A short, VERY short, eleven months ago we all heard about Coronavirus / Covid 19. If we hunkered down for two weeks, it would all be over. I actually wonder if the entire world stopped for two weeks, would this virus be in our rear view mirror. Unfortunately we will never know.

What are the facts? The numbers are inflated but we don’t know to what degree. Some hospitals are hearing crickets chirp and others are busting at the seams. Unemployment is at a record high but I see Help Wanted signs everywhere I go. Some folks still haven’t seen that first unemployment check. Tons of commercial buildings with For Sale or Lease signs are on the front lawn because so many people are working from home. Malls are filing for bankruptcy protection. Businesses have closed like never before. A second stimulus check never materialized. At times things got better and the ‘rules’ relaxed. Then things got worse and the ‘rules’ were reinforced. The list is endless.

I had Covid in February, it came in two waves four weeks apart, and I didn’t know what Covid was. The rumblings of this virus were in their infancy. All the symptoms were there and to be kind, I will not share everything that my body went through. Everything I did to ‘relieve’ the symptoms of what I thought was bronchitis, only made things worse because at the time what we should or shouldn’t take weren’t known yet. Let’s just say I took EVERYTHING that is now known to be bad for Covid. Only one day I prayed for death because I knew it was going to relieve what I was going through.

Shortly after the second wave hit, I took Prednisone and within three hours I was whistling Dixie! I slept a lot, had plenty of fluids, rested, and got better from there.

This is only my story and I know there’s many more stories out there. I’m still working because I work for an essential business. This year has flown by for me and I’m looking forward to 2021 for several reasons.

First, I believe several vaccines will be available. Second, I’ve got several trips planned for next year with the guarantee of refunds if I need to cancel due to Covid. Third, I simply cannot imagine next year being worse than this year. That doesn’t mean it can’t be…I just cannot imagine it.

This year I saw people being kinder, helpful, and more considerate than ever before. If you’re going through a difficult time in your life and you’re the only one going through it, you can bitch to the high heavens about it. But when the entire world is going through it, it puts things into perspective. There is no ‘Oh Poor Me’ because you’re not alone.

I have a deeper faith this year than ever before and I pray for everyone that the New Year brings hope, love, charity, kindness, health, and happiness. God Bless 2021.

Exactly what is the difference? If you consider yourself blessed, does that mean you have a strong faith and a connection with God? If you consider yourself lucky, does that mean you were born under the right zodiac sign and everything you touch turns to gold?

At some point in everyone’s life something truly great happens to them. It doesn’t have to mean that you chose the winning numbers in the lottery. I’m saying it doesn’t have to be anything about money or material things.

I don’t know if it’s because 2020 really sucked worldwide, but I have been very reflective this year. During all of that reflection, I realized I am truly blessed…and luck had nothing to do with it.

Don’t get me wrong…there have been plenty of really unsettling events in my life, and upon reflection I can truly say they most of them were initiated by me. I’m not proud of that fact but it’s a fact nonetheless.

In recent years I’ve allowed ‘sayings’ to get me through frustrating times. I’ve heard some of them from other people, read some on Facebook, and good old Dr Phil has helped me out with a few also.

One of my favorite by Dr Phil is, “No matter how flat a pancake is, there are two sides.” Let’s face it, most of the time we only hear one side of a story and immediately believe it’s true.

Another one that I use a lot is, “What’s supposed to happen is going to happen.” I LOVE George Strait. Several months ago there was a promotion that if you make a donation to a charity he was supporting, your name would go in a hat. Then a name will be pulled and the winner would have a one-hour happy-hour via Facetime with George. I made a donation and as sure as I’m sitting here I knew I was going to win. Well, I don’t have to tell any of you how that turned out. Instead of pitching a fit about not winning, I simply told myself that if it was supposed to happen, it would have happened. End of story. You can’t win if you don’t play! If I would have won, I would have considered myself blessed AND lucky.

If you think those skeletons in your closet are buried, think again. “The footsteps of the past step on the heels of the future.” At some point something from your past is going to rear it’s ugly head. How you handle it will determine your future.

Did you ever make a decision about something and down the road you had that ‘aha’ moment because it all made sense how things turned out? I don’t think that was luck.

With learning how to handle some of the things life throws your way, maturity comes into play. I’m too old for drama or to care what anyone thinks of me. I spent too many years with drama and pleasing everyone. I cannot get those years back.

So, now back to the topic at hand. Luck or blessings? It wasn’t luck that gave me healthy children and grandchildren. It wasn’t luck that I’ve worked at some great company’s with great co-workers. It wasn’t luck that has provided me with the opportunity to travel to other countries as much as I have. It wasn’t luck that I survived breast cancer.

I have some amazing people in my life and they are in my life by choice. You want people who lift you up, laugh and cry with you, and someone you can call any hour of the day or night. Also people who can make you laugh. If you want to put friendship to the test, don’t call anyone for a month and see who calls you.

The reality of it all is that I am more than blessed and luck had little to nothing to do with how things in my life have turned out. We are all our own gate-keepers and for the most part we can keep anybody and anything out of our lives if we make the right decisions.

As this year draws to a close, the New Year is almost here. Most of us make new years resolutions and very few of us keep them. New Year 2020 I made a resolution and have kept up my resolution about 98%…of which I’m very proud. It’s the first time I’ve ever kept a resolution and I can tell you that I experienced a huge return on it and will keep it going into the New Year!

I am blessed and I ask God to bless 2021….

Four days ago was the 19th ‘anniversary’ of a very horrific day in the history of the United States. While there were many tributes on Facebook and other social media sites, a few folks mentioned September 10, 2001 and September 12, 2001.

