I Think I Might Have a Problem

Can you have specific OCD or does it have to infiltrate your whole life? I wrote a while back about my OCD when it comes to my shoes and their care and storage. Generally I'm a little messy, I'm a piler (a piler, not a plier) of books, magazines, etc. It's fortunate for me, on so many levels, that I have a weekly housekeeper because it forces me to clear horizontal surfaces and put things away in preparation for Ana's Tuesday visits.

I'm pretty certain I'm not a germaphobe but I might be heading that way. I have never liked having my hands dirty for any length of time. I get to soap and water ASAP and always have wipes in my purse and car.

These are some of the habits that seem to be growing and which make me wonder.....

After ordering and closing the menu in a restaurant, I either use hand sanitizer, wipes, or head for the nearest restroom. Who KNOWS what was on the hands of the last diner? And I need AT LEAST two napkins; one for my lap and one for my hands and mouth. An extra one just in case is good, too.

I really don't care for finger food. I'm lucky I can eat a sandwich. When eating chips or nachos, I wipe my fingers off on a napkin or paper towel every two to three. Grease! Although I CAN pick up a slice of pizza, it's not uncommon to see me use a knife and fork. But I LOVE pizza so I struggle through. Chicken wings, another favorite, are a serious problem.

Shake my hand? (Remember, I'm in business and meets lots of people) There are wipes in the car. I even tend to wipe off the steering wheel of my own car before tossing it into the trash.

Remotes in hotel rooms? Wipes. Keyboards & mice in libraries, etc.? Wipes. There are more, I'm sure, that don't come to mind immediately.

But what brought this on this morning? The newspaper. I was putting yesterday's paper in the recycling bin and had to move a copy of our little weekly paper. I love it but the little paper is not clean; the ink comes off the newsprint and makes my hands black. Not to mention the ink sometimes comes off the paper and gets on your clothes. Good thing it only comes out once a week.

Our daily and Sunday paper is clean! I was so thrilled when they announced that change a few years ago. I'm one of those who still prefers to read the paper in its orignal form. Good thing it's clean, I don't think newsprint would stand up well to hand sanitizer and wipes!

A Broken Circle Reconnected

I have a new first cousin. Her name is Carol, and she was born June 16. That would be June 16, 1946.

When Carol was sixteen days old, her mother, my aunt, my mother's only sister, arranged for her to be adopted. My aunt already had one baby daughter, Betty, born one year earlier almost to the day. In between the births of her daughters, her husband left. Twenty years old, single and faced with raising two babies alone, she felt the best thing to do would be to give Carol up to be raised by someone who would be able to give her what she needed. That's our assumption, my aunt would never talk about it.

She eventually married again and had another two children, two sons. In the 60 years after Carol was born and until her death five years ago, my aunt steadfastly refused to discuss her. My mother was 13 when Carol was born. She saw her only once and knew she had been adopted by a woman she knew only as "Mrs. C." Shortly after Carol was born, Mrs. C moved. My mother never saw them again. Until a week ago.

Although I was close and spent lots of time in my aunt's house growing up, it wasn't until I was an adult that my mother told me about Carol. Or she told me as much as she knew about her, which wasn't much. Betty found out about her eventually, too, and talked about finding her sister. But all we had was that last name. No first name for Mrs. C, nothing. A few years ago, Betty's daughter did find some of their biological father's family but he had died and the family knew nothing about Carol either.

I've done a lot of genealogical research on the family over the years and have tried but never had any luck finding Carol. A long time ago I put a query out on a genealogy online bulletin board asking if anyone knew Carol "C" born 6/16/46. I never received a response.

Recently Betty called me again saying she really wanted to find Carol. This time I started going through records on Ancestry.com. Sure enough, within 5 minutes I had found an obituary of a man who died two years ago whose wife's name was Carol with the maiden name "C." He was about the age she would be and they lived in the same town that my aunt was living in all those years ago. Could it be? Could it be that Mrs. C and Carol were living right there in town all along?

A little more research and I had an address for Carol. I gave Betty the information and she sat down to write a letter. What should she say? Suppose Carol didn't know she was adopted? Suppose she did and didn't want a connection to her biological family? Betty sent the letter and it came back.....Addressee Unknown. A dead end.

I went back to the computer and found several people with her married name in the same little town. Before I had a chance to start making some random calls, Betty's husband called me and said, "I think we've found her." He had beat me to the random calling and found a relative of Carol's late husband who said she'd remarried and moved to another state. They had her cell number.

It was Carol, our Carol. She knew she had been adopted. Her birth date was right, and she had discovered her father's last name years ago. Her adoptive mother, who died 30 years ago, would never discuss her birth either. Carol wanted to know more but with nothing except a last name to go on, she could never find more.

Now here we were. Her family. She was excited to learn that she had a sister, two half brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins and an aunt. Several times she told us that she grew up happy and well loved but had always wanted to know more.

We sent her family photos and she sent some of her. Her resemblance to my aunt, her mother, is astonishing. If there ever was any doubt about who she is, once we saw her, it was gone. One of the grand kids looked at a photo of Carol and her husband and asked, "who's the man with Nana?"

Last week Betty, her husband, Bob, Mom and I traveled to meet Carol. After 64 years (almost to the day), several phone calls and a few emails, Carol had her family and Betty had her sister.

It's (Never) Too Late

Sunday night, Gisele and I, along with 9,000 of our closest friends, had the pleasure of seeing James Taylor and Carole King in concert at Mohegan Sun on their Troubadour Reunion Tour.

We've had these tickets since January. The morning they went on sale I was at the computer. The first show for Saturday night sold out FAST. I finally got to the point where I could choose and buy the seats. On Ticketmaster you end up in a queue online and only have so many minutes to pick and purchase seats or you get thrown out.

