Poor Kitty

Rascal is getting old.

The last two days his fur has been a mess.  Gary says it is just that he got into something that makes it tangle.  The problem is that he hasn't been anywhere that that could happen. Every old cat I've had over the years had that sticky fur just before it became time to take that last visit to the vet.

Another sign of aging is the size of the clumps in the litter box.  The bigger the clumps, the more problems Rascal is having with his kidneys.  Those clumps used to be the size of a quarter.  Now they are the size of a small saucer.  So far, he is making the litter box but for how long?

He is losing weight and muscle tone.  We know he is hurting.  The steps are too much. He no longer is coming upstairs to wake me up in the morning. He still manages to leap up on my lap most of the time, but sometimes he misses and stalks away embarrassed.

We are getting old, too.  Today, Gary had to see the doctor about the aches in his arms. He was told to avoid lifting weights for a while and given a prescription for prednisone.

My fingers are getting arthritic. Playing a piano is in the past, I'm afraid.  Even typing can become painful.

Gary says that sooner or later one of us will have to be stored in the freezer before we can be buried, so I had better make room.

Forever

I am getting annoyed with the word "forever".  It is being overused to the point of being meaningless.

When someone dies, odds are that the family will put that word in the obituary. "We'll remember Oscar forever."   Since the survivors won't live forever, they can't possibly remember someone else forever.   Go to any cemetery on Memorial Day and look at the plots that have abandoned. In one or two generations, the deceased are forgotten. There's no "forever" there.

When we were checking out at our supermarket this evening, I noticed a celebrity magazine.  A headline proclaimed that something would happen at some reality television show that would be so shocking that we would remember it forever.  I seriously doubt that.

We Americans have abysmal memories.  A recent survey asked voters who killed Osama Bin Laden.  Eight percent thought it was Mitt Romney.  Seriously?  If the electorate can't accurately remember something that took place a year ago, how can they remember anything "forever"?

What happened on December 7, 1941?  Who remembers that Day of Infamy?  Why do we celebrate Veterans Day on November 11...if we celebrate it at all?  When I was a child we celebrated a moment of silence at 11:00 a.m. on that day, but I doubt schools do that any more.

September 11, 2001, which we were told we would remember forever, has smaller and smaller memorial services as the years go on.  Instead of 9-11, we are now supposed to call it Patriots Day, but we don't get the day off and in time I expect our memories will wear thin.

Today, we got the sales flyer for Don's Quality Market with the Patriots Day sale. Perhaps "forever" in America has more to do with merchandising than anything else.

Kitty Shower

Friends of ours from Illinois are camping in the Nicolet Forest.  They've just adopted two rescue kittens, Malachi and Micah.  Because Brad and Merrilee spend much of the summer camping, even running their business from their camper via the internet, they wanted their two cats to come along.  So far, so good.

Gary, who loves cats, wanted to meet these two kittens, so he decided we needed to go to the campground for a kitty shower, bringing them toys.  So we drove north, once I had finished making a pot of soup to set on simmer on the stove.

We found Brad and Merrilee and their daughter at their lake.  It was an amazing site because it was the only one at the end of the road. Merrilee says there are about 35 sites like this in Wisconsin, isolated spots at the end of long forest roads.  There's no access to water and the only toilet is outdoors, very primitive, but the privacy is superb. There are no dogs, no loud campers, no boom boxes, no motorboats, and no beer parties.  Just peace, perfect peace.

So where is this jewel? Years ago, I discovered Laura Lake and with great enthusiasm told friends about it, even wrote about it in my newspaper column.  Today, Laura Lake is only quiet in the early spring and late fall.  So I will keep Brad and Merrilee's little campsite a secret though we might try it when they aren't using it.

We met Malachi and Micah who are doing kitten things including climbing up the screen door and scratching  up furniture.  So far, so good, Merrilee says.  They are champion travelers, though I expect the camper will get a bit cramped as they get bigger.

Good conversation and we came back home to the pot of soup, now cooling.  Time to freeze it into pint containers.  This is the fourth batch of soup I've made since the tomatoes began to ripen.  We'll take some along when we go on our next camping expedition a week from now.

A Day of Rummaging

Our plan for the citywide rummage sale was as follows:

From 8 to 10, Gary and I would go around to some of the rummage sales just to look around.

