... doing all that running up and down the road that seems to occur with amazing frequency, I often have a drink at hand. They put the cu-p-holder there so I must/need to put something in it, right? Cheap me: usually recycling a styro. cup from Sonic, or chic-fil-a, adding more ice and liquid.
Recently, I stopped at a curb store to get something snack-y, and re-fill my well used styrofoam cup. Put in ice at the soda machine, but looking for something without caffeine to drink. Over in the doors where there are bottled sodas and juice, I found cream soda, and bought a couple of those. When little people were here, I did not often buy sodas, so it was special when we did have carbonated drinks in the house. They both learned to love cream soda and root beer, things that routinely do not give that caffeine kick. After I paid and got to my car, I opened and poured part of one bottle over ice. I did not drink it all, so some was left in the bottle for another time.
I took it to work recently, and was drinking it on my lunch break. A co-worker asked me why I was drinking Windex? because it was the same bright blue color as window cleaner. No point in setting him straight. So I said: "It's really pretty good, once you get past the color, and the awful taste. Do you want to try some?"
Friday, September 29, 2017
Thursday, September 28, 2017
to accompany the previous post...
... an oddball story about a true, actual home invasion. As Dave Barry, the highly amusing Miami newspaper columnist often said: 'I am not making this up.' Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction. I know the people involved, so I do not doubt the veracity of the story, so ridiculous you could not invent anything this crazy.
I read the report in the paper, and brought it to the attention of The Man Who Lives Here. He is a regular volunteer at the National Infantry Museum, and will see the couple who this happened to when they are all at their volunteer posts. He reported enjoying hearing them tell about it, even though is is really difficult to digest as true.
The couple who lives a couple of blocks away called the police to come investigate after the husband went up in the attic because they heard 'something' there. The public safety guy also went up in the attic and could not find anything. But the police went out and walked around in the yard, looking for possible cause of odd bumping and thumping sounds. Thinking: maybe an animal on the roof? They found evidence of someone having been in a storage shed. Clothing, a back pack, shoes.
There was more noise in the attic, so they went back up to poke around more. Whereupon they found a man who had somehow gotten in, and covered himself with insulation, trying to disappear. After he was discovered, and being removed from the attic, he apparently mis-stepped and came through the ceiling. Did I say he was naked? Yep.
I understand from The Man Who Lives Here and got the story first-hand from the volunteering couple, there was considerable evidence that the miscreant was on drugs. I cannot say why he would climb up on the roof and break in the house, or hide in the insulation, or do these things in his birthday suit. But I have reliable sources. His backpack was filled with candy and ice cream. Not a particularly smart thing to take to a picnic out in the country, miles from refrigeration. But a naked guy on meth. coming through your ceiling is not my definition of particularly smart.
I read the report in the paper, and brought it to the attention of The Man Who Lives Here. He is a regular volunteer at the National Infantry Museum, and will see the couple who this happened to when they are all at their volunteer posts. He reported enjoying hearing them tell about it, even though is is really difficult to digest as true.
The couple who lives a couple of blocks away called the police to come investigate after the husband went up in the attic because they heard 'something' there. The public safety guy also went up in the attic and could not find anything. But the police went out and walked around in the yard, looking for possible cause of odd bumping and thumping sounds. Thinking: maybe an animal on the roof? They found evidence of someone having been in a storage shed. Clothing, a back pack, shoes.
There was more noise in the attic, so they went back up to poke around more. Whereupon they found a man who had somehow gotten in, and covered himself with insulation, trying to disappear. After he was discovered, and being removed from the attic, he apparently mis-stepped and came through the ceiling. Did I say he was naked? Yep.
I understand from The Man Who Lives Here and got the story first-hand from the volunteering couple, there was considerable evidence that the miscreant was on drugs. I cannot say why he would climb up on the roof and break in the house, or hide in the insulation, or do these things in his birthday suit. But I have reliable sources. His backpack was filled with candy and ice cream. Not a particularly smart thing to take to a picnic out in the country, miles from refrigeration. But a naked guy on meth. coming through your ceiling is not my definition of particularly smart.
really strange...
...happening at my house several nights ago. I have to set my alarm to get up at 5 a.m. and on to work by 6:00. Even though it was fairly early in the evening, I was gone to bed, and probably just drifted off to sleep in five seconds before this occurred. The dang alarm went off - according to The Man Who Lives Here, for no apparent reason. Which is pretty hard to believe, but I cannot argue.
There is a small plastic control box, with key pad that has a 'panic button', on the wall in the bedroom where he sleeps. He was in that room at the time, immediately punched the button to quiet the deafening alarm, which is situated in the attic directly over my bed, about ten feet from my sleeping ears. When I questioned him about this incident the following day, after my heart rate returned to normal, he reported he had 'No Idea' what set it off. I am still filled with wonderment, full of questions I would like to ask, but currently keeping my mouth shut.
As you might expect, that alarm brought the presence of law enforcement. The Man reported by the time he could get his pants on, there was a cop with a flashlight poking around on the screened porch. And the total of armed personnel who responded to that alert was three. Fortunately, they did not arrive with light bars flashing. There was no intruder found. Nothing out of the ordinary here. My heart, though revved up to top speed, eventually allowed me to go back to sleep.
There is a small plastic control box, with key pad that has a 'panic button', on the wall in the bedroom where he sleeps. He was in that room at the time, immediately punched the button to quiet the deafening alarm, which is situated in the attic directly over my bed, about ten feet from my sleeping ears. When I questioned him about this incident the following day, after my heart rate returned to normal, he reported he had 'No Idea' what set it off. I am still filled with wonderment, full of questions I would like to ask, but currently keeping my mouth shut.
As you might expect, that alarm brought the presence of law enforcement. The Man reported by the time he could get his pants on, there was a cop with a flashlight poking around on the screened porch. And the total of armed personnel who responded to that alert was three. Fortunately, they did not arrive with light bars flashing. There was no intruder found. Nothing out of the ordinary here. My heart, though revved up to top speed, eventually allowed me to go back to sleep.
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
while in Decatur...
... over the weekend, we went to the big box store and found things in the garden shop to put in some terracotta pots that sit on the front steps. Different sizes of containers, one on each step, leading up to the front door. The pots held some weary, leggy pansies that had been planted last fall, so it was time for a change.
We bought fresh pansies, in a riot of color, along with some snapdragons that will grow taller in the center of each pot, and provide a surprise as we do not know what color the snaps will be when they bloom. And some dianthus that are a rosy red and white. The dianthus are perennials, and will hopefully continue bloom indefinitely as long as they get a little attention: watering and occasional dead-heading, pinching the spent flowers off to make them want to bloom again.
Dumped the dirt out, and filled with fresh potting soil, adding some time release fertilizer before inserting the plants. I had a little pot with several bloomed out roses, to put in the center of each of the pots, adding some height to the low growing dianthus and pansies. The snapdragons will add some height as well, once they get established and start to grow and bloom.As it turned out, there were a few pansies left over, that I brought home with me, and put in a pot in my yard. Outside the window by the table where I type, so will seem them blooming through the months ahead, bright and colorful through the cooler months. Provided the chipmunks do not have a party in the pot and uproot them all! The last photo is the pot in my yard, that also has a red verbena that is still blooming, along with the white pansies.
Monday, September 25, 2017
saw that guy again...
... the amusing man riding a bicycle down the sidewalk when I was going home after work. The major highway I drive to and from my employment must be part of his regular route as he seems to travel the same area frequently. I have seen him several times, and wished I could take a photo, like some of the confounding ones I see on you tube. Under the heading of 'if you had not actually seen it, you would not believe it'.
This is a full grown adult, riding on a child's bike. I guess the little tires on the red bicycle must be ten or twelve inches in diameter: really small for an adult to be peddling like mad. But the most surprising part is his head gear: a complete, intact motorcycle helmet, with Plexiglas visor. Not a vented, light-weight bike helmet, but a black helmet designed for high-impact motorcycle riders.
I chuckle to myself every time I drive down the street and see him industriously peddling away, intent on his destination. I have to give him credit for being willing to work so hard to get there, plus cautious enough to want to wear a helmet. Probably does not really matter how odd he appears, as he busily heads out to get where ever he wants to be. And likely not much more strange looking than me, as I am trundling down the street pushing my wheelbarrow. With buckets, jugs and shovel, heading out in the late afternoon to do some weeding on my little planting project across the street. I suspect that all the vehicles that stop at the intersection, and pass by as I am trucking across to get to the flower bed and pull weeds are thinking: 'where in the world is that crazy person going, pushing the wheelbarrow down the road?'
This is a full grown adult, riding on a child's bike. I guess the little tires on the red bicycle must be ten or twelve inches in diameter: really small for an adult to be peddling like mad. But the most surprising part is his head gear: a complete, intact motorcycle helmet, with Plexiglas visor. Not a vented, light-weight bike helmet, but a black helmet designed for high-impact motorcycle riders.
I chuckle to myself every time I drive down the street and see him industriously peddling away, intent on his destination. I have to give him credit for being willing to work so hard to get there, plus cautious enough to want to wear a helmet. Probably does not really matter how odd he appears, as he busily heads out to get where ever he wants to be. And likely not much more strange looking than me, as I am trundling down the street pushing my wheelbarrow. With buckets, jugs and shovel, heading out in the late afternoon to do some weeding on my little planting project across the street. I suspect that all the vehicles that stop at the intersection, and pass by as I am trucking across to get to the flower bed and pull weeds are thinking: 'where in the world is that crazy person going, pushing the wheelbarrow down the road?'
tutoring with the four-year olds...