Remembering September 10th is quite easy for me. From my perspective this was a relatively safe country. Unbeknownst to any of us, when we got out of bed that morning, it would be the last time for a long time, that we felt happy and secure. People went to work or school, children played outside, folks traveled without hesitation, and every now and then it crossed our minds that we lived in the greatest country in the world. Maybe I’m sugar-coating it a bit…but that is how I would like to remember it.

I woke up on September 11th and went to work. No radios or TVs were allowed in the office so the attacks on our country were in full swing before I heard about it. I remember one of the co-owners of the company coming in the door with panic in her voice. She asked if I had heard about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. No…I had not. Initially, I just assumed an aircraft hit the first tower due to a medical issue with the pilot.

It didn’t take long to realize that was not the case.

A short while later, the other owners came into the office and were very upset. Early reports were saying terrorist attacks. Being the wonderful employers that they were, they told me if I was scared or upset I could go home…without pay. Being self-supporting didn’t allow for being scared or upset without pay.

We all know what happened during the rest of that day and although it was a very horrific day, the sun did rise the next morning.

Less than 48 hours later, September 12th arrived and folks were glued to their TVs, hoarding groceries, canceling travel plans, and a thousand other things. At this point none of us were quite sure how this was going to end…or if it would ever end. The one thing we were all sure of was that nothing would be the same again and we would have to learn a ‘new normal’.

Some good comes out of every bad situation. A lot of other countries came to our aid, once again some of us learned to appreciate who and what we had in our lives, and to simply take nothing for granted. Maybe some family members who weren’t talking decided to bury the hatchet. There were fund-raisers of every kind for anyone who needed assistance from the fallout of 9/11. We came together and we were united.

Like everything else, all good things must come to an end. Nineteen years after 9/11, we are in the middle of a pandemic, the media is out of control, there is racial tension, police attacks, rioting, burning, and looting. We (the United States) are, in my opinion, the laughing stock of this planet. For a country that used to be thought of as having gold-paved streets, it is suggested that we now de-fund police departments, we have some political candidates that keep the late night talk show hosts cracking jokes, families and friends being torn apart because of political egos, and to be honest, the list is endless.

Our citizens have made a mockery of religion, politics, and the law. We’re out of control and the world knows it. If anyone thinks for one minute that this country is safe and sound and another attack is impossible, think again. We let our guard down almost 20 years ago and now that all this other bullshit is going on, our guard is down again because our attention is directed at trying to curb all the unrest going on.

I will always support the United States of America and will always believe that the American dream is possible. I will always stand for the National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance. I do not discuss politics or religion because I was raised to believe those are subjects you do not discuss with other people.

It would never occur to me to speak badly about a candidate running for the presidency or any other political office. It absolutely boggles my mind that people publicly ridicule others for their political beliefs, and not to mention the damage being done to our children and grandchildren who hear adults calling candidates every name under the sun.

There are ways for each of us to handle situations and people we don’t care for. I’m no better than anyone else and Lord knows I have my opinions about the current issues going on in the world and this country, but I speak about them in my own home

Evangelo T. Kasebes. That’s his name. He was born February 12, 1957. The angels came for him on August 9, 1960. He was two-and-a-half years old. At least that’s what his tombstone at Northshore Garden of Memories in North Chicago says. A newspaper article I found says Evangelo was four years old.

I didn’t just stumble upon this. For the last fourteen years, my husband and I take a drive two or three times a year to Northshore Garden of Memories to visit the grave of my husbands brother, Constantine (Butchy). Butchy passed away when he was four years old of leukemia.

From the get-go my husband told me about Evangelo who was laid to rest in close proximity to Butchy. My late father-in-law, Pete, used to tend to both graves while visiting Butchy. Pete would trim the grass, pull the weeds, and if he brought flowers for Butchy, Evangelo got some too.

Why? Because Evangelo came to this country by himself, sponsored by the Waukegan Red Cross, for a life-saving heart surgery that proved fatal. He came from Myrtia, Greece which is located on the island of Crete. His parents did not come with him.

Can you even begin to imagine sending your child to another country for an operation and not going along? Then the surgery is not a success and probably due to lack of funds, his body could not be sent home but must be laid to rest in a foreign country with nobody to watch over him and his grave. That’s where Pete entered the picture.

We knew why Pete tended the grave site. Because that’s the kind of guy Pete was. Until today we did not know how Pete became aware of this situation and took it upon himself to take care of Evangelo’s grave. In the article I found that was published in a Pennsylvania newspaper in August of 1960, it states that Evangelo was the grand-nephew of Anthony C. of North Chicago. Turns out that Anthony was the father of my husband’s uncle’s wife.

For all these years that we’ve been going to the cemetery, we always make a point of trimming and cleaning Butchy’s grave and then we take a few steps to tend to Evangelo’s grave. Each time it just breaks my heart that the mom of The Little Greek Boy never got to say goodbye or hold him one last time. The sleepless nights she must have had when she turned him over to strangers to send to a foreign country to save her sons life…only to never see him again.

For many years I’ve had a fascination with cemeteries and walk through them as often as I can. There is a wealth of information and sometimes a tombstone will bear the picture of the deceased…an opportunity to put a face with their tombstone story. Imagine having the opportunity to talk to someone who died 100 years ago and hear their story…and to answer your questions…and to tell them what life is like today (without mentioning politics or Covid). That would be a dream come true for me.

I don’t care how many protests there are or how many statues are torn down, the history of this country stands as is. It’s our legacy…good or bad. It’s our history…good or bad.

