Hurry Spring!

This morning the actual temperature here was 10 degrees with the wind chill taking it down to around 7 below. The good news is that the days are noticeably longer.

Here are a few photos to warm us up.

Mama Don't Take My Kodachrome Away

In the 50's & 60's my father and grandfather shot a lot of slide film. I actually did, too, when I first started taking pictures with my little Instamatic at about age 9. Consequently I have boxes of slides that I really can't conveniently look at. I don't know if we ever had a slide projector. We just used a slide viewer which only allows you to look at one slide at a time. So it's been years and years since I've looked at them.

While Christmas shopping I came across this little thing, Ion Slides 2 PC , a slide and negative scanner at Staples for about $70. On a whim I picked it up. First of all, you get what you pay for, it was pretty cheap and it's not that great. But it did what I wanted, it allowed me to digitize the slides and begin to finally enjoy them. The one disappointing thing is that my father started having his slides developed into a 2 x 2 format and the only scanner I've found that handles that size is out of my price range, for now anyway.

I happened to be in a camera store soon after I bought the scanner and mentioned it to the owner. Despite my admission that I bought the scanner in Staples, this is exactly why I prefer to shop locally rather than in those big box stores where you end up speaking with a clerk who's selling cameras this week and vacuum cleaners next. Gerry in the camera shop actually knew what he was talking about having sold cameras for 30+ years.

Back to my point, Gerry asked how old the slides are. I told him some are 50+ years, and he said, "Don't wait. Scan them ASAP." He went on to explain that Ektachrome only had a lifespan of 35 years as opposed to Kodachrome which was 75 years. As soon as I got home I checked and ack....most of the oldest are Ektachrome! Sure enough, when I began to scan them, I realized they have deteriorated quite badly. I did them all anyway. Despite the poor quality of some, it was wonderful and a bit sad to see all those long-gone faces. So here are a few for your viewing pleasure, I hope!

Mom & Dad and Guess Who? After I scanned this one, I realized you need to defuzz the slides first.

Not just a Day at the Beach!

This was a family reunion in 1956, I'm in the yellow diaper being carried by my great-uncle. I especially love this photo because my great grandmother is there on the left.

I think this is Christmas 1957. Sleepy girl.

Family reunion 1961. Everyone is there, mom, grandparents, great grandmother; everyone but Dad who, no doubt, was behind the camera.

Catskill Game Farm in upstate New York.

A little out of order, this is Story Land on Cape Cod. Whose idea was this?? Hello, Child Services?

I still have this pencil drawing being done at Story Land.

Easter Sunday with my cousins, Don and Dave. Could someone please tell the little girl to put her knees together?

Happy Birthday to me!

Mother Nature's Beauty and Wrath in Massachusetts

Today is the 1st anniversary of a blogging group known as New England Bloggers. To mark the day, we're having a blog carnival. Go and check out all of the participants at Thoughts from an Evil Overlord.

I belong to New England Bloggers because I am a proud native and lifelong Rhode Islander. In my 54 years I have lived in six houses but never more than 15 miles from the first. Paul and I have traveled to many parts of the world but this is home and it's always good to come back.

Rhode Island has many claims to fame. In elementary school everyone everywhere learned that we are the smallest state with the longest name: The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. We are also the yardstick used by national reporters to describe the enormity of something, such as "an iceberg the size of Rhode Island" or "a wildfire the size of Rhode Island...." You get the idea. It's nice to be mentioned but I wish we weren't always used to describe a disaster.

I may have misspoken when I said "everyone learned." As I mentioned, Paul and I have traveled quite a bit in the U.S. as well as overseas. Unfortunetly I have to say that people outside the U.S. often know where Rhode Island is but Americans, not so much. When asked where we're from, I have begun just saying New England. I got tired of being asked "isn't that an island off New York?" when I said Rhode Island. I guess geography isn't taught in school anymore.

Anyway, I am also a tenth generation of this region. My ancestors arrived in 1631 when it was then just called the New World. Because I couldn't narrow down what I wanted to say here, I decided do a photo essay.

