Usually, when I get on the road, I have a couple of books on CD to keep me company, entertaining me while I am driving for hours at the time. Plus there is always the public radio option though it seems to often be on a 'loop', with the same news/programs playing over each hour. I don't really mind driving those distances that I go from week to week, with books to keep me interested with well-crafted characters and plots. But the most recent trip was with someone in the passenger seat- a real person to converse with.
A friend from my Valdosta State days and I had talked about a trip to visit a former instructor from the Art Department there, who is retired but still living in the area. The friend, PS, really knew this art teacher much better than I did, but I was probably the instigator. As I pestered her over a couple of years with 'when are we going?' It finally came to fruition this week.
PS came down from Marietta, where she has been living for several years. Arriving about noon on Wednesday, and we left for Q-town. Where we met her daughter and two grandsons for dinner last night. Spent the night in the big, cold, lonesome house there at 1209. And drove on over to Valdosta this morning. Roamed around a little to see how town has changed and comment on: 'where did that building come from?', and 'when did that building disappear?' PS and family lived there for nearly two decades, so she was even more aware than I of how the landscape has altered over time.
PS had called the instructor, to ask if we could come visit, maybe go to lunch, and was pleasantly surprised to discover there was a show at the local public space displaying some of her most recent work. So we went to her house, and she took us downtown to the Turner Center, walked and talked us through her painting, inspired by recent trips to Norway, Italy, France. (yeah - I know, must be nice....) Then we went to lunch, and had a nice visit.
We drove around and through the campus of the college/university and were amazed at how much it has changed. Lots of big new buildings, that the board of regents somehow managed to squeeze in a space that looked full decades ago when we were students there. If you wonder where you tax dollars are going, (other than providing room, board, health care for the incarcerated) visit any nearby public college campus. You will be astounded at the building programs that are underway - bricks and mortar, stucco and Spanish tile roofs at it's finest.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
100's of little weightless souls...
This sounds like it will be something of great import: breaking news, or 'true confessions', but it's only a report of the result of a service call by the Pesty John bug spraying service. We had a real ant problem, a mysterious invasion that had no apparent source. I would find them on the kitchen counter, always in the same general area each morning. Which caused me to assume they were in the walls. After asking TP to call for service too many times, he finally did, when I showed him a little line of industrious workers traveling across the front of a cupboard.
Pesty John came and sprayed all around the house. I warned him if that substance was greasy, and left mess on the floor, I expected him to clean up after himself. He suggested I should be ready to live with the ant problem instead. So he sprayed, and it helped. But they came back. And he was invited to make a return appearance. He put out somed sort of 'bait' a gel like substance in all the places he thought ants might be traveling. That seems to have solved the problem. He suggested the invasion was due to cracks in the foundation (not the cracks you see when the Pesty John guy bends over!)
Problem has been resolved. Leaving hundreds of corpses. I just swept the floor for the first time since the plague finally abated. And found lots of places I did not even see them to start off with, where they had apparently gone to get away from fate, and could not entirely escape. I think part of the problem was due to the cold weather. Even though I don't believe I can think like an ant, I would certainly be seeking shelter and a warm nest to get out of the serious cold we have had in recent weeks. So I cannot fault them for their motivations, and industrious nature. But still do not want them in the house, building an ant kingdom within the walls, planning to cohabit.
Pesty John came and sprayed all around the house. I warned him if that substance was greasy, and left mess on the floor, I expected him to clean up after himself. He suggested I should be ready to live with the ant problem instead. So he sprayed, and it helped. But they came back. And he was invited to make a return appearance. He put out somed sort of 'bait' a gel like substance in all the places he thought ants might be traveling. That seems to have solved the problem. He suggested the invasion was due to cracks in the foundation (not the cracks you see when the Pesty John guy bends over!)
Problem has been resolved. Leaving hundreds of corpses. I just swept the floor for the first time since the plague finally abated. And found lots of places I did not even see them to start off with, where they had apparently gone to get away from fate, and could not entirely escape. I think part of the problem was due to the cold weather. Even though I don't believe I can think like an ant, I would certainly be seeking shelter and a warm nest to get out of the serious cold we have had in recent weeks. So I cannot fault them for their motivations, and industrious nature. But still do not want them in the house, building an ant kingdom within the walls, planning to cohabit.
ice/snow 'storm' story
When I went to work on Sunday, I saw a photo posted by the time clock that was both interesting and, I think, pretty amazing. I 'm not sure where it was taken, but assume some place in metro Atlanta area. Not necessarily something that is 'peculiar' or limited to the sort you would only find in the southern quarter of the United States. But it is something that I believe you are much more likely to find in the Land of Consideration and Common Courtesy (traits that I believe are sadly becoming non-existent and so rare as to be considered 'collectors items').The photo was a copy that came in an email, and had a caption printed above it that said something really unusual in Corporate America. The wording started with 'God Bless Publix', and went on to explain that this particular store pictured had stayed open all night to provide shelter for people who were stranded. Customers, passers-by and staff alike - anyone who could not get to their intended destination due to icy roads and snarled traffic. And below the wording was a photo of people sleeping in the aisles. Slumped over, or curled up, or just slowly sliding onto the hard terrazzo floor. But thankful for a warm dry place to rest until they could do differently.
