It won't die if it frosts, it does not need water, and it is 20 inches across. my kind of flower.
Gratitude #83 - Sweet Biddies!
11 years ago
Saturday, May 16, 2009
saint?
Were I a saint, I think I might be able to handle all of this. But I did not make the cutoff.
The sink is plugged. Miriam did it. She pushed the unit full, turned on the motor and then the water, and it was too little too late.
So I ask her not to do anything in the kitchen that requires water, till I get a chance to unplug everything yet again (this drain system has been plugged three times since Linda has owned the house, and guess who did it all those times).
But she cannot remember and so she uses more water. I remind her and it is war. She was always one whose rightness was a bit over the top and at times it is every more so now.
She will argue, but she won’t change. So I give up. I can fix it later.
Is there any chance I could borrow a bit of sainthood now and then?
The sink is plugged. Miriam did it. She pushed the unit full, turned on the motor and then the water, and it was too little too late.
So I ask her not to do anything in the kitchen that requires water, till I get a chance to unplug everything yet again (this drain system has been plugged three times since Linda has owned the house, and guess who did it all those times).
But she cannot remember and so she uses more water. I remind her and it is war. She was always one whose rightness was a bit over the top and at times it is every more so now.
She will argue, but she won’t change. So I give up. I can fix it later.
Is there any chance I could borrow a bit of sainthood now and then?
plumbing again
A garbage disposal is a simple instrument.
You turn on the water, turn on the disposal and carefully push the stuff into the unit.
Obviously we do not have one at home.
My dear Miriam has clogged this one up twice since we have been here. I spent hours taking all of the drain a part and re-plumbing it so the next time I could get at it easier.
Well that next time is today. Actually, I'll work on it tomorrow.
And to remind us that no good dead ever goes unpunished, I took a part off the disposal unit to make sure it was not clogged inside, and when I put it back together, I am not a mechanic either, it leaked. I took it apart a couple of times and it still leaks, so tomorrow I am going to buy a new unit, unplug the whole thing and put it all together.
With luck it won't leak.
You turn on the water, turn on the disposal and carefully push the stuff into the unit.
Obviously we do not have one at home.
My dear Miriam has clogged this one up twice since we have been here. I spent hours taking all of the drain a part and re-plumbing it so the next time I could get at it easier.
Well that next time is today. Actually, I'll work on it tomorrow.
And to remind us that no good dead ever goes unpunished, I took a part off the disposal unit to make sure it was not clogged inside, and when I put it back together, I am not a mechanic either, it leaked. I took it apart a couple of times and it still leaks, so tomorrow I am going to buy a new unit, unplug the whole thing and put it all together.
With luck it won't leak.
Friday, May 15, 2009
five of six
The 6th was taking the picture!
So thanks again to the person who offered to take the picture of us all together.
the way
I knew there was going to be a party for our 50th wedding anniversary.
The girls told me basically: there will be a party, do not ask, we will not tell beyond that.
The party happened, a couple hundred of family and friends helped us celebrate. Miriam was sharp. All of her brothers and sisters were there (one died the next year).
Without telling me, of course, they asked our friends if they would like to contribute to a “send mom and dad on a cruise” fund. The gifts were not lavish but were substantial and well meant.
Then one of the daughters asked: “Dad, which one of us do you want to go with you on your cruise?” Without thinking at all I answered: “All of you.”
She was astonished at my bravado and I added: “I may not get what I want and that is OK, but you asked me what I want and that is it.”
And they made it happen. The 6 of us went on that cruise -- together. No spouses, no children, just parents and the daughters. It was all the more wonderful because they were all athere. That kind of thing does not happen often. When it does happen, I think we should be ready to grab it by the horns and ride on.
So this spring Linda asked if we could come and stay with Emily for a week while she went to Thailand. Without thinking, I said YES. That was mutually extended to two weeks, and then to three.
Emily will be 15 next month. She will always love me and I her. But she is getting increasingly busy. School demands more of her time, last summer she did not get to come stay with us like she always has. I understood. I am not being crowded out of her love, but her time.
This is part of growing up. That makes these special times so wonderful but there is no guarantee. When the opportunity happens, jump fast! Memory is superb.
Boy friends, college, jobs, career, husbands, children gradually close in making time together less frequent and more precious. It has to be that way. Grandpa cannot hope to compete with any of those, and he should not even try, honestly. Maybe that is why old men sit and silently watch, smiling but watching. They know their proper place in the scheme of things.
