Pansies

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month.

To celebrate, I thought I'd share with you an old poem I wrote back in 2007. I shared it then and will share it here again today:

You must have your cookies on*

Attention winner, you have been approved
but your account needs to be updated.
I looked at your pictures.
They are hot.
I have an inheritance
to invest in your country
but we were unable to process your most recent payment.
Now add this gem to your radar,
realize your manhood's full potential.
All signs show that this one is going to Explode!!
You can use it as a lovely gift;
give me a call;
Our agent will immediately commence
the release.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*I wrote this from the spam in my email.

The Greening

Spring is moving through the area at a rapid pace.

The trees are leafing out with barely a nod to the blossoming season.

The dogwoods and redbuds are giving way.

Soon the leaves will be out completely and the mountains will be sheathed in deep, brilliant green.

Books: The Postmistress

The Postmistress
By Sarah Blake
Copyright 2010
369 pages


Pay attention. That was the message secreted in The Postmistress. While the book was about three women at the edge of America's involvement in World War II, it was also a message for today. Be alert, see what is happening in the world around you. For God's sake, pay attention.

Frankie Bard is a journalist who broadcasts with Ed Murrow from London in 1941, as the city is being blitzed nearly nightly. Emma Fitch is the new wife of the town's doctor in a sleepy Cape Cod town. Iris James is the town's postmaster.

It seems unlikely that Frankie Bard would have cause to meet the other two women, but that meeting is the point of the novel. Most of the story leads up to their inevitable conversation in Emma's living room.

The story on its surface hinges on the supposition that Iris James did not do her job and deliver a particular letter. However, the journalist is unable to do her job, too, and perhaps even the doctor's wife fails unintentionally in her new role as caregiver to the caregiver. What is it like to be human?

Here is the book blurb for this novel:

In 1940, Iris James is the postmistress in coastal Franklin, Massachusetts. Iris knows more about the townspeople than she will ever say, and believes her job is to deliver secrets. Yet one day she does the unthinkable: slips a letter into her pocket, reads it, and doesn't deliver it.

Meanwhile, Frankie Bard broadcasts from overseas with Edward R. Murrow. Her dispatches beg listeners to pay heed as the Nazis bomb London nightly. Most of the townspeople of Franklin think the war can't touch them. But both Iris and Frankie know better...

The Postmistress is a tale of two worlds-one shattered by violence, the other willfully naive-and of two women whose job is to deliver the news, yet who find themselves unable to do so. Through their eyes, and the eyes of everyday people caught in history's tide, it examines how stories are told, and how the fact of war is borne even through everyday life.

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I found the book to be very cerebral, not emotional. I like to read the reviews of various books and I was struck by the fact that the reviews on Amazon.com for this particular novel were all over the place. I can't recall ever seeing a book receive over 330 reviews and have them be nearly even for every number, one through five.

The reviews that gave the book a "1" degraded it for its lack of emotional involvement with the character. The reviews that gave it a "5" called it a wonderful blend of literary fiction and women's fiction.

I liked it because I could tell it was well researched. I bonded with Frankie Bard right away, being a journalist myself, but in a cerebral, "ah ha, yes I understand why you would do that," sort of way. Having been a reporter who chases story - and one who has, on occasion, left them sitting solidly in my notebook, never to see the light of day - I understood the need to speak the truth and yet run from it, too. And I never dealt with war zones like Frankie Bard did.

I thought author Sarah Blake did a good job of capturing these women, the journalist and the postmaster. Her failure, I suspect, was not in better detailing the emotional state of the doctor's wife, and in the ending. I have read worse endings - this one just made me sigh and go, oh well, I'm not sure what else she could have done to wrap this up. But it did seem like an awkward finale.

So I would give the book a 4, because of the research and the two characters I most enjoyed getting to know.

Plus I loved the idea of a female broadcast journalist in 1941. How could I not?

Professional Therapies

Back in November, my primary care doctor sent me to a specialist to see about a problem with my back. The specialist sent me to physical therapy, the first step in a long process necessary to help me with my health care issue.

Unfortunately I've had a number of physical problems besides my back show themselves in the last several months. At the moment my physical therapist is juggling orders for me from three different doctors, all of whom want various body parts strengthened or functioning better. It is a lot of work and requires a lot of attention from my physical therapist.

I am visiting Professional Therapies in Daleville. Occasionally I like to applaud people who are doing good things in the area, and I have to tell you, the ladies at this health care facility are excellent. They are there to help you, not just take your money and send you on your way. The personal care is exceptional.

From Lisa at the front desk to Audrey, my terrific physical therapist who takes care of me, I have had nothing but wonderful attention and great communication.

