Final Post

Ninety plus one, that's how many posts I will have written by concluding with this one.  It seems like a strange number to end on, but today's photo will be the only one I haven't yet shown on my blog.  The purpose of this entire project was to share my photographs of a variety of sea glass and beach rocks with people who find joy in such things.  Along the way, I hope you have found something relatable, funny, encouraging, or helpful in the text of these posts.  Even if while reading them you said to yourself, "She's a little weird", I appreciate that!  Writing should evoke some kind of response, and I'll take what I can get.  To those of you who left comments, you kept me going when I thought I'd never make it to 91 posts.  You gave my blog purpose.  I was writing for you.  Thank you.  May you also find the help you need to reach your goals, and when that happens, keep going.  Make new goals.  Never stop.  There's so much to do on this big ball of earth, and not a whole lot of time to do it in, so enjoy it, and help others to do the same.

"Lake Michigan Hearts" represents the love I've had for sharing my thoughts and feelings with you.  Hopefully, I'll find some time to create more photos for more posts in the future.  As for now, may all the joy that God wants you to have, be yours.

Second Story Snow

From the second story of our one hundred eleven year-old house, the falling snow looks especially beautiful.  It's just as I imagined it would be.  For some reason, I was excited to see this year's first snowflakes from a different vantage point than usual.  Most times, it seems, the first snow occurs either overnight while I'm sleeping, or in the car driving home from somewhere.  Now and then, it happens right before my eyes as I'm looking out of a window from the kitchen or living room, but it's been decades since I've lived in a two story house, so I have no recollection of winter's first flurries being seen from upstairs.  Up here, the few remaining leaves, on their snow-soaked branches, add a second rhythm to the dance of wind blown snow.  Instead of being grounded with each flake's final destination, from this upstairs bedroom, I'm part of the journey.  No two snowflakes are the same, neither is their fall.  Swirling, blowing, dropping heavily or barely at all, the silent song of snow from my new view fills me with peace.  Downstairs from my front door, rather than appreciating the beauty, annoyance creeps into my thoughts.  I do not like driving on snow-covered roads.  The constant need to shovel the driveway and sidewalks also makes the white stuff less appealing.  For the next four months, getting ready to leave the house will be a routine of drudgery; does anyone enjoy having to don the boots, coat, scarf, and gloves?  Maybe, but I don't.  So, before the negative side of the "s" word overtakes the blessings of living in a state where we can experience the beauty of freshly fallen snow, I'm going back to my upstairs window to remember how this post started. 

There's no match up for this photo with my post today.  It's called, "Sea Glass Fish", and it's the second-to-last one I have.  Tomorrow will be my last picture and post until I can start photographing again.

Stuffing Stuff

Up the stairs, down the stairs.  Up the stairs, down the stairs.  Up to my "office", down to the toaster.  Not being the best manager of time and multitasking, I've paired making homemade stuffing with writing today's post.  Yes, I'm aware of the availability of bread cubes in bags, ready to dump into a pan, but I've always thought my mom's recipe, with stale toast torn into pieces, tasted so much better.  Sure, it takes a long time to toast enough bread for 10 guests-worth of dressing, especially with a two-piece toaster, but I'm making it a day ahead.  As I looked online to see if my end product would be just as good made early, as it would if made the same day, I noticed something.  My mom's recipe is different from everything else I saw.  I know it was her mother's recipe, and it makes me curious as to the origin of it all.  Instead of using broth, Mom's recipe calls for milk.  So there's no broth, and also, no eggs.  It's just butter, onion, celery, sage, salt, pepper, torn toast, and milk.  I've been making it for years and didn't even know it was unique.  At this stage in my life, that matters to me.  It's comforting to think how, with a passed down recipe, my family's families will be enjoying the same flavors upon their taste buds as our ancestors did.

Named, "September Jewels", I chose this photo because, to me, an old family recipe is, indeed, a jewel.

Phoenix Street Cafe---More Than Meets the Eye

If you've ever traveled to South Haven, Michigan, I hope you had the chance to dine at Phoenix Street Cafe.  If you haven't, I hope you will.  You may be thinking I'm offering free advertising because of the delicious food and friendly service, but you're wrong.  While those are true critiques, my motive for writing about this lovely restaurant rests in my knowledge of its owners, the Marcoux family.  You see, beginning in November, and throughout the winter, these special people provide dinner, with dessert, for the less fortunate citizens of our town, every Thursday night.  They actually go through all the steps of preparing the food, packing it up, and taking it to the First Congregational Church, for free.  It's called the "Phoenix Street Supper".  Various community members do the greeting, serving, and clean-up, and are also allowed to partake in the evening's fare, because the amount of food donated is so generous.  There is a lot of food, and the menu is never the same.  Tonight we served baked chicken, mashed garlic potatoes, green beans, salad, dinner rolls, and brownies.  The church provides the beverages and decorated tables, so kudos to those fine people, as well.

The townspeople of South Haven are blessed to have the Marcoux family.  They set the bar pretty high for other business owners here, and I can honestly say that there are some who follow suit.  Isn't it nice to see mankind in such a light?  May they be blessed.

The title of this photo is, "Mixed Sea Glass".   Pairing a picture to my post is getting more and more difficult, as I am down to just four compositions left that I haven't used, so this one is a bit of a stretch.  I chose it because we served mixed greens in the salad tonight.  (Oh, brother.)