... in preschool classes again for the fall semester. The program is designed to help some of the little people who seem to be struggling with their pre-reading skills. Any number of reasons: not being exposed to books, or not having someone in their lives who helps them every day, pointing out little things like the colors or letters on their cereal box. Not being in day care where they learn their letters, numbers, colors, shapes, where someone will help them learn how to form the letters to write their names. Not living in an environment with age appropriate reading material: exposure to books, being read to, seeing 'book handling' modeled, being shown how to hold a book, read from front to back, being careful with and respectful of the printed word.
So my small part of changing this is going to an elementary school for an hour one day a week. Spending twenty minutes or so with a four year old, reading a different book each week, taking a few minutes more to do a little work sheet that reinforces some aspect of the book: illustrations of animals, with the name printed to match to the picture. Or connect the dots with numbers that help to form the outline of one of the characters we read about. Or maybe dotted lines that spell out the some of words from the book. Simple things that help to insure the child has some understanding and retention of what we read. Five different people going in one day a week to read the book each day, then giving the book to the child on Friday to take home and hopefully have it read more.
I don't know how the person who runs the program decides which children are most in need, and could benefit from this extra help. Nor do I know how she evaluates the amount of improvement from the beginning to the end. But it would have to improve their skills, give them some needed assistance, a boost to improve their likelihood of success in the educational process, and therefore: life.
I've met with the two little guys twice, borrowing them from their classroom teachers to read for the past two Mondays. One is the most talkative four year old I have ever seen, we can hardly get the book read for all his conversation. The other is more shy, less exuberant and seems to be much more hesitant, inhibited, reserved. But they are both amusing, entertaining and will be interesting to get to know.
So my small part of changing this is going to an elementary school for an hour one day a week. Spending twenty minutes or so with a four year old, reading a different book each week, taking a few minutes more to do a little work sheet that reinforces some aspect of the book: illustrations of animals, with the name printed to match to the picture. Or connect the dots with numbers that help to form the outline of one of the characters we read about. Or maybe dotted lines that spell out the some of words from the book. Simple things that help to insure the child has some understanding and retention of what we read. Five different people going in one day a week to read the book each day, then giving the book to the child on Friday to take home and hopefully have it read more.
I don't know how the person who runs the program decides which children are most in need, and could benefit from this extra help. Nor do I know how she evaluates the amount of improvement from the beginning to the end. But it would have to improve their skills, give them some needed assistance, a boost to improve their likelihood of success in the educational process, and therefore: life.
I've met with the two little guys twice, borrowing them from their classroom teachers to read for the past two Mondays. One is the most talkative four year old I have ever seen, we can hardly get the book read for all his conversation. The other is more shy, less exuberant and seems to be much more hesitant, inhibited, reserved. But they are both amusing, entertaining and will be interesting to get to know.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
all put together...
...three bouquets with the calla lilies, and ready to go celebrate with happy couple, friends, family, hangers-on, passers-by. I called this morning to ask if they might have some little memento from the bride's grandmother that I could tie into the stems with the narrow blue ribbon I used for other trinkets. Two smaller bouquets of the same purple and white callas for the attendants to carry, and one calla to pin on the lapel of the groom.
The M.O.B reported she has a couple of sea shells that belonged to her mom, with a hole that might work to tie into the stems of the lilies. After lunch we went over to get the shell, and it is added to the bouquet the bride will carry. Along with lace that wraps the stems that was taken from her great grandmother's dress, bit of lace my great grandmother made, a pin of my mom's and a little surprise I found in my jewelry box. All tokens of love and affection by so many women in her life who have cared for, encouraged, supported her over the years since her birth. Looking forward to joining other invitees to shower the newly weds with good wishes for a happy rest-of-your-life.
Friday, September 22, 2017
getting hitched...
... on Saturday: the daughter of a cousin, who lives in Decatur. I offered to help with flowers, and was given the assignment of bouquets for the bridal party. She wanted calla lily blooms, and sent a photo that likely came from the internet, or some wedding site that provides a vast array with gazillions of different combinations of fresh flowers. The one she wants to duplicate has dark purple, almost an eggplant color, and creamy off white flowers. Nothing else, no greenery or frou-frou, just the two colors of callas, with long stems, hand-tied, maybe about a dozen blooms.
I called the nearest wholesale floral supplier last week and placed my order, then proceeded to worry the colors I needed would not be available. Most of the fresh cut flowers we get at work are grown and shipped from South America, Ecuador and Columbia. Cut, packed and flown to the states. There have been problems since that devastating hurricane, with supply chain for lots of goods our warehouse ships that are simply not available. Especially generic items, store-brand items like bread that were affected by flooding and power outages in Florida. As well as issues with goods shipped in from elsewhere by air freight.
Numerous items customers can usually expect to find in stock, and available at their convenience are simply out of stock, probably company wide, with no one getting things they need to stock shelves. Making me a bit concerned about the availability of the callas, even though my co-worker suggested if the colors were a problem,I can 'invent' what I need. He suggested there is the option of floral grade spray paint to create amazing things not actually found in nature. But when I went to Alabama to pick up my order on Thursday afternoon, they had just what I had requested.
The wholesale floral supply shop had my phone number, so I assumed they would provide notification if they had difficulty in fulfilling my request. I had not heard back, which caused me to hope with great optimism they had wat was needed. Drove over to Opelika on Thursday afternoon to get my fresh cut flowers, and was delighted to find just what the bride wants. I took a bucket, to keep in water and stay fresh,and will transport to Decatur to assemble on Saturday.
The bride told me her great grandmother offered her wedding dress. She found it to have some stains that could not be removed, but wanted to use some of he fabric to wrap the stems of the callas. Upon pondering on what I could add to make this even more special, I have: some crochet lace from her other great grandmother, a small piece of jewelry of my mom's. Both these women knew and loved this young adult woman and would be charmed and delighted to be a small part of this happy day. I don't think of myself as much of a traditionalist, but trying to come up with those traditional things that are so sweet and memorable when added to a bride's bouquet. You know: old, new, borrowed, blue.
The wedding is Saturday afternoon, which gives me plenty of time to put the bouquets together. There will be two female cousins attending the smiling bride, who will have smaller hand tied bouquets with the aubergine and creamy callas as well. And many friends and family members present to witness and provide good wishes for a happy fifty-plus year marriage.
Thursday, September 21, 2017
thankfulness...
... something new I found to add to my list of things to be thankful for, in the unlikely event I should ever run out of reasons to be counting my blessings. If you are a consistent reader, you will recall I have a little book, with lined, blank pages, that I write in every day. Think of things that we often take for granted, fail to consider, until there is some event that gives us a little poke, a reminder of another reason we are so blessed here living in America. Mostly just every things like electricity, hot water, washers and dryers, warm beds, a roof overhead.
At work, there is a co-worker who is a fairly new employee. She was hired about a month, working part time, learning the ropes, helping with production by making cubed fruit bowls, or the fresh fruit yogurt parfaits. Any person new to the job is going to be slow, and a bit hesitant, needing guidance to gain confidence, and time to develop skills and gradually improve with speed. I was working with her, offering suggestions, and helping her learn to do the work safely, meet the standards.
She is very young, looks about fourteen, but could be in her early twenties, though I doubt it. She is cheerful and willing to do anything she is asked to do. She is learning and will hopefully gain some speed as she continues to do repetitive work. She is also pregnant.
I came home last night telling The Man Who Lives Here how thankful I am that I was not in a position where I had to go to work while great with child. Thankful that I did not have to leave a small child at home with caregivers while I went out into the world to try to earn some funds to support myself. Thankful I did not have to live with in-laws, and a husband who is unemployed. Thankful to not be struggling with all the physical effects and limitations of growing a child in my body, and feeling compelled to look for employment. Thankful they are grown, sweet, smart, compassionate and fully functioning adults.
At work, there is a co-worker who is a fairly new employee. She was hired about a month, working part time, learning the ropes, helping with production by making cubed fruit bowls, or the fresh fruit yogurt parfaits. Any person new to the job is going to be slow, and a bit hesitant, needing guidance to gain confidence, and time to develop skills and gradually improve with speed. I was working with her, offering suggestions, and helping her learn to do the work safely, meet the standards.
She is very young, looks about fourteen, but could be in her early twenties, though I doubt it. She is cheerful and willing to do anything she is asked to do. She is learning and will hopefully gain some speed as she continues to do repetitive work. She is also pregnant.
I came home last night telling The Man Who Lives Here how thankful I am that I was not in a position where I had to go to work while great with child. Thankful that I did not have to leave a small child at home with caregivers while I went out into the world to try to earn some funds to support myself. Thankful I did not have to live with in-laws, and a husband who is unemployed. Thankful to not be struggling with all the physical effects and limitations of growing a child in my body, and feeling compelled to look for employment. Thankful they are grown, sweet, smart, compassionate and fully functioning adults.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
it happened at work... part 347...
... something I thought was amusing, but there is a good chance you could read on a while and then begin to say to yourself: huh? It could easily loose quite a bit in translation, but give it a try. Admittedly it is not nearly as entertaining as the one from several days ago when I told my boss I could not tend to everybodys' business, though I would give it my best effort. I am still chuckling to myself when I think of how impressive it was that I could come up with such a smart-a$$ answer on such short notice. Usually thinking of the 'perfect' response long after the occasion has passed....
A co-worker loves to get involved, give advice, offer opinions to anyone who will listen, whether there is a need for her to insert herself in the conversation or not. She has lots of opinions and willing to share her knowledge to any and all passersby. I will say that she has some years under her belt, lots of experience, and often can provide well considered advice. We have many conversations while working, about young people and how they seem to believe that they have no need to heed the words of their elders, already knowing It All.
When people call out sick, or tired or lazy, I often work extra hours, resulting in an enhanced paycheck. As someone who chooses to be part-time, I am usually willing to take advantage of opportunities to increase my weekly income, by staying late, helping out, jumping in the gap. This co-worker recently cautioned me, warning I might be working too many hours in a given week. That is not my problem and is most definitely not hers.