The people represented by those statues fought for what they believed in and what they felt was right. This is no different than any American today.

There is hope that everyone learns from their mistakes. This country was started by the skin of it’s teeth, mistakes were made, wars were won, and wars were lost. Some of those wars didn’t involve weapons.

Let’s start with pride. Remember when you were in high school and the pride you felt for your school and the sports teams? It was pride that brought you to those Friday night football games. Why? Because you thought your school team was the best. There was also cross-country, basketball, baseball, tennis and golf leagues, and more. Those who didn’t participate generally followed their favorite teams out of pride.

Then there was Spirit Week…the week prior to the big Homecoming game and dance. The daily events leading up to the big day were exciting and fun. We showed our pride.

Supporting our country, a citizens right to freedom of speech, and our police departments that do their best for our communities should be shown our support and pride. That doesn’t mean there aren’t a few bad apples and they should be dealt with in a fair and legal manor.

I was raised to respect anyone older than myself, and to never discuss salary, religion or political affiliations with anyone. If I had my way, it would still be that way.

My parents didn’t argue with family or friends about any of these things because you weren’t privy to your neighbors political views. They were entitled to support who they wanted just as my parents did.

We didn’t destroy other peoples property, mouth off to police officers, or talk back to our teachers and clergy. We showed respect. And yes, respect is earned. I can tell you that had we been disrespectful to a neighbor, police officer, teacher, bus driver, mailman, or anyone else we came into contact with, we would have been punished.

If you aren’t loyal to your country, family, or friends, you will fall for anything. We don’t have to like the decisions of our politicians but they must be heard and respected. They were voted for by the majority.

When Donald Trump was running for president, I remember many celebrities and non-celebrities say that if he becomes president, they are going to leave the country. Guess what? They’re all still here. The celebrities have the means to move out of the country but I guess they were just using their celebrity status to sway their fans into voting with them. They do not know loyalty.

Forty plus years ago I worked for a small company and was earning $1.65 per hour. Some of the other employees were disgruntled and decided to get a union shop started. At that point I didn’t know anything about unions.

So I did the next best thing. I asked my elders for their opinions on unions. Only one answer this many years later stands out in my head…’if you don’t like where you work, quit’.

At this point many years later, I still agree with this (my opinion) and suggest that anyone who does not have pride, respect and loyalty for the United States of America should get the fuck out.

You do NOT have to agree with our president or laws or practices but by God, you’re going to have to go along to get along. If you can’t do that, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

I love this country. I have pride in this country. I have respect for this country. I am loyal to this country.

God Bless America!

Everybody wears a ‘uniform’ but does it change who you are?

When a nurse or doctor put their scrubs on, it must certainly change who they are and how they feel inside. Those scrubs are their uniform. While wearing scrubs in their workplace – a hospital or clinic – I think it would change who they are in as far as what is expected of them while wearing their ‘uniform’. Those scrubs might tell patients that this person is educated and trained to care for them during a time of need in their life.

How about a construction worker when he / she puts on a hardhat. Does it make them realize that hardhats protect them on the construction site? Does it make them feel a sense of responsibility to be aware of their surroundings to avoid a catastrophe?

Does a lawyer feel more regal and confident while wearing a suit in a court room? That’s his / her uniform. The suit may have the judge and jury looking at them in a different light than if they were wearing jeans. Jeans don’t speak to others like a well-made suit does.

Recently someone asked me if I felt different when I was wearing leather, boots, dew-rags, etc. while riding my motorcycle. Yes it did. I know I walked taller and I felt empowered by this ‘uniform’. There definitely was an attitude while dressed like that.

Last weekend I was wearing an apron while baking. I didn’t think much about it until I went outside to take the wash off the line and cut some lettuce for dinner, all while wearing the apron. It threw me back into a different era. I felt very domestic and satisfied in that ‘uniform’.

The few times I’ve been blessed to wear an evening gown, I also felt different. Those are times where I was at my best because of the event, the gown, and the environment. Two and a half-years ago while dancing with my son for the mother-son wedding dance, I felt like Cinderella with the gown flowing and my son spinning me around the dance floor. This of course is the most elegant of my ‘uniforms’.

So I have to wonder if I’m alone in these feelings. Occasionally does everyone who wears something other than their day-to-day clothes feel a bit more special, elegant, accomplished, and satisfied?

A couple of times in recent years an environment made me feel different also. One of those times was when I was fortunate enough to fly first class. My son purchased a first class ticket for me, and again I felt like Cinderella at the ball. In my wildest dreams I never thought I’d be able to fly first class. That was a new feeling.

In 2015 I went to Greece on vacation. It was an extremely hot and humid August day. Several of us went down to the Ionian Sea, sat in the water to cool off, and spent a couple of hours chatting about this and that. At one moment I realized I was sitting in the sea on the other side of the world looking at colorful rocks and stones and trying to pick out a new color for my bathroom. It was exhilarating…a feeling different than any other feeling I’ve ever had.

How about the first time you get to see and hold your new grandchild? Is there a better feeling than that? I trust that if you ponder (my sister’s new favorite word) on different events and locations in your life, you too just might remember a different feeling within than you do in your day-to-day life.

I do hope everyone experiences this…it just seems to make my life a little bit more special…

In the movie Pretty Woman starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, the character Richard plays offers Julia’s character her own apartment, credit cards to all the finest stores in Beverly Hills, and a monthly allowance. Why? To get her off the streets. She turns down the offer saying, “It’s only geography.”

It’s true. She had feelings for Richard’s character and vice versa so getting her off the streets won’t change a thing.

