The things you do for a thrill at 60.

Chill folks, I don't plan to blog politics. This is slightly political in that it is about something I did. As a retired science teacher, most Democrats, many Republicans and loads of Tea Partiers, I am concerned about environmental issues.  There are elections and then there is another part of being part of a Democracy which is advocating for issues that benefit us all. Other than that, I am sick and tired of politics. I've thought of not watching the news.

Girls just want to have fun damental rights.

This was a common sign at the Women's March on Washington. Organizers created bus rides from various points in Georgia. One lonely bus left from Macon, Georgia and I was on it. The bus originally left at 10:30 PM on a Friday and were to return at 5:30 am on Sunday. In actuality it left at 8:30 PM and arrived in Washington around 9 am Saturday. The return was around 9 am Sunday.

Now why would I want to go? Didn't I have plenty to do at home?

Shouldn't people just accept the election is over? Well the election is over. I am not contesting who is President. What I am interested in giving my input to my elected officials as to what I think is important. Like I don't want rivers in the United States to have water that resembles green cottage cheese like it does in some Chinese rivers. I don't water to be contaminated like it is in the former Soviet Bloc countries. Good politicians make decisions based on their constituencies input.

I'm a thrill seeker. I have never been a part of a movement. The March was not a Trump protest. It was a declaration of women's rights.

Everyone enjoyed one another. You spoke to all sorts of people. Yet everyone was familiar. Around noon, I sat on some steps and watched many families eating their lunch. Mom, dad, kids passing sandwiches around. A teenager scrunching her face after biting into her sandwich; dad switches sandwiches with her and they continue to eat.

The signs were hilarious and sometimes serious. The funniest to me was a large pink poster with the words "I can see Russia". I also enjoyed the one that said "Don't tampon my country". There were a great many patriotic signs with historical quotes like the coiled snake saying "Don't tramp on me". I go for the humor.

I ate a falafel. It was seasoned chicken, chick peas and rice in a wrap. They put a sour cream sauce on it and some paste. Having to watch indigestion with the double whammy of being on a bus; I chose my food carefully. I had brought several peanut butter and raisin sandwiches.

Law enforcement and emergency personnel were very friendly to the crowd. One took the time to make sure I had the most direct route back to RFK stadium where the buses were parked. I still did not go the right way. A local man walked me to a subway. I took the green line to find the blue line closed down. The entire system was overwhelmed with riders.

Washingtonians welcomed us with open arms. People allowed us to use their bathrooms, recharge our phones, gave away water and coffee. They were so friendly.

Sitting behind me on the bus was a former student with his girlfriend on the bus. They clearly had a great time. They were a darling couple.

The real motivation was knowing it is a man's world. How do I know this? I have an individual that goes everywhere with me and it is my developmentally delayed brother. If information is important, people make sure they explain it carefully to him. In returning to the United States, my mom and I gave knowing glances as the San Diego waitress refilled his soda and ignored us. We were giving the tip. We tipped her well.

It is catching myself in telling the young nurse in my sister's hospital room that nursing was a good profession for a woman. I was thinking of how I was told in my twenties that teaching wasn't everything but it paid well for a working woman. I have no regrets with my choice of profession. I enjoyed it for the most part and the profession broadened me in ways many other professions would not have. Add to that my view of world was pretty naive.

Sexism like racism is roughest in that the most damaging aspects are subtle and hard to put your finger on. I've seen the glass ceiling and I have been put in my place. I was born a humble person.
It's knowing how someone who has fought the good fight in a male dominated profession and has paid a huge price in personal happiness and health to stay there. It's keeping the secret when you have been propositioned by a co-worker. You try not to make waves and yet you sweat possible repercussions to your rejection.

When I see a young person, I want them to do their personal best and not make decisions based on what works best to maintain the status quo for their sex, race or social class. This adds public education to the list of items I advocate for.

I went because of my concern over environmental degradation and healthcare.

With my sister in a stroke rehab clinic, I slipped out of the house for an adventure that was worthwhile. The amount of walking I did was punishing. I stood most of the day or walked. I did sleep sitting up in the bus. I listened to people talking all night the first night. There wasn't a peep the second night. We were in a collective deep sleep.

