tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33719378892778059832024-02-18T18:57:22.945-08:00A Boom With A ViewA blog about the life and times of one female boomer.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-66097252442905612032015-07-05T23:19:00.002-07:002015-07-05T23:19:54.979-07:00Boomers' Tails Drag Through Melbourne<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">As I write this last vacation post, I am headed to Minneapolis. Last left you in Uluroo. From there we went to Melbourne. The natives say it without pronouncing the "r" for those who want to read this in an Aussie voice. Melbourne has a cooler climate, dropping to the low 40s at night and is in the state of Victoria. That's today's geography lesson.</span><br />
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It's an interesting city. Hubby and Grace preferred it over Sydney, but I liked Sydney. The difference can be summed up in one word, tourist. Sydney is more of a tourist destination and I proudly proclaim myself to be one. Grace and Hubby tend to avoid the more touristy locations. The towns are different in other ways too.<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sydney has reminders of Queen Elizabeth everywhere. In Melbourne it's all about Queen Victoria, as would be expected. </span>Sydney has the iconic landmarks: the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge and while Melbourne has some fabulous buildings, there aren't any I would have immediately recognized. You can hardly avoid a store that doesn't contain aboriginal, kangaroo or koala merchandise in Sydney. In Melbourne there is barely any recognition of aboriginal people except at the Melbourne Museum. And in Melbourne I had to hunt down even the t-shirt/cheap souvenir shops. You might consider this an advantage. I would have too except I had decided to wait until our last stop to pick up some things. Suddenly shopping was a challenge.</div>
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This was Grace's third time in Melbourne so she already had her favorite spots and little interest in hanging out with us on our two days together. We did however go with her to an interesting convent turned vegetarian food establishment and a hip vegan restaurant across town somewhere. I've no idea exactly where we were. I just followed.</div>
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The rest of the time hubby and I spent wandering and checking out some of the historical buildings. We saw Captain Cook's childhood home which was transported piece by piece from England to Melbourne. We peered into the magnificent Exhibition Center which was home to a world exhibition in the late 1800's. Made me wonder when we had the last World's Fair. Do those happen anymore? We toured the Parliament Building which houses the Victoria State government. It's an impressive building that at one time housed the nation's capital until it was moved to Canberra. Melbourne and Sydney both wanted the title of capital and both lost. </div>
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I also walked through ornate buildings containing little boutique stores and took pictures of the ceilings and lights. We don't have many buildings like these in Minneapolis.</div>
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We considered renting a car and driving the Coastal Road to see the Twelve Apostles. It's a beautiful drive to a well-known rock formation in the ocean. But as a 2nd to last day activity, we decided it required more effort than we had left in us. Instead we opted for a short train ride to the beach all for the purpose of photographing the Brighton Beach Bath Houses. Yes, I admit it was all my idea, but Hubby soldiered on and joined me for our rainy day venture.<br />
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The Victoria Market was an unexpected delight. We were amazed at the selection and pricing of meat and seafood in this open market. There were big slabs of meat, including kangaroo, and every kind of ocean creature with bug eyes staring at you. Hubby said if he lived in Melbourne, he'd get a place right next door to the market. Our cab driver later told us there were two markets even better elsewhere in town. </div>
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Melbourne was an easy town to get around. They had streetcars that circled the central business district and you could ride for free. That's our favorite price point! The city is very concerned for our safety as the sidewalks at tram stops told us to "mind the gap" and posted signs to avoid getting hit by skateboarding rhinos (tram). It was also a very green city with big expanses of parks and gardens. And, like everywhere we went in Australia, there were lots of public toilets with lots of signage pointing the way. Grace said that the toilets in the middle of the streets will even talk to you if you stay in too long, asking if you are okay. And I have to say the Melbourne restaurants were abundant, well priced and interesting. It is known for its dining scene. I can see the appeal of making Melbourne your home and Sydney the place you visit if you are Australian.</div>
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We did not get to see an Australian Rules Football game. It's a winter professional sport but games happen only on the weekends and we left on Friday. I suspect it's a cross between rugby and American football. Since that plan was squelched we took in a performance of the Lion King at a historical theater. Yes, we flew across the world to watch a musical that's been playing in the U.S. For 15-20 years. But we'd never seen it so it was still impressive and fun and the theater was spectacular.</div>
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So now we are on our last flight having survived the ordeal of the 15 hour flight to LA. We flew out on July 3 at 5:00 p.m. and landed at 2:00 p.m. on July 3. Pretty neat trick, huh. Hubby got to celebrate his birthday twice! Definitely ready to see my kitties and sleep in my own bed. </div>
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G'day mates and Happy July 4th.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-6571094758015185042015-07-02T20:31:00.001-07:002015-07-02T20:31:31.010-07:00Boomers Feeling Kind of Small<span style="line-height: normal;">It's July 2 and we are leaving tomorrow so I have a fair amount to cover. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">First a word about internet. It's been a struggle. Hotel coverage has been spotty to non-existent. In Cairnes our BnB host believed the radio waves of the Internet caused cancer so would only turn on service on request. Hubby bit his tongue on that one. In Sydney the iPad but not the laptop ran well. Had to use the hotel lobby. In Melbourne the hotel gave you an hour a day then you had to pay. But even getting the hour was difficult at best. So here's to the USA, greatest Internet provider on earth. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">Now a word about food. I've eaten way too much since leaving Sydney. Bread bread bread. But forgetting calories for the moment, we've had excellent meals. I did not try any bushmeat. Just couldn't bring myself to do it. We were warned things cost a lot, but other than coffee, we've found food prices quite reasonable. When you take into account the exchange rate and not tipping, it's pretty close to what we'd pay at home. Tipping is not expected here and only 10% in cases of outstanding service. That's what we read and we asked a waitress who confirmed the</span> practice. I admit I still felt a bit guilty when not tipping and let Hubby handle all financial matters. The waitstaff seem to work a bit more as a team. We sometimes weren't sure who had our table and it took us sometime to realize people just went to the cash register to pay while we sat bewildered at our table.<br />
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So on to Uluroo. First you must learn to say it properly. Accent on the last syllable. All together now ooo-la-ROO. Like kangaROO. I've said it wrong pretty much the entire trip.<br />
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We have now moved from wet tropics to desert. From Queensland to the Northern Territory. Other than the resort area by Uluroo, there is nothing here. This place exists to support the tourism surrounding Uluroo and the Olgas.<br />
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It is the most focused on aboriginal life of all the places we visited. Not surprising since this is a sacred area for them and the aboriginal community appears more intact. Uluroo and the Olgas are on land owned by the aboriginals and leased to the park service who manage the park.<br />
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The aboriginals request no climbing or photos in certain areas (but still allowed by the park service) because of the religious significance of the rocks. We didn't climb but I did take pictures. Lots. The agreement is that climbs will be prohibited once there is enough other tourism activity.<br />
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We walked around Uluroo, about six miles. Since it's winter, it was no big deal. I imagine in summer it could be deadly. One side of the rock looks pretty much like the other.<br />
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The Olgas are more interesting because they are a collection of many rocks and the trails take you into gorges between rocks. They are crazy big too. Seeing them standing out in the desert with nothing but blue sky surrounding them is awe inspiring. They just overwhelm everything.<br />
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We did three sunsets and one sunrise. I have many pictures to say the least.<br />
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Besides seeing the rocks you could do a night sky tour, camel rides, walks with an aboriginal guide, learn to dot paint (aboriginal style) and similar stuff. I took in the performance of a creation story by some amateur actors. It involved an eagle who marries a crow but then falls in love with a cockatoo. You had to be there.<br />
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I tried to get on the night sky tour but it was booked. Since we are in the Southern hemisphere the constellations are different. No North star or dippers. Our last night was hampered by a very wide cloud cover so our plans to star gaze on our own that night were squelched. I should also mention the daytime sky. When you are looking away from the rocks, it is enormous. There is absolutely nothing to break it up so it stretches across the horizon so far it is difficult to take it in. Difficult to capture in a photo also. But of course I tried. <br />
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I was hoping to see a camel crossing the road like the sign said but alas I did not.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-51181336270500833652015-06-30T22:23:00.001-07:002015-06-30T22:23:34.483-07:00Boomers Do Queensland<span style="line-height: normal;">I'm behind in posting. Now in Melbourne after spending nine days in Cairns and four in Uluroo.. That's two states and two ecosystems away.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">Our room Internet is non existent so I will have to rely on my little phone for all social networking over the next four days. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">To catch you up let's start with our time in Cairns. Cairns is in Queensland and is the gateway to two world heritage sites: Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef. We checked both off our list.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">When it comes down to it this area is all about the reef, the rainforest, and the beaches. We had nine days but probably only needed four. Live and learn. </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: normal;">Our first rainforest venture was Kuranda. The little town on the edge of the wet tropics was a little hippie enclave. </span>The kind of place where a passing hiker says namaste instead of g'day. Where you see plenty of wild colored hair and long flowing skirts.<br />
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It was also where we saw the cassowary on an otherwise ugly side trail. I've already written about our big animal adventure. Suffice it to say it was the highlight of all our hikes. <br />
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Since we are here in the dry season waterfalls are a little skimpy, but we heard tales of great roaring cascades. I'll have to take their word. But the trees were very cool. In particular the twisty, curvy vines that hung down just begging for our best Tarzan imitations caught our attention at every turn. Sometimes straight. Sometimes twisted and curled. Sometimes strangling a tree. The paper bark tree was at first a mystery as we wondered what animal was ripping off the bark but then saw that it rips off all by Itself and sometimes with Hubby's help.<br />
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Once Grace arrived we visited the Daintree Rainforest. It was raining. A little miserable being wet in the wet tropics. We visited Mossman Gorge the southern end of Daintree. Big roaring water running over monstrous sized boulders.<br />
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And speaking of Boulders, earlier we visited a similar area called The Boulders. Aptly named. It stood out as the spot where your typical crazy male ((Aussies in this instance) dives from high above into the water rushing through the boulders below. Everyone shook their heads but couldn't stop watching.<br />
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The Beach<br />