The seats I chose weren't exactly what I wanted but I was happy to get them. We ended up in the nosebleed section but what could you expect for $100 a ticket? (I know this is cheap for big shows now, but I'm a child of the 60's and 70's when I paid $4.75 to see the best concerts) It didn't matter. We've both seen JT several times but never Carole and to see them together was too good to miss. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, to me it was the chance of a lifetime.

We were far above the stage and couldn't see much clearly but it was a revolving deal so at least no one was behind it. We had to be satisfied with watching on the screens around the arena but the camera guys (and girl) did a great job. Although there were several times I wished I could see Danny Kortchmar's and Leland Sklar's guitar work other than when the cameras were on them. But the acoustics were terrific, and we didn't miss a word or a note.

I'm not sure I've ever seen a concert that started with a standing ovation. The emotion of the crowd continued right through their second encore when they finished the show with You Can Close Your Eyes which is a particular favorite of mine and takes me back to long ago and bittersweet memories. Throughout the show I was leaning forward with elbows on knees and chin in hand.

In some ways it was like seeing two different shows because they played many songs together but usually with one out front and the other singing and playing back up. They played most all the songs we wanted to hear....So Far Away, Machine Gun Kelly, Smackwater Jack, Country Road, Sweet Baby James, Fire and Rain and many more. When they played Up on the Roof, a song Carole wrote but which they both recorded, they each played it the way they recorded it, two definitely different interpretations. It was fun to see their two different styles on the same song.

The affection and camaraderie between the two was so clear. What amazed me was how spontaneous they made the show feel. The banter between the two as well as James' witty comments and stories (he's funny!) seemed so fresh and original. And when they played all the songs they have probably played hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, they seemed to be playing them the first time for an audience. I guess that's the mark of people who love what they do. The adulation of 9,000 fans probably didn't hurt either.

A few times Carole got up from the piano and danced around in her 4" heels and got the crowd clapping along. You'd never know she's 68 years old. JT is 62 and although he is beginning to look his age, that smile and sweet voice are still there. They both seem to have just gotten better with age. Or maybe I just want to believe we all do. They sure made me feel like the 16-year-old who wore out her first copy of Tapestry back in the early 70's. Is it really that long ago?

On The Road Again

Paul and I recently made our annual trek to OBX, the outer banks of North Carolina. The photo on the right was a stallion following along behind his mares and a foal on the beach one day we were there. We didn't see too many wild horses this year.

This is our third year at OBX since buying a timeshare in Kitty Hawk on eBay, sight unseen. Not only had we never seen the condo, neither Paul nor I had ever been to OBX.

During the week of the auction I did some serious Internet research but it was still a leap of faith when I kept increasing my bid in those last minutes of the auction and then won. It turned out to be a great buy. The condo is beautiful and in a great spot. We start looking forward to it every March when we've had just about enough winter.

This year we left a couple days early and extended our vacation. On the way to OBX we stopped in Ocean City, Maryland, for what we expected would be a quiet couple days in an oceanfront hotel. Here's the view from our balcony. This is peaceful but it tells you nothing about what was going on in front of the hotel.

We had no idea that the week we picked to stop in Ocean City was the same week that the 20th Annual Cruisin' Ocean City was happening. On the way down we kept noticing classic cars on the road. We figured there was probably a car show somewhere south but didn't know we were heading right into it.

Right into it is right. The town was full of hot rods, custom cars and street machines of every vintage, make, model, color and style. They drove up and down the main drag called Coastal Highway. And anywhere there was a parking lot along the street you would see cars parked with some people sitting in canvas chairs and others wandering from car to car looking under the hoods.

Plus there were people lined up on the sidewalks along the street watching the impromptu parade.

The show is open to cars built in 1979 or earlier. The formal registration is limited to 3,000 but a total of about 7,000 cars show up and the weekend draws 100,000 people. It's based at the local Convention Center but spills everywhere in town.

Paul was in his glory. A 'gearhead' in his teens and twenties when he built, rebuilt, raced and wrecked a few cars, it was a trip down memory lane for him. There's a '90 convertible Corvette in the garage now. And as much as I appreciate wandering around looking, we have been to many car shows over the years, this was definitely sensory overload.

Coastal Highway runs past all the hotels, motels, restaurants, t-shirt shops and other places that want your money. There are traffic lights every block which gave the hot rods and street machines just enough time to go through a couple gears and leave some rubber before they had to shut it down for the next light.

The noise was incredible but it was fun to watch. I much prefer to watch the cars moving rather than sitting in a parking lot with the hoods up. Yeah, that's a lot of chrome but how fast does it go? The smell of testosterone was everywhere or maybe it was just exhaust. I felt like I was in a scene from American Graffiti.

Here are a few of the many photos I took. Whether you care about cars or not, you have to admit that the work and money that goes into these machines is pretty awesome.

So it wasn't the quiet few days at the beach we were expecting but it was fun. We heard there is a Bike Week in Ocean City in September when about 10,000 bikes and 200,000 people show up. We'll skip that. I've been to Laconia, and Paul goes every year.

Maybe we'll make Ocean City Cruisin' an annual event.

Today Stop and Remember

Today is Memorial Day, a day to remember the men and women, past and present, who have sacrificed and continue to sacrifice so much for all of us. I am guest posting over at Words of Wisdom. Please stop by and help me honor them.

The World Turned Upside Down

It's been nearly two weeks since I last wrote a post so you might think I have a lot to say. Yet here I sit struggling to think of something with great content to write about.

