Checking Back IN/On the Road Again With My Sister! - Part 2

I'm BACK.  Again.  I see that my last post was in MAY - nearly 6 months ago.  (I thought it had been longer, but hey...)  I guess I kinda sorta checked out.  I didn't mean to, but, well, life.  And not bad things, either.  Maybe too many good things.  But I always return to writing, and so here I am.  Sorry it took so long.

The previous post about our Sisters Trip to the Smokies highlighted the wildflowers we saw, the Roots and Rocks we clambered over, and other sights along the Roaring Fork Motor Trail.  There were plenty of other things we did inside the park!

One of the first things we did inside the park was head for the Sugarlands Visitor Center, on the Gatlinburg, Tennessee, side of the park, to get our passports stamped!  Yes, we are Those People With Passports.  But it was jammed with people so we returned a couple of days later SPECIFICALLY to get our Passports stamped.  It's an obsession!

The stamps are rubber stamps and they look a lot like round postage cancellation stamps.  There was one for the Sugarlands Visitor Center, and another for the Appalachian Trail, which passes through the park end to end for 71 miles, from Fontana Dam to Davenport Gap.  I despair of ever getting ALL the stamps because there are national parks outside the contiguous United States in Alaska, Hawaii, American Samoa, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, with more parks being designated all the time.  But it's fun to TRY!  

After the ordeal of the so-called "easy" trail at the Bud Ogle cabin off the Roaring Fork Motor Trail, we opted for an "accessible" paved trail close to the Sugarlands Visitor Center.  We skipped the one AT the visitor center, but drove a little way into the park to the Sugarlands Valley Nature Trail, which was paved and flat - a nice change from the Bud Ogle trail!  The trail is designed to be totally accessible - no rocks or roots or rocky stream crossings or steps up or down.  It must be the flattest trail in the entire park!  At only a half mile, it was short and fast, but we lingered.  Being close to the main road to Newfound Gap, we expected to hear a lot of road noise, but once we got away from the parking area, the quiet descended.  With only a couple of others on the trail, we felt far from civilization, but of course, we were NOT.  The trail is a loop.  We started on the section closest to the road, saving the riverside half for last.  There were chimneys remaining from a settlement that used to be in this location and we wondered what it was like to have lived there at the time.

We visited Newfound Gap, but skipped Clingman's Dome.  The Gap was busy, but the road to Clingman's Dome was so backed up, we decided to forego the dubious pleasures of an overcrowded park attraction.

On the North Carolina side of the park is the Oconaluftee Visitor Center (more Passport stamps!), and the Mingus Mill, an impressive historic grist mill just a short walk from its own parking area.  I have a fascination for water-powered mills, and I was not disappointed, except that it was not milling when we were there.  Something wasn't working correctly and they were waiting for The Man to come and fix it.  I walked upstream (and uphill!) to where the water to turn the mill wheel is shunted from the river - a nice little hike - again, beside the water and quiet.  These mills were engineering marvels!

Decoration Day and Peonies

One of the posters
I found inside my
new tote bag!

A week ago, the town where I live celebrated the second annual Indiana Peony Festival.  The peony is the official state flower but never had its own party until last year.  I dragged a friend along to stroll around Seminary Park and nose around the vendor booths.  I returned home with two 1-gallon pots of peony plants, a tote bag, and two posters.

Memorial Day and peonies are inextricably linked in my mind.  Peonies generally bloom the last week of May, just in time for Memorial Day.

Memorial Day was originally established in the former Confederate states in 1866 and adopted by the United States in 1868 (*See below) to remember soldiers who died during the Civil War - from both sides, Union and Confederate.

The ladies of Columbus, Georgia, began decorating the graves of fallen soldiers with flowers from their gardens, including the graves of Union soldiers, on May 30, 1866 - just one year after the end of the Civil War.  For years, the holiday was called Decoration Day, before officially becoming Memorial Day.