Grandson Alan came to stay with us almost a month for two consecutive summers. He came to work and he worked well. He is in college now and in the summer he needs to work to pay for college. We love him as much as ever, but he won’t soon come visit us for that long again, most likely.
So as we are near the end of our time here in Portland with Emily, I feel more than a little bit sad. It may happen again that we get to spend this kind of time with her, but the odds are not good.
I am a very romantic soul, I have lived my life on the romantic level and I would not do it otherwise. My life has been a wonderful symphony of good memories -- mostly. I am so blessed.
And now, to quote Emily, talking about a different subject: “And that is the way it is supposed to be.”
The girls told me basically: there will be a party, do not ask, we will not tell beyond that.
The party happened, a couple hundred of family and friends helped us celebrate. Miriam was sharp. All of her brothers and sisters were there (one died the next year).
Without telling me, of course, they asked our friends if they would like to contribute to a “send mom and dad on a cruise” fund. The gifts were not lavish but were substantial and well meant.
Then one of the daughters asked: “Dad, which one of us do you want to go with you on your cruise?” Without thinking at all I answered: “All of you.”
She was astonished at my bravado and I added: “I may not get what I want and that is OK, but you asked me what I want and that is it.”
And they made it happen. The 6 of us went on that cruise -- together. No spouses, no children, just parents and the daughters. It was all the more wonderful because they were all athere. That kind of thing does not happen often. When it does happen, I think we should be ready to grab it by the horns and ride on.
So this spring Linda asked if we could come and stay with Emily for a week while she went to Thailand. Without thinking, I said YES. That was mutually extended to two weeks, and then to three.
Emily will be 15 next month. She will always love me and I her. But she is getting increasingly busy. School demands more of her time, last summer she did not get to come stay with us like she always has. I understood. I am not being crowded out of her love, but her time.
This is part of growing up. That makes these special times so wonderful but there is no guarantee. When the opportunity happens, jump fast! Memory is superb.
Boy friends, college, jobs, career, husbands, children gradually close in making time together less frequent and more precious. It has to be that way. Grandpa cannot hope to compete with any of those, and he should not even try, honestly. Maybe that is why old men sit and silently watch, smiling but watching. They know their proper place in the scheme of things.
Grandson Alan came to stay with us almost a month for two consecutive summers. He came to work and he worked well. He is in college now and in the summer he needs to work to pay for college. We love him as much as ever, but he won’t soon come visit us for that long again, most likely.
So as we are near the end of our time here in Portland with Emily, I feel more than a little bit sad. It may happen again that we get to spend this kind of time with her, but the odds are not good.
I am a very romantic soul, I have lived my life on the romantic level and I would not do it otherwise. My life has been a wonderful symphony of good memories -- mostly. I am so blessed.
And now, to quote Emily, talking about a different subject: “And that is the way it is supposed to be.”
the time
This is one of my favorite pictures of all of us.
We were on our anniversary cruise. Haines Alaska, it was raining, we stood on the wharf waiting for a bus. A fellow passenger asked us if we would like to have out picture taken. One of the daughters gave them her camera and click.
It was fast, it was spontaneous and the picture is blame near perfect.
I am so glad I was nervy enough to ask that ALL of our daughters join us for that cruise, and I am glad we left our spring garden and came to be with Emily for a fw weeks.
We will never regret the time.
The soup was wonderful. .
. . . the company superb.
Dale and I have been friends for 41 years now. There are people I have known longer, but none are close friends after that long. I went to high school with a bunch of good people (It was a very small school and there were about 22 in my graduating class).
But we do not stay in touch. When I am in their town I do not make contact often, but Dale is different (good different).
Dale has a super memory for details and dates. “That was in 1968, remember? That is your Hasselblad and I think you took the picture.” The picture was of dale lying on top of his car with my ‘Blad on a tall tripod. He was looking at one of my models somewhere to the left.
Emily was amazed that after 41 years, we still have things to talk about.
I made a big pan of cornbread, they saved a good hunk of the black olive bread. Kathy made her Chocolate cake for desert (the pan that I brought the still hot cornbread in came back with chocolate cake).
But mostly it was the company and the friendship that makes it a delightful evening. Emily was patient with us.
Thank you Em, thank you Kathy, especially thank you Dale.
Dale and I have been friends for 41 years now. There are people I have known longer, but none are close friends after that long. I went to high school with a bunch of good people (It was a very small school and there were about 22 in my graduating class).
But we do not stay in touch. When I am in their town I do not make contact often, but Dale is different (good different).
