Revenge of the Locust

The locust trees are in full bloom here. Every tree has blossoms hanging from each twig. I don't know that I have ever seen the locust bloom so much.

I am, of course, highly allergic.



The tree in the yard in full bloom.


A little closer look!



Even closer!



Another locust tree on the other side of the fence all decked out in white finery.



What I wouldn't give for a good hard rain to knock those blooms away! Achoo!

Thursday Thirteen

Here's a list of 13 words:

1. Endearing

2. Conservative

3. Hearty

4. Creative

5. Serious

6. Sociable

7. Traditional

8. Progressive

9. Achiever

10. Innovative

11. Genuine

12. Straightforward

13. Dynamic

Know what they all have in common?

You'll never guess.

They're the words I was given to rate from 1-10 with regards to how well they describe Hungry Jack Instant Mashed Potatoes during some kind of food use survey on Wednesday!



When I realized the list was going to be a long one I started writing down the words and sure enough, it went well beyond 13. Other words were "popular," "caring," "a brand with style" and my personal favorite, "old and stodgy."

I could not answer these with a straight face. Dynamic mashed potatoes? Conservative or progressive mashed potatoes? Really? Have we fallen so far that we must poll the populace as to the political persuasion of mashed potatoes?

As a word lover, I am loathe to describe instant mashed potatoes as anything other than, say, creamy and white. I don't think they're particularly healthy because they're little dried flakes that you reconstitute with milk. How is that good for you?

To be sure, I have no boxes of instant mashed potatoes in my pantry and it has been quite a long while since I have purchased said mashed potatoes.

But I do know that I only purchase Hungry Jack Instant Mashed Potatoes, I guess because they are just so lovable!

Oh, and by the way, the food survey company said I would be paid $5 for participating in the survey. In case that matters. I am not being paid to promote mashed potatoes by anyone, unless you count that Amazon link I stuck up there for the picture.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of bloggers. You can read more about it here.  This is my 137th time to do this meme!

The Wind

The wind in April has blown as much as the winds of March, I fear.

Today the sky is blue with clouds blowing by. Puffy white clouds that hold no promise of rain and no semblance of shadow. It is a bit cool to be outside and the breeze bothers my ear terribly anyway.

The wind is blowing in gray for me and I am puzzled as to why.

I think I should figure this out, and so I sit and ponder. All I find in my head is the word "lost," as in, that is how I feel. Lost.

I have projects aplenty, things I can do. Lord knows I have drawers and cabinets to clean out and organize. Housework is never finished; the dust settles back as soon as the cloth passes over so I could spend all day simply waxing and shining, if I thought wax and shine were the end all unto themselves.

Alas, my inclination is toward "clean enough" and semi-neat, but not sparkling and pristine. We live in our house, my husband likes to say as he trudges through the kitchen with mud on his boots.

There is, of course, that idea, that dream, that urge and penchant, that desire to write a book that seems to be only a desire and not something I can put into motion. I have suffered through several false starts this week and have nothing to show for it but deleted files on the computer.

Well, that is not quite true. I created a 3-ring notebook for my work, one with nice little dividers that say "character" and "plot" and "research" and "situation" and "themes" and things of that nature. It has the name of my main character in it but little else. It sits on my desk, solid and real.

I also have reviewed notes on how to write character, how to find plot, how to write. It feels like starting all over even though I am a seasoned writer with thousands upon thousands of published words behind me, a list of articles so long that it literally would take sheets of paper to list them all, were I so inclined.

Sometimes I wonder if I am in love with being a writer, not writing. This cannot be, I think, for I love to write when it is flowing, when the story is hot, when the things being said are important, real, relevant. I love the puzzle of it, the seeking out of the proper word for the moment, the nuance that brings the detail to the mind. Am I so wounded, so sore and raw, that I simply cannot do it right now?

My dreams of writing were never so grand as the Great American Novel. I wanted to write Nancy Drew books. I think I still want to write Nancy Drew books, or something very like Nancy Drew books, only not for children. Because I have no children, I feel unable to relate to the youth of today. When I watch my nephews or my niece, or the offspring of friends, they move nimbly about, their fingers always working with the text on a phone, their bright little minds moving quickly while they multitask. They look at me as if I am old.

Am I old?