This is a company that lives up to its claims on its website. They really do care about people and want to make lives better. I have seen this not only with myself, but also with others as I have watched the various therapists while I am there. They display infinite patience while dealing with cranky people who are in pain and are not at their best.

I have been visiting long enough now that even therapists I have not worked with know my name. It is not unusual for me to be doing some type of activity in the common room with the equipment and hear one of them call out,"That's great, Anita!" or "Good job!" I am a champ at some of the balance exercises; others, not so much. But that's okay because I am trying.

My progress has been steadily incremental, if not fantastic, and those small improvements have been applauded. When I am unhappy because it seems to be taking forever to improve, Audrey reminds me of the small amount of weight that I could lift when I first came in. Now I am lifting almost 10 times that. I have been very grateful for her positive attitude and those reminders.

I cannot imagine how difficult the job of physical therapist is. Messing with people's bodies, dealing with folks who are in pain - it can't be pleasant. Plus you have to keep up conversation all day and there is only so many ways to discuss the weather. They have herculean tasks before them with every patient, and each physical therapist works her way through it, one labor at a time. I am amazed every time I go in for my work out.

These ladies work with people of all ages, from tiny children to white-haired old ladies who are scared of falling. Not once in all the time I have been visiting have I heard them raise their voices, lose their temper, or be unkind.

I wanted to take a moment to laud these unsung heroes of the health care system. If all health care was like this - wellness assistance provided by people who really do want to see you improve - I think we would all be much better off.

Ain't She Purty

This is the neighbor's cow. She struck a dainty pose for me the other day while I was outside with the camera.

Thursday Thirteen #290

Thirteen things I am suspicious of:

1. Anything coming out of Congress. More than half of Americans think government officials are corrupt (or they did in 2011, when the distrust level was 84%!). I am one of them.

2. Anything with a link on it on Facebook.

3. New drug claims. Half of them don't work now, and if you read up on these things, many drugs are only slightly better than placebos.

4. Claims from the right wing half of the country.

5. Claims from the left wing half of the country.

6. People who tell me how great they are. Don't tell me, show me!

7. Car dealer claims and pricing. (At the link: 12 ways dealerships scam you.)

8. Claims that something is "organic." You know that is mostly BS these days, right? It's turned into a marketing ploy.

9. Vitamin cure claims.  They may give you some nutrients and help with something like scurvy, but they are not cures.

10. Taking any drug that has "potential death" as a side effect.

11. Back surgeries.

12. Twenty-four hour news channels, FAUX News in particular and the rest of them in general.

13. My husband's general agreement to "fix something" right away. Nag nag nag nag nag! And then maybe he'll get it done.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 290th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Noise on the Farm

Yesterday morning it was a little noisy outside. Foggy too!

Have a listen ...

Deer Watching

It seems inane to post pictures of deer when people are dying from bombings in Boston. Senseless, stupid tragedies all around. Today is also the anniversary of the shootings at Virginia Tech, which happened in 2007. And just a few days ago there was a shooting in Christiansburg on the New River Valley Community College campus.

Apparently we as a society are incapable of learning from these types of incidents, since they continue to happen. I tend to see these things as symptoms of how sick our country is, from the top down. It's like having water in the tea kettle - every now and then the thing has to blow off steam. The fact that these types of horrific actions take place more and more by scared and fed-up people indicate to me that the heat on society is growing hotter all the time.

The people in power need to take heed instead of placing bandages on each incident. We need major change in economic and societal policies in the United States. The media needs to change it rhetoric so that individualism is not key, but community is. We need to stop vilifying one another and embrace other people as our friends and partners, not as our enemies.

Weighting the Watch, Watching the Weight

Yesterday I signed up for Weight Watchers. Again.

This is my second-go round with WW. The first time was in 2011, and I lost weight on the program, but I have gained it all back (and then some).

My weight was under control, more or less, until I started trying to have a child. When I underwent endometriosis and fertility treatments, my hormones went bonkers. One of the drugs I was on packed pounds on me - I remember I gained 30 pounds in six weeks on one of the medications. The doctors said "Oh no, it's not the medicine," but years later a study indicated that the particular drug could nearly double a woman's weight. At the time I was taking massive doses of this drug, too - way more than they recommend now. It was a new thing at the time and I was, more or less, a guinea pig. They have the drug under better control now, and I suspect it is also not a first-line drug of choice these days.

I was not raised up eating right. My mother worked a full-time job and after a certain point in time, we fed ourselves. For a long time I thought a bolgna, ketchup, and mayonnaise sandwich on white bread met all four food groups. Swanson's frozen dinners were a girl's best friend.