Everyone has also heard about New England winters. Here's a story about a doozy. Back in mid-December 2008 Central Massachusetts experienced the worst ice storm it had seen in a decade. Damage was primarily the result of fallen trees and utility wires and poles, which were coated in a heavy layer of ice. A million people lost power and a state of emergency was declared in the state. Even in this day and age, Mother Nature proved she was in charge and many people were without power for up to two weeks.

The pictures below were taken by Carolyn, my friend and cousin-in-law, who lives in Oakham, a little town of about 1700 people. Taken on a sunny day one or two days after the storm, you can see the beauty and devastation Mother Nature wreaked on this rural area.

Hello everyone. I'm Carolyn who took the ice storm pictures. I was amazed that like snow flakes, each tree that was broken was in a different stance. Some of the sights at dusk looked like hooded monsters lurking in the woods and by each roadside! Our power was out for 7 days. "Magnificent Destruction." I took a total of 168 pictures! THAT'S why God created the digi-cam!!!

There's a Party Going on Right Here

Today is my birthday! And.....drum roll please.....I am also the Featured Blogger at SITS. What a great day!

Welcome SITStas! Who or what is SITS, you ask? SITS is a huge, diverse group of bloggers who offer support and comments to others; truly a unique community in the blogosphere.

When I started blogging I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. Gradually it became a very important (and sometimes all consuming) part of my daily life. Soon after getting started, I was introduced to SITS. Along the way, I have been entertained, educated and encouraged by so many.

So let me tell you a little about me. The title and design of my blog, It's a Jungle Out There was inspired by a safari in South Africa a few years ago.

Unlike many in SITS, I am not a WAHM or a SAHM or even a mother. Married for nearly 25 years to a man who made me giggle and blush at 16, I do, however, have a wonderfully blended family that includes two stepchildren and five grandchildren who often find themselves mentioned in my posts. In my day job, I'm a full-time Realtor who finds time to be involved in my community. I'm a traveler, animal lover, photographer and genealogist. Life is good.

Want to know more? Take a look at the posts I've linked below. Hopefully you'll find them interesting, maybe a bit entertaining, and worth sticking around for more.

Home Sweet Home

Adventures in Sorrento & Capri

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me?

Thanks so much for stopping by. I hope to see you again.

Don't Make Me Hurt the Pie

In October 1987 I made a Key Lime Pie. Then I took the pie for a ride. It spent the night in the car and in the morning, with a satisfied little smile, I turned the uncut pie over and with a snap dropped it from the pie plate into the trashcan in the garage. There! That'll show him!

I remember the date because I remember the report of a California earthquake was on television. I know there was another, larger quake in October 1989 but I'm pretty certain this was 1987. My mind and memory work like that sometimes. But I digress.

Paul's absolute favorite dessert is pie. I'm not sure he ever met a dessert he didn't like but pie is the favorite. And I think key lime is pretty close to the top. So with much love and care that particular day I made a key lime pie. He was impressed when it came out of the oven and sat cooling on the rack.

Then the fight started. About what? Who knows! Not a clue. I was mad enough though that I grabbed my keys and headed for the car. I got into the car and thought..."oh no, I'm not leaving the pie for him to enjoy while I'm mad." Back into the house, I took the pie out to the car and left.

I drove around aimlessly for a little while but wasn't ready to go home yet so I stopped to see friends. After watching the reports of the quake for a while, I went home. No resolution to the argument, just silence which the next day slowly went away.

Still feeling like I had to make some statement, in the morning I went out to the garage, grabbed the pie and WHAM into the trash. With a smug little smile I went back into the house, washed the pie plate and put it away. It was as if the pie never existed.

Of course the fight was over nothing, aren't most? A day or two later.......

Paul: "Whatever happened to the key lime pie?"
Me: "I threw it away"
Paul: "That was clever"
Me: "I thought so"

I didn't make another key lime pie for nearly 20 years. I really don't bake that often which was why the first pie was such a momentous occasion.

Yesterday at the grocery store in the 'slightly used' produce section as my mother calls it, they had apples. Eight to a package, in great shape, they were only $1.50. I bought some and a Pillsbury Pie Crust. Once again, thinking he would be surprised and pleased, I lovingly made a pie.

Paul came in later, tired and a little cranky, after cutting down a tree for next winter's firewood. After a couple cross words, I said "Don't give me any crap or the pie goes for a ride."