The expectations of me (from whence these come I am not certain, myself, perhaps?) have always been beyond Nancy Drew books. Beyond the Great American Novel, even. Maybe something along the lines of Jane Smiley, perhaps, or Anita Shreve, whose work I have been reading and greatly admire. I enjoy reading those books. But I also enjoy fantasy, science fiction, some mysteries (but not all), Gothic romances (another genre I've always thought to write in, but who publishes that in this day and age?), young adult fantasy books (Tamara Pierce), nonfiction such as self-help, history, and biographies, historical fiction, adventure, etc. etc. The only books I do not like to read are vampire books (Buffy the Vampire Slayer being the only exception), gory books (Patricia Cornwell comes to mind), horror (Steven King, though I have read him on occasion), and overtly sexual books (having read absolutely none of these I cannot name an author).

Today I renounce my perfectionism.

Is it this which holds me back? Is it my fear that whatever I put forth will be less somehow? Or is it that will include more of me than I care to allow.

I grew up in an atmosphere that did not allow mistakes. If I was not perfect, whatever that was, I was punished. But I could not attain that goal no matter how hard I tried. I am only human.

Only human. Am I trying to be something other than what I am? Do I even know who I am anymore? Have I ever?

Is this my revelation, blown in with the gray?

Books: Fortune's Rocks

Fortune's Rocks
By Anita Shreve
Copyright 1999
Audiobook, Abridged
Read by Blair Brown

Anita Shreve writes solid characters and engaging stories about people who might be your next door neighbor, if you are paying attention.

In this book, Olympia Biddeford, only child of a wealthy Boston couple, finds love on the beach in New Hampshire during the summer holiday at the home her parents own for this purpose.

She is but 15 when she seduces John Hasselbeck, a married man three times her age with a wife and three children (and who should have known better) and becomes his lover. Theirs is a passionate and devastating love affair that can only end badly, and indeed it does.

Olympia has a child by her lover, but the boy is whisked away by her disapproving father. For the next several years Olympia suffers under his heavy hand as he tries to undo the disgrace she has brought upon the family.

In a day of clarity, she realizes that she must revisit her past. A stroke of luck allows her to find her son, and she then goes after the boy through the court system.

Olympia is a very real character and the book has themes of class issues, wealth, status, money, and prejudices. There is no villain here, unless living is counted as the  villain, which I suppose it could be.

This is the second of Shreve's books I have listened to of late, the first being Sea Glass. I will not hesitate to read or listen to more of this author's work.

Hills

Sometime between 1970 and 1976, my grandfather would load up his white Ford with a blue interior with his two youngest sons, his two grandchildren, and his wife and head south for a day-long trip.

Our destination was Hills Department Store in Christiansburg and then to Floyd County.

Hills to my young eyes (somewhere between 7 and 12) was a marvel to behold. It held aisles of goodies unseen elsewhere, for in this age there was no Tanglewood Mall and definitely no Valley View. Most certainly there was no Walmart.

No, we had Hills. The store was a shiny wonder, neat, clean and full of stuff. I was intrigued by little statues of ponies and horses, Johnny West dolls, and  action figures (I never was much on Barbies or baby dolls.). Usually we went sometime in the summer, I suppose during my grandfather's vacation. Our small fists clutched a few dollars as we sought out treasures that we could not find at Newberry's in Salem (now a bank, I think) or at Arlan's on Williamson Road (where Happy's Flea Market is now).

They also gave away popcorn!

Once those purchases were made - and what a time my grandparents had rounding us kids back up and getting us in the car and away from the wonderland - we headed to Floyd (I think). I am sure we stopped to eat somewhere but it was our next destination that I awaited.

This was a store called either Sunnyside or Sunnybrook, I cannot be certain, that also held marvels. These marvels were a little on the darker side and appealed to my sense of the macabre; skulls, crossbones, dragons - things not of this world but of the imagination. I recall the store had two levels and the one which the kids gravitated to was not the level my grandparents visited. I do not recall what they purchased there but I know I sometimes regretfully saved my money whilst we were in Christiansburg in hopes of finding some strange and bizarrely enchanted piece to clutch and take home. I usually was rewarded.

I was reminded of these scarce but welcome expeditions when I was in Walmart this morning. Trips to this all-purpose mass department store depress me but are unavoidable. Sometimes it is the only place you can find what you need.

As I roamed the aisles searching for a salad spinner (which I found but did not buy), I couldn't help but think about how despairing I feel whenever I go into the big box store. Looking around, I saw people hurrying about their business, eyeing the yellow smiley "lower price" tags, faces unsmiling, bodies bent and broken.