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Hubby and I visited Trinity Beach. I had assumed Cairnes would have a beach but all they have is mud flats at low tide. They do have a very cool man made pool Referred to as the lagoon. It was shallow and had it been warmer I would have jumped right in. We watched a Zumba water aerobics class and thought of the mimis (grannies) that used to exercise at the Y. <br />
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Trinity Beach was quite lovely. I walked the shore snapping selfies and scenery while Hubby napped on the beach. I collected shells to spell out a love note to my sweetie in the sand but as soon as the last shell was in place, in came the wave. Poor placement on my part. I settled for scribbling in the sand. <br />
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The Reef<br />
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This was my big adventure. I'm not a swimmer but was convinced that I'd be able to snorkel with a jacket or noodle. We got lucky. After two days of rain and wind, we got a sunny calm day. <br />
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I was nervous but put on a thin life jacket and jumped in staying near the snorkel guide. After I stopped hyperventilating into the mask and calmed down I began to enjoy myself. Had no idea what I was seeing but it was all impressive.<br />
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Where we snorkled the reef is near the surface. It's huge with lots of different kinds of coral and tiny and small fish swimming about. Schools of fish right below me. I kept worrying I was going to hit the coral with my flippers it was so close. Saw a really big turtle, my highlight. Also some really cool giant clams.<br />
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We had two spots to snorkle. The first stop was off St. Michaelmas Key, a little strip of white sand sitting in turquoise blue waters. Gorgeous. The second was just in the middle of the sea. Since the wind had picked up I skipped the 2nd snorkle. Grace reported that there were some incredibly large fish so I kind of wish I'd gone for it. Before Grace arrived I tried to talk Hubby into going on his own not thinking I would do it. In hindsight, two reef trips would have been fun.<br />
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So that's a bit on the rainforest, reef and beaches. Next up Uluroo.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-91971633853165429692015-06-22T23:38:00.000-07:002015-06-23T00:09:13.504-07:00Boomers Report Wild Life Sightings<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We are now enjoying the second leg of Australian adventure, Queensland. But I really feel the need to totally devote a blog to Australia's varied flora and fauna. I read Bill Bryson's book "The Sunburnt Country" twice. He is quite effusive about the topic so thought for a start I'd let you know how our animal spotting is going. I'll visit Flora later.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Our first animal encounters were at the zoos. I've been to three wildlife parks so far. Everyone is a haven for kangaroos, koalas, lizards, wombats, echidnas and birds. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wombat Featherdale Wildlife</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One zoo had a nice selection of African animals but the Aussies pretty much stick with what's in their own backyard. .</span> I have to believe a Grizzly, black bear, polar bear exhibit would be a huge hit. We North Americans have our own killer beasts and damn proud of them. I took a few million photos. All nice and safe.</div>
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The thing about a zoo, it gets you all hyped for seeing them in their natural habitat. But first, the signs. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UTFiDRmY_8Q/VYdRqEWaZ4I/AAAAAAAALLs/1wOlv9cofxQ/s1600/20150618_191559.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UTFiDRmY_8Q/VYdRqEWaZ4I/AAAAAAAALLs/1wOlv9cofxQ/s200/20150618_191559.png" width="112" /></a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">These alone tell you there's something a bit different going on here. Kangaroo, wombat and cassowary crossing?</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> I kept a lookout for bandicoots but alas did not spot one.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And I suppose they use these water warnings for crowd control. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Nothing makes me want to jump in the ocean faster than the possibility of a big ole croc bite or jellyfish sting.</span><br />
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Based on our in the wild sightings, Australia will be known as the wild bird trip though a couple of non-bird things have made an appearance.</div>
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Our first wild animal was the cockatoo. A zillion of cockatoos actually, flying from tree to tree in the royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney. <br />
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And oh the noise they make. It wasn't long before we realized the cockatoo is everywhere and is a bit of a pest, like when they hang out in front of the bakery in Katoomba hoping for crumbs.<br />
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A volunteer at the gardens told us where we could find the frog mouthed owl. Strange beast sitting in a Norfolk pine. And then there's the Lyre bird. We stumbled across this bird at the Jenolan caves perhaps coming too close to its nest. The Lyre bird began making the most incredible noises I've ever heard from a bird. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I think whoever came up with the old video game sounds stole them from the Lyre bird. </span>Just as annoying as a begging pigeon but much prettier is the Crimson Rosella. People feed them so they hang around looking for a handout. This one wanted our sandwich.<br />
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The Australian Magpie was hanging out at the WWII Barracks area on our Manly hike. He was an extremely patient subject.<br />
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I saw a Kookaburra in Manly also but the one that visited our BnB in Cairns was more photogenic. Apparently they are regularly fed by the hosts of our Kooka's BnB just to keep the birds and the guests happy. Working! <br />
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The birds go into their maniacal laughter every morning. Quite the alarm clock.</div>
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I studied the poisonous looks of snakes at the zoo. Australia has most of them so you can forgive me for just assuming any snake that crossed our path would be one of the bad guys. We saw two slithering across our trail by a river in Kuranda National Park. They moved way too fast to get a picture or solid identification, but when in doubt assume poisonous viper.</div>
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We spotted a couple of wild kangaroos from the car, near the crossing sign. I think they were the red kind. One was already roadkill but the other one seemed healthy enough. I attempted a photo but by the time we got the car situated, off it went. Most of the zoos let you feed the kangaroos. They are mostly disinterested. Apparently they get fed plenty. I bought some kangaroo feed that some other pushy wild thing was more than happy to eat.<br />
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Our favorite wild sighting so far has been the cassowary. I saw one at the zoo being fed an ice cream cone by a kid. Later I read a cassowary could kill you if it felt threatened. Still, I wanted to see one. It's like wanting to see a bear in the U.S. And we did! It seemed curious and came near but once we began to move, it took off. I learned from a couple of bird watching ladies that a sighting is really rare and that our cassowary was probably just one of four in the Karunda area. I'm glad we lived to tell the tale.<br />
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We still haven't seen a wombat, echidna or koala in the wild. We have however had a couple of close counters with a koala. The kind you pay for.<br />
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About half way through our trip. Still plenty of time to add to our list. Grace has arrived. On to Part two.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-12041225797447538562015-06-18T05:08:00.001-07:002015-06-18T05:24:33.084-07:00Boomers Get Educated in SydneyWe are leaving Sydney. On our way to warmer climes, Cairnes. The last few days here have been pretty easy going which has been good since I've got a lousy cold and it's been a bit drizzly. Caught the cold several days ago and it's gone through the stages: sore throat, stopped up nose, cough. But unlike flu or food poisoning or the like, a cold does not bring you to a standstill. I was pretty worn out on some days but we kept moving. I was like Dora from Nemo, "keep swimming, keep swimming. " We kept our focus on becoming knowledgeable about Australia so be warned dear readers. This will be a bit Fodorish without the insight.<br />
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First stop was a tour of the New South Wales Governor's house. It was like a house out of Downton Abbey, very castlely and in the midst of the Royal Botanic Gardens. <br />
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Every room we were shown had a photo of The Queen, sometimes young, sometimes old. (There will be lots of picture changing some day.) We learned that the governor's position was mainly to sign bills and meet visiting dignitaries, most recently a fellow from Vietnam. I know this because his picture kept appearing too. We saw the family crests of each governor. When I was in England long ago I checked to see if Mattingly had a crest. Nope. I could have paid to have one done. I bet that is what some of these governors did. Our tour guide was from Connecticut. This was disappointing.<br />
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The Royal Botanic Garden is a lovely park by the harbour. It was envisioned by Elizabeth Marquarie, the governor's wufe. I mention her because she had chair carved in stone overlooking the harbour and I sat on it. </div>
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We visited the Sydney Art Museum. Honestly, I'm not much of an art museum person. We live down the street from the Walker and I only go to remind myself that I'm not missing anything. I'll occasionally go to the MIA for a special exhibit. This museum was a mix of classical, modern and aboriginal art pieces. <br />
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A little something for everyone but nothing that particularly stood out. That's about all I can say about that.</div>
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Next on the museum round up was the Maritime Museum.. Lots of manly ships to tour. It's hubby's kind of museum. Guns, torpedoes, that sort of thing. The museum had an exhibit on Shackleton's misadventures in Antartica on loan from the Smithsonian. I'd read the book so felt like I was practically an expert. The exhibit that showed X-rays of fish was certainly unique. I thought Grace would find it interesting since she studies fish. And there were lots of stories about Australian swimmers and sailors who broke records for sailing around the world or swimming the English Channel. Aussies love their water heroes.<br />
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We spent one day in Manly. Manly is a beach town with a nearby little trek through some brush and through some military memorials. We saw gun bays created for defense in WWII. I presume they were never used so it must have been a cushy assignment for an Australian soldier. We read about Australia's involvement in wars that we don't hear much about in the U.S. like The Boer War and the Boxer Rebellion. (Hubby tells me we were involved in the latter but it must have been only a page in high school world history.) The Aussies have lots of memorials to the ANZAC (Australia and New Zealand Air Core) throughout Sydney. The absolute number of casualties in The World Wars is not high compared to the U.S. and other countries but the percentage is up there. </div>
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The Manly walk took us by a cemetery used by the Quarantine Station. Beginning in the late 1800s until about 1918 it held the graves of smallpox, flu and the plague victims. Most were children or adults in their 20s or 30s. If you believe in the hereafter, then you will be gratified to know their final resting place overlooked a stunning harbor full of sailboats.<br />
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We were warned to watch for wildlife, but saw only birds including our first kookaburra.</div>
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The Sydney Public Library is a neat old pile of rocks. We caught the tail end of a free tour and learned about the two main benefactors who left money and lots and lots of books. We saw one of the early printings of the Magna Carta. It was only about the dimensions of a postcard and an inch thick. We guessed velum must have been pricey in those days. Why else make it so small? The Reading Room is very impressive. <br />
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It is what I imagined seeing at the Library of Congress but didn't because books are stored underground. Though to be fair, the LoC probably has a few more books. The Sydney library also had a very thought provoking exhibit of photography capturing the best journalistic shots of world events, nature and sports. I actually read most of the signs! </div>
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I visited the Sydney Barracks on my own because Hubby got tuckered. The barracks was home to newly arrived convicts many of whom were assigned to government building projects. The whole convict story is one I need to study further. Convicts began arriving in Australia only after the U. S. won its independence. No more Georgia penal colonies available. <br />