Dale has a super memory for details and dates. “That was in 1968, remember? That is your Hasselblad and I think you took the picture.” The picture was of dale lying on top of his car with my ‘Blad on a tall tripod. He was looking at one of my models somewhere to the left.
Emily was amazed that after 41 years, we still have things to talk about.
I made a big pan of cornbread, they saved a good hunk of the black olive bread. Kathy made her Chocolate cake for desert (the pan that I brought the still hot cornbread in came back with chocolate cake).
But mostly it was the company and the friendship that makes it a delightful evening. Emily was patient with us.
Thank you Em, thank you Kathy, especially thank you Dale.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Malayan Ambassador.
In the Vaughn Meader good natured parody of the Kennedy family dating back to the early 60's, the Malayan Ambassador arrives at the security gate of the white house for dinner.
He is announced in very proper english. The gate keeper allows him to pass. He goes to the next gate keeper (there was 4 if I remember), finally the aide asks Jackie, who says: “Tell him it is TOMORROW night.”
We did that last night.
Friends of 40 year duration who live in Portland had invited us over for dinner. I made a big loaf of black olive bread and we arrived right on time.
But like the Malayan Ambassador we had the wrong day. We all laughed, cut the bread and had a piece of still warm bread, visited a bit and came home.
Were it anyone but old dear friends it might have been embarassing, but it was just funny. We will go back Thursday and I will bering a pan of corn bread.
The black olive bread takes 3 hours to make. It goes through three raisings and as many stretches of kneeding. I can whip out a batch of corn bread in less than an hour start to finish.
So she will ajust her soup recipe to make it perfet for my cornbread. It will be good.
He is announced in very proper english. The gate keeper allows him to pass. He goes to the next gate keeper (there was 4 if I remember), finally the aide asks Jackie, who says: “Tell him it is TOMORROW night.”
We did that last night.
Friends of 40 year duration who live in Portland had invited us over for dinner. I made a big loaf of black olive bread and we arrived right on time.
But like the Malayan Ambassador we had the wrong day. We all laughed, cut the bread and had a piece of still warm bread, visited a bit and came home.
Were it anyone but old dear friends it might have been embarassing, but it was just funny. We will go back Thursday and I will bering a pan of corn bread.
The black olive bread takes 3 hours to make. It goes through three raisings and as many stretches of kneeding. I can whip out a batch of corn bread in less than an hour start to finish.
So she will ajust her soup recipe to make it perfet for my cornbread. It will be good.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
visit
Friends came to visit over the weekend.
Good friends, but distance make it so we don’t see each other too often.
She lost her long time job a wile back. It seemed to her boss that she had Alzheimer’s. Testing. Yes. More testing, 2nd opinion. No.
But something is wrong.
He is 10 years older. When they were 35 and 45 that was not a big deal, but it is now. She is 65 and he 75.
He is a long time heavy smoker, it is showing now. He got out of the pickup and I sucked in my breath. He looked so much older than the last time I saw him .
We went for walk. He walked with a cane, as much for balance as anything, but still . . .
They have no children between them. He has three, she has a boy she never sees, or even talks to. She is scared.
“What will happen to me?”
I was not worried over the phone. He has been healthy, but now he is not looking so good. What used to take half a day now takes three, he tells me.
They have a nice home with lots of lawn and outside work. It is getting to be too much for him. He thinks about moving into a retirement complex. She seems to agree.
Though not much younger, I think I am in better health. But no one knows what is going on inside -- for sure.
Miriam and she visited and told stories over and over. He and I visited and took a walk.
Years ago I remember seeing the picture of an old lady who had lost her home. I do not remember if it was a natural disaster or war, but she stared at the camera and asked that same question.
“What is to become of us.”
If it is bad, I do not want to know.
Good friends, but distance make it so we don’t see each other too often.
She lost her long time job a wile back. It seemed to her boss that she had Alzheimer’s. Testing. Yes. More testing, 2nd opinion. No.
But something is wrong.
He is 10 years older. When they were 35 and 45 that was not a big deal, but it is now. She is 65 and he 75.
He is a long time heavy smoker, it is showing now. He got out of the pickup and I sucked in my breath. He looked so much older than the last time I saw him .
We went for walk. He walked with a cane, as much for balance as anything, but still . . .
They have no children between them. He has three, she has a boy she never sees, or even talks to. She is scared.
“What will happen to me?”
I was not worried over the phone. He has been healthy, but now he is not looking so good. What used to take half a day now takes three, he tells me.
They have a nice home with lots of lawn and outside work. It is getting to be too much for him. He thinks about moving into a retirement complex. She seems to agree.
