I started writing this blog a year ago in July. I had wanted to blog for a while, but when writer friend Janis Thornton asked when could she come set it up—well, the time had come.
I’ve kept newspaper deadlines for decades so giving myself a steady deadline didn’t feel hard. I would post twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays. I would be consistent, and I would write about something, because deadlines had to be kept. (The old journalist in me talking.) Also, I’ve read enough blogs myself, and attended enough social media workshops, to know that readers lose interest if they can’t count on the bloggers they follow to add new content regularly. I don’t mind posting my blog early. In fact, I get a kick out of that sort of “over-achieving” accomplishment. But I do not like being late. Today coming home from work I thought (briefly) about skipping this mid-week offering. Who would care? I’m in the middle of a stretched stretch. Saturday I took the morning to run bunches of errands and pay some visits regarding books and programming before attending a birthday party in the afternoon. Sunday I drove 100 miles to Covington’s Beef House where my long-ago colleague Janie Bowers had invited me to speak at the annual fundraiser for the Friendship Circle Center in Covington (formerly known as the senior center). The banquet hall was full of folks who came out to enjoy the afternoon of music, silent auction, a humorous style show and of course, those fabulous Beef House rolls and other goodies. Then it was 100 miles home. Monday was work and Bible Study Fellowship in Middletown that evening. Today was work and the next two days, I have separate programs to give to two groups. Tomorrow I’m speaking to the Spring Valley Quilt Guild in Pendleton. Our across-the-street neighbor Linda Lupton invited me after finding my first book in the Pendleton Library! I’m looking forward to sharing a program with them – and I’m taking my grandmother’s quilt along just to show it off! Who doesn’t love a quilt? But also tomorrow, I have some essential errands to run, a hair appointment, and getting over to the library early to set up for the program. I’m happy that tomorrow finds me in the town where I live because I also need a good chunk of time to work on Thursday’s program for the Henry County Extension Homemakers’ County Club Nite! I wrote a special program for that wonderful group that has shown me such kindness through all these 27 years I’ve covered them. Their annual County Club Nite was the first evening event I ever covered for The Courier-Times. Tonight, I have a panic-y sort of feeling of too much to do, and a shortage of time to get it all done well. The next two days and nights are GO TIME! A condensed schedule. So this will have to do for a blog post. I leave you with some grass – some ornamental grass – that grows outside our front door and never looks prettier than it does now when it suddenly gets these brown-gold spikes just before dying and becoming dried and corn-stalkish. For now, I am done. I’ll have more to say again soon. At least I exceeded my deadline, if nothing else.
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Last fall, I posted here that I was going to try something new and see how it went. I had no takers for my beautiful fox tail fern, and while I had little faith that the thing would survive, I decided it was worth a try to bring it inside and see how it went.
Well, here it is more than halfway through February and guess what? It is thriving. The fern is stationed back from the window so it doesn't get cold yet it gets a good deal of weak-ish light from the west-facing window. I give it a drink of water once a week or so AND THAT IS IT! I keep thinking I'll walk in and find it shedding or turning brown but instead, it continues to reward me with new shoots of lovely green. It reminds me of summer. And of Jerusalem. And of my favorite garden place, Garden Thyme and the cheerful owner, Kim. I must say, just passing down the hall and catching a glimpse of that pretty plant brings a bit of cheer. I'm reasonably certain that it's going to make it to May and a summer spent back out on the front porch. The plant's performance hasn't put me in the mood for houseplants like I enjoyed back in the day, but I will say that come fall, I won't hesitate to try my hand at some wintering over whatever plants might respond. Life is full of surprises. Including my fox tail fern. I woke up this morning with nothing terribly pressing on my plate. There’s nowhere I have to be, no Big Thing I have to accomplish. So I’m calling it. Snow day!