Unlearning to Drive

Picture your life without driving.  To complete this image, bear in mind that I didn't say to picture your life without a car, or without the ability to drive, you still know how.  Visualize your car in your garage, and your driver's license in your purse or wallet, but here's the clincher; your keys have been hidden from you.  First, they were taken away, and then they were hidden.  Even though you've never had a speeding ticket or an accident with your car, you've been told you are no longer allowed to drive.  What hurts even more is that the person saying this to you isn't an enemy or a stranger; it's your spouse or grown children.  If you can imagine how you would feel to be the victim of such a scenario, with the betrayal fresh in your mind, turn it around and consider how it would affect you to be the one causing the hurt.  If you could hear me now, my heavy sigh would give away which role I play.  It's not always easy doing what's best for the ones you love, and if they can no longer remember how to get home from one block away, be ready to cause some grief.  My loved one is grieving for her loss of driving rights.  It's like losing a dear old friend.  Being a part of this makes me sad.

This photo is called, "Glass Mountain".  I've read that faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain, so I'll just keep praying.

Pandora

When I saw an ad for Pandora, I didn't want anything to do with it.  After all, Pandora's Box is an ancient Greek myth that scared me as a kid; why would I pursue it now?  That just shows how out of touch I was with what's available in free apps.  Now, here I sit with an early Christmas present from my hubby, a Samsung Galaxy Tablet, and I am lovin' it!  If you're reading this, you probably already have Pandora on your iPad or Android.  I'm wishing I would have used it much sooner; it's awesome!  Songs I thought I'd never get to hear again are at the touch of a finger.  It's like building and running my own radio station, except I don't have to please an audience---just myself!  At this very moment, I'm listening to "soothing sounds radio".  With the occasional cry of a loon, combined with classical piano music and violins, the word "verklempt" comes to mind.  When I'm not writing, and I feel like singing, I go to love songs, 60's, 70's, and 80's hits, praise and worship, or Christmas radio songs.  I can add more to that list anytime I want, and then hit "shuffle" for a mixture of them all.  If an app had any physical weight to it, I'd say this one is worth it's weight in gold, but it weighs nothing, and it costs nothing.  Pandora Internet Radio.  Priceless pleasure.

This one is called, "Spring Dance".  I've got just the thing for that!

Halloween Dilemma

Did I say 600 trick-or-treaters?  That was yesterday's forecast, before the downpour of candy collectors came to our door.  We were prepared for exactly that number, as it was on the high side of what we had been told to expect.  As it turned out, we ran out of treats after only one hour and twenty minutes, meaning we had forty minutes left before the goblins would end their mission.  My husband and I had no choice but to do the unthinkable: turn off the lights and hide. We felt a little guilty watching from the dark corners of our three-seasons porch, but it was kind of fun, and what else could we do?  The sidewalk crossing our driveway was so crowded, that for safety's sake, we didn't dare hop in the car for a quick trip to Walgreen's.  Even with the air becoming misty, there was a constant parade of costumes until 7:30.  I'm not sure that another bag of 300 would have been enough candy to satisfy the droves of people passing by.  I've never seen anything like it, not even in the summer traffic heading to the beach.  Surely, we weren't the only ones who underestimated the popularity of our street on Halloween night.  Perhaps the lesson here is, even though I didn't see a single trick-or-treater dressed as a bird, they may all want to remember that old saying, "The early bird catches the worm".  Still, judging by what I saw in the bags, I think they did okay.

Long ago, when I took this picture, I called it "Seven".  It relates to my post today, because I'm thinking that it might be a good idea to end the official "Trick-or-treating" time at 7:00 instead of 7:30! 

Trick-or-treat

There's only one hour left before we light our Jack-o-lanterns,  pour our cheap sale candy into a bowl, and perch ourselves at the front door of our porch.  Normally, I wouldn't publish buying something to give away that I don't even want to eat myself; that doesn't put me in a very good light.  My husband and I have a reason for not buying the best, or even middle-grade Halloween treats.  You see, the history of past years indicates that we will receive from 300 to 600 trick-or-treaters tonight.  It's not that we live in a large city, but we have been told, by our neighbors, how busloads of families from other towns come here and disembark at the church on the corner.  Well, you guessed it; that corner leads straight down our road.  I'm not sure how many of our neighbors will answer their doors, or how many will "not be home" as they crouch low and out of sight pretending to be gone, but we love handing out treats.  I hope we will still feel that way by the end of the night.  I hope no one is disappointed in what we have to give.  Let's hope that the thrill of the hunt, along with getting to dress up and stay out late, will satisfy the needs of all who come our way.  I'll hope the same (no tricks) for you and your neighborhood, too.

Who doesn't count their candy when they get home?  This is called, "Count the Glass".  (Please no glass with the candy, though!)