The latest amusement was a result of me showing some extra 'initiative', getting in motion and doing something that needed to be done that was not my responsibility. There was to be an opportunity for customers to taste samples of fresh produce, with preparation needed before the time for the event to begin. I got busy and put the thing together. But that co-worker asked me what I was doing. She had expected, I assume, that the manager would do the prep. for the event, and apparently concerned that I was doing it for him. Essentially doing some other person's job.
So I went to the manager and said: "You need to tell Me to set up the fresh tasting demo.". He looked at me with a very puzzled expression. I said it again. "I need for you to tell me to go get the demo. ready". Then he turned around to see it was operational, open for business, serving customers samples of fresh fruit. And even more baffled. I said "I need for you to tell me to get it done, so when I am asked why: I can say you told me." We had a good laugh, knowing what would happen next.
A co-worker loves to get involved, give advice, offer opinions to anyone who will listen, whether there is a need for her to insert herself in the conversation or not. She has lots of opinions and willing to share her knowledge to any and all passersby. I will say that she has some years under her belt, lots of experience, and often can provide well considered advice. We have many conversations while working, about young people and how they seem to believe that they have no need to heed the words of their elders, already knowing It All.
When people call out sick, or tired or lazy, I often work extra hours, resulting in an enhanced paycheck. As someone who chooses to be part-time, I am usually willing to take advantage of opportunities to increase my weekly income, by staying late, helping out, jumping in the gap. This co-worker recently cautioned me, warning I might be working too many hours in a given week. That is not my problem and is most definitely not hers.
The latest amusement was a result of me showing some extra 'initiative', getting in motion and doing something that needed to be done that was not my responsibility. There was to be an opportunity for customers to taste samples of fresh produce, with preparation needed before the time for the event to begin. I got busy and put the thing together. But that co-worker asked me what I was doing. She had expected, I assume, that the manager would do the prep. for the event, and apparently concerned that I was doing it for him. Essentially doing some other person's job.
So I went to the manager and said: "You need to tell Me to set up the fresh tasting demo.". He looked at me with a very puzzled expression. I said it again. "I need for you to tell me to go get the demo. ready". Then he turned around to see it was operational, open for business, serving customers samples of fresh fruit. And even more baffled. I said "I need for you to tell me to get it done, so when I am asked why: I can say you told me." We had a good laugh, knowing what would happen next.
Monday, September 18, 2017
falling into a black hole...
...alternately known as "Just A Buck"store. They pop up everywhere like mushrooms after a rain, you get accustomed to having one on nearly every corner, like curb stores where you run in for snacks and drinks.They lure you in with bargain prices, plus being so conveniently located, no reason to not stop in every day.
I went today, with a list that had only three things on it. Having learned that if I intend to bring home more than two, I better write it down, and have the paper in my hand, or will not get what is needed. Sadly: the trip to the 'dolla' sto' ' caused me to spend fourteen bucks plus tax, and I did not get all three things. What is it about that place? Have we gotten to the point in our society that a dollar has the value of a random penny on the side walk? That odd bit of change seems to have so little worth, it just melts into the asphalt. Very few passersby will stop, stoop and retrieve.
The way we seem to be willing to part with our hard earned funds in the 'dolla' sto' ' makes all those George Washingtons seem to have as little value as the Lincoln coppers. Went in to get three things, and left with fourteen, only two of which were on the list. All those magnets, envelopes, bags of frozen strawberries for smoothies, boxes of baking powder just jumped into my shopping basket, and cried out to come home with me. I just narrowly escaped a harrowing experience, and barely pulled myself free in the instant before total destruction.
Safely returned from the Black Hole of "Just A Buck." Escaped by the narrowest of margins, just a hair's breadth from oblivion. Never, ever go in a 'dolla' sto' ' with a small child! That is just asking for trouble!
I went today, with a list that had only three things on it. Having learned that if I intend to bring home more than two, I better write it down, and have the paper in my hand, or will not get what is needed. Sadly: the trip to the 'dolla' sto' ' caused me to spend fourteen bucks plus tax, and I did not get all three things. What is it about that place? Have we gotten to the point in our society that a dollar has the value of a random penny on the side walk? That odd bit of change seems to have so little worth, it just melts into the asphalt. Very few passersby will stop, stoop and retrieve.
The way we seem to be willing to part with our hard earned funds in the 'dolla' sto' ' makes all those George Washingtons seem to have as little value as the Lincoln coppers. Went in to get three things, and left with fourteen, only two of which were on the list. All those magnets, envelopes, bags of frozen strawberries for smoothies, boxes of baking powder just jumped into my shopping basket, and cried out to come home with me. I just narrowly escaped a harrowing experience, and barely pulled myself free in the instant before total destruction.
Safely returned from the Black Hole of "Just A Buck." Escaped by the narrowest of margins, just a hair's breadth from oblivion. Never, ever go in a 'dolla' sto' ' with a small child! That is just asking for trouble!
it happened at work...
... though I doubt anyone else there was nearly as amused as I continue to be. The back story goes into last week, when a co-worker did not show up for his shift very early one morning. There has to be someone in the produce department who comes in early enough to off-load a truck from the warehouse any time after 5 a.m. This guy, Pete, did not show up. Admittedly, he has a lot of 'issues' in his life right now, but even so, does not need to put his employment at risk.
My department manager, A., was so aggravated with everything about this, esp. as A. to do Pete's job as well as all the other things he had planned to get done. I expect A. would have strangled Pete if he could have found him. I left town, and did not know the outcome, only that Pete was on the job when I got to work on Sunday morning. I was 100% nosey, and told A. I knew it was none of my business, but wanted to know how it was resolved. Pete, as I suspected, got a 'good talking to', and will likely shape up for a while.
The funny part is when A. later asked me where a co-worker was/what she was doing. I said "I do not know. That I was far too busy minding Pete's business to be able to devote any time to knowing that!" Sadly, no one else appreciated my humor, but I chuckled to myself all day long, thinking about how clever I was to blurt that out at the right time. I usually have the perfect 'come-back' long after the occasion has passed. It was pretty funny, though I do not think Pete would be much amused.
My department manager, A., was so aggravated with everything about this, esp. as A. to do Pete's job as well as all the other things he had planned to get done. I expect A. would have strangled Pete if he could have found him. I left town, and did not know the outcome, only that Pete was on the job when I got to work on Sunday morning. I was 100% nosey, and told A. I knew it was none of my business, but wanted to know how it was resolved. Pete, as I suspected, got a 'good talking to', and will likely shape up for a while.
The funny part is when A. later asked me where a co-worker was/what she was doing. I said "I do not know. That I was far too busy minding Pete's business to be able to devote any time to knowing that!" Sadly, no one else appreciated my humor, but I chuckled to myself all day long, thinking about how clever I was to blurt that out at the right time. I usually have the perfect 'come-back' long after the occasion has passed. It was pretty funny, though I do not think Pete would be much amused.
flying trip to FL...
... on Saturday, driving to Valdosta by way of Tallahassee. Wanted to see friends who have moved from central FL to the panhandle area, and settled there to be closer to family. I planned to get there in time for lunch, hoping to also see adult children who are raising the next generation of amusing little people. The little ones were just as busy and entertaining as I had envisoned. Could hardly sit still long enough to eat lunch before getting back to their 'work' of engineering, building with reclaimed cardboard vacuum cleaner box. Pleasant lunch, with some of my favorite people.
It was a beautiful day to travel, nothing like the dire predictions of last weekend when the entire state was preparing to be blown off the may by Hurricane winds and rain. Tally is not that far into the state, probably less than fifty miles from the GA/FL line, but enough that I can say I've been. There was evidence everywhere of storm damage, limbs piled out along the verge for pick-up. Twisted and snapped utility poles, with wires dangling dangerously everywhere. Men with pickup trucks digging through the trash, looking for oak limbs to use for firewood. Signs mangled, or blown out/over. Tree trash everywhere. Houses roofed with blue tarps, where trees had fallen, or shingles had loosened. Personally, I continue to ignore the mess in my yard with limbs everywhere that need to be relocated.
Barely into the Sunshine State for several hours and then back into south GA. Making several stops to visit friends and family. I did go to see the auntie, who was more pleasant and agreeable than I have seen in ...Wow! I cannot say how long it has been since she was so mild-mannered. Thanks, I suppose to the miracles of pharmaceuticals: The last Rx she started was filled about a month ago. Hopefully it has finally taken effect and will provide some much needed stability and peace, suppress some of her ongoing anxiety and agitation.
I spent the night in Valdosta, and got up early to drive and be at work at 9:00 am. I feel a bit jet-lag'ish, but think a nap will get me back to mostly normal. No work today, so plenty of time to putter around, and get caught up at home. Thankful for safe travels, living in a land where no one asks for permit/papers of those who travel from state to state.
It was a beautiful day to travel, nothing like the dire predictions of last weekend when the entire state was preparing to be blown off the may by Hurricane winds and rain. Tally is not that far into the state, probably less than fifty miles from the GA/FL line, but enough that I can say I've been. There was evidence everywhere of storm damage, limbs piled out along the verge for pick-up. Twisted and snapped utility poles, with wires dangling dangerously everywhere. Men with pickup trucks digging through the trash, looking for oak limbs to use for firewood. Signs mangled, or blown out/over. Tree trash everywhere. Houses roofed with blue tarps, where trees had fallen, or shingles had loosened. Personally, I continue to ignore the mess in my yard with limbs everywhere that need to be relocated.