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While the convicts were punished and under curfews, they were often free to move about and marry and live with family. Many became quite prominent. The architect of many historical buildings was a convict named Greenway. At one time people hid their convict ancestors from the family tree but now it's considered cool to have a convict in the ancestry line. It's all rather fascinating. Hubby is reading a novel covering Australia's origin story that is also a TV series here. We saw Episode One so will have to tune in on Sunday's now to see more.</div>
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Our big spend adventure was a dance performance by the Bangarra Dance Company at The Sydney Opera House. I'm always hesitant about parting with big bucks but I was reminded that we spend the same for two good seats to a Twins game. There were two separate dances neither of which were accompanied by a digger-ado, much to Hubby's disappointment. The music was quite new age digital. The choreography was quite new age native. The first dance represented islanders from xxxx and involved imagining sea creatures in the frozen section of the local market coming to life. I liked it, especially the interpretation of the crabs and lobsters. Some of the dancing reminded me of Maori dance movements not that I'm any expert. The second dance was an interpretive dance telling the story of death and rebirth of aboriginal cultural symbols like the sheoak. Lots of pained body movements and contortions going on around giant branches hanging from the ceiling. Just didn't do much for me. </div>
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The rest of our Sydney visit was spent eating and buying essentials like cough syrup. We've been generally pleased with the food at all price ranges. Even the tourist spot food choices beat the microwaved/cold sandwich offerings back home. I do miss the free diet soda refills we get in the U.S. though. </div>
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Don't know if I've lost or gained weight on our adventure because the scale is in kilos and stones. Both give lower numbers than pounds so I've decided not to to the math and simply enjoy the low numbers. At least until we are done with the Beach part of our trip. </div>
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On to the reef!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-46289082623009063562015-06-12T01:16:00.003-07:002015-06-12T01:41:03.749-07:00Boomers Risk Life and Limb to See Waterfalls<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Yesterday was a big hike day in the Blue Mountains. After a little discussion, we opted for the six-hour more difficult hike over the four-hour wimp hike. Rightly or wrongly, we always assume we are fit enough for most trails provided they do not include rappelling off the side of a mountain. After this hike, we may revisit that high opinion of ourselves.</span><br />
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Our chosen trail was the Wentworth, Hippocreme and Vera Falls trail. There were actually six waterfalls on this hike so I don't know why they just didn't name it the Tour de Falls. I took photos of at least five of them, though with the exception of Wentworth Falls, I'm not sure which is which. By the time I do my Shutterfly book I'll have it all figured out but for now they are just pretty pictures.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of those Waterfalls</td></tr>
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It's interesting what makes a hike fun. Obviously some gorgeous scenery wildlife spotting, and sunshine help the rating. This trail had some great scenery, six waterfalls as a start. Not much wildlife except for a flock of cockatoos, and only a spot of sunshine. But for me fun also includes a little safe challenge. This one definitely had a few. For my younger readers, keep in mind we are senior citizens.</div>
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First there was the steepness of the hike. We hiked 650 meters down and 650 meters back up. For you non-metric folks, that's about 2130 feet. The Shanghai Tower, 2nd tallest building in the world, is 2100 feet. Of course it wasn't straight down except for a few meters at the top. And for that stretch the Australian National Park builders gave us some ladders to descend. Still, I didn't look down. It made for a nice photo op. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending the Trail</td></tr>
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Next was the narrow and cliff hugging trails. One small section was only the width of my foot. Bill's foot was almost too wide. I found that if I got the right perch at the bottom of the single foot trail, I could basically swing myself to the wider part. Some of the trails also hugged the cliff, but the Aussies generally had some fences on the most dangerous spots. Again a good photo op.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't Look Down</td></tr>
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Third was the historic nature of part of the trail. One portion of the hike was billed as "rough and indistinct" for only expert navigators. Hubby declared that he was a very excellent navigator (said in the same voice as Ray in Rainman). Indeed we lost the trail twice. And I, the normally directionally challenged, spotted the the correct course correction. Just sayin'.</div>
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And the final reason I enjoyed this hike was its occasional danger. I loved all the moss covered trees and rocks and kept running my hands through what seemed like a little soft bright green forest. Unfortunately, the moss turned ugly when it covered the stones we were supposed to use to cross a very cold, fast rushing, and rocky Jamison Creek. I did a rear first slide down one stone just trying to reach the main crossing point. Hubby went first to assess the situation and concluded that he needed to strike a new path. The trail had us walking across several wet slippery boulders then jumping about a foot onto another slanted slippery rock. He was convinced we'd slide into the creek if we attempted it. So the Hub forged a new route across the creek while I waited at the intended trail awaiting his help across. I wish I had a photo of this scene, but as we were the only two hikers around for the majority of the time on the trail, there was no way to capture the moment. It involved Hubby sitting on the edge of the final boulder while I climbed up in between his legs then somehow worked my way around him. Truth be told, I think I could have made the leap. We had two more creek crossings but they did not match the first crossing adventure.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hubby Crossing the Creek</td></tr>
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It took us about six hours to finish our trek. By the end I was feeling the weakness in the quads and my knees were a bit achy but I was also feeling triumphant. Only 20,000 steps but half of them were vertical.</div>
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About midway through the hike, we discussed whether this was our hardest one. We concluded that our hike on the Exit Glacier in Alaska still won that honor. It was a nine-hour hike on a snow-covered trail. I wanted to quit several times. But this one came close.</div>
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Back to Sydney!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-76704648397912312642015-06-10T03:13:00.000-07:002015-06-10T05:46:50.090-07:00Boomers Go Bushwalking And Other Such ThingsOn our last night in Sydney I indulged myself with a photo taking "tour". Canon was sponsoring the activity and the cost was reasonable. The crowd at Vivid was unbearably large though. Every street near the Sydney Harbor looked like the most crowded day of the state fair times four. We still managed to find a couple of quieter spots for picture taking. I was loaned an EOS camera to use which is a step up in quality from my dinosaur. It was filled with the latest doodads and gadgetry so was quite humbling. I felt stupider than normal trying to figure out the various buttons. But learning while doing is my preferred approach and it resulted in a few good photos on an SD card I got to keep and a big print of my favorite.<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On Monday we bid Sydney a temporary goodbye and hit the road. It was an uneventful but still stressful drive though it had its moments of levity. I can't help but chuckle every time hubby turns on the windshield wiper rather than the turn signal. And the "we're checking your speedo" traffic sign was good for a laugh. Not sure if that was the work of vandals or a bored transportation worker. We were careful to watch for wildlife as the signs indicated they were around. We also learned to be careful of slippery roads when "frosted". </span></div>
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En route we stopped at a wildlife park called Featherdale. With that name it would fit right in to the Minneapolis shopping scene. It was a rather sad little place but we could get up close to the Koalas and the Kangaroos. And we got a better look at a Tazmanian Devil though he didn't look to devilish as he was napping. </div>
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We've got a nice little apartment for our stay in the Blue Mountains with a fireplace and a whirlpool tub. It's chilly, in the 40's so it feels good to have both. </div>
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Tuesday we decided to forgo our first hike of the Blue Mountains because of high winds and visited the Jenolan Caves instead. It was a windy, curvy road leading to the caves. Combine that with driving on the left and you can imagine how relieved hubby was to get there. We did get to see several kangaroo along the side of the road. One unfortunately was already roadkill. Kangaroos are like deer in Minnesota except the Aussies put them in zoos. I don't think I've ever seen deer in a U.S. zoo. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It was well worth the drive. </span>The Jenolan Caves turned out to be a pleasant surprise. I took many photos with both my phone and my expensive camera. I am always amazed at what good photos the phone will take. We opted for the Orient Cave tour which had some spectacular formations. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Unlike Mammoth Cave the crystals are intact and white in these caves. The caves have been a vacation spot since electricity first came to New South Wales. We were told that the caves got electricity before Sydney and that itself became a big tourist draw. </span><br />
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Today the wind was gone so we trekked through the Blue Mountains. The day started nice but then the fog and rain moved in. The park reminds me of Shenandoah National Park. It's paths are close to roadways and there are plenty of little waterfalls. Not much in the way of wildlife so far. I'm hoping to see a koala in the wild! What you do see around here are birds. The birds Aussies consider a nuisance are quite beautiful, like cockatoos and red birds that watched us eat our sandwiches. I'll figure out their name later! </div>
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Tomorrow we will do the Wentwirth Falls area. Hoping for better weather!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-7191480406033093932015-06-07T00:59:00.002-07:002015-06-07T00:59:08.735-07:00American Bumps Into Aussies on Coastal TrailAustralians, like the British, drive on the left side of the road. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When someone drops off a passenger it looks as though they've just abandoned the car in the middle of the street.</span> At every crossing they remind the rest of the world to look left by painting the words on the pavement. As I have yet to be hit by a car while crossing, I figure I'm doing pretty well. However today we picked up a car and did a little road adventure of our own.<br />
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Sitting in the passenger seat while your husband sits next to you on the right really tests the strength of your relationship. Driving to Bondi Beach was like a 15 minute ride on the Screamin' Demon. Parked cars on my left looked as though they were ready to leap through my window. If I flinched Hubby screamed at me. He turned on to the right side of the street once. I kept my heart in my throat but just barely. This was only a trial run. Tomorrow we drive to the Blue Mountains about two hours away. I'm going to just close my eyes.</div>
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Bondi Beach was beautiful. Despite cooler temps there were still plenty of surfers and swimmers to watch, I even got a bit warm walking the Coastal Trail. I saw a saltwater swimming pool that is fed by the ocean. It was very cool. Those Aussies know how to enjoy the ocean.<br />
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We dined at Bill's, a lovely restaurant with not so lovely service. Perhaps they did not like me requesting free food because I was dining with Bill. Having read that Australians don't tip and advice to leave no more than a 10% tip for only excellent service, we opted to leave nothing. I felt like I should slip out the back door.</div>
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Yesterday we did a typical tourist thing and went on a guided "free" tour of historic Sydney. While advertised as free, the guide, Lily, let us know that they operated on a pay what you think it was worth basis. She had a rather thick Polish(?) accent so we missed a few details. Therefore she got less than the paid tours though I suppose it's possible we wouldn't have understood those guides either. Lack of a control sample I'm afraid. But still we learned a few interesting tidbits like this Governor Macquarie guy named everything after himself or his wife. Pays to be in power.</div>