Remember the bliss as a kid when it snowed in the night and you woke up to find that school was called off and you could go back to sleep? Bliss. We got a very pretty snow last night. It isn't technically enough to call off life out there. But I have the day off. And I'm taking it! There’s never a shortage in things on the to-do list to cross off, and those nagging back-burner chores to address. And maybe I’ll do some of those things. And maybe not. The calendar is empty today and so here’s what I’m going to do: 1. Watch the episode of Downton Abbey that I missed in order to watch Peyton and Co. win a Super Bowl on Sunday. 2. Drink another cup of coffee. 3. Burn a scented candle. 4. Take the time to make us a nice dinner that requires some time to bake. 5. Go to bed early and awaken fresh tomorrow. Anything else, at least for this old-fashioned snow day, will be a bonus. Yes, this is a short blog. It’s a snow day! A while back, I asked Facebook friends for input on buying a new dishwasher. There were roughly 25 responses and there was no singular conclusion to be drawn from the data. The comments were all over the place.
It would seem that if you had the bucks, buying the most expensive brand would get you a great machine. But at least one real-time consumer in my Facebook poll said hers was a dud. Others favored a particular brand but mixed in with those reviews were negative comments on the same labels. What’s a spoiled person tired of washing by hand to do? What a first-world problem. The big-bucks model was out of the question (and not because of the friend’s review but because of the price) so we looked at what was on sale and settled on the next to cheapest model in the store that day. The thing we liked most about it was that it was American-made. Evidently that is such a rare commodity these days that the dishwasher is marketed with a permanent plate on its door stating its roots. The other thing we liked about it is that it is stainless steel—but they all are. The last time we bought a stove or dishwasher, stainless was considerably more costly so we went with black to save money. Now, stainless is the standard with other colors available by special order. I figure that can only mean one thing: stainless is on the way out. There’s probably some new color or type of metal that is The Thing. Like white, maybe. The other way I know this is that I’m one kitchen appliance away from being all-stainless. What I’ve learned in my snail’s-pace pursuit of a stainless kitchen is that, like chasing any materialistic “thing,” it’s over-rated. Stainless means lots of streaking, smudges and so many fingerprints, you’d think I’m working for the FBI. I don’t recall off-white (excuse me: biscuit) having a tricky surface to keep clean. And to tell you the truth, I think off-white (I mean biscuit) was probably my favorite color for kitchen appliances. Although I liked white too. I’ve also learned while hand-washing the dishes, they get cleaner than running them through an appliance. But of course, maybe that’s because our dishwasher had been going out for a while and it was so gradual we didn’t give it a lot of thought. Our installers were speedy and nice. Yes, they’re getting the top rating in the automated store interview that will come tomorrow. And they said they would appreciate it. Our installers gave us a priceless tip and I’m happy to pass it on to you too: They said do not use the soap pods because the plastic doesn’t always dissolve and technicians have told them that can do in a dishwasher. Yet, the mixed message followed as a free sample of the pods was enclosed. We’ve been using the pods in the washing machine. Now I’m wondering if that is an issue as well. I guess the bottom line is this: If I want the dishes really clean, really cheap, do this: I remember a season a few years ago when a friend and I were discussing winter and she said she looked forward to the stillness and lack of demands of the winter months. She mentioned things like reading, sleeping well, hibernating and enjoying the fact that January was not December, a month that expects a lot from us.
I thought about that—when I got a breath—this January. None of it applied. January has become a demanding month at the newspaper where I work. It comes with a variety of special projects and this year, training on a new computer system was added to the mix. My Bible Study Fellowship and its related homework resume, I have to figure and pay Indiana sales tax on book proceeds by January’s end, and we had several unexpected expenses including the death and burial of Brian’s long-loved (and hated) exercise machine (which passed away one month after the much-renewed and too-often-used service contract ended). There was the carpeting, which we had planned for, the death of the dishwasher, which we had not, and two vehicles’ worth of new tires which also took us by surprise. Oh yes, December was nothing on the bank account compared to January. I also worked on upgrading some social media and installing Paypal and a few other things in prep for the new book later this year. I keep asking myself: Will I make good use of the changes and more, their potential? The month ended with a women’s retreat. And then some bad things happened. There were three sudden deaths over the past few days in families of people I know well and care about. My heart goes out to all the families touched by these circumstances and unexpected losses. Basically, last month and the recent passings have left me feeling cranky. But we are grateful for the good things in life, all the same. This day dawned sunny—such a treat—and I used the morning to sit down and go through all of our financial statements and expenses that are needed for getting our income taxes done in a couple of weeks. After a couple of intense hours gathering, paper-clipping and adding expenses on my business, I took a break and checked email. There in the inbox was the subject matter of “Program” and the email from someone whose name I didn’t recognize. Sure enough, it was someone from my hometown inviting me to give a program to senior citizens at 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Feb. 23 in the Union County Public Library. The topic is “Reminisce” and I’m asked to share some hometown memories. Would I consider it? You betcha. Sometimes it takes something that might seem small to improve an otherwise blah day. I needed something to brighten my outlook and while I am thankful to those inviting me, I am crediting the Good Lord for arranging it. I’m beginning to see January in my rear view mirror as I pull deeper into February. And that is a good thing. What winter joys do you see ahead for yourself? Or maybe you are enjoying a laid-back season of reading, snuggling and relaxing. Some friends from church are leaving today for a short-term Philippines mission trip. Some others are leaving for Florida. Some family just returned from there. Whatever is on your winter calendar, I wish you sunshine in your spirit as well as out your window. And a sweet surprise or two along the way. Among quite a few goals for January, three of them seemed lofty.
