Humbled

A few days ago, Beth over at Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl handed me a Community Blogger Award. This award celebrates people "who reach out and make the blogger community a better one," as I understand it.


This is my first recognition ever for blogging. I am very humbled to be acknowledged because there is a lot of nice writing on the web, and a lot of people visit and offer stories and advice and friendliness.

Blogs create a nice community and I enjoy reading what people do and think and experience. I wish I had more time to spend on visiting other folks spaces so that I could "see more of the world," as it were.

The world is one big story and we're all characters in it, each important in our way to the patchwork that makes up the whole quilt. Without our individual achievements and efforts, there would be holes.

Another person whom Beth nominated was Shannon at Going Crunchy, who wrote a very nice entry about her award. I was not familiar with this blogger so I was happy to be introduced.

The award came to Beth via June at Spatter, another blogger I read. June has a lot of interesting things to say.

Beth is a gentle blogger who takes vivid pictures and has a great sense of humor. I delight in her entries.

In the spirit of moving this award along, I would like to recognize and give the award to:

Jeff at Jefferson Street Realist. Jeff writes about life with his young family. Some of his entries tickle me when he talks about his boy. Others are reverent and sad, such as when G'Diddy passed away. His writing rings true to me.

Ms. E. at Ms. Eleneaous in Roanoke. Ms. Elenaeous has an interesting take on life in Roanoke. Wait until you read about her house haunting. She's also one of two bloggers I have met in person!

Becky at Peevish Pen writes about writing and rural life. She's the other blogger I have shaken hands with!

Happy blogging, everyone!

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen reasons why November has left me tired:

1. A meeting on November 8 that only lasted two hours but which required another three hours of reading the file that went with it.

2. A meeting on November 13 that lasted from 6 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.

3. A meeting on November 27 that lasted from 9 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

4. A meeting today which required a couple hours preparation and then several hours of attendance.

5. Thanksgiving, which required holiday stuff (and stuffing!)

6. Lots of work which required lots of thinking.

7. My husband had a cold. Every woman knows how tiring that is.

8. My husband was also home on vacation for two weeks.

9. It was deer season which meant I had men in and out of the house. They required a steady supply of lunch meat, bread and drinks.

10. I began shopping for Christmas.

11. The days grew shorter and the time changed, all of which seemed to mean I had less time than ever before.

12. Many people wanted to spend a lot of the little time I seemed to have talking on the telephone with me.

13. I hit my head on a shelf about four weeks ago and somehow damaged my neck muscles. I have been in pain ever since, despite three trips to the chiropractor, two to the massage therapist, one to the acupuncturist, and another to my primary care physician. This, in spite of everything else, has been the main reason this month has been tiring!

Books: Legacy of Silence

Legacy of Silence

by Belva Plain

Copyright 1998

Ready by Dana Ivey



Carolyn and Lore, story opens in 1939 pre-World War II.

The Quarry, Part II

It is hard sometimes to write about the things going on around me. Take this quarry thing, for instance, which I started writing about this morning.

A part of me wanted to testify. I wanted to say to the officials, "Don't do this to my neighbors."

I wanted to say don't make my neighbors have to run air purifiers that have filters that look like this within a day:




Don't make them worry about asthma and bronchial problems and wonder if the industry down the road is to blame.

Don't make them wonder if the red rainwater that falls around here sometimes comes from the industry down the road. It's preferable not to have red rain at all.

Don't put that quarry five miles from our historic county seat and then expect it to withstand 30 years of continuous blasting (I don't care if the blasting expert said that amounts to "only" 30 minutes of blasting. It still shakes the house.).

I wanted to say those things and more, but I did not. I could not because I write government articles for a living and it is necessary to maintain objectivity in my work with the paper.

What I did was write several articles about it, as professionally as I could. The first was what I normally write, a "hey folks, here's what's coming up before the planning commission." The second was an update with a slant that officials were doing something new - they were actually checking for endangered species. It was also news that they'd found some.

Then I wrote about the planning commission meeting and then the meeting yesterday where the proposal for a new quarry was denied.

I am fairly sure my articles were not slanted to show my opposition to the project, but I can never be sure and it is always something I watch for. I try to write objectively.

At least one person thought I was in favor of the project. But when you're writing about an emotional issue, people often think any mention of the other side means you don't favor them. It's not a situation the messenger can win in and I no longer try. I do the best I can.

My editor did write an editorial opposing the project. He opposed it when it first came about three years ago, too. I'm not sure he could have been objective about my work on this issue because he was very much against the project.