This is exactly what’s going on in the United States today. People can keep rioting, burning buildings, killing policemen as well as innocent bystanders, destroy and loot stores, and blame ALL police officers to justify their actions.

When the rioting, burning, killing, and looting stops, we’re all going to be exactly where we were when it started…only with fewer stores, businesses, and police officers in those neighborhoods. All that aggressive action did nothing but fill up the morning and evening news reports.

It did not improve your neighborhood, police officers feeling like they had targets on their backs quit the force or retired, more tax payer money was required to clean up after these riots, and a lot more fear is spreading in what was once the greatest country on earth.

History NEVER has to repeat itself if we learn something from it. Destroying and purposely removing historical landmarks is NOT going to change history. Those are our reminders of what happened, what probably shouldn’t have happened, and what can we learn from this so we can move forward.

Before you know it, the American flag is going to ‘bother’ someone and it will have to be removed from every public building and home in America. Every little thing that bothers ONE person forces the rest of the citizens of this country to conform to one persons whining.

Schools with mascots bearing Indian names are having to change those names. Land ‘O Lakes butter had to remove the image of an Indian from their packaging. How about the bars on the animal cage on a small box of animal crackers had to be removed because those bars offended some animal-loving group. There are no more winners and losers in childhood sports. Everyone gets a trophy called a participation trophy. We’re raising a bunch if sissies who don’t know how to win or lose gracefully. The list is endless.

We all are entitled to, and allowed to have and express our opinions, but when millions of other Americans are affected by it, it becomes harmful and hateful.

Every person buried in every cemetery in this country is our history. Some were more famous than others. Most were good, hard-working people who wanted nothing more than a better life for themselves. Cemeteries are sacred and protected. Be rest assured, someone is going to be offended by tombstones and those will all have to be removed.

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? Get up in the morning, fix your bed, be kind to your neighbors, help those who need it, go to work, pay your bills, have a beer, and enjoy this very short life God has given you. Twenty years from now, 2020 will be nothing but a bad hiccup in our lives.

I’d like to think that each generation wants to make this country a little better than they found it. We’re not going to achieve the greatness America once had by hatred, looting, burning, shooting, and destroying the very history this country was founded on.

Grow the fuck up and smell the roses. And for God’s sake LAUGH!

I saw ‘the chair’ last night and to be honest, I didn’t even recognize it until someone mentioned that it used to be my dads chair.

About five or six years ago, at about the age of ninety, my dad requested a new lift chair that he had seen in a magazine. Dad was living in an assisted living facility and wasn’t sleeping well in his current lift chair as it didn’t recline far enough for a good nights sleep. He couldn’t sleep in his own bed either. This was a lift chair that fully reclined into something similar to a twin-size bed…a little narrower…but when he woke up, all he had to do was push a button to help him get up for the day.

Dad was painfully thin and his bones were ‘seizing-up’ for lack of a better description. He couldn’t stand upright anymore and he was really slowing down. In less than a year after getting ‘the chair’, dad became 100% bed-bound and he didn’t need ‘the chair’ anymore.

However, there was someone who could use ‘the chair’…my mother-in-law. She was in her nineties and the chair she had was uncomfortable. She also was in an assisted living facility. Soon ‘the chair’ was hers and she loved it. It was comfortable and served her needs just fine.

She passed away 2 years ago and I had totally forgotten about ‘the chair’. Until last night.

You see, my brother-in-law is dying from cancer. A couple of weeks ago he moved in with one of his sisters…one that he is quite close to. She wanted to take care of him in his final days. Recently the doctors said he only has weeks to live and I wanted to see him.

I went there last night and as of yesterday morning, he had been moved to a hospital bed. ‘The chair’ was sitting in the next room and I was told that he had been using it since he moved in with his sister.

Next to ‘the chair’ was a sofa and I sat there for a short time looking at the chair. I remembered my dad sitting in it before he passed, my mother-in-law sitting in it before she passed, and now another family member used it until he no longer could.

This chair should not be thought of as anything less than comforting someone when they need it most…and it doesn’t have to be a chair for end of life. It should be thought of as something as comforting as a warm blanket when you’re cold, soup when you’re sick, or the softness of holding a new baby.

It seems that each time we hear of someone under the age of 100 that passed away, someone else pops up and says, “Life is short…live each day like it was your last.”

So…do we really eat the entire chocolate cake, have one last fling, max out our credit cards, tell someone what you’ve really thought of them all these years, and tell your boss to piss up a rope? With very little thought process, any one of us could come up with hundreds of other ‘live-like-it-was-your-last-day’ suggestions.

In all practicality, doing any of these things would probably not end well. Someone, including ourselves, would suffer from the selfishness of these decisions, and there would be hell to pay.

Can you just imagine a world where everyone lived each day like it was their last? It would be absolute chaos.

When you wake up the next day, it just so happens that yesterday was not your last day on earth. Now what? You may be out of a job, in debt, sick from eating too much cake, short a friend or two, and you may have to do some fast talking to your spouse / significant other.

Someone I know is in the final stages of life and under normal conditions, would probably have another twenty to thirty years to live. I’m very sad about this for several reasons…one of which is a secret that only a handful of people know about.

This person is in love with someone and vice versa…and these feelings have been going on for years. They do not act upon this love and cannot be together. Their relationship, by all appearances, is a friendship and I have never seen anything between them except this friendship…but I know the deeper truth.

Since I’m a romantic and look at this flawed world through rose-colored glasses, my heart aches because of this impending death and that these two people cannot ride off into the sunset together…like they could in the movies. They are good, honest, family-oriented, God-fearing people who deserve to be together.

Someday they will…

Karma. A five-letter word that carries a lot of meaning.