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We also took an evening harbor cruise to see the Vivid Lights from the harbor. It was pretty, though in order to stretch the tour to two hours the boat went back and forth three times. After once you've kind of seen it all. Took a few photos but taking shots at night is tricky so I signed up for a photo class sponsored by Canon for <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">tonight</a>. They lend you a camera and coach you through the settings to get just the perfect pic. I'm figuring it will come in handy at other times as well.</div>
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Big news. Got some new shoes. After two days with my blister producing shoes, I couldn't take it anymore. Killed me to pay big bucks for another pair of tennis shoes, but my toes feel better. I'm over 100,000 steps for the week and I can definitely feel it. A little foot massage would be nice about now.</div>
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So tomorrow we head to the Blue Mountains. We'll spend four days there then come back to Sydney for another four days. Luckily I now know I must walk on the left side of the trail so I am ready.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-69312251227093607842015-06-05T01:38:00.001-07:002015-06-05T13:56:04.398-07:00Hello From Down UnderIt's day 2 of our great adventure though it feels like day 3. Crossing the international dateline is confusing. We arrived in Sydney at 6 a.m. on June 4 after starting at noon on June 2. Took us quite some time to get through customs because of our declaration of our half jar of planters peanuts. Would have gotten right through except for an alert sniffing dog that immediately noticed something amiss in Hubby's backpack. Was my Hubby a secret drug smuggler? Nope. Just someone who forgot he still had an apple left to eat. Criminal. They let us keep the peanuts but took the apple. Wasn't even a honey crisp.<br />
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Our Priceline hotel, the Radisson Blu, is just dandy and close to Sydney Harbor and the Rocks. We spent our first day fighting off jet lag by walking around the opera house and crossing the harbor bridge. We also spent a great deal of time trying to spend as little as possible on food. Although we declared ourselves honey badgers with plans to not give a sh&!!, our frugalness just kept kicking in every time we studied a menu. This led to lots more walking or in fitbit terms, steps. Did about 13,000 in the morning of June 4. When I synced it said I did 13,000 steps the day before when I was actually on a plane. Even a fitbit gets confused by time changes. Did another 25000 that night. Crazy huh? What's really crazy is I am wearing godawful hiking shoes and now have blisters on three toes.<br />
After dinner we marveled at the Vivid lights displays on the buildings then finally called it a day. I was certain it was at least 10 p.m. Not quite. We were in bed and sound asleep at 7:30.<br />
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Our official day 2 began early because by 6 a.m. we'd already slept 10.5 hours. Google found us a pancake restaurant nearby so we were feeling pretty smart. We still learned a thing or two. Black coffee is watered down expresso called a long coffee and eggs come scrambled, sunny side up or turned over. Over easy was a new term for our waitress as well as the cook judging from the results.<br />
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After breakfast we hopped a ferry and went to the Taronga Zoo which is just delightful. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Taronga Zoo</td></tr>
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We saw our first ever platypus and the other egg bearing monotreme mammal, the echidna, The latter is famous for being the answer to a trivia question that we missed in a Cincinnati tournament. What's most remarkable about this zoo is the backdrop of the Sydney Harbor. Seems a little surreal to be staring at a giraffe with the Sydney Opera House off in the distance. We spent the entire day at the zoo and plan on resting a bit then head out for dinner. I've only done 16,500 steps so I need a few more.<br />
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Oh and one more discovery. When you say hiking and thank you like an Aussie, it sounds like you are from Kentucky. Now that's bloody remarkable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Follow the leader. Big lizards.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-47371774336321255712013-01-20T20:23:00.001-08:002013-01-20T20:25:41.131-08:00Boomer Ready for the ApocalypseLast night I watched a really horrid movie, "The Book of Eli." I do not recommend it. However, unlike many movies that I do like, this one did provide some very practical information. That is, what I should own in order to be prepared to do business in a post-apocalyptic world.<br />
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First, you should own cats. (I, in fact, own two.) Apparently, according to Eli, cats make good food and produce some cool oil that's good for your lips. I noticed there were no dogs in this movie. I am figuring that since dogs are man's best friend, they just went right up to the survivors, wagged their tails and said "bark, bark...go ahead and eat me." Cats, on the other hand, would say "screw you...catch me if you can." <br />
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I noticed everyone wore sunglasses in the movie. Apparently the sun will not be our friend to our eyes in this new world. As it happens I buy lots of sunglasses every summer because I always lose them but I figure if it becomes necessary, I could probably find them.<br />
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Then you have to have a good supply of valuable stuff that will work like money in the new society. <br />
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<li>Chapstick...apparently lips get really dry when the world about comes to an end. I felt a certain smugness at this because Hubby routinely buys Chapstick in the Costco giant billion pack size. I'm practically a millionaire on Chapstick alone.</li>
<li>Shampoo/soap..particularly those little hotel items. People who smell good at the end of time, are really admired. (I suppose that is true even now.) As we routinely steal all little soaps, shampoos, and lotions from hotels we stay in, I have a good start on my own little Fort Knox.</li>
<li>Hand wipes...the kind you get from greasy fast food restaurants with the lemony scent. We use to have all kinds of these. Great for camping. But they dried out. Hence, I realize I'll have to have a strategy to immediately raid the devastated remains of KFC and Popeyes as soon as it is safe to venture outside. I'm betting those who have not seen "The Book of Eli" will not have any clue what riches are in these restaurants, probably making the mistake of focusing on the mashed potatoes.</li>
<li>Lighters....fire will always be our friend. I don't have any of the traditional cigarette lighters but I do have fireplace lighters. And let's face it, they are a lot cooler and probably hold more of the fire lighting fuel. </li>
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Of course I only need money for things I don't have. For instance, according to Eli, if my ipod runs out of juice, I'll want to buy a charge. I'm betting when this movie was made, the world didn't have those cool wind 'em up and charge your phone and ipod and ipads and other devices. So, I'll just make sure I have a couple of those wind up things and I can go into the retail "charge your stuff" business generating lots more shampoo/Chapstick/hand wipe money.</div>
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Bullets and guns are pretty important because you have to kill your food, preferably the cats and not people, which apparently is the food of choice for some when all else fails. This is why I will need lots of shampoo/Chapstick/hand wipe money because I am hopeful that with enough I can continue to get my food from others and pretend like I don't know where it came from. A lot like now.</div>
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I could become a vegan like my daughter, then the only thing I'll need to buy is water. And now that I've seen the movie, I know the water will be in caves. A scouting mission to Wind Cave NP may be in order.</div>
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Yup. I'm ready. There's only one thing. For some reason old people don't seem to survive in this brave new world. Damn birthdays.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-39695632857556791322012-11-06T11:22:00.002-08:002012-11-06T11:27:05.735-08:00Boomer WorriesMy Hubby says I'm not happy unless I am worrying about something. So what am I worrying about these days?<br />
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<li>My Southwest High music fundraiser. The list of worries on this goes on and on. Yesterday though I decided that if I could throw money at a problem and get rid of the worry, I would. I did the same last year. Next year, it will be someone else's worry. But then, I said that last year.</li>
<li>My ankle. I tore a ligament and now walk around in a funny boot. The Doc said it's the type of injury that can reoccur. I have about 25 more National Parks to go. That means lots of hiking and I tend to trip on tree roots. A lot. </li>
<li>My weight. Keeping weight off is always a worry. But doing it when you can't put in your usual three mile daily walk makes it even harder. Plus doing it when you have Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and my birthday over the next three months is harder still.</li>
<li>What my daughter does that I don't know about. I don't really think she's doing anything I wouldn't like, but then she's eighteen, so what do I know? So I worry. Heck, I was eighteen once.</li>
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These are the biggies. I suppose in the scheme of things they are not very big. Like I'm not really worried about who becomes President. There, I said it.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-17607629656527667952012-10-28T19:19:00.002-07:002012-10-28T19:26:54.448-07:00Boomer Prepares for CollegeI know what you are thinking. Aren't you a little old for college? Perhaps not too old, but been there, done that. My Darling Daughter, Grace, on the other hand, is just right for college. Now that she is a senior, "we" have begun the adventure of college selection. <br />
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We've opted for the "apply to a bunch of schools as well as the state school and hope they give you a bunch of money" approach. I've learned from the experienced college seekers that this approach generally results in the child getting accepted to many schools that she can't afford so she ends up at the state school anyway. <br />
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It's not like when I went to college. Cost was still an issue even though it was a heck of a lot less. My solution was simply not to go to college (until social security came to the rescue). My eldest brother's solution was to work, save money, then go to school until the money ran out. My middle brother got a sport's scholarship. All of us went to state schools.<br />
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Grace is both practical and a dreamer. She wants to be a marine biologist and travel the world. She wants to study abroad in Spain. She wants to be a scientist in the Caribbean. She can envision herself on a science project in the Antarctic. She wants to become a dive master in her spare time. And just in case that doesn't work out, International Studies is her fallback. And to do all this, she wants to go to school in California. <br />
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So she embarked on an internet search, identifying the best schools for her goals: UCLA-Santa Barbara, UCLA-San Diego, UCLA. We explained to her that these schools were too expensive since she'd have to pay out-of-state tuition and that financial aid was not going to happen. It's not that we couldn't afford to send her, Hubby and I just don't think out-of-state schools are a very good value when you compare it to her two state school options (University of Minnesota and University of Wisconsin). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5AgFgv3OkhU/UI3krA1WLdI/AAAAAAAAAM0/nS2zYpA0ryo/s1600/P1000743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5AgFgv3OkhU/UI3krA1WLdI/AAAAAAAAAM0/nS2zYpA0ryo/s320/P1000743.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Redlands University campus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After realizing merit scholarships offered her only hope, she identified all the private schools that looked like a possibility. Those that offered the clearest path to merit aid rose to the top. Mostly good schools, though still somewhat underrated vs. her state school options here in the snowy north.<br />
<br />
As all this school searching is taking place, Grace is actually already attending the University of Minnesota finishing her senior high school year as a college student. This is all very cool as she gets college credit without the cost. Or so we thought. Come to find out, not every school will transfer the credit because she also received high school credit. <br />
<br />