Here's the Peony
Trail poster.

I remember my great aunt making plans to visit the cemeteries and decorate the graves of relatives who had served in the military.  She always called it "Decoration Day," and the preferred blooms for the job were peonies - abundant, conveniently timed blooms, and gorgeous.  

When I was growing up, peonies were considered old-fashioned "grandma flowers," probably because the people who grew them were the older folks who still made the pilgrimage to the cemeteries on "Decoration Day" with tubs of cut peony blooms, and maybe because if you had any peonies in your garden, they almost certainly came from thinning the plantings at Grandma's house!  

But peonies seem to have made a comeback - not only at my town's festival, but in the stores on printed fabrics and decorative items.  There are a TON of YouTube tutorials on how to draw and paint peonies using every possible art medium available!

Every May there are big showy flowers all along one side of our house.  So why did I buy two pots of additional plants?  Well, you just can't have enough peonies!  There's always a spot where you can squeeze in one or two more.  Along with the Indiana Peony Festival, my town has established a "Peony Trail" - locations of notable plantings of peonies.  I don't think our house will ever be included, but if you drive down our street you'll see plenty of peony beds.  Here are some of my blooms.

I've decided to make the cemetery pilgrimage myself next year.  I'll need all the peonies I can get!

--------------------------------------

*Although there were people from both the North and the South who embraced the sentiment of Decoration Day, there were others who weren't ready for reconciliation.  Friancis Miles Finch, a Northern judge, academic, and poet, inspired by the observance in the South, composed a poem that was so widely circulated in newspapers, magazines, and books that by the end of 1867, Decoration Day/Memorial Day was adopted by the North, where it was first celebrated in 1868.  In 1893 the poem was included in a school book published by Ginn and Company, Selections for Memorizing, alongside such standards as "Old Ironsides," "The Gettysburg Address," "The Charge of the Light Brigade," and selections from Shakespeare, Dickens, Burns, and Longfellow, among others.  Here's the poem:

The Blue And The Gray
Francis Miles Finch (1827-1907)

By the flow of the inland river,     Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,     Asleep are the ranks of the dead:         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgment-day;         Under the one, the Blue,             Under the other, the Gray These in the robings of glory,     Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory,     In the dusk of eternity meet:         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgement-day         Under the laurel, the Blue,             Under the willow, the Gray. From the silence of sorrowful hours     The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers     Alike for the friend and the foe;         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgement-day;         Under the roses, the Blue,             Under the lilies, the Gray. So with an equal splendor,     The morning sun-rays fall, With a touch impartially tender,     On the blossoms blooming for all:         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgment-day;         Broidered with gold, the Blue,             Mellowed with gold, the Gray. So, when the summer calleth,     On forest and field of grain, With an equal murmur falleth     The cooling drip of the rain:         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgment -day,         Wet with the rain, the Blue             Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding,     The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading     No braver battle was won:         Under the sod adn the dew,             Waiting the judgment-day;         Under the blossoms, the Blue,             Under the garlands, the Gray No more shall the war cry sever,     Or the winding rivers be red; They banish our anger forever     When they laurel the graves of our dead!         Under the sod and the dew,             Waiting the judgment-day,         Love and tears for the Blue,             Tears and love for the Gray.

On the Road Again With My Sister For LOADS of R&R!

Because of COVID, I have a backlog of timeshare usage and I'm trying my best to use it up before it expires.  So I traded in a week for a trip to Gatlinburg and dragged my sister along with me!  We ALWAYS have a good time together.

We crammed a HEAP of fun into one week!

Bud Ogle Cabin

Naturally, we spent a lot of time in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park since we were pretty much right there.  We hiked some trails, explored some old homesteads, nosed around some campgrounds, and got our National Parks Passports stamped!

We drove the Roaring Fork Motor Nature Trail.  Our first stop was at the Bud Ogle cabin, where we decided to hike the 0.7-mile, 30-minute, "easy" loop nature trail. 

