Being as cheap as I wanna be.

I'm thrifty not stingy. That is a huge restaurant size can of beans I'm using to make Chili. I'm predicting leftovers.

I wanted to get back to posting on Wednesdays. However, I have had a busy week playing solitaire on my computer and making sort of Halloween threats on Pat Hatt's rhymetime blog. I say sort of in that the most important part of the message is that it rhymes.

Occasionally, I get up and do some work around the house, a bit of cleaning, pay attention to a dog. In other words, the area around my desk looks like a bomb exploded. If you keep your eyes on the screen, there is no pandemonium going on around you.

I've noticed there is a new blog platform called patreon. I'm not impressed in that I will avoid those bloggers. I feel guilty reading what they have written and not making a donation. I shared a video about a month or two ago and took the time to like the page the video came from. I noticed in my Facebook feed, the videomaker would like me to sign up to donate a dollar a month. I deleted the video.

Some bloggers on other platforms have a donation request on their sidebar. I don't follow them either. There are so many good blogs out there that I don't need to add them to my list. In my opinion, ads are the best way to make money. I do buy the books of fellow bloggers.

I pay for the NY Times, The AJC, and The Washington Post. I've made a donation to The Guardian.

Social media is a mixed bag. I think it is great when people have an emergency; others can help them out with crowdfunding.

I don't like people soliciting for money they should save up for themselves. A ridiculous request to me was a couple with seven children who wanted money to have an enormous second wedding. If that same couple wanted money to take their kids to the State Fair, that is OK in my worldview.

I feel a bit of disappointment with teenagers trying to collect money to go on a mission trip. If they feel that strongly, they can mow grass, wash cars, babysit or save their allowance to pay their way. The saddest ones are the petition to pay final expenses for someone.

I do make donations for several reasons. People don't always have family and friend to help them during hard times. This is the  blog of a man who found himself homeless, On the road with Al and Ivy I found his story compelling.

Medical catastrophe gets a donation from me. My sister's stroke burned through a lot of my life savings. She had good insurance and will eventually get disability from her federal job. But that may not happen until June of next year. A full Year and 8 months after her stroke. Hospitals and other medical firms like labs use bill collectors.

I got a nasty bill collector letter, a bill from an ambulance company and a refund from paying the ambulance bill due to her insurance paying them on the same day. Another ambulance company had some very nasty bill collectors. The man on the phone from the ambulance company did not understand why I was so agitated. He said he was sorry.

Sometimes I donate to an animal. You have to be very, very careful donating to animal rescues. Some of them are quite generous to the organizer. It is one of those facts of life I wish I had not learned. I already have a problem with having absolutely no expectations from my fellow human. It makes it a lot easier to accept disappointment.

My big caveat to giving is to give locally or to an individual. I feel peeved when I make a donation and two weeks later there is an appeal for more money. Almost all large charities do this. During Hurricane Katrina, I gave to the ASPCA and state of Louisiana. I get regular calendars and preprinted labels from the ASPCA which I toss. I did hear from Louisiana a few times for donations. I gave them nothing more.

I give to the arts. Not a whole lot, but tossing in a few bucks to a young filmmaker is good. I also buy books that I may or may never read. One time I went to a book fair with $50. The first table I stopped at had a $45 coffee table book which was great. I didn't buy it. I bought a bunch of books between $3 and $15. Spread the wealth is my mantra.

Friends who create fundraisers probably will get a few bucks from me.

We hear a lot about entitlement. I know when I quit a job to take another one. I discovered the amount of clout I had given up after I made the transition. However before leaving the first job, I had no idea that it existed. We all have a framework of entitlement. I was more prepared for old age in that I grew up lean so I learned to live on less. Fortunately, I eventually made enough to have a cushion. I'm not sure that cushion will be there in ten years. But I might not be here either.

So in all humility, I think all of us depend on one another. I'm lucky in that I can pay my way.

Asking for handouts is not a good system. It is inherently unfair. People who know a lot of people or have a tragic story that gets picked up in the news can do quite well. Meanwhile there are some who really suffer. I believe in a government sponsored safety net for us all.

The second part is that the system is rife for exploitation. I feel a bit used when someone collects money for a need and later I see them living high on the hog. I think this causes some of the cynicism people feel about welfare. I had a student with two children who lived in a better place than I had for most of my life and drove a better car than I did. However, I do believe in the welfare system and believe in the value of social programs. I did witness children struggling with poverty.

