my dad's birthday...

...May 30. He was born in 1920. I remember in that last year, he said he was hoping to live to be 80. And also hoping to see the turn of the century. He did both.

I think about him every day. And especially today.

He was a devotee of ice cream. Good or bad, but especially home-made with lots of cream, and fresh fruit. Making it from scratch, cooking the custard all day long with eggs, milk, sugar till it got thick. Straining all the lumps out, then putting in the fridge to chill overnight, adding either peaches in season or fresh strawberries that had been put in the blender to liquefy. Mixing the fruit into the thickened custard, and the process of starting up the churn with ice and salt in the sink by the back door. I can almost hear the sound of that electric  motor on the churn as it stirs and thickens, freezing his ice cream into the perfect consistency, perfectly delicious taste of summer.

So I will have some ice cream today and think of my dad.

the story of the mastercard...

...is tedious and frustrating, but since I have not been hacked, mistreated, abused or being held hostage for someone's theft of my identity, I guess it has a happy ending. As many tales of some a of credit-card crisis do not, with people being caught unawares, cards being misused, personal info. hijacked, and credit ruined for years. To say nothing of the nightmare of trying to unravel the huge mess left in the wake of an uninitiated, uninvited, unwanted Hot Mess of a financial debacle.

But this one is satisfactorily resolved. It started when I noticed early in the month that my credit card had an expiration date of 5/16, and knew I should expect to receive a replacement before the end of May. I would occasionally notice the exp. date when I would pull the card out of my wallet to use it, on an almost daily basis (an Important Fact: frequent use). When a new card did not come in the mail by the middle of the month, I began to be a little concerned, wondering when it would arrive.

First mistake - though we think we are supposed to call the toll free number when we anticipate a problem, right?  I called that number on the back of the card, merely to inquire about when I might expect to get a replacement. And went through that process of tell us the number three times, and 'who did you say you are?', and 'are you really, really you?'

Apparently after that long, tedious, convoluted part where you have to prove that you are you, we passed the point of No Return.  Unknowingly set off some invisible warning that caused the card to be cancelled. So no matter what the conversation at that point, I was card-less. The rep. I spoke with reported the replacement card had been mailed out the end of March? What? Where was it? Who had it? What had happened to the card I did not get? It was sent to the post office box, so maybe just mis-put? But definitely not received by me. And thankfully not used by some anonymous creep. This does explain the necessity of cancelling - the fact that it had been shipped, but not received. And we changed the mailing address from the post office to street address.

I don't use a debit card, but do depend mightily on my MasterCard, pulling it out to buy gas, or groceries on a regular basis. Often multiple times a day, as I am so conveniently located in a supermarket nearly every day of the week. Plus rarely have actual cash in my pocket, so really dependent on the plastic.

I begged that customer service rep. to not cancel me, but to no avail. She said all my info. had been transferred to another account, and they would mail me the new card with the new number. I do have sense enough to not put checks for payments, or valuable mail in my box up on the street for pickup, and don't want stuff sitting in my box all day for passers-by and riff-raff to snatch it away. So I said you cannot send it to the street address and leave my credit card sitting in the box up on the street. They agreed to overnight it, and also FedEx, so it would be delivered to the door instead of languishing in that sweltering hot little metal box on the wooden post.

I was paranoid, anxious, stressed out, fearful, mildly confused, panick-y the whole time I was without a card. Sadly, so accustomed to pulling the plastic out and swiping with impunity, I was hyperventilating waiting for the replacement to arrive. When the FedEx guy pulled up in the driveway, I was out there waiting to give him a big hug. And I am generally Not A Hugger.

Needless to say, after the aforementioned trials and tribulations, the 'replacement' that she claimed was mailed in late March, with obsolete, nonfunctioning number came as well. What I am thinking is that the service rep. fumbled the ball with her dates, and did decipher what ever code they use for shipping properly, telling me March, when she meant May. She otherwise spoke perfectly good English... so it was not a problem with ESOL...

Anyway: happy ending. I have already put thousands of dollars on my new card, just to test it. Now all I have to do is pay the bill when it comes!

trivia about travels...