Well...!

 

We got our fill of hiker's R&R (Roots and Rocks) on that trail.  And we had to clamber over fallen trees, cross streams on either log bridges (where there WERE bridges) or teetering rocks.  My sister actually fell (gracefully) at the last crossing.  The rock rocked one way and she went over the other way.  Luckily I had packed a couple of hiking poles for us and we used them, or it would have been harder on us.

It was NOT an "easy" trail.  I'd call it a moderate trail.  At one point we (I) missed a turn and we had to backtrack a little.  And the "30 minutes" turned into 90 with picking our way through the R&R, which seemed to be most of the trail.  

It was beautiful and QUIET, though, and we enjoyed it.  A bit of a challenge when you're not used to doing that sort of thing, and challenges are good for you - they stretch your horizons!  Right?

Newfound Gap

Our stay overlapped with the 72nd Spring Wildflower Pilgrimage in the Park, which a couple of my friends, one of whom is a presenter, attend every year.  So before they arrived, we had our own wildflower extravaganza - they were everywhere!

Geranium

We visited Newfound Gap where there were banks and banks of wildflowers along a stretch of the Appalachian Trail which crosses the road there and continues on to Clingman's Dome and Charlie's Bunion.

Fringed Phacelia

Spring Beauties

White Trilliam

Bluets

Appalachian Trail
 

Iris

Fleabane

Yellow Trillium

It's often rainy in the Smokies in the spring, but we lucked out with the weather that week.  Every day was dry and beautiful except for one, which we used as our day of R&R (Rest and Recovery) before going out and doing it all again!

We did much more in and out of the Park, but I'll stop here for now.

Thirty Days in May

Today is the official start of the events leading up to the Indianapolis 500, but it just doesn't feel right to me.  I guess I'm old and crotchety.  Oh me.

Back in The Good Old Days, young'uns, the 500 festivities started May 1, not on a Wednesday in the first week of the month - THE FIRST.  The Race itself was run on Memorial Day, MAY 30 - not the Sunday before the last Monday in May.  People talked about "RACE DAY" and nobody asked "Which race?"

It used to be all about the Thirty Days in May in the newspapers (yes, there used to be more than one) and on TV and radio.  There was big 500 news EVERY DAY.  Elementary school art teachers taught kids to draw race cars.  There was the 500 Festival of the Arts exhibit and competition for local high school students.  People stuck checkered flags in their front yards and hosted race day cookouts.  Who does that now?  Sad.

Drivers used to stay at the Speedway Motel or in people's homes, believe it or not!  And not like an AirBNB-type place, either.  Actual people's HOMES.  In their SPARE BEDROOMS, and sometimes BASEMENTS.

The Snake Pit had no bleachers, no family-friendly picnic area, and no grass most of the time.  If you weren't looking for trouble, you didn't go there except by accident or sheer ignorance.  It was full of bikers and drunks and women flashing their goodies - oh my!  (MAYBE we could do without THAT tradition - HA!)

If you went to the 500 Parade, you didn't need a reservation to watch; you could line up along the route and crane your neck to see, or climb up the steps of the old Post Office/Federal Building and find a seat - all for FREE.  Now you pretty much have to pay for a reserved bleacher seat if you want to see anything at all.  UGH. 

Practice days were every weekday.  High school and college students would skip school to go to practices, and return the following day with the most amazing lobster-esque sunburns!  Qualifications were run every weekend.  Today's "Carb Day" was Carburetion Day, when the crews tuned the cars' carburetors (no fuel injection!) in preparation for The Race. 

Anyway, the 500 was a big deal here.  But for the last couple of decades, it seems to have lost its luster.  What was once a source of local pride and excitement became a nuisance (the traffic!) and just another day - ho hum.