My Kalamazoo Civic Theater Earworm

You know something has made an impression when it gives you an earworm.  According to Wikipedia, an "earworm" is described as a "stuck song syndrome".  If this has ever happened to you, then you know what I'm talking about.  I've never actually counted the number of days that any particular song has played over and over in my head, but I think I may be approaching upon a new record number with this latest tune.  I go to bed with it, wake up with it, and am cognizant of it throughout the entire day.  If I didn't know better, I'd say I was being paid back for saying, on my way to the theater, "There's no way I'll enjoy a civic production of Les Miserables as much as I loved the movie".  Well, even though the cast of the Kalamazoo Civic Theater's rendition of Les Mis consists of unpaid actors and actresses, their performance far surpassed my expectations.  Even now, I'm shaking my head and wondering why those talented singers are not richly famous somewhere.  Three days later, I'm still in awe.  Kudos to that fine group of men, women, and children for giving their God-given talents away for free.  If only I could get rid of this earworm.............. 

It was an easy choice today.  What would a stage production be without stage lights?  This beach glass picture is called, "Amber Lights".

Just Google It

The cover to our 1920's doorbell chime is missing.  How do I know it's from the 1920's if I don't know what it looks like?  Easy.  I Googled it.  In the same way that I found out how to make butternut squash soup and cheesy garlic biscuits, I used the internet to find a picture of what used to hang over our front door.  The vertical chime chambers are still there, so when I asked Google, "What do old doorbells look like?", I eventually found a picture that matched.  The size, and the "ding" sound when the doorbell is pressed in, followed by the "dong" sound when the button pops out, all fit the description I had clicked.  Even as I write my post each day, I usually end up going to Google with a punctuation or grammar question.  It seems that nothing is out of our reach when it comes to free information, and while I am grateful, there is another side to this phrase we have coined.  Had I not been able to "Google it", I would have called my mom or a friend and had an actual conversation regarding squash soup.  I would have gone to our small town library to look up old doorbells.  While there, I'm quite sure I would have experienced the social interaction that is lacking in the quick fix of Google.  So there you have it.  Quick and easy vs. the time consuming human side.  At least we have a choice.

Recently, a friend gave me her recipe for a special holiday treat, so my photo choice is this one called, "Sea Candy".

Treasures in Time

Some treasures are worth more than others; those that were lost, and are now found, are the best.  Timing plays a role in the value of such treasures.  When I was given a file folder containing eight handwritten pages of narratives concerning two disks of 132 family pictures, I am ashamed to admit, I put them aside for later.  That was in December of 2004, and today, almost nine years later, these ignored and forgotten treasures have resurfaced.  After reading through the pages, I could hardly wait to see the corresponding photos of relatives two and three generations before me.  Among them were bomber pilots, shop owners, and even a movie star. 

Not all of the photos were of people I never knew.  I recognized most of my loved ones, even in pictures of their younger days before I was born.  Then, there were the pictures of my siblings and myself with our parents.  It was really something to visit the places, people, and things of my past that I thought I would never see again.  This priceless treasure couldn't have come at a better time.  You see, the person who put it all together for me, even though it must have taken weeks to complete, doesn't remember doing it.  Thankfully, she does still know who I am, but when she no longer does, I won't have to depend upon my memory to recall when she could.

The song, "Like the Windmills of Your Mind" made me think of this photo called, "Sea Glass Windmill".

Furnace vs. Space Heaters

Where I live, natural gas for home-heating is much cheaper than using electric space heaters.  So why is this a matter of debate?  Maybe it isn't for you and yours, but for my husband and myself, it's constantly the subject of disagreement.  One of us feels that the only rooms that should be heated are the ones currently occupied, meaning, heat one or two rooms with space heaters while the rest of the house is cold.  The other believes in running the gas furnace at a reasonable temperature, deeming the space heaters unnecessary.  One way, less space heated means there is less money spent.  The other, while more space is heated, the actual cost is just a little more than the two room theory.  Plus, there's the added bonus of comfort, no matter where we go in the house.  I'm not going to say which preference is mine.  I'm not trying to be the "winner".  As usual, I'm just curious to know if anyone out there has the same discussion as often as we do.  If you have found an answer to the furnace vs. space heater dilemma, I'm open to suggestions and would love to hear from you.  Tomorrow's debate:  cool beans vs. warm ones.

"Stripes and Crystals" caught my attention for today's post, because I don't want to see any crystals forming on my windows!  Stay warm.

Thirteen Pictures

After counting the number of beach glass pictures remaining, that haven't yet been shared on this blog, I've come to a decision.  Starting next week, there will be no post on Wednesdays.  I only have 13 pictures left, and this plan would enable me to spread them out a little longer.  Believe it or not, photographing beach glass is not as easy as you may think.  It's difficult on many levels.  First, I've got to find new pieces of glass, and it is just not as plentiful as it once was.  I suppose I could use pieces from old collections, and I may have to resort to that, but I prefer not to.  Next, the reason I stopped taking pictures in the first place, was because it seemed as though I had lost my touch.  Nothing came out right anymore.  The composition appeared to be fine on the screen, but printing was a disaster and very expensive.  I suppose, however, that I wouldn't have to print new pictures if they are only for the blog, so who knows?  A better question might be, who cares?  Does this blog really matter?  Will its end come 13 pictures from now? 

Sharing "Sea Glass Over Light" puts the number down to 12.