Today I know better but I still struggle to put the knowledge into action. I have trouble with the trans fat thing, and sweets. I am a certified chocoholic, and the best thing I can do is just leave the stuff alone completely. It is easier when other things in my life are going well.

It would also help if I could actually cook. Oh, I can roast things or whatever, but I do not make complicated, tasty dishes. Plain Jane, that's me. I don't like to read recipes and I don't like playing with my food. Maybe I need cooking lessons.

My struggles with weight have been going on now for 25 years - half of my life. The first half of my life I was in good shape, but I have not done so well with the last half. I am a sedentary person - I prefer reading to running a marathon - and I have other health issues that must be addressed, too. It is tough to walk when your foot is swollen, and it is hard to lift weights when your shoulder and back hurts.

Anyway, I am writing this as a shout-out to anyone else who might be doing the weight thing. Perhaps we could hold hands and jump together? I will try not to write about this struggle too much as I don't want to bore anyone, but I make no promises. This might be my last refuge.

All support welcome.

Happy Monday.

Yay Spring!

Check out that yellow mustard in our hay field. It's pretty to look at but doesn't help the hay crop.

Lawn's bane, the dandelion.

Trees getting ready to put on their summer clothes.

Redbud bloom up close and personal.

Wood Anemone (I think).

Bloodroot (I think).

The butterflies are out!

Books: Influencer

Influencer: The Power to Change Anything
By Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, et al
Copyright 2007
8.5 hours on audio
Read by Eric Conger

Make the undesirable desirable. Use social motivation. Change the environment to achieve results.

These were some of the ideas touted by the authors of this book. They set out to help you become a person who institutes change, even within yourself.

We all have ingrained behavior, some of which, it seems, will never be changed. The authors suggest we constantly ask ourselves two questions before we set about making a change:

"Can I make the change?" and "Is it worth the effort?"

Those answers, of course, vary from person to person, and change for one person may not be worth it to another. So how do you turn around an entire group of people?

The book uses a variety of studies from psychology, organizational theory, history, and sociology to make its point and to illustrate what makes people behave like they do.

One thing this book made apparent is that constructive change takes a lot of time, effort, and money. Constructive change does not happen over night. One must identify the problem, look for positive deviants (people in the group who are already performing as desired), and then create and implement a plan to target one or two behaviors at time. You cannot change the herd en mass.

I listened to the book while I was driving in the car, so I could not take notes. There were a few things that I thought were noteworthy, but much of the book seemed out of my reach. I am not, for instance, in any sort of position where I can influence a huge group of people. I might be able to influence my immediate family, and perhaps I could influence a few of you, dear blog readers, but I doubt that anything I write is going to move you to do much. I may be able to convince you that such-and-such is a worthy charity, or point out that the the state's House of Representatives is moving to vote on thus-and-so and a call from you would help the yay or nay, but I am not sure what influence I might have beyond that, if that.

It would be nice if I could, say, influence people to stop shooting one another, or if I could influence people to stop and think before they speak. But I don't have any idea how to go about that, not even after listening to this book, and apparently neither does anyone else.

However, I learned a lot while listening to this book, especially about specific social changes in the world, and how we all really could have a decent and good life for everyone if people cared enough about one another and their goals to take the time to make the effort.

One thing I learned about was something called guinea worm disease. This is a parasite that once was rampant in Asia and Africa, but it has virtually been eliminated through humanitarian efforts promoted by the Carter Center (as in Jimmy). Experts predict it will be the first parasite to ever be completely eradicated in humans in the near future.

Another thing I learned about was Grameen Bank in Africa. This bank was established specifically to help the poor and disadvantaged through an ingenious network of support. Today Grameen Bank is owned by the rural poor whom it serves. Borrowers of the Bank own 90% of its shares, while the remaining 10% is owned by the government (from the website). I had never heard of this and couldn't help but wonder, what if OUR banks loaned out money to people with ideas, to help them get started, instead of denying them because they weren't already rich? What an amazing idea! I have to wonder why we don't have banks like that. The answer, of course, is that is not in the capitalism code. Too much like socialism, I guess.

I also learned that one reason families have become less structured is because of the microwave oven, which allowed for single-preparation of meals, and that one level of influence - societal pressure - has lessened in part because of the "action hero" in movies, who never needs anyone. You know, Iron Man is more popular than the Fantastic Four, that sort of thing. We don't need no stinkin' team players in our lives, right? We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and do it ourselves (wasn't that part of the screams and moans during the most recent presidential campaign?). And while the authors never once mentioned this, it was obvious to me that workers have suffered and are suffering because of the loss of influence of the labor unions.