For my part, I conversed with people who lived far enough away (about five miles) from the proposed industry to think they would not be affected. I tried, and failed, to convince them that they were wrong. At least, they did not show up to voice their concerns as I'd hoped.

Fortunately this time the proposal fell through. But what about next time?

Because there will be a next time.

Actually none of this is what I originally sat down to write this morning. I wanted to write about this issue from the standpoint of business and how corporations are killing us.

I wished to point out that living near an industry, and "near" can be defined as next door or miles and miles away, is challenging. There are so many unknowns in the things people do to make money. It is all about the dollar and not the environment or quality of life for those who are already in residence.

Who cares about endangered spinymussels or historic buildings or people with asthma, anyway?

I do.

I guess that's really what I wanted to say.

The Quarry, Part I

(The above photo was taken Christmas Day, 2004. The smoke is from the cement plant. When the stakes let go, I can see it from my house.)

I live about four miles from a cement plant and quarry. The industry is on property that once belonged to my ancestors, who are also my husband's ancestors. His branch of the family ultimately sold parts of their farmland for this big hole in the ground.

While I can't do anything about that, since I wasn't even born, I do feel some responsibility for this environmental apocalypse.

On Monday as I worked, I was on the phone with a person who lives a similar four miles from this same industry, only in the other direction. As we spoke, there was a blast. "That was from the quarry," we both said as the sound came from all around us and also through the phone lines as we each heard it.

My house let out a resounding crack as something settled.

So over at least an 8-mile land area, that blast rattled windows. Living near such a thing has challenges. It's dusty, for one thing. Even four miles away. Fine white powder settles over the furniture within minutes of dusting. We run four air purifiers in the house to keep the dust down.

It was with horror that I saw that another quarry application was before the planning commission this month. As a writer covering government for the paper I try not to take sides on issues, but I do live here. This quarry would be about 9 miles away from me as the crow flies; about 11 by road.

I wrote my articles about this as straightforward and unbiased as I could. I am sure I did not succeed because at one point I was accused of being biased in favor of the developer.

Which of course was completely wrong. I thought this was a terrible project. Not just because I think quarries, which leave big gashes in the land, are bad. This particular quarry would be located within 100 feet of a major tributary to the James River.

The business people thought this was a fine idea and apparently were nonplussed at the idea of the stream vanishing in their quarry pit.

(I'll continue this later...)

Reaching for the sky

In the eye of the beholder

Book Reviews: Chopping Spree

Chopping Spree
By Diane Mott Davidson
Audio Book Read by Joyce Bean
6 hours abridged

A caterer turns sleuth in this series of books. Goldy the caterer has a murder on her hands. She has to find the killer before he decides she's a problem. While she's doing this she has to balance her work, her son, her husband, her friends...

Fun to listen to, except for the parts with the recipes. Since my cooking skills leave a lot to be desired, I haven't much interest in listening to recipes, but I suspect it is a draw for many women.

3.75 stars

The Gift
Richard Paul Evans
2007

5 stars

Agnes and the Hitman
Jennifer Cruise
2007

2.75 stars

Thanksgiving Thirteen

Today I am thankful for (not in any particular order):

1. My computer, which lets me access the world.

2. My husband, which lets me access, well, him.

3. Socks, which keep my feet warm.

4. The sky, which brings me light and fills the day with soft comforting color.

5. The earth, which feeds me and supports me and offers strength.

6. The moon, which guides me during long nights and ensures I know how small humanity really is.

7. The sun, which brings heat and energy and without which the world would be completely dark.

8. Food, of which I have plenty.



9. My home, which offers me security and peace and solace from the masses.

10. Nature, which delights me every day with the scenes outside my window.



11. My friends, who love me for who I am and in spite of myself.

12. My work, which stimulates me and forces me to
act.

13. The world, which in spite of flawed humanity and the terrible destitutions and depravities that go on every minute, still offers hope, love, goodness and kindness. Until those are also snuffed out, we have a chance.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Retail Therapy

My mother was a super shopper. There was no abuse my father could heap on her, no inconsideration her children could bestow upon her, that could not be solved by buying something.

She swallowed capitalism and merchandising hook, line, sinker. She owned trinkets that, had we lined them side by side, would have stretched at least across the state. Maybe into Florida, I don't know.

Her clothes closet would have outfitted about three high schools when she died. She had blouses and pants hanging in the closet with the tags still on them, things she bought and never wore.

Goodwill is probably still selling her clothes even though it's been years since I handed my half over to them.

She shopped in shoes that made my feet hurt simply to look at them. No sneakers for her - she went in heels. Sometimes her feet ached, so she'd slip her shoes off and roam the mall barefooted, putting her shoes back on to enter stores.