Going Waveless

This just doesn't feel right.  My husband left to run some errands, and I didn't make it to the window to wave goodbye.  After all of these years of never missing a wave, I chose the comfort of staying upstairs in the warmth of our bedroom rather than the polar temperatures of downstairs.  Even if I didn't think I'd make it down the narrow stairway, through the dining room, and into the living room for the usual waving spot, in time to wave at my hubby, there's no excuse.  I should have tried.  Our wave to each other means so much more than goodbye; it means that even if I'll see him again in twenty minutes, I'll still miss him during that short period of time.  It means, "Have fun", or "Have a good day at work", and always, "I love you".  Knowing what I know now, and that is, how crummy I feel without even making an effort to wave goodbye, I will start all over again for a new record of daily waves.  It won't matter if I'm in the basement or the attic, the rewards of this minor interruption far outweigh the feeling of going waveless. 

For obvious reasons, I chose this one called, "You Stole My Heart".

Food Processor to the Rescue

Several times I've sat down today to write my post, but to no avail.  Among the many things cluttering my mind, the urge to use my new food processor was at the top of the list.  With a recipe for cream of potato soup in my pocket and ingredients unloaded from the grocery bags, there was an excitement, I'm not familiar with, keeping me from concentrating on anything else. 

No one who knows me would utter the words, "good cook" when describing my positive attributes.  There's just no way to convey how lacking I am in the kitchen; then came the food processor.  Not owning anything fancy like that, I borrowed one from a friend.  I had to!  If you've ever tried to chop cranberries, you understand the urgency.  So, after all of my adult years of contributing to potlucks and bringing my pot home full, imagine my surprise when the cranberry foods I had prepared were a huge success!  Yup!  Nothing but empty bowls and trays!  That was last week, and I'm still a little giddy! 

My food processor potato soup is, now, simmering on the stove.  With that done, cooking up this post was a cake walk.  

This one is called, "Egg Drop".  I didn't put eggs in my soup; I just thought the white beach glass looked like potatoes.  Enjoy your dinner.

Germ Fighter

Psssssssssst, whif, whif, blow.  Pssssssssssst, whif, whif, blow.  That's my not-so-secret combination for staying healthy.  Not only does it get me through allergy seasons and germy airports; it also sustains my wellness in spite of the dust and dryness of forced-air furnaces.  With every use of this wonderful invention, I'm saying "Goodbye" to the sinus infections and sore throats that, for years, would keep me down and away from being my usual productive self.  Now, each and every morning, next to my toothpaste and floss, this three-ounce bottle of non-medicated ingredients stands waiting for me to spray, inhale, and release it.  No wonder it's appeared on "Dr. Oz" and "The Doctors", where they say to use it every morning, night, and anytime you've been around germs, dust, or pollen, because this stuff really works!  Yes!  You've guessed it; saline nasal moisturizing spray has had incredible results on myself and many others.  (Just be sure to spray towards the outside of your nostril, rather than straight up your nasal passages.)

Here's to good health!  

This one is called, "The Office", because you can see the word, "office" on one of the pieces.  Thinking you may want to take some nose spray to the office with you, this is a good pick for today:)

Too Late

If you are a school teacher, you know how true it is that teachers have a special bond with one another.  In fact, most people who have retired from teaching continue meeting with their colleagues on a regular basis for the rest of their lives.  My school friends meet for lunch or dinner at least once a month.  Lately, they've added a breakfast, too.  The problem is, I haven't attended any of them since my husband and I moved away to a different town.  The drive would only be about an hour and a half long, but there is always a conflict with my schedule.  As time goes by, I feel less inclined to make the effort of putting one more thing on my calendar, but today the remorse of my lack of action is weighing heavily upon my heart.  Today, I was told of the passing away of one of our friends from my earlier years of teaching.  Until her illness, she hardly ever missed a gathering.  She had a warm, welcoming smile, no matter how she felt.  Now, she's gone, and even if I promise to attend the next luncheon, she won't be there.  I'm too late.  I've got to change.  One by one, our group will continue to grow smaller, and I don't want to be late again.

One of my favorite memories of my friend is when she came back from a trip, she brought shells for all of us at school.  This picture is called, "One Lonely Shell".

No Stress

This is my 74th post.  That sounds like a lot to me, but these past few months have flown by.  While I may have difficulty finding time in my day to write, I do truly enjoy the actual process.  My husband was asking me if it is hard to come up with ideas; he knows how I can stress out over deadlines.  Thankfully, my daily commitment to this blog has not given me one ounce of worry.  I know that when I sit down at my computer and pray for God's guidance, that He will answer.  Then I just sit back and listen to what is on my heart, and what is playing the clearest in my head.  I may start off with a certain topic, though, and find myself on a tangent that shapes up into a whole new storyline.  I love it when that happens!  Either way, as I write, I feel as though I am spending time with God, personal time.  Group time with God, by serving Him with others to attain a certain goal is nice; it's necessary and rewarding, but quiet, uninterrupted time with God is priceless.  It's like prayer, but with more listening than asking. 

Maybe you have a similar methodology.  Whether you do or don't, I'm not trying to force-feed my beliefs; this was just an honest answer to a question. 

Peace.

This is a great one for today!  It's called, "Love Conquers All".

Matters of Heart and Hair

While braiding my hair today, I couldn't help but notice how much less hair there was than usual.  It's not because of anything I'm doing to it.  My braid is a loose French style, and I don't do that every day.  I try to brush carefully but still end up with a ton of hair either falling out or breaking off, I'm not sure which. You would think that my molting season would be just before summer, not winter!  Thankfully, this has happened before, so I'm able to stay calm about it.  It seems that during stressful times, my scalp doesn't care if I have hair or not.  If you've read this month's posts, you know that I have a loved one who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease; few things are as stressful as this.  I thought I was doing a good job of doing what I can, and letting God do what I can't, but apparently, my hair doesn't agree.  In the grand scheme of things, it's not my hair that matters.  Miracles happen every day, so I'll keep praying for my loved one.   No more worrying, I'll keep my faith and my joy, and hopefully, my hair.