From personal experience, some hardship can be endured. My dad had a friend whose father did not lose his money during the 1930's depression. My grandfather lost everything and my dad faced a lot of hardship. He felt a little envious of this man. In the early 1960's during a real estate bust, which happens in the real estate field at least once every ten years, this man lost everything. His solution was suicide. My dad would tell this story in that he recognized his friend was disadvantaged in not learning to cope with the vagaries of life.

How do you feel about crowdfunding? I got more opinion but this thing needs to end! I got to post some nonsense over at Pat's blog.

moth

butterfly

Nothing happens faster than the week between writing blogposts except for updating your dues each year with an organisation. I remember when I had six posts a day ready to go. I remember someone who did that many posts in a day. Like a marathon, you have to pace yourself, unless you're a marathon champion.

This week, I shall cheat a bit. Which means I will share what I have really enjoyed on the net.

Number 1 involves a dog of course.




Number 2 is I took the time to watch Deathly Hallows 1 & 2 of the Harry Potter series. Is it sacrilegious that at a few points I thought could these two have the fight to end all fights, I'm ready to call it a night. That said, I think J K Rowling is brilliant to have written such an engaging series.  Nothing to share with number 2 but my opinion. I have satellite television and one or more of the stations run the Harry Potter movies back to back on a regular basis.

Number 3 is something you all may know about. It is the Write Edit Publish bloghop of Halloween based stories. They are all a quick thrill to read. I haven't submitted. I would describe my tour of hell tomorrow. But hey, most of you are very familiar with grocery stores.

Write, Edit, Publish blog's October Challenge

Cheers and imagine me and my dogs howling at the moon tonight. lol Take care, Ann

Keep bouncey houses at grandmas.

If anybody my age takes the knee, they are showing off. A childhood friend of mine has had both of her knees replaced. She injured the first knee in a bouncy house with her grandchild. And get this, she injured the second one in a bouncey house with the same grandkid.

This lovely bouncey house costs 2 grand.
You can get a cheaper version at Walmart.

I don't think it is hanging around her grandchild that is the problem. They got to start carding people going into bouncy houses. The gatekeeper needs to be a teenager who can say with a straight face and authority, "Grandma, you are too old to enter this bouncey house."

It's not bouncey houses that hurt knees.
People are free to own all the bouncey houses they want. They just have to be educated on who and how a bouncey house should be used.

It's ironic in that the people who will purchase a bouncey house are usually old enough to injure their knees. Once again a teenager at the register is handy. They will give a forty-five year old a senior discount and lavish them with praise. "You are one cool old lady!"

One thing I do is take care of my joints. I have mild arthritis. What has weighed on my mind the past few weeks is my mortality. I know I should just be glad to be alive. So many people do not make it to 61. Plus I got two good knees and no urge to enter a bouncey house.

The last time I went to the nurse practitioner; I got a heck of a lecture about exercising more, eating less of all the good foods which for her information I rarely eat. I argued with her over cornbread. My A1c was 8.5.  I got the message which I didn't appreciate.

My great aunt Faye quit smoking the day before she went to the doctor. She knew he was going to insist she quit smoking. She knew she could tell him she quit. But if he told her; it was going to be the damnedest thing to do.

It is just that malaise of not living my life to the fullest. I don't know where I get the outlook where I feel like I should achieve something, learn something, clean something. Because lately, I get little done. I think this is a mid-life crisis. I tried to have my crisis at the more appropriate age of 51. But I was busy.

At 55, I got a little crisis building going. I worked out several hours a day and ate to lose weight. I started my journey of writing the great American novel. And somehow bang here I am. I can't even have a decent mid-life crisis in a timely fashion.

Plus I don't give a rip about a lot of things. I better start giving a rip about some paperwork I have waiting for me. Well for my brother that I need to complete. I do have the temptation to take him to the social security administration and have him deal with the matter. He turned 65 this year. During 2016, he made a little too much money and they are going to take that whopping 261 dollars they give him a month away. Maybe, I don't know what they are going to do.

However, I better make a beeline to the Social Security Administration with my hat in my hand and "grin and shuffle" to get it straightened out. If I get Madame Sourpuss or her friend Mister Looksdownalongnose, I make an excuse and get out of there to come back another day. Actually I have not done that yet; but, it is an alternative.

Plus, I need to get the car oil changed and the tires rotated.