From 10 to early afternoon, I would rummage with Tim, soon to be a single father, looking for baby clothes and furnishings.  

Evan was to have a swimming lesson this morning, but he and his parents were to join me in the afternoon for even more rummaging. 

Plans don't always work out, but I think this day turned out even better than I expected.  

Gary and I got a late start so only had an hour to look around.  Right away I found a small blancher/steamer.  The one I've been using for using for years is too big.  It was marked $2.  I offered $1 and got it.There was an unopened bag of cotton summer socks, brand new with the original price of $6.99 still on it for $2.00.  I talked the sellers down to 50 cents then found out when I got home that instead of six pair there were seven.   Next I found a a box of 15 Christmas ornaments, little musical instruments. They are exact matches to the ornaments I got about twenty-five years ago on a decorated artificial tree being taken down at Menards. That tree wore out but I still have the ornaments. I never felt there were enough of them, but now I have enough to make a show. They were $5 but I got them for $2.  I love the bargaining part of the process. 

Tim called to say he was on his way and five minutes later, Chris called to say he, Tisha and Evan were on their way.  It seems Evan's swimming lessons weren't starting until next Saturday.  Well, we would all have to rummage together.  

We finally worked out that Chris and Evan would go with Tisha, Tim and me for a while.  Evan soon found a wonderful toy, spent all his money and went back to Mathom House with his daddy to play video games. Tisha, Tim and I went on.  It worked out wonderfully because Tisha (I call her my personal dresser) is brilliant at finding bargains, plus as a young mother she knew all the things that Tim was going to need.   

She showed him a diaper caddy, a wonderful device for disposing of those smelly diapers. They discussed strollers and cribs and more.  Tim will get some of these things from his sisters and friends whose children have outgrown them plus he could put others on his baby registry, which I guess is like the bridal registry. Tim says he's been buying gifts for showers for years, so he figures everyone owes him big time at his shower in January!

Tisha showed him a bottle sterilizer that he bought and I bought the baby a soft receiving blanket.  

He found a burping towel that said, "I love you Daddy", several little outfits, and a book on what to expect the first year....though Tisha and I both said to expect the unexpected.  

We had lunch at Sissy's tea room.  I finally had a chance to try the chicken salad on cranberry bread that everyone has been raving about and yes, it was delicious  We sat and talked politics and babies for almost an hour then Tisha took this photo of Tim, Evan and me.  

It was a day of bargains and friendship.  In the end, I told Tim he should listen to all our advice then feel free to ignore it.   If you know the difference between good advice and bad advice, you don't need advice.   

Stocking Up

Most of the American Midwest has been in drought this summer and that drought extended up to Manitoba and Saskatchewan.  This means that the cost of wheat and corn products is likely to go up.  Meat already went up in price after last year's western drought. Georgia's peanut crop suffered, too.  Last winter I found a good sale on peanut butter at 99 cents per 18 ounce jar of peanut butter.  This past week, the same peanut butter was $2.99 and that was on sale. 

Though there should be a cost of living raise for those of us on social security, it isn't likely to cover the increased cost of our food. With that in mind, I've been gradually stocking up on staples, particularly thinking about wheat products.  Last week, I found packages of pancake mix for 25 cents each.  Each package makes enough pancakes for two people. I bought enough for the winter. I bought five pounds of rice and ten pounds of pasta.  

I'm using our garden harvest to make batches of soup and freezing them up, three batches so far and tomorrow I'll make another. 

A warm spell in March was followed by April frost which was disastrous for orchards. There was only one pear on our pear tree this year. Gary and I split it. It was delicious. But fruit will be expensive this winter. I received a postcard from one of my favorite apple orchards.  The owners were notifying their customers that there will be no pick your own apples this autumn, something we've done with Evan for several years. 

To make sure there will always be fruit and vegetables this winter, I've been stocking up on canned fruit and frozen vegetables. 

I watch for other sales. This weekend our local supermarket had a truckload sale.  I bought cases of tomato sauce and mushrooms so I can make sauce for the pasta I bought. 

Because we live on fixed incomes, we have to plan ahead to make sure there is food on our table. 

Women at the Convention

I haven't watched every moment of the political conventions in Tampa and Charlotte.  Instead, I checked the schedule of events and marked down the speakers I really wanted to hear and tuned into them.  This week it was some amazing women at the Democratic convention, women anyone should admire.