However, Penske recently bought the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and seems to be trying to bring back some of the local excitement.  There are commercials on TV that aren't just about "The Race is coming!  Buy your tickets NOW!" but evoke nostalgia for the ceremonial rituals and traditions of the race.  One of my friends has lived with the track nearly in her front yard her entire life, and can be excused for having a jaded attitude toward all the hoopla, but even SHE is getting excited about The Race again.

There IS hope!

RACE DAY IS COMING!

Curbside Pickup Just Got REAL

As I wrote in a previous post, we replaced our dishwasher (ourselves) and thought we were done replacing things.  

HA.

My (ancient) laptop decided to start giving me fits.  The sound played intermittently, and the touchpad stopped working.  There were things I could do with it, but there were many more things I couldn't, so I started researching.  Long story short, I got a new laptop - nothing fancy, but newer, and most importantly, it WORKS.

So I'm finally done and I can get back to it, right?

HA again!

Last summer, I noticed that the plastic kill button on my boat's little outboard motor was chipped around the edges so that the clip that keeps the motor running couldn't perform its function.  This has happened before, so I knew what was needed - a throttle assembly.

Now, the boat and motor are 35 years old this year.  Parts.  Ah, yes.  It always comes down to Parts.  I searched for places that carried The Parts.  There were several, but only one had all the pieces for the throttle assembly.  So I built an order.

HOLY COW!  The total!  ACK!  I have the original receipt for the old motor, and the amount for JUST the throttle assembly parts was more than what the motor cost new in 1987!  OUCH.  I mean, come on.  After replacing the throttle assembly I'd still have a 35-year-old motor.  Who knows what would fail next?

So I REconsidered my options and searched for an equivalent NEW motor.  I read reviews and sailing forums and ads and websites.  It took several days, but I found a motor that would work.  

The new motor, at home.

Time to order!!!

Well, if only it were that simple.  Supply chain issues haven't gone away yet - will they ever?

I found a few sites that carry The Motor, but only TWO with any in stock - that's the $64,000 question!  

One was in California and the other in Connecticut.  The place in California was a little less expensive, but the "preparation fees" and shipping costs and all the other add-ons made it quite a bit MORE expensive.  Bait and switch.  The ancient cheat.

I ordered the motor from Defender Industries in Connecticut.  They only had two in stock.  After considering my options AGAIN, instead of having it shipped, I said I'd pick it up.

Yes, that's right.  I drove to Connecticut to pick up a new outboard.  

Yes, I'm crazy.

Well, just a little.  I decided to make the most of the trip.  Why not spend a week in New England?  And I could look in on That Girl and her family on the way.  So that's what I did.  I visited in Baltimore and stayed one night going.  I drove to Rhode Island, where I stayed for my off-season vacation.

"Ultra-Low Emissions"

But the motor was in Connecticut!  Not to worry.  Where I stayed in Rhode Island was about two miles from the Connecticut state line, and Defender Industries was only a thirty-minute drive from my temporary home base.  Half an hour in the car is nothing.  It was the perfect location.  I was only three houses from the beach.  I did walk to the beach a couple of times, but it was too cold to do anything else there.  Even the closest restaurants were closed for the season, and it snowed one night.

No, no beach activities besides walking - in my down parka.  I don't know that I've ever done that before.  

Anyway, that Monday I went to Defender Industries.  Why "Defender?"  Well, they specialize in inflatables (!) similar to Zodiacs, used by all sorts of public safety agencies, and as tenders to yachts and stuff.  They have ONE retail outlet and they carry ALL kinds of neato marine stuff, including sailboat hardware, floats, dock bumpers, Sunbrella material for covers, and just about everything you could wish for.  

A dangerous place! 

Here's The Box.
No actual luggage.

I had to go inside to let them know I had arrived.  I showed GREAT restraint by not wandering around and exploring the warehouse-like expanse of boat-related goodies.  I DID almost buy a set of charts for the Chesapeake Bay and another for the Block Island vicinity.  I picked them up and leafed through them longingly, but better sense prevailed and I returned them to their shelves.