As a teacher, I agreed with everyone's dad at the dinner table. When a child told me what mom or dad said, I admired how special their parent's were. But this past election, I saw how I straddled the fence and did not say clearly how I felt. I recognized the same pattern in Facebook rants of other people.

I took the following from a Facebook page. This is why I went. I have a right to speak my mind.

But this is the original reason. I was limited by the choices in Wikimedia Commons. I try not to use photos that artists are making a living by selling the rights to.

This is algal blooms in Newport, Rhode Island. The picture was taken in 1970. Although water is cleaner in the United States due to the clean water act of 1970, there is loads of pollution that has been documented.



This river is in Taiwan. I did not find any pictures of China. But we have all seen photos of Chinese wearing masks during periods of heavy air pollution.


Photo from Poland. Due to lack of pollution controls in Soviet Bloc Countries; almost all water sources are contaminated.
href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AAutumn_Tyres.jpg" title="By Tom Thiel (Flickr: Autumn Tyres) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons">  This photo is in Russia. There are comparable scenes in the United States.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/01/21/world/womens-march-pictures.html

There is a great blog called Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com. Then I found the sister site,http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.ca  These writers are incredible. I learn so much just following them.

I went to an event called Storytellers where people just get up and tell a story based on a theme. This past month, it was about borderlines. I don't know how any of the stories discussed the theme. Truth be told they weren't very interesting and my mind wandered. Everyone was there for the same reason as I, to get used to speaking in front of people. Next month, the theme is dirty. So if I think of a good narrative to deliver; the theme incongruity will not be a problem.

I plan to get a deck of cards to play cards with my sister at the hospital. Her dining room table is being moved into our den to put a big puzzle on. We used to do a jigsaw puzzle over Christmas holidays as a family when I was a kid. We always laughed about some pieces had to be taken out and put in the right place. Younger family members insisted if they could make it fit, well ---

My sister is doing fabulous at the rehab. I can tell she is becoming more competent and able bodied. I have my doubts that she will walk again. But being able to transfer and use handicap equipment is good. More importantly being able to live a happy life is better.

Health crisis are the worst. You have no control of the outcome. Being just like new is truly a precious thing. I overheard a study where happiness of individuals was determined more by health than wealth. If you have your choice, I would choose health too.

During some of the footage of people fleeing Aleppo, I saw a man pushing someone in a wheelchair. My burdens seem light in comparison. Geography helps with happiness. I'm glad I don't live in a war torn area or where women have to live such a second class life.

The man roofing my house fell through where the wood was rotting. I hated it. But it was a scraped leg versus a joint injury which will revisit you later in life. It did run through my head, do you have insurance? Luckily, his sister cleans houses for a living so it looks like I can get some help with household chores.

Wealth is another thing. Being solidly in the middle class, it is humbling hiring someone to clean house for myself. Having someone work to maintain my home while I read or watch television or pursue my hobbies once more. I remember when I first taught school, I felt an inner awkwardness in telling students what to do. I remember talking on the phone to a friend and I could hear the vacuum in the background. I asked her if she was vacuuming, oh that is the maid was her answer.

This is a year of change for me. With all the turmoil in politics, change is in the cards for many people. I remember voting for Reagan and the recession that occurred the second year of his presidency. I was laid off from my job.  What seemed truly terrifying led to a better job. I suspect all the political talk we hear are people not prepared to do anything in their need to hold power.

I had my teeth cleaned Thursday, the hygienist was telling me how she thought she would scream if anyone talked politics. What is tickling me now are people trying not to discuss politics. But by what the news is, they are still writing around the topic with their lament. I would laugh harder; but, I understand how they feel. It is hard to let go about things you feel strongly about.

We got a new roof on the house and it looks pretty good. Life is good. Maybe I'll get out. I hope your week goes well.

Serious Sunday

The longer I live, the more important I think being bluntly honest is.

It is a social skill to hold your tongue. I have held my tongue a lot. Most of the time I have been glad I did in that in learning more, I would have regretted what I said. Not having to apologize for my presumption is the least of the problem, it is just that what you say can never be fully retracted.

That said, I still think just telling it how it is is important. When I taught school, beating around the bush about a child's problem actually exacerbated the problem. My dad said to describe exactly what the child was doing, the parents would recognize it.