Great content? In case you don't know, that's my shameless plug for the new blog that Pam and I began recently. Please take a few minutes and visit Words of Wisdom to see what it's all about. Let me say right away that this post is not going to fall into the great content category but maybe it will help me figure out why it's been so long since my last post.

Let's see. I'm happy to report that real estate has been very busy these last few weeks. Several new clients and a couple closings have taken up a lot of time. Recently I was invited to a very special lunch with the President and CFO of our agency to honor the Top Producers of 2009. I was really pleased to be one of the 18 agents to receive that distinction.

I also attended a Volunteer Appreciation Breakfast at Fidelity Investments locally to thank the many, many people who donate their time, energy and money to Adopt-a-Family each year. The people at Fidelity are responsible for providing for 10% of the children we help annually. Our program is just one of many they are involved with, and it was terrific to hear about all the great work they do.

I saw a great production of The Odd Couple at Trinity Rep a couple weeks ago. Based, of course, on the television sitcom of the 70's, the play was set in a 1960's television studio complete with bright lights and live commercials between acts. With two of the favorites of the company cast as Felix and Oscar, the show was full of great laughs.

And last but not least, another reason I have been absent is my new laptop! I have been spending lots of time transferring files and learning the new programs and operating system. This is my first laptop and it is taking some getting used to but I know I'm going to love the portability of it. We are hoping to get away for a few days soon, and it's going to be great to have a computer with us. The desktop will now be Paul's. Yahoo! No more sharing.

So that's about it. In addition to neglecting my own blog I'm afraid I've been neglecting lots of others and have not visited much lately. I'm almost afraid to open my Reader. I'm expecting to see over 1,000 unread posts. As much as I hate to, I just might have to hit that dreaded delete all button. And I was doing so well keeping up with all of you! Oh well, tomorrow is another day. It's great to be back.

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

I was out taking some pictures this week. This one of Rosey in a patch of bugleweed is my favorite of the day.

Have a great weekend all.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

It's well before 6 a.m. and here I am. Up. The dogs aren't even awake. The only sounds I hear are the birds, which is nice, and the noise of my keyboard. I'd like to say the milkman woke me but he didn't. I was awake before he came this morning. (Yes, we have a milkman. He even delivers our milk in glass bottles. I know. How very 1950's.)

What I wouldn't give to be able to waste a few hours away in the morning sleeping late. I saw a newspaper article about organizing your life starting with the morning. It went something like this: When your alarm clock goes off, do you hit the snooze button and sleep another 10 minutes? When it goes off again, do you hit it again for another 10 minutes? Do you hit it again 10 minutes later? When it goes off again do you jump up in a panic realizing you only have 20 minutes to get out the door?

Oh I wish. I would love to sleep late, to laze in bed until 10 or 11. But I can't. I haven't set an alarm clock in at least 15 years. That is unless I have an early morning plane to catch and then I set two and wake hourly because I'm sure I have set them wrong, overslept and missed the plane. On those nights I probably shouldn't even go to bed.

Otherwise, I never set an alarm clock. No matter what time I go to bed or in what condition, I wake up at 5 o'clock. It's a curse. As soon as I become conscious, my mind starts to go. As hard as I try to distract myself, to clear my mind, I can't go back to sleep. Most mornings I give up after 30 minutes and get up.

The only good thing is that during that first half hour when I'm still in bed, I think I write my best stuff and come up with most of the topics for blog posts. Or at least that's when my creative juices seem to flow more easily. But oh how I would love to go back to sleep and wake to find it's 9 o'clock. Never happens. I suppose now it's because I'm old or going through menopause but that wasn't so 15 years ago.

Paul laughs at me because if I lay down on the couch in the evening to watch television, I fall asleep. It doesn't matter if it's the most fascinating program I have ever seen; turn on the TV and Sandy is asleep. But I've been up since 5 a.m., I'm tired! Fortunately I seldom have trouble falling asleep, just staying that way.

Last night was particularly short because I was up until nearly midnight. Four-thirty this morning I was looking at the clock, thinking Oh gawd, not already!

This afternoon I have a company lunch to go to. I received an invitation to a Top Producer Luncheon with the president and CFO. I think I better find some cucumber slices to put on these eyes so I don't look like something the cat dragged in. Falling asleep in my salad wouldn't look right either. Or maybe I could just go back to bed and try to sleep. Nah, where's that cucumber?

Highbush Cranberry--May

It appears that I have come full circle with this project of posting photos of our Highbush Cranberry. I have been faithful to my commitment made last June to post monthly photos of this beautiful shrub in our yard and many of you have been faithful in checking in and commenting.

The change from April until today is really amazing. We have had a wet spring so maybe that has had an effect but as I've said all along, even though I love this bush, I have never paid quite this much attention to its changes.

Some of the berries from last year are still hanging on although they are looking pretty sad and getting ready to make their exit, I'm sure.


There are berries hanging in there right along side the new growth of what will become this year's fruit.

Last but not least are these blossoms getting ready to pop and become the beautiful white flowers this shrub produces in June.


If you've been following along monthly, Thanks! If you haven't, take a look at each of these posts to watch the progress.

June, July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, and April.

We All Deserve Privacy

Have you ever watched the news on TV and seen one of those situations where a reporter puts a microphone in the face of a victim? It usually happens after some horrible crime either at the scene when emotions are most raw or outside of a courthouse when the reporter asks some ridiculous question like How do you feel about your mother, brother, sister, father being beaten, stabbed, killed, run over?

When I see that I usually think What a ghoul that reporter must be or Why does the family even respond. Then I think, The reporter is just doing her job, she's there to get people to watch her station/read her newspaper or The poor family, they are trapped and feel they have to answer.