There was Michelle Obama of course, who really can sock out a great speech no matter whether you agree with her or not. I admire her work with military families, I've read her book on the White House Garden and think her fight against childhood obesity is right on.  Her biceps are incredible, too.  But there were other interesting women, too.

Sandra Fluke was there. Yes, that Sandra Fluke, who rose above Rush Limbaugh's insults to come to the convention to talk about the twelve men in the House of Representatives who were to decide on women's reproductive issues but refused to allow women to talk.

Elizabeth Warren is the economics professor who helped form the Obama Administration's Consumer Financial Protection Bureau but was forced out of her position as its head by the Republican Congress.  She now is running for Ted Kennedy's old seat in the Senate.  She gave a rousing speech about corporate greed.  

Tammy Duckworth came on the stage on prosthetic legs to talk about the military.  Despite losing her legs in Iraq, she has never resigned her commission and still serves in the National Guard.  She is running for Congress against Representative Joe Walsh, that crude, crude man who said Duckworth is using her disability politically, who said he would debate Duckworth about fashion. She carries on.  

Gabby Gifford was there, too, to pledge allegiance to the flag in a clear, loud voice.  She is coming back from that awful day when she was shot in Tucson.  She isn't running for Congressional office this time around but I wouldn't count her out entirely. 

But the one female speaker I liked the most was Sister Simone Campbell of the Nuns in a Bus. If she had Congressman Paul Ryan in a classroom, that nun would give him a sharp crack across his knuckles with a ruler for telling whoppers. The Nuns on the Bus say that Ryan's budget hurts the poor and that is not what Christianity is about.  A Catholic boy should know better. 

Strong women all of them.  The men of the GOP should be sweating.  

Sissy's

Today I went down to the grand opening of the new business in town, Sissy's. 

I was so excited because Pat Stone, church secretary at the United Methodist Church and now co-owner of Sissy's, told me that not only would there be hand dipped ice cream, but one of the first flavors was chocolate almond fudge. I considered this a direct commandment from God:  go ye forth and pig out on ice cream. 

Not only did Sissy's have ice cream they had sandwiches and soup and delectable home made desserts. Oh no, there was cheesecake.  And almond apricot scones.  And apple pie.  And so much more.  How I am expected to lose weight is beyond me. 

I went back later to explore with Susan Manzke.  We took a look at the crafts areas scattered around the tea room.  

We took a look at the large tea room, which is set aside for large groups and parties.  It would be perfect for  bridal or baby showers.  

We ordered herbal tea for two and sat at the tables at the front of the store and had a leisurely gossip as we watched people go by. 

There were the usual problems of a business's first day.  The new hot water heater didn't work.  The lights at the front of the restaurant had to be re-adjusted.  The helpers didn't know how to figure out state sales tax. Not a terrible problem, but Sissy's was deluged with customers.  It was a start. 

We hope for years of hand dipped ice cream.  

Conventions

A few years back, I had a journalism career going with columns in magazines and work on other projects.  In time, the work dried up and I was out looking for other outlets for my talent. A friend sent me to a magazine geared toward young investors. Since I'd written a financial column for seven years it seemed a perfect fit until I found out that the articles I was supposed to write were limited to fifty words. I've never struggled so hard with assignments.  How could I explain business opportunities with a word limit like that?  Why even have such a limit?  The editor explained that young people don't have an attention span any more.

The Republican national convention is over. The Democratic convention started tonight. Neither one of them will have much of an audience. Though both parties have learned to use the internet and modern technologies to reach out to voters, the politicians still don't understand how short an attention span their audiences have.

When I was young, the conventions meant something because our futures were decided there. Today, the conventions are infomercials, all cut and dried with almost everything decided ahead of time. Nothing much will happen except for long, long speeches that are much too long for the cyberspace generation who won't listen to anything except the YouTube short versions. Even there, this Twitter generation won't pay attention to anything except the biggest goofs.  

The Clint Eastwood chair fiasco as of tonight has been watched by 1.5 million YouTube viewers.  Mitt Romney's speech has yet to be viewed by 100,000. The night of Romney's speech Michelle Obama was a guest on the David Letterman show and I bet more people watched her than heard that speech.

There was a time when a party's convention gave them a "bump" in the polls.  Nothing like that happened to the RNC and I doubt the Democrats will find much change either.  