Wintertime in Georgia

My dad was right. One year I was fed up with the profession. I had planned to get myself together that year financially, etc and look for another job. At parent conferences, when I spoke to parents, I could hear the soft scrapping of chairs as my colleagues briefly pushed back their chairs afraid of my rhetoric. None of the parent's got mad, they recognized what I was saying.

Yes I did have a few "hard nuts" I could not crack. Like all things, I worked with what I had. Interesting enough, I had several of those children in the night school program I taught at in subsequent years. Those same parents who felt their children were delicate china at one time could care less about their discipline. Children's uncontrolled behavior eventually make their parent's miserable.

There is another type of child that is hard to discipline because of difficult parents. These same children have to foist that parent's anger off of them to you. I told one little girl whose parents made me miserable that I did not remember her. How else do you start with a clean slate on a formerly bad relationship. With a straight face I told her she must have been pretty good, I remember the difficult kids.

Long story short, I taught this child math and when I worked with her individually, she shared how she hid in her bedroom when home. The night school worked well because her mother went into her tirades worst in the evening.

Even though that "white lie" was useful, I still don't believe in saying them. Very rarely do they help.

I had a student that the assistant principal felt sorry for the mom and situation. The boy was a "holy terror". There was no checkmate. I understood the AP's compassion. But, I had that child for about 3 hours out of the seven hour day. Long story short, he got older and into big trouble. Mom had a hard time coping but the situation got way out of hand. It may have gotten there anyway; but, it is easier to stop things in the beginning.

My other feeling about honesty is that we are creatures of habit. I have known people who were very nice, earnest people. I also knew they lied very easily and about matters of little relevance to anyone including themselves. I ran into a consummate liar this past month. I'll use what he had in a story. You have to respect a person's privacy even though you despise what they did. Plus, you can be sued. They may not win; but what a lot of time lost.

Why am I talking about lying. Well, when negotiating with people you lose the truth at times.

The good news is my sister is in a rehab hospital for a few weeks. Hopefully, she will be able to stand and walk some when she leaves. More importantly be able to bathe, dress herself, and use the toilet. Big steps to getting back to a normal life.

Her physical therapist is young. My sister is frustrated with her body and yes there is pain. The physical therapist is good and inept. Inept in that she is lecturing my sister. When you work with children or adults, the more you talk, the less you communicate. Long story short, she wanted to discuss my sister's temper. I did not know what to say. She does have a temper. So do I. So I said, "I guess it is the Irish in us."

If I told her the truth (I felt aggravated with all the pep talk lecturing she was doing), she would have been offended. There would be about a 20 percent chance she would have listened. At that age, I would been the same. So today, I am going to give my sister a pep talk. I'm giving her a glittery necklace to use like a tiara. When she goes to therapy, take off the tiara. You're just an ole Cinderella until the therapy is over. I'm giving her a nicer necklace to wear to remember she can do it.

It's a mind game. When I left yesterday, I worry they will throw my sister out. Hence my visit today will be for another dose of my homemade physical therapy as well as companionship. Hopefully one or both will egg her on.  It's easy to ask someone to suck it up. I just wish her the best in doing it. She has other therapist which I hope will help the physical therapist.

How would you handle this?

I will eventually say something if it persists. It's ridiculous for a twenty something healthcare worker to do all that lecturing about something she has never faced.

That little voice deep down inside, might be a troll.

My New Year's Resolution is to cultivate my inner troll into a graceful, mellifluous assault of the senses on those so inclined. In short, if I can't say something nice, I won't say anything at all.

I thought it would take me awhile to channel my inner snark. But hey it was there quivering for release. I read a blogpost of a fairly well read, well sold writer. Since insulting people is not the best way to get on their good side, below I have completely re-written their blog post. The gist is still the same.

With the ups and downs in life, great tragedies and good times too. Happy New Years.

My inner snark wishes to reply, "No wonder you're a children's writer, you write blog posts like the average intellectual 6th grader writes book reports. The average 6th grader would write. " Mom pics bad buks a horse croaks."

I know a few children writers who read my blog, and it is not you. However, feel free to write as corny a book report as you can in the comments. It's always nice to know the complexities of life can be summed in a short sentence.

My gosh, political commentators give answers to complex problems in 30 second sound bites. We got a President who can do that now. The only problem will happen if Congress listens to him which probably won't happen. My way or the highway philosophy sounds more like leadership to their constituents.

Thus my favorite poem named Fleas.