I found out yesterday that neither has to happen. Two years ago a very high-profile murder happened locally. A young man killed both of his parents and disposed of their bludgeoned bodies on their property. They were not discovered for two weeks. Very gruesome.

Although the story was covered by the local media when it happened, it was interesting that there were no interviews with the immediate family. There was an extensive newspaper article but it was written from only the details of the police reports. There were interviews with former neighbors but nothing from the family, a large and local one.

Two days ago, almost two years after the murders of his parents, the son was finally brought to trial. On the first day there were no media present in the courtroom.

On the second day, which was supposed to involve jury selection, there was a large contingent of reporters from newspapers and television, videographers and photographers. In the spectators' section of the courtroom sat twenty members of the couple's family, filling up more than half of the benches. It appeared that the media had been placed in a position which made photographing or videoing the family difficult. The click and whir of the cameras was audible but they were all pointed at the lawyers and defendant, not the family.

Soon after the proceedings of the second day began, they came to an end when the defendant changed his plea of not guilty to guilty of all charges. Later it was learned that after the first day of the trial which included the viewing of one of the first taped interviews of the son after his parents were reported missing but before they were found, he decided to change his pleas to guilty and save putting himself through the ordeal of the trial.

With that change, the family was spared the ordeal as well. The trial came to an end, the murderer was escorted out and the family silently and solemnly filed out of the courtroom to an unknown location in the courthouse.

The reporters began falling all over themselves to get out of the courtroom no doubt to be the first to post their reports and be the first to get into the family's faces. Although the reporters milled around in the halls of the courthouse and stayed posted at both exits of the massive building, the family never appeared and the reporters finally gave up and left without their pictures or statements. The family's privacy would be preserved.

The story hit the airwaves immediately but with no photos or statements from the family. The public would have to be satisfied with statements on the courthouse steps from the Attorney General and head of the State Police.

On the evening news at the end of the report of the day's events, the reporter said "The family declined to be interviwed or photographed."

Bravo for them. I wish them peace.

What Business of Yours Is it Anyway?

Recently I was helping a friend who is nearing retirement put together information to file for Social Security benefits. Although I don't know any more about it than he does I have a few more computer skills, and it seemed that doing it online was going to streamline the process.

That turned out to be wrong. He eventually called the local office of the Social Security Administration and after a long time on hold he spoke to a woman who interviewed him and sent forms through snail mail. I guess they figure if you're 65 years old you can't use a computer. While that may be true of many, it's not true of all, and they should make it a little easier to do this online if that's your choice. But that's just the beginning of what I learned that ticked me off about the government.

She asked about marriages, divorces, children, etc. Had he ever been divorced. Yes. Was he married to his former spouse for more than ten years. No.

Apparently if you were married for ten years of longer, your former spouse may be eligible to collect Social Security benefits based on your earnings record when he/she reaches retirement age. This is if you earned more and he/she is not married to someone else at the time. That does not diminish the amount of benefits you collect, however.

While going over the documents he got by snail mail, he began to question whether they had been married more than ten years. The marriage ended over 30 years ago. Who remembers these things, he said. If he was a woman, you know he would remember the time, day and date of the divorce but men aren't wired that way.

After much searching and aggravation he came up with the Petition for Divorce. They had divorced after 11 years of marriage. Obviously the people at SSA would have to be notified.

As I looked over his shoulder at this one legal sheet of yellowed paper that had been folded into quarters, the information obviously typewritten, I noticed that she was granted the divorce on grounds of "extreme cruelty." Having known this friend for a few years and knowing that he could never have been guilty of "extreme cruelty" in any situation, never mind against a woman he shared children with, I was shocked by this.

What is that about? I asked. He said that was the only grounds under which you could get a divorce back then. There was no dissolution of marriage as a result of irreconcilable differences even if the divorce was amicable and consensual. When I was divorced several years after they were, it was on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. Very neat and clean. No one accusing anyone of "cruelty."

To make it worse, the last line of the details of the Petition of Divorce dealing with child custody, child support, house, etc., said that he...."be permanently enjoined from molesting, annoying or interfering with her." That seemed especially nasty language considering the decision to divorce was mutual.

Talk about extreme cruelty. The courts should have no business in determining who does and who doesn't divorce anyway, especially when it's something both parties agree to.

Are You a Good Storyteller or Like to Take Pictures?

It's been three weeks since Words of Wisdom (WOW) hit the blogosphere, something Pam and I find hard to believe. The first couple weeks were challenging but things seem to be working out. For more information, visit our Welcome Message.

After only three weeks, we have over 100 followers. It's been fun and encouraging to read the feedback and comments. We have been featuring a new "Blogger of Note" daily on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We look forward to finding more “bloggers of substance" to share with our followers and visitors. If you want to know how to be a BON, you can find out how here.

We know that in addition to writing great blogs lots of you out there enjoy photography and creative writing (fiction, poetry, essays, etc.). As a way to include those types of blogs and posts, we are now including two new features. Beginning today, every Sunday you can link your favorite posts of photos or creative writing.

If you want to share some of your writing, visit the Writer's Forum and put up a link. If you would like to share some of your photographs, visit the Photo Gallery and link it up. If you are looking for some new and interesting photography or creative writing, drop by and check it out. We really looking forward to what you have to share.

A Hunter and a Conservationist

I've mentioned Paul's life-long love of the outdoors. A hunter since he was 9, Paul has literally hunted from the Arctic Circle to Africa. Lots of people are surprised to learn that he is both a hunter and a conservationist. That's when he tells them that hunters were the first conservationists.