So Grace began a letter writing effort to the Admissions Offices to find out who would/wouldn't take the credit. And later she revised this effort with letters to the Registrar's office. Because she is a practical gal, she made up her mind she would only consider schools that accepted at least one year of credit. This eliminated one of her private schools.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zvZsbxvpuFM/UI3kuRusqWI/AAAAAAAAAM8/RxIoxMIoOR0/s1600/P1000752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zvZsbxvpuFM/UI3kuRusqWI/AAAAAAAAAM8/RxIoxMIoOR0/s320/P1000752.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tour guide at University of San Diego</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With our revised list in hand, we did the college trip to San Diego and Los Angeles. I have to admit, it was fun and exciting and I wished I was the one who was eighteen and heading off on a new adventure. And yes, I asked all the questions while Grace and Hubby listened in embarrassment. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1B1OWOaVlc/UI3khO8ChaI/AAAAAAAAAMs/dnVTdZF-Qb0/s1600/P1000730_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1B1OWOaVlc/UI3khO8ChaI/AAAAAAAAAMs/dnVTdZF-Qb0/s320/P1000730_2.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laguna Beach "college visit break"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In order to qualify for merit aid, you've got to have the SAT and g.p.a. numbers. The higher, the better. So Grace, in an effort to improve her SAT scores, retook the test. And she made some big jumps, improving her chances. Her top choice school changes as she thinks the chances at admission and aid change. I think it is now USC.<br />
<br />
So now the paperwork begins: applications, essays, letters of recommendations. Her goal is to have them all done by mid November. Then we wait. I told her it will be like Christmas every time a letter arrives from a school. Did you get in? Did you get any money? Did you get enough money?<br />
<br />
Then the decision. She's already decided that if the money isn't enough, she'll just stay a the University of Minnesota. We've given her a promise to pay for graduate school wherever she wants to go. But between you and me, if she comes close on one of those private schools, I'm going to have a hard time delivering the news she can't go. She has worked very hard on this.<br />
<br />
<br />
So I'm going to do the noble thing. Let Hubby take the rap and look sad.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-66948523035833917792012-10-11T21:53:00.000-07:002012-10-11T21:53:11.651-07:00Camping..Really?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mXtkrAhJR-g/UHedV7yp7TI/AAAAAAAAAL8/j47DMl7g1I8/s1600/P1000990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mXtkrAhJR-g/UHedV7yp7TI/AAAAAAAAAL8/j47DMl7g1I8/s200/P1000990.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill, the camping man</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last week I agreed to a couple of nights camping in a nearby State Park with my Hubby. In our twenty years of marriage I have gone camping about five times. He loves it. Me? I just don't get it.<br />
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Let me recap my experiences.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kYCZ1DQ-T30/UHedETCLvfI/AAAAAAAAALY/_wryxuM9cfk/s1600/P1000960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kYCZ1DQ-T30/UHedETCLvfI/AAAAAAAAALY/_wryxuM9cfk/s200/P1000960.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, blending in with my environment</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Camping trip #1. This was the most successful. Young, single, in love. Camping by some river. Bullfrogs singing their bullfrog songs. Nice campfire. Outhouse nearby. After camping trip #1 I thought, this isn't so bad.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x6sG-1JV75U/UHec8422qGI/AAAAAAAAALI/KEOTcaw6YF8/s1600/P1000954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x6sG-1JV75U/UHec8422qGI/AAAAAAAAALI/KEOTcaw6YF8/s200/P1000954.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill gets our tent site ready</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Esfede7g9w/UHedI-drJOI/AAAAAAAAALg/V5uudG3d8dY/s1600/P1000965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Esfede7g9w/UHedI-drJOI/AAAAAAAAALg/V5uudG3d8dY/s200/P1000965.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill carts in our camping gear</td></tr>
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Camping trip #2. A night in the boundary waters. Newly married. Adventurous. Left our cozy A-Frame and paddled into the wilderness. Set up tent, ate dinner. Went wandering. Chipmunk ate my ginger snaps. Retired for the evening. Thunderstorm with high winds throughout the night. Bill was fearful but didn't tell me. I was too stupid to be afraid. Paddled back the next day in the rain and wind. Fun? I think not.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4_Fe2Vz2dw/UHedNfB_W1I/AAAAAAAAALs/xdfPeUeIvzg/s1600/P1000974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4_Fe2Vz2dw/UHedNfB_W1I/AAAAAAAAALs/xdfPeUeIvzg/s200/P1000974.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildlife crossing road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFJW8N5ee8s/UHeddQ9n-GI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rs7YmCmqa8U/s1600/P1000998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFJW8N5ee8s/UHeddQ9n-GI/AAAAAAAAAMI/rs7YmCmqa8U/s200/P1000998.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Camping trip #3. A summer camping trip with another family. Family bonding. Hiking. Dinner on the campfire. Smores. August temperatures dipping into the low 40's at night. I am not prepared. Freeze my rear end off. Could hardly sleep. Fun? I think not.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCsq_HD5eig/UHedhRHrGcI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/j95hYUKwtds/s1600/P1010005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RCsq_HD5eig/UHedhRHrGcI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/j95hYUKwtds/s200/P1010005.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Pepin shore</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OBQs4MWSOMU/UHec4tVNisI/AAAAAAAAALA/s1EiauVcFXU/s1600/P1000949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OBQs4MWSOMU/UHec4tVNisI/AAAAAAAAALA/s1EiauVcFXU/s200/P1000949.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frontenac State Park at night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Camping trip #4. Camping to do a pre-check of Boundary Water camping gear. Darling Daughter and I join Hubby and his Boundary Water Buddy at a Wisconsin state park. Nice shower/bathroom facility but a little bit of a walk. Get the tent up. Do the campfire, dinner thing..barely. Rain begins and goes on and on and on. An absolute downpour. We hunkered in the tent and played cards. Middle of the night still raining when I ventured out to the outhouse (closer than nice shower/bathroom facility). Fun? I think not.<br />
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Camping trip #5. Our most recent two-night adventure in Frontenac State Park. Gorgeous fall colors. Lovely hike along the cliffs above Lake Pepin. Temperatures cool but I was prepared. Ate at a nearby restaurant but made a nice cozy campfire later. Forgot the smores. Went to bed. Hours later, still awake listening to the non-stop sound of freight trains. Chugga, chugga, chugga. Even Bill, the camping enthusiast, was miserable. Packed up the next day. Fun? I think not.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7mufbto5r3E/UHedRa6eB6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/Aw-MvkXKaAQ/s1600/P1000975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7mufbto5r3E/UHedRa6eB6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/Aw-MvkXKaAQ/s200/P1000975.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cool fire. No smores.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While I agree there are times when the only way to see what you want to see may be by camping, the rest of the time, why would you? If you can get a nice warm, dry room, with a nice soft bed with breakfast and have that wonderful park/river/vista/hiking trail (you name it) a short drive away, why would you spend all day putting together camping supplies for a night or two outside?<br />
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I just don't get it. Except for the smores. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frontenac Path to site #6</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-51978863109412338842012-09-19T12:37:00.000-07:002012-09-19T12:37:13.310-07:00Is Facebook Wasting Retiree Time?Recently a Facebook friend announced he is shutting down his page to all but a few relatives. He says it is getting in the way of doing those things he really wants/should do. So it made me wonder as well. Is the time I spend on Facebook worth it? <br />
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On the plus side, here are some things I learned on Facebook that in all likelihood I would never have learned or learned much later.<br />
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<ul>
<li>My cousin, J.C., died after a long battle with cancer. Another cousin posted the news soon after it happened. And my cousin's daughter posted enough that I knew his family was present at the time. I would have eventually learned of J.C.'s passing, but not nearly as fast. And very unlikely to have heard anything about the time leading up to his dying because I wouldn't get home for the funeral. I was also able to let J.C.'s niece (a non-facebook person) know right away for which she was very appreciative. A B+ posting.</li>
<li>My cousin, Jimmy, just got married to Jack in New York (where it is legal). I haven't seen Jimmy in probably 40 years. I've kept up with his mom and dad through the years so I knew a little of what was going on in his life, but not much. So I was very happy to share in Jimmy's good news and his happiness, if only through Facebook. And I'm guessing Facebook is the ONLY way I would have known. An A+ posting.</li>
<li>I come from a large family and it keeps getting larger. I know because people keep posting proud grandma/grandpa/great grandma/great grandpa pictures. Would never hear about the 1st cousins twice removed (cousins' kids' kids) any other way. But as I am sure I'm still missing many other births and haven't felt terribly bad about it, I'll call this a C posting.</li>
<li>Bill has a small extended family (compared to mine) and knows few of them. Through Facebook I have befriended a number of his cousins and their children. After posting on Jane V.S.'s page I was headed to California for vacation, she connected us up to her dad, Peter, Bill's 1st cousin. We met Peter and spent the day hiking and hope to see him again our next trip out. Definitely an A posting.</li>
</ul>
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These are all family postings though. I have many more examples of things I learned through my wanderings on relative pages. Like my friend, I could eliminate non-family members and be in the same place. So what of my non-relatives? Have my posts and time spent on non-relative friends' pages been worth it? Do I accomplish anything except wasting time? To answer this question, I reviewed my past activity to see how I felt about it looking back.</div>
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First off I don't have that many friends. And my friends can be classified into those I will check in on frequently and those that I may check on occasionally. Then there are those I never check on because either a) I really don't know who they are or b) their comments/lives simply don't interest me much. I suppose I could de-friend the latter folks, but since I spend no time with them they don't really waste my time. Why make them feel bad? Maybe they are spending time with me and love everything about me. (Who wouldn't?) So the potential time waster comes from reading the posts of those folks I visit or from my own posting. Hence, my review of various types of posts and assessment of time wasted.</div>
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<ul>
<li>"Give me your thoughts" posts. For the most part when I ask for an opinion I get it. Even if I don't act on it, where else can I get the thoughts of people I know without sending out lots of emails or making calls. And if I am asked for an opinion, I gladly add it to the conversation. I'm calling these A class posts.</li>
<li>Give-Away/Sweepstakes posts. I've done a lot of these and they are not good. I never win and then I'm stuck seeing their updates most of which do not interest me. Having learned how to turn them off my news feed, I am slowly ridding myself of these time wasters. Still I am always tempted by a good prize. D posts.</li>
<li>Random "what am I doing, thinking" posts. These generally are worthless. I am always amused though when they provoke comments from others. You just never know what's going to hit a hot button. While these are not necessarily great uses of my time, I no longer feel I have to type something everyday, every hour. The potential amusement value as a researcher is good enough to continue them at a low level. So I give these a C.</li>
<li>Political posts. I don't do them and I seldom read those of others. I can do without them because I seldom find them enlightening or fair to the candidates. Not worth my time.</li>
<li>Religious posts. These fall in the same camp as political posts. I'm in the camp that throughout the centuries as much harm as help has probably been done in the name of religion. So I generally don't read these. Also not worth my time.</li>
<li>Picture posting and reviewing. Well this one is tough. It probably is a time waster but it is just sooo handy. My issue is I post on Facebook and I post on Shutterfly. Having recently taken about a million pictures while on vacation, I've become painfully aware that too much time can be wasted loading pics that most friends will probably not look at. As far as me looking at others' photos, I think I self-edit. I like seeing former co-workers' proud mama new baby pictures and a few travel pics keep me up-to-date on others' exciting lives. The occasional picture post of something odd and funny my friend David sees on his international travels keeps me entertained like a funny TV show. So overall, in small doses, picture posting/reviewing can be valuable and entertaining. I give them a B rating.</li>
