Hotter than...?

My mother and I were having our lunch at Wendy's today--chili, baked potato, side salad. In came a rancher and his son. I noted the rancher because he looked real--even had spurs on his work boots and a work hat on his head. He sat down near us and said, "They've forgotten to turn on the air conditioning." And as his son sat down across from him, he said, "Hotter 'n young love in a '52 Chevy."

I liked it, and him.

Memorial Day 09

I read today the military history of my father compiled by my mother after his death last year. I thought it was a good day to do it--memorializing him and his service to his country. That service began in September of 1934 when he was just 13 years old. He joined the ROTC at Lew Wallace High School in Gary, Indiana. He was honorably released from that duty in 1937 when he graduated and went to college in New Mexico.

Along came Pearl Harbor and our entry into WW2, and Dad's reentry into the military. He was rejected by the Navy for his hay fever, so when he went in to sign up with the Army, he "failed" to mention it. Then came his pilot's training, his jaunting about the country from base to base, accumulating experience and training as a bomber pilot. Just before the end of his training, the war ended and he was "demobbed."

Back in New Mexico, he joined the newly-formed NM Air National Guard where he continued his flying and was reactivated in 1951 for the "Korean conflict." He escaped going by the skin of his teeth (and a visit to Washington, DC to examine his own military records), but continued in the Guard until fall of 1962, when he retired as a Lt. Colonel.

He was one of only 9 men nationwide to receive a Command Pilot rating in the late 1950s--and the only one from New Mexico. He loved to fly. And he loved his country. I am proud to tears of him and his 28 years of service. I love this Memorial Day.

Do It Self!

My mother has told me a story about herself when she was a little girl of three or four. Whenever someone tried to help her with something she thought she could do without them, she said, "Bobbi do it self!"

Our current leaders of this country are behaving as if we, the citizens, were little children. As if we could not function without their experience and guidance. Well, I say to them--We all, the vast majority of us anyway, wish to "do it self." Get out of our way while we make decisions for ourselves. I know it can be painful. I know we can lose things we don't want to lose. But what is our ultimate goal? Don't give up what we want most--freedom of choice--for what we want at the moment--freedom from pain?

Why are we knuckling under? Why are we sitting back and allowing the president and his advisors to make decisions for us? In the Book of Mormon we read that the devil will "lull us away into carnal [worldly] security" and then he can lead us "carefully down to hell" (2 Ne 28:21). So we get tired of making decisions, hard ones, by and for ourselves, and it seems good to have someone who appears to be strong and competent take over. And we are led, slowly, carefully, lulled by smooth tongues and "verbally agile quick studies" down to a hell we had no intention of visiting when we began.

That's one reason. Another is found in the New Testament, in 1st Timothy 6:10: "For the love of money is the root of all evil" and those who succumb to it "pierce themselves through with many sorrows." It is the love of money that seems to be driving Chrysler and GM and many others to their knees, begging for the proffered hand full of taxpayer dollars. It's too hard to solve the underlying issues alone. They want the help of someone else, someone they can then blame when things fall apart anyway as I am afraid they will. They appear to want to be led carefully away to hell. They are choosing to pierce their own selves with many sorrows. But not only their own selves, also all of us who are forced, through the honest payment of taxes, to support their decline.

There is a bright spot in this frightening morass, however. It is this: Today, the sun is shining, the sky is blue as a dutchman's pants, the air is washed clean by the rain, the birds--bless their little fast-beating hearts--are chirping and warbling happily, and I am secure in my knowledge that all will be well, regardless of what "Man" can do to try to mess it up.

Track Your Time, Anyone?

I'm tracking my time today. My sister tracks her food consumption. I'm tracking my time (see last post...). So here's just a little snippet of my day so far:

11:27-12:28 Went out to get in Karen’s car—no back seat—B and I got in mine and went to the doctor’s office--Karen followed. Can’t see him until 1pm. Drove back home--Karen went on to Walmart. Started sweeping the back porch (as I was walking in from the garage, remembered Karen wanted it swept), removed the carpet rug, threw the broom across the yard twice and one chair once (!), emptied and refilled the outside dog water, interrupted to go in and find mandarin oranges for B—opened another package of them and left one out for her, put the things in the garbage, took out the full sack to the rubbish bin in the garage, continued sweeping, B said are these your mandarin oranges—I went in and explained to her, laughingly, that SHE had asked for them, put a new garbage sack in the bin, finished sweeping, brought the hummingbird feeder in and mixed the sugar water—twice pouring boiling water on my thumb, filled the feeder and put the extra in the empty syrup bottle, came in here.

That's why I don't seem to get anything done.

Time Adjustments

I finally got back to "New Post" after much searching. Obviously, I don't do this enough... But when you are living in Quadrant 1 all the time--well, most of the time--you don't seem to have the time to write. Notice the repetition of time. You'd think I'd have more of it. After all, I am retired. I know--I have the same amount of it you do, we all do. Where does mine go??

• I live with two other people now. There seems to be less time in the day than when I lived alone, or with only one other person. Conclusion: More people in a house use up the available time faster.
• Two other people live with me. Is that different from the above?
• I ate too much chocolate this afternoon, and I lose time during the ensuing hot flashes.
• My mother wants me to listen to this --a statement from an article in the WSJ or The Week or Smithsonian or her latest double crostic.
• My sister wants me to help her decide which flowers (artificial) look best where in her room. Or are they better there?
• My missionary companion needs me to talk her down from hysteria over Vista and Word 2007 on her new laptop.
• I get up too late? 6:45am?
• I go to bed too early? 10:30pm?

This is a slow-living town I reside in now. When I went to get my new driver's license, we went out to my car to check the mileage. I had locked it. Told the young woman I have a friend where I used to live who locks her car when it's in the garage. She said, around here we leave the keys in the ignition with the car on the street! I am down-sizing to slow-living. Sydney, Australia--4.6 million down to Boise, ID--250,000 down to Silver City, NM--1o,000. Speed limit on all the side streets and through town is 25 mph. Hey! That's why I don't have time anymore. I spend it all getting places at 25 mph.