Dog Poop

Is there anything good to say about dog poop?  Unlike most things that are useful, along with some things we dislike but still serve a purpose, dog poop makes me cringe on many levels.  It is not useful.  Outside of the obvious grossness of our yard being turned into a toilet, the number one reason I get upset at finding "number two" left on a sidewalk is the lack of consideration.  Does the dog's owner ever consider how people passing by, or worse yet, through the mushy, stinky pile might be affected?  Do they even care that when a dog's stools get stepped on, it is really difficult to remove the remnants from the bottoms of most shoes?  And who wants to sit there and smell the poop as you carefully try to pluck it out of the treads with a toothpick?  A powerwash might work, provided that your shoe is waterproof, but what if it isn't?  I'm sorry to go on and on about such a thing.  Maybe you've managed to live your life with dog poop radar, but I have not.  I've scraped more than my fair share of other people's dog deposits off my shoes.  I would like to see people do what my husband and I do with our dog.  It's really quite simple.  Before taking her for a walk, we make sure she's done her business at home, in her own space, where we will clean it up.  Then, we go on our merry way, and instead of the walk serving as a bathroom break, we can all enjoy it for exercise and togetherness. 

That's my scoop on poop.

This one is called, "Swoop".  I'll bet you can guess why I chose it for today.

Beach House for Sale

What makes a house worth $2,450,000?  Maybe you own one.  I do not.  I can, however, answer my own question, because I sat in such a house this afternoon.  Okay, my station wasn't in the actual house; I was sequestered to the garage as I took tickets for #31 in the Parade of Homes Tour, but twice, I took a break to go inside and dream.  It wasn't the six bedrooms and four and one-half baths that made me drool, or even the 4,119 square feet of perfect colors, light, and space.  My breath was taken away by the ability to see Lake Michigan from most parts of the house, as there were windows everywhere. It was obvious that the interior decorator had a true gift for using items made of driftwood and stone, which meshed perfectly with the views.  Instead of the typical beach house colors of blue and white, the rooms were earthy and warm, causing a contrast to the blue of the water to really stand out.  The furniture gave a sense of nature.  I imagined the house at night or during a snowstorm and thought that even if it was too dark to see the water, and too air-tight to hear the waves, I would still know the house was on a beach.  So there's the answer, three words, "on a beach".

This one called, "Hearts at Sunset" goes so well with the beach house I saw today.
Have a blessed week-end.

Let's Go Golfing

It's been 20 years since I've golfed, so when my husband asked me if I would like to go give it a try, I was thrilled!  We have never, ever golfed together; he's not a golfer.  Even when I found a bag of clubs for $25 and then another set for five, I didn't really think we'd actually make it out to a course.  So when my hubby suggested that we go after my morning meeting, that was all I could think about.  A 70-degree October day with sun and fall leaves made a perfect plan even better, and when we arrived at the golf course, I was ready!  Did I mention that my golfing skills aren't exactly up to par?  So we changed the rules, which we weren't sure of anyway, and made up our own scoring system.  After all, we're here to have fun, right?   We laughed at our embarrassing shots and celebrated our rare good ones.  Aside from the golfer closing in on us from two holes back, we were under no pressure.  The game took my mind off of the day-to-day stresses we've had this week.  As we approached the last hole, I realized how blessed we are to have the ability to walk all nine of them, and to have the strength to carry our bags.  The aches that came after we finished, were well worth it.  "No pain, no gain" they say, and I had gained a lovely afternoon with my husband.  I hope we'll go again someday.

This photo called, "Fossils in Water", was photo-shopped with a dry-brush filter.  I chose it for today because, you guessed it, we did end up with a few golf balls in the water.  That's okay; we found a couple, too.

Is It Really Alzheimer's?

Do you have a story to tell about a loved one with Alzheimer's disease?  So do I, and if you are facing what I am, you have many stories.  None of them, if taken seriously, are funny, but I hope you will try to laugh now and then.  I also hope that you have had a thorough investigation into the meds that your loved one is using.  Many seniors are seeing such an array of physicians, that they are finding themselves over-medicated and addicted to drugs.  Add to that the dangerous combinations caused by a lack of clarity and communication, and your loved one may be displaying symptoms that mimic those of one with Alzheimer's.  This is not a commercial, but I was told at a caregivers' support meeting that Mayo Clinic is a good place to go to get the medications straightened out.  That's what my loved one needs; are too many pills or the incorrect usage of pills causing the symptoms?  All I know for sure is that I don't want to wake up one morning with my family member lost out in the cold somewhere, so it's worth looking at every possibility.  In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to not dwell on the negative, and as always, pray.

 Can you believe that I actually have a picture of beach glass called, "Clear and Cloudy" for this post?  (I'm hoping to always have a clear mind.)