When I drove around to the loading area, I saw The Box.  Oh, I KNEW (in my head) what size it would be, but actually seeing it in the back of my vehicle, I started to wonder whether I'd be able to fit my luggage in there with it! 

I managed. 

And I managed well enough that driving home (via Baltimore again) I didn't have anything blocking the rearview mirror's sightlines.

So, a successful curbside pickup.  Now I just have to figure out the new motor's foibles and eccentricities - oh, boy!!!

Sick, and Sick AGAIN, and...!

It has been a challenging start to the year.  I just can't seem to get any traction!

After spending Christmas with That Girl and her family, I came home with what I assumed was the usual Creeping Crud courtesy of the Grands, a.k.a. the germ factories.

It seems I almost always come home with a LITTLE something after visiting Those People, but this one wasn't so little.  I started sneezing (an odd occurrence for me!) and blowing my nose, AFTER I returned home, of course.  Normally I just get congested with a sinus infection and it all drains down my throat and I cough like crazy to clear it all out.  (I know, TMI - sorry!)  But not THIS time!  I never really felt congested, but I blew and blew and BLEW my nose.  My word!  Where did it all come from?

I was exhausted.  I didn't want to get out of bed or take a shower.  I went through tissues faster than green grass through a goose.  I was thirsty all the time because fluids were leaving my body via the ol' Schnozzola.

And then came the day when I fixed some leftover soup for lunch.  It smelled great and was good and hot - just the thing for a pitiable sickie.  I took a bite and thought it needed salt   So I salted it.  I took another bite.  Well, it still needed salt.  So I salted it.  I took another bite.  What the heck?  It didn't taste like I had added ANY salt AT ALL.

I was so sick and exhausted, it didn't even occur to me until after few weeks and I was completely over it.

I may have had COVID.  

So I was sick for about a month.  Thank God it didn't last any longer. 

So... things should have returned to some sort of normal.

Well, no.  Other STUFF came up (doesn't it always???) which I won't go into right now (the post would be long and rambling, so let's just stick to the current point) and as a result, I decided to take a trip east (AGAIN) beyond Baltimore and Those People, but I figured why not stop in and see them.  It had been a couple of months, and the kids are fun to see.  So I stopped in both directions, going and coming back, one night going, and two coming back.  I would have only stayed one night heading home, but That Girl and her husband wanted to go out for the evening the second night, so I stayed and watched The Grands.  

Well.

As usual, all three kids were coughing, and the youngest had an icky nose.  And I got SICK.  

AGAIN. 

I started coughing almost the minute I got home.  UGH.  A few days later, I felt better.  I seemed better.  But over the following weekend, I got MUCH worse.  But it behaved like a "normal" sinus infection.  I went to the doctor that Monday and she concurred. I got antibiotics and went through a few more mountains of tissues.

And then I got a phone call.  "What are you doing this weekend?  We have tickets to the NCAA Sweet Sixteen and Elite Eight games, and wondered whether you could..."

What do you think I said?  What should I have said?  Ponder that a minute.

What I said was, "I'm sick right now."  And, "No, I'm not driving back there for one night and then losing another month to being sick."  Or something to that effect.

Anyway, NO.

So am I a Bad Grandma?  

Maybe.  

Do I want to be sick again?

NO.

After all was said and done, I spent 7 weeks of the first quarter of this year SICK. 

And I'm not going through that again soon.

Appliances - AGAIN

I thought we were DONE replacing major appliances.

Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, we've replaced the washer, dryer, range, and refrigerator, and because the dishwasher was relatively new (just under 6 years old), I figured we had pretty much exhausted our major appliance needs.

HA!

The dishwasher's heating element decided to go on strike, so the "clean" dishes really WEREN'T.  There were some other annoying things about it I'd been putting up with, but this was the last straw.  Sure, we could have replaced the heating element, but the other annoyances would have remained.  So...I went shopping - online.