But tomorrow is Wednesday and I'll be taking my weekly journey through parallel hells. Last week, I had to cut one of the journeys short. I needed to pick up my brother. Although my mom was thoroughly exhausted, she was not happy. It is hard to have to hurry and be on someone else's schedule. My mother has always been a hard worker and an independent woman.

We are leaving at 9am tomorrow. Early in the day, she has more energy. My mother enjoys this one big outing each week. I'm glad we can make it. And it is not really hell. I better stop complaining or I will spend time in purgatory sweeping a grocery. I used to think my purgatory might be lunch room duty. But I know the good Lord knows I have mellowed. My hearing isn't what it used to be, and I will probably start throwing peas with the kids.

My sister who is recuperating from a stroke is a night owl. I am one too. The problem is that I got changed into a lark by all these early birds and the schedule we keep. But her waking hours are waking the owl in me. One night she woke up at 10 pm and was curious what I was going to fix for supper. I made her a peanut butter sandwich al dente with a very fine chilled coke zero.

I hope your week is going well. I've got to get busy on my novel or purgatory may be finishing one of them.

The field in front of my house is covered in gold and pink. The morning glories are brilliant along the roadway.

I walked the dogs as I pushed the trashcart down to the road. The temperature was cool. The full moon was rising as the sun was setting which doesn't happen that often.

Then in the distance, the coyote call was feigning injury. All my little wolves gathered close. I left the trash truck to the side of the driveway. I picked up my mother's two dragons.

The newest dog, Little Red, is going to be a large dog. However, he was quite scared in that he is probably about 8 months old. My brother's dog Buttons wanted me to carry her. Being a 20 pound chihuahua, the twenty five pounds I was toting was hard enough. I didn't run. But I walked briskly. Fortunately, I have fencing that comes up the driveway for about a tenth of a mile. Once I got to that point, I put my mother's precious dogs down.

My little dog is ferocious and he walked proudly defending the pack. He makes me think of the man whose picture has gone viral standing and flicking a bird to the shooter in Las Vegas. I know many think he was crazy or drunk. But I have known a few men and women who had that defiance in their soul. I think of the movie Braveheart with Mel Gibson about the life of William Wallace.

At least the coyote is only wanting dinner. I'm sure they will discover what motivated this man.

I learned to fire a rifle and pistols as a child. My dad had strict rules. We basically shot beer cans in the creek. My dad did not allow us to shoot turtles. I understand why people want to own weapons. I don't understand why people don't know that regulating their use could prevent some of these tragedies.

In Georgia, we have an open carry law. You are supposed to have a license for this. However, it is illegal for you to be questioned about this decision. Unlike concealed carry, you do wonder if the person has been cautioned that they are the first person law enforcement will take down when shots are fired in a crowd.

I have a friend whose brother was shot by law enforcement behind a Waffle House by police. There was a huge fight going on. Her brother took the gun that was present and held it in the air. If he had put it inside his pants or concealed it somehow and walked away from the fight he might be alive today. His mother told me his clothes had multiple bullet holes in them.

I wasn't going to write about the shooting. It is a burden for us all. I had a Facebook friend who contacted me about the senselessness. I think he knew what a country music fan I am. However, I love the country music from the 60's and 70's the best.

I just wish people would think long and hard before they pay $25 and receive that free bumper sticker that advertises an organisation. Money can be motivation of an organisation to be pig headed and I am talking about the NRA. I'm not against people owning guns. But I am against this mania we have about owning a gun. The more untrained people with firepower; the more horrible incidents are going to happen.

Even with training, what about wisdom. My dad always taught us, you don't shoot someone for stealing your car. A car is a thing. A person should not die for a thing.

Feel free to give me your opinion whether you are for gun control or not. I'm from the South. We make up our history from day to day. The fact that a hundred years ago, not everyone could afford a gun. The expense of a gun and ammunition reduced the number of gun deaths. But lets not let any facts get in the way.

The world has a lot of cruelty and injustice. September 30th in Los Vegas gives us all pause. I could shoot that man a bird too.

I went to Africa yesterday.

Ready for a little traveling? You'll be back in an hour or two.

Positive letters is written by Hillary Melton-Butcher. As an anglophile, I love the trip through England and the history she shares. This is a brilliant blog.

A new find for me is Leaves on my Tree by Emma Springfield. I like her reminiscences. I've learned new things such as restacking bowling pins at the bowling alley before technology. My parents did not have an extended family. So I love reading the stories of people when they describe their families back in the day like Emma does.