Back in the 1800s, there were no game laws, and people killed indiscriminately year round. Because people still lived off the land and killed animals for food, some species of ducks, pheasants, deer and turkeys became endangered. So President Theodore Roosevelt, a man Paul greatly admires, created a law restricting what game hunters could kill. These laws were committed to wildlife restoration and allowing species facing extinction to survive.

As chairman of our town's Conservation Commission, Paul is involved with the state's Department of Environmental Management's wood duck nesting program. A program started in 1951 it involves the placement and management of wood duck boxes all over the state.

Beginning in January 2009, Paul began placing and maintaining wood duck boxes all over town. When the marshes are frozen, the boxes are set in or around marshes and adjacent to ponds. Wood ducks normally nest in trees because once their chicks are born, they want to be able to get to the water quickly to avoid predators.

Depending on where you live you might see duck boxes out in marshy areas. They look like ordinary wooden bird houses but on poles. The boxes are usually leaning forward. Many people think that means the boxes are falling down but it's actually intentional because that's the way the ducklings get out of the boxes when ready to leave the nest. Using claws on their feet, they are able to climb up the rough wood on the interior of the box and get out.


The survival rate for wood ducks is still relatively low. Paul had one box that was full of 15 unhatched eggs this year. It's impossible to know what happened to them. Others that hatch are killed by predators.

Paul checks the boxes to look for evidence of use in late spring during hatching season. Increases in wood duck boxes in prime locations result in an increase in the wood duck population. The population faced extinction in the early 1900s and many state conservation departments started to set up nest box programs using native pine wood boxes and wood shavings to simulate an actual nest cavity.

Part of being involved in the state program requires keeping records of where the wood duck boxes are and counting the numbers of hatched eggs as well as unhatched eggs and boxes where no activity is seen. When it doesn't look like a box is being used, Paul moves it to another location.

I've gone out with him to take pictures a couple times but since this all happens in the dead of winter when everything is frozen and I'm more of a walk-in-the-park-on-a-spring-day kind of girl, I really haven't gotten involved. But I enjoy seeing his enthusiasm and how much he enjoys being outside all year, and I'll be happy to have the fire going and a nice hot cup of cocoa ready when he and the dogs come home.

The Best Things in Life Are Free

Paul and I are facing a monumental decision for us; whether to spend money. We have been married 23 years, as of today actually. Today is our anniversary. In the 24 years since we bought our house, we have always watched our spending.

There have been years when our income was up and years when it was down. Because he is a commissioned salesman we can't always count on Paul's income being the same from one quarter to the next. And because I am a realtor, also a commissioned income, we can have major fluctuations in our annual income and we have. If you have a good year you can't change your lifestyle to match because next year could be very different.

We drive nice cars but not luxury cars, and we usually keep them for several years. We have traveled. I love to travel, I would give up a lot of things to travel, and I have a rule: Every year I have to see somewhere new. It doesn't have to be exotic, just somewhere I have never been before. There have been some very nice vacations over the last few years, most out of the U.S. Although that may be coming to an end soon. It's gotten just too complicated and uncomfortable to fly internationally, and we talk about this next trip to Europe being our last out of the country. We'll see about that.

We still live in the same house that we bought 24 years ago. We don't buy expensive clothes or furniture. We eat out but seldom anywhere pricey. We have always been savers. We are not rich by anyone's definition but we don't worry about paying bills either. I think we are satisfied with the decisions we have made over the years.

Recently we have noticed that many of our friends and acquaintances are buying second, and in some cases third, homes. I often wonder "do that make that much more money than we do?" Although this sounds nice, Paul and I have always said..."that's not for us." The responsibility of maintaining a second home as well as the expense has just never tempted us. Until now.

Last fall while hunting Paul stayed at a relative's house in New Hampshire. It's about a three hour drive from us. Paul came home raving about the property saying how nice the house is and how gorgeous the view from the property is. He said it was a modest house, almost new, on a few acres of land, set back from the road surrounded by woods with frontage on a trout stream. Sounds nice I thought, how nice for them.

Two weeks ago I came home and Paul had a funny look on his face; funny happy, not stressed like he usually does. "You look like the cat that ate the canary," I said. He told me to sit, and said, "Diane is selling the house in New Hampshire!" Oh boy, I thought, here we go.

My husband, the man who hates to spend money more than just about anyone I know, thinks we should buy this property. And I'm not saying we shouldn't, but really, should we? It would require a small mortgage, taxes, insurance, you know the list. We all know the list. My question is not whether we can afford it, we can with a few adjustments, but will it be another burden? Will we say..."we haven't been to New Hampshire in three weeks, we need to go." Will it become an obligation rather than enjoyment.

It could be a place that the kids and grandkids would use. That would be nice. Maybe we could rent it to skier friends. That would help with the expenses. But are these good reasons to make this commitment? I just don't know. And it's keeping both of us awake at night thinking about it.

Then I think, we're not getting any younger. We all hear the stories, you shouldn't put things off that you want to do. You may never have the opportunity again....blah, blah, blah. But is it really blah, blah, blah? My father died suddenly at 68. Paul's mother did, too, at 72. You never know what's around the bend. See what I mean? I can't decide.

The plan is to go stay there for a weekend soon so I can see it. I've seen pictures, the location and view are really beautiful. Then we will have to make that decision: To spend or not to spend.

Do you own vacation property? Has it been a good experience or not? I could use some advice.

Highbush Cranberry--April

It's been eleven months since I began this project of monthly photos of the Highbush Cranberry. Some of the berries are still hanging on. We've had nine inches of rain here in New England over the last three days and still they hang on. Our yard is a total quagmire that I slogged through in Paul's boots to get these photos this afternoon. You can see a puddle at the base of the bush.