The book attempted to bring massive social change initiatives back around to a person level by using someone trying to lose weight as their subject matter. I do not think the authors were overly successful in that effort. A person would need to change their environment, create a support system - in other words, pretty much change their life - if they have a weight problem. Most of us fat people already know that. So the book told us what we were supposed to do, like most of them do, but just like my doctor who says, "go on a diet" there isn't much advice as to how exactly one does that, other than "don't buy junk food" and "put the treadmill in the TV room."

At the end, the book touted a website with additional resources. But that website doesn't exist anymore and instead it takes you to what I presume is the authors' website. There is an offer there for some free stuff if you give your name and email, but I haven't signed up for it.

In case you were wondering, the blub on the back is what enticed me to pick this up. It says, "robust strategies for making change inevitable in your personal life, your business, and your world."

I see they have a more recent book out called Change Anything: The New Science of Personal Success and I think I will add that one to my list of books to read in the very near future. Maybe it will address the "how to change" issue a little better.



*The link at the picture of the book above goes to the Kindle edition, which is the cheapest way to obtain this book.*

Thursday Thirteen

Good grief, I don't know what I can do for Thursday Thirteen today!

How about what's on my desk? That's on my mind because the darned thing needs a good clearing off.

1. Tums, two bottles of nasal spray, and Rescue Remedy.

2. An empty bowl, a spoon, and an empty glass.

3. My evaluations from my most recent course I taught at the community college.

4. My Nikon Coolpix P500 and my Nikon Coolpix S3200 cameras.

5. A small pile of Fincastle Heralds, the local weekly newspaper that I sometimes write for.

6. A notebook listing the things I purchase online.

7. My journal.

8. A print-out from the 1902 edition of the Tazewell Republican.

9. Instructions for a video game.

10. Three ink pens (Pilot G-2 (05), I only use the extra fine) and a pencil.

11. A blank yellow tablet.

12. A Gateway netbook.

13. Binoculars.



Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 289th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Siblings Day - Yeah, I Got One

Apparently today is National Siblings Day, as declared by some nonprofit somewhere and not by any goverment thing, but what the heck. I have a sibling. I celebrate his birthday with him by sending him a card and giving him a phone call, but he is good for another day.

My brother Loren is the little fellow in the car seat in the photo to the left, taken circa August 1966 or thereabouts. That's me, the big sister, giving the camera the evil eye whilst I am holding my favored Grandma Doll.

About two years after this picture was taken, my brother pushed a chair over to the counter and climbed up on the stove after a cookie or something. In so doing, he turned on the stove eye, which then set fire to another of my dolls that my mother had recently rescued from a dog and which needed a little stitching. He nearly burned the house down.

Not long after that he swallowed a bottle of children's aspirin, which I saw him do and immediately tattled on him. I saved his life. And what thanks do I get?!?



Now this is my brother with his Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robots, somewhere about 1973. That would make him seven years old in this Christmas photo.

I am sure we had many fights and arguments over those Rock 'Em Sock 'Ems. I mean, they weren't any fun with just one kid, so that meant we were probably screaming at one another while we were playing. I imagine we mimicked the commercials with "I'm going to knock your block off." I can see my mother rolling her eyes now.

Seems to me like he also received an Erector Set around the same time. He always received the good toys. Who wants an ol' doll for a present when you could be building something really cool, like a Ferris wheel?

In 1976 my brother had a little accident with a farm tractor that put him in the hospital. It was very scary. At the time they didn't let kids under 16 in to visit patients, and I was only 12, so I didn't get to see much of him until he came home a week later. He came home with goggled eyes from a hit on the head and had to undergo therapy for that. Apparently they fixed it, though they couldn't do much about the fact that he was a little boy with cooties. Just kidding, brother!

Oh, the incidents I could recall about my brother. Like the time he got mad at me on the school bus and called me a "Playtex Deodorant Tampon," even though he had no idea what that was (or so I thought, anyway). I remember the horror on the faces of the teenage girls and the laughter and hoots coming from the boys (one of which was my future husband). I recall my face turning scarlet with embarrassment. What a brat, eh?

Or the time he got left behind at school and I nearly got kicked off the school bus trying to get the driver to turn the bus around. Or the time he nearly got his head knocked off by an older boy and I went after that kid like a firecracker on the tail of a cat. Nobody picked on my little brother, nobody.

Anyway. We grew up. It happens.