Though not much younger, I think I am in better health. But no one knows what is going on inside -- for sure.
Miriam and she visited and told stories over and over. He and I visited and took a walk.
Years ago I remember seeing the picture of an old lady who had lost her home. I do not remember if it was a natural disaster or war, but she stared at the camera and asked that same question.
“What is to become of us.”
If it is bad, I do not want to know.
Monday, May 11, 2009
my Dodge
I made the last payment on the Dodge today.
There is something awesome and inspiring about paying off my last new vehicle.
Didn’t I tell you that I am not a plumber?
I kept saying:
“I am not a plumber.”
“It is against the law for me plumb your bathroom.”
“How can I warrantee work I do not know how to do?”
All of my working career I keep telling customers things like that.
I still do way too much of it.
But I was never good at it, still am not.
We did a total remodel on Linda’s bathroom when she bought the house. YES, I did it! Re-plumbed the entire bathroom and the kitchen sink drain, but I never got the drain on the bathroom vanity really right. We rain out of time. Finally it was so plugged that it just wouldn’t drain at all.
So that was one of my jobs this visit.
All week I worked to determine a better way to engineer that drain so it would work better.
Trips to the plumbing store, drawing schematics, the whole thing. Today I had it all figured out, bought the last parts and took the unneeded ones back. Only then did I take the drain loose. When it was apart I discovered that the original plumber, or maybe the one after the original had made a bad mistake. The drain pipe went into the wall with a tight 90º turn, then went level, or uphill for a foot or so before dropping to the trunk line.
There was no way to make it work really well without changing that drain. SO back to the plumbing store 4 more times. All new drain, in a different location, with a straight shot to that trunk line and a sack of 'new' extra parts!
And tonight the water runs out as fast as it goes in.
The drain pipe is on the far side of the vanity and is nicely hidden from view. Only a 3” hole remains in the wall where the old drain was, and I’ll do a number on that later.
I am still not a plumber. A real plumber would have come in, looked around, made a shopping list, disappeared and had it all back together in less than two hours.
I put in all day (we had dinner at 8, normally we eat at 4), I shopped and schemed all week.
But the drain works like it was supposed to.
I am tired, my hands are covered with black pipe glue (which does not come off easily) and I am going to take a shower and go to bed early. Sometimes I think I am getting too old for such foolishness, but if I say then I am for sure.
And, I am still not a plumber.
“I am not a plumber.”
“It is against the law for me plumb your bathroom.”
“How can I warrantee work I do not know how to do?”
All of my working career I keep telling customers things like that.
I still do way too much of it.
But I was never good at it, still am not.
We did a total remodel on Linda’s bathroom when she bought the house. YES, I did it! Re-plumbed the entire bathroom and the kitchen sink drain, but I never got the drain on the bathroom vanity really right. We rain out of time. Finally it was so plugged that it just wouldn’t drain at all.
So that was one of my jobs this visit.
All week I worked to determine a better way to engineer that drain so it would work better.
Trips to the plumbing store, drawing schematics, the whole thing. Today I had it all figured out, bought the last parts and took the unneeded ones back. Only then did I take the drain loose. When it was apart I discovered that the original plumber, or maybe the one after the original had made a bad mistake. The drain pipe went into the wall with a tight 90º turn, then went level, or uphill for a foot or so before dropping to the trunk line.
There was no way to make it work really well without changing that drain. SO back to the plumbing store 4 more times. All new drain, in a different location, with a straight shot to that trunk line and a sack of 'new' extra parts!
And tonight the water runs out as fast as it goes in.
The drain pipe is on the far side of the vanity and is nicely hidden from view. Only a 3” hole remains in the wall where the old drain was, and I’ll do a number on that later.
I am still not a plumber. A real plumber would have come in, looked around, made a shopping list, disappeared and had it all back together in less than two hours.
I put in all day (we had dinner at 8, normally we eat at 4), I shopped and schemed all week.
But the drain works like it was supposed to.
I am tired, my hands are covered with black pipe glue (which does not come off easily) and I am going to take a shower and go to bed early. Sometimes I think I am getting too old for such foolishness, but if I say then I am for sure.
And, I am still not a plumber.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
grain silos
The Palouse country (Indians of that name bred some of the prettiest horses) is rolling hills of wheat. For temporary storage the landscape is dotted with large wood and concrete silos. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Palouse_hills_northeast_of_Walla_Walla.jpg
Once I used silos as a theme in a print making class in Graduate Art School. One of the other students snorted: "Not acceptable subject matter."
I complained about the stupidity of the statement. The Prof said: "have you seen him around lately?"