<li>"Linking" posts. These are deadly. And sometimes very funny. But mostly deadly. I do them myself despite this belief. Why? Well they tell people what I am interested in: the Twins, the occasional food/diet story, my volunteering pursuits, the Derby. Sometimes I just want to get the word out on something. But do they get read? Probably not by many. So my links can definitely be scaled back. Anyone who wants to know about the Twins can read the paper. What of other's posts? Well, I mostly ignore them but I do like to see the occasional video of someones kid performing and there are some hilarious YouTube videos that pop up. So, as with photos, I mostly need to moderate my own posting behavior. Another B rating. </li>
<li>Everything else. I'm not sure what I've missed, but that tells me everything else is probably a waste of time. So let's just give them an F and promise not to do them anymore.</li>
</ul>
<div>
So net conclusion: Enough above average time spent that I'm staying on Facebook. Besides, I'm retired. Who cares?</div>
<div>
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</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-47312836969852502092012-09-17T20:16:00.000-07:002012-09-17T20:17:06.925-07:00Never Letting GoYesterday I walked twice around Lake of the Isles. You are probably thinking I am a real go getter in the exercise world. Well, I walked around once. Then right as I reached my driveway I realized my right earring was missing. Hence, I went a second time around the lake, only at a much slower pace.<br />
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<div>
I did not search without a plan. First I did a mental assessment of my activity while doing my first circuit. For 3/4 of the route I merely placed one foot in front of the other, likely hugging the inside of the trail to minimize the distance. It was at the 3/4 mark that I met up with a friend. At that time I yanked my buds out of my ears so that I could talk and listen freely. Then, realizing I was now late for my SKYPE call with my Finnish Exchange lad, I began to jog for some of the remaining distance. I reasoned, therefore, I should reverse my walk.</div>
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<div>
I felt confident it was a good plan. As I was just starting out a neighbor was just finishing her walk. After exchanging pleasantries, I told her of my quest. She was totally sympathetic. She too had lost an earring while walking the Lake over 1 1/2 years ago. As she told me her story, I could see her become visibly upset. She said she lost it in the snow, but hasn't given up. She is still looking. Right then I had an image of myself wandering the moors, desperately seeking that which I had lost. Heathcliff??</div>
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<div>
<b>Back to reality.</b> As I walked the trail backwards, I kept an eye on the sidewalk and the inside edge of the trail. Having no luck, I thought perhaps I needed to think like an earring. Where would I fall? Then I remembered an earring can't think. Okay, think like someone who might have found my earring. Where would she put it? (Note, I think a <u>he</u> would have just left it where it landed.) I began to look on the benches and tops of ledges and posts along the trail. I even looked inside a garbage can. Only once though. If my earring was residing with the day's collection of dog poop, it would have to stay there.</div>
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<div>
<b>A related side story</b>. Hubby and I once found a pair of eyeglasses in its case on the sidewalk while walking the lake. We debated what to do. They seemed like a decent pair of glasses so we decided to take them home. No, not to keep! We quickly prepared some lovely flyers telling the owner where she could find her glasses and posted them all around the area where they were found. Hubby thought we should post on Craig's List, but I thought that was an overkill. For sure someone would see the signs and call. But no one called. Perhaps we should have let the glasses stay where we found them. </div>
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<div>
<b>Back to the earring search</b>. Well, let me end the suspense. I did not find the earring. This greatly saddened me. They were new. Worn only once. Not expensive but still, they were new. Worn only once. Did I say that already? I was also angry with myself. In my earring holder I have two little bags full of earring backs for just this problem. You see this is not the first earring I have ever lost. It is not the first time I have failed to put a back on the earring.</div>
<div>
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<div>
So, why am I posting such a mundane little story? Because I have this box. And in this box I have about ten earrings, maybe more, none with a match. Some of these earrings are twenty years old. Yet, I hang on to them. There must be some deep meaning to this. Trying to avoid blame? Inability to face reality? Looking for an excuse to put another hole in my ear?</div>
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<div>
Like my neighbor, I can't let go. If I do ever find a match, it will be like the prodigal earring. Returned to me. More appreciated than the one that never left. </div>
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My inability to let go is worrisome though. You see my daughter will be leaving for college next year and I don't have a match. She's the only one in the box. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-6223261693309953152012-05-20T18:47:00.000-07:002012-05-20T18:47:34.055-07:00The Big C vs. the Little cAbout a week ago I got the call I have been expecting for many years. The Piper Breast Institute called to say there was a spot on my mammogram they felt we should look at with an ultrasound. I was so sure I was getting this call that before the gal provided any details, I correctly predicted the problem was on the right breast. When I was having my annual mammogram the technician took two extra shots on that side. You can't tell me that those techies, who do this all day and look at 100's of scans don't notice things a little out of the ordinary. Then again, I suppose I had a 50/50 shot to get that one right.<br />
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Anyhow, I dutifully made my ultrasound appointment and began to mentally prepare myself for bad news. Mom was a breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in her mid 50's. Her sister was diagnosed when only in her 40's. Unfortunately for my Aunt Margaret, the discovery came too late and she died. I still remember driving her to the doctor getting treated for back pain when she was still wondering what the heck was wrong. When my mom underwent a biopsy and they found a malignant tumor, she opted for the full mastectomy. They did it right away. She went into the operating room hoping for good news and came out with one less body part. When the doctor told us what was going on, he made it clear to me that I was in a high risk category. Hence my pessimistic viewpoint. I'm 57. I've been having mammograms for 30 years. The time seemed right.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Consolation prize: European cruise</td></tr>
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Hubby and I walked the lake and chatted about the upcoming ultrasound. I told him my plan was to assume the worst. He thought that was good. He is a prostate cancer survivor. When he was diagnosed he was so unprepared that he literally tuned out the doctor telling him. Had to have it repeated. Just shocked that it was happening. But assuming the worse to me means I will get diagnosed, treated and survive.<br />
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Now I come to the true confessions part of this post. Prior to the ultrasound, I began thinking about how to capitalize on the inevitable sorry feelings others would have about my terrible news. Grace would want to cheer me up and insist we go pick out a cool prom dress instead of insisting on wearing her Internet bargain. Members of the Music Board, of which I am chair, would insist on taking over the planning of the big annual fundraiser. Hubby would take me on a fabulous European cruise. I could lose that extra 15 pounds. Ahhh, the benefits of The Big C seemed mine for the taking.<br />
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As the day of my ultrasound drew closer, I began doing Internet searches. Did she say it was a centimeter? Is that big? Maybe Stage 1. Check. I'll survive. Lots of info on the problems of detecting lumps in dense breasts. I've been repeatedly told mine are very dense; almost no fat. Normally anything with no fat would thrill me to no end. Apparently my missing breast fat found a home along my waist. The Internet said there's only a 50/50 chance a mammogram will detect anything in breasts like mine. So guess this was a lucky find. The search also said it may be only cysts. I have a history of cysts. It's been quite a few years since I've dealt with any. Those were all found with self exams. I could not find this mysterious creature even knowing it was there. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FcpB-Yl0WuA/T7md0iTAfvI/AAAAAAAAAKc/H7BcXJiTVeE/s1600/_MG_8204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FcpB-Yl0WuA/T7md0iTAfvI/AAAAAAAAAKc/H7BcXJiTVeE/s320/_MG_8204.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The internet prom dress was just fine.</td></tr>
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So the big day arrived for the ultrasound. Bill volunteered to go with me but I declined figuring I'd still have a biopsy step to take before we really knew anything. The folks at the Center greeted me in a subdued manner being careful not to be too cheerful. At first I thought I had never had an ultrasound on my breast but as soon as I saw the machine I realized this was used to locate my problem cysts. It took all of a minute to have the exam. Then the radiologist came in to talk to me. She confirmed I had very dense breasts. Thank you. That I knew. Then she announced, "You have cysts. Nothing to worry about."<br />
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So that was that. No Big C, just the little c. As I walked through the reception area I must have looked happy or relieved or both because I got a much cheerier reception from the desk ladies. I announced happily, "I'll see you next year" and they smiled seemingly as relieved as I was.<br />
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So I didn't get to pick out that prom dress or get relieved from my Booster duties and the European cruise will have to wait. And that tummy fat is going to have to come off the old fashioned way. But I think my reception face must have told the story. Despite my acceptance of my fate, I'll take the Little c over the Big C any time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-55764025690493959202012-03-26T09:54:00.000-07:002012-03-26T09:54:57.203-07:00Retiree Attempts Bread BakingOne of the delightful things about retirement is that you can take up new hobbies or interests. I take the occasional camera class for improving my vacation pictures. I'm taking piano though refusing the recitals. This year I added caramels to my candy making adventures. Next up, bread baking. <br />
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For awhile I was making bread in our 15-year old bread maker (used about the same number of times as its age). This was going well until Hubby accidently chewed up the little paddle (an important part) in the garbage disposal. Given its age I was faced with buying a new/old one at the Goodwill, doing the bread thing totally by hand, or asking for a fancy mixer.<br />
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I went for the fancy mixer. For Christmas I asked for a <b><u>Red</u></b> Kitchen Aid Mixer. It was the kind of very specific request that I knew Hubby would appreciate. There are many things one can do with a wonderful bright red device such as this, but truth be told, I primarily wanted it because it looks cool on the counter. Now that I have it, the practical side of me says I must use it. So back to bread baking.<br />
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I have had four bread baking attempts and I've yet to have a big success. This should be easy. Flour, water, yeast, a little salt. Mix, ignore. Shape, ignore. Bake. Eat.<br />
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For my first attempt I used the Easy Rise Bread recipe. Presumably a novice bread baker can't go wrong with this. I don't know what happened, but this novice bread maker clearly went wrong somehow. Maybe because I didn't check the water temperature for my yeast? I tossed it. It was ugly. (I know pics would have been good here.)<br />
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I then moved on to the basic white bread recipe. All was beautiful. I carefully measured my water temperature, mixed it up on speed 2 (no higher!), let it rise (which it actually did), rolled it out, formed some loafs, let it rise again (which it did again!) then started baking. The recipe said start at 400 then drop the temp. I got a little distracted and didn't drop the temperature. In fact, I totally forgot I was baking it. Grace came to get me at the computer to tell me that my bread looked "very" done so she took it out of the oven. It was a little dark and crusty on the top, but didn't have the nice crumb inside. That's what we bread makers say rather than admit it was doughy in the center. At least this one was mostly edible.<br />