It's time for the parties to re-think their conventions.  They need to be more compact.  The speeches don't have to be 50 words, but five minutes is enough to get your message across.

A young man gave a great speech (and not a long one either) at the Democratic convention in 2004 and caught the nation's attention. Four year's later he became President. Now every politician is trying to give that great speech which means more and more speeches, most of which so far are not all that inspirational.

The political parties need some good directors to run those conventions and cut down on the oratory. They need to make politics entertaining. A little fact-checking beforehand would certainly be appreciated.

Tonight I took a lovely walk and talked to people around town.  Tomorrow, I'll get the abbreviated version of the DNC convention.  I, too, seem to have an attention deficit.

Three Gay Caballeros

All this summer I've been following the adventures of my cousin Charles, his partner Sean and their friend Chris as they hike the Pacific Crest Trail.  They have been posting their adventures on their blog
http://3gaycaballeros.blogspot.com/

They haven't been able to post on their blog every day which is understandable considering the way the PCT winds through the mountains and forests, still every three or four days they would catch up. Each time I was left wondering what they were doing and if they were all right.

Then on August 24th, their posts stopped and I began to wonder what happened to them.  The last posting was about Sean's mother going into surgery here in Wisconsin.  Were they still hiking or had they decided to quit?

I fretted about it, though never going so far as to call Charles's mother or sister.  Then on the 30st, I consulted the map and realized they were going through the Mount Hood National Forest.  I camped in the forest last summer when I was on tour.  Cell phone coverage was non-existent.  I drove from my campsite to the town of Escontada, Oregon to see about posting on this blog and found out the only internet access in the town was in the library and that was closed.  It was the only time on the tour I failed to post.

I figured Charles, Sean and Chris were having the same problem and so it was when on September 31 they posted : "We are finding it more difficult -- maybe because of the remoteness -- to get a signal strong enough to allow us to upload our log entries and especially our photos. Argh."

But by yesterday, they were able to send the rest of the journal through August 31.  On August 27th they crossed the Bridge of the Gods across the Columbian gorge and entered the State of Washington.

Almost everyone that started out from the Mexican border has given up, they say, but they keep going.  They have about 400 miles to the Canadian border.  They look at their map and say that they are insane to keep going, but on they go despite sore feet, hunger and cold.  Winter comes to the Pacific Crest earlier than it does to the lowlands so at night they wear long underwear and shiver.

What tales they have to tell!  They are all writers so I expect a book is in the offing.

On they go.  I wish them well.  

Good Deals

I hate shopping.

Gary loves shopping.   His idea of a great date is to take me to Walmart.  He seems oblivious to the fact that I hate shopping.  Half asleep, I push the cart around while he throws things into it. But here's the thing, while I'm wandering around bored out of my mind, I am the one who finds great bargains.

Today, at Menards, Gary was looking at shelving for the bathroom. He asks my opinion but he always makes the decision and I don't really care about stuff like that so I wandered off to talk to Sallie Jo in the garden center.  She wasn't busy and is always happy to discuss the strange behavior of men.  While we were dissing our significant others I spotted 2012 seed packets marked down to five cents.  From experience I know that some kinds of seeds will grow even if they're as much as five years old so I bought carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, and three kinds of squash, ten packets at all for a total of 53 cents. I'll put them away for next spring's planting.

Next Gary wanted to go to Walmart.  I hate Walmart so I went to Culvers instead to get some cookie dough custard. I was to meet him at Walmart but I walked by a salon and noticed the beauticians weren't busy and boy, I needed a haircut badly.  I went in and with the senior discount, got a haircut for $9.   I was nicely shorn and even got a coupon for $3 off on my next cut.

I met Gary at Walmart, where he admired my cut and decided to go back and get one himself.

While Gary was at the salon, I went back to Walmart to look for some cole slaw dressing he hadn't been able to find. He doesn't like to ask for directions. I talked to three workers who didn't know where I could find it but the fourth had had to clean up a broken bottle of the dressing the day before. He described what a broken bottle of slaw dressing looks like and how it can splatter all over the shelves.

A woman giving out samples insisted I take a free feminine napkin, something someone my age has no use for but she was insistent. She was down to only a few samples and I suppose she couldn't quit until they were gone.  I guess I will use it for dusting.  Hey, it was free!