I wondered what was the point. There was no wonder here, no delight in seeing something for the first time. It all looked tired and stale. Not to mention how bleak my thoughts grew when I thought about all of the poor underpaid foreign workers who have slaved to make $3 a day so that I could buy a salad spinner for $2.47.  Or the poor cashiers who make minimum wage and have no benefits but do have swollen feet and aching backs.

I once edited a book for a wealthy old gentleman. In doing this, I spent many hours in his home. His wife, complaining one day about his array of papers strewn about the living room, asked me what I suggested for organization. A filing cabinet, I replied.

When she asked where she might purchase one, I suggested Walmart.

"I do not shop at Walmart," she huffed. "I would never set foot in that store. I am surprised that you do."

I explained that I otherwise could not afford some of the things I needed if I did not shop at Walmart. Apparently she had been a woman of privilege for so long that she had forgotten that not everyone - actually most people - could not afford to hold to principles. I gently reminded her of that fact.

Department stores have a long history in this country. From five and dimes to Walmart, they have been the places where Americans shop.

Somehow, though, I don't think they are really the places where Americans dream.

50 Things?

Saturday I had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in several weeks. After chit-chat and discussion of life's many quirks, twists, and changes, she mentioned she is reading a book called Throw Out 50 Things.

This friend has recently moved, and so had had the opportunity to box up and throw out a multitude of things. Many of those boxes ended up in her new basement or garage because she ran out of time to sort through them.

And so she finds herself with boxes of stuff. Stuff she wants to be rid of. Somehow she is not rid of it and finds the chore of getting rid of it daunting.

I do not have boxes of stuff, per se, although I do have things in boxes that would probably be better off in the trash.

Mostly I have piles. And drawers. And cabinets. I have, actually, 46 years of stuff in this house, some of which I brought with me when I married, and some of which I have accumulated in the interim. We've lived in our house for 23 years and I guarantee you that somewhere in the attic are leftover pieces of two-by-fours from the initial build.

So I am pack rat. My husband is also a pack rat. That means we hang on to things that have memories, things that might "someday" be useful, things that "look like something" even though we have no clue what that something might be.

I have warranty papers and manuals for small appliances that have long since died and made their way to appliance heaven shoved in my "warranty file" in the spare room. We have two junk drawers in the kitchen, full of nails, screws, matches, tape, garage ties, batteries, etc. etc. What do we need all this stuff for?

The book apparently also addresses other stuff. Mental stuff, like old thought processes that might have been good when you were five but which now need to be trashed. Habits might fall under the purview of this book, too - driving the same route, chewing your fingernails, twisting your hair, chewing your cheek, whatever it is that people do that they have done for years. Maybe you're stuck in an old relationship or two. Based on the website, all of this stuff needs to go (though I find the relationship one rather a difficult thing to consider myself.)

My friend offered to loan me her book when she finished, but I went ahead this morning and ordered a copy of it from Amazon. I do not need another book - books are part of the stuff of my life - but I thought this might be worth it. Besides, even if I do not NEED another book, there is always the wanting.

Fifty seems like a big number. I don't know how many drawers, files, cabinets, etc., I have in this house but I daresay it is more than 50. So if I just rid myself of one item out of each drawer, that would be that much less clutter.

Off the top of my head, I can think of these things that need doing:

• go through a huge box of floppy disks and toss them (maybe try to sell the old program? is there a market for this?
• box up all my old articles and newspapers
• clean out junk drawer #1 in the kitchen
• clean out junk drawer #2 in the kitchen
• clean out the pots and pans cabinet
• go through the drawer with the plastic containers and toss out anything that doesn't have a lid
• clean out the warranty file
• clean out the desk in the living room
• clean out my dresser
• clean out the cabinet in the bathroom

That's nine things that I can think of without breaking a sweat. Things that I could spend a lot of time doing to rid myself of clutter, but also it is clutter that is doing no harm by sitting where it is.

Which makes me think of inertia, but I suspect that's a blog entry for another day.

Thursday Thirteen: Questions for You!

Today I thought I'd pose 13 questions for you. I hope you will answer one or two of them in the comments section and come back to see what others say.


1. If you read a book that is set in your hometown, do you care if the author takes literary license to add or subtract details? For instance, if the heroine goes to Costco and there isn't a Costco within 500 miles of your town, does that bother you?