When I looked a couple of weeks ago, I found a machine that would do, put it in my online cart, and went through the checkout rigamarole, only to find that there was NO installation available.  Anywhere.  So I didn't finish the transaction.  Who could we get to install the new machine?  A plumber?  A handyman?  Maybe someone recommended by a friend? 

So I kinda sorta procrastinated on it, kinda sorta looked here and there for someone to install a dishwasher.  I mean, after all, a malfunctioning dishwasher's not an emergency, right?  So I goofed around for a week and a half.

Well...  

That Man said, not in so many words, that it can't be THAT difficult and WE should be able to do it ourselves.  I figured why not?  We replaced our water heater ourselves.  A dishwasher should be within our grasp.  Oh me.

So I went back online, put the chosen machine in my shopping cart, and proceeded to the checkout.  Lo and behold, a reprieve!  Installation was back on the table!  

However...

There may be some things we need to modify, according to That Man, or some things we may want to take care of while the space in the cabinetry is unoccupied - like maybe do something about the flooring in there or whatever.

Plus, we could save some dough if we did it ourselves.  Oh me.

So the day before The New Dishwasher was to be delivered, we pulled out the old one - FUN.  That Man descended into the crawlspace to have a look at the drain and the hot water line, shut off the water to the dishwasher, and roll around in the dirt and spiderwebs.  When he emerged, I cleaned him up with a broom and compressed air - MORE fun.  The crawlspace access is in our hall closet under the stairs, at the end where the stairs start, so not much headroom, and an ordeal for him.

The cats were fascinated by the new unexplored area in the kitchen, of course, and just had to nose around in there, the hairy little heathens.

The dishwasher arrived at 7:42 the following morning, and the old dishwasher departed with the guys in the delivery truck.  

I won't go into detail, but sometime in the late afternoon, That Man asked whether I wished we'd paid to have the dishwasher installed.  I didn't have the energy to answer right away, and besides, it was too late for that!  We soldiered on and finished about 12 1/2 hours after the new machine was delivered, including two quick meals (I get testy when I'm hungry) and another trip into the underworld for That Man to turn on the water.  More broom and compressed air.

The last test of my patience came when it was time to close up the toe kick.  There was a huge amount of insulation to force into that space, and I got down on the floor and pushed and tucked and shoved, looked at the directions, and pushed and shoved some more, and looked at the directions, and stuffed it all up and around and in the toe kick.  I took a few breaks, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and occasionally groaning.

THEN...

The toe kick panel had to be screwed into place.  So I rolled around on the floor some more, pushing that piece of stamped sheet metal against the insulation I had just stuffed into the undersized cavity while the insulation did its darnedest to expand and spring back out and cover the holes I was trying to get the machine screws into.  Plus the threads on one of the screws were messed up.  More breaks and groaning.

One screw finally found its home, but the other just plain refused until That Man took pity on me.  He got down on the floor and rolled around awhile, and eventually the final screw behaved.  

The trim along the floor had to be put back.  Of course, most of the nails were bent beyond redemption, so some more were exhumed from the depths of a cabinet in the garage.  

By the time we finished everything, it was after 8:00 in the evening, and we were limp rags.

The following day, my body had mysterious aches here and there, but when I unloaded the small load of dishes I'd run overnight, they were CLEAN and DRY.  

Totally.  Worth.  It.

And then That Man said, "The NEXT time we do this..."

ACK!

AGAIN, I Didn't Get to My 100 Book Goal for 2021, But...

...I improved on 2020, when I only read thirty!

Last year had a lot of the same issues as 2020, like That Knee That Wouldn't Cooperate, the continuation of the COVID-19 pandemic mess, and another major appliance replaced.  Ugh.  The funk I was in at the end of 2020 let up for a few months, then came crashing back down on me later in the year.  But I read 57 books - a big improvement.