Barely into the Sunshine State for several hours and then back into south GA. Making several stops to visit friends and family. I did go to see the auntie, who was more pleasant and agreeable than I have seen in ...Wow! I cannot say how long it has been since she was so mild-mannered. Thanks, I suppose to the miracles of pharmaceuticals: The last Rx she started was filled about a month ago. Hopefully it has finally taken effect and will provide some much needed stability and peace, suppress some of her ongoing anxiety and agitation.
I spent the night in Valdosta, and got up early to drive and be at work at 9:00 am. I feel a bit jet-lag'ish, but think a nap will get me back to mostly normal. No work today, so plenty of time to putter around, and get caught up at home. Thankful for safe travels, living in a land where no one asks for permit/papers of those who travel from state to state.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
about once each year...
... a letter arrives from a small town in middle Georgia, where my mom and her mother were from. My mom was born in a tiny little town, after my grandparents met and wed. There was an older sister, then my mom. But before they came into the world, the grandparents had another child that did not survive. I don't know if the first born was not full term, or died at birth, but the newborn infant was buried in a cemetery there in middle Georgia, where my great grandparents are lived, and are buried.
Some individual who tries to keep the cemetery neat and tidy, has been sending me a notice for some years, giving a report on the expenses involved in upkeep, and what they do try to keep it looking nice. Apparently she has passed the project off to someone else, as the letter that came a couple of weeks ago, was signed with an unfamiliar name. Requesting financial support be sent in care of the local UMC. When I get the annual notice, I always write a check to help defray the expense of gas for mowing and constant need for labor to keep it looking presentable.
The most recent letter came earlier than usual, and arrived several weeks ago. It usually shows up near the end of the year. I decided to try to drum up some interest by copying the letter to mail to my brother, and cousins who should be interested in helping out. And wrote a note of explanation to go along with the copy asking for donations to support ongoing maintenance. Ending with a quote from Jiminy Cricket (from the Walt Disney "Pinocchio" movie), who told the little puppet: "Let your conscience be your guide."
My brother said he would mail me a check to send, but did not want to send it directly and chance getting on the mailing list. Remember those little bracelets that were so popular some years ago? Rubberized with WWJD printed on each one, as a reminder to be on guard, constantly watchful throughout your day. I doubt I could find one at this distance in time, but thinking I wish I could send him one as a gentle: "What would Jiminy do?"
Some individual who tries to keep the cemetery neat and tidy, has been sending me a notice for some years, giving a report on the expenses involved in upkeep, and what they do try to keep it looking nice. Apparently she has passed the project off to someone else, as the letter that came a couple of weeks ago, was signed with an unfamiliar name. Requesting financial support be sent in care of the local UMC. When I get the annual notice, I always write a check to help defray the expense of gas for mowing and constant need for labor to keep it looking presentable.
The most recent letter came earlier than usual, and arrived several weeks ago. It usually shows up near the end of the year. I decided to try to drum up some interest by copying the letter to mail to my brother, and cousins who should be interested in helping out. And wrote a note of explanation to go along with the copy asking for donations to support ongoing maintenance. Ending with a quote from Jiminy Cricket (from the Walt Disney "Pinocchio" movie), who told the little puppet: "Let your conscience be your guide."
My brother said he would mail me a check to send, but did not want to send it directly and chance getting on the mailing list. Remember those little bracelets that were so popular some years ago? Rubberized with WWJD printed on each one, as a reminder to be on guard, constantly watchful throughout your day. I doubt I could find one at this distance in time, but thinking I wish I could send him one as a gentle: "What would Jiminy do?"
Friday, September 15, 2017
book review: "Fierce Kingdom"...
... written by Gin Phillips, a resident of Birmingham, Alabama. Copyright 2017, published by Penguin/Random House. I don't remember where I read about this, but saw a mention someplace and requested it from the library. It was excellent, could easily keep you up all night, hoping for resolution.
I think I could have read the entire book in twenty four hours, if I had not spent time driving. Started it before I left home, and took it with me to TN this past weekend. Had I been able to devote myself to reading, it was so fast paced I would have had to stay up all night to resolve the crisis as it unfolded. Due to travel, it took me three days to help the main characters, Joan and her young son, Lincoln safely removed from harm's way.
They went to the zoo, for a couple of hours, after she had picked him up from school. As they often did, just roaming around, enjoying the animals, and visiting various exhibits. Joan hears something that sounds like balloons popping, and soon concludes it is gunfire. They hide, befriend other frightened zoo visitors, and are tucked away in a concession stand by a zoo employee.
The entire story takes place over a matter of hours, with lots of tension building as these two encounter the shooters.The young men, armed with automatic weapons, are killing animals, as well as casual zoo guests. When one of the teens finds the group hiding in the concession stand, he realizes he knows a teacher that is hiding with Joan and Lincoln. The zoo employee, the retired teacher and our two protagonists attempt an escape from the property. Nerve wracking, stressful, anxiety inducing. An well written tale.
I think I could have read the entire book in twenty four hours, if I had not spent time driving. Started it before I left home, and took it with me to TN this past weekend. Had I been able to devote myself to reading, it was so fast paced I would have had to stay up all night to resolve the crisis as it unfolded. Due to travel, it took me three days to help the main characters, Joan and her young son, Lincoln safely removed from harm's way.
They went to the zoo, for a couple of hours, after she had picked him up from school. As they often did, just roaming around, enjoying the animals, and visiting various exhibits. Joan hears something that sounds like balloons popping, and soon concludes it is gunfire. They hide, befriend other frightened zoo visitors, and are tucked away in a concession stand by a zoo employee.
The entire story takes place over a matter of hours, with lots of tension building as these two encounter the shooters.The young men, armed with automatic weapons, are killing animals, as well as casual zoo guests. When one of the teens finds the group hiding in the concession stand, he realizes he knows a teacher that is hiding with Joan and Lincoln. The zoo employee, the retired teacher and our two protagonists attempt an escape from the property. Nerve wracking, stressful, anxiety inducing. An well written tale.
aftermath of the storm...
... it was mostly a 'non-event' here. A big limb fell but not on the new roof. On the chain link fence, fortitously far enough away from the house that there was no damage. It did crunch up the fence, and will require some professionals to come and repair when the limb is removed. Nothing urgent, but will eventually need to be fixed and made to look as if that crashing limb did nor really happen.
I sat here and typed off and on for hours, keeping one ear tuned in to the weather, along with the full- bore fretting of The Man Who Lives Here, so devoted to the Weather Channel. Listening to numerous thumps as things fell on the nearly new roof, but apparently no real damage at all. When I finally got out and walked around and inspecting, I did not see anything of note, only some small limbs that had fallen off overhanging trees.
A few bigger limbs out in in the yard, under all those big trees, where you would expect a lot of stuff to fall when a ferocious wind would blow. We did have some strong winds, but not nearly as bad as the weather guys had warned about, so though it will take me weeks to get it all picked up for trash truck, it was really not so bad. After looking at the weather map (a big mistake - just looking to give something to worry about!) it appeared the eye, though downgraded would pass directly over this area. Perhaps it did, but so much of the force had blown out, there was no serious damage, at least not at this address.
Lots of large trees uprooted, literally blown over. Lots of signs down, and probably some flooding in low lying areas here. I've noticed a few splintered utility poles, that would result in inconvenience, diminished/limited service in surrounding areas. But thankfully, blessedly, practically no damage here. Sorry it has taken so long to report, but I have been at work.
Some folk at work were sent to a store in metro Atlanta that lost power so long they had to trash all the frozen foods, fresh meats, anything in their big walk-in freezers and coolers. That same store you could view on youtube where the teenagers amused their foolish selves by setting off the fireworks display. Causing the suppression to activate, store to close over night, but amazingly reopen the following morning at 7 a.m.
I sat here and typed off and on for hours, keeping one ear tuned in to the weather, along with the full- bore fretting of The Man Who Lives Here, so devoted to the Weather Channel. Listening to numerous thumps as things fell on the nearly new roof, but apparently no real damage at all. When I finally got out and walked around and inspecting, I did not see anything of note, only some small limbs that had fallen off overhanging trees.
A few bigger limbs out in in the yard, under all those big trees, where you would expect a lot of stuff to fall when a ferocious wind would blow. We did have some strong winds, but not nearly as bad as the weather guys had warned about, so though it will take me weeks to get it all picked up for trash truck, it was really not so bad. After looking at the weather map (a big mistake - just looking to give something to worry about!) it appeared the eye, though downgraded would pass directly over this area. Perhaps it did, but so much of the force had blown out, there was no serious damage, at least not at this address.
Lots of large trees uprooted, literally blown over. Lots of signs down, and probably some flooding in low lying areas here. I've noticed a few splintered utility poles, that would result in inconvenience, diminished/limited service in surrounding areas. But thankfully, blessedly, practically no damage here. Sorry it has taken so long to report, but I have been at work.
Some folk at work were sent to a store in metro Atlanta that lost power so long they had to trash all the frozen foods, fresh meats, anything in their big walk-in freezers and coolers. That same store you could view on youtube where the teenagers amused their foolish selves by setting off the fireworks display. Causing the suppression to activate, store to close over night, but amazingly reopen the following morning at 7 a.m.
Monday, September 11, 2017
looking at the weather map...
... was not a smart thing to do. But if I am going to get up and go to work in the morning, I need to get into bed soon. Looking at what's headed our way is probably not what I should have been doing to get in the right frame of mind for a night of peaceful rest. That hurricane is still headed this way. Slowly blustering across southwest Georgia, traveling north with lots of wind and rain. Gusts up to forty-something mph in the wee hours as it passes through our area.
According to the weather experts, people who are looking at what has happened, and think they can predict what is coming next: it will be really bad overnight. Not bad like what happened in south FL, but enough for public service sector to be warning folks to stay at home, be safe, and don't call us! Neighboring county safety reports that they will not respond to calls due to high winds. Not very comforting to announce that when people depend on a prompt help when they have been lead to believe all it takes is a call to 911.