The Right Jeans

Is it possible to get jeans that fit, or is that just a media myth?  If you're on a budget like I am, and you don't have an infinite amount of money to spend where ever and on what ever you desire, can you really find a pair of jeans that fit?  The ads on TV, on-line, and in fliers and magazines make the answer to my question appear to be positive, but I don't think so.  I recently picked out a new pair of jeans while shopping for groceries (which tells you, again, of my small budget), and thought I had hit the jackpot.  The tag on the front showed a younger woman in the same style, with a belt, a nice blouse, and some boots.  Well, in the fitting room at the store, I didn't have what was needed to complete that image, so I bought the jeans on faith, that with the right combo, they'll look good at home.  Okay, I'm home.  What's wrong with this picture?  Even with one of my better blouses, a good belt, and my favorite boots, I still look like I'm wearing the dreaded MOM JEANS.  Ugh!  All I wanted was some jeans that won't show my underwear every time I sit down (or worse).  I also get tired of constantly yanking on the waist to pull up my jeans that, for some reason, want to creep the other way.  Why is that?  I know they're the right size; I don't get it.  I don't have an ending for this post.  Any suggestions?

This one is called, "Pair of Hearts", chosen because I've often wondered why pants, of any kind, are referred to as "pairs".

Stormy Weather

There is a huge storm coming our way.  The layers of mugginess that I had ridden my bike through, earlier this morning, have been lifted by a cool breeze.  That's not a good sign.  The sky has become dark; inside, our big old house feels even darker.  I hope the lights I've turned on will get to stay on.  So soon after our move, I'm not sure where the candles and flashlights are.  The radar on channel eight is showing a countdown of about 30 minutes until we will feel the storm's full force, and the basement is not my favorite place to go.  The thunder and lightening that sounded so far away, is now too close for me to feel safe on my laptop, so this post is done.

"Stormy Weather'" is the name of this beach glass photo and goes well with my post.  
P.S.---Whew!  The storm ended up being just a hard rain; our source of electricity is still intact.  Actually, this all occurred on Saturday, my day off of blogging, because I knew I would not have time to write today (Monday).  I hope you had a safe week-end.

Stage Fright

The pressure is on.  I've joined a writing group.  This isn't a faceless, anonymous list of people represented by profile pictures the size of a thumbnail.  These are writers who actually get up from their desks, get in their cars, and drive to the Scott Club in South Haven, Michigan to share their talents with other authors.  Some have been published, others are just beginning their craft.  Everyone has their own style, interests, and subject matter.  To me, they are the definition of bravery, because even though they may have been a little fearful of sharing their work, they did it anyway.  I did not.  I was not brave.  Memories of my mom saying, "Shame on you!" are blocking any creative juices I may have thought I had before the meeting, so today's post will be short.  In the meantime, dear blogging world audience, if you could help me choose which posts to read aloud at future meetings, I would be ever so grateful.  

Quite appropriately, this is called,"Shy One."

Debit Card Day

It's "debit card day".  Ugh.  The time to gather up my receipts and balance my checkbook is upon me.  This is usually preceded by all kinds of avoidance behaviors, and today is no different.  As I think about the task at hand, I wonder why I'm so opposed to doing it.  I enjoy number games; why don't I like accounting?  Does anyone out there look forward to this chore?  I'd be interested in hearing how you make your own "debit card day" more tolerable.  Sometimes, I take my necessary supplies (i.e., receipts, checkbook, pen, reading glasses, bills, calculator, snack) and sit in my car on the bluff of Lake Michigan.  Another option is to sit on the carpet in our bedroom with everything spread out like a picnic to take the drudgery away from the normal desk-and-chair-scene.   

It just occurred to me, if there are any techies reading this, I must sound pathetically out of touch with the times.  You would be right.  I don't even own a smart phone.  So while I'm trying to figure out how to make an hour-long job more enjoyable, you're probably thinking I could make it a whole lot more efficient.  I'm not sure this old brain could handle all that learnin', so I'll just end my quest here, and get busy.

How fitting it is to share the first beach glass photo that I ever sold, on "debit card day".

Apple Cider Swim

If you've been following my blog, welcome back to another oddly titled post.  This time, though, I had some help.  My grandson had witnessed the drowning of a bee today, and as he spoke about it, I wrote down what he said, thinking it would make a good story.  Hmmm.......do I have any idea where I put that little piece of paper?  No, of course not, because it happened just a few hours ago instead of a few years ago.  Is that how it is for you, too?  The short term memory is a thing of the past; long term is as good as ever!  Anyway, I'm sure the second word was "swim", but not sure if the first word was "apple" or "cider".  I'll just use all three words.  Either way, I'll bet you get the picture.  This is that lovely time of year when everyone enjoys a glass of cider with their doughnuts.  It's especially nice to have such a treat outside with the changing fall colors.  I was quite proud of my grandson when he remained calm as the uninvited guest, of the stinger kind, began to fly around the cup of his cider.  We all watched as the bee rested on the rim, tipped over, and fell into the drink.  The fall didn't look intentional, like a dive or anything.  Puzzled and sympathetic, we watched the bee struggle a bit, then stop.  Not sure if the little creature was just tired or the "d" word, I dumped the tainted cider onto the lawn.  I'd like to say that we all watched the emptied contents for any signs of recovery, but we didn't.  I was too busy looking for a pencil and paper to write down my grandson's title idea.  The "apple cider swim" was his innocent recollection of events.  He didn't dwell on, and maybe, didn't realize the bee's fatal ending, and that, to me, is worth writing about.