One was getting the carpet crew in to remove and replace two rooms’ full of the stuff. The hardest part was that Brian and I signed on to do all the heavy lifting of our Stonehenge-like furnishings. Moving things like a glass-front secretary, marble-top table, sectional sofa, two library tables, two TVs, a small entertainment center, bedroom suite, roll-top desk (again!) and several chairs might put us both in traction for a month and run up a hospital bill but we sure would save a few bucks on the installation. Shrewd, we are. The second was getting my mathematical ducks in a row and paying the 2015 Indiana sales tax on my book biz. Last year that task took a ridiculous amount of time due to my inexperience with retail merchant certification, deadlines, and my own bookkeeping – all summed up in a composition notebook – while the tax filing and paying part of the job was all done online. The third, and perhaps most daunting because it has been put on the household back burner for years now, was loading up all of Ben’s childhood and teen years’ relics from the closet in the room he had at home and hauling it all to the attic. Oh, I can hear the critics now: “Why don’t you make him do it?” Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because at 24, he’s too old to care about any of that stuff right now, and too young to realize that one day he will. In the meantime, we’re the ones who will likely help him move heaven only knows how many times and we don’t want to haul around the dozen or so containers full of his vintage things. That’s why we’ve kept the closet doors shut tight and ignored the trophies, photos, baseball cards, prom sashes, college notebooks, and texts. If Brian had his way we’d just keep it all tucked away in that closet but I have developed a strong hankering for the active use of that closet. I want to move all my book-related stuff in there and spread out rather than it all sharing space with the Christmas tubs in Sam’s former closet. Well, what a week! On Tuesday night and Wednesday day and night, we hauled furniture, got the new carpeting put down and put everything back into place before we hit the hay hard Wednesday night. The new carpeting is plush and soft and feels like walking on a warm, cozy blanket. Yes, it's brown, which seems to be our color of choice. Call us dull if you must. But it seems exactly right. We love it! No traction yet from Stonehenge, but sometimes back spasms take a few days to materialize. Holding out hope here. This morning I got up and filed the state sales taxes. I had someone from the state hold my hand, cyber-style. But the tax is filed. And this afternoon, I loaded Ben’s closet belongings and Brian hauled them to the attic. I have to hand it to him in that while it wasn’t a task on his list of new year’s hopes and dreams, he knew it was on mine, and so he did the heavy lifting with me in mind and very little complaining. I haven’t gotten around yet to filling that closet but it will be a beautiful thing: an organized closet devoted to the current book and the next one too without wreaths and angels falling into the fold. Oh, yes. I can’t say I’m the least bit excited about Sunday and Monday’s plans. Yes, I have to prep and proceed with my first routine colonoscopy. I’ve put it off for a long time. But I know others who have a few or more years on me who haven’t had theirs, either. It’s a dreary thing, and I’m missing two meetings I hate to miss and a day of work in the process. But come Monday night, I will have another learning experience (ba-boom) behind me. Two days into 2016 and I’m already wondering where the time has gone. The last of 2015 was spent as it always is, comfortingly, with our friends Rick and Gay Kirkton. This must be the 20th or more such new year we’ve seen in together. I hope we’re still maintaining that tradition 20 years from now.