I still expect to go to work tomorrow, unless there is so much stuff on the road I cannot get there. I was told the mayor announcing citizens should stay at home was not a valid excuse to be AWOL today, so I assume it will not work tomorrow either. Even though the store was running on generators when I left, in the semi-dark, with only minimal lighting and enough electricity to run cash registers, they were still in business. Hope the freezers will keep working, and we are still open for business when I get there tomorrow.
According to the weather experts, people who are looking at what has happened, and think they can predict what is coming next: it will be really bad overnight. Not bad like what happened in south FL, but enough for public service sector to be warning folks to stay at home, be safe, and don't call us! Neighboring county safety reports that they will not respond to calls due to high winds. Not very comforting to announce that when people depend on a prompt help when they have been lead to believe all it takes is a call to 911.
I still expect to go to work tomorrow, unless there is so much stuff on the road I cannot get there. I was told the mayor announcing citizens should stay at home was not a valid excuse to be AWOL today, so I assume it will not work tomorrow either. Even though the store was running on generators when I left, in the semi-dark, with only minimal lighting and enough electricity to run cash registers, they were still in business. Hope the freezers will keep working, and we are still open for business when I get there tomorrow.
looking at the weather...
... it appears we are currently located just north of the eye. Which in reality means the worst is yet to come! Remember those stories about how it gets so eerily quiet and calm, as the eye passes over, lulling you into thinking you've survived? Quick, grab your blankets and pillows and jump into the bathtub!!
It has possibly been downgraded, and lost enough punch to be a Tropical Storm rather than Hurricane Irma when it devastated Caribbean islands and south Florida. We've had wind and rain, but nothing awful: yet. Occasional interruptions in power delivery, but it has been mostly on through out the afternoon.
The only damage visible from inside the house is a large limb that fell on a corner of the chain link fence. No where near the house. Probably do not want to know if there is something sticking out of a hole in the roof, as I have been hearing large thumping sounds up there for a couple of hours. With numerous trees on our lot, and many very close to the house, I am certain The Man Who Lives Here has been industriously fretting all day. Steadily anxious about things he cannot control like limbs falling on the nearly new roof.
I readily admit to being critical of the mess in Houston after Hurricane Harvey. My comment was that the people who were charged with rescue and recovery had plenty of notice, and there should have been more effort put into preparation prior to the flooding. In reality, I am not sure there is any way to be ready for disaster and disruption of this magnitude. There is only so much space where you can stockpile supplies, from food and blankets, to toilet paper and medical needs.
Our Civic Center is open for refugees, people bussed in from the Georgia coast, where they were living there in low lying areas, and forced to evacuate. Other government/city buildings, and churches in the area,are also open, designated as shelters for people in need. I heard a report that the local food bank had sent truckloads of consumables to help feed the people dislocated to here in west GA, unprepared for having their lives disrupted.
More to come...
It has possibly been downgraded, and lost enough punch to be a Tropical Storm rather than Hurricane Irma when it devastated Caribbean islands and south Florida. We've had wind and rain, but nothing awful: yet. Occasional interruptions in power delivery, but it has been mostly on through out the afternoon.
The only damage visible from inside the house is a large limb that fell on a corner of the chain link fence. No where near the house. Probably do not want to know if there is something sticking out of a hole in the roof, as I have been hearing large thumping sounds up there for a couple of hours. With numerous trees on our lot, and many very close to the house, I am certain The Man Who Lives Here has been industriously fretting all day. Steadily anxious about things he cannot control like limbs falling on the nearly new roof.
I readily admit to being critical of the mess in Houston after Hurricane Harvey. My comment was that the people who were charged with rescue and recovery had plenty of notice, and there should have been more effort put into preparation prior to the flooding. In reality, I am not sure there is any way to be ready for disaster and disruption of this magnitude. There is only so much space where you can stockpile supplies, from food and blankets, to toilet paper and medical needs.
Our Civic Center is open for refugees, people bussed in from the Georgia coast, where they were living there in low lying areas, and forced to evacuate. Other government/city buildings, and churches in the area,are also open, designated as shelters for people in need. I heard a report that the local food bank had sent truckloads of consumables to help feed the people dislocated to here in west GA, unprepared for having their lives disrupted.
More to come...
observations from travels...
... when driving to and fro. Making a mental note of how frequently I see mangled sections of guard rail along the right of way. Installed by the Department of Transportation to help keep travelers safe, it appears to be a remarkably dangerous addition to the highway. We all assume the curbing is designed to prevent dozing or dangerous drivers from leaving the paved surface and barreling into bridge abutments or below grade area, supported by metal heavy posts. But what happens when the strip of metal is hit head-on by a vehicle?
Nearly every section I pass as I drive along the high speed highway is crumpled, and in need of replacement. Looking like a superhero has used it as a plaything and left it pretzel shaped. It is a most scare-y thought to realize that the protective barrier actually might have prevented something bad from happening. When viewing the result of how impact with a vehicle has contorted the original shape of the metal and supporting posts, it is difficult to imagine a fragile human body surviving intact. Drivers of soft tissue and easily damaged, delicate bones, encountering that hard unyielding metal at a high rate of speed is fright inducing.
When I am driving the interstate highways, traveling at my usual 71 or 72 mph, and see how consistently nearly every one of the barriers has been mauled by vehicles, it is truly amazing.And how the DOT, instead of replacing the damaged sections of guard rail, permanently installs plastic orange barrels as a warning. An excellent way to keep us safe, and great way to solve the problem!
It is surprising to not see more small memorials/markers, remembrances to deceased motorists, at everyone of these disturbing locations on the road. There where the impact of the unstoppable force hitting an immovable object produces frightening results. Begin to notice, make a mental note of how often you see these mangled guard rails as you travel, and the numerous orange caution barrels at that location. A great DOT solution to a tragic incident.
And wonder how it happened? Driver distracted by kids in the back seat? Running late? Leaving home in a big rush to get to a meeting or work on time? Resulting in permanent physical injury, or worse. Not worth the speed of making up lost time. Better Late than Never!
Nearly every section I pass as I drive along the high speed highway is crumpled, and in need of replacement. Looking like a superhero has used it as a plaything and left it pretzel shaped. It is a most scare-y thought to realize that the protective barrier actually might have prevented something bad from happening. When viewing the result of how impact with a vehicle has contorted the original shape of the metal and supporting posts, it is difficult to imagine a fragile human body surviving intact. Drivers of soft tissue and easily damaged, delicate bones, encountering that hard unyielding metal at a high rate of speed is fright inducing.
When I am driving the interstate highways, traveling at my usual 71 or 72 mph, and see how consistently nearly every one of the barriers has been mauled by vehicles, it is truly amazing.And how the DOT, instead of replacing the damaged sections of guard rail, permanently installs plastic orange barrels as a warning. An excellent way to keep us safe, and great way to solve the problem!
It is surprising to not see more small memorials/markers, remembrances to deceased motorists, at everyone of these disturbing locations on the road. There where the impact of the unstoppable force hitting an immovable object produces frightening results. Begin to notice, make a mental note of how often you see these mangled guard rails as you travel, and the numerous orange caution barrels at that location. A great DOT solution to a tragic incident.
And wonder how it happened? Driver distracted by kids in the back seat? Running late? Leaving home in a big rush to get to a meeting or work on time? Resulting in permanent physical injury, or worse. Not worth the speed of making up lost time. Better Late than Never!
Sunday, September 10, 2017
driving across TN...
... on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The weather was much cooler than usual for this time of year, due to winds generated by Hurricane Irma in the Atlantic Ocean. Breezy pleasant day, with bright blue sky and white fluffy clouds high in the atmosphere, not looking at all like horrible weather is headed our way in middle GA. The fall wildflowers were beautifully blooming along the right of way and out in pastures as we traveled to eastern most TN.
Lots of bright yellow daisies, blooming profusely along the road. The plants appeared to be at least five or six feet tall, with multiple branching stems, and many brilliantly colored daisies on each one. They probably start off with one little random plant, then reseed gloriously, creating great wide clumps and patches of colorful blooms each fall. The richly colored, dark purple heads of Joe Pye weed, blooming along the edges of the pastures and fence rows. The color you would have thought from reading historical records that was rare, expensive to find and reserved for royalty. Prolifically showing clumps of color, along the verge in dark enticing shades of deepest purple.
Slender stems of bright lavender asters, with blooms about the size of your thumbnail. But dozens of small colorful flowers waving in the breeze on plants two or three feet in height. Large lush clumps from the plentiful rainfall over the past summer months, making delightfully appealing blooms to attract pollinators like butterflies and honey bees. When the weather cools, and we begin to look for leaves changing color, we fail to remember there are so many flowers that wait until the fall to put on a show, but there they are, adding subtle beauty to the world, waiting to be noticed and enjoyed.
Lots of bright yellow daisies, blooming profusely along the road. The plants appeared to be at least five or six feet tall, with multiple branching stems, and many brilliantly colored daisies on each one. They probably start off with one little random plant, then reseed gloriously, creating great wide clumps and patches of colorful blooms each fall. The richly colored, dark purple heads of Joe Pye weed, blooming along the edges of the pastures and fence rows. The color you would have thought from reading historical records that was rare, expensive to find and reserved for royalty. Prolifically showing clumps of color, along the verge in dark enticing shades of deepest purple.
Slender stems of bright lavender asters, with blooms about the size of your thumbnail. But dozens of small colorful flowers waving in the breeze on plants two or three feet in height. Large lush clumps from the plentiful rainfall over the past summer months, making delightfully appealing blooms to attract pollinators like butterflies and honey bees. When the weather cools, and we begin to look for leaves changing color, we fail to remember there are so many flowers that wait until the fall to put on a show, but there they are, adding subtle beauty to the world, waiting to be noticed and enjoyed.