As much as I tend to gripe about problematic work situation on a personal level, I know it is a good place to work: I would not still be there otherwise. And on a corporate level, even though the Spirit of Publix has changed dramatically since I have been an associate, the reputation was built on going the extra mile, providing superior customer service. Which is what happened last Tuesday night, when hundreds of people found themselves sleeping on the floor of a grocery store.. and thankful for that choice.
I'm sure you could find this photo, and many others demonstrating extreme measures people took lsast week under great stress and duress. But I think seeing a business willing to keep the lights on and doors open all night to come to the aid of those in need is pretty remarkable. A bit of human kindness you just don't see every day...
on the road again...
You are wondering, I am sure, how working a few mere hours each week supports the my driving habit? How it is possible that putting in confoundingly sparse time I am employed can support my gasoline addiction? That is an excellent question - and one that baffles me as well. I must be well subsidized?
I am traveling today with a friend who lives in Marietta. We are going down Memory Lane, to Valdosta. I decline to confess how many years it has been when we were students together at Valdosta State, but will say that it was a' college' at the time, before being promoted by the Regents to University status. So, it has been a while, in another lifetime. She was a mother of teenagers when she was a student, with family obligations, so it's a wonder she had time to get to classes, much less complete assignments. But it happened, and she did - with grace and capability, as any multi-tasking mom will understand.p
We plan to drive to south GA this afternoon, and will meet her daughter for dinner tonight. The daughter lives in a nearby town. We will spend the night in Q. and go over to V. on Thurs. to poke around, look at old haunts, and revisit the past.
We took painting classes together: she was a remarkably proficient water colorist, and I was probably at low C level. She had to patience to take on really complicated, time-consuming subject matter, and do beautiful paintings requiring much attention to detail. She claims to not paint any more- which likely means she can't get started, not motivated to get the tools together to undertake something she would then feel either a) obligated to devote time to or b) guilty that she did not. That is my problem too, so I know that scenario entirely too well.
She has been in contact with one of the instructors we had as art students, and made plans to see her when we are in south GA. Will go to the public gallery space there in downtown to visit an exhibit of this former professor's work, and have lunch together. Should be a really pleasant day.
I am traveling today with a friend who lives in Marietta. We are going down Memory Lane, to Valdosta. I decline to confess how many years it has been when we were students together at Valdosta State, but will say that it was a' college' at the time, before being promoted by the Regents to University status. So, it has been a while, in another lifetime. She was a mother of teenagers when she was a student, with family obligations, so it's a wonder she had time to get to classes, much less complete assignments. But it happened, and she did - with grace and capability, as any multi-tasking mom will understand.p
We plan to drive to south GA this afternoon, and will meet her daughter for dinner tonight. The daughter lives in a nearby town. We will spend the night in Q. and go over to V. on Thurs. to poke around, look at old haunts, and revisit the past.
We took painting classes together: she was a remarkably proficient water colorist, and I was probably at low C level. She had to patience to take on really complicated, time-consuming subject matter, and do beautiful paintings requiring much attention to detail. She claims to not paint any more- which likely means she can't get started, not motivated to get the tools together to undertake something she would then feel either a) obligated to devote time to or b) guilty that she did not. That is my problem too, so I know that scenario entirely too well.
She has been in contact with one of the instructors we had as art students, and made plans to see her when we are in south GA. Will go to the public gallery space there in downtown to visit an exhibit of this former professor's work, and have lunch together. Should be a really pleasant day.
Monday, February 3, 2014
314 + 314....
I drove to the Atlantic Ocean on Sunday, and back to Georgia's west coast today.
I'd told the auntie a couple of weeks ago, when she thought she had a buyer for her little condo on St. Simon's Island that I would go with her to get odds and ends she did not collect up when we were there recently. And, looking at my calendar, realized today would be the 'most likely to succeed.' She would call me and say she had a report from the sales agent that there was a buyer, then call me back to say there wasn't - then call me back to say it's found a buyer. I said: I am still planning to go with you on the third, so we need to go.