Where Have All the Flowers Gone

My mother, who at 77 apparently reads the obituaries daily, has commented a few times recently that the florists must really be hurting. Nearly every obit says...."in lieu of flowers......" and then lists charities, funds, schools, etc., that the family would like to see donations made to instead of flowers.

It seems all the big grocery stores have floral shops. Not just for bouquets and cut flowers either. Some actually have people there who can make up arrangements. The grocery store I most often shop in is owned by a huge conglomerate in Holland. So that's where the bulk of their profits go.

I admit, I have grabbed flowers there a few times for Mom or my own table for a special occasion. But when I need an arrangement, I call a florist. I even have a few in my contact list in Florida and Louisiana, where I have family, that I call when I need something sent to someone down there.

So what IS happening to the local florists? Slowly going out of business, I would guess. Paul and I feel strongly that we should Think Globally, Act Locally, or in this case, Buy Locally. I've even written a couple posts about a buy local organization I belong to.

We have several friends who own small businesses, Paul's cousin and his wife actually own a flower shop. I wrote about friends who own a hardware store. I can tell you, these people are struggling. They are swimming against a tide that is most likely going to take them under. It's just a question of when.

It's a new year. One of my resolutions is to make more of an effort to shop locally.

The Attitude of Gratitude

The program year for 2009 is just about wrapped up at Adopt-a-Family. Our last job is to get the Thank You letters written by the recipients to their donors thanking them for their generosity. To the people who shop, wrap and tag the gifts for those they "adopt."

I'm the lucky one who opens the mail and gets to be the first to read the letters. We then forward them on to the actual donor. The letters, usually written by the parents, often include greeting cards, art work done by the kids, letters written by the kids and occasionally a little photograph of the children.

I try to set aside time to sit with the letters. I like to do it when I'm alone because I usually end up sniffing back tears and blowing my nose. Some of the letters are that touching. Here's a sampling of some of the letters from this year:

"The stockings were the best. It was so sweet and touching, it made me cry. Thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart. Now we have something for every year to remember all of you by."

"I'm dearly grateful being the head of the household just barely making ends meet. My family were without the word "Merry." We are truly in a forever state of appreciation that you have marked our Christmas in a special way. As a Christian I quote the bible when it says that you shall reap what you sow. You have sowed in abundance so will you reap greater. God bless you and your family with health, peace and Joy. P.S. I know that my financial state next year will be greater. So I will sow to a less fortunate family."

"It brings tears to my eyes when I think of what a blessing you were to my family. You were amazingly generous to us. Thank you so very much!! Abigail loves her new brown furry boots. Caroline also loves her new fleece pajamas. The children all enjoyed the new sled. It goes farther than any sled they've had. Nathanial was thrilled with his transformer. He said he just 'knew' Santa would bring him one because he asked him for one. Such childlike faith!"

"The gifts were a blessing. Their eyes lit up with every gift they unwrapped."

"Thank you for the generous amount of food groceries. Thank you!! I was speechless when I saw it. I can't say or express my gratitude for the diapers as well. You took the little info of the boys and acknowledged their likes. They were surprised to see the characters they like."

"God bless your home! Thank you very much for making our Christmas happen. We love every one of the gifts we got and we are sending you a lot hugs from the bottom of our heart."

"Thank you so much. I couldn't believe all the gifts! Thank you so much for the coats & boots. They are very much needed. You are wonderful to help people you don't even know. I don't know what I would have done this year for Christmas."

"There was no favorite gift. They were all great. Just the fact that you took the time out of your day and the money out of your pocket means more to us than what was received."

"I hope you had a great Christmas and I hope that God blesses you everyday. Without people like you in this world I don't know what I would do."

"I am so thankful that you were so generous to my children this Christmas. It was difficult just recently getting laid off and not knowing what they would have. My wish for you is that someone could do such a nice thing for you as you did for us in a time of need."

"My wish for you is that you never know hardship and that you and your family are happy and safe always!"

I have to say that sentiments like these make all the hard work very worthwhile.

What is Wrong with People?

Paul and I took my mother to dinner last night at a local steakhouse. When we got there, the restaurant was already full. There were probably 15 people waiting to be seated, all sitting on benches near the door.