She bought what I call "sitty-around" stuff and clothes, mostly. She did not buy art or things that would acquire value; she bought mass-produced beauties, glass things that would one day be broken. She had a collection of glass bells and a collection of glass birds and a collection of cheap carnival glass.

She collected things that make you blink and wonder who ever thought of creating such a thing in the first place.

When she was alive my closet was much better equipped than it is now, because she was always buying me clothes too. I confess I mostly did not appreciate the clothes and I seldom wore them. This is because, while my mother dressed exquisitely, it wasn't my style. I look very conservative but have a bohemian heart while my mother dressed flashy and had a movie star heart.

The two us rarely agreed in the dressing room, I have to say.

I hated to shop and still do. My mother dragged me after her for years when I was a child and a teen. She spent hours looking at clothes on the racks. She knew where all the sales were and where to buy practically anything in Roanoke.

I know I stood and whined pitifully when I was 10 and stood mulishly silent when I was 15. I did not understand how tightly the grip of purchasing was wrapped around her throat, er, pocketbook.

She lost me numerous times. I learned at a very young age to find a sales clerk and ask her to page my mother on the loudspeaker when my efforts to locate her set my eyes to overflowing. "There's a little girl here who's lost her mother. She says her name is ...." the voice would magically yell across Leggett's or Woolworth's.

My mother would come fetch me, her mouth set tightly. She'd grab my hand and scold me for running off and embarrassing her. I think it usually ended up in a whipping that I never thought I deserved because I didn't run off. I just turned around and she was gone, off in her shopping zone, her nose sniffing out a clearance rack.

No wonder I don't like to shop.

As Black Friday evolved into a kind of post-Thanksgiving freak show, my mother took notice. When the stores started opening early, she started driving in to town in the wee hours.

If she were alive today, she'd be marveling at the fact that she could be at J.C. Penney's at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.

I will still be in bed at 4 a.m. on Friday morning.

Capitalism is not democracy, though in this country the two seem to be as married as any old farmer and his wife. However, we don't have to buy things. Going shopping does not save the country.

In this day and age, I think my main job is to hold on to my money, while the job of everyone else is to take it away from me.

I am outnumbered by a billion to one.

My mother thought her job was to spend money.

She and the other billion got along just fine.

Up Close and Personal

This little fellow - I think it's a "he" because of the bumps on his head, indicating horns, but I can't be certain - came visiting yesterday. I think it is the same young deer I've been seeing for several months.

I spied him first from the window in the room I use for my office. I grabbed the camera and followed him to the other side of the house. The above picture was taken through the garage window.

He was in the front door.

I slipped out the garage door at the rear and moved cautiously to the front of the house. I expected to scare him and not get a shot.

Instead, I slipped around the corner and he posed:



I am a little concerned because this deer is much too socialized. He never ran from me, and I think if I'd had an apple he'd have let me pet him. We do not try to make pets of the deer. This one certainly seems to feel at home.

November Scenes

With new Nikon lens in hand, I wandered the yard and took photos yesterday afternoon. It was balmy and rather pleasant for November.




The shots above are the Blue Ridge Mountains as I see them from the backyard, if I walk about 50 feet from the back door so I can look past the trees I normally see. I think one of those ridges is the Peaks of Otter, but wouldn't swear to it.



The trees above are poplars we planted in 1987. They are now a good 50 feet tall and are beginning to die. They were had 20-year lifespan, I recall. In 1987 that seemed like *such* a long time.

Below are autumn shots.

The Hat

This is the hat I bought my husband.

It is bright orange on top for hunting.



It also converts into a regular ol' hat.

24 Years (and counting)

Today is my 24th wedding anniversary.

On a cold and snowy Friday night in 1983, I stood before the altar in my wedding gown and a hat. My husband was dressed in silver tuxedo.




We married in front of a church full of people and attended a reception at the Country Club. We dashed off to a weekend honeymoon at a B&B in Bath County.

A funny addendum to our new life together happened two days later. We returned home on Sunday. That evening we went to Burger King, which I think was relatively newly opened at that time and one of the few restaurants open then.

Something made us both sick. This was our first illness together. My husband was really more ill than I and he didn't want me around him. He was really missing his mother, as I recall. We had no medicine because, well, we'd just joined our households and we each came from our parents' house. I trotted out to a 24-hour convenience store for some very expensive Pepto. Upon my return he told me he couldn't sleep with me in the bed.

Our first night in our new home, I ended up sleeping on the couch!