Remarkably, there really was a buyer, who put down a deposit. And she signed the papers today. So there won't be any more of these crazy trips dashing to the coast to gather up more misc. for dragging half-way across the state, only to donate to thrift stores when there is no where to store. I pretty much had all I could put in the back of my car, and still see out the rear-view mirror, when the agent came in and started with: 'You don't want to leave this, do you?', and 'Don't you want to take that with you?' So the auntie started trying o give stuff to the agent! Because she knew I would say no, and it's so very hard to let things go....
I'd told the auntie a couple of weeks ago, when she thought she had a buyer for her little condo on St. Simon's Island that I would go with her to get odds and ends she did not collect up when we were there recently. And, looking at my calendar, realized today would be the 'most likely to succeed.' She would call me and say she had a report from the sales agent that there was a buyer, then call me back to say there wasn't - then call me back to say it's found a buyer. I said: I am still planning to go with you on the third, so we need to go.
Remarkably, there really was a buyer, who put down a deposit. And she signed the papers today. So there won't be any more of these crazy trips dashing to the coast to gather up more misc. for dragging half-way across the state, only to donate to thrift stores when there is no where to store. I pretty much had all I could put in the back of my car, and still see out the rear-view mirror, when the agent came in and started with: 'You don't want to leave this, do you?', and 'Don't you want to take that with you?' So the auntie started trying o give stuff to the agent! Because she knew I would say no, and it's so very hard to let things go....
Saturday, February 1, 2014
cat's tale, part 2...
She was not precisely a stray when she came to live here, but she was an orfling, adopted from the Humane Society. During the month of October, so she had to have a responsible adult present for the proceedings. We discovered, upon making our choice that apparently people will want to take black cats out and mistreat them in unknowable ways for perverse amusement around Halloween. But not at this house.
She came as a kitten, doing all the hilarious things they do, easily entertaining herself and onlookers. That was about fifteen years ago, so naturally she is slowing down. Though she has recently been spotted up on the shelf, napping in one of the boxes. You walk out there in the carport, and a head pops up out of the box, hoping it is someone willing coming to open a packet of fishy, smelly, gooey, delicious wet food. They have been climbing the ladder for years, to sleep in the boxes up on the shelf along the wall, at least head high, and safe for cats, protected from predators, who are hopefully too stupid to scale the step ladder.
She has always been pretty mild-mannered and good natured. When there were three cats here, she was number two in the pecking order. But now that number one is gone, she accidentally finds herself the queen. Not often assertive, but willing to stand her ground for a bowl of that foul smelling fishy stuff. Or the little splash of milk she has trained us to pour into the lid of a peanut butter jar when she comes barreling in the house at the first opportunity. You crack open the back door and a black flash comes whizzing through, taking up her position by the 'fridge, waiting for the well-trained humans to use their opposable thumbs to get out the milk jug.
Yeah - I know, you're right. Adult cats should not be drinking milk. It's not good for them, hard to digest. But she has us very well trained. What can I say? When you have very little in the way of demands, and it takes something so simple to make you happy - why not? Like that one cup of 'not coffee' I have every morning. Not really coffee because it is de-caf, and not really coffee because it is instant, and definitely not real coffee because it is at least half almond milk, with a big splash of flavored creamer. What some refer to as coffee-flavored milk. Over-alll, a pretty harmless habit, don't you think?
She spent most of the day at the vet yesterday. Under duress I am sure, as the only reason for getting in the car is when something really bad happens: you go some place strange, loud, with lots of foreign smells, and get poked, prodded, and pierced. I was concerned about the fact that she is not grooming, has lots of matted up places in her long hair, obviously loosing weight, struggling to breathe. The vet said she has heart failure, not uncommon as a side effect of thyroid problem. Which was the diagnosis when she went months ago.
There are things they can do to help, to make her comfortable, to ease he physical symptoms. They kept her all day, in some sort of oxygen treatment, to try to help with breathing difficulty, and poked her several times with a syringe to withdraw fluids - I guess around her heart? to relive symptoms.
I went to get her at five o'clock. The vet said she wanted to keep her overnight, but I knew Lucy really wanted to come home. Don't you know: whatever the problem is, you will always, always, always feel better, when you get home into your own little nest? So I brought her home, with three different medications she is supposed to get, two of them twice a day. You know how much cats don't like to take medicine? Yes. You are absolutely right, and Lucy is no exception. But I know she feels better - more active, eating and drinking better, demanding her dish of milk, starting to clean herself.
She came as a kitten, doing all the hilarious things they do, easily entertaining herself and onlookers. That was about fifteen years ago, so naturally she is slowing down. Though she has recently been spotted up on the shelf, napping in one of the boxes. You walk out there in the carport, and a head pops up out of the box, hoping it is someone willing coming to open a packet of fishy, smelly, gooey, delicious wet food. They have been climbing the ladder for years, to sleep in the boxes up on the shelf along the wall, at least head high, and safe for cats, protected from predators, who are hopefully too stupid to scale the step ladder.