My mother walks with a cane so I had to help her through the door and up to the hostess podium where I left my name for the 40 minute wait. I turned her around to get out of the way and hopefully sit, but not one person got up to let my elderly mother sit down!

Realizing no one was moving, I steered her to a spot in a corner. We actually had to stand right in front of three men. One of the three was an older guy but the other two were probably in their 30's; one wearing a pair of red sweat pants in about size 50 and the other was busy texting. I looked down at both of them but neither would meet my gaze.

As I stood there holding on steadying her, I was calculating how far back I would have to step to land on the foot of one of the jerks sitting behind us. I also thought about stumbling backwards and landing on one of them. That wouldn't have worked because it would have taken Mom down, too.

At this point Paul, who had dropped us and gone to park the car, walked in. He looked across the way at me with a puzzled expression probably trying to figure out what was biting me. I must have had steam coming out of my ears, I was so angry. I seriously thought about looking around and saying "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

After we stood there about 5 minutes, a man finally stood up across the way and motioned us over. "There's a spot opening up over there, Mom, let's go sit." "I'm okay here, I can stand." "No, Mom, he's offering his seat, let's go."

The fact that 15 ADULTS sat there within 15 feet of my mother as I held on to her and she held on to a counter, just completely infuriated me. I’m still not over it. I sputtered 4-letter words for quite a while. Even after that man got up and let us sit, not immediately though, I still sat there glaring at them all. I really just wanted to say “shame on you.” But that would have just embarrassed her. In fact as I led her to the seat, she said “do I look like that much of an old lady?” I just said, out loud, "he’s being a gentleman, Mom, let’s let him."

If looks could kill, I'd be in jail.

Can We Get Back to Being Just Plain Americans?

Don't get excited, this isn't a political blog; not now, not ever. It's not that I don't have political opinions. I've got opinions on most everything, just ask Paul, but that's not where I'm going with this. I will tell you, though, I am a proud American. Not much gets me more choked up and teary than hearing our national anthem or seeing Americans in uniform.

As an amateur genealogist, I am always curious about another person's heritage. Not because I need to "label" them, I just often find it fascinating because I've always thought my ancestry was pretty boring. Of course that was before I made my Pilgrim connection. But I'm about as much of a WASP as you can get, White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, a heritage I don't find very interesting.

But this idea of being hyphenated Americans is starting to get on my nerves. I am so sick of hearing people add the nationality of their ancestors to American, especially since it puts American in second position.

If you are a naturalized citizen, maybe that's a little different, but if you were born here, I don't care if your father, grandfather or great-grandmother was born on Mars.....you are NOT a Martian-American. YOU ARE AN AMERICAN!

I'm not suggesting that we forget where we or our families came from. Please don't ever forget your heritage. Families should remember their culture, their cuisine, their religion, their language. Please teach it to your children, your grandchildren. Be proud of your ancestry but do you really have to tag it onto the nationality you really are?

Paul and I spent two weeks in Portugal a couple years ago. On our way home when going through the Lisbon airport, one of the immigration officials asked for my passport. She immediately recognized that my last name, my married name, was Portuguese. Paul's grandparents were born in the Azores, a group of islands about 900 miles off the coast of Portugal.

When I got married almost 25 years ago, I probably should have kept my maiden name, it fit me a whole lot better than my married name does. As a six-foot redhead, no one would ever mistake me for being of Portuguese descent.

So when the immigration lady looked at my passport, obviously recognizing the origin of the name, she asked "Do you know anyone who is Portuguese?" I smiled, pointed at Paul and said, "Like him?" She glanced at his passport and gave me a withering look that seemed to ask, 'are you stupid?' then said "he was born in Massachusetts." In other words, "he's not Portuguese, he's American."

After that, I realized that in other countries, no matter where your parents, grandparents or any other ancestors were born, if you were born here, you are an American. So why can't we Americans seem to get that message?

A Tale of Two Families

In December of 1954, just a few days after Christmas, in a little town called Warren, two 12-year-old cousins headed out behind the house of one of them looking for some rabbits to shoot.

As they made their way across the field, one tripped, his shotgun went off and struck his cousin in the abdomen. In what can only be imagined as absolute panic, he ran back to the house and got the boy's father. The father went to his son, brought him back and laid him on the sofa to wait for the ambulance. On route to the hospital, the boy died.