Karma is also known as ‘what goes around, comes around’.

I’ve had my karma moments…the receiving end that is. In fact, I still experience karma every now and then…followed by the ‘aha’ moment.

That word is thrown around a lot today. An often-used saying is, ‘Karma is a bitch’. It certainly is if you’re on the receiving end of it. If you’re on the outside looking in, sometimes there’s just a bit more pleasure in it.

I’m sure we’ve all had moments while driving where another driver deserves nothing short of life in prison for tail-gating, driving too slow, not using a turn signal, flashing their lights, honking their horn, etc.

I had my driver’s license for many years when about ten years ago a vehicle behind our group (we were on our motorcycles leaving the Tomahawk Rally in northern Wisconsin), was trying to pass us and was driving erratically. He finally got around us driving much faster than the posted speed limit. About a mile or two down the road, said driver was pulled over and having a conversation with a State Trooper. I cannot believe how good that made me feel. Every now and then that scenario crosses my mind and I wonder what the driver was thinking when he saw our bikes driving by. That was the only time I actually experienced that.

Then there is generational karma. You talked back to your parents when you were a teenager. Then our kids talked back to us. Now our grandchildren are following suit. How many times did your parents say to you, “Wait until you have kids of your own.”

When I was younger…in my twenties and thirties…I actually got angry when I would read or hear about an innocent person getting hurt or tragically killed by another individual. I wanted to hear about swift and immediate justice. Of course that’s not always the case. Now I just smile because I know that individual will get his / her comeuppance…aka karma. It’s inevitable.

A couple I know is going through a trying time right now with the husband’s ex-wife. Since I know both of these women, I know the truth. The ex-wife is spreading malicious and harmful stories about her ex-husband and his new wife. There is a child involved who is being manipulated by the mother to say and do things to keep this situation alive. The child is stuck in the middle and will definitely be harmed by this.

Of course the ex-wife is denying all of it and going so far as to say that it’s someone else doing this. We all know it’s not. As upsetting as it is right now, I know for a fact that the ex-wife is going to experience karma…in one way or another. But it’s of her own doing.

We can all learn something from this. We can think twice before saying or doing something that we think is an ‘I’ll-show-you-moment’ when at some point our friend ‘karma’ is going to intervene.

Then you’ll have your own ‘aha’ moment.

Karma. A five-letter word that carries a lot of meaning.

Karma is also known as ‘what goes around, comes around’.

I’ve had my karma moments…the receiving end that is. In fact, I still experience karma every now and then…followed by the ‘aha’ moment.

That word is thrown around a lot today. An often-used saying is, ‘Karma is a bitch’. It certainly is if you’re on the receiving end of it. If you’re on the outside looking in, sometimes there’s just a bit more pleasure in it.

I’m sure we’ve all had moments while driving where another driver deserves nothing short of life in prison for tail-gating, driving too slow, not using a turn signal, flashing their lights, honking their horn, etc.

I had my driver’s license for many years when about ten years ago a vehicle behind our group (we were on our motorcycles leaving the Tomahawk Rally in northern Wisconsin), was trying to pass us and was driving erratically. He finally got around us driving much faster than the posted speed limit. About a mile or two down the road, said driver was pulled over and having a conversation with a State Trooper. I cannot believe how good that made me feel. Every now and then that scenario crosses my mind and I wonder what the driver was thinking when he saw our bikes driving by. That was the only time I actually experienced that.

Then there is generational karma. You talked back to your parents when you were a teenager. Then our kids talked back to us. Now our grandchildren are following suit. How many times did your parents say to you, “Wait until you have kids of your own.”

When I was younger…in my twenties and thirties…I actually got angry when I would read or hear about an innocent person getting hurt or tragically killed by another individual. I wanted to hear about swift and immediate justice. Of course that’s not always the case. Now I just smile because I know that individual will get his / her comeuppance…aka karma. It’s inevitable.

A couple I know is going through a trying time right now with the husband’s ex-wife. Since I know both of these women, I know the truth. The ex-wife is spreading malicious and harmful stories about her ex-husband and his new wife. There is a child involved who is being manipulated by the mother to say and do things to keep this situation alive. The child is stuck in the middle and will definitely be harmed by this.

Of course the ex-wife is denying all of it and going so far as to say that it’s someone else doing this. We all know it’s not. As upsetting as it is right now, I know for a fact that the ex-wife is going to experience karma…in one way or another. But it’s of her own doing.

We can all learn something from this. We can think twice before saying or doing something that we think is an ‘I’ll-show-you-moment’ when at some point our friend ‘karma’ is going to intervene.

Then you’ll have your own ‘aha’ moment.

‘In the heat of the moment’. We’ve all heard that expression and we know what it means. Currently we’re all in lock-down due to Covid 19. We feel like all of our freedoms and the life we knew have been taken away.

Folks are spouting off on social media about how they’re never going to buy anything made in China ever again. Several posts have shown the rest of us how to distinguish what has been made in China by providing us with the first three digits of the UPC codes indicating it came from China.

About six weeks ago I saw a purse on a site that I really liked. I clicked on the link, read about it, read the non-stop raving reviews and decided to get one. First, I Googled the name of the company offering the purse. I read about them and found that they are located on the west coast. Upon contacting customer service and inquiring if their products are made in the USA or elsewhere, I was told they’re made in the USA.

Convinced and satisfied, I placed the order. Then I waited…and waited…and waited. I received emails telling me when it shipped, when it was due to arrive and so forth. Six weeks later it arrived…with a return address of China. That was last week Friday. I was, and am, livid…and still haven’t opened the package. I put it on the desk and to be honest, I pretend it doesn’t exist.