...even though I am not yet back to the starting point. I left home very early on Friday morning, to drive to SC and visit my pen pal who lives in Greenville. A friend I try to go up and visit on a monthly basis. He is in his nineties, so I know there will come a time when I want to go and spend the day and he won't be around any more, so I make an effort to get there frequently. Plus a favorite cousin who lives nearby and will usually allow me to invite myself to come and spend the night in her spare bedroom.

Getting on the road soon after five a.m., to make the four hour drive, skirting around the awful mess of Atlanta metro traffic during the morning chaos. It was not nearly as bad anticipated, as I tend to paint a picture of bumper to bumper vehicles, twelve lanes across, creeping along at thirteen mph. But it was relatively easy, though nothing for me is 'easy' about the stress of driving in the city. I was in Greenville in about four hours, and enjoyed a nice visit with my friend. I stopped along the way at a Wallyworld to purchase a plant to give him - something that will bloom all summer long.

I also took him a five gallon bucket with a tomato plant in it. I'd put it in a container with drainage holes several weeks ago, with plans to take and share when I could make the trip to SC.  He used to enjoy gardening, and I know he does not have the energy to do the prep., cultivation required to grow vegetables now. I thought he would enjoy watering and watching this little 'Husky' grow. Hope it will do well in his yard, and he will enjoy some fresh grape tomatoes as it starts producing in a few weeks.

During the day he wanted to go to Wallyworld to look at lawnmowers, so we took a drive. I told him he did not need to be mowing his yard, that he has too many great grandchildren who would/could do that for him. But he seems to think he can buy a 'self-propelled' and get the job done. Mr. Ninety-three Years Old does not need to be pushing a lawn mower in the hot August sun.

Had a nice visit with my cousin, and some good laughs. Got to see current photos of cute grandkids, and catch up on news. I knew I would get up very early to return to Decatur today, on the road by 6 a.m. And stopped on the east side of town to get a birthday gift for a six year old we would see today.  We had been invited to a family birthday party for a four year old this morning who was visiting his grandmother. And went to the party this afternoon for the girl who has had about four parties already to celebrate being six.

So that makes three trips to Wallyworld in 24 hours. And two birthday parties in one day. I need a nap.

book review: "Ashley's War'....

...by Gayle Lemmon. The subtitle is the 'Untold Story of a Team of Women Soldiers on the Special Ops Battlefield'. This is the same author who wrote another book I recently read  (The Dressmaker of Khar Khana) and reported on about a family living in Kabul who taught themselves to sew, and turned their skills into a cottage industry. Siblings who began making clothing to support themselves and extended family. They were forced by the authorities to stay at home, could not continue with education, or be employed outside the home, not allowed to hold jobs, but  hidden from view when the Taliban came into power. True and amazing story of resilience, creativity, ingenuity and perseverance.

This newest book is one I heard the author talking about at an event at the Infantry Museum several weeks ago. I requested the book from the library and found the one about the Afghan family, so read it first. Just received "Ashley's War" the end of last week and finished it yesterday. Lemmon has done in depth personal interviews and research, and written a very readable, well documented story. I knew things would end badly, as Ashley is one of the first women to be killed in the Afghan war.

But her story is one that really resonates. Reading about Ashley and other young women who volunteer for the Army, in the Guard or Reserves or active duty. Then volunteer to undergo rigorous training to master necessary skills to be deployed with Special Forces on night raids trying to locate and capture insurgents. The women were  trained at Ft. Bragg in NC as members of a new concept: Cultural Support Team. Designed to go with SpecOps teams and SEALS into villages and homes of local citizens in search of information, explosives, and Taliban supporters.

The Army realized they were not able to investigate, interact with half the population when the men on the SpecOps teams could not meet with or talk to the women in the villages. And over time realized what a vital source those families could be if they could question the women in the compounds they were searching. They developed the program and plan to train capable, battle ready females to accompany the teams, along with interpreters who could help question and gain intel. to help find insurgents and keep soldiers safe.

Ashley was killed on a night raid, by an IED. The story leading up to her death tells about what an amazing woman she was, and what a huge impact her life made on family, fellow soldiers, other women in the CST program. There was almost no information provided to the American public about this CST program before her death, so even her parent were not aware of what she was doing. But her death brought the program out into the open, and caused the Army and DOD to provide details about how these young female soldiers were having such a huge impact in the War on Terrorism.

a little volunteer project...