This photo is called, "Sinking Heart" and goes well with today's bee ordeal.

Up on the Roof

Oh, that husband of mine!  You should have seen him!  Not a carpenter by trade, his six-foot-seven-frame all crouched under a short overhang, he spent his day removing old siding and replacing it with new.  I'd say, for not really knowing what he was doing, he did an excellent job!  For him, it was all work as he repaired that area above our porch, but he didn't mind the hours he had put into it.  He felt as though he was healing this old home, and it was worth the aches and pains in his bones.  For me, it was all fun as I climbed out on the roof with him for a beer, some chips, and a whole new view of the neighborhood.  It was cozy up there in the trees, almost like a secret tree house.  If you have a roof with a section that's not too steep, give it try.  I'm hoping we'll go out there again.

This one is called, "Stuck".  If you go up on your roof, don't get stuck up there!

"Show Towels"

Are you on a fixed income?  Do you appreciate ways to spiff up your home without spending much cash?  After moving into our new home (111 years old),  I noticed that cleaning and painting weren't going to provide the make-over I wanted for the bathrooms.  My same old dingy towels didn't help either, so I bought new ones at the local big box store.  Feeling surprised at how inexpensive they actually were, I picked up a few extra.  Folded nicely for one room, rolled for another, I strategically placed the towels where they looked more like decorations than something to use.  Today, though, while sorting my laundry, I was disappointed to see how raggedy the new towels looked after just one washing.  You can probably see where this is going.  Yes, I did say to myself, "Well, I guess we will never use the new towels; they'll just be for show."  Thus, the title, and now, my bathrooms will always look pretty with accents of "show towels".

The colors in this photo, called "True Blue", are similar to the colors in one of my bathrooms.  I do like that sea glass theme!

The Unknown

Sometimes, you've gotta just roll with it.  We don't always know the reasons for things that happen; in fact, we rarely know.  Today, when the plumber left, the leaky faucet began leaking more than it had before the repairs.  My post wasn't started, and I was needed at church to clean up the rummage sale left-overs.  With tomorrow being a Saturday, I had no choice but to call the plumber back.  Why did this have to happen?  

Fast forward to now.  The leak was caused by a faulty new seal, and is a thing of the past.  I'm able to sit and write this post with a full 45 minutes until I have to leave.  The slight delay in my agenda takes me back to another time when I actually saw the reason for my departure being put on hold.  About seven years ago, I was in a hurry to get home from choir practice.  It had been a long day of teaching, then church, and it was getting dark outside.  As I was gathering up my things to leave the choir loft, a friend asked me to give her a ride home.  She had locked her keys in the car.  There was no way that I would have said no, so I took her home.  She thanked me, said her husband would take her back for her car, and I was off.  Not more than two minutes later, I saw the reason for God holding me back.  A car full of teenagers had crossed into the lane I would have been in, rolled over, and was upside down with broken glass everywhere.  I would never have seen them coming, as that spot is on a curve. The car was totaled, but the kids spent only a little time in the hospital. How much worse it would have been with more momentum coming their way!  Had they hit me, they might not have been pulled out safely.  I thanked God for the delay that night.  Perhaps, instead of being upset when we are forced to wait and be late, we should be grateful for protection from the unknown. 

Toes in the Sand

Rummage sale week is almost over.  Everything is priced and in its place.  The doors open at the First Congregational Church in South Haven, Michigan precisely at 9:00 am.  So why is the title of my post, "Toes in the Sand"?  If you are retired, but find yourself busier than before, you'll understand.  I was sorting through some blouses, to make sure they were all worthy of the designated rack and hanger area, when it hit me.  I desperately needed a 10 minute vacation.  The urge to touch the sand with my toes was strong, but I knew it would be a while before I could make it to the beach.  Pushing away thoughts of, "This may be the last warm day of fall" and "If I miss this chance, the sand won't be warm again until May", I concentrated on the job at hand, rummage prep. 

Finally finished, relief for my tired, aching feet was made possible by riding my bike just a couple of blocks west of the church.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh.  The sand is still warm.  Not only does it feel good, but burying your toes in the sand forces you to take a mini vacation, not moving, just relaxing.  So if you're having one of those weeks, where there is barely enough time to even sit down, I hope you'll be able to put your toes in the sand, or water, or someone's loving hands, and just smile.

 I haven't found nice pieces of beach glass like these in a long time, but the sand is always there:)

Robot Clickers?

Is there really such a thing as "robot clickers"?  So many e-mails, blogs, and just about anything online conclude with the request that we copy some squiggly letters or numbers to prove that we are not robots.  More than once, I've copied incorrectly though, and I still got through.  It makes me wonder if the 44 readers of my post today were real or statistically contrived.  So you can imagine how awesome it was for me to see two comments awaiting moderation.  Wow!  Real people.  Sure it's happened before, but not two in one day, so I guess you could say I'm feeling pretty good.  Even if robot clickers do account for some of my numbers, I'm thrilled that at least two were actual human beings.  If one of them was you, thank you.

You can always tell when I've stayed up too late to write my post; my picture titles don't match my posts as well as when I'm alert.  This photo is called, "Second South Haven Sea Glass".  The word, "Second" goes with the "two" people who wrote comments today.  I know, that is really stretching it.
Good night.  