Now when he gets sick, which is seldom, he wants me to take care of him. Which I do, although I try to do it from far away because I am very susceptible.

Last year I made a list of 23 reasons I love my husband. I won't repeat it but here's reason number 24:

24. He is considerate.

It could be a very long list because he's a great fellow. He's not without his faults, but who isn't?

We weren't supposed to exchange gifts this year. The dishwasher went clunk a while back and we replaced it and then I bought him an expensive gun safe because the lock on his other (cheap) one went bad.

However, I bought him several pairs of jeans and a very expensive hat because I couldn't help myself. The hat cost $50, which for us is a phenomenal amount of money to spend on a hat. We just don't make such purchases. But he'd been looking for a new "go to hell" hat to hunt in, one with blaze orange. I ran across this hat while shopping yesterday and, knowing he'd been seeking just such a thing (only for like, $3.99), I made the purchase. I haven't told him what it cost.

So I wasn't expecting anything, but when he came in from work this morning he handed me a bag.

He bought me a new Nikon lens for my D40. This is a 200mm lens for shooting shots of animals around the house, he said. It's something I've been wanting and thought I might get for Christmas so this was unexpected.

I am very anxious to get outside and shoot some pictures!

Forgive Me

Wednesday afternoon around 5 p.m., I pulled in the driveway and spied this:



We haven't seen very many nice bucks this year. I rolled down the car window and took a couple of pictures.



Alas, I showed them to my husband. It is hunting season. Today is the first day of rifle season but yesterday hunting with a muzzle loader was legal.

My husband lay in wait for this animal yesterday, and now the spirit of the majestic deer seeks fodder in the heavens.

I feel quite guilty because the deer is dead, even though I did not shoot it. I had a role in his demise simply because I saw him.

I am hoping the great spirit will forgive me. I hate that I played a part in this.

I honor the deer that gave his life so that we may eat. The meat will not go wasted.

I will spare you the obligatory and gory "mighty hunter with dead deer" photos. It is far better to remember the animal in his glory, free and alive and prancing through the field.

Weather Changes

Yesterday it went from this:



to this:



all in a matter of hours!

The temperature dropped, too, of course, since we had snow showers.

This past weeks seems to have been the peak for fall colors, finally. It's the latest I think I've ever seen it. The oak trees on the farm, as you can see, are just now turning.

Unfortunately we still need rain very badly.

Also, the governor last night released the state wide burn ban. It remains in effect in my county, though, as far as I know. Be sure to check your local laws and use common sense if you burn outside. The ground is still really dry.

Thursday Thirteen

13 things I love about my husband:

1. He calls me several times a day.

2. The way he likes to hold hands when we watch TV together.

3. The look in his eye when he sees me.

4. The way he trusts me to pay all the bills.

5. The fact that's he 6' 2" and he towers over me.

6. His patience with me when I'm all excited about some silly something or another.

7. The way he lets me find my own way.

8. His tolerance for my cooking (or lack thereof).

9. His willingness to do home repairs.

10. His willingness to help sometimes with the housework.

11. His intelligence about issues great and small.

12. His passion when he gets on a roll about some particular incident about which he has an opinion.

13. The fact that he loves me back!

This One Got Away

The Mad Gasser

Around Christmas 1933, in my county, not far from where I live, actually, reports began trickling in of an intruder who entered people's homes and then left a noxious gas that made people ill.

After the first incident, more appeared. The intruder made the rounds of the county, apparently sickening first one household and then the next.

Police couldn't catch him.

The phantom gasser was never identified. Nor was the gas he allegedly used identified.

This was during the Great Depression. Times were hard. Folks were facing a new year without knowing if they'd be able to eat.

Local media, which consisted of newspapers at the time, wrote about the story for months. Then it went away.

In 1944, similar events took place in Mattoon, Illinois. People panicked.

The media picked up that story, too.

This last incident occurred during World War II. Times were hard.

Both incidents have been attributed to mass hysteria.

Mass hysteria is a condition where unexplained physical symptoms arise in many people in a region. It's a collective delusion with visible symptoms.

Incidents involving mass hysteria are catalogued throughout history. There's the Salem Witch Trials, , possessed nuns in France, poisoning scares, the War of the Worlds incident with Orsen Well's radio show.

It's not unheard of at all.

Why do I bring this up?

I am wondering if the incidents at a local high school, where students are experiencing "twitching" and other unusual symptoms for which there are no explanations, might indeed be a case of mass hysteria.

I have heard a few news organizations wonder if it is a hoax, but I think that mass hysteria better describes it. It likely is a reaction to the state of the world today.