Saturday, September 9, 2017
heading to higher ground...
... even though it has been planned for months, it is remarkably timely that this is the weekend for going to the mountains of Tennessee. When we get together together in the fall, we will look at our calendars, pick one weekend each month for me to drive to TN to hang out. I ask for time off from work, go north and do whatever they are planning, just puttering around together.
I left middle GA fairly early on Friday morning, to go through Atlanta, stop and visit a bit before traveling up I-75 into the northwest corner of the state and on into TN. But when I got into Atlanta, the congestion on the interstate was a big surprise. Driving up thorough the middle of the state was a breeze, but at the point where the two interstate highways converge, just south of the city everything came to a standstill. Literally. Easing into the barely moving mass, periodically speeding up to 20 mph, then slowing to three, or possibly zero. Sitting in a gigantic, air-fouling, exhaust producing non-moving mass of thousands of vehicles. Awaiting the opportunity to inch forward two feet.
The part of the drive from central GA, heading into the metro area usually takes about ninety minutes. And then: no progress at all. It must have taken an hour to drive the last ten miles, making me think about getting stuck in that slow moving stream of vehicles when returning from SC after The Great Solar Eclipse. When there must have been ten thousand people all wanting to go to the same place at the same time. And me, blissfully unaware of what I was getting into. And still sort of surprised, as I look back in amazement at how it took me seven hours to drive about 120 miles.
This gigantic jam was due to the population of the entire state of Florida thinking they needed to leave. Hearing warnings about the impending state of disaster when Hurricane Irma heads into the peninsula with winds of over 150 mph, creating flooding across the low lying area. Which is mostly the entire state below GA.
I left middle GA fairly early on Friday morning, to go through Atlanta, stop and visit a bit before traveling up I-75 into the northwest corner of the state and on into TN. But when I got into Atlanta, the congestion on the interstate was a big surprise. Driving up thorough the middle of the state was a breeze, but at the point where the two interstate highways converge, just south of the city everything came to a standstill. Literally. Easing into the barely moving mass, periodically speeding up to 20 mph, then slowing to three, or possibly zero. Sitting in a gigantic, air-fouling, exhaust producing non-moving mass of thousands of vehicles. Awaiting the opportunity to inch forward two feet.
The part of the drive from central GA, heading into the metro area usually takes about ninety minutes. And then: no progress at all. It must have taken an hour to drive the last ten miles, making me think about getting stuck in that slow moving stream of vehicles when returning from SC after The Great Solar Eclipse. When there must have been ten thousand people all wanting to go to the same place at the same time. And me, blissfully unaware of what I was getting into. And still sort of surprised, as I look back in amazement at how it took me seven hours to drive about 120 miles.
This gigantic jam was due to the population of the entire state of Florida thinking they needed to leave. Hearing warnings about the impending state of disaster when Hurricane Irma heads into the peninsula with winds of over 150 mph, creating flooding across the low lying area. Which is mostly the entire state below GA.
Friday, September 8, 2017
suprising visitor...
Caught completely by surprise, I said "Whoa!" but it did not. Continued to slowly amble his way into the carport, headed under the back end of my car. My thought; that Is not a good idea. I had no plans to move the car, but knew there was no advantage for the little reptile to wander on into what amounts to a very large box. A dead end for a slow moving terrapin, who would only have to figure how to extricate himself. Plus nothing at all in the way of sustenance in that big empty room where he would be confined.
Proceeded to pick him up, so he immediately retreated to the safety of a closed up shell. I put him down out on the concrete apron, expecting he would mosey on off into the leaf mulch and make his way into the woods.
He soon stuck his head out of his shell, on his tiny little turtle neck, and poked it up, looking for the world like a periscope on a submarine, peering around at the scenery. Then the little scale-y feet came out, and he proceeded to rotate, make his way back into the carport, headed up under my car again. An exercise in futility.
I picked him up again, and took him out in the back yard, and put him down. Where the mottled pattern on his shell caused him to almost immediately disappear into the leaf mulch under the trees. I have put several others, about the same size, as big as your balled up fist, in the back yard over the years. Hoping they would be safe, live long and multiply. I have never seen one out there in the fenced in space, so I know they get out, and would like to think find a safe haven in the densely wooded lot meandering down the hill towards the creek. Maybe find a spouse, make the next generation of box turtles.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
more bad bad weather....
... headed towards North America. Sad, sad sad. It is tragic, and somehow unavoidable. Choosing to not watch the disaster unfold on television is most likely for the best. Today, right now would be a perfect time to quit your TV addiction. Unless you are one of those who gets some perverse pleasure from slowing down to observe all the mangled damage after a train wreck.
I rarely look at television, but with a man here who loves to fret about the weather, there in ample information about the impending crisis. He also gets great pleasure from posting warnings and sharing distressing information about things he cannot change. We are on fairly high ground, so I choose to not be alarmed, even though there have been times in recent memory when our street was so inundated we had to take a detour to get home. I am not going to devote my time to worry about things I cannot control.
The thought that stays in my head, twisted though it may be: if you build your house on sand, and specifically on the unstable footing near a gigantic body of water, you should not be surprised. If you chose to buy a condo., build a high-rise, invest in real estate in southern Florida or the Caribbean, at sea level, expect the sea to come and take it away. That is as certain as gravity. Sooner or later, you will loose your house, land, everything when the ocean turns it all back into a swamp.
It is distressing to see, hear about all those people who are underwater, mostly lost everything. I heard a statistic earlier this week that half of a million homes were uninhabitable in south Texas. That is a lot of people living in shelters, camping out with the in-laws in cramped housing, needing food, clean clothing, baths. And another one is bearing down on south Florida, flattening everything in it's path.
Thankful to have a safe, dry house, with a new roof, and warm comfy bed not floating down to the Gulf of Mexico. Thankful for plenty of food, potable water, laundry detergent, washers and dryers, electricity on demand. Very thankful to be living at an elevation high enough to feel safe.
I rarely look at television, but with a man here who loves to fret about the weather, there in ample information about the impending crisis. He also gets great pleasure from posting warnings and sharing distressing information about things he cannot change. We are on fairly high ground, so I choose to not be alarmed, even though there have been times in recent memory when our street was so inundated we had to take a detour to get home. I am not going to devote my time to worry about things I cannot control.
The thought that stays in my head, twisted though it may be: if you build your house on sand, and specifically on the unstable footing near a gigantic body of water, you should not be surprised. If you chose to buy a condo., build a high-rise, invest in real estate in southern Florida or the Caribbean, at sea level, expect the sea to come and take it away. That is as certain as gravity. Sooner or later, you will loose your house, land, everything when the ocean turns it all back into a swamp.
It is distressing to see, hear about all those people who are underwater, mostly lost everything. I heard a statistic earlier this week that half of a million homes were uninhabitable in south Texas. That is a lot of people living in shelters, camping out with the in-laws in cramped housing, needing food, clean clothing, baths. And another one is bearing down on south Florida, flattening everything in it's path.
Thankful to have a safe, dry house, with a new roof, and warm comfy bed not floating down to the Gulf of Mexico. Thankful for plenty of food, potable water, laundry detergent, washers and dryers, electricity on demand. Very thankful to be living at an elevation high enough to feel safe.
when she called...
... to give a report of some bizarre stuff on the interstate years ago, the animal loose on the highway that was causing the snarl in commuter traffic was a zebra. Sadly, it has been sooooo long ago that the details are lost to the sands of time. This was likely gleaned from listening to public radio while driving to work in the middle of Atlanta. I am guessing it was being transported from one zoo or secure habitation to another, and suddenly it was not all that secure. Or possibly being trucked to some romanticc hideway as a loaner for conjugal purposes. Anyway: it would be startling to see that trotting down the verge in the middle of densely packed civilization.
When she called yesterday, it was to report a tiger was loose on the interstate below Atlanta, and law enforcement was chasing it. You know that calling in men with guns, sworn to protect and defend pretty much guarantees a bad ending. We can be curious to know the back story, but might never hear of the person who had a tiger in their home as a pet. My guess is that keeping large, carnivorous felines is something that needs to be registered, and reported. Plus, aren't then endangered? The one on loose on the interstate, frightened and confused surely was!
I am also recalling a story from years ago, when giraffes were being transported, I think possibly a circus act, rather than zoo related. They were loaded into large trailers pulled by trucks traveling on the interstate. You can conjure a picture in your head of the parade traveling along the highway, with elephants, lions, various creatures seen on a safari. The long necked giraffes would systematically bend their long necks forward to duck their heads as the truck would slowly creep under an overpass. Then the giraffes would straighten up, hold heads aloft and necks erect again, once they had cleared the obstacle. Doesn't that picture you created in your mind make you smile? It would be a sight to behold.
When she called yesterday, it was to report a tiger was loose on the interstate below Atlanta, and law enforcement was chasing it. You know that calling in men with guns, sworn to protect and defend pretty much guarantees a bad ending. We can be curious to know the back story, but might never hear of the person who had a tiger in their home as a pet. My guess is that keeping large, carnivorous felines is something that needs to be registered, and reported. Plus, aren't then endangered? The one on loose on the interstate, frightened and confused surely was!
I am also recalling a story from years ago, when giraffes were being transported, I think possibly a circus act, rather than zoo related. They were loaded into large trailers pulled by trucks traveling on the interstate. You can conjure a picture in your head of the parade traveling along the highway, with elephants, lions, various creatures seen on a safari. The long necked giraffes would systematically bend their long necks forward to duck their heads as the truck would slowly creep under an overpass. Then the giraffes would straighten up, hold heads aloft and necks erect again, once they had cleared the obstacle. Doesn't that picture you created in your mind make you smile? It would be a sight to behold.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
reading while driving ...