Fleas

Adam
Had em.

Author unknown, I wonder why. I might claim the little ditty and charge folks a pence to use it.

My favorite yearbook comment one year was, "May all your ups and downs be in bed." The eighth grade male was incredulous that some girl's parents were offended. It sounded so snappy.

I love to read the comments to news articles. It's amazing how the politically minded can relate anything to the side they abhor.

Man's 20 foot python saves Family from Intruder.

Possible comments:

    " Oh no, the libtards may take away our snakes."
    " Rush Limbaugh ate his neighbor's snake. That's why his tongue is so forked."

In our local paper, it degenerates to "whose a thug". We have a tag team of about five people with fake Facebook pages. They are white and if the person is remotely black, you have a thug and hey let's rant about Obama. Barack HUSSEIN Obama was obviously born on another planet where they invented sin and sold it to the Muslims. ISIS is really the Democrat party.

Then we have the lone black female and sometimes male. What does this tell you about black people? They are for the most part much smarter than white people. It doesn't take the gang of five to say a bunch of stupid stuff, one can do it for everyone. Of course, that one can be pretty tiresome at cocktail parties.

But I digress. Comments could be intelligent at one time. Then everybody started saying whatever they felt like. It was anonymous. Sometimes a troll was born who just disagreed with everyone for the fun of it. Then they tried to clean up Dodge. Afterall, there were too many buy my incredibly valuable artwork cheep links which were malware that could clean your bank account out in no time.

A youth pastor in an Atlanta suburb was arrested for having sex with a fourteen year old parishioner. This brought out normal comments.

Now which one was written by White guy, Black guy, Tea Partier.

My thoughts were, "What, he ain't no thug? or What, no one is calling him a thug? or Why isn't the black guy questioning why this guy hasn't been called a thug? Actually I had a wittier one. But if you don't write it down, you just forget. So I suppressed my inner troll for the sake of being a decent human being.

The answer is 1. white guy    2. Black guy     c. Tea Partier

Anyway, Happy New Years. 2017 here we come.

Keep on Keeping On to the New Year

Today, my sister had her first shower in about three months. I had bought this shower chair that slides from one side to another. The hitch was getting her on the chair.

To get on the chair, she had to slide from her wheelchair to the right side. She is partially blind to the right. Add to that all of her practice to move is to the left, her strong side. Subtract from that my stubbornness. Add to that she was scared to do it. She wound up on the floor. She almost made it but a change in plans caused her to move back to the wheel chair which can move even when locked. It wasn't a fall. I held her weight and lowered her.  Good thing I had mopped the floor with bleach previously.

I retrieved the trusty lift. It had never been used; much less put together. The instructions were who knows where. Good thing I had read them and remembered the advice to use petroleum jelly to get the mast of the lift to slide into the base.  But she was lifted to the shower chair within ten minutes.

The shower took about two and a half hours. I did not time it. This includes the time lost moving her to the shower chair and for getting my sister dressed and our daily exercises to work her right side. It normally takes about this long to get my sister together. Besides having the remote to the satellite for the television in the living room marinate in diet mountain dew; everything is going well. Most of the remote works. Hopefully, the rest will work as it dries internally.

Even though my body can be quite creaky, I have been fairly strong in helping my sister. It comes in handy being of good pioneer stock. My sister has the strength, just not the balance. Add to that some of the weird things her right side can do. When moving from the bed to the wheelchair, she said she wasn't going to be able to stand a long time. I look down, her right leg is lifted. She is standing on one leg, I have her to lower to the bed for the next try.  I don't think I could stand on one leg.

Tomorrow, we get in and out of the car two times. I have casually said we would stop to eat in a restaurant. My sister is keen on that. Creating castles in the air comes too easy for me. If she is game, I will do it. I will bring the lift. Meanwhile, we are going to the doctor's office. Tonight, I will burn the midnight oil to get her disability paper work done.

My adventure with online shopping continues. Vetmed is a vendor for Walmart. I purchased a Bariatric commode with foldable arms. The one we have now is rickety and I have it braced against a wall. This commode is supposed to hold 1000 pounds. With my sister's problem, she will not take offense at that weight load. My thinking was force. We try to lower slowly to manage the drop. But in case we don't that 1000 pound sounds good.