2. What is your favorite genre of books, and why?

3. Do you read poetry? If so, do you have a favorite poem or poet? What do you like about him/her?

4. Do you like where you live? If so, why? (Please don't name the place, but do note if it is rural, town, city, etc.)

5. In Genesis 4:1-26, Cain slays Abel and is banished. In 4:17 it reads: "Cain lay with his wife, and she became pregnant and gave birth to Enoch." Who do you think Cain married?

6. Do you think women should have the right the vote in the United States? Should they be able to own property? If yes, would you protest to keep these rights? (I know we already have these rights; I am wondering if anyone wants them enough to fight for them in this new day and age.)

7. How do you define "success"?

8. Do you think there is life elsewhere in the universe? How do you define "life" in this context? Must it be sentient beings or would finding living organisms be proof enough?

9. What is your favorite thing to study or learn about?

10. Is it okay to "say what you think" and insult people at any time, or should there be rules and manners that societies follow?

11. Do you think "going green" is a good thing? Why or why not?

12. Keeping with the green theme, why do you think the grass is always greener on the other side? Is this true? Why or why not?

13. What do you think is the ideal life? What can you do to make your own life more like this ideal?

Thursday Thirteen is played by many people. You can find a list of others who play here. My Thursday Thirteens are here. This is my 136th time to play.

Books: America's Women

America's Women: 400 years of Dolls, Drudges, Helpmates, and Heroines
By Gail Collins
Abridged Selections read by Jane Alexander
Copyright 2003

Rarely do I listen to an audiobook and then decide I want the print edition, but that is certainly the case for this volume.

America's Women is a wonderful synopsis of the struggles of women as well as an explanation of where we are today. I am left inspired and amazed.

Women died for the rights that females in this new millennium take for granted. They marched in the streets, they were force-fed to halt hunger strikes, they wrote books, and in Eleanor Roosevelt's case, married well and then subtly ran the country.

The narrative of this book danced with energy as I listened, awed, open-mouthed, and horrified, to the stories of the women of this nation. From Harriet Beecher Stowe to Sojourner Truth to bra-burning, this book was a total delight.

The information appears to have stopped at the year 2000 and I couldn't help but wonder who are the female leaders of today. Sadly I see no Betty Friedans, no Eleanor Roosevelts, and certainly no Sojourner Truths. In the age of such dissected information, when people camp out in certain corners with their own realities and truths and have minds as closed as clam shells, would any woman ever move to the forefront as these ancestors did?

The author, Gail Collins, is a woman of note in her own right. She is a New York Times columnist and I am sorry I am not overly familiar with her other work, though I certainly must have read it.

I plan to purchase this book and keep it on my bookshelf for the rest of my life. She has written another volume called When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present and I will definitely be looking for that book as well.

Yard Work

My husband decided the back yard needed to be reseeded.



He hauled in 8 loads of dirt. The dirt came from the pond, which he and my father-in-law dredged last fall. They removed a lot of soil from the bottom.



After he hauled the dirt, he arrived in the skid steer to shove the dirt around.



Once the dirt has dried out a little more, he will sow grass seed, probably later this week.

My role in all this work will come later, when we we smooth down the dirt. I will have to help rake.

Otherwise, I watched!

The Botetourt County Chorus

Saturday night my husband and I went to the D. Geraldine Lawson Performing Arts Center, home of Attic Produtions, to see the County Chorus present its "Parade of Hits."

The Arts Center is located less than a mile south of Fincastle on US 220.

The Botetourt County Chorus has been around for over 30 years, maybe closer to 40. My husband remembered them doing a bang-up job in 1976, during the county's Bicentennial Year.

The "Parade of Hits" consisted of songs from the 1940s or thereabouts. Many of them I knew and enjoyed. The chorus sang 25 songs.



The Chorus with its 23 members.



Loren Bruffey, Sr., who is also my father, sang a solo of Merle Travis's song Sixteen Tons. I can remember him singing that when I was a little girl.



Nancy Duffy, a neighbor whom I had not seen in many years, turned the Wheel of Fortune on the song of the same name.



Emilee Duffy, Jordyn Duffy and Abigail Crowder as the Three Little Kittens (they lost their mittens!).



Lisa McCray as Mother Goose and Tommy Duffy as Father Goose. Father Goose drew a lot of laughs.



The Three Little Kittens were joined by the Cat and Fiddle (Jordyn Duffy) and the Cow who jumped over the moon (Emmy Divers) along with the Dish and Spoon (Ainsley Burks) and Humpty Dumpty, Caleb Divers. They were later joined by the Three Blind Mice (Susannah Harris, Seth Harris and Rachel Crowder).