He had been dismissed from the graduate program (which they can do in a heart beat).
Hmm
finlandia
The song was banned during WWII.
No one was allowed to play or to hear. On hearing the song natives of the country were known to cry, the power of a song that did not even have words.
The mythology is that the songs repeat the machine gun bursts at the Nazi’s as they marched into Finland. Actually it is a protest against Czarists Russia several generations earlier.
The church we visited always has good music, which is one reason I attend here. Today’s program was a brass choir, but included tympani and cymbals, along with the trumpets, trombones and tuba.
“Finlandia” by Jean Sibelius',arranged for brass and percussion. And it was being played in this church. I had heard the music hundreds of times (or more), but I don’t do concerts much (budget thing) and I had never seen this piece performed, for sure not with Brass.
The group did was not large, maybe a dozen players, but brass can could big.
Percussionists are an interesting group. Tympanists spend a good bit of the concert waiting, standing, holding their mallets, or else they are humped over the drums with a pitch pipe in their mouths, listening and tuning the drum.
This time the tympanist was a woman, maybe 55, greying hair. Nothing unusual to look at.
The song starts small and swells. Good brass, big sound. Then the tympanist does a roll. It was not complex, but she did it perfectly. Then there another.
The trumpets do staccato. The base blares, the sounds of music and battle and maybe even of airplanes (though the song was written before airplanes), and the tympani comes to life.
Loud, soft, complex rhythms a performance all in itself. The lady did not miss a beat, her performance was perfect. Her part could make or break a performance.
I am not a Finn, but I sat there with heavy eyelids. The affect was stunning. Afterwards while the church members filed out I just sat and thought. The musicians disappeared with their instruments (ok the tympanists took her mallets and left the instruments). Only the conductor stayed, visiting with a church member.
I approached them. “I do not know where you found the tympanist, but she is absolutely amazing.” He agreed. She was not a professional musician, in fact the conductor did not know what her day job was, except that she divided her time between Portland and Atlanta Georgia.
I told him I was stunned. He asked me if I play brass, I said yes and that I still do and he smiled. His group was mostly grey haired. They were way over my head in skill level, but I would love to play with a group like that. I told him that I started playing trumpet as a way to strengthen my weak lungs. He nodded.
When it was all over I felt blessed and a bit weak in the knees.
I will never forget this performance.
No one was allowed to play or to hear. On hearing the song natives of the country were known to cry, the power of a song that did not even have words.
The mythology is that the songs repeat the machine gun bursts at the Nazi’s as they marched into Finland. Actually it is a protest against Czarists Russia several generations earlier.
The church we visited always has good music, which is one reason I attend here. Today’s program was a brass choir, but included tympani and cymbals, along with the trumpets, trombones and tuba.
“Finlandia” by Jean Sibelius',arranged for brass and percussion. And it was being played in this church. I had heard the music hundreds of times (or more), but I don’t do concerts much (budget thing) and I had never seen this piece performed, for sure not with Brass.
The group did was not large, maybe a dozen players, but brass can could big.
Percussionists are an interesting group. Tympanists spend a good bit of the concert waiting, standing, holding their mallets, or else they are humped over the drums with a pitch pipe in their mouths, listening and tuning the drum.
This time the tympanist was a woman, maybe 55, greying hair. Nothing unusual to look at.
The song starts small and swells. Good brass, big sound. Then the tympanist does a roll. It was not complex, but she did it perfectly. Then there another.
The trumpets do staccato. The base blares, the sounds of music and battle and maybe even of airplanes (though the song was written before airplanes), and the tympani comes to life.
Loud, soft, complex rhythms a performance all in itself. The lady did not miss a beat, her performance was perfect. Her part could make or break a performance.
I am not a Finn, but I sat there with heavy eyelids. The affect was stunning. Afterwards while the church members filed out I just sat and thought. The musicians disappeared with their instruments (ok the tympanists took her mallets and left the instruments). Only the conductor stayed, visiting with a church member.
I approached them. “I do not know where you found the tympanist, but she is absolutely amazing.” He agreed. She was not a professional musician, in fact the conductor did not know what her day job was, except that she divided her time between Portland and Atlanta Georgia.
I told him I was stunned. He asked me if I play brass, I said yes and that I still do and he smiled. His group was mostly grey haired. They were way over my head in skill level, but I would love to play with a group like that. I told him that I started playing trumpet as a way to strengthen my weak lungs. He nodded.
When it was all over I felt blessed and a bit weak in the knees.
I will never forget this performance.
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