I love Baili and I .  The writer lives in Pakistan and shares pictures of her home, town, family, wisdom.

Then back to the American prairies with this crazy mountain man who posts such a lovely pictorial narrative of wildlife and the happenings in Iowa.  Out on the Prairie

Elephant's Child photos are such homey, delightful pictures of flowers, birds and local sights near Canberra, Australia. My favorites are of the bright red and green King's parrots and Jazz and Jewel, two admirably beautiful black cats. Elephant's Child
.
But the piece de resistance was my discovery this week of Diane Stuckey's blogs and the publication of her mom's diary of her family's move from England to what was Rhodesia in 1953. It is so fascinating. Of all the continents, Africa has always fascinated me the most. If I could spend my days however I want, it would be walking this Earth and just looking.

For a dollar fifty US, you can get the breezy read of her mom's account of their journey. I've read most of it. I plan to finish it later today. The Great 1953 Trek on kindle.

These are her blogs.

The great 1953 Trek

Life before Charente

Life in Charente

My life in Charente 2

Now to put another load of laundry in the washer and get a few chores done.

Bon Voyage.

Every Cloud has a Silver Lining, I hope.

Big news. My cousin's 25 year old son was just promoted by the electrical company he works for to Linesman and was promptly sent to South Florida for an assignment with overtime.

Good thing it was only a tropical storm.

My mom chuckled over the news. An able bodied single guy will be very handy helping to restore power. Hurricane Irma covered Florida as a hurricane, and my state, Georgia, as a tropical storm. We watched the trajectory which caught my house, my brother's house outside of Carrollton, GA and Mentone, Alabama which is my mother's old hometown.

It was interesting to experience those sustained winds as Irma passed over. I slept through the heaviest of winds. About 40 years ago, I slept through a storm where huge Pecan trees where lifted out of the ground and laid down like match sticks by the wind about 100 feet behind the room I was in.

Irma's rain was the sort my grandmother loved which was a light steady rain that would soak in the ground. My grandmother farmed through the dirty thirties and the 40's during the Big War. I remember going to tell her how bad DDT was when I was a teenager. I stopped; she had a wistful look and said that was some good stuff. Some good stuff that controlled insects and almost decimated several bird populations. Everything is a matter of perspective.

I posted a picture of two of my dogs on Facebook. Louise seemed mystified by what was going on. I opened the back door to let a dog back in and heard a bird crying. I checked again with the resolve to rescue the animal. I could not easily find it. I went back in and when I came back out, I heard my favorite birdsong, so mom or dad must have been retrieving their youngster. I know what the bird looks like and it's song. I just don't know it's name yet.

Louise and BoDuke are cool with the power out. But what's with all that wind?

As bad as Irma and Harvey are, it's the floods that do the most damage. We will have some flooding in central Georgia; but, it will be manageable. Who I worry about the most are people out West with the fires. This is a year to remember with natural disasters.

Last Tuesday, the storm had blown away. The birds seemed happy in the sunshine. A sassy lizard ran the driveway away from the house. We had a lot of leaves and branches broken from the wind. The horse farm next door had an old barn to collapse. There are a few trees uprooted in the Pecan orchards. Being within weeks of harvest; nuts fell from the trees. Hurricanes this time of year wreak havoc on Pecan production.

There were tremendous trees blown over. Leaf and twig debris was everywhere. Mother nature prunes with a vengeance.

It was strange to have a curfew Monday from 2:30 am until 8 am the next morning. With so many Florida evacuees, all of the first responders, law enforcement and firemen and women burned the midnight oil for us all. It was appreciated.

There are some cultural differences between South Floridians and central Georgia. We talk to everyone. My sister had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday. Since the doctor was in, we went and stopped at a Chinese restaurant we enjoy.

I chatted up a few of the Floridians. They were cordial; but, they initially had that look like "Are you speaking to me?" I wasn't trying to agitate anyone. I only spoke to those who were carrying a heavy load on their face. Actually, I talked up a bunch of folks.

The day without power and the days without internet wore on me. However, I had my comfortable bed to sleep in each night. Plus I cooked a good dinner the day before in case the power went out. I can't imagine sleeping in my car or a motel in Atlanta only to join grinding traffic to go back home and see what is left. They were smart to evacuate. They saved their lives and possibly the first responders who would have helped them.

The traffic was heavy but flowing. I don't know what caused this back-up. This was my exit.