A few observations for January: -- Here in central Indiana, we haven’t yet had any snow accumulation or even a covering. Yesterday saw the first truly winter-like temperatures we’ve registered and those continue today, although softened by a bright, blue sky and full sun. The grass is, oddly, Irish green. Brian thinks we’ll skip a cold winter. I say the jury is out and we could still get piles of the while stuff. But, spring is, after all, month after next! -- I still depend on a paper calendar / planner that I tote around to record appointments but Brian has largely switched to his iPhone for such things. He was pleasantly surprised to get a paper calendar in the mail Thursday from Kris Gaza at Fishers Junior High. The calendar bonus is that it is filled with photos of staffers of which Brian is so fond. The calendar is now in his “man attic” where he will reference it throughout the months ahead. -- January is never a calm, quiet month after the holiday rush. I’ve got a Her magazine for women to put together, coming out as a print insert in The Courier-Times on Sunday, Jan. 31. And, we have our annual HOPE edition to print and gather special stories for in the next couple weeks in addition to the regular routine (if there is a regular routine in newspapering). -- I have to pay the Indiana sales tax on my little business by the end of the month. This was a real learning experience for me last year, navigating a merchants’ certificate and paying tax. For some reason, I thought I could pay it along with our state and federal tax bill. Not. Hopefully the process will go smoother this year. -- Speaking of taxes, our long-time tax lady has retired and we’ve got a new one. This will be another learning curve, not only working with a new tax preparer but seeing what’s what on Brian's retirement-related tax implications. -- January is usually when we finalize our annual “major” household project. This year it’s carpet for the family and master bedrooms. The carpeting is in and now we’re waiting on the installer for a date. We’ll be shifting our Stonehenge-like furnishings back and forth as Brian and I are doing all the moving of objects. But it will be fun to have new carpeting after 12 years with the old. -- Also this month I have a goal of finally (I know, this should have been done a long time back) moving all the STUFF out of Ben’s closet to the attic. Stored are things that at 24, he’s too old to want out (high school trophies, college-related mishmash) but too young to think he’ll care about again and thus assume possession of at his apartment. Besides, why drag it down there only to move it heaven only knows how many more times? So it will be loaded in totes and hauled to the attic. The space will become my writing closet with books and newspaper-related storage. -- At the end of the month, I’m getting away for a weekend with the lovely ladies of my church for a weekend all-women's retreat at Upland at the retreat center. It’s an affordable time of renewal and fellowship and assuming we’re not snowbound, a perfect time to get away. -- Bible Study Fellowship as well as the Midlife Moms meetings resume this month. And, both will be distrupted next week when I get my first routine colonoscopy. Will be nice to have that behind me. So now that I have a general plan for the rest of the month, I’d best get started, and that means it’s time for my daily walk around the neighborhood. It’s free. It's exercise. It's good. What’s on your calendar? As I paused to shuffle through the daily snail-mail, I noticed a business-sized envelope addressed to us. Brian had opened the rest of the mail, but not this piece. It was from a cremation service. Nothing says Thanksgiving week like a letter from a cremation service. I started to open it. “Oh, I didn’t open that,” Brian said, wanting nothing to do with the message inside. I was curious. If nothing else, I wanted to see how one might begin a letter inviting the reader to cut a check for services to be rendered. And no, I didn’t mean to spin a pun. It just slid out. The letter got right to the point with a gentle-ish presentation about making important decisions now. You know, so others don’t have to later and all. Predictable. But then, attached we were to please find a survey. The cremation service wanted some information so as to personalize their proposal to suit our specific needs (suitable for the balance of our bank account, I take it). Of course, it wasn’t long before they asked the clincher: What did we plan to pay for a funeral? And for our convenience, numbers were available from which we were to select the amount we have in mind, and circle it. How convenient. Call me crazy, but I imagine they could come up with a figure that would meet our need. And if we were so wise as to return the form for our free estimate, they would send us a free gift! Why, it is a planner to prepare for … then. We aren’t filling out the survey. We’re passing on the free estimate that would meet our needs, and turning down the planner to prepare for … then. I wonder how many people respond to a mailing like this. Would these be the same folks who don’t ask the price tag on a vehicle, but only the "savings" or the monthly payment? Shiver me timbers. I wouldn’t mind making final arrangements. Well, it’s not exactly tops on my to-do list, but I have thought about what song I might like played or sung, and that in lieu of flowers, there might be a more creative idea. Last week I wrote a piece on the NOVEL IDEA of a New Castle woman. Her husband had been an avid reader and lived out his final months in a nursing home in town. When he passed, she asked people to bring gently used books to the funeral home instead of sending flowers. They did, and those who couldn’t make it sent money for more books and bookcases in which to hold them. That nursing home now has a library in the good man’s memory. Brilliant. A close friend of ours is donating her body to Indiana University Medical School. I like that idea. I like it a lot. Brian says he wants to be cremated. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to fill out that survey. I suppose the day will come when we’re ready to commit. But we won’t be the ones beginning the conversation about what we expect to pay. Kicking the bucket is not like kicking the tires. But then again, how do I really know? What I do know is that I am thankful for being above ground, for family, and friends, and freedom to believe what I believe, to bake Blaise Doubman’s Hoosier Cream Pie later today and for a God in heaven who reigns over heaven and earth no matter the chaos around us. And if you are reading my blog today, I am thankful for you too—more thankful than you know. Happy Thanksgiving friends. While the tone of this blog is generally light-hearted, it’s also a place to share and possibly help others.
I was just thinking about something that happened in November several years ago where government worked quickly and smoothly – so quickly and smoothly, in fact, that I still shake my head in awe. A loved one was in a nursing home. One evening, while Brian and I drove home in driving rain from an outing, Brian's cellphone rang. A nursing home official was calling to inform us that there was a problem with our loved one’s medications. Oh, the meds were working fine, that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that the pills, which were provided to the nursing home via a mail-order drug provider required by our loved one’s insurance company, came in an assortment of mega bottles. The person at the nursing home who dispensed the meds had to unscrew each bottle and it was, well, a hassle. We were advised by the official – let’s call her, I don’t know –how about Nurse Ratched, that we needed to provide the pills in individual packaging so that said pills could be dispensed in a more efficient manner. Further, she alluded, if we failed to do that, they could no longer accept the meds as provided. And, by the way, perhaps we could simply have the nursing home use its preferred medication provider. As we drove home in the rain, our moods were gloomy as well. We considered how to proceed. What should we do? Well, we would begin by calling the loved one’s insurance provider the next day and see if they would send the pills in the single-serving packages that the nursing home could “pop out” for convenience. We called and the answer was no. They could not do that. More phone calls were made to local pharmacies. Unusual question, we began, but if we brought in meds from our loved one’s insurance-approved provider, could a secondary pharmacy repackage them the way the nursing home wanted? One pharmacist might be able to help, for a sturdy fee, of course. We were in the midst of a mess. What could we do? At this point, I had not even considered that it was a matter of consumer rights. Because I work for a newspaper, due to press releases, I have long known about LifeStream Services, a government-funded, non-profit agency that provides services and programs for seniors and people with disabilities. It’s a resource center that serves east-central Indiana. People living in other areas of the state or nation have other similar agencies under various names. I called LifeStream, reaching out for guidance. I told the receptionist our dilemma and that if we had to drop our loved one’s insurance carrier, the meds would not be covered and would go from excellent coverage to none–all to suit the whim of a nursing home with its “policy” that meds be provided in single-serve packaging for the convenience of employees. “You need to speak with our ombudsman,” said the receptionist. Ombudsman? The only other time I had heard this term was in an article I read about a large newspaper with a staff ombudsman whose job was that of a “go-between” for the public and the paper to work out problems. I looked up the definition for the unusual term and it said: public advocate. Naturally, the ombudsman was not in when I called the agency. However, I didn’t know how much time I had to spare before the nursing home pulled the plug on the meds we had already provided. So, I left as succinct a message as possible, complete with names of people involved and of the nursing home as well as phone numbers for all. I figured I might or might not hear back from this mysterious ombudsman. We weren’t home when the message was returned, but it was the next day or at the most, two. I could not believe my ears. The phone message from the ombudsman was this: I have checked into your problem, and there is nothing wrong with the way you are providing the medications for your loved one. I have informed the nursing