That boy was my husband's brother, Frankie, the oldest of five sons. Along with Paul, who was 9 years old at the time, there were three younger brothers; 8, 7 and 16 months. I have seen many photos of Frankie, but I think there is only one with Paul's father and all five of his sons. Sadly, I've never seen any of all five with their mother. She was probably the one behind the camera and with five boys, I doubt she had much time to sit down with all of them at any one time.

How this tragedy affected Paul's family doesn't need to be explained. As with any mother who loses a child, Frankie's death ripped a hole in his mother's heart that never healed. During the eulogy for his mother, Paul referred to the time right after Frankie's death when they wondered whether their mother would ever return to them from the place her grief had taken her.

I met the lady who would become my mother-in-law more than 30 years later. The woman I knew had an inquisitive mind, a warm smile and quick laugh. There were photos of Frankie and all her boys around her house. Even all those years later, she spoke about him occasionally; usually relating a funny story. Raising five sons on a farm made for lots of funny stories.

But what happened to the cousin whose shotgun misfired? Nothing legally, it was obviously an accident, but I can only imagine that he and his family were profoundly affected, too. Part of a family of Portuguese immigrants who settled in Warren in the late 1800's, soon after the accident, his parents moved their four children to another state.

Yesterday after the funeral of another elderly family member, I met Paul's cousin Joe, the other 12-year-old boy from that day long ago. A nice man, a retired college professor, he impressed me as being a quiet, gentle man. Over the years, Paul has seen him a few times when they were in the area for family gatherings like the funeral, but the accident was never discussed. At times it must have been something like the elephant in the room.

Later, when we talked about Joe, Paul said he wishes he could have a conversation with him to find out exactly what happened that day. I was just lost in thought imagining how two innocent boys and their families were forever changed that awful day in 1954.

Sorry Martha

I have never been a fan of Martha Stewart. In fact, for a long time I had a real dislike for her. That tempered a little when she went to prison a few years ago for something I thought she was a scapegoat for. Had she been a man, I believe she would never have spent a day in jail. But she kept her head up high, did her 'time' and came back stronger than ever.

But I digress. Mainly the reason I never cared for her was that she made so much look so easy. Whether it was cooking, remodeling or crafting, nothing was a big deal. I always thought, yeah, it's easy when you've got a staff and tons of money.

One day this week as I sat waiting for the oil to be changed in my car her morning show was on the TV in the the customers' waiting area. She had a segment on stir fry cooking. One of the recipes she prepared in 'real time' was Stir-Fried Honey-Ginger Chicken with Peppers over Jasmine rice.

It looked simple and tasty. Last night I made it for dinner and it was terrific. It was also the first time I've ever intentionally used one of Martha Stewart's recipes. It's a recipe I call a keeper.

Thanks, Martha, and sorry.

On Being a Pilgrim.....Almost

I began searching my genealogy at the age of 20, much earlier than most start looking at their family tree. My grandfather always repeated family history and when I showed an interest, he gave me one of those books with blank family trees and pages where you can write in your own family information.

This was long before everyone had access to the Internet and all the genealogical information available there now. Back then, and now to some extent, you still had to visit Town Halls, join genealogical associations that shared information and tramp through cemeteries looking for ancestors. I picked away at it over the years. I was in no rush. I figured I had a lifetime to search and they certainly weren't going anywhere since they were already dead.

My grandparents' knowledge only went back a couple generations and most of that, especially when it got interesting, was pretty speculative. Like my grandmother telling me that there was an American Indian woman in her family. I've traced most of her line back to 1635, no Indians in sight. We had one who was killed by Indians but I don't think she even knew of that. I did find one woman who was supposedly Creole and came from some island in the Caribbean. If that's true, she probably adds a little "color" to my ancestry in more ways than one.

The most important and exciting discovery I have made to date is that I am a direct descendant of Rev. John Robinson, Pastor to the Pilgrims. Yes, those Pilgrims.

For years I had been stuck at my great, great, great grandfather Joseph Robinson despite my best efforts to trace his lineage. A few years ago after putting a query on a genealogy bulletin board I was contacted by a woman, also a Robinson descendant, who sent me my full Robinson lineage back to John Robinson born 1552 in England. His son, also John, a minister, left England and settled in Holland in 1609 with a group of English Puritans, some of whom would later become The Pilgrims.