Zoe Bruffey, who is my niece, hammed it up as Li'l Bo Peep.



Father Goose and the gang!



Brent Watts, weatherman on WDBJ 7 and a Buchanan boy, was emcee. He rarely was still enough for a good picture!



Reta Bogess was the Doggie during How Much is that Doggie in the Window.



My father danced with his wife, Rita, during Vaya Con Dios, the last song of the evening.



Another picture of my niece, Zoe, because she is so cute!

And the doctor says...

I'm doomed.

Well, she didn't really say that and I suppose we all are doomed in that we shall all perish and make our way towards the pearly gates or the hell fires or the worm food or become one with the universe or whatever one thinks may happen when the eyes close and the soul departs.

She did say that the outlook according to my blood work simply is not pretty. So I feel doomed.

High blood pressure.
High cholesterol.
High bad cholesterol
Low good cholesterol.
High triglycerides.
Low potassium.

On the plus side my thyroid and sugar look good. Yay for me.

This is a hereditary thing; my brother has the same issues, and all of my mother's family has high blood pressure. My father's family is in California and while they are old folks I don't think any of them are in good health.

I worry more about the high blood pressure than I do the other issues, but the other issues obviously are a concern.

Last month I switched doctors. For many years I saw an old gentleman named Max Bertholf. He was a great doctor. He would pat you on the head when that is what you needed, kick you in the butt when that was what you needed, give you drugs when that was what you needed. He retired in 2005 and unfortunately my health care has suffered in the last five years.

The doctor I was seeing in the same group is nice enough, but I didn't feel cared for. The doctor never asked what I did during the day or what I did for a living or anything that might add to stress or other concerns. The doctor gave little information about diet or exercise and what was provided was no better than reading a book (which simply does not work for me, I need something else but I don't know what), pushed pills, and seemed to take a very hands-off approach to health care.

The last straw was over my blood pressure. Back in the winter the doctor changed my drugs. I started having mood swings. I looked up the drug and it said it could cause mood swings and to call your doctor immediately.

I called the doctor.

The doctor said the drug didn't cause mood swings and since my blood pressure wasn't where it should be, the drug should be doubled.

I didn't take the new dose. Instead I sought out a new doctor, who seems to be listening to me, if nothing else. She changed the blood pressure drug and then I had a physical with her last week.

Aside from the bad blood work, the blood pressure, and the fact that I am way too fat, the physical turned up nothing else.

This is quite frustrating because I don't drink or smoke. I drink soft drinks infrequently. Mostly I drink water. I walk on a treadmill 4-5 times a week for at least 20 minutes, frequently 30. I do Tai Chi twice a week or so. Obviously not a lot of exercise but not nothing. I eat too much chocolate but I am working on cutting that out of my diet completely.

I take fish oil and flax seed oil.  I don't eat much red meat. I cook with olive oil or safflower oil if I use oil at all. I eat very little bread, usually only when I eat out.

Still, I must be doing something very wrong.

Nothing like a little doom to ruin a lovely day.

Thursday Thirteen #135

On Tuesday I finished up a six-week seminar called Life Planning at Hollins University. The idea was to figure out where you've been, where you're going and what you're going to do.

Here are 13 things I have learned in the last six weeks.

1. A roomful of introverts leads to very quiet conversation and very little discussion.

2. My Myers-Briggs designation (free test at the link!) is INTJ. That means I'm Introverted, INtuitive, Thinking, Judging, or a perfectionist, imaginative, reliable, scrupulous, even-handed, and I want people to make sense. No wonder I feel so lost most of the time in this "new world order" we've been experiencing since the new millennium.

3. I need to consider finishing my masters' degree at Hollins. I am four classes and a thesis short of having another piece of paper on the wall. It might open a door. Or not.

4. The Hollins campus calls to me. Aside from my own home, there is no other place in the world that reaches out to me with open arms and says, "Hey, you belong here!" (I already knew this but I liked being reminded.)

5. Talking in front of people is not my forte. I can do it if I absolutely must, but my face turns red, my blood pressure rises, I get the internal shakes ("wind," my acupuncturist calls that), and I am basically terrified.

6. I can make a heckuva cheeseball when the facilitator decides we should end the seminar with a potluck.

7. Traveling is a dream or desire but when I think about the logistics of it - the packing, the worry about motel accommodations and bedbugs, etc., I'd just as soon stay home and look at places on Google Earth.