home that you will continue providing the meds as you have been, and they will be using them as provided. In fact, the nursing home said there was surely a misunderstanding and that of course, they would be happy to keep using those meds, and there was no problem. Very. Interesting. We were elated. We never heard another peep about this issue. It took some nighttime tossing and turning, concerned that we were about to see our loved one go from good coverage to thousands of dollars out of pocket a month if we had no other choice. It took frantic calls to the insurance providers and other possible parties that could help with this situation. It took some digging. Fortunately, we hit upon an agency with a state-provided ombudsman that could help us. Here is the broader issue that infuriates me: What about the elderly spouse of a similar loved one in a similar situation who doesn’t know his or her rights – we didn’t – but more, doesn’t know where to turn to figure them out, and even more than that, doesn’t want to make anyone mad or rock any boat. I could very well see such a spouse forking over the extra cash just to keep the peace. I could see such a spouse doing without things she needs such as food or her own meds to keep her loved one in the good graces, so to speak, of the institution. Many folks in my age bracket have loved ones of their own who are in nursing homes. They need to know that the state of Indiana provides ombudsmen, free to the individuals needing them, to help them figure out just this kind of situation. If you or your loved ones have an issue, consider contacting an ombudsman. It’s a big name for what we found was simply a helpful person who knows your rights even when you don’t. He or she is undaunted in getting to the bottom of a problem that can seem overwhelming – but just might not be, after all. If you need such help, Google LifeStream Services, Council on Aging or state ombudsman for service providers in your area. And yes, I did make direct contact with the ombudsman after this incident to thank her. I let her know how very much she was appreciated. Every year around March, when we’re sick of winter, a sunny Saturday is in the wings, and it’s above freezing, Brian or I will mention that if we were really ambitious, we would wash windows. The other one, whichever the case may be, will glance through the nearest unsightly window and after careful consideration, say, “Nah.” Then the months pass, the windows get dirtier, and before you know it, another March has arrived. Here it is late October. So when Brian’s inner Heloise kicked in last night, and he suggested that we wash windows today, I was taken aback. That’s late March talk, I thought. That’s the kind of thing that is forgotten for another year by April once the lawn needs mowed and other warm-weather duties swamp the chore list. It wouldn’t be such a bad job if the screens weren’t such a pain. You have to hold your mouth just so and speak a little French directly at them, and often at each other, to wrestle them out or worse, back in place. A few of them are bent so badly that one small animal or hundreds of large insects could fly in around the gaps. The bent places no doubt came from us trying to force the screens into place while hurling insults at them. In French, of course. You would think that a grown person, or two of them, would know for sure that screens and every other object will not fit better by applying brute force. But then, every now and then, a screen will just gracefully drop itself into place, leaving us wondering how that happened, and trying to duplicate the effort with the next window. Who knew that washing windows was such a popular topic? I asked for suggestions on Facebook and got about 20 responses. Some offered recipes featuring things like vinegar and ammonia. Others hinted that the wiping materials – paper towels or rags or special cloths—were the secret to sparkle. Several promoted the use of newspapers. While I could kiss anyone who promotes newspapers in any way, I find the prospect of using them as cleaning materials a bit daunting. We went with store-brand window cleaner and store-brand paper towels. They worked great! (We also bought store-brand toilet paper this week. Will let you know how that goes). Brian worked outside and I was stationed inside. For the screens, we scrubbed them with orange-scented Spic & Span /water mixture applied with a brush and then sprayed with the hose. But the secret to clean screens doesn’t end there. That’s been my mistake before! This time I went over the screens, drying them with paper towels and pulled off a lot of loosened grime that would have dried back in place. A couple of hours later, we had crystal-clear windows, and we vowed to do this more often. I imagine that means that five or 10 Marches from now, we’ll revisit the topic. Brian is prancing around admiring our work as I write this. He said the cheap stuff worked great, didn’t it? He wants some props. I told him it did, indeed. Trying not to brag, he said with humility, in a “good-enough” sort of way, “We’re not doing the governor’s mansion.” Good thing. That house has a ton more windows than we do. And the screens are a lot older. Probably bent. It would require a lot more French than I know. |
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