I read two of Betty MacDonald's (The Egg and I) memoirs; she wrote four, and I have read every one now.  All are well written and, at times, hilarious!  

Another set of memoirs - two from Beverly Cleary, who died last March at the age of 104!  She's the genius behind the books about Henry Huggins, Ramona Quimby, Ribsy, et al; they should be required reading for elementary-aged kids.  

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse is basically a gorgeous picture book ostensibly for children, but adults will get something out of it, too.

The Badass Librarians of Timbuktu is about the struggle to collect and preserve the art, culture, and literature of Timbuktu in the midst of war and genocide - which nobody seems to hear anything about.

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek is a novel based on the real-life "Blue People of Kentucky."  Search for information on these people who live way back in the hollers of Appalachia, and read the book.  There are a couple of anachronisms (on purpose) in the book, but they are explained in the Afterword.

Here are recommendations from my 2021 reading list:

• The Bridge Ladies - Betsy Lerner
• Onions in the Stew - Betty MacDonald
• The Plague and I - Betty MacDonald
• D-Day Girls:  The Spies Who Armed the Resistance, Sabotaged the Nazis, and Helped Win WWII - Sarah Rose
• The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu and Their Race to Save the World's Most Precious Manuscripts - Joshua Hammer
• The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse - Charlie Mackesy
• Bonhoeffer:  Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy - Eric Metaxas
• On Writing:  A Memoir of the Craft - Stephen King
• The Girl from Yamhill:  A Memoir - Beverly Cleary
• My Own Two Feet - Beverly Cleary
• The Diversity Delusion:  How Race and Gender Pandering Corrupt the University and Undermine Our Culture - Heather MacDonald
• Irreversible Damage:  The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters - Abigail Shrier
• The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek - Kim Michele Richardson
• Tisha:  The Story of a Young Teacher in the Alaskan Wilderness - Robert Specht
• Dewey:  The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World - Vicki Myron
• A Single Thread - Tracy Chevalier

If you want to see the full list, click here.

It's a New Year, All Right

Well, months have come and gone, and 2021 is a memory - thank GOD!!!

I've hated to jinx it, but it APPEARS The Knee is going to finally BEHAVE.  Looks like the extreme antibiotic protocol and the last surgery have done the trick.  So on to other things.

Last year was absolutely depressing, but The Knee apparently had been resolved, we had the big family Thanksgiving dinner at our house again, my oldest sister and I took a spontaneous trip to Florida, and Christmas was on the way.  Things were starting to seem nearly normal again.

And THEN...

Our other sister died unexpectedly, two days before Christmas, as I was driving toward Maryland to spend
Christmas with That Girl and her family.  We couldn't disappoint The Grands, so Christmas went forward as planned, and it was good.  

Afterward, though...

There were decisions to be made, beginning with whether or not to go to California for the services.  Normally, that would have been a no-brainer - of course I'd go.  But how?  I'm not a big fan of flying in most circumstances when I can possibly drive.  Flying used to be fun, but the past several years, it's simply been an ordeal.  When you arrive, you have to get a car or some sort of transportation.  Plus, when you fly, your visit is limited by the airline's timetable - no flexibility.  And that is during NORMAL times.  

Today, if you fly out, there's no guarantee you'll be able to fly back - flights have been canceled left and right as the newest variant of COVID-19 surges.  And to travel to California, of all places, while all this is going on?  The state with the most restrictions on personal freedoms?  NO THANK YOU.

So my sister and I have talked, texted, and emailed about our conundrum.  We've gone around and around, looking at the arguments for and against the choices - do we go or do we stay?  We feel guilty about not going.  We WANT to go.  But we feel it would be crazy to go.  Too much uncertainty.  Too much risk if we fly.  Too much risk if we drive.  And we don't want to get stuck in California.

So we're not going.  And it hurts.

What a way to start a new year - full of grief, guilt, and fear.

Oh, GOODY.