failed during the live broadcasts, his enthusiasm and gentle manner were such that kids actually learned! Mr. Wizard, a.k.a. Don Herbert died at home on June 11th at the age of 89. Not only was he a war hero, having earned the Distinguished Flying Cross in World War II, but he was a hero and inspiration to kids everywhere. Rest in peace, Mr. Wizard.

Time for a Reality Check

When will The Shrub realize that his loyalties are, at the very least, misguided. Has his pig-headed-ness totally blinded him to reality or is he really that stupid when it comes to the U.S. Attorney General, Alberto Gonzales?? The prez and his vice prez let Scooter Libby be hung out to dry, so I'm thinking loyalty to Gonzales the man isn't part of this scenario. Political expediency is the game they're playing and it may well backfire on the very party they're trying to promote. Blindly and blithely following one failed policy after another diminishes their credibility around the world and reflects badly on the American People. Owning up to one's failures and attempting to correct them are signs of maturity and intelligence. I'm afraid those qualities are lacking at the White House. Members of Congress are as disillusioned as most of the general populace. They're torn between party loyalties and common sense. No one wins in this stalemate. The ball is in the president's court and he won't even come to the game.

Gratuitous Cuteness

Small World

In the grocery store today I was stopped by a young woman who said she knew me. I apologized because I didn't remember her. When she asked what kind of work I do, I mentioned my years working for the local chapter of the American Red Cross. Her eyes brightened and she asked my name. Turns out she was one of the 100-150 high school students selected to attend annual Red Cross Youth Leadership Development Conferences (LDC) in the 1990s. We commiserated over one, particularly memorable conference at Hood College in Frederick, MD. The temperatures were over 100 for five days and dropped into the breezy 70s the day we left. Hood is a picturesque, historic college, therefore without air conditioning (back then) except in a newer classroom building. The opening session in the chapel nearly knocked us all out -- the windows didn't open. When it ended and we stepped outside, 104 actually felt cool!! As a workshop facilitator, I was expected to be fresh and energetic every day to keep the kids enthusiastically involved in learning about teamwork, values clarification, group dynamics and other skills useful to budding leaders. Every evening was spent chaperoning pool parties or movies -- THEN preparing for the next day's activities while keeping one eye peeled for dorm escapees. Sleep was impossible because the rubber covered dorm mattresses felt like they were on fire and big window fans were useless! Even though I started out a nervous wreck, every year when the last day came, everyone -- facilitators and kids alike -- hugged and cried because it was over. I couldn't have told you my middle name at that point, but at least, according to this young woman, LDC made a positive impact. What a joy to be validated after all these years!! Thank you, Denise -- you made my day!

House vs. Home

When these terms became interchangeable, I don't know, but it irritates me. A house is a structure in which a home may be established by the people who occupy it. Late in 1999, my husband and I purchased a condo in a ritzy building in an upscale neighborhood here in DC. It really wasn't our style, but the olympic-size pool and other amenities blinded me (but not my husband) to the stodgy, snooty people who lived there. The population was largely older, wealthy, white people. To give you an idea of what this meant, condo rules disallowed cooking odors escaping into the halls or through an open window. Befriending the doorman, I also learned that residents complained when, walking down a hall, they detected the sound of someones TV or music. If only I'd listened to the little voice in my head that kept shouting "don't do it, it isn't for you!" before and after we closed. Walking away from the lawyer's office, spouse was totally disheartened and angry that we went through with it. My churning gut made voicing hopefulness reeeeeeally hard. But my core optimist was determined to make it work. After all, buying a place was a good investment, right? We moved in two days after Christmas and moved out three days later. Thankfully the rent on our apartment was paid through the month, so we moved back into our home. Everyone we knew, including our realtors were shocked because the condo was bigger and so nice -- according to them. We were relieved to the point of tears to get back into the home we'd had for 9 years. Despite the exotic, unrecognizable cooking odors that occasionally seep into our apartment, the toddler down the hall who screams at all hours, college students giggling and yakking on their way back from classes and parties, we're home here. Residents actually talk with each other, sometimes with heavy accents because they work at World Bank or Pan American Health Organization, both in the neighborhood. The diversity of our neighbors is what keeps life interesting. That and we can watch the July 4th fireworks from our balcony! Ahh home sweet home. . . . .