She has always been pretty mild-mannered and good natured. When there were three cats here, she was number two in the pecking order. But now that number one is gone, she accidentally finds herself the queen. Not often assertive, but willing to stand her ground for a bowl of that foul smelling fishy stuff. Or the little splash of milk she has trained us to pour into the lid of a peanut butter jar when she comes barreling in the house at the first opportunity. You crack open the back door and a black flash comes whizzing through, taking up her position by the 'fridge, waiting for the well-trained humans to use their opposable thumbs to get out the milk jug.
Yeah - I know, you're right. Adult cats should not be drinking milk. It's not good for them, hard to digest. But she has us very well trained. What can I say? When you have very little in the way of demands, and it takes something so simple to make you happy - why not? Like that one cup of 'not coffee' I have every morning. Not really coffee because it is de-caf, and not really coffee because it is instant, and definitely not real coffee because it is at least half almond milk, with a big splash of flavored creamer. What some refer to as coffee-flavored milk. Over-alll, a pretty harmless habit, don't you think?
She spent most of the day at the vet yesterday. Under duress I am sure, as the only reason for getting in the car is when something really bad happens: you go some place strange, loud, with lots of foreign smells, and get poked, prodded, and pierced. I was concerned about the fact that she is not grooming, has lots of matted up places in her long hair, obviously loosing weight, struggling to breathe. The vet said she has heart failure, not uncommon as a side effect of thyroid problem. Which was the diagnosis when she went months ago.
There are things they can do to help, to make her comfortable, to ease he physical symptoms. They kept her all day, in some sort of oxygen treatment, to try to help with breathing difficulty, and poked her several times with a syringe to withdraw fluids - I guess around her heart? to relive symptoms.
I went to get her at five o'clock. The vet said she wanted to keep her overnight, but I knew Lucy really wanted to come home. Don't you know: whatever the problem is, you will always, always, always feel better, when you get home into your own little nest? So I brought her home, with three different medications she is supposed to get, two of them twice a day. You know how much cats don't like to take medicine? Yes. You are absolutely right, and Lucy is no exception. But I know she feels better - more active, eating and drinking better, demanding her dish of milk, starting to clean herself.
going to a GS meeting...
When I reminded T.P. I would be travelling today, going to a GS meeting, he inquired about the schedule. I said I was riding with someone else, and my job was to be in the right place at the right time to meet the driver. He is forever asking about when I am leaving, and when I will return. I think primarily to have some assurance that someone will show up to prepare the food. So he can have confidence there will be someone around to call him to the table. He's the guy who perpetually says: 'call me anything you want, but don't call me late for dinner.'
I told him that I did not know what the schedule for the meeting is, that it is about ninety minutes away, at a Scout Camp in the center of the state. Which is also pretty centrally located for the Girl Scouts of Historic Georgia Council. The council here in Columbus once was limited to a dozen surrounding counties. After realignment a couple of years ago, and a name change, it now spans the state from 'coast to coast' (meaning Savannah to the Chattahoochee River - alternately known as Georgia"'s West Coast). The meeting place is near Macon, at a camp that has in recent years built a very attractive conference center, so it's more than screened in cabins, filled with cobwebs, and a rustic, open-air dining hall.
I told him, when he was questioning, that not only did I not know the agenda, I was not driving, so had no control over when we would be leaving after the conclusion of business. He said"Oh, so not only do you not get to drive the train, you don't even get to blow the whistle?!!" (This being written, just as I hear a train whistle blowing at the cross a mile away, where the tracks parallel Macon Rd.)
So let me get my shoes on and go to the store to meet my ride in the parking lot...
I told him that I did not know what the schedule for the meeting is, that it is about ninety minutes away, at a Scout Camp in the center of the state. Which is also pretty centrally located for the Girl Scouts of Historic Georgia Council. The council here in Columbus once was limited to a dozen surrounding counties. After realignment a couple of years ago, and a name change, it now spans the state from 'coast to coast' (meaning Savannah to the Chattahoochee River - alternately known as Georgia"'s West Coast). The meeting place is near Macon, at a camp that has in recent years built a very attractive conference center, so it's more than screened in cabins, filled with cobwebs, and a rustic, open-air dining hall.
I told him, when he was questioning, that not only did I not know the agenda, I was not driving, so had no control over when we would be leaving after the conclusion of business. He said"Oh, so not only do you not get to drive the train, you don't even get to blow the whistle?!!" (This being written, just as I hear a train whistle blowing at the cross a mile away, where the tracks parallel Macon Rd.)
So let me get my shoes on and go to the store to meet my ride in the parking lot...
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