Well the commode was supposed to be delivered on December 21. It was delivered December 22nd to some lucky woman in Sacramento, CA who took the package from the UPS driver. I waited until the next morning to make sure it was not somewhere around my house in Fort Valley, GA during the clear light of day.  I've sent an email. With Christmas and the 1 to 2 business day wait, well who knows. The negotiation of the lift that was never delivered has made me reluctant to complain.

I can imagine the wonder of receiving that gift to the folks in Sacramento California.

It could be coincidence that they ordered the same thing. I looked up my street address and there is one identical in Sacramento on Google Map.

Meanwhile, the weather is wonderful. The rain is regular and short. Some of us have bad colds in the house. My bully dog is enamored with my sister. She has a hard time believing that she can't sleep on the hospital bed with my sister. I've been sleeping on a mattress in the floor of the living room so I can hear my sister if she needs help at night. It is getting crowded with the bully, my chihuahua mix and sister's dachshund. We use four blankets. The chihuahua and dachshund roll up in a blanket. The bully likes the idea and now does the same thing. I have a major yard dog with sensitive skin and a major case of the airs.

I'm getting the house ready for New Years. We have a big New Year's meal. We eat hog jowls, black eye peas, turnip greens, crackling bread. We are even buying a cake from the bakery. We have a lot to celebrate. Another year and we are all still together. My brother comes to ours and then his wife's family. Her family makes a pork roast, sauer kraut and dumplings. It sounds good. If I wasn't going to be so busy making our meal, I would go to hers. Frankly, both meals are a bit hard on us mature folks.

What do you serve for your New Year's feast?

Louise looking at my sister.

Two old ladies chilling

BoDuke being his cute little self.

The Art of Idleness

The new room looks great. Like most things, there are disappointments. But they are relatively small. I didn't think about getting a few extra electrical outlets. There are three in total. I'm getting the roof replaced next. Inside the house, I am having to push my sister to stay up and exercise. I haven't had a stroke and hope I never do.  She has walked with a good physical therapist by her side. The regular one will be back next week.

Meanwhile I miss my pastime and truly serious hobby which is being lazy. I like to sit in my recliner, surf the net, comment on blogs, read books. Perhaps leave late in the evening and meet up with my friends at a health club I belong to. We get in the pool and slowly walk back and forth and talk. We talk a lot of nothing. Politics are off limits which improves the conversation.

Cotton harvest stored in Pecan orchard

The occupational therapist that visits my sister is great. He has mentioned an inpatient program that my sister could participate in. My sister's mind is good. It is just that in the beginning, she was disoriented. Now, she would like to lay in bed all day. I'm hoping to get her in that program.

She will get disability from her federal job eventually and can live free in my house. She could pay for caregivers to give me some relief. I would rather her use those funds to take a cruise, travel, go to a spa and enjoy life a little. The ability is there to walk again. I know to not push too hard.

I am insisting she sit up in her wheelchair most of the day. Right now, I have told her after her fitted sheet gets dry in the dryer, she can lay down. I taped Saturday Night Live and we are playing that. You all know what I am doing. I'm keeping her up another 30 minutes. She can take a nap. But at 5 PM, she is back in the wheelchair. At the moment she is pushing her chair to the bedroom which is progress to independence.

All I can think is folks take care of your health. As much as the grind of taking care of my sister has become for the entire family, my sister has it rough. I bought fried chicken from a popular chicken take out place. It was great. My sister enjoyed hers. She had a terrible stomach problem because of it. Eating hospital food for two months has made her system sensitive.

What troubles me the most is her quietness.  I no longer talk for her with the nurse or therapists.

Christmas seems to hurtle quickly each year. Some folks relish the holiday. I worked at Rich's Department Store. One gal had Christmas eve off. She and her mother were in the store just before closing on Christmas eve. They weren't shopping. They just loved the hustle and bustle of the frenzied shopping.

Not having children and a small family, Christmas has been a quiet day for me over the years. I've been lucky in that I don't have depression over the holidays which afflicts many people. My dad passed away on December 18, 2000. Even though that date should paralyze me, it doesn't. I miss my father. My big regret is that I did not move home while he was alive. I did make a point to spend a day with him and my mother the last year of his life.

One thing I do know, is our lives are like the wind. You don't really notice the wind. But it happens quickly, quietly. My Christmas wish for everyone is take care of yourself. Don't criticize yourself. Make the best of all your days. They are your greatest gift. Even the time you squander reading all the Clickfarm news you knew better than click.