8. I have a very difficult time with personal "vision" and "mission" statements. Not to mention goals.

9. My knees are wearing out and climbing steps has become difficult (the seminar was on the basement level of Moody Center; thank goodness I remembered there was an elevator).

10. The number of women in the seminar who were interested in books and writing was astonishing. Nearly half the class wanted to do something in that field. Good luck, ladies! It's a dog-eat-goat and goat-trounce-on-dog sort of life.

11. A successful life can be whatever you want and however you define it. Societal definitions tend to lean towards being financially successful but personal definitions were more along the lines of being content and happy, having love, cherishing friends, and having a spiritual life.

12. One of the weekly exercises involved listing five plans you made for the future, which could be anything. Most of mine were things like haircuts, dinner with a friend or relative, and when I would wash the colored clothes and white.

13. I feel most content when I am at home writing or staring out the window. Lately I've done a lot of the latter and little of the former.

Lots of people play Thursday Thirteen. You can read about it here and find more Thursday Thirteen's to read if you  want. This is number 135 for me!

Books: Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart

Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart
By Jane Lindskold
Copyright 2002
754 pages

The second installment in Lindskold's book about Firekeeper, the young girl raised by wolves in a land of enchantment, is a good sequel.

The story picks up where the first left off. Three enchanted objects have been stolen from Bright Bay, the kingdom newly-aligned with Hawk Haven. Firekeeper is summoned to a council of Royal Beasts, who give her history and background that was missing in the first book.

Firekeeper's friends, Derian, Elaine, and the doctor, stumble across clues that send them all off on a merry chase into a new realm as they seek out not only the enchanted objects but also a mysterious cousin who shown herself a proven evil in book one.

There is much political intrigue in Lindskold's storytelling, and she breathes life into entertaining and unique characters. Firekeeper's growing up and finding her human self; book three, on my shelf awaiting my attention, should prove interesting.

April is National Child Abuse Prevention Month

It saddens me that as a nation we need a month to draw attention to the plight of abused children, but we do.

Most people deny that children are abused. It happens "someplace else." People do not realize (or maybe they don't care?) that it is happening to their child's best friend or the kid next door. They may even be abusing their own child but because "that is the way I was brought up" they think is is perfectly okay.

It is NOT okay.

Child sex abuse is one of the most abhorrent crimes on the planet. Yet look at these statistics:

1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused before the age of 18.

1 in 5 children are solicited sexually while on the internet.

Nearly 70% of all reported sexual assaults (including assaults on adults) occur to children ages 17 and under.

An estimated 39 million survivors of childhood sexual abuse exist in America today.

Even within the walls of their own homes, children are at risk for sexual abuse

Shocked? You should be. Those are horrible numbers. Break it down. One in four girls. In a classroom of 20 girls, that's five children. In a classroom of 24 boys, that is four boys. That's 9 kids in a group of 44. And those are the ones that are reported. If most kids never tell, just imagine how much horror is taking place in this country AT THIS VERY MOMENT.

Want more numbers?

30-40% of victims are abused by a family member. 

Another 50% are abused by someone outside of the family whom they know and trust.

Approximately 40% are abused by older or larger children whom they know.

Therefore, only 10% are abused by strangers.

Sexual abuse can occur at all ages, probably younger than you think

The median age for reported abuse is 9 years old.

More than 20% of children are sexually abused before the age of 8.

Nearly 50% of all victims of forcible sodomy, sexual assault with an object, and forcible fondling are children under 12.

Most children don't tell even if they have been asked.

Virginia has over 1.8 million children. Over 13 percent of those live in poverty (more than 1 in 10). In a classroom of 30 children, at least 3 are living in poverty.

In 2006, Virginia had 56,360 total referrals for child abuse and neglect. Of those, 29,141 reports were referred for investigation.

In 2006, 6,828 children were substantiated or indicated as abused or neglected in Virginia, a rate of 3.8 per 1,000 children, representing a 5.5% increase from 2005. Of these children, 4,204 were neglected, 1,904 were physically abused, and 950 were sexually abused.

In 2006, 20 children in Virginia died as a result of abuse or neglect.

In 2006, 7,843 children in Virginia lived apart from their families in out-of-home care, compared with 7,022 children in 2005. In 2006, 24.9% of the children living apart from their families were age 5 or younger, and 26.9% were 16 or older.

The National Child Abuse and Neglect Data System (NCANDS) reported an estimated 1,760 child fatalities in 2007. This translates to a rate of 2.35 children per 100,000 children in the general population (or one child in Botetourt County - is that acceptable?). NCANDS defines "child fatality" as the death of a child caused by an injury resulting from abuse or neglect, or where abuse or neglect was a contributing factor.