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Based on my second attempt, I figured just paying a little closer attention would result in a perfect result. So for my third try I decided to stretch and make a pumpernickel bread using a little recipe I got from a bread book only I was missing the coffee ingredient so I substituted cocoa. I had lots of cocoa and other recipes used cocoa. I went through the same steps, but the bread didn't seem to want to rise quite as lovely as the last one. But, hey, its pumpernickel! So into the oven it went. I carefully monitored. When done I tapped its bottom, listening for that lovely hollow sound. Sounded good to me, though I really don't know what a non-hollow bread sound would sound like. The taste? God awful. Into the garbage. I'm blaming the recipe, and maybe my adjustments, for this mess.<br />
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I decided at this point I needed help so I went to a Kitchen Window bread class. The teacher was like a magician. I believe she could have made bread blindfolded with one arm tied behind her back. I asked lots of questions. I touched dough. I watched her spray water into the oven to give the bread a nice crust. I watched as she shaped the dough into rolls and loaves and braids and pretzels. I was once again inspired. This is easy! I can do this! Just need to buy a scale to measure all my ingredients by ounce instead of cup. Besides there's this lovely <b><u>Red</u></b> one that will look really cool on my counter.<br />
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So on my next attempt I measured all my ingredients with my handy new red scale. Then I forgot to check the water temperature again, but hey it was warm, so probably it was fine. Mixed everything together using my newfound knowledge of machine kneading. Did you know you can't over knead when using a mixer? That's good to know. Then I set it aside to rise. Oops, I forgot the salt. Quick google on that said, in no particular order, a) too late to add now, you are screwed, b) just add lots of salted butter, it will be fine and c) salt is needed for the rise, d) feed it to the birds. Needless to say, I approached the loaf shaping with some dismay. The dough felt good. Not too dry. Nice stretch. I attempted a round loaf. How did she do that again? Heck, it's sort of round. Good enough. Into the oven. Watched the time. Not very dark on top, but I avoided the egg wash due to my vegan daughter. And I didn't have a cool water spray to make steam in the oven, so maybe a little light on top is okay. Took it out. Tapped it. Sounded hollow. First slice? A little doughy again. Taste? Needs salt. Garbage? Maybe.<br />
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But I'm not giving up. Already planning my next attempt. First I have to go buy a little bottle for spraying water. You just can't develop a new passion without all the right equipment.<br />
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Maybe I can find a little <b><u>Red</u></b> water bottle.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-78598387297439066752012-03-16T07:46:00.001-07:002012-03-16T07:52:45.560-07:00Memoir of Stuff<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I cannot decide what to write about. Recently I went to a writing seminar to get inspired. One thing Alison McGhee (our guru) said was to give yourself ten minutes a day to write creatively . So this is my ten minutes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the seminar I realized I am ignorant of most things related to writing. For one, I never thought of "memoir" writing. Several times that came up so I looked it up. Here's the definition I liked: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;">A </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><em style="color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">memoir</em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"> is how one remembers one's own life, while an autobiography is history, requiring the checking of facts etc. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">In other words, a memoir doesn't need to be true. That pretty much fits with what I write here, so I've declared my blog a memoir written in real time. I suppose there are other words to describe it, some might even be positive, but memoir works for me so I'm sticking to it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">She also gave us an exercise requiring us to describe an individual by describing those things you associate with the individual. No personality words. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Has it been ten minutes yet? No? Well, I must go on then. I will try to incorporate my new learning.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">This morning I was thinking about my mom. A friend's last parent (dad) recently died and she is busy dealing with the artifacts of her parents' life. Lots of antiques and I presume other valuables. So they are dealing with dealers to get rid of the lot. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">When my mom died, we went through her stuff and the conversation went something like this: "Anyone want the ceramic duck collection?" Silence. "How about the thimble collection? Look there's one from South Dakota! " More silence. "Here's a few rosaries. I think I gave her the one that lit up in the dark. Anyone need some rosaries?" Silence. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">"Who wants this broken statue of Mary (that's the holy one)? Silence. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">That's when my sister-in-law steps in and takes the statue. She couldn't bear the thought of it being tossed in the garbage. And I eventually step in and take the ducks, the thimbles and the light up rosary. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Now as I look down the road, knowing that the inevitable will eventually happen with only my daughter to go through my stuff, I realize more and more that my stuff may not be stuff anyone wants. And certainly it isn't stuff that any dealer would want. It's time to stop collecting and start weeding.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Anyone want a thimble collection? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-9641243283987157062012-02-09T12:36:00.000-08:002012-02-09T12:36:03.533-08:00Our Finnish Lad..Lessons SharedWe are currently in month five of hosting a foreign exchange student. Our Finnish Lad came to us last October and began attending Southwest High School. Now that we are a little over the half way mark, I figure it is time to reflect on life with Our Finnish Lad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7iMB0wi5W9pBB_h9DJr8IjMJyf5hyeWwyC3LJprHeqQLqL0UNvxRu8RVjvZU1vi2-DQLaq0qPB7-ek1_sgECY5JPHkQNk-Ei6OGrCua70HiE_l4GVWx7xy40u-vFNz51s6zhzgwNq9IS/s1600/IMG_7419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7iMB0wi5W9pBB_h9DJr8IjMJyf5hyeWwyC3LJprHeqQLqL0UNvxRu8RVjvZU1vi2-DQLaq0qPB7-ek1_sgECY5JPHkQNk-Ei6OGrCua70HiE_l4GVWx7xy40u-vFNz51s6zhzgwNq9IS/s320/IMG_7419.JPG" width="320" /></a>We took on this adventure without much discussion or thought. He needed a place. We had a place. We never had any big discussions about how we would handle this or that. Instead, life just unfolds and we take it as it comes. Kind of the way life has been with our Darling Daughter (oops I mean Grace.) Actually, when I think about it, it is pretty much how we took on marriage too. Not a lot of discussion. Just dig in.<br />
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So what have I learned so far from this adventure? <br />
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Number 1: We got lucky. Our Finnish Lad is an easy going, respectful young man. Not a whole lot of drama. He takes correction well. He probably would fuss more if we were his parents, but they have obviously trained him well. <br />
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Number 2: We are pushovers. Particularly Hubby. When Our Finnish Lad was hell bent on eating ice cream (cookie dough to be exact) Hubby kept him supplied. When Our Finnish Lad wanted pancakes every morning, Hubby made him pancakes. When Our Finnish Lad needed inexpensive hockey equipment to try out for the team, Hubby drove him at 6:30 a.m. in the morning to be first in line at the Excell Center give-away. (Now I know my Hubby likes a bargain, but even this was beyond the norm for him.) The young man tends to get all excited over something but the excitement tends to fade in a few weeks. We go along for the ride.<br />
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Number 3: We can't change his colors. He likes what he likes and discards everything else. When I learned Our Finnish Lad had no interest in reading, I foolishly thought he just needed the right book. Knowing his interest in "extreme" sports, I gave him the book "Into Thin Air" to read. Four months later he is on page 30.<br />
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Number 4: We're not so bad to be around. Our Daughter is not a sit around the table and chat kind of gal. Not that she doesn't share, but she does so on her terms not ours. She will literally change rooms if I sit down with her to watch a TV show. But Our Finnish Lad can get downright chatty! Yes, after dinner we actually sit and shoot the breeze for awhile. He is very entertaining. He and Hubby trade typical "male" humor, leaving me mystified but amused. Basically, he doesn't mind being around us. If I could stand watching shows like South Park or American Dad, he would gladly make room on the couch. It's nice being liked.<br />
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Number 5: Sometimes you can only do so much. I wasn't mentally prepared for the first time Our Finnish Lad really needed an emotional crutch. He failed to make the hockey team and was devastated. He moped by himself for awhile then finally sat next to me. When I asked, "do you need to talk", the floodgates opened. I realized right then, he's a long way from home and mom and I had to bridge the distance. Mostly I just listened, offering a few words of advice here and there. When he was done he said he felt better. But I was left wondering if I should have done more. Like a hug. We have not ventured into the land of physical contact. I asked him about that once and he was quick to say he liked his personal space. And given I am a bit like that too, we keep our distance.<br />
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What has Our Finnish Lad learned so far?<br />
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Number 1: American kids are woefully ignorant of the world around them. He was particularly dumbfounded by the child who tried to identify Finland on a map of Africa.<br />
Number 2: It's hard to make friends. American kids don't seem to just hang out. I didn't tell him that it was hard even when you are an adult to make friends. No need to pile on.<br />
Number 3: Finnish candy is better than American candy, though he seems to have no problem eating the American stuff.<br />
Number 4: That it is better to say "that's not my cup of tea" than to call someone else's interest "dumb." And, under no circumstance, can he say "that's so gay" and get away with it in my household.<br />
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And last, but not least, the one thing I can be sure he will take back to Finland, courtesy of my Hubby, is...<br />
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"That frosts my ass".<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-51949068372862695992012-01-15T10:32:00.000-08:002012-01-15T10:33:44.285-08:00Retiree Prayer: Save Me From MyselfI am tired. I don't sleep well. I don't exercise. I am reminded of what I most dreaded about being a working person day in and day out. The stress. <br />
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Once, while I was still part of the workforce, I told my boss that I worked hard to keep stress at a minimum. That it was a struggle for me. He was dumfounded. He told me that he never saw any hint that I was under stress. I don't think he believed me.<br />
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Until I started putting together a fundraiser for our school, I had forgotten myself how under control I had it. Now I wake up in the morning (or in the middle of the night) and right off the bat my mind starts worrying about what is or isn't getting done on the project. I worry about how to talk to people about what they need to start or stop doing. I worry that I will forgot something I've committed to doing. I worry that people will think I am a total nag. I worry that the whole thing will be an utter failure and I will have let down the people who are depending on me.<br />
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This is just like work. Only after 25 years of working day in and day out, I had found a way to make most of the worry go away. Now, after almost two years of a mostly worry-free existence, I find myself back in the worry saddle. And to think, I VOLUNTEERED for this.<br />
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It is an important reminder of why I retired.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-50200826473288988742011-11-03T22:30:00.000-07:002012-01-15T10:14:52.283-08:00The Cat Toenail WhispererIt started over ten years ago. Hubby had taken my now dear departed cat, Bony, to the vet for a check-up. What he wasn't expecting was a lecture from the vet about the state of Bony's toenails. They had begun to grow into the pads of her poor little feet. Then I got the same lecture when Hubby got home. Apparently, when Bony was young and active and running around everywhere, her toenails were keeping themselves in check. But at the ripe old age of 15, she had slowed down quite a bit and her toenails were growing unchecked. We felt bad. And Hubby was determined that he would never be subjected to such humiliation again.<br />
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Now Hubby is a Cat Toenail Whisperer. You are probably thinking....huh? what?<br />