The berries are still a vibrant color but definitely have seen better days. There are still many bunches that just don't seem to want to give up.



The rain stopped last night and the sun came out this morning in this beautiful blue sky. Here you can see the new growth along side of the old berries.



By next month these buds should pop. What's going to happen to the berries? I don't know. Check back in May to find out.



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

March 31, 1986

Today is our anniversary, not the day Paul and I were married but the anniversary of our first date.

I suppose everyone remembers their first date. I remember it better than the day we were married. It happened 14 years after the first time Paul asked me out, an invitation then that was really made in fun, to tease the 16-year-old girl that I was at the time.

The invitation this time was for real. He called early in the week for a Friday date. I was so excited and so nervous. He was 10 years older. I had never dated an older man, and I was sure he would find me silly and unsophisticated. I was 30 years old, hardly the high school girl I was back then, but I still felt like her that week. I agonized all week about what to wear.

He picked me up and took me to dinner at a restaurant he knew well. A nice steakhouse I had never been to. He saw people he knew and introduced me. I smiled and said hello.....did I look as nervous as I felt?

I remember what I wore. I remember what he wore. I remember what I ate. I remember what we talked about during dinner and the ride back to my house. I remember sitting in my living room and talking for hours as Paul told me stories that made me laugh.

Most striking in my memory is that I remember how he smelled. So wonderful, I wondered, Is that cologne or just how Paul smells? The next day while I was out shopping I smelled that same scent. My head spun around expecting to see him. It was just another man who had walked by. I guess it was cologne. Paul hasn't worn it in years but even today if I get a whiff of it somewhere, it makes me smile and remember that first date.

Six months from the day of that first date, Paul and I bought the house we still live in. Six months after that, we got married. And the story continues.

Quality of Character

There's been a lot said over the last week about quality and content of blogs. Hopefully we have all agreed that quality and content mean different things to different people. I don't need to go over what those of us at WOW hope to see our tribe and WOW become.

What I want to share are my thoughts about another kind of quality.....quality of character. And remember, I never promised not to write about family occasionally, so here we go.

Pam wrote a very interesting post about her daughter Katie the other day. For anyone who hasn't caught on, Pam and I are related. Katie is Paul's and my granddaughter.

Throughout high school, Katie has been involved in several organizations geared towards business and preparing students for a career in business, and she has done well. I'm not going to rewrite Pam's post but I want to tell you about a fundraiser Paul and I attended last week to raise money for water filters in Cambodia. The fundraiser was held at Katie's high school, and she was responsible for its planning and presentation. Although admittedly a little biased, I cannot say enough about how well done this event was.

The event which was attended by about 150 people involved a catered meal, entertainment, raffles and a presentation about the program and organization that provides the water filters. Katie also emceed the event. Did I mention that Katie is 17 years old?

She often spends the weekend with Paul and me. There's not much that makes us happier than to have her call and ask, "Can I come stay this weekend?" Last December we were invited to a friend's house for a holiday party on one of those weekends. Katie came with us. As we introduced her to several people, all adults, she said hello, reached out and shook their hands. When was the last time you saw that?

Let me tell you, Katie is not a nerd (whatever that is, but you get my drift). She's a normal teenager with friends, goes to proms, dances and parties and who has gone through her own teen angst. But she is becoming a very interesting young woman.

At the party she sat with us in a group of adults and contributed to the conversation. She's usually quiet, not one of those kids who needs to be the center of attention, but she spoke when she had something to add to the conversation. She was involved, not one of those sullen teens who sits in the corner plugged into their iPod and texting.

So what was my point here? Even though I'd like to say Katie is one in a million (to us she is) I'm really saying hopefully she's not. I have met several of her friends, and they all seem to have similar talents and quality of character.

So despite being known to think or say "Kids these days!" I am feeling a little more encouraged that if these are the young people who are going to be in charge in the future, maybe we'll be okay after all.

One Last Fire and a Cup of Coffee

The weather was so beautiful last weekend. Sunday the thermometer said 70. Not in the sun, actual air temp. Short sleeves, yard work, window washing weather.

Yesterday morning the thermometer said 22 degrees! That's just wrong. But it goes to prove who's in charge here, and it's not us. Mother Nature says we're not done with winter just yet. Or maybe it's just that she's not done with winter. This morning it was in the high 20's with a forecast for mid 40's this afternoon, so there's hope.

The Sunday morning ritual around here is coffee and the paper in front of a fire. Last weekend it looked like that was over for this winter. I almost cleaned out the fireplace this week but didn't. I must have had a premonition that there was one more fire left in the winter.

No one enjoys the fire more than Lucy. She likes her coffee, too. If we could only teach her to read.




A shameless plug here: If you haven't already visited Words of Wisdom, please go take a look.

WOW! Are We Excited

Did we hit a few nerves out there or what? In case you don’t know what I’m referring to, last weekend Pam of Pam’s Perspectives and I launched a new blog called Words of Wisdom……Join the Conversation. Our hope in starting this adventure is to create a place for bloggers who enjoy reading and writing posts with great content to find each other and to share.

As of this writing we have 40 followers which seems pretty good for only a couple days. I’ve been cruising around the blogosphere this week checking out the posts written about WOW and especially focusing on the comments left on those blogs. There have been two recurring themes among those comments.

One is that many of you are questioning whether you are what we are “looking for;” if you “qualify.” Again, I want to stress that we are NOT looking for “great” authors. Who or what is that anyway? A great author/writer means different things to different people.

This is similar to people I call “wine snobs.” People who like to say “this Chapeau due Smurf Pop was exquisite, and it was only $92 a bottle.” Okay, if you like it, great. But I ask, do you like it because it cost $92 a bottle or because you thought it tasted good? Hey, if I like a box of wine that costs 5 bucks, I’m good with that, and I have money left over for a pizza. But I digress.