The funniest thing that happened as we were returning home. The Interstate was backed up and we went off a side road that had a huge truck stop. People were trapped and couldn't get out. So I stopped and let a long line of them out until; I got honked at and passed by a line of about four cars with Florida tags followed by a local who also honked at me.

So I waved at the one in front of the trapped cars and went on my way. No use holding up a lane of traffic if the traffic was going to drive around me. All I could think is the people who passed me chose a difficult road to find their way back to a highway going South. The first car that passed me, the guy was running his mouth and shot a bird at me. I can imagine the aggravation he was feeling. And this crazy car just stops and lets a whole line of people out.

And yes, we laughed about it might be cultural to deliberately stop traffic to let people out. I don't know. People did it all the time when I lived in the Atlanta area. Atlanta is quasi Southern. It's only the South when people feel like it. Even then, they have to read the Atlanta Journal Constitution to know for sure what Southerners are like. I mean I was always surprised to learn about Southerners in that paper at times. We can be an interesting lot with plenty of blarney to spare.

I remember one car that saved my life as I merged from Interstate 85 to I-475 about 30 years ago. They were working on the interstate and there was a narrow area to merge. As I merged, this car changed lanes where I needed to go. I slowed for them and was scared. It was the concrete median or the car behind. Luckily, the car behind saw the situation and made me a space.

I changed lanes and drove down to look at miscreant that almost killed me. She had a look that she was incredibly lost in her thoughts. Driving is a poor place to daydream.

Consideration in metro Atlanta traffic had more to do with accident avoidance. 

But hey, do you stop traffic so people can get out? Do you live in an urban, suburban or rural area?

Hell was open this Wednesday. These two trees had to call attention to themselves.

Yep, we got enthusiastic rock painters here too. 

Mornings can be magical.

Sometimes its me.

What a bummy thing to realize. For my friends who are not Ciudadano de Estados Unidos, bummy as in a bum living off handouts not what we all sit on.

I've gotten a bit outspoken. I know I have always been plain spoken. But lately, it's me.

At first I thought it could be because of my writing passion. I find myself organizing my thoughts, having an opinion, re-organizing and having another opinion. I worry about being more hard-headed. All of your gifts from God has an edge. One of my gifts is having a strong will and a sense of determination. Their dull and grating edge is a hard head.

Then I thought, it could be my home life. I have no regrets about my choices. I know the consequences and they are using those two gifts. I understand the loneliness of the young housewife. I've always had a career. The career was not without it's problems but it checkmated my independent drive. I always had to consider the other point of view.

And that is the crux of the problem. Keeping that social point of view.

My mom likes me to handle things. When the neighbor called the law on Christmas Eve because Daisy the 9 pound chihuahua decided to chase horses that day, the sheriff deputy found himself lost for words when my mother who was only about 84 at the time came out to defend Daisy with a forceful push of her walker. That is when I told mom. She was in charge of some things.

Age gives privilege. I do meet sweet younger souls who defer to my age. My true nature instinctively wants to turn and snarl when I figure it out. Thankfully, I'm usually in the car on my next part of the journey when the realization hits. I appreciate the special treatment.

But sincerely, 61 is not that dang old.  I've never been a sun worshiper and genetics are in my favor; I don't have crow's feet of yet. It's that silver hair of mine that's to blame. It has been this way for almost 20 years. I remember when I stopped coloring my hair. Floating black hair is not my thing.

I'm going to start walking with my camera again. This morning a thick fog hung over the overgrown pasture in front of my house. I noticed it was extended up the small rise to the neighbor's horse farm. My driveway had a misty bridge of the condensation over my driveway. I did not try to retrieve a camera. I knew the freshly risen sun would have it burned off probably as I walked under it.

The other night I corrected a woman who wanted to write race and racism in the South. I shared three facts with her. She had no knowledge of what she was writing which was true. She should never use the N word no matter if it was used liberally at one time in history. She should set her lynching in Southern Illinois where she is from because they weren't the hotbed of civil rights she thinks it would be. "Sundown towns" comes to mind.

At one time, I would have just listened.

What is wrong with me? It does not matter. There is so much being written and not read. What does it matter?

I was the only Southerner in the group. I did not get a negative reaction from anyone. What bothered me about what I said is that sort of talking can make people uncomfortable. But like that mist this morning, it is over and done with. I hope to see another mist. Unfortunately, I'll probably open my mouth and insert my foot again.

So make me feel better. When have you blown off when you should have kept your mouth shut. Or what cool things did you see this morning.

Cheers, Ann