Did I do enough investigating? Are we all at risk of this when placing online orders? As the headline of this post asks, are we temporarily upset? Emotions are running high these days and some of us are angry. Are we angry at China, our government, or just angry about the whole situation in general?

Is anger the right word? For myself, the word is ‘anxious’. I’m anxious for this to be over, anxious because I don’t have any idea when this will end (my crystal ball is on the fritz)…or if it ever will. I’m hardly inconvenienced by this lock-down and am thankful for that, but there are others whose lives have been turned upside-down personally, professionally, and financially.

We have all experienced other events in our lives that have caused us to dig our heels in and spout off about how we’re going to do things differently moving forward…and that lasts until things return to normal or the outcome of the event is good.

Over the weekend I watched Chernobyl. I know the name Chernobyl and that it was nuclear-related. That’s my vast knowledge on the subject. Chernobyl is a five-part mini-series on finger-pointing for who’s to blame. By the way, I did my homework on this too. I Googled it to find out about it’s accuracy because why waste five hours of my life on something that was created by an educated guess. Several reports said that it was very accurate with a little artistic license.

Long story short, the fallout from Chernobyl will still be around in twenty-thousand years from now. Is that an educated guess or did somebody really, REALLY figure this out? After reading that, I asked myself what the fallout be from Covid 19 and how long with that last?

Thinking that the majority of Americans received a stimulus check to ‘tide us over’ until all of this died down, gave us false hope that it would be over soon. This mornings’ local news said social distancing will continue to take place at least through the summer months.

Now I’m angry.

It seems like a lifetime ago that two words entered our world: Coronavirus and Covid 19. In fact, it’s probably been about two or three months…depending upon who you ask. Much longer than that…depending upon who you ask.

With social media and news reports updating the world on a daily basis, it’s hard to know what the facts are. In my world I can read about the thousands of those infected, the thousands who have died, and what we as the human race can do to avoid it…and I still don’t know of one person who has it, had it, or passed from it. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

The information we are receiving from various sources is like standing in line at the grocery store in front of the magazine display. Each magazine headline may be about the same celebrity but they all contradict each other. So who to believe????

Anybody who is anybody are making TV commercials about staying at home. In addition to that, the number of folks putting their ‘stay-at-home’ craft and project ideas on social media are really missing out on an opportunity to appear on Shark Tank. Lots of good ideas out there but since the majority of stores are closed, it will be difficult to purchase some of the items needed for these projects.

So where does the ‘anti-social’ part of this come in? Yesterday on Facebook someone posted this photo:

I read this and the very first thing that popped into my head is that the Coronavirus has not really affected my life except for traveling out of state. I’m still working because my company is considered essential business. I’m still able to buy groceries, purchase products online for home delivery, and take care of my house and yard as I always have.

However, I think anti-social was the wrong term to use in this picture. Why? Because for the first 30 years of my adult life I did not have the means to go out to dinner, out for drinks, to the movies, shopping, and have lunch with the girls without planning weeks in advance to come up with the money. I simply could not afford it. I remember for several years staying home on Thanksgiving and Christmas – ALONE – because I could not afford to waste the gas in my car to accept an invitation to someone’s house for dinner, nor could I afford extra groceries to bring a dish to pass. It was easier to make up excuses not to go. I wasn’t anti-social…I was broke.

The person in this photo appears to live on or near the wide open spaces where they can ride their horse, and with Rover at their side they are content to be alone. I don’t think they’re anti-social…they’re just doing what they enjoy.

I have always enjoyed being home. I feel comfortable and safe there. I have made my house into a home and am pleased with how it turned out. Planting flowers and vegetables makes me happy and there’s nothing like the smell of the dirt while planting. Except for how wonderful the laundry smells after hanging on the line all day. My home is my comfort zone but I don’t feel I’m anti-social. If I have to choose to go out on a weeknight or stay home, I choose home. Besides, I’m in bed by 8pm because I get up at 430am to go to work.

After this pandemic is over and with the probable restrictions in place for a while, I think more than a few people are going to find that they actually enjoyed being home, either alone or with their family.

You know what? There’s no place like home!

Sometimes when I talk to my sister, I tell her about something my husband did that totally pissed me off…or that he didn’t think through. She always has the same reply…”Do you think you’re in this alone????”

Then she proceeds to tell me something her husband did or said that makes you squint like Clint Eastwood and shake your head at the same time. Then we burst out laughing.

One thing we both know for sure is that doing home-related projects with our spouses DOES NOT WORK.

Before we start an agreed upon project, I always ask Bill, “Do you want to be the Chief or the Indian?” If he chooses Chief, he runs the project and calls all the shots. If he chooses Indian, he follows my lead.

He has ALWAYS chosen Indian…and within 5 minutes of starting the project, I am on the couch watching past episodes of The Waltons. He just can’t help himself and must always start a project by telling me what I’m doing wrong. And by the way, I’m not exaggerating on the 5 minute comment.

Two years ago we agreed to repaint the living room, dining room, hallway, kitchen, cupboards, and stairwell to the basement. Since we live in a very small house (962 sf), these are not large areas. By taking on the largest project of our relationship would have meant a slow, painful death for one of us…or a divorce.

I took it upon myself to ‘Call the Guy’ for an estimate. I found painters in our area, read reviews, made phone calls to set up appointments, and only one company responded. It was an interesting response because when the gal called me back, her very first question was, “What is your budget because we aren’t cheap?” The reviews on this company were outstanding. At this point, in order to avoid death or divorce, I didn’t care what it cost. In my mind, it was going to be done right and there would be no stress to either of us.