My brother sang at my wedding. He had - and still has - a good voice. I always enjoyed hearing him sing, though he didn't do much of it. He did a nice job at my wedding, though, not fumbling or being a doltish little brother or anything. I hope I thanked him properly for that.

I moved out of the house and away from home before he turned 18. That was 30 years ago. We have always lived fairly close to one another but with jobs and life, and his children's many outside interests, we don't see much of one another. We talk on the phone a couple of times a month.

This is my brother and his daughter in 2008, five years ago, now.

We both grew out and not up, I'm afraid. Family trait. Sometimes those genes are hard to overcome.

This is him as Santa Claus in I think 2011, singing with the local community choir.

This is him dressed in costume at the daddy-daughter dance that he performed with his daughter for her dance recital.

Spring Bustin' Out

Hyacinths (I think) in Fincastle.

Forsythia in my yard.

Pansies bought at Ikenberry's.

Daffodils still in bloom!

More forsythia (it's one of my favs).

A redbud tree getting ready to bring out lots of color.

The dogwood will soon be dressed in snowy white!

Iris on the rise.

Taking a Rest

I glanced out the window yesterday around 2 p.m. to see this doe resting just outside my window. She was about 12 feet away from me.

Could it be Spring?

The day before the April 4 snow, I took these photos:

Grass getting greener. Those are deer in the background.

The roses have leaves.

O sweet forsythia, you are trying so hard to bloom!

The deer are enjoying new grass shoots.

And a little color is coming back into the world.

Cruel April

I had planned to show you photos of spring today. But no!

Instead we have this:

Driving home yesterday evening around 6 p.m.

 

Snow and ice covering that dark green grass.

Fields that should be turning emerald are white.

Grumble. Grumble. It came down in big, fat flakes.

And it came down as icy little pellets.

Down it came. Snow and ice.

Covering springtime all up again in a winter's white coat.

Leaving her mark.

Alas, forsythia, I don't know what to tell you. Perhaps hold the blooms for another week?

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen things on my mind . . .

1. The way my mother used to wrap her hair in toilet paper before she went to bed at night.

2. How Facebook has changed the way I think of people. Some I admire more; most I admire less.

3. What are we doing? WHAT ARE WE DOING? When did the lunatics take over? When did we become a nation of psychotics?

4. I read about puppies and kittens and people getting their nails done, and then I read about attacks on civil rights, bombings, and killings. No wonder we're all insane. Somebody hand me that bottle of Lithium.

5. My uncle used to love me but she died, chicken ain't chicken 'til it's lickin' good fried ... Okay, I have no idea where that came from, but it's a real song by Roger Miller. I remember hearing it when I was a child.

6. All I can determine is that they must believe that, should a dozen federal agents show up at their door, they would blast holes in their walls and try to gun 'em down, wild-west style, before the feds sent a bazooka blast through their window. This leads me to think that life is no longer a precious commodity in this country, not even to oneself. It's pretty sad when you think you're expendable, and that death is preferable to change and/or the unknown.

7. Too many things that used to be done in secret are out in the open now, and too many things are still secret that should never be. I'm not sure which is which anymore.

8. I still like to see my by-line in the newspaper, even though it has been in there literally several thousand times.

9. I wish life were like a musical. I would love to be in the grocery store when someone breaks out into song, with all of us shoppers tap-dancing behind them, providing backup.

10. The closest I've ever come to seeing life be like a musical was on a warm summer evening at Broadway at the Beach in Myrtle Beach, SC. about 10 years ago. My husband and I were shopping and walking across a bridge over a lake when the Macarena song came on. I started doing the arm movements to it; so did every other woman in the place. Shopping bags hit the pavement, and men stood back, mouths agape, while hundreds of women did the Macarena. The song ended, we picked up our bags, and went back to shopping.

11. Because I live on a hill and apparently in a place where sounds echo and collide, sometimes I hear strange things. Car engines. Train whistles. The Star-Spangled Banner. Coyotes howling. Cows mooing. Bulls bellowing. Guitars playing. Firecrackers. Shotguns. Chickens. Voices. Of those, only the cows, the bulls, and coyotes make sense. The rest of those sounds come a long way to reach my ears - the train is at least four miles away!

12. The eyes of time look down on me like a silent sentinel. I feel them, staring and waiting, relentless. These eyes are like the steady tick of a clock, constant and persistent. I am unsure of what they want, these eyes. The eyes of time blink - and I've lost a day.

13. I am like Little Red Riding Hood, looking good, but walking through the world alone. Is that what I fear most, being alone? Wandering around like the cow jumping over the moon, unconnected to my world? Am I am unable to reach back to that big blue globe where the love is?




Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 288th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Hullo Dere, Deer!