In 1620, you will remember, 102 set sail on the Mayflower for the New World. Reverend Robinson, however, stayed behind with the rest of his congregation with intentions to join them at a later time in what they thought would be Virginia. Unfortunately he never made it to the New World. He died during a plague in Holland in 1625.

Isaac Robinson, son of Reverend Robinson and his wife Bridget White, was born in Holland, in 1610. In 1631, at the age of 21, Isaac sailed to America on the ship, Lion.

By his first wife, Margaret Hanford, Isaac had five children; he had four more children by his second wife, Mary Faunce. Isaac’s son Peter had 15 children and his grandson fathered 12, so the Robinson influence was well established in America.

Fast forward 336 years from when the Mayflower actually landed in Massachusetts Bay Colony, and you'll find me, a ninth-generation Robinson born on this side of the Atlantic.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, I'm a Pilgrim.......almost.

Attention all Home Owners and Potential Home Buyers

It’s a perfect time to make a great investment!

In November, Congress extended the tax credit for first time home buyers.

Who is eligible to claim the $8,000 tax credit?
First-time home buyers purchasing any kind of home—new or resale— to be used as a principal residence costing $800,000 or less are eligible for the tax credit. To qualify for the tax credit, a home purchase must occur on or after January 1, 2010, be under contract on or before April 30, 2010 and close before June 30, 2010.

What is the definition of a first-time home buyer?
The law defines “first-time home buyer” as a buyer who has not owned a principal residence during the three-year period prior to the purchase. Ownership of a vacation home or rental property not used as a principal residence does not disqualify a buyer as a first-time home buyer.

How is the amount of the tax credit determined?
The tax credit is equal to 10 percent of the home’s purchase price up to a maximum of $8,000.

Are there any income limits for claiming the tax credit?
The income limit for single taxpayers is $125,000; the limit is $225,000 for married taxpayers filing a joint return. Single or head-of-household taxpayers with income between $125,000-$145,000 and joint filers between $225,000-$245,000 qualify for reduced credits.

Is this a loan?
No, the tax credit does not need to be repaid as long as you continue to own the home for a minimum of 3 years.

There is a special deadline for people serving in the Military: The deadline has been extended until June 30, 2011 for members of military who have served outside the United States for at least 90 days between January 1, 2009 and May 1, 2010.

If you are a current homeowner, you don’t have to be left out.

As part of the new legislation, there is a tax credit of up to $6500 for ‘move-up’ buyers. Those are buyers who have owned their current home for at least 5 of the 8 previous years. The same restrictions apply regarding the date that the transaction must be completed by.

With mortgage rates and home prices still low, there's never been a better time to buy a house.

**As a full-time Realtor, I am part of an organization called Leading Real Estate Companies of the World, a global network of nearly 700 premier real estate firms with 5,500 offices and 170,000 sales associates in 38 countries around the world. If you are considering a move or a purchas of a home and need some assistance or just have some basic real estate questions, let me know. I'd be happy to refer you to an agent in your area or answer your questions.**

Calling Out vs. Calling In

When did calling in sick become calling out sick?

When I still worked a job with regular hours, if I was too sick to go to work (or needed a 'mental health' day), I called in sick.

Now I hear people talk about calling OUT sick.

When did that change?

Whatever Happened To.....

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

Isn't that the unofficial motto of the U. S. Postal Service?

We haven't received mail since last year!

Thursday we had a little snow, less than three inches. Friday was New Year's Day, a holiday. Yesterday we had light snow most of the day but not even enough to plow. Mostly it just blew around. Yet the mail hasn't been delivered since last Wednesday!

Hello? This is New England, people! I can't believe it's the weather. They won't deliver if they can't drive right up to it but the mailbox is totally accessible.

I don't know why I even care. I'm not expecting anything except maybe a late Christmas card. I pay most of our bills online now. So why do I miss getting the mail so much?

It's just something I have always looked forward to. Somebody is thinking of me.

I guess I need to get over that. Later. Tomorrow I'm calling the post office. I want my mail!

Highbush Cranberry--January

And a New Year begins......

To see the changes, go to June, July, August, September, October, November and December.