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You see, when I trim a cat's toenails, I am lucky if I can get one paw trimmed before the cat wiggles and squiggles so much I can no longer hold on to it. That means getting all four paws clipped can take days.<br />
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This morning Hubby announced it was toenail trimming day for our two rambunctious felines. He aligns with trash day so he remembers. In less than five minutes, he had successfully trimmed eight paws. Imagine! How can such a miracle occur?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zori dreaming of kitty treats</td></tr>
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His methods are simple yet mystical. First, he waits until the kitties are taking naps. Hence, they are still dreaming of kitty treats when Hubby begins the process. He also holds them very close and whispers things like, "you're such a good kitty" in a sing-song voice after every clip. Before they realize what's happening, it's over. The Cat Toenail Whisperer has struck.<br />
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I do not need a Whisperer to get my nails trimmed. However, having someone around who can whisper sweetly in my ear and help me through less than wonderful moments, may come in handy.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-75297903335729010332011-09-28T04:41:00.000-07:002011-09-28T04:42:00.238-07:00Who Knows What's Best for a ChildI have been embroiled in a battle over a child's schooling. And it is not even my own kid.<br />
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Not quite sure how I got into this position, but I can confidently say, the child had nothing to do with it. I think it started when Hubby said to me, as I was reading my Thermostat post to him, "you have too much time on your hands." <br />
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My neighbor, who has no teenagers, is hosting a foreign exchange student. I call him the Italian Rastafarian. Cute as a button. Since he goes to Grace's, our DD's school, we have given him some rides and generally provided some help where we could. Another neighbor, who is on the school's Music Board with me, also took an exchange student, the Dutchman. It turns out that parents of kids in the music program are pretty big in the exchange student world and I know four of the families with kids. Given how few families of any kids from DD's school I knew a year ago, this is quite the coincidence.<br />
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So when my neighbor called with the news that she took in a 2nd exchange student, a boy, on an emergency basis and that he needed a new home and would I make a few calls to my friends who also have boys and see if there might be any interest, I said sure. She also added, he goes to a not so great school and it would be wonderful to get him transferred into our neighborhood school.<br />
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So I began. First I learned his exchange agency had placed him originally in a home that turned out to have "problems". Not the kid's fault. Should the agency have rooted this out before even making the placement? I think so. Then I learned that I didn't know enough families with boys. I got a few responses. One even passed the note on to someone else with experience with taking an exchange student, but my vast network did not materialize anyone.<br />
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Now I was invested. After consulting with Hubby and DD, I offered my home, with the idea that I would be able to switch him to the neighborhood school. That was my condition. Hubby says I sounded like I was asking for a puppy. "Can I have him pleeeeeze?" The agency made a quick call to the school district, asking if a transfer was possible, and was told yes.<br />
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So the Exchange Student with No Home, was brought into the loop, told about my wonderful family but also told he would have be switching schools. He smiled. He'd think about it. Could he meet us? What is the school like? He would miss playing soccer for his team and leaving his woodworking class. He's not sure. So we decided that he would meet us and I would take him to see the school. I begin making calls to the school's Soccer Coach and Athletic Director. <br />
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Oooops. Turns out, the Exchange powers that be had not been consulted by the mere lowly staff member making the calls locally. Sorry, Charlie. You cannot move the child to a new school. Has to stay there. I make a few investigative calls and learn it is best not to move Exchange Student with No Home until the end of the quarter anyway. How about we agree to that? He can finish up Soccer and Woodworking, get his credits and then make a move? Nope.<br />
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I stood firm. If you want my home, you've got to give us the option to move him. I'm willing to let the Exchange Student with No Home, a voice in the final decision, but at least give us the option. Nope.<br />
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So now what do we do? Tell the ESwNH, "Oops, never mind. We don't want you anymore." I woke up early this morning, and thought, I can't do that. So I was apparently standing firmly on jello. I wrote a note this morning saying, I give. Is it right for the kid? I don't know, but at least now he only has to decide do I want to live with you or not. I'll try not to take it too personally if he doesn't. <br />
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I hope he's been house trained.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-58560286388994605022011-09-20T14:54:00.000-07:002011-09-20T14:54:27.546-07:00Thermostat Hanky PankyAttention Readers! I have just learned that my home does not have five thermostats. It has seven. The sixth thermostat was discovered in the 3rd floor bathroom. It operates the radiator that hangs on the wall and holds towels. I missed this one because Hubby generally keeps this one off. The main 3rd floor thermostat tends to keep the bathroom warm enough. I occasionally turn it up because I like a warm towel. Since he seldom hangs his towels up, he wouldn't know what he is missing.<br />
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The seventh thermostat is in the kitchen, tucked away in a corner. It operates the radiators in the kitchen which were put in new when we remodeled. At least that's the official story. <br />
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I'm thinking a little thermostat hanky panky may have been going on between those two heat meters in the back room. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-47633875127871997492011-09-15T08:19:00.000-07:002011-09-15T08:19:07.485-07:00Thank Goodness for History BooksTime magazine ran a feature on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorists attacks. Grace, my Darling Daughter, noted it sitting on the kitchen table and commented something along the lines of "Mom, there are kids that don't have any memory of this day. They weren't even born yet. That seems so strange." My response, "Yes. It's like Pearl Harbor to my generation." <br />
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She's becoming cognizant that there are generations following us who will know nothing of what we experienced growing up.<br />
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The other day we were talking about movies. I mentioned to her that she should go see The Help (and/or read the book), which I can attest was a very fine book/movie. The conversation led to her observing that she forgot I was alive and kicking during the civil rights era. This led to me saying, "Yes, I am old." <br />
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But it also gave me a chance to talk a little about that time, to tell her about some of the things I was involved in with regard to civil rights. I was still pretty young during the height of the riots, but could talk about my adventures working behind the scene at an NAACP telethon or posing as an interested home buyer to determine if discrimination was going on, about busing. Had I thought I could sustain her attention longer, I would have also sung, "I Am Woman, Watch Me Roar." But I moved on and drew the comparison to what she sees/hears about efforts on behalf of GLBT. She totally gets that.<br />
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I'm left thinking that history books are a good thing because I could just try and fill my DD's head with all kinds of info about things she never experienced but there just isn't going to be room. The world is busy filling her head with tomorrow's history. <br />
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Sadly, much of it sounds the same.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3371937889277805983.post-65694837380913135112011-09-13T09:06:00.000-07:002011-09-24T09:16:10.750-07:00Boomer Enters Thermostat BattleHubby just left yesterday on his annual trip to the Boundary Waters. If you have been a long time follower of my blog, you know that these trips are generally preceded by careful lawn watering instructions. This year, since he left with predictions of cold weather on the way, I also got instructions on how to operate the thermostats to generate heat. <br />
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You are probably wondering how a highly educated boomer such as myself needs such remedial lessons. Well, it is not that I am slow. It is because Hubby has set up a system of heating/cooling controls that make no sense to the normal homo sapien. By the way, did you know that was Latin for "wise man or knowing man"? Just an interesting tidbit I picked up from a google wander. Wonder what Latin for "wise or knowing woman would be? I digress....<br />
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We have five different thermostats in our house. Two are even in the same room. All of them work. All of them do something. It is always confusing to me, however, what something each of them do. I grew up in a house with one thermostat. When I was young we didn't have air conditioning so that thermostat was all about turning on the furnace. It seems to me that you should need only one thermostat. Turn it to the temperature you want and magic takes care of the rest. Apparently not.<br />
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Here is what I have learned. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPWy87fVkP6FcFRe3zuWrOPgnQcimgcSa9IanAX-zJ8IYBdkm94yRK6lfg7IWfP12PJ03t4G4wdWKIHPNhhJnCFVGcR8G0xjVzl7U0NCyVaasG0VJXRvP-FbM8LRQRIiNObK0JLF5g9Wp/s1600/P1000481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmPWy87fVkP6FcFRe3zuWrOPgnQcimgcSa9IanAX-zJ8IYBdkm94yRK6lfg7IWfP12PJ03t4G4wdWKIHPNhhJnCFVGcR8G0xjVzl7U0NCyVaasG0VJXRvP-FbM8LRQRIiNObK0JLF5g9Wp/s200/P1000481.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thermostat should be voted off the wall.</td></tr>
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Three thermostats are on the ground level. They are all heat providers. Two are in the back room and operate a) in-floor heat and b) baseboard heaters. Despite the presence of these two powerful devices, the room is still cold whenever it reaches below zero. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGOoJ0elJU5IEVnWrVILJF1iuSoc6KrjEzLyf8nMOBamRlcuiQfHPVopzsfljcOyorNgCnUMzqaIrIQ5Nzq-ldqVtlEICFGvG9KVfGGJOlGqoyEeiH7l4m4x0t9yAh2GMizz9RX2gkr2t/s1600/P1000480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGOoJ0elJU5IEVnWrVILJF1iuSoc6KrjEzLyf8nMOBamRlcuiQfHPVopzsfljcOyorNgCnUMzqaIrIQ5Nzq-ldqVtlEICFGvG9KVfGGJOlGqoyEeiH7l4m4x0t9yAh2GMizz9RX2gkr2t/s200/P1000480.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How to overcome a hold?</td></tr>
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The third is in the dining room. It makes heat appear on the rest of the first floor and 2nd floor. It is one of those programmable thingies that is never programmed to a heat level I consider comfortable. Hence I just keep hitting the "warmer" button hoping that it over-rules the programmed settings. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1XCPWlqbKDUQv_7Wp9ZRrGbF6q8p9ncMr8KSCjstXPfpI3fvsxGX2hJUll9N8CzfHKkCXAQKLsbrvCWFHIRsLjzw1HrgZf76KjSmgv5C6D4QxcWKsJHCNRqnBBVGzNt-A9r92Q_CGLmh/s1600/P1000478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1XCPWlqbKDUQv_7Wp9ZRrGbF6q8p9ncMr8KSCjstXPfpI3fvsxGX2hJUll9N8CzfHKkCXAQKLsbrvCWFHIRsLjzw1HrgZf76KjSmgv5C6D4QxcWKsJHCNRqnBBVGzNt-A9r92Q_CGLmh/s200/P1000478.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently we like it warmer upstairs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The third level also has a thermostat because....well, I don't know why. It just does. I generally leave it alone, because at my age I am seldom cold at night.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdn49B1-iWiumiEXEK66SyOBkBCUuJDZpAnHE_DxB2WxE8L68ecZOcWDeerbLZVzueXi82RfL7VwUPysv8woj47kdnZJVsMyic4r-MBG6FJNfS0kaPTAJo4hJ-ujjKzZ9i3sCqiDr_pca/s1600/P1000476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdn49B1-iWiumiEXEK66SyOBkBCUuJDZpAnHE_DxB2WxE8L68ecZOcWDeerbLZVzueXi82RfL7VwUPysv8woj47kdnZJVsMyic4r-MBG6FJNfS0kaPTAJo4hJ-ujjKzZ9i3sCqiDr_pca/s200/P1000476.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The critical AC OFF button.</td></tr>
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Finally, there's the all-powerful 2nd floor thermostat. It is the one and only thermostat to operate the air-conditioning. I learned this when I tried in vain to cool the house down using one of the other four thermostats. Here's the key lesson I was given. If I want to turn on the heat, I must first turn off the air conditioning. Otherwise we will have the battle of the thermostats.<br />
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A house with "hot flashes". Seems appropriate.<br />
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