...recently and came across an expression I had never heard before. I thought it was funny, amusing in an oxymoron'ish sort of way. You know, things like: jumbo shrimp, random order, pretty ugly, a little bit big. A short phrase that combines two normally contradictory terms, as in clearly misunderstood.
The one I heard (actually on a talking book) that stuck in my head was: plausible liar. It was used more than once in the book, which caused it to really make a lasting impression. Making me think of a roommate from my short stay in college housing. She was from the Big City, and pretty much an alien species to this little bumpkin. Girl from the sticks who only went to Atlanta once a year, and that was a Big Deal. I was in complete awe, until I wasn't.
This girl was probably more towards the compulsive end of the dishonesty scale. My guess is she had been at it so long, building defensive responses in advance when she would be questioned about behavior in her high school years, she had become an expert. I can envision her coming in very late after her curfew, possibly under the influence of underage alcohol consumption. Knowing her parents would be giving her the Third Degree with questions about who, where, why. Practicing her story long before getting in the door.
Sadly, she was no 'plausible liar', but hilarious nonetheless. Any number of times she would come in late, still underage drinking, and be confronted about behavior. Attempt to explain, justify, waffle. /Forever feeling the need to embellish the facts. Ending up responding when the truth was revealed, that her halfhearted attempt at covering up ' but it sounded like a good idea'. I wonder if she is still practicing deceit? And still getting caught when her face would reveal her lack of skill with prevarication?
The one I heard (actually on a talking book) that stuck in my head was: plausible liar. It was used more than once in the book, which caused it to really make a lasting impression. Making me think of a roommate from my short stay in college housing. She was from the Big City, and pretty much an alien species to this little bumpkin. Girl from the sticks who only went to Atlanta once a year, and that was a Big Deal. I was in complete awe, until I wasn't.
This girl was probably more towards the compulsive end of the dishonesty scale. My guess is she had been at it so long, building defensive responses in advance when she would be questioned about behavior in her high school years, she had become an expert. I can envision her coming in very late after her curfew, possibly under the influence of underage alcohol consumption. Knowing her parents would be giving her the Third Degree with questions about who, where, why. Practicing her story long before getting in the door.
Sadly, she was no 'plausible liar', but hilarious nonetheless. Any number of times she would come in late, still underage drinking, and be confronted about behavior. Attempt to explain, justify, waffle. /Forever feeling the need to embellish the facts. Ending up responding when the truth was revealed, that her halfhearted attempt at covering up ' but it sounded like a good idea'. I wonder if she is still practicing deceit? And still getting caught when her face would reveal her lack of skill with prevarication?
Monday, September 4, 2017
at the mall...
... to return something to JCP. I was in line, waiting for a cashier, and overheard a white haired woman ask the clerk if that entrance was the 'front door?' She got a positive response, and headed out into the parking lot, toddling along with her walking stick. I finished my business, completed my exchange and went out the door behind this elderly female.
Something - probably her question - made me know there was going to be a problem. I walked over to my car, and opened the door, but did not get in. Observing this woman without being overly blatant, it was obvious she could not find her car. As she walked back across the lane to the sidewalk in front of the store, I approached her and asked if she needed help. She said, as I had expected, that she had 'lost her car'. And asked me the same question she had posed to the cashier in the store. I told her I thought the entrance where we stood would be considered the front. She said she came in the side door. My comment was that there were actually three outside entrances to the store, so it could be confusing, adding that I occasionally had trouble with finding my vehicle as well.
I asked if I could walk with her to the side entrance, hoping she might recognize her car parked in the lot around the corner. When we came around the building, she said: 'There it is.' I wonder now if she really did find her car, or was just attempting to save face by getting rid of nosy me.
My thought when I first saw her, realizing she was having a problem: if it were my mom, I would want someone who appeared to be un-threatening to offer assistance. Then later as I was driving home, I had another thought: 'when that becomes me, I hope someone will come to my rescue, take me in hand, help me find my way back home.'
I have a very clear memory of following my mom, when she left home one afternoon, at an angle as if in a stiff wind. Headed up the hill in that small community where she lived most of her life, on an un-named mission, determined to be someplace else. I could not go along, but could not let her go alone, so following as she started out. I didn't know what I would do when she ran out of steam, was too tired to get back home, but I dare not let her out of my sight. I trailed behind, certain that she would eventually slow and stop when her stamina ran out.
She did get weary, sat on the curb and eventually just laid down on the sidewalk. I have to wonder if she saw me as her captor, the one she was hopeful to escape from. She would not tell me where she was going, and probably did not have a destination in her mind when she walked out the door. Just the idea that she wanted to be someplace where I was not? We sat on the street long enough for someone, complete strangers, to stop and offer a ride. Returned home, and never mentioned this incident again.
She died in a nursing home, in 2009, with advanced dementia. I can still wonder where she was headed, and whether she was trying to escape me, or herself. We will never know.
Something - probably her question - made me know there was going to be a problem. I walked over to my car, and opened the door, but did not get in. Observing this woman without being overly blatant, it was obvious she could not find her car. As she walked back across the lane to the sidewalk in front of the store, I approached her and asked if she needed help. She said, as I had expected, that she had 'lost her car'. And asked me the same question she had posed to the cashier in the store. I told her I thought the entrance where we stood would be considered the front. She said she came in the side door. My comment was that there were actually three outside entrances to the store, so it could be confusing, adding that I occasionally had trouble with finding my vehicle as well.
I asked if I could walk with her to the side entrance, hoping she might recognize her car parked in the lot around the corner. When we came around the building, she said: 'There it is.' I wonder now if she really did find her car, or was just attempting to save face by getting rid of nosy me.
My thought when I first saw her, realizing she was having a problem: if it were my mom, I would want someone who appeared to be un-threatening to offer assistance. Then later as I was driving home, I had another thought: 'when that becomes me, I hope someone will come to my rescue, take me in hand, help me find my way back home.'
I have a very clear memory of following my mom, when she left home one afternoon, at an angle as if in a stiff wind. Headed up the hill in that small community where she lived most of her life, on an un-named mission, determined to be someplace else. I could not go along, but could not let her go alone, so following as she started out. I didn't know what I would do when she ran out of steam, was too tired to get back home, but I dare not let her out of my sight. I trailed behind, certain that she would eventually slow and stop when her stamina ran out.
She did get weary, sat on the curb and eventually just laid down on the sidewalk. I have to wonder if she saw me as her captor, the one she was hopeful to escape from. She would not tell me where she was going, and probably did not have a destination in her mind when she walked out the door. Just the idea that she wanted to be someplace where I was not? We sat on the street long enough for someone, complete strangers, to stop and offer a ride. Returned home, and never mentioned this incident again.
She died in a nursing home, in 2009, with advanced dementia. I can still wonder where she was headed, and whether she was trying to escape me, or herself. We will never know.
it is a rarity...
... to find a square on my calendar with nothing written down, no work, no meetings, no urgent business or volunteerism, no commitments. Not even anything that has been marked out or 'whited out' with correction tape. Absolutely pristine, untouched. How in the world did this occur? This must be what the officially sanctioned, federally recognized 'Labor Day' holiday is all about!
It is early in the day, with sunlight streaming through the windows on the east side of the house. Rays of sunshine lying in long stripes across the lawn as I look out into the world. From my spot with a north facing view, where I can see graceful fronds of large ferns, underside of the leaves of sunlit hydrangeas, trunks of trees highlighted on one side by rising sun. Dark dense shade of slowly awakening world, as the sun rises in the sky.
September does not mean 'fall' in the sense of a different seasons here in central Georgia, but the air was considerably cooler this morning. It is still definitely summer, with heat, bugs, high humidity, out door activities that never cease in any season. The trees and grasses, landscape are still a rich green, from plentiful of rainfall over the summer, but that hint of cooling brings thoughts of changes to come.
I made several plans for my day that all came to nought: schools are out, so no possibility of getting in another day of substitute teaching. Then I thought of going to the indoor pool to swim, but city facilities all closed to allow employees a holiday. I should get out and take a walk in the early morning cool - take advantage of the pleasant weather. The kitchen floor needs attention, but I would much prefer any other activity to mopping as a method of calorie burning....
It is early in the day, with sunlight streaming through the windows on the east side of the house. Rays of sunshine lying in long stripes across the lawn as I look out into the world. From my spot with a north facing view, where I can see graceful fronds of large ferns, underside of the leaves of sunlit hydrangeas, trunks of trees highlighted on one side by rising sun. Dark dense shade of slowly awakening world, as the sun rises in the sky.
September does not mean 'fall' in the sense of a different seasons here in central Georgia, but the air was considerably cooler this morning. It is still definitely summer, with heat, bugs, high humidity, out door activities that never cease in any season. The trees and grasses, landscape are still a rich green, from plentiful of rainfall over the summer, but that hint of cooling brings thoughts of changes to come.
I made several plans for my day that all came to nought: schools are out, so no possibility of getting in another day of substitute teaching. Then I thought of going to the indoor pool to swim, but city facilities all closed to allow employees a holiday. I should get out and take a walk in the early morning cool - take advantage of the pleasant weather. The kitchen floor needs attention, but I would much prefer any other activity to mopping as a method of calorie burning....
Sunday, September 3, 2017
about ballooning...
... probably more than you ever wanted to know. From someone who only spent one day as ballast for a team from Canton, in north GA, at Callaway Gardens for the nineteenth annual Hot Air Balloon Festival. Interesting to see, and participate in, but I can see how it could get really tedious over time. After looking at some google pix., and discovering dozens of different shapes and copyrighted designs, I can also see how you would fall in love with the idea. Which would then lead to getting addicted to the point of thinking you had to have one, end up in the balloon business.