The salesman, Andy, arrived on time (I’m a stickler for punctuality…score one for Andy). We had a great conversation about death and divorce, and I hired his company on the spot. There were a few details to work out and paint colors to choose. Since I wanted the kitchen cupboards painted gray, he told me why I shouldn’t choose gray. We went with white. Since I don’t know too much about paint finishes, Andy told me what the best would be for the ceilings, cupboards, walls, and crown molding. I gave the reins to him by telling him I wouldn’t tell him about paint if he didn’t tell me how to bake a pie. We shook hands and agreed.

The cool part of this, at least for me it was cool, is that I got to pick the start date, the time the painters would start every day, and the time the painters had to be out of the house every day. I actually felt in control of this project! Since our contract signing took place in November, I chose February 8th as the start date. With Christmas coming as well as a couple of vacations at the end of December and January, I chose Monday, February 8th. Start time 8am. End time 4pm.

Someone came to remove all the cupboard doors to take back to the shop for prep work and painting. That would take a total of three weeks. Monday the 8th rolled around and I went to work at 6am like always. When I got home a little after 3pm, the crew was starting to clean up and they were out by 4pm. Friday at noon they were 100% completed with all the painting except for the cupboard doors. Oh…I also paid extra to have all the hardware professionally installed with the cupboard doors. I left nothing to chance.

Four-and-a-half days and they were done. No death. No divorce. Not even a spat. Although the price I paid would have afforded me a good ten-day vacation in another country, it was SO worth it. Fast forward two years and each time I look at the walls or the cupboards it brings a smile to my face.

One of the best parts of this contract was that their workmanship was warranted for two years. As Andy explained to me, if I got mad at Bill and threw a cast iron skillet at him, and it went through a wall within two years of the completion date, they would repair the wall and repaint it free of charge. How can you beat that? The time has come and gone and the walls and skillet are still intact.

Always, ALWAYS, call The Guy…..

About six years ago, I was writing another blog about me, my beliefs, sharing recipes, suggestions for staying organized, and more.

One of my posts included several ways to save the environment and participating in recycling. Someone I didn’t know posted their opinion of my ideas, and it honestly shook me up so much that I stopped my blog that very day.

Today, that’s not going to happen. If someone reads my blogs and doesn’t agree with me, that’s fine. I know who I am, what I believe in, and what works for me.

The methods I have to save money or recycle aren’t something I dreamed up. They came from how my mom did things, reading helpful hints, and listening to other people and what worked for them. I learned something from each of them, took the suggestions that I thought were the best for me, and then applied them to my life.

Applying what I learned to my everyday life mainly started by going through my teen years with very little money in our house, and those many lean married years. Bottom line, if there’s simply no money for something, you have to make do with what you have.

Rags – I like using rags for scrubbing floors, wiping up spills and messes, washing windows (using my old lint-free dish towels), washing the car, dusting, and anything else you would use a paper towel for. I use them for everything. Growing up we always used rags. We had stacks of them and they were laundered every week, dried, and used again. Some will say that I’m using water, electricity and detergent to clean these rags every week…and they are correct. By using paper towels in place of rags, you’re helping to fill the landfills. Think about doing your part.

Comet – Good old-fashioned kitchen cleanser. When I was a little girl, there was a commercial on TV for Comet. The commercial said something to the effect that nine out of ten hospitals use Comet to clean their toilets. It has bleach in it so it must be a good cleaner, right? Fast forward about fifty-five years and I’m still using it. I have never used anything else. It comes in two sizes, with the taller can costing approximately eighty-eight cents. I only have one bathroom and the big can lasts me at least two months. Think about doing your part.

Window / Glass Cleaner – We’ve all cleaned windows with paper towels, rags, newspapers, and squeegee’s. One day my sister told me that she was using auto glass cleaner with ammonia. Her husband owns an auto supply store and she thought she’d give it a try. I’ve been using it ever since. It’s great on the film inside the windows in your car, glass, windows, mirrors, or basically any shiny surface that is not harmed by the ammonia. With my old lint-free dish towels, they come out sparkling. On sale, I can purchase the auto glass cleaner for between two and three dollars per can. Think about doing your part.

Hang Your Laundry – Anyone who has EVER hung bedding on the line outside would be hard-pressed to find anything that smells better. Crawling in bed on a summer night, after a shower, into sheets that came off the line, is an actual slice of heaven here on earth. A few weeks ago while there was still just a bit of snow on the ground, I took advantage of an unseasonably nice day (55 degrees) to hang bedding out. It had been at least four or five months since I was able to do that. In spring, summer, and fall I plan my laundry days around the weather. I hang towels, bedding, blankets, and anything else that I know will blow in the breeze and they smell heavenly. I truly feel sorry for people who can’t or don’t take advantage of this because it saves money (not using the dryer) and even makes the inside of the house smell amazing. Think about doing your part.

Recycling – I’m quite surprised how many communities do not recycle yet. I was recycling before it became popular. Recycling and up-cycling comes in different forms. If you’re not using something that is still perfectly good, you can donate it to Goodwill, Purple Heart, The Salvation Army, and so many more organizations. Or…make some money by getting together with some of your neighbors and have a rummage sale. I used to have rummage sales and really enjoyed them. Sure, there’s some work involved and little to no expense with advertising being done via social media. I even put out an urn of coffee and donuts. I tried to make it social along with selling. It is so interesting what people will buy…the things you would bet nobody will buy sell like hotcakes. Think about doing your part.