To those of you who are asking if you are who we are looking for I say, follow our format, submit your posts and let’s see what happens. I can tell you that at WOW we definitely want people who have something to say. While we don’t mean to criticize or eliminate the occasional product review or meme, we are just hoping to appeal to those who write more with “great content” and definitely with less commercialism.

It’s difficult to sum that up in a few words. Pam did it well in her post last Saturday, when she said we are looking for people who write….“blog posts that make me think or sit up and take notice.” They can be funny or serious.

And secondly, we want to stress that in no way are we bashing "Mommy Bloggers." Pam was a SAHM for nearly 17 years. I don’t think anyone would categorize her as a "Mommy Blogger" but she certainly writes about her kids and family. Although I am not a mother, I write often about family. And I plan to continue writing about my family occasionally; sometimes in a serious way, sometimes not so serious.

Both Pam and I followed the particular blog people have mentioned and who, quite frankly, have taken some shots at. We both followed that blog for months and personally I can say I enjoyed the experience. I also found several blogs and bloggers there that I enjoy and continue to follow. WOW is just our way of branching off into something of our own that we thought (and now know) certain bloggers might be looking for.

So if you haven’t stopped by WOW, please do and let us know what you think.

Looking For a Few Good Bloggers

When I began blogging almost a year ago I had no idea what I was doing or getting myself into. A blog?! That sounds like fun, why not? Who knew it would take over my life!

But in that year I have learned much about myself. The most important thing I have learned is that I like to write. Once I got over the 'stage fright' of writing and having strangers read my stuff, it really became fun and challenging to produce posts about family, travel and crazy dogs. So many of the comments I have received have been heartwarming and heartfelt.

I have also learned what kinds of blogs I enjoy reading most: blogs written by people who have something to say, something that gets me thinking and makes me want to leave a comment that I give my best to also. Unfortunately those types of blogs are not easy to find.

Most of you who visit on a regular basis read about my family and know about Pam of Pam's Perspectives, my stepdaughter and very special friend. Pam is basically responsible for my venture into blogdom. She always has great ideas and as I mentioned here, I often copy, I mean emulate, those ideas.

Pam and I have talked a lot recently about how to find what we call "blogs of substance." How do we find them all together in one place? After some brainstorming, (mostly Pam's brain) and a little bit of my newly-learned technical knowledge, we have created that place.

We are announcing the birth of Words of Wisdom a blog where we can all hang out; to share some of our more serious posts (and humorous ones as well) and find other bloggers who like to write with a little more "substance." Please don't run away thinking we are looking for "The Great American Novel." We aren't, and we aren't looking to criticize or critique each other, just to get conversations going and exchange some ideas.

We also plan to highlight "Blogs of Note" (BON) weekly to share in the fun and enjoyment of reading some of the wonderful writers out there. If any of this interests you, take a minute to read what's under the TABS below our banner at WOW, then grab our button and let's go!


The best way for this endeavor to become a success is by word of mouth. If this sounds worthwhile and something you would like to become part of, please post about us on your own blog with a link to send people over to WOW.

Pam and I are really excited about this new venture and hope you are, too.

UPDATE: I'm beyond thrilled to announce that WOW will be highlighting its inaugural Blogger of Note (BON) on Monday! Please be sure to stop by and visit this extemely eloquent blogger. And be sure to "join the conversation" by commenting on Monday's WOW post so that other bloggers can find you, too.

(So, who wants to be next? Let me know).

Welcome Spring

We've been waiting for you

Even at 15 Years Old I Knew Better

After publishing my post about the women fliers of World War II, I got an email from Paul's cousin Dale. This is part of Dale's email:

Great job on the lady pilots. I was one of those Vietnam guys and was ashamed to say much when I got home. How many times I was in a bar in Warren and guys would be talking trash about soldiers and I had to bite my tongue.

A young man who served his country and risked his life only to come back to his hometown to be made to feel like he had done something wrong. I remember those days and the pictures of soldiers being met at airports by protesters holding anti-war signs and booing those in uniform. Ducking their heads as they moved through, I'm sure many couldn't get that uniform off fast enough. Shame on America; shame on us for not showing these men and women the respect they deserved. As a country we can never make that up to them.

Dale's email goes on to tell of a recent trip to the Veterans' Association for some medical care. I love this story:

I'm sitting next to this little frail gent in a wheelchair. He had his arm in a sling, a brace on his leg and an attitude that just made me laugh. So there was about a dozen men and women in there and this guy comes in and starts mouthing off about being in Nam and how tough he was and on and on. I was about to tell him to give it a rest when he came out and said to the little guy, "Did you ever see any action or are you one of those vets never been out of the country?" He looked at the big mouth and said "I was a B17 pilot and on one of my missions was shot down over Germany and spent the rest of the war in a prison camp." Well the guy never said another word. I love it when that happens.

Wouldn't you love to have been a fly on that wall?

Dale's comment about being made to feel ashamed of his service in Vietnam brought me back to a time in the 1970's when I wore a POW/MIA Bracelet. Nearly five million bracelets were sold by Voices in Vital America (VIVA) to raise money to draw attention to the MIAs in Vietnam. The bracelets were engraved with the name of a captured or lost soldier and the date he disappeared.

In 1971 I sent $3 to VIVA for the bracelet shown below. It has the name of Lt. Col. James Kasler and 8/8/66, the day he was shot down. The white star meant he was a POW not missing in action.