Research indicates that very young children (ages 3 and younger) are the most frequent victims of child fatalities.

Children are not objects. They are not things parents own. They are people, human beings in their own right.

Love them, discipline them, raise them, but don't abuse them.

It is never okay to hurt a child.

Eagle Rock Library Dedication

On Sunday, April 11, 2010, also the beginning of National Library Week, Botetourt County dedicated its new library in Eagle Rock.

This makes the county's fourth library. It is also the largest facility, coming in at 9,600 square feet. It boasts a dividable meeting room, a computer lab, a reading area, a genealogy area and a smaller reading room.



About 200 people turned out to welcome the new building to the north end of the county. The Eagle Rock area, which is the most sparsley populated part of the county, has been underserved for some time.



The building is made of a material called "Hardy Board" and local stone.



Library Board of Trustee member Genevieve Goss has represented the Fincastle District, which encompasses Eagle Rock, for almost eight years, and prior to that represented the Amsterdam District until the boundaries changed. She is a strong advocate for the libraries.



The dedication began with a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, sung by Jayne Vest, wife of Library Director Steve Vest.



The crowd was most attentive during speeches from Ms. Goss, Supervisor Chairman Terry Austin, Fincastle District Supervisor Donna Vaughn, and the Library Director.



Library Director Steve Vest has spent the last 18 months working to make this facility a reality. He was the hot point man for county officials, the Library Board of Trustees, the architect, and many others. His hair whitened considerably in recent months.



The building was designed to fit in with a rural terrain. It has a backdrop of mountains. The day was absolutely perfect with brilliant blue skies, wonderful temperatures, and not a single cloud to mar the sunshine.



Mr. Vest introduced the new library branch head, Mike Hibben, and other staff members to the public.



The building inside features exposed beams, clear story lighting, and all new furnishings. It cost the county about $1.1 million to build and furnish.



Local civic groups provided refreshments for the event.



The library is opening with 17 computers available for public use. Some of the kids couldn't wait and were on the computers as soon as they could get in the building.



The shelves are not all full but they will be in time.



The genealogy collection.



The plaque with the name of the Supervisors and Library Board members on it. I have represented the Amsterdam District on the Library Board for eight years.

Walking Can Be Hazardous

Last Monday I made the courageous effort to go to the mailbox. I took the car down my very long driveway because I was headed out to Daleville.

I like to walk - I try to walk on the treadmill everyday and I enjoy the track at Greenfield, though I don't get to it nowhere near as often I'd like. I enjoy Cherry Blossom Trail, too. I would hike more but I don't like to go alone.

Anyway, I parked the car and headed across the road to fetch the mail. I removed the envelopes from the box and turned around. A car was coming, so I did a little hop/skip/jump to speed myself along. About midway across the road, I developed what felt like a cramp in the back of my left leg.

I remember thinking, "Oh, what a place to get a charlie horse, I hope I don't fall in the middle of the road," when this happened. I made it back to the car and massaged my leg. The cramp did not ease. I even tried the ol' "pinch the space beneath your nose" trick to make the cramp go away, but that did not work (it's an acupressure point and it does work, usually).

Oh well. I went on to the Business Expo at the high school, where I limped around for over an hour. I even stopped at the physical therapist's booth. "How do you get rid of a cramp?" I asked. They advised stretching it out. I found a wall and did a few stretches before heading off to the grocery store, where I limped around a bit more.

The cramp remained. I went home and put ice on my leg. By the next day my leg was swollen and you could see that an entire band of muscle was involved. The muscle was very tight and painful. I could barely walk. I began alternating heat and ice and that seemed to help a little.

Friday I visited my new doctor for an unrelated issue but asked her to take a look at my leg. At first she was concerned I had an embolism, which scared me, but she determined that was not the case. She advised me to keep using heat and ice and use an Ace wrap when I walk.

The Ace helps.

I had no idea that just getting the mail could be hazardous to my health.

You Can't Go Home Again

Even though I am a Botetourt girl through and through, and despite the fact that I can count back many generations to ancestors who settled here when Native Americans roamed the land and cougars scared the deer, I have not lived every single year of my life here.

The first seven years of my life were spent in Salem, mostly in the house you see above. My mother and father moved the family to Botetourt in 1971, to land just minutes from my maternal grandfather's homeplace.