So what about the plastic and glass bottles, jars, cardboard, plastic grocery store bags, paper, cans, etc? In this country, 34.7% of people recycle. That leaves a lot of people who don’t. I’m a little over the top with my recycling because I wash all the bottles, cans, and jars before they go in the recycling bin. I can’t begin to imagine what those bins smell like when it’s ninety-five degrees outside and there is food still in the bottles, cans, and jars. Think about doing your part.

Balloons – They do not fall under recycling but they are wreaking havoc on trees, lakes, rivers, oceans, seas, birds, turtles, etc. Hardly a week goes by that there isn’t a post on social media showing birds and turtles with plastic rings on them that inhibit their movement. What about the remnants of balloons…not to mention the garbage that people don’t dispose of properly at campgrounds, picnic areas, lakeside, riverside, or seaside. Balloons are released as memorials for the deceased, gender reveal parties, birthday parties, welcome home parties, and every other kind of party you can imagine. Think about what you’re leaving at different sites or releasing into the air. Think about doing your part.

One last thought. We try to raise our children to be kind and respectful as well as involving them in many activities in the hopes of keeping them out of trouble. What they are not being taught is how to save this earth for their children and grandchildren who will still be here long after we’re gone. If we don’t start taking care of our earth, who will?

Think about doing your part!

“When I was your age…”. I swore I was never going to say that. But I did. Each generation swore they’re never going to say that. But they did.

For those of you reading this that are close to my age of sixty-three, my memories will be nostalgic because you can see in your minds eye exactly what I’m talking about. Others who are much younger won’t understand one word of this.

Simpler times for me personally was nothing short of The Andy Griffith Show…the black and white version. Our address was Route 1, Box 365. Our subdivision streets were dirt…not paved. One mailman for the entire town and his name was Herman. One milkman for the entire town and his name was Don. If it was your birthday he gave you a free quart of chocolate milk. The post office was not handicapped accessible (there was no law about that back then) and there was an outside set of concrete stairs to climb. Once inside there were many post office boxes to your left and one window for transactions straight ahead. It looked similar to this:

The one and only insurance company in town was right next door…and 60 years later it’s still there. Around the corner, basically across the parking lot from the post office, was the police department. We rode our bikes there to get our bike licenses. Yup, we had license plates hanging from under our bike seats.

Since our community and surrounding areas were made up of many farms, there was a feed store down the street. Across the street from the post office was a drug store, complete with a soda fountain and candy counter. A little further down was the bowling alley with what seemed like a huge banquet hall in the back. Lots of weddings were held there. The only bank (where I deposited 25 cents of my 50 cent weekly allowance in my savings account), along with a butcher shop and hair dresser, were in what today might be called a strip mall.

On the other end of town was a restaurant. Not your typical small town restaurant but something equivalent to a supper club (millennials…look that one up) and across the street from that was the milk processing plant. Boy oh boy, on a hot summer day you sure could smell that sour milk.

At that same end of town, where the street came to an end, was an auto repair garage. You could find several locals hanging out there just to talk…just like folks liked to stop and chew the fat with Gomer and Goober on Andy Griffith.

Along with a few old Victorian-type houses, there you have it: Main Street.

Our subdivision, a 5-minute or less bike ride to Main Street, consisted of ninety houses, all ranch style. My dad was an architect and friends with the owner of a realty company that owned that land. They made a deal with my dad to design some, if not all, of the houses for the subdivision. In turn, including a paycheck, he was able to pick any lot in the subdivision as his own. He chose a corner lot. It wasn’t big, but a nice corner lot. He also custom-designed our house. Since he and my mom were considered tall in the 1950’s (he was 6’1″ and she was 5’10”), he made sure the kitchen and bathroom counters were 3″ higher than the standard. There were closets galore but no fireplace in the family room. Mom said she wanted a closet instead because you can never have enough closets.

Our backyard was two houses away from a cornfield. On the other side of that cornfield was where Farmer Brown and his family lived. They had pigs, cows, and chickens. My mom would send us through the cornfield to buy eggs from Farmer Brown. While we waited, we played with the kittens in the barn.

Just to the east of our house was ‘the woods’. At the time it seemed like a big place to get lost in but years later when I went there, it wasn’t quite the same. There was a path that ran through the woods and part of that path was a hill. In the winter we would go sledding down that hill. There was also a pond and we spent many summer days catching polliwogs, putting them in jars, and keeping them in the corner of the garage hoping they would become frogs.

Abutting the woods were railroad tracks. The only trains I remember running on those tracks were freight trains full of coal. That train was slow as it rumbled side-to-side shaking off some of the coal. We put the coal in buckets and took it home. All the windows in the house would rattle when that coal train came through.

Just to the west of our house, over what seemed like a big hill at the time, was a middle school and the park. Great swings, monkey bars, a tall metal slide that was hotter than the dickens in summer, and a merry-go-round. Tennis courts were set up in the parking lot of the school. The park abutted the fire house and in the winter the firemen would flood the parking lot so we could go ice skating. The park also had another hill for sledding and a good place to sit while watching fireworks on the 4th of July.

With all the homes in our subdivision being built, many new families were moving in so all the kids were about the same age and went to the same schools. Everybody had a bike, roller skates with a key, a baseball glove, ball and bat…and that was about it. Of course there were some indoor board games but for the most part we were outside. Why? Because my mom said that if she saw us in the house, that meant we were looking for work to do. Since we didn’t want to scrub floors, vacuum or dust, we stayed outside.

Friends…these childhood memories mean the world to me and there are so many more that I didn’t include here. I would give almost anything to go back to this life because it was a simpler, easier time. I certainly would not want to have my childhood memories related to electronics.