Just Keep Your Feet Moving

Get up in the morning and put your feet on the ground and just keep moving. This is the advice the nurse practitioner Christina Johnson gave me in reference to facing hectic days.

This past Wednesday and Thursday, I knew I had impossible days. There was no way I was going to be able to do all I had to do. I am in still in that boat. I have got to do my sister's paperwork for retirement and get her social security application supplemental materials submitted. Luckily I went by her house and got her mail to find the request.

I live with shifting priorities, not completing anything is the rule of thumb. I'm hoping in a few months that she will have an income and I can hire someone to help care for her. She is a full time job in itself. Tonight she is being relatively quiet. I have been getting her out of the bed and sitting in her wheelchair.

As much as she would like to take a real shower, she does not relish my suggestion to have her move from the wheelchair to the shower chair and back. But that is going to happen after breakfast tomorrow. Soap and water is good for the soul. And I am shopping for a bedside commode with a detachable arm so she can transfer from the bed to the commode.

Progress has been made in so many ways. It was hard to see at first.

The day after she was first admitted to the hospital, the diagnosis was she would regain her ability to walk and use her hand but the peripheral vision loss was permanent.

Then a week at Emory University Hospital.

Then three weeks at Coliseum Hospital Stroke Rehab. Maybe she would not walk.

Three more weeks at a Nursing Home Rehab when I watched the skilled CNA transfer her to bed in the evening with a TIMBER type of approach.

Coming home, my sister was afraid to get out of bed. Then the at-home nurse and physical therapist began to visit. . They transferred her from bed to wheelchair and back. So yesterday, we began. My sister wanted to give up. I told her she couldn't go on like a sack of potatoes on the bed. Transfer happened.

I know everything will get easier in time. I'm having my garage changed into a room. It will be my bedroom/workroom. I learned a long time ago to hire a worker but not try to micro supervise their work or give too many suggestions. I really just gave a general idea of what I wanted. What Jody has created is great.

I can tell he is a right brained person. He created a large laundry closet and almost equally large clothes closet. The clothes closet would have been the same size except that the garage has two windows and he did not extend the closet over the window. The lack of symmetry would drive some people crazy. I am sort of left brained. Only sort. I plan to do my view facing out of the windows versus facing the doors.

I stopped at a furniture store I use to see if they had daybeds. I had thought of moving from a queen sized bed to a twin bed. My bedroom is going to be an exit outside for the family. We have three other doors; but this doorway will be the easiest to get in the car.  I want a sitting room feel to the room. I have to be careful and not overload the room.

I had thought about purchasing a sofa to sleep on. Have a nice piece of memory foam to roll out in the evening with a set of sheets and a blanket. Me and my two sleeping hounds should fair fairly well. The sofa in mind has two catnapper recliners built in that unfold with an electric motor. I have a mental picture of my sister using one side as I work at my computer or desk.

My sister's recovery does seem dark at times. I expected to take care of my mother this way. I never imagined I would do so for my youngest sister. When I read the reviews of Amazon about handicap equipment, I know there are so many who have faced this challenge. I'm filled with admiration and glad I have not had to do this for thirty years like some.

This is certainly not what I wanted to spend my golden years doing. I'm not being so generous in that this is my sister's only option at this time. As I scold her to stand and not give up, it is just as much for me as it is for her. The more she can do, the better.

One observation I have made in life is that when people run from responsibilities, they don't always have a better life. A piece of me thinks maybe this is all there is. God doesn't exist. But then I also think even if God does not exist, how could I be happy without the companionship of my family.

I do think God exists. My writing is that Southern stuff as this young gal said in a writing class I took. I did not intend to write Southern stuff. I wanted to write the all-American novel. But that Southern stuff is there including the tendency to see Jesus as just around the corner.

I don't think God curses us with illness or responsibilities. Plus, I live a very blessed life. I have a nice home with central heat and air. I grew up in a house where no matter where you stood, you could look out a window. Ventilation and heat were the big issues. Winter is so short, you just stayed in the kitchen where it was warm and covered up good in the bedrooms.

So now, I just plan to get up every morning and work. There is light. At least I believe there is light. Otherwise, why am I able to get up every morning.