So many times during the years I wore my bracelet I was verbally attacked by someone who pointed at my bracelet and told me I was "supporting the war." Honestly at that time I didn't understand much about the Vietnam war, but even at 15, I knew they were wrong and would respond, "I'm supporting him. He's doing his job, what his country asked him to do."

In 1973, lists of prisoners scheduled to be freed started appearing in the newspaper. On March 3, 1973, I came home to find a page from the paper left by my father draped over a chair by the door with Colonel Kasler's name circled in red. Still in a scrapbook, that article is show below. (Click to enlarge)


I wore my bracelet until sometime in March 1973 when I watched Colonel Kasler walk off the plane that brought him and a group of former POWs home. He had been promoted to colonel during his captivity, and as the highest ranking officer on the plane, he spoke at the airport that day. As I sat in front of the television listening, I cermoniously removed my bracelet.

Somehow, long before the days of the Internet, I managed to find Colonel Kasler's address in Zanesville, Ohio, and wrote him a letter. I was 17 at the time and remember spending hours composing and typing that letter. I considered sending him my bracelet but knowing that there were many duplicate bracelets and assuming he'd get others, I decided it meant more to me to keep it than it would to him. In response to my letter I received this card and photo with his signature on the back:


I recently googled Colonel Kasler and found this:

Colonel James H. Kasler is to date the only person to be awarded the Air Force Cross three times. The Air Force Cross ranks just below the Medal of Honor as an award for extraordinary heroism in combat. The Veterans Tribute organization ranks Colonel Kasler number 8 of the Top 50 Most Highly Decorated U.S. Military Personnel in American History.

A combat veteran of World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War, he flew a combined 198 combat missions and was a prisoner of war in North Vietnam between August 1966 and March 1973.

Enlisting in the U. S. Army Air Forces toward the end of World War II, Kasler flew 7 missions. During the Korean War he flew 100 combat missions.

On August 8, 1966, while flying an F-105D on his 91st combat mission over North Vietnam, Kasler was shot down by ground fire. He was captured, not to be released until 6 1/2 years later on March 4, 1973. During those 6 1/2 years he was subjected to torture almost daily.

On 15 Sept 2007 the United States Air Force dedicated a monument to him. James Kasler retired from the United States Air Force as a Colonel and continues to live in Illinois.

This was the first time I was able to learn anything more about the man whose name I wore on my wrist for two years. Whatever your feelings about war, nobody likes it, you have to admit this is a very impressive bio of a true American Patriot.

The Amazing Women of World War II

I can get choked up easily about lots of things. I'm pretty much a sap, but few get as strong a reaction from me as patriotic events. The National Anthem and Pledge of Allegiance are both good for blinking back a few tears. Whenever I see a soldier in fatigues, I get choked up. I was in an airport when several soldiers walked through and I had to bite my lip. I was thrilled to be able to add my applause when people spontaneously began to clap.

The most amazing patriotic event I have been part of was welcoming my cousin Nelson home from his second tour in Iraq a couple years ago. After waiting for several hours in the hangar at Quonset Point Naval Air Station, we finally got word that their plane was just a few minutes out. As we crowded near the open doors of the huge hangar, the big plane flew past and tipped its wings. What a sight! What a feeling. It was one of the most emotional moments I have ever experienced. As I sit here now my throat is full.

As the 97 soldiers walked off that plane through the phalanx of local politicians and dignitaries into the hangar, the cheers and applause of the several hundred waiting was deafening. It was a beautiful thing to watch and be part of.

In today's paper there was a report of 200 women who served as Women Airforce Service Pilots or WASPs who were in Washington recently to receive the Congressional Gold Medal, the highest civilian honor given by Congress. This honor was in recognition of their service during World War II. Sixty-five years after the end of WW II we finally got around to saying Thanks to these women who flew planes but weren't considered to be real military pilots.

During World War II, a select group of young women pilots volunteered to become the WASPs, the first women in history to fly American military aircraft. From some research I learned that the WASP pilots each already had a pilot's license. Of the more than 25,000 women who applied for WASP service, 1,078 earned their wings and became the first women to fly American military aircraft. That there were that many licensed female pilots in this country at that time stunned me.

Although not trained for combat, their instruction was essentially the same as that for aviation cadets. The drop-out rate was comparable to the men being trained as pilots, too. They received no gunnery training and very little formation flying and acrobatics, but went through the maneuvers necessary to be able to recover from any position. From 1942 to 1943, they flew sixty million miles of non-combat military missions.

Last year, a bill was passed to award a Congressional Gold Medal to these women. Of the women who received their wings as Women Airforce Service Pilots, approximately 300 are living today. Now mostly in their late 80's and early 90's, two hundred of them were honored last Wednesday in a ceremony on Capitol Hill.


Here is a paragraph from today's article:

As a military band played "The Star-Spangled Banner," one of the women who had been sitting in a wheelchair stood up and saluted through the entire song as a relative gently supported her back.

As I read this, I all but burst into tears. And it took this country 65 years to not only honor but to acknowledge these women. When they died during duty, they were not given military honors, no flags draped their coffins. In fact, when some died, fellow female aviators often helped pay their funeral expenses. When the unit was disbanded in 1944, the women had to pay their own bus fare home from Texas. They received none of the financial or educational benefits given to veterans back then either. They weren't considered to be members of the military.

As a teenager I remember the photos and the stories of how the Vietnam veterans were greeted when they came home. I realized then, and we all know now, how disgraceful this country acted at that time. I wish there was some way we could make that up to them, too.

The last of today's article quoted Dorothy Eppstein, 92, of Kalmazoo, Michigan, "It was fun coming into a strange airport and having the mechanics say, 'Where's the pilot?' "

Fun, indeed. Thanks, ladies, you blazed a trail for many of us.