My memories of the little house in Salem are fragmented. Sometimes they are funny, frequently scary, and often things I'd rather forget.

That tree on the right, for instance, holds a memory of terror for a four-year old. I was playing house around the tree. I vividly recall my doll (called my Grandma Doll because she had white hair) and a little chair that I sat her in. The tree too played a role in my little imaginary game. For some reason I determined it had been a very bad tree indeed and therefore must be whipped. As I stepped around to give the tree its due with a little limb from itself, I glanced down.

A golden snake had curled itself around the tree trunk. I panicked and raced inside. My mother was getting ready to go to work. I was so terrified I could not speak. Surely the word "blathered" was invented for such moments.

I remember my mother's anger and fear. Anger because I couldn't get out what had frightened me and fear because I was so terrified. Finally, I blurted out, "Snake!" between my tears and fits of crying. She went outside to look and then called my father. He was a policeman at the time. He came home and dispensed of the snake, which apparently was in such a state of bliss that it had made no move in all the time that took.

Earlier this week I cruised with a friend in search of my old house. It had been over 20 years since I'd last gone too look for it and I wasn't sure I would remember it. I drove by it once and wasn't 100 percent sure it was the right place, but on the second drive-by I viewed the tree from an angle that made it familiar. The snake memory came roaring back to me as if it were yesterday.

Other memories from this house involve red carpeting, hands being slammed in doors (not on purpose), learning there was no tooth fairy or Santa Claus (I figured that out at the tender age of five, alas), having my eyes burn from sand in them from my sandbox, eating a wild onion in the backyard (and then not eating onions again until I was past the age of 30), my brother eating a box of aspirins, my dolly getting burned up on the stove, box-kite flying, blood, a ghost sitting on my bed, my mother passing out in the floor because she was ill, and an assortment of other wild visions that race through my head when I consider my childhood.

But it is Botetourt that has my heart and my soul, though some might consider me a transplant in spite of  my family roots here, long, deep and strong as they may be. Still, I suppose I owe some allegiance to that tiny little girl who once tried to spank a certain tree.

Thursday Thirteen

Can't get enough of Spring after that awful winter!

1. Robins herald a new beginning.















2. Flowering trees bring great visual pleasure...


3. And pollen! (achoo!).

4. See how lovely the forest is? Nothing like a little color!



5. Majestic redbud!


6. Bradford pears. They've been spectacular this year.


7. Dandies and clover!


8. More redbuds, up close and personal.













9. My green lawn. (There is a turkey in this picture but it can barely be seen.)


10. Daffodils!

11. Early sunrise.



12. Barrels of blooms.


13. Early newborn.



Lots of people play Thursday Thirteen. You can read about it here. This is number 134 for me!

My Book Club

A number of years ago I joined a book club at what was then the Blue Kat Art Gallery in Fincastle.

The gallery, the brainchild of artist Dreama Kattenbraker, closed, much to my dismay, but the book club continued. We've been reading books together for a long time now.

Dreama, the heart and soul of the book club.



For a long time the group met monthly but attendance dwindled, so we changed it to bi-monthly. We met on April 1 and discussed Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange.

This book is a coming of age story about a young girl in the Carribean. It's a lovely tale and we all enjoyed it quite a lot.

Our club meetings can sometimes ramble and we often get off-topic. But we enjoy one another's company so much that it doesn't seem to matter.

For June we are reading The Help by Katheryn Stockett.

Books: Dance Upon the Air

Dance Upon the Air
By Nora Roberts
Read by Sandra Burr
Audio
Unabridged
Copyright 2001

Nora Roberts hits another homerun with this trilogy. Dance Upon the Air is the first book and I will be looking for the next two for sure.

Nell Channing has fled an abusive husband. She's run as far as possible - all the way to the other coast of the U.S. She ends up on Three Sisters Island, reputed to have been created from the sea by three witches during the Salem Witch Trials.

She meets Mia, a bookstore/cafe owner who gives her a job and a place to live. The energy between the two gives Mia, an established witch, an indication of the power Nell does not know she possesses.

Zach is the local sheriff. Nell is wary of him at first, for her flight from the west coast involved false information, faking her own death, and doing everything in her power to leave no trail. Eventually, though, sparks fly and romance begins.

Ripley, Zach's sister, also has a power of her own. Together the three women form an incarnation of the Three Sisters. Will they be able to work together to break a prophecy of doom?

Well-read with a strong plot. The character development was excellent.