Stop and Smell the Toaster

There's a reason why people say, "Stop and smell the roses", and we all know what it is; we are just too darn busy.  Think about it.  If a garden of fully bloomed roses is along your path, but you, sadly, don't stop to take a sniff, you are in too much of a hurry.  Well, it's that time of year when the roses are done testing our priorities, but I failed a test of a different kind today.  As I rushed through my morning's list of things to do and places to go, I forgot one of my favorite sensory pleasures.  I forgot to smell the toaster.  Yes, I admit that sounds a bit strange, but I happen to get a little giddy when I close my eyes on a cold fall morning and stick my nose over my toaster just before the toast pops up.  It warms me, and the scent reminds me of the simpler times before microwaves and yogurt.  Back then, we could slather our golden brown carbs with real butter, and no one would think twice about it.  Remember how it was to eat without having to follow all kinds of rules?  Oh, those were the days!  So when I noticed that I had forgotten to do the one thing that takes me down that memory road, I knew I couldn't miss it tomorrow, and I won't. 

This is really stretching it, but here goes.  My photo is called, "Pop Bottom", and toast "pops" up.  (It's been a long day.)

Merritt Wever's Acceptance Speech

Did you see Merritt Wever's Emmy acceptance speech last night?  After saying, "Thank you" a few times, she simply uttered, "I gotta go.  Bye."

Well, this is "rummage sale week" at church, where I will be most of the time beginning each day at 9:00 am.
In case anyone out there is waiting for today's picture, I've got one for you, but as for the post........, "I gotta go.  Bye."

This one is called, "Clean Break", which is what I need to make right now.  I'm late!

Appreciate the Effort

It happened again; another person boldly declared that she would get tired of living so close to a football field.  So as I sat on the porch with my breakfast, I gave that remark some thought.  Then came the runner, the same one that runs every morning from 7:30-8:00.  Sure, others use the track around the field, as well, but this guy is faithful to his routine.  If my husband and I happen to be on the deck, he usually waves at us.  The thing is, he doesn't appear to be having an easy time; it looks as though there is a considerable amount of effort involved in his laps.  If you think about it, everything that goes on at that football field and track requires effort.  There are many words that we can associate with the activities occurring behind my backyard.  Most people would include, "competition", "sportsmanship", "teamwork", but I'm really liking the word, "effort".   In a world where I see adults going out for fast food in their pajamas, I appreciate having a daily view of effort.  Whether there's a team or a lone runner, their effort is refreshing to me, and I will never get tired of that.

After putting a little extra "effort" into making this one look solarized, I thought it would be a good choice for today.  It's called, "Green Chips, Solarized".

Sheer Confidence

Are you a portrayal of sheer confidence?  I'm not.  It seems that every opportunity that comes my way is attached to a struggle.  Nothing can be decided without second-guessing myself.  Will I be good enough?  Will others be okay with my words, my looks, my presence?  What if I do something "wrong"?  I almost made a decision today that would have kept me from all kinds of wonderful possibilities, but with the help of my husband, I'm moving forward.  Instead of making excuses for quitting, I am remembering why I should keep going.  If I mess up, well..........., the world will keep spinning, and probably the only one bothered would be me.  Besides, my lack of confidence actually shows a lack of faith, and since I've always had strong faith in my God, I'd better start showing it!

"Cool Blues" is the name of this sea glass picture.  Maybe we should all stop trying to be cool, and just be ourselves.

Not Too Sharp

Have you ever been scammed?  I just opened an e-mail from a good friend and was horrified to read that she had been mugged!  She was asking for financial help to pay the hotel bill so she could come home from the Philippines.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I was actually worried about her!  After praying for her, I called a mutual friend to see if she had received the same news.  Sure enough!  There it was!  Thankfully, she had just spoken to our friend the day before, with no mention of vacation plans, so we knew it was a scam.  If this ever happens to you, check with the person involved, or anyone else who would know what is really going on, and do not send money.  It's a shame that we have to be on the look-out for crooks using our feelings, for people we care about, to make a buck.

This photo's title is, "Too Sharp"; that is exactly what I was not, when I first read today's scam.

Wake Me Up!

It's been at least 20 minutes of indecision over what I should write about today.  Normally, I truly enjoy sitting down to begin my blog.  My runny nose problem of yesterday is, thankfully, gone, and I've had plenty of sleep.  I've said prayers, played a brain-awakening game of Spider Solitaire, and enjoyed my small daily allotment of caffeine.  Sure, I could have had a little more protein than what I just finished, but it's not like I'm still hungry.  No, it's something else.  I've got it!  Click.  There, I've turned off my fake fireplace.  That should do it!  You see, it's only 46 degrees outside, and 61 inside, so instead of watching dollars fly away by running the furnace, I was using a space-heater.  The problem is, the heater has a soothing fan sound that apparently makes me very tired.  With that figured out, I'll do better tomorrow.  In the meantime, I'm pretty sure I just saw a squirrel fall past my second-story window onto the deck!  That doesn't sound pleasant.  I hope I was dreaming...................

Not feeling quite awake, you can understand why I chose this one, "Lost in Space".  
By the way, I did hear the kerplunk of something landing on our deck, followed by a skitter-scatter sound, but there was no squirrel to be found.  Whew!