Think about it. On April 16 there were multiple murders at Virginia Tech. Combine that with the recent reports of MRSA that have had everyone scrambling to wash every surface with bleach.

Add to that the constant fear mongering from the federal government (war with Iran, flu pandemic, Orange alerts, etc.), religion (it's the end-time, after all), and concerns about drought and forest fires and who is bullying whom via text messaging, and you can see how everyone might be suffering from a bit of PTSD or hysteria.

According to Wikepedia, here are six things that must be in place for mass hysteria:

1. "Regional conditions must be conducive" to the mass hysteria's plausibility.
2. "Channels of communication must be available for the reports to spread."
3. "Social and economic stress, as well as a lack of faith in the authorities,predispose people to embrace unconventional interpretations."
4. "[E]very culture has marginal traditions that offer alternative explanations."
5. "A triggering episode often serves as the pebble that commences an avalanche of reports."
6. "[O]utbreaks of unusual manifestations are aided by breakdowns in official control."

I think we can make a case for every one of those six conditions. First we had the Tech shootings and then MRSA (1). Both were widely reported ad nauseum (2). We have high gas prices, and the price of food is skyrocketing; it's going to be a lean Christmas for a lot of people this year. Nobody is expecting the government to do anything to help the lower classes (3). We're looking for the "other explanations" right now - toxins, in particular, are thought to be the problem at the moment (4). As best I can tell, it started with one report among the students and then spiraled (5). The officials so far aren't able to figure out what is happening, and as for other societal breakdowns, well, take a look around at invasions of privacy, the police state atmosphere at airports, the inability to attend a sporting event without being searched, etc. See if that doesn't make (6) sound likely.

I am not making light of the symptoms or what is going on at this local high school. I think it is every bit as real as any labeled disorder and these children are indeed sick.

Parents certainly have a right and a responsibility to do what they think they must to protect their children. The reactions from everyone appears to be warranted.

But we often discount how stress can manifest itself and how the psyche deals with issues that people, especially young people, cannot easily assimilate.

It has to come out somewhere.

What I'm wondering is if we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe it's not a sick building.

Maybe it's a sick society. Maybe these children are like the canaries in the coal mine.

Maybe we should listen to them chirp.

The Idiot Award

I gave myself an Idiot Award today.

Here's what happened.

My husband phoned before 9 a.m., mad as a hornet because a hot air balloon had drifted over the farm while he was trying to round up cattle to take to market.

The cattle stampeded and ran all over the place, causing him untold misery while he huffed and puffed and chased them every which a way. Hot air ballooning can be a problem sometimes for farmers.

He was not a happy camper.

When he called, he wanted the number of the county administrator's office so he could lodge a complaint.

"They're probably not in, today is a holiday," I told him. (This is very important to note for my Idiot Award.)

After listening to much muttering and fussing from him, I hung up the phone. I had to be at a ground-breaking ceremony for an article for the newspaper at 10 a.m. It was about a quarter to nine.

I decided to hustle to the newspaper office, which is five miles away (and in the other direction) to quickly take care of some business.

I breezed in the office just after 9 a.m. The editor was not yet in and I needed a word with him. I made some copies, bothered the typesetter, and then decided to leave.

I thought I'd go to the library and get a new book on tape.

I pulled in the library lot. Silly me. The library was closed.

Of course! It's a HOLIDAY.

What to do, what to do. I had 45 minutes to kill until I had someplace to be.

I know, I thought, I'll go to the grocery store and just not buy anything that needs refrigeration. So I sped down the road.

A few miles passed and I thought, Oh! I forgot the checks I need to put in the bank! I'd better do that.

So I turned down a road that would take me back towards my house, and off I went to home. I had just enough time, I thought.

I raced in the house and began filling out the bank deposit slips. As soon as I dated the form, I realized ... the banks are closed.

IT IS A HOLIDAY.

(I realize I could have used the ATM but I am old fashioned in that way. Don't use the ATM, don't pay the bills online. Hard to change my ways.)

So. By this time I was pretty sure I had the Idiot Award sewed up.

I hustled off to my ground-breaking, took my pictures, talked to the folks. Headed back home, stopped by the grocery, ran through there quickly.

I was home by lunch time.

My husband came in, still muttering about the hot air balloon. He asked about my morning and I told him, somewhat exasperated, about my forgetting about the holiday.

Then, as he was leaving, I reminded him to check the mail.

He looked at me funny. "The mail doesn't run today," he reminded me.

IT IS A HOLIDAY.

At that point, I gave myself the Idiot Award, and he laughed at me.

I laughed too. What else was there to do?