... I seem to have backed into involving Girl Scouts. I know these events can get off to a slow start, and gain momentum. Which will hopefully happen in the next day or so, as there were more adults at the event this evening than there were little scouts. Plus a bit of misinformation about the schedule caused me to be an hour early, devoting considerable time to standing around waiting....

I'd offered to assist, and expected some type summer fun was in the offing. But had requested plenty of lead time to get the event on my calendar and allow some wiggle room around work schedule. Sadly I got the notice on Friday that it would be starting on Monday afternoon. A 'Twilight Camp' from six to eight in the evening. As much of this seems sort of spontaneous to me, we might all encounter surprises as things evolve, with about six girls registered and four that showed up on Monday.

We started with the pledge and promise, made name tags (always a good project to kill thirty minutes), then went outdoors for an archery lesson. I was lured in to the event as the facilitator of all things crafty, so my field of 'expertise' would have been the wrapping of colored yard around craft sticks to make a 'god's eye'. With only marginal success: meaning two of the four turned out well, the other two looking like a tangle of yard suitable for bird nesting material.

It was all good fun, and enjoyed by the attendees - girls of elementary school age. I understand a couple of others are registered to start today, so hopefully the number of kids will increase as the week progresses. I was not responsible for any of the planning, so every day will certainly offer new opportunities for forging ahead into uncharted territory....

blooming agapanthus...

...in  my yard, in the narrow little bed between the front wall of the house and the concrete apron of the driveway. Glorious agapanthus, also know generically as Lily of the Nile. I can't say why, have not done any research, other than to guess that multiple blooms high on a long stem above the narrow strap-like leaves look sort of like papyrus that grows in Egypt.

I dug the bulbs/corms up from the yard at 1209 N. Court street, some years ago. Naturally, I will always think of the man who first planted them at his house every time I see them being so happy and prolific here with multiple beautiful blue blooms, when I pull up in the driveway. They have grown well there in the bright sun, multiplied and spread. I have divided and put some in other places around in different beds, but none do as well as the original planting right out by the front door.

And some Easter Lily plants I have put out in the leaf mulch are starting to open up. There are some up near the street,, visible to passing traffic. And others out on the north side of the house, across the lawn, where I can see them from the table as I sit and type. Loaded with buds, ready to pop open with  multiple white, trumpet shaped flowers.

unbidden opportunities...

...for animal rescue seem to come into my line of vision, cross  my path at unexpected times. There is a long history of stopping to rescue turtles when those slow moving reptiles are inching across a roadway, dangerously close to becoming small greasy spots. A two thousand pound vehicle traveling at seventy mph makes short work of a supposedly impenetrable turtle shell. If I can stop and pull over or make a U turn I will assist the terrapins in crossing the road, though knowing they will likely turn right around and go back where they came from. Family members have seen me do this over the years, and there has been more than one report here from the Turtle Rescue Squad.

Today: there was a wee mockingbird baby without flight feather. Sitting in all it's downy glory on the asphalt driveway. A comedy of errors ensued, but with a (hopefully) happy ending. We moved it to a sheltered safe spot, so naturally it moved itself back (though we thought it to be not mobile) out into the wide open spaces. Where it could be easily found and eaten by any number of predators who would enjoy a tasty morsel. Info. was gathered (yes, of course we googled!) about how humans could best assist the hapless bird. Even though the parents were nearby and raucous, they were only frantic and not at all helpful.

We determined the best option was to take it to the local zoo, to give to people who were familiar with rescue and willing to stay up all night feeding it 'round the clock. So with the parents hopping from limb to limb and cursing us for our good intentions, we put it in a box and transported it to the zoo. Fortuitously, thankfully relieving us of the weighty responsibility of bird parenting. I once raised a fuzzy, lost squirrel with a baby-doll bottle and canned milk. I have no desire to take on a tiny, unfledged bird that has no more weight than that of a soul.

We would have put it back in a nest, but there was nothing nearby. No apparent place it would have fallen from, so no possibility of returning it to the safe haven where parents could nourish it into maturity. Hopefully it will receive kindness, care, feeding and be set 'free as a bird' when it grows the feathers needed to travel as they are designed to do.