The 'envelope' or canopy, made of cloth, tightly woven nylon fabric is huge. The ones we saw on Saturday were the traditional oval shape, with bright colors sewn together in designs that would remind you of quilt patterns. Last night, as the sun was setting, before scheduled fireworks display, a specialty shape arrived, to set up for display:a huge 100 ft. tall eagle. I only saw the top 1/3 through the trees, but it was pretty impressive. Looking online at various festivals I was amazed at some of the shapes: clocks, Sponge Bob, turtles, elephants, polar bears,cows, Darth Vader, Yoda, dozens of unusual, custom designs that I understand can be very expensive.
The envelope is folded, and rolled and forced into a canvas carry all, even though the one I was assisting with weighed about 300 pounds. Probably not the smallest or largest of balloons. When the crew is ready to inflate, the fabric is removed from the storage bag, and stretched out to lay flat on the ground, in a vague silhouette of the shape it will be when aloft. The basket/passenger container and lines (necessary to tying down to fixed objects, in this case trucks and vans) are attached before it is filled. A big fan is used to inflate, blow in with air, then propane burners are lit to heat the air within the envelope. It gradually lifts up, righting the basket that was lying on it's side at the bottom opening of the balloon. Those burners get hot, hot hot! The two big propane tanks, maybe three times the size of the ones used with gas grills, take up quite a bit of space in the basket, limiting the number of passengers.
The couple from Canton, operating a balloon as 'FlyWendyFly.org', had another couple from AL meet them to help for the weekend. It would take at least four people plus the 'driver', if the balloonist was giving tethered flights for customers: I was a body, mostly used for ballast, to help hold the basket on the ground between flights. As a group of four to six would line up to enter the basket, awkwardly climbing into the chest high wicker woven basket, an equal number of passengers would, in a consistently ungracefull manner, gradually exit over the opposite edge, climb out the other side to balance out the weight. Get them all loaded, and whoosh! Open the propane orifice! You smoothly, gradually lift up into the sky. If it were not for the noisy propane gas burner, it would be a nearly silent ascent.
The balloonist needs help with the loading, unloading of passengers as well as frequently changing out the propane tanks. The event sponsor provided the refills of propane tanks as a dozen balloonists used gas, constantly adding heat to the air in the canopy to maintain altitude. More helpers needed to hold the basket steady as passengers climb in and out, as well as add weight to keep it on the ground, upright when it lands and tends to bounce a time or two before settling.
When the event advertised 'tethered' rides, it was dependent on good weather, requiring practically no wind, or the balloons could not launch. The rides for the public were available in the early morning, and late afternoon, as the balloons were deflated and stored during the hottest part of the day: when the sun would create thermals, more weather related problems making ballooning difficult. If the plan is for free flight, wind to send the balloons aloft is a good thing, but when they are low altitude, breezy weather is undesirable. These dozen or so balloons, filled with heated air were all tied securely to three vehicles, to stabilize for safety and low level flights: probably less than 100 feet up.
It was really interesting, a pretty neat way to spend a day. Even though I am unaccustomed to such activity all day long, and found my back and shoulders sort of achy today from exertions, and the day was very tiring: from 5 am till 10 pm. Something I would definitely do again.
The envelope is folded, and rolled and forced into a canvas carry all, even though the one I was assisting with weighed about 300 pounds. Probably not the smallest or largest of balloons. When the crew is ready to inflate, the fabric is removed from the storage bag, and stretched out to lay flat on the ground, in a vague silhouette of the shape it will be when aloft. The basket/passenger container and lines (necessary to tying down to fixed objects, in this case trucks and vans) are attached before it is filled. A big fan is used to inflate, blow in with air, then propane burners are lit to heat the air within the envelope. It gradually lifts up, righting the basket that was lying on it's side at the bottom opening of the balloon. Those burners get hot, hot hot! The two big propane tanks, maybe three times the size of the ones used with gas grills, take up quite a bit of space in the basket, limiting the number of passengers.
The couple from Canton, operating a balloon as 'FlyWendyFly.org', had another couple from AL meet them to help for the weekend. It would take at least four people plus the 'driver', if the balloonist was giving tethered flights for customers: I was a body, mostly used for ballast, to help hold the basket on the ground between flights. As a group of four to six would line up to enter the basket, awkwardly climbing into the chest high wicker woven basket, an equal number of passengers would, in a consistently ungracefull manner, gradually exit over the opposite edge, climb out the other side to balance out the weight. Get them all loaded, and whoosh! Open the propane orifice! You smoothly, gradually lift up into the sky. If it were not for the noisy propane gas burner, it would be a nearly silent ascent.
The balloonist needs help with the loading, unloading of passengers as well as frequently changing out the propane tanks. The event sponsor provided the refills of propane tanks as a dozen balloonists used gas, constantly adding heat to the air in the canopy to maintain altitude. More helpers needed to hold the basket steady as passengers climb in and out, as well as add weight to keep it on the ground, upright when it lands and tends to bounce a time or two before settling.
When the event advertised 'tethered' rides, it was dependent on good weather, requiring practically no wind, or the balloons could not launch. The rides for the public were available in the early morning, and late afternoon, as the balloons were deflated and stored during the hottest part of the day: when the sun would create thermals, more weather related problems making ballooning difficult. If the plan is for free flight, wind to send the balloons aloft is a good thing, but when they are low altitude, breezy weather is undesirable. These dozen or so balloons, filled with heated air were all tied securely to three vehicles, to stabilize for safety and low level flights: probably less than 100 feet up.
It was really interesting, a pretty neat way to spend a day. Even though I am unaccustomed to such activity all day long, and found my back and shoulders sort of achy today from exertions, and the day was very tiring: from 5 am till 10 pm. Something I would definitely do again.
a long day...
...on Saturday, volunteering at the Hot Air Balloon Festival at Callaway Gardens. One of the requirements as a Gardens volunteer, in order to receive the benefit of a gate pass that gets a carload of friends/family in free is: fifty hours of time each year. I thought that 'freebie' would be a good idea. With fond memories of going with daughters to spend the day riding the bike trails, having a picnic, enjoying the scenery, fresh air, woodland views, healthy exercise.
We got up at 4 a.m., (not all that unusual for me when I have to be at work at 5) to be there at 6. We crept along rural two lane roads, hoping to not encounter dashing deer. Drove about twenty five miles north east to get to the Gardens. Arriving in the pitch black dark 5:45, trying to look chipper: ready for instructions/assignment for ballooning. Cautioned by the groups of balloonists that hot air balloon events are totally weather dependent: 'hurry up and wait' for the sunrise, and the world in east central Georgia to wake up.
It turned out to be a excellent day for ballooning. Cooler than it normally is here in middle GA, when September is still the blistering heat of summer. It was pleasant a bit breezy, probably due to remnants of the hurricane weather that devastated Texas a week ago. Not too crowded early in the morning, but lots of families enjoying the weekend by mid-day, viewing antique car show, a day at the beach on the mad-made lake, picnicing, all the amenities of the destination.
Friday, September 1, 2017
not at all sure...
... abut what kind of bird that was, but it was a delight to see it splashing about in the little basin filled with rain water. Sitting here looking out the window, I grabbed the binoculars to observe a happy little bird, giving every thing nearby a shower in the process of getting each feather on it's drenched body soaked. One of the questions children are sure to ask as the learn about their world and inquire about animals is 'where do birds go when it rains?'
I never really thought about the reverse, but it is an equally valid query: Where do they take a bath when it doesn't rain? If they live in places where there is never any rainfall, I assume they fulfill their dietary needs through the food they consume. We know that water is essential to life, and apparently many get the liquids necessary for survival as a by product of the insects and nuts, berries they eat each day.
I've tried to keep the several low containers with supplied with water during the summer months, to provide an accessible supply of refreshment for local wildlife like chipmunks, squirrels, birds, nocturnal things. And tried to periodically empty those basins and refresh to keep the mosquito population as low as possible even though we have had plenteous rainfall over the summer. A report (undocumented) on the Internet made me think that emptying standing water once a week would eventually end the local mosquito problem: they do not travel far in their short lifetime so would not fly great distances to reproduce. And it takes ten days to complete the cycle from egg to mature blood sucker. So if the water they were growing in was emptied every week, it would kill the larva before they could mature and put their point little pokers in flesh to suck from living bodies.
Another happy bird just landed in the basin, sitting out under the trees, in the shade, waiting for the next avian bath. Good cheap fun. So amusing to watch them industriously splashing around, with the next one patiently sitting on the rim waiting, as one splatters water everywhere with great enthusiasm.
I never really thought about the reverse, but it is an equally valid query: Where do they take a bath when it doesn't rain? If they live in places where there is never any rainfall, I assume they fulfill their dietary needs through the food they consume. We know that water is essential to life, and apparently many get the liquids necessary for survival as a by product of the insects and nuts, berries they eat each day.
I've tried to keep the several low containers with supplied with water during the summer months, to provide an accessible supply of refreshment for local wildlife like chipmunks, squirrels, birds, nocturnal things. And tried to periodically empty those basins and refresh to keep the mosquito population as low as possible even though we have had plenteous rainfall over the summer. A report (undocumented) on the Internet made me think that emptying standing water once a week would eventually end the local mosquito problem: they do not travel far in their short lifetime so would not fly great distances to reproduce. And it takes ten days to complete the cycle from egg to mature blood sucker. So if the water they were growing in was emptied every week, it would kill the larva before they could mature and put their point little pokers in flesh to suck from living bodies.
Another happy bird just landed in the basin, sitting out under the trees, in the shade, waiting for the next avian bath. Good cheap fun. So amusing to watch them industriously splashing around, with the next one patiently sitting on the rim waiting, as one splatters water everywhere with great enthusiasm.
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