Six Years and Counting

Now THIS is Worthy of True Panic

The definition of panic is when Saturday evening rolls around and you look at your 7-year-old son and realize that his left hearing aid (the one for his "good" ear) is no longer in his left ear, and you have no clue how or when it came out of that ear, and you know he has covered considerable territory during the day (picture one of the little maps drawn in Family Circus when one of the kids is to "go straight home"). All available flashlights are rounded up and used to comb the yard, the vehicles and the road ... to no avail. You skip church the next morning so you can spend the day taking said 7-year-old's bed apart as well as the rest of his room. Every toy box is emptied of its contents, the laundry gets fondled unmercifully, and you even look in the cat box. All shoes are shaken out and parts of the couch that have not seen day light in years are exposed. At one point you entertain the notion that the hearing aid may now be floating in your septic tank. THIS IS PANIC! In the mean time your overworked, much loved audiologist comes up with a loaner aid (Thank you, Jesus!!), which requires digging out every ear mold that has ever been made for your child in the past 6 years and finding one that will fit until said audiologist can make a new one. She discusses funding options for the purchase of a new $$$ aid with you and smiles sympathetically. Monday evening at around 8:15 you're in your ASL II class 1 1/2 hours from home with a deaf teacher who has just signed to the class, "No phone calls or talking until the break!!" Your phone vibrates in your purse pocket! You grimace. Then it proceeds to vibrate 10 more times in the span of about 10 minutes. You're freaking out and having visions of one of your children dismembered and bleeding. You finally work up the courage to sign to the teacher that your husband has called 10 times in the past 10 minutes and that you're really worried and need to go and find out what's wrong. There's a voice mail on your phone, and you listen while your 14-year-old says in a sing-songy voice, "I found the hearing aid, I found the hearing aid." Laugh or cry, which? You start shaking with relief, call home and discover that the hearing aid was found out by the new swing set hubby had just erected a few days ago. It rained all day Sunday ... hmmm. You call the sympathetic audiologist who whoops with joy with you and says, "Well, it may require a repair, but you will probably not need to replace the whole thing." Life is good.

Time for more blots . . . .

These are actually sections of blots. Can't quite figure out what I see in them but I like the odd shadowing my scanner makes.

Great Falls Park

On the Maryland side of Great Falls is a path that carries walkers north of the lock house/museum between the Potomac and the C&O Canal. Usually, people like to walk the bridges that take them out to the falls. There's lots to see in the other direction, too.

Only the beginning. . . ..

. . . .summer fruits are on their way. These apricots were so gorgeous I just had to share. We've waited a long time for fresh apricots, so these probably won't survive past today.

Security

Didn't want to end the week on an unpleasant note, so here's one of my favorite shots of my nephew/godson Alex. His dad is a little shy about showing his face online, but I think you can see that he's a great guy and a loving dad.

Don't get me started!

A new neighbor in our rental apartment community left an anonymous message on my car in our parking garage. Seems he has trouble parking his oversized SUV and wants me to park my car somewhere else. Oh -- and to be sure I got the message, he printed it in extra large type and cc'd the parking management company. Here's my response: 1 June 2007 To the Anonymous Truck Owner: Kindly take responsibility for your choice to purchase and drive a truck. Your inability to park it is not my concern. As for how often I move my vehicle; that is not your concern. And, please, don't talk to me of courtesy. My Honda has been damaged numerous times by careless truck owners opening their doors and hitting mine. I suppose there are advantages to driving oversized trucks and SUVs, though, living in the city, I can't imagine any. For ethical reasons, I plan to stay with my aging, small, fuel efficient car and, inasmuch as the only designated parking spots are for the handicapped, residential parking